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                                 THE

                    LITERATURE OF THE HIGHLANDERS.




                                 THE

                    LITERATURE OF THE HIGHLANDERS:

               A HISTORY OF GAELIC LITERATURE FROM THE
                  EARLIEST TIMES TO THE PRESENT DAY.

                                  BY

                           NIGEL MACNEILL,

   AUTHOR OF “NENLÆ: WITH OTHER POEMS;” “THE HIGHLAND HYMNAL,” ETC.
                 MINISTER OF BEDFORD CHURCH, LONDON.


            “_Móra ic senaib bar senscéla._”—TOGAIL TROI.


                              INVERNESS:

                      JOHN NOBLE, CASTLE STREET

                                1892.




                    JOHN NOBLE, PRINTER, INVERNESS




PREFACE.


It is hoped that the readers of the following chapters will bear
in mind the fact that this is the first complete account of Gaelic
literature that has yet been offered to the public, and that it must
inevitably exhibit traces of the natural imperfections of all pioneer
works. To other workers in the same field I am of course greatly
indebted; and if any of them had published a fairly full history of
our Highland literature it is quite unlikely that the present volume
would ever see the light.

The names of about one hundred and eighty composers of Gaelic poetry
alone occur in this volume, while not more than a third of that
number will be found in any previous work on the subject. Still I
am aware that some mistakes and omissions will be met with, but
these, I trust, will not elicit so much reprehension as material for
correction hereafter.

On the subject of the science of language and race movements glanced
at in the Introduction, the student will find the latest views
in the works of Penka, Schrader, Sayce, Hyde Clarke, and others.
The “Ultonian Hero-Ballads” of Mr Hector MacLean and the _Reliquæ
Celticæ_ of the late Dr Alexander Cameron will be prized by those
interested in the fields on which the great Cuchulin fought and
Ossian sang.

My studies in the Celtic field have been carried on in the midst of
duties of a sacred and exacting character; and I have often been
hindered by the thought that the attraction in this direction ought
to be resisted. Still I have felt like many others the need of making
a speciality of some helpful study; and what for me could be more
natural as a mental exercise than to be found searching out in those
obscure fields of an ancient literature for the intellectual products
of my forefathers?

I am much indebted to several friends who encouraged me from time to
time. It gives me great pleasure to mention among these the name of
Dr Stoddart, late editor of _The Glasgow Herald_ whose kindness and
generosity to myself personally I will always cherish with gratitude,
and whose sympathies with all that is good and noble in any people
were the natural outcome of the cultured heart of a gentleman and
a Christian. To him I owe the title of this book as well as the
privilege, through the columns of his influential journal, of
showing some of the treasures of our Gaelic literature to the great
English world beyond our Highland Israel. With his name ought to be
associated in this matter that of the able manager of the paper, Mr
Alexander Sinclair, an Argyleshire Highlander. The articles then
published in 1881 were the first of the kind to appear in a newspaper
of such high standing. The names of other gentlemen from whom I have
received kindness occur to me also as I write: Mr D. H. Macfarlane,
ex-M.P.; Mr Fraser-Mackintosh, M.P.; Dr R. Macdonald, M.P.; Mr Duncan
Macneill; and Mr John Mackay, C.E. I have also much pleasure in
acknowledging the readiness with which the Messrs Nisbet, publishers,
London, have granted me permission to use in the following chapters
some articles I contributed to _The Catholic Presbyterian_.

This book may be described as the child of the peaceful Highland
revolution on which the political and Christian genius of the Right
Hon. W. E. Gladstone stamped imperial sanction and approval in the
Crofters Act of 1886. Its growth and delivery in various lectures,
magazine articles and otherwise, during seventeen years, have been
coincident with the workings of the spirit of racial fusion and union
which recent political struggles after a Brito-Irish brotherhood
have well-nigh perfected. On the following pages, therefore, I am
occasionally an advocate of the just rights and claims of a noble
race and an obscure literature; but at the same time I remain a lover
of the great English people. I have learned during a residence of
upwards of ten years to appreciate and love the generous qualities of
my English fellow-citizens.

                                                          N. MACNEILL.

  67 LADY MARGARET ROAD, LONDON, N.W.




CONTENTS.


  CHAP.                                                           PAGE
         INTRODUCTION                                                1

     I.  EARLY GAELIC LITERATURE—PATRICK                            27

    II.  SOUTH ALBIN GAELS—BRIGIT                                   41

   III.  NORTH ALBIN GAELS—COLUMBA                                  54

    IV.  LATIN HYMNS OF THE CELTIC CHURCH                           71

     V.  ANCIENT BALLADS                                            87

    VI.  PROSE ROMANCES                                            120

   VII.  MEDIEVAL BARDS                                            141

  VIII.  JACOBITE BARDS                                            165

    IX.  MACPHERSON’S OSSIAN                                       185

     X.  OLD LAYS                                                  207

    XI.  GENERAL LITERATURE                                        222

   XII.  SACRED BARDS OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY                    236

  XIII.  BARDS OF THE ANGLO-GAELIC ERA                             254

   XIV.  POPULAR SONGS                                             277

    XV.  BARDS OF THE CELTIC RENAISSANCE                           292

   XVI.  SACRED BARDS OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY                    314

  XVII.  THE GAELIC REVIVAL                                        326

         INDEX                                                     345

[Illustration: (decorative separator)]




INTRODUCTION.

  “Forchubus caichduini imbia arrath inlebrán colli aratardda
  bendacht foranmain intruagáin rodscribai.”

                                     _Gaelic (Scot.) MS. of 9th Cent._


The Celts and the Teuton started westward from the cradle of the
human race, spreading themselves over Europe; while other members of
the same stock went eastward, extending themselves over wide tracts
of Asia. From the Celts, the Greeks, the Romans, and the Teutons have
sprung the chief nations in whose possession Europe still remains.
It is interesting to think that the brothers who parted thousands
of years ago, somewhere in teeming Asia, the one going east and the
other west, are now meeting again on the plains of Hindostan. Their
movements during those thousands of years have encircled the whole
earth. Fiercely have they fought and disputed over every inch of
the ground which one or other of their tribes at one time or other
occupied. Theirs has always been the chief ruling power in the
world. They begin to know one another again. From the extreme west
of Europe, across the New World, the Anglo-Celt arrives in India and
recognises the Hindoo as his brother.

The Aryans migrated into Europe in a somewhat advanced state of
civilisation. According to Sayce their advent was from the north,
a theory which subverts nearly all previously accepted opinions on
the subject. Some of them, however, such as the Greeks first and the
Romans afterwards, favoured by the maritime countries in which they
settled, made more rapid progress than the others. It was largely
their self-conceit that led the Greeks and Romans to describe all
the nations beyond their bounds as “barbarian.” Our ancestors in
these islands, whether Celtic or Teutonic, were never mere savages.
They had a religion, if not radically the same, fully as enobling in
its tendency as that of Greece and Rome. They evidently made some
progress in the useful arts, while in the days of Rome’s greatest
splendour they were in possession of military weapons which were not
much inferior to her own. The form of government among the Celts was
patriarchal, and this continued for a long time among the Gaels of
Scotland. There was the king or chief, who was regarded as the father
of the clan, tribe, or nation. With him was associated a council of
chieftains or elders, and in important matters the mot of the whole
people. But with all this political organisation they could not make
such progress in civilisation as the Greeks and Romans, who mostly
dwelt in cities. The Gaels who along with the Germans acted the part
of pioneers on the plains of Europe, and living a rural life, could
not compete successfully in the race for higher civilisation with the
brother races who inhabited the maritime cities of Greece and Italy,
and who, besides, obtained much of an earlier civilisation from
Phœnicia and Egypt.

The early migrations of the Gael are involved in much obscurity. By
the study of topography, however, we can follow many of his footsteps
westward. This study, however, is rendered very difficult, and at
times very uncertain, because the discoverable traces of the presence
of the Celt lie embedded in the soil of the life of the powerful
pre-Celtic races. The Celt and the Teuton have always been close
neighbours. The progress of the two westward appears to have been
somewhat simultaneous, at least on the Continent. The geographical
positions of France and Germany at the present day represent not
inaccurately the attitude of the Gaelic and Teutonic races towards
one another in their earlier movements from the east. It has been
said that the Celts came too soon into Europe, just as the Slaves
came too late. It would be difficult to verify this remark in the
light of history and in the face of existing facts. While admitting
that the remark may have an element of truth in it, we must remember,
with regard to the Slaves, that it is premature to anticipate what
they may become. We see them a mighty threatening wave on a westward
course. The Chinese hordes, who are already a trouble, press behind
the Russians; and the growing power of the latter in Europe is a
matter of serious concern to our statesmen. The struggle between
Celt and Teuton again cannot be said to be at an end as long as
France and Germany maintain their present watchful and hostile
attitude. As to their racial composition respectively the former
may be said to be as much Celtic as the latter is Teutonic. But
on the other hand, in the United Kingdom, Celt and Teuton may be
said virtually to agree. They have so blended for centuries that,
notwithstanding boasts on both sides, which science cannot sustain,
it is impossible almost to produce a pure Saxon or a pure Gael. It
cannot certainly be done in Scotland. This intermingling of races in
the British Islands has produced a national character very unlike our
Continental neighbours. The Anglo-Celtic power of the British Empire
is not so immobile or sluggish as the German, nor so light and airy
as the French; and its rule appears almost to have arrived at the
incipient stage of universal dominion.

Great Britain was peopled in the north and in the south
simultaneously from the Continent, and Ireland was similarly peopled
from the north and south of Britain. The Gaels of Ireland and of
Scotland were the same people, having the same language and music;
and all the elements of civilisation about them were the common
property of both. At the same time there are evidences that the Gaels
of the North of Ireland stood in closer relationship to those of
Scotland than those in the South of Ireland. And this holds true even
to this very day. It should always be borne in mind that there have
been different tribes of pre-Celts, Celts and Teutons in Ireland,
which has hitherto prevented that national cohesion in the time of
danger which alone could secure the independence of the country.
Ireland being peopled at a later period, has taken a longer time in
developing a full-orbed nationality. On the other hand there has
been an earlier homogeneity among the Scottish Celts; whether called
Picts, Gaels, Scots, or Albanaich, they were always one against the
common foe, whatever might be the feuds among themselves. In more
recent days the reformation of religion in the 16th century helped
to produce in the Scottish Gael a distinctively different character
from that of the Gael of Ireland; it also destroyed in Scotland
many of the old Gaelic things which were associated with a religion
that was regarded as superstitious. Thus much of the history and
the literature of the Scottish Gael was lost. In Ireland, where no
violent changes took place in the condition and religious beliefs of
the people, we find very extensive manuscript literature—rich with
interesting spoils of the past—as well as more relics even of earlier
Gaelic life in Scotland.

Chiefly through the great labours of Zeuss, the distinguished
Bavarian, the Gael is now, as already remarked, universally admitted
to belong to the Aryan family. No student of the science of language
will now contend that he has any special affinity to the Semitic
race. The _Keltae_ of the Greek, the _Galli_ of the Roman, and the
_Gàidheil_ of Scotland and Ireland, are the same people. In the east
and in the west _Galatia_, or in Gaelic [_Gaidhealtachd_, contracted]
and pronounced _Gaeltachd_, is the _Celtica_, or land of the Celts
or Gaels. _Gaeltachd_ or _Galatia_ is literally Gael_dom_, or the
country of the _Gaels_. The term “Gael” is the same as “Celt,” the
only difference being that the original _Gaidel_ comes to us through
Latin in the former and through Greek in the latter. So the two may
be used indiscriminately, although some writers have endeavoured to
preserve a distinction, using “Gaelic” for the language spoken in
Scotland and Ireland, and “Celtic” as a more generic term, embracing
all the Gaelic Brythonic dialects. “Gael”—the Roman “Gaul”—and the
original “Gaidel,” aspirated into “Gaidhel,” which in its aspirated
form at last drops the _dh_, and becomes “Gael” or Gaul, is just
the same word. The Gael stands in the same relation to the Welsh,
the Cornishman, and the Armorican, that the Englishman and German,
the Roman and Greek, stand to one another. The Gael, the Manx, and
the Irish constitute one branch of the stock, while the Welsh, the
Cornish, and the Breton constitute the other.

The Celtic element enters largely into the population of the
United Kingdom. Just as Celtic dialects were spoken at one time
throughout the whole of the British Islands, so to the present day
a powerful Celtic element pervades the people of Great Britain
and Ireland from the lowest to the highest classes. John Knox and
Robert Burns, two representative Scotchmen, were more Celtic than
Teutonic. The national perfervid spirit and genius are so still.
The name of the great Reformer is from the Gaelic _Cnoc_. Ireland
can produce many Anglo-Celtic names, among which we find that of
the Duke of Wellington. The mothers of the greatest epic poet and
the greatest general that England ever produced were Celts. Sarah
Caston, the mother of Milton, was the daughter of a Welsh gentleman;
and Elizabeth Steward, the mother of Cromwell, was the daughter of
William Steward, in Ely, a descendant of the Celtic Stewards of
Scotland. Professor H. Morley says:—“The main current of English
literature cannot be disconnected from the lively Celtic wit in which
it has one of its sources. The Celts do not form an utterly distinct
part of our mixed population. But for early, frequent, and various
contact with the race that, in its half-barbarous days, invented
Ossian’s dialogues with St. Patrick, and that quickened afterwards
the Northerner’s blood in France. Germanic England would not have
produced a Shakespeare.” It is only the other year that a Cambrian
Celt disappeared from our midst—one of the greatest names in English
literature—Mary A. Evans, better known by her assumed name of George
Eliot. This other quotation from Professor Morley’s “Library of
English Literature” is as true as it is suggestive:—“The Celts are by
nature artists. Mr Ferguson has felt this in his own art, and said in
his ‘History of Architecture:’—‘The true glory of the Celt in Europe
is his artistic eminence. It is, perhaps, not too much to assert that
without his intervention we should not have possessed in modern times
a Church worthy of admiration or a picture or a statue we could look
at without shame.’ It would be far too much to assert this of books;
but certainly Teutonic England could not have risen to the full
grandeur and beauty of that expression of all her life in all her
literature ... without a wholesome blending of Teutonic with Celtic
blood. The Celts are a vital part of our country, and theirs were the
first songs in the land.”

Before parting with this subject let me note three remarkable facts
which the history of Gaelic Scotland presents. They have not always
been fully recognised. The first is that the Caledonians were never
fully conquered by the Roman Power which brought almost all other
nations of the world into subjection. The second is that a Gaelic
people gave its present name to the country. The third is that a
Gaelic King has given us the line of monarchs which we have still
represented in the present sovereign of the British Empire. To these
another fact might be added—that the earliest modern literature is to
be found among the Scoto-Irish Gael. After the decadence of Greece
and Rome the Celts were the first of the European tribes to cultivate
letters. While the Germans and the Northmen were yet roving heathen
tribes the Gael in Ireland and in Scotland had their seminaries of
learning, where literature was loved and cherished. And from the
Colleges of Durrow and Iona missionaries, whose well-trained minds
and zealous hearts fitted them for their great undertaking, went
forth to Christianise the people of England and the Teutonic tribes
on the Continent. The extant manuscripts in Gaelic and Latin which
came from their pens are monuments of their learning and piety, as
well as of the reverence in which they were held by the people to
whom they brought the light of the Christian truth. Some of these
manuscripts, now studied with such rich results by Continental Celtic
scholars, are to be found in some of the great libraries on the
Continent; in St. Gall, Milan, Wurtzburg, and Carlsruhe, Zeuss found
those Gaelic ones on which he based his great work the “Grammatica
Celtica,” published in 1853. These facts ought to make the study of
Gaelic interesting—the oldest living language in Europe that can
boast of such early relics of culture.

It is now necessary that some remarks should be made on the language
in which the literature we are to examine is to be found. The Celtic
forms a branch of the Indo-European group of languages. It is divided
into two nearly distinct languages, which are thus classified:—

         {               { Gaelic.
         { THE GAIDELIC, { Irish.
         {               { Manx.
  CELTIC {                { Welsh.
         {                { Cornish (_extinct_).
         { THE BRYTHONIC, { Breton.
         {                { Gaulish (_extinct_).

The differences between Gaelic, Irish, and Manx are merely dialectic.
The Cornish became extinct last century. The Gaulish is also extinct;
and what remains of it is found only in the names of places.

To Zeuss is due the credit of having assigned its proper place to
Celtic in the family of languages. The problem before his great
publication in 1853 was the relationship in which the Gaels, the
Welsh, and the old Gaulish people stood to one another and to the
other nations of the world. Numerous publications on this question
appeared during the last two centuries. But from a scientific point
of view they are of very little value. Errors and unscientific
theories abound in every work. At that time the scholars of France
and Germany never mastered the Celtic languages; indeed, there were
few reliable grammars by which they could be acquired. The native
scholars were deficient in linguistic training, in common sense, and
frequently in common honesty. No Gaelic scholar was conscientious
enough to learn Welsh, no Welsh scholar to learn Gaelic; but each
and all were ready enough to compare their languages with Phœnician,
Persian, Etruscan, Egyptian, Hebrew, Arabic, &c., of which, again,
they knew in reality next to nothing; though a few of them might know
a little Hebrew. There was one remarkable exception, however, to
this—the great Welsh scholar Edward Llhuyd, of whom it may be said
that he lived a century and a half before his time; but, incapable of
following him, the native school of philologists sank into chaotic
and puerile etymological dreams. The Celtic problem became more
hopeless than ever, and Gaelic philology became distasteful to sober
minds.

