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Scrapbook pdf

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LAOIDH
T
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NA
N
RIOGHACHD.
a t io n a l
A
n th e m
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Fàilt’ mile fàilt’ do’n Righ !
Sìainte, deadh-slilàint’ do’n Righ !
Gràs Dhe do’n Righ !
Crùn thus’ e ’Dhe’, le glòir,
Crun e le gràdh a shlòigh,
Guidhe ar crìdh’ *s ar beòil,
Deadh-shlàint’ do’n Righ I
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t
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Eiîch a Thriath nam feart;
Eirich a Dhia ar neart,
Do’n Righ thoir si th :
Tog Thusa suas do Làmh,
Buadhaich thar neart gach nàmh,
Deònaich do’n Rioghachd tàmh
R6 làith’ an Righ.
*
Tiodhlaca maith do stòir
Gu fialaidh saoibhir dòirt
Air ceann an Righ :
Gu’n dlon e ’n lagh ’s gach teinn,
Rath fìor g u ’m bi r’a linn,
A shlòigh gu sìor gu ’n seinn
Deadh-shlàint’ do ’n R igh!
Ar Ban-righ àluinn, shèimh,
*An sìth ’s ’an sòlas glèidh ;
Do’n Bhan-righ slàint’ !
Ard-iolach gaoil a sluaigh
Eireadh o chuan gu cuan ;
Deadh-ghean ’ga dìon mu’n cuairt;
Do ’n Bhan-righ slàint’ !
Ead. ìe K. W. G.
s
P
art
Sono
...
“ Scots w l i a hae ”
LONDON
S C O T T IS H
( C o n d u c t o r , M r . J. B . S
...
...
...
...
B u n ts
C IIO IR .
h a w
.)
S oots w h a hae w i ’ W a l l a c e bled,
S c o t s w h a m B ru c e has a f l c n led,
W e l c o m e t o v o u r K'oi'V b e d ,
O r to victorv.
W ’ ha, f o r S c o t l a n d ' s k i n # a n d l a w ,
K r e e d o m ' s s w o r d will s t r o n # l v d r a w ,
K rc c m a n stand, o r fr e e m a n l a ’.
Let him f o l l o w m e !
N o w s the d a v a n d n o w ' s the hour,
S e e the front o f battle low er,
S e e app roach proud L d w a r d 's p o w e r,
Chains and sla very !
B v o p p r e s s i o n ’s w o e s a m i pains,
B y y o u r s o n s in s e r v i l e c h a i n s ,
W o will d ra in o u r d e a r e s t veins,
Bui t h e v shal l b e f r e e .
\
W ’ha will be a t r a i t o r k n a v e ?
W h a w i l l fill a c o w a r d ' s g r a v e ?
W ’h n s a c b a s e a s b o a s l a v e ?
L e t h i m t ur n a n d f l e e !
. . h.
L a y the prou d usurpers l o w !
T v r a n t s fall in e v e r y tot' !
L i b e r t y ’ s in e v e r y b l o w !
L e t us d o o r d i e !
..............
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O R A IN M H O RA.
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f .----'MOLADH
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M OLADJI
D E IN N D O H M N.
D O U A IiV .
A n t-h rla r.
I G l k c v K.
the composition of the 1
K E IN N
J{.d|d.d:d.r|ri:f.n
r:—
j W cll-lv ttO W Il p o e t > D u u c a n B a n M a c l n t y r o ,
J
j the H u n te r Bard of Glenorchy, who
flourished from 1724 till 1812.
Bcu
Dorain "was his favourite mountain.
It
rises sheer up from the glen, about four I / #:
miles north of Tyndrum on the Glencoe*
road, lo o tin g down upon the stream of
the Orchy, “ where it takes a sudden bond
J
southward, and flings the m ighty swirl
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I Na ehuiiiiaie mi fo'u glir&n,’Si bu blioldUche leam;
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brow n
w a te is dow n
to
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p l b r o c l l , IS f u l l o f r e p e t i t i o n s .
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01W W ^ w W t e h h5peS
and l.ind
Upward in long row,
Snuff the mountain wind;
Jaunty follows sprightly
With bright burnished hide,
Orosso-d in tnsluon s ic n tly ,
Yet all free from pride.
________
II
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Ati- cruii-l-uatn,
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( - d d . d :d . d |n . d :d . d d . 1, : 1,. 1, |r :d f
Tha'n eilid amw a* gtileanuau so, Cba ’a amadan gun eòlas
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\ . d d . d :d . d |n . d :d . d d . 1, : 1,. 1 |r :d }
A leanadli i mar b'aitliue dlia, Tigh’nn farasda uocoinhdhail; I
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\ . d d . d :d . d |Pin :n.n,n f . f : f . l | s , s : s M
Ou faitcach bhi *ua h*eariaa, Ti^h nn am faiaga dhi iuu’n ovralch i. I
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Nooks the red deer keeping,
Light on braoside slcepmv,;
There I ’ve watched delightedly.
Branchy copc*\s cool,
Woods of sweet grass full,
I
I h i l b c jn o '' aott uaii\ ciqus an a in / ' i : a c c ^ o .'
I
T
r
siubhal
Goil thou] i im uiblmifcf, Clia ghcaram i maothan, ctc,
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“ D a l segno" (id u a ir, a g u t an ::int "JJa capo,"
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ain,
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{ ( d d : d :d I n : d :d d : 1, : 1, ! r
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I ’Si’n eilid bhcag bhiimeach, Uu ghuiirche sraouarfh,
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L" cuinm-an seur bioraeh A’ sireadh ua guoithe,
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Gaxganacb •l*trcwh Fourth chrcachaiun na beiiiue,
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Le c**al roinitl thciue* Clia toiriun m t-wwch ;
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s * n ; r. *ri “ , 1 * ?[ ! r
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H o n o u r o e r all bens
On B e n D o r a in be!'
O f all h ills t h e sun kens
B e a u t i f u lle s t h e ;
M o u n t a m lo n g a n d s w e e p in g ,
1
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s.n :n.ri |s :— j
Mona,lh
fatlA
rciJh cùile ’In fuis,ltca,lh
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1
hoilleireaelid ail t-rfleibh Bha mi tsourachadb, etr.
I t retu rn s |
again and again upon the same theme, but
] °
* i*
-t
i tj •
ft each tim e with, variations and additions.
J Tins difficult poem .has been translated
I by Professor Blaekie, and it is well worth
I reading.
Pattison ako, in his “ Gaelic
I Bards,” has translated extracts therefrom,
l a n d SO has Principal Shairp in his
I ''Aspects of P o e tr y .”
T h e following is
j his rendering of the opening stave : —
I
TI
» i i v .
Dor
\
th o I
green flats o f D a lm ally.”
Principal
Shairp tru ly rem a rk s:— “ O f all Duncan
B an’s po©ms> th e most original, tlie most
elaborate, and. the most famous is that
! on Ben Doraiu. I t consists of live hundred and flfty-five lines, and is unique
in its plan andi construction. I t is adapted to a pipò tune, and follows with
wonderful skill all tho turns, and twirls,
and wild cad en cy of the pibroch. I t falls
into eigh t parts, alternating with a sort
of strophe and antestrophe, one slow
called ùrlar, in stately touches, another
s w ift called siubhal, in a kind of
galloping anapaests/' T h e poem, like a
t-urrani thur yjv;hbeino aig Ben
|d:}(
f
I
|| I
\ .s
1 . 1 : 1 . s | n . r : r . n d . 1, :1|. 1( | r : d ||
Gu faicilleach, g !6 carraigeach, Mu’m fairich i !ga còir o, etc. I
D a l sen n o " -s^ u a im a n aûs an sin, *' J)a capo "
I
Tlie above setting is from the singing
<• -rt
t i
r%
i.*
® I
„Mf
Cameron
a native or
BallachuJish, as taken down by M r M.
MacFarlane, Elderslie. I t w ill be un- I
j necessary to print the words at length, as
I.eadels ca^ ^
§ cfc a.ccf f *<> a c°py
of Duncan Ban s songs if they do not
possess a copy of their own. A f t e r read- I
ing the poem carefully over they can I
select the portion from each movement I
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i
which they wish to render.
Professor Blackie has well said regard
ing this p o e m :— ‘ ‘ I am perfectly aware
that a poem of this length, composed for
pipe music by a H ighland piper, stand-?
at a great disadvantage when placed
before an English reader, as a thing to
be read. A m on g other objections, he will
naturally think there is t i o much of it,
too little structure, and too much varia
tion of one them e; but this objection
could not occur to a lover o f a Highland
pibroch any more than, the curious
variations
on
a musical theme by
a Beethoven or a Mondelsshon appear
too much to an ear trained to appreciate
the refined delicacies o f rich musical
harmonies; besides the critic w ill kindly
bear in mind that tho same objection
applies to H om er in many place®. . . .
f
'
—
*
I
I
CUMRA. C H & Z L B W G H LIN N -IU B H A TK .
Car mall,
Or.EUS C.
II
and i f there be a class Of persons accu,:>tamed to fare Aesthetically
on
high-
Smaolnteiui
jl
seasoned dishes, who deem no verse
w orth y o f the name of poetry that, docs
not bristle and tw in k le all over with
puzzling subtleties and b rillia n t surprises,
let. them consider that Duncan Ban in
the Highlands, like R o b e rt Burns and
the authors of our best Scottish songs in
' 1 fth'Ìb*,
F
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io n n
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the Low lands w rote in the language of
tuO people, to be understood by the
people, not in the language o f a curiously
cultivated art, to be praised by the
fastidious Aristarchs o f the hour, and
admired by a special circle of literary
I Amnirpc n
'
d : — :r.r
n : d : — )
uuagh a ih'ait m'tilgno,
Ì
: Si : s,
.\\
d : — : r.r
#iua*ad hui(
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C h ’*
^
^ •“ •d
o.mdai
ao(i
. S| . B)
d , _
'liui mo KMu&iilho&n air
I
~
(t •~*r « d
chuala;* o n
\l
: s, : s,
ULluui< a
1, : — :s,.si
d : s, : — J
ranKaibh,
+ . 1 .
1
u| » 1| • “ j
Apuhm,
Si : — : —
chai»meachd utl
^
Barcaldine. H e was appointed factor on J
the forfeited estates of Loch iel and I
||
. r ._ r
Le
A r d s h ie l; and he was shot b y an unseen I
/1
I
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assassin, whilo passing through a wood.
A lla n Breac Stew art was said to be the
assassin, but this is somewhat doubtful,
’
.
I
as he denied it, after an exile of many
vears in France.
M r Campbell le ft a
widow, Janet, a daughter of the Hon.
t| : d : — /
A^hoimn
m ■- r * d
d * S i * __ /
pu har Juchd - mi ruin;
I
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*
S
'Mo^geJi
/1
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;„.r
ihu blu d
cl
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jfj
dubùacu V a
^
^ : ^
ehiueadh dan
\|
: S| :
H ugh M a c K a y o f Bighouse, Sutherlandshire, and tw o daughters, one o f whom
j
: r : r
wn a
n : d : d
chaidh do chorp
m arried the E a rl o f Caithness.
The
follow ing elegy was composed in th e
bard’s tenderest strain im m ediately after
the murder.
H e calls the deceased his
foster brother, from which it is probable
th a t the p oet’s m other had nursed
Campbell. I t was for th e murder o f Colin
^
i n xi - t
r,i
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i
Campbell th a t James StewTa rt o f Aucharn,
“ Seumas a G hlinne/’ was tried at In veraray by a packed ju ry o f Campbells,
presided over by the D uke of A rg y ll. H o
1
^
P i
i.
was found g u ilty on th e slenderest
evidence,
and
was
ordered
to
I ei
hanged on a knoll above the Ballachulish H o te l called “ Cnap Chaolais M h ic
t»i '
• a
t• i
t. s*
j- i
i. r
Pharuig,
which is not fa r distant from
the place where Colin Campbell was shot.
James Stewart, before being executed,
read the 35th Psalm, and old H ighlanders
, -i i i ■ i. ■ x
i
»
i -n °
(ln i
in th a t district speak ot i t still as Salm
Sheumais a’ Ghhnne — the Psalm o f
Jamee o f the Gle<n. T h e Psalm gave fit
expression to his strong feeling, maddened
*ii
_.
w itli w ron g.
■!
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mnêadh;
j
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Kaoh duiu0 de d'
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cluiua.
-A« « modh.
: n, : ni
Si : li : ti
Foar G*iinn.iuohair
a
T h a t flies h elo ie th<* wind
Aiu* let the angel ot tho L o i d
Pursue them iro m bemnd.
}
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4. +u, , u na
hke unto the chuff
/
„ . A . „
seaciulh,
n : — :r.r
uair
air 111'
Campbell o f Glenure, in A p p in . H e was I
the younger brother o f Duncan, laird of
i i
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T h e subject o f this lament was Colin
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Mu’n egeul u
II.— CUMHA CHAJIÌEIN IGHLINN-IUBHAIR.
t jLet
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leabaidh
j I
.
L e t them con fou rded be and shamed
T h a t fo r m y soul have sou gh t;
W h o plot m y hurt, turned back be tlioy
A n d to confusion brought.
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dhilsettu’
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pnscii
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I s * s * _x
d * r # d
t * l *
Àu' ' ci.ta' ' chu.nlnirm chaoil oiUnJch
/
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:
si.sf
1| : — :S|.S,
s( : —- : —
'Sanuau
iiju-anuttrL
ur.
B’e sin an corp àluinn
£ uair ,bV thu ' ou1nl1'e s° ’d. sMàinte
(jrun cluon cumhachd no fais ort
Foinnidh dkiohpil
in Suairc, foisinneach, fàilteach, ’
Uasal iriosai, baiglicil
Caoimhneil cinneadail, càirdeil .
wrun ehron r a raitinn air chul;
Lìm de gllliocas »a de i6i?.Binil
Dana misneachail, trcubhaoh;
Gach àit’ an sirteadh gu feum thu,
W s a dh'eireadh each cui«;
choimneiis an drougan,
No >n t^ abhaK -s na ;sp<>ul.aibh
Co bu choltach lâ oheil©
Ach iad fein agus thù!
^ ^ e..
,
Dh fhas cu tighearnail, o e u ta e n :
An làth^ r bhritheamh Dlmn-eidiim
>g trie a rèitich thn cùis;
oil leam càradh do cheud-mhna;
òg a’ bhannfcrach a *d dhèigh i
Lion campar cn ieir i
Q>n
eUg a c£ij0 <leas nr.
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Fhuair mi
soalladh nach b* e ib h in n ;
An uaigh mu *d choinnimh ’ga reiteach;
5S truagli gaoh comunn th u g spoù> dhuit
O’n chaidh thu fèin aims an iiir ;
’ S cun dùil a nis ri thu dh’ è i r i g h ;
*8 © dh’ flik* mise fo euslaint
Bhi ’ n diugh ag innseadh do bheusan
.g nac} l t i g thu dh’ eisdeachd mo cliìiù.
. . .
Th e lament is a long one, and intending
competitors can select any verses they
have a special liking for, or which they
may consider most appropriate.
F io n n .
■"■■■■ .....
1
l XI.— BLAR NA. H-EIPHJT.
This song is the composition o f Corporal
A lexander M acKinnon, M orar, who was
born at Bun-na-Caimbe, South* "Morar, in
1770. Pie joined the army irjf 1794. H e
.served in the 92nd Gordon H ighlanders
and was present at the b a t t le o f Bgmontop-Zec, or Bergen, in 1794., H e was also
?
1
present at the battle of A le x a n d r ia ( “ Blar I
na h-Eiphit. ” ). T h e 90th -and 92nd Reei- I
ments began to attack. T h e French were I
nnven back to their lines in front of j
Alexandria. The B ritish force stood fo r |
some time, not knowing -whether to attack i
or retire. They had n?> artillery, and the |
defences of the enemy/ looked more formidable than th ey rea’ ily were
W h ile in
this
/vf rlonlCf 4 i , a i?
i i
±
tins state of doubt, t n e French kept up »
galling tire, w hile t h e British were n o t
able to return a shot. F in a lly Abercrom by resolved to retire. I t was w hile standing before the defences that the poet -was
Thiiirneadh m iaoich shonuilt*
’ R m + k ^ m{!,v n i hroma bll^ b’
\S an sradag Thioim i^r^lbh!'
A g iarraidh àit an cromadh iad,
J?an ^ s a jlh nàmimid coinnimh dhaibh,
r m
an, ' T 10!1 tonn-fhuileach
8tn,hnn>t 1» » “ h W»lg.
u ip 10/* tionndadh naimh gu cnsgairt
N iìn i,^
r air ™ deidllri
ohunnacas gnuis nam Breatannach,
Bhei^casan dhaibh na ’n sfreup,
I
s iad ■
an
tapaidh ruinn,
A _sml>hal gu dlùtìi astaracli,
E?1 le !narcaichean
„ ‘
na r ceum.
wounded.
W h e n found on the fie ld he
Appeared t o be dead I t was consequently
ordered that he should be buried. Sergt.
Mac Lean, an intim ate companion #of bi.q
put his ear t o his breast, and fou n d that
i
•ii l* •
/n .
, ,
he was still living. Owing to thi<* tim ely
discovery, he was conveyed to a hospital-
N aS h d ’
“ "i.
M ar dh’ fhaodadi? ia d ^ a ’n'le"ntail,
S thilleadh caogad each le ’n gniomh.
S 11 finQa?intinn fhaoin d’ am marcaicbean
S* „ n f fj®!itieadh u T n’n ? KhIf a? * lh md
^ nn ÌHoiCii liflch taodt
chaisl^^clindh
Ga ’n caol-ruith ’mach an sliabh
-r ,, +r„ . , , t
. , .
.h ip , in.tead Oi being buried i„ a « L *
£ £ * 8
with the clain. Shortly afterw ards he was
taken home to Britain and discharged
with a pension. H is first w o r k when g-et-
gun eòlas anns an astar
I
/m dùil mhòir ri gaisge chàich.
j
,ob’ fhf " ch Ra,!f Sach doigh a chleachdadh lois
t i.g well
I
to compose p o jn s „„ th e
battles which he had w itness**!
i >t
G lk its
»
d
C
r ’ftiCar
llIIM
. 1 1
cm’* nnoh tn'ainh
- son nach
i.
j
tou lch
- i fln
*u
-v
A\
A
I
f
c h a d a l seim li d ’ an c o m u in n ,
^ o à c h nû r c o i n n i n i h a i r a b h e i n n .
I
I
•»
I
Stad sinn re na h-oidhche sin
^ ll êir an cuim nan arra:
Bha ’leannan ,, fein,
gu maiglideanail
F o sgèit||
salg> 1f , „ „ . b^ , b h .
I
I
I
\
^ an digeadh fetnn no foighneaehd oirr’ ,
^ 8nn. tugteadh aobhar bruidlme dh’ i,
I
|
*
samhraidh a n ».
J
Lo
/
i i
Mi
Bu
1
— .
orAolih ;
ri •
mi
mi
aMfLQ * uaibhreach
-»*1
. ceaunard
"* r/i
a\
f
l:r l.^l'
d1 .,1
Abhi
glu a sa -i
: t .,(*)'
1
s tri;
1
r
v.’ tAh
W n
I
I
I
I
I
I
\
r 1^ d1
mh i u u g nan
'
I
’ & a n d> f h u a i r ia d a i t e c o t h r o m a c h
r
Pi1 , n ’
b a rra c li
I
’S an deanadh làmhacli dolaidh dhuinn,
**nn t<>ilea,chadh ri ’lìnn.
Tliàirneadh gàradli-<lronia leinn
dh-àrmuinn fhionnidh threun,
^ 10
gu sail a coinneachadh
^
cioiiiadh air a ghi'èin.
B n dt?ing^ n n làidil>) e o ^ a s a c h
k
champa.
]
J
\
I
I
I
\
|
t .r1^ 1 n1 ., r 1 : d1., 1
( s
: —.
Far an
dfhàgmi clann mc\ ghaoil?
« 1 * 1 +
thnL-*Rinn Hirh*«r
thog sinn r ig h e t v i
I
J
Bha iadsan ràideil, cuireideach,
^àn thuineachndh \san tir.
Ghabh iadsan aird nam monaichean,
j
io
L'
Gund
I
air
D à n ’ u rran ta
i. . ji
.
i t ”
I
Bha sinn o 1àidir, guineideach,
{
1
T
I
I
An toirt gu caegairt lkmh.
n i - . D D /n,
C l-
xu
S S L
I
S : PI
ri uchd naimhdean leibh,
p h àirc d ’ am
fà l na
b o in eid ea n ;
» J l n e i m l j e i l a n s p è ic p b u i n s e a n t a
Bho n bho!il ’bu chinntiuh’ sealg.
J
I
r ., r .s
11
1 1
S
^
J
*
■
•
.
.
|
.
" I
Dhlùthaich ar n-arm unamach
I
8a
dh'a indeòin luaidhe
Brangach,
(; u b-nHînh a\r ar cùl;
I
.
Lion ciad an t-Hj-eatli Ihuiangach ; —
■j.ii
«
1
• ____________________________ Roinn ghuineideach gu smùis!
*'
na*mhdeil
dian
an
gunnaireachdlì,
13 aoDHar a^.nnsaidh bhi ri r
tuoun.
. i,,
»
• i r -i
i
•
A an Iliag an sliabn s mai iuileacn air;
Cha ch:<ralas ri linn fieanaeliais,
Bha cuirp na ’n riadhan, uireasach,
Ann i\vi cogadh searbli no ’n stri,
Fo ’ n ian gun tuilleadh luithw.
Coig-lr.ile^liag cho ainmeil ruibh
»X am propadh ris an namhaid,
A ttiamnnn arm fo n
AiKontmpfi
® s*nn Sa ’n emàladh anns a’ cheò,
»• aobhar elm do ’n l.-oun-H.ear Albannach
Las a bhejnn m.n. àmhuinn n]inn
A tlmnar a eliuis lid eurbsa ns
A bàrcadh a prais oirnn.
Nach cubairean a thearbadh leis
Shaoil sinn gur h-e Vesavius
’Thoirt gniomh nan arm gu cncli.
A sgàin bho ’ bonn le tairneanaicb ;
Oh* i*irr e moch D.i-ciadain,
Airm chaola b fhaoineis làmh rith©
’ S a cliiad diagaehadh de ’n Mlmr*,
S a craos na ’chàir ’tigh’ nn boo.
5Joma*sdair ** riaraohadh
A s the measure of some of the verses
Ar bidh am macli oirnn truth;
•
u
u i
nr
xBuroa ’ bhith ri 9r cliathaichean
19 irregular it would be well for competiGu 'h-iillamh mar a dh’iarramaid,
tors to select such verses as are best
’ S nach faodadh fear air chiad-lomaidh
adapted to the music as now submitted.
Miol *sios leinn anns a’ bhlar.
F ionn
;inn air Diarduoiti a dh* fhiig sicn
A r sàr chàbhlach fad’ air chill,
jV a m
fa ig h o a d h m a id
ria n
snh iu h aidh
--------- TT.„
d h a ib h
r v .—
blar
h
-o
l a in d
.
Bu làidir iad na ’r cùis.
Ijoan Mac-a-Ghobhn càirdeil ruinn.
JS gum b’ fhoghainteach a bhàtaichoan;
A dh’ aindeoiti gleadhar namhaid
Chum © wnaladh air an siiil.
Bha ar n-ard cheann-feadhna toirteil
Anns an àn. ga ’ r propadh ’snas;
*
Bho dhrîm gu dmim ga _m
uu ’ ’
» n
V1 A1 ,
liT.,
Iowlnf? song, like that on " B l a r
na h-Liphit, is the composition of Cor^
poral A lexander MacKinnon, the Morar
bard. This battle is known as Egmontop-Zee (H olland), and was fought on 2nd
October. 1799. T h e army was under the
command o f Sir Ralph Abercrom by and
Ghlaohdadh cuibhr an fhortnin
Anns an laimh nach tionndadh toisgeil i ,
TS u dbùi.sgeadli sunnd gu cosnadh (lhuinn
Mar Fhionn a mosgladh Kluaigh.
^
General Sir John Moore, who arc referred
to in the second verse. T h e engagement
js vivid ly depicted by the bard, who was
present with hia regiment.
The song
cha
b* a n n 1c m o i t
na
gh ru a id n .
rrni
i
*«
. . . .
L--------
............... .... ... ....................
........................** ' " T
J
e
contains a full description of tho battle.
T h e a i r is k n o w n as “ A l a s d a i r G h lin n e ganadh.
!
F io nn .
BtjA.lt NA H-OLAINl).
Key C.— Modcrato .
(
I
-
„
N d an
I
.
,1
,i
GhlimiVua
r.,r
:
r
•
r
i-
m
Rreàt’unnàich o’ ,i
f
r
: r . r
I Dh’ioaneiiidh
i j
1 : 1 . 1
s . s : f . , s
tachairt
ris na
d'.,d' :
l.,s
mura
f
I
:l.,r
d .,d
’d mi 'pun
|
|
r.,m : r .,1 ,
Dhiule’u
canain
^ ^
I
Bha fòir - neadh aii? “ Mur” gu
I t
{l *. Ar. , O Sll
1. 1. * d m
’Camair
I
n . s
Thug ".AboicombaMh” taobh na
|
aiogil
ris na.
|
M
dhuibh,
cìutnutinn:
• J
Frangaioh.
|
’Si n Dubh-ghleannach a bh’ann, etc.
I
II
rA
I
P ò g bhur màthar, mnà is leannan duibh
1I
r1
I
1
I
I
I
Cala sèimh bho gàbhadh mharannan
I
Coinneamh bhàigheil bhlàth gach caraid I
)
daiugenn
I
’Si 'n Dubh-gUeannach a bh’ann, «tc.
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
Iomradh «lan do Chaptin Alaedair,
s£Ì°ka tàbhachdach, bearraideach,
nihiaim loam failt’ ur càirdean doalaidh
}
dhuibh,
j
1., 1
naimlidean;
i
I
j
’ Gliluaiseadh na miltean gu tearrai-ghlens;
M
\ \
\
j
Ohunna mi’n Druimneach dhubh dhealbhach
Long Alasdair ghlinnich nan garbh-chriocb,
Ma>' steud rioghail air bhàrr-fairge.
’Togail fo tbir lo sioda balla-bbreac
Suaicheanta* riogh ail n a h-Alba,
fhaio'ho
I
|
’S chunna mi ’n Drimneacb dhubli, ghl'eusda. I
'Cur fo sgaoi] a h-aodaich bhreid ghil,
Air macbar in bin, egiftmhaich, rèidhhch,
j Mar steud cruitheach, si 'cur rèise.
I
Si n Dubh-ghleannach a bh’ann, etc.
r . n
f.,f
/
Mr
delreannach au
fhoghuir.
. .
.
1
, : S;’ f
'r
M
lilha s
m ath.no
ohuiinhoe.
: li ■ li
brut bach )e eibbnoas,
I>h’ èisdeachd ri “ F à ilte righ Belmlas,,,
1
t
I
I Dhiricb mi
I
I
Tliriall “ Abercrombaidh” ’s " M u ir 1’ na foile ’
L e n luoich euchdach thun a3 bhaitoil
I Tharruinn iad gu h-eòlach treubhach,
I
Luchd na Beurla ri uchd catha;
I Nuair a dhìù na h-airm ri chèile
DUubhadh na speuran le ’n deathaich
Chaidh righ nan soirbheas gu dùbhlan;
Aig meud na strannaraich *s na h-ùpraid
fk°sgail
na
builg
air
an
cùlaobh.
jo
HI
*
• 1n
„
III
j
mu n 8anr* 3* rhuair ìad an dunadh,
I
I
I
II
.
I
®ha ftIai^
an
Mor-bheann cùirteil
An acawaid fo shroin na. dutbclia.
n 1'ubh-ghleannach a bh’ann, etc.
I
'
.
,
I
|
»
V.— AN
DUBH-GHLEiANNACH
I
bu lionmhor fear a blia }s an èisdeachd,
mL ■
•
n
, j
I
Nach do ghhiais leis Kin an ath-oidhcli'.
This song is generally regarded as one
m , f ,«
. , .
,,
o f the finest nautical songs in the langn- I
I Dri thag lad sinne mar a b annsa
1
t m
« t>i i t »- t j. >>
i I
I
Fo cheannardachd M h o ra ir Hunndaidh,
I
I
L ik e
U la r
n a h -L ip h it
and 1
I An t-òg smiorail, fearail, nainihdcil
I u B lar na h-Ollaind/* it is the composi- j
Nan teannadh ain-neart ga’r n-ionnsuidb
tion o f Corporal A lexander M acK innon,
Le ’bhrathaichean siod a’ strannraieb,
Morar. H e was born, in 1770, and died
I
R i ;n cuid crann a damns le muiseag;
I
,
* ttt-u- -ioi^
tx ,
• , I
?S na fir a toghairt thun nam Frangach:
?t
1814* .,H e was buried
I
B’ iad mo ìòiinsa clann nach dìùltadh.
I in
Th e Craigs
with m ilitary honours. I
I Bha ’ n leoghann colgarra gun ghealtachd,
I ^ 10 hero o f this song was A lexan d er I
Lo mile fear sgaij-teil làmh ruinn,
M acD onald o f Glenaladale ( “ F e a r a’ j
An Camshronach garg o n Earrachd,
Ghlinne,M as he was termed), who built |
Mar ursann-chatha Js na blaraibh,
tho monument to Prince Charlie, which
I l)h aontaich sinn mar aon sa bhaiteu
, • ni _ r
m,
,
£
,1
Le faobhar lann sgaiteach stàilleinn,
stands in Glenfin-nan
T h e bard refers to
J Cha bu ghniomh le ?r laoich gun taise,
j this fact in the first stanza— “ Fear- I
I
Faoineis air an fhaich’ le làmhach.
I
togail
nan T ù r uasal stàtail ” (T h e I
I Bhrùchd na naimhdean le ’n trom làdach
builder of noble, stately towers). T h e I
Air niuin chàich an kite tein e;
“ Dubh-ghleannach ”
was his pleasure I
Sasùnnaich droch chàradli,
barge, and the song is in her praise. T h e I
| Phi 11 iad o n araich n ar eoinnoamn.
I u j
i. - j
i
Ghlaodh Ralph uaibbreach ri chuid arnmnn
b,a« l ,waf handsomely rewarded by GlenGreasaibh na Gàidheii n’ an coinnimh
aladale fo r Ins magnificent poem.
The I
\S tionndaidh iad an niaig mar b’àbhaist
I reference in the first verse— “ D h ’aith- I
An dream àrdanyeh, neo-fhoilleil.
nich mi meoir ghrinn a’ Bhrathaich” is
Grad air an aghaidh ’s an araich.
I to Ia in M acG illivray, a native o f M oi- I
Gbliiais na saigbdearan nach pillte;
dart, who was piper to Glenaladale. Tho
I Mar lolaire guineach gun chaoimhneas,
^
, ■ 1
, ,,
I
Nach b’ tlnnat.da cl.Taoidhe lc mi-n,hodh
P 'P f r was hunself a. good poet- and tha
Tliug iad sgrios ’nan gathan boisgeach,
author o f the song,
Thu g mi n oidhche J
I
Mar dlieallanach oidhcho dhìlinn ;
raoir s an àiridh,” published as early as I
Ri sior iomain romli nan naimhdean
1813 in Turner’s Collection o f Gaelic 1
fe neul na ful air roinn am picoan.
Songs. A n oth er is given in th e Rev. A . I
# xi-n* • #i
* i'ii* • i
*
(*ed a trull sinn do ar duthaich
Cha d' mhill sinn ar cliù an cniadal,
Bhu sinn gach latha. *g an sgiùrcadh
Mar chaoraich aig cù ‘g an ruagadh :
Dh'ain-dcoin an cuid sloign gun chunntas,
T.gh >n o ,n Fhraing w ù r 'g ar bualadh
Bu leisg ar gaisgich gu tionndadh
’Nuair a chord an Diiic ri ’n uaislean.
’Nilair cbuireadh am baiteal seachad
\S a. dh’àireadh ar gaisgich threubhach
Bha io'ma Gaidheal air a sgathadh
Le meud a bhraise ’n an streupa,
, Fuil a ruith air lotaibh frasacb
f
i
Bho luchd bhroacanan an fheilidh
, ’S i fiior thaomadh leis na g;lac;in—
Struagh nach fhaod ar gaisgich èirigh.
n
i
M acLean Sinclair’s “ Gaelic Bards from I
1 7 kp;
ic o r;”
; io o e
nx
^
published m 1896. MacG illiv ra y died at N o v a Scotia m 1862, I
aged 70.
T h e song requires to bo sung with I
dramatic force, accompanied by distinct
.. ,
~ V
/
... ,
articulation.
T h e Gaelic words w ill bo
fA°,Un^
« “ D àm agus Ora.n le
Ala^dair Mac Fhionghain,
published in
1902, and in M acK en zie’s “ Beauties of I
Gaelic P o etry .”
w mwM
‘
■*
I
J
I
I
I
I
A N DtJBH G H L E A N N A C II.
-J
K E Y G ' — Modcrato, with dramatic e/feet.
: s.
s»: - : d I pi • - • r
1 i.
.
|.
■ ■
Là dhomh a mi n cois na
’rt ionmrth Wtabheil clfù or*. ;
Nachrobh’ro pàlrtich do dhùtàeha,
HlitMW thu dana gun chftrvn.
Gu nm-R«àthach lo dùrachd
Guu
iftbadh.
A n » « oh àlt bu rim lout,
Far na gheall thu o tli(n a bhl cairdoach •
Par na gheall thu o Mium. &o.
’
an am «lu»sad na oarraid,
Bha thu cruadalach fe trail
Mar tm dual nuit o d’ hcanair
JJhoUino buHÌdh anu au GalUjbh
»Miair a bhuannaich o’m foarann
Blm na Tuai hatch gun anain
* n ruagadh ’h an goarradh. ' * an àraich: I
& dtjis an i uag.idh '8 an gcarmdh, &c.
liôich ghleuada gun tJoma,
Bu mhorfeum Hun jran iouiart,
I
) I
M
M
I
i I
M
J
I
\ I
V
/I
I
x I
>1
I j
d • - • - I H •- •
“ • /
1 "• •
tragh • ad
f
It I
r * r * p I w - r * il
1•
I !• .
I
r,K ,
. ,
'* *
I *!•” •
I
(./Huala mi catemeachd nan Gaidheal.
I f
I I.
- .
i _ . . _
j
ij
I
S|. .d.fl.d I PI . - » r
d J - 1 *- | d J- I
Dh’aifchnioh mi raeòir ghrinn a’ Bhràth * aich,
I /
i. j
*
I
Q
r . .r: r I PI I - :r.d
1|« —t — | l ù - J
A ir slonnsairbu lùth-mhbr gMr
ich.
I /
\ \
I 1 ■ li
d * - * li I
—* Mi
q • - • o, I m •. m*
I I
T
ill*
.
\J1
J#, ; 1 ' *
J
18
thuig mi gu n do
ghluaia an t-urniunn,
I f
1 1
1* PI
8* Pi* m ! p - - « H* - • p I M-.TM
1 J- *
D. n . n I r . .
Q.
. r I Pl..r.
) J
Fear - togail nan tùr
uasal
fctàtaii
I
/
\ \
>[
,
i i i
i
I
>1
j \*
a : - : 1| t 1,: S»: S|
X|t —• — | —I —1 j I
*Si’n Dubh-Ghleannach a bh’ ann!
r
x
I /
.
_ ,
,
L
I:
d : - : li I Si:n,: 8|
n : —: - | s : n : r I
I
Hò • ro ghe*llaidh na cò
fchu»roadhi! I
*
I
I /
II I
[I*
I H ' - ’ I i Q.
1,* - • - I
I
‘ J
,
* I
Trom oirro
se.nn!
I * To bo repeated as a coda to each veree.
I
..
v
I
Bu m h ian n le a m eunna n am p o rt ealan ta,
I
Bu chonnabhalach ù rla r is gearra,dhea.n ,
Dionach, lùghor, d lù th neo-nihearachdach,
I
*Tionndadh n a n siubhlaichean oaithream ach,
) n , s.
,, , . xl
v. .
I
D huisgeadh luth a n smuis sna caxraidean,
r
D ù thch as naii lann dubh-ghorm t a n a dhuibh
I
Si ’n Dubh-ghleannach a bh’ ann. etc.
•
• A
MOHAIR
’iMiair a thogadh tu fiuaiceantaR àrda:
j
I m e n t h o h o ld t h o r a n k ot s e r g e a n t ,
j .
I
I
I
J
1
I
I
ana
1 11
M..’n Ak
(In
:Pt
1
I Lolnnoach,
,
j
f d : - :d
' L —
j . 1- ; - : n
:n .n
r
Bu ghreadhnaiche tartar;
Na cinn-fhcadhna’a na gaisxich
I
I
C& M u 5 ? &
Id
b’aioloam ri bin
|d : - ; r . n PI : -
■
I
,
;
;
(
I i )ran
IS
:n .n I r
•I
bhasdalach, pbiis
.
i j , . . .
m .
I tt . .r.Pi n . .
—
«•
I.
—
jr
do h-uon
Vi Hinn gach heart a bha rlogh
1 r Itt, * - * PI I pi : - : P! .Pi 1 : J i n * *
1
stiiibMo
I s \- ‘ 3
I < m • a »1
m ■s * 1 1
I tlioi*«*-cli na
(itiikbKO
I
I
IvcisiniGicl
*s arm mu luchairtean Chairo
»3 t r ie a ghleus thu reo-chearbacn,
»m bu bhòidhoach an còmhlan
'D el ’ an òrdagh Chloinn Chamshroin.
;
^
’ S iomadh o ig e a r gun ghealtaohd
, r w i d nG0_lapacU fo a rm achd
Ì I
J
m
LVuair a bhuailoas d o chnap-mhcoir
\ ir sàr' chaismeachd Chloinn Chwm shroin.
,
.
\
I
.
firiir o m ac thu vo-fhineialt
òideadb riomhaoh niin garbh-chnoc;
• *
I
Id =- =- }
.
thàin
•
pi >~ • “
lhAin
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plnobaircun
oil,
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Ann
on coirtafi’h am fir
I n n : 3 ; d | r i — Zn
d : - ; 111
I thoisoaoh nat
d»?
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h -E a n a c h d (Q. 0. O am eion I
Highlanders).
& ,
- „
, ,
/ A n n am breacan n a h-Earrachd
^
barrachd a ir t ’ ainm leara,
j
q-u ,- àlninn am mac tliu
*S tu ’ seinn Oaismoaohd Chloinn Chain-
ì
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Id
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,
shroin!
nrh
ach,
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S ^ * * l WM6hA'
C A IS A 1 B A C H D
C H L01N N
n u .iu & H P m N ”
C 1.1 A M . I I K O I N .
A ,U an na
soadh.
.
k
a.geann.oh rlo.nh
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m on u m en t was
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II
O H A IN DO M H O R A IR G H L IN N -U U C H A ID H .
IS
I
I
I
Cnea« ndn p.heal mar cbanarh,
e r e c t e d o v e r h is r e m a in s .
T h o a ir o f th e
fo llo w in g son g is g iv e n tro m t h o h rst
Tiri 7 A
M od
m u s ic a l
c o m p e titio n
of
I,n ze
f ,
. j 1?
ian/1
u n r c c o r d o d m e lo d ie s , 1904, b y p e r m i s s io n
o f “ A n C om u n n G a id h e a la c h .’'
F io n n .
I (II
:s
I j
'
I rigeul a
f|d:-:d
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
Beul Diane b« taioe,
a b o u t 1 8 0 6 ; an d d ie d in E d in b u r g h in
M ay,
18 1 2 ,
aged
88 y e a r s .
H e was
J b u rie d in G r e y fr ia r s C h u rc h y a rd , E d in -
ch a ste
I
1
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
D u ? n l a L n n J à u o i , ÌS'’
Marcach àrd, nan eac h mdra.
I
i-lu mhò«- •nnnu, ’* bn n,hht.h fòghlum;
I
Fasan Galitagu ìpòlrort.
I
’S math thi* »d ahhtl *ipdbuU. ,
A ir chùl cUunach bu bhòìdhcho ineasg Gaidheal I
A ir chùl clannach bn bhòidbche, &c.
I
Aghaidhmhacanu,chaoimhnrii
MbMta, mhoftchair mar flìhaigbdm:
I
Annâchdmiagiaine n a ’n daoimein,
I
n / n H M
Oridhe soiiieic gun fhoiii
I
Mar ghrian onolnihneil a’ boi«geadb air fMre&dh:
Mar ghrian choitnhnoi). &o.
Bnairce, skobhaita, fear&U,
Sùil liontach, ghorm niheallaob,
j-ju
fìnoaito mala,
nru^ldh Khr\( dh.i«rK chanuach,
o n i t s b e i n g d i s b a n d e d , i n 1799, h e b e c a m e
J one of
th o C it y G u a rd o f E d in b u rg h .
I Ho
re m a in e d
in t h o C i t y
G u ard till
I b u re h ,
w here a
I
a \
i •
I
I
1
L L^màolm bhoi'r? S,m«c{,“ * b“ Wh',ir M h :
T h e f o l l o w i n g s o n g is t h e c o m p o s i t i o n
I o f DuncaDi B a i t M 'a c l n t y r © , tn © h u n t e r
i
j
£ / 1 1 __ ___ 1 „
•
„„ • _
i. ;_
I bard
of
G le n o rc h y ,
in
praisQ o f h is
p a tr o n , L o r d G lc n o rc h y .
•«
^ t\ • t
l
I
D u n c a n B a n w a s born a t D ru im u a g h I art,
G le n o rc h v ,
in
M arch,
1724, a n d
I
, , .
/
,,
t i • .
j Jjpcmt h is e a n y Jôuth in t h o d i s t r i c t .
In: a f t e r l i f e D u n c a n w a s m a d e f o r e s t e r
I to
th e
E arl
o f B r e a d a l b a n © a t C o ir o I i
11
n„A o ffA v
I c h e a t h a a c h a n d B e n D o r a in ^ a n d attoi. 1 w a r d s t o t h o D u k o o f A r g y l l a t Bua^chailI *A
TT«.
__W1*4-u
I cite .
served
s ix
years
w itu
B re a d a lb a n e
F e n c ib lc s , in
w h ic h regi-
i c
I
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I
I
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^
H
f h
S nuairaggaoiltedobhrataoh,
Ri crann caol, direacb, s.-»aighte,
GHI.INN-UR0HA1DH,
I
I
H cha bl'n encoir a Miir ia d ;
^
^ fheuniN uir bhl agiloil,
OVUufètnatha^.ionudiVanannuua
O '* tu fèin a tha 'n ionad, &c.
che&mard «ach fin’ thu,
lua^h ir.haignetir nan gillean,
Han comandair gun lioma,
A n tùn aln>hrcU no ioimrt,
Nuch dean jiarlftdh a Hhlroftdh
Lo d’ lanntajbh g«ur, bioracb,
Bbiodhoatldioha’rt toman air ràmhaid;
Hhiodh calldach a’s iom-io, &c.
’S b l d o o innoadh mrtc fhain leaf,
Ann *8 (rach cunnark Van utd tliu,
iad gufniioMohdacii. fenin u.
Bhiialadh bhuUean as si èicean;
S itnuinhor curMidh'na dtdcadb,
Bhi 'a ullamh gn èirldh,
An am dhuit a b l d ’g rtihhoach crotrt-fàrî h
An am dhuit a bhi ’g èlbheaoh. &o.
'8 lomadh carMd mu1.. on»Irl dull,
Kadar Boalach a’s • ^ru^chan,
J-eU ’m bu nihath thu blii ’n uacbdar
1-e i»eart tDm’ a^-iiR ljiaidhe,
I
Vi-
i
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I
I
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ait,
I 9
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inn,
I d I*
a
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v M
iK»
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ig.
'S ’N ” J V ,'i i f h. r « l Ì a PCWom« C h ,m ,kr«i.,.
1 Ul. , b,lnn„dh ,e ibhn ^
’ ft itn sìoda r i ’ bàrra-dhuis
>s binn oaithream 1 d o shiuunsjnv
'A n inn dusgadh Chloinn Cham8Ìiroin.
Ì
M
I
II |.
II |!
|
^
breaca.il na h-Earrachd
^;n r
barrachd a ir t ! ainm leam,
is n;ur àluinn am m ac thu
I
I
j
^
\sothii
CaismcAclid
CMoinn
|i
a
C8wni-*
s h r o in !
D. M ac D h u g h a i l l .
........ ■■■—"•r
♦♦I A s
«
*
*
*
•
T H E
CU RSE.
The following poem is founded on an inter
esting episode relating 1o tho famous Kcppoch
parse, laid by the wife of Ranald Mhor, chief
bJ Keppoch, on the then Chief of Mackintosh,
Kho was her own brother. The cans© was the
treacherous betrayal ot her husband to the
Government troops, and his consequent death
by beheadal at Elgin, also the murder of his
third son, John, at Moy H all; both father
and son having been invited thither to a ban
quet. This third lawful son of Ranald Mhor
is most unfortunately confounded by the
authors of a recent history o f Clan Donald
wiijli John Dnbh of Bohuntin, his illegitimate
eon by a w e a v e r s of Bohuntin, whose des
cendants to this day are known in Lochaber
as “ sliochd na ban fhidheach.”
Such a
serious error will, it is hoped, in common fair
ness to the family of Koppoch, bo corrected
by the authors.
Tho curse lasted three hundred years, the
late Chief o f Mackintosh and brother of the
present Chief being the first eon to succeed
1 a sire since the curse was laid; the stipulated
| three hundred years having then expired.
“ Gheibh baobh a guidhe, ach chai ’n fhaugh
a n-anam trocair.” — Old Gaelic proverb.
PROLOGUE.
Gloom of the unknown forest, whore no human step
hath stirred,
Gloom of the depths of tho pino woods, where no song
bird’s note is heard.
Gloom of tho siorm-lashod ccean, black, limitless
waste of wave",
Gioem of the shrieking voices, crying through the
empty cavos.
Gloom of the lonely places, haunted by viewless forma,
Gloom of thefpaiu scarred faces, no heat of emotion
warms.
Gloom of the shut in nature, craving the grace of
speech,
Gloom of the hours of silence, where no human aid
may reach.
Gloom of tho hate of kindred, the fires of jealousy
nurso,
But the gloom of the doom most dreaded is an injured
woman’s curse.
TH E VISION.
Night, and the silenco of mountains piling up to the
sky,
Night, and tho breaking voices of waters hidden and
shy;
Night, and tho clear, cold moonbeams cast o’er the
slumbering woods.
Whore the oak, the ash, and tho hazel, drooping in
dreamland broods.
Night, and tho deep, dark shadows, on the brown
burn’s wavering orewt.
Night, and the soft small whirrings of bird life croon
ing to rest;
Night, and the wonder of beauty, steeping tho hills of
Glenroy,
* Aîth the air of a dclicate mystery, no alien sounds
destroy.
Out from the mystic silenco, a shadow from history’s
™ Page,
Clad in tho clinging garmonts that told of a bygone
„ age;
Pressed through tho velvet mosses, with footsteps
noiseless and light,
Paused ’neath tho waving branches, full in my awestruck bight.
Orbs of the deep brown colour, tho russot of autumn
weara,
Filled with a wondrous sadnoss tho pafcienco of
penitence bears;
Something of kindred’s pulsing stirred through my
.
throbbing veins,
rtj Sp^ke in my trembling accents, brake through my
terrors chains.
1 ‘ 'Shadow, among the shadows, cast by the moonbeams,
pale,
Puss, by the grey cloud barriers, rend thou the filmy
.
v e il;
•I Speak ! If thine oyos dim anguish tho acho of a heart
1
would share;
j Bpeak! if the long dark siicnco may break through tho
years' despair.
8 p o a k ! if thou’rt nought but a phanLom an o’erwrought fancy w oaves,
£$peak! if thou’rt nought but a flicker, conjured by
wizard leavos,
PiiK' tnou the grey cloud barriers, rend thou tho iiJmy
i « vei1’
I Shadow, ciftt in tho habit of a woman flight and pale.”
THJfl VOICE OF THE VISION,
“ iled runs tho li ay. and the song of its joy, as it
storms o’er its r.x-.ky bed,
ts broken and hoar?«c, in its careless course, for tho
chief and tho murdored de*d.
There’s a sol) in tho waters, hoard in tho night, a
warning of dool and pain,
For tho jo y of m ylifo bcuayud, and the wife bereft for
a brother's gain.
ì ‘•The eagles screamed from tho conics depth, and the
wild oat secured the wood
That night with tho mew of the traitor’s call that
lured to a doom of blood.
Tho distaff fell from my chilling hands, and tho red
rose fled my cheek,
For I fell in my soul Clanhattan’s wilo?, and the lio
on his false tongue speak.
UTho banquet is spread, o d rancour is dend, I plead
but a true bohoat,
Ho spake, For my kin, and ho of my blood, my hall
but awaits tho guest ‘
O, brother of shame! I wept, that tho name you boro
was once my own.
For I ho via on that row in my shuddering eyes, would
the ties of race dethrone*
4
Go not, beloved! ’ I cried» *r*or trust in the wild
cat's paw, our boy .
Touch not the cat, but tho glove,’ ye know, ho waits
but tho powor to destroy.
A h ! loved of my lie art, a woman’s eye, sees far
through a nature thrawu.
4‘ Where the man, unwittim.% is caught in tho rac«h, by
unscrupulous fingers drawn.
“ In vain I ploaded, and urged my foars, my love
’g+inst his 1oy*U t.iust;.
Ho could non deem a brother’s h*nd would deal him a
traitor’s thrusc.
Keppoch's Chief, and my youngest boy, Ian moghaol,
went forth
To meet tticdr doom, with their trusting hearts, where
he dwolt in the cruel North.
“ All night, the wind* southed by, and sobb:d, in the
larch and tho rod-ribbed pine.
I dmvt not sleep, for I ho*ivd tho mo xn of tho stagbounds drag to a wingeiug whine.
0 , W40 i- m o ! for the iioy ran red as blood ’gainst the
rocking stones,
A d thospae wife’s shawl was drawn and spread as
*she muttered in iitful gro&us.
“ Long, loeg I watched by the Cattle gato, and looked
for the mountain path,
Beyond the hiiN of tho f*ir Glenroy, whcro they’d
come by its flowory strath.
Against my will, did uiy broken heart epeak out and
its t&ie unfold.
For the k is . I laid on the living brows, struck chill on
my lips, and cold.
“ They told of tho gapiog wounds th?.t stained his
halls in a stream of rod.
They told of the noble prisoner’s fate, to tho gibbet at
Èlgin l e d !
No moan made I, though m y blood ran white as
molten flic in my veius,
Till I spake the words in my maddened pain, no
thought of tho judgment, seat restrains,
O G c d ! Thou forga vests the curse that fell from a
tortured mind distraught,
f-Ttie cur-e that olave from siro to son, a brother’s
treacherous deed had brought.
Thou traiter chief of Clanhattao’s high and one time
honoured name.
The bed tbou gavest in blood, is thine to i m p in
eternal shame!
“ For three score long and cursed years, no son shall
succeed in thine ancient hall,
Guard, as yo may, tho precious heir, on thy hopes, on
his life, my curse shall fall.
Death!—grim, relentless, meted me, shall sever each
loving lie.
As alien Chief, to Chief, shall succeed, and in barren
succession d i e !
“ My brother shrieked as he heard, for ho knew that
m y woman curse would hold.
When she who had spoken tho words lay quiet on the
brow of the hill, and cold.
That his name aud raco wore condemned to see no son
succeed to a chief’s dcsiro,
In childhood’s days, or in oarly prime, they should
wither and pass, by a woman’s iro.
“ Alas! my curse hath hold a s l spake, through three
long hundred weary years :
But a h ! my poor soul passed away, in wild unrest and
bitter tears.
C4*vLcmu«d till the curse I laid was razed, and son
rmccoedod to sire onco more.
To dreo the days of penitence sore, nor scok my rest on
the blessed shore.1’
H
4
(4
The tale is told and tho Vision passed,
To her peace oteraal, and rest at last.
A lick C. M acD onell of Koppoch.
Noto I . - “ The c u r c spoken r>tnll bo grantod, but
tho soul that laid tho curse shall nofi And rest.”
Noto IT,—The motto of tho Clan Chabtan.
u
F L () ]{ A
M A C I) O N A L D ’ S
LAM ENT.
A
A T R A N S L A T I O N OK WORDS liV llOGO.
[T O T frE
E D ITO R
“ OBAN T IM E S .” ]
M ac E o g iia in .
Seal! Uiall anns an fhiuoch air aodaim an t-sìùibh,
j (iu clia rN a choire ’tha monmharuich trom,
i h a Mora ’na h-Auar fo'n bhreacau a’ fcil.hcamh ;
Tha n deur ann 'na sùil, ’a tha ’n driichd nir an lom,
Tha glUti air an tulaioh, tha ’sùil air a ’ chulaidh
’Tha fccòladh mar fhaoileag ga beò air a’ chtiol—
(au doarbh, o'n a dh’fhalbhe, gursearbhthtii tuiroadh,
“ Gn’in buslan lois an ànnunn, Prionn&’ Albuinn, w o
g h a o l;
G n’ni bu slàn leis a' ghAisgeach, 'tha calmarra <'g ;
Ou'm bu shVn leis an òglach nach fhaic mi ri m shaoghal.
«1Wt
Chearc-fhraoich ’ I,ha dfirdail air cùlaobh BeiunChonnuil
Gun chùram air iteig, 'nacrùban ’ean fhraoch ;
A n iolair \ha fcrd arm an creagan chloinn-Kaonuill
Gun eagal roiitih'n t &ealgaii* ’ Ilia scalg air an raon ;
Gheibh an sulaire cadal air leacainn na tràigh’,
’ Us an sgarbh air an sgeir ann am meadhon a’ chuain ;
Ach, O ! tha Prionns* Albainn air fhuadachd gu bràth,
'Na dhathaich ’s, ’na dhachaidh ionad-fasgaidh cha d’
flm a ir;
Tha ciloch air a ghaisgc, ged nihaireas a ghr&dh ;
Tha bròn air mo chridhe, ’s air Alba ’bhioa buau !
/♦
. “ ThA’ n Bgiath a ir a sia b a d h b h a r r gà ird ca n a n d U e a s ;
I T h a 'c h lo g a id a ir a s g o lta d h a ir a od a n n an tròiu ;
Tha’n claidh’-mòr ’na shlncadh air meirgeadh ’s fo
dhhnoas,
Ged ’s dc\rg liimh ’ua claidheamh a’ choigrich ’tha
brenn ;
STha lenm nan each astrach, ’us ceum nam fear borb,
A ’ naltairt an tarstain, ’s a’ sgapadh nau treubh ;
Oohotn ! cion nach d’ renbadh na speuran le colg
’Nuair rion brùidealachd aoibhneas ana am fuil nam
fearlreun?
Gu m bn elàn leis an òglach, an gaisgeach 'tha
bònraichlo,
Tha n criin aig do shinnsear air a shineadh do’n chèin V
ib
G
a
GAIDHEAL.
leusadh
F
lb
i o n i T.
I hear ifc when the west winds blow
Up from the scented woodland ways,
I hear it in the rise and fall
Of waters where the hill burn strays.
Some word low uttered, years ago,
*
Sobs in the night tide’s ebb and flow;
Thy voice makes music in the night,
That o’er my heart-strings play.
No. 333.— AN OLD BOAT SONG.
r
Tlie following is tho famous Iorram or
rowing song in ‘■Biorlainn Clilann Raonui]i;) by Alex. Macdonald.
The music is
from the "Gesto Collection/?
I
F io n n .
I0 R B A 1 1 C H L A N N
{
{
:
a
.
f
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roghainn.
m , r . — m
.
I
chladharra
m
|
cil
d , m . —
:
phil
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dearmad
d . II - . 8,
gailbhinne
1
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}
• chearbacU
| m , s, . —
na
—
fre&sdal
Gu
{
}
gun
airtcal
\| d m . r
{
{
tighadh,
d , d . —
Gun
: b , . i,
. Ji
d , d . —
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Thugaibh
; m . r
:
Thugnibh
{
I
dhuibh bhi ’ n ur
r : m
1 d
1
tnlgadh neo
—
| m
1
•
îtith
1| m : r . m
1
tul gad h neo
r ; A . r
gurcoltach
Though I may hear those tones no more :
Until the purple dawn shall break
^În shimmering light on yon dim shore ;
The words I ne’er may hear again
Wake into memory’s sweetest pain ;
Thy voice makes music in the night, *
Though thou art far away.
A l i c e C. M a c D o n n e l l
Of Keppoch.
R A O N U IL L
Glkus B. F l a t - C u gram aiL
1 l, : s ; . h
1
rinneadh ur
Nis o'n
4 . r ,m
J r ; d . h
»•9
I
ll
N E V IS .
When all the warring sounds are still;
I hear it in the rushing wings
Of winds that sweep the wooded hill.
In whispering accents sweet it breathes,
Low ’midst the mystic rowan leaves
Though thou art far away.
• .
A
BEN
T H Y V O IC E M A K E S M U S I C IN T H E
N IG H T .
M ac E o g h a i n ,
a.4N
TO
Farewell to the mountain,
rare well to the Ben •
Henseforth I must dwell with
ill* children of men.
‘ u^
so now, that
VVith fongue or with pen,
1 should e'er have to utter__
“ Farewell to the Ben.,;
Farewell!
brown lieathy moorland
Stretches iar at the base,
w i , y hrow in tlie Zodiac
Would i&om to have place.
Uy thy cra^gs t-bero are fountains,
_ -^y o«ion fountain a flower
Breathes incense to heaven
For sunshine and shower.
Farewell!
On thy crest the Eternal
Has frozen a crown,
And the mist like a veil on
Thy face falling down,
■vtr
the genii,
Who honour thy caves;
And the green of thy kirple
Is lost in the waves.
Farewell!
niy old home,
My heart is full sore;
Gh. Ben Nevis! my dear home,
My “ day’s work" seems o ’er.
I hen, farewell to the summit,
Farewell Aohintoro;
Farewell to Ben Nevis__
Ben Nevis no more!
F a rewell!
A. R a n k i n
Sin,—The following is a free translation of the
well-known song by Hogg. 1 .shall be glad to
consider any suggestions for its improvement
from any of your numerous readers.—Yours, etr.,
CLARSACH
FAREW ELL
:
ghlais.
Tulâdk dannara tìirum-ghlac,
Rifrheas ciunmbean is feithean,
Dh; fhagus soilleir bho cheuman an alaich.
Sn-obadU fonnmlior gun ‘eislem
ifi garbii-bhrosnacb a cheilo
lorrLm ghlcust’ ann an beul raimli bhràghad.
\
>
Glen-Masan! O Glen-Masan!
Where fairest houghs are soon;
Lonely was my place of rest
By Inver-Masan green.
Glen Etivef 0 Glen Etive!
There my first* home was ra k e d ;
Beautiful were its woods in morn
When there the sun had blazed.
Glen Orohay! O Glen Orohay!
Sweet vale of ridges smooth.
Full joyful there round Naos
^Vere the Glen Orchay youth.
Glen-Daruail! O Glen-Daruail!
I love its men— I love it!
Sweet are the cuckoos on the boughs
On the grey hills above it.
I
L I T E R A R Y NOTES.
In course of conversation with the Marquis
j of lullibardine at Dundee, ho informed ms
j that the Highland Society of London, of
which I think his Lordship is the Chief or
I Hon. President, h id discovered among an
I accumulation of papers in their possession
a MS. collection of Gaelic poetry by Alexander
I Stewart, who was at one time a schoolmaster
I in the Long Island and the author of the wellknown song, “ A Mhàiri bhòidheach.” Along
with his brother Donald, Alex. Stewart pubI lished “ A Choice Collection of the Works of
of the Highland Bards, Collected in the HighI lands and Islands” in 1804. I t is said by the
editor of “ The Uist Bards,” page 144, that
Stewart fell heir to the MS. of “ Gillo na
j Ciotaig”— Archibald MacDonald, North Uist,
I who died at Fort Augustus, and that this
I formed the foundation of the Stewart CollecI tion of 1804. I came across an interesting *
item in that excellent work, “ The Northern
I Highlands in the 19th Century,” by Mr James
I Barron, the editor of the “ Inverness Courier,”
which helps to throw light on the MS. now
discovered by the London Highland Society.
I I t is recorded in the “ Inverness Journal” of
J 21st August, ]807
“ The Highland {Society
I of London have sent Mr Alex. Stewart, the
I editor of a recent (1804) collection of Gaelic
I poems, on a tour through the Highlands for
I the purpose of collecting such fragments as are
j still extant of the poetry, music, and historical
J tales of the ancient Caledonians. An enquiry
I into the topography of the dominions of
F in g a l; of the places of birth, residence, and
interment of the Invincible Chief, his warriors
and bards ; of the scenery of their exploits, to
gether with the remains of their buildir.gs,
tumuli, etc., form also a part of his mission.”
A good many “ Fragments of Ossianic” poetry
I have been published since 1804, so that the
I London Highland Society should submit the
I MS. to such as are acquainted with published
I Gaelic literature, ancient and modern, to ascerI tain what of the contents o f the Stewart’s MS.
collection has already been given to^the public.
Part of the Gaelic Illustrated Dictionary is to
I hand, and it contains a large number of woodI cuts which cannot fail to be of value and
I interest. Under the Gaelic word “ Canntairlea ch d ” we have an exposition of the
I MacCritntuon system of notation for the
I bagpipes, by Dr O. Bannatyne, Salsburg,
I Holytown, who has been able to bring music
I out of what had, till recently, been considered
I the barbarous jargon of ancient pipers. We
I trust Messrs E. MacDonald & Co. may be
I encouraged to push on with the publication of
1 this interesting and valuable Gaelic dictionary.
Miss AMY AJl'liKAY, Nkw Y djck.
W in] er of Prize for Gaelic Sinjfiti”1with Clarsach Accompaniment.
I***- •
THE
P R E S E R V A T IO N
S C O T T IS H
OF
SONG.
[ t o THE EDITOR OF “ THE OBAN TIMES.” ]
Ì 4 4
83 Jamaica Street,
Glasgow, October 25. 1906.
w
Si r ,— I t is rather humbling to the true
Scotsman to talk of banding ourselves to
gether for the preservation of what should be
dear to the heart of every man and woman in
our country, and an asset of which any nation
might well be proud. I t is a fact, however,
looked at from any point of view, that Scot
tish song and Scottish music are at present
undor a cloud. They are not even popular
with the working class, and that is a. very bad
sign indeed. A quarter of a century ago
Professor Blackie bewailed the fact that Scot
tish music was not popular in Weest-End
drawing-rooms. In our day it h not only
banished from the drawing room but from
every other place in which it used to be so
well received.
I have been in communication with &ome
of our leading men who have this question
very much at heart, and we are of opinion
that to stem this tide of apathy and in
difference an Association should be formed
with branches in every town in Scotland,
whereby, by various well organised efforts,
Scottish music might be restored to its place
I in the life of the Scottish people. That such
a plan is likely to be successful we can seo
by the success of the Mod in connection with
Highland music, and the Welsh Eistedfodd in
connection with Welsh muisc. Both of these
organisations have attained to a distinct
success which is gratifying: to all lovers of
national song, and yet they have not a tenth
ot the ground to work upon that we Lowland
bcots have.
I
I t k not necessary to take up your space
with further argument. What v « want to
Know- is, are there sufficient men and women
mterastod m the “auld Scots sangs” B„d
îUS?° Kellerall.v ' to make a united
iffo it lor their preservation? I f so, I would
like to ask those of your readers who would
K' i
i
r a i T ) r - +f
a n l T tT ‘, , t t0 k i a d | y o o m i n t i n i -
m(\ 'n ttle fi,ret instance, and if the
le.ponse is favourable a meeting will
etc
011
*h°so interested.— I am,
J o h n W il s o n .
*'4
'♦T
u •
ì
i v
■
\v /
4
Vlt'
,T e :
•U“
DUN AONGHAIS, NORTH UIST— TIIE U N O
NORTH
OF THE ‘^MACHAIR.
U IS T .
BY THE DUCHESS OF SUTHERLAND.
'HE “ machair,” the “ machair,” the wild land
of the sea,
The green land with the grey sand,
Where salt waves break, and outcast
Salt mists to creep in shoreward, like souls by
Death let free.
The wild geese, the wild swans, below the windy
clouds,
The clouds as spin-drift blowing,
As first snow faintly veiling
The land and sea enwreathing, and wan as dead
ones’ shrouds.
The strange calls, the strange cries, that men un
heeding pass,
The spinner with the white thread,
The fisher with the brown nets,
And she that herds the cattle through the shiver of
the grass.
The bent grass, the long grass, it silvers in the
moon,
The moon athwart the sunset,
The light upon the darkness,
: The light that sets the music, where the Shith* are
^
rising soon.
1 The old Shith, the good Shith, the Voice that comes
and goes,
That echoes wide of Heaven,
Nor human lot a-wailing,
| No human burden wailing, but what the wise man
1
knows.
(
i The “ machair,” the “ machair,” the beach land of
the sea,
The fisher at his fishing,
The cailleach at her weaving,
. The wild birds keening westward, they steal the
heart from me.
°Gaelic—pronounced Sbee.
M ULL
AND
IO N A
'
*
A f t W T A v FtfYV
feeling and .sentiment which must have como
;vs a w a t surprise to. people who knew tlio
^ a m i A llU W <
K in r
A i i r v m n * v Ml , i r
- L i.11 M t O A N D MTS B O O K S .
nti
*7,“ !
hove was a g r a t i f y i n g tu rn ou t o f the memboi\s a t t h e o r d i n a r y m e e t i n g o f th is Assoejauion, held in th e BiHar
H all
\Vatorhr>
R o o m s , o n T h u r s d a y la s t.
’
*
M,< a w
i\!
m* -i
- it
i ,
1 A l o x . M a e l l.m l p resided, and h o r d e s
most o l t he om co-bearers and members th e
au d ien ce inclu ded rep resen ta tives
from a
nu m ber o f o th er H ig h la n d societies in tin*
c it y
m i l w -ftH o .
rp,
, .
.
r J l e c t u r e r tor th e e v e n in g was M r D.
M a c P h e rs o n ,
classical.
master,
Glasgow
Athenaeum, and th e subject o f lectu re was
th e H ig h la n d author, “ N e il M u n r o .” A t th e
H ig h la n d e r oiil.v in th e burhvquo representation s which S c o tt and o t h e r w r ite r s had
fo is te d o n th e m as genuine.
In o r d e r t o
b rin g o u t various point# e x tr a c t * were read
, fro m “ T h e L o s t P ib r o c h .” and th e o th e r
works touche<l on w e r e “ John
S p le n d id ,”
, “ D oom C astle/’ and “ Children o f -the Tern. P o st.”
A s a p ie c e o f c lu ira c te r an alysis lie
knew n o th in g 111 English lit e r a t u r e to comw ith “ G iU can th e D r e a m e r . ”
S te v e n son, in “ K id n a p p e d ,” d e s p ite th e obvious
pains lie had bestowed on th e work, n ever
reached the h eigh t* t o which N e il M unro had
attain ed in “ John Splen did,” and M a c t a g g a r t
‘
“ I>»oin C a s tle ” in r e j e c t o f t h e fa it h fulness o f th e d elin ea tio n o f th e character,
was superior even
to
T h a ck era y ’s B ecky
Sharpe in ‘‘ V a n i t y F a ir . ” A s -a stylist, too,
M u n ro was in
outset, h o w ever
M r MacPher.-jon rev ie w e d
b riefly th e p osition o f th e H ig h la n d e r in th e
L o w la n d s and elsew here. T h e r e was, lie said
so m eth in g p a th e tic in t h e ir present position
all o v e r th e world.
T h e y were, as fa r a*
la n g u a g e was concerned, a d y in g race and as
a p eop le t h e y w e r e g ra d u a lly being ousted
fr o m th eir n a t iv e land.
W h a t the sword h id
fa ile d to do th e purse was doing. T h e y w ere
in much th e sam e p osition as wore the c-hildren o f Isra el, when th e y w ere carried a w a y
to Babylon. C hange t h e period and instead
o f th e pow er o f th e sword put in the power o f
m oney, and th e comparison was complete.
W h a t had fo rc e d them in to t h e L o w la n d s ?
E v ic t io n and s e v e ra l oth er causes.__all spring* in g fro m t h e evil o f p r iv a t e ownership in land.
\ A n d when t h e y ca m e to th e L o w la n d s th e y
came a m o n g a people w h o were as alien t o
I th em in fe e lin g and lan gu age as th e Jews
w e re to th e Assj'rians.
Some, a. v e r y few,
had been able t o rise t o high positions, but
most of them had s im p ly been able to exist,
and t h a t a t th e good pleasure o f o th e rs who
could m ake a p rofit fro m t h e ir labour.
To
pursue th e comparison fu rth or, tlie old Jews
had the same te n d e n c y t o co n g re g a te topettier, as was m an ifested by H i g ì j landers in
the Lowlands- In t h e ir ow n Association, fo r
exam ple, t h e r e was all the exclusiveness o f
t h e J e w s ; but, a f t e r the lapse o f a generation, t h e y usually ceased t o be H igh lan d ers.
A t best th e y w e re only
of l i t e r a r y artists, th e beauty, th e delicacy,
and t h e rh yth m o f his E n glish pi icin g him
on a h>vcl w ith t h e best o f l iv i n g and past
authors. Then th e r e was his w on d erfu l versat i l i t y t o consider. W h o , fo r exam ple, would
h ave im agined th a t th e man who could w rite
“ Johl1 S p le n d id ” could
also w r it e those
humorous sketches on “ Erclne,
and th e
“ V i t a l S p a r k ” — a d e p o rtm e n t o f authorship
m opposed t o his o th e r works as a n y th in g
could well be. "i-et t h e i e th ey w e ie , m a long
series, -and each m a in ta in in g the sam e cxcellence as th e sketches which had appeared
! before. In conclusion, th e lectu rer said thatwhat M acPherson had done fo r the Celt of
a far-off tim e M u n r o had done, and done
better, fo r th e Gael o f to-day.