At the same time many Celts insisted “on the lofty claim they used to
advance of speaking the primeval language.” It is only recently that
they have learned “to submit to the logic of facts and listen to the
voice of science.” A Gaelic poet, in an elaborate poem on his native
language, thus declares his conviction on the much-debated subject,
what language was spoken in Paradise—

       “By Adam it was spoken
        In Eden, I believe,
      And sweetly flowed the Gaelic
        From the lovely lips of Eve.”

Some fifty years ago the science of comparative philology began to
make itself felt, and Celtic scholars tried to apply its principles
to Celtic. Pritchard, Bopp, Diefenbach, Pictet, and others worked
in the right direction, but they failed fully to solve the Celtic
problem. J. Caspar Zeuss, a Bavarian Highlander, at last succeeded,
by combining with a mind of unusual power a devotion to the subject
which amounted well-nigh to a sacrifice of his life. This devotion
might not even have been sufficient if he had not possessed what
no one before him possessed—the really oldest manuscripts of both
the Irish and Welsh dialects. The labours of Zeuss have shown:—That
the Gaelic and Welsh languages were originally one; that dialectic
differences in Cæsar’s time were so small that an old Gael would be
at once understood in Wales; and that the Gaels and Cambrians were
identical with the Celts of the Continent—with those of Spain, Gaul,
Lombardy, and the Alpine countries; that this Celtic tongue is one of
the branches of the Aryan stock of languages.

The consequence of these established facts is to put an end to all
attempts at connecting the Celtic with the Semitic class of tongues.

We know the Gaelic language now in three stages:—

  1. Old Gaelic up to 1000 A.D. The most ancient relics of this
  period are the glosses of St. Gall in Switzerland, the Ambrosian
  Library of Milan, &c., discovered by Zeuss.

  2. Middle Gaelic, from 1000-1500 A.D., is represented by an
  extensive mass of manuscript literature.

  3. Modern Gaelic from the sixteenth century, when books began to be
  printed, to the present day.

The softening caused by excessive aspiration is the greatest change
which the language has undergone.

As spoken in Scotland at the present day the chief dialectic
differences are:—

  1. The _ia_ of the North for the _eu_ of the South and West
  Highlands, illustrated by BIAL, BEUL, _mouth_; FIAR, FEUR, _grass_.

  2. The vowel-tone difference, illustrated in such words as ORAN,
  song. The _o_ is pronounced in three different ways; in Islay and
  other parts of Argyll like _o_ in _old_; in Mull and other place
  like _ou_ in _foul_; in the North generally like _aw_ in _law_.

  3. The consonantal difference illustrated in the pronunciation of
  _c_ and _chd_.

  4. The accentual or rhythmic tone difference, observed in the
  conversation of natives of different places.

In Arran and Perthshire, and to some extent in Caithness and
Sutherland, the people in speaking cut off the terminal syllables of
many words. In the North Highlands they speak with a slow, sometimes
swinging emphasis; in the South Highlands they are more hurried in
their utterance. Any Highlander, speaking distinctly, will be readily
understood, North and South.

Gaelic appears to possess wonderful vitality. While English has
stamped out Gaelic among the Celts of Galloway and Ayrshire, Gaelic
has stamped out the Norse language in the Western Isles, where the
people are largely of pre-Celtic and Norse origin. It is remarkable
that although of the same family of languages, Gaelic and English,
like oil and water, cannot readily commingle.

Other subjects associated with early Gaelic literature are the Druids
and the Féinne. That dim, indefinite, prehistoric period of our
annals which terminated in the contact of heathenism with the living
forces of Christianity may be termed pre-Celtic. In the dawn of the
historical period a mysterious class of men called Druids, and a
mysterious body of heroes called the Féinne or Fianna, emerge into
view, just as we mark the vanishing or absorption of the pre-Celtic
peoples. Whatever they were, a certain class of _Magi_ existed once
in these islands. But their sudden disappearance in history, like
that of the Féinne, has induced many to question whether such an
order of men ever lived. But it is historically certain that a class
of men, answering to the description, met and tried to oppose Columba
from Iona when he visited King Brudeus at Inverness. They have
been called Druids, but that term should be regarded in a general
or conventional sense. They were without doubt the priests of
learning and religion among the ancient Scots. In possession of some
knowledge, meagre as it probably was, they were invested with mystic
importance by the ignorant and superstitious. With the introduction
and enlightenment of Christianity it would be seen that this
exclusive order and priestly caste found their supremacy undermined.
Their teaching, whatever it was, appears to have had a beneficial
influence on the formation of the national character. They do not
seem to have indulged in any enervating services or gross idolatry in
the kind of worship which was maintained among the people. We see the
moral significance of their influence more fully when we contrast the
ancient Gaels with the ancient Greeks. With all their fine ethical
and æsthetic perceptions, we find that the latter throughout their
whole history were never a very moral people. Just as their bodily
senses were enslaved by their keen sense of the beautiful in form,
colour, &c., so were their moral energies by many vices. The sensual
and luxurious life of the Romans also soon sapped the foundations of
the empire, and made it a prey to the less civilised nations around.
But from the earliest times down to the present we find among the
people once influenced by the Druids a very high moral tone. Guilty
as they might be of plundering other races with whom they openly
waged warfare, strict honesty among themselves as neighbours was
inculcated and observed. The internecine quarrels and the mutual
plundering of the later periods arose from the dissensions purposely
sown by the Scottish kings. To weaken the clans and the bond of union
existing between them unrighteous charters were granted to certain
lands in favour of pretenders that could present no valid claim.
Hence the majority of the clan feuds which frequently drenched the
Highland hills and glens with blood.

One particular result of the early teaching has been the national
respect for woman. It is one of the finest moral traits in the
character of the Gael. At this day it is among the Gael of the Outer
Hebrides and of the more recognised Celtic districts of Ireland,
such as Munster and Connaught, that the Registrar General finds the
smallest percentage of illegitimacy. The high-toned morality which
the poems of Ossian exhibit in this respect has been used as an
argument against their authenticity. And yet it should be no argument
at all for one who can trace out and analyse the early sources whence
developed the moral elements of the national character.

The Celt has been generally very religious. The religion of the Gael
of Scotland, like that of the Kymry of Wales, whether in ancient or
in modern Christian times, has always flourished in an atmosphere of
deep severity. The rigid ethics of the early religion, combined with
a hard life at a distance from enervating centres of civilisation,
help to explain this. This sternness of doctrine also, no doubt,
prepared the modern Gael to accept with such absolute entirety, and
with such earnest heartiness, the Calvinistic system of Christian
truth which many regard as severe and harsh. The higher results
of the literary and moral culture of the Druidic religion we have
embodied in the relics of Ossianic poetry. The order of Druids, with
their ideals of philosophy and religion, have vanished; but their
power for good remains embedded in the foundation of the national
name, with its educating influences and its inspiring associations.
In this power lay the moral strength of our early ancestors.
Christianity, in its early Celtic and Reformed stages, developed
into higher and purer issues this national virtue; and the character
of the people is exponent of the results of the process. Other
tribes and communities have had Christianity among them too, but
with different results. This line of thought suggests an explanation
of why, as has been already remarked, the Irish Gael appears to be
somewhat unlike the Scottish Gael.

A glance may now be appropriately bestowed upon that other somewhat
mysterious body—those heroes called the Féinne.

Chief among the early Gaelic inhabitants was the renowned order of
heroes known as the Féinne, the Fianna, or the followers of Fingal,
or Finn, the leader. They are supposed to have lived in the second
and third centuries of our era, and to have been the Caledonians who
checked the progress of the legions of Rome. Very little reliable
help can be found regarding this question in the extant annals of
the Gael. In general it may be held that this race of Finn came
from the shores of the Baltic to North Britain, and that they were
not unrelated to the ancient Norse. Recently a new theory has been
adopted by some, like Mr Campbell of Islay, whose views are entitled
to much respect. They argue that the existence of the Féinne is only
a myth—part and parcel of an old world system, not unconnected with
the classical and oriental—a system of which we have the same with
variations in the Militia of Ireland, and in the Knights of the Round
Table of the ancient British. It is held that Fingal and King Arthur
are the same personages; that Graine, the faithless wife of Fingal is
the same as the faithless Guinevere, the spouse of Arthur; and that
the unhallowed love of Diarmad and Graine has a suggestive similitude
in that of Sir Launcelot and Guinevere. On the other hand, it is
argued that the similarity of these relations, however systematic in
appearance, may still be adequately explained by the fact that human
nature is much the same in all lands and amongst all races; that this
symbolic theory does not seem to be supported by the well-grounded
conviction of the people in whose traditions the memory of the heroes
of the Féinne has been handed down to us; that it is not at all
probable that the names of merely fictitious heroes would live in
the topography of a hundred hills, like the name of Finn; that it
does not find support in the more philosophic theory regarding the
heroes of ancient peoples—that all the mythological characters are
only exaggerations of real ones; that human nature is never satisfied
with the barely mythic and unreal, and that the patriotic and other
affections never derive sustenance from false and unbelievable
characters.

Can a vague statement of this character not satisfy the inquiring
student? To the patriotic Celtic inquirer, next in importance to the
evangelisation of the Highlands by Columba, stands the great question
of the Féinne, who have so indelibly impressed their individualities
on the Gaelic imagination of Scotland. To the more inquiring spirits
of recent times these brilliant heroes have appeared very strange
and mysterious indeed. They have had a Melchisedec kind of existence
in our traditional history; no one has been able to suggest whence
they came, or whither they have gone. The names of their leaders
have become woven with fable, song, and story; with the hills and
glens of Albin and Erin; with the warlike struggles which the various
conflicting races have fought on our Ero-Albinic shores. So vague and
romantic however, has their history been, that a few clear-sighted
writers, conversant with comparative mythology, have come almost to
the conclusion that the Féinne were, as we have already seen, a mere
Gaelic expression of a world-wide mythus, whose various component
elements can be found from Japan to the Hebrides. The popular tales
and the bardic ballads have been regarded as the _debris_ that may be
still collected on the shores of the ages.

The plain Highlander living in the mere tents of history and
literature, has been reluctant to accept so vague an account of a
very heroic ancestry. Has not he the poems of Ossian still in his
hands? Are not the names of Finn and fellow-heroes stamped on a
thousand hills in Albin and Erin? So the invariable conclusion has
been that in some mysterious way and during some mysterious period
“Fingal lived and Ossian sang.” The disappointing question all along
has been, however, where can any account be found of these people in
our accredited national histories? The inquiring spirits among our
patriotic youth examine recent histories in vain. Our antiquaries
write of names and places, but they have failed to assign a local
habitation and a name to the Finian people. The only approach
to a definite representation of the race we have in the famous
mystifications of James Macpherson in his dissertations, notes,
and poems. But the geography of Macpherson appears to have been as
mistily convenient for himself as it has been perplexing to his
commentators. Not even the genius of Dr Waddell in his goodly volume
has been able to identify the localities of Macpherson, or remove
the veil of ghost-like existence in which the Ossianic heroes are
enshrouded.

Our ordinary historians appear to have avoided treating of so
perplexing a period or class of men. Browne is satisfied with a
statement on the Ossianic question. He does not touch on the history
of the Finnic period. Keltie ignores the whole question. MacLauchlan
in his “Early History of the Scottish Church,” which embraces the
Ossianic age, has nothing to say of the Finnic environment. In his
introduction to his edition of Ossian, Clerk is equally silent as to
the accurate identification of the people of whom Ossian became the
laureate bard. Nor is anything very definite to be found even in the
learned works of Skene. When such admirable authorities are almost
universally silent, it becomes a very hazardous matter to attempt any
statement on the question.

It must be admitted that hitherto the sources of much of our definite
accounts have been Irish compilations. Notwithstanding Macpherson’s
comparative contempt for the character of the Irish Finian heroes,
and for the Irish Ossianic compositions, yet much of the ground work
of his own historic ideals was furnished by Irish productions. But
any historic truth the Irish compositions may have had perished in
the using in the hands of Macpherson. The result has been a system
of chronology that neither he nor his friends have ever been able to
explain.

The question still remains, Who were the Féinne? The answer in
general has been that they were Gaelic heroes of the second and third
centuries of the Christian era; who fought with Romans, with Danes,
and with one another; and finally struggled with the converting
powers of Christianity. In Ireland they have appeared under the
guise of a Milesian militia, a conception which is thoroughly in
harmony with the chivalrous ideals of that interesting island. The
following sentences contain the gist of all the information that is
now available:—“It is quite a mistake to suppose _Finn Mac Cumhaill_
to have been merely imaginary or mythical character. Much that has
been narrated of his exploits is, no doubt, apocryphal enough; but
Finn himself is an undoubtedly historical personage; and that he
existed about the time at which his appearance is recorded in the
annals, is as certain as that Julius Cæsar lived and ruled at the
time stated on the authority of the Roman historians. I may add here
that the pedigree of Finn is fully recorded on the unquestionable
authority of the Book of Leinster, in which he is set down as the
son of _Cumhall_, who was the son of _Trenmor_, son of _Snaelt_, son
of _Eltan_, son of _Baiscni_, son of _Nuada Necht_, who was of the
Heremonian race, and monarch of Erinn about A.M. 5090, according
to the chronology of the Four Masters, that is, 110 years before
Christ. Finn himself was slain, according to the Annals of the Four
Masters, in Anno Domini 283, in the reign of _Cairbre Lifeachair_.”
Little can be added to this statement by O’Curry. The great battle
of _Gabhra_—Garristown in Meath—took place in 284; and the ballads
represent the brave Oscar, and _Cairbre Lifeachair_ as falling by
each others’ hands in the deadly struggle. Oscar was the beloved
son of Ossian, and his grandfather Finn, who died a year before the
battle of _Gabhra_, is brought back to life by the Romancists to
pronounce a eulogy on the fallen Oscar.

Irish annalists are satisfied that the fatherland of Finn and his
heroes was Ireland; but no one appears to be able to point out the
territories over which Finn reigned. It is an undoubted fact that
_Cairbre Lifeachair_ was the monarch of Erin when Finn died, and
when the battle of _Gabhra_ was fought. What can be more natural
then than to suppose with Macpherson that Finn was monarch of Albin?
In Macpherson’s works Finn is represented always as going from
Albin to Erin, a rendering of history which the Irish authorities
refuse to accept. When we look for the Kingdom of Finn in Scotland
where Macpherson has located it, we certainly fail to ascertain its
boundaries by means of his mystifying phrases. That his Morven is not
the Mor_vern_ of Argyllshire has been pointed out long ago; nor is
much satisfaction to be found in Dr Clerk’s interpretation of _Mor
Bheanna_, the Great Hills, as a general characteristic of Scotland.
It is another illustration of Macpherson’s prudent indefiniteness
behind which the secret of his works has been preserved.

Now it appears to me that I am led aright in my studies of this
period of Albin’s history, when I regard the Féinne as the last
leaders of the great race in Albin and Erin who disappeared in
history before the extension of the Gaelic conquest and supremacy.
The spirit of their struggle is truly recorded in the ballads when
it is repeatedly declared that they went forth to the battle, but
that they always fell. This is the melancholy key-note of the
Ossianic poetry. This is the passionate patriotism—a brave, resolute
and chivalrous race, ever ready for the fight, ever ready to go
forth to battle—and has always appealed to the popular heart. The
brave Finians, however, seemed to go forth to die. The fate of
possible extinction appears to have pressed heavily on the heart
of the people. And when the leaders were all dead and gone, Ossian
the immortal singer of their exploits and enterprises mourned in
his blindness and solitude the departure of his brother heroes and
hunters,—dwelling with pathetic tenderness on the oft-recurring
refrain: “The last of my race!”

The Albinian monarchy, whose head-quarters were situated near Loch
Ness, exercised rule over various tribes. Early in our era its sway
appears to have extended, to use the proverbial sayings, from the
Ord of Caithness to the Rhinns of Islay, from the Hen of Lewis to
the Cock of Arran: _O’n Ord Ghallach gus an Roinn Ilich, ’s o’n
Chirc Leoghaisich gus a’ Choileach Arranach_. This Albinian kingdom
was, no doubt, the scene of the Finian exploits which have formed
the subjects of poetic romance. It was frequently assailed by the
Norse on the north-west and east; and by Celts on the south-east.
The latter finally prevailed, bestowing their Celtic tongue on
the conquered Albinians. The Féinne appear to have been the last
leaders of the national cause. They were probably bilingual, as the
more educated classes were in the days of Columba. Many of them may
have been fully Gaelicised, while resisting the encroachments of an
alien civilisation. Ossian and his fellow-leaders would be of this
class. And just as many patriot bards in our own time in Ireland and
Britain, lament the decay of Celtic nationalities in the language of
the Teutonic conqueror, so the laureate bard of the Albinian people
has sung of “the last of his race” in the tongue of the conquering
Gael.

The kindred of these remarkable heroes appeared in those early ages
in various lands. They were the immediate predecessors, not only of
the Celtic, but in some cases also of other races. They were the most
ancient Lochlins that ploughed the German Ocean with their trembling
barks. They were the earliest Vikings that sailed round the Orkneyan
skerries; that visited their kindred and fought with them on the
shores of Albin, of Erin, and of Breatun. And clearly it is their
connections we have in the north-east of Europe, where they survive
in a trying climate with shrunk proportions and exhausted national
energies. The famous ballad on the _Battle of Gabhra_ represents four
companies of Finians as engaged in the terrible fight—the Féinne of
Albin, the Féinne of Erin, the Féinne of Breatun, and the Féinne of
Lochlin.

The names of these heroes are still to be found in Lochlin, Erin,
and Albin, the lands in which their celebrated deeds were chiefly
performed. We find them in the pages of Adamnan like the shadows of
a departing people. Finn or Fionn, appears in various forms, as in
_Findchanus_, _Fintenus_, &c. Here we have also the first, or most
ancient, written form of the name of the great bard himself, in Latin
disguise, “Oisseneo nomine.”

The territory of the Caledonians lay from Loch Long eastward to the
Firth of Tay and the German Ocean, and northward in later times to
the Moray Firth. The Caledonian Forest is represented as extending
in a north-eastern direction from Loch Lomond to the river Isla.
The Caledonian territories, however, were always shifting. Like the
_Celtica_ of the Continent of Europe, the _Gaeltachd_ of the British
Islands was always under a process of change, but at the same time it
was ever the region or the land of the Gael. Lands were won from the
tribes whom the Gaels conquered, while territories were surrendered
to those who pressed on behind them. At first the _Gaeltachd_ was in
South Britain; but as the Gaels moved northward, Albin contracted,
and the land of the Gael extended. Finally, the Caledonians became
the general term for all the Gaelic clans who opposed the legions of
Rome.

The etymology of _Caledonia_ has not been satisfactorily explained.
The celebrated James Macpherson explains it as follows:—“When
South Britain yielded to the power of the Romans, the unconquered
nations to the north of the province were distinguished by the name
of _Caledonians_. From their very name, it appears that they were
of those Gauls, who possessed themselves originally of Britain.
It is compounded of two Celtic words, _Gael_, signifying _Celts_
or _Gauls_, and _Dun_ or _Don_, _a hill_; so that _Gael don_, or
Caledonians, is as much as to say _Celts of the hill country_.” In
the very next sentence Macpherson unconsciously suggests quite a
different and better etymology: “The Highlanders to this day call
themselves _Gael_, their language _Gaelic_ or _Galic_, and their
country _Gaeldoch_, which the Romans softened into _Caledonia_.”
Consideration for Latin Inflections would readily transform
_Caeldachd_ into _Caledonia_. A rival explanation has found place
in many school books—Coille-daoine, rendered _Men of the Wood_.
This, however, is not the accurate translation. The compound is
absurd and unnatural. It reads to a Gael like _Men-Wood_ in English.
Another explanation has been _Gaedhil dhonna_, brown-haired Gaels;
but physiological facts and the laws of phonology do not support
this derivation. The Welsh have given us its meaning from a Cymric
standpoint; and as the word is unknown in Gaelic in its historic form
the Welsh suggestions appear very reasonable. The Caledonian Forest
in Welsh has always been Calydin or Celydin, a term which means
_Wood_. Its Gaelic cognate would be _Coilltean_, which also supplies
the representative consonants of Caledonia. The great forest of the
Central Highlands would be very naturally spoken of as the _Woods_,
Coiltean; _Caledonii_ being only a Latin derivative.

With the spread of Christianity the Caledonians became the great
people in Albin. In the later ages they consisted of Gaelicised
Albinians, Gaels, and Brythonised Gaels. Among them appeared those
who stand first on the roll of literary Scots: the poetry and tales
of the Féinne developed into their present shape in the hands of
the ancient Christian Gaels of our land. The poetic compositions
which relate to this period furnish us with gleams of life from the
borderland of decadent heathenism and Christianity.

From the first proclamation of the latter onwards the outlines of
Scottish story become continually clearer, shining more and more
until the day of national freedom and independence shone on a brave
and struggling people. In glancing very briefly at the history of
the Gael of Albin we find that it naturally suggests the following
periods, described by terms which indicate the fresh elements
introduced on fresh changes taking place:—

I. The Pre-Celtic Period embraces the unrecorded ages which partially
terminated in the third century, when the influence of Christianity
began to be felt. The Roman province in Scotland became nominally
Christian by the Imperial adoption of Christianity by Constantine in
the year 313.

II. The Celtic Period extends from the third century to the
year 1068. During these dark and unsettled times there was much
intercourse carried on between the old inhabitants of Albin and
the people of Lochlin; generally the intercourse took the form of
a fierce struggle for supremacy. In 1068 Malcolm III. married an
English princess, known afterwards as the saintly Queen Margaret;
Gaelic afterwards ceased to be the language of the Scottish Court. At
that time Picts and Scots being united under one monarchy the sway of
the Northmen in the north-west became much enfeebled. The power of
the latter was completely broken by the disastrous defeat of Haco, at
Large, in 1263.

III. The Norman or Feudal Period extends from 1068 to 1567. Few
of the Gaelic preachers, or representatives of the early Scottish
Church, survived the repressing influence of Queen Margaret, who
was a zealous Roman Catholic. The Norman conquest of England caused
many Saxons to seek refuge in Scotland, where they were welcomed
by the Queen and her royal husband, _Ceann-Mor_. Norman influences
also began to be felt in Scotland. The lands of Celtic chiefs were
chartered away by the King to Norman barons, of whom many became as
Celtic and as identified with the Gaelic inhabitants as the Celtic
mormaers whom they supplanted. The patriarchal system began to decay,
and feudalism was gradually introduced.

IV. The Protestant and Jacobite Period extends from the middle of the
sixteenth century to the year 1745, when Jacobitism on Culloden Moor
received its death-blow. The nominal first, afterwards the actual,
acceptance of the Reformation doctrines by the Scottish Celts in the
sixteenth century has very vitally affected their literature, as well
as completely changed their relations with the Irish Celts.

V. The Anglo-Gaelic Period begins in 1745. The influence of the
English language and English thought has been extending in the
Highlands since then; while through the general intermingling of
races, and a better mutual understanding, the prejudices of Celt and
Saxon respectively have been everywhere dying away, especially among
the classes by whom the force of the democratic tendencies of our age
has been felt and acknowledged.

The dates assigned to the above periods are only approximately
accurate, but they may serve to shadow forth some of the chief
influences which have been at work in the history of Celtic Scotland,
and of which we have traces in the literary annals of the Gael.
Perhaps the surprising thing in connection with these meagre annals
is the fact that there are any literary remains at all, when it is
remembered how frequent and how violent have been the changes which
have occurred in the course of the history of Albin.

The Anglo-Gaelic era of Highland history commences, as has been
pointed out, with the decay of the Jacobite cause. The changes that
have taken place since 1745 have deeply affected the destiny and
character of the people. In some respects the contact with the fresh
forces brought into play was beneficial, in other respects it was a
moral loss; but it is to be hoped that on the whole there has been
considerable gain, and that not altogether material.

Under the social and educational changes that have been taking
place during the last century the Highlanders have shown wonderful
adaptableness in the course of the process they have been undergoing.
The revival of a more earnest spirit of Christianity in many
districts has completely altered the social habits of the people,
while the influence of educational agencies has reached the most
secluded glen and remote headland.

The English language is everywhere taught, the people, knowing its
use in the sphere of secular success, preferring to have their
children educated in a purely English rather than in a Gaelic school.
The present rising generation all understand and talk a little Saxon
of some sort, but Gaelic will be the language of the mass of the
population for some generations yet. English thought and culture also
reach the people through the hundreds of University-bred ministers
who preach Gaelic in Highland pulpits.

These important changes in the Celtic world are not effected without
many venerable regrets being uttered by sentimentalists both in
Ireland and Scotland. If we look across the channel we find that the
Irish Gael indulges in the same unpractical wail over an irrevocable
past, that we find so prevalent with his brother of Albin. The cry
of the sentimentalist there is even more intense, more persistent.
The unpromising present of the Gael there appears to attract like
a magnet all the revolutionary sympathies of the usually stolid
Teutonic heart, after a little contact of the races. Just as in
their political difficulties the Irish have always looked for help
from Spain, France, or America, so unless the gods somehow interfere
to preserve their native tongue, all they can or will do, waiting
for external or divine deliverance, is to take up the refrain—“It
is dying.” This is how an Irish poet, the Rev. M. Mullin, Clonfert,
sings with incomparable sadness:—

     “It is fading! it is fading! like the leaves upon the trees;
      It is dying! it is dying! like the Western Ocean breeze!
      It is fastly disappearing, as footsteps on the shore,
      Where the Barrow, and the Erne, and Lough Swilly’s waters roar;
      Where the parting sunbeam kisses the Corrib in the West,
      And the ocean, like a mother, clasps the Shannon to its breast;
      The language of old Erin, of her history and name—
      Of her monarchs and her heroes, of her glory and her fame—
      The sacred shrine where rested, through her sunshine and her gloom,
      The Spirit of her martyrs, as their bodies in the tomb!
      The time-wrought shell where murmured, through centuries of wrong,
      The secret voice of Freedom in annal and in song
      Is surely, fastly sinking into silent death at last,
      To live but in the memories and relics of the Past!”

It must be very consoling to give one’s grief utterance in this
highly poetical fashion; it is a question whether the poetry loses
or gains in force, when it is remembered that the singer perhaps
never put forth any effort to preserve the life of that ancient
tongue which he is harping into her grave. Perhaps he does not know
the language at all. He may be among those who first spurned and
then starved her scholars; of the sentimentalists who, after learned
devotees gave to the world in books the results of a life’s labour,
on the publication of which they had expended more than all their
own means, might borrow but would not buy a copy. The accomplished
Archbishop MacHale of Tuam, found out to his cost the full meaning of
this remark. Few were the copies of his excellent Græco Irish Homer
that were sold; and here we have an illustration of the extent of the
encouragement that real Irish scholarship receives. At the same time
it must be admitted that the writers of Celtic books are frequently
much to blame. They bury their productions in expensive volumes
which can never obtain general circulation, or they do not furnish
the precise thing required; or if they do, it is not always in a
saleable popular fashion. Thus we have to regret the evil results
of contemptuous neglect on the one hand, and extravagant claims and
impracticable theories on the other, as well as an imaginary sense
of loss and wrong, on the part of those who ought to give a more
practical direction to the people’s sentiments.

But the Celt is neither dead nor dying. He is still an important
factor in the making of the world’s history. Apart from the very
large Celtic element that has been absorbed in the Anglo-Celtic
intermingling of races under the supremacy of Teutonic rule in
these islands we find some four or five millions of people talking
one or other of the Celtic dialects. The number of Gaelic speaking
Highlanders is not much under half a million. There will be about
300,000 of a Gaelic-speaking population within the geographical
limits of the Highlands, the area of which is upwards of three-fifths
of Scotland. There is a larger Gaelic population in Glasgow than the
whole population of Greenock. The Gaelic bard of to-day has thus as
large an audience to sing his lays to as the great Ossian himself had
in ancient Albin.

Still it is constantly asserted that whether or not the Gaelic
language is dead and ready for burial it has no literature; and the
assertion has been repeated for several generations with emphatic
persistence. The following chapters are intended to show that there
is a literature; and that it does not altogether deserve the contempt
with which it has been hitherto regarded. And the English-reading
public have a right to know from the pens of Gaelic scholars what
is the value of the literature still extant in the ancient language
of a people with whom they are so closely united, and who form an
important integral portion of their common empire. All have an
interest in bringing the reign of ignorance, apathy, and prejudice to
an end.

At last in the midst of neglect and apathy, of petty rivalries
and discords which so readily breed within circumscribed spheres,
when our Gaelic scholars, MacLauchlan and Clerk, Skene and J. F.
Campbell, and others, were giving to the world the results of their
laborious efforts to uphold the character and literary prestige of
their countrymen, and were thus paving the way, one voice began to
be heard on behalf of a despised language and literature. That voice
crying in the Highland wilderness was that of Professor Blackie! By
inimitable eloquence and unwearied energies he interested high and
low at once and for years in the establishment of a Celtic Chair in
the University of Edinburgh. From the Queen, from lord and laird,
and from peasant, he charmed, by his sweet and natural manner, the
gold on which that Chair is now so successfully founded. Not only
that, but he has also given us the fullest account hitherto published
of the language and literature of the Scottish Highlands. It is
needless to speak of the affection and gratitude which Highlanders
cherish towards the learned and venerable Professor, who has been a
most potent Celtic force in this generation. “_Saoghal fada ’n deagh
bheatha dhuit!_”

Irish scholars have recently laboured hard and successfully in
furthering the interests of their native literature. It is enough
here to mention the names of O’Donovan, O’Currie, Whitley Stokes,
Joyce, Standish O’Grady, and Bourke—men whose learning and talents
would adorn the literary annals of any nation. While the Irish
have accomplished more than the Scottish Gael, the Welsh have
done more than either to preserve their language and cultivate
their literature. Under systematic efforts to suppress it entirely
the Kymry have adhered to their ancient tongue with unwearying
pertinacity. While the Gael of Ireland and Scotland have not yet
been successful in supporting one purely Gaelic newspaper, the Celt
of Wales has his Welsh newspaper in every town of importance in
the Principality. It is to the Kymry that we owe the best work yet
published on Celtic philology—the “Welsh Philology” of Professor
Rhys of the Celtic Chair at Oxford. So now it may fairly be said
that we are in the midst of a Celtic Renaissance. Books of a certain
useful character do sell, notwithstanding the well founded complaint
referred to above. The first edition of Canon Bourke’s “Aryan Origin
of the Gaelic Race” was exhausted in a very short time. Campbell’s
“Tales” are out of print. These are signs of the times which, along
with the establishment of Celtic Chairs at the central seats of
learning, decisively indicate a reviving interest in Celtic studies.
In talking once of the emotional element of the Celtic nature, an
enthusiastic Irish scholar jocularly remarked to the writer that the
Gael was dying away in song. If this turns out to be true, it is
evident that his remains will be examined with pious and scientific
care.

It is interesting to find that, meagre as Gaelic literature is—and
the great wonder is that what we have should have been produced
in so unpromising a field—it extends over sixteen centuries. Its
stream issued from that fount of Gaelic heroism which began to burst
forth in the first centuries of our era, when the ground of the old
European world was on every side shaken by the heavy tramp of the
Roman legions and by the consequent disturbance of equilibrium among
the clans and races everywhere. Epic products of genius, of course,
there are not in Gaelic literature. Perhaps the pure Celtic genius,
as Mathew Arnold held, is incapable of producing epic works—is too
emotional, and is only rich in lyrical and ballad power. Great works
requiring leisure, quietness, and perseverance there are not; the
life of our ancestors, active, earnest, and practical—its energies
ceaselessly being called forth to combat the ruthless forces of
nature—did not admit of the necessary cultivation and ease for such
productions. Extensive fruits of Gaelic thought and letters we do
still possess, however, although much has been lost, especially
of what was produced in earlier days. But these should not for a
moment be spoken of in comparison with the magnificent monuments of
intellectual endeavour which Greece and Rome and Anglo-Celtic Britain
have reared. But Gaelic literature will compare favourably with
that of many other countries, especially when united with its sister
product, Irish literature. And Welsh literature, no doubt, should
also be added. English literature, because of the basis it has in the
soil of Christianity, is the grandest product of the human intellect,
the master works of Greece and Rome not excepted. It is great; it is
partly Celtic; and we, as Anglo-Celts, admire it. But we may with
advantage look beyond the bounds of our English studies, and then
see more clearly the foundation of our Anglo-Celtic empire when we
have examined with tender and sympathetic care the interesting relics
of Celtic thought enshrined in the ancient language of the British
Islands.

It ought perhaps to be acknowledged that the English-speaking peoples
of these islands are, at present peculiarly ready to accept any
authentic information respecting Celtic history and literature. The
same remark replies to Continental scholars. In our own islands the
stirring of nationalities in Ireland, Scotland and Wales, and that
simultaneously with the movements of the practical politics of the
parties of the day and the advocacy of the reform of our land laws,
has deepened the interest in all questions relating to Celtic life
and thought.

It is a mere truism to remark that the language and literature of the
Gael have been much neglected. All attempts to bring their claims
before the English-speaking world were, till recently, treated
with systematic indifference if not with contempt. The national,
historical, and scientific value of the study of both does not appear
to have occurred even to many who ought to know better. Interesting
and inviting as the field was, it lay long unoccupied. Highlanders
conscious of some talent were attracted by the rich prizes and honour
obtainable within the sphere of English letters. A few who dipped
into Celtic studies found them either unprofitable or turned away
with disgust from a path in which they were met on all sides with
petty jealousies and ignorant pretence. The Rev. Dr John Smith,
of Campbeltown, distinguished alike for his learning and general
culture, sacrificed much of his time and means to Gaelic studies;
and, finding them unprofitable, turned in his leisure hours to
farming on his glebe. He was also annoyed by a truthless, pedant
schoolmaster, Duncan Kennedy, of Lochgilphead, who laid claim to
the authorship of some ballads which Dr Smith had published. The
English Republic of letters could not be blamed for disregarding the
intellectual history of a people who ignored their own productions
and all that they inherited from their ancestors. Yet is it a
reproach to Irish and British scholars that Continental students
should be the first to create interest in Celtic studies and place
them on a scientific basis. The real parties, however, who ought
to bear the blame are the Celts themselves—the Kymry of Wales, and
the Gael of Ireland and Scotland. It is with much propriety that
Professor Geddes of Aberdeen, thus addresses British Celts with
regard to their languages:—“_Your_ advantages are great. To you
it is a mother-speech, whereas to others like myself it has to be
laboriously learned, and after all imperfectly, so that it can hardly
be said to be a speech at all in such mouths as mine. It is otherwise
with you; you are within the shrine, such as I are without, and just
as the radiance of a cathedral window, rich with the spoils of time,
looks blurred and poor to the eye that seeks to comprehend it from
without, but streams in full glory on the eye that gazes from within,
so your native speech rightly studied ought to be to you resplendent
with linguistic treasures, such as no stranger can be expected to
unveil.” The Highlander alone can fully know and appreciate the
language and literature of his race. But if he takes up the obsolete
harp of his fathers, and rehearses in melancholy strains that his
people are perishing and that his language is dying, it is quite
natural, that his Teutonic neighbour should chime in with an emphatic
and not always a sympathetic amen.