Qssian was
not tl,fkir p r o p e r ty alone, but th e w ork ot
M u nro was th e ir * and theira alone. l i e spoke
ô r them to nil th e world. H e brought back
glories ot th e P e n in s u la r cam paign, ol
W a te r lo o , and oven o f the “ F o r ty - F iv e . H e
s!)r)ko lo r a r a c e ’ sliY 1)1,1 P 1'011/1’ not ^ \ °V * °
self-advertisem ent, and he spoke so tr u th fu lly
linA <0 b e a n tin illy th a t th e world had been
fain t o listen t o him aiu. would now kn ow
them b e tter than it had e v e r known them
before.
.
.
I
} u t } 10 discussion which follow ed, it was
I p o in lo d out as a d u tv that practical support
I should be given t o M r M u n ro in his* w ork bv
H ig h la n d e rs in th e purchasing oi his
books, and t h a t th ey should not sim ply con
vent them selves wi t h lectures on the subject.
T h e custom ary votes o f thanks were heart51y accorded.
TIITC a n n u a l g a t h e r i n g .
I
.
I
A t the close o f the m e e tin g reference was
I m ade t o th e a rra n gem en ts which are being
| nmde fo r th e annual g a th e rin g on lS th JanI narv, and am on g o th e r intim ations t h e tact
I was stated th a t tae^ C o m m ittee had succeeded
in securing the services o f M r R o b e r t B u rn e tt,
I th e celebrated b ariton e singer. M r B u r n e t t
is perhaps E din bu rgh s most popu lar vocalist.
I his appearance at an y musical iu n ctio n n ever
I fa ilin g t o a ttr a c t la rg e audiences, and at tn c
I recent annual meetinq: ot the Scottish S ociety
I in L o n d o n his singing created q u ite a fu rore
* o f enthusiasm.
a
h ig h l a n d
g a r r is o n
in the cities.
T h e y came, o r ra th er, th ey
used t o come, speaking Gaelic only, and were
p r a c t ic a lly fo r e ig n e r s a m o n g a race w hich,
w h a te v e r good qualities th e y m ig h t have,
did not include am ong th e ir characteristics
a fe e lin g o f friendship for the race to which
th e y belonged^Vhat m ore natural, then,
*han th a t t'hev should fo rm Associations such
vs th e M u ll and Iona.
T h e p it y was t hat
more o f th e ir people d id not ta k e a d v a n ta ge
o f th em .
P ro c e e d in g w ith his leetu ro proper, M r
M a cP h erso n said t h a t in N e i l M u n r o an
au thor had arisen wlu> could do full justice
to the H ig ld a n d character, and who had g iv e n
th e w orld an insight in to H ig h la n d l i f e and
GLASGOW
IN V E H N E S S - S H I K E
A S S O C IA T IO N .
__________
L E C T U R E ON
N E IL
the
very
forefront
l
a,/att li?‘' ; b u t V -8 rea>\Y i e *ponsive in ms (
heart to the g a ie ty and j o y o f life.
h i h alf Ins
mood? lie was riotously tunny, w ith & v ivid sense J
of the humorous, but for all the g a ie t y and hcarti-
<
MUNRO.
!
nes* there seemed for some reasou or other to lie
£ x, ^,1
T h e ordinary m o n th ly m ee tin g o f the G la s g o w r
Inverness-shire Association was held on T h u rsd a y
evening of last week.
T h e president, M r A l e x .
across the picture the shadow o f a tragedy.
Mr
M u n ro ’s stories and poems w ere iuspired b y a
peculiar love of
L1
Fraser, occupied the chair, and there was a good
attendance.
M r W . M a c I I a r d y , S.S.C., Edinburgh, read a
paper on “ N e i l M u n ro .” H e referred to the e a rly
!• / „ j „
j.
,
,.c .
life and surroundings of M r M u n r o - h i s life m
the tow n of In vera ra y , w here he had received his
education and e a ily business training. H e then
proceeded to g i v e numerous extracts from this
author’s w orks in
p k o .s e a n d
h is n a t i v e
county
and its people, and there was not a brae in \ r g y ll
he would change for the most rich and picturesque
prospect in the world.
T h e Scottish G ael was
under a deep sense of ob ligation to him for w h a t
ne had done, for he had d ea lt w ith a people easily
misunderstood, and in a manner o l I v possible to
one of themselves.
A m o n g those w ho afterw ards spoke w ere the
Chairman, M r James U rq n h a rt, Lieut. Henderson, M i 1 cter G ia n t, and Air H u g h M a c L e o d ,
writer.
A musical program m e fo llo w ed , which was sustained by the Misses G rant, K o lv in g r o v e S treet,
anc^ Miss G rant, Gt. W e stern Hoad, Mias Morrison> Messrs Pearson, D . M . A lla n , M a c L e o d ,
and James Guild.
T h e m eeting afterw ards accepted w ith re g ret j
the resignation of M r James G uild,hon. secretary, »
aT)d M r A . Guw, 22 D e rb y Crescent, K e lvin sid o :
N o rth , was appointed fcecretary.
t
|
_______ ______ _____________ __
|
I
poetry,
for M r M unro is the master of both. H e described
the humour o f “ E r r h ie ,” and the rollick in g tun
of “ P a ra H a n d y ” o f the “ V it a l S p ark ,” and in
summing up said th at in M r M u u ro ’s w o rk s,
whether prose or poetry, th ey had this call,
w hether it was to the exiles or to the old home.
T h e ie was the old C eltic sentiment, the love of
country and of hnme, the love o f a free life, the
pride of a grand death, and above and behind all
A # keen note of y e a rn in g for something in the
[ g o l d e n past, something beyond. G loom there was
# none— the Gelt was not g lo o m y although some*
«*
,
.
,
*
•
•A
Bssssni
N E IL
MUNRO
AND
H IG H L A N D S P IR IT
IN
to the modern, H ighlander. Passing over
the marches, strathspeys, and rcols as
having
their
points
patent to tha
uninitiated and unsusceptible world, he
takes tho characteristic music of the
bagpipes— tho piobairoachd.
W h a t to
tne man o f business sounds as indistinc u j1e m onotony, is to the H ighlander
a co-ordination of the m ost beautiful,
though subtle variations.
A s in the
history^ o f th e race,4 the predom inant
strain is Kadness and IJtaont. M any of
these tunes, it is true, sound the note of
b a ttle ; but there is a length o f pause
upon it which suggests that the clansmen
bewailed the inevitable carnage rather
than rejoiced at the acquisition of terri
tory. M unro describes how the strains o:
the piobaireachd in a cottage make the
inhabitants o f the glen leave their work
and listen, resistless and spellbound, to
th e message from the days o f old.
The
long, deliberate notes o f the ground-w ork
are the call to assemble and hear the
th e m e ; the elaboration o f variation in the
b o d y o f the tuna works u p through the
turgid com m otion o f ancient battle, or
the sobbing o f wom en over the death of
their chief, t o the wild war-dance of
victory, or th e convulsive shrieks o f d e
spair, represented b y the final variation
o f tho piobaireachd. A n d then, when all
is over, comes again the slow m ovem ent
o f pause notes resuming tho work-a-day
Hfe, or accepting the inevitable.
In this style o f m ixed description—
description of fact and the awakened
feeling— N eil M u n ro is a ma-stcr. Black
can vie with him, though Scott cannot,
in the w ord-painting of physical facts,
like sunshine and storm ; but neither
Black nor Scott can approach him in the
art of filling in the necessary complement
of
THE
MODERN
F IC T IO N .
PART II.
Close connection, w ith N a tu re is hardly
possible w ith ou t p erson ifyin g it. W h e r e
th o native industries— agriculture and
fishing— are
perform ed in the open,
every th in g depends on N ature— and on
N a tu re n o t understood.
T h e rain that
rots th e crops is too dam aging and p er
sistent to b e accidental. Storms suggest
w rath, and w rath m ust b o for sin. Thus
it is th at in th o traditional lore o f tho
p eop le th ere is a rh ym ed incantation
a p p rop ria te to each principal occupation
o f the year. T h e blessing of the V ir g in
M ary, o f the T rin ity , or o f num erous
Saints is in vok ed on the first step in th e
w ork s o f spring, summer, autum n, and
w inter, on th e k in d lin g o f th o fire in the
m orning, and on th e final act o f its p re
servation at night. Sun, m oon, stars, and
elements are asked t o b e propitious in
th o most delicate o f rhymes.
In these instances superstition is indiàtinguishably m ix e d w ith religion, and
it is a phase upon which N eil M u n ro docs
n o t dwell at length.
B u t th e purely
superstitions feeling he has fu lly caught,
and in th e beh aviou r o f his characters
illustrates it in a m anner th a t is to busy
business men a revelation o f people from
a n oth er w orld. T a k e on e instance.
I n th e din o f cities, noises- d o not
requ ire explanation, b u t in
«•
T H E RESPO N SIV E R E A C T IO N
T H E 'SILENCE O F T H E H I G H L A N D GLEN
in the H ighland breast.
H e has this
advantage because he is himself a H ighlander ; tho book that was closed to others
is the book th a t was to- him first opened.
H e had experienced the feelings before
h o was m ore than semi-conscious of their
external causes.
A m elancholy historic fact, which is
b u t a natural consequence o f this em o
tional H ighland tem peram ent, has not
escaped the notice o f our author, though
it is not anywhere, as far as I know, made
a critical point in, a story. A wave of
religious fanaticism passed over the c o u n
try about a generation ago, which left
tho people n ot priest, but parson-ridden.
A highly imaginative people quickly and
clearly realised th o terrors and delights
o f fu tu re torm ent and reward. In fae*.,
m any anticipated the date o f distribution
in th e great H e re a fte r; and their friends,
not seeing qu ite so clearly, felt called
upon to lodge them in lunatic asylums.
T h e plaint o f Psalm tun os— of *l M a rty r
dom ” and " Coleshill” — took the place of
“ T he P ib roch of D onal D u ” and H oro,
m y nut-brow n m aiden,” and drinking and
dancing.
Bagpipes and fiddle were put
under the b a n and disappeared. A th letic
exercises and manliness could n ot fail to
suffer at tho hands o f the propagators of
a religion which makes such frequent uso
o f th e story o f the late repentance of the
th ief on tho Cross. One of th e truest ;>f
M u n ro ’s scenes is one illustrating this
unfortunate influence. H is hero, travel
ling in th e darkness o f tho night through
a H igh lan d glen, is startled b y the sup-
every sound m ust b e identified, or it :s
p u t in the awful list of tho supernatural.
T h e villain hears in every uncertain
sound, sees in every uncertain o b ject
som e supernatural agency com e to thw art
and punish him .
T hough he jum ps
w ith o u t th o u g h t over a precipice into the
b oilin g ocean, cwims a m ile o f storm y
waters, k n ow in g th at his enemies are
w a itin g on the oth er side to frustrate and
ca p tu re him, and successfully faces and
eludes them , he ia paralysed with some
th in g indistinguishable from fear b y th e
w h in in g o f th e wind through th e reeds,
and th o gu rglin g rnunnur o f th e sea in the
m ou th o f the cave whore he shelters.
N a tu re is at on ce personified. T h e sounds
arc th o croons o f a being— a being u n
known and unform ed, b u t gigantic and
aw ful. I t speaks w ith th e voice o f the
aês, and m oans the revolving o f years
and of Jives to the realms o f darkness and
silence.
A n d then a sudden suggestion
throw s him in to another phase.
The
in articu late whispers of N atu re repeat
th e gentle adm onitions o f his m other,
dead years ago.
A s m ig h t be expected o f people in
whoso ears sound for ever th e rhythm ic
notes o f stream and sc.a, and the sighs
and wails and blasts o f breeze and stoim ,
and tha w arble o f lark and thrush, they
have also a v e ry intense
FE E LIN G
FOR
MUS1C3
and in th a t w onderful little story, “ The
L o s t P ib r o c h ,” M u n ro has shown how
th e wordless m usic o f his ancestors speaks
..
...
I
* 'V
•
pressed humming and w histling of reel I
music, which he discovers to issue from
the lips o f a beautiful damsel w ho was I
thus fu ritiv e ly keeping her barefooted
companions
dancing
m c ir ily
in the
kitchen. T lie y were in terror lest
I
TIIEXU
IN N O C E N T
M IR T H
should come to the care of the Protest,™ I
clergy,
and quvied the nei^hhouripoCatholic families, whose p riestslia d more
reuse 1 'ia n t o nut music under tho ban.
think it is characteristic of M unro thus
to
bring
out
the
women
rs
bold or unreflecting, either not sharing
Hie w eight o f an hereditary burden with
the men, or struggling against it and
overcoming it.
A s regards our author’s plot-buildino-,
that is, like tlie motives o f the actors,'
pretty simple. Complications o f intrigue
of
villa n y
are
absent;
and
there
is
little
remarkable
to
notd, except perhaps the. behaviour of
people possessing all those subtle suscepti- |
bilities, when thev are face to face with
v
I
the critical situations o f ordinary life*
Loss o f ancestral estates and reduction to j
poverty, M u n ro ’s heroes meet with perfect
foi'titude, and they turn from a life of
leisure to a life, o f toil with absolute j
resignation.
T h eir lovo is an absorbing
passion, but it is associated with some
restraining feeling o f such intensity that
even its object may never be told of its I
existence. T h e communication is a pro
cess subtle and mysterious; the passion
is perfect, artless, and unsuspecting, and I
an obvious change or difference, thougli
it may not obliterate it, certainly prevents I
for ever its proper culmination.
A I
hitch in the courtship— even a misunder j
standing— his heroes never could attem pt I
to have explained. A it ific e or device is I
impossible for them.
T h ey are in fact
so helpless that if the course of th eir love
docs not run continuously smooth, i t does
not run at all.
Y e t his theory seems* I
o p tim is tic : he would probably say that
THE
*MAGNETIC A F F I N I T Y
is so sensible to both parties that union I
results inevitably— and that estrangement
is proof th a t the necessary attraction did I
not exist. This may not be the business
union w e know about, under ante-nuptial
contract, excluding community o f proper
t y and o f profit and loss; but it is based
on the feclingsi and the affections, and is
undoubtedly consistent with the general
character and mental habit o f those whose
conduct i t represents.
These, then, are tho latent character
istics which arc cleducible from the
writings o f N e il M unro as belonging to I
the H ighland people*. I n some instances, J
indeed, deduction is hardly required : a I
chief is placed before us expressly cleplor- J
nig his national extinction— in the dead
o f night taking out his H ighland drees, I
feasting his eyes on his ancestral tartan,
and drecsmg, if cn ly fo r half an hour, in
the only garb that suits the build o f his
person. B u t the artist does not in the
general case require to bo so e x p lic it ; his
art is more subtle. The conduct of his
characters is based on foundations less I
explicitly detailed. W e have the brood- I
ing thought, but seldom more than a
suggestion o f tho cause of grief.
But I
whether im plicit or explicit, the character
istics are essentially Highland.
H is
books load us into a land o f lotus-eatin^ I
and diearns. T h e business w orry of
1
♦
THE
♦
COM M ERCIAL WORLD
novcr intrudes, for the sustenance is
dern ;>d from natural sources capable of
little fluctuation. Flocks, earth, and sea
yield their annual increase, and ends
generally meet, though there can be but
little overlapping. There the ideal world
o f imagination is n ot one o f wealth and
andisem nt, but one o f leisure and
song and story. T h e literary and p h ilo
sophical distinction o f tho Celts in the
dark ages when they held the ligh t to
the Teutonic British
Isles and the
European continent, has le ft a permanent
m ark upon the mental characteristics of
their
descendants,
which
not even
conquest has succeeded in obliterating.
B u t what conquest cannot do, commercial
association will. Tho poetic world and tho
poetic people depicted by N e il M unro ar f>
passing away. A few more generations,
and w ith the change o f Gaelic from a
spoken to a written language, the H ig h
land sentiment w ill have become extinct.
The struggle
between the nride o f
H igh land tradition and tho wealth of
cosmopolitan trading— between the landed
chief and the moneyed merchant— can
have but one issue; and science as well
as patriotism owes a debt o f gratitude to
N eil M unro fo r his sympathetic exposition
of a mode o f life that is suited only to
the age that precedes the eating of the
fru it of the tree of knowledge of good and
evil.
»
_
GREENOCK H IG H IiA N n SOCIETY.
Tho opening meatinar for tlie current session
was held in the Bank Hall on Tuesday even
ing of last week. There was a large attend
ance, presided over by Dr. MacDougall.
After fourteen new members had been ad
mitted tho following musical programme,
sustained by competitors at the forthcoming
Mod, was gone through: —
J’ART I.
Part Song—‘ ‘ Bruthaichean Ghlinn Braon,"
Choir
Solo—S u a *le i* a ’ Ghttdhlig,
..
.. John MacLcllan
Solo—“ Ghrnapach Dhonn, ’
.. Jessie MacRae
Part Song—“ Hugaibh air nighcan donn,” ..
. Choir
Duet—“ Crodh Chailein," Annie MacTavish and Toro
Part Song—“ Ini an Eleanaich,”
..
Ladies'choir
Part Song—“ ’Si luaidh mo chagair Mftrag,"
Choir
Holo—*' Horo chaVeil cadal orin,”
Morag MacLelian
Reading—“ Cead Deireannach nam Beann,”
Donald
Solo—“ An ribhinn donn,”
..
Arch. MacMillan
P A R T II.
Part Song—“ Foghnan na h-Alba,” .................. Choir
Solo— *An clnitin thu leannnln,”
. A . O. MacTavisn
Part Song - *Mo roghainn a ’ GhMdhlig,” Ladies’ Choir
f ^ lo “ Miuh bheag og,’ ................... Robert Lawrie
4*^, rhuK llli Ra0) do n fh©*r khan,” K ate Galbraith
1 art Song— ‘ Oran Mòr Mhic Lieoid,”
..
Choir
KoadmR--^ Gillertbaig Aotroiu,''
.. Jessie Nicolson
x>°
Till a Loannain,’
..
Mary Martin
«nin °ng _ , ™ lf?,h V10 Kùia’” «
Ladios’ Choir
fcolo- Caol Muilo,"
................... Tina MacDonald
Part Song—" A Mh;iiri Bhòidheach,"................... Choir
Votes of thanks to the singers, etc., closed
a most enjoyable meeting.
an interesting comparison of some
o f the literary and artistic abilities of
some races, M r MacCulloch points out
that—
These who possess tho most elaborate and
imaginative tales arc the Red Indians (e.g.
/unis) and Polynesians. In the ease of tho
latter, however, the stories are religious
myths rather tlum Maerchen.” Neither of
theso races are very artistic so far as direct
copying from nature is concerned; the Poly
nesians are, however, excellent decorative
artists. The Bushmen and Eskimo, true rivals
of the Palaeolithic artists, on holding the
mirror up to Nature are also good weavers of
tales, though none of these aro so beautiful
as the Polynesian and Rod Indian htories.
Chinese folk-tale« aro least romantic of all ;
in these, as in their art products, they are
far surpassed by tho Japanese. In Europe' the
most roniunntie and magical of all folk-tales
are the Celtic; the Celts were once excellent
strtistw.
In
Eriskay Island and its gentle incumbent
priest, th e late F a th er A lla n MacDonald,
have inspired a great body of w riting
about th e Gael and Gaelic affairs fo r many
years past, and even yet th a t benign
influence se-ems unexhausted. L a st year
a famous Am erican singer, Miss A m y
M u rra y, came to Scotland. She had an
introductory letter fo r me from a per
sonal friend o f both of us, D r. W . H .
Drummond, the most popular of Canadian
poets.
U nhappily, absence from the
country prevented me from meeting h er;
but she w ent to Eriskay and found a bet
t e r man. She stayed there fo r some tim e
as a guest in the Presbytery House, which
has sheltered many interesting people,
and some results of her visit are to be
found in a charming little article m tho
current number of “ T h e Celtic R eview
H e r quest in the H ebrides was fo r childsonsrs, and she secured some happy and
haunting examples, of which she gives
words and music. “ There are plenty o
songs in the Outer I s l a n d f , ” she says,
“ and plenty of good p e o p l e to sing them.
O f F a th er A lla n , she writes that he would
rather see the people take their chance
w ith the sea and the sand, and their
children herding bare-foot, than th a tth e y
should crowd a back land m a city slum.
“ A n d w h ile they waited for the coming
to their misty shores of better times he
w ould have them sing and be m e r r y , the
fa ith fo r which he stood had no quarrel
w ith the piper and the “ seanachaidli ,
th e first reel at the weddings was always
m his own house. ‘ W e know/ he said
how necessary it is that our poor people
should be happy,’ and again, j you cannot
be nearer H eaven than heie.
I
|
I
*
i
FATHER
o f him out there, “ far amid the melan
choly main,” a sovereign in his tin y king
dom, standing at his doorway in the
sound of tho surf and in the darkness, all
the world obliterated except for the
lights in the crofts below, and have tried
%o imagine his thoughts in such an hour
and situation. Was ho lonely there, who
had seen life in its busiest eddies?
A m o n g the driftin g sands and disconsolate
rains, did he pine fo r sunshine and
flowers who had lived bland summers in
O ld Castile? W as he ever a prey to that
discontent that comes on men in a con
stant environment intellectually lower
than themselves? T o a calculating and
w orldly mind he might seem a man “ lost/7
as the saying goes, in that remote and
narrow corner of the Roman Catholic
world, but gentleness and devotion and
self-effacement are never thrown away,
and serve G od’s purpose anywhere.
One day in the summer o f 1901 I went
w ith an inspector of schools in a fishing
skiff from N orth Bay, Barra, to Eriskay,
on a course that takes the voyager
through a marvellous archipelago in
miniature.
A t the time, I had never
heard the name of Father A lla n M ac
Donald, nor even knew there was a
priest cn the island to which we went.
U n d er a thw art of the boat there was a
box, and in idle curiosity I asked one of
the boatmen what was in it. “ M ’ anam
fhcin cha. u ’eil fhios agam,” he protest e d : “ s e rudeigenn a- fhuair sinn 'n
raoir air son Maighstir Ailean.” Subse
quent events proved that his assumption
o f ignorance was creditable to his tact,
if not to his veracity.
Threading our
way among rocks and islets, the former
mere fangs in tho spray of the north
wind, the latter boldly uplifting barreu
stacks and hills sheer from the water
edge, we came by and by to the island of
Eriskay smiling pleasantly in that sum
mer weather, though its aspect may have
been but one of specious innocence. In to
its sides bito little bays with white sand
shelving up to the tussock grass; it is
barren of shrub and tree, the huts of the
crofters and fishermen huddled together
on tho west side as doubtless they did to
a less degree on that July day in 1745
when Prince Charles Edward Stuart set
his foot for the first tim e on Scottish
land, and said, looking round this little
unpropitious rock upon the fringe of his
fa m ily ’s ancient kingdom, “ I have come
hom e." F o r it was here that the Princo
first landed from tho Doutelle, and in one
o f those huts he slept for the first tim e
on Scottish soil. H is foot would sink in
theso white sands, his eye would range
over this prospect far from hospitable to
the mind of one fresh from St. Germains.
They call tho spot where he landed
“ Coilleag a’ Phrionnsa. ” to this day, and
there is growing upon a sandy knoll the
pink convolvulus, whose seed was sown
by him as a memorial of the occasion
surelv
*■ tihe most bitter of nature's ironies,*
for he is gone, and what he ventured for
is a cause degraded and forgotten, and
here tho weed still flourishes!
An island no more than three miles long,
and two broad at its widest, enjoying the
privileges of British citizenship, but in the
most meagre form, virtually without roads,
steamer connection, or telegraph, Eriskay did
not learn of the death of iûeen Victoria till
’ Muo days after the event.
1 have dwelt on
|
j
c
I
ALLAN.
By N E IL M UNRO.
t
M y acquaintance w ith Father A llan
MacDonald, priest of Eriskay, was little
more than casual, and of recent years
depended w h olly on an interm ittent coires pond enee, but tho news of his death
last waek brought a, sense of personal loss.
W it h some of us, strange places visited
live, longest in tho memory, and abide
m ore securely in the affections if we have
j
j
tmado a, friend in them, so that the Alps,
a month after we have crossed them in a
transport of admiration, become co.d
abstractions if w e have found no kindred
spirit there ; and, on tho other hand, a
bleak moor or lonely island is a place to
th in k o f w ith a warming of the heart
-years after w e have loft it behind us, be
cause
in
either
wilderness is some
personality on whom our recollections
focus. F o r several years tho Outer Isles,
so far as I am concerned, have had their
centre in the little island of Eriskay that
lies in the Sound between Barra and
South U ist, and the archetype of all that
is best and most interesting among the
good and interesting people I met the
was th o man whoso death deprives Eriskay
at
a spiritual father and a human
comrado. M an y times, on stormy mghls,
in. distant towns and cities, 1 have though
I
|
i
1
!
!
o
v
~
^
..
• ♦
n
c
e
o
,
f
r ' - r
*
*W W f c w i ' . ■ >[ 1 a •
_______
--------------------- --
-
\-n
Its features because they are tlie background
to nij mental picture of a singularly loveable
and disinterested and devoted soul. And lie
loved this pathetic little island— all its not
unpleasing barrenness, its people and their
ancient ways.
1 am
glad to see ‘ The
Oban Times insert your views as to the
Hebrides being able to rear, if not flowers,
the best of all fruits, good men and women,”
be wrote me some time after. “ T o speak
of the Hebrides cheerily, and to allude to
the activity of the people are new things,
b u t to those who read what is before them
true things.”
M y friend and I had gone to the schoolhouse, and the inspection of its bright and
hcalthy-looking children had scarcely started
when a stranger entered. A man over six
feet, lean, and greatly youngcr-looking than
his age, which at the time was about°forty,
wearing a tweed suit and cap, and with
no hint at his profession beyond the
clerical collar — the first impression we
got of Father Allan was of a personality curiously un-priestlike in its boyish cheerfulness, as well as in externals.
He insisted that we should come to lunch at
the Presbytery House— his dwelling on an
eminence above the school. It was a °F rid a y;
we lunched on sea trout, and there was a
bottle of some unfamiliar Spanish wine.
It
was there our boatm ans tact revealed itself,
for on our mentioning that it was the first
fish we had seen in the Outer Islands, Father
Allan said : u Well, Fm lucky to have them.
Ih e truth is that these good boatmen
from North Bay heard last night you were
com ing here to-day, and knowing I was likely
to be ill-provided for visitors on a Friday,
they took these trout over with them in'a
box.
I hope the remote possibility that they
may have been poached will not impair their
flavour !” There was but one drawback to his
pleasure at being able to entertain us— the
tactful boatman, it seemed, was a piper, and the
Presbytery pipes, which some Lowland friend
had presented to its incumbent, were dis
covered to be defective in their reeds.
It did not take long to discover that in
this gentle, kindly priest there were many
rare and shining qualities.
He delighted in
his people, lie had a passion for his isle, and
yet his mind ranged far beyond his office and
the limits of his parish.
He had been five
years in Blairs College, and five years in the
Scots College of Valladolid, he told us. Dalibrog had been the scene of his first labours,
and thence, before St. Michael’s was estab
lished on Eriskay, he had crossed to Eriskay
every third week to say Mass and administer
the Sacraments. It was with paternal pleas
ure he showed us the site of the new church
then unbuilt, but with the stones in readi
ness, and the sand for it, which the children
of the island had carried from the beach in
their play-hours.
When the church was
built, as it was soon after we wrere there, ,£,300
of its cost was provided in one St. Michael’s
night catch of the island fishermen.
But it
was less of himself and his work that Father
Allan talked tffitfi of things he thought more
likely to interest the strangers. He proved—
as more than one student of folk-lore and
history lias discovered with profit— an in
exhaustible mine of information regarding
the ancient Highland customs and beliefs
that linger yet in Eriskay, the best of them
encouraged eagerly by himself. The results
of his research in these directions, as we
know, were frco to all competent to con
sider th e m ; and yet it is probable that a
great mass of matter accumulated by him has
never yet been published, at least he wrote
me later of a considerable collection of notes
untouched.
A Jacobite in sympathy, he
knew every foot of the ground Prince
Charlie had covered in his wanderings in
the Highlands after C u llod cn ; and, some
weeks before, he had gone over most
of it with an Edinburgh author, who
was photographing for a contemplated re
issue of a work on the Prince’s wanderings.
On his book-shelves were many and valuable
books presented b y authors who had profited
by his assistance and appreciated his qualities
as friend and host, and there was more than
humour in his surmise that Fiona Maeleod
was a nom-de-guerre concealing the identity
of an English writer who had some years
previously visited Eriskay and culled some
of its traditional lore.
W e found in our host an infinite variety of
interests, a singular profundity of knowledge,
an unfailing tone of culture and scholarship.
Jt was easy to understand how, immured in
that quiet island, reading should be so dear
a solace to him, and his taste in books
proved catholic enough to include the very
latest. It was this that induced me some
time later to send him “ The Children of
Tempest,” in wfeich— there is now no harm
in saying it— the character of Father Ludovic
was based solely upon m y impressions of
this priest in Eriskay. Father Allan’s per
sonality was before me through that book’s
conception, and it was with some vexation I
discovered that while it was running serially
through “ Blackwood’s Magazine,” I had let
his name slip into one number instead of
Father Ludovic’s.
There is, of course,
nothing
o of Father Allan's life in “ The
Children of Tempest,” and m y indebted
ness to my model was purely impressionistic,
but I have sometimes wondered if he had
suspicion of Father Ludovic’s origin. It was
a point on which in our correspondence we
remained discreetly dumb.
That summer day, under the guidance of
its priest, we saw Eriskay at its best. It
! was not ill to share, there and then, his half! beliefs in “ daoine sith ” and second sight, to
think that all the gods have not yet flown
from high Olympus. I was wearing a suit
of “ cr o ta l” dye, the tincture made from
lichen. Laughingly he professed astonish
ment that I had found boatmen in Barra
willing to ferry me in such a garb, for Barra
believes that the “ cro ta l” ever hankers
for the native rock, and whoso wears it in a
boat courts sure destruction. As we walked
on his island with him, his folk came about
him unabashed and affectionately; it was to us
a little strange to find them on such a footing
with him of free speech, and even raillery, the
raillery that intuitively knows the proper
bounds and is based on esteem and fondness.
And at last he saw us to our boat on the
shore.
On these sands, he said, the people,
young and old, knelt in prayer when all that
was mortal of each departed islander set out
on its final voyage to the burial ground in
Uist. The fact aroused, and still arouses,
a great and moving mental picture, but
1 cherish another— of the lonely figure of
Father Allan waving his farewell on the
sands at Rhuda Chlaidh, and walking slowly,
j with bent head, upward to his dwelling, and
turning again in the wind, and the cry of
the uncomforted sea, and waving one last
time as our sails filled and w.e passed from
the isle of his dreams and his devotion into
^thgTtumult of the Soundând into the jvidc
world of towns and cities and men.
V
th T ^ remf ks m ay bc read at some
- f ' 1' ‘ his generation lias
parsed away, 3jie_ fo llo w in g letter written'
lOfW
Zealand on th e 25th January,
m ay b o o f som e interest as bearin'*
upon th o genuineness ol O ssia n s poems!
t h e in cid en t referred to related to a
(-rac'lio c o p y o f th o poem s picked up in a
h eld on_ th o slopes o f Cruachan, near
otiaw, m A rgyllsh ire, m any years ago :
THE
By
la m R’^ In , y<? " r i?s,le of tho 16th De-comber,
,v ?+ fi'v T, ■?? ,Just ,arrivod in this remote
il
f ii ? British Colonies, I have read with
k-Ii i i I t
am T Vc,ation t,i0 letter o f Dr.
Jêith MacDonald 011 tho veracity of Janv-'s
Macpherson and on tho genuine auality of
o'ir grand old Ossianic epics. In order to
fciiield one of his statements from beiiiR qucsjionecl by those who are .puffed up with too
little real knowledge, may I he allowed to
htate the tact as it was given, to me from too
Ups ot my near relative, who found tho Gaelic
? L ° ^ ' as quoted by Dr. Keith Macf
a]d ;, lt, W,as not William Why to who
found tho book, hut Daniel Johnston, his
wire s nop hew, and afterwards their son-inlaw.
William Whyte was a Lowlander, and
learned Gaelic after coming to the Highlands.
Daniel Johnston knew Gaelic from his boy
hood, and was well able to read it. W hen‘ a
boy lie found the book in a field and took it
home to his old grandfather, who was too
blind to read i t ; but the boy was able to do
so and his grandfather listened eagerly, in
order to judge whether the poems were
worthily presented to the public. He was
abundantly satisfied and delighted, and ex
pressed himself to that effect, saying that they
were faithfully rendered, and were such as
he had known them all his life. He was a
generation older than William Whyte.
This grain of fact was repeated to me in
t
youth by my uncle, the late Mr David John
ston, and kept my faith in the genuino char
acter of our noble heritage of poetry firm
and unshaken. A grain of fact is worth ;uiy
amount of speculation.
As regards the memories of these old folks,
I know many instances or people who coulcl
go on endlessly repeating psalms and old
songs. There were three persons at one time
living at Bonawe who could have restored
between them every verse o f the Bible had
the book been lost. William Whyte was one
of tlioso three.—I am, etc.,
A G r a n d d a u g h t e r of W il l ia m W h t t e .
B earing on th e same question is the
follow in g letter from a Skye correspond
e n t to “ T lie Oban T im es,” o f th o 8th
F eb ru a ry , 1902 :
O SSIA N O R NO OSSIAN .
[ t o THE EDITOR OF “ TUB OBAN TIMES.” ]
Sir,—For tho bonofit of those of your readers
who are interested in the -above, I beg to
send you the following paragraph from the
“ Historical Sketch” of the parish of Kilmuir, Skye, in the “ New Statistical Account
of Scotland,” Vol. X IV . It was written in
1840 by the late learned enthusiastic High
lander, Rev. Alexander MacGregor, M.A.,
Inverness, who was tho author of the “ Life
of Flora MacDonald,” etc., etc., and the
well-known contributor (“ Alasdair Ruadh”
and “ Sgiathanach ” ) to the Highland periodi
cals of his day. He wa« at the time assistant
to his father, Rev. Robert MacGregor,
minister of Kilninir: —
In the district of Stenchool a man died 12 years ago
0828) named John NJcolson, or MacCormaic at the
very advanced age of 10.5 yearn. There is one circum
stance connected with the old man's history worthy of
notice, which is, that ho could repeat the most of
OssianV Fingal, Temora, &c.t with great fluency and
precision. The writer of this heard him say that he
committed these beautiful poems to memory from
hearing them repeated, when a boy, by hi* grand
father. ff this fact bo not suflleient to establish the
authenticity of these unparalleled poems, it must
surely establish the fact that they existed before the
ri
I am. etc.,
A
I -
iju d h
Uiwjs.
OF
“ OREAGAN-AN-FMTHICH.”
P
THE EDITOR OP “ THE OBAN T IM E S .” ]
is pmwibly confuted by
coaid repent lh*m before iWacPhcrson was born. But
should that not have been tho ease, and should none
have boon found who could rehearse them before
>facphcr»oii*H fcfmo, the allegation that they were
either bv Macpherson, or any other in the age in which
he lived, appears ridiculous in tho sight of such as
know tho construction and beauty of tho Celtic
language.
BEAST
B A R R IS D A L E ,
i’ton, New Zealand,
24th January, 1902.
[to
W IL D
art
1.
Some few years ago I wras staying at
Inverie, in K n oyd a rt. I th en heard for
th e first tim e th e story o f the “ W ild
Beast ” o f Barrisdale.
Barrisdale, on
L och H ou rn (popularly said to mean the
L o c h o f H ell), is one o f the wildest spots
in th e Rough. Bounds, i.e., th e west coast
of Inverness-shire, from Lochshiel on the
th e south t o G le n d g on the north.
M y first introdu ction to th e story of
the “ Beast ” was on a journey from
Inverguseran to Inverie.
W h ilst riding
on th e m ountain path I was accom panied
b y old A lla n M ò r M acM aster as guide.
A cco rd in g to m y usual w ont on such
occasions', I tried t o get all th e folklore
and other history, if any, connected with
th e locality.
I n a short tim e A llan
brou gh t ou t the story of th e “ W ild Beast”
and gave his own personal experiences.
I was in te re ste d ; and proceeded to make
all possible in qu iry amongst gam ekeep
ers and others who w ould be likely to
know about this animal, which was said
to have been, both seen and very much
heard in Barrisdale and its n eighbour
hood.
A fte r
lengthened
investigations,
I
arrived at the follow ing facts.
I t may
b e as well t o give the matter in full de
tail.
A lla n M acD onald, a native of
Arnisdale, w h o lived at K yleakin , in the
Isle o f Skye, and followed! the tra d e of
shoemaker there, to ld me a short tim e
before his death that he remembered
well tho tim e when th e “ B e a s t ” first
came in to th e country.
A s a lad o f 15
he was helping a party o f men to launch
a boat on Loch Ilo u r n , when suddenly
a most terrifying howling was heard on
th e hill behind th em . This was about
th e year 1845, and with intervals of
greater or lees duration th e anmial has
been heaa'd up to th e year 1900.
A b o u t th e year 1866 th e country was
very m uch disturbed b y our animal. F o r
a period o f some years at this tim e it
seemed particularly active. P eople were
afraid to go ou t o f th eir houses except
in com pany, aud th e most dire necessity
alone would force men to go ou t at night.
On a d a y in N ovem ber R o n a ld M acMaster,
keeper
at Barrisdale,
now
retired at R aoneval, set out for th e t o p
of Sgur a Choire B heithe to shoot p tar
migan.
H e le ft th o house some tw o or
three hours before daybreak th at he
m igh t bo at th e liill-top at dawn— the
best tim e t-o get a safe shot at ptarmigan.
W h e n just arriving at th o to p ho heard
th e “ s n o r in g '’ o f the birds at a short
distance,
and cautiously pausing, he
stepped
aside t o th e shelter
of an
overhanging rock.
I t had begun to
snow. H e knew th a t as soon as the snow
stopped th e dawn w ould come, and he.
could have a shot at th e p ta rm ig a n .
In a few minutes, however, up fletw
the birds with a terrified scream and
ni?de away.
W h ils t bew ailing his illluck, he wondered w hat
could have
frightened them .
H e th ou g h t it m ust
bo a fo x , b u t determ ined t o wait fo r
dawn and make sure by observing the I
track le ft b y th e animal. T h e ground
was covered b y about h a lf an inch of
snow.
I n about ten minutes the snowing
ceascd and day appeared. A s there was
now no need fo r concealment-, the keep
er walked out fro m his sheltering rock,
and made fo r th e place whence he had
heard th e birds. T h e y had most surely
been frightened, but how ? Th ere were
clear tracks in the snow, w ith freshlv
fallen flakes upon them — th ey had fallen
I since tho tracks were made— but they
J w ere not th e tracks o f a fo x or a dog or of
I any other animal known to the keeper.
] O f all men in Scotland, keepers are the
I most acute observers of the tracks and
j other traces of the animals and birds
inhabiting the hills, and they seldom or
never mistake the tracks of one animal
fo r those o f another.
I
M acM aster im m ediately surmised that
'I the u bèist m h o r ” (b ig beast), as i t was
known, had just passed by.
W it h his
I gun ready he followed the track, observ
ing th a t like th e fo x this animal placed
. the hind fo o t into the track of the foreI foot, so th a t i t m ight almost appear that I
I i t was only two-legged. Th e keeper fo l
lowed up the spoor until ho came to a
I long rocky ledge rising up in fro n t of
him to a height o f from 12 t o 14 feet, I
and there on the top were clearly im
printed th e mark of four largo paws.
I W ith o u t any evident signs of hesitation
I the animal had leaped clear to the top,
I and continued in its course. Ronald had
had enough for one d a y ; he made his
way homewards.
On the lower slopes he came w ithin
j hail o f a shepherd who was engaged in
sending his sheep out of the hollows and
corries in the hillside lest they should
get smothered in the snow.
On seeing
Ronald, the shepherd called out to him
that th e “ beist m hor,” if he wished to
see or sihoot it, had just disappeared into I
the birch wood on the left. MacMaster,
however, did not feel equal to hunting
it in the wood, so made straight fo r home. I
Th e description of the tracks given by
the keeper is interesting.
T h e marks
left on the snow were almost round, and
about 4 inches in diameter, and gave the
impression of a very heavy animal. There
were indications o f four toes in the cirI cumference, but most remarkable o f all I
there was no central pad— instead there I
I was le ft a somewhat flat cone o f snow,
j much as is le ft when a bottle is put down
I and lifted straight.
T o add to its mysterious nature, at a
distance o f about four inches behind th e I
impression of the paw there was the
mark of a long powerful claw, which
having penetrated the snow pulled up I
I pieces o f peat moss and sprinkled the I
I same on the snow.
I
I
H a vin g
given this account of his I
actual experience, MacMaster proceeded I
I to explain the roaring o f tho “ Beast.” I
I “ B y your leave, Six’, it was just like this,
I — you may have seen a tin pail put away I
I on the top of a stone wall, the w ind strikes
I it half side-ways and whistles through I
I it, and the sound of the animal’s roar
was like that, Sir, but as loud as the I
steam whistle of the Claymore or the
Clansman within a hundred yards of
y
o
u
.
This description was corroborated in
every particular by several others who I
have heard the roar of this animal at I
À widely different periods.
1
(to
be
c o n t i n u e d .)
I
T H E W I L D B E A S T OF
BAR R IS DALE
M
s
%
j
P A R T II.
A lla n M ò r, already alluded to, gave a
graphic description o f how the “ beast. * ' 1
I put to unwonted silence fo r a whole day
— no ligh t feat— the inveterate seannach; ies of a. smearing house. T h ey were from
' twenty to th ir ty men smoking th eir pipes
! after dinner, and standing and chatting
: on the green at the end o f the smearing j
j
house.
They heard the “ w ild beast” as if a t ]
a distance, then almost on the instant
quite close, and ev e ry man bolted fo r the j
shelter o f the shed.
T h ere was a final 1
roar so close th a t i t shook the very I
building, and almost paralysed the men I
w ith fear.
T o like effect was the tale I
of M rs R . MacMaster.
She was ill in J
bed. There were several women in the I
house.
H e r husband bad gone fo r the i
doctor and had not y e t returned. W h ils t 1
anxiously w aiting fo r the doctor, the I
women were much alarmed to hear the j
roar o f the “ beast” in the distance. I t I
was eviden tly fa r up Glem Barrisdale, j
but coming nearer and nearer until it I
seemed at the very d o o r; them it passed J
on its w ay up a shoulder of the “ Ladhar I
Bhednn.”
I was told the story tw enty i
years la t e r ; but even after that lapse of |
tim e her manner was sufficient evidence I
of the alarm and terror of M rs Mae- I
M aster and her companions on th a t I
morning as they huddled for mutual J
protection into one little upstairs room. I
On another occasion , when the inhabit- |
antsi o f the village of A ir o r were en- I
gaged in their
daily avocations, the f
animal paid them an unlooked fo r visit. I
I t did not actually appear; but i t made I
its presence felt.
M en were in boats |
fishing in fron t o f the village, others j
were engaged on th eir crofts, the women I
were about their housework— th e cattle [
on the h illy slopes above the crofts, t
Suddenly the blood curdling roars were [
heard from a hillock behind the village f
— tho whole place was in a tum ult— the |
cattle all gathered into one crowd— the 1
larger and horned ones form ing a ring t
round the younger animals— all bellow- 4
ins:
T h e /men hastened to their I(
W in terror.
houses to give th e protection of their J
presence to their women; folk.
N o t for |
many years was th a t day forgotten in 1
A iro r, and one to w hom I have spoken |
was m entally deranged fo r a period c f j
10 years by the frig h t o f th a t day.
1
This was about 23 years a go; but as I I
have already mentioned our “ beast ” has I
been heard many years subsequently. I
John M acG illivray, a keeper, of a bold |
and absolutely fearless disposition, set I
out at dusk to walk to a village some IS I
miles distant.
Pie had almost climbed J
the top of a low ridge some few miles I
away from his home. Q u ite near the top I
on the other side at the foot o f a green I
there was a mountain tarn.
A s he
climbed, on his side he heard on the
adjacent slope as i t were a horse rolling
I itself 0 1 1 the grass, hearing distinctly the
j clatter o f the hoofs on the ground.
A
few steps brought him sufficiently near I
I the top to see over i t and down th e slope]
%
i
♦
■rI ■I ♦V »
■
| to the w ater of th e tarn ; but there was I
I nothing to be seen. E veryth in g was still,
I and not even a breath o f wind to ripple I
I tho waters of th e mountain loch.
I
I
N ea r the same spot a short tim e after I
I the more fa m ilia r roaring was heard on I
J a clear, calm summer’s afternoon by tw o I
I gamekeepers who lay on the hillside
I watching the movements o f a herd of I
I deer. Some o f th e deer were grazing and
I some lyin g down. T h e keepers had their I
I dogsJ w ell at heel. Th e howling o f tho
I “ wild beast ” setemed to come from a I
I corrie on the opposite hill about 3 miles I
I from where the keepers lay. T h eir dogs
I showed unmistakeable signs of t e r r o r ; I
I but most remarkable fact tho deer took I
I no notice. W h e n deer are lying down, I
I should the croaking of a raven be heard I
I as i t flies high up from hill-top t o hill- I
I top, one may see th e ears of the deer I
I m ove as th ey note th e far away cry and I
I the direction from which i t comes, but I
I on this occasion it was particularly re- I
I marked th a t not one o f the deer seemed I
I to pay th e least attention.
I
I
I t was about this same period th a t the J
I tracks were again noticed.
John Mac- 1
Master, at th e tim e keeper at Raoneval, I
on Loch H ourn, was am one of his usual I
beats near the summit o f Sgur Sgiath I
A irid h .
H e was w alking on a ha.rd I
j heath, short heather beginning to flourish J
j after a thorough burning about tw o years I
j before. On such a heath one often comes I
I across a patch of black peat mos9, soft I
and
capable
of
receiving
an I
exact
impression
of
a
foot
or j
j paw
which
m ight
rest
upon
it. I
I A s Macmaster passed a patch of peat j
moss as described, he noticed the impres| sion o f what he took to be th e paw of a j
hound.
H e had gone but a few yards,
j when he stopped and said to himself— I
“ T h a t cannot be the track of a hound.
I I t is too big.” H e turned back and ex- I
I amined the impression.
H is description I
tallies exactly with th a t give®! by Ronald
M aoM aster regarding his experience of I
so many years before.
Roundish, and I
about four inches in diameter with disI timet impression of four toes, no pad, I
I and the form idable claw about 3^ or 4 1
inches to the back. M acMaster carefully
I exam ined the ground all round, but i t j
was all hard. H e could see but the one
track though he followed up fo r a conI siderable distance the direction im which 1
th e impression of the foot would seem to j
J
J
I -point.
. .,
I
I may now mention that each incident I
which I have related above I have had
at first hand evidence.
I received the
I facts from the mouths of the individuals I
, I who experienced them.
I know that I
I not one of those from whom I received I
; the story would dream of tryin g to de- I
ceive me.
T h ey gave the facts as they
I knew them.
_ I
I
I t is greatly to be regretted that the 1
I man who is generally acknowledged to
have seen th e animal, and who was
I present when it was fired at b y a coon- I
panion
is no longer alive to give his
story
The
follow ing seems to be
authentic.
Murdoch
MacLennan, fox
hunter, saw the animal several times.
O n ce when in company w ith another fox
hunter the animal was observed by them
among a herd of deer th a t did not seean
to resent its presence.
MacLemian s
companion was determined to have a
.h o t at it and fired, but missed, and the
animal made off with its characteristic |
I
I loud howling.
.j m
t
J
____
X.I.LK
^
i \mi
-
«* t* v
. j a r s .
The description o f the animal given
by these men was that it seemed about
the size o f a donkey, w ith a mane and
tail like a horse.
T h e head was broad
at tho lo p between the ears like to the I
head of a boar, but instead o f a snout
the lower part of the head was somewhat
round w ith a very heavy upper jaw and
large red overhanging lips. Th e face was
hideously and terrifyin gly ugly.
1 his last I have heard by hearsay
from men who had the description fvon.
the fox hunter.
F o r six years now nothing has been
seen or heard o f our animal. Perhaps old
age has overcome it, or it may have died
in a cave.
N o trace has been found at
any tim e by which we m ight judge how
it fed. Dogs always refused to follow the
scent. W h a t was, or is, the “ wild beast”
of Barrisdale?
OBAN,
1906
Dun-Olaf’s fort, with ivy crowned.
The rocky knolls, tho dj"ible strait;
Tho harbour that from depths profound
Reflects the town—our Highlands gat*
The barrier isle, from whore the vast
Sea voices sing the days long past:
Chorus: —
O listen, Dunstaffnage, and Oban, whose shore
Was the home of our kings in the great days I
of yore!
Waves eing the songs of war and grief
I:i calm to shores of grass and pine:
They chbnt fierce wars of king and chief,
With weighty shock of f*‘ething brine;
We hear in shriek of breakers spent
Old clans’ and nations’ keen lament:
0 list to the wave-songs; from Morven,
Lismore,
They sing of the days of the wars that are
o’er.
They eing of conquest’s sacred sign,
Of those who bore above the tide
Tlie Stone of Destiny divine,
The crowning stone of Erin’s pride;
Of Britain’s line the fateful throne
Held here through centuries long flown :
0 hark, how the waves cry ; from Jura’s high
shore
Steep Scarba’s lone whirlpool replies with its
roar!
They sing of peace once here proclaimed
A t Kerrera, ’twixt king and isles,
While round their fleets of galleys flamed
The sunset from the northern Kyles;
Like Andrew’s crosses, silver chased,
By the blue mountain’s shades embraced.
Ben Mox'e and Ben Nevis, the latest gave o’er
Their share of the message the sun glory bore.
To skies of reddened gold they sing
How Bruce made sure his crimsoned crown,
How, ’neath the Campbell’s banded ring,
Rebellion broke, to crumble down
Through ages to a listless thing
That night alone revives to sting.
Lochow and Glenorchy and Brander, you wore
Tho marsh myrtle’s b’»dge that /the leal
tartans bore.
For as the seal dives back to the sea
From restful sand, so, lawless still.
Each islesman thought a king to be,
And strove ’gainst Crown and people’s w ill;
Ere Covenanter, Cavalier
Fought till they made a desert here:
Glenco. and Kilsyth, and Dunaverty bore
On house, rocks, and heather, the dark stains
of yore.
Here fled the torn Armada past.
Here was the Stuart’s border line.
Here fought the clans’ red fury last
For loyal faith and right divine;
And Oban stands, Time’s gateway old,
Yet bright with all the young days hold :
Loch Etive, Loch Aline, Loch Nell, may thy
shore
Know peace on your waters and hills ever
more.
Inveraray, September, 1906.
In a hitherto unpublished letter by Sir
Walter Scott, which has just been brought
under my notice, Scott’s indebtedness to some
Highland harvesters for the melodic measure
of some of his poems is indicated. “ There is,”
he says, “ in the third canto of Marmion a
certain doleful ditty adapted to a curious
Gaelic air literally picked up from the High
landers, who have the same attachment to
reaping i:i Scotland that the Irish have to
making hay with you, and always descend to
the low country (low comparatively speaking)
in great numbers to cut down the harvest.
I will endeavour to get a noted copy of this
same air, which I think has some interest in
itself, and to which I am certain yoMf could
give a great deal. It has much the character
of the beautiful Welsh airs to which you give
so much interest, but is quite irregular by
comparison,”
Tt
M r D a v id M a c R itc h ie , o f E d in b u rgh ,
lias been, w ith in the last w eek or two,
visitin g O ban, Tiree, and oth er parts of
th e west.
I f lie has n o t y e t been, on
E risk ay, I w ish h e w ou ld g o th e re and
surrender h im self unreservedly to
th e
g la m ou r o f th e fa iry lore its natives still
preserve. T h ou gh I h a ve so long h u m b ly
accepted m y ow n fairies as beings quite
credtM o, or as creations o f in n ocen t
in\arg ih a tio n t o b e cherished as such, I
am always open t o new ideas, and am
now, a little late in th e day, interested
in M r M ‘R it c h ie ’s “ euem eristic” ex p la n a
tio n o f th e “ L it t le F o lk .” H e claim s to
h a ve established th a t th e fairies w ere
really th e preh istoric p eop le w h o in h a b i
te d th is cou n try , and identical w ith th e
F e in n and th e Piets.
“ Sitlieanan,
or
fa iry knowes, h e argues, got th e reputation
o f b ein g haunted b y th e fairies sim ply
fr o m th e fa c t th a t th e y h ad at o n e tim e
been used as u n d ergrou n d dwellings b y
th e Piets. M r M a c R itc h ie no less ru th
lessly tries t o deprive us o f our mermaids,
w h o, he believes, w ere Scandinavians or
F in n s, w h o cam e on seal-skin kayaks to
th e H ebrides,
T h ey were, h e thinks,
really th e representatives o f a decayed
caste o f conquerors, w h o p rob a b ly c o n
stitu ted a large p ro p o rtio n of th e p o p u
lation o f th e Outer H eb rid es at an earlier
date.
I t is n o t m uch m ore than a
h u n d red years since th e p eop le o f Jura,
according t o Tennant, lived in wigwams
id en tical w ith those used b y m odern
Lapp9, and, unless I m isunderstand M r
M a cR itch ie, he is inclined t o class m any
o f th e p eop le of H arris as descendants of
E s k im o s !
B u t th ere is n o end to th e ingenuity o f
m odern theorists rega id in g our rem ote
ances-try.
T h e editor o f “ T h e N orth
S t a r / ' Mr| D . A . M acK en zie, so fa r from
a ccep tin g our oldest H ig h la n d archiectural remains as Scandinavian or E skim o,
th in k th e y are P h o e n ic ia n ; or at all
events th e w ork o f an O riental race. The
ston e circles o f Callernish, as well as th at
o f Stonehenge, he thinks, w ere erected b y
a m asterful and h igh ly religious race,
w h o knew Odin or Thor. L ew is would
a ttra ct t o its shores fishers from Phoenicia,
w ho, colonising there, w ere cu t off in
tim e fro m con n ection w ith th e m other
cou n try and th e greater colonies in E n g
land and Spain. T h e dark Sem itic faces
t o be fo u n d in th e W estern Isles, that
breed strange tales o f th e ten lost tribes,
h e fancied, m ay b e reasonably accounted
f o r b y an infusion o f P h oen ician blood.
These are interesting speculations, th a t
w ere carried infinitely f a r t h e r — t o amus
in g lengths indeed— b y th e H igh la n d
author o f a b o o k called “ T h e N ative
Steam boat C o m p a n io n /’ published
in
1845.
T h e theorist in th a t instance
accounted fo r th e place-nam es o f m ost
parts o f th e W e s t H igh lan ds b y som e
association w ith th e sun w orship o f the
East. L o ch Gilp, w h ich has puzzled D r.
Gillies, t o th is w riter p lain ly was derived
fro m “ C i / ' th e sacred dog or barker,
“ L a ,” th e sun, and “ A b , ” th e sacred ser
pent. K errera, he said, cam e from “ C e,”
th e barker, and ‘‘ R e , ” th e d og-sta r;
D u n o lly from “ Ola,” the sun, and so on.
W o r r y in g over m any of these far-fetched
hypotheses,
one m igh t waste
many
precious h o u r s ;
for myself, I prefer
fishing.
The “ doleful d itty ” referred to is the familiar
lyric :—
“ Where shall the lover rest,
Whom the fates sever
From his true maiden's breast,
Parted for ever ?
Where, through groves, deep and high,
Sounds the tar oillow,
Where early violets die
Under the willow.
Eleu horo, soft shall be his pillow.”
In a subsequent letter Scott encloses the
music of the Gaelic air to which these words
were written. He rightly describes the air as
“ wild and irregular,” and I have never heard
if myself. He adds— “ Should you like the air,
I will endeavour to give you more Graelic
music, for they (the Highland harvesters) have
a tune and a song for almost everything they
set about..”
I
\
\
(
I
(
r
I hope that next year the prize which “ An
Comunn Gaidhealach,” will offer at its Mod
“ for the best aud most interesting collection of
unpublished Gaelic vocal m usic” will arouse
interest and produce good results. Melodies
composed within the last 30 years are excluded.
A great body of lovely Gaelic airs has been lost
irrevocably, and more is in danger of oblivion.
Some years ago, when on a visit to Fort
Augustus with the late James A. Aitken,
R.S. W., a painter passionately devoted to Gaelic
music and a spirited performer on the pipes,
we were one day entertained by a Roman
Catholic cleric to a delightful performance of
unpublished Gaelic music.
Aitken learned
some of the airs ; he played them charmingly
on the flageolet (the same flageolet that figures
in “ Doom Castle ” I am assured) ; but he
never wrote them down, and unless they still
survive in Fort Augustus they may be gone
for ever.
.
W a v b r l e y Pex.
*J
t
d o ’n
f a il t e
I
b h l ia d h n
G l e m F.
{
Kàilto
{
| S :
A cliKol-ruMdhacr V a’ unhang,
fur - an
; S|
| d : ri
~
-
f
Dliiusgeas
geal
1 "
N uujr a niiguadh do lualdhu
Chn fjulualstìftdii iad oangt
Kaigh a nuas, etc.
nam ho id na h-on.I«,
J ii'iili H inhoaliaih a' ^heòtdh ;
B fht a «r h-Ht fhui iun V au adhar
Na. mu laidho air lùii,
A i r i f.ei^ jfu chaithe-tmh.
S lu a id h e arim h air a thù'r
Hho ghunna heòil chumn.*ich,
fc> chw biodh iiln*
bi*ò
Kaigh a nuaa etc.
n : d | l, • - i
’s
trus - gan
U
I
’- u i r .
L e K j a l l M a c L k o id .
| s : - - f I r. : r
j {Ì| j S,
S tu marbhai^h' a’ choiìich
'r* moch u trhoireas air ch'anp
Bhuilo hhioraich un t-Huilich
A ^ oh cilid iiHin b e ia n :
^ (,ria.a le-i^r ( hu na lualh<>
do ’n
bhliadim ’ ù ì r f
s : f._n| r
is
sunndaoh
I " :
: r
Mile as
i
: _i
greann,
„ . ThCT??n F » v,' h i f il ^ K ‘ v e n in tU<y “ S à r O b a i r
nam L a r d
c o l l e c t i o n , c o n s is t s o f f o u r t e e n
v e r s o s a n d c h o r u s .— I a m , e t c .,
I 1, : -. 1
anns gaeh gniiis,
Cruachan
{*' | S| : **
A
j
seaoileas
| r
:U !
G ed
'
Headli mu
I r
:
bhi.ird le
s
• JL-Ji. I it :
D ’ ar
{
n : r | d :—\
n
Incbd oomuinn
| m
a
bhi
chiad
lim
ìùin ’ san
a
:
S K Y E .
Skye ! a thou&and memories
A r e linked tvitb thy dear n a m e ;
Though io strange land m y lot be cast.
I'll lo v e thee ju s t the 8 one.
- 1
dlùth
j \ d j r.m | r
: L -J l I <1 : - s,
’So
s
W h o e ’er has set hie foot upon
T h y Ft-rn and rugged shore.
W h en torn a w a y from thee, loved id e ,
M a y w ell his fa te deplore.
: __1
;'im,
W h e n at the dawn I w atch the sun
L i g h t up thy puiplo hills,
’Tie then, loved isle, m y v e r y soul
W i t h peace and gladness HUk.
| n :th*id Va
c lm a ic h }
A
{
1
:
L -J l
S làin te
I s
:
s,
m :r
Liman do T iilr nam
I
T a m h a m b a i l e niòr n a n tùi\
J
Cha bu dùthchas! d l m i n n biii a m i ;
F a r n a c h f b a i c sinn fiadh a i r fstùc/
N o bradan ùr ’g a th o irt a a l l t ;
F a r n a c li c l u i n n fiinn p i o b a i r olu ain,
j
I
N o G i l l ^ a n - e a l l a i n n shuas an g le a n n ;
A c h cuiridh sinn mu n e u a i r t a ’ chuacii,
D i a n a i n b hia.idh j i i r T i r nam B o a n n .
Tir
a,’ m l m n r a i n , T i r a ’ c h iù il,
I
J
T i r n a m fniran nacli robh fann ;
G c d tlia ’n sliochd ’g a n our a i r cbul
I
I
^ D l n a n a d h r u m d o cblann nnn G a l l ;
’ S i o m a d h f à r d a e li tha. gun s m ù id
I
F a r m bu shiùbhlach f o n u nan r a n n j
A o l i b idli an a i g n e blàth g a c h uair
N i i a d l u a i d l i a i r T i r n a m B e a m i.
I
S:io gh al f a d a ,
I
I
|
e’en comes on in splendour grand
T h e sun dips in the west,
’ 1 is then there comes to m e a breath
O f that d eligh tfu l r e s t :
| d
BeanD.
mnoin is cliù
D ’ a r I n c h d - d u t li o h a bhos is tlia.ll ;
D ò ir te a d h b W ^ n n aeiid an m a r dhriùchd
G a c h b l i a d h n ’ iir t h i g a i r an c*\inn.
G e d a s g a r a d h sinn ri lnatha,
B i d h a r c à ir d e a s buan \s g aoh a m ; '
’ S ò l a i d h s i n n 1© e a i t h r e a m ohrnaiidb
L ù n n a cuaich a i r T i r n a m Beaain.
'
I
j
s
1 hat rest w h ich mortals n^'or enjoy
T ill life ’s hard toils aro o ’er.
U n til they gain that happy realm
Wfcere pain shall be no more.
From year to year on thy steep cliffa
T h e dashing breakers foam ;
N o sound is sw eeter io m y ears
Thau their nu’er ceaseless moan.
A ga in -1 tho sky the Cuchullins rise,
T h e ir beauly grand and w ild ;
’ l i ? these mojestic peaks, loved isle,
K n ie & r theo to thy child.
From tim e unknown they havo withstood
T h e cold and bitter b l a s t ;
T h e ir grand and o ver p o w erin g strength
Can n ever be surpisittJ.
’N eath their dark shadow has sprung up
A sturdy dauntless r-ce,
Wrho in the annals of all times
H a v e proudly ta ’en a place.
T o those decreed by fate to spend
T h e ir lives from thee aw ay,
T h y peac >ful soeaoe in m em ory
W ill ever, o v e rs ta y .
A n d w h e n th e y e a r s as t h e y r o ll on
W i t h a g o Khali dim m y eye.
M y thoughts e ’on then w ill be o f thee,
rJ hou lo v e ly M is ty Sfeye.
K . N\ M
GLENOAKRY S
[ t o THE EDITOR OF “
the
OBAN TIMES.” "]
t
U J IN N E A G .
Vftigh a niias dhuinn am botul.
ho
m i i ’n cuairr,
I.lon b ir r a c h an copatt,
Cum s jc r to h a’ chunch ;
IV.sda Cbòirneil na fèile
I, oik an tàirendh gach hnaidh,
o ig h rn uhnoideart u’ bharraich
’.j Ghlinn-garaidh bho thuath.
♦
aa,.
acF a r l a n e .
LAM ENT.
Arrochar, Decomber 14, 1906.
S i r , — Sc-eing in a recent issue of “ The
Olxwi Times” that Mr Alastair C. MacLaren
is desirous of getting tho word-s of the- song,
. “ Cumha
Mhic
Alastair”
(Glengarry’s
Lament), and as I have l>efore me what I
think is the song meant, “ Oran do Mliac ’ic
Alasdair Ghlmne Garaidh,” composed by
Glîgarry’s family bard, Allan MacDotigall
better known by the sobriquet of A'lean l)all,
I born about the year 1750, and died about the
year. 1823, I give herewith a few verses of
j it : —
’H ’ hè (1 an d eoch
eann.
•r
fonn.
JLs_:d^l_|
naoh fhaigh sinn
^
I
I n : s-f
B
T h i g oro measair la fidhare
Ag;u- tawhadh nan arm
I/* ci’mhiol choin air lomhainn,
V!lad romhad a ’ fa)hh ;
’ vuaJr ihòld Urn <lo’u rnlionadli,
Bidh fa il a ir damh d o y s ;
(: ,n a ^hiul'lut) » n fhiiicii,
chinaoadh an t. suaig.
Kaigh a nuaH, etc.
WIVJSS
OF
THE
GLEN.
The signal o f w ar from the mountain is p e e r i n g ;
T h e pats is unguerdcd, the foernao ifl nearing ;
N o w lo w o»i tho night*wind tho w a rn in g comes
stea lin g !
Fly, fly to the c w o and tho deep hidden shieling.
Chorus—
WTvcs of the Glen, of tho Glen, o f the Glen—
Maidectfl and wives, oh, 'bide not till m o r n in g ;
W i v e s of the Glen, eeek the m oor and the ben ;
T h e re is ha> tc in your piobairoAchd and stross in its
warning.
A h ! where aro the clansmen to stem the fell slaughter,
T o raUe tho clan slogan and rush to the fra y t
On d a ik In verlo e h y their lives ran lik e w a t o r ;
T h e proud hearts He wrapped iu tho blood-trcdden
clay.
T h e children aro ecreamiug, n ow -w aked fro m their
d r e a m in g ;
T h e blond of the grandstre reeks hot on the b l a d o ;
Tho ie d deer stands g r a z i r g whero rocf-t-roea are
blazing,
B lack curse on tho cow ard that planned the foul r a i d !
T h o tempo t i* low'rtng, the ca’ araot is r o a rin g ;
R ed, red is t he hue of tho dlm-davhing w a v e !
T h e re ’s a nob in tho d a w n in g that cchoea in m o a n in g —
’Ti- tho heart-broken cry o f tho w ived o f the brave.
B.
T qol
H IG H L A N D POLK LORE.
LECTURE BY
SCOTTISH
DR. G E O ' HENDERSON.
NEW YO ltK .
Rev. George Henderson, Ph.D., Lecturer '
on Celtic in the University of Glasgow, lec
tured under the, auspices of the Govan Parish
Young Men’s Literary Society in the Pearce
Institute on Tuesday night last week.
Rev. Roger S. Kirkpatrick presided. In
introducing the lecturer, he said there ought
to be a fully endowed Chair of Celtic Litera
ture in the University of Glasgow; a city
which might bo described as the metropolis
of the West Highlands, and which owed not
a little of its success to the energy of West
Highland ors. There was a large number of
Gaelic-speaking people in Glasgow, and they
ought not to bo satisfied until such a chair
was established.
Dr.^Honderson spoke o n / ‘ Highland Folk
Lore.
In the course of his interesting and
scholarly address, he related numerous
FOLK
GAELIC SOCIETY OP
A UNIQUE ENTERTAINMENT.
One o‘f the most unique entertainments
given iu Scottish circles in New York this
season was that of the Scottish Gaelic Society
on Thursday, 8th February.
It was the
presentation of an old Highland custom
known as “ Luadhadh a clilo,” or waulking
of the cloth. Caledonian Hall was crowded
by a gathering that fully enjoyed every part
of the entertaiument. I t began punctually
at the hour announced, end was conducted i
without a bitch to the conclusion.
The
platform was converted into a Highland cot
tage, in which was gathered a bevy of sonsie
matrons and bonnie lassies, all dressed for
the work of helping in the “ waulking,
accompanying themselves with Gaelic songs,
“ Orain Luadhaidh,” to the swing of the
cloth as it was passed from one to
another in unison with the song.
Many
o'f the melodies were old, and all of them
peculiarly sweet and captivating to the ear.
After the cloth had been finished and blessed
the company proceeded to enjoy the hospi- |
tality of the guidwife, after which the
a hurricanes ’’ of Highland reels on the kitch
en floor were spiritedly danced by several
couples to the music of the bagpipes. At
the conclusion of the “ Luadhadh,” the
president, Mr D. Maclnnes, called upon Mr
George Murrey, who sang two Gaelic songs,
“ Caismeachd
Chloinn
Chamshroin”
and
“ Fionn’s ” beautiful song, “ Ribhinn Donn.”
He also gave "T h o Standard on the Braes
& Mar ” and “ My Mary.” Mr P. K. MacHardy carried the house with a splendid
exhibition of the Highland Fling, sword
dance, and sailor’s hornpipe. These several
numbers were interspersed with bagpipe
selections by Murdoch MacKenzie. A dance
followed the entertainment, which from
beginning to end was thoroughly enjoyed by
the audience. Those who took part in the
entertainment are members of the- Society.
They were— Mrs James Mair, Mrs Murdoch
Smith, Mrs R. M. Martin, Mrs Kenneth
MacLean, Mrs Carroll, Mrs John MacLeod,
and Misses Lizzie MacKay, K. A. Matheson,
Bessie Matheson, Katie Smith, and Annie
Morrison, and Messrs D. Matheson, K.
MacLean, N. MacLeod, K. Maclvcr, and
Donald MacLeod.
In order that the audience would fully
understand the operations connected with
the process of waulking, the following de
scription of a genuine “ Luadhadh15 was
distributed among the audience. W e under
stand it was got up for the committee by
the president, Mr D. Maclnnes, and Mr Don.
Currie, a native of Morven. W e are sure it
will be read with interest by many of our
readers who have never witnessed
the
operations of “ Luadhadh” : —
“For the information of our Triends who are
not familiar with cld Highland customs, the
comraitteo has deemed it desirable to give a
brief outline df what Gaelic-speaking High
landers— and their descendants who revere
the language and the traditions and customs
attached to it—term “ Luadhadh a c h l o ;
waulking or thickei; ng cloth.