This sort of harping is the species of music with which many
Highlanders, and Irish Gaels also, have been pleased to humour and
feed their patriotic feelings over the general neglect of Celtic
interests. Well may the disinterested spectator declare that they are
not much in earnest—that the wail is partly hypocritical; for they
have done so little to preserve their language and nationality. And
no doubt the cry is to a certain extent hypocritical with not a few
self-constituted patriots, and the bulk of the people disregard it.
The latter do not take up the wail, and they are mainly in the right.
The enthusiast and the sentimentalist, who indulge in the dirge, run
away with one small truth, or the phase of a truth—with a pathetic
misconception of the true state of things. Sometimes they hire
themselves to do the coronach, like the Irish professional mourners
who do the wailing over the departed. But the people in general
are not drawn by the charming of the sentimentalist; they are more
practical. They know and feel the power of circumstances and destiny
which they have to overcome and bear, and act accordingly. While they
find their native hills barren, and their native glens inhospitable,
they betake themselves to the rich woods of Canada and the prairies
of the United States. Witness what a large body of the Glengarry
Highlanders once did. Again, when they find the want of the English
language a bar to their secular success in life, they protest, while
cherishing dearly their native tongue, against pure Gaelic schools
being thrust upon them, and demand English teaching first. This has
been the case not so long ago in the Long Island. And the reason
is quite patent. Before arriving at school age the children are in
possession of their mother-tongue; and the parents consider, and
very rightly, that the sooner their sons and daughters acquire good
English the better for their own comfort, interest, and success in
the great English-speaking world in which they have necessarily to
perform a part. English ought to be taught from the first through,
and simultaneously with, the Gaelic. In all this the people show
that their utilitarianism is sensible, intelligent. They recognise
the facts of their surroundings. They listen to the charming of the
sentimentalist, but they go on their own practical way rejoicing.
Hundreds of Highlanders in our large towns never enter a Gaelic
church. English-speaking mothers and children do not find the
arrangement of services convenient and, consulting the general good
of all the members of the family, they take their seats elsewhere. In
this they cannot be deeply blamed. In Scotland we are quite familiar
with the stereotyped arguments and phraseology which are applied to
depopulation and other matters. But many of those who rehearse the
one on public platforms and weave the other into elegiac verse do
not always give us a practical illustration of their theories and
teaching by living in the Highlands and by having Gaelic taught in
their own families.

This conviction and cry of the imaginative Celt that the world
is slipping from his grasp—that his affairs are in a hopeless
condition—has done much injury to his own interests. And it is not
at all surprising although his neighbours and the rising generation
of his own people have regarded his language and literature with
persistent indifference. Ossian himself is proverbially known to
us—“Oisein an déigh na Féinne”—as the “last of the race.” It would
almost seem that every generation of Gaels during the last millennium
regarded itself as the last of the “race.” Yet, strange to say, the
Gaelic language is spoken to-day within pretty nearly the same limits
as it was a thousand years ago, a fact encouraging to the sanguine
and poetic natures of men like William Livingston, that very original
Islay bard, who once sang as follows:—

     “Cànain àigh nam buadhan òirdhearc,
      A b’ fharsuing cliù air feadh na h-Eòrpa;
      Bithidh i fathast mar a thòisich,
      Os ceann gach cainnt ’na h-iuchair eòlais.”

  ENGLISH:—

      _Strange mystic pow’rs lie in that tongue,
      Whose praise through Europe wide has rung;
      As ’twas of yore in school and college,
      It shall be first—the key of knowledge._

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CHAPTER I.

EARLY GAELIC LITERATURE—PATRICK.

      “Si labhair Padric ’nnínse Fail na Riogh,
      ’S an faighe caomh sin Colum náomtha ’n I.”—
      _Maclean in Lhuyd’s Ar. Brit. (1707.)_

      ENGLISH: _’Twas it that Patrick spoke in Inis-Fayle,
               And saintly Calum in Iona’s Isle._


The present state of our knowledge does not enable us to assign an
exact date to the first beginnings of Gaelic literature. The most
ancient ballads have certainly come down to us through the hands
of Gaelic Churchmen; and it may be taken as absolutely certain
that writing was unknown until it was introduced by Christian
missionaries. The monuments of Runes and Oghams, the study of which
may be pursued in the works of Stephens, Anderson, and Ferguson, can
scarcely be regarded as literature in the proper sense of the term.
At the threshold of the temple of Gaelic letters we are confronted
with one name which can not be ignored—that of Ossian which we see
inscribed on the portals.

In his days and those of his peculiar people, the Féinne, the Pagan
and pre-Celtic Period was coming to a close. Let us look a little at
the picture that has been handed down to us of this great bard with
whom the heathen dispensation ended.

That a Fingal lived and an Ossian sang is a proposition that cannot
be successfully disputed. It was in the eighteenth century, when
James Macpherson published his fragments of ancient Gaelic poetry,
that the controversy which rages yet around the name of Ossian arose.
This controversy, as well as the poems, English and Gaelic, published
by Macpherson, will be afterwards considered. In the meantime, the
name of Ossian is used in a conventional sense, just as the name
Homer is frequently used. He lived, let us say, in the third or
fourth century, when the heathen dispensation of the pre-Celts and
of the Gaels was drawing to a close, when the Druidic period, with
its mysteries, was coming to an end. It is neither affirmed nor
denied here at this stage that Ossian was the author of the Gaelic
poems at present in circulation, and from which Macpherson ostensibly
translated. But what may be safely affirmed is, that there was in the
days of Gaelic heathenism an eminent bard of the name of Ossian, who
started the key-note of some poetry, which may be styled Ossianic.
That fragments of his compositions have been handed down to us may
with equal safety be affirmed. But of the early poems and ballads
contained in Campbell’s “Leabhar na Féinne” we are absolutely unable
to say which was composed by Ossian or which by his imitators and
others. In that vast and valuable collection there may be pieces of
Ossian’s; and certainly the authorship of many poems is directly
attributed to him, though evidently in many cases by loose tradition.
His name is also attached to several productions which can easily be
proved to belong to some unknown authors. “A hoodir Oisein” would be
readily prefixed by reciters and scribes to any anonymous piece of
merit to gain currency for it.

But granting that Ossian is not a myth, but a veritable man who was a
great bard among his people, a further question arises, Was the poet
Irish or Scottish? The Irish have all along declared that the true
and original Ossian belonged to them, and lived in their country.
Their indignation over Macpherson’s productions knew no bounds.
All Macpherson’s heroes are represented as _going from_ Alba _to_
Erin, which harmonizes well with the recent deliverances of Sayce
and Rhys. He described all the Irish Ossians as fictions and fables
manufactured by monks in the Middle Ages, and as so far inferior to
the genuine remains of Ossian as the most insipid heroics of the
present day are to the immortal productions of Homer. He showed that
their system of chronology could not be harmonised—that it was, in
fact, absurd. As represented in the everlasting dialogues between
the poet and the saint, he asked how could Ossian, who was supposed
to live in the third century, hold converse with St. Patrick, who
did not arrive in Ireland till the fifth century? No such objections
could be brought against Macpherson’s Ossian, whose chronology
was, perhaps conveniently vague, fairly consistent with itself.
The Irish _literati_ then betook themselves to the manufacture of
poems _a la_ Macpherson, whom they denounced first as a thief and
afterwards as a forger. When they failed to produce any poems of
such superior merit as those of Macpherson, the theory of theft from
the Irish was given up, and that of forgery substituted. It was
quite evident that the Scottish “Ossian” published by Macpherson was
very different from the composer of Irish ballads and Finian tales.
It was admitted by the Scottish patriots that there was a Scottish
Ossian very like the Irish one—that of the later or heroic ballads
and of the popular tales. But they held that this was a spurious,
inferior, and more recent bard or bards, who attached the name of the
great father of Gaelic poetry to their own productions; and that the
genuine, true, and original poems of Ossian, the immortal poet of the
ancient Caledonians, were translated and published by Macpherson.
The claims of the two countries cannot be satisfactorily adjusted or
reconciled. History, however, conclusively shows that the Gaels of
the North of Ireland and those of Scotland were at this period very
closely related—were, indeed, but one people. Just as Shakespeare is
claimed by all sections of the English-speaking world as their common
heritage, so Ossian would be regarded by all the Gaelic-speaking
tribes or clans as their common property.

Ossian occupies the same place in both the Irish and Scottish
genealogies of the great Finian family. He is the son of Finn or
Fingal, the father of the brave and peerless Oscar, the chief bard of
his people.

Fionn, whose name means _fair_, the leader, and king of the Féinne,
is the most remarkable figure in the annals of the Gael. The popular
conception of his prowess may be gathered from the following grand
passage of Highland poetry:—

     “With loud-sounding strides he rush’d westward
        In the clank of his armour bright;
      And he looked like the Spirit of Loda, that scatters
        Dismay o’er the war-way and fight!

     “Like a thousand waves on a crag that roll, yelling,
        When the ugly storm is at its height,
      So awful the clash of mail and his weapons,
        While his face wore the winter of fight!

     “His smooth claymore glittered aloft,
        In his champion hand it was light;
      And the snoring winds kept moving his locks
        Like spray in the whirlpool’s might!

     “The hills on each side they were shaken,
        And the path seemed to tremble with fright!
      Gleamed his eyes, and his great heart kept swelling—
        Oh! cheerless the terrible sight!”

This is a picture of Fingal going to battle, and a “terrible sight,”
indeed it must have been, especially to his foes. The leader of
the Féinne was surrounded by a worthy band of followers. The bards
and senachies, or oralists, agree in the character, outlines, and
abilities of these heroes. Ossian, the son of Fingal, was himself
a hero; but, being generally a supposed narrator, gives us little
insight into his own distinctive character. He was a great bard,
a brave warrior, but an unobtrusive man. His son Oscar was the
pride and hope of Selma, peerless as to strength and skill in arms,
generous to a fallen foe, and ever ready to meet the fiercest
champion that ever came from Lochlin. Gaul or Goll is stout and
valiant, and next to Oscar in prowess, but is at times morose. He
is never worsted, but he never courts danger for its own sake. The
beautiful and brown-haired Diarmad cannot be seen by any woman
without being loved. He is devoted to his brothers in arms, and when
necessary he can combine sleight of hand with heroic daring. Cailte
is a poet, and celebrated for his swiftness of foot. Then there is
the hardy Rayne, the majestic Cochulin, and the faithful though
rash Conan. Fingal himself has been limned from more than one point
of view by the oralists. His greatness and courage in battle are
indisputably pre-eminent. He is a prudent, cautious general, and
disapproves of unnecessary bloodshed. In affairs of the heart he is
relentless towards a rival, generous though he is in other respects.
The worst thing that can be recorded of him is his unfeeling and
revengeful conduct towards his nephew, the gallant Diarmid, when the
latter eloped with Queen Gràine. These were the principal warriors of
that gallant band of Finian heroes whose names are indelibly engraven
on the hills and straths of their native land, while their deeds are
recorded in a thousand songs. They lived at a time when the world was
undergoing a mighty metamorphosis. Tribes were beginning to assume a
national cast, and as organised nations to develop an individuality.
They were preparing to run the race sketched out to them by
destiny, the path of each bounded by a particular line or limit of
sea, stream, mountain, or valley, and were throwing aside all the
encumbrances of superseded customs and laws that might clog their
progress. Fingal and his followers appeared in immortal brilliance,
crowned with the laurels of deathless heroism on the stage of the
world, and soon they disappeared from the scene. They were seen but
for a short time like the sun in a wintry day. And the picture is
beautifully brought before us in the following verses translated by
Pattison:—

     “Like a sun-gleam in wild wintry weather
        That hastens o’er Lena’s wide heath,
      So the Féinne have faded together,
        They were the beam the showery clouds sheathe,
      When down stoops the dark rain-frown of heaven,
        To snatch from the hunter the ray,
      And wildly the moaning bare branches are driven,
        While the weak herbs all wither away.

     “But the sun, in his strength yet returning,
        The fair-freshened woods will espy,
      In the springtime that laugh for their mourning,
        As they look on the Son of the sky,
      Kindly unveilling his lustre,
        Through the soft and the drizzling shower,
      All their wan heads again will he muster,
        From their drear and their wintry bower.

     “Then with joy will their small buds keep swelling;
        Not so they who sleep in the tomb—
      No sunbeam that darkness dispelling,
        Shall waken them up from their gloom.”

Ossian, the blind warrior-poet, survives them all. And now, as he
muses on the departure of his kindred heroes and hunters, and on the
loneliness of his own state, led by the white-armed Malvina, the
betrothed of his fallen son Oscar, he seeks their former haunts,
and breathes as he rests in the well-known shades the pathetic
lamentation, “the last of my race!”

      “Chula tu bàrda nam fonn:
      ’S taitneach, ach trom do ghuth;
      ’S taitneach a Mhalmhìne nan sonn;
      Leaghaidh bròn am bochd an am tha dubh.”
                                        _Croma._

From the picture of Ossian in his shadowy Pagan domain it is
refreshing to turn to those names which have played a great part in
connection with our earliest Christian civilization and literature.
They are the names of Patrick of Strathclyde, Bridget of the South
Gaels of Albin, and Columba of Donegal, subsequently of Iona.

The first glimpse we have of Albin on the canvas of written record
is a very confusing one. The one outstanding fact is the Roman
occupation. The next fact that strikes and enchains the eye is
the presence of Christianity in the land. Among the Gaels of the
south-west of Scotland we mark the person of Ninian, around whom we
see across the ages the light of the gospel shining. This preacher
of the cross, of whose labours in Galloway very interesting traces
were discovered quite recently, appears to have carried the gospel
not only to the Gaels of the south-west, but also to the southern
Picts north of the Forth and Clyde. His labours began as early as
the year 397, and resulted in the first church organization known in
Scotland. The evengelisation of Ninian extended over probably the
whole of Romanised Scotland towards the end of the fourth century.
The races embraced in his sphere of operations were Latin-speaking
peoples of various nations, Brythons, and Gaels.

Among the last-mentioned, the Gaels of the Strathclyde kingdom, whose
chief seat was Alcluaidh, now Dumbarton, there appeared the family
of Patrick, whose name has shed holy lustre on the early annals of
that period. This family had been Christians for two generations. The
father of Patrick was a _decurio_, one of the council or magistracy
of a Roman provincial town. His name was Calphurnius, which some have
rendered by the familiar form of MacAlpine. Being recognised as a
Roman magistrate he thus took his place among the local aristocracy
of Banavem in Taberniæ, where villas of the Roman style could be
seen, and the sonorous Latin could be heard mingling with the kindred
accents of the ancient Gaelic. This place was probably not far from
that attractive spot on the banks of the Clyde where a topographical
monument has been reared to the celebrated Irish apostle in
Kilpatrick. Calphurnius was not only a magistrate; he was also a
deacon in the Christian church. His own father, the grandfather of
Patrick, was called Potitus, and filled the office of Presbyter in
the Strathclyde church. It is also stated that this family cultivated
a small farm.

As there is a great deal of literature extant on the nativity of
Patrick which conflicts with the results of recent discussion, it may
be satisfactory to many to have the latest authoritative declarations
on the subject before them. No one has ever attempted to deprive the
north of Ireland of the honour of having supplied the Highlands with
the great gospel preacher who evengelised the north-west; who revived
the Christianity of the Lowlands; whose earnest disciples supplied
the north of England with the teachers who converted its people
to the power of Christ. But while Protestant Scotland has made no
attempts to deprive Ireland of its Columban honours Catholic Ireland
has persistently endeavoured to denude Scotland of its legitimate
claims to the honour of being the fatherland of Patrick. Ireland’s
misrepresentations have been acquiesced in by Scotsmen, especially
by timid historical writers, of a certain ecclesiastical type, who
have made needless concessions to Romanist claims in connection with
a question which is purely historical. It is with peculiar pleasure
that we are now able to assign Patrick, the son of the Gaelic Church
of Strathclyde, his true place on the roll of Gaelic Scots; and to
regard him as a link in the Gospel succession which Columba brought
with him to the West Highlands.

In the _Catholic Dictionary_, issued a few years ago, and compiled
by Addis and Arnold of the Royal University of Ireland, with the
approving seal of his Eminence Cardinal Manning on its publication,
the following satisfactory sentence occurs: “The general conversion
of the Irish nation was reserved for St. Patrick, who was probably
born at the place now called Kilpatrick on the Clyde whence he was
carried as a slave into the north of Ireland while still a youth.”
To this there is appended a foot-note referring to the excellent
article of an Irish bishop on St. Patrick in one of the Irish
periodicals: “Dr Moran, Bishop of Ossory, who formerly leant to
the opinion that the place was near Boulogne in France, has lately
written convincingly in favour of the Scottish site.” The Bishop’s
article has finally decided the question; and has enabled the Gaels
of Scotland, with the tacit consent of their Irish brethren, to add
to the list of their heroic Christian missionaries, a name whose
brilliant halo of holy effort is unsurpassed in the ancient annals of
the Christian Church of these islands.

We are thus enabled to point out the first home of Christianity
among the Gaels of Scotland. We find it on the banks of the Clyde,
where many Christians of the same people, still talking the same
tongue, may still be found, rejoicing in the same Gospel. The picture
of this early Gaelic Church of Strathclyde from whose bosom the
devoted Patrick came forth, is in itself a sufficient reason why the
Early History of the Gaels should be re-written. It is a chapter
added to the Celtic civilisation of the Highland people, which has
been hitherto ignored or hidden through Roman, Teutonic, or Norman
influences.