In t-hi* long by-ôoie days, during the
hey-day—the Golden ;We as it might Ikj
termed— of Gaidhealtachd na h-Alba, when
tho glens and the straths, the isles and the
mainland, were populated by a fearless, highsouled people, the homo-spuns and tartans
which they wore were made, from inception
to finish, with the most primitive of
implements; “ the warpin’ o’t, the winnin’
o t . tho cardin’ o’t, th*? spinnm* o 't,’ were
all done by the cident and thrifty womenfolk,
after which it was given to “ Am Figheadair ’’
(tho weaver), coming back as cloth for
*
STORIES
illustrating the beliefs of the Celt. Begin
ning with a reference to the fairies, who
were “ most active at night, who were seen
best in the twilight,” he said it was a belief
that went back to the dhildhood of the race,
l a a work on “ The Secret Commonwealth
of Elves,” written over two centuries ago,
a short but very valuable work, Rev. Robt.
Kirk, of Balquhidder, the author, was in
clined to believe that the people saw in the
fairies something which brought them into
touch with the spirits of their ancestors.
From this the lecturer went on to refer to
Highland beliefs regarding the dead.
The
sipirit of death was symbolised in the High
lands even up to the present time. He de
scribed one of the earlier symbols. In one
district death was symbolised in connection
with love affairs. When a young man was
untrue to his pledge death appeared to him
in the form of a white and lustrous spirit,
sometimes riding upon a white charger. The
moral; of all such tales was that the spirit
COULD MANIFEST ITSELF
in the land of the living. He explained also
some of the archaic rites in connection \rith
the dead.
There was, for example, the
touching of the body. One idea was that
if people did not toudi the body they would
be uncomfortable. Tne same rite was used
to trace murders. It was believed that i'f
the murderer of a person touched the wound
or the dead body the blood would flow, thus
bringing home the crime to him. He pointed
out, that Sir Walter Scott, who was steeped
in the traditions of the Highlands, men
tioned such a case in “ The Fair Maid of
Perth.”
Among other rites he mentioned
another rather gruesome one. Tho feeling
was entertained that if a person drank out
o f the skull of a suicide the virtue which it
was supposed ta^contain would be transferred
to him.
The lecture greatly interested the audi
ence, and Dr. Henderson was cordially
thanked for it.
*
1
i
.
'
j
baulking or thickening by the housewife and
her willing assistants, maids and matrons.
Machinery, however, almost altogether
superseded the ancient method; but some
ftiteen years or more ago there was a revival
of interest in the old-time industry, encour
aged by the Duchess o'f Sutherland and
several other titular owners of Highland
estates, and now in the various parts of the
Highlands and Islands, notably the Island
of Lewis and Harris, there is a considerable
, yoarly output, of hcmi»\'pun. tweeds
‘
|.j tartans, which are worn by king and
;l commoner alike, and are to be seen exhibited
: m all the large cities of Great Britain.
I
In parts of Canada and in tho Highland
!| settlements of Prince Edward Island, Nova
jj Scotia, and Cape Breton, where the early
from the Scottish Highlands and
I Islands brought with them a devoted love lor
all their old customs, songs, and legends,
I their descendants cling to these with a love
I that is peculiarly characteristic of the Gael.
I “ Lean gu dluth ri cliu do shinnsir,” is more
I than a mere phrase to the ti*ue Highlander, '
I and is mainly due to the initiative of a. few
1 sens of the Gael from Prince Edward Island,
I Glengarry, in Canada-, and from the far-away
I Hebrides that the Scottish Gaelic Society
j presented last year a very faithful reproducI tion of a Highland u Luadhadh.
, I From the lone sheiling c f the misty Island,
I Mountain* divide m and a waste of fleas.
I Y e t still the blood is strong, the heart is Highland*
I A n d we, in dreams, behold the Hebrides.
I
The Committee deem it but fair to say,
without detracting from the credit due to all
I who have so ardently and enthusiastically
entered into the spirit of the “ Luadhadh”
and prepared themselves to take part in it,
I that its organisation has been largely due to
I Mr Daniel Matheson, and the reproduction
I of the interior of * Highland kitchen on the
I platform of Caledonian Hall is the work of
1 Mr John MacLeod, both of whom, with all
those taking part in tho “ Luadhadh/’ are
j| members of the Society.
I
But to our tale: Long before the yarn is
\I sent to “ Am Figheadai^/’ to be woven into
I cloth, great preparations are being made by
I “ Bean an Tigh e” (the housewife) in collectj ing native plants and herbs for dyeing
I purposes,
and
various
other necessary
ingredients for the subsequent waulking of
I the cloth.
I
On the evening of the Luadhadh, matrons
I and maidens, lads and lassies, pipers and
I fiddlers are invited, but in some parts of the
Highlands men are excluded, under penalty,
I until the Luadhadh is over, A large board
is securely fixed and the women commence
I the work by passing the cloth from one to
another, with the course o'f the sun, “ Car
I Deiseal,” accompanying their action with
Gaelio songs, known as “ Orain Luadhadh-,”
for the Gaelic is rich in poetical effusions for
I all occasions:—
j |
1
I
I
I
None
None
None
None
in love can match its sweetness,
in scorn with it compare ;
l.ke it so keen in sorrow.
like it so grand in prayer.
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
,1
I
I
I
Ouireain car deas, cuiridh rai leat,
Guidhe \maid rilh, beannachd nan Tri,
Sian an Ard-Kigh dhionas comhla r U
ThU first d ay it floats on tho brine ;
Himself, and tbe itrong mon who guide it,
Whose virtues surpassing sh in e !
M ay tho Holy Trinity temper,
The strong bro%th of the sky,
And sweep smooth the rough swelling water?,
T h a t our port we m ay draw nigb.
I I
As with light hearts they proceed with
their work of love, they indicate from time
to time the progress which the cloth is mak
ing towards a satisfactory completion by
saying “ that it will take another song y e t ”
— “ Gabhaidh e orain eile fhatha-sd.”
The concluding part represents the com- ,
pany enjoying themselves at supper and
dancing: —
N a gruigaichean teistoil ’<? na fleaftg&Ichean treun
A d*nnsadh gu h inneait, ’g ri m ireag gun bheud.
AN
M r. D.
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
j
I
I
I
|
I
I
I
OLD
G A ELIC
SAYING.
sends us the
note regarding the old
M ac D ougall, York,
following interesting
K intail saying—
li Tha laoigh bheaga Chinn-t-sàile
’Mòthchainn fàile a’ chaineal.”
The little calves of Kintail
Are smelling the cinnamon.
Once upon a time one of the Mackenzie of
Kintail ladies was so extravagant in her habits
that she had a fire of cinnamon bark
* 1' nl)
burning in her room. The rent collects
3ie
estate, on a visit to Mackenzie’s residence at
TEdinburgh, was entertained by her ladyship in
her own room. She drew his attention to the
fire of cinnamon bark, and enquired if he did not
like the fragrance. “ Oh, yes,” he replied—
“ Tha laoigh bheaga Chinn-t-sàile
’Mòthchainn fàile a’ chaineal.”
The tenants of Kintail were so rack-rented that
they were obliged to put the calves on short
rations in order that they themselves might get
a share of the milk— and all for the purpose of
keeping a cinnamon fire to the Mackenzie lady
in Edinburgh, so that even the calves were
smelling the odour of the cinnamon.
I
I
1
|
I
Following tho blessing tho tables are
snread and old and young sit around the
I festive board and enjoy tho bounteous
hospitality of the gudewife, after which they
spend the night dancing and singing to their
i I heart’s content, as—
I
Hornpipes, jig*, strathspey* and reels,
p u t Iifo and mettle in their hecJs.
Cjò nan gfllean, i o n n i r o ho,
U Rin,an sM®an, ioraair o ho ;
Ceòl bu bh nne, iom air o ho,
Clò nan gillean, iom air o ho.
I
This custom of blessing the accomplishment I
or inception of every event connected with
the lives of the people was a marked characteristic of the Gael, a notable instance of j
which is referred to bv the great Clan Ranald
bard, Alaisdair Mac Mhaighstir Alasdair, in
his
splendid
poem, “ Biorlainn Chlann |
Raonuill,” which opens with a blessing on
the ship and armour of Clan Ranald, an
excellent translation of which, by Thomas
Pattison, o!f Islay, is in part: —
M a y God blopfl tho ship o f C l»n K a m l d ,
* Am
a™ f T
T
0
^
to
i
tho
mother
th^t
Figheadair *mds word that the doth
is ready. One of the lads is cent for it, and
the mother tells the fnrU to get-all readv
lor the Luadbadh, to invite the neighbours,
and be sure to have Murchadh Piobaire. The
lather is somewhat averse to the dancing,
which he knows is a usual termination to
occasions, but, as usually the case
ttith fathers, his objections are overborne by
the mother and the girls, who proceed to the
making of oatcakes and other eatables, and
the preparation of all other arrangements
necessary to carry out a joyous aftermath
to the Luadhadh proper.
The second stage of the proceedings shows
Luadhadh a chlo” ; the waulking of the
cloth in progress to the singing of the cirls
engaged in i t : —
|
I
After the waulking of the cloth is declared I
I to be thoroughly completed, it is according
to an old Celtic* custom blessed : —
I
I
I
s spinning, one of the daughters is carding,
and another is skeining yarn. The fathSr
and sons are engaged in other matters. Some
°i the younger children coming in from
I
1I
The first part of the presentation is the I
^ I interior of a Highland cottage ; the gudewife J
I
EVICTED .
queens have wept to lose or win a crovrn,
History in gold has writ their tear-drops down,
But Granny wept her bonnie blue een blind
To leave for aye the auld thatched house behind.
H
ig h
Blue was the reek it breathed upon the brae,
Brown was the thatch where once the auld sword lay,
Sweet the bit garden from the heather lined,
The sweet bit garden Granny left behind.
Thick was the cream she gathered for her guest,
Sweet the pulled flower to wear into the breast,
A t Heaven’s door may angele prove as kind
As her Highland heart ere its store it tined.
Sae bonnie the scene she knew since a bairn,
The blue Mar mountains, the green glen of Gairn,
That God to the town made the auld blurred een
With aye in her heart the glen left behind, [blind,
Then lay by the linen she spun as her pride,
Lay by the plaid with her chief’s colours dyed,
That whiles through the strange years her bairns
may mind
i cot on the brae with the clear birks shrined.
Sarah R
obertson
M
atheson.
GAELIC
upper-class music, while, evidently, there
existed alongside of it, among the common
people, ii natural melodic music of great }
I
beauty. It appeal's to me that it was this
latter music coming to the surface ay the
other went tho way it deserved to go, which
was the underlying cause of that splendid
outburst of song which lasted in Lowland
Scotland from about 1700 to 1850, the mofct
illustrious name connected therewith being
that of Iiobert Burns. England, on the other I
hand, is only discovering tte folk music; and
it, when better known, is destined, 1 think,
to dissipate some falee conceptions about tho
music of the British Isles.
Among the Gaelic people there cannot be
eaid to bo at present any upper .stratum of
native culture.
The upper classes in the
Gaelic area are neither Gaelic in speech nor
in sentiment. There aro professional men
who might go to form an upper class; but
their native culture is usually a negligible
quantity, being inferior, as a rule, to that of
most of the sons of .toil. It seems that only
a small percentage of the Gaelic professional
class can .acquire English without losing much
o f the native culture with which they started
life. Consequent on this want of a real Gaelic
upper class, the amount of patronage bestowed
on Gaelic art of any kind has been for a.
long time small indeed; and, until a few
years ago, no patronage whatever was be
stowed on Gaelic music, and it languished in i
consequence.
?
MUSIC.
B Y MALCOLM MACFAKLANE
PA R T I.
-m ^
? °1ntermK lnto my subject, I wish to
make ,t p am that I do not p r o fc * to be
brv„KItlg forward fully reasoned opinions
\
oro that.
tilo,olIShly sifted data.
Far
I am a mero student of the snb-
7
S a,p’,roaelicd i4 ^ a leisurely
• ì ^ ' ’ manner’ and without special
an u? m J
1,lstanCe- 1 i,lst want to give I
™ » f.a- '; .ttlc,6tage t0 which n-.y observations
and thanking have brought me. I v ill now
ai’ d agaia go out o f tho beaten track; and
mtfcough some may not find there all that
they would like, they may find somethin^ to
think about-
The subject is a large one, and to do it
reasonable justice one would reqirro a very
much hotter .equipment that I can claim to
Posses*. It would take much time, a oomniaivd of many books, and much knowledge
o the folk music of Great- Britain and Iro, n ’ as wc 11 as of the Western European
■tonntries, to enable one to do it thorough
justice. I fcavo neither spare time nor the
command of many books ; and my acquaint
anceship with music consists o f only a fair
knowledge of Irish, Mans, Scottish, and
Welsh music, much less of English music,
aucl no musical training whatever. Truly a
poor equipment, one will be apt to say. Yet, I
may fairly ask : How many have a better ? For,
although musical students who have studied
on© branch of folk music may be numerous,
there are not many who have even a smatter
ing o f knowledge about more than one
branch.
Gaelic music I dc^no as the music which
hag grown up and been preserved in associ
ation wi+1
ng among the Gaelic-speaking
people
nd, Man, and Scotland. This
music is
.c'tically all folk music. There
were musical artists in the past among the
Gaels, who, no doubt, composed much music
and left their works and their influence be
hind them. But all that is extant of their
music, having passed * the sieve of popular
usage before it reached us in its present form,
is now to all intents and purposes, pure Folk
Music.
A GREAT CHANGE.
✓
I
ha\e said that the distinction between
the music of the upper classes and that of
the common people is less marked to-day than
it was in the past; and that brings me to say !
also that, even in my own lifetime, a great ;
change has taken placo in the relations of ;
the one to the other. Music is new taught ;
to rich and p o o r; and high-class music and ,
musical instruments are cheap and plentiful.
The two strata are in course of combination ;
and in the blending process the folk are giving up some old predilections. I was brought
up, all but four yearn o f my life, in a Low
land industrial community, and I recollect'!
that when I was a boy, it was no uncommon •
thing to hear a real ballad sung by young ;
people—mill girls indeed. I question if, at I
the present day, there is to bo found in the j
same locality a single mill girl, or other young :
person, who could sing a. ballad learned from ■
s. book, not to speak of one transmitted
•orally. Few indeed, I believe, know what a
ballad ’s. One rarely sees or hears a street
ballad singer now. I daresay it is more than
twenty years since the la6t occasion on which
I myself saw a seller of broadsides who sang
the ballad lie was selling. Yet that class of
ballad singer was not uncommon forty years
ago. The age is leaving the ballad behind.
Ballads are too long for the modern taste.
The people of the present day cannot b?ar
to hear a melody repeated more than four
or five times at a sitting.
That which is true of the ballad in the
Lowlands seems to he equally true of it in
the Gaelic area. The Gaelic ballad singer
seems to be a-s rare as the badger ; yet tho
class must have been fairly numerous at one
time, for ballads many and varied aro on
Tecord. Most of those are of the heroic class;
and that other kind of ballad, common in
England, Lowland Scotland, and the Englishspeaking parts of Ireland, narrating soulharrowing, blood-curdling, local and domestic
incidents, does not seem to have had much
vogue in the Gaelic area.
Tho Scottish
Gaelic ballads consist mostly of tlie so-called
Ossianic ballads. They are of great interest
as literature, and, as such, they have re
ceived, and aro receiving, some attention.
But the music to which they were sung hae
received hardly any.
A few years ago I was asked to write a
paper on Scottish Gaelic Music for delivery
i
GAELIC CULTURE.
At one time Gaelic culture was an expand
ing force which made its influence felt far
beyond the present geographical limits of tho
Gaelic people; and for many centuries it had
vitality enough to assimilate what it received
from outside sources. According to what is
regarded as reliable ancient history, the
Gaolic people were a musical people, and
their -musical culture, no doubt, kept pace
with their general culture; and it is reason
ably to infer that music originating outeido
of the Gaelic area was similarly assimilated.
In recent centuries Gaelic culture has been
a diminishing force, and the musical branch
has shrunken along with tho rest. For a long
time, in. spite of strife among tlie Gaels
themselves and wars with aliens, it held ita
ground; and it gave way more on account
of changed economic conditions which affec
ted the people’s daily life, than on account
of any intrinsic superiority in tliat which
began to tako its place.
In .spe: king thus, I refer to tlie culture
which enters into tho ordinary life of the
iolk, and not to tlLat of the schools. There
are always an upper and a lower stratum of
culture; and I believe tliat, in tho past, the
difference between them was much more
obvioug than it is now. For instance, accordto what I have learned in the course of my
reading, there wa«, three centuries ago, in
T/owland Scotland, what you and I would bo
apt to regard as an artificial and un-Scottish
I'ft
T ^ T -V
* ,, W i . U t l P i ' *
n r * - ! *
♦
♦
t
songs, hi MacDonald's corn,pilation there are
tinuvH of both orders—-tho chorn-t class and tho
1^‘citative class—or, rather, quasi-recitative,
For there is melody in the most nigged of'
them. I propose- now to give two examples
from each clasts.
H ie first example is of the recitative kind.
I t is tho ballad called “ L i i i i r t h e King
Lear of Shakespeare, who in tho Gaelic bal
lad just as in the English play, is a king
fallen from a high estate to a lowly one. The
j oint of the ballad is, that Fionn, the subject
of many tales and ballads, maintained the
same respect, for Liiiir in adversity which he
had for him in prosperity; and that this
courtesy was not thrown away, for the king,
poor -as be was, was able to do Fionn a good
service: —
D AN LIU IK.
the Pan-Celtic Congress. In preparing it.
I wanted to be able to say something about
tlie few Ossianic ballad tunes which luivc
b'en preserved in the Rev. Patrick MacDonald s Collection of Gaelic Airs, made over
130 years ago. These are almost all we pos
sess of tho kind, as far as I know, except a
tuno or two in Campbell's “ Tub*-: of the West
Highlands,’’ one or two in Colin Brown’s
“ Thistle,” and Fraser of Knockie’s “ Collec
tion of Highland Airs,” and a few which have
been noted in Ireland. The Rev. collector
says, in a footnote to the tunes which he
records: —
.1
' 1 t ;m “ 4
■■■■ - ->
,.v:; in
^:>i hi-
vu-.v r!.^
“ i i,i oik: A n tffjui L-ie.-.."
I tried the tunes on tho said poems and
I round I might a3 well have tried to fit a
feileadh beag ’ on the Scott monument!
Dr. Smithy poems never were sung, because
Dr. Smith or some contemporary must have
made them. When the Rev. Patrick Mac
Donald stated that the old tunes which he
had recorded were those of the poems, he
must have known that the translations were
not in the least like the sung ballads. He
may have considered it legitimate for a liter
ary man to put a literary “ finish” on trans
lations of rude ballads. But when the “finish,”
as in this case, amounted to a new lock,
stock, and barrel, with only an old trigger
thrown in to keep u,p a tradition of heredity,
then we can only say that the clerical mind
in MacDonald and Smith’s day was the same
as it is in the present— a poor propagating
soil for the scientific spirit. Those of you
who have studied the Ossianic controversy
must have noticed how many clerical wit
nesses bore testimony to the genuineness of
Macpherson’s poems— that is, their genuine
ness as folk poetry. Now, the test of folk
poetry is : Was it sung or not by the common
people? Does any one hold out that Macpherson's Ossian was ever sung? I f it e\cr
was sung by the folk, their music for it must
have been of an elusive nature and must havo
betaken itself to its cloud ere the recorder
arrived, for there is not a trace of the reality
on earth ; nor has its phantom ever been ?een
or heard of.
K
I
I
J
j
E.
ey
j
|
I
I
:r
:r
1 : 1 : 1
Lfr ohaidh
s
Fionn do thigh
| : n. n r :d :d
jl
:-
Liuir
:l,t.l,s 1
Lo aon fhichead doug foar
| ,1 : d . d : d
j
gu
l_.s: L s : l^s
j.
llor?
|s. ,
j
’S bu cheannard tri naon ar faar
foachd
| ,s : r
r
||'
dhinn.
^
:r
r u s : l^.s: 1
A n t-aon fhear
bu
U ir
e
I
The next illustration is “ Bàs Dhiarmaid ”
— The Death of Dermid. The tune is a chorus
•one. The written stanza consists of four
lines, and the rhyme system is the usual one
pertaining to that class of stanza. But the
musical stanza contains seven lines or strains,
two only of which are solo, and five chorus.
This ballad, sung at a medium rate, would
take about- one hour in delivery.
__
,
BAS DHIARMAID.
K
ey
|
G.
s
:—.f :n.r
Eisd
|
-
|
:—.
j
ibh beag roa’s ùill loibh laoidh,
.d| d.S|,li:d.(d : r . , d
Faill
n . r,d : d
s. , r
itliill ho robha hò-ro
h i's
s .,s
d
: 1 .,r : r .,d
:n.<Ui:lt
|
na hug oirnn 6 ,
:—
:
j
A ir a’ chuideachd chaoimh so ghluais;
GAELIC
M USIC.
|
.d
d.,Si
Fail!
B Y M ALCOLM MACFARLANE.
P A R T II.
I failed for some time to make head or tail
o f MacDonald’s tunes for the Ossianic ballads.
But I could not rest content under defeat.
Here were ballad tunes, each with :ts name
in black and white. There were the words
o f the ballads known by those names: but,
in most cases, try as I might, there was more
musio than the stanzas required.
MacDonr.ld’s other tunes fitted the woid.j.
Wiry
not
the
ballads?
At
last
it
downed
on
me
that,
although
the
ballad stanzas are not of the kind usually
associated with a chorus, yet choruses might
have been given to them. When I came to
examine the tunes with a view to determine
whether such was the case, and, it so, what
wa« solo and what was chorns, the difficulties
vanished. They reappeared when I tried to
make for myself chorus words in keeping with
the stvlo of the few ballad choruses which
are given in “ Leabhar na Feinne,” J. F.
Campbell’* compilation of Ossianic ballads;
for I found it more difficult to make jingle
words to a musical chorus than to compose
thoughts suited to the music.
I t appears to me that tho ballads were recitvd to music by the artist class, probably
w*ith a harp accompaniment; and that the
T'ommon people treated sonic of them alter
the style of work songs. The word stanzas
of the ballads consist of four lines in an old
cramped, ami altogether uunooular kind of
measure, and the rhyme system is quite at f
vHrijuifco with ;U,io r h,v111<?..,
*t
: l,.,d : r . , r
ithill iuthill agus
|
1 .,s
:s.n,r :w.,s
uilliu
/
d.,r
*■
ohoro,
Hilliu
:n.r,d :d.li,s
ni,,r
: 1 .,1 :1 .,s
\
hò ro, H i ri i\ u
^
1 .,d
:d.,d:r.,d
|
i hug òro liiri
l,.,d
:d
II
II
ù, ’d na hithillean eìls chali ùrochò.
Air Beinn Ghulbain 's Flath na Feiim
Is Mac 0 Duimhn* nan sgeul truagh.
Etc., etc.
The next example is “ Dearg Mao Dheirg,”
which is of the recitative class, with tho last
line repeated as chorus, a practice which is
found associated with some English ballads.
t
DEARG MAC DHEIRG.
K FA'
|
t
.1
l.s,l
: d1 . l^s
An Dearg Mac Dtoirg gur
|
1 , 1 :
A ir
|
mi
d,d —
d1 . l,s
,s
Is
| ,TA
Ih
s^X.d'
mise a'
1 . Sjtn
fhoar ui'ii d'fhidir
:r'
r1
Ni'm bhcil eaoi nach
|
1 . s,m
: r ' r 1
truagh a
tfi
* *JLl1
' ^
truagh a tii
mi
\
)
bhe&u ;
:r
|
lochd;
n1. r'.d1 : d'.l
j
d'fhuair a ldireadh :
d '.l^ in .
ml fhtiin au
’ LrL
:r
|
nochd:
* - ®_jJ? : r
jj
fhtUu un nochd.
i
Dearg Mac Cholla craofch d’ an Tùr,
Lois tan seinnteadii gu ciiun e m it ;
\S ioiimhninn aoidh air nach luigh fearg:
Chlaoidheadh an Dearg leis a’ mliuc.
Etc., etc.
- '♦«*••• ; . J
t
Mhòir ’1
l V i l l J ’ Tian'"• f
exara,)le
an A,u“d“ ” I
of th<> tìjorus
t e ll 1
1 ,S
'"° a VP' y l o " K Halla<1> w liicli
t » s how a stron g but slow -w itted man p r o w d
> s usefulness and gain ed esteem th ro u g h I
I
|
I
I
Chudl
{
-
I s'
.d
: s,
s
:
Air 6in
^
•d
II,
d
: 1, .1, | d
: 1,
: s. n
•
la :d
d
:d
i6 ’u na ìiolreaim
|1
’3 na haoi ho
|
:d
r
:r
dan (I.0M na
|s
:-.n
rò ’h na
ta, : - . l , | S|
:d
r
|r
:d
|r
b'òigh,
)
hi H
h«
o,
^
;s, .n, | r,
: d)
I
1,
Haoi
ri hù ’s na hoireann
ùho,
Laoch meanmnach air nacli dearg arm,
JS © hy ainm dha an t-Amadan Mor.
Etc., etc.
I trust to be excused for taking up so much
time with these ballads ; but my apology is
that they have received little attention here
tofore as musical subjects.
t
GAELIC
.It
d
M USIC .
: - . t [ | li
:S|.S|
B Y MALCOLM M ACFARLANE.
m
:s
|n
:r.d
d'.d';t
:1
Ona night as P o l l y
| *r
'iL'A :
iay
musing
| :s
1
This
/ : l.t
1
d’
iu
j. I
dhol thar chuain,
li
:d
|r
t|
I
j
t Uh
I
:-lilli
I
r 1. t
I
:s
s
\
J
country
:f
:s
1
dis - guised
to
rove,
;t
;1
s. m
would
she
seek
: *i
:t'
d
:1
| :r
her
d1
so
H lA
own
through
dearofct
j
faucy
Iho
s
• to
:fe
|
bed,
d1. s
And
f
:ri
I
:—
:t
| :t
'
: d1
j|
Oliver
^
in
:t
s .n :d
head:
j i r d d
I
I
:-.n|S|
her
She'd go
I
:
wonderful
Camo
| :s
I
I
1
1
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
uair
Bha’n oidhcho 6toirmoil aoti thàlni«
j:s
P A R T III.
I have already alluded to the rarity in the
Gaelic parts of the realm, of those ballads
which narrate horrible incidents and which
are common in the English-speaking parts.
But a Gaelic ballad of this kind came under
my notice in a rather odd way. A year or
two ago, Mr N. Orr sent me the notes of a
tune called “ Uilleam Glen,” which he had
1taken down in Islay from a sea-fisher.
I
kner that Mr John Whyte liad contributed
a tune of the same name ta “ The High
lander ” si score or more of years ago. I was
j engaged, when I reoeived Mr Orr’s letter,
I taking down melodies from a friend, and I
I thereupon asked him if he knew anything
I about “ Uilleam Glen.” There and then he
I sang to me two verses to a tune differing
I from Mr Orr’e, which I straightway put on
I record. Tlie three tunes known to me in
I conjunction with Gaelic words differ from one
I another and also differ from tho tune given
I along with English words in Dean Christie’s
I “ Ballads of Buchan.” But all these tunes
I are of the class to which ballads in the English language are usually sung. They are
not of the recitative or chorus class found
in association with Gaelic ballads. The words
are a translation of -an English ballad. In
whnit manner that ballad was carried into
Gaeldom we may never know ; but it is there
testifying to the fact that ballads can bo
transplanted from one people to another.
At the same time, it must be borne in mind
that the number of ballads transplanted from
English into Scottish Gaelic, as far as known
to me, amounts to this solitary one.
Savanna
r
rl
I
I
I
I
I
I
1
I
I
I
I
I
j
I
I
I
I
I
j
|
I
j
I
|
1
I
I
: __ 1 I
:s,
sheòl
:r.d
aim
j
The entire ballad in Gaelic is recorded;
and I feel sure that Fionn or the Rev. Don.
Maclean,'the indefatigable collector of Gaelic
books, pamphlets, etc., could put them before
the reader.
Diversity of language is a real obstaclo to
the passage of songs and ballads from one
people to another, although not an insurI mountable one. In epochs ol bilingualism,
one can readily fancy the possibility of songs
I and ballads being transmitted more than
I occasionally.
But diversity of language is
not a serious obstacle to tlie spread of the
music of songs and ballads from one people to
another.
For all people can apprehend,
memorise, and utter the language of music
with some degree of proficiency.
I will now introduce a tune which will naturally be assumed to be a Gaelic one. I t does
duty in connection with an English ballad.
I cannot prove that the tune is a Gaelic one ;
but there are several variants of it to Gaelic
words. There may be as many, for all I yet
know, to Englisli words.
I introduce it
mainly to show that music spreads over
wide areas, and is not altogether withstood
by barriers of language
P O L L Y OLIVER.
j
K e y D.
I
|d
:-.s|n
:-.n |s
I
I
I
I
I
I
i
:d
ro aimiioii
r
I
j
ò *o,
1
:_r^d
I A ir an t-nligho dhuinn dol gu Barbaii.
1
as sigeul luuintacli gun bhi èi %
llaoi ho
|
Ir
:-.s|n
A
| ,d,r
LA O ID H A N A M A D A IN MHOIR,
K w Bi,.
:—
.1
|
' 1'** hoac1* o f h o n «r t ploddors, whose work is
conscientiously p e rlo rm e d , reliable and ser
viceable
T h e so-called b ig fool ls llot. al ways
t he tool people ta k e him for.
1
lih a long
I
ls ‘ ua!n,v t a lk in g and posing, pu t o v e r
| . dj - j p,
.1
|
,
* C;1ys " f evci it’ was in 111.• past. For
how oltc;i do wo find showy slum*, whose
1
j
K by G,
u ] " t T ' , ? nm i‘ f,2 id the l < ^ o n o f the
a y o f t ie b ig fool ” is as much needed in
.
W IL L IA M GLEN.
love.
: f .n
j
j
:d
j
for
|| |
t
!
I
I
So early in the morning the fair maid arose ;
She dressed herself up in a suit of man’s
clothes,
Coat, waistcoat, and breeches, and sword by
her side;
On her father’s black gelding fair Polly did |
ride,
I do not think I need say that the
preceding tune is a variant of “ Gurua slàn
a chi mi.” To myself, after having waded
through
a
great
deal
of
Irish '
music,
this
tune
suggests
an
Irish :
i origin.
And
why ?
Because
I
tind
the style of the tune to be one which is very
prevalent in Irish music, although it is plenti
ful, too, in English folk-music; but not so
generally pure.
Thero is quite a little host of tunes cir
cumstanced like this one of “ Polly Oliver,”
to which more than one nationality lays
claim; and many a skirmish has been fought
oil paper over them, with the view of deter
mining to vhicli nation belongs ,the merit of
owning or of having originate-dAbem.
■ Extravagant claims, I acknowledge, have
i Leon made by the Irish, Scottish, and Welsh
| nationalities to some of the tunes in question,
i
iKl t h e y have even had English support. H ut
fincl th o sam e disposition m a n ifested by the
English n a tio n a lit y itself. I f the C eltic nations
vave been som ew h at hasty in putting; fo rw a rd
heir claims, th e E n glish n a tio n has its elf
a rg e ly t o b la m e ; fo r it is on ly w ith in recent
w.irs t h a t i t has tu rned its a t t e n t io n to its
>wn fo )k m u s ic; a n d i t is th e re fo re o n ly now
;hat th e c o rre ctiv e t o th e hasty theories o f
:he sister n ation s is being producedIn a p a m p h le t e n title d “ E x tr a c te d fro m
Ihe P ro ceed in g s o f th e M usical Association,
21st Session, 1904-5,” M iss T.ucy E. Broadwood, se creta ry ot th e E n glish F o lk Song
Society, d e a lin g w ith English fo lk songs,
w rites ais follow s ; —
|
I
I
I
j
J
j
r
I
it entered without words. For every Englishspeaking person who could or would'overcome
the language difficulty, there were hundreds
I t n r r P<>11^ I1?6" wll<> ,,ld overcome it.
h i The;
K
,T
t!d*
that’
if
Gaelic
me,‘
"'CTO
by their ability to speak English, able to
*
“
lc , m.uô into English-speaking
cn-. v k! t f r i they . wwe i<wt as able to
TW «
” g ls}; " 1Uslc to their own land.
They nere, and I have no doubt they did
carry som e-tho,* of then, who went back.
I
hem .en/r
hlct thnt Irish musicians
nequently^ visited parts where English whs
the peoples language. Quite as likely, Englsh musicians visited parts where Gaelic was
j
W e can only point out that in the heart o f agricul,ural couutiofl peopled by pe*aante of gnxou nnd Nor*
iia o race, and w h e ie ono m a y hunt, vain ly fo r a Scot
an tr i* h u ia », HUtci\Ho fo lk are sinking these songs,
earot, so they toll us fruiu thoir illiterate forefatheis,
ihe w „rd a or w hich are found, if a t all, on English
ti&ilad sheet- o f 300 years or more, tiem em bcr J&nglatul's glorious immical record throughout tbo middle
?
Hur ei y then, ia it not more likely that v- lien im port
ing our langu age into £coMaiid and Ireland w o should
Import thither our ow n ballad air*, than that hypothetioai Scotoh and Irish Hingers should h avo ta u g h i to tho
K n g lU b labourers their tunes set to his iGogJiah words?
T h e question is a le g it im a te on e t o a s k ;
l«ojt i t is hardly o n e t h a t can be answered
e ith e r in th e a ffirm ative o r the n e g a tiv e ,
w ith o u t serious consideration.
I wonder how m a n y tunes th e re are in
E n g la n d which h a v e been im p orted fro m th o
C o n tin e n t w it h o u t an y im p o rta tio n of th e
language t o which t h e y belong. M a n y tunes,
I should th in k , h ave tra v e lle d in t o s tra n g e
cou n tries w it h o u t words as vehicles, th eir
m e r it b e in g sufficient t o g iv e them vogue
a m o n g t h e people t o whom t h e y w ere carried.
A fr ie n d o f mine, who oould speak Germ an
and was much in Germ any, to ld m e he could
n o t p re v a il on his G erm an frie n d s t o believe
t h a t th e ir song, “ Des Sommers l e t z t e R ose,”
was o f Irish o rig in , both as reg a rd s words
a n d music.
I t certa in ly d id n o t reach G er
m a n y w ith an im p o rta tio n o f e it h e r th e
G a elic o r the English language.
I do not
suppose t h e tu n e which you will know be6t
as “ Joh n Anderson, m y j o ” depended on any
la n g u a g e f o r its w id e vogue. Y o u g e t i t in
W a le s t o W e ls h words, in Ir e la n d a n d S cot
land t o G aelic and E n glish w o rd s ; and i t is
said t o be in N o rw a y . In th e G aelic o f S cot
la n d i t has t w o well-disguised varian ts known
to me— o n e in a r e c it a t iv e style, sung t o
“ B la r na h -E ip h it,” b y C o rp o ra l M ackinnon ;
f the o t h e r in a chorus style, sung t o “ Ach
ma ni thu b a rg a n ,” by R o b Donn. I t must
have b$en im p o rte d early, and independent
t " language.
j
I
I
nf
' <
I
%
'3&
ijfisir
■>tfcm
l
'Ifeing*
;-&!M
iMtsot
Gaoniic
Jir eirieii
lO’ctfet
4
I
GAELIC
MUSIC.
!1' thioa
BY MALCOLM MACFARLANE.
I
,
I find th e r e a v a r ia n t o f M iss B ro a d w o o d s
tim e , e n title d — w h at d o you th in k ?
1 he
B e lfa s t M o u n ta in .” I n t h e same l e ^ u y e M k »
B road w ood quotes an oth er song called
Ih e
G a lla n t Poacher* ” th e refra in of which is
‘• V a n IMem en's L a n d .”
I find a v a ria n t ot
th e a i r in P e t r i e ’s C ollectio n under the name,
“ V a n D iem en 's L a n d . "
B oth o f these airs
a r e in a s t y le t o which hundreds o f G aelic |
eongs w e r e sung b y people t o whom buesex,
t h e Sussex labourer, th e English language, 1
and th e E n glish ballad w ere so m any sealed
books.
T h a t style, I m ak e bold t o say, is
n o t an im p ortation in t o Ire la n d o f o n ly th ree I
cen tu ries standing,
f I
A fe w m ore facts b earin g on th is phase or I
th o subject.
I n Scotland, whero th ere are
an English-speaking people and a Gaelic- I
speaking people, t h e am ount of Gaelic song I
music t o English w ords in the L ow lan d s is I
o f considerable v o lu m e ; but th e am ount ot |
L o w la n d song music t o G aelic w ords is ot I
small volum e.
T h o am ount o f Irish song J
music in L o w la n d Scotland is ot considerable
volume. T h e am ount ot L o w la n d song music
in Ir e la n d is e f lit t le importance. T h e amount
o f Irish music in G aelic Scotland, con sideiin g I
t h a t th e r e was c o m m u n ity o f language be
tw een Ir e la n d and Scotland, is not at all
large. But t h e r e is a a i m p l u explanation ot
th is se em in g ly odd fa ct, with which I will
d eW h e r ^ Ir is h G aelic music en tered the Gaolioep eakin g p a rts o f Scotland i t e n te re d withX t words.
I n a l a t e epoch however, it en
t e r e d som etim es wi t h English words.
W
I
Scottish G a elic music e n te re d th e same pints, |
-
I•
Haguii<
'Bug mi !
I
•
; .l,^ I
Cbardhm
j
N o w , ju s t above t h e words which I quoted
x>m M iss B ro ad w oo d ’s lectu re th ere is a
son g s ta te d t o be fro m Sussex. I t s name,
fo r all th e w orld, is “ B e lfa s t Mountains.
A cc o rd in g t o m y in fo rm a tio n , th e Sussox I
labourer's k n o w led g e o f geogra p h y is ve ry
lim ite d .
So, I r a t h e r th in k t h e song must
have tra v e lle d a lo n g distance b efore i t |
reached t h e Sussex labourer.
L o o k in g oyer
P e tr ie 's g r e a t collection o f Irish fo lk airs,
•
}lished
& i T Cthat
" ? 8ithey
i but were
1 d° n0t
think
is estab
either
numerous
or
welcome. When English music entered the
Gaehc area, ,t entered with English words
and altected mainly the upper stratum of
society. A certain amount of it may havo
filtered downward to the folk. But it is much
moie hkely, where the folk were concerned,
that music was carried from place to place
moie bv the agency of strolling players
tinkers, and spring and harvest labourers
than by artists of standing.
Tli© amount of English ôken by the folk
ot Ireland previous to the potato famine must
have been comparatively * mall. Gaelic was
in the mouths of the people to within 20
miles of Dublin
In tho Scottish Highlands
English had made little encroachment before
the
4o.
Up to that time, and for a good
time after it, the Gaelic peasantry were a
numerous folk and saturated with their own
poetry and music, and so bound to their own
particular styles that no importations could
oust them during the time in which the lan
guage retained its vitality.
i
PA R T IV.
It is an established fact that members of
the English upper class, on visiting Ireland
in past centuries, were impressed by Irish
music, and picked, up musical and literary
ideas for home reproduction. I have spoken
already of King Lear; and those who have
studied the subject tell us the conception was
transplanted from Ireland, as well as other
ideas of which Shakespeare makes literary
use. But Shakespeare's works also furnish
evidence that Irish music had received some
attention in England in his time.
In the play of “ Henry V.” he puts the
names of a Gaelic song into the mouth of
Pistol, the braggart of the play, when he
bullies the captured French soldier.
The
words for a long time puzzled tho various
editors of Shakespeare's works until an Irish
ono came on the scene and revealed what they
were. This tune’s name appears in an Eng
lish book as early as lo84; the tune itself is
recorded in a Dublin MS. in Trinity College
Library, of date 1594 ; and again in a virginal
book variously called .“ Tho Fitzwilliam Vir
ginal Book” and “ Queen Elizabeth’s Virginal
Book,” of date somewhere between 1602 and
1622. The tune is given in A. P. Graves’
“ Irish Song Book ” recently published. The
Irish Gaelic words appear to be lost; but
we in Scotland have got two sets. One of
them is in ‘‘ An t-Oranaiche ” ; the other is
in “ The Inverness Gaelic Society’s Transac
tions,” Vol. X V. And a few months ago, I
had sent me from aoi old man named Donald
Beaton, residing in Australia, where he has
been for fifty-four years, words which help
to correct apparently defective lines in both
of tho already recorded versions. Mr Beaton
assumes both versions to lie one whole; but
that appears to me to be a mistaken notion.
I append amended version of this interesting
work song, as it appeal's in “ An t-Oranaiche,”
and Beaton’® version of the other part. To
one of them I have given the Iri^li tune and
to the other a tune taken down by myself
from a Ballachulish man. Evidently there
i-Hatiile
SMS
1 inns
I Piirt din
jfceuH
' !«
HI
I
\
\
.
» P Chai
.tki
k:
I
I
f t
C&
i to
/
j is another tune in Lochaber not yet recorded. I
C H A IL IN OG A ’ S T IU IR T H U MI.
I Key B[>. (Version from “ A n t-O r a n a ic h c w ith I
I
Irish T u n e.)
I
f j n: — :n | n :r:n
f : — : f |m : — : ri
I \ | Chftidhvnishuiridhnir
f [r ;— :r I r
\ I L'hiiliu 6 g
nigh 'n Kigh Kiroann;J I
n :f
a'
n : — : n |r : — : — \ I
stlùir thu mi?
J|
/ Im
f :s Is :n :d
I I 'a cailiu
thusa's is
/ I SI : d : d I
I \ I Chailin
òg
t,
d : r | r : t, : s, 1
buachaille qyse,
A /
r
d : r | d : — : — II
h ìù irib h
ò.
|| I
:n
ì
Dh* iarr a’ chailin ni naoh b’fheudar:
] Caisteal air gach cnocan grèine;
I Muileann air gach sruth an Eirinn ;
Cat air am bi fichead ©arball;
Thug i mionnan, boid is briathran
Naoh sineadh i a taobh ri m’ chliathaich.
I Nuair chuola mi na brvithran gàbhaidh
Chaidh mi dhachaidh am mi-shlàinte,
I ’S thug mi ’m laighe bliadhn’ ach ràidhe;
I Thainig a’ chailin air an là sin,
’S ghLac i tirsainin anns gach làmh aic,
Dh’ fharroid i ciod © mar bhà m i;
“ Cha ’n ’eil mi ach tùrsach cràiteach,
Fait mo chinn 'na dhualan làimh rium.”
I Chrom i ceamn is rinn i gàire
I Is shiubhail i air falbh o ’n fhàrdaich.
I Dh? èirich mis7 an là-’r-na-mhàireach,
I 0 'n b’e ceann na bliadhn’ ach ràidhe;
I Chaidh mi mach gu cùl na sràide;
Rug mi air oaman ’s cliuir mi bàrr leis;
Rug mi rithis ’s chuir mi dhà leis.
Thàinig a* chailin donn taobh bhà mi
Dh’ fhiosraich i ciod © mar bhà m i:
“ Math 1© caraid, ole le nàmbaid;
Mur bhitheadh dhomh gur bean mo mhàthair,
Is tè eile mo phiuthar ghràdhach,
Dh’ innsinn sgeul do fhear nam mnàthan :
I Pàirfc diubh gu beulach, breugaoh,
I Is cuid diubh gu modhail, beusach.”
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
1
I
*
|
(W it h Ballachulish Tunc.)
M I m ,, n
: n
I \ | L i t h a dhomh ’s
n 1
mi
t
òg
1
a’
s
|
: n
eiubhai
ml
iasaich.j
/ I d1
d1
I \ | Chailin
:
/ In
n
\ | Thachftir
:
m
s
catlin
1
s
: n
n\
mhiògach thlàth orrn ; J
I I d'
d1
\ I Chailin
:
t
1
s
h-iùraibh
:
j I d1
d1
I \ | Chailio
:
n
r
btiùir thu
:
d'
i
6
r 1 M d1
òg
a’
s
m
stiùip thu
:
r
mi?
n
6,
r
mi?
I
I
I
I
I
I
Air a gnùis bha fiamh a1 ghàire;
Dh* aithnich mi gu’m b’ i mo ghL^àdh-s, i ;
Mheall i mo chridh© le a blàth-shùil;
Bha dà ghruaidh mar ùbhlan garaidh ;
datb an òir air cuailean fàinneach ;
Bhuaileadh le gaighead a’ bhkis m i;
Chuir mi Jn cèiil mo mhòr glirkdh d h i;
Chailin òg a’ stiùir thu mi ?
1
j
j
I
Cnlin thusa, buachaill mise;
Chailin o i hiùraibh o,
Ohailin o a* stiuir thu mi ?
Sheall i ’m ghnùis is rinn i gàire ;
I
B u a c b a ill thus’ , bean-ua:sal m ise’ ;
I
B’ fheairrd benn-nasal buachaill a ice
Rachadh am mach oidhche fhrasach,
Chuireadh na laoigh ann am fasgadh ;
Lùbadh © i fèin Jna bhreacan;
Chaidloadh iad gun sgios gun airsneal;
5S eutrom dli’ èireadh iad ’sa mkaduinn.
I
I
I
I
I
THE
♦
4
ANGLES AND SAXONS.
BEATON’ S VERSION
I K e y Ej>.
centuries,
long
enough
to
establish
the Latin tongue in the greater part of the
land. The Franks came later, and lield sway
long enough to establish their name on the
whole country. Britain, which was> the home
of a Celtic people when Csesur landed, was,
in the south, invaded by Romans, Saxons,
Angles, Danes, and Norman-French. In the
north it was invaded by GaeTs from Ireland,
Romans, Angles, and Danes. The Angies left
their name on tho greater part of South
Britain. The framework of the living lan
guage is Anglic; the flash is Latin. The
Gaels left their name on North Britain. Their
language was supreme until 800 years ago,
when it gave way to Latino-Anglic. Now,
while the English-speaking world looks upon
Frenchmen as Celts, and upon the Welsh,
Iri^h, and Scotch people as Celts, and on the
Irish and northern Scots more particularly
as Gaels, yet, for w>mo reason, irreconcil
able with the other facte stated, they do not
regard the inhabitants of South Britain as
Celtic. I f Franco was Celtic before its in
vasions and Celtic after them, surely a coun
try like Britain, so much less open to mili
tary incursions and so comparatively free
from the immigration of alien races, owing
to its isolation by the sea, if Celtic before its
^ invasions, by parity of reasoning, must be
j accounted Celtic after them. There should be
no doubt in any person's mind that the Celtic
strain in the population of Britain is stronger
than it could possibly be in France. Lan
guage is no guarantee of blood. I t may be
legitimate to speak of a Saxon and Norman
gentry, but I am extremely sceptical of the
appropriateness of
the term
“ Norman
labourer.” I rather think, when we refer to
the folk, tho best term to use is “ West
European.”
Blood, language, and culture hang to
gether much more loosely than some people
imagine.
Ì
J
\
f
||
||
FRANKS.
I
I will now briefly consider the question :
I Who are they who constitute the folk or
I common people of the British Isles; and I
will for a moment, first of «11, look across tlio
I English
Channel.
Gallia,
now'
called
I France,
was
invaded
by tho Romans,
I who
held
sway
there
for
several
In South Britain the people, before the ad
vent of the Angles and Sasons, had been
centuries under Latin government, and were
surely at the close of the Roman epoch, to
a large extent, bi-hugual, just as our Gaelic
people are to-day. When the Angles and
1 Saxons entered Britain, the native language
must have been weak through disirse in the
work of administration ; and when the Roman
power had waned and Latin had given way,
it would be unfit to take the place of the
latter in the work of administration, and
English would be superimposed with com
parative ease.
Wales and the West were
otherwise conditioned, and the English lan
guage spread at a slow pace in that direction,
and is not there supreme y e t ; the language
struggle is proceeding at this time. In tho
north of Britain the people before the advent
of the Gaels from Ireland, had a. language
which the best authorities agree in saying
was akin to Cymric. There is no doubt that
they were bilingual in the southern part of
North Britain when the Gaelic power became
weak at the source, owing to the temporary
supremacy of the Norsemen ; and that wlren
English came in, the original languages being
unfit for the work of administration owing to
long disuse, yielded readily to English. In
the Highlands, however, the Pictkh language
was dead before the English language began
to lift it« head in Scotland, and the people
not being bi-lingual, and, pots^-seing a lan
guage which was used in administrative work,
withstood its advances until quite recent
times: and the language struggle is pro
ceeding at this day. The same reasoning holds
good in the case of Ireland. The people were
not bi-lingual until a late epoch, and the lan
guage struggle is not over in that country.
Indeed, it is rather lively.
The time taken in tho process of adjust
ment was long enough to admit of tlue
gradual transmission of folk culture from one
language to another without seriouy breaks in
>
4
*
I
the continuity. Now, no branch of folk culur© admits of transmission inoro readily
than music. Music is a very .ancient art, and
some or its styles must have boen established
in the remote past. New mannerisms and
minor modifications may have come in with
invading races and new languages; but I
can hardly think that any novelty of style
could have be«cn sufficiently overpowering to
supplant among the folk the old established
styles.
In the British Isles the folk are the same
folk m the main. I f not, why speak of folk
at all? There is no place in Europe where
the conditions are more favourable to pereistcncy in the folk than the British Isles.
There need be little wonder then, if in the
main tho folk music of tlie various parts
should show affinities in style.
I
j from the second; and Mm oeonrs frequently K
II outside of Ireland.
‘
fV
Another interesting two-strain form of '?
melodic sta/nza takes the following grouping: I h
I Strain 1, strain 1 repeated, a new strain, and j w
then strain 1 repeated, which may be pic- (2
tonally shown thus: —
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I .................................. x
I .................................. x
................... . ... ... o
1 * . ........................... . x
This form is very common in Ireland; it
is not uncommon in England; it is in Welsh
I music; and it does not prevail in Scotland
and Man. In Ireland it is frequently pure;
j in tho other places- it is nearly always more or
less corrupt. The example Ì have chosen to
I illustrate this stanza form is the popular
Irish song, “ Pearla, a5 bhrollaigh bhàin.”
I
{
|
I
j li*
I gi
I^
Ip
i*
i
j t
I
*
P E A R L A A ’ B H R O LLAIG H BHAIN.
G l e u s D.
GAELIC
M U S IC .
j:s_._ljb
I
Ta
B Y M ALCOLM MACF A B L A N E .
II *
. *
|
Js
| :^ • 1
s
so
{
|
: n
bliadhain
go
-I
• P1
d1:— r r 1, d 1. t
d1 : n
Nuair a
thiocfaidh
:t
i
-----
fuÌDgimh
/ : 1| . t,
d
s
se
:1
| :t • 1
e
3
f
: s « m, r
An
ri
j
taaogk’i ;
s :1
ro àrd
Jlmi
’na
: m
r
mo
J
: —\
chòir,
n : d1
le
:n
j
’bbailo
: r
: 1
\
’ bhaile
: n
Coimhreòchad
’S
cblèibh;
mil
: —
:d
m h ile
\
/ i
I
e;
d
I
:—
stòr.
Bitheann m’athair ’s mo mhathair
Ag bearradh’s ag bruidhinn liom fèin ;
Taim giupuighthe, ciapaighthe.
Piucuighthe, cràidhte am shaogh’l ;
i
Thug mi taithneamh do 'n duin1 ud
j
Budh gil< *s do b’ ails liodh,
Is chuaidh se > bhord luinge:
?S o Jimi mo mhìlo stor.
The two-strain form may be explained pictorially thus: —
1,
...
» ••
O
1)
1
• ♦•
• • •
•»*
< I «
•••
• • •
X
* • *
» • •
A
*w/
o
X
9
On re-examining u Polly Oliver” the tune
will be found to be an impure example of the
: two-*ta;*in J'prm,.
third section . d if f ^ ^ L
1
a
fagh&il
s
c h ll* 1*
railh
d
F ln aiuo
no do '11
/
f
'■
gcanaid fir le rana,
d
U bhachd
S ra in
| di
s.m:r.d|r)
d*a
ii_.^ : 1 . d11 t
: —
la
breagftdh ;
: n . d |f j i j r ^ d
cliaitheainar (,'«■"
n
bliadh ’n agu* Is
le
d1.,t : 1 . s I d 1 : - . 1
aisde
:vL i I
Do
: —
•
| d)
1 e i t h n e.
s
d ' . t : l . , s | s|
da
dteidlieadh mo ghradh
1
I
/
I
: .s
1. t : d ' .m'| r'.dJ : t . s
(■'0
raghainuse
| :a . 1,t
Is
pach
-------------la
d 'a
s
I si
f&urh
-
a in ;
/
d'.,t : 1 .s I d' ; (V . 1 s . n : r . d |r|
rniir a blifiiil se ’udan duim i an a lim ir chiutn eeo d ’ fha^h’l,
I :n.f
s
U l Ii ! Mac
j
:—j
Ni
lo
: m . d |f . u r r ^ d
Hieadaim
| :s . f
]
d1:—:r*. d'.t 1:—:s«n.r n
le
\
: n
1
d1
d
mo
d-Ubhairfldh ee cùrsa
| : iLiJ: ‘ ^
(
:d
Lhiocraidh
:t
.
taca
r
d1 : n
Ni
go
n
d’ imitfh uaim gradh
: s
[
: r
in
N ar
K e y E\>.
d
s
* f: s . 1 , t
J IM I MO M H IL E STOR.
| : li__.__ t (
It
1 s.ri:r.dirj,
|d'
cHiliu deas am ' chradh
f: m . f
P A R T V.
Musical style, for international compari
son, may be considered in regard to the form ■
of the melodic stanza and in regard to the
manner in which tho musical notes are dis
posed.
In illustrating the forms of the
melodic stanza I will put forward a few of
the outstanding ones, beginning with what,
is called the two strain form. This form of
stanza is common in English folk music— I
do not think I have met it outside of folk
music— it is very common in Ireland and gen
erally pure; in Man it is common and com
paratively pure; in Welsh music I have ob
served very little o f i t ; in Lowland Scotland
there is not much of it and it is scarcely ever ,
pure; in Scottish Gaeldom there is little of j
it, and it is rarely pure— the purest examples
have some little modification in the 3rd' line.
To illustrate this two strai/i ttan/a. forni I
1-ave chosen a favourite Irish Gaelic song.
d'.,t : l . s
: n . d I f . n :r.,d
Muiru
ua
ngiua
d ‘ ar
d
. —
•atu
| d |j
^dh.
Is a chailin chailce bhlaith,
D’ a dtugas sevn/ic is grkdh.
Na taibhair-se gach tràth dham earadh,
’S liacht ainnir rniiin im dheàidh,
Le buaidh is maoin ’na làimh,
Da ngabhamaois ìt^ ait-se e e i l e I
P®g is mile fàilt’
As barraibh geal’ do làmh,
*S e d’ iiarrfainn-se cso bràth mar spre le a t;
Is maran domh^sa ta tu ^ndàn,
A phoarla 11 bhiollaigh bhàin,
Nar thigeadsa slàn o’n aonach.
j
I'
I
j
I
[
j
I
This tune, further analysed, is resolvable
into 4 groups 01 1 a model which is very com- r
mom in Scottish Gaeldom. I t is a four 6train
form, well known through the song “ H 0 1 0 I
mo nighean don 11 bhòidheach.,, The first I
three strains agree in measure and the fourth I
stands apart from the others and rounds off j
tho whole. The form may be rendered pic- I
torially thus:—
I
1
\
I
9
T>
j
^
C
I
X
O
I
This form is not common in Ireland, Man,
Wales, and England—but I say England with 1
I some hesitation. I t is common in Gaelic and I
j EnjsjUsh Scotland. But there is this differ- I
I enoo between the Gaelic and the English I
; stanza : the former is mostly one-fold; the I
] latter nearly always two-fold. In tho one-fold I \
Gaelic type tlie end rhyme of each verse runs j 1
I through all the verses. This puts no strain j j
on the Gaelic language. But, if attempted iu ^
English, it would put a very heavy strain on I ^
the laiguiage. So, when orw>-fold tunes are I \
used with English words, we generally find I f
[ make-shifta for rhyme. In “ Scots wha hae,” J {
1 although it is a two-fold type, uniform end j £
' rhyme runs through all the versee— but not I a
, without straining tlie word “ victory” in to ! r
; “ victories with the emphasis misplaced. Iu J d
thft two-fold type the two end rhymes must j 4
1 agree with <1110 another, but not necessarily j ^
throughout the whole of tlu* verses. This | ^
JL *
o
♦
» . «
* * »
#♦♦
%**
1
• • •
♦♦♦
• ♦•
. « •
• » 1
I M
ft
«•#
ft#
1
%♦ ♦
«
«
I
#
,
Tho first I noted was one I took down my
self, sung to “ Gumha Chòirneil Iain Cham: shroin, Fasaidh-feàrna” ; the second is to
“ Cum ha Teaghlaich a* Mhaim ” ; the third is
to an Irish song, “ All among the heather” ;
and the fourth I saw tho other day in the
Journal of the English Folk Song Society,
to a sons; called the “ Cobbler and the
Miser.
But the English tune has a chorus
consisting of the last two lines of the stanza,
repeated; and another noticeable fact is that
the time ends in the favourite Irish final,
three beats on notes of level pitch.
makes the double stanza more suit«vblo to
English words than tho single stanza- But
I in Gaelic songs of this ciass, whether one-fold
or two-fold, the rhyme is preserved through
out all the stanzas.
To illustrate this class, I will introduce an
{ exceptional English example of the one-fold
type, nu-mely, ‘‘ Down among the banks of
roses.” Tho mako-shift for final rhyme in
this instance is repetition of the end line
throughout all the verses. About this song,
Bating Gould, a student and collector of folk
sony, writes : — “ A folk song still heard among
our peasantry; but it is found in an engraved
! half sheet of about 1780 in a oollection of
) Vauxhall and other songs, originally pubi lished separately, but now bound together in
|J the British Museum. I t is also found in t-lic
j| Vocal Magazine, Edinburgh, 1798, Vol. 2,
$
GAELIC
II s o n g 1.”
1 DOWN AMONG TH E BANKS OF ROSES.
| K e y F.
I |,S| (L:i_r
I
As
I
I |.s
d1
I
was a- walking one morn - iug so fair,
So green
I j.s
I
-if I s :s .s r., ri : f . s |1:-. j
: t
. d‘ | 1 : s
m d
r |n
,
|
were the fioldsand so pleasant the air;
d1 : t . dl | 1 ;s .d'
M y true love and
I (,r
: r
s
s .n : r .d i r:d.|
I wo did wander and play, All
.s|l.s:l.n
r
: —
|d:
P A R T VI.
I come now to what may be regarded as a
development of two of the classes already
referred to
I do not know very wqII what
to name it, unless I dub it the “ Kelvingrove” form of stanza. I t consists of strain
1 with a refrain, strain 1 and its refrain re
peated, and three strains similar in measure
with varying cadences followed by the refrain, j
Pictorially tlms: —
1. ... ... ... x ... x
I
1. . . . . . . i . > X . . . x
1
2
||
A
m
O
adow n
among the banks of ro
*
ses,
J Her father and mother would many times say
I That I would desert her and ramble away;
! I ’d sooner be lapped in clods of cold clay,
All a-down among the banks of roses.
My pretty brown maiden, wherever I be,
1
Or tossed on the ocean, or over the sea,
There is none I can find is so dear unto me—
I f I had but gold and silver in store,
Tho wealth of the Indies and treasure galore,
I ’d part with it all—'but to meet thee once
more,
All a-do^n among the banks of roses.
I
The moments of happiness often we miss;
I
Yet, Oh! heaven opens in flashes of bliss,
When the lips of my maiden I ’m suffered to I
kiss,
j
I
To me the song suggests translation from I
! Gaelic; and the tune suggests a Gaelic one I
which had undergone slight touching up.
Some very primitive tunes in this partic
ular form are extant in the Scottish Gaelic
urea, as witnesseth the following, noted down
by himself from a Ballachulisli singer; and
j there are some to be had with even fewer
notes than this one : —
I
CEANN LOCHA TREIG.
K e y Bì>.
j
: sr
J
1
Mi ’m
| : n -r
A ig
}
|
■r
si
:f
n
:—
ehuidh air
fò!d
rèiag
Jd
: 1,
d
Ceanu
•r
r
’ri raòr mo
«
: s,
: s,
Loch a
:r
:n
d
l,
:
:—
do
_
^
I
| : d . m s . s : 1. 1
M
||
dhèfgh,
Bha
T loim l
....................... ... - *•*
°
I
T>
•i•
s
I
J-)
; m. d
clm olt le m o
s
:n.d
Itisaii boWhcot h mrvoth le ino
s
B h n na h-euiii a i r b h a rr n an critoU i,
| : d'.n' r'.t:d!.l
s
:n.,f
'*
lad rl
r
ft
:d
vigh
rig h
d
- i,m
r
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
[
I
I
I
I
I
:d
•
c e ile a r
d
im i
rigb • Inn
d
B o fo r2. . t e w in g , off
n o ticin g
t lie
|
I
1
I
d III
otjr.
Tha dà shùil cho bana.il ciùin
Aig mo rìghinn ò ig ;
Tha da ghruaulh mar ròs fo ’ n driùchd,
Aig mo rìghinn òig;
Ged bu righ mi air a’ chrùn
Lo is gach saibhroas agus mùirn,
Cha *n eil te <P an tugainn run
Ach mo rìghinn òg.
otc., etc.
«
I
oSg;
a i r gRch tao b h ,
:d
\
0 |gt
s . l :s.m
:n.d r
Nuair a dh'inni* mi mo ffhaol do mo
x
x
x
...............
rao lv on C o ille
1. d1: t . 1
rha mo chridhe cho trom
I
Ri bàrca no long
I
Bhiodh a* siublual air tonn
I
Gun seòl.
I
I know four tune* constructed on this I
model, which have two strains only, arranged
thus; Stnùn 1 repeated 3 times, tluen a final
strain, pictorially represented thus: —
9
u j I' ij
j ; n . m s . s : 1. 1
Oig.
^ .............................
^........................ ...........
1
...................................
A
^• *•« •»• •«» ♦•• 0 i •« x
This form is uncommon in Gaelic Scotland ;
but is in England, Wales, arnd Ireland. It
seems to be a late development.
To illustrate the music, I have chosen the
song “ Biia mi ’n raoir an Coille cbaoil.” Tho
author, Mr Neil MacLeod, made his song originally to tho tune “ Kelvingrove.” But this
melody, though a fine one, did not in tho
least help to popularise tlie song. In this
collection allow me to quote from G. Farquhar Graham's appendix to “ The Popular
Melodies of Scotland **: “ In looking over the
lyrics of contemporaries, we regret to see
tliat many of their happiest efforts are never
likely to be heard united to music, as from
an unfortunate oversight, they have written
them to fliirs which Burns and others have already made their own. We would offer thi 3
advice to aspirants for lyrical honours, to be
more cautious in the selection of their airs;
and instead of vainly attempting to cope with
Burns, and to dispossess him of what tho
irorld allows to bo his own undisputed property, to remember that the better part of
valour is discretion, and that they are much
more likely to hear their verses sung if they
prudently make choioe of melodies still unwedded to immortal verse-” Unfortunately,
Mr MacLeod made his song to a tune which
had been previously wedded; and some one
made it his task to find for it a partner amoaig
virgin airs. This was found— but not among
music—and the song has now a chance of
becoming popular, as it deserve® to be.
;
’1 1 1
i ••
i i «
BHA M I ’N R A O IR A N OOILI aE CHAOIL.
K e y C.
:— J
Trèifif,
chunah* as
: d
]
♦ ♦4
9
t/•
I
MUSIC.
I
I
I
I
1
I
I
m elodic |
-onn« ot tunes, I would ask attention to a
el..* which is confined, a» far as I know to
our own Gaelic music. I t is commonly in
conjunction with Work songs-particularly
waullmig songs. The charactersitic is in the
cUuus. Ihe t,olo part, may be one line, or
two, or tour lines; tho chorus consists of
Th«! f . 1 4 ,R' K‘' ?’ ,an<^ stra.iu 1 repeated.
. 0 . ?} strain ol tho solo part has almost
invariably the same cndence as the second
strain of tlie chorus. Pictorially thus: —
Chorus—
1........................... X
o
............................. o
rn
t
■,
........................... X
Jw o line solo—
^........................... A.
........................... o
j
K ey
MO RO G H AINN ’S MO RUN.
G.— Chorus.
/•d
t , ; 1,; s, i S|: — :1,
Mo
rj:r
I
roghaitm’is mo i Ù.Q
d :r :d I d : —
a chiuma raì’n d è ;
in : r :n |s : - : a
1,: — : 1, j r : -
Gu n tHKhainn dhouùh fhtSiu gun stòraa
/ :d
*
| s , : — : 1,
ATo r o ^ im u n ‘s m o iù n
\
*
d :r
j
i;
: d | d * — “’ ||
chunnami’n dè.
Verse.
| :
|d
:d I s : — :s
Latha
dhomh ’a mi
l i : li I s ,: — : Si
|
t
'3 trom a
mheall an
| 1 : s :n I r
:di
falbh nan gleam*tan,
1|;— : 1, | r :—
ceò
*11
orm,
Latha dhouih Js mi falbh nam fuarbheann,
Thachair a,’ ghruagach bhòidheacb orm.
Thug mi i gu ojiocan grianach,
S dh’iarr mi iasad pòig oirre.
etc., etc.
I pass now from tho consideration of the
melodic forms of tunes to other characteris
tics. These, when of a major kind, I incline
to think, result from difference in the sub5 stratum of the folk; and, when of a minor
j kind, from difference of language,
j Are _there grounds for supposing that
{ there is nnywhero within the sphere about
ì which 1 have been treating, a difference of
I folk? I, myseli, thiiik there are such
j grounds; and that a merely superficial study
ot the Celtic languages is sufficient to reveal
them.
In the living speech of the Celtic
peoples thero is one striking habit which has
not, to my knowledge, received from scholars
the -attention which, from its importance, it
deserves, _and it, I think, can hardly be acj counted for execopt b3r difference of folk.
EOLIPSIS.
j The Welsh language, which may be taken
I as typical of the old British tongues, has a
habit of speech which we may call by the
name given to it by Irish grammarians, name
ly, “Eclipsis.” To Scottish Gaels, ecliptis may
bo explainod as the habit which causes “ Tir
nam beann” to bo spoken of as “ Tir na
meann ” ; and “ Seinn nan dan ” as “ Seinn
na nan.” In Ireland, the Gaelic language,
wiiicli was universal thero at ono time, has
the tame habit; but not so pronounced as in
tho Welsh.
In the south of Ireland, it
is to-day stronger than in the north. In the
Isle of main the habit abides; but is less pro
nounced still. In Scotland tho habit can only
bf> said to linger; and what thero is of it
is confined mostly to districts in the north
where the dialectic peculiarities of pronunci
ation are akin to those of South Ireland In
[tho south-west Highlands the habit is weak
|almost to complete absence. The dialectio
peculiarities of this district are akin to those
•of north Ireland, especially the eastern part.
vThis points to tho existence at ono timo of
' a centre of culture in north-east Ireland
among a non-eclipsing people. The Gaelic
. language of Scotland, besides being compar: iitivelv free of eclip&is, is spoken with a much
,stronger impulse than the sister tongue in
Ireland; and tho accent is invariably placed
on tho first syllables of words. Those two
-fact* go a long way to account for the ab
sence of eclipsis; and the position of the
accont constitutes, without doubt, tho reason
why Irish music did not make a larger impres
sion on tho Gaelic parts of Scotland. Irish
music, which fitted a language having 1be
accent frequently medial and final, was bound
to be more or less unsuitable to Scottish
Gaelic words, and much more suitable to
English wordw, which have the accent and the
rhyme so often on the final syllables of lines.
Thero was a. timo when Gaelic literature
-
*
-
f
r**8 tree of ochpsrs; and it is hardly'possible
to think that either the leaders or the folk
that cam© with them to Argvle in tho Dalriadio incursions, had an eclipsing stvle of
some time,
alter the old non-eclipsing Gaelic language of
Ireland had suffered a set-back from somo
j political cause or other, the Gaelic dialect of
j the southern folk, who were, I surmise, o f a
Cymric stock, emerged, affected by the
Uyir.nc eclipsing habit, *nd that by and bye
that dialect became the dominating dialect
and the dialect of literature in all Gaeldom
I — In&h and Scottish. But, in Gaelic Scotland
1 the descendants of a people who had left Ireirjand before eclipsis was established in literI {
?,ld wh° were away from the full force
oi Irish influence, while submitting to ho
I ruled and lectured in an eclipsing tongue,
continued in their ordinary concerns to speak
^
ôn-eclipsing dialect which they had de
rived from their forbears and which had been
imported from north Ireland.
i
non' 6clir>sing folk dialect itself, at a
I
time, when the Irish literary eclipsing
dialect suffered a relapse, emerged and be
came tho literary language of the Gaels of
etootland. Some relics of eclipsis stayed on
m tho northern dialect, and those may be
due to the fact that when a/nd where the
Lochhns held sway, many of the people had
lost all tradition of the older non-eclipsing
Gaelic tongue; and. when Gaelic came anew [
their way as a leading language, they took
lrom it tiie literary or eclipsing habit of
speech just as the Gaels of Scotland are
\taking on literary English at the present
iday. They have no “ Braid-Soots ” tradition,
ttie medium of educated men, they are proud
to think tiiemselves finer speakers ot .English
So, when English comes their way through
than those who have, because of the unbroken
tradition, the Braid Scots, or folk English of
Lowland Scotland.
Eclipsi^ in the north
and the northern dialectic peculiarities of
pronunciation are more than likely due also
to Irish immigrators who came in the wake
of the Norse retiral. I t might be that Pictish influence aided in preserving them; but
it cannot be demonstrated : so little is known
of the languago of the Pictish people. At
any rate, linguistically, physically, and men
tally, the north Highlander approximates to
the Irishman, particularly the southern type,
more than tho south-western Highlander, "who
bears resemblance to the north-eastern.Irish
man.
I say, therefore, that where we find the
bulk of the Celts with the eclipsing habit of
speech, and a fairly definite section without !
:t, surely that section must have had a. dif- j
ferent substratum of folk. I f that is correct,
evidences in support of it may perhaps be 1
found in music.
GAELIC
I
M USIC.
P A R T V II.
I
Modern muiic, it ia needless to say, is
I limited to two scales: the major, based on
I doh; and the minor, based on Lah. But it
I is not eo with the old folk-music. I t can have
I tunes based on tho notes r, m, f, and e, beI aides d and 1. The staff notationiste call
I these modes or scales by fancy Greek names:
I Ionian— d ; Dorian—r ; Phrygian—m ; LyI dian— f; Myxolydian—s; Eolian— 1.
T is
I not favoured with a scale of its own. But,
I when t, or the seventh, is used flat, or beI comes tali, the modes are baptised with now
I names by prefixing “ Hypo” to the various
names recounted. All theso modes are fav
oured more or less by the folk in all the
land
But it seems to me thiat the folk of
I the southern parts of Britain and Irelaoid
I favour the doh and soh modes more than
I those of the northern parte, who are more
I partial than their southern neighbours to
the ray and lah modes. In this connection I
I cannot understand Wales, for tlie percentage
I of those tunes which have come under my eye
I which do not belong to tho modern major and
I minor scales is small indeed. I surmise that
I it can hardly have been pure folk music which
1 I have been scanning.
THE PENTATONIC SCALE.
I
Besides these modes, there is another musi-
cal scale which has only five notes to tho
gamut. I t is called on that account the pentatonio scale. The notes are those of the
diatonic scale without f and t. This scale
permeates tho folk musio of Britain and Ire
land, but is more especially characteristic of
Scottish music. I t is purest in Scotland.
There are tunes outside of Scotland which
are apparently pentatonio at bottom, which
have the notes f and t used as passing notes
only. So powerfully has this scale influenced
Scottish musio that compositions are being
made in it in our own day. Tunes in the
pentatonic scale appear to taper off in pre
valence as we go from Scotland—I might even
say the west of Scotland; and I am inclined
to associate tho pentatonio scale with the al
leged difference in the substratum of the folk
in the north-east of Ireland and south-west
of the Gaelic parts of S^x>tlandThe opinion is held by many that the scales
and modes of folk-musio are the outcome of
instrumental influence, being more particu
larly due to the necessities of instruments
having a short compass involving the shifting
of the basic notes of tunes upwards or down
wards from their natural positions in the in
strumental scale; and, in some cases, to the
elision o f notes which would be false on
some keys while correct on others.
Arguing on this basis, some students of
musio allege that the pentatonio scale is due
to tlie influence of the bagpipe, which has a
compass of only nine notes. But this cannot
be. The scale of the bagpipe is not pentadtonic, but practically the ordinary diatonio
ranging from fah to high soh. Of course, no
bagpipe has been found perfectly true to this
scale. No more is the piano found true to
the diatonic scale. The scale of the latter is
a compromise arranged to give the minimum
of error on all keys, instead of abso
lute correctness in one key and much error
in others. The bagpipe scale seems to be a
compromise one also; and, while each maker
may differ in his ideal of what is a good com
promise. there can be no doubt that the nat
ural scale of the bagpipe is as stated. Nature
demands simple relations in tone as well as
in colour. Why should it be thought that
an instrument which is not pentatonic could
induce a pentatonio style? The tunes best
fitted for the bagpipe must of necessity be
tunes which are not pentatonic. Pentatonic
tunes are notorious for long compass; and
long compass tunes are totally unsuited to
the bagpipe; aod it is unreasonable to father
the pentatonic scale on the bagpipe. Tho
long compass of pentat ^nic tunes is more than
likely due to the want of scope for variety in.
a five-note scale, forcing composers into the
higher or lower ranges of the voice or instru
ment. What gives rise to the idea of bag
pipe musio being pent-atonic is that mu**]; of
it moves in intervals of thirds— intea-.:1a which are unavoidable in the rent-atonic scale,
there being two such in the scale itself. There
are numerous combinations of notes in bag
pipe music so perfectly alien to Gaelic song
music that one will hardly discover a single
instance of them in the whole range of Scot
tish Gaelic song music, and no instance what
ever in pentatonic music.
BAGPIPE INFLUENCE.
The bagpipe has had practically no influ
ence on Gaelic song music, and Gaelic song
music has had very little influence on it. The
amount of music borrowed by the ono from
the other is very small. The bagpipe appears
to have been a late importation into the
Scottish Gaelic area. Hardly any authentic
notices of its being in the Highlands previous
to the sixteenth century are to be found.
Bagpiping was common in England long pre
vious to that time, and traces of it and re
ferences to it are numerous and well cuthontioated. I t appeared later in the Lowlands
of Scotland, ia,nd was there used for military
purposes, and fostered by competitions, just
like what is beinn> done both in the Highlands
and Lowlands at tne present, time.
There are no grounds for believing that
the bagpipe had an early development among
the Gaelic people of Scotland. There is rea
son to believe it came into the Highlands long
after the fiddle. Fiddle musio includes a good
deal of pentatonio music, and, unlike the
bagpipe, has had an appreciable influence on
Garlic song music. A study of bagpipe tunes,
many of which have English names, which
are old and on reoord, suggests the theoi-y
that the bagpipe came among pentatonic
musio and copied, in a defective way, due to
its short compass, much fiddle music, parti
cularly of tho dance order; and hence we
find fiddle sets and pipe sets of tunes going
by the same name.
Piobaireachd is the only bagpipe music
which, I think, derives its style from genuine
Gaelic music. The special themes of the
■ harp were the Fàilte, or Salute, and the
Cumha, or Lament. These are the special
themes of tpiobaireachd likewise, and the
terms used for the variations of piobaireachd
are, most of them, harp terms also. Those
two facts go far to justify my opinion that
the style of piobaireachd was derived from
harp music.
V
*
rr)
•
u
4•
• •
J o ck o ' H azeldean ”
M adamk
W h y w eep y e by the tide, Ladve?
( W hv w e e p y e by the tide ? '
I 11 wed y e to my y o u n g e s t son,
And y e shall be his bride.
And y e shall be his bride, ladve,
S a e co m e ly to be seen Hut a y e she loot, the tears doun fa’
or J o c k o' H azeldean.
K IR K B Y
(G a e lic)
•
•
•
•
S cot t
LUNN.
A chain o ’ Lfolcl ye shall not lack,
N or braid to bind y o u r hair,
N o r mettled hound, nor m a n a g ’d hawk,
N o r palfrey fresh and fair.
And you, the forem ost o ’ them a\
Shall ride our forest queen ;
Hut. a y e she loot the tears dow n fa’,
F o r J o ck o' Hazeldean.
N o w let this wilfu’ g r i e f be done,
^ And dry that ch eek so pale ;
\ o u n g I* rank is chief of Errington,
A nd L ord o f LangMevdale.
His step is first in p e a c e fu ’ h a’,
His sw ord in battle keen ;
Hut a y e she loot the tears do on fa\
F or J ock o' H ^ e l d e a n .
Soxc,
•
T h e kirk was d e c k ’d at m orning’ tide,
T h e taper glim m er’d fair,
T h e priest and b rid e g ro o m wait the bride,
And dam e and km ght are there.
T h e y sought her baith by b o w ’ r and ha’ ,
T h e lady w as na seen ;
She's o or the b o rd er and a w a ’ ,
Wi J o ck o ’ Hazeldean.
H o rn m o cliu id c h u id e a c h d th u ”
M r. R O D H R IC K
Nuair chaidh mi d o tihleann LòchaÌdh
’S a cheannaich mi N ic Còiseam ,
Is mise nach robh g ò r a c h
Nuair chviir mi ’n t-ùr g ’a fuasg-ladh.
D o iiiia ch d B a u n .
M a c IJJO D .
Chorus- Hùro m o chuid chuideachd thu,
(»ur muladach leam uam thu ;
llù ro m o chuid chuideachd thu,
’S mi dlreadh bheann is uchdannan,
C»'um b ’ait leam thu bhi cuide rium,
’ S d o chudtrom air m o ghual-ainn.
Thug- mi 'C hoire-cheathaich thu
Nuair bha mi fèin a ’ tathaich aim ;
Is trie a chuir mi laidhe leat
N a daimh ’s nah-aig-hean ruadlia. — H oro,etc.
T h u g mi thu ’ Bhemn-dòbhrain
An cinneadh na daimh ch ròca ch ;
Nuair theannadh iad ri crònan,
Ru bhòidheach leam an nuallan. — H òro, etc.
m
Ghiiilain mi ’ Ghleann-èite thu ;
Is t h o g mi ris na Creisean thu ;
’ S a mheud \s a thug* mi spèis duit,
'S e d h ’ fhag^mo cheum ch o luaineach. — H o ro ,e tc
M r . R O D E R I C K M ac L E O D .
T h u g mi ’ LrVraigf-ghartain thu,
O ’s Aluinn an c o ir ’-altruim i,
’ S na feidh a ’ deanamh leabaichean
A ir c r e a c h a n n g h l a s a ' Bhuaehaill'.— H òro, etc.
Nuair theid mi ris a ’ mhunadh,
’S tu m o roghainn de na g-unnachan ;
O ’n fhuair thu fèin an t-urram sin,
C o nis a chumas uat m i ? — H oro, etc.
ìi
Song
«
0♦
>
G ae b rin g to m e a pint o ’ w in e ’ ’
M r . T.
F.
•
•
K IN N IB U R G H .
G ae bring’ to me a pint o ’ wine,
And fill it in a siller tassie,
That I may drink, before 1 gv>,
A service to my bonnie lassie.
T h e boat ro ck s at the pier o' Leith,
Fu’ loud the wind blaws frae the ferry.
T he ship rides by the Berwick Law,
And I maun leave m y bonnie M^ry.
T h e trumpets sound, the banners fly,
T h e glitt'ring spears are ranked ready,
T h e shouts o ’ war are heard far,
T h e battle closes thick and bloody.
It’s not the roar o f sea o r shore,
W a d m a k ’ me lang-er wish to tarry,
N o r shouts o ’ war that’s heard afar-'-It’s leaving thee, my bonnie Mary.
Cìae bring to me, etc.
29
M r . T . F. K I N N I B U R G H .
Sow .
•4
99
I lie S ta n d a rd on the B raes o ’ M a r "
M
r.
f 4
BAU .AkD -BkO W X.
The Standard on the Hraes o ’ Mar
Is up and streaming' rarclv,
T he g a t h ’ring' pipe on L o ch n a g a r
Is sounding' loud and clearlv ;
T he Hieland men frae hill and g l e n ’
W'i' bell i'd plaids and g'lit t 'ring' blades,
W i’ bonnets blue and hearts sae true,
Are c o m in g late and early.
I saw our ch ief c o m e o ’er the
WV Drummond and G lengartv,
And thro’ the pass ca m e brave Lochiel,
Hannune and gallant Alurrav ;
M acdon ald’s men, Clanronald's men,
M ackenzie s men, M a c G ilv r a v s men,
Strathallan s men, the lowland men
O' Callander and Airlie.
Our {Vince has made a noble vow
T o free his icu n trv fairlv ;
1 in u. wlui. w;uLhn-aJ raltur. now __
T o ane we lo’e sae dearlv ?
\\ i' ll g o , w e ’ll g o , w e ’ ll meet the foe,
H\ land or sea, w here'er thev be
Then man lo man, a ml in the van
W e ’ ll win or die lor Charlie.
Burns
G A TH ER IN G
OF
THE
CLANS.
SHOUTHER
H a r k . from the hillside the pibroch sounds clearly,
^Calling the Clansmen from mountain and glen ;
f a t h e r , ye heroes, and light for y ou r C h a r l i e True to their Prince are our brave Highlandmen.
SHOUTHER.
From Hudson's Bay to the Rio Grand,
The Scot is ever a rover ;
In N ew South W ales and in Newfoundland,
A nd all the wide world over.
Chorwi — Bright gleams each glittering blade,
^ Target and belted plaid ;
f o r w a r d through glen and glade—
Scotland for Charlie !
Clad in y ou r tartans, the hue o ’ the heather,
I1oliow your Chieftain with hope beating high :
March b y Glenaladale proudly together,
G ird on the broadsword, to conquer or die.
Chorus.
Chorux.
But it’s shouther to shouther, my bonnie lads,
A n d let every Scot be a brither ;
A nd w e’ll work as we can, and w e’ll win if we can,
For the sake of our auld Scotch mither.
M arch to Glenfinnan, ye brave sons of Moidart,
H ark ! their wild war-notes are borne on the breeze;
Men o f Clanranald, o f Morar, and K noydart,
“ Ceud failte d o ’ n Phrionnsa,” he’ s come o’er the seas.
Chorus,
Gallant Lochiel, y ou r fame is undying,
Gather, Glengarry, the trusted and true :
Clan Chattan the fearless, our standard is Hying,
The claymore is mighty although we are few.
TO
She’s a puir auld wife, w i’ little to give,
A n d rather stint o’ caressing ;
A nd she’s shown us how honest lives we may live,
A nd sent us out wi' her blessing.
Chorm— A n d it’s shouther to shouther, etc.
Her land’s no rich ; and her crops are slim ;
A n d I winna say much for the w e a t h e r ;
- t B u t she’ s given us legs that can gaily d i m ’
Up the slopes of the blossoming heather.
Chorus — A nd it’s shouther to shouther, etc.
A nd site’s given us hearts that, whate’er they say
(And I trow we might be better),
There’s one sair fault they never will hac—
Our mither, w e’ ll never forget her !
Choncs— A n d it’ s shouther to shouther, etc.
Chorus — Bright gleams each glittering blade,
Target and belted plaid ;
Forward through glen and glade—
Scotland for Charlie !
S kokas D cbil
AIRSO N
TIR
A G U S TEANGA.
To (he Members o f A n Comiout Oaidhealeach.
T here’s a word among tlie heather,
There’ s a whisper dow n the glen,
That the Gael at last is coming
T o his heritage again.
He has done with southern baubles,
He has found these playthings fail,
A n d he’ s turned him to the Homeland,
A n d — the Gaelic for the Gael.
A ll to o long our race unheeding,
W a tch e d th e treasured rights of old,
Rights our fathers held unquestioned,
T o the alien landlord sold.
Men and language all are passing,
M aking way for deer and game ;
In the homeland of our fathers,
W e have nothing but our name.
Unprotesting, aye unheeding,
W e have watched new methods grow ;
H ea vy hearted, but in silence,
W e have let our kindred go.
From the green glens of “ M o Dhachaidh,"
W h ere our fathers’ ashes lie,
N o w unheeded and uncared for—
Shall we let the Gaelic die ?
W h e n the little crofts were tended
On the hillside, cold and bare ;
W h a t a backbone for a nation
H ad their dwelling places there.
W h e n our country faced all Europe,
A h —our'fathers’ story told
On the flags of Highland Regiments
Blazoned there in red and gold.
W ith the passing of the language,
Gentle, kindly customs went,
W hen the lairds forgot the Gaelic
T hey remembered only — rent,
A n d rent to them decided,
W h eth er in each Highland glen,
T w a s silence, or "twas laughter,
H om e of deer, or home of men.
B y the tongues they speak all know them,
The nations that grow great,
W ith the language goes the greatness—
W e can save ours— tho’ its late.
T h ro’ the passing of our language
W e have fallen from our place,
W ith the speaking of the Gaelic
W as the greatness of the race.
One in race and one in language,
W h a t a place the Gael will fill,
One in purpose and in language,
W e ’ ll regain each ben and hill.
One in aim and one in language,
W e ’ll see every Highland glen,
W it h the grey smoke o’er its homesteads
A dwelling place for men.
Spread the w ord among the heather,
Spread the tidings down the glen,
W o r k —to hasten the Gael’s coming
T o his heritage again.
B oldly tread the path before you,
In the way you cannot fail,
The homeland for the people—
A n d — the Gaelic for the Gael.
London.
W . C ampìskll G a l b r a it h
THE
PIPER S
IN
THE
VAN
from the mountain, away from the glen,
The chieftains have gonew ith their brave Highlandmen,
Leal-hearted and braw are the lads of each clan
W h o follow the pipers that play in the van.
Och ! Tirrin-oo, Tirrin-oo. Tirrin-oo-an-ee,
Tirrin-oo, Tirrin-ee, Tirrin-oo-an-nan,
Och ! Tirrin-ee, their foes will flee
From the pipers in the van.
A way
Their pibrochs shall echo o ’er Athole’s green braes,
Dunkeld and Dunblane shall their gallant sons raise,
A nd Snowdoun’s proud towers shall hear them and scan
The lads with the pipers that play in the van.
Och ! Tirrin-oo, Tirrin-oo, &c.
Like dark-rolling billows that dash on the shore,
So wild is their rush with the gleaming claymore,
A nd foemen shall fall *neath the might of each man
W h o follows the pipers that play in the van.
Och ! Tirrin-oo, Tirrin-oo, &c.
Oh ! many shall never come back to their home,
O’er all their dear glens sorrow’ s darkness shall come,
But glory shall brighten the graves of the clan
W h o followed the pipers that played in the van.
Och ! Tirrin-oo, Tirrin-oo, (fee.
W illiam
THE
A llan.
H IGH LAN D S.
Stern land that boasts a warrior race
T o thoughts of fear unknown ;
W hose maids reveal a sweeter grace
Than tender flowers new blown.
In glorious pride thy mountains rise
Majestic and sublime ;
W hose crests appear to cleave the sk*ô,
An emblem there of time.
On every slope the heather springs
And spreads its m ighty hues ;
There nature, smiling, over brings
Her gifts, rich and profuse.
A land of strath and lovely ben
And rocks that darkly frown ;
W here tower the green and verdant glen
The torrent rushes down.
The placid loch, the moors and strath
Have heard the cannon's roar,
And clansmen, flushed with rage and wrath,
The dreaded claymore bore.
Unconquered yet with tyranny
fs every glen and dale,
For freedom’s home shall ever be
The oountrv of the Gael.
Callander.
THK
C. F k r g u s s o n .
E X I L E 'S
L O N G IN G F O R
HOME.
Oh ! wild north wind, so fresh and free,
Deep covered with snow tho’ m y own glen be,
W ild tho dark corries, and loud-roaring linn,
Warm-hearted the welcome awaiting within ;
A h ! fain is the heart for its “ ain countree.”
A lick
C. M
acD onkll
of Keppoch.
TO U C H IN G
AN
THE
AN CIEN T
DEAD
BODY.
CUSTOM.
practice o f compelling suspected murderers to touch the dead body of the
victim, under the impression that it
would bleed afresh, at the touch of the guilty
person, was generally resorted to in ancient
times. In the present case it seems to have
been the only evidence on which the man was
committed to prison, and treated with unheardof barbarity, and cruel neglect. W e need say
nothing of the state of Scottish prisons, even
down to a late period— they were utterly and
universally disgraceful. In Inverness, it was
usual, before the arrival of the judges, on their
circuit, to employ the hangman to clean out the
prison with a spade, and afterwards to burn a
cart o f peats in it, to dispel the “ bad scent*1
“ 1643.
Then? happened a horrid murder
within the parish of Wardlaw, Kirkhill.
Mr.
Simon Fraser o f Fingask had the mains of
L ovat in labouring; and one John Macian Y ohr,
his foreman, thrashing straw for one of his oxen
in the barn, usually made great battles of straw,
to carry upon his back home ; and the rogue
kept a linen about him, filled with barley, which
he put in the heart of the battle of straw. One
night, going off with a burden on his back, the
satchell dropt out, full o f barley, which Donald
Macwilliam, one of Mr. Simon’s boys, remarking,
said— ‘This is not h o n e st; you abuse the trust
which your master gives you.’ Fearing to be
discovered, he contrives a plot, to dispatch
Donald Macwilliam : he came to Fingask in the
evening, and told the young man that he would
put him upon a secret, which he wished to con
ceal, for, saith he, I have found a great seal at
the shore, and we will make a good piece of
money by him ; and I have revealed this to
nobody but my brother-in-law, John Mackenzie,
in Donaldstown, who is ju st going down with
me to the place. The poor, innocent young man,
dreading no harm, runs after him, and at the
carse, close by the road, John Mackenzie was
lurking till they came.
Immediately, Macian
V oh r draws his dirk, and stabs the lad to the
heart. Mackenzie cried 4Oh, oh ! * But Macian
Y o h r says— ‘John, you give him the next stab,
that you may be as deep in the guilt as I am.
H e stabbed him through the body, till he was
killed outright. They carried the body to the
carse shore, and laid it upon a piece of the
broken bank, thinking that the sea would carry
it away. U pon the third day, the herdsman
discovered the dead man, and found it was their
neighbour, Donald Macwilliam. The corpse was
carried to the churchyard, and a despatch sent
for the sheriff, A lexander Chisholm, who con
vened the whole parish, caused strip naked the
body, and laid it exposed upon a broad plank,
at the entry of the chapel.
The list of the
parishioners being made out, every one was
summoned, and touched the dead body as he
was called, to the number of six or seven hun
dred. A t length, the murderer, John Macian
Yohr, laid his hand most confidently upon the
bare breast, and I (sitting at the head of the
coffin) narrowly observed him ; the greatest
wound opened, and a drop of blood gushed out.
W e desired he should lay his hand on again,
which he did, and a drop of blood issued from
his nose. H e was seized, cariied into the church,
and, after prayer, examined, and a torture
threatened ; but no confession. H e was sent
into the vault of Inverness, and secured. SSo
person was missing in the parish but John M ac
kenzie, who was seen to go hastily over the
burn. H e was seen at the bridge of Inverness,
buying ground tobacco, in papers, and so away
through Strathnairn ; and no account ot him for
two years. John Macian Yohr, the murderer,
being in the pit at Inverness, laid fast in the
stocks, continued there but about a fortnight,
and both his feet, from the ancles, dropt off, as
if by amputation ! H e was brought forth, and
had a foot in every hand, like a shoe, cursing,
and imprecating, and praying God to avenge his
cruel usage, so that many condemned the judge
as too severe.
The villain was carried in a
sledge, through the streets, and over the bridge,
to his own house, in Fingask, where his wife
and friends attended him ; and he was prayed
for every Sabbath. 1 myself cured this John
Macian Vohr’s wounds, until at last his stumps
were as strong as man’s could be without feet.
A contribution was made for getting him a horse;
and he went up and down the country begging.
Mackenzie was nowhere heard o f ; but, by a
rare providence, this murder was discovered:
we were at the Synod of Moray, and, accident
ally, I happened to be in company with Sir
James Strachan, parson of Keith. 1 described
to him the murder in my parish, and the features
and lineaments of John Mackenzie.
‘T ru ly /
said Sir James, ‘ that man is in my parish, under
the name of Donald Caileach, or Highland
Donald.’
H e was recognised.
Six or seven
pretty men went together to Keith, late at night,
and apprehended h im ; but he denied the murder,
till he came within sight of Inverness, and saw
the very church and steeple, when he came to a
clear confession, and declared how he and
Macian V oh r contrived the killingof Macwilliam.
Both were confronted, and tried; and the sentence
o f the judge was, that John Macian V oh r should
be brought to the Castle H ill of Inverness, his
head cut off, upon the block, by the hands of
the common hangman, his body buried under
the gallows, his head put upon one of the pins
o f the Tolbooth of Inverness, his right hand cut
off, and sent to Wardlaw parish, and put upon
a pole, near, and in view of the church. John
Mackenzie to be brought to that parish, and his
head to be cut off there, on a block, fixed upon
the hill of Wardlaw, and that head being cut
off, to he fixed upon the pole below' the church,
with Macian V o h r ’s. The which was exactly
and accordingly done, to the great astoniohment
of the parishioners beholding the same. Thus
was God's law exerted— ‘ Whoso sheddeth m an’s
blood, by man shall his blood be shed * ”
R H Y M IN G PLACE NAMES.
S i r , — Last
year, while visiting by order of my
doctor one of the Southern States (Victoria), I came
across a unique specimen of poetry consisting of
place-names. It is the first that ever came to my
knowledge.
It would be interesting to know if
more exists. 1 took it down from the rehearsal of
Mrs. Cameron, Hamilton, Victoria, daughter of the
late Mr. Dugald M ‘Naughton, formerly of Glen-acreapasdail, Morvern, who in his day was a great
repertory of Ossianic poetry. Often since, I have
regretted that I did not write down what the old
man knew of the Ossianic poetry, but I was then
young and hardly appreciated as I do now its
value.
Poll L ocha’s an liibhrach,
Giùbhsachan’s Scamadal,
Poll L och a’s an liibhrach,
’S Achadh-a-dilein-ud thall.
Ochdamh Tor-na-Mòine,
Cuil-Eoghain Ard-Shluiginis,
Ochdamh Tor-na-Mòine,
’S an Dail bha ’n Camus-nan Gall.
Rainneachan na Sròine,
Sònraicht’ am fearann e ;
Rainneachn na Sròine,
’S Acha-na-Lia’s Ard-na-stairg.
Muilionn Chill-a’-Chòmhain,
’S mòr a bhios do chuideachd ann,
Muilionn Chill-a’-Chòmhain,
’S bidh gach dara fear dhiubh cam.
Acha-teinne is Buairbleig,
Suardal is Mig&raidh,
Acha-teinne’s Buairbleig,
Cill-a’-M hoire’s Braigh-nan-Allt.
Victoria* Australia.
D O N A L D BlSATON*
THE
H IGH LAN D
SECOND
C E L T IC M O N T H L Y .
SIG H T
In its re la tio n to re ce n t Scientific D iscoveries.
[ M a k c o n t s recent discoveries in wireless teleg
raphy have astonished the world.
T o have
suggested such a possibility a few years ago,
would have satisfied your friends that it was
time you were being looked after, it seemed
such a ridiculous idea. W e now accept it as a
scientific fact that two persons situated thousands
of miles apart can send messages to each other
without a connecting wire.
This suggests a
■tling question— what relationship
has this discovery to what for hundreds of
years has been described as Highland super
stition?
hat is Second Sight? The power
given to certain individuals to see events before
i,
or
while
they
happen,
although
at
1
1^
long distances.
That in the Highlands and
elsewhere there were, and are such persons is a
fact that has been proved beyond all d ou bt;
the recorded evidence on the subject for the
past two centuries is most extensive and con
clusive.
Now, it seems an easy step from
sending a message by air waves, to seeing
incidents by scientific means. No one would
be greatly surprised if such a discovery were
announced to-morrow. It seems probable that
what the public in their ignorance described as
Highland superstition was, after all, only the
anticipation of the elucidation of a great
scientific fact. A\ hy should it not be possible
for certain individuals to possess special powers
or gifts not shared by their fellows? It looks
very like as if science, after all, will not he the
enemy of the so-called superstitions of the
Highlanders, but the agent which will prove
that in general they could be explained in a
perfectly rational way.
The following dis
sertation on Second Sight, and instances of its
occurrence, were recorded two centuries ago,
and now we are better able to understand them
in the light of modern scientific discoveries —
4
E d i t o r ].
Second Sight is a singular faculty of see
ing an otherwise invisible object, without any
previous means used by the person that sees it
for that end ; the vision makes such a lively im
pression upon the Seers, that they neither see
nor think of anything else, except the vision,
as long as it continues : and then they appear
pensive or jovial, according to the object which
was represented to them.
A t the sight of a vision, the eye-lids of the
person are erected, and the eyes continue star
ing until the object vanish.
This is obvious to
others who are by, when the persons happen to
see a vision, and occurred more than once to
my own observation, and to others near.
Ihe
65
There is one in Sky, of whom his acquaint
ance observed, that when he sees a vision, the
inner part of his eyelids turn so far upwards,
that after the object disappears, he must draw
them down with his fingers, and sometimes em
ploys others to draw them down, which he finds
to be the much easier way.
I
his faculty of the Second Sight does not
lineally descend in a family, as some imagine,
for I know several parents who are endowed
with it, but their children not, et vice versa :
neither is it acquired by any previous compact.
And after a strict inquiry, I could never learn
from any among them, that this faculty was
communicable any way whatsoever.
The Seer knows neither the object, time, nor
place of a vision, before it appears; and the
same object is often seen by different persons,
living at a considerable distance from one
another. The true way of judging as to the
time and circumstance of an object, is by ob
servation ; for several persons of judgment,
without this faculty, are more capable to judge
of the design of a vision, than a novice that is a
Seer.
If an object appears in the day or night,
it will come to pass sooner or later accordingly.
If an object is seen early in a morning (which
is not frequent) it will be accomplished in a few
hours afterwards. If at noon, it will commonly
be accomplished that very day. If in the even
ing, perhaps that night ; if after candles be
lighted, it will be accomplished that n ig h t : the
latter always in accomplishment, by weeks,
months, and sometimes years, according to the
time of night the vision is seen.
AA hen a shroud is perceived about one, it is
a sure prognostic of death : the time is judged
according to the height of it about the person ;
for if it is not seen above the middle, death is
not to be expected for the space of a year, and
perhaps some months lo n g e r; and as it is fre
quently seen to ascend higher towards the head,
death is concluded to be at hand within a few
days, if not hours, as daily experience confirms.
Examples of this kind were shewn me, when
the persons of whom the observations then made
enjoyed perfect health.
If a woman is seen standing at a man’s left
hand, it is a presage that she will be his wife,
whether they be married to others, or un
married at the time of the apparition.
If two or three women are seen at once stand
ing near a man’s left hand, she that is next him
will undoubtedly be his wife first, and so on,
whether all three, or the man be single or
married at the time of the vision or n o t ; of
which there are several late instances among
those of my acquaintance. It is an ordinary
thing for them to see a man that is to come to
r ; and if he is not of the
ING
THE
DEAD
BODY
and both his feet, from the ancles rlm., r „«■
06
THE
C E L T IC
Seer’s acquaintance, y e t he gives a liv e ly des
cription of his stature, complexion, habit, &c.,
that upon his arrival he answers the character
g iv e n him in all respects.
I f the person so appearing he one of the Seer’s
acquaintance, he will tell his name, as well as
other particulars ; and he can tell by his counten
ance whether he comes in a good or bad humour.
I have been seen thus m yself by Seers of
both sexes at some hundred miles distance ;
some that saw me in this manner, had never
seen me personally, and it happened according
to their visions, without any previous design of
mine to g o to those places, m y coming there
being purely accidental.
T o see a spark of fire fall upon one’s arm or
breast, is a forerunner of a dead child to be seen
in the arms of those persons; of which there are
several fresh instances.
T o see a seat em pty at the time of one’s sitt
in g in it, is a presage of that person’s death
quickly after.
W h en a novice, or one that has lately ob
tained the Second Sight, sees a vision in the
night-time without doors, and comes near a fire,
he presently falls into a swoon.
Some find themselves as it were in a crowd
of people, having a corps which they carry along
■with them ; and after such visions the Seers
come in sweating, and describe the people that
appeared : if there be any of their acquaintance
among them, they g iv e an account of their
names, as also of the bearers, but they know'
nothing concerning the corps.
Th ere is a w ay of foretelling death b y a cry
that they call Taisk , which some call a IF ra ith
in the lowland.
T h e y hear a loud cry without doors, exactly
resembling the voice of some particular person,
whose death is foretold by it. T h e last instance
given me of this kind was in the village R igg,
in the isle of Sky.
Children, horses, and cows, see the Second
Sight, as well as aged men and women.
T h a t horses see it, is likewise plain from
their violent and sudden starting, when the
rider or Seer in company with him sees a visioi l
of any kind, night or day.
I t is observable of
the horse, that he will not go forward that way,
until he be led about at some distance from the
common road, and then he is in a sweat.
(T h e follow in g instances, all relating to the
clan Macdonald, will doubtless provo of more
than clan interest.— E d . )
C A P T A IN MACDONALD
o f Castletown (allowed by all his acquaintance
to be a person o f consummate integrity),
informed me that a Knoydart-m an being on
board of a vessel at anchor in the Sound of the
A
M ONTHLY.
island Oransay, w en t under night out of the
cabin to deck, and being missed by his
company, some of them went to call him
down ; but not finding him, concluded he had
dropt from the ship’s side ; when day came on
th ey g o t a long line furnished with hooks
(from a tenant’s house close by the shore),
which having cast from the ship’s side, some of
the hooks g o t hold of his cloaths, so that they
g o t the corps taken up. T h e owner of the
long line told Captain MacDonald, that for a
quarter of a year before that accident happened,
he himself and his domestics, on every calm
night, would hear lamentable cries at the
shore where the corps were landed ; and not
only so, but the long lines that took up the
corps, being hung on a pin in his house, all of
them would hear an odd gin glin g of the hooks
before and after g o in g to bed, and that without
any person, d o g or cat touching th em ; and at
other times, with fire light, see the long lines
covered over w ith lucid globules, such as are
seen drop from oars row ing under night.
C H R IS T IA N
MACDONALD
relates, that when she lived with her aunt at
Uinish, being then between ten and twelve
years of age, as she was coming out of the
house, in the dusk of the evening, she saw at
the door a gathering of people about a coffin,
which so startled her, that she returned to the
house, clapping her hands with great cries, and
told the company within what she had seen.
A b o u t a quarter of a year thereafter, her aunt
sickened, of which she died, and then the
declarant had the opportunity really to see the
scene which before had put her into so much
frig h t and confusion.
A L E X A N D E R MACDONALD,
son to A lexa n d er Macdonald of Gearry-Dhonil,
in Bein-Bicula, a good sensible, modest young
man, told me, that as he had been on a jaunt
in Arasaig, as he came out of his quarters under
night, he saw a throng company carrying a
coffin, directing their w a v where he stood ; so
that in some concern he returned with full speed
to the house.
I inquired, how long this sight
continued ? l i e told me, it lasted until he
turned his back, to make his retreat from what
he had never seen before ; and says he no
sooner entered the house, than he told it to all
present.
In
tw o
days thereafter,
you ng
Balfinlay sickened, and in three days more was
interred, being carried to the churchyard on
the same step of the way, when he saw the
Second
S igh t
but
five
days
before its
com jletion.
T le above A lexander declared farther, that a
you n g child, his brother, being sickly for some
time, he saw a little corpse stretched to a dale,
that was at his own bed-foot several tim es;
I
t
\Vv • , • .
I ’ '
.
'
•
’
‘
'A'-'-À-'- v<•'
■
■■
■
' .
t
^
S‘ 1 ' ‘
’ 1:' v‘
'V*.,VVV•
‘ '
\4
.
'1-vAs'i ’•v-.'\ ','. ,\V ; ' .;O’>UV, VI *V-’s
iV
»‘V,
*
ì
fÀ'A
\
V.
U
.
i
\'.Lk'i
Ì
l
<
>
V
lA
V
U
'.
, VAVAvV'VVti^V*
AVl'lVVAVtVVVvWîltVfc
* I < i
i- U V ' . V I »-t -
•*.
I
-1
THE
C E L T IC
and that, when the child died, the same dale
was em ployed to his coffin.
■JOHN MACDONALD.
I he fourth instance 1 had, to my great
grief, from one John Macdonald, a servant of
Lauchlan M acLean of Coll, who was then
new ly returned from I lolland, having the
charge of a captain.
This gentleman came one
afternoon abroad to his pastime in the fields,
and this John MacDonald meets him, and
seeth his clothes shining like the skins of fishes,
and his p eriw ig all wet, though indeed the
day
was v e ry
fair ; whereupon he told
privately, even then, to one of C oll’s gentlemen,
that he feared he should be drowned : this
gentleman was Charles MacLean, who gave me
account of it.
T h e event follow ed about a
year th erea fter; for the Laird of Coll was
drowned in the water of L och y in Lochaber.
I examined both Charles M acLean and John
MacDonald, and found that the prediction was
as he told me ; and the said John MacDonald
could produce no other warrant, than that
he found such signs frequently before, to forego
the like events.
This man, indeed, was known
to have many visions of this kind, but he was
none of the strictest life.
“ The fifth instance is strange, and y e t of
certain truth, and known to the whole
inhabitants of the island of Eigg, ly in g in the
latitude of 56 d. 20 rn. north ; longitude 14degrees.
Th ere was a tenant in this island,
that was a native, a follow er of the Captain of
Glanranald, that lived in a town called
Kildonan^ in the year of God, 1685, who
told publicly to the whole inhabitants, upon
the L o r d ’s day, after divine service, by Father
OTiein, then priest o f that place, that they
should all flit out of that isle, and plant
themselves somewhere else, because that people
of strange and different habits and arms were
to come to the isle, and to use all acts of
hostility, as killing, burning, tilling, and
deforcing o f women ; finally, to discharge all
that the hands of an enemy could do, but what
they were, or whence they came, he could not
tell.
A t the first there was no regard had to
his words, but frequently thereafter he begged
of them to notice what he said, otherwise they
should repent it when they could not help it,
which took such an impression upon some of
his near acquaintance, as that severals o f them
transported themselves and their families, even
then, some to the isle o f Cannay, some to the
isle of Kum, fourteen days before the enemy
came thither, under the command of one M a jo r
Ferguson and Captain Pottiuger, whilst there
was no word of their coming, or any fear
of them conceived. In the month of June, 1689/
this man fell sick, and f a t h e r O ’ Rein came to
M ONTHLY.
67
see him, in order to give him the benefit
of absolution and extreme unction, attended
with several inhabitants of the isle, who, in the
first place, narrowly questioned him before his
friends, and begged of him to recant his former
folly, and his vain prediction ; to whom he
answered, that they should find very shortly
the truth of what he had spoken, and so
he died. And within fourteen or fifteen days
thereafter, I was witness (being then a pris
oner with Captain Pottinger) to the truth
of what he did foretell ; and being before-hand
well instructed of all that he said, I did admire
to see it particularly verified ; especially that
of the different habits and arms, some being
clad with red coats, some with white coats and
grenadier caps, some armed with sword and
pike, and some with sword and musket.”
A L E X A N D E R MACDONALD,
alias MacKanald, Vic. Uiston (a persoti of
known courage and honour), coming from Slate
to my father’s house, in the year 1747,
we accidentally fell upon the subject of the
Second Sight, which induced him to give us
the following account. About five o’clock at
night, he and half a dozen more, all honest
tenants, came into
the
change-house of
Kilmore in Slate, about a pistol-shot from the
kirk, to take a moderate refreshment, it being
in the month of December, then cold frosty
weather ; about an hour after coming in, he
accidentally went to the door, which fronted
the kirk-yard, and saw, to his great surprise, the
whole kirk-yard was covered over with men :
not only so, but heard the confused murmur of
their speech, yet not so as to distinguish word
by word, or to understand any part thereof ;
the moon was so bright, that he discerned
a crowd about the place of burial distinctly,
belonging to the family of MacDonald, and the
rest of the company dispersed in twos and
threes over the whole churchyard. A fte r he
had sufficiently satisfied his curiosity, he went
in to the change-house, and told the company
what he had seen, who immediately sprang to
the door, and had the same sight for the space
of ten minutes, and then it gradually vanished
from their sight, they being ten in number.
The wife of the house, her daughter and
servant, are still in life, who were of the
number that saw this vision ; and, it is
observable, that a month thereafter, the old
Lady MacDonald was buried in the very spot
where they imagined to have seen the throng
of the people.
K IN U S R O R O U G H , I S L E O F S K Y E .
“ In the end of the year 1744, fourteen
persons saw a large vessel coming in below
Kingsborough, in the dusk of the evening, and
drop anchor in the entrance of Loch Snisort,
)
✓t
t
s
t
t
68
T 11E
C E L T IC
M ONTHLY.
!
1
<
a v e r y uncom m on harbour w h ich surprised us
all.
this sight we had till night deprived us
of i t ; but next morning there was no vessel to
be found, so that we all agreed it to be the
Second Sight, which was soon accomplished ;
for Captain Ferguson being in search of the
young Pretender, with the Furnace sloop of
war, anchored exactly in the dusk of the
evening, in that unusual place above-mentioned,
half a mile below the house of Kingsborough.
ALEXANDER MACDONALD
of Kingsborough (when living in the possession
of Aird, in the remote end of Trotternish),
dreamed that he saw an old. reverend man come
to him, desiring him to get out of bed, and get
his servants together, and m ake haste to save
his corns, as his o w n w h ole cattle, and his
tenants’ cattle also, had g o t out o f the fold,
and w ere in the m id d le o f a large field behind
i ,„
i
1
!
i ^
i •
-r
•i
the house ; he awaked and told his wife, with
whom he consulted whether he would rise or
n o t ; and she telling him it was but a dream
and not worth noticing, advising him to lie
o+i’ll wrkiVU i
i
i i ^
r u
stll, which he obeyed; but no sooner fell
asleep, than the former old man appeared to
him and seemed angry, by tellin°- M r MacDonald (then of A ird) he the old man was
• ii„ •
• •
i» ,
,
i ^
, ’
cquainwng him of the loss
he w ou ld or
had
b y this tim e sustained
T n
K
p
?> o
P H E C
I
E ft
O F
'
C O IN N E A C H O D H À K .
[ T0 THE editor of “ the oban times.’5]
5
Somerled Square,
Portree. 27th October, 1906.
}:
Sir,— I observed in your issue of last week 3
a. paragraph referring to a paper delivered 1'
by me before the Portree Literary Society, 1
*n which it is stated that, among other myCoinneach Odhar foretold that “ a hall [
lTl Po^roe would collapse while a ball was in |j
progress.”
^
y
^
sâ^cmen^ may give annoyance to |j
^ ie
the fekye Gathering Hall and ,j
en8ender f ff I ? 55 o f uneasines» amon2 « « * * |j
wbo lisf tho h,al1 and rooms/ 1 b* K to Bi.,y th,at
1,0 K” c llTp,'0pl‘0fcyfi ™
l:e ,; r/ cd to ™ tLe
1
Can" ° \
th,a t
“
||
^
uttered a prediction referring to Portree or i
any of its buildings. The propLecy that “ the
day will come when long strings of carnages j
shall run between Dingwall and the Lde of j
Skyo\ lu' 3 tK'cl? aln??st Morally fulfilled in
recent years, when the Kyle railway extension was opened.
The other prediction regarding tlie collapse [
°f a
*u Portree during the progress oi
a bn,H Is’ 1 think, misapplied by your corrospondent, and refers, very probably, to a [
building in the Black isle.— I am, etc..
!
by
K e n n e t h M acR ae .
his cattle, and seemed not to heed what he
said, and so went ofi. Mr. MacDonald awaking
the second time, told this to his wife, and
would be at rising in any event, but she would
not ‘jljow him, and ridiculed him for noticing
the folly of a confused dream ; so that, after
attempting to get up, he was, at his w ife’s
persuasion, prevailed upon to lie down again ;
and falling asleep, it being now near break of
day, the old gentleman appeared to him the
third time, with a frowning countenance, and
told him he might now lie still, for that
the cattle were now surfeited of his corn, were
lying m i t ; and that it was for his welfare that
he came to acquaint him so often, as he was
his granduncle by the father ; and so went off.
e awakening in about an hour thereafter,
arose and went out^ and actually found his
own and his tenants’ cattle lying in his corn,
alter being tired of eating thereof ; which corn,
a.t(?r . eJ.nS comPn sed, the loss amounted to
eight bolls of meal.
^
____
the other in a cataract of music from the sky. I
As I made my way up the glen I met aj
Highlander, of whom I made inquiries about;
the place 1 was bound for. His looks, manner,j
and speech had something uncommon about
them, and I determined to find out who he
was. A hearty welcome awaited me at Donald
G ow ’s,- and after an hour’s chat about other
days, I told him that I met a man wearing a
broad blue bonnet and tartan plaid as I came
up the glen, who had roused my curiosity.
\
“ Describe him more fully,” said Donald,
“ W e ll,” I replied, “ in addition to the blue
bonnet and tartan plaid (for which you know
I have a weakness) I may say that the individ-f
ual I met was above the average height, middle!
aged, had brown wavy hair streaked with
grey, an aquiline nose, and beard a shade!
lighter than his hair, that covered his chin and;
mouth. His eyes I cannot very well describe,!
for whiLe I spoke to him they seemed to reflect'
“ Pm ™ *tur\ v v t
tj
~ .
I o e m s a n d S o n u s o n H o m e a n d A b r o a d ’ b v Mr*
K Colville, is the title of a delightful volume, published
at the K ilm a rn o ck Standard Office.
The* authoress
resides under the “ Southern Star," but she has not
every shadow and light that glided over the
4- *
1
it
&
i- 1 ^ r * j *
ai’OUncl US. He was SO light-footedi
. l t w “ en
^
m e he seemed to tread OH
il^ranswers to my questions were clear,;
trcat
of6Scottis
1
?
snhi*
tb
^
1
^
’
as
"
T
y
the
f)nenis
treat oi Scottish subjects. She is evidently an admirer
aiuI hen,„i
sPoke
the
Gaelic
with
the
fluency
of
a
*1
i.
r
i 1
of tho Highland,, for its history and ron L .ce occupy
* 1(1 U f 7 ™ * » e s s o f a scholar.
a hur share of the work. It extends to 276 paês, is ‘
will do,
said Donald, “ you met.
illustrated, and can be had from the publishers at
Lachlan Gorach. When I came here as school-!
above address.
m aster,” continued D onald,
“ L a ch la n was the;
II
t
6u4w^<3tAAS-
£.
A
You have allTWBfd, 1 presume, of the alleged
cold-blooded
<1
M A S S A C R E O F T H E M A C D O N A L D S OK KICK;,
Snxc,
B raitfh
M r.
a toast to stir the pulses
T h a t are slumb’rin g ’neath the plaid,
T i s the bonnie “ Celtic M o n th ly ,”
T h a t for long with us has stayed.
L ik e a stripling brown and healthy,
From the breezy H igh lan d braes,
T h a t oft heard his mother lilting
Sw'eetly o f the bygone d a y s ;
A n d has heard the aged and hoary
T ell of hero, clan, and field,
Tartan waving, cannon roaring,
Claym ore dinting helm and s h ie ld ;
T h a t has seen the red-deer springing
F ro m the corry in the.ben,
A n d has heard the maidens singing
Kound the sheiling in the glen ;
Thus it comes with song and story
O v e r mountain, plain, and sea,
T o remind us, like our fathers,
T h a t w e should be brave and free.
H e r e ’s to thee, thou H ighland rover,
W elcom e ever to our door,
M a y the years that lie behind thee
Y e t be counted by the score.
A n d as Gaels who like a “ d r a p p ie ”
A n d would “ w et the other eye,”
W e shall drink a second bumper,
T o the Editor, Mackay.
Canada.
A n
Horti,
iuml !
I l o - o - r t ) , hu-ill,
i i o - r o - i , ho-ro-i,
I l o - r ò , hu-ill h o r n !
B ’ann.s* bhi s u a i n n l a i m a m b r c a c a t i ,
N in bh ir tfhlaicoatfan Rusâich,
F a r rim m i n i c a b h a mi,
T o m a t l h l a, a i r b h c a g * c n r a m ;
1l o r ò , lui-ill, h o r n
R u sga icli "
kODKRICK
( u ‘d is s o c r a c h m o I c a b a K i n ,
C h a ’ n c f a c i a l I l i a sl ni i rl o r m ;
B ’a n n s ’ bhi s u a i n n t a i m a m b i v a c a n ,
’ N in b h ir ^ h l a i c c a ^ a n Rusgfaich ;
!
C h a b ’c claj;- n a n còi g- u a i i v a n ,
B l i i o d h a m c h l u a s a n a dùsj*-a;lh ;
A c h a n e e i l r i r bu b h o i d h c h o ,
A i i ; na h - o o i n a m BrAi^-h' R u s ^ . i i o h .
I l o i ò , hii-ill, h o m !
VJU..
M O N TH LY.”
O ld
S u b scrib er.
'
( ( iaelie)
R e fra in
OELTIO
H e r e ’s
fixed by tradition and one writer, at least, at
different periods, but by all as being the
diabolical and fiendish work of Alastair Crotach
of Dunvegan.
Now, he died certainly not
later than 1547, and if there was a massacre at
all— which I much doubt, for I know every
inch of the island of E igg— J know the cave in
question, and have often been in it, and I have
heard all the local traditions concerning this
alleged massacre, and what I say is, that if
there was a massacre by the MacLeods, it must
have been long after Alastair Crotach’s death.
A statement printed by Skene gives the date
as 1577— but Alastair was in his grave .30 years
before this, and if the MacLeods at all had a
hand in the barbarous transaction, the chief
one responsible was, according to Mackenzie,
not Alastair Crotach, but Iain Dubh MacLeoid,
a man who is said to have usurped the chiefship, wading through rivers of blood, and to
have died a death as cruel and atrocious as he
meted out to others. But then, was there a
massacre at all Ì and if there was, were the
MacLeods the authors of it?
I think I am
right in saying that Professor Macpherson, the
late proprietor of the island, made search into
all the contemporary Records in Edinburgh and
in Dublin, and failed to trace any notice of
such an event. Skene gives as his authority
the “ Description of the Isles of Scotland,”
which he calculates was written sometime
between 1577 and 1595. Who the writer of
the “ Description” was we don’t know.
But taking the event as having happened
between these two dates, it is interesting to
note that in October, 1588, Lachlan MacLean
of Duart and some Spaniards visited Eigg,
“ and treasonably raised fire, and in most
“ barbarous, shameful, and cruel manner, burnt
“ the same Isle, with the whole men, women,
and children being thereinto, not sparing the
“ pupils and infants,” etc., and for that offence
he was summoned to trial on 3rd January
1589. Needless to say, Lachlan did not stand
the trial.
Is it not therefore singular that
twice within a few years the whole population
of Eigg should be exterminated by fire? In
the absence, therefore, of anything historically
authentic connecting the awful tragedy with
the MacLeods, may we not reasonably assume
that it is to this latter event that irresponsible
tradition points?
t
THE
TOAST—
4
Mcloi/v t n i i f i t i o u i i i
M a c IJ-OI).
A c h an
Ai^- na
Rhimlh
Si l o i n
c o i l o i r bu b h o i d h c h o ,
h-ooin a m B r à i^ li' R u s ^ a ic li :
a chuthai;' a i r c h r c a m a n ,
tiva^ airt do'n simulan,
1l o r n ; hu-ill, h o m !
<. h a b V f a i l c a d h n a n c l a d h a n ,
A ^ h c i b l i t c ’n d o i t v m o ruin-sa ;
A ch trom (hailcadli na moalla.
Din*' na m o a n x a n a i b h ùr a ;
1l o r ò , hu-ill, h o r ò !
A c h t r o m fh a ile a d h na m oalla,
Dlit*' n a m e a n ^ a n a i b h ù r a ;
'S c o ‘s u rr a iim a r a d h t e ,
N a c h hi mi f h a t h a s l a n n a n R v i s ^ a i c h ’ ?
1l o r o , hu-ill, h o r ò !
OUR
MUSICAL
T he following beautiful song is from the pen of
the “ Sweet Singer of K a h oy ”— the late Dr. John
MacLachlan.
This gifted son of song was born
at the farm-house of Kahoy, Morven, in the year
1804. He studied medicine in Glasgow Univer
sity, and practised the art in his native district,
where he was beloved by all. He died at Tober
mory in 1874. A small collection of his poetic
works, edited by Dr. Arch. Clark, Kilmallie, was
published in Glasgow in 1868. An enlarged
’ SO
K e y G.
’N
PAGE.
edition of Dr. MacLachlan’s songs, edited by
Dr. H. Cameron Gillies, with a portrait of the
author, was published by the Ardnamurchan,
Morven, and Suaineart Association in 1880.
A ll Dr. MacLachlan’s poems are sweet and
musical, and many of them have been translated
into English. The following song is set to the
air of “ Thogainn fonn air lorg an fheidh.” The
translation is by
F
m
’ So ’ n am
Resting on
/
i
• S| . , S|
’ S trie mo
Oft
I
C h o r u s , after each verse.
A M S H I N K A D H A I R A N T -S L IA B H .
( Resting on the mountain sid e.)
m. , s : 1 . , 1|
shineadh air an
the
d
: s ., s
t-sliabh, ’ S mi
mountain
vide,
1| * , S| ! 1| * d
shùil a sealltainn
r
siar,
:
gaze across the
tide,
Where the
Thinking
n, s
Far an
m., m : r ., r
l
ri
/
ri iarguin na bheil uam,
o f my
absent frien d s ,
m . , r : d . , t,
luidh a’ grian ’s a’
orb
o f day
1|
chuan.
descend-s.
f
Ì
:
li - d
Bheir mi
Sadly
• S,
S|
Bheir mi
Singing
r ., m : r . d
hò air mora
singing,
mora
11. , S | ! 1| . d
ho, air mora
softly ,
mora
s.,s
Ithill
i,
ho,
hd,
Softly
ho,
h(j,
n, S
Tha mi
Sad am
0 ! nach innis thu ’ ghaoth ’ n iar,
’ Nuair a thriàllas tu thar sàil’ ,
Ciod an doigh a th ’air mo ghaol—
Bheil i smaointinn orms’ an dràsd ?
Could I now take wings and fly
W h ere the crested billows roar,
There I ’d hear the tender sigh
Of the maiden I adore,
Of the maiden pure and kind—
On her cheeks the roses bloom,
On whose brow y o u ’ll never find
A u gh t of discontent or gloom.
W estern breezes, wont you tell,
As you sail across the sea,
If my lady bright is well—
Is she thinking now of me ?
•
M r. C H A R U i S
M axwellton braes are bonnie,
W h e r e e a r l v f a ' s tin* d t ’ w,
A n it’ s the*iv thal Anni e' L a u r k '
(»iVd
ht T p r o m i s e t r ue ,
( l i V d m e h e r p r o m i s e t rue,
W h i c h n e ’ e r f o r g ’d will b e ;
An' for bonnie Annie Laurie
I ’d l a y m e d o o n a n ’ d e e .
hee>
B u rn s
SAUNDKRS.
H e r b r o w is l i ke t h e s n a w d r i f t ,
H e r n e e k is l i ke t he s w a n ,
I l e r f a e e it is tht‘ f ai rest
That e ' e r I h e sun s h o n e o n ,
T h a t e ’e r t h e sun s h o n e o n ;
A n ' d a r k b l u e is h e r e ’ e ;
A n ’ for bonnie Annie Laurie
I’d l a v m e d o o n a n ’ d e e .
*
i
m ., r : d . t,
1,
t r o m ’s gun fonn ad dheigh
/ , m y love , f o r
thee.
“ A n n i e IYaurie "
•
m
h-è,
Standing on the silvery strand,
W o rd s are vain our thoughts to tell,
W hen I gave to thee my hand,
Scarcely could we breathe “ Farewell.
W hen I parted from my dear,
Bitter tears our eyes did blind ;
Though I sought the boat to steer,
Oft indeed I gazed behind.
A ll is still, the orb of day
Sleeps beneath the ocean’s c r e s t ;
N ow the birds have ceased their lay,
Here I must no longer rest.
T o my love I ’ll wish “ G ood-night,”
Pleasant dreams and sweet repose,
M ay thou waken with the light
Smiling like a summer rose.
N o w I see its golden glare
Fading on the distant w e s t ;
W o u ld , oh would, that I were there
W h ere my thoughts would be at rest !
•
n ., n : r . r
6 air
mora
sighing ,
mora
‘Nuair a shin mi dhuit mo làmh
A ir an tràigh a’ fagail tir,
’ Sann air èiginn rinn mi ràdh
“ Soraidh leat a ghràidh mo chridh ! ”
’Nuair a thug mi riut mo chùl
Chunnaic mi thu ’ brucadh dheur ;
Ged a shuidh mi aig an stiuir
’ Sann a bha mo shùil am dhîgh,
Chaidh a’ ghrian fo stuadh ’san iar.
Dh’ fhàg i fiamh air nial a’ chuain ;
’ S £iginn dhomh o ’n àird ’ bhi triall—
Sguir an ianlaith fîn d ’an duan.
Mile bearmachd leat an nochd,
Cadal dhuit gun sprochd gun ghruaim ;
Slàn gun acaid feadh do chlèibh,
Anns a’ mhadaiun ’ g èirigh suas.
Chi mi thall a h-aiteal caomh
’ Deàrrsadh caoin ri taobh na tràigh,
’ S truagh nach robh mi air an raon.
Far an deach’ i c l a o n ’s an àillt.
’ S truagh nach robh mi fèin an dràsd,
A ir an tràigh a’s àirde stuadh.
’G èisdeachd ris a’ chòmhradh thlàth.
T h ’ aig an òigh a’s àillidh snuagh.
A ig an òigh a’s àillidh dreach
’ S gile c n e a s ’ s a’s caoine gruaidh
Mala shìobhalt’ min-rosg rèidh,
A ir nach &rich brèin’ , no gruaim.
...
.
M oderato.
: s .,
S o NO
ionn
L i k e d e w o n t h e g o w a n Ivi n’
Is t h e fa* o ' h e r fairs feet ;
A m i l i ke w i n d s in sun n i e r s i g h i n '
l i e r v o i e e is l o w a n ’ s w e e l .
I ! e r v o i e e is k>w an* s w e e t ;
A n ’ s h e ' s a ’ t h e w a r l d to m e ;
A n ’ for bonnie Annie Laurie
I' d l av m e d o o n a n ' d e e .
THE
ISLE
OF
AND
SKYE:
ITS
H ISTO RY
ROMANCE.
E a r l y in the month in which English tourists
descend on the Continent in a shower of gold,
it has been m y custom, for several years back,
to seek refuge in the Hebrides. I love Loch
Snizort better than the Mediterranean, and
consider Duntulme more impressive than the
Drachenfels. I have never seen the Alps, but
the Cuchullins content me. Haco interests me
more than Charlemagne. I confess to a strong
aft'eetion for those remote regions. Jaded and
nervous with eleven months' labour or dis
appointment, there will a man find the medicine
of silence and repose. Pleasant, after poring
over books, to watch the cormorant at early
morning flying with outstretched neck over the
bright frith ; pleasant, lying in some sunny
hollow at 110 0 11 , to hear the sheep bleating
above ; pleasant at evening to listen to
Q
7
W ILD STORIES OF THE ISLES,
told by the peat-fire; and pleasantest of all,
lying awake at midnight, to catch, muffled by
distance, the thunder of the northern sea, and
to think of all the ears the sound has filled.
In Skye one is free of one’s ce n tu ry ; the
present wheels away into silence and remote
ness ; you see the ranges of brown shields, and
hear the shouting of the Bare Sarks.
The benefit to be derived from vacation is a
mental benefit mainly. A man does not require
change of air so much as change of scene. It is
well that he should for a space breathe another
mental atmosphere— it is better that he should
get release from the familiar cares that, like
swallows, build and bring forth under the eaves
of his mind, and which are continually jerking
and twittering about there. New air for the
luugs, new objects for the eye, new ideas for
the brain— these a vacation should always bring
a m a n ; and these are to be found in Skye
rather than in places more remote. In Skye
the Londoner is visited with a stranger sense of
foreignness than in Holland or in Italy. The
island has not yet, to any considerable extent,
been overrun by the tourist. To visit Skye is
to make a progress into “ the dark backward
and abysm of tim e /5 Y ou turn your back on
the present and walk into antiquity. You see
everything in the light of Ossian, as in the
light of a mournful sunset.
With a Norse
murmur the blue Lochs come running in. The
Canongate of Edinburgh is Scottish history in
stone and lime ; but in Skye you stumble on
matters older still. Everything about the trav
eller is remote and strange. You hear a foreign
language ; you are surrounded by
MACLEODS, MACDONALDS, AND NICOLSONS ;
you come on gray stones standing upright 011
the moor— marking the site of a battle, or the
burial-place of a chief. You listen to traditions
of ancient skirmishes ; you sit 011 ruins of
ancient date, in which Ossian might have sung.
The Loch yonder was darkened by the banner
of King Haco. Prince Charles wandered over
this heath, or slept in that cave. The country
is thinly peopled, and its solitude is felt as a
burden.
The precipices of the Storr lower
grandly over the sea ; the eagle lias yet its
eyrie on the ledges of the Cuchullins.
The
sound of the sea is continually in your ears ;
the silent armies of mists and vapours perpetu
ally deploy ; the wind is gusty on the moor ;
and ever and anon the jags of the hills are
obscured by swirls of fiercely-blown rain. And
more than all, the island is pervaded by a subtle
spiritual atmosphere.
It is as strange to the
mind as it is to the eye.
OLD SONGS AND TRADITIONS
are the spiritual analogues of old castles and
burying-places— and old songs and traditions
you have in abundance. There is a smell of
the sea in the material air ; and there is a
•
f
ghostly something in the air of the imagination.
There are prophesying voices amongst the hills
of an evening. The raven that flits across your
path is a weird thing— mayhap by the spell of
some strong enchanter a human soul is balefully imprisoned in the hearse-like carcass.
You hear the stream, and the voiee of the
kelpie in it. You breathe again the air of old
story-books ; but they are northern, not east
ern ones. T o what better place, then, can the
tired man go Ì There he will find refreshment
and repose. There the wind blows out 011 him
from another century. The Sahara itself is not
a greater contrast from the London street than
is the Skye wilderness.
The chain of islands on the western coast of
Scotland, extending from Bute in the throat of
the Clyde, beloved of invalids, onward to St.
Kilda, looking through a cloud of gannets
*
*
v
age or m e crown ot i\orway. m tùe dawn ot
history there is a noise of Norsemen around
tne islands, as there is to-day a noise of sea
birds. They fought, as old sagas tell, Anund
the stanchest warrior that ever did battle on
wooden leg.
JVood-foot he was called by his
followers. \\ hen he was fighting his hardest,
his men used to shove toward him a block of
wood and resting his maimed limb on that, he
laid about him right manfully.
From the islands also sailed H e ld , half
pagan, half-Christian. Helgi was much mixed
111 his faith ; he was a good Christian in time
of peace, but the aid of Thor he was always
certain to invoke when he sailed 011 some dan
gerous expedition, or when he entered into battle.
OLD NORWEGIAN CASTLES,
011 the bold Skye headlands,
perched
yet
moulder in hearing of the surge.
The searovers come no longer in their dark galleys,
but hill and dale bear ancient names that sigh
to the Norway pine. The inhabitant of Mull
or Skye perusing the “ Burnt Njal,” is struck
most of all by the names of localities— because
they are almost identical with the names of
localities in his own neighbourhood. The Skye
headlands of Trotternish, Greshornish, and
Vaternish, look northward to Norway head
lands that wear the same or similar names.
The Hebrides have received a Norse baptism.
Situated as these islands are between Norway
and Scotland, the Norsemen found them con
venient stepping-stones, or resting-places, on his
way to the richer southern lands.
There he
erected temporary strongholds, and founded
settlements. Doubtless, in course of time, the
son of the Norseman looked 011 the daughter of
the Celt, and saw that she was fair, and a mixed
race was the result of alliances. T o this day
in the islands the Norse element is distinctly
visible— not only in old castles, the names of
) laces, but in the faces and entire mental
mild of the people. Claims of pure Scandi
navian descent are put forward by many of the
old families.
Wandering up and down the
islands you encounter faces that possess no
Celtic characteristics ; which carry the imagin
ation to
“ N orow ay ower the fitm ” ;
people with cool calm blue eyes, and hair
yellow as the dawn ; who are resolute and per
sistent, slow in pulse and speech ; and who
differ from the explosive Celtic element sur
rounding them as the iron headland differs from
the fierce surge that washes it, or a block of
marble from the heated palm pressed against
it.
THE IIEIìKlDEANS AKE A MIXED RACE;
in them the Norseman and the Celt are com
bined, and here and there is a drop of Spanish
blood which makes brown the cheek and
darkens the eye.
This southern admixture
may have come about through old trading
relations with the Peninsula— perhaps the
wrecked Armada may have had something to
J*1
do with it.
The Highlander of Sir Walter,
like the Red Indian of Cooper, is to a large
extent an ideal being.
But as Uncas does
really w-ear war-paint, wield a tomahawk, scalp
his enemies, and, when the time comes, can
stoically die, so the Highlander possesses many
of the qualities popularly ascribed to him.
Scott exaggerated only ; he did not invent.
He looked with a poet’s eye 011 the district
north of the Grampians— a vision keener than
any other for what i,% but which burdens, and
supplements, and glorifies— which, in point of
fact, puts a nimbus around everything. The
Highlander stands alone amongst the British
people.
F or generations his land was shut
against civilisation by mountain and forest and
intricate pass.
While the large drama of
Scottish history was being played out in the
Lowlands, he was busy in his mists with narrow
clan-fights and revenges. W hile the southern
Scot owed allegiance to the Jameses, he was
subject to
LORDS OF THE ISLES,
and to Duncans and Donalds innumerable;
while the one thought of Flodden, the other
remembered the “ sair field of the HarlawV5
The Highlander was, and is still so far as cir
cumstances permit, a proud, loving, punctilious
being : full of loyalty, careful of social distinc
tion ; with a bared head for his chief, a jealous
eye for his equal, an armed heel for his
inferior. He loved the valley in which he was
born, the hills 011 the horizon of his childhood ;
his sense of family relationship was strong, and
around him widening rings of cousinship ex
tended to the very verge of the clan.
The
Islesman is a Highlander of the Highlanders ;
modern life took longer in reaching him, and
his weeping climate, his misty wreaths and
vapours, and the silence of his moory environ
ments, naturally continued to act upon and to
shape his character.
He is song-loving, “ of
imagination all compact ” ; and out of the
natural phenomena of his mountain region— his
mist and rain-cloud, wan sea-setting of the
moon, stars glancing through rifts of vapour,
blowing wind and broken rain-bows— he has
drawn his poetry and his superstition.
His
mists give him the shroud high on the living
heart, the sea-foam gives him an image of the
whiteness of the breasts of his girls, and the
broken rainbow of their blushes. T o a great
extent his climate has made him what he is.
He is a child of the mist. His songs are mel
ancholy for the most p a r t; and you may
discover in his music the monotony of the
brown moor, the seethe of the wave on the
rock, the sigh of the wind in the long grasses
of the deserted churchyard.
The musical
instrument in which he chiefly delights renders
most successfully the
CORONACH ANI) THE BATTLE-MARCII.
The Highlands are now open to all the influ
ences of civilisation.
The inhabitants wear
: breeches and speak English even as we. Old
gentlemen peruse their Times with spectacles
on nose.
Young lads construe “ Cornelius
Nepos,” even as in other quarters of the British
islands. Y oung ladies knit, and practise music.
But the old descent and breeding are visible
through all modern disguises ; and your High-
THE CELTIC MONTHLY.
THE
Ax
A
S P O L IA T I O N
ttempt
to
trace
T
OF
some
IONA.
of
its
L
ost
reasures.
i*F the fate of the venerable repository of
f
St. Columb-Cille some scattered traces
y e t remain.
It is known that the
records of the monastery, written upon parch
ment, were destroyed b y order of a provincial
Synod held in the Island soon after the
R eform ation1 ; and of what remained there is
traditionary belief and circumstantial evidence
that the greater part, if not the whole, fell into
the possession of the “ Lord Justicer of the
Isles,” the Marquis of Argyll. W hen the old
Castle of Inverara was taken down to make
room for the new building, it was remarked
that many old books appeared in the town ;
and that, long after, the surrounding peasantry,
in making their small purchases at the little
m erchants shop— then the only one in Inver
ara— received their pennyworths of salt and
ounces of
TOBACCO W RAPPED IN ANCIENT W R IT IN G S— ■
“ Craicionn dealbhach
painted vellum — or
pages of dark yellow paper, covered with
“ Litrichean dubha tiugha
“ thick black
letters.’
W hen a late Duke of Montague
was at Inverara, some of these remains came
under his notice, and he saw some remnants of
the MSS. “ used in the shop as snuff’ paper.” Few, perhaps none, of the very aged are now
left in the surrounding Straths ; but eighty
years ago it was still fresh in the memory of
old people in Glen Urcha and Glen Eitive, the
wonder and admiration with which, after their
return from market, they had sat round their
hearth fire, or the light of the splintered fir,
and pored upon the beautiful colours and
unknown figures, and— “ Na litrichean mòra
dubha iongantach, nach b ’urrain iad a leugh ”
— the thick black strange letters which they
could not read. The antiquary need not be
told that these were the wreck of illuminated
MSS. ; neither, when he considers that the
“ Red Book of A r g y l l ” itself has disappeared,
and that the MSS. of Clanranald were divided
into tailors’ measures, will he feel astonished
that the obsolete and dusty volumes of a
suppressed monastery should have been lost in
the lumber of an old house.
But of the value of the works which thus
perished a glimmering ray of light is left.
Disregarding the romance o ì Boethius, repeated
1 M acFarlane’s Geographical
published, in tw o V olum es.)
Collections
“ Statistical Account of Scotland.
1795.
11
by Usher, and perhaps believed by Stillingfleet
and L lu y d — that Fergus II., accompanying
Alaric the Goth into Italy, sent to Iona a
cotter of books which he pillaged in the sacking
of R onie,:i there is evidence that, in the
sixteenth century,
THE LIBRARY OF ST. COLUMB-CILLE
contained many ancient chronicles and royal
charters, and ii collection of classic literature,
so important, that the lost books of L iv y were
expected to be discovered among its stores.
“ In the church of Iona,'’ says Paulus Jovius,
“ there are preserved very ancient annals and
parchment rolls, containing laws and charters
signed by the Kings, and sealed with their
effigies on seals of gold or wax.
It is also
reported that in the same library there are
ancient works of Roman history, from which
we may expect the remaining decades of Titus
Livius.
A ccording to Boethius, this expectation was
so strong, even in the fifteenth century, that
yEneas Sylvius, afterwards Pope Pius II., was
about to undertake a journey to Iona to make
search for the anticipated discovery, when he
was prevented by the confusion which followed
the assassination of James I .4 H ow just his
expectations might have been is proved by the
result of a subsequent investigation related by
Boethius. In 1525, with the same expectation
entertained by ^Lneas Sylvius, a small parcel
of the MSS. were sent to Aberdeen for the
examination of the historian himself, then a
student in that c it y ; but neglect, time, and
ill usage had rendered them so frail and
illegible that little could be discovered, except
that they appeared to be rather a fragment of
Salust than a portion of Livy.
That they
should, however, have been a part of any
classic author, is an evidence of the nature and
the value of the library to which they
belonged. Beothius also mentions that with
the supposed fragment of Salust there was
delivered to him the History of Scotland,
written by Vermundas, Archdeacon of A ber
deen, and it seems implied that this MS. also
was a part of the same collection as the others.