A good deal has been written about Patrick’s visit to Rome, where
it was necessary to take him by the Romanist writers of later
times in order that he might receive consecration from an order
of Ecclesiastical Fathers which had scarcely yet developed. The
_Catholic Dictionary_, already quoted, is forced to confess,
after reference to Patrick’s autobiography in his _Confession_ as
follows:—“He does not mention the Pope or the Holy See.” We thus
find that in his own authentic writings Patrick makes no reference
to, or acknowledgment of, the Roman Bishop of his day. The reason for
this is not far to seek.

Patrick does not appear to have come in contact with any Christianity
except that which he was taught on the banks of the Clyde in the
Gaelic Church of his fathers. He had neither been to Rome nor known
the Roman Bishop (Celestine) of his time, so he makes no reference to
either in his genuine writings. On this question his own words in his
_Epistle to Coroticus_ deserve quotation—_Ego, Patricus, indoctus,
scilicet, Hibernione, constitutum episcopum me esse reor: a Deo
accepi, id quod sum._ “I, Patrick, an unlearned man, to wit, a bishop
constituted to Ireland: what I am I have received from God.” Thus in
the establishment of his Church Patrick in no instance appeals to any
foreign Church, Pope, or Bishop. On authority received from God he
superintended the Irish Church for 34 years. These clear statements
of his are utterly at variance with the fabricated ones which adorn
the lives of him which appeared centuries afterwards, and which are
now regarded as authorities by the fabulously inclined.

In his own writings Patrick gives us in a somewhat unconscious manner
a beautiful picture of his devoted character:—“I was born free. I
was the son of a father who was a decurio. I sold my nobility for
the advantage of this nation. But I am not ashamed, neither do I
repent; I became a servant for Jesus Christ our Lord, so that I am
not recognised in my former position.” Elsewhere he says—“I was
about 16 years old; but I knew not the true God, and was led away
into captivity to Hibernia, with a great many men, according to our
deservings.” His occupation for six years in Antrim was keeping
cattle. But the spirit of the Eternal took possession of him. “My
constant business was to keep the flocks; I was frequent in prayers,
and the love and fear of God more and more inflamed my heart. My
faith and spirit were enlarged, so that I said a hundred prayers
in a day and nearly as many at night, and in the woods and on the
mountain I remained, and before the light I arose to my prayers, in
the snow, in the frost, and in the rain; and I experienced no evil at
all. Nor was I affected with sloth, for the spirit of God was warm
in me.” This was the man that the Gaels of Strathclyde gave for the
conversion of Ireland to Christianity.

There are several interesting questions suggested by the nativity and
life of Patrick. The land of his birth is now clearly ascertained;
but there are subsidiary questions in connection with that fact
which require further consideration. Was Patrick a Gael, a Brython or
one of non-Aryan races which as recently as the fifth century were a
powerful people? What language did he speak, or what language did he
acquire in his Christian conquest of Ireland? Who were the Irish as
a race, and how far they had been Christianised before his arrival?
As to the question of race, the evidence appears to lean distinctly
in favour of the conclusion that he was a Gaidel and not a Brython,
notwithstanding the Brythonic suggestiveness of the letter =P= in
his name. It ought not to be forgotten also in connection with this
question that the radical differences between the Brythonic and
Gaidelic dialects at this time were far less important than they are
now; and that the capital of the district of Patrick’s birth-place
had its earlier Gaidelic designation of Alcluaidh before it received
its Brythonic name of Dunbretton. Philologists tell us of the loss
of the letter =P= in the Gaidelic dialects; but the phonologists
on this question have not fully cleared up the difficulties which
are suggested by the fact that in some of the most north-westerly
districts of the Highlands at the present time many of the
non-Anglicised natives are incapable of making a clear distinction
between the letters =P= and =B=, and hard =C= and =G=. If we take the
evidence afforded by literature, we can come to no other conclusion
than that Patrick was of the Gaidelic or Gaelic race; for if we
have not actual compositions in the Gaelic language by him we have
productions in that language ascribed to him by ancient countrymen
who must have known what his native tongue had been.

The language which Patrick appears to have acquired in course of
his missionary labours for Ireland’s conversion could have been no
other than that of the non-Aryan races, or _Cruthnic_—the prevailing
_Erinic_—probably related closely to the _Albinic_, which at
that time was spoken all over the north-west of Scotland. In the
north-east of Ireland he no doubt found considerable numbers of the
Gaidelic race, his kinsmen who had preceded him. But the language
of those who had been already partly converted by Palladius, a
semi-mythic saint, who is at least as much connected with Albin as
with Erin, was certainly different from that of the large mass of
the Irish people. To extend the conquests of Christianity over the
fair fields of Erin south as well as north, it was necessary that
Patrick should master the tongue of the non-Aryan races. There can
be no doubt that his labours in this direction helped also to extend
the area of the Gaelic-speaking regions,—the more literary language
of the incoming saint and his race making natural acquisitions in
every direction. Similar results followed the Gospelising efforts of
Columba in the Highlands in a subsequent age.

The conclusions fairly deducible from a consideration of Patrick’s
life point to many interesting matters in connection with the
History of the Highland People. We obtain first a clear conception
of a living Christian church existing among the Romanised Gaels of
Strathclyde. We also learn that from the bosom of the Gaelic Church
of Ninian, decayed as it possibly may have been, there came forth
the great messenger of the Cross, who recalled to life if he did not
originate the forces of Christianity in Ireland. Again we find the
gospel succession of the spirit of truth, coming back in a generation
or two into the Highlands of Scotland in the person of Columba. The
lamp of heavenly wisdom, lighted on the banks of the Clyde, which
Patrick flashed over the fields of Erin, became the holy beacon which
the fervid fingers of Columba planted on the shores of Iona.

The Scottish missionary that went to Ireland and became its patron
saint is often referred to in the early ballads, Irish and Scottish.
His Creed-Prayer is given here. It is a curious mixture of dogma and
poetry; but undevotional as it may seem to us had the “green” and
other coloured Finians of the day appropriated its earnest petitions
and aspirations they would be saved the troubles of many “Pursuits.”
It begins thus in prose: “Patraicc dorone innimmunsa.” _Patrick made
this hymn._ It then states that it was made in the time of Leogaire,
son of Neill. The cause assigned to its composition was the need of
“protection with his monks against the mortal enemies who were in
league against the clerics.” It was to be a corslet of faith for
soul and body against demons, men, and vices. Demons could not stand
before the face of him who sang it; envy and poison could do no harm;
in this life it would be a safeguard against sudden death; and it
would be a covering of defence (_lurech_ in Gaelic, from the Latin
_lorica_) after death. When Patrick sang it as he went forth to sow
the faith the opposition of Leogaire gave way.

Then the hymn properly begins: The singer declares his belief in the
Trinity—in Threeness—confession of Oneness in the Creator of the
world.

      I bind myself to-day—
          To the power of the TRINITY;
          To belief in the all-gracious Three;
          To confession that the Three are one
          In the Maker of the world and sun.

      I bind myself to-day—
          To the power of the birth of CHRIST;
          To the truth that Jesus was baptised,
          To the fact that path of death He trod,
          That three days He lay beneath the sod;
          To the pow’r of Resurrection morn,
          That from the earth to heaven he was borne;
          To the power of His Judgment call,
          When final state shall be assigned to all.

      I bind myself to-day—
          To the power of the CHERUBS high;
          In obedience of the angels nigh;
          In attendance of archangels’ might;
          In the hope of resurrection’s light;
          In the prayers of the sires of eld;
          In the visions that the seers beheld;
          In the precepts the apostles taught;
          In the faith by which confessors wrought;
          In the innocence of virgins pure;
          In the deeds of just men that endure.

      I bind myself to-day—
          To the power of HEAVEN,
          To the lustre, sun-given;
          To the pureness, snow-driven;
          To fiery flames brightening;
          To the swiftness of lightning;
          To the speed of the breeze;
          To the depth of the seas;
          To the firmness of land,
          And the rocks that there stand.

      I bind myself to-day—
          To God’s pow’r to be controlled;
          To His might me to uphold;
          To His wisdom me to bow;
          To His eye the path to show;
          To His ear to hear my cry;
          To His word to speak my sigh;
          To His hand me to protect;
          To His way me to direct;
          To His shield as my defence;
          To His host till I go hence.

          Against demons’ dire devices;
          Against allurements of all vices;
          Against strong solicitations
          Of our nature’s inclinations;
          Against all the bad desires
          With which sin men’s hearts inspires,
          Afar or near where’er I be
          In solitude or company.

          Thus I have sought protection from on high
          Against the powers of ill and cruelty;
          Against deceitful prophets’ incantations;
          Against the black laws of the gentile nations;
          Against the false laws of all heretics;
          Against the craft of the idolator’s tricks;
          Against the spells of druids, smiths, and women;
          Against all lore that taints the spirit human.

          Let Christ protect me to-day against poison—
          Against burning, drowning, against wound,
          Until abundance of reward comes round.

          Christ be with me, Christ before, behind,
          Christ without me, Christ within my mind,
          Christ above me, and in breadth, length, height,
          Christ below me, at my left and right.

          Let Christ in all who think of me reside,
          And on all lips that speak to me abide;
          Christ be in every eye that sees my walk,
          Christ be in every ear that hears my talk.

          I bind myself to-day—
              To the power of the Trinity,
              To belief in the all-gracious Three,
              To confession that the Three are One,
              In the Maker of the earth and sun.

Dr Cameron, who has a learned article on “St. Patrick’s Hymn” in _The
Scottish Celtic Review_, and to whose accurate prose translation as
well as to Dr Stokes’s in his Goidelica. I am so much indebted in the
above rendering, makes the following remark:—“This hymn forms one of
the Irish hymns in the ‘Liber Hymnorum,’ a MS. belonging to Trinity
College, Dublin, and written, as Dr Stokes conjectures, about the end
of the eleventh or the beginning of the twelfth century. The hymn
itself, however, belongs to a much earlier date.”

The chief dates in the life of Patrick, who was probably born about
387, are his landing in Ireland in 432 when he is represented as
attending the assembly of the Irish Kings and Chieftains which was
held on the hill of Tara that year; his celebrated letter against
Coroticus in 453 to regulate church discipline; and his death which
occurred in 493.

A very remarkable incident, related in the “Book of Armagh” and
quoted in Todd’s “Life of Patrick,” which bears internal evidence of
high antiquity, and now evidently written at a time when paganism was
not yet extinct in the country, illustrates the way in which Patrick
set before the Celtic mind the faith which he proclaimed. One
morning he and his attendants repaired to a fountain called Clebach
at Cruachan, now Rath-croghan, an ancient residence of the kings of
Connaught. Thither came the two daughters of King Laogharie, and on
seeing the strangers supposed them to be Duine Sidhe fairies, “men
of the hills,” and said to them, “Who are ye?” And Patrick said unto
them, “It were better for you to confess to our true God, than to
inquire concerning our race.”

  ‘The first Virgin said,—

  “Who is God?

  “And where is God?

  “And of what nature is God?

  “And where is his dwelling place?

  “Has your God sons and daughters, gold and silver?

  “Is He everliving?

  “Is He beautiful?

  “Is He in Heaven or in earth?

  “In the sea?

  “In rivers?

  “In mountainous places?

  “In valleys?

  “Declare unto us the knowledge of Him?

  “How shall He be seen?

  “How is He to be loved?

  “How is He to be found?

  “Is it in youth?

  “Is it in old age that He is to be found?”

  ‘But St. Patrick, full of the Holy Ghost, answered and said,—

  “Our God is the God of all men.

  “The God of heaven and earth, of the sea and rivers.

  “The God of the sun, the moon, and all stars.

  “The God of the high mountains and of the lowly valleys.

  “The God who is above heaven, and in heaven, and under heaven.

  “He hath an habitation in the heaven, and the earth, and the sea,
  and all that are therein.

  “He inspireth all things.

  “He quickeneth all things.

  “He is over all things.

  “He sustaineth all things.

  “He giveth light to the light of the sun.

  “And he hath made springs in a dry ground.

  “And dry islands in the sea.

  “And hath appointed the stars to serve the greater lights.

  “He hath a Son co-eternal and co-equal with Himself.

  “The Son is not younger than the Father.

  “Nor is the Father older than the Son.

  “And the Holy Ghost breatheth in them.

  “The Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost are not divided.

  “But I desire to unite you to the Heavenly King, inasmuch as you
  are the daughters of an earthly king—to believe.”

  ‘And the Virgins said, as with one mouth and one heart,—

  “Teach us most diligently how we may see Him face to face, and
  whatever thou shalt say unto us we will do.”

  ‘And Patrick said,—

  “Believe ye that by baptism ye put off the sin of your father and
  your mother?”

  ‘They answered, “We believe.”

  “Believe ye in repentance after sin?” “We believe.”

  “Believe ye in life after death? Believe ye in the resurrection at
  the Day of Judgment?” “We believe.”

  “Believe ye the unity of the Church?” “We believe.”

  ‘And they were baptized, and a white garment put upon their heads.
  And they asked to see the face of Christ, and the Saint said unto
  them, “Ye cannot see the face of Christ except ye receive the
  sacrifice.” And they answered, “Give us the sacrifice, that we may
  behold the Son, our Spouse.” And they received the Eucharist of
  God, and they slept in death.

“The articles of the Creed recited in this extract are those
alone, it has been observed, which are to be found in symbols of
the very highest antiquity, and the dialogue illustrates, what has
been already noticed, the Celtic belief in genii or aerial beings,
inhabiting mountains, plains, rivers, lakes, and fountains, and the
existence of nature-worship in its simplest form.”—_See_ the works
of SKENE, TODD, CUSACK, HENNESY, FOSTER, SHERMAN, and for special
purposes WHITLEY STOKES, MISS STOKES, G. T. STOKES, along with
MACLEAR’S “CELTS.”

[Illustration: (decorative end-of-chapter icon)]




CHAPTER II.

SOUTH ALBIN GAELS—BRIGIT.


It has been usually taken too much for granted that the early
Christian preachers of Britain and Ireland succeeded in fully
Christianising the districts in which they laboured, and with which
their names are associated. This is a very imperfect apprehension of
the results of their efforts. No missionary of the cross could excel
Patrick and Columba in their enthusiasm for work, in their devotion
to the Gospel cause, and in their resolute attempt to conquer the
whole land for Christ. Yet we find that their evangelisation of the
races to which they were respectively sent was very incomplete.
Patrick writes of the large numbers who were converted under his
preaching, but there is no evidence that Christianity was universally
adopted by the whole people. On the contrary it is clear that the
Ardri, or chief king of Ireland, continued to be a Pagan during the
whole period of the mission of Patrick. It was only in the year 513
that a Christian sovereign exercised rule for the first time from the
throne of Tara. This was some time after the death of the apostle of
Ireland, which occurred in 493.

While Patrick was labouring to lay the foundations of the Irish
Church, spiritual decay appears to have crept over the heart of
his own native church among the Gaels of Strathclyde. The poetic
and literary flowering of this period we have in the person of the
celebrated Brigit. In those who are familiar with the revivals and
declensions of church life, as unfolded in history, such a decay
can excite no surprise. In our own times, with all the rich aids of
civilization and Christian literature, enkindling and preservative
that we possess, we find that one generation of earnest believers
in a district is frequently succeeded by an apathetic one. So the
living church of Strathclyde from which Patrick went forth, was in a
decadent condition when his name began to shine and burn brightly on
the shores of Erin.

There were many causes that contributed to the weakening of this
Gaelic Church of the Clyde valleys. The Roman arms had been withdrawn
and all over the Romanised provinces political disintegration set
in. Dependence on a foreign rule, and the enervating luxuries of
more southern lands had not only paralysed the native manliness of
the British races, but had also greatly emasculated the primitive
Christianity of these islands. Indeed, in southern Britain the
early Christianity became so completely extinguished that it had to
be re-kindled from the north in the sixth and seventh centuries.
The vigorous forces of the unconverted and unconquered tribes of
the north were too powerful for a Church which had been accustomed
perhaps to lean too much on the civil protection afforded by an alien
power. It must not also be forgotten that those early Christians had
literally no help to feed the flame of their devotion. The fragments
even of the Scriptures that may have been in circulation could only
have been in the hands of a very limited number; while the languages
in which they were written were utterly unknown to the people, and
there were no translations. When all this is remembered it becomes
rather a matter of marvel that the sacred glow of Christian truth
survived so long in some places after the personal life that kindled
it ceased to be. Those were truly ages when Christian witnesses were,
and had to be living epistles known and read of all men; for the
personal life became practically the literature in which the gospel
was heralded. So the strength of a Church depended mainly on the
character and personality of the teachers.

But notwithstanding the deadening influences around and in the Gaelic
Church of the Clyde districts subsequent to the period of Patrick’s
mission, we still mark in the sixth century the rays of Gospel truth
struggling there with the thick inclosing darkness of Paganism. One
heroic figure emerges from the surrounding gloom. It is that of
Kentigern, or Mungo, forever associated with the origin and rise of
the powerful commercial metropolis of Glasgow. The traditions of his
life abound with myths and marvels; while his name has been a rich
and suggestive theme for the etymological fancy. From the romantic
literature that has gathered around his name, we glean what appears
to be recognised as generally accepted facts—that he was born at
Culross, and that he died at Glasgow about 601-3. He had been the
pupil of the famous St. Serf in the east in the northern boundaries
of the Brythonic race with Gaels to the north of them. So he may
have been a Highland or a Welsh Celt. One or other of the forms of
his name has been resolved, apparently with equal ease, into either
a Gaelic or a Welsh etymon. Perplexing or unsatisfactory as this
undoubtedly is it yet may suggest an explanation. As happens in our
own and other times his name would assume various forms according to
the dialects or languages of the speakers and writers. The forms of
his name, therefore, furnish no key as to the race of his fathers.