If this should be admitted, it is an additional
proof of the interest of the repository from
whence they came, and corroborates the
assertion of Paulus Jovius, that there existed
in Iona a depository of chronicles.
Though
credulous, romantic, and even fabulous, in tales
of superstition or traditions of a far anterior
time, Boethius is sufficient authority for the
incidents of his own ; and since he asserts that
the volumes examined belonged to Iona, and
(recently
V o l. X I V .
Scotr. H ist. p. 114, b.
* Descrip. Brit.
I
I* •
12
T HE
C E L T IC
w ere actually sent to himself, his evidence
cannot be invalidated.
But, notwithstanding the destruction of
written literature, something m ight v e t have
been gathered from the
O R A L POEM S A N D T R A D I T I O N S
preserved am ong the old p e o p le ; but the
g lo o m y fanaticism which had overthrown the
sacred repositories o f ancient learning was also
opposed to its popular cultivation, and forbade
the recitation o f those venerable songs and
histories with which the people were accus
tom ed to indulge the hours of repose or beguile
the long dark evenings of winter.
W h en
Dr. Carswell, the Protestant Bishop of the
Isles, published his Gaelic edition of the
Common Prayer, he lamented that “ in such as
taught, wrote, and cultivated the Gaelic lan
guage, there was great blindness and sinful
darkness,” insomuch as “ they were more
desirous to compose vain, lying, tempting,
w o rld ly histories concerning the Tuatha de
dannan, and concerning w airiors and cham
pions, and F ingal the son of Cumhal, with his
heroes, than to teach and maintain the faithful
works of God, and the perfect w ay of truth ” —
by which it is understood that the Islanders
were steadfast Catholics, and averse to con
version into the Calvinistic faith.
In the same spirit, many of the ministers
and missionaries of the later Scottish Church
laboured to suppress the remains o f poetry and
tradition which had survived to their time.
“ T h e best Gaelic poems,” said the Rev. Mr.
Pope, one o f the most respectable of the
Established Church in the Highlands, “ are
now lost— partly ow in g to our clergy, who
were declared enemies to these p o e m s ; so that
the rising generation scarcely know anything
material o f them .” 5 This proscription has not
been abated by the popularity of Ossian, or the
attention now awakened to “ Celtic researches.”
Frequently, during the progress of this work,
those employed to collect the reliques of the
bards and seanachies have been repulsed with
the intimation that the “ m in is t r y ” were
“ solicitous to discourage these profane com
positions, for the substitution of W a tts ’ Hymns
and other divine so n g s; and that, therefore,
though much had been possessed by many of
the old people who had died in recent years, it
was now entirely lost among the younger
inhabitants.”
“ T h e people,” observes an in
telligen t gentleman in a letter from the
9 L e tte r from the R ev. A le x . Pope, minister of Reay,
in Caithness, to the R ev. A le x . Nicholson, minister of
Thurso.
Rep. Com. H igh. Soc.
A pp. p. T>3.
M ONTHLY.
Northern Isles, “ are w h olly under the
IN F L U E N C E
OF A
F A N A T IC A L
CLERGY,
who denounce dancing as a crime, and set the
you n g men and women upon the stool of
repentance for singing the songs of their
ancestors ; hence their bardic lore and ancient
traditions, with all the fine feelings connected
with them, are fast disappearing.
Such were the
causes, producing that
disappearance of Gaelic literature, which has
weakened the position of its friends, and
armed its enemies with scepticism and re
proach.
But if we have lost all which was
most valuable in composition and record, no
less fatal has been the destruction in the
monuments of our arts.
D uring tw o successive
centuries the ravages o f “ Reform ation,” and
the violence of civil war, defaced, obliterated,
and diminished the sculptures, the architecture,
the arms, and decorations which bore testimony
to the taste, the talents, and the acquirements
of preceding generations.
O f these, in all
countries and in all ages, the most important
memorials have been the edifices of the Church.
In these were preserved the earliest records,
the richest labours, the truest imagery.
In the
illuminations o f the glass, the carvings of the
choir, the painting of the walls, the traces of
departed times return ; and on the sculptured
tombs, those who sleep below— though their
race should be extinct, their language obliter
ated, their dominion changed, perhaps their
ve ry nation extinguished— still appear before
posterity with the forms, the arms, the habits
which had illuminated the field of battle where
the dead are now forgotten, and the splendour
of halls long mouldered in the dust.
In
Beauly, Rosemarkie, Dornach, Glensagadul, Oran say, and
Iona, corbels, and
tracery,
and
sculptured capitals, splendid
crosses, and numerous altar-tombs and their
recumbent figures,
BORE T E S T I M O N Y TO T H E A R TS ,
the arms, the manners, and costume of the
country, and the age in which they were
produced.
N eith er were these confined to the
cathedrals and great monastic edifices— in glens
where now no roof sends up a smoke into the
still air, and where no bell now sounds upon
the deserted
solitude,
ruined
Avails
and
shattered arches reveal decayed tracery and
half obliterated mouldings.
A m o n g the green
hills o f Bute, on the n ig g e d shore of Morven,
in the desolate moors of Harris and the Lewis,
and amidst the waters of Loch A w e and Loch
Maree, the churches o f St. Blane, Kiels,
Rew dil, Eie, Inisail, and St. Maree, recall to the
traveller of France and England the Norman
and Saxon chapels of his own country, and bear
THE CELTIC MONTHLY.
testimony that the people to whom they be
longed, possessed as well the arts as the rites of
that religion to which they were raised. Almost
every parish church and solitary chapel had its
Runic cross and broad blue stone, sculptured
with the two-handed sword or Lochaber axe,
which commemorated the “ Rob R oy ” or “ Iain
na Tuaidh ’’ of the d istrict; and in many a green
spot amidst the lonely heath, and many a solitary
ruin 01 1 the shore of the western ocean, where
the encroaching surge now heaps its sand amidst
the graves, the helmit and the shield appear
between the grass, and the wave of the spring
tide throws its spray 01 1 the gray stones, and
washes the “ biorlin ” of Clan Ranald, sculptured
as it had ridden over the sea, gleaming with the
shields, and arms, and banners of the Isles.
A
FEW
MONUMENTAL
E F F IG IE S
yet remain to represent the people who are now
1 1 0 more.
I 11 Rewdil,'5 K ilkivan,7 Saddel,H
Oransay, and Iona, and some remote cemeteries
of the mainland chiefs, the linked habergeon
and quilted acton, the pointed basinet and mail
coif, the plate corselet, the engraved pullanes,
splents, vambraces, and gorgets, appear on the
recumbent figures, and restore to sight the chiefs
and warriors of the clans— the very names of
whose arms are now lost to their descendants,
as those of the Groisades to the peasantry of
France and England.
Even in Iona, the venerable mother of the
Western Church, “ that illustrious island which
was once the luminary of the Caledonian regions,
whence savage clans and roving barbarians de
rived the benefits of knowledge and the blessings
of religion,” 0 the mind pauses with astonishment
and looks round with incredulity upon what it
once was, and the ruin and sacrilege by which
it is now desecrated and despoiled. Beneath
those aisles, and within the sanctuary of the
surrounding cemetery, reposed the illustrious
dead of various and distant countries— the lords
and chiefs of the Isles, the princes of Ireland,
the sea-kings of Vikengr, and the sovereigns of
Scotland.
Even the prelates of hostile nations sought
repose within that venerable cloister, and
among the humbler names of its native abbots
appeared the inscription— “ Hie Jacct Johannes
Turn bull,quondam EpiscopusCanterburicnsis.” 10
“ That man,” says Johnson, “ is little to be
The burying-place of the MacLeods of Harris in that
island.
7 In
K in tyre, a ruined
Campbeltown to Losset.
chapel on
the road
8 The monastery of Glen-Saddel in Kintyre.
9 Johnson’s Journey to the W estern Isles.
10 Martin's W estern Isles, p. 261.
from
13
envied whose patriotism would not gain force
upon the plains of Marathon, or whose piety
would not growr warmer among the ruins of
Iona.” 11 Yet, when at the “ Reformation,”
I O N A E S C A P E D T I I K D E S T R U C T IO N O F A MOB
because its people remained Catholic, though
its walls were preserved for the service of a
new faith, its possessions were dispersed by
alienation and pillage. The plate, vestments,
bells, and venerable library, fell a prey to
various noble depredators, and even the
Protestant prelates of its own diocese spared
not its remains. The fate of its inestimable
volumes is involved in uncertainty ; but there
is existing testimony that MacLean of Duart,
who usurped many of the abbey lands in
defiance of the Crown,12 also possessed some of
the most valuable pieces of the church plate ;
and in 163.3, Andrew Knox, the Protestant
Bishop of the Isles, upon his translation to the
see of Rapho, took from Iona two of the
principal bells for the use of one of his
churches in Ireland.
W R E N T I I E F A L L O F E P IS C O P A C Y
gave up the last remnants of ecclesiastical
antiquities to destruction, Iona was abandoned
to decay and ruin, and the greater part of
those numerous sculptures, crosses, and inscrip
tions, which had now illustrated the arts and
history of the Western Isles, are pillaged, lost,
or destroyed.
( rL E N (iA R ltIE AND T IIE
IO N A C H ALIC E .
There is in tlie possession of the R ig h t Reverend
Dr. Scott, Bishop of Glasgow, a chalice preserved in
the family of Glengarrie since the seventeenth cen
tury, as one of those which had belonged to the
A b b ey of Iona.
It is of fine gold, very little orna
mented, and of a simplicity and form which bears
testimony to the arts of a middle age. I t came into
the possession of the Glengarrie family in the time of
Eneas, afterwards Lord MacDonnell and Arross, and
under the following circumstances:— Sir Lauchlan
MacLean and his son, Sir Hector, having distinguished
themselves as Loyalists and supporters of Montrose,
drew down the enmity of the Marquis of A r g y ll, who
availed himself of their opposition to the Republican
government to obtain an entry upon their lands, and
having brought forward some obligations said to have
been incurred under the usurpation, obtained from
Sir H ector a bond upon his estate, by which it was
finally adjudicated to the Marquis. T h e clan, how
ever, resisted their dispossession to the utmost in
their power, and during the hostilities which f o l
lowed, MacLean, expecting an invasion of the lands of
M ull by A r g y ll, applied to Glengarrie for assistance.
Eneas of Glengarrie marched w ith five hundred
followers to the castle of Ardtornish, and with a few
of his chieftains crossed over to Duart to concert
witli MacLean the transportation of his men across
1 1 Johnson’s Journey to the W estern Isles.
’ - Secretary Sterling’s MS.
Albanicis,
Collectanea
de Rebus
14
THE
CELTIC
the Sound. M acLean rejoiced at the arrival of his
powerful ally, welcomed him w ith all the hospitality
of the ancient barons of the Isles, and at the feast
which followed, the wine was circulated in a golden
chalice, which the ancestor of MacLean had acquired
in the spoliation of Iona.
W h en the consecrated cup
was presented to Glengarrie, he folded it in a cloth,
and pouring out the wine, rose from the table.
“ Mac Lean/’ said lie, “ I came here to defend you
against your mortal enemies, but since by sacrilege
and profanation you have made God your enemy, no
human hand can give you aid.*’ Glengarrie immedi
ately returned to his biorlin, and MacLean having
consulted with his friends, sent after him a deputa
tion to induce bis return, and to present to him, not
only the chalice, but some other pieces of plate which
had belonged to the altar of Iona.
Glengarrie
received into his protection the venerable relique, but
persisted in his resolution, pursuing his march home.
H is example was followed by other of the Catholic
chiefs who had prepared for the assistance of
MacLean.
From that period the Iona chalice was
preserved in the charter closet of Glengarrie, until it
was presented by the late chief to Dr. Ronald
MacDonald, V icar Apostolic of the W estern District,
by whom it was given to Dr. Scott, Bishop of Glas
gow, who used it in the church of St. M a ry in that
city.
The above tradition of its preservation was
communicated to Dr. John MacEachen MacDonald of
Tirim -M oidart, by the late Bishop John Chisholm, and
Mr. John MacKachen (uncle to the Marechal Due de
Tarentum), the latter of whom died at the house of
Tirim , in Moidart, upwards of a hundred years of age.
I t is w ith regret that we have to add to the notices
of this venerable relic, that, after having so long
survived the destruction and dispersion of all sacred
objects in Scotland, it has at last perished. On the
night
of the 26th of December 1843,/ the church of
Q
St. M a r y in Glasgow was broken open, and the
chalice of Iona, w ith several other objects of the
altar, and much gold lace rent from the vestments,
were taken away by the thieves. N o traces have
since been obtained of the depredators or their spoil,
and there is every reason to believe that the chalices
were immediately melted down to prevent discovery.
C rosses
Before the
island
and
C h a r m St o n e s
“ Reformation*'
of
I ona.
there were upon the
T H R E E H U N D R E D A N D S I X T Y CROSSES,
all of which, w ith the exception of two, were
destroyed by a provincial assembly held in the island
soon after the Reformation.
In 1693 the pedestals
w ere still visible, and of the beauty and admirable
sculpture of the whole, an estimate may be formed by
the tw o which y e t remain.— MacFarlane’s Geographi
cal Collections. Of the above-mentioned number of
crosses, sixty stood within the cemetery and sanc
tuary o f St. Ouran, and marked the graves of the
most noble of the Isles. A t the Reformation they
were all broken down and thrown into the sea—
Pennant’s V oyage, p. ‘251. A t the same period of
destruction perished three other memorials, which, if
not greatly estimable as works of art, were infinitely
precious as monuments of a Druidical origin and
unknown antiquity.
These were three beautiful
globes of white marble, called
“ C la c h a u -B r à th ” — T\\.v d o o m s d a y s t o n e s ,
and placed in three stone basins, in which they were
turned “ sunways,” in performance of the celebrated
charm of the “ D e . i s t i l These were undoubtedly
the spherical emblems of the D iv in ity used before the
use of statues, and which, named by the ancients
MONTHLY.
“ J iy te h w " have been mentioned by various of the
earliest authors, and found in Syria, Greece, and
Italy. The venerable emblems of the Druids shared
the same fate as the symbols of Christianity, and the
Clachan-B ràth were thrown into the sea by order of
the synod— Pennant's Voyage, p. 251. Besides the
clachau-bràth there were nine other small bytelaj
which were turned for the same charm. A t the time
of Pennant’s visit they were placed upon the pedestal
of a ruined cross, and were supposed by the traveller
to be the fragments of a tomb. T h ey were, however,
the same “ Ctachaii-Jiuarfh” or “ stone# o f p o w e r ” and
though removed from time to time, it is only within a
recent period that the last have been taken from the
island. By the natives it was believed fatal to remove
them, but at length they were stolen by the master of
an English v e s s e l; being, however, overtaken in the
same night by a violent storm, lie was struck with a
conviction of their fatalitv, and resolved to restore
them should he escape the te m p e s t; and the weather
becoming fair on the ensuing day, he sailed back to
Iona and returned them to their place.
Future
strangers made similar attempts without interruption
from the elem en ts, and the robbery being once
committed with impunity, the reverence for the
stones abated, and they were successively carried
away by those visitors who exhibit their veneration
for works of art by mutilating for memorabilia the
etfigies of monuments and the tracery of sculpture—
who have broken features from the recumbent figures
in Iona, and stolen the gilt lions from the gauntlets of
the Black Prince in the cathedral of Canterbury.
THE
HILLS
OF
THE
HIGHLANDS.
O h the hills, the hills ! the rosy-peaked hills
And
W h ere
And
W h ere
heath-covered mountains for me,
morn, like a miss, wafts its first virgin kiss,
wanton winds riot in glee.
the mist has its home, and the bounding deer
play ;
W h ere the torrent laughs loud to the lea,
And the waterfall leaps down the thundering steeps—
Oh the hills of the Highlands for me !
Oh the hills, the hills ! the cloud-crested hills,
W h ere shadow and sunshine run free ;
The voices that sing where the river-ways spring
K eep calling, aye calling, to me.
M y love lies asleep on yon billow y cloud,
And fair as the day-dawn is she ;
Then up let me climb to the threshold of time —
Oh the hills, the hills ! the smiling, glad hills ;
A lo f t on the peaks I would be ;
On the scaurs, tempest-riven, at the gateways of heaven,
W h ere the rainbow’s arch bridges the sea.
W here the silences sit on the verge of the deep ;
W h ere the echoes for ever agree,
And the unisons dwell w ith the sweet heather-bell—
Oh the hills, the hills ! thou dim, purpling hills,
T h e sun keeps its last kiss for thee ;
And, while the stars nod, lo, the chariots of God
Ride ridgewards to years y e t to be.
And down from the heights, like a beautiful dream,
Or a voice from the ends of the sea,
Come the breathings of love from my fair far a b o v e Oh the hills and the Highlands for me!
Glasgow.
M.
W, M
acm illan ,
4
FARE W ELL T O
F IO N N A R Y . AA
__________________________
AN
T -E IL E A N TIRISDEACH.
F o v n —TTo (?nr to Ì 7 h Ifa m hu. cu r toigh ham ,
B o ’h ro-thiVgh Iftani fhtn nn l-ai'O;
S’ t o ’gh leam f bin an r.*Kilein grUnach,
Cha ’j» ’oil soar no eiar ’bhuir burr air.
TV aol ruin ualbich a ir bhoag pò mi,
’ Buain nam fcòlrueinean mu d' bhrùighean;
’ Dlreadh chreag ’san neadaieh smcòrach,
Clilaon gach solas dhiu m ar Rgùllc&dh.
Ocd a tha do chroagan ciar-s»bias,
’ri tnoch a d h ’tiirea* g r i a n ’o h u r f a i l t ’ 0 1 1;
1 luinnear fnv-òractrafr do smcan
M och tnu ’n eirich dritichd ’aa M baighc.
fle d nach fa igh tca r prcas 110 craobh ort,
U**d uaoa cinn am fraoeh ro àrd ort,
f 'h ^ e a r feòirncin ulr do raoint>-an
M u ’n gann a Uieid o o g am M in t oirnn.
Oed nach fa ig h te a r frUh na lU dh orf,
(ih e ib h tea r uriadh 'us cala bhnn o r t ;
( ‘h ite a r na i<»In bhroao ’ga n nrianadh,
’Nu%ir a lihios do iiathan Lràighto.
( i e d a tha dochìuaintoati còmhnard,
’S god nach sguab na noòil mu d ’ àrdalbh ;
’s bòidliwach lc »r n do mlmrau. dù g h o n n
’ô ’na d)i. 6 .haibh dlùth mu d ’ tlii;i»ghc\n,
IVdb mu d ’ atecan p 'd ltjr -c h iai-g*»ch,
jimcIi ian g u r m i a n r‘ ’òhi t à m h o r t ;
(iboibhum r v ^ ilt na lachaioh tiabhach
A dlutb ch liith a d h rirf âch hàilcan.
Gheibhteav Lu'idajclt bho ’n taobh T n a lh oct,
1N>inbnollaioU ’ thu^' buaiclh le ’ n stàilinn,
JiOathanaich n g a s ? io t- O b ia rim d ,
Cain.Îiionaiuh Loch-iall ‘rinn tàmh ort.
p i i l t Oloinn-Vhionoghaian o n t’- lt r à . h
^h)('U>btu>ic)>,
J o Cloinn-Neill ort ‘ i h Cloinn-Phìàdein ;
Si >1 n»n gai-goach (V am bu diithchas,
iioin cid dhù-kr!iorin ’s.xn coc-àid in n l’.
Chitear Harra, ’n C.tnv.a tuath ort,
Vt'leann f n a r 'naii Hne:»chd a t à m b a i r
K u m 't]H K ig p , U o lla ’s I.
1
Lo Mùilo l'ritheawh a’ curegàil air.
( ’ t.’iìcar Co),ìqa gbof m ì>huait. ’s lie.
tuap fh n d ua chi nn ’m bàiv dhtth
('h i e i r U i ù ' a u ‘m» bâiir» ceoihai*.
J*arani fni^hl' le c h j ò ic a n hia-dau)h.
Had tha i>il bhuait. ci >\n air fin d a c h ,
T o a thn ’in .snifiaiu g n c l i u o i r bho'n d h ’f b à g mi,
’l h . ) g (i.i k c ui 'Mtiort dainngetiM bitun dhuit,
’o cna dean Pioban cuaiu a biiiàladh.
P h ’ ( h a x mi orfc rno bhcan ‘h mo phàUùc^n,
Pà.*aiì jti-iì a d h' àraich 0 4 ini,
i'i v har glia*>)acii h «ìis biîtliroan
Cù-s ino cbràdh —bhi lad o 'n chòaihlan.
F h i r a ni iliur ghavbh-chrioeh triftll uainn,
î.ruiilh bnn^m gn ’n iar gu ’in thafrddan :
Inni^ flhnibìi rnar dh’ fà^ mi cianall
’d uii ’g ctin ria«laid.hi auuy a bhàt.a.
A
onghas
M
ìc
E a o h u ìn n .
s /
° < j
A s our readers are doubtless aware, this song
was composed in English by Dr. Norm an
M acLeod— ^
“ Caraid '/urn ( l a i d h m l T h e Gaelic
translation usually sung is from the pen o f the
kite Archibald Sinclaii, prim us, printer, Glas
gow.
T h e fo llo w in g rendering, by a Canadian Gael,
may interest our readers ;—
F IO N N A 1 R ID H .
S e is d .— E irich agus tiugainn, o !
Eirich agus tiugainn o !
Eirich agus tiugainn o !
M o shoraidh slàn le Fionnairidh.
Tha
Tha
Tha
A
‘n latha m a i t h ’s tha ’ n soirhheas eiiiin,
'n ùine ’ r u t i l i ’s i tarniing dliith,
’n liàta 'feitheamli fo a .siùil
bheir mi null o Fhionnairiflh.
Tha mile mile ceangal 1 làth,
A n diugh a’ faotuinn hcannachd gràidli :
M o clnidhe am chom air call a bhlàtlrs
A ’ fàgail fài'dach Fhionnairidh.
L e eeumaibh stòlda thriall mi ft>iu
(iu trie mu chaisteal Rigli na Feinn",
i s dh’ eisd ri cìol>aircan an-t sleibh’
A ’ canntuinn sgeulachd Fliionuairidh.
(ill minic sheas mi air an raon,
Bho ’ n (V aithris Oisein dàin nan treun,
A ’ caoidh gatli deireannach na grc*in*
’ S mi ’ triall thar dim 11 a F’ ionnairidh.
A i g Allt-na-Caillich sruth mo ghaoil,
Le tliorman binn Mol seach an raoin ;
Bu shona m’ fhaireachduinn’s bu chaoin,
A i g bruachaibli seimh na Fionnairidh.
Slim le beanntan fhuar nan sian ;
Sian le teach nan e a r b ’s nam tìadh,
Is eireadh ceileir eun gun fhiamh
Bho aonaichean na Fionnairidh.
Cha 'n e na cnuic no glinn nan craobh
A mhàin ’tha ’dùsgadh bròn mo chleibh ;
Tha buidheann thuirseach ’nis am dhèigh
A n dachaidh bhlàth na Fionnairidh.
(Tleann-l’ urraid cuimhnicheam gu bràth ;
0 , slàn le m’ athair, laoch nan sàr :
Leibh tuineadh sonas mor Jus àgh
A 11 dachaidh bhlàth na Fionnairidh.
A mhàthair thlusgail, ’ làn do bhàigh,
A m feum mi falbh bho’r cùram gràidh,
Is deuchainn 'thoirt do shaoghal gun tlàtlis
Fa<V as uaibh f e i n ’s hho Flnonnairidh.
Slàn le bràthair gaoil nam buadh !
’ S air bvòn aig’ piuthar na biodh luadh ;
Do thuireadh c e i l ’ s gach osna chruaidb
Bi Vlh sona ’gnàth am Fionnairidh.
Gun deanadh Dia ort faire \s fòir,
' ( ihilleasbuig àillidh òig gun treùir :
M a philleas mi, o faiceam fòs
Do ghàire maoth am Fionnairidh.
A m feum mi falbh bho theach mo ghràidh !
O, faic na siiiil g ’ an cur an àird ;
Is soraidh fòs lc t ir an àigh ;
Is slim gu bràth le Fionnairidh.
r
(■
196
THE
THE
OR
A
LEGEND
STORY
OF
OF
CELTIC
L IA N A C H A N ,
THE
“ GREY
HAG. If
I A N A C H A N is the name of a farm on
Lord Abinger’s Lochaber estate. It is
situated near the river Cùr— a tributary
of the R oy and Spean— that runs along the base
of the range of mountains extending northward
from Ben Nevis.
Lianachan was for ages the home of a race of
tacksmen of the name of Kennedy, and it has
only been within living memory that their
connection with the place ceased. The legend
which I translate and give here has been known
in Lochaber for generations, and the maledictions
of the “ grey hag ” have fallen heavily upon the
family concerned.
This “ grey hag” was not the same as the
“ Bean-shith,” or fairy woman. The “ Bean-shith”
was always kindly to the family she patronised,
and to their friends, but the “ hag” was ever
malicious and trying to do evil to all the
children of men. The Gaelic name for her was
the “ stig” or “ glas-stig,” the word “ glas,” which
means grey, being given to her from the colour
of the elf locks that always hang over her
shoulders. This creature was said to milk the
deer upon the mountain tops, charming them
into tameness by singing the weirdest and most
pathetic songs to them. One of them who lived
on a mountain at the head of Loch-Leven, near
Glencoe, and who was known as “ Cailleach Beinn
na Brie,” is said to have composed the air called
“ Crodh Chailean,” which gave its name to the
“ Crochalan C lu b /’ so long known in Edinburgh.
In winter, when the snow was heavy, and the
deer had no milk, and the wild cresses could not
be gathered by the fountains, it is said these
creatures used to steal kail from the gardens of
the people, and gather dulse by the sea-shore,
always taking care not to be seen by mortals.
“ Cailleach Beinn na Brie,” in one of her songs,
exonerates herself from the charge of such
pilfering, as follows :—
“ Cha do ghoid mi cliabhan duilisg,
Cha do ghoid mi cliabhan duilisg,
Cha do ghoid mi cliabhan duilisg,
’S cha do ghoid mi puinncag chail/’
This district about Ben-Nevis seemed the especial
haunt of these unearthly hags. In an old song,
which is very fine when played on the bagpipes,
there is a conversation between a Ronald of
Keppoch, and one of these weird creatures.
The tune is called “ Dheoghail an t-àl.”
She
began it with—
“ A hortf a Raonaill ud thall,
Hu hurò a Raonaill ud thall,
A horò a Raonaill ud thall,
B u horo nach imich thu nali.”
Ranald heeded her not, and in order to lure him
MONTHLY.
out, she began to hint that the calves had sucked
the cows, and everything was wrong among his
cattle. She put it thus—
“ A horo dheoghail an t-àl,
Hù horò dheoghail an t-àì,
A horò dheoghail an t-àl,”
whilst he, quite unmoved, added the fourth line
to the verse—
“ Hu horo mu dheoghail leig dhoibh.”
Iron of any kind was a sure protection against
all that belonged to the fairy race, and so
Ranald was playing two trumps, or Jew ’s harps,
as he lay resting in the sheiling, and after she
had vainly tried all arguments to get him out,
he told her the two tongues in his head made
him independent of her.—
4‘A horo cha’n’eil mi na d’ thaing,
Hu horò dà theangaidh nam cheann.”
She leaves him at last, saying she is going to
some distance from him.—
“ A horo mach an Carn-dearg,
Hu horo gu ceann Loch-Treig.”
The “ Carn dearg” is the next mountain to
Ben-Nevis, and it may have been the same
“ grey hag” who tried to get Ranald of Keppoch
in her power through sweet singing and fair
speaking, that also met Mac Uaraig, or Kennedy
of Lianachan, as he was returning from the
smity one evening with the ploughshare, which
he had been getting repaired. He was on horse
back, and preparing to cross the river Crii at
the ford called “ Croisg,” when this hag suddenly
appeared before him, saying, <lFailt-ort ill dhuibh,
mhoir Mhic Uaraig, am b’fheairrd thu culag.”
— “ A ll hail to the big black son of K ennedy;
would you be the better of a support behind
y o u ? ” A nd on saying that she attempted to
leap behind him on horseback.
He, with a
sudden turn, prevented her, and lifting her
quickly from the shore of the river, he placed
her in front of him, with the ploughshare between
them, saying, “ b’fheairrd agus bialag.” He then
tied her firmly on the back of the beautiful horse
with a charmed woollen band, and he vowed he
would not release her until he showed her in the
presence of men.
“ Let me free,” she cried, and I will give thee
a herd of dappled, white-headed, piebald, and
black kine. I will give thee the charm of the
hunting hills, where thou wilt always be pros
perous, and thou and thy posterity will from
this hour for evermore meet a lucky foot when
going on a journey.” “ A ll that I have already
without thee,” said the ‘Gille Dubh Mòr,’ “ and
so that offer will not serve to set thee free.”
She then replied—
“ Leig as m i ’s fagaidh mi d’ fhonn,
’S an robh mi ’s an tòm a thàmh,
Agus togaidh mi dhuit a nochd
Air an fhoich’ ud thall
4
THE
CELTIC
Tigh mòr daingean dige,
Tigh air noch druigh teine,
Uisge, no saighead, no iarunn,
’S a ghleidheaa tu gu tioram seasgair,
Gun fhiamh, gun eagal, ’s bi Bian ort.”
“ Let me go and I will leave thy lands, in the
hills of which my home has ever been, and I
will build thee a house to-night on yonder
meadow— a large house 1 will build of stone—
a house that cannot be damaged by fire nor
arrow nor iron— a house that will keep thee dry
and warm, without either fear or terror, and in
it thou wilt possess a charm against poison,
unruly men, and fairies.”
“ Fulfil thy vow,”
said he, “ and then I will give thee thy freedom.”
The grey hag then gave a loud and mournful
shriek that was heard over the seven mountains.
One would think it was FingaPs celebrated
“ Corn-na-Feinn^ that had sounded, and there was
not a fairy knowe all around but awakened and
reverberated to that terrible cry. In response
to that call the fairies soon gathered in countless
numbers on the marsh of Lianachan, where they
awaited their instructions from her who sum
moned them.
She arranged hastily, and they
set to work in good order. They brought stones
and flags to her from the waterfall of Clianaig
(a mountain at a considerable distance from
Lianachan), passing them on from hand to hand.
In “ Tom-innis-a-Chladaich” they cut wooden pins
to fix the divots and thatch.
They brought
rafters, side-rafters, and long smooth beams from
the “ Caornach.” N o one could be seen at work,
but all night long the voice of the “ hag” could
be heard crying “ Place one stone above two
stones, and two stones upon one stone, bring
me a pin and a divot, hand me a wattle, give
me of each tree in the wood but birdcherry, who
would not get as they can lay on, and who
would not lay on as they would get.” In the
grey dawn the divots covered the top of the
house.
I t was completed, and smoke issuing
from its chimneys.
Kennedy put the ploughshare in the fire to
guard himself against harm, for he knew the
tricks of the fairies and the spells they used,
and he expected the “ hag” would try to injure
him when he would unloose her. When the
house was finished, and she fulfilled all her
promises, he unloosed her bonds and escaped
from her without suffering injury. She came,
however, to the window of his chamber, and
offering him her hoof-like hand, she wished to
bid him good-bye. He, knowing that it was her
intention if she got his hand to take him to
fairyland, placed the hot ploughshare in her
grasp, the skin of her palm stuck to it, and
enraged, she leaped to the top of a grey stone
that stood in the field to utter maledictions upon
him. She cursed him with the curse of the
MONTHLY.
197
people, and the curse of the dwellers in caves,
and she got the assurance that her wish would
be gratified. “ The doom of your race is, she
cried—
“ To grow like the rushes,
To wither like the bracken,
To be grey in early youth,
To die in the strength of manhood ;
[est,
When you are strongest you shall be weakAnd when you are wealthiest you shall be
fewest.
“ But 1 will not wish that the son may not
succeed the father.
“ I am the bowed down ‘grey hag’ that lived
among the hills so long. I have built a large house
on yonder meadow, and it has put the arrow of
death into my bowels, and now I shall pour out the
blood of my heart upon ‘Sgùr-Fionn-Uiseag’ (the
name of a mountain), upon three bushes of rushes,
and as a witness of my curse and its fulfilment they
will for evermore be red.”
Then as she ceased to speak she went away
in a green flame over the shoulder of the “ Sgùr,”
and the three bushes of rushes on which she
poured out the blood of her heart are red unto
this day.
It has been literally true of this
excellent family that they became early grey,
that their best and noblest died in the hey-day
of their strong manhood, that they were most
numerous when they had but little of wealth,
and that the last of the direct line is the richest.
They were strongest when they were weakest.
Lochaber people — including the last of the
Kennedys of Lianachan— believe thoroughly in
the fulfilment of the doom or prediction uttered
by the grey hag.
The grey hags must be harmless creatures
now. I f iron was their great terror, the twisted
coil throbbing on the brow, and in the bosom
of Ben Nevis, and connecting it with the busy
thoroughfares of the world, must be to them the
very iron that has entered their souls— that has
carried the lightning that flashed upon them
from afar into their homes in the caves of the
rocks. W h o knows what dying agonies the
weird creature may be enduring as that electric
shock passes through the hidden caves so long
their own ?
THE NAME
“ KENNETH.”
Referring to the query of Kenneth Mathieson
IX. in the Celtic Monthly , Vol. XI. p. 00, I refer
him to “ British Family Names,” by Rev. Henry
Barber, M.D., F.S.A., published by Mr. Eliot Stock,
London, this year, in which he will see the follow
ing description of the name
“ Kenneth. Irish
Caoinnach (peaceable man).” 1 may here state that
we have the name Kennethmont in Aberdeenshire
as the name of a village, in the churchyard of which
are many curious epitaphs. The Christian name
Kenneth is not altogether uncommon in Scotland,
but occasionally we hear of it.
S i r ,—
Aberdeen.
ROBERT L
a
W R à NCB,
B L I A D H N A M H A T H UR D H U IB H
T H E G A E L IN CANADA
B
T h a sneachd geal na N o lla ig ’ air mullach Beinn Hough,
A ir Muile nam m<Sr-bheann, ’s air Eilean-a-Cheo,
Bithidh stoirm na bliadhn 5 ùir’ ann am Bealach-na-gaoith’
Ach blàths 'n ar cridhe, a chiVirdean mo ghaoil !
Ged tha sinne's an eilean, ’us sibhse thar sàil\
N a leigibh air di-chuimhne Eilean Chola bhur gràidh,
Och! na leigibh air dl-chuimhnefior-chàirdean bhurn-òig’ ,
’ Us na nlonagan dileas 'tha ’ g ionndrainn bhur peg.
A ir là na bliadhna ùir’ bithidh sinn uile mar b ’ abhaist
’Cur fàilt’ air na càirdean tha dileas dhuinn fhathast,
Cur fh-ilt* air a cheile le aoibhneas ’s le ceol,
Ciann IUeathain, Clann Phàidean, Clann Fhionghain’s
Clann Dhomhnuill.
D
ughall
M
acE a c h t h ig h e a r n a .
N E W Y E A R ’S EVE IN T H E ISLAN D
OF
COLL.
T h e old year is dying : Ben Feall and Ben Hough
A re white as a maiden’ s pure bosom o f snow,
The ice-blast sweeps keen through the Pass o f the Wind ;
But our pulses glow warm and cur greetings are kind.
Can
Can
The
The
the waves of the ocean twin spirits e’er part ?
an Islesman forget the dear Isle o f his heart,
old folks, the youths, and the maidens who miss
warmth of his greeting, his hand-clasp and kiss ?
To-morrow’s N e w Year ! Y o u ’ ll not come as of yore
Full-hearted, full-handed, first-footing our door,
But at night by the fire, while the ocean-storm raves,
I t ’s o f you we’ll be thinking in Coll of the Waves.
D. M ‘Ec h e r n .
B r a w , b r a w l* d s on Y a r r o w braes,
Y e w a n d e r t h r o ’ the b lo o m in ’ heather.
But Y a r r o w b r a e s , n o r K t l r i c k s h a w s .
C a n m a t e h the lads o ’ Cìala W a t e r .
B ra w , b r a w lads !
But t h e r e is a n e , a s e c r e t * n e ,
A b u n e t h e m a ’ I l o ’e h i m b e t t e r ,
A n ' I'll b e hi s a n ’ h e ’ ll b e m i n e .
T h e b o n n i e l a d o' G n l a W a t e r .
B r a w , b r a w l ads.
A l t h o ' his d a d d i e w a s n a e laird,
A n ’ t h o ’ I h a ’e n a e m e i k l e t o c h e r ;
Y e t r i c h in k i n d e s t , t r u e s t l o v e ,
W e ’ ll t e n t o u r H o c k s b v G a l a W a t e r .
B r a w , b r a w lads.
It n e ’e r w a s w e a l t h , it n e ' e r w a s w e a l t h ,
'That c o f t c o n t e n t m e n t , p e a c e , o r p le a s u re ;
T h e b a n d s a n d bliss o m u t u a l l o v e ,
O , that's the chiefest w a r ld s treasure.
B r a w , b r a w lads.
y
A
ncus
M
ackin to sh .
Land dear to tho Canadian's heart,
The olden “ Land of Trees
Kissed by the oceans far apart,
A n d farmed by every breeze.
Full w e ll may w e who breathe thine air,
A n d found in thee a home,
Sing of thee as a country fair,
O ’er which we love to roam.
Thou w ert a refuge sure of } rore
T o the evicted Gael,
And still the lights upon th y shore
A t t r a c t his wayward sail.
Thou gave him of thy virgin soil,
A n d all its treasures free ;
U n gru dgingly lie gave his toil,
H is brain and heart to thee.
Glengarry, given o’er to deer,
A m id unheeded w'oes;
H e made a new Glengarry here,*
T o “ blossom as the rose.”
The foot that never backward stept,
A n d heart as true as steel,
Th at thoughtless A lb yn could have kept,
W e re thine through woe and weal.
T h y lakes expanding wide as seas,
U n til no shores are seen ;
T h y prairies, like to boundless leas,
Th at roll in waves of green ;
T h y forests dark, that stretch away
In to the frozen North,
Oft lured him far afield to stray,
A n d venturesome go forth.
Mackenzie trod thy trackless wilds
From sea to distant sea ;
Macdonald laid a track § across
A continent for thee.
A n d footprints of the Gael are found
On mountains, plains, and strands,
From Portal to the A rctic north,
W h ere F ort Macpherson stands.
His sons, inured to heat and cold,
Spread o’ er thy vast domain,
Resourceful, hardy, faithful, bold,
In every pinch and strain.
And now the sinew, head, and arm,
Th at work the farm and mine,
Should foemen threaten thee with harm,
Or troubles come, are thine.
But thou, fair Canada, hast drawn
From many lands the strong,
T o form the race of coming da}rs
That shall to thee belong.
A race, w e pray, that shall be like
That leal and loyal hand, j|
That bravely fought in Africa
F or the loved Motherland.
*
Duthaich nan Craobh of the early Highland emi
grants.
X A typical settlement of Highlanders in Ontario.
§ The Canadian Pacific Railway, put through mainly
by the energy and statesmanship of Sir J. Macdonald.
The Canadians that volunteered for the Boer W ar.
G i n a b o d v m e e t a bod\
C o in in ' t h r o ’ the rve,
d i n a b o d v kiss a bod v,
N o e c i a b o d v c r y '*
Ilka lassie has her laddie,
N a n e , t h e v s a y , h a ' e I,
Y r t à ’ t h e l a d s t h e v s m i l e at m e
W h e n coinin' thro' the rye.
*
+
(iin a b od y meet a body
C oinin' frae the town,
( i i 11 a b o d v m e e t a b o d v
N e e d a b o d *v f r o w n ?
I l k a I.issie has h e r la d d i e ,
N a n e , t h e y s a y , h a ’ e I,
Y e t a ’ t h e l a d s t h e v .smile at m e
W h e n co in in ’ thro' the rve.
A i n a n ^ t h e t r a i n t h e r e is a s w a i n
I d e a r l y lo o m v s o ! ' ;
But w h a t hi s n a m e , o r w h e r e hi s h a i n e ,
I d i n n a c a r e I «> tell.
Ilka lassie has her laddie,
N a n e , t h e y s a y , h a ' e I,
Y e t a ’ the l a d s t h e y s m ile al m e
W h e n c o i n i n ’ t h r o tin* r y e .
O S S I A N ’S G R A V E .
Sir,— F o r the benefit of those who cannot bring
themselves to believe either that Fingal ever fought
or that Ossian ever sang, I should like to refer to the
matter of Ossian’s Grave. There is a large block of
stone, rising about seven feet, situated between the
public road and the river in Glen Almond, Perthshire,
in the “ Sma’ Glen,” o r upper part of Glen Almond,
and about half w a y between Ib e rt and the bridge
leading to Amulree. N ea r the stone is a turf-covered
mound, about three feet in height and eight feet long,
presenting the appearance of a human grave. A l l this
is within a few yards of the margin of the river, and a
semi-circular bank of stones and turf bands it from the
rest of the haugh on which it stands. I once tried to
get some local tradition of this monumental arrange
ment ; but I wras told that rural depopulation has left
none o f the original inhabitants.
In re-reading a
chapter of Logan’s “ Scottish Gael,” however, I have
just come on the following reference:— “ W h e n General
W ad e, in the operation oi making roads, had to remove
Clachan Ossian, about four-score indignant Highlanders,
in becoming solemnity, carried off his bones, with pipes
playing, and deposited them within a circle of large
stones, in the wilds of W estern Glen Anion.’’ (Page 239,
vol. ii.) A cross-th e river is a high rocky eminence
which I have seen referred to as “ Fingal's F o r t.”
Glen Devon.
K
enneth
M
atheson
IX .
O
•
' *
1
:
•
«
f* .
. t
. v.
THE
r'>^
C E L T IC
gave them notice several days before our antici
pated arrival, of the probable date of our coming.
Therefore, wherever we came, we found that
the invariable dish of mutton and peas was
ready as soon as our bicycles were seen on the
horizon.
A\ e always found our bedrooms in
order, fresh water in the basins on our washhand-stands, and everyone ready to afford “ first
accommodation
to the travellers.
However,
when we had washed, and changed our clothes,
and stepped out into the porch, the question
invariably arose— “ W hat to d o ? ”
(T o be confirmed.)
v
!
•*
THE
j
D IN G W A LL MOD
By C
c r l ia n a
A SKETCH
.
Let the pibroch resound
W i t h a blast full and glorious,
T o mountains and glens
A n d heroes victorious,
T o hardihood and strength,
A n d brave chiefs and champions,
A n d everything that’s Highland
In the land o'er the Grampians.
f
’H E R E are many royal burghs in Scotland
with half the population of Dingwall,
and there are many larger towns with
half its annual commerce.
That stagnation
which is the product of intermarriage and the
prominence of the “ native,” is not here
apparent.
Most of its business men are
immigrants, and there is accordingly an absence
of that exclusiveness which is so characteristic
a feature of our small Scottish communities.
Dingwall is the centre and emporium of a wide
and varied district, which is washed on the east
by the waters of the German Ocean, and on the
west by the rolling waves of the Atlantic. The
country it serves may thus be said to stretch
“ From the orient gates of da}’
T o where the sunset sleeps upon the western sea.
It embraces much diversity of scene, from the
sylvan beauty of Strathpefler to the high
mountains of Kintail, beneath whose shadow
our king has twice stood within recent years
and wondered why his people went to Switzer
land. However it may be in winter, the
county town of Ross is a busy place in
summer. It was especially so in those two bril
liant days of September when the Highland
M od held there its annual symposium.
The M od is to the Scottish Highlands what
the Pjisteddfod is to Wales. It was established
by
A FEW EN TH U SIASTIC CELTS
about fourteen years ago, to promote the culti
vation of the Gaelic language, literature, and
music, and to propagate a knowledge of its
history and culture. It is sectless and creedless,
*«to 4
>
' A
, *
IMI
*• ><*-
MONTHLY.
7
and its freedom from political and ecclesiastical
bonds has undoubtedly been one of the chief
factors iu its progress and development. It is
not so in Ireland, whither the Celtic movement
has since spread. In the Emerald Isle it is
covertly, if not openly, associated with politics,
and on that account, though the Irish is a
younger society, it has outstripped in magnitude
its Scottish prototype. It is not a little curious
that while
POLITICS WOULD POISON T I I E SCOTTISH
ASSOCIATION,
in Ireland they are as the breath of its nostrils.
This became very evident at the opening
ceremony in Dingwall, when, in presence of a
mixed political audience, an Irish delegate
explained how they had captured Dublin
Castle, though with what dire results to the
Saxon he did not state. The Whigs and Tories
in the crowded Dingwall assembly had mani
festly never before heard of this extraordinary
feat. It surprised them, and they listened in
silence. But when the delegate seriously
advised the Highlanders to follow the Irish
example by capturing Edinburgh, and com
pelling the Lowlander to speak in Gaelic, it
became too much for the proverbial solemnity
of the Scottish Celt, and he indulged in a
hearty laugh. Home Rule clearly marks the
path of the Irish movement, and it will live or
die as part of that political propaganda.
The Dingwall Mod was in every respect a
success. The main street of the little town for
two clays
and nights
was filled with
«/
o
“ Everything that’s Highland
In the land o’er the Grampians.”
Philabegs and tartans, sporrans, dirks, and
sgian-dubhs; stalwart men and pretty High
land maidens with pretty Highland accents—
all very interesting and picturesque— were
there, and every Highland thing was there,
except the Lochaber axe, which went out of
fashion about the ’45.
T H E CO U NTESS OF CIIOM ARTIE
was queen of the M od— very graceful, very
gracious— but, alas, without one syllable of the
old speech of her fathers. Her dainty head
hung down, and her liquid eyes seemed to melt
for shame, as she made the sorrowful confession
in the presence of those fiery Irish delegates.
But she made atonement by an excellent
address in English, and all the Gaels were
mollified when she told them of some wise men
whom she had met in America who had mani
fested a deep interest in the language of Eden.
Then she marched behind the pipers to the
banquet hall, and patiently sat through a
luncheon and toast list, and was altogether a
popular queen.
THK
SIR
WALTER
CELTIC
SCOTT.
N ot long ago it was my fortune to meet an
aged gentleman who had known Sir W alter
Scott. I was invited to have tea with him by
one who knew of m y interest in the great
Scottish writer. It was a curious experience,
to sit in the quiet drawing room and to listen
to talk about Scott from one who had seen and
spoken with him. “ And do you remember him
d istin ctly /' I asked, “ with his limp and his
white hair and his Scottish accent?” “ I see him
before me now as plainly as if he stood in the
room, ’ was the reply. I could not help recalling
B row ning’s lines to one who had seen another
great poet—
“ A h , did you once see Shelley plain,
A n d did he stop and speak to you ?
A n d did you speak to him again ?
H o w strange it seems, and new ! ”
If there is an ideal jo y that I have coveted,
it is to have seen and talked with W alter Scott.
T o have known him through his works “ as in a
glass darkly ” has been one of the greatest
delights of my existence.
Life without Scott
would be a poor thing to me. From the days
when I spelt out the pages of the Tales o f a
Grandfather till now, he has been the chief
source of m y happiness.
“ M uch have I owed th y strains on life’s long way,
Through secret woes the world has never known,
W h e n on the weary night dawned wearier day,
A n d bitterer was the grief devour’d alone.”
I have read S cott’s poems and romances
amongst the heather on the mountain side,
and on the mossy banks of Highland lochs, and
on the rocks washed b y the clear waves of the
sea, and amid the din of towns and cities.
Everywhere alike they have the same inexhaust
ible and romantic charm. He has glorified our
dear native land with a light of romance that
will never fade. I never find myself in any
place of which he has written that is not
invested with a new interest because of its
association with him.
Even at the Cross of
Glasgow, in spite of all the recent changes
dictated by altered conditions and in spite of
all the stir of modern life, I never look at the
old Tron and Tolbooth Steeples without seeing
with the mind’s eye you n g M orton of Milnwood
riding along the Gallowgate, or Bailie Nicol
Jarvie traversing the plainstanes.
One more has been added to the books about
Scott by the publication of a volume b y Mr.
A ndrew Lang. Mr. Lang says that his book is
intended for those who do not care to read
Lochhart’s great biography.
Even to those,
however, who have perused Lockhart’s book,
there is much in Mr. Lang’s interesting volume
MONTHLY
189
\vrhich will be new. Familiar facts are treated
in novel aspects. Fresh light is thrown 0 1 1 wellknown incidents.
The writer comes, as he
says, from Scott’s own countryside and has
worked over much of his historical ground,
and he has thus an advantage over writers
who have learnt about their subject from books
alone.
I will candidly confess that to me one of the
most interesting passages in Scott’s life is the
story of his unhappy passion. This story is
dealt with b y Mr. Lang more fully than by
Lockhart. In his youth he loved the daughter
of Sir John Stewart Belches of Invermay.
She never really returned his attachment, and
in the end she married some one else. “ Three
years of dreaming,'’ he says, “ and two of
wakening.” The story is an obscure one, but
in his poem “ The V iolet,” he speaks of “ my
false love.” The scar remained in his heart
till the end, and he said that he always, in later
life, dreamed of his lost love before any great
misfortune. I 11 age and sickness, after years of
happy married life with wife and children, his
journal shows that his thoughts ran much on her
memory. Her name, although she had been
long dead, “ still had power to stir his heart.”
Here and there in his works he permits us to
have a slight glimpse of his inner self. W hen
we read in 1lob Roy the description of Diana
V ernon’s farewell caress to Osbaldistone, as she
stoops from her saddle in the dark, before
riding into the night, we recognise that only
one who had truly loved could write it. Sir
Philip Sydney says in one of his sonnets that
of all the kings of England he most admired
Edward the Fourth, because he risked his
kingdom to marry Lady Elizabeth Grey.
I think I should revere Sir W alter Scott for
this chapter in his life, if for no other.
Mr. Lang does full justice to the fine courage
and endurance of Scott. U nder a brave exterior
he concealed a sensitive heart. He was often
pierced b y the arrows of outrageous fortune.
Y et he rarely uttered a complaint. W hen in
his old age the riches he had coined b y his brain
took wings and fled away, there is no unmanly
repining, 1 1 0 peevish melancholy.
He might
have said with his own Baron of Bradwardine,
<<men and houses have stood long enough, if
they stand till they fall with honour.”
His
example is an inspiration to weaker men. T o
read how he stood erect amidst the ruin of his
fortunes is a perpetual lesson in courage. But
his life is full of noble lessons, and Mr. Lang’s
delightful work is welcome as one more
tex t-b ook in patriotism and nobility of
character for the instruction of the present
generation.
J. A. L o v a t - F r a s e r ,
THE
O S S IA N
CONTKOVEKSY,
9
John MacDonald, Schoolmaster
and
Soldier,
1 7 7 0 -1 8 3 0 .
The Autobiographical Journal of John
MacDonald.
I was born in the parish of Crai^nisli, in
the shire ol Argyle, North Brituiu. ” My pre
decessors for soms* years back were gardtMw'rs
tc> a very ancient family of th© name of
Campbell, whoso seat gave name to the
p*u imi, viz.* tbo Ca.stle oi Orui^nish
JVIy
father hud ten children of whom” ! was the
youngest.
A t tho ago of fourteen MacDonald
started teaching at Scarba, thence to
K illian to teach the farm er’s children.
Later 0 11 ho went to Lochaweside.
It
was hero that ho began learning the pipey,
o f which ho rapidly became a proficient
player. Before being sent to Sutherlandshiie by the S .P .C .K ., he had conducted
the charity schools of Stralachlan and
Strachur. Dominie McDonald then threw
down tlie tawse, and, shouldered the
bagpipes; he took part in the memor
able defence o f Gibraltar, and remained
with the R oay Fencibles until 1796. His
Colonel, on parting with him, recommended him to the attention of his wife,
Mrs Louisa M acKay, daughter of Colin
Campbell,
Glenure,
Bighouse.
To
Sutherlandshire he accordingly journeyed,
andi after being schoolmaster in various
schools, he eventually finished his days at
Tongue, in the house of his stepson, in
the eightieth year of his age. Such in
brief is the history of an obscure but
honoui'able and patriotic Highlander,
given in his own words and in the fon n
o f a journal. The book is edited b y Rev.
Angus M acK ay,
M .A ., U nited Free
Manse, Westerdalo, Caithness, who writes
the preface. The volume has ono or two
good illustrations, and is published by
Norm an Macleod, 25 George I V . Bridge,
Edinburgh, and in Canada by E. M acK ay,
P e t e r s Madoe, Ontario.
W hen the R ev. A . M acK ay, M .A .,
W es tor dale, Caithness, was collecting
material for his “ H istory of the MacK ays,” he cam© across an interesting
autobiographical journal kept by John
M acDonald, a schoolmaster and a soldier,
from 1770 to 1830. M acDonald was a
teacher in Sutherlandshire. In 1776 he
joined the D uke of G ordon’s North
Fencibles. H e went through the siege
o f Gibraltar, and, was in India and China,
and upon hi9 discharge in 1797 he re
turned to Sutherland and resumed teach
ing, H e left a journal in English, and
M r M acK ay, upon the advice o f several
friends, has decided to publish the work.
CELTIC LITERARY NOTES.
“ Guth na Bliadhna ” for the present quarter
(November) completes the third volume. Its
contents are varied, and several of the Gaelic
articles are of more than average interest,
and value.
It is evident “ Guth na
Bliadhna” has come to stay. “ The Auto
biographical Journal of John MacDonald,
Schoolmaster and Soldier, 1770-1830,” just pub
lished by Norman MacLeod, Edinburgh, should
be of interest to Argyllshire folk, as this
schoolmaster and piper was a native of Craignisb, Argyll, and taught schools at Killian,
near Inveraray, and at Strachur. Ilis life was \
an eventful one.
u
\
I>r. K. N. Macdonald, of Edinburgh, de
clared, in th© exhaustive series of articles
he contributed recently to “ The Oban
Times,” that the question of the authenticity
oi Ossian s Poems was not yet finally settled
in lavour of Mac-pherson’s critics. Mr George
y,e Todd, th© well-known Scottish writer
seems to sharo that opinion. Lecturing in
Glasgow last week on “ Tho Great Ossianic
Question,” h© dealt with the earlier chapters
ot the controversy in connection with the
authenticity of Macpherson’s translations of
Ossian, and showed how, in the light of
a modern literary knowledge, the averments
of Macpherson’s critics, Dr. Johnson in par
ticular, had been proved to be without founnnhl^V -w® qr 0tf^ from eer,y and recently
published Gaelic literature, which contained
poems and episodes utilised by Macpherson,
which he claimed disposed of Dr. Johnson’s
rash assertion as to the non-existence of an
cient Gaelic poetry and books. With regard
to the more recent criticism of Professor
A
MnM
M
ri
S'
Smart’
Dr.
A. Alacbam, Mr Eyre Todd urged that these
were in great part recapitulations of tho
arguments of the earlier critics. Any altera
tions in the original effected bv Macpherson
were no more than were allowable according
to the literary canons of translation which
existed in his rlay. The translations had
exercised a very important influence in the
J K o m a n t i c m o v e m e n t i n TCn rr\r\£x*jt n
a
OUR
M USICAL
PAGE.
T h e following is one of the best known songs
of Duncan Ban MacIntyre, the Hunter Bard of
Then wild heath forests, fare-you-well,
\ e wonderful bright hills;
G enorchy. Duncan was born at I)runnhaghart,
Glenorchy, in March 1/24.
lie was six years
in the Breadalbane Fencibles, holding the rank
of sergeant. "When the regiment was broken
• i r-nn t\
i
r -1
f*'*.
up m 1*99, Duncan hecame one ot the LityGuard of Edinburgh.
In September 1802,
when 78 years of age, he visited his favourite
mountain, Ben Dorain, and composed the
song, which he called his “ Last Farewell
to the Hills.”
I t has been rendered into
English by Thomas Pattison, by Principal
Shairp of St. Andrews, and by Robert Buchanan.
The following is Pattisorfs rendering of the
last verse of this song :—
Farewell the running rills,Farewell vast desorts, mountains grand,
With peaks the clouds that sever;
Scenes of past pleasures pure and bland—
Farewell, farewell tor ever !
r \i
i
n
i
. n
•
i-
i
,
Farewell sweet spring and grassy d ell—
“ Duncan Ban of the songs” died in Edinburgh in May 1812, aged 88 years. He was
buried in Greyfriar's Churchyard, where a handsome monument was erected to his memory by
his admirers. The first edition of his poems
was published in 1768. His spouse, “ Màiri
bhàn òg,” to whom he composed one of the
finest love songs in the Gaelic language, sleeps
beside the Bard.
riO N N .
i
C K A 1) -1) K 1 R K A N X A C H
i
NAM
li E A N X .
t
(The Last Farewell to the Hills.)
K e y («.
V
V
M o d tra to .
l
: (a,)
n:-. n | r : - .d
1, :— ! d:- .1,
Bha mi'n de 'm Beinn-
Dòrain,
s,: 1, | s, : s,
’s 'na eòir cha robh mi
m
, : s, | s, /
aineolach,
i
\
:(.si)
{
n : - . n | r : - .d
t ’hunnaie mi na
1, : —
| d : - .1,
s, : - . l | | d : n
gleanntan, ’s na
beanntaichean a
r : d
| d
haithne dhomh
I
t
\
: si
IVe
{
:s
d : - . l ! | s, : - . l |
sin
d : —
| d: - .d
an sealladh ribhinn,
1 : 1
| 1: - .s
n : —
’g inieaehd air na
| r : - .d
_____________________________________________________________________ _
Pibroch. The notes were taken down by Mr.
Malcolm MacFarlane from the singing of Mr.
M O LAD H
sltfibhtean,
d.l,: —
| 1,
_
_
_
_
_
_
__________________________________________"
•
John Cameron, a native of Ballachulish. The
words will be found in any edition of the bard s
poems so that it is unnecessary to give them
here.
rlON •
B E IN N
DORAIN.
A n t-u rU r.
Id. d
: d . r In :f.m lr
A n t-urram thar gach beinn aig Beinn Dòr
{
I
Mo shoraidh leis na frithean,
O, ’s miorbhuilteach na beannan iad,
Le biolair' uaine ’s fìor-uisg’,
Deoch uasal riomhach cheanalta ;
Na blàran a tha priseil,
'S na fàsaichean ’tha Honmhor,
° > ’s ait a leiS nii dhiom ilul :
<h\ bràth mo mlnle beannachd leo \
n a H E following is a setting of Duncan Ban
M acIntyre’s famous poem in praise of
Ben Dorain— which is in the form of a
Id
| n
Fliuair mi greis am àrach
Air àiridhean a baithne dhomh,
Ri cluiche ’s mire ’s mànran,
’S 'bhi 'n caoimhneas blàth nan caileagan ;
Bu chùis ’an aghaidh nàduir
Ou’m maireadh sin an dràsd’ ann,
‘S e ’b eigin ’bhi ’g am fàgail
'Nuair thàinig tràth dhuinn dealachadh.
'S togarach a dh'fhalbhainn
Gu sealgaireachd nam bealaichean,
’ Dol moch a dliìreadh garbhlaich
’S gu’m b’ anmoch 'tighinn gu baile mi ;
An t-uisge glan ’s am fitile
T h air mullach nam beann àrda,
Chuidich e gu fàs mi :
'S e ’rinn domh slàinte 's fallaineachd.
^
r : - . r | n : — .r
m: —
's a bhiodh na feidh a’ langanaich.
’S aobhaeh a ghreidh uallach,
’Nuair gbluiseadh iad gu faruniach ;
’S na h-èildean air an fhuaran,
Bu chuanar na laoigh bhallach ann ;
Na maoisleichean's na ruadh-bhuic,
Na coilich-dhubha ’s ruadha,
’S en ceòl ’bu bhinne ’chualas
'Nuair chluinnt ’am fuaim ’s a chamhanaich.
________________________
1, : - . s , | d : - . r
'bhi
‘Nuair bhiodh a’ ghrian ag eirigh,
Gleus. F.
I
n!n
: n . s |1
Monàdh
facia
ròidh,
Id : . r
-
n.n : n. s |1 : s . n
r
Id :
J
ain ; Na chunnaic mi fo ’n ghrùin, ’S i bu bhòidhclie leam ;
s.n:m.m|s
li.li
: li.d In : f . n
r
Id :
C u i l e ’m faighteadh Kidh, Soilleireachd an t-slèibh Bha mi sònrachadh.
Ktc.
Dal segno dà uair, agus an sin, Da capo.
)
A n siubhal.
Id
d
d :d
In :d :d
d :l, :1, I r
-S i ’n eilid bheag bhinneach Bu ghuiniche sraonadh,
:d.,d d :d :d
In :d :d
d : 1, : 1,1r
Le cuinnean genr bioraeh a' ureadh na gaoithe,
dj
, * •
'
.L\
I
>,
U cvi.V*'i>i.VSA ^« ìui.i-1-î.* V» *■>\s'< I1
* - V* » 'i '*Wj. \'- t i •
i k• . * V
(
:S:
I
d
•
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■
JH U i —
* 4 "'
“
ì
:d
:d
|n
:n
:n
f : f : f | s : s : s l : l : s | n : r : n
d
: I, : l f I r
U- ì
: d/
Gasganach, speireach Feadh chreachainn na beinne, Le eagal roimh theine, Cha teirinn i ’n t-aonach;
(,s
1
:1
:s
|n
:r
:m
I d : 1,: 1, | r
:d
Ged thèid i na cabhaig, Cha ghearain i maothan.
|
Etc.
Dal segno aon uair ague an sin, Da capo.
A n c r u n 4 u a th .
d . d
Tha n
:
eilid
{• d
:
| n . d
d
anna
I d . d
leanadh
A
.
d
a*
d
.
i
: d . d
ghleannan
d
mar
so,
.
d
Cha’n
1,
:
am a da n
! m . d : d . d [ d
b’ aithne dha Tigh ’nn
.
1,
1,
gun
. 1,
:
1,
f ar asd a
.
|r
: d
eòl
1,
9ua
-
as
Ir
: d
c 6 m h d h a i 1;
j:S:
}
^
d . d
Gu
}
:
f aiteach
d . d
bhi
I n . n
’na
: n . n,n
f
h-earalas T ig h ’nn am
.
f
:
f a i sg e
f . f
dhi
| s . s
mu’n
:s
caraich
/
i,
/
^•s
1
Gu
• 1
:
1
.
faicilleach,
s
i n . r
r . m
d
.
1,
:
gle
e a r r a i g e a c h Mu’m f a i r i c li
1,
.
i
1,
’ga
|r
: d
còir
e.
Etc.
Dal segno se uairean agus an sin, Da capo.
200
THE
C E L T IC
M ONTHLY.
♦
4
t j j G_ f r . . 7 r
O U R
M U S I C A L
P A G E .
u~
,!
(
t
Tha bnaidh air an uisge-bheatJi .
T he following song is said to be the composition of Iain Mac Mhurchaidh, the Kintail bard.
A variant of the song appears in The Celtic
Magazine , ^ ol. I., 1875-6, p. 337.
In that
version, the final verse of the chorus reads
“ Bu mhath la teth is fuar e.” In verse I., “ Ian
na curraigh ” reads “ Ian a’ ghuraich ” ; and a
version which I have heard sung has “ làn na
gusgaig.” But I have been unable to discover
what any of these words mean.
There are
important, as well as unimportant, differences
between the two versions. This is the longer
of the tw o ; and is .taken from a MS. copy of
Gaelic Songs of Kintail, written from the recitation of old people of the district, by Alexander
Matheson, ship-owner, Dornie, now in the hands
of Mr. A. R. Forbes, Edinburgh. The tune
was taken down by myself from the voice of
Mr. John Cameron1, a native of Ballachulish.
C. M. P.
Sei*.
(ileus G.
\
f
^
d
.
s I s
Tha buaidh
/
I
I | S|.,S,
air an
. sI f
I
uisge-bheath' ; Tha
: s i ., 1 1
sI
huaidh
air
nach
| d .,
r
in.,
J
coir
a
ch leth ;
Fine.
ì r
Tha
d
1 1 ., 1 1
.
huaidh
air
an
1 1 ., 1 1 . f i
s i , s ,,
uisge - hheath*;
\S
. n .,
r
ro-mhath teth is
| d
; d .,
fuar
e.
| n, r
: d .,
Hnnn.
II
*
, d
Am
r.,
fear
r
:
a
n.
n
| s.,
bhios air
s
: s . , s
thuraban
A’
1.
1
: s ., m
smaoincachdainn a
h-uile
J
nul,
/
t
ì
n . c.
, a
Gu‘ni
r.
r
:
b‘ fheairrd*
m.
f
I
s. ,
s
e hin na curraigh
: s. ,
f
Gus a
n.
d
mliulad
: f.,
n
a chur
| r
: f.,
uaidhe.
;
i
✓
'2. ’S am fear a thubhairt le anbharra
Gu'm b’ ole a’ ehaitheadli-aimsir c,
N a m faigheadh e gun airgead e
Clia dealaicheadh c cho luath ris.
0. Ta trie a’ folhh ’nam ònar mi,
\S mi ehuideaehd air na smeòraiehean ;
'S e siod a dh’ fhàg cho eòlach mi
A ir stòpan na tè ruaidhe.
3. Bu nihath do fliear an eallaich c
(in direadh bheann is bhealaichean ;
’S gu’n traoghadh e li'iths analaoh
Gu t ’ fhàgail fallan, fuasgailt’.
7. Bidh uisge teth an coir’ aea ;
Siùcar goal na chnapaiehean ;
la fear 'na shuidhc taice ris
’Ga chur 'na lasair uaine.
4. Is aitline dhomli co dh’ nladh e :
Luehd-fearainn-shaoir is drobliairean ;
N a ceannaichean ’s na h-ùsdairean ;
\S cha tugadh seòltair fuatli dha.
S. Bn mhath a’ ehuideaehd oidhche e
Gu lcapaichean nam maighdeannan ;
Is ioniadh maiso loinn a th’ air
Gu oaoimhncas a thoirt uatha.
I
f». Tr math thu gu cur sprireid
Anns an fhear a bhilheas eisleineaeh :
Leighiseas e an drideadh,
’S ni c feum do fhear na euartuich.
B*e siod an diiilnach calanacli
A dh‘ fhàs gu muirneaeh eireachdail;
Tha t ’ àite cùmhmudli goireasach
An seilear nan daoin-uaislc.
&
HOW
ST.
P H Y S IC IA N S ,
FILLAN
AND
K IN TA IL
BECAME
M ADE
THE
THE
STRONG A N D
GREATEST
IN H A B IT A N T S
OF
OF
HEALTHY.
W hile St. Fillan was travelling on a pilgrimage
in France with a hazel staff from Kintail in his
hand, he went one day into the house of an
alchemist. The alchemist told the Saint he
would give him a fortune if he would bring him
to France what was under the sod where the
hazel staff grew. U pon being questioned by
St. Fillan the alchemist explained that under
that sod there was a white serpent, of which he
wished very much to get possession. St. Fillan
then undertook to go in search of the serpent,
and the alchemist gave him the necessary
instructions how to capture it. W hen St. Fillan
reached the spot where the hazel staff had been
cut, at the north-east end of Loch Long, he
kindled a fire and placed a pail of honey near
it. The warmth of the tire soon brought a large
number of serpents out of their holes, and among
them the white serpent, which was their King.
Being attracted by the smell of the honey, the
white serpent crawled into the pail. Fillan then
seized the pail and ran away with it, followed by
an ever-increasing number of serpents, anxious
to rescue their King. The Saint knew he would
not be safe from their pursuit until he had
crossed seven running streams of water. The
river Elchaig was the seventh stream on his
way, and when he crossed it he felt that he was
now safe. W hen he reached the top of a small
hill called Tulloch nan deur (the hill of tears)
he paused for a short rest, and composed a Gaelic
hymn or song, of which the following verse is
all that appears to be known—
’S mi ’m sheasidh air Tulloch nan deur,
Gun chraicionn air meur na bonn,
Ochadan ! a raigh nan rann,
’S fhada *n Fhraing bho cheann Loch Long.*
St. Fillan then continued his journey, and
when he arrived at the end of it, the alchemist
took the pail containing the honey and the
serpent, put it in a cauldron to boil, and left
the Saint alone for a little to watch over it,
giving him instructions at the same time that if
he saw any bubbles rising to the surface he was
on no account to touch them. The alchemist
was not long gone when a bubble rose, and
Fillan thoughtlessly put his finger on it. As
the bubble burst it gave out such a burning heat
that he suddenly drew his finger back and put
it in his mouth to allay the pain, but no sooner
did he do so than he felt himself becoming
possessed of miraculous healing powers. This
was how St. Fillan became the greatest physician
of his age. The alchemist intended to get this
power from the white serpent for himself, but
when he returned to his cauldron he found that
all the virtue had gone out of it. St. Fillan then
returned to Kintail with his newly-acquired
power, which he used among the people in such
a way that in watching over their spiritual
health he remembered their bodily health also,
and so made them strong and well-favoured
among their neighbours.
HOW
ELLANDONAN
CASTLE _CAMK T O „ B
In olden times there lived in Kintail a wealthy
chief of the same race as the Mathesons, who
had an only son. W hen the son was born he
received his first drink out of the skull of a
raven, and this gave him the power to understand
the language of birds. H e was sent to Rome
for his°education, and became a great linguist.
W hen he returned to Kintail his father asked
him one day to explain what the birds were
saying.
“ They are saying/’ replied the son,
“ that one day you will wait upon me as my
servant.'' The father was so annoyed at this
explanation that he turned his son out of the
house. The son then joined a ship which was
bound for France.
Having learned on his
arrival in France that the K ing was very
greatly annoyed and disturbed by the chirping
of birds about the palace, he went and offered
to help the King to get rid of them. The King
accepted the offer, and the adventurer explained
to him that the birds had a quarrel among
themselves, which they wished the K ing to
settle for them. By the help of his visitor the
K ing succeeded in settling the dispute to the
entire satisfaction of the birds, and was troubled
by them no more. In gratitude for this relief
the K ing gave his deliverer a fully-manned ship
for his own use, and with this ship he sailed to
far distant lands, but no land was so distant
that he could not understand and speak the
language of the people.
On one occasion, in the course of a very long
voyage, he met a native King, whom he greatly
pleased with his interesting conversation. The
King invited him to dine at the royal palace,
but when he got to the palace he found it was
so infested with rats that the servants had the
very greatest difficulty in keeping them away
from the table.
Next time the adventurer
visited the palace he brought a cat from the
ship with him, under his cloak, and when the
rats gathered round the table he let the cat
loose among them. The King was so pleased
with the way in which the cat drove the rats
away, that in exchange for the cat he gave his
guest a hogshead full of gold. W ith this gold
the wanderer returned to Kintail, after an
absence of seven years, and anchored his ship
at Totaig. The arrival of such a r agnificent
ship caused a considerable sensation, and when
the owner presented himself at his father’s house,
as a man of rank from a distant country, he was
received with great hospitality. His father, who
failed to recognise him, waited upon him at
table, and thus fulfilled the prophecy of the
birds. The son then made himself known to his
father, and a birth-mark he bore between his
shoulders proved his identity to the entire satis
faction of the people, who received him with
enthusiasm, as the long lost heir. His ability
and knowledge of the world afterwards brought
him into the favour and confidence of King
Alexander II., who commissioned him to build
Ellandonan Castle to protect the K ing’s subjects
in those parts against the encroachments of the
Danes.
_
^Standing 011 the hill of tears with skinless soles
and toes,
Alas 1 O King of verses, far is France from the head
of Loch Long,
I'V
“ The Celt in English F iction,” was the
subject o f an address by M r A . J. M orri
son, M .A ., at the opening for the session I
of the Aberdeen University Celtic Society.
M r Morrison gave a vivid outline of Celtic
influence in Scott and R . L . Stevenson,
showing that Scott's interest in the Celt
was based on his interest in the C elt’s
historical setting, while Stevenson treated i
Celtic character with too much “ artistic !
aloofness ” to admit of really intimate \
insight.
Th© novels o f W illiam Black
•were shown to reveal the truo pensive 1
spirit of the Celt, although, however, that
writer was not entirely free from tho
charge of inaccuracy in local colouring. In
conclusion, M r Morrison, after touching on
Hall C aines contribution to the representa
tion of Celtic spirit and character, paid a
high tribute to the deep insight a«nd warm
sympathy exhibited by Neil M unro in his
Celtic novels. Munro was himself a Celt
born and bred, and so was enabled to
realise in his portraiture that mysticism
and religious fervour which characterise
Celt.
DUNCAN BAN M ACIN TYRE A N D GLENORCHY.
COMUNN
G A ID H E A LA C H
OBAIN.
DONACHADH
BAN
MAC
AN
AN
M id-way in the concert programme, the Rev.
J. Calder delivered au oration on the bard. M r :
Calder paid that standing one day at the head of j
Glenorchy, a friend remarked to him that it was
the finest glen in the Highlands, with the single
possible exception of Glen Urquhart.
There is
the pervading charm of lonely places,—
T -S A O I R
C E L E B R A T IO N .
Lndar the auspices of the local branch of A n
Na biaireun a tha prisoii.
Na fùnaiotiean ’lba lionmhcir,
I Comunn Uaidhealach, a Gaelic concert, in eommemoration of the birth of the Lorn bard, Duncan
and the silence spoken of by Hood “ in green ruins
wnere man hath been, there the true silence is
self conscious and alone.” B u t the sound of falling
‘ ‘ water borne upon the breeze makes music even
in wide desert where no life is fo u n d ” ; and in
spite of m an’s doings and misdoings in the past,
tlie sun “ waltzes it over ben and glen and meadow.” The glen is not without early poetical
associations.
Here Deirdre, according to the unknown bard, spent some time in her wanderÌDgs,
Bàn M acIntyre, was held in the Argyllshire
Gathering H alls, Oban, on Friday evening last.
M r R.
B.
Stoddart Maclellan of M elfort pre
sided, and he was accompanied to the platform j
by M rs Stoddart Maciellan, R e f . J. Calder, J
Tyndrum ; ex - Provost MaeCowan, Councillor
M acC allum , M r A . M unn, M r John MacDonald,
and M r H ugh MacDonald.
attendance.
There was a large
GV'nn Urchiiin.
Ba hi In glenn diriui? ororncbain
Nochor’ xitvllcha fer a aoisl
Na Naoi*e an Glenn Urchain.
THE C H A IR M A N ’ S SPEECH,
j
A fte r a selection had been played by a band of |
pipers the Chairman addressed the gathering.
M r Maclellan, who apologised for speaking in
English 011 account of his knowledge of Gaelic
being limited, said the concert was arranged not
only for the purpose of commemorating the birth- i
day of the bard, but also in order to secure funds 1
to provide prizes for the preliminary competitions I
in connection with the annual Mòd. In all its
( work the aim of the Comunn Gaidhealach was I
the preservation and advancement of the language
| of their forefathers. (Applause.) A n d the pre- I
servation of the Gaelic language was a thing that I
entirely depended upon Highlanders themselves.
N o School Board, not even an A c t of Parliament,
could preserve a language if the speakers of that
language themselves did not wish to do so.
(Applause.) Its existence depended entirely on
its usage by Gaelic speakers on every possible I
occasion.
H e urged on Gaelic speakers to make
use of Gaelic wherever they could to the young I
people, as that was one of the best methods of ensur
ing that their loved language might be handed on
to posterity.
(Applause.)
The more it was
| spoken, the more it was heard, the more interest
; people took in it— the more clearly did the I
beauties of the language dawn upon them. It
had often been advanced as an argument against I
the Gaelic by those pseudo-utilitarians who did i
not take any interest in the Gaelic themselves, 1
and did not wish others to do so, that the language
had no commercial value.
T h a t was an argu
ment which could be very easily disproved. It
was only necessary to mention the fact that to
ministers, teachers, commercial travellers, postal
authorities, sailors, policemen, Inland Revenue i
officers, and business people who had to do busi- .
ness of any kind north of the Highland line, I
a knowledge of Gaelic was indeed a useful asset. I
(Applause.)
To the student of our older Eastern
languages a knowledge of Gaelic was also valu
able, it being derived from the same root. There- I
fore he thought that Gaelic must of necessity be I
very useful to our Indian civil servants, and also
to the officers and soldiers of th* K ing who make
our Eastern possessions the scene of their life’s
work.
(Applause.)
H e might say that a t a I
Commission of Inquiry held in London last D e
cember by the Civil Service Cozmuisaioneis, the
advisability of adding Gaelic to the list of subjccts to be taken up by candidates who desired to
get into the higher branches of the Civil Service,
was discussed. T hat was very important, be, cause whatever was fixed upon by the Civil
; Service as a requirement, then the Universities and
higher class and other schools naturally followed.
H e understood that the Chief Civil Service C om
missioner had been brought to see that there was
indeed some use in Gaelic, and that it was worth J
, putting on their list of requirements.
B u t after
all there should be higher ideals than tuere utility
in determining them to preserve and advance the I
language of their forefathers.
I t was so inti
mately connected witli their patriotism, their
past history, and indeed their present history as I
a distinct nation, that if they wanted to combine
all these qualities in their hearts and carry them
into their lives, let them stick up for the Gaelic f
(Applause.) It had been said of Highlanders that they are to be admired for their strong love of the ì
! laud of their birth, and also for many of the
beautiful features of their home life, and surely
one of the best features of their home life is
attachment to the language of their forefathers.
Therefore he said “ Sua3 leis a’ Ghàidhlig.”
(Applause).
—
■
■i
s
3
j
I
I
I
I
I
j
I
I
I
I
I
, In more recen. times the Laird of Glenorchy of I
the day, who was present at Flodden and remained I
there with the “ Flower of the Forest,” wrote eight I
1 of the pieces in the Dean of Lismore’s book.
These are not ‘ ‘ understanded of the people,” nor in
deed vouched for by the learned, and still await the
, touch of the skilful editor to make them tell their
tale.
A t the very head of the glen, towards the
west end of Loch Tulea, lies a valley with a ridôJ
in the middle of it called Drumliaghairt, on which
are still to be seen the ruins of a cottage little I
larger than the deck-cabin of many an ocean- i
going ship, and in this cottagc on 29th March, 1724,
was born Duncan Ban M acIntyre, the bard of Glen :
Orchy. The site is an ideal one froc_
II ______ 1___ _
well as a hygienic point of view.
[
A n t uigge glan *s am fàileadh
T h ir mullach nam boaun àrda
Chuidioii e gu fàs mi
’d e rinn dhomh ^Jàùit' is fallaiaeachd.
On the day the speaker visited the scene, eight
fine stags were grazing at the gate of the cottage,
and lifted up their heads with a look of wonder
at the intruder, then they trotted olf, turned, reformed, till they disppeared over the knoll. N o t
inappropriately* the words of Omar came to one’s
m in d :—
1
I
r
I
1
|
1
\
1
I
They say the Lion and the I izard keep
I
The courts where Jamshljd gloried and drank deep. I
| And Bahrain, th atgrott hunter—the wiJd ass
1
Stamps o ’er his head but cannot break his sleep.
|
!
Here Duncan M acIntyre was born and spent his j
years till lie reached man’s estate. H e had
I
NO SCHOOLING OF A N Y K IN D.
I
His education consisted in using the rod on loch
or river, and the gun on moor or mountain, and
in those pursuits he excelled.
There was no
Church nearer than Clachan-an-Diseart (Dalmally), about 15 miles o ff; for the little church now
in use, though built about 150 years ago, was 30
years too late to he of service to Duncan. The
monotony of his life was broken by annual trips
to the summer sheilings on the higher or more
sequestered ground, whither t he Highlanders used
to drive their black cattle and long-wooled sheep.
A nd the site of Duncan’s sheiiings was pointed
out to Principal Shairp, thirty years ago, near a
grass-grown road leading down to the side of Loch
Etive. A ll Highlanders look back to these times
as ideal— the days of romance and song, of love
and courtship. So did Duncan, even as an old
man :—
I
I
I
1 hug mi grois am àrach
\
I
t
f
|
I
'
|
i
1
j
I
I
I
j
I
j
I
I
I
I
I
[
I
I
I
I
I
I
j
I
I
I
I
I
I
[
I
I
I
I
A ir araidhean a b’ aithne dhomh.
B u t at home there was “ mettle more attractive.”
A b ou t half a mile from his cottage door was tho
inn or tigh-osda of Inverorau, where Mairi Bhan
og was born and brought up. Often he watched
her going about her domestic duties. Her father
was a baron bailin'— a kind of under factor— with
a freehold of his own, who could give Mairi the
usual number of cows, etc., as a dowry, Duncan
was the son of poor parents, with no patrimony
and no prospects. But, like his even more famous
namesake, “ Duncan was a lad o’ grace
be was
extremely handsome in his youth, and doubtless
this fact turned the scale in his favour. There is,
perhaps, no simpler or more romantic love story
than this of Duncan Ban MacIntyre by the chief
person interested, in all the history of the poets
aud their loves
W hen Duncan had ju st reached
man’s estate, the ’45 broke out and swept him
into the tum ult of war. A s substitute for a tacksman named Fletcher, who promised him 300 marks
and gave him the loan of his sword, he was
present at the battle of Falkirk, ran from the
battle, and in the stampede lost his sword. On
this ground Fletcher refused to pay, but was by
the then Earl of Breadalbane compelled to pay.
This incident was the
1
THEME OF HIS FIRST
POEM
and soon m ade him know n ; and Fletcher and his
sword both being laughed a t, the form er, a t the
first D a lm a lly m a rk e t held afterwards, struck the
I’. b I ° “ the 1-’ack. with his stick. remarking:
tthW
n
T
S
»Vr
t
m
1
1
ghille
”
Make
a
S0I>g
on
a t, m y lad ). I t w as the protest of a m an who
had placed him self in the w rong and when the jest
w as a g a in st him hud neither patience to bear it nor
w it to answer it, for F letch er’s w it is as wooden as
h iscn d sH . O o returning from the war he was by the
L a ri o tB re a d a lb a o e made forester ia C oireC h eath aich and on Bendoran, and later by the D u k e of
A r g y ll m G len E tiv e , and thus he spent fortvseven years till rumours of war brought him
again from his m ountain solitudes.
T h e dread of
invasion caused the enrolm ent of the Breadalbane
l'en cib les in 1 /9 3 , which he joined.
On their
being disbanded in 1799 he joined the Edinburgh
C i t y G u a id , in which he remained till 1806, when
b y the success of the third edition of his poems
he was able to retire in independence— the onlv
m an of w hom the speaker has ever heard as hav
in g m ade m on ey b y the publishing of Gael;:
w orks,
and, dyin g in 1812, was
Greyfriars
buried in
Churchyard, E dinburgh.
Old
T h e life of
th e poet bridges over tw o epoch-m aking events,
the ’45 and the French R evolution.
has revealed
T h e former
the deep attach m en t of
m an y a
nameless genius to the native kings and the hap
less house of S t e w a r t ; find the Jacobite songs
I
are a precious heritage.
I t revealed no less the
splendid lo y a lty of the H igh lan ds to their P rin ce;
themselves starving and w ith the bribe of £ 3 0 ,0 0 0
d an glin g before th em , they preferred to be shot
down
on their own heather rather than betray
their trust and accept the price of blood.
D uncan
B an M a c In ty r e no doubt shared this feeling to
the f u l l ; b u t he was on the wrong side.
The
Breadalbanc of the day under w hom he served
w as a H a n o v e r ia n ; and the poet could not help
i
him self. W h i l e M a cD o n a ld held the Prince seated
on his knee and sang to h im jo n e o f his own songs,
M a c In ty r e had a few references in the early edi
tions which it was considered prudent tò supress
in the later.
T h e other great epoch-m aking event
he was destined to see was the French Revolution,
the great Liberal or Radical m ovem ent of Europe
which is srill w orking itself out. There is hardly
a trace of this in the works of the bard. I t did
n ot appear to appeal to him
T h e world
HAD BEEN KIND TO HIM,
and he w as content w ith it as i t w a s, satisfied
with bis own position and prospects. Jf he under
stood the sen tim en t “ A m an ’s a man for a’ th a t,”
which acted as an inspiration on his greater
contemporary he was probably in no position
where he would have dared to sing it.
In their
devotion to the house of H anover th ey were
equ ally cautious and utilitarian,
S e a r c h in g a u ld w i v e s barrels.
finds an echo in
R i n n n lg h e a n Door.?a an t-araa d h o m h .
In these circumstauces the bavd could sing no
g rea t national song, no song of lo y a lty or indepen
d en ce; and he was no satirist in the same sense as
M a c D o n a ld , being devoid of a sufficient bitterness
and malevolence of nature, and perhaps devoid of
the sharpness and nimbleness of intellect necessary
for the best work of this kind.
H e has wit and
plenty of humour, though, strange to say Principal
Shairp thinks him lacking in the latter. T h e
epitaph on him self shews th a t he was well
acquainted w ith the Christian verities.
H is con
vivial songs shew him no stranger to that side of
life though he stopped short of excesses. These, with
the elegy and the poems composed for the H ig h
land S ociety, illustrate rather the range of his
sym p ath ies, than the strength of his genius.
H is real power emerges in his love songs, a m o n "
the best of which is “ Miiiri B h au O g ,” which
on account of its combined pu rity and passion, its
grace, delicacy and tenderness, has been regarded
as
THE FINEST LOVE SONG
in the H igh lan d s.
H is poem s on nature are
unique in plan and unsurpassed in execution.
T h a t on Bendoran is the m o st elaborate, original,
and fam ous poem of its kind on record. T h e
m ountain is d w e lt on lov in gly as if it were a
livin g th in g, companion or friend ; and the habits
of the deer, red deer, and roe, are described with
a minuteness and fidelity of detail possible only
to a genius w h o had been their guardian for
nearly half a-century.
T h e measure is thought
by some to be an im itation of the p iob aireach d;
and m ay be perhaps a variety of the Cro’ Cumaisc
of Irish poetry.
A t all events it has great
capabilities and g rea t attractions, and his poems
have had n ot a few translators, am on g whom m ay
he named Pattison.Blackie, JShairp, and Buchanan,
Notwithstanding his illiteracy, which places
Duncan almost alono among modern poets,
cutting him off from th© study of poetry, his
tory, and tradition, MacIntyre has a family
likonase to the great fraternity of poets. Ho
resembles Horace in want of physical cour
age— the Roman lost his sword at Philippi,
as Duncan lost his sword at Falkirk.
Vet
neither is ashamed of the incident, counting
it a nobler and better thing (as well as safer)
to sing a battle rather than fight it. He re
sembles Wordsworth in his love of nature;
i Scott, in his concrete pictures; Wordsworth
and Milton in his marvellously retentive mem
( ory for his own lines; Burns and Scott, in
thinking little of his own works. He has
been called the Burns of tho Highlands, a
comparison that holds, if not unduly pressed.
Both ar© th© swoetest eingors of their race*
Tbey have the keen feelings that centre tho
whole heart on the one object before them at
the time; and in their best work all their
impressions are at first hand. They take the
first plaoe also in conversational powers;
where they sit is the head of the table. Dun
can's talk could make hungry and angry
men forget they had not dined. He visited
the Highlands at least twice in later life,
when trying to dispose of the editions of his
poems. Two descriptions of him by different
people tally. Fair of face and hair, of a
pleasant countenance, and <l happy, attrao
tive manner, he wore a tartan kilt, a badger
sporran, fox-skin cap, or a checked cap, with
the tail of a wild animal hanging over it.
From what was known of him, he was every
where ix3cognised. Slow of speech in his na
tive Gaelic, which he spoke with the greatest
purity, his
“
last
farew ell
to
the
h i l l s .”
/
which he composed on his final visit, shows
him to have been a kindly and cultured old
man, who had seen much of life, and liked
what he had seen.
The effect of this poem
is much like that of Gray’s Elegy. The
same result is reached by a different means:
in the one case by exquisite scholarship, the
ars cel are artem j in the other by simple
genius, sobered and matured by a. long life
lived
well.
For
it
was
a
long
journey
from
Drumliaghairt
to
the
Old
Greyfriar’s
Churchyard,
Edin
burgh. Of that journey he has given the
best, the Argyll of the past. It is well not to
break with that past. (Applause.)
A “ food vessel " similar to the; one
recently found :n the prehistoric grave
at Brahan was unearthed some days ago
apt Creich.
The size and markings are
almost identical, tho impressed linos be
ing relieved by thumb-nail indentations,
while the shape is practically the same,
both having the protruding rim. The
Rev. Dr. Joass, F .S .A ., Golspie, is of
opinion that tho Croich and Brahan urns
are not leas than 2000 years old.
The
practice indicated by these “ food ves
sels ’’ and “ drinking cups ” of providing
food and drink for the dead, lingered in
tliei Highlands until a comparatively recont date.
A fter a funeral the boards
°n which the coffin had been lying were,
saya ono writer, “ left for the night hs
they wore, with a drink of water on
Ihom, in case the dead should return
amd be thirsty.
Same put the drink of
water or of milk outside the door, and,
a,s in Mull and Tiree, put a sprig of
pearlswort above the lintel to prevent
the dead from entering the house.” The
clay vessel (Gaelic, croggan) was used
for boiling water in before iron became
common in tho Highlands.
MODERN
j
[
GAELIC BARDS.
‘
“J ^
Follow ing closely upon the publication
jf “ T h e Old Highlands," which contains
so m.nch that is sympathetic and poetic to ,
the heart of tho Gael, comes “ M odern.
Cr'aielic Bards,” a work wlucli has for its
abject, the compiler, M r Malcolm C.
MacLeod, says, “ to present a short but
accurate account of the lovers of contem
porary and recent Gaelic poets, and,
secondly, to supply a large and varied
collection of their compositions/’
It
should be stated that the book is an
extension of articles which have already
appeared in a newspaper.
Produced in
book form, with melodies attached to
various
compositions,
the
interestenhanced by portraits of the various
composers, the whole being an excellent
example o f M r Eneas M a c K a y ’s high-class
publications, the volume though restricted
in its selection of bards, has strong
claims to be placed among our favourite j
Gaelic authors.
W e are, of course,
prepared to see the name of Neil
MacLeod, tho famous Skye bard.
Neil
M acLeod evidently sprang from a stock
strongly imbued with poetic fervour. His
father, popularly known as “ A m Bard
Sgitheanach,” published a collection of
Gaelic verse in the year 1811, when only
tw enty years of age. Even in the present
days
of
rapid
thought
and
ready
publication,
this
would
be
esteemed
a
feat
for
a
young
author. N eil MacLeod,7 bom in 1843 iu
Glendale, is best known by his “ Clarsach
an D oire,” along with other songs, in
particular by his finely conceived “ A a
Gleann 'san robh mi og,M “ Dua-nag an
t-Seòladair,” “ Doire na Smeòraich,” and
“ Am
Feasgax.”
Professor
Magnus
MacLean has thus written of our Skye
B ard : — *
i
ant}'.
Haira tbe
41who
B eyon d the P arish School, for th e rest of
th e knowledge and education lie acquired,
M a c L e o d had t o depend mainly on the Book
■of N a t u r e and contact with his fellow-mcn.
L ik e most o f his class in Skye, he was
obliged t o leave home early, without means
and w ith o u t trade, t o seek em ploym ent in
th e South., and for some yeans had his full
: hare o f the toils and drudgery o f life. But
in 1866 he w en t t o Edinburgh and started
in th e tea tra d e w ith his cousin, the late
M r R oderick M acLeod. T h e connection thus
h a p p ily form ed the bard has maintained,
c o n tin u in g in the em ploym ent o f the firm
t o this day.
D u rin g these years he has
never ceased t o cultivate the c i f t o f soup;.
“ AH his productions,” Dr. M a cN eill fe lic it
ously remarks, “ are characterised by purity
o f style and idiom, freshness o f conception,
gentleness o f spirit, and liquid sweetness of
versification.
Of his ‘ Clàrsaeh an Doire/
which was first published in 1883, and lias
now reached its th ir d ed ition , it is stiroiy
Hindi t o sav th a t i t contains as g r e a t varietv
o f good and popular songs as any volume of
a single author in the language.”
e on*
?rave
lys^)
n are
I
/
39l#‘
tions,
same,
M
is of
ura<
TH
vesedm;
? re-; I
1.[
\ard$!+
r e ft!
ttfi
• flUj
tiif3 '
t
A n interesting little sketch is given rf
the history of tho Jura Bard, M r Donald
MacKechnie.
A
long, arduous, but
highly successful, commercial career has
not interfered with his poetic muse,
which
has
materially
enriched the i
modern Gaelic verse of to-day.
A
collection- of his works was published iu
3904, under (he title of “ A m Fear
Ciiril.” His flow of soul has great beauty,
wit, humour, and piquancy, and it is
expressed in cadences which show tho
care and thoroughness with which he
polishes his gems o f verse. Other bardb,
still happily with us, whose works are
noted, are Colonel MacGregor, the Bard
of Clan A lp in e ; M r MacFarlane, of
E lderslie;
and
Mr
Henry
W h yte
( “ Fionn ” ). Those who have passed away
of
Hit
lie!
¥t
it
I
*“
i
*
are John Campbell, the Ledaig Barct;D r. John MacLachlan, tho sweet, singer
<>f R a h o y ;
Rev.
Norman
MacLeod,
Caraid nan Gaidheal ” ; M r Dug aid
MacPhaU, “ M u ileach ” ; and Dr. John
MacLeod, of Morvern.
To all these
verses, music, and portraits of the bards
aro attached.
«
4
*
Moclei'n
Gaelic
Bards.
E d ited
by
Malcolm C. Maclood.
P r ic e five shillings.
Ensas Mackay, 43 M u rray Place, S tir lin g .'
I
A C o u r s e o f G a e lic Grammar.— We*
congratulate M r Duncan Reid on the
popularity of his grammar. I t is now in
its seventh thousand, constituting its
third edition. This is great distinction,,
and points to what is unreservedly
admitted, that M r R e id ’s grammar is a
ôod one, and that it meets the me lern •
.emand for the acquisition o f “ good I
Gaelic.' — Price one shilling and sixpence. I
Archibald Sinclair, 47 W aterloo Street, J.
Glasgow.
I
SONGS O F
THE
H E B R ID E S .*
I
Mrs Kc-rnnedy Fraser is doing good serI vice to the cause of Celtic song by her
J publication
of
melodies
from
the
J Hebrides.
In tho Skye Fisher’s Song,
j tho quiet graceful melody is given at that
I low pitch admired most m the Highlands.
I
J
I
j
I
I
I
N o te d thus tlie diatonic modal character of
the an- reveals itself. It. is in th e very rare
M i mode, a specimen o f which, “ Dison le
Cnapelet,” wi l l be found in M. B ou rgau lt
Ducoudray’s collection o f Celtic airs, en titled
^T ren te
M elodies
Populaires
de Basse- 1
B retagne.”
|
j
This song was noted down in a; fishing
boat, off tha island of Eriskay, from the
singing of Gillespie Machines, and fitted
with words and piano accompaniment by
I Mrs Kennedy Fraser.
Other melodies sent out at this time
include “ A n Eriskay L u lla b y ” and the
“ Mull Fisher's Love Song/’ noted down
in Eriskajy, and fitted with English words *
I
Oh Mhairead o g !
tu rinn m o Leon
Is cailleag bhoidheacli lurach thu
*S tu ’s guirm e siul
*S a mhaduinn chiuin nan dearc air chul
N a n duilleagan.
Throughout the Western Isles the
women1 sing crooning songs to their cows
to entice them to give their milk. “ Oran
Buaile ” is one of these tuneful milking
songs.
The melodies as a whole reflect
sympathetically the lives of these island
I toilers by &ea and land in musical num
bers of graver beauty.
*
Songs o f the Hebrides, and oth er K e lt ic
Songs from the Highlands o f Scotland. Some
! Collected, and all A rra n ged by M a rjo ry
K en n ed y Fraser.
Price, tw o shilìings each.
T o be had a t 95a George Street, Edinburgh.
LINKS TO A likOADSWORI).
I got thee from a shieling dark anil small,
1 he owner said thou wert the last and all
O f ’e very arm and treasure of his sept,
Thou to tlie very last were kept,
lie said that thou liad’st carved a way
Through foemen’s ranks on Culloden's day ;
And in the Forty-tw a’a dark masses
Had hewn the Frenchmen down in 1‘yrennean Passes !
Oh . trusty sword, that you should see this day
l o nevermore deal terror in the fray !
B u rm ft-
“ I
a in
Rcadh.”
NA
A N O L D G A E L I C SONG.
[ t o THE EDITOR OF <fTH £ OBAN TIMES.” ]
Bailo Pheairt, 18th February, 1908.
S ib , — Tho following old song was never
printed, as far as I know. I took it down
mwny years ago from the rehearsal of an old
friend of mine, who lived in Dundee for
about half a century. He sung it to a weird
old air that reminded one of the sough of
the waves.— I am, etc.,
P. C. S.
I.UINNEAG iMHIC GHILLE A.THAIM
D H U B H A IR T .
|
Ia m i bhi ’in shuidhe air an Tulaich
Lion mulad Hi pràmh mi,
N a hio bio b io bù hò,
Is mi b h i ’m shuit he air an Tulaich
Lion mulad le pramh mi,
N a h ùraibh ho ro,
Bho ’u dh’ fhalbh c, mo loannan,
’-i aun thar a ’ inhuLr shaileich,
N a hio hio irio hù h ò !
Bho ’u dh’ fhalbh o, m o leannan,
’3 ar.n lh ar a ’ mhuir shailcich,
N a h-ùraibh ho io,
Dh' fnalbh m ’ cadail a dh’ fhearaibb,
P h ’ fhalbh foar a ’ chùll bhàin aun,
N a hio hio irio hù b ò !
Dh' fhalbh m ’ eudail, o'.c,,
N a h-iiraibh ho ro,
Ach, «. dhoadh M h io Ghilleathain,
Gu 'm faighiau rto*oh sgeul ort.
N a hio hio ir io liù hò !
A ch , a dhoAdh. etc.,
N a h'ùralbh ho ro,
Thn ’ihighitm dhachaidh a Phuhbairt
L o d ’ bhuldhoaim in hath throuna,
N a hio hio irio hii h ò !
Thn 'thighhiu. etc.
N a h-ùraibh ho ro.
Do chrodh-laoigh a bhi air cladaich,
do chapuiu do rcir sin,
Do ch rodh laoigh, etc.,
N a h ùraibh ho to,
G n ’m hu bheag an roinn fhoarainn
Learn bailo no dh à dhuic,
Gu ’m bu hheag, ctc.,
N a h ùraibh ho ro.
E adar Dearg Inois thall ud
A g u s foarauu Chinn ghcarrloch\
N a hio bio irio hù h ò !
E adar Doarg Inni®, etc.
N a h-ùraibh ho ro,
E a d a r Kudha na h-Warraidh,
Agufl b.'auiitan Lliinm alio,
N a hia hio irio hù h ò !
E adar Rhudha, etc.
N a h-ùraibh ho ro
Gu ’n deanaiiu* leat cad»*l
A n n nn lagan nan cibhlcar,
Gu ’n doanaiun, ctc.
N a h-ùraibh ho ro,
’N àm piileadh an fhraoich uain’,
Ged bhiodh fuauhrt air mo chroabtnig,
N a hio nio irio hù hù!
’N àm plllwidh, otc.
N a h iiroibh lio ro,
‘S ged a loisftinL. mo thiosan
’uhaoidh eh * dùraiginn èirigh,
N a hto hio irio hù h ò !
3 ged a, etc.,
Na-ùraibh ho vo,
’.3 g jd a thixeadh mo inhathair
Uha du nalre ieam mo chèMdh,
N a I r o hio irio hù hò !
’S g d a thigeadh, etc.
N a h-iuaibh ho ro,
'à mi ’m ò h u io h e a ir an Tulaich
Lion mulad leprùm h mi,
N a hio hio irio hii hò !
I
,
_____
■
■
M
i
l
*
11 8
D A O IN E
STDHE
U I R S G E U L A N
E I L E . *
(F A IR Y TALES).
These delightful fairy tales remind us
o f the old Highland ceilidh when we
gathered round the peat fira and listened
j with bated breath to the several incidents*
of the marvellous sgeulachds which old
M r MacLean used to tell some fifty years j
j ago. W e often Jisten ed to a variant of [
“ Spiorad na h-aoise ” (tho spirit o f old) I
I with its large bannock and the mother's I
j curse*, and the small bannock with the I
mother's blessing, atad ever since we have
avoided the “ bonnach mòr.” These tales
had, with their moral, a wonderful effect I
I in steadying the characters o f the young J
> people who listened to them.
Ini the volumes before! us, the one* in
Gaelic, and the other in both Gaelic and
English, with their fine-coloured plates,
should be very popular in Highland circles;
in the coming winter, and the beautiful !
flowing language in which they are told
is particularly serviceable for those who
are acquiring a knowledge o f the Gaelic
language and its literature1.
W ith ou t exposing too much of the plot 1
of “ Spiorad na h-aodse,” the “ M aid of the
golden hair and the silver comb " repre- i
aenta the Red Riding-hood of the panto- {
mimes, but the moral drawn from the J
Gaelic tale has a much more lasting effect
than the spectacular splendour of a j
pantomime, and for that reason the
iUgeulachd is to be preferred.
I
Iolaire Loch Treig ” (The Eagle of I
Loch Treig), the second story of the series, I
is also very interesting, and reads like a I
Loehaber story, and reminds one of the I
author of the “ poor old owl o f the iron/’ I
which wad also at Loch Treig. Both were I
probably denizens ; f the famous “ Creag- J
Ghrianacb, and in the neighbourhood is j
“ Beinn-a’-Bhric,” renowned1in fairy siong. I
The romance of this beautiful locality has.
been rudely cast aside by the iron horse I
. that snorts through it daily. Still many J
will nurse a wairm affection for Loch Treig
and all its surroundings.
&I
“ A
Bhean Tigha Mhath s Obair I
Oidhche ” (The good housewife and her I
night labours), the third tale, is equally I
interesting and instructive regarding the I
habits of thei people. The good housewife I
had been busy preparing woollen cloth I
after the rest o f the household had gone I
to rest, and being much fatigued, she said, I
u Oh, that some one would come from land I
or sea, from far or near, to help me with I
the making of this cloth.”
She had no- I
sooner spoken than she heard a knocking I
at the door, and in a voice calling to her I
in a strange language what she knew I
meant, “ Tail Mary, open the door to me, j
for so long as I have you’ll get.” This was I
an invasion o f the fairies, which brought I
^ serious trouble upon her before she got I
rid of them. The*story tells the rest in a I
very interesting manner. W e were con- I
siderably staggered by the word “ ITolo- J
rohorohe, which is not in our vocabulairy. J
I t seems to mean a stampede of tho fairies. I
The charm of the ceilidh* is the sgeul- I
achds and the F a iry talc® and ghost stories, I
the pitch dark and stormy nights, the j
peat torches to prevent one tumbling into I
the mud, and the general eerie feeling pro- i
ducod by tlie narratives and ghost-like [
surroundings. The last the writer was o t j:
in liis native parish was wound up with I
M
tho over-beautiful song, “ Tha m o run air
a-’ ghille,” wit'll a slight trem olo on the
proper passages, and its magnificent senti
ments. W herever a Highlander may be
situat-ed tho indelible impressions left by
early asaiociationsi never leavo him, and
the slightest allusion to them brings back
1 tho whol-d tiling as vividly as if hei were
standing upon, his native lieath.
* Gaelic Fairy Tales. Edited by Winifred
M. Parker, and Illustrated by Katherine
Cameron, R.S.A., and Rachael Ainslie Grant
Duff.
OXTEAGAN O N IA R :
BREEZES FROM T H E WEST.
I
This book contains eight Gaelic stoi'esi
from the pen of M r John MacCormick.
J TTie text, beautifully printed upon good
paper, has been carefully edited by M r
I M . Macfarlane.
The first two stories
I contain deft delineations of Highland
I character in relation to clandestine way?,
J as well as to uprightness of purpose and
j its
honest accomplishment.
The third
story is presented *in the form of a play,
j and the scene of the proceedings 19 a.
law court, where Màiri, a Highland lass:
j has raised an action against her erstwhile
I lov ei, Iain Ban, for breach of promise of
j marriage.
In the course of the case,
before a sheriff and jury, some highly
amusing passages a.re given in connection
with the evidence evoked from more than
ono of the witnesses. A n old mischief! maker had been successfully busy in rais
ing false reports in order to cause an
estrangement
between
the betrothed
lovers.
The
low selfishness o f his
motives was fully exposed in court, with
the result that the wronged lovers were
happily reconciled to each other.
Others o f the stories in the book are
narratives o f adventures in the Highlands
and elsewhere, and they are all told in
rich
idiomatic
Gaelic, with graphic
descriptions of scenery, whilst many
incidents are related in passages that are
deeply pathetic. The book, by the way,
lacks a preface^ and this fact may gener
ate an unrestful feeling in the minds of
some conscientious readers who would like
to know whether one or another o£ the
stories belongs to the realm of facts or to
the region of poetic imagination. H ow
ever, the diction throughout the work 15
chaste, and probably some o f the stories
are traditional whilst others are based
upon facts. Some prefatorial intimation
in this direction would, of course, be a
great boon, and in a later edition o f the
work, some information regarding the
authenticity of the &torie9 may be I
vouchsafed
for
the
guidance
of I
a]l
classes
of
readers.
A
few
uncommon
forms
of
words
and I
phrases occur in the text of the b ook ; for
instance, “ am m a c h /’ meaning “ ou t,”
does not conform
to the ordinary
colloquial and biblical rule under which
the adverb “ mach ” is used after words
that end in a vowel, and “ a mach ” after
words ending in a consonant. Tlien the I
relative pronoun “ a ” has been too often
elided where its presence would certainly
insure greater perspicuity for young as I
well as for old readers. The stories are I
all told in an interesting style, and the I
Gaelic composition runs ailong in a nice
smooth^ friendly way. The book, neatly i
bound in cloth, contains 149 pages, cr. :
8 vo., and it is published by M r A lex.
Gardner, Paisley.
MORAG THE SEAL *
Tbis is a book which the reader lays
down with the conviction more than ever
emphasised in his mind, that the partition?
which divide the real from the unknown
are indeed very thin, and that there is
more in the world than is dreamt of in
his rather commonplace philosophy.
It
is all aj little confusing to the ordinary
intelligence, and the ordinary intelligence
ordinarily
prefers
ordinary
ideas.
Telepathy,
hypnotism,
second sight,
phychotherapeutics are subjects beyond
tli,e normal ken, and when a writer makes
free use o f the supernatural in a book,
the reader may be prepared for anything.
Tlie author, an Edinburgh advocate, if we
mistake not, has here embarked into
these speculative regions, and it must be
said he has woven together a curiously
interesting and fascinating romance. The
plot is laid in the W est Highlands, and
the intimate descriptions of the scenery
afnd the glamour of the W est which per
vades the book show that the heart o f the
author is in sympathy with the Highlands.
The story opens simply enough. A
property formerly belonging to a family
of the name of Cameron, has passed into
the hands o f an Englishman, Sir John
Bradley, owing to non-payment of money
advanced upon it.
The title is appar
ently unchallengeable, but Sir John, for
some obscure reason, is very anxious to
make out a right to the property bv
birth.
So he summons a London
lawyer called Mr Kingsburgh to his aid.
Tne obscure reason which we have hinted
at is the source of all the trouble, but it
would be too bad to draw aiside the cur
tain here, for the author very cleverly
keeps up the mystery till the end o f the
story. The reader should find out the
machinations for himself in pursuing the
track of the London lawyer, whose weird
and uncanny experiences will sometimes
cause a shudder. This is where Morag
the Seal, comes in.
^ The author has ingeniously blended the
old Highland legend o f the Seal Woman,
fatal in her fascination, cruel as a beast,
beautiful as a goddess, with a real Morag
o f equal beauty and chairm, but fortun
ately human, though she has the some
what fearful gift of second sight. She is
a descendant of the Cameron family, who,
it turns out, had been wrongly usurped
o f their property.
The London lawyer
and she very early discover am elective
affinity, . which helps to elucidate the
mystery, and in the end is confirmed by
matrimony. I t is undoubtedly a clever
book, and the author has incorporated in
it a great amount of Highland lore, which
specially adds to its interest.
* Morag the Sen!. By J. W. Brodie Innes.
Price Six Shillings. Rebman, Limited, 129
Shaftesbury Avenue, Loudon, W.C.
4
D R U I D I C A L T R A D I T I O N S OF
MORVEN.
|
I
O LD MAY MORN C U S TO M S .
I
A t Achabeg, in Morvcn, there is a, j
Druidieal circle, and, considering its
extreme antiquity, it is in a wonderful
state of preservation. A m on g the natives
of tho district, ■when using the vernacular,
it is called “ The stones of sacrifice.” This
shrine is perhaps the oldest piece of
antiquity w e have in the parish.
H ow
old i t is, no one can say, but doubtless
its age is very great., and probably it
existed when Caesar invaded Britain in
the year 55 before the Christian era. Its
situation is on a plateau overlooking the
Sound of Mull. I t faces Dhn-da-ghaoth,
on 9 o f the highest peaks in the island of 1
M u ll.
A t noon the sun passes over
Dùn-da-ghaoth, and no doubt this was for
countless centuries the only clock or dial
the ancient inhabitants of M orven pos
sessed.
A f t e r the Sound o f Mull, this
hill is by far the most imposing natural
object visible to a native of Morvcn. I t
told the time of day when the sun shone;
while the mists and clouds that love to
hover about its top enabled one to fore
tell the nature o f the weather. I f these (
mists and clouds are light and transparent,
there is good reason to hope that they will
vanish in a breeze; i f they rise slowly
towards the top of the Ben, an improve
ment in the weather may be expected;
but if they descend on the slopes o f the
I hill, it is wise to be on the lookout for
I rain.
Thus this kind and neighbourly
J hill was both clock and weather-glass to
j many of the people of Morven long before
I modern chronometers or barometers were
I invented. T o the Druids, who held the
1 sun in such religious veneration, Dun-daI ghaoth, as the great orb of day passed
I over it, must often have attracted their
j eyes and engaged their affections. W e
| can fancy a thoughtful Druid saying* of
j this hill,
J Let me love the Ben that reveals the hour,
j Whoso mists and clouds instruct in weather
J 1ore.
J
In the average Druidicai circle, there
ij-is not much to be seen, and all such
I circles bear a close resemblance to< each
I other.
It
was this that made Dr.
J Johnson once say in his own dogmatic
I fashion— **
I
To go and see one Druidicai circle is only
I to see that it is nothing, for there is neither
I art nor power in it; and seeing one is quite
[I enough.
I
But we ought to remember that every *
J item o f superstition and tradition has its f
J origin in some definite fact in the history 1
of man, and is therefore a contribution to :
I the science o f anthropology.
Nothing
that throws light on the past history of
I man should be indifferent to us.
The
| maxim of the heathen poet Seneca may (
I w ell be remembered in this connection
when he says, “ I am man, and I reckon
J nothing that belongs to mankind foreign
j to me.” A l l folk-lore, every myth, every
J old legend, every old custom, every
tradition, and every superstition helps to
fill up gaps in the history o f man, and i
has a right to a place in the historical j
sciences.
The Druids were the ministers of
religion among the ancient Gauls and
Britons, and our knowledge of the order
ig chiefly derived from Caesar.
They
ministered at the altar and perfoumed all
religious duties; they presided over the
✓
. i
, *
1
•
t
♦
*
-
-
^
1 education o f y o u tli; they decided all
I controversies among States as well as
among private persons; anyone who refused
to obey their decree was excommunicated,
I and death itself became to him an accept I able relief from tho infamy and misery
to which this sentence exposed him. They
believed in the im m ortality o f the s o u l;
they also held that after death souls
passed from one body to another; they
practised their rites in dark groves, and
communicated their doctrines only to the
initiated, and forbade the committing of
them to writing. Human sacrifices were
common among th e m ; they worshipped
in tho open air under the canopy of
heaven, and not in temples made with
hands;
while all the learning
and
I science known at the tim e was monopol
ised by 1 n. In the time o f Caesar, the
Druids or Britain were famous fo r their
learning, and he tells us that those in |
Gaul who wished a more accurate know
ledge of the system came thither for the
purpose o f studying it. M ilton, in his
“ Areopagitica,” refers to this in his own
rhetorical and grand manner—
Tho studies of learning in her deepest
j sciences have been so ancient, and so emi- •
nent among us, that writers of good anti- ;
quity and able judgment have been persuaded r
that even the school of Pythagoras and the [
Persian wisdom took beginning from the j
old philosophy of this island.
The Druids had very great influence :n
tho State, and practically ruled, fo r kings
were subservient to them. P la to held
that the human race would never cease
from ills until philosophers came to
political power, or until those that ruled
the State should, by a certain divine
allotment, become philosophers. Am ong
the Druids, we find this celebrated
doctrine of Plato practically illustrated.
A t what time the Druids were suppressed
in Britain is not certain, but from; the
introduction o f Christianity their power
and influence began to decline, and we
hear little or nothing of the order after
the time of St. Columba. B ut many of
the superstitions which still retain a hold
on the imagination are traceable to the
mysterious dogmas of Druidism.
The
circle on many an old grave-stone, sup
posed to represent etern ity; the effusive
joy with which some individuals welcome
the new m oon ; the preference o f many
for the uneven number; throwing tho
fishing line out on the right hand side
o f a boat; the manner o f approaching
the grave at a burial by going round with
the sun; various modes of predicting the
future; our H allow e’en customs; our
M ay morning customs— all these supersti
tions! and many more we owe to
j Druidism.
On tho first of M ay a great Druidicai
festival was held in honour of Baial or
Bel us, the sun god, whom the Druids
worshipped.
On this day fires were
kindled on the mountain tops fo r the
purposes of sacrifice; and through these
fires the cattle of the district were driven
to preserve them from Contagion till next
M ay da.y.
I t was also customary to
extinguish all the hearth iires in order to
havo them rekindled from this purifying j
flame. I t was also usual in some parts 1
of the Highlands', till recently, for the
boys of the towns and hamlets to meet
on a moor on the first o f M ay. There
they made a round table on the green jyod
by digging a circular trench, and formed
the earth thus obtained into a flat heap.
Then they lighted a fire, and on this a.
:: custard of eggs and milk was prepared; j
a cake o f oatmeal was
also made.
A fj e r eating tho cufatard, the cake was |
divided into equal portions, accordm^ to
the number o f the hoys present.
One
of tlie pieces was blackened with charcoal,
and then all the bits were T3 ut into a
bonnet, and everyone blindfolded drew
out a portion, the bonnot-holder being
entitled to the last bit. W h oever drew
the black bit wag a devoted oerson who
was to be sacrificed to Baal that tho sun
god might be propitious in the season just
opening, and m ultiply the fruits of 'the
earth. Tho devoted boy was not put to
t was required to leao
three times through the fire. N o doubt
when Druidism flourished the devoted
boy would bo really sacrificed to the sun
god.
N o t long1 ago, and the practice has not
entirely fallen into desuetude yet, it was
the custom on the first of M ay t i’ise
j
J
I
,
I
j
I
I
I
earlier than usual, and have the face laved
with morning dew. The old proverb says
I morning dew is good for the eyes. Hence
also the rhyme—
The fair maid who, the first of May,
Goes to the field at break of day,
And washes in the dew of the hawthorn tree,
W ill ever after handsome be.
In Ita ly the young people leave their
beds before dawn to bring in the “ Ca-lendi
I
Maggio ” with songs and dances. But
the Italian M ay has not the wintry
humours of the Scotch.
Our northern
M a y discourages an effusive reception bv
her freezing manner.
M a y is an attractive part of the y e a r ;
and the poets have always loved to sing
the charms of this season.
George
Buchanan, the greatest of our Latin
poets, wrote one of his very best pieces
in 'praise o f M ay. A few lines may be
given from the translation of Professor
Hum e Brown, his biographer: —
Hail! sweetest day,
Day of , all pure delight.
Whose gracious hours invite
To mirth and song; and dance,
And wine, and love’s soft glance.
Welcome with all thy bright hours bring
I
Ot quickened life and beauty’s dower,
The certain heritage of spring.
Thou crown of the world’s fading age,
Of life's sad book one happy page;
Hail, sweetest day, memorial bright,
1 Of early innocent delight,
And sure pledge of the coming day,
When it shall be eternal May.
Tw o traditional sayings of the Druids
have come down to our day. One refers
to the promptitude with which the
Druids threw their protection over tho
oppressed, and may be rendered thus—
“ The stone lies not closer to the earth
than the helpi of Covi to those in distress.”
Covi is supposed to have been ai general
name for the Chief Druid.
The other
saying is of the nature of a medical pre
scription, and its due observance would
conduce much to a good state of health,
and it may be translated as follows— “ Be
cheerful, be temperate, be an early riser/’
i
A . M acD.
W
= -
7 . . . - - * ........ .....................
,
I
T R A D I T I O N S OF
T H E B L A C K G L E N OF M O R V E N .
CONTRIBUTED.
The pariah of Morven is rich in lochs
and rivers, in bens and glens. There axe,
at least, five glena of considerable size,
namely,
Glencripisdale,
Glensanda.,
Glenmorven, the W h ite Glen, and tho
Black Glen. O f all these, the Black Glen
is, perhaps, the most romantic and pic
turesque; and, without doubt, it is tho
richest in: legends and traditions.
This
glen was! never thickly peopled, and at the
present time the population is exceedingly
sparse. The ground is of a pastoral and
h illy character, and is, for the most part,
unsuitable for agricultural operations'.-.
The upper parts of the glen are at present
bare and treeless, but m the peat mosses
we have indications of a primeval forest.
The Black Glen river runs through the
whole length of the glen, a. distance of
eight miles. F o r the first five miles, it is
sluggish in motion, and somewhat ding\r
in colour, and contains many deep, dark,
and dangerous pools.
There is a tradition that this river was j
once the resort of a water horse. I t is !
strange how many legends o f this kind are
current throughout the Highlands.
In
Arisaig there is a loch, which, according
to tradition, there lived at one tim e a sea- j
horse.
Boswell, in his 11Journal * of
Johnson’s Tour to the Hebrides,” informs
us that au old man told the following
fabulous story of one of the lochs of j
R a a sa y: —
j
There was once a wild beast in it, a sen- |
horse, which came and devoured a man’s I
daughter, upon which the man lighted a
great fire and had a sow roasted in it the I
smell of which attracted the monster.* In
the fire was put a spit. The man lay con
cealed behind a low wall of loose stones. The
monster came, and the man with the red-hot
spit destroyed it.
|
I t is reported that a horse used to fre- J
quenfc the road %iear Loch Ness, till a
stout, brave Highlander, meeting the
monster one night, drew his sword in the I
name of the Trinity, amd finished the I
supposed kelpie forever.
Hugh M iller
relates some very weird stories about the
uncanny doings o f a sea horse or waterwraith, that frequented the waters of the I
R iver C'onon, Ross-shire. The Black Glen
kelpie very early one morning was seen I
near the source of the river, making very I
unusual sounds. A ft e r a little while it
le ft the waters of the river altogether; j
and at last, with fearful bellowings, it ran. I
ini the direction o f Loch Uisge and
Jvingairloch, and has neither been seen I
nor heard of any more to this day.
j
This glen also used to be much fre
quented by wild boars and wolves. Owing
to its evil repute in this respect, people
were afraid to pass through the glen. I t
isi difficult for us to realise how numerous I
and destructive such beasts of urey once
were throughout the country. Hume tells
us that K in g Edgar took great pains in
hunting and pursuing these ravenous J
animals out of England, and when they
took shelter in the mountains and forests I
o f Wales, he changed the tribute o f money
imposed on
the
Welsh princes by I
Athelstanc,
his predecessor, into an I
annual tribute of three hundred heads of h
wolves.
Wolves and wild boars once *
abounded in the Black W ood o f Rannoch ;
while in some other parts of the Highlands '
I
they were so numerous and destructive
that all tenants were bound by their leases
; to keep one pair of hounds fo r hunting
; them.
The wild boar is- very often
i mentioned in1Celtic song and s to ry ; and 1
; the Campbells, the MacGregors, and the
Mackinnons display its head on their clan
crests. The large flat stones placed over
; the graves of the dead in our churchyards
; were meant ao a. protection from, the
ravages of these wild animals.
The
[ churchyard o f Laudale is situated not far
from, this glen, and the graves there are
covered with large, rough, unhewn, stones,
which helped to- protect them from: wild |
animal?. Sometimes the dead were buried
in small islands, where waves and water
acted as a protection, and on other occa
sions stone coffins were used for the same j
purpose. Nothing could be more terrify
ing than packs of theste hungry and
raiveno'us animals prowling throughout
the country. W e find this matter of wild
beasts often referred to in the Bible ; and
we can understand the wisdom o f the
reason w hy the original inhabitants of
Canaan were only to be exterminated
little by
little
before the Israelites.
“ Thou mayest hot consume them at once,
: lest the beasts of the fields increase upon
thee.’5 I t is now about two hundred years
since the last wolf was killed in Scotland.
I' Th e use and multiplication o f firearms
helped to destroy these animals; but
■ sometimes whole forests had to be burned
as an extreme remedy to get rid o f these
pests.
In the time of the clan feud?, a sad
■tragedy took place in this glen. Maclan
o f M ingary Castle and a score of
MacDonalds were on their way to seek
■ help from the Macleans of Du art against
their enemies, the Camerons o f Lochaber.
B u t a small party of the Camerons inter?
ceoted
them on Corrosmn H ill.
The 1
v
1
hostile clans were not far apart, Maelan
and his followers being higher up the hill
■ side.
I t was a hot summer day, and
?
M aclan lifted his helmet to cool his head
ixP\
(T with a breath o f air. W ith the Camerons
there was a small contemptible-loolcing
^ dwarf, nicknamed L ittle Black Donald.
The dwarf, seeing M aclan 9 head uncov
ered, said to the leader o f his party,
“ W h a t a fine target Mac Ian's forehead
would be fo r a Lochaber arrow.” The
leader, paying little attention to the
matter, said, “ I t would require a better
marksman than a dwarf to do such 5;
deed." B u t in a moment an arrow was
fastened in M a cla n ’a forehead. Maclan,
moving* his hand to unfasten the arrow,
said, “ A cleg has bitten me,” Quick ?•$
lightning, another arrow from L it t le Black
Donald's bow fastened M a cla n ’s hand to
his forehead, and the chief fell dead. A
stone is still pointed out on Cbrr ospin
H ill, which marks the spot on which this
I
tragedy took place.
I
Though now so quiet and so isolated
and so arcadian in appearance, the
;; locality of L u rg in this glen was once a
;
busy centre of industry. A b ou t 1722 a
mining settlement was established at
Strontian, and the company who wrought
:
the lead mines there soon after started
operations also at Lurg, where good lead
is plentiful. The miners employed were
chiefly from Leadhills and Wanloekhead.
A f t e r the experiment had been fully
tried, it was discovered that the convey
ance of the load ovei' the hills between
I
L u rg and Loch Sun art b y Highland’ ponies
!
swallowed too much of the profit, and after
(
some time it war. thought prudent to cease
working the mine at Lurg. Ononeoccy-»
eion there occurred a very sad accident in
%
K
i,
'
this mine, owing to some of the earth fa ll
ing in, and four of the miners were
rnfTocated.
W hen
the
bodiea were
recovered, they were interred in a level
plot of ground not far from the mine,
where the graves o f those strangers can
be pointed out to this day.
In the old market days, and before sale'
were started at Perth, Oban, and any
other centre, the surplus sheep, cattle,
and ponies of Morven, Mull, and manv
other W est Highland district** par-sed
throngh the Black Glen, 01 1 their way to
the cnce famous Falkirk Tryst. Men still
survive who used to drive sheep and cattle
through the Black Glen, past Fort
William,, up the Blackmouut, and on to
Falkirk, over mountain paths. B y follow
ing such paths, and avoiding as much a:3
possible the public road, tw o advantages
*
were gained. On the one hand toll dues j
were saved, and on the other the flocks I
j could feed themselves as they were slowly
driven along without any charge. L u rg
was a sort of rendezvous for droves before
they started for the south, and a market
used to be held here, where sheep cattle,
and ponies often changed hands. F o r the
conveniences of drovers,
drivers, and
I others attending the market, a public
1 house was established here, and on market
, days tents were erected for selling refresh1 inents, and traces of these tents are still
visible.
This sketch would hardly be complete
without mentioning that there is in the
glen, not far from the lead quarry, a<
mineral fountain, containing an abundant
supply of water.
This spring is said to
possess medicinal virtues, and is never
known to have run dry. There is an old
Celtic proverb to the effect that a well
is not valued till it getes empty, and the
proverb is equally true of all other gifts
and blessings.
This glen, to be seen in its full glory,
should be visited in the month o f July.
The air is then most bracing and delici
ous; the wild flowers, which are very
plentiful, are at their best; the heather
is in full bloom; and, above all, the upper
parts of the river produce myriads of the
most beautiful white water lilies that can
be seen anvwhere in the Highlands. The
scene reminds one o f G ray’s stanza: —
s
F u ll m a n y a g e m o f pu rest r a y serene \
T h e deep u n fa th om ’ d caves o f ocean b e a r ;
F u ll m a n y a flow er is born t o blush unseen,
A n d w aste its sweetness on t h e d esert air.
;
4
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------=
:
_
s
BY
m 'S G
A LLA N D A LL W ANTED
«
[ t o THE EDITOR OF “ THE OBAN TIMES.” ]
A p r i l 5, 1907.
S i r ,— I have been to ld th a t a song in hon
our o f S ir A lla n C am eron, w h o raised t h e
I 79th R e g i m e n t , was composed by a b a rd
n am ed A lla n M-acDougall, a blind man, and
I 50 known as “ A lla n D a l i. ” H o w e v e r , m y inI f o r m a n t could o n ly re m e m b e r th o first stanza.
I Now I think it not improbable that some
j of the numerous Gaelic readers of ‘‘ The Oban
Times” mav bo able to give nit* a copy of the
j ^yliole <>1 tin- s.jug. ami any available inform
' ion ifu udiiiy; ii.
I should b<‘ grat( hi! for
llii > :U)(I any othor detail;- nr anecdote-. re
specting Sir Allan or the Regiment— for inI stance, where any remain* of dress, weapons,
I jnedals, o r o th e r relics o f t h o R e g i m e n t a re ;
I to hp- fou n d, o r f o r a n y tra d itio n s r e l a t i n g t o
|jthe subject.— I am , etc.,
1
Lj
(M iss) M .
E t Camebon.
*
as author and i
novelist, received the honorary degree c-f I
L L . D . at Glasgow U niversity on Wednes
day
In presenting him for the degree,
1 rofeseior Gloag said— M r Munro holds a
notable place in modern literature.
He
is the most distinguished Scottish repre
sentative of the movement-— not confined
to Scotland— which has been called the
Celtic revival.
In the “ Lost Pibroch/’
ni “ Gilian the Dreamer/' in i£ Children
of Tempest/’ lie has caught the secret of
the life of the Western Highlands— its
( subtle charm, its rainswept melancholy, j
T o hazard a comparison, his work has
something ^ of the elusive atmosphere of I
Corot a rjaiutmg; an atmosphere partly
natur?1 *or the rest su^ge&tive ol the
mis.t. Again, in “ John Splendid," lie has
achieved a brilliant success in depicting I
character and events which have already I
engaged the attention of the greatest I
master of the art. o f historical romance, j
I n all his writings, whether he paints for
us the H ighland mystic, the soldier of
fortune, or the more prosaic personages
who figure in “ The D a ft Days,” he dis
plays a keen sense of the niceties of char- I
acter, and a style at once cultivated and I
distinctive. This University, so long and I
so intim ately connected with the Western
Highlands, may fitly honour their most
I brilliant interpreter.
Mr
N e il
M u n ro,
Th e first of throe posthumous volumes
by
Fiona. Macleod ” will bet published
in a few days by Country Life, Ltd.
W h ere the Forest Murmurs,” a series
o f nature sketches— of observations, recol
lections, traditions— was written during
the last three years of the author’s life*
at tho instigation of the editor of
Country Life,” to whom the book is
dedicated.
They were written in Eng
land. in Scotland, 111 Ita ly , in Greece.
The sketch which gives its title to the
volume was composed on an Atlantic
steamer, and another paper, “ The Turn
of the Tide,” was written at Bronte, on
the slopes of Etna, one week before the
death of the dual personality known as
W illia m Sharp and “ Fiona Maclcod.’
Th e second posthumous volume, “ The
Im m ortal Horn, will contain two Celtic
tragic dramas. The third will be a colected edition of poems old and n.ciw,
vritten under the pseudonymn of “ Fiona
lacleod,
and Mrs W illiam Sharp in3nds also to arrange for publication a
'■lection from the three volumes of vetrse
wo of which are out of print) by her
tsband, with the addition of a number
poems written in recent vears
H A N D F A S T IN G .
[ t o THE EDITOR OF
“ THE OBAN
TIMES.” ]
W e llb a n k , M elrose, O ct. 3, 1906.
S ir,— I
would esteem i t a fa v o u r i f any
correspondents would k in d ly supply m e w ith
an y referen ces t o lite r a tu r e d e a lin g w ith the
custom o f handfasting, m o re especially its
p re v a le n c e a m on g H ig h la n d clans.— I am,
e tc .,
C. B. R u t l e d g e .
P . S . — I h a ve w h a t is contained about the?
custom in t h e 3 V o ls. o f u Clan D o n a ld / ’
B A L L A D S A N D P O E M S OP T H E
GLASGOW B A L L A D CLUB.*
The Glasgow Ballad Club lias been -n,
existence for thirty-one years, and during
that time the membership naturally, in
the course of events, lias almost entirely
changed ; but not quite. There are still
a few of the original members, who,
happily, remain.
I t is a, condition for
membership that candidates must produce
specimens of their w ork; the Ballad Club
is therefore an eclectic, body in the strict
sense of the term.. The present volume
contains a selection of the Club’s contri
butions during the past ten yea>rs, and s
here presented by the Editorial Committee
in tlie belief that it will tend to preserve
G reen gardens in th e c i t y ’ s sto n y heart,
A n d w ells o f lim p id thou ght.
The most important
our way of thinking, are
Argyllshire's own poet
■writer.
Hear him “
tenderly sympathetic—
contributions, to
from Neil Munro,
and poetic prose
To Exiles1
,’ ’ how
A r e you n ot w e a ry in y o u r d is ta n t places,
F a r , f a r fr o m S cotla n d o f the must and
storm ,
In s ta g n a n t air.s, th e sun-smite on you r
faces,
T h e days so lo n g and w arm P
W h e n all aroun d you lie th e stran ge fields
sleeping.
T h e gh astly woods where no d e a r m em ories
roam,
D o n o t y o u r sad hearts o v e r seas come
le a p in g
T o th e H ig h la n d s and th e L o w la n d s o f
you r homo ?
And in “ The Only Son ” is that weight of
spirit which always seems to come in the
wake O'f tlie Celtic ©
ffloom—
Y o u n g A la s d a ir o f O olava is dead
I n th e dark and o v e r th e deep.
T h e world f o r his pillow, the w ind his plaid,
A n d I l i v e on and w eep!
F r o m th e hour when t h e y p u t him on my
knee,
M y g r i e f ! I k n ew w h a t the end would b e ;
1 kn ew b efo re he g a v e sm ile o r sigh.
I t was not a t hom e his bones would lie—
T h a t he would tr a v e l, and love, and die.
A n d leave m e alone in Oolava.
l' The Sergeant of Pikes ” has the clash
and movement of militant life about i t
I tossed upon s w in g in g seas, splashed t o niv^
k ilted knees
Ocean o r d itc h it was e v e r th e s a m e ;
In leaguer o r sally, t a t o o o r reva lly,
T h e message on e v e r y pibroch t h a t came
W a s Ornachan, Cruachan, 0 son, rem em ber
us,
T h in k o’ you r fa th e rs and n e v e r be slaekl
B la d e and buckler togeth er, though fa r off
tho heather.
T h e J-Iiolans\ th e H ie la n s ’ , w ere all a t m v
back.
4
Other contributors are George Eyre
Todd, Sheriff David 1\1ackenzie, W alter
Bu tc han an,
Henr y
Jo li nst on,
Tom
MaoEwan, Dr. W illiam Wallace, W a lter
Wingate, J. J. Bell, etc., etc.
*
Ballads and Poems.
B y M em bers o f the
Glasgow Bnllad Club.
T h ir d Series.
P r ic e
Seven shillings and sixpence. W illia m B la ck
wood & Sons, G eo rg e S tre e t, Edinburgh.
W IT H
A LIN K
SIR W A L T E R
The song; lias been twice rendered into I
Gaelic. One version which is equally popular
with tho original, if not more so, is by tho
late Archibald Sinclair, Glasgow, a native of
Muhndry, Islay. who died in 1870. Theother
Gaelic rendering is a Colonial production,
and is. if I recollect well, by Rev. A. MacLean Sinclair, Nova Scotia.
The song in
English and Gaelic can be had in several (
' collections, such as “ The Celtic Lyre,” “ Tho
Minsrtrelsey of Scotland,” by Moffat, etc.,
etc. Th© melody to which it'is sung belongs
to a much older song, “ Irinn àrainn thu o
ho-ro, by Allan MacDougall (“ Ailein Dali.”)
— I am, etc.,
SCOTT
i;
On Sunday there died at his residence, 17
London Street, in bis 97th year, one of Edin
burgh^ oldest c'tizens— Mr George Croal.
He had paid rates and taxes for 78 years,
und in his long life had met with many emi
nent and interesting people whose names are
associated with the history of the city in
wit iiud literature and music.
H e had seen Charles Matthews the elder
and Edmund Kean acting in Edinburgh;
Lord Jeffrey and Lord Cockburn in the Par
liament House, before their elevation to the
Bench ; and he bad conversed, in 1828, with
Captain Maitland; of the battleship Bellerophon, to whom Napoleon surrendered and
,ave_up his sword after Waterloo. Captain
V iaitbmd then resided at Lindores, in Fife.
But Mr Croal’s most cherished memories were
those associated with Sir Walter Scott. He
was privileged to be in the Assembly Rooms
in the year 1827, when, on the occasion of
the Theatrical Fund dinner, Sir Walter, in
response to the toast of his health, declared
himself, as Mr Croal says in his book of re
miniscences; “ to be the sole and undivided
author of Waverley.”
“ The enthusiasm
evoked on the occasion/’ he says, “ can be
hotter imagined than described. After the
lapse of more than sixty yeans, the scene is
still as vividly before me as on the evening I
of its occurrence.” But even more interest
ing to him than that was an interview lie I
had with Scott at Abbotsford. T o quote again
from his little book, “ Two years after I had
heard Sir Walter Scott’s important avowal
I had occasion to be at Abbotsford, and on
Sir Walter hearing me run over the keys of
the piano, he requested that I would play
some Scottish airs to him, which I need
scarcely say I was proud to have the honour
of doing.” He also had met James Hogg,
the Ettriek shepherd, in the year 1827 or
1828 at his house at Mount Benger. Mr Croal
while still a young man had the pleasure of
meeting at supper one evening Mr George
Thomson, the correspondent of Burns, for
whom many of the poet's song® were written.
Thomson was then an octogenarian, but sang
with great spirit and humour the song of
F
: * “ Songrs of a R iiih U n d H om e." Kriilfid by A n n o C.
■ W ilson <A. C. M\cbcort. co-edUresn of “ SongH o f the
North. ) Music arranged b y A r th u r taomcrvelJ. London ; Joseph W i i l u m (Limited), 22 Ureat Portland SU,
W . P r i c e d net.
'
TH UG AIBH A IR AGHART
BR K AG AN.*
LE IA IN
j:r
T H E E D IT O R
OF “
O B A N T IM E S .” ]
breaoan tha
|
còrahdach nan gaisgeach,
càs;
|:r r : r : n |r :d:-.l| d :t(:d |r :n
j
Thòid tograch do’u chruadal fo ’m brataichcan buadhmhor ;
|: s j d1:t : 1 I 1 :s
’S c
1 s :n :r |r . — j
faobharan cruaidh-Iann cùis-uamhais gach uàmh ;
|:IJ1 : s : 1 |d1: r :d1 t : 1 : s In :s
Gu
farmnach
atùlda, spart
rian is
|
deagli-òrdugh ;
1 |d' : t : 1 |s :m :-.m r : t|: s( |1| : — j
41i
aodann gach comhraig gu
|:r|r:r:ti|r:d:l|
raòralach
dàu;
d :t( :d |r :n
j
Gun tioma, gun tionndadh an clcachduinn ’s an dùthcbas ;
f: s I d1: t : 1 |s : n : 1
1
the
a g h a rta m
Nach g è ill anns na batail ’s nach tais ri uchd
“ Muirland Willie.”
to
P H A ID E IN .
|: s |d' :-.t: 1 |s : m n r : t|: Si |li : — |
4
[
MAC
AM
r :r :n |r :d 1, d :t,:d |r :n
A ir
t
4
F IO N N -A IR fG H .
io n n .
I
4
Cho bras ris an
fhùdar, cha
diùlt iad gu
bràth.
O, shiol nam fear fiùrail
Do’n dual a bhi cliùiteach,
’S mòr feum ur luchd-dùtbch’
A i r ur n-ionnsuidh an tràths’ ;
Tha ’n t-aosda ’s an òigridh
’Sa ghainntir ud cbmhla,
Is leanabanna deòiridh
A i g fòirneart an sàs»
j
Glasgow, 17th August, 1907.
Sin.— In a- recent issue “ Scrutator” asks
several queries regarding this popular song.
I will endeavour to givo him all the infor
mation now available regarding its origin,
etc. The original English song was composed
by Rev. Norman Macleod, D.D., senior
(1783-1862), know to Highlanders as “ Caraid
nan Gaidheal.” In a recently published work ■
called “ Songs of a Highland Home,” * edited
by Anne C. Wilson (A. C. Macleod), a grand
daughter of tho author of “ Fuinary” its
origin is given as follows: —
‘‘ This song owed its origin to an a.mu^ng
competition between Dr. Norman Macleod
a«d Mrs Macgregor, a lady mho lived at
Campbeltown, Argyllshire, of which parish
Dr. Macleod was then minister. The lady,
who was of a literary turn, was spending the
evening at the man.se. In the course of the
evening, she and Dr. Macleod challenged ono
another as to which of them could write the
best verses in the shortest space of time. Dr.
Maeleod retired, and shortly afterwards re
turned with the now well-known words. He
had just returned from a visit to his old
home, Fiunary, the name of the manse oi
Morven, and the words gave expression to
the wealth of affection, associations and
memories with which his heart was filled.
Tho song was never intended for the eye of |
the public, and no one was more astonished
tlum its author to find it first sung m the
s tre e t by some local singer, and from this lowly
f beginning rapidly spreading over the High1 lands of Scotland, and from thence to the
' Colonies, known at first only orally, then
published by others. ‘ Farewell to Fiunary
was written* in 1808, and was first printed by
Morehead in 1824.”
I
1 : s: n |r : —
I
A m fulang, ’s neo-airidh ;
’ S cò dh’ èisdeas ri ’ n goaran ;
’ S ittd dilint o gach caraid
L e ballachan àrd ?
Tha oaslaint is uamhas
A g iadhadh inu’ n cuairt orr’ ;
’S tha ’n dùil ri ur cruaidh-ghreim
G ’am fuasgladh o’n bhàs.
An iomallan an t-aaoghail
Tha iuntinneau dhaoine
F o iomaguin mu ’ r taobh,
Guidheadh daonnan dhuibh àdh.
’ S gaoh àite ’sa chruitheachd
Tha mòran fo chuihfiroach,
Gun chlos air an olaoidh
’S trie’ nan cuimhn’ luchd an giàidh.