When Kentigern began his labours on the Clyde the church of St.
Patrick’s people had lost much of its first love. Many of the Gaels
themselves had also been driven westward under Brythonic pressure
from the east and from the south. As Christian soldiers or Milesians
some had sailed to the north of Ireland to find a home; others had
drifted into Perthshire and Argyll, which at this period became the
true “Gaidhealtachd,” or the “land of the Gael.” Kentigern strove
devotedly to revive the drooping church. In his cold stone bed
strewn with ashes on the classic banks of the Molendinar stream he
cultivated the spirit of prayer; rehearsed the sacred strains of the
psalmist; and warmed his spirit by visions of divine fellowship.
In the local sovereign of the name of Morken he encountered much
disagreeable opposition and sarcastic interpretation of the saint’s
faith in a Providence. Kentigern virtually made an application
for an ecclesiastical establishment and endowment of himself and
his presbyter followers. King Morken received the application for
temporalities in a spirit that would do no discredit to a statesman
of modern times. He reminds the saint of his own popular saying:
“Cast thy care upon the Lord and he will care for thee.” But argued
the King further: “Now here am I, who have no faith in such precepts,
who do not seek the kingdom of God and His righteousness; yet for all
that, are not riches and honours heaped upon me?” The royal granaries
were full, while the Christian saints were starving. How could he
expect to believe in a Providence that thus arranged the possessions
of men. The saint’s replies and interpretations proved unavailing
with the royal sceptic, so broken in heart the holy man retired to
his oratory to pray. His emotions were profoundly stirred; he began
to weep. Then as the tears started in his eyes and coursed down his
cheeks, so did the waters of the Clyde begin to rise and swell into
a mighty flood, which at last overflowed around the royal granaries,
carrying them down the stream, and leaving them stranded at the very
door of the saint on the banks of the Molendinar. The sanctity of his
youth and the faith of his mature years have been in this fashion
richly attested by miraculous manifestations, according to his rather
credulous biographer, Jocelyn.

The earnest and heroic labours of Kentigern were not confined to
Strathclyde. We obtain glimpses of him beyond the Mounth among the
northern Picts of Aberdeenshire, while his Christian fellow-worker
and friend, Columba, was beginning to proclaim the gospel in
Perthshire. In his latter days we find him in Wales where he founded
the church of St. Asaph, and where he finally died, leaving behind
him a name whose holy influence has shed lustre across the course of
thirteen centuries.

Kentigern is peculiarly associated with the origin of Glasgow. In
the armorial bearings of this city we have perpetuated, according
to very remarkable legends, three remarkable miracles which were
wrought by the holy man, and which it would be probably unfair to
pass by without reference, considering that the sons of Gaeldom ever
since have helped and shared so very specially in the prosperity of
Glasgow. A pet robin redbreast, which belonged to the college over
which St. Serf presided, is represented on a shield argent by a bird
proper. This bird either through accident or mischief was torn to
pieces among the students. When the president appeared to punish,
young Kentigern, the best boy among them, was made the scapegoat. The
pieces of the bird were thrown in his lap; but the hidden holiness
of the boy was such that the creature gathered up his limbs, flapped
his wings, and sang a joyous song on the approach of the holy master.
On another occasion Kentigern found his fire extinguished by his
enemies; so he was compelled to bring a tree from the frozen forest
and breathe into it the breath of fire. The remembrance of this
feat is preserved in the tree or branch which forms the crest. The
figure of a fish, with the ring in its mouth, recalls the scriptural
reference to the finding of a fish with the needed coin in its body.
The biographer of Kentigern, Jocelyn of Furness, knew well how
to enrobe his hero, with the help of the mythic accounts already
developed, with those miracles which had served sacred ends in the
lives of other saints at that period. Fishes with rings in their
bodies had always been found on critical occasions.

This brief sketch, in connection with the lives of Patrick and
Kentigern, of the Gaelic Christianity of Scotland in the fifth and
sixth centuries, will help to show forth in clearer outlines the work
of Columba. The spiritual forces that waved forth from Iona were
certainly not the first that brought religious light to the land of
the Gael. Nor were they so exclusively of Irish origin as they are
represented to be. In eastern Gaeldom in Scotland Christianity had
been already known. But in the course of the century which elapsed
from the time of Patrick it had greatly decayed. Columba came to
the west of Scotland to revive and to proclaim the faith afresh.
He came back among his ancestral people from the midst of whom the
gospel had been sent a century previously to Ireland. In Iona the
religious centre of the land of the Gaels was simply removed further
west and north. The Gaelic-speaking people themselves were drifting
in the same direction towards the Atlantic. As they themselves were
largely absorbed by the Brythons behind them, so they absorbed in
their north-west progress those brave non-Aryan clans to whom they
became the missionaries of the cross and the channels of letters.
They extended the area of Gaeldom, and imposed their Christian and
literary tongue on the conquered just as the Christian and more
literary Latin had been previously imposed on many of their own
ancestors. In the fourth century we mark gospel light in Strathclyde;
in the fifth we see it kindling on the shores of Ireland; in the
sixth it begins to burn from Iona.

It was among these South Albin Gaels at an early period that we mark
the appearance of Brigit: the Mary of the Gael. There is no standard
of Gaelic maintained in the orthography of this proper name. _Brigit_
is used here as one of the most ancient forms; as also to preserve
a chronological harmony with the secondary significant title of
“Mary of the Gael.” As we all know the present form of the name is
_Bridget_ in English; but it has been so little talked of in later
ages by Gaelic Highlanders that it becomes almost a serious matter
for the majority of them even to spell it in Gaelic. It is only in
the compound “_La-Fheill-Brighde_”—[Brìde] or _The Day of the Feast
of Bridget_, and surname MacBride, that we are familiar with this
female saintly name.

This by necessary phonological laws recalls _Brigid_, which in its
turn reminds us of the more ancient orthography _Brigit_, which is
adopted by Dr Stokes in his “Three Middle-Irish Homilies.” Other
Irish scholars have spelt it _Brigid_, even when they are quoting
from productions such as the poem ascribed to Brigit, found in the
Burgundian Library, Brussels, headed thus:

  _Brighitt_ (CCT.)
  [Brigid (Cecinet)].

The distinguished Stokes follows accurately the spelling of _Leabhar
Breac_, _Brigit_. This is the form which we also find in “Cormac’s
Glossary” compiled originally nearly a thousand years ago. The
definition or explanation appended in Cormac’s work is suggestive
and instructive. “Brigit i.e. a poetess, daughter of the Dagda
(doctus?). This is Brigit the female sage, or woman of wisdom, i.e.
Brigit the goddess whom poets adored, because very great and very
famous was her protecting care. It is therefore they call her goddess
of poets by this name. Whose sisters were Brigit the female physician
[woman of leechcraft]; Brigit the female smith [woman of smithwork];
from whose names with all Irishmen a goddess was called Brigit.”
To this Dr Stokes adds that the “name is certainly connected with
the Old Celtic goddess-name _Brigantia_ as possibly with the Skr.
Brhaspati and O. Norse Bragi.” p. 23. This gives us a glimpse of a
“female smith”; a “female physician”; and a “female saint” (sanct
Brigit) rolled into one, and that one a goddess of Indo-European
connections.

With these lofty associations and suggestions clinging to the name
of Brigit we almost find it difficult to descend to the regions
of ordinary earthly womanhood; and recognize in her a mere Gaelic
Christian maiden. Her name has never been absolutely dissociated
from the realm of myth, or rather _mythus_; but at the same time we
cannot help regarding her as a historical character. Her name became
celebrated very early wherever the Gaelic folks did congregate. We
find her name associated with King Nectan of Albin, and with a church
founded in her honour at Abernethy. So her fame was not confined to
the Gaelic regions of Erin. That illustrious Scot, Patrick, a native
of the district of Strathclyde, is supposed to refer to her in his
confession, where he says, “There was one blessed Scottic maiden,
very fair, of noble birth, and of adult age, whom I baptized; and
after a few days she came to me, because, as she declared, she had
received a response from a messenger of God desiring her to become
a virgin of Christ, and to draw near to God. Thanks be to God, on
the sixth day from that, she with praiseworthy eagerness seized on
that state of life which all the virgins of God likewise now adopt.”
These notices help to bring us nearer what Carlyle calls the “actual
Air-Maiden, incorporated tangibility and reality,” whose electric
glance has fascinated the Gaelic world. It could not be expected
that the date of the birth of Brigit would be preserved; but when
she became a woman of consequence in the Gaelic or Scottic world her
movements began to be marked. The accounts of the fabulous lives are
very circumstantial; but sober-minded critics like O’Curry are fairly
satisfied with two principal dates, and most reasonable folks will be
the same. These two dates are Brigit’s advent at Downpatrick on the
17th of March, 493, A.D.; and her death in 525 A.D.

The historical and fabulous lives of Brigit suggest a few interesting
questions which can only be hinted at in these remarks:—

1. Her conversion by the British Patrick to Christianity.

2. The probability that she belonged to a good British family who,
in the days of the Roman occupation, crossed to the nearest Irish
districts: (She is described as “of Kildare,” a county close to the
eastern shore).

3. And that she was a woman of exceptional character or culture,
which was possible in that century, under the perpetuated influences
of the Roman occupation.

That she and her people, like Patrick himself, were recent immigrants
to Ireland from Roman and Christian Britain, there cannot be any
serious doubt.

These may be the possible or probable facts ascertainable relating
to the life of the Mary of the Gael. But around them has been woven
a very interesting body of Gaelic literature which was loved and
cherished and cultivated for upwards of a thousand years.

We have two ancient lives of Brigit, written on vellum; and these are
regarded as the oldest; and are attributed to St. Ultán, whose death
took place in the year 656. The _Liber Hymnorum_, a production of the
eleventh century is our authority for the information that the “Life
and Acts of St. Brigid of Kildare, were collected and written by St.
Ultán,” who was her successor in her church, as Adamnan was that of
Columba in Iona.

The two lives referred to are found in the _Lebar Breac_ and in the
Book of Lismore. A life written within the last two hundred years
on paper is also to be found in the Royal Irish Academy. Her life
is generally associated with the lives of Patrick and Columba,
as they also very appropriately are in “The Three Middle-Irish
Homilies,” edited by Dr Whitely Stokes, (Calcutta; 1877). In one of
the so-called prophetic poems, a Norse Chief Mandar, with a fleet,
is represented as exhuming the body of Columba which was afterwards
buried “in Downpatrick, in the same tomb with St. Patrick and St.
Brigid.”

In the celebrated _Domhnach Airgid_, one of the most ancient relics
of the old Gaelic civilization, we are presented with the _figure_ of
Brigid.

Dr Petrie in his account of the relic says:—“The smaller figures
in relief are, in the first compartment, the Irish saints Columba,
Brigid, and Patrick.” Perhaps the most interesting relic associated
with Brigit is “a very ancient crozier, said to have belonged to
_St. Finnbarr_ (of Tormonbarry, in Connacht),—and believed to have
been made by _Conlaedh_, the artificer of _St. Brigid_ of Kildare,
early in the sixth century,” which is “now in the Museum of the Royal
Irish Academy.”.—_See O’Curry’s M.S. Materials._

In early ecclesiastical annals Brigit is thus on the same platform
with Patrick and Columba in Gaelic Hagiology. True; her name is not
found, for instance, in the Benchor Antiphonary; but her name is
not unknown even in Latin Hymnology. The earliest Latin poem that
recognizes her is a fragment of three stanzas, beginning with the
letters X, Y, Z, respectively. It appears to have belonged to an A
B C Darian hymn of a somewhat biographical nature.—[See _Anecdota_
etc., 1713: Leabhar Imuinn: Dublin, 1855-1869.] The following Latin
lines give us the earliest conceptions of this “Mary of the Gael.”:—

      Ymnus iste angelicae
      Summeque sanctae Brigidae
      Fari non valet omnia
      Virtutum miribillia
      Quae nostris nunquam auribus
      Si sint facta audivimus
      Nisi per istam virginem
      Mariae sanctae similem.

Of this the following English rendering may be given:— “This hymn, of
the most angel-like and most saintly, Brigit is unable to speak of
all the marvellous works of power, such as we have never heard of as
been wrought, except through this virgin, like unto the Holy Mary.”

The prevalence of Brigit’s name in Gaelic Hagiology is not
surprising, when we take into account her reputation for superior
powers of knowledge and wisdom. And this exceptional distinction
naturally suggests the question—Where could her superior learning
have been obtained? The writer thinks that it can be clearly
established that Brigit, like Patrick of Strathclyde, was a fruit
of Ninian’s celebrated monastery of Rosnat. Indeed, there can be
little doubt about this statement, although the question has not
been either put or answered hitherto. Philology and history combine
to make Brigit a native of that district known first as that of the
Brigantes, afterwards Bernicia, and later as the Saxon Lowlands
of Scotland. Professor Rhys thinks the folks of this district
in Brigit’s time were Celtic and largely Cymric:—“Thus the term
Bernicii would seem to have meant the people of the Brigantian land,
which, in this case, was mostly that of the ancient Otadini, or
Gododin of Welsh literature, together with a part probably of that
of a kindred people, the Dumnonii.” According to the same learned
authority _brigant_ is phonologically “the Gallo-Brythonic form of a
common Celtic _brigant_, which, with the nasal suppressed, we have
in the Irish name Brigit (for _Brigentis_ of the I declension), St.
Bridget or Bride. On the whole then, Brigantes would seem to have
meant the free men or privileged race as contrasted with the Goidelic
inhabitants, _some of whom_ they may have reduced under them.”

The Gaelic entries in the Book of Deer give us the name of Brigit
in compound forms, with which we are familiar. “Domnal mac giric 7
mal _brigte_,” (_Domnal_ son of Girec, _and Maelbrigte_). In the old
Gaelic genitive this term is “moilbrigtae.” The Latin rendering has
been “calvus Brigittae;” similar to this is again “Servus Brigittae,”
or “Gillabrìghde,” as found in the Four Masters, A.D. 1146. And it
ought not to be forgotten that as Columba’s name has been perpetuated
in that of the Clan Calum so has that of Brigit in Gaelic Scotland
been preserved in the name of MacBride.

We have thus traced all that is actually known of Brigit in philology
and authentic history. But it is in poetry and fabulous biography
that her figure becomes haloed over with the interest of romance and
the veneration of ages.

Brigit herself was regarded as a poetess, and as we have already
seen, a MS. in the Burgundian Library has preserved a poem attributed
to her. This poem was probably the production of a Gaelic bard of
“the time of Aengus” _Ceile De_; but the ascription of it to Brigit
recalls her poetic reputation; while its sentiments reveal some of
the inward life of the old Gaelic Church of Ireland and Scotland. The
first stanza runs thus in the original:—

     “Ropadh maith lem corm-lind mór.
        Do righ na righ,
        Ropadh maith lem muinnter nimhe
        Acca hòl tre bithe sir.”

  _English_:

      I should like a great lake of ale
          For the King of the Kings;
          I should like the family of heaven
          To be drinking if through time eternal.

      I should like the viands
          Of belief and pure piety;
          I should like flails
          Of penance at my house.

      I should like the men of Heaven
          In my own house;
          I should like kieves
          Of peace to be at their disposal.

      I should like vessels
          Of charity for distribution;
          I should like caves
          Of mercy for their company.

      I should like cheerfulness
          To be in their drinking;
          I should like Jesus
          Too, to be here (among them).

      I should like the three
          Marys of illustrious renown;
          I should like the people
          Of heaven there from all parts.

      I should like that I should be
          A rent-payer to the Lord:
          That should I suffer distress,
          He would bestow upon me a good blessing.

This production is peculiarly Celtic; and is remarkable in its
freedom from the growth of superstition which characterised the Latin
Church of the time. But it must not be supposed that the old Gaelic
Church was free from an external growth of a superstition of its
own. Indeed it set up rather a hagiology of its own in opposition
to that of Rome, so keen, like all the true Scots that its members
were, was its love of spiritual independence. Patrick, Columba, and
Columbanus, became its _Papae_, or Papes, and Brigit herself its
Virgin,—celebrated as the “Mary of the Gael.”

Brigit was a very great and saintly personage to several of the
authors of the Gaelic Hymns in the _Liber Hymnorum_. Ultán of Ard
Breccain, who is said to have died in A.D. 656, composed a special
“Hymn in praise of Brigit,” whose extravagant sentiments and poetic
power are but inadequately manifest in the following translation:—

      Brigit, excellent woman,
      A flame golden, delightful,
      May (she), the sun dazzling splendid
      Bear us to the eternal kingdom!
      May Brigit save us
      Beyond throngs of demons!
      May she overthrow before us
      Battles of every disease!
      May she destroy within us
      Our flesh’s taxes,
      The branch with blossoms,
      The mother of Jesus!
      The true virgin, dear,
      With vast dignity:
      May we be safe always,
      With my Saint of the Lagenians!
      One of the pillars of the Kingdom,
      With Patrick the pre-eminent,
      The garment over _liga_,
      The Queen of Queens!
      Let our bodies after old age
      Be in sackcloth:
      With her grace may Brigit
      Rain on us, save us!

In Colman’s Hymn she is as usual associated with “Patron Patrick with
Erin’s saints around him.” The blessing pronounced on the sacred
person of Brigit runs thus:

      A blessing on Patron Brigit
      With Erin’s virgins around her:
      Let all give—a fair story—
      A blessing on Brigit’s dignity.

The chief poetic tribute to Brigit’s name is ascribed to Broccán
Cloen, who flourished about A.D. 500. The first verse in the original
runs thus:

      Nicar brigit buadach bith
      Siasair suide eoin inailt
      Contuil cotlud cimmeda
      Indnòib arecnairc ammaicc.

  _English_:

      Victorious Brigit loved not the world:
      She sat at a seat of a bird on a cliff:
      The holy one slept a captive’s sleep
      Because of her Son’s absence.

The bard then proceeds to describe her virtues in more than two
hundred lines of rich and glowing language.

      She was not a carper, she was not vile,
      She loved not vehement woman’s ear:
      She was not a serpent violent, speckled:
      She sold not God’s Son for gain.

We are told that it was in a “good hour MacCaille set the veil on
Saint Brigit’s head.” The poet concludes his hymn of praise with the
consolatory reflection:—

      There are two nuns in heaven,
      Whom I rely on for my protection,
      Mary and Saint Brigit:
      Under the protection of them both be we!

The life of Brigit printed by Dr Stokes from the Lebar Brecc, a
manuscript of the fifteenth century, occupies about eighteen printed
pages. Like Adamnan’s life of Columba it is largely taken up with
legends and traditional memories of miracles. Here is a specimen of
this standard Gaelic of the 15th century:

  Fecht and dorothlaig araile bannscal iressach codubthach condigsead
  brigit lea amuig life. arbói comthinól senaid laigen and.

The passage beginning with this sentence is translated thus:

  Once upon a time a certain faithful woman asked Dubthach that
  Brigit might go in with her into the plain of the Liffey, for a
  congregation of the Synod of Leinster was held there. And it was
  revealed in a vision to a certain holy man who was in the assembly,
  that Mary the Virgin was coming thereto, and it was told him that
  she would not be (accompanied) by a man in the assembly. On the
  morrow came the woman to the assembly, and Brigit along with her.
  And he that had seen the vision said “This is the Mary that I
  beheld!” saith he to Brigit. The holy Brigit blessed all the hosts
  under the name and honour of Mary. Wherefore Brigit was (called)
  “the Mary of the Gael” thenceforward.

The last sentence in the original is as follows:—

  Conidhi brigit muire nangædel ósin ille.

Dr Stokes points out how this life of Brigit furnishes a good
“example of the way in which heathen mythological legends became
annexed to historical Christian saints.” He shows how the story of
Brigit, in many of its recorded incidents, belonged originally to
the myth or ritual of some goddess of fire. In proof of this the
following incidents in the life are referred to: Brigit was born at
sunrise; and her name, in cognate Sanskrit _Bhargas_ is associated,
it is thought, with fire. Her birth takes place neither within nor
without a house. She is bathed in milk. Her breath revives the dead.
A house in which she is staying flames up to heaven. Cowdung blazes
in her presence. Oil is poured on her head. The milk she is fed with
comes from a white, red-eared cow. A fiery pillar is seen rising
from her head. Her wet cloak is supported by sun-rays. And while she
remains a virgin, she is yet described as one of the two mothers of
Christ the Anointed One.

Other authorities have described her as having perpetual ashless
fire, which was watched by twenty nuns, of whom she herself was one,
blown by fans or bellows only, and surrounded by a hedge, within
which no male could enter.

Various other interesting allusions, illustrative of the ancient
institutions of Gaeldom, are made in this life, such as the purchase
and sale of slaves, mulcts, (_eric_), witchcraft, dowry. We are also
reminded that leprosy once existed in Ireland; that Gaels practised
ale-brewing; that jewellery was in use; and that wattling was
employed for buildings.

But further discussion of these matters must be left to a future
volume. In the meantime, the writer’s best wishes for all who hear of
the name of Brigit, are that they may all be endowed with the moral
beauty, goodness, and dignity, which have been assigned to the godly
_Mary of the Gael_.

[Illustration: (decorative end-of-chapter icon)]




CHAPTER III.

NORTH ALBIN GAELS—COLUMBA.


The presence of the Romans in Scotland produced very little effect
in the Highlands. Fringes of the eastern counties had been occupied
for brief periods of time; but the influence of Latin civilisation
was slight and transient. The Christian churches that had begun to
flourish in the Gaelic lowlands under Roman rule showed signs of
decay upon the withdrawal of the Imperial legions which at first
were a sort of protection to the somewhat feeble Christianity of
the earlier ages. The chief source of weakness to this Christianity
was the fact that it had not yet struck its roots deeply into the
independent soil of the native races. A more virile gospel of natural
native growth was needed. And this was now about to be proclaimed by
a man whose name is associated with the most brilliant period and
best aspirations of the history of the Highland people.

This man was Calum, the son of Feidlimidh, son of Fergus, son of
Niall, of the “Nine Hostages,” monarch of Erin, who was slain in the
year 405. He was thus of blood-royal on the father’s side; while his
mother Ethne was also of a princely house. He was born about the year
521 at Gartan, in the county of Donegal. His people in these northern
Highlands of Ireland, belonged to the same race that prevailed at
this period in the southern Highlands of Scotland; so in crossing
the sea to the islands of Argyllshire Columba merely sailed from
one Gaelic country to another. He was a man highly regarded in both
countries on account of his family connections among the powerful
ruling races on both sides of the sea. Before proceeding to detail
the better authenticated and the more suggestive events of his
life, it may help to remove some historical misconceptions and show
more vividly the field of Columba’s operations, if we glance at the
condition of the various races with whom he came in contact, and at
their relations to one another.

When the Highland people first emerge on the canvas of written
records within their present limits, it is in connection with the
proclamation of Christianity among them. We previously get a glance
of their valiant clans in the great national struggle with the
aggressive legions of Rome. The brave soldiers of these legions with
which the Caledonians strove, were in the main of the same race as
those to whom they were opposed. They belonged to the powerful clan
Chatti of ancient Batavia, the modern Netherlands, where the Romans
fixed their base for operations in Britain. It was these Batavian
Celts with their better weapons, and not Latin soldiers, that fought
the ancient Highlanders of the eastern counties. Centuries passed
after this great battle between the Celts of Albin and those of
Batavia who were in Roman pay. Then again the clans of the north
came distinctly into view when the star of Christianity arose in the
west. The sources of our information at this point, are the uncertain
references of classical writers on the one hand—references which
require careful sifting—and the vague glimpses of native Christian
writers on the other.

It is not to be expected that these sources would supply us with
anything like a correct ethnological account. We may feel certain
that race theories in the sixth century were at least as confusing
and mistaken as they are in the present day even among fairly
educated people. So it is only by a careful induction and much
critical attention, that an approximation to the truth can be arrived
at out of those classical passages and sentences which have been
so severely tortured and twisted by Gaels and Goths, Brythons, and
Teutons. Much choleric temper has extended itself over those ancient
fields. In recent times sorely debated questions, however, have
changed faces, and historians have become more humane. The Christ
breath of the sentiment of human brotherhood has very largely soothed
the racial asperities with which the wars of the Picts and the Scots
have been fought again and again.

There is one phase of the history of those early centuries, which
he who runs may read now, and in which the Highland people are
naturally very much interested. It has come distinctly into view as
the result of able discussions during the last ten years. The Celtic
period of our national history used to receive very scant attention
indeed at the hands of the recognised writers on such subjects.
Our latest historians have shown a spirit of greater fairness. The
first volume of Burton’s “History of Scotland” may be said to be
devoted to the Celtic period; and, with the exception of the writer’s
evident anxiety to find the paternity of the higher influences
of civilisation in Teutonic fields, may be regarded as a fair
representation of the events of the centuries described. Even the
publication of such a work as Skene’s “Celtic Scotland,” bearing so
suggestive a title, is a fact of much significance. A learned if not
always discriminating volume, “Celtic Ireland,” by Dr Sophie Bryant,
has also just been published.

In the fifth and sixth centuries we are confronted with a group of
races in north Britain which have formed the subject of bitter and
exhaustive controversies. The terms “Pict” and “Scot” are the chief
monuments of this fierce warfare. No one can pretend to say now
who the races are of whom these terms are the exponents. They were
bestowed on the people by outsiders, and are quite unknown in the
native literature of the country. It is highly probable that they
indicate personal characteristics such as dress rather than race.
The clans or tribes to whom they were applied have been found all
over north Britain and the north of Ireland at different times. To
translate them into native terms will only make the confusion already
existing more hopeless. To render _Pict_ by “Cruthnec” would be as
inaccurate as to render _Scot_ by “Gàidheal.” The most helpful way in
which we can arrive at a fairly satisfactory conclusion at present is
to take a brief survey of the various races from a Gaelic standpoint;
keeping the main results of ethnological inquiry before our minds.
From this position the use of the terms “Pict” and “Scot” must be
altogether discarded. Let us examine the terms which the Gaelic
language supplies:—

1. _Albannaich._—Who were or are the _Albannaich_? The word has come
from Albainn or Albin, and is now generally used to distinguish a
Scotsman, whether Highland or Lowland, from the _Eirionnach_ of
Ireland and the _Sasunnach_ of England. The application of Albion to
the largest of these islands retreated in the course of centuries
to the north-west, where it still indicated the presence of the
pre-Celtic settlers who gave the name to the island. The occasional
application of it by Celtic writers to southern districts, even as
far south-west as the Isle of Wight, or the sea of Ictis, prevailed
as late as the eleventh and twelfth centuries. _Albannaich_, or
people of a distinctively pre-Celtic character still survived in
the west, particularly in south Wales and Cornwall. In the time of
Columba the _Albannaich_ proper possessed and ruled the country from
Drum-Albin northwards. The language they spoke is unknown.

2. _Gaidheil._—“Gaidheil Alba” is an expression which indicates,
what we otherwise know, that the _Gaidheil_ were immigrants to the
country of the Albinians. The precise term for the land inhabited by
themselves is “Gàidhealtachd,” the application of which suggests that
it is a part or district of Albin. A similar expression is “Gàidheil
Eirin,” which shows that Ireland is not more peculiarly the land of
the Gael than Scotland; indeed like “Scots” it is only in the latter
that _the_ “Gaels,” emphatically “na Gàidheil,” can be found. When
we first know them in north Britain we see them in possession of
the south-west Highlands and the Strathclyde valleys. Their Gaelic
tongue prevailed south of Drum-Albin, and particularly in the fourth
and fifth centuries, in that district or county to which they have
given its name, Argyll. They were driven to Ireland in earlier times
as well as into the Argyllshire Highlands under the pressure of the
Brythons on the south-east, mixed up with, and supported by, the
Romans and Roman rule.

3. _Bretunnaich._—At the time of Columba men of this race pushed as
far west as the Clyde. They have left a memorial of their presence
in that ancient capital of their rule, Dunbreton, or Dumbarton.
There were, no doubt, many Gaels still in the district, although
the Brythons asserted for some time a supremacy; and the former
reasserted their presence before the valleys of the Clyde became
finally Saxon in language.

4. _Sasunnaich._—In the land of the Gael very little was known of the
_Sasunnaich_ when Columba landed in Argyllshire. They were well known
to the _Bretunnaich_ on the eastern shores, where they had for some
time established themselves. But to the Gaels in the west they were
as yet a mere shadowy name.

Columba’s missionary enterprises were carried on among the Gaels of
the southern Highlands and the Albinians of the north-west. The two
languages in which he could freely and eloquently preach were Gaelic
and Latin, so among the Gaels he found himself at once at home among
a kindred people, many of whom had already heard of Christianity.
Among the Albinians of the north-west neither his Gaelic nor his
Latin could serve him; and he had to engage an interpreter, who must
have been familiar with Gaelic and Albinic. With the Christianising
of the north-west the area of Gaelic speech extended, and Albinic
gradually became extinct.

The advent of Columba on the shores of the Highlands constitutes a
new era in the national history. In the centuries which elapsed from
his time 553-97 to that of Queen Margaret 1057-93, some 500 years,
we have the truly Celtic period of Scottish national life. In the
course of the preceding 500 years the Romans occupied large tracts
of Scottish territory; and after the withdrawal of their legions the
Albinians maintained a powerful rule in the north-west; so the Gaels
had not as yet played so visible a part on the national canvas. Now,
however, with the evangelisation of the country by Columba the Gaels,
whose language became the organ of sacred eloquence, appeared as the
prevailing people.

The conclusions established by the following facts deserve distinct
attention in our conceptions of our national history:—

1. That the Gaels were the prevailing race in north Britain for 500
years previous to the reign of Malcolm Canmore.

2. That during these centuries the Gaelic language was used in Court
and church, and was the national speech of the people, even when an
English dialect began to develop on the east coast and a Norse one
temporarily prevailed in the western islands.

3. That a native Gaelic church flourished during this half millennium.

4. That it was during these centuries that the permanent foundations
of our Scottish independence and nationality were laid, in the midst
of many fierce struggles and bitter sorrows, and by means of many
battles and much bloodshed. It was the Gaelic conquests of this
period that paved the way for the national throne which Kenneth
MacAlpine ascended, and which exercised sway in the north until its
power merged in that of the British Empire upwards of a thousand
years after the gospel was proclaimed by Columba in the Hebrides.

The missionary advent of Columba, or in his own native language,
_Calum_, on the south-western shores of the Highlands constitutes
one of the earliest and chief dates of our national history. The
evangelical succession of his Christianity has been traced in two
directions. One source has been already touched upon, the Church
of Ninian from which Patrick went forth to evangelize the north
of Ireland. The mother home of this branch of Celtic Christianity
was undoubtedly Ninian’s celebrated monastery of Rosnat, which is
mentioned under several designations, of which “Candida Casa” is the
best known. Other names are the “Magnum Monasterium,” “Alba” and
“Futerna,” the latter being the Gaelic equivalent for the Anglic
“Whithern.” Abbots and bishops trained in this renowned monastery
laboured in Ulster; and founded monasteries there. The last of this
family of ecclesiastics was Finian of the race of Dal Fiatach. This
is acknowledged to be the first channel through which Monachism was
introduced into Ireland, the personal links in the communication
being Martin of Tours and Ninian. The second channel, as well shown
by Dr Skene, was through Bretagne and Wales, the personal links in
this case being “David, Gillas, and Docus, the Britons,” otherwise
David, the patron saint of the Welsh, Gildas, the historian, and
Cadoc, the founder of Llancarvan in South Wales. Finian, an Irish
Pict, repaired to the monastery of Kilmuine, or Manavia, in Wales,
and became the pupil of these three distinguished men; and on his
return to Ireland founded in course of time the well-known monastery
of Clonard in Meath, the Gaelic _Cluainerard_, where no less than
three thousand monks are supposed to have been at one time under
training. This became the source of living Christianity in the
south-west of Ireland after the time of Patrick. Finian had twelve
followers of celebrated name, who have been designated the twelve
Apostles of Ireland. Their names run as follow:—

  1. _Ciaran_, the founder of the Saighir monastery in Munster.

  2. _Ciaran_, called “Mac-an-t-Saoir,” the “Artificer’s son,”
  founder of Clonmacnois, in King’s County, in 548.

  3. _Columba_, son of Crimthan of Leinster, founder of Tirrdaglas in
  548.

  4. _Mobhi Clairenach_, founder of Glasnevin, in Fingall.

  5. _Ninnidh_, of Loch Erne.

  6. _Brendan_, of Birr.

  7. _Brendan_, of the seven years’ voyage, founder of Clonfert.

  8. _Laisren_ or _Molaisse_, of Devenish.

  9. _Ruadhan_, of Lothra.

  10. _Senell_, of Cluain-innis.

  11. _Cainnech_, of Achabo.

  12. _Columba_, of Iona.

With the exception of Brendan of Birr, Cainnech of Achabo, and the
great Finian himself, who were of the Erinic race, all these were of
the Gaelic race.

Highlanders cannot help feeling much interested in the main facts
of Columba’s life. The exact date of his birth, ascertained is
fixed on the 7th of December, 521. He was baptised by the Presbyter
Cruithnechan, and the church of his youth was _Tulach-dubh-glaise_,
now Temple Douglas, where his frequent attendance procured him
the title “Calum-cille” or “Calum of the Church.” In due time he
became the pupil of Finnbarr, or Finian of Maghbile, where he was
ordained a deacon. He acquired taste for general literature under the
instruction of the bard Gemman. He completed his academic training
under Finian of Clonard, when he became one of the twelve apostles
of Ireland. In his religious course of instruction the influences of
the two British monasteries of Candida Casa and Menavia met in the
persons of the two Finians, respectfully of Maghbile and Clonard.
About the year 545 he founded the monastery of Derry, or of Daire,
and afterwards that of Raphoe in Donegal. Ten years after the date
of the foundation of the church of Derry he started the celebrated
religious centre of Durrow or _Daire-Mag_, distinguished by the
profusion of oaks with which it was surrounded. Cennanus, or Kells,
in Meath, is also associated with his name, as well as a large number
of less famous churches scattered over many other counties.

This is the man who was about to Christianise the north-west of
Scotland, as well as give a fresh impulse to the great missionary
enterprises of the Celtic Church. Christianity was not altogether
unknown in the Western Isles before his arrival. The saintly voyager,
Brendan, one of his contemporaries, had been heard of in these
regions upwards of twenty years before the arrival of Columba; and
left traces of his presence in Bute and the Garvelloch Isles, where
his name has come down to us in that designation of Rothesay folks,
_Brandanes_, as well as in Kil_brandan_ Sound. He is also reported to
have visited the island of Heth or Tyree.

The departure of Columba from Ireland for the Scottish coast was
probably the result of mixed motives. He appears to have been
implicated in some sanguinary struggle, particularly the battle of
Culdremhne; how far it is impossible now satisfactorily to ascertain.
We are informed by Adamnan that the excommunication pronounced
by the Synod of Taillte in Meath was for pardonable and trifling
reasons. The silly story about the transcription of the Psalter, and
the judgment about the cow and its calf are unworthy of the persons
concerned and of the Christianity of the period. The so-called
sentence of exile does not bear the criticism of common sense; and
is the product of very credulous times. That the heart of Columba
yearned for the conversion of his kindred across the sea is highly
credible and natural. Political motives may have entered into his
thought; but we may generally accept the impression of one of his
biographers,—“his native country was left by the illustrious saint
and illustrious sage, and son chosen of God for the love and favour
of Christ.”

In the year 563 Columba, in the forty-second year of his age, left
Ireland for Scotland. The island of Colonsay was the first soil on
which he landed; but finding that he was still within eight miles of
Ireland he sailed further north to Ia or the _Iouan_ island, where he
fixed his abode. He was accompanied by “twelve disciples, his fellow
soldiers,” in the fashion of the missionaries of the Celtic Church
who went forth in their twelves, sometimes in their twenty-fours. At
first on arrival at Colonsay these devoted brethren thought they had
sailed far enough from Ireland and raised _Carn cul ri Eirin_; but a
clearer horizon soon revealed to them their mistake. On the nearest
elevation in Iona they raised a similar _Carn_ bearing the same
title, and they were now satisfied that they had sailed far enough
north from their native place, the vision of which could not tempt
them to return. Had they been able to anticipate the power of modern
glasses they would find that Ireland was still within their sight.
The date of their arrival in Iona was Whitsuneve, which that year
fell on the 12th of May.

The name of Iona is a source of everlasting charm all over the
Christian world. Let us form to ourselves some conception of its
position, size, and character. In his voyage to this islet Columba
sailed by the fertile and low-lying shores of Islay, whence the
high lands of the north of Ireland can be easily seen in the hazy
distance. He landed on the lonely Colonsay, but stayed not there.
Further north he found his future home. This was that isle of fame
and beauty, situated at the south-west corner of the island of Mull.

Iona is separated from the Ross of Mull by a channel about a mile
wide, in which the heavy swell of the ocean sometimes rolls unkindly
for tiny barks. This channel is deep enough for the passage of the
largest ships, but is not free from danger on account of sunken
rocks. The island itself lies north-east and south-west; and is about
three and one-half miles in length, and a mile and a half in breadth.
Its area is about two thousand acres, of which some six hundred
are generally under cultivation, the rest being either pasture or
barren. To see its northern end, as the writer first saw it, gleaming
under the morning sun,—its brows of sand flashing their radiance
afar,—produces an impression that does not readily vanish. The
diapason of the Atlantic and the responsive chorus of the seashores
help to charm and soothe while they solemnize the human spirit. There
truly you can find the spirit of nature’s religion chanting lightly
her morning hymns and rehearsing sweetly her evening psalms. A plain
extends from side to side, at the narrowest part, in the centre of
the island, with a small green hillock in its centre. In this part
of it the soil is fairly fertile; but towards the north the ground
becomes rougher with grassy hollows and rocky rising-knolls which
end in the highest point in the island, Dun-I, 327 feet in height.
From that eminence north a strip of low land extends to the shore,
terminating in a stretch of white sand, which is composed chiefly
of broken shells which the swell of the ocean has rolled and wasted
and worn together until it heaped them there. Along the east side of
the island the ground is low-lying and fertile. South of the central
plain the surface of the soil is irregular, showing stony heights
and grassy dells, which afford good pasture. The shore abounds with
little bays and headlands. The underlying rocks are Laurentian, with
an almost vertical dip, and a strike from north-east to south-west.
There are beds of slate, quartz, marble, with serpentine, and a
mixture of felspar, quartz, and hornblende passing sometimes into a
sort of granite. This is the island of which the proverbial saying
has made Columba so tenderly sing:

      “I mo chridhe, I mo ghràidh.”
      (Isle of my heart, Isle of my love.)

The name of Iona has appeared under a large variety of forms. The
single capital letter I has stood for it, which pronounced like
double _ee_ as Gaelic requires, represents the universal Gaelic
pronunciation for the island. Here are some of the other forms:
Ia, Ie, Ii, Ieoa; Hi, Hii; Y, Hy; Iona, Yona, Hyona, and Yensis;
I-Chalumchille and Icolmkill. In Adamnan it appears as the _Iouan_
island. This is an adjectival form in which the radix is Iou,
equivalent to the Gaelic I. Adamnan’s Iouan was corrupted by the
mistake of transcribers into the more euphonious Iona, an explanation
which shows, the untenableness of such fanciful etymologies as
I-thonna, “the island of waves,” and _I-shona_, “the island of the
blest.”

These were some of the peculiar developments of the Brito-Irish
Church from whose bosom Columba came. The monasteries were
usually located on grants of land, often very extensively made by
the provincial kings or other chiefs who had been converted to
Christianity, and desired to have the worship of God set up among
their people, and thus became identified with the clan or tribe in
which they were settled. It is in connection with these temporalities
that the remarkable functionary called Co-arb comes into view. He
appears to have been a person of greater consequence than the bishop,
and to have exercised ecclesiastical as well as temporal power. Dr
Todd defines his position and functions thus:—“On the whole it
appears that the endowment in land, which were granted to the ancient
church by the chieftains who were first converted into Christianity,
carried with them the temporal rights and principalities originally
belonging to the owners of the soil, and that these rights and
principalities were vested, not in bishops as such, but in the
co-arbs or ecclesiastical successors of those saints to whom the
grants of land were originally made. In other words, the Co-arbs
became the trustees of the temporalities of the monasteries and of
the missionary enterprises of the church. They were the predecessors
of those who in our own times hold property in trust for our training
schools, colleges, churches, and missionary societies. There were
no mines, docks, or railways in which shares could be held; but the
chieftain and his clan had real property at their disposal which in
their piety and generosity they set apart, as occasion required,
for the support of the gospel. The property the earnest-souled
monks soon transformed into a centre of holy activity and Christian
civilization.”

Columba with his family of Christian brethren in Iona, labouring with
hand and head; studying, writing, and praying; and sending forth to
neighbouring lands and islands Christian workers whose hearts God
had touched, formed a beautiful picture of pious effort which deeply
impressed the imagination of succeeding ages. This band of ancient
Gaelic Christians became known in course of time under the endearing
designation of “The Family of Iona.” The goodly number of twelve
disciples accompanied Columba to Iona, the number being that usually
sent forth together to labour in a district in imitation of the
accidental features of the apostolic system. The names of the twelve
brethren were Baithen, and Cobthach, brothers; Ernaan, the uncle, and
Diarmit the attendant of Columba; Rus and Fechno, brothers; Scandal,
Luguid, Eachaid, Tochann, Cairnaan, and Grillaan.

Iona as a religious centre for the evangelising efforts of these
brethren was admirably situated. It was on the confines of the
Albinic and Gaelic jurisdiction. It was granted to Columba first by
Conall, King of the Gaels, who were largely Christians. The great
missionary also secured the grant by getting the approval of King
Brude of the Albinians, whom he visited soon after his settlement at
Iona. This visit to the king was paid at his fortress at the mouth of
the Ness, and was afterwards repeated several times, which evinces
the unchanging character of the friendship which existed between the
king and the saint.

The interesting story of Columba’s missionary labours in converting
the Albinians and in reviving the drooping Christianity of the
Gaels belongs to the province of Church history and can only be
glanced at here as a fresh transforming factor which entered deeply
into the civil life of the people. It was no doubt the determining
influence in the historic process which ended in Kenneth’s accession
to the united throne in 843. Combined with the superior knowledge
of letters, this factor of Christianity facilitated the Gaelic
conquest of Albin. The struggle described in the popular ballads of
the Finians was a real one—in which the heathen and decadent Féinne,
the brave and chivalrous people of Ossian went forth against the
psalm-singing forces of Christian clerics, but they always went forth
to fall and die. The Gaelic and Christian conquest of the Albinians
or Féinne was complete with the union of the two races in the ninth
century. All through the struggle the members of “The Family of Iona”
played a prominent part.

They had travelled north and east, earnestly labouring among the
various clans and tribes, and founding churches and colleges which
became not only Christianising but nationalising centres, and so
preparing the way for the extension of Gaelic rule. When the proper
opportunity came the nations were evidently well prepared for a
fusion which appears to have been very thorough.

Judging by the number of churches which they founded, and the wide
tracts of country over which their labours extended, the Family of
Iona must have had a very earnest and successful brotherhood. The
northern half of England was Christianised by men who went forth
from Iona, a fact which, it is pleasant to notice, is specially
acknowledged in the Dictionary of English History recently published.

It is to the Family of Iona we are also indebted for the first
literary products to which we can refer. They were the first to
love and cultivate the literature which we now so highly prize. If
there were any such pre-Christian bards as Ossian, it is to the
ancient clerics that we are indebted for the preservation of their
compositions. Indeed it is a question whether the knowledge of the
forms of poetry existed at all in pre-Christian times. There is no
evidence that we possess a scrap of ancient poetry which belongs to
ages before Christian pens began to cultivate letters. The brethren
in Iona were much engaged in writing, which as an accomplishment was
considered as an adornment even for the highest Church dignitaries.
And great value was attached evidently to the products of their
pens. The transcription of sacred literature, particularly of the
Psalter, occupied much of their time. Columba himself was engaged in
this work when death took him. To be a ready _scribhnidh_, or scribe,
was an object of worthy ambition. The position of _ferleighin_, or
praelector, was one of honour in the sacred brotherhood. Many of the
terms used by them in connection with letters have come down to us;
others have been lost, or have since their time received different
meanings and applications. Columba’s Stylus, or pen, was called in
Gaelic _graib_, from the Greek _graphium_; but the _graib_ of modern
times is an agricultural implement. A very poetic legend tells how
this stylus of Columba became the property of Gregory of Rome. The
leather cases in which the service books were kept for travelling
were called _polire_ and _tiagha_. The alphabet they styled _abgiter_
a form which has considerable philologic value; according to one
authority Columba’s _abgiter_ was written on a cake. These waxed
tablets for writing introduced _ceir_ from the Latin cera. The
library was _teach screaptra_; and its keeper _leabhor coimhedach_.
These and many other terms once current in Gaelic literature,
introduced by the Gaelic clerics in the British Isles and on the
Continent, ceased to be used in the centuries of greater ignorance
which succeeded their times.

In their ancient writings and lives occur many other terms which have
their value in shedding light on the social habits and condition
of the people. The family of Iona had their kitchen, _cuicin_, or
_coitchenn_; in which the coquina, _coic_, or cook prepared the
meals of the brethren. Their chief season in the day time was nona,
or _noin_, still occasionally heard in _tra-noin_. Their cows were
sheltered in an outhouse, the Bocetum, or _bathaich_; and in the
neighbourhood was the pasture-ground, or _buaile_. The grain was
stored in the barn, or, _sabhall_, the Gaelic term still in use.
They had also their Molendinum or _Muileann_, in which the grain
was ground by the _bra_, or quern. A caballus, a _capull_, or
_gerran_, was kept on the _faithche_, or green enclosure near at
hand to be in readiness for general purposes. When they wanted to
move along the shores they had their curucae, or _curraich_, whose
light frames covered with skins could so easily glide through the
water. For distant voyages and other purposes they had the scaphae,
or _scadhan_, still applied to a certain class of boats. Visitors
and guests from far-off lands arrived in their barcae, or, _barcan_,
a term still current in Gaelic. The Scologs, or lower order of the
clergy did not refuse to help the _Economus_, or _fertighis_, the
butler, or _pincerna_, or the baker, or _pistor_. It is curious to
find that on one occasion the baker was a stray Saxon. There were
also among the brethren in Iona a smith, or _gobha_, and a brazier,
or _cerd_, which in recent Gaelic has become a term of reproach. The
term for one article of their dress at least, _cochall_, the Latin
cuculla, had survived in familiar Gaelic. It is represented that the
hardy brethren slept on the bare stones, and in their ordinary day
clothes. They were truly a _Milesian_ or soldier race, who by their
persistent labours and self-sacrifices thoroughly deserved the name
and fame which after ages accorded them.

While the name of Columba is that which shines above all the
rest there were other labourers in the Highlands before, and
contemporaneously with him who have left behind them illustrious
memories, fragrant names which have entered very largely into the
nomenclature of the soil. Brendan has been already referred to.
Others like him made missionary journeys through the country, such
as the two Fillans, Flannan and Ronan, whose names are commemorated
in the Highlands and Isles. Moluoc became the founder and celebrated
patron of Lismore; and Kilmaluac in Tiree has preserved his memory.
His death took place in 592. Maelrubha’s labours are chiefly
associated with Wester Ross, but he was honoured all over the
Highlands. In 673 he founded a church and college at Applecross
where he laboured zealously till he “rested,” as the chronicles say,
in 722 in the eightieth year of his age. He and Columba were the
chief patron saints of Skye. The north-eastern part of the island
was peculiar to Columba, the south-eastern to Maelrubha whose name
survives in Kilmaree in Strath, and in Kilmolruy in Bracadale. As
far south as Islay we find him venerated in the central parish of
that Island, in Killarrow, where he may have laboured on his way from
Ireland before he settled at Applecross. Another heroic character in
the same age was Donnan whose brave spirit and individuality have
evoked admiration throughout the whole of Scotland. He was younger
than Columba whom he regarded with ardent feelings of friendship,
and among whose Christian family at Iona he desired to be enrolled.
“This Donnan went to Columcille to make him his soul’s friend;
upon which Columcille said to him, I shall not be soul’s friend to
a company (heirs) of red martyrdom, and thy people with thee. And
it was so fulfilled.” In the far north his figure emerges in _cric
Chat_, or “regions of Catt,” which included Sutherland and Caithness.
The parish bearing his name, Kildonan, was the chief scene of his
enterprise in the north. He closed his life truly in “red martyrdom”
in the island of Eigg.

     “To glorious martyrdom ascended,
      With his clerics of pure lives,
      Donnan of cold Eig.”

An account already quoted says—“Donnan then went with his people to
the Hebrides; and they took up their abode there, in a place where
the sheep of the queen of the country were kept. This was told to
the queen. Let them all be killed said she. That would not be a
religious act, said her people. But they were murderously assailed.
At this time the cleric was at mass. Let us have respite till mass is
ended, said Donnan. Thou shalt have it, said they. And when it was
over, they were slain every one of them.” Another version runs thus:
“Donnan the great with his monks. Fifty-two were his congregation.
There came pirates of the sea to the island in which they were,
and slew them all. Eig is the name of that island.” In these west
Highlands his memory was preserved in Little Bernera, off Lewis,
in South Uist, Loch Broom, and Snizort, Skye, in each of which
Kildonnans are found. In the southern Highlands in Arran and Kintyre
as well as in Wigtonshire and Ayrshire we come across Kildonnans, or
churches dedicated to his memory. At Auchterloss in Aberdeenshire his
pastoral staff was preserved until it was broken by the Reformers.
His martyrdom took place on Sunday the 17th of April, 617; and must
have, along with that of the fifty-two brethren who were with him,
cast deep gloom on the prospects of Christian enterprise in the West
Highlands.

The journeys, the holy labours with their great results, of Columba
himself, and of his brethren from Iona, have been minutely and
eloquently described by various writers. The name of the founder
of Iona is associated with upwards of 60 religious establishments
or places in Scotland, and with as many in Ireland. He died on the
9th of June, 597, seventy-six years of age. And as we think of the
memory which he left behind him for the veneration of his countrymen
we are reminded of the bright pillar that was seen to glow upon his
head on one occasion after reading the Gospel in common with brethren
from a distance, who visited him in Eilein-na-Naoimh: “Brenden
Mocu Alti saw, as he told Congell and Cainnech afterwards, a ball
of fire like a comet burning very brightly on the head of Columba,
while he was standing before the altar, and consecrating the holy
oblation, and thus it continued burning and rising upwards like
a column, so long as he continued to be engaged in the same most
sacred mysteries.” So has the name of the saint burned and risen
upwards like a monumental column upon the brow of Scotland. He has
had a devoted, if an incredulous biographer in Adamnan, his eighth
successor in the abbacy of Iona. To this writer we are indebted for
the most ancient piece of writing produced in the Highlands that
has been preserved. His name, which has undergone several curious
transformations, has been embalmed in the designations of eight or
ten places under the modifications of Teunan, Eunan, Arnold, Avonia,
and many. It has passed into personal names of modern times in
Gill-Adhamnain, or Gilleonan, borne by a MacNeill of Barra in 1495.
Adamnan was born in 624; succeeded Columba in Iona in 679; and died
on the 23d of Sept., 704. His veneration and estimate of his great
predecessor may be gathered from the following eloquent sentences
taken from the preface of his interesting work: “From his boyhood he
(Columba) had been brought up in Christian training in the study of
wisdom, and by the grace of God had so preserved the integrity of
his body, and the purity of his soul, that though dwelling on earth
he appeared to live like the saints in heaven. For he was angelic in
appearance, graceful in speech, holy in work, with talents of the
highest order, and consummate prudence; he lived a soldier of Christ
during thirty-four years in an island. He never could spend the space
of even one hour without study, or prayer, or writing, or some other
holy occupation. So incessantly was he engaged night and day in the
unwearied exercise of fasting and watching, that the burden of each
of these austerities would seem beyond the power of human endurance.
And still in all these he was beloved by all, for a holy joy ever