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
■I
I
I
la iomadh bean phòsda
’S gaoh cèarn de n Roinn-eòrpa,
Is màthraichean brònach
Fo le<>n air an orftdh.
Tha na deòir ruith le ’n gruaidhean
M a r shnidh’ air an cluasaig,
’S a’ clisgeadh ii’ m bruadair
Gun suaimhneas, gun tàmh.
B ’ fhada cianail an nine
Thug fathuinn g’an sgiùrsadh,
T o irt bagraidhean ulaidh
G ’au ionnsuidh a ghnàth.
A n diugh tha ’n sgeul ’s binne fuaim
A ’ cur beò-fhadadh annt suas,
Lo mianieh o’n chual iad
Gu ’n d’ghluais sibh ’ sa chàs.
Gur neartmhor ar didean ;
Tha n. nuighean mhiltean
R i osnaidli a’ dlreadh
.
Gu Righ-chathair gràis ;
’ S e’ n ablachadh iarrtaia
A n U ih a ir na Trianaid,
A m f o a r t bhi mar sgiath oirbh
’S air gnlomhan ’ur làmh.
||
II
T h a tartar ur liimhaich
K i ard-thorunn bheucaich.
b gach cridh bha fo èis ris
A g & r i g h le bàigh ;
Gach cuuil annt bualadh.
p ib ro ch w ill have t o be sounded loud and
long.
T h e dem on o f a v a ric e — co m m erce— is
b ecom in g m ore a c u te laily, and th e moral
p rin cip les o f all people w h o liv e by com m erce
;iro d e t e r io r a t in g by l e i p s and bounds, until
a t last th e ten sion Will become unbearable,
and fo r c e must be resorted to. T h e n again
th e a n ta g o n ism betw een cau ital and labour
:s b ecom in g so g rea t, and tfie dishonest sys
tem o f “ rin g s ,” a n d trusts, and syndicates,
so com m on— r e t a in i n g the wealth o f countries
in t h e hands o f a fe w — th a t it m u st result
in c iv il w a r a n d re v o lu tio n .
A dd to that
I th e h a tre d a n d jealou sy o f n a tio n s o v e r com
merce, a n d th e equ al hatred o f races to each
o th er, and t h e ir religions, and one can im a
gin e th e seer— whose fu n ctio n I h a ve usurped
fo r th e present— s e e in g a v e ile d vision o f
riv e rs o f blood b ro u g h t about by the above
causes.
W h e n t h a t d a y comes the first blow
m ay be struck in th e Ilis h la n d s . when all j
L u r n e ir t anns na truaghain,
fc a goalltain dhaibh fuasgladh
O n truaighe gun dàil.
JS e toirm ur dos mùirneach
0 nan sionnsairean siubhlach
» « ni SI1?1? * * ? 11 a dhùagadh,
u - h M m ^raicheas càil.
Bidh ìollach ur beòil leò
N a s binne na ’ n smeòrach
&an fhàs-choille chròiceach
A i r og-mhaduinn thlàith.
Ged tha Bh.'inrighinn fo ’crùn
* a d uaibh, tha slor shùil oirbh
Is mumntir ur dùtheh’
’S mòr an ùidh 'n an cuid shàr.
m,ls l.boirt barr air gach tapachd
l h a lionmhor ’n ur n-oachdraidh,
m,8 treun Kaclì cùl-taic
Tha g ur faicill mar ’s àill ;
hands iiiiifct “ Sound the Pibroch” and sing I
^ b h fo iùil an F h ir gbasda
Nach hibadh do ’ n ghealtachd,
Ò a hath anns a’ ghaisg©
A cleachduinn nanì blàr,
A i r agbart, a bhalcha,
JLe r stàilinn neo-chearbach;
l h a n lompaireachd a dhearbh i
A g earbsadh ’na bàrr.
“ l h a t ig h in n fo d h a in e ir ig h .”
I append the
music and words o f th e fo r m e r as t h e y a p
pear in the “ Songs of th e N o r t h , ” and th o
I o r ig in a l se t o f th e la tte r , as sung by the
I famous composer, John M acdon ald, Bonbeeula, and com m u n icated to m e by Mids F lo r a
M a cd on a ld . South Ui.st, a m em ber o f th e
fa m ily o f the learn ed h istorian, th e R e v . A . I
M acd on ald ,
K i 11 a r 1 i t v ,
1 11 ve 1•ness-s 1\i re.— I
am, etc.,
j
K . N . M acD o nald .
I
T H A T I G H I N N FOD1I A M E tR IG H .
H O R O TElA M I M U L A D A C H .
T h e Ki&ÌDg of the year 174*5.
{O iiîn al U iat set.)
Words by Hector MacLean. Melody .by
Tom Laurie.
G l e u s F. G u m a l l , le m othachadh
Cnonus.
Sili : d
In
:s
Horo
I
.n
s
Woth aiiiiiiation.
Kiev F.
S jsist.
|*d
n
tha
mi
1 : d1
s
r
d :d .
I
|d
: d . S|
lt d : r
|n
: r . d
j
d
muladach,
1 ., s : s .
d
:
I r . m: s
d
j1
1 : s.n |r
:n J
VliKSIS
j
s
t
Cha tog mi fonn, cha’n
I .1
’Se
I
.
s
A
d1 1 : s
d
urrainn m i;
d
càirdean caoimhneil,
1
s : s
r :n .
chuireadh dhiom an
j
I d .»1|: s t.,si
l | . , d : r . , r |n., r 1
:r.,n
d . , d : d . , r I n. , n:
pi . , s
l.,l : s.n : r,nj
cuiieideacb,
r
n
si.,li : d . , d
:
d .
Tha
Tha
Tha
Tba
J|
smuairean.
tig h in n
t ig h in n
tig h in n
t ig h in n
fodham,
fodliam ,
fodham ,
fod h a m
fo d h a in s iodham .
fodham , fodham ,
fodham , fodham ,
èirigh.
K ann.
J .n
s
1 : d1
s
1
s :s .
j
S O U N D T H E P IB R O C H .
From the {: Songs of tho North.
K Y F. Loud and rather slow.
Tli&’rn fuachd cho mor ’a an diithaich so
j .1
s
n : n, r . d
1, .. d : d .
\S nach d’fhàg e neart no luihs
f . li
1
Oir
f.1
d
r : tn
s
1
s
d : m ,, r
Gun d’reodhadh cid
s :s .
d
mo
V
annam,
t
diibailte
ged tha’n fhiarag
j
n
)
chluasan.
r , d .-
|d
1, : S i s (
n . r
d
I d . 1, ; S i S i
d
d : d
A
s , 1 : s ,n-|
r
d
A
: d
|
ClIOKUS.
a, f d . - : d
|_d_ __ r : d
.
s(
1,.,
I\i it.
If
.
i‘i : r
.1 ,
S|,d.-:d
f\
s
1 : s
.
n
Ir
\
: d
|n
.
s :l
Last Time.
d
: d : |
I
Sound th e pibroch loud a n d high
F r a e John o' Gix>at*s t o Isle o f Skye.
L e t a’ th e e l m s t h e ir slogan cry,
A n d rise a n d fo llo w Charlie.
T h a t ig h in n fodham , etc.
A n d se©, a small d e v o te d band.
B y d a rk L o c h Shiei h a v e t a ’en th e ir stand,
A n d p rou d ly vow , w ith h e a r t a n d hand.
T o d ie f o r R o y a l Charlie.
.”
TBE EDITOR OF “ THE OBAN TIMB 8 .” ]
%
21 Clirendon Crescent,
j
Edinburgh, April 28th, 1908.
S i b , — I think I noticed somo time ago a eorìespondent of “The Oban Times:’ makiup\ some
enquiries about the words of the song “Sound
tiio Pibroch.” I have got a sort of melan
choly satisfaction in sending them for lii.s,
or her, edification, and that of the inhabi
tants of “ Bonnie Scotland” in general, as
the dav may not be far distant when the
^
:
I n , s . - : 1 . 1
’S o ’b’ annsa leam
’bhi’n
dràsda
r
*An tìr nair ^èunntan àrda,
'An Caragreich nan sàr laoch
'Tha cridbeil, càirdeil, suairce.
[to
r
^
:d .
p ib r o c h
4
: r
f
the
i
£
Oir ged tha crodli is caoraich
Ag ionaltradh gach taobh dhiom,
Tha mise ’n so a’ caoineadh
Gun aon a ghabhas truas rium.
“ sound
.,
.
%
Tha ’ghaoth cho cruaidh ’nuair sheideas i
Cha ’n fhàg i brat no braid againn,
Bidh ’n darach cruaidh a’ gèilleadh dll’ i,
’S an tigh gu lèir a’ luasgadh.
!
I
erse
%
On dark C u llod en ’s field o f gore,
H a r k ! h a rk ! t h e y c r y “ C la y m o r e ! c l a y m o r e !”
T h e y b ra v e ly fight, w h a t can th e y m ore ?
T h e y d ie f o r R o y a l Charlie.
N o m ore w e ’ ll soe such deeds agruu,
D e s e rte d is each H ig h la n d glen,
A n d lo n e ly cairns a re o’e r the men.
W h o f o u g lit and d ie d tor Charlie.
T h a t ig h in n fo d h a m , etc.
Sweet around is the sound
Of the birds upon the brandies,
And this brae now so gay,
Tender thoughts awakens;
Often thither, through the heather,
And the bonnie brackens,
Did we use to stray together,
Though I ’m now forsaken.
Cutting ferns on the cairns,
Where we tripped our fairy dances,
In the bright, moonlight night,
Or the peaceful gloaming.
Dr> they mourn me, do they scorn me?
Do my fairy comrades
Ever yearn for my returning
From my weary roaming?
Here I moan, all alone,
Sick and weary, cutting brackens,
There a bright fairy sprite
Ever singing ga ily;
I f my dearie were but near me,
And could hear me wailing,
He would cheer me, but. I fear me,
That my strength is failing.
T H E C O M IN G MOD.
T H E M U STC A L C O M P E T IT IO N S .
THE
OBAN
T IM E S
S H IE L D .
Tho following fairy melody sho-nld be
popular w ith juvenile choirs.
The song:s very old, and is attributed to a fairy
swciethcairt, or “ lean nan aithj/’ who was
not too well treated by her human lover
Th e first verse is all that remains o f the:
original Gaelic words— tho rest I have
added, endeavouring* to keep as near as
possible to tha spirit of the original verse.
Tine English verses are by M r L . M'Bean,
K irkcaldy.
F io n n .
G u socrach.
J
I
r .
r .
Tha
f|
\ \
1
s
f . •» m
Buain
ua
r
r
mi
: r1
: f
sgiili
i d1
i m
’s ini
&
1 : d1 \
f
: n J
leam fhin,
j
: m. r i d
r : m . d\
: d . t, i 1, ,, t| : d . d 1
rainich Imain
na raiuich,
>•
i
.
,j''. >■
*
V
V-
It*
Tas"-'
3J
.
D
tBC’iw^
—
■ t
f
ft:*;.
•
' •
M
"
<
ii
Jaimes Hogg, the E ttrick Shepherd,
wrote words to this fairy melody, which
appear with music in “ A lb y n ’s A n th o l
o g y / ’ published in 1816.
B U AIN N A KA1NICH.
GLEUS D.
^ .'
T H E C O M IN G MOD.
THE MUSICAL COMPETITIONS.
I
f I r . r : r1
i d1
1 : d1
I I r . r : f . s i 1
f : 1
Tlift mi
sgith ’s mi leam fhin,
i
\
1
f
Buain
M l
\ | f
Ciil
n
l
1
Ciil
\ j
j 1
j
A s already stated,
jnvenile choirs
I competing for ‘‘ The Oban T im e s ” Shield
must submit tw o songs in two-part harI mony, which they are prepared to sing
aa well as those* prescribed.
The follow*
ing pathetic song by Dr. MacLachlan,
Ralioy,
should prove popular.
The
translation is by M r L. MacBean.
s : h . 1 i r
: r
n : d . d 1 r . 1| : r
na
rainich
dauim - an.
s : in . r i d
r
ri : d . t| i d
r
an
tcmain,
braigh
: m . d Ì
: d . ta j
automata,
s : n . r i m
: s
t, : d ^ S| i d
: t,
an
tomain
bhòi dh- i ch,
“ THE OBAN T IM E S ” SHIELD.
Ì
I
F
( I 1 ,, 8 : n . r i d
r : pi . d1 1
\ I d
n : d . t t ' 1|
tt : d . n J
Ciil
an
toinaio, bniigh an tomainj
I
ENGLISH VERSES.
I am tired, all alone.
Cutting brackens, getting brackens,
I am tired, all alone,
Cutting brackens always.
Round the hillock, o’er the hillock,
*
On the hillock always,
Round the hillock, o’er the hillock,
Every day so lonely.
Cutting ferns on the cairns,
As I ’ m bidden by my lover;
Here I stay all the day,
Sad at heart and weary.
I f my lover could discover
That I ’m here so dreary,
,
Could ho leave me sad and grieving.,
And ne’er conie to cheer me?
.
OCII, OCH, M AR T H A MI.
G l k u s E.
Gu sèimh , aitheasach .
I / •S| : S|. 1j d
M . S| : Si. 1, d
/ I I . , s : pt . 1 i r
: r
\ | f
m : d . d 1 r . li : r
H-uile
latha
in’ on - ar,
’S trie a bha mi fbein ’s mo leannan
Anns a’ ghleannan cheòthar,
’G èisdeachd oòisir bbinn an doire
’Seinn ’sa cboille dhòmhail;
O! na’m faicinn thu a tighinn,
RuitbÌnn ’dhol ’ nad cbòmbail,
Acb mar tig tliu ’n So ’gam shireadb,
Ciamar thilleas doclms.
Anns an t-sithein o gur sgith mi
’S trie mo cbrìdb ’ga liònadh,
Nuair bhios each a eeinn nan luinneag,
Cha dean mis’ acb crònan.
’S bocbd nach robh mi leat a ritbist
Sinn a bhitheadh ceolmhor,
Racbainn lent gu cùi na cruinne,
Air bhàrr tuinne seoladh.
Ciod am feum dhomh bhi ri tuirendh,
Dè ni tuirendh dhòmhsa,
’ S mi cho fada o gach duine
B’ urrainn tigh ’n ’gam chomhnadh.
Cùl an tomain, brhigh an tomain
Cùl an tomain bhòidhich
Cul an tomain, bràigh an tomain
H-uile latha m* ònar.
io n n
V
1
Och,
och! mar tha
: d .d : r .n s
: t| . 1| : S|. d n
mi
is
m i 'naai
òuar,
/ .s : s . m d
: d . d : r . n li
\ . f : n . d Ijjd : ti. 1,. Si. Si f|
j
A.’
dol troimh’n choill far
I f . 8|: S[. li
I . N|: ri| . f|
I
j
Kacli faigh mi
d
an robh
mi
n [tf\
à it’
aun
/ . t : d1., 1 s
: m. d : r . n
1 .r : n f
jn^r : d . 1| . s,. s,
Ged plifiighinu crtm
air 3on leml mo
: 1|. \
: f,. j
eòlach;
: d . d: r m s
: S|. li : t, d n
am fhearaim
: 1. )
.f. /
: 1. Ì
:f. J
flùchais,
d
t*i,
: d. \
. n,. \ ’
.4
bhròige.
Neo-bhinn an fhuaim leam a dhùisg à m’
shuain mi,
’S e tigh’nn a nuas orm o chruaich na morbheinn—
An ciobair Calkin, ’s cha chord a chainnt
rium,
^
E ’glaodhaich thall ri cu mall an dòlais.
Moch mnduinn chèitein an am dhomh eirigh,
Cha cheòl air gheugan, no geum air mointich,
Ach sgreadail bheisdean ’s a chànain Bheurla,
Lo coin ’gan eigheach c’ur feidh air fògar.
An uair a chi
i '* mi na beanntan àrda,
’S am fliearann àigh ’san robh Fionn a
chòmhnuidh,
Cha’n ihaic mi ann ach na enoraich bhàna,
Is Goill gun àireamh ’sa Ji-uile còdhail.
Na gleanntan ciatach ’sam faighteadh fiadhach,
Is coin air iallan aig gillean òga,
Cha’ n fhaic thu ’n diugh ann ach ciobair
stiallach,
’S gur duibhe ’mhiaran na sgiatli na ròcais.
0, chaidh gach àbhaist a cliur <ur fuadach ;
Cha chiuinn thu gruagach ri duan no òran ; i
Naeh bochd an ni e gu’ n shearg ar n*uaislean,
’S na balaich sbtiarach ’nan àitean-còmhnuidhl
A
An uair n chi m, lu, iagilin àluinn,
S a i-mlo h-àiridh ’dol iàs lo coinnich,
Jo bhadain chaorach le’„ uain ’g.,n àrach,
mu ihaod im radhtainn nach b’fhaidhe
lomas.*
* Fàisucaohd Thomaia
" S'ldli
800 a<l a" l a,ar>'h,
'o xV*uaiua
d
f cnos&u
oungcala.”
llncl' ►f'hino—
ua
Och! och! how lonely to wander weary
m il 6cones endeariug with none beside
For all around now to me is dreary,
My native land has a home denied me.
When sounds unsweet havo disturbed me
marring
’
The long-sought slumbers around me falling,
llie Lowland shepherd, with accent jarring
Directs his sheep-dog with hideous bawling.
No more are mornings i„ spring delightful
\Vith deer soft lowing and woodland warble*
1 he deer have fled from these barkings irightAnd loud the stranger his jargon garbles.
w i 1’
mountains witn purple heather,
Where I mgal fought and his heroes slum!,,-,A ie white with sheep now for miles together!
And failed with strangers whom none can
number.
,
Tlie lonely glens where the deer long lingered
And our bur youths went with hounds to
nnd them,
A ie now tho home of tho lomr black-fingered
And lazy shepherds with dogs behind them.
The ancient customs and clans are banished,
No more are songs on the breezes swelling
Our Highland nobles, alas !are vanished,
And worthless upstarts are in their dwelling.
Dr. Stewart, better known as “ Neither
Lochaber,’’ says— “ Of the old church
sanctuaries in the Highlands, that of Lismore was probably the very last who^c
privileges were claimed, and, strange to
say, instantly acknowledged without a
word of protest, in the case of a homicide
who fled thither from the venegeance that
would otherwise very assuredly
have
overtaken him on the part of tho friends
of tho man whoso death he had caused. ’
T iie incident occurred a few years after
the battle of Culladen. A party of Lismore men were returning from a funeral
in K ie l o f Duror, in Appin, w'hen a dis
pute arosd between two o f them, as to their
relative merits as reapers with the corranfiaiclach or toothed reaping-hook then :n
xtse. The name of tho one wa-s- MacColl;
and that of the other Campbell. MacCoil
maintained that on* one occasion he had
cut so many adagsi, or stocks, within a
given time, to which Campbell gave tho
lie direct, saying that such a feat was never
heard of in the reaping-field, and that it
was simply impossible. The debate quickly
waxed hot, and as citen happened on such
occasion?, culminated in a violent quarrel,
in the course of which MacColl struck
Campbell. The latter retail i ated with the
taoman, cr baling dish. A tacman is a
sscopcd-sihaped wooden dish, usually of
alderwood, and, when saturated with brine,
it is of considerable weight. A t all crvents
?:o heavy and terrible a weapon did it prove
in this caê, that MacColl fell sensele-s to
the bottom of the boat, and before the
shore was reached the unfortunate man was
dead. “ Y o u have committed a murder,”
whispered one of the company into Camp
bellear,
“ and even if you are not
hanged
for
it,
MacColl's
friends
will"kill you. Take my advice, and make
for the sanctuary of Maluag as fast as your
leg? can carry you, and without once
looking behind you, and you w ill stay
there in the shelter of Clach-na-h-EaJ i
until your friends have timo to consider
what is best to bo done." Campbell saw
the force of the friendly advice, and., leap
ing ashore ait tha first contact of the boat's
keel with the shingle/, tied for his life to
the sanctuary, and with his right hand on
Clach-na-h-Eala, claimed all the protection
and privileges of the spot in the name of
the H o ly Trinity and St. Maluag. In tho
old Gaelic phrase hei “ put it on his soul
and conscience, and on his hopes of salva
tion by the Cross of his Redeemer, that
the death of MacColl was a misadventure
rather than a murder; that if hei struck
a blow that proved fatal, it was only m
self-defence, and after he had been struck
by MacColl.” The MacColls, at that time,
a numerous1 sept on the A p p in mainland
as well as in. Ldsmore, and always; addicted,
much more so than were their neighbours,
to the leix talionis, even in its extreme
form, of an eye for an eye and a tooth for
a tooth, were terribly enraged at the way
their kinsman was done to death.
They
threatened to drag Campbell from the
sanctuary in order to deal with him brevi
manu, and would doubtless have carried
out their threat if only they could have
their own way.
The majority of the
people of the island, however, were rcsolved thaib the sanctuary of St. Maluag
must be respected, eivcn as in the olden
time, and whilst Campbell remained within
its walls, the MacCo Is were told in verv
emphatic terms that no molestation of
him would be permitted. M any of the
MacColls even would have hesitated to
violate a> sanctuary so time-honoured and
sacred.
I t has to be remembered that
the powerful Clan Campbell had naturally
a friendly interest in their kinsman, and
they had to- be reckoned with in the
busineiss; so that it was soon apparent to
the MacColls that upon the whole their
best and safest policy was simply to sulk
and be silent.
Campbell remained in
safety in his sanctuary for several weeks,
liberally supplied with food and other
necessaries of life by the people of the
island.
The MaicCblls even contributed
their fair share, for it was the old law
that a petrson in the sanctuary was the
guest of the entire population. Campbell
escaped to the mainland, where', under a.
chieftain, of his own, data, the laird of
Loehnell, he lived to be an old man, and
never afterwards would he enter a boat
in which was a taoman, or wooden balingdish.
Cf<ViV
✓
*
♦ ♦♦
Thera is floating about the Highlands
and Scotland generally a lot of old elan !
music, either dedicated to, or composed j
by Monzies’, or named after the clan or '
peaces associated with the name of
M^nzies. A ll this is now being collected
and sought for by M r D. P. Menzies of
M engi^ton, Plean Castle, A irth Station,
'Stirlingshire, with the object of publish
ing a book of Metizies music.
H e has
already got over 50 pieces, and will be
glad ,'o receive copies of all, kinds of
music connected with the clan. Amongst
the old songs still wanted are the words
and music of
Castle Menzies Gean
Trees” ; Momies of P itfo d el’s music ; “ The
Kiel Menzies/’ song by Burns—-who she
was and. what was the charm which caused
Hums to ring of her; 11 Peggie Meazies/’
nn old rfv'jl—-who was she, and what wa?
her life story'?
A N IM A L PARENTAGE
GLASGOW CELTIC LECTURES.
T H E B E L I E F IN A N I M A L P A R E N T A G E .
til
Dr. George Henderson, the Lecturer on
Celtic Languages and Literature in the
>•(
U n iveisity
of
Glasgow,
delivered
f., tli*. th iid and last leotur© o f the course oi*
“ The H a p p y other W orld of the Colt ’
to a largo audience in the H um anity Class
R oom
on. Saturday afternoon,
Tho
lecture
wag
devoted
chiefly
to
Ossian.
I'
Dr. Henderson said the cycle o f ideas
i
associated with Oasiian/s names noints to
M'anism, c r the worship of manes or spirits
comprehons
i
v
e
o
f
all
forms
of
Totemism
V'J
to* which we have very old references in
Gadelic.
The mother of Caraire Mor
learns her son must not kill birds. Oncc
he saw groat white-speckled birds of
unusual] size and beauty com ing towards
him. H e pursued them until his horses
wero tired. The birds would1 go a speatrcasb before him, and would not go any
further. H e pursued them out to sea and
overcome them. The birds quit their
■bird-skins, and turn upon him with
I
V .
i
»
SPEARS AND SWORDS.
4-'
One of them protects him and says:
I am Neinglan, king of thy father’s bii'ds,
and thou hast been forbidden to cast at
birds, for here there is no one that should
not be dear to thee because of his father
and mother.
The violation o f the Tabu lead to
Caraire’s death.
The existence o f this
belief in animal parentage is seen, from
“ Todd's Irish Version o f N en n iu s/’ Here
w e read : — ■
There are certain peqple in Eri, viz., tho
race of Laighne Faelaidh, in Ossory; they
pass into the form of wolves whenever they
please, and kill cattle according to the cus
tom of wolves, and they quit their own
bodies; when they go forth in the wolfforms they charge their friends not to
remove their bodies, for if they are moved
they will not be able to come again into
them (their bodies); and if they are
wounded while abroad, the same wounds
will be on their bodies in their houses; and
the raw flesh devoured while abroad will
bo in their teeth.
This belief was current in the days of
Fynes Monyson, who mentions the report
that in U p p er Ossory and Ormond men
are yearly turned into wolves. A nd long
before then Gerald the Welshman had
heard a story of tw o wolves who had been
a man: and woman o f the Ossorians. They
were transformed into wolves every seven
years through a curse imposed by St.
Naal or Natalis, A b b o t of Kilmanagh,
Kilkenny, in the sixth century. They
were banished! to Meath, where they met
a priest in a wood, shortly cro Earl John
came to Ireland in the days o f Henry I I .
They retained the u se o f language, and
were fabled w ith having foretold the
invasion of the foreigner.
The Latin
legend declares th© substance o f what the
wolf said1 to the p r ie s t :— “ Certain sept
of the men o f Ossory are w c : every
seventh year, through the curse o f St.
Natalis, the A b b ot, we two, man and
woman, aire compelled to leave our shape
and our bounds.”
Then, having been
divested of human form, animal form is
assumed. Having completed their seven
years, should they survive s o long, if tw o
other Ossorians be substituted instead of
these, the former return to their pristine
form and fatherland. I n addition, to that
of Ossian, which denotes “ little deer,
there are many other names of
in
Gaelic.
M acechem ,
Maclellan,
Maicmahon, Mackichan, MacCulloch, de
rive from th© names for horse, wolf, bear,
boar.
Shaw,
seemingly,
is
from
Sithech, “ w olf,” as/ is a.lso Maokeith ; the
Prince c-f Teflia, the 0 ‘Caharny, had as
his official title “ The W o lf .” Malcolm,
through the Gaelic Maol-Calium, derives
ultimately
from
Co-lumbal,
“ d ov e.”
Ad'amnau gives th© older diminutive form
Ois'jeneus from Gaelic Oiasene, and there
ia the female Os&nat, as well as the tribal
name Ossraighe, whence Ossory. N ick
names are still given to person/$ in the
Highlands, and’ such names as “ the lion ,”
“ the jackdaw',” “ the little horse,” “ the
rat,” “ the ea g le” were current a few
years! ago*. Analogy thus strengthens the
cl iception as to the name Ossian being
given from his deer-parentage. The same
idea occurs in another old tale of the
transformation of Tuan mac Cairill, who
tells the story to St. Finnian of Movilie.
“ A s I was asleep one night I saw myself
j\“ --}ing in to the shape of a stag (‘ dul i
right! oi-ss allaid ;). . . A fter this, from
the time that I was in the shape o f a sta g !
I wag the leader o f the herds of Ireland,
and wherever I went there was a large herd
of stags about me (‘bòi alma- mò do ossaib
ailta immun
This Tuan afterwards
passes into' the shape of a boar, then into
that of a hawk, then into that of a salmon,
which on being eaten1by Cairell's wife he
was reborn as human. H e was of great
age when Patrick cam© to Ireland and
was) baptised, and “ alone believed in the
King o f all tilings, with his eleihents.”
Every pedigree that is in Ireland, ’tis from
Tuan, eon, o f Cairell, the origin of that
history is.
For he had conversed with
th© ages, and was known as Tuan, the
eon o f Stani, the brother o f Parthoton
(whence Mac Pharlane-Farlane),
THE
FIRST
MAN
who came to Ireland. One hundred years
way he in man's! shape, eighty as a stag,
twenty as a boalr, a hundred as an eagle,
twenty as a salmon, so that three him died
2'.<nd twenty years elapsed until h© was
reborn a man. The “ Colloquy ” tells mu
that Ossian went to* th© “ sid ” o f ucht
Cleitigh (Sid octa Cleitig), where was his
mother Blai daughter of Derc, surnamed “ diancothach,” i.e., o f the forcible
language!
In another part o f the
“ Colloquy ” we read of Nbhalroiscc, fromi
the Sid Ochta Cleitig, in the plain
o f Bregia? This passage enumerates the
chiefs) and territorial lordsi o f the Tuatha
cle Datnann, and it follows that th© deer
parentage of Ossdan connects him with
the “ Tuatha de Danann.” One day Finn
and hia men were ahuntin<*
_ O around L och
Lein, on the Lakes o f K illaniey, when a
lady o f dazzling beaut)’-, on a white steed,
came to them o f a sudden from the sea.
She wae Niamh o f the golden hair, from
the land of the ever young. Th© lecturer
repeated a poem, describing the meeting of
Niamh and Osisian. On; parting from her
he returned to the Court o f Finn! his
father to find it in ruin1, overgrown with
nettles and tluorns) and weeds'. Moved by
pity he goes to the aid o f a group of men
who failed to move a great stone.
But'
scarce
had lie done so than the ©
golden
«
girth of his whit© steed broke, and' swiftly
Ossian fell to tho g rou n d , fear seized the
steed so that it fled, and Ossian was left
a weak and lielplosia man, old, blind,
powerless.
\
THE
THE
HARP
GAELIC
MOD
of
THE
PRIZE
CELTIC
GAEL.
POEM .
BY REV. DUGALD MACECHERN, B.D.
(Translated by A u th or.)
*pj|js(=) ARP of my own dear country,
vk'J t Trembling against my bosom,
Sweeter to me are thy strains
Than all of the wide world’s music,
Shapely thy curving neck
Like the wild swan afloat on the ocean,
Gleaming thy sun-bright strings,
Like the golden hair of my dear one.
What ah ! what can express
Like the harp’s wild tender trembling,
Love that lies in the heart
Like a precious jewel hidden ?
Sweet to me is the viol
AVhen move in the dance the maidens,
Dear to me are the pipes
When my sword is red in the battle,
But *tis the harp should be tun&d
With slender and swift-moving finger,
When in her song my dear one,
Sweet-throated, her love confesseth.
Tell me thy secret, my harp,
Who taught thee to tremble in music?
Was it the ocean crooning
To th’ yellow sands and the sea-wrack ?
Say, were thy tutors the lark
And the tuneful thrush of the wild-grove,
Blast of the giant bens
And whisper of wind-kissed forest,
Chant of the waterfall where
The stream leaps down from the mountains,
These, and in glens of our love
The songs of the sweet-throated maidens,
Say, were thy tutors these ?
Who taught thee to tremble in music—
Music of kings in the times
"When the Sun in his youth was shining,
Music of more than heroes
In the days of Fin gal and Ossian.
Coll of the waves ! Eilean Chola,
Musical were thy children,
Thine was the last of the line
Of the old-time harpers of Albyn,
Sad was thy heart, oh Murdoch ! *
When last thou tunedst the harp-strings,
Sad was thy heart, and the ship
Like a seagull out on the ocean,
Passing thy spray-swept island,
Bearing the Prince of thy bosom,
Bearing Prince Charlie an exile
Out on the sorrowful ocean,
Saying good-bye to Albyn
And to the crown of his fathers—
The golden crown of his fathers
Lost on the field of battle,
' And to the land of the heroes
Who unto death were faithful.
Passed thy prince from thy view •
^Murdoch, the harper to MacLean of Coll, was the last
professional harper in Scotland.
MONTHLY.
Till the sail seemed merged in the ocean,
Passed—and together that hour
Thy harp and thy heart were broken.
Never again did thy song
Rise in the halls of the chieftains,
Never in Coll of the waves
In the eyrie of Tighearn Chola,
Even as the rose will shut
When her lover the Sun is departed,
So didst thou close thy heart,
The music, the glory departed.
Music with thee was laid
In thy grave in Mull of the mountains.
IIow could the strings be tuned
When lost were the rights of our fathers.
Banned was the tartan plaid
And they cursed the tongue of the mountains
Who, who could tune thy strings
And the land of the Gael dishonoured ?
Harp of the kings, let us sing
In the ears of the wise of the nation,
Standing on steps of the throne
Of the Scot-descended Edward,
Close to the Destiny Stone,
The stone of the Scots and of Aidan—
Sing how a nation alone
May stand forever unshaken.
Red and strong is the blood
Where the wind is scented with heather,
Races of heroes are bred
On the purple breasts of mountains,
Often the heroes of hills
Have hurled back doom from a nation—
Have we forgotten Omdurman
And Hector in crisis of battle ?
Sing how the blood of the cities,
Swiftly degenerate, faileth,
Sing of proud kingdoms that fell
Their children forsaking the mountains.
Harp of the Scots, thou art kin
To the harp that is slumbering in Tara,
Shall we not therefore sing
Together our songs, O Erin ?
Branches we are of the stem
Whose roots reach the ages forgotten,
Proudly the harp of the Gael
In the banner of Erin is floating,
Proudly in veins of the king
The blood of the Gael is flowing—
Blood of the Scots of Dalriad,
Blood of O’-Neil and of Canmore.
Here in the hands of our love
Is balm for the wounds of thy bosom,
Thy deep, red wounds—and thy grief
Shall vanish like visions with morning.
Cease from your terrible tears,
O dark-haired daughters of sorrow,
Golden and beautiful breaks
The morn on the hilltops of Erin I
Harp of the world-scattered Gaels,
Sing how the Gaels are in number
Even as the stars; how in strength
They arc sinew and muscle of empires.
Brothers they are, of our blood,
Though spread to the four winds of heaven,
16
THE
CELTIC
MONTHLY.
SHINTY
Brothers, if exiles, still,
Though their white-sailed ships return not
What if the straths are forlorn,
The Blood of the race is not passing,
What if the language should fail,
The Race of the Gael is not dying!
See how the Gaels are in number
As sands on the marge of the wild wave,
Conquering with hands of toil
The cities and lands of the stranger;
LTnder the sun of the Indies
And in the lands over ocean,
Wielding the axe of the settler
Far in the depths of the forest,
Digging the yellow gold,
Low in the depths of the canyon,
Struggling on far fields of battle
Struggling— and falling with glory !
Rise up ! rise up ! ilk Hielan’ wight,
The lark is up, the sun is bright ;
Sieze the camac ! grasp it tight,
A n ’ haste awa’ to Shinty.
Chorus.
Then drain the quaich, fill again,
Loudly blaw the martial strain ;
A n ’ welcome gie w i’ might an’ main,
T o gude auld Hielan’ Shinty.
W i ’ bonnet blue, w i’ k ilt an’ plaid,
Of ilka clannish hue array’d,
U p ! muster in the greensome glade,
T o fight this day at Shinty.
Then drain, &c.
Quick ! doff your claes to kilt an’ sark,
W i ’ wistfu* e’en beware the mark,
A n ’ shins look out for ruefu’ wark !
This day at H ielan’ Shinty.
Then drain, &c.
Tell me, my harp beloved,
Shall the hope that I cherish fail me—
Shall 1 behold the Gaels
To the glens of their love returning,
Men at work on the crofts
As I saw in the times unforgotten,
The mother in musical Gaelic
To the babe at her bosom crooning.
Friendly at feast of the Old-Year,
Chieftain and clansmen together,
Cheeks of the youth aglow
At the Shinty on New-Year’s morningEvery old custom so dear
To our beautiful glens returning,
Bagpipes on fields of battle
Chanting their war-notes defiant,
And, in the halls of peace
The harp with its wild sweet trembling,
Why should I thus drop tears
On the ruins of old homes broken—
Spanning the bens, behold !
The rainbow, the rainbow is shining !
But see ! the ha’ flies owre the dale,
N o w high !— now low !— now on the gale
Back and’ fore, now gains the hale,
W e e l done for H ielan’ Shinty.
Then drain, &c.
W i ’ aw fu’ noise, w i’ glorious din,
L ik e deer bellin’ the na’ they rin ;
W i ’ mony a honest cheerfu’ grin,
F o r gude auld Hielan’ Shinty.
Then drain, &c.
’Tis ow re,— for high amid the fun,
The piper’s notes proclaim ’ tis done ;
A n ’ victory is baith lost an’ won,
This day at Hielan’ Shinty.
Then drain, &c.
A n ’ now, w i ’ social mirth an’ glee,
T o end the sport we a’ agree ;
W T whiskey bright, an’ barley bree,
W e 'l l drink to H ielan’ Shinty.
Then drain, &c.
%
Listen, my harp, my beloved I
When cometh the time of my changing,
When my hand, white as the snow,
To dust in the grave shall crumble,
Do not let any man’s hand
Strike from thee chords of sorrow —
Shall I not rise again
To the wind my boat’s sail spreading,
For the beautiful Island of Youth
In the gold of the Sea of the Sunset.
There I shall practice thy music,
There in the llall of the Noble—
Beloved ! when I am dead,
For me let no wail of sorrow
Rise from thy sun-briglit strings,
But a song— a song victorious.
S i r , — I should like to obtaiu information regarding
the ancestors and descendants of the late Alexander
]VJ‘ Kay, farmer, Seapark, Kinloss, who died in 1808,
and Janet Grant or M ‘Kay, his wife, who died iu
1844, both supposed to have been buried at Kinloss
Abbey. Should any reader be able to assist me, I
shall be glad to hear from them per the editor of
the Celtic Monthly.
A . G. M a o k i e .
t
’A n 9 by my dirk, w i ’ gill an’ stoup,
W V Hielan’ mirth, an’ festive loup ;
W e 'll sen’ auld care to Davy's roup !
A n ’ far aw a’ frae Shinty.
Then drain, &c.
Rise up ! rise up ! a reel ! a reel !
Ilk bonny lass, ilk gen’rous c h ie l;
A n ’ min’ tis a’ for Scotland's weel,
A n ’ gude all H ielan’ Shinty.
Then drain, &c.
Quick ! piper, quick ! mair loudly blaw,
W e ’ ll dance it out, both great an* sma’ ;
W e ’ ll keep it up, till morning's craw ;
’ Tis a’ for Hielan' Shinty.
Then drain, &c.
T h o’ death, w i ’ cauld relentless han*,
Strikes one by one our social ban’ ;
Before our game, he daurna stan’ ,
F or he’s nae match for Shinty.
Then drain, &c.
Then may w e ’ a’ , that now are met,
T ill nature claims her final debt,
Be aye resolv’d, ne’er to forget
Our ancient Hielan’ Shinty.
Then drain, <fcc.
i
F or
l a m e n t .
A l l a n , X X I I I . C h ie f of C la n ra n a ld
(Mac-ic-Ailein).
Blow soft, ye winds, on Moidart’s shore,
And gently lap, ye curling waves ;
\\ here wildest tempest rudely raves,
Round T ir rim’s stately halls of yore.
N o more the Piobaireachd’s wailing dirge
Sounds o’er thy waters’ blue expanse ;
.No more Clanranald’s oarsmen wwe
I he Birlinn’s speed with fiery glance.
X o more the chief borne shoulder high,
W ith kindred dust in sainted I * may lie •
Or mourning voice be raised their Coronach to cry,
Saying, “ Tlie Chief is dead, God rest his soul,” with
gentle sigh,
But still the chief is chief, a right that can be neither
nought nor sold,
Our Highland heritage and love, are ours to keep, are
ours to hold.
1
‘ D h tindeoin co theireadh ’ e ! f
i
♦
; 0 ! gallant race of mighty men and true
, descendants of great Somerled, our Island K i n g ;
- Or all Clan Coila’s noble chiefs how few
A t e left for patriot praise, or bardic verse to sing ;
: 1<rom Islay’s green and grassy slopes their lordly swav
is gone,
\Têi]1^ irr^ ,S lonely roc^ a bare antl barren witness bears •
; A nd Keppoch lies forsaken now, where once the gleam
;
ot claymores shone ;
: I t ’s larches droop by Spean’s banks, and all a garb of
mourning wears.
Our lands have passed, our R o 3'al race may dare
i o name in all our ancient realm— hardly one spot
our own !
*
W here laughter reigned, the wild cat and the fox a
bed may share ;
F or Islay s scattered race the world may roam, ochon ’
; I et still the chief is chief, a right that can be neither
bought nor sold.
j Our Highland laws of heritage and love are ours to
keep, are ours to hold.
‘ D h ’aiudeoin co theireadh ’ e !
I
' Then what is left to us, what gift is ours,
, Of all the wreckage of our glorious fame to save,
W hat guerdon hath Dame Fortune kept, and showers
Upon our name’s renown ? ’Tis this, ‘ Be constant and
be brave ! ’
! Our clansmen still are great, and faithful unto death,
N o greed of land, or greed of gold hath e’er corrupted
i
them ;
1
\Our heroes died in honour, faithful to their latest
breath,
One watchward from each waving branch to Tara’s
stem,
' W as truth and loyalty : B y this our chiefs shall stand •
I rue Highlanders m heart and race, tho’ far from
Scotia’s land.
And tho’ they mourn young Allan dead, they rise to
greet thee, Angus, to command,
For still the chief is chief, a right that can be neither
bought nor sold,
Our Highland laws of heritage and love, are ours to
keep, are ours to hold.
‘ D h 'aindeoiu co theireadh ’ e /
A lick C. M a c D o n e l l of Keppoch.
* “ i ” pronounced “ E.” The Island of Iona or Icolmkill
t Despite who nrny say to the contrary.
't
try &
(L<
U.+ ■/
d u cH i
(X J h * . t l b i *'{■
! I i ÔCj (
TH E
CURSE.
following poem is founded on an interest
ing episode relating to the famous Keppoch
curse, laid by the wife of Ranald Mor, chief
of Keppoch, on the then chief of Mackintosh,
who was her own brother. The cause being
the treacherous betrayal of her husband to tiie
Government troops, and his consequent death
by beheading at Elgin, also the murder of his
third son John at M oy Hall ; both father and
son having been invited thither to a banquet.
This third lawful son of Ranald M or is most
unfortunately confounded by the Authors of a
recent History of Clan Donald with John Dubh
of Bohuntin, his illegitimate son by a weaveress
of Bohuntin, whose descendants to this day
are known 111 Lochaber as “ slioehd na ban
fhigheach.”
Such a serious error will, it is
hoped, in common fairness to the family of
Keppoch, be corrected by the Authors.
The curse lasted three hundred years, the
late chief of Mackintosh, and brother of the
present chief, being the first son to succeed a
sire since the curse was laid, the stipulated
three hundred years having then expired.
Ih e
“ Gheibh baobh a guidhe, ach clia ’n fhaigh a h-anam
trocair .” — Old Gaflic Prorerb.
P rologue.
Gloom of tlie unknown forest, where no human step
hath stirred,
Gloom of the depths of the pine woods, where 110 song
bird's note is heard.
G loom of the storm lashed ocean, black, limitless
waste of waves,
Gloom of the shrieking voices, crying through the
em pty caves.
Gloom of the lonely places, haunted by viewless forms,
Gloom of the pain scarred faces, 110 heat of emotion
warms.
Gloom of the shut in nature, craving the grace of
speech,
Gloom of the hours of silence, where 110 human aid
may reach.
Gloom of the hate of kindred, the fires of jealousy
nurse,
Hut the gloom of the doom most dreaded, is an
injured woman’s curse.
T h e V isio n .
N igh t, and the silence of mountains piling up to the
sky,
N ig h t, and the breaking voices of waters hidden and
shy;
N igh t, and the clear cold moonbeams cast o'er the
slumbering woods,
W h e re the oak, the ash, and the hazel, drooping in
dreamland broods.
N igh t, and the deep, dark shadows, 011 the brown
burn’s wavering crest,
N igh t, and the soft small whirrings of bird life
crooning to r e s t ;
N ig h t, and the wonder of beauty, steeping the hills
of Glenroy,
W i t h the air of a delicate mystery, 110 alien sounds
destroy.
Out from tlie mystic silence, a shadow from
page,
Clad in the clinging garments, that told of
age;
Pressed through the velvet mosses, with
noiseless and light,
Paused ‘neath the waving brandies, full in
struck sight.
history s
T h e V o ic e o f t h e V isio n .
,
“ Red runs the R oy , and the song of its joy , as it
storms o’ er its rocky bed,
Is broken and hoarse, in its careless course, for the
chief, and the murdered dead,
There’s a sob in the waters, heard in the night, a
warning of dool and pain,
For the joy of m y life betrayed, and the wife bereft
for a brother’s train.
“ The eagles screamed from the corries' depth, and
the wild cat scoured the wood
That night, with the mew of the traitors’ call that
lured to a doom of blood :
The distaff fell from my chilling hands, and the red
rose Hed m y cheek,
For I felt in m y soul Clan Chattan's wiles, and the
lie 011 his false tongue speak.
“ The banquet is spread, old rancour is dead, 1 plead
but a true behest,”
H e spake, “ For my kin, and he of m y blood, my hall
but awaits the guest.”
O, brother of shame ! I wept that the name you bore
was once m y own,
For the vision that rose in m y shuddering eyes, would
the ties of race dethrone.
“ Go not, b e l o v e d ! " I cried, “ nor trust in the wild
cat’s paw, our boy :
‘ Touch not the cat , hot the y lo v t ' ye know, he waits
but the power to destroy.
A h ! loved of 1113' heart, a woman's eye, sees far
through a nature thrawn,
W h e re the man unwitting is caught in the mesh, by'
unscrupulous fingers drawn.
“ In vain I pleaded, and urged m y fears, m y love
’gainst his loyal trust,
He could not deem a brother's hand would deal him a
traitor's thrust.
So, Keppoch's Chief, and my youngest boy, Inn M o
(fhaol , went forth,
To meet their doom, with their trusting hearts, where
he dwelt in the cruel North.
“ A ll night the winds soughed by, and sobbed in the
larch, and the red-ribbed pine,
I durst not sleep, for I heard the moan of the stag
hounds drag to an eerie whine,
O, wae is me ! for the R oy ran red as blood ’gainst the
rocking stones,
A n d the spae-wife’s shawl Mas drawn and spread, as
she muttered in fitful groans.
“ Long, long, I watched by the Castle Gate, and
looked for the mountain path,
Beyond the hills of the fair Glenroy, where they'd
come by its flowery strath.
Against my will, did my’ broken heart speak out, and
its tale foretold,
For the kiss I laid on the living brows, struck chill 011
my lips, and cold.
“ They told of the gaping wounds that stained his
halls in a stream of red,
They told of the noble prisoner's fate, to the gibbet at
Klgin led !
No moan made 1, though my blood ran white as
molten fire in my’ veins,
'Till I spake the words in my maddened pain, no
thought of the judgment seat restrains.
a bygone
footsteps
my aw e
Orbs of the deep brown colour, the russet of Autum n
wears,
Filled with a wondrous sadness the patience ot
penitence bears ;
Something of kindred’s pulsing, stirred through my
throbbing veins,
Spake in uiy trembling accents, brake through my
terror’s chains.
“ Shadow, among the shadows cast by the moonbeams
P*de,
“ Speak ! if thou’ rt nought but a phantom an o'erwrmight fancy weaves,
Speak ! if thou’rt nought but a flicker, conjured by
wizard leaves ;
Pass thou the grey cloud barriers, rend thou the filmy
veil,
'Shadow, cast in the habit of a woman slight and
pale.”
..
Pass, by Die grey cloud barriers, rend thou the filmy
vei I •
Speak ! if thine eyes’ dim anguish the ache of a heart
would share ;
,
Speak ! if tho long dark silence may break through the
year’s despair.
“ O God, Thou forgavest the curse that fell from a
tortured mind distraught,
’The curse that clave from sire to son, a brother's
treacherous deed had brought.
Thou traitor chief of Clan Chattan's high and one
time honoured name,
The bed thou gav'st in blood, is thine to reap in
eternal shame !
“ For three bundled long and cursed years 110 son shall
succeed in thine ancient hall,
Guard as ye may the precious heir, on thy hopes, on
his life,* inv
V curse shall fall.
Death !— grim, relentless, meted me, shall sever each
loving tie,
A s alien Chief, to chief, shall succeed, and iu barren
succession die !
“ M y brother shrieked as he heard, for lie knew that
my woman’s curse would hold,
W hen she who had spoken the words lav quiet on the
brow of the hill and eold.
That his name and race were condemned to see 110 son
succeed to a c h i e f s desire,
In childhood day’s, or in early prime, they should
wither and pass, by a woman's ire.
“ Alns ! my curse hath Uel<l as 1 spake, through three
long hundred years :
Hut ah ! my poor soul passed away in wild unrest and
hitter tears.
Condemned, till the curse 1 laid was raised, and son
succeeded to sire once more,
T o dree the days of penitence sore, nor seek my rest
on the blessed shore.”
$
The tale is told, and the Vision passed
T o her peace eternal, and rest at last !
A
ijck
C. M a c D o nk ll . of Keppoch.
XoU* I.— “ The curse spoken shall be granted, but the eoul that
laid tVie 0111*8« shall not fìwl rest.”
CUMHA
RUIARIDH,
AN
SIOSALACH.
H IS Lament for Roderick, “ The Chisholm”—
the last chief in the male line of the clan
— was composed by the late Mrs. Mac
kintosh, Erchless. A t the age of twenty-five
the promising career of this young Highland
chief was cut short by Death, to the great grief
of his family, friends, and clan. H e was buried
in the beautiful and romantic burying-ground of
the ta.Ta\\y— Cnoc-an-taigh-mhòirì beside Erchless
Burn— A n t-allt mbr.
Note 11. -The m otto of the Clan Ohattaiu
\
W H E N T H E C LAN S ENJOY
TH E IR OW N AGAIN.
( A i r : “ P r in c e Charlie's Welcome to S k y e " )
There is plenty in the land,
I f its lords would understand
Their duty to the people in the glens where they were
born :
There is barley for the “ bree,”
There are herring in tlie sea,
There are peats upon the moor, there is grass for hoof
and horn,
There are kail-vards for the kail,
There is milk to fill the pail,
A n d farms and crofts and pastures in the shadows of
the Ben.
And as true as dark grows light,
W h en tli© morning follows night,
The Clans shall enjoy their own again !
In tiie happy days of old,
Kre the cruel greed of gold
Drove justice from the hearts of traders in the soil,
There was earth to dig and plough,
There was forage for the cow,
And meal and malt and raiment for the sons of honest
to il;
A n d it’s coming y e t ere long,
W h e n the right shall “ ding ” the wrong,
A n d our rulers learn that cattle are of less account
than men ;
And the struggle shall be won,
And justice shall be done,
A n d the Clans shall enjoy their own again !
C.
M
ackay
’S ann an diugh tha ’n egeul deurach r i leughadh aig
sluagh,
Ceannard òg nam fir threubhach ’bhi sìnte ’s an
uaigh—
A ’ chraobh àrd bha de’n t-seòrsa a ghiùlaineadh
bàrr,
A n n s ant-sam hradh chiùin bhlàthm hor ’bhi air tuiteam gu làr.
Tha ’n t - A llt - m ò r gu ceolm hor a ’ crònan ri ’thaobh,
’U s a ’ ghaoith le guth bronach a seinn feadh nan
craobh ;
A c h cha dhùisgear le ’n ceòl ’san deadh R u a irid h
bho shuain,
N a le ni ach an trom baid a chrathas fonn agus cuan.
’ S luath a b ’eiginn dha tria lla d h ’us cùl chuir ri ’choir,
’S a bhi leantainn a shinnsreadh gu Cnoc an-taighmhoir,
A c h ’s e dùrachd an t-sluaigh, a tha ciiirrta l e ’n call,
G u m bi rioghachd ’us crùn a bhios buan aige thall.
T h a ’chinneadh ainmeal ’sa thuath, ’s cha ’n iognadh,
fo sprochd,
’N u a ir tha’n c e a n n a r d ’s an CJachdaran, òg, suirce
f o ’n leac,
T h a ’pheathraichean a ’ giùlain trom uallach de bhròn,
’U s a bhan-tighearna, ’mhàthair goirt, cruaidh, air a
leòn.
A c h tha Com hairteir larnh riu tha saoibhir ’ an treòir,
A n deadh Bhràthair a shuathas bho ’n gruaidhean
na deòir ;
T h a na sgàil anns an fhàsach bho làn-theas na g rèin ’,
’S a ’ measg gainmheach neo-stèidhicht ’na creag d ’a
chuid fein.
.
T R A N S L A T IO N .
TO T H E H I G H L A N D
B A G PIPE
{ A f t e r 'reading N e i l M unro's " J o h n S p l e n d i d ” a n d
“ T h t Lost Pihroch .” )
I have trod the wide world
Thro’ far distant lands I
I'v e heard their fine music,
Y e t still upon none have
T h e A u lt-M o r e e v e r sings b y his wreath-covered bed,
A n d the w ind s o ftly sighs ’mongst th epines overhead;
B u t those sounds, from his sleep, shall not R u ari
awake,
N o r aught else, but the trum p that Creation w ill
shake.
for mony a vear,
have wandered,
so sweet to the ear,
I pondered.
But, ah ! there is music*, which weel do I ken,
Cheers the heart when laden with sorrow,
The war note of con ic and grim rugged ben,
That needs from 110 country to borrow.
And what is the charm in these rude and wild reeds,
That moves us to joy or to weeping ?
Do not the pipe notes seem to echo the deeds
Of the men ’neath the grey cairns sleeping?
T o chieftain or clansman their tale is the same,
So kindly, inspiring, and friendly,
When they call to the war, they thrill of the fame
'1 hat was won by our heroes so grandly.
They bring to the exile old memories sore
Of the land of his race and his birth,
Where t he cdouds kiss the bens, and the wild torrents roar
Down the steep, rocky glens to the firth.
M y love t o the pipes ! <), so sweet do they speak
Of the homeland so dear to the (ìael,
And cause the warm blood within him to leap,
When they tell of some old war like tale.
India.
I ain R
iw iw
’Tis a tale full o f woe that to -d a y shall be read,
T h a t the chief of the brave has been laid w ith the
dead ;
T h a t in summer’s b righ t m o m a tree l o f t y and fair,
T o the earth has been thrown, ere its fru it it could
bear.
.
I n fu ll m anhood’ s b rig h t morn he had all to forego,
A n d to Cnoc-an*taigh-mhoir to be borne, to our w oe;
B u t w e hope all the L a n d of the Bless’d he m ay
share,
A n d a crown everlasting be his o v e r there.
’Tis no wonder his clansmen b o w e d down are w ith
grief,
A s th ey th in k of th eir late b e lo ve d landlord and chief,
T h a t his gen tle fon d m oth er and sisters all mourn
F o r the son, and the brother, that shall not return.
B u t th e re ’s One e v e r near them whose strength is
th eir stay,
T h e kin d B ro th er whose hand shall the tears w ipe
aw ay—
T h e Shade fro m the heat o f the sun that would burn,
T h e R o c k am id sand that no storm can o’erturn.
A . G. M .
fo llo w in g Lament seems to breathe the
real spirit of the old Gaelic music, but I can
g iv e no v e r y satisfactory account of it.
The
A i r is known in the Highlands as “ N a hi goid
no coille o r m while it w ill be found in some
T ile
collections of Pipe music under the name of
“ T h e Isle of S k ye Local M ilitia ’s March.”
I
cannot say who composed the English words.
F
io n n
.
Lament f o r P rin ce Charlie.
K e y G.
^ * m-> r
Modzrato.
d
The
: 11 !
sun
But
J).C.
a
1 1 : S|.,l|
- rose
little
in
kenned I
d : s j | s i : pi.,r
bright
array,
And
gloaming gray,
d : s i I 11 : s i
clear shone forth
W ou ld yield
the
n
.r !
r
m or - row;
me nought but
sor
- row.
1
i
^ :
d.__r
:
pi
To
I
pi
Charlie’s
:r .
pi
aid
pi
s
:
my
r
I r
: d. r
Donald
ran,
m :
W i’
m
sword and
/
l : d . r
pi
Ami
w i’
: n
j
pi
:
s
tlie
brav - est
:
r
J
o’
r
: pi . r
d
clan,
1
his
| f . ri: r , d
: s i
1|: —
kilt - ed
my
J
plaidie,
\
| 11 : s ,
lost
| S|
n : — | f p i . ms f J
H ie - lan
laddie.
Chorus.
f
t : n. r
lion,
0
{
:
d : 1■ *'. 1, : s^Jj
pi. r
I ’ll
d
greet
a
roe!
d : s , I s i : _pi . r
hon,
0
: 1 1 | 1 1 : s t. 1 ]
till
d
deatli shall
close
a - ree !
d : s , | 1, : s i
Nae
s i | s , : pi. r
:
my
e’e,
For
comfort
d
late
n
or
: si | 1 , : s ,
Donald
and Prince
,r 1 r
ear
-
r
,n |
Char
N a e mair his pibroch's strain 111 hear
Glenlochy’s echoes swelling ;
Oli ! what can cheer a heart so wae ?
Oh ! what can comfort gie me ?
Our early haunts arc dull and dree,
A n d desolate his dwelling.
Glenlyon’s streams that ran so clear,
Can I forget that waefu’ da}1W h en last he came to see me ?
6
T H E M A C Q U A R U IE S OF U L V A .
SIR)— I write this note to correct a few errors in m3 '
account of the Macquarries of Ulva. I overlooked the
fact that Guaire, the progenitor of the Macquarries,
and Fingon, the progenitor of the MacKinnons, were
possibly brothers.
I t is certain that Fingon must
have been born about 11 SO.
I assume then, that
Guaire was born about that time.
I t is slightly probable that Ceallach, son of Paul,
married a daughter of John Dubh Maclean, father of
Lachlan Lùbanach of Duart and H ector Reaganach
of Lochbuie, whilst it is fairly certain that Hector,
son of Ceallach, married Fingula, daughter of Lachlan
Lùbanach and graml-daughter of John, first Lord yf
DUTHAICH
the Isles. H ector had a son who was killed at Har*
law in 1411, and whose name was probably Lachlan.
H e had also a son named Guaire. John, son of Guaire,
had two sons, Dunslaff and Lachlan Mor. Dunslatf
died without lawful male issue. Lachlan M or married
a daughter of John, son of Malcolm Macgregor.
Hector, son of Lachlan Mor, married a daughter of
Macneil of Barra, and had John, who W'as Ifcird of
U lv a in 1545. Lachlan, nineteenth in descent from
Guaire, sold his estate in 1777, and entered the army
as a captain in the 74th or A r g y le Highlanders. His
commission was dated December *23, 1777.
He
retired from the army in 1783.
Yours truly,
Belfast, I*.K Island.
MO
SHINNSIRE.
A.
J u
& 1
1
recognition
of “ Land of m v F a th ers” as
O
the joint national anthem of the Celtic peoples
has been brought within the range of practica
bility by its translation into each of the six
Celtic tongues. The following version in Scots
Gaelic is by the late Donald Mackechnie :—
The
- lie !
0 hon, a-ree, &e.
0 lion, a-ree, &c.
rt
r
H e was a match for ony queen—
M y winsome Hielan’ laddie.
And I my Hielan' laddie.
4
lie ;
His manly form, his graceful mien,
His dress so trim and gaudy ;
T o me noo’s dark and muddy ;
Sin’ Scotland’s lost her R o ya l heir,
lV
1
J
«
A dlnithaich mo shìnnsir’ , a dlmthaich mo ghaoil,
Sàr-mhuime nam hard thu, is màthair nan laoch,
Nan euraidhean trcublmch a dhVirich ’gad dhion,
’ S a dhòirteadh am fuil aims an stri.
Shean-tir mo ghaoil, ’s tu mo dhachaidh gu iior,
Cho fhad \s a bhios farum 11a tuinne ri d ’ thir,
A Chuimri, a thasgaidh mo cliridh.
A dluithaich nan àrd-bheann, 's tu pànus nam hard,
Do chos-chreaga corrach, ’s do choireachan fàs,
Do choilltean a morbhan ri tormau nan stuadh,
’Cur cuislean air mhire gu luath.
Ged lomadh le namhaid an-iochdar do tliir,
Cainnt aosda na Cuimri cha ghcill dha gu sior,
Is spiorad do bhardachd is clàrsach do thrcin,
Cha striochd thu do nàmhaid fo'n ghrcin.
MACLEAN
S lN < ’L A IK .
A
THE
£
M U S IC
hear
OF
NEW
THE
YEAR
G R EETIN G
THE
CELTIC
BURNS
a c o n s ta n t s in g in g ,
To
my
heart
’tis
ever
clinging,
/ fii
«
♦
.1
♦
•
The singing, the ringing,
The rythm of the burns.
And it’s O ! the heather’s blooming,
On the brae the laverock’s crooning
llis love song to the running
And the music of the burns.
I
The wild cascade is tumbling,
And the grey worn rocks are rumbling
With the force of rushing waters
In the burn :
Where the cushat dove is calling,
And the trail of mosses falling
Hides the home of wee brown otters
In the burn.
I hear a constant singing,
To my heart ’tis ever clinging,
Aud it’s up the lark is winging
Her way to Heaven, bringing
God’s message in her singing,
To the music of the burns.
The mist is slowly rising,
A gossamer surprising,
Shot with golden threads of suulight
From the burn.
And the tiny wren is hovering
O’er her nest, the fern is covering,
By the primrose and the eyebright,
Near the burn.
I hear a constant singing,
The rythm of the burn.
Sure, the angelus is ringing,
From the blue harebell upspringing,
Like the child divine was siuging
0 ! the purple lights adorning
The golden hills of morning,
The gloria of Nature,
From the burns.
There spray of diamonds tossing
Where the angel feet are crossing,
In their wondrous grace and stature,
O’er the burns.
1 hear a constant singing,
O ! my thoughts are ever flowing,
And my steps would fain be going
Where the heather bells are growing,
Rline eyes with teara are glistening,
For my heart is ever listening
To the words that God is whispering,
In the burns
We may follow meekly gleaning
The depths of hidden meaning
In the soul’s divinest dreaming,
35
MONTHLY.
1 hear a constant singing,
The rytbm of the burns.
It’s O 1 my heart is aching,
For the dawn of day is breaking,
The Lochaber hills awaking,
A lice C. M acD onell.
Of Keppoch.
London.
O
MY
LOVE
(th a
IS
mo
run
ON
a ir
THE
a
5
LADDIE.
g iiil l e
.)
(Translated fr o m the Gaelic o f Catherine M u n n .)
ip ip H IS Song was composed by Catherine
Munn, daughter of Hugh Munn, tidewaiter, Tobermory. She died in Mull,
3rd June, 1860, aged sixty-five years.
I t is
generally understood that the song was composed
about 1820, the hero of the song being Captain
John Campbell, Killundine, Morven. This pro
perty was afterwards sold to Col. Cheape and in
this family it still remains.
The Song will be found in “ C oisir-C hiuil ,”
p. 44, “ A n t-O r a n a ic h e p. 190, and u The Gaelic
B ard sfrom 1715 to 1 7 6 5 ” by the Rev. A. Maclean
Sinclair, p. 169.
The latter of the following two verses supplied
by Mr. Carmichael is not to be found in either
of the above-named works.
Moire ’se mo ghaol am fiuran,
Mach a teaghlach Bhothionndain (Chilliondain
Sealgair feidh am beinn a’ bhuiridh,
’S eilid luth nan luath chas.
i
♦
N aile’s e mo ghradh an t-oigear,
Aig am bheil a phearsa bhoidheacb,
Fhir chul-dualaich orbhuidh,
’S fiamh an roia ad ghruaidhean.
In an article published by Dr. Keith N.
MacDonald in the Oban Times of October 26tb,
1901, in speaking of the air, he says, “ A t the
close of the interesting and instructive Pan-Celtic
Congress in Dubliu in August, 1901, the president
of the Congress, Lord Castleton, invited several
of the delegates to the Congress to Donevaile
Court, his country seat in the County of Cork.
Five branches of Celts were represented there—
Breton, Welsh, Manx, Irish and Alban Celts.
At this delightful party songs of the five different
dialects of the Celtic were sung and played.
Among them was “ Tha mo run air a’ ghille.r
“ That/* said a Breton present, “ is a Breton air,”
and he sang a verse of a song to the same air in
his native dialect. He further remarked that
his old uncle had the whole song and that it was
considered very ancient. It is interesting to
know that this beautiful air is known in Brittany
as well as in the Highlands of Scotland, probably
the common heritage of the Gael. Now the
THE
OELTIO
MONTHLY.
interesting question here is when did it come to
Scotland, prior to or within historic times'? The
fact of its having been a well known and popular
air in the Highlands of Scotland over 200 years
ago shows that it had nothing to do with the
’45 period. On the other hand it is very unlikely
that the Bretons imported it from the Highlands
of Scotland. The most likely solution is that it
was brought over from Gaul by the early Celts,
and probably long before Caasar’s Invasion of
Great Britain. It might have been three or ten
thousand years ago or more, but whatever the
time may have been the air of “ Tha mo run air
a’ ghille” in all human probability came over
with the original inhabitants of Great Britain,
so that the least age I can claim for it is some
thing more than 200 years.”
The air of the song in question is taken from
a song of the same name composed about the
year 1600.
C
h orus
Hunters of the deer in corrie,
Race renowned in song and story,
In the clansmen’s day of glory,
On the braes of Morven.
Though thy purse be filled but sparely,*
Brightly burns the love sincerely,
That 1 gave to thee so early,
Lad from streamy Morven.f
Thy cheek the hue of rose at morning,
Golden locks thy brow adorning,
Lad for whom my heart is yearning,
On the braes.of Morven.
Though my kin each day upbraid me,
Call thee tickle, false, unsteady,
Blythely would I wed the laddie
From the braes of Morven.
Though my festal daysj are coming,
Still my heart is in the gloaming,
For the lad I love is roaming
Far from bonnie Morven.
.—
I little dreamed his love so tender
Clung by thread so frail and slender,
Or indifferent soon he’d wander
Far from streamy Morven.
O my love is on the laddie
With the bonnet blue and plaidie,
Manly form and step so steady,
From the braes of Morven.
Leal for him my love is burning,
Sair my heart is fondly yearning,
For to see him home returning
To the braes of Morven.
Alone I muse in summer gloaming,
While my thoughts are fondly roaming
To the lad I fain were coming
Home to bonnie Morven.
#
Though shades his brow the scarlet feather,*
Far from Scotia’s hills of heather,
Blythe I’d roam with him together!
Through the glens of Morven.
From Killundine’st line descended,
Race who ne’er to foeman bended,
When in strife the steel contended
On the braes of Morven.
*T h e Forty-ûcoml or “ Black W a t c h -’ is ihe only
Highland Regiment that has a scarlet feather (hackle)
in its bonnet.
“ Going under the feathers ” is a term
often used in Gaelic poetry to denote enlisting in a
Highland Regiment.
“ D h ’ fhalbh mo cheud ghaol fo
na h-itean.” lUe. Dhttinn.
+ “ ’S mi gu ’n siubhladh leat tHtir m ’ eolais,
Ged tha ’n cota ruadh o rt.”
Prior to the repeal of the A c t of Parliament forbidding
the wearing of the Highland garb it was considered by
the Highlanders a disgrace to enlist in the British Ser
vice, and anyone violating this sentiment or unwritten
social law, found but small favour from his friends and
kin, and was generally ostracised by them on his return.
J“ Ian Saor a tha mi ’g aireamh,
Bho ’n ’s e chnamh a ’ ghruag dhiom .”
The hero of the song seems to ha ve been John Campbell
of Killundine, situate on the Sound of M ull, in the
romantic Parish of Morven.
In all the printed versions
of the song the name “ lan Saor ” is written “ Ian saor”
the editor evidently not knowing that the word “ Saor”
is a surname and not an adjective.
*The most of the printed versions of this song read—
“ Ged tha blath na brie’ ad aodann,
Cha do lughdaich sud mo ghaol ort‘ ”
but in Rev. A . Maclean Sinclair’s work, above alluded
to, it is as follows :—
“ (*ed a tha do phocaid aotrom,
Cha do lughdich sud mo ghaol ort.”
tT h e Parish of Morven is noted for its beautiful
mountain streams and glens.
Beinn nan Struthan, viz.
The Mountain of Streams, a hill or mountain S76 feet
high, is situate about a mile south-east of Killundine.
%*' Tha ’n Nollaig a’ tigh ’n as ur oirn.”
N ew Y ea r is the great festal day of the Highlanders,
although Christmas is also observed.
Ohio,
u .s .a
.
D
uncan
L
iv in g st o n e .
MACLEAN, LORO OF DO WART.
Sik,—Lithe Celtic Monthly for August (p.211)
it is said that Dubh-sith who killed Sir Lachlan
Mòr Maclean of Dowart was a “ Fairy Man.” Now
we know from history that “ Dubh-sìth’’ was an hon
ourable name both in Lochaber and Colonsay long
before the battle of Loch Gruinart was dreamed of,
so that the Dubh-sith, or Dwarf, who played such
a conspicuous part at Gruinart was no more a “ Fairy
Man ” than the writer of this article.
In 1504 Lachlan Cattanach Maclean was Lord of
Dowart. He was married to Lady Elizabeth Campbell (The Lady of the Rock ). In 1530 Hector
Maclean was Lord of Dowart ; in 1570 Sir Lachlan
Mòr Maclean was Lord of Dowart. It was when
Angus Macdonald of Islay was returning from Skye
that he called at Dowart Castle and was made
captive by Maclean. When, or by whom, was the
last Angus Macdonald of Islay knighted? Compare
this note with the page referred to.
D
kar
Forland, IsIjxv.
'Yours, etc*,
JOH N
CAMPBELL.
A
NEW
*
YEAR
GREETING
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FIONA
MACLEOD.
IIE writings of Fiona Macleod are differ
ently viewed by different people,
To
some they are a source of unqualified
delight. To others they make no appeal. To
others again, and those not a few, they are quite
unreadable. This is just what might have been
expected. The books of Fiona Macleod ,are
those of a mystic. Her topics are the sea-magic,
tbe old tales of the islanders, the subtle and
spiritual mythology of her ancestral race, the
peculiar and excelling beauty of the Celtic genius,
the solitary loveliness of Iona and the islands,
the old wisdom and strangeness of ancient faiths
and customs, the fading dominion of the great
enchantment, the things of spiritual beauty,
“ the enduring spell of those haunted lands where
the last dreams of the Gael are gathered, dwell
ing in sunset beauty,” the fragrant old Celtic
world, ‘ whose fading voice is more and more lost
in the northern seas.51 The average Sassenach
is not a mystic, and does not sympathise with
themes like those. To appreciate Fiona Macleod }s
books one must have a strain of Celtic blood, or
at all events must have a temperament akin to
that which is especially characteristic of the Celt.
“ I am not English,” writes Fiona Macleod, in
her last book, “ and have not the English mind
or the English temper, and in many things do
not share the English ideals.” She possesses
memories and traditions^nd ideals unknown to
her countrymen of the south. Her books can
be read with enjoyment only by those who
sympathise with her outlook. “ It is of supreme
moment,”
says of the old Gaelic tales, “ what
we ourselv W ir in g ; what every reader, who would
know the enchantment, must bring.” Unless
the student studies her works in something of
her own spirit, he will not and cannot fathom
their depths. Her books are for those who love
the gloom and shine of the mountains that throw
their shadow on the sea, who have heard the
waves whisper along the grey shores of the North,
who have seen the mists drive across the hillsides,
and the brown torrents in spate, and the rain
and the black wind filling with storm the straths
and corries.
The devotion displayed by Fiona Macleod to
the Gael is not the devotion of bigotry or
ignorance. She appreciates the art and beauty
of other races. “ There is a beauty,” she writes,
“ in the Homeric hymns that I do not find in
the most beautiful of Celtic chants: none could
cull from the gardens of the Gael what in the
Greek anthology has been gathered out of time
to be everlasting.” She admits that Catullus
sang more excellently than Bailè Honeymouth,
and that Theocritus loved Nature not less than
Oisin. But, exquisite as are the im.nortal pro
ductions of Greece and Rome, she loves the genius
of her ancestral race. “ I do not myself know
any beauty that is of art to excel that bequeathed
to us by Greece. The marble has outlasted broken
dynasties and lost empires. The word is to-day
fresh as with dews of dawn. But through the
heart I travel into another land. Through the
heart I go to lost gardens, to mossed fountains,
to groves where is no white beauty of still statue,
but only the beauty of an old forgotten day
remembered with quickened pulse and desired
with I know not what of longing and weariness. ’
Some years *go it was announced that Fiona
Macleod had in preparation a book entitled
A Jacobite R om ance . F have always regretted
that this promise has not been fulfilled. N o one
could deal in a more interesting fashion with
the extraordinary and mystic hold that Pi nice
Charles acquired upon the Gaelic imagination
The Gael loves another land, as Fiona Macleod
has said, a rainbow land; his most desired
country is not the real Scotland, but the vague
land of youth, the shadowy Land ol Hoaits
Desire. He has an unquenchable longing tor
an Avalon ot which he dreams, but whose foamwhite coasts he cannot see. He pursues the
unknown, the undefmable, the ideal, l i e dreams
wistfully of a deliverer, who shall bring in an
age of romance and beauty, The Bonnie Prince
Charlie fitted in with those dreams. He was
to be the deliverer. The islanders even gave
him the name, given in some of the ancient
runes to our Saviour, am buachaill bàn , the fair
haired herdsman. N o political feeling mingled
with their enthusiasm. They even spoke of
Prince Charles as the king.
“ Thanig mo Righ air tir a Moidart,
Thanig Tearlach.f)
“ Thy king is come to the land of Moidart,
Charles is come.”
A n experience recorded by Fiona Macleod
shows how the tragedy of the Prince fitted in
with the spirit of the Gael. “ Jn a Highland
cottage/’ she says, “ I heard some time ago a
man singing a lament for “ Tearlach Og Aluinn,”
Bonnie Prince Charlie ; and when he ceased,
tears were on the face of each that was there,
and in his own throat, a sob. I asked him later
was his heart really so full of the Prionnsa Ban,
but he told me that it was not him he was
thinking of, but of all the dead men and women
of Scotland who had died for his sake and of
Scotland itself, and of the old days that could
not come again. 1 did not ask what old days,
for 1 knew that in his heart he lamented his
own dead hopes and dreams, and that the Prince
was but the image of his lost youth, and that
the world was old and gray, because of his own
weariness and his own grief,” Let us hope that
Fiona Macleod may yet deal with the career of
the last Prince of Romance,7 “ Oânach
an
O
or-fhuilt bhuidhe,” the youth with the golden
hair.
J. A. L o v a t - F r a s e r ,
T H E ‘N E T H E R L O C H A B E R ’ M EM O R IA L
U N V E IL IN G
CEREMONY.
f’N Saturday, July 18th, the memorial
^ cross erected at Onich to Rev. Alex.
Stewart, LL.D., “ Nether Lochaber,”
was unveiled in the presence of a large company
of ladies and gentlemen. Col. Stewart, C.I.E.,
Ardvorlich, presided, and among those present
were Colonel Stewart, of Achnacone, Major F.
A. MacKinnon, M .A ., J .P , chieftain of the
Clan MacKinnon, and the Hon. Mrs. Mac
Kinnon, Appin House, Mrs. Cameron-Lucy,
Sheriff Davidson, Rev. Father MacKintosh,
Dr. Grant, Ballachulish, Messrs. A. A . Stewart,
Hon. Secy, of Memorial Committee, Kenneth
M. Stewart, J.P., Brecklet, son of “ Nether
Lochaber,” Mr. Henry Whyte, “ Fionn,” Mr.
Alex. Stewart, Glenlyon, etc.
After praise and prayer, Col. Stewart in a
few well-chosen remarks called on Achnacone
to unveil the monument. Achnacone expressed
his sense of the honour conferred upon him,
and remarked that the site so kindly granted
by Lochiel was an excellent one, while the
memorial cross was of beautiful design. Dr.
Stewart was a distinguished Gaelic scholar as
well as seanachie and bard. The best of his
earlier productions which had appeared in the
“ Inverness C ourier ” had been published in two
volumes, entitled respectively “ Nether Lochaber,”
and “ ’Twixt Ben Nevis and Glencoe. He was
much beloved as a pastor— and he trusted that
the memorial cross would hand down to posterity
the name of a man who was worthy of being
remembered, and one who had in life nobly
supported and adorned the name he bore, and
who worthily performed the solemn duties of
his calling.
Mr. K. M. Stewart, son of Dr. Stewart,
replied on behalf of the family in eloquent
terms.
Mr. A. A. Stewart reported that the amount
subscribed was £185, and after paying for the
memorial, and defraying sundry expenses, a
small balance remained.
The memorial is a handsome cross of grey
granite standing over twenty feet high. I t is
richly decorated with Celtic laced work. The
inscription on the pedestal runs as follows:—
IN
;
MEMORY
OF
The Rev. ALEX. STEWART, LL.D.,
F S.A. Scot.,
|
“ N E T H E R -L O C H A B E R .”
!
!
For 50 years Minister of Ballachulish and
Ardgour.
'
Died 17th January, 1901, in the 72nd year
of his age.
Scholar, Naturalist, Seanachie, and Bard. Distin
guished for the variety and charm of his writings ;
I dear to all who knew him, and most dear to those
I who knew him best.
“ Agus labhair e air craobhan, on chraun-seudair a
tha ann an Lebanon, eadhon gu ruig an hisop a dh’
fhasas a mach as a’ bhalla ; labhair e mar an ceudna
air ainmhidhean, agus air eunlaith, agus air nithibh a
shnaigeas, agus air iasgaidh.”— 1 Kings, iv., 33.
Erected by Friends under the Auspices
$
OF
THE
STEWART SOCIETY.
The Biblical quotation is singularly appropriate
and runs in English as follows:—
“ And he spake of trees from the cedar tree that is in
Lebanon, even into the hyssop that springeth out of
the wall; he spake also of beasts and of fowl and of
creeping things and of fishes.”
Vin ~
-
THE CELTIC
Ill
MONTHLY.
*
GAELIC PROVERBS A N D
P
a iit
M A X IM S
V I.
Thai nig Muisean gu C alam -cille; chual’ e
Calumcille a5 còmhradh ri h-aon nach robh ’n
là th a ir; theich Muisean.
T h e D e v il came to St. C o lu m b a ; he heard
St. Columba converse with One not present;
the D e v il tied.
A testimony to the efficacy of Prayer.
A m na cuireachd: ceithir-là-deug roimh
Bhealltuinn *s ceithir-là-deug ’na dèigh.
T h e time to s o w : the fortn igh t before MayD a y and the fortnight after.
A n uair a bhios am fear Jna theme is còir a’
bhean a bhi ’na h-uisge.
O
W h e n the husband is as fire the w ife ought
to be as water.
“ A soft answer turneth aw ay wrath.”
*
A good ship that which gains the port
she sailed.
J r
nenctf
This is a proverb which is often nowadays on the lips
of the Highland “ M o d e ra te s ” when they see or
hear of seceders returning to the “ A u ld K i r k ”
port. A still A u ld er K i r k could use the proverb
w ith even greater effect.
Is math fuigheal na foighidin.
Even the dregs of patience are worth having.
Is milis fuil namliaid, ach is milse fuil caraid.
Sweet is the blood of an enemy, but sweeter
still the blood of a friend.
*
This proverb is explained b y the fact that in the olden
times it was no uncommon thing for a Highlander
of wild passions to drink the blood or a dear
friend— this, too, in token of undying love. The
practice was, of course, not confined to the Celts.
Is m inig a bha rath air aona bhò na caillich.
T h e old woman’s only cow has often been
lucky.
One of the rules for ancient burials.
Most of the Hebridean blessings and charms for cattle
begin thus: “ A n t-eòlas a rinn Calum-cille
dh’aona bho na caillich.” — “ The charm given by
S. Columba for the old woman’s only cow.”
A n ceò a d h ’ fhàgas an t-seann solus ’s e
sneachd no gaoth a sgapas e.
T h e mist left by the old moon will be eleared
away b y wind or snow.
Is treasa aon òirleach de’n ghille na dà
òirleach de’n nighinn.
One inch of the boy is stronger than tw o
inches of the girl.
A n cù, ’s an duine, ’s an t-sleagh.
T h e d o g and the man and the spear.
Gu d ’ eile, a chait, ach f e ò i l !
Flesh ! no less, pussy.
A p p lied to a person of greater ambition than ability.
Is ann air ’ingnean a dh’ aithnichear an
duin’-uasal.
T h e gentleman is known b y his nails.
A n old Hebridean rule for judging the rank of un
known bodies washed ashore by the sea. Neatlypared nails were held to denote the gentleman,
and insured for the corpse at least decent burial.
Is duilich rath a chur air neach a dh’ aindeoin.
Y ou can’t make a man lucky against his will.
In spite of tlie strong Celtic belief in fate and luck,
there are several Gaelic proverbs to the effect that
a man makes his own fate or luck— e.y. “ A bad
man makes his own f a t e ” — “ Y o u can’t put luck
on a worthless m an” — and the above, which
teaches that a man who makes no effort himself
cannot v e ry well have good luck.
Is e iomram an droch latha a ni latha math
gu iomram.
Practise row in g in a rough sea and soon the
rough sea w ill seem calm to you.
Literally, “ 'Tis the rowing of the bad day that makes
the good day for rowing.” The proverb is applied
to matters of greater importance than the rowing
of a boat.
Is fhad a d h ’ fhan e gus an d ’ thug an cat 11a
cluasan deth.
H e waited long for the cat to bite his ears off.
.Said when an important personage is attacked by
“ small fry.
«
h math an Ions a bheir a mach an ca la o ’n d 1
fhalbh i.
i.e. W h en growing.
M a c C a ile in ’s an Righ.
A r g y ll and the King.
A n old Campbell war-cry perhaps. One cannot but
admire the patriotism (or rather the clannishness)
of the men who gave the first place to- their chief,
their “ ceann-cinnidh,” and the second to their
King. There is a Gaelic “ port ” beginning :—
“ M a cC a ilein ’s an Righ,
’ S cha mhor nach ooma leam cogadh no s ith ”
— the idea being that so long as A r g y ll and the
K in g ruled, it didn’ t matter whether it should be
war or peace that prevailed, as in either case
everything would come all right in the end.
MacMhaolain ’s M acE an raig’s MacNeachdain,
gheibhear iad air an aon tom.
T h e MacMillans, Hendersons, and MacNaughtons will be found on the same knoll.
$.«. On the day of battle : there is a tradition that
Maolan, Kanraig, and Neachdain were brothers.
I
Mionnan nach còir a dheanamh cha chòir a
ghleidheal.
A n oath that ought not to be made ought not
to be kept.
Doubtless a great deal could be said both for and
against the morality of this proverb. I f one ven
tures in a company of Highlanders to disapprovo
of it, the retort usually is : “ then you think
Herod acted rightly in beheading John the Bap
t i s t ” — a retort which silences at least orthodox
folk.
A n t-ainm a’s uaisle W air a’ chuspaich:
milleadh bròige.
■
T h e politest name for a chilblain: a bootsore.
...
.....................- -----
112
THE
CELTIC
L ik e all proverbs of the kind, this one has a deeper
meaning than at first meets the eye. I t is meant
to apply to people who try to minimise a disaster
by givin g it the mildest possible name— ‘ ‘ untoward
incident,” for example.
Cha tig fuachd gu ’n t ig Earrach,
Cha tig cruas no cruaidh-ghainne,
’S cha dean bean ach air eiginn
A ith n ’ air a ceud dhuine-cloinne.
In Spring there comes the bitterest cold,
T h e bitterest famine and hardship;
In Spring scarcely w ill a woman
Recognise her first-born child.
This verse (the first part of which is given by Nicolson)
occurs in a dialogue of the kind referred to by Dr.
K . N. MacDonald in A rtic le X X V . of his
“ MacDonald Bards.” The story is that a certain
churlish woman had an only son, whom she sent
at an unusually early age to seek his fortune as
best he could. The lad travelled far and wide,
tried many shifts, had the orthodox number of
ups and downs, and finally fared as the Folklore
poor lad always fares— he met and won a beautiful
woman, and along with her much gold and silver.
On a cold spring day the hero returned to his
native clachan, and, hero-like, went first to the
“ change-house” to dazzle host and guests with
his gold, and hear the gossip of the countryside.
The best of the gossip consisted in stories of a
certain churlish woman in the place who had never
been known to invite stranger or acquaintance
into her house, much less offer them a share of her
meal. The young hero acted up to his character
by offering to bet all the gold he possessed that, if
he went to visit the churlish woman in question,
he could persuade her to offer him both a seat and
a meal. The bet wTas accepted by the village
bully, and the stranger set out at once to the old
woman's house.
On his arrival, the following
dialogue (which being mostly a play upon words,
cannot be reproduced in English) took place
between them :—
Ise— Cò-àsathàinig an sgìthiche sgiùthaichesgùthaiche?
Esan— Thàinig mise a choinihead na cailliche finealta,
fiughanta tòbhartaich.
Ise— C’àite an tàinig thu nail air beul-àth na h-aimhne?
Esan— Thàinig mi nail air beul-àth mo dhà shùil ’s air
beul-àth mo dhà ghlùin ’s air beul àth na h-aimhne.
Ise— C’ainm a their mi riut, ’ghille?
Esan— Their Uilleam Bi-'d-shuidhe.
Ise— Uilleam Bi-Vl-shuidhe !
Esan— Suidhidh, suidhidh, a dheadh bhean-an-tighe,
bho’n dh’iarr thu fèin e.
Ise— Uilleam Bi-’d-shuidhe,
M o ruighe ! cha’n fheairrde,
Gheibh thu làr lom
’ S talamh toll
’ S làn do dhrolla
De dlv anaghrinneas guineach
A dh’ fhàgas tu o d’ bhonn gu d' mhullach
Gu h-anshocrach.
Esan— Leig thusa eadar mi fhèin ’s an anshocair— £t
bheil biadh agad a bhean ?
Ise— Cha’ n’eil agam-s’ a bhiadh n'a rachadh eadar <là
sgiath na faochaig ach ceann agus casan caorach,
’s ge b’e againn a’s fhearr air an rann, biodh
iad aige.
Esan— Cò-dhiù is tu fhein no mi flièin a nì an rann an
toiseach ?
Ise— Bheir mise an urram d ’an choigreach.
MONTHLY.
Esan— Dà li, dà 11 (parts of the jaw).
Dà chluais o bhun stice,
Ard-labhradh a’ chinn (the tongue),
’S na smior-luirgnean.
Ise— Cha’n’eil mi fhein an dùil nach bàrd t ’athair.
Esan— Cha b’ àrd e ’s cha b’ iosal e, ach bha e anns an
eadar-mheadhon.
Ise— A i r leam fhein nach robh beo an diugh n’a
bheireadh sin diom-sa ach Uilleam mo mhac, na’ m
bu mhaireann e.
Esan— Cha tig fauchd gu’n tig Earrach,
Cha tig cmas no cruaidh-ghainne,
,S cha dean bean ach air èiginn
A ith n ’ air a ceud dhuinne-cloinue.
In most versions of the story, the curtain drops at
this point, and one is left at liberty to imagine
that the churlish woman “ took a thocht an’
mended,” and lived happj' ever after w ith her son
and his beautiful wife. In Uist, however, the
story very properly ends w ith a traged}7. The son
is killed or drowned on the very day of his return,
and the now affectionate mother sits on a knoll
day after day smiting her breast and exclaiming
“ B ’e so cnoc mo dhorrain, cnoc mo dhorrain” —
“ This be my hill of woe, my hill of wro e ” — and to
this day the hill is called “ Cnoc-an-dorrain ” (the
hill of woe). I t may be added in explanation of
the. rhyme (an rann) in the above dialogue that,
according to the old Highland dinner-custom, the
person to whose lot fell a certain part of the sheep
(usually the fleshy part of the tail) had to pay toll
in the form of an appropriate rhyme. The fo llo w
ing lines, which were composed on the spur of the
moment by a Muckairn gentleman at a dinner
party last Christmas, are a good specimen of the
sort of poetry produced on such occasions :—
Ged tha mis’ an so gU iosal,
’S iomadh tè a shniomh mo chlòmh ;
Bu bhlàth ’s a’ phlaid’ i ’s an Fhaoilleach
’ 8 cha bu mhois i anns a’ chlòth ;
B’ aill ’i n*a sròl air cloinn-nighean,
’ 8 i thàladh gillean oirr 'an tòir ;
’S bu ro-mhaih i ’s a’ bhreacan-guaillinn
’ N ’am an fhuachd a bhi ’s an f h e ò il;
’ S bho’n rinn mi nis do mhaise innse
’S ann ’shìneas mi ort mo chrog.
Cha tu ig a’ Bhan-Leodhasaeh a creach gus an
t ig i chum an doruis.
The Lewiswoman never realises her loss until
it comes to her door.
W hich says a great deal for the pluck and hopefulness
of the Lew'iswonian.
“ Creach” is a stranger
word than loss, but, in this case at any rate, not
quite so strong as ruin.
Gu’m bith c’àit’ am bi thu Js a’ latha, bi an
“Criidh-an-eich a’s t-oidhche.
Spend the day where you like, but spend the
night in the Hoi se-shoe Bay.
A n old direction for sailors. The Horse-shoe Bay in
the Sound of Kerrera is, of course, a well-known
anchorage.
L à Fheill Pàruig Earraich,
L;\ nan tri sealladh—
Fòghnaidh sin do e a c h ’s do dhuine
JS fùghnaidh each is duine dha.
On St. Patrick’s D ay in Spring,
T h ree sights may then be seen,
THE
CELTIC
Enough w ork that for man and horse,
But they w ill see it through, I ween.
MONTHLY
T h ig an cadal gun iarraidh, ged nach tig an
fc-ùr,
'1 he three sights are ploughing, sowing, and harrowing,
Sleep comes unsought, though gold doesn’t.
fionie versions however, mention seven sights.
.V . , tnck ? Day IS also called “ L à nan seaclid
oibncliuan hchead” — “ T h e day of tho twentyseven works — the idea being that on that day
twenty-seven different kinds of work go on on a
iarm.
°
This proverb needs no comment.
Urnuigh an tubhaidh.
T h e thatch-prayer.
A
M o chomunn-sa’s comunn Iain,
Coniunn dithis gun chèill’,—
A n rud a’s leam-sa ’s le Iain,
S an rud a s le Iain ’s leis fhein.
M y fellowship and John’s,
A foolish fellowship, I ow n —
A l l that is mine is John’s,
A l l that is John’s is his own.
Nicolson gives three versions of this rhyme.
serve as an example—
113
One w ill
C h a n ionann ’us comunn nam maor,
A i r an taobh-san nach bi fann :
’ S e ’ n comunn-sa fcarruing a null,
’ S cha ehomunn ach a n u l l ’s a nail.
which he translates thus—
V e r y unlike the bailiff’s fellowship,
On their own side never weak ;
Draw all one w a y is their rule,
A n d “ gifl-gaft ’ is the only fellowship.
prayer which, being insincere, could mount no
higher than the thatch of the house. The phrase
carries us back to the days of the old Celtic
Church, the brightest period in our history. Our
great authority on the subject, Rev. Duncan M a c
Gregor of Inverallochy, says in his “ E arly Scot
tish W o r s h ip ” — “ S. Darerca, said to have been
the founder of the first church in Edinburgh, is
incidentally described as urging the congregation,
after it had just assembled fo r matin vigils, one
of the most important services of the day, to be
take themselves first to self-examination and
confession, that, unhindered by their sins, the
prayers that otherwise ‘ could not mount higher
than the roof o f the church ’ might thus freely
ascend to heaven.” Curiously enough, at the time
of the 1843 Recession, some charitable seceder,
who had probably never heard of S. Darerca,
revived the old phrase, and, of course, applied it
to the “ M o d e ra te ” prayers. Judging, however,
by the present state of ecclesiastical affairs in the
N orth, one cannot but suspect that the “ M o d e r
ate ” prayers wêre not the only ones that stuck in
the thatch.
( A * Chrioch).
Ì
N i nach binn le duine cha chluinn duine.
A\ hat a man likes not he hears not.
LITIR BHUIDHEACHAIS DO “ F H I O N N ”
’S DA NIGHEAN.
“ I h e r e s none so deaf as those who do not wish to
hear.”
Reothairt nan eun.
T h e spring-tide of the birds.
Taing do “ Fhionn ” ’s da nighean chùirteil
Chuir da m’ ionnsaidh a’ Chairt-Nollaig,
A i r a litreachadh gu snuadhmhor,
Oir mu’n cuairt !s an fhasan nodha.
A lso called “ Reothairt mòr na Fèill-Pàruig
“ The
high spring-tide of St. Patrick ’s T>ay.” A t that
time of the year the spring-tides are usually very
high, and large quantities of sea-ware are cast
ashore, which later on becomes a happy nestlingground for the birds— hence the name, “ The
spring-tide of the birds.”
A h-uile facal dhi an Gàidhlig
A chainnt a’s gràdhaich leam air thalamh,
A* guidhe fallaineachd dhomh ’ alainte—
Fad o’ m chàirdean, an T ir Lachlainn.
A h-uile diog dhi ann an Gaidhlig
A guidhe slàinte dhomh, ’s bhi sonadh
A n cois nan tonn ri taobli Loch-fine—
Gur siùbhlach dhireas mi ri monadh.
Th a am pòsadh coltach ris an t-seillean : tha
mil ann Js tha gath ann.
Marriage is like a bee— there’s honey in it,
and there’s a sting in it.
Gu’n smid innt’ ach a’ Ghàidhlig,
A guidhe slainte d h o m h ’s bhi fallain,
A m Barr-na-cara ’ m bun nan stiican
’ San T ir dhuthchais aig Mac Lachlainn.
Th a a’ Ghàidhlig soirbh a ghiùlan.
Gaelic is easily carried about.
A modern proverb, no doubt, but one that might with
advantage be remembered by many degenerate
Highlanders.
F a ilt ’ is furan do’n Bhliadhin’ -iiir so—
^ ’Sgealaig nuair dha trusgan loinneil,
Cur is cathadh tigh’nn o Chruachan
Ged is fuar e, ’s blàth leam anail.
T h a n fhiriim corr uair ’na bèisd.
Truth is sometimes a “ beast.”
Tha mi toilicht’ anns an uair so
^ Seach bhi airchuairt an Tir-nan-Gall,
1 uaim nan sligean tha nan chluasan,
Piob ri nuallan, cruinn-luaith theann.
Tha mo torotan beag cho soilleir dhomh-sa ri
MacCodruim ’na dheann-ruith.
M y little trot is as notorious as MacCodrum’s
gallop.
«.e. A little fault in me is as much talked about as a
much greater fault in MacCodrum. MaoCodnlm
figures in Uist proverbs and stories almost as often
as MucRuslaig does in those of other districts. '
l a i n g do “ Fhionn ” ’s d ’a nighean chuirteil—
’ Smòr an diùbhaiì iad bhi thall,
B ’ anns’ leam agam i a d ’s a’ Gaidhealtachd
Filidh, bàrd, ’s guth binn ’san rann,
~
^
Barr-na-cara, Srath-Lachlainn,
a’ Bhliadhn ùr 1909.
D. M
acD h u g h a il l .
t
C A T H O L IC
H I G H L A N D S OF
SCOTLAND*
t
•w
d ecid ed on a m iddle course, and .handed the
lad th e pipes a f t e r r e m o v in g the reeds. Tho
com p a n y rejoiced as they saw th e ir messen
g e r retu rn w ith the music, but th e ir spirits
fell when th e ch ief parts w ere found to be
missing.
On the f o llo w in g Sunday M r M a c
kintosh. severe!v scolded the com pany a t the
m ootin g.
“ A n d you, James M a c k e n z ie ,” said
he, “ who tr ie d to play th e pipes, kneel von
out- here in th e m id d le .”
*
M A R G A R E T O F LAGGAN.
BAGPIPES W I T H O U T REEDS.
THE
C O C K - F I G H T O F F E S T E R N E’EN.
u 0 Loehaber, dear Lochaber,
Thy wooded glens and braes,
T ppih w ith the tales of chivalry
^
I
i
t
J
That speak of other days.
Across tho hazy distance
Thy children look and Ion,",
For thy sp*t-H is found resistless.
And their hearts beat true and strong/
Miss Alice Macdonell, of Keppoch,
‘‘Loyal Lnchaber.”
This book should not be left exclusively
'for the delectation of Catholics.
I t is
[readable from many points of view. The
^Central Highlands of Scotland are particuflarly iich in folklore, tradition, song, and
Romance. It. is- true that the author, Deni.
-Ddo Blundell, O.S.B., does not deal
i.iisproportianately with tho graces and
pDeauties which surround his religious faith,
Mtili there is 1 1 0 doubt that the Catholic
i'eligion, whether exercised in slum or
Suburb, chapel or cathedral, always makes
bn* picturesqueness and impressive cerehtony.
Altogether, therefore, the book
t-is particular qualities wherewith to com"lend it.
The several districts Father
^.undell brings under the observation of
51s readers are Lochaber, Glenlivet, Glennirn, Braemar, Strathbcgie, and St ratht iss.
Father Blundell has carefully
oidcd the possibility of making any
astake3 in his review of the Catholic
highlands, by having his chapters revised
-ai those who are best able to perform
3 > duty.
From the list which follows,
kj w ill be seen that his Catholic local
ijjOuring is bound to be r ig h t :— .
«
afflt-hbogie ............ The Marquis of Huntly
nlivct ................ Colonel G. Smith Grant
ar*.tha von ..................... Rev. Peter Forbes
Kngaij n ............. John Maepherson, Esq.
emaj- ..................... Chas. M'Hardy, Esq.
aenoeh ... Colonel A . W . M 'D o n a ld , D .S.O .
làiuibor............ Miss Josephine MacDoneli
thglass
Tho
late
Theodore
Chisholm,
Esq.
fUv
3-|ie section of the work that holds Glenj-yi is rich in reminiscences.
^ Gloncairn Willie Ritchie, the clerk, is
. remembered. He was almost as veneriS looking ^ 3 the old priest himself. He
^,ad lot all tlie people out of church, and
hastening outside himself would call
a-yith an air of the greatest solemnity :
For simple piety and sacrifice, rising to
remarkable heights, the true Highland
Catholic has always been distinguished.
Am ong those outstanding ones of these
later days, there are few who would withhold the honourable revei-ence due to the
memory of Father Allan MacDonald of
-Giriskay; Father Charles MacDonald of
M oidart;
Archbishop
MacDonald
of
Edinburgh, and his uncle, the saintly
Bishop MaicDonald of A b erdeen ; Father
Cell MacDonald of Fort Augustus; and
many others whose names it may be are
scarcely known beyond their own diocese.
These refer to the clergy, but many there
are, iike Margaret of Laggan, whose like
we shall not easily see again.
tlie Central Highlands are marked in red,
on a clearly executed map of Scotland.
Further west arc Sout h U ist and Barra,
Coining to the mainland, we have blocks
of red from Beauly to Mingarry, Lochabor
j and Glencoe; and K eith to Braeinar.
The design of the cover, executed in blue
• and 0."old,
is
the
artistic
work
of
Dom.
\
Lawrence Mann, Fort. Augustus.
The
publishers, Messrs Sands & Co., have em- plòyed high-class •' workmanship* in the
i> production of the volume; while the'type;
I>is of a size and ’shape ‘niost- convenient -to
“ the eye. W e have pleasure in c o m m e n d i n g
the book to the attention
of* our readers'.
»
(i %
1
She lived a t the b e g in n in g 0 1 last century,
and occupied a em ail hut near th e L a g g a n
burn.
She em ployed her tim e spinning and
carding, whilst- on a sm all loom she made
“ g a rta n s ”
which
were th o u g h t t o be so
s tro n g that no w ea r and t e a r would use
th em up.
She also made ropes o f rough
wool, sent in by th e neighbours, th e ropes
b e in g used a t clipping tim e t o t i e the sheep.
H e r shoes were made by herself o f the same
rou gh wool, and were som ething akin to c a r
p et slippers.
The soles w ere o f old cloths
la id fo u rfo ld
beneath the fo o t and sewn
to g e th e r w ith strong tw in e .
H e r gow n was
o f blue homespun, and over it she habitually
w o re a g r e y cloak w ith a hood.
Thus clad
she was o ft e n seen w alkin g o v e r th e h ill the
n in e miles t o the C orgarff chapel, f o r she
seldom le ft her c o tta g e save to go to Mass.
H e r food was o f the simplest— a boiled t u r
nip, o ve r which she som etim es cast a hand
fu l o f meal, f o r her dinner.
M a r g a r e t was well educated and had many
hooks, w hilst her p ie t y was th e ad m ira tion
o f the uTiintryside ; all d ay lo n g she worked
and prayed at intervals.
She had an hour
glass which told her tho tim e fo r p ra y e r and
th e t im e fo r labour, and she passed fr o m her
k n it t in g to her prayers and fro m her prayers
t o her knittiner as m ethodically as possible.
“ She composed and
repented
constantly
Gaelic prayers.”
She wasted a w a y w ith ou t
a n y stru ggle, and was atten d ed 0 11 her d e a th
bed by F a th e r Forbes.
She is buried in the
old churchyard o f D a lfad , th e fa m ily bury
ing ground o f the M G r e g o r s , fro m whom she
was sprung.
Besides music and dancing, which
evidently held its good sway in Glengairn—
“ R e m e m b e r mo t o t h e people of Glenga-irn,
B egin n in g w ith th e fiddler,”
— another sport was the annual Cockfight,
held 0 1 1 Festern E ’en, Shrove Tuesday.
As m a n y as t h i r t y birds would be brought
in one day.
T h e best figh ter was called the
XI r i b L ! E isdibh! Tha m oine ’ n t-sagairt
K i n g , the second the Queen, the th ird the
i
an (li ugli
“ H e a rk e n y e ! H e a rk en y e !
Knave-.
T h e y t h a t would not figh t were
" ^ p r i e s t ' s peats are d r y to-day” ; which i called “ fo u g ie .”
T h ere wore no lessons t h a t
# a t th a t the good pe-ojde w ere to com e 011
'la v , it w;i* a d a y by itself. “ W h a t waps ”
> i|iorrow t o help to b r in g the peats t o the
— continued
th o p a r t y
above-m entioned—
Towards evening,' as the loads of “ W h a t waps th e birds did gie. P e o p le cam e I
i a: wore- known to be coming to an end, 1 fr o m fa r and near and stood in the school I
: c company would assemble once again t o see the fight. Each boy brought a bird I
d the hoiiFp. The last load was always and held it under his o x te r, w a itin g his turn
j. ght in to tlie sound of the pipes, refresh- ). t o figh t.”
were served, and again there was a
! * bit dance.”
tfr
•
^ e n t was as strictly held in those day&
t is held even now in the Highlands.
I ;
. le story is told how at a meeting in Lent
.aJ company greatly wished that “ a wee
tece” would end the proceedings. James
I :‘kenzio was willing to pipe, but he had
■ his piper; with him. A lad was sent down
i<tii«i house for them, and i*»qnested them
i,\Mrs Mackenzie. The pood woman was
r . perplexed. She dared rot refuse her
■^Haiid the pipes, and she foresaw the
iib'h
A^ r Mackintosh, the priest, if idio
1 derated in tlie breaking of Lent.
She
_
1
N o t only the contents of this attractive
book are praiseworthy, but the exterior
presents a very handsome and tasteful
appearance. The illustrations, numbering
over thirty by themselves, are very valu
able.
They are characteristic of their
subject, and come of them are published
for the first time. Mention must also be
made of the very admirable index, from
which will be noted the immense amount
of information laid under tribute by
Father Blundell.
Catholic districts in ]
9
*
*
•
»•
•
.
* T h e C a th o lic H ig h la n d s o f S cotland. B y
D om Odo B lundell, O .S .B .
V o l. I . , T h o
C en tra l H ig h la n d s .
P r ic e 3s 6 d.
Sands &
Co., 21 H a n o v e r S t r e e t , E din bu rgh .
48
THE
CELTIC
MONTHLY.
- - WHAT
WALLACE
BY
H. Macnaughton-Jones
( A u t h o r o f tiA Piece o f D e l f
and other F ra g m e n t*” ) .
a M y mind and purpose are as surely fixed
As S tir lin g ’ s pile upon its rock-cleft base.”
THE
WHAT
WALLACE
CELTIC
SAID.
Ox the base of the striking monument to “ The
Guardian of Scotland” in Aberdeen there are
four inscriptions. The first, 01 1 the South side,
refers to Wallace's heroic resistance of Edward,
and his treacherous betrayer, ending with this
sentence :—
On 23rd August, 1304, this great hero was
led to Smitlifiekl, and, with Edward as an eye
witness, was there put to death, solely for his
love of liberty, his effectual resistance of agg
ression, and his fidelity to his native land.
On the West side —
“ Go back to your masters, and tell them
that we came not here to treat, but to fight,
and set Scotland free.”
Answer of Wallace to the English friars sent
to negotiate a pacific treaty with him before
the battle of Stirling
O Bridge.
o
On the East side—
_
^
t
“ T o Edward, K in g of England, I cannot be
a traitor. 1 owe him 110 allegiance ; he is not
my Soveieign ; he never received my homage,
and whilst life is in this persecuted body he
never shall receive it / ’
Speech of
London.
Wallace
at
his mock
trial in
MONTHLY.
The trait’rous part was his who basely sold
M e to my foe. But for which treach’ rous part,
W e l l purchased at the price of Saxon gold,
Through act unworthy of a Scottish heart,
N o cowardly power should baffled Edward boast
T o cruelly torture a defenceless foe.
But come what may, and be whate’er the cost
In pain or degradation vile, this know ;—
T o the last flicker of'm y dying breath
Allegiance none w ill I tho tyrant pay,
And none shall sav that W allace in his death
Forsook the king he wrought for in his day.
%/
N O R T H A N D SOUTH.
There is a gem of priceless worth, that’s won
B y centuries of struggle and of strife,
That’s held in trust by those who hand it on
From sire to son, more precious far than life.
I t ’s jew’elled setting, dearly bought, at cost
Of sacrifice of self, is right of w ill
T o act in righteous cause, nor count that loss
The gain from which doth Freedom’s cup o’erfill.
And through the ages has it been the quest
Of those to whom their liberty was dear,
N o r who ’neath any slavish bond could rest.
So, circling round him men whose only fear
W as risk of that which Wallace most did prize,
The Scottish hero bade them dance to sound
Of pibroch and of pipe on F alk irk ’s rise
From morning hour to eve, until the ground
So deep with blood of Scotland’s foes was wet
N o place should footing give nor any hold
On which to dance that dance of death, lest yet
T h ey might ’neath Edward’s yoke as slaves be sold.
On the North side—
“ When I was a youth, and under the care
of my uncle, all that I could carry away from
him was a single proverb, but it seemed to me
above all price, and I never forgot it. I t was
this :— ‘ I tell you a truth, liberty is the best of
all things.
M y son, never live under any
slavish bond.’ ”
Remarks by Wallace on the instructions he
received from his uncle, the Priest of Dunipace.
“ I have brought you
according to your skill.”
to the ring— dance
Wallace drew up his army at Falkirk in a
circular form, and addressed them as above.
WEST.
T o those who sent you back the answer take :
N o t here you'll find the men who’ll meekly treat
Through cravcn fear, or sue, and compact make
F or peace. Still further add, if we should meet,
The issue's plain ; 110 halting is there ’tw ixt
The ways, through timid truce for futile rest.
M y mind and purpose are as surely fixed
As Stirling’s pile upon it’s rock-cleft base.
Say, Wallace lends 110 ear to parley’s tongue ;
N o single foot of ground will he retrace
Till once for all be Scotland’s freedom rung.
EAST.
T o England’s king I no allegiance owe,
N o r vassal am I of his sovereign will.
His right I grant to claim me deadly foe,
But traitor never ! H e alone can fill
That knavish part who owns him for his king,
Or who the knee before his English throne
M ay bend, and homage pay. This message bring
T o Edward : Nought has Wallace to atone—
SCOTLAND
A
NATION.
a plea for Home Rule for Scotland, and the
eliminating of the constant use of the word Emjlixh for
British, which threatens, and does entirely swamp our
existence as a Nation.
B ein g
0, Scotland, Scotland, awaken !
From a sleep that seems like death—
Ere the red gold of the stranger
Shall stifle the Nation's breath :
W h a t the foeman’s steel could never
Accomplish in days of old ;
Gold threatens to do, to our country's shame,
When the right of her birtli is sold.
H er name— as a province of England
In other lands is known ;
H er soldiers, her battles, as English claimed,
And her independence flown.
0, Scotland, Scotland a Nation ?—
And you to stand idly by,
The sons of the heroes of Freedom
W h o preferred for that cause to die !
On Bannockburn, Flodden, Drummossie,
W ould God that w e!d all died too—
Ere Scotland lived to be fettered,
T o her tongue and traditions untrue;
Ere she learned to bow in submission,
And takè the scant crumbs thrown ;
Content, that the fruits of her labour
(Jo, as laurels for England's crown.
A re you less of men than the Norsemen,
W ho, fretting ’ neath alien thrall,
Have cast their chains, and as Freemen
Stand up to that toast with ‘ Skaal ! * ?
A re you less than the sons of Bulgar,
W h o won as a Nation to be,
Than the down-trodden Turk whose sabre,
W as Hashed in the cause of the free?
O, Scotland, Scotland, awaken !—
For the grief on our land lies wet,
And w'e cry 011 the sons of the Gacldoni
Ere the sun of their glory is set.
(), Scotland, Scotland, a Nation !—
T o be ruled by our Scotsmen then,
W ith the Tartan sheen 011 the shapely limbs, '
Of her son’s rebirth as— men.
The Gaelic tongue, and the auld braid Scots,
As brothers together linked,
The curling smoke from tho Highland homes,
W here the stranger’s guineas clinked:
And the strong red deer that hurled the Clans
Down to the shores of the sea,
B y strong men pushed to their forests again,
A m i our lovely land be free !—
The stranger’s tongue, and tho stranger’s garb,
•Well forever and ever disown,
W hen Scotland stands as a Nation —
W ith an army and ileet of her own.
London.
A l i c e C. M a c Do s e l l of Keppoch.
H O N O U R TO T H E U A E L IC
15 A L U ) .
P R E S E N T A T I O N P R O C E E D IN G S
T R I 8 U T E S T O MR M A C L E O D .
Tohniij (;i 'c o u n t r y w o m a n ol the* Hard’ s ana
oiio ol' tin* most enth usiastic in th e m ove
m en t to g e t up tht' t< s t i n i o n i a l ) ;
M aek in m u i,
Edinburgh
U n iv e r s it y ;
and
Proic.-ôr M a g iiu s M a c le a n , Glasgow.
Jj<‘ r ta-ad, ft N i tll JMliic L e o i d ,
T h a na Ga Ml n i], a m B r e a l u i m \s thai' • huan, a ’ cur
fai l i u oil bh.
T h a :-inne, n an a i r m ,
l a l r g o o an l i o d h l a i e bhij£ &0
d h u i b h an gi-all a i r nr bai dh d h u i b h f e m s d o bhur
l o a g h l a c l i . T I i a •inn l a i n ^ e i l a i r n m n.im bnadhan ard
a bhtii li<he ulh on l i l i ; U n .sinn ro l l c i i n g e i ] a i r Hon na
bni l i o n m h o l l a y u < an do c h a i r sibli iad.
'i'h a g i b h i n a barduchd dual dhui bh&c: c h a ’ n o. a
c e a n n a e h a r u m sibb. ( ‘h u i r sibh O. d db e i i na h - A l b a
t o c h o m . u n mhoi r . Hha Huird ai nni ci l a ^ a i n n b h o c h a i n
nan I’lan. T l i a aûs liitliidh ;iito u r r a ma c l i a gai hhso n
nui i i u ' i t ^ . t f hei i m i o m a d h ann di ubh nm' n Uhùi dhe a l t c a c h d s niu n ( ì h a ì d h l i g , mu a r dnoi nc s mu a r
d a o h a i d h : ach anns «i' choi un .so bhi odh a dui l i ch aon
Hi nui cachai l h n a m mease?;*, ihuj? b a r r oirbh.se a i m a m
b i n n e a s "s a m bias bliui' ciiiil
uhur caiiml.. K h a d ’s
is !)cn a ’ U h a i d h l i g bi dh
Har.-ach au T> o i r e " a i r
ghl e us , u cli.i bhi a n G l o a i n i ’s an robh sibh <>£ ai r
dl -chunnhnc.
Is o ar durachd g u ’m hi fcasj' ar b h u r l a U i a a i r a
shincadh, '$ g u 'in hi Ronas a g h n à t n ’n 'ur dachaidh.
A n ainin an Luchd-tionail,
Krangan T h o l m a e h
I >unill nail Maci <' hio; ighaiu
Manus Macillcalhain
Dunoidcann,
A n uaoidhearnh la fichoad
dfc n Chùi l ei n, mi J.
P r o f e s s o r M a c K i n n o n ’s T r i b u t e .
l.y A . Swan W.-ÙM-n, Kilirilnmrli
M r Neil Macleod.
I n ap p reciation o f his son-ices to th e G aelic
la n g u a g e and lite r a t u r e , and of his genius
and personal wo/th, M r N e i l M aclend, the
Gaeli< Tianl. was on M o n d a y e v e n in g p r e
s e n te d in nam e o f a largo number ot sub
scribers at home and abroad w ith an illu m i
n a te d address and a cheque fo r a handsome !
Klim.
T h e presen tation to o k place in the Goold
H a l l , St.
Andrew
Square,
E d in b u rg h , in
presence o f a la rg o number o i subscribers
a n d friends.
T h e p la tfo r m p a r t y included P ro fes so r M a c
Kinnon, E d in b u r g h ; P r o fe s s o r M a gn u s M aclean, Glasgow (w h o a c te d as tre a s u re r oi the
G la sgo w C o m m i t t e e ) ; R e v . N eil Ross, 1 *.D. ;
M r W . J. W a ts o n , L l i . D . ; M r D onald Shaw,
S . S . C . ; M r D on ald M a c k a y ; M r A rc h ib a ld
M e n zie s , S .S .C . (trea s u re r o f th e I'Minburgli
O o m n u t t c c ); and M r D o n a ld N ieolson , Bearsdeu.
G lasgow (s e c re ta ry
of
the Glasgow
C o m m itte e ).
On th e
m o tio n
o f M r Shaw , Prole.'S>n
M a g n u s M aclean was called t o the chair.
Amoiii/ o th ers p io s o n t w e r e : - D r . Carmicha.! 1," M r
and
M rs
A le x .
Forbes, M r
David M a c R ite h io , F . S . A . ; R e v . M r M a c k a y ,
L o c h m v e r ; M r P a d o n ; M r Dun. C am pbell,
L ie u t . M a c L e u n a n , M rs B io d io , tho Misses
T o lm ie , M iss K a t e M a e i a e , Miss M acask ill,
M r s S teen , M rs and M iss M aek in n on , M r s
K e n n e d y F ra s er, Miss M a r y Ror.s, Mns John
T o lm ie , sen., M r s M o o d ie , M rs W atson , Miss
K a t e M a cd on a ld ,
Mr
Bcatmi (Lowi-s), M r
M a c a i thur,
Mr
R o n a ld
B ro w n ,
and M r
A . M . L M a ck illo p .
A p o lo g ie s fo r absence
w e r e received fro m D r. K e i t h N o r m a n M a c
d o n a ld ; M r W m , M a c k a y , solicitor, I n v e r
ness- M r P e t e r M orrison , A«r V\m. Mackenzie
(C r o f t e r s Com m ission) ; M r A . TSicolson, D u m
f r i e s ; am i others.
T h e C h a irm a n ,
in his o p e n i n g remarks,
said lie had known t h e B ard I m m his o i l i e s t
boyhood, and had learned
to a d m n c J is>
w ritin g s P r o fe s s o r M a e k m n o n was to m.iki.
t h e p re se n ta tio n , and th e re was no h e t tu
m ail t o do it, f o r he was a g r e a t a d m ire r ot
K t h e muse o f N o i l M a d r i d . (A p p lau se.)
Tiie Address.
P r o fe s s o r M a e k in n o n then
b ro iig h t forWard th e fran .ed
and ill.munot-i-d ..^ d d ies
w h ich was to lx' presented to M r Ala . p
•
U was in th e t o llo w n ,f term s, and sig ed,
■ „ ii b eh a lf o f t h e subscribers. h.V * « 'ss 1
A f t e r th e address was read by P rofessor
M a ck in n o n and
received
w ith h ea rty ap
plause, lie said he had bcH. ii asked to say a
fe w words in ad d ition in e x p la n a tio n ol what
one would call a unique m eetin g.
T h ey all
knew th o old sayin g t h a t a p rop h et was nob
w ith o u t honour e x c e p t som etim es a m o n g his
ow n people.
He could not t e ll them how
th is m o vem en t began.
I t seemed soineJiow
t o h a w g o t into th e air.
T h is one spoke to
t h e o t h e r one, and it was taken up in the
m ost sp irite d ,
sym p a th etic,
and p a trio tic
fashion,
and fro m
le tte rs received from
abroad
th e r e
seem ed
t o be a u n an im oir
opinion in this case t h a t a prophot shouk
have honour in his ow n co u n try and in the
c i t y in which ho had spent th e last 4f> years ;
oi his life. (A p p la u s e.) H e had re tire d fro m
business, and m a n y of th e m f e l t t h a t this
was an occasion the like o f which .had not
occu rred in this city, a t all e v e n ts since
D u n can (B a n ) M ' I n t y r o died 99 years ago.
T h e y had had a number o f poets, many o f
t h e m h igh ly p jfte d , since t h a t tim e .
Many
p re s e n t know o f E va n M ‘C o lL th e L o c h fy n e
bard, and W i l l i a m
L i v i n g s t o n 0, th e Is la y
B a i t l ; m any o f th e m rem em bered M rs Maok e lla r
and
John
Com pbell,
L od a ig.
and
last, though
not least,
th «
highly
g if t e d ,
in te lle c tu a l
and
b ea u tifu l
poet,
D o n a ld M ackech n ie, who d ied in E din b u rgh .
W i t h all respect to tho qu alities o f those
m en and wom en, th e r e was so m eth in g o f
genius, som eth in g of ta le n t, o f mind, heart,
and^ disposition t h a t t h is man had managed
t o infus© in to his verse, which caused the
G a e lic people hero and abroad t o ta k e him
t o t h e ir hearts, and t o have t h a t a d m ira
tio n fo r his ta len ts which th e y had not given
to an y o th e r o f those ho fiad mentioned.
(A p p la u s e .)
Those o f th em who had
had
th e o p p o r tu n ity o f k n o w in g him, and prob
a b ly he was th e oldest him self, not only
lea rn ed to h a ve a d m ira tio n fo r himself, his
ta len ts, and his ch aracter, bu t p a rtic u la rly
to show an affection f o r th e man. T h a t fo o l
in g, in so fa r as acqu ain tance w ont, was
q u ite as
D e e p and G e n u in e
in th e minds o f his c o u n try m e n as th e a d m ira
t io n <)f those who had learned t o adm ire him
fr o m his volumes o f p o e try .
T h a t was tho
fo o lin g t h a t
had made this m ovem en t so
unanimous and spontaneous. W h e n th e y road
th e list of subscribers to this small te s ti
m onial t h e y could n o t but fool g ra tifie d th a t
th e r e »vas as much abroad o f this a d m ira tio n
’— in South A f r ic a and W e s te r n Canada as
th e r e was in Sk ye and in E din bu rgh .
(A p
plause.)
H o was certain M r M aclood would
also fool t h a t th e shillings and sixpences o f
th e p o o io r subscribers was q u it e as much a
token o f th e ad m ira tion and affection in
which ho was hold as th o guineas o f those
w h o could afford th em .
(A p p la u s e .)
Wi i h
reg a rd t o th e q u a lity o f th e work o f this
man, i f tim e p e r m it t e d much could ho said.
T h e re was o n 1 song on th o p ro g ra m m e which
was sumv
w h e re v e r
Gaolio-fcpoaking peopie
c o n g r e g a te d — w h e th e r th e y met in E din bu rgh
as th e y now did, in G lasgow, in I/oudon. or
a t the homo in th e c o tt a g e s o f Skye, or when
a fe w fo r e g a th e r e d in th e p r a ir ie or in tho
hush— this song was th o la n g u a ge in which
t h e y <ra\v expression t o t h e ir fe e lin g s and
in thou- own la n gu a ge.
T h a t was a high
p r iv ile g e .
I t carried w ith it g r e a t responsi
b ilities, o ik I th o ir p o e t had n ot fo r g o tte n
th a t.
(A p p la u se .)
So t h a t ho th ou u lil tin*
address spoke t r u t h when it said tho glen
in which ho was roared would n o t ho fo r
gotten.
H o was in tho hahit o f to llin g his
stu dents occasionally tho phases in which
G a olic lito ra tn ro was d e fe c tiv e .
Tie did not
th in k ono who road t h a t lan gu age was e n
title d t o pass fr o m th e method?; ho applied
t o o th e r lanp;uafTos; th e r e fo r e th ey should
se t fo r t h w hat th e y considered its d efects
as well as its merits.
T h e r e was ono fe a tu re
in which he had always held th e ir lite ra tu re
was d e fe c t iv e in th e o r y — th a t was in tho
r a t h e r im p o rta n t d e p a r tm e n t o f satire.
The
id ea o f th e Gaelic people w ith regard to fintiro
was t h a t it was m erely foul abuse conveyed
in certain ep ith ets.
B u t th oir poet had sot
an e x a m p le to G aelic poets in tho fu tu re in
p r o v id in g th e m with a com position so pleas
ing, so ^rood-humoured, so ful l o f h ea rty fun,
th a t really and t r u ly
no ono could take
g r e a t e r pleasure in it th an tho section who
w ere most good-hum ouredly satirised in tho
composition.
H e re fe rre d to th e song o f th e
“ O ld M a i d . ” T h a t was a genuine addition t o
G aelic p o e t r y and a n ew one, and upon th a t
alone h e would bo r e a d y t o d eclare t h a t the
author was a p o et.
A n o th e r d efect in
Their Gaelic Literature
was th e v ie w t h a t th e ir poets, old er and later,
had taken o f old age— doleful, dismal, and
sorrow fu l. B u t in “ M i F h ein is A n n a ” th eir
p o et presented a couple at th e end of th e ir
lives who had shared their joys and sorrows
to g e th e r in a d e lig h tfu lly ten d er domestic
picture, which would stand as long as the
works of this man in the Gaelic language,
l i e was p e rfe ctly ready to rest the lam e oi
the man upon these tw o genuine, pow erful
ad d ition s to Gaolic lite ra tu re .
(Applause.)
Addressing M r M acleod, Professor Mackinnon
said, in his own name and in th e name o f
old friendship, he asked him t o accept from
his countrym en this token ot adm iration
fo r his gifts, and for the g r e a t esteem and
affection fo r his character, and fo r th a t of
his fa m ily . (L o u d applause.)
H e added th a t
those who had charge of the m a tte r th ough t
th e most a p p rop ria te w ay f o r them, in the
name of the subscribers, to give a presenta
tion , would bo in this address, fra m ed in a
handsome manner, t o he kept in his fa m ily ,
and t h a t th e rest should be given as they
g o t it, le a v in g i t to M r M acleod in his ju d g
m e n t t o do w ith it as seemed to him best.
H e explained th a t it was decided to make
th e presentation at th is tim e as b ein g the
most convenient, but th e subscription list was
not closed, as th e y had become aw are t h a t
subscriptions won* 011 thoir w ay fr o m N e w
Z ealan d and o th er d is ta n t parts.
R e v . M . Maclennau, in a brief speech, said
th e y rega rd ed M r Macleod as a typ ica l man
and a ty p ic a l H igh lan d er.
Those who had
th e good fo rtu n e to belong t o Skye claimed
him fo r themselves, bu t th ey all claimed the
tSkyo B a rd as th e ir own.
?j'hose who knew
him knew his g e n ia lity , his characteristic
hum ility,
his
n a tive shyness;
hut th ey
g a th e re d him up to g e th e r and said he was
a noble H ig h la n d e r of th e old school, and
s till had a young h e a rt boatiug in his bosom.
(A p p la u se.)
l i e had noted the tw o g r e a t
contributions re fe rre d to by P rofessor M ackiunon, but ho had also aiways foun d th a t
when M r M a cleod spoke Gaolic, although he
did not a t t e m p t to make p oetry, his Gaelic
was v e ry musical to his ears. Ono th in g that
was supreme over all in his p o e try , and ran
th rou gh and th ro u g h
it, was the- crystal
purity* from begin n in g to end.
I t was pure
as the s trea m th a t ran dow n t h e mountain
sido and sw eet as tin* w a te r th e y m igh t drink
fr o m tiie fou n tain on i i e ll e v a l.
(Applause.)
T h e B a rd 's Repl y.
M r N e i l M a cleod said he was at a loss to
know how to thank them fo r th eir kindness,
but his h e a rt was full. H e always looked to
the appreciation o f his countrym en as suffi
cien t rew ard for w hat he had done, but his
cou n trym en to all appearance had thought
d iifc re n tly , and the result was th is handsome
testim o n ia l.
Bards w ere looked upon many
a t im e as being eccentric, queer people.
At
some periods th e y had b<lon adm ired, and at
I o th er tim es th e y had Ih*ou looked down upon,
hut one w ay or another th e y seemed to have
su rvived it all, and like th e p o o i ,
woro
alw ays with them .
(L a u g h te r .)
H e must
a d m it th a t th e y were indebted to them tor
much o f w h a t was pure, sweet, and beautiful
in the lan gu age and history o f th eir country.
H e rem em bered g e t t in g a le tt e r 011 one occa
sion f i o m the late Professor Jitackie on Gaelic
songs and singing, in which the Prelessor
i
w e n t on to say : - “ T h e people is dead t h a t
lins censed t<» Ring, and so long as th e y cultiv^ tc th e ir n a tiv e muse J shall not cease to
j ° Y ' J"
tJio Itig h h m d o rs , though lairds
uhd law yers and all sorts oi preservers and I
niamm on-worshippers com bine t o stam p them I
\ ou t. I a lw ays sing niysell,” said th e P rofessor,
‘ w h eth er on th e hillside or in tlie r a ilw a y j
ca rria g e I sing.
A n g e ls a lw a y s sing, but I
devils never.
Yon n ever heard o f a d evil
singing, nor n ever w ill.”
(L a u g h t e r and ap
plause.)
T h e r e was, M r MaeJeod continued,
no m ore ch a rm in g th in g in the world than
good music, and there was no music th a t I
could com pare w ith the w ell-tra in ed human
voice.
T h e y should all s t r iv e t o preserve I
all th a t was tru e, sw eet, and b eau tifu l in the 1
language, p o etry, and tr a d itio n s o f th e ir |
country. A ll ho could do was to th a n k them I
and all associated w ith th em in this m a tte r. I
(A p p la u se.)
T h e R e v . N oil Ross spoke o f the g r e a t I
pleasure i t afforded h im t o see such gen u in e |
honour done t o his fellow -cou n trym an
and I
ieilow -S k yem an .
T h e re w ere aspects both o f I
personality and worth belon ging to M r M a c- I
ieod which had n ot been touched upon. O n e I
of these was the alm ost unparalleled fun d I
or good humour, and the g r e a t r e p e r to r y o f I
good H ig h la n d modern stories o f w h ic h ’ \Ir I
M acleod was th e possessor.
T h e r e was also
Jus appreciation of N a t u r e th e noble d e p ic t
in g ot which was a p p a ren t 111 his works. T h e r e I
was an oth er aspect which had n o t been e m
phasised sufficiently, and th a t was his p a t
riotism . J-iis views had been heard a t a tim e
when the cause o f the lan gu age o f his people
was languishing, and his ad vocacy o f things I
C e ltic had been heard throughout* the world
and g a v e a g r e a t im petus tow ards r e v i v a l ’
A l l poets, even the greatest, had n o t been
honoured in th e ir tim e, but th e y w ere happy
I th a t tu e ir p o et should have received recogni- *
tion before he passed hence.
I t was a joy I
t o th e m t h a t in the e v e n in g o f his days his I
w ork had been approved o f and recognised bv
his countrym en. T h e y wished him lo n g years
of happiness in order if possible to produce
m ore o f th a t m elody he had a lre a d y g iv e n t o I
the world.
(Applause.)
I
T h e re a fte r the Bard addressed the m eet- I
in g m Gaelic, and in his ow n in im itab le
s ty le recited, to the g r e a t e n jo y m e n t o f the
audience, several humorous stories and anecI dotes.
I
D l r* W a t .son Proposed a vo te o f thanks to
the C o m m ittee, and m d o in g so associated
iiimselt w ith the previous speakers w ith I
aid t h a t they had said w ith regard to M r
M acleod.
i hey w ere glad to be th e means I
or g iv in g ta n g ib le expression t o th e ir fe e l
ings o f respect and affection lo r him, and
t h e y hoped he would be long spared t o en joy
aH t h a t should accom pany old age. (Applause,*)
nr
* VAre
t,iailks wfts acknow ledged bv
M r A., M enzies, treasurer, E din bu rgh , and
M r D. Nicolson, secretary, Glasgow.
l u th e course o f the e v e n in g a fe w o f th e I
p o o l s songs wore v e r y ta s te fu lly rendered
by
Miss
K ate
M a cd o n a ld — a ' w ell-know n
G aelic singer and a n a tiv e o f “ E ilean a ’
r v
Gaelic
■M/' Jla c a .1‘th u ri « f t h e E din bu rgh
Musical Association
I
vntJ!!le ' >;:°ce 7 l,ng s t ^ n i n a t e d w it h a h e a rty
i
v o te o f thanks to P rofessor M agn u s M aclean
tor presiding.
I
'
HONORARY DEGREES FOR
H IG H L A N D E R S .
Dr. A L E X A N D E R C A R M I C H A E L .
At the spring graduation ceremony of the
University of Edinburgh on Friday last, the
degree of LL.D. was conferred upon Mr
Alexander Carmichael, F.S.A., tile noted
Celtic writer and folk-lorist. The proceed
ings, which were held in the M'Ewan Hall,
were of a brilliant description, and were prel
! sided over by Sir William Turner, Vice-Chan| cellor.
I In presenting .Air Carmichael, who appeared
in Highland costume, Sir Ludovic Grant Raid
I 7T 1? Western Isles of Scotland have been
I
Carmichael's happy hunting grounds, and I
I his learned labours in these picturesque I
I realms, extending over nearly fifty years, I
have been crowned with fruitful results* He
I ?
ro^ny interesting contributions to I
philology and archaeology, but none of his
I achievements is more deserving of commemoI lation than his work iu collecting and reI wording large portions of th© Gaelic folk-Joro,
I winch, but tor his timely exertions and pious
I care, must have irretrievably perished. The
I task of salvage was no light one. It was from I
I the lips of aged cottars and herdsmen, amidst
I circumstances often of difficulty and some- I
I J-inies of danger, that the precious harvest of
I baliad and legend, of rune and incantation, I
I Ì V v ' ^ slowly and laboriously gathered in. I
I English readers have now been afforded an
I opportunity of acquainting themselves with
the simple dignity, the beauty, and the
power of this literature of the unlettered, for
Mr Carmichael has translated considerable
selections in his “ Carmina Gadelica^—an
I undertaking of a unique character, of which I
I we may be permitted to hope for future in- I
I stalments. But there is another aspect of I
his work which must not be lost sight of toI day. Mr Carmichael has been a close student
I of social conditions in the Outer Hebrides,
I and it is beyond question that his sympa-I
I thetic and illuminative papers on the system I
of holding and working land, and on the
I grazing customs in these islands were inI strumental in awakening public interest in I
I the condition of the crofters, and in prepar
ing the way for remedial legislation. I preI sent Mr Carmichael as an eminent Gaelic
I scholar and archaeologist, and as a literary
I salvor whose services may be fitly recom- I
I pensed by the degree of Doctor of Laws.
I (Applause.)
1
THE PROPHECIES OF THE
B R A H A N SEER.*
;
(C O IN N E A C H O D H A R FIOSAICHE).
The
Prophecies
of
the
famous
‘ ‘Coinneach O dh ar,” with ail introductory
chapter by M r Andrew Lang make very
interesting reading. W hether ho was pos
sessed of the faculty of second sight or not,
there can ho no doubt that he was a
man of wonderful sagacity. Owing to the
numerous instances of his “ premonitions” <
which have come true, he has* held a spell ]
over Ins countrymen for generations. These
who do believe in second sight have an
able advocate in M r Andrew Lang, who
holds that “ occasional premonitions ”
do occur. Several able scholars believe the
same. M r Lang remarks that “ with the
exception of the death o f Seaforth, we can
scarcely ever find any evidence that th,o
prophecies had been recorded before the
event.” The people would have been dead
who heard him prophesy; they never
doubted that he did prophesy, otherwise
how
could
the
prophecies
become
current
among
the
people?
They
circulated
like
other
stories,
and
when the fulfilment of £ome of them
was accomplished, they would then be
recorded in m em oir if not in writing, j
L ike the Highland Tales and the Ossianic
Poems, they stuck to the people because
they believed in them.
Dun Kenneth’s
visions were different from the common
sights seen b y the persons who prognosti
cate death. They related mostly to changes'
in the country and landscape, and that ia
one reason why his gift seemed more one
of inspiration than the ordinary ghost-seer.
The late Mr Alexander Mackenzie, who
first published the work in extenso, divided
the stories into—
1. Prophecies which might be attributed to
natural shrewdness.
2. Prophecies unfulfilled.
3. Prophecies as to the fulfilment of which
there is a doubt.
4. Prophecies wholly or partly fulfilled.
5. Seaforth’s dream.
6. Seaforth’s doom.
7. Fulfilment of the Seaforth prophecy.
The reader must be allowed to judge for
himself whether the prophecy that was
made 150 years before the Caledonian
Carnal was built, to the effect that “ ships
would some day sail round the back of
Tomnahurich hill ” was an act o f natural
shrewdness or the result of a special inspir
ation. Such guess-work could hardly be
reputed of an unlettered man, and
nothing could have been more unlikely
when the sentence was uttered.
On page 47 is related a. very remarkable
prophecy, the fulfilment of which took
place at Dunvegan Castle, Isle of Skye,
in 1799, taken from the Reminiscences of ;
the famous Dr. Norman Macleod’s father,
which he dictated in his old age to one cf
his da-ughters. There is another very in
teresting one regarding Culloden at page
32 : “ Oh ! Drumossie, thv bleak moor shall i
ere many generations have passed away be I
<truned with the beet blood of the High- |
lands,” etc. The book is well got up, ;
clearly printed, and extends to 93 pages
8vo.
t The Prophecies of the Brahan Seer.
(Coinnreach Odhar Fiòsniche). Bv Alexander
MacKcnzie,
F.S.A. (Scot).
With intro
ductory chapter bv Andrew Lang;. JEneus
MacKay, Stirling. Price two shillings and
sixpence.
t r a d it io n s
o f
a r o s
c a s t l e
.
[Contributed.]
TW
iU> ivy-mantled ruin of Aros Castlo
occupies a commanding position situated, as
-t* is, on a rugged promontory overlooking
*ho Sound of Mull. It is also a place of rare
’b eauty; a place to bo desired, as its name
♦denotes. There has always been a Bort of
telegraphic connection, as it were, between
the castles of Ardtornish and Aros, which
are in sight ot each other. We read in Sir
Walter Scott’s “ Lord of the Isles” how, from
ArdtornisU Castle lair Edith of Lorn, at
tended by her faithful old nurse, watched
caegerly for her lover—
*
I
See from beneath the cattle grey,
H is licet, unmoor from Aros Buy.
;H er disappointment—
N o r for Ardtornish Castle drew,
N o r steered for A ros Bay.
Her joy, when Ronald of the Isles and Bruce
jappeared at Ardtornish.
All Celts must feel interested in Aros
.Castle. It is the principal crown jewel of
,fche independent Celtic Kings, who fought
’"with and against the English and Scots when
it suited them, but to whom all Scots owe
[ an everlasting debt of gratitude for assisting
f them to throw off the English yoke. “ Lord
’ of the Isles, our trust in thee is firm as Ailsa
Rock,” so said Bruce at the Battle of
Bannockburn, and his confidence was not
misplaced.
Many objects of interest cluster round old
'Aros Castle, notably, the ‘‘ Fire Hill,11 where
oft the fiery cross was held to warn the
clans of approaching danger; the ‘‘Hungry
Stone/7 where rebels were quickly despatched
by the Lord of tho Isles; Port na’m Buidseaeh, the Bay of the Witches, where the
Doted Mull witehes practised the black a r t ;
and lovely Aros Bay, with its many romantic
and historic associations. Ono of the ships
of the Spanish Armada was wrecked in Aros
Bay. Portions of wood taken from the wreck
are still in existence, forming the lintels of
the old house close to the “ Fir© Hill ” and
tho rafters of another house behind the
Castle. Many people believe that the treas
ure, instead of having been sunk with the
treasure ship in Tobermory Bay, was trans
ferred to Aros Castle, and buried in a
subterranean passage, supposed to lead from
the banks of Aros river to the castle. True
enough, to this day a sorpent guards the
passage, and has been seen by children who
were attracted by some flowers to go near
the spot! Tho serpent reared its head just
I as the children put forth their hands to
pluck tho flowers.
The children wero
dazzled but not afraid, and the serpent
disappeared into its cave. In 1608 a court
was held at Aros Castle by Lord Ochiltree,
the King’s lieutenant, when he was sent there
for the settlement of order in the Isles. Many
of the island Chiefs attended the court, and
afterwards accepted Lord Ochiltree’s invi
tation to dinner on board tho King’s ship
called the Moon. Dinner being ended, Ochil
tree told the astonished chiefs that they
were his prisoners by the King’s order, and,
weighing anchor, sailed direct to Ayr, whence
he proceeded with his prisoners to Edinburgh,
and prosecuted them before the Privy Coun
cil, by whose order they wore placed in the
castles of Dumbarton, Blackness, and Stir
ling. Petitions wore immediately presented
by the imprisoned chiefs to the Council, sub
mitting themselves to the King’s pleasure,
an<l making many offers to secure their lib
eration. In the following year, 1609, just
300 years ago, the Bishop of the Isles, was
deputed as sole commissioner to visit and
survey the Isles, and all the chiefs in prison
wore set at liberty, on finding security to a
largo amount not only for thoir return to
Edinburgh by a certain fixed day, but for
thoir active concurrence in the meantime in
_
snaking the proposed survey. Twelve cniers
and gentlemen of the Isles met the Bishop
at Iona in July, 1009, and submitted them
selves to him as the King’s representative.
At a court then hold by the Bishop, the nine
celebrated statutes callcd the Statutes of
Icolmkill, for the improvement and order
<u’ the Isles, were enacted, with the consent
of the assembled chiefs, and thoir bonds and
oaths given for the obedience of their clans
men. In a letter dated 22nd October, 1690,
written by Archibald Campbell, tenth Earl
of Argyll, he instructs John Campbell, Bailie
of Jura and Governor of Aros, to march with
all speed and fortify the old castle of Aros,
•and to seize upon the person and goods of
•all in Mull, Coll, and Tiree who continued
in rebellion.
Tho castle of Killundine is located on the
coast immediately opposite Aros Castle. It
is an interesting building; at one time it
was a hunting lodge used by the feudal
occupants of Aros Castle, and from this
circumstance is still known as Castel-na-conn,
or the Castle of the Dogs. The Battle of
Alfort, a dialogue of seventeen verses by
Iain Mac Ailean, is founded on a six weeks’
session of a court of justice held at Aros
C astle.
Many of the most notable men and
women tho world has ever known have lived
at Aros. Sir Walter Scott owed much of his
inspiration to his residence there. Sir Noel
Paton made it his favourite hunting ground;
and one of the most treasured of his heir
looms to his descendants is a painting of old
Aros Castle. It was there also that Miss
Maxwell of AroÒ wrote “Sound the Pibroch.”
Miss Maxwell afterwards became the wife
of one of the Morvern Macleods.

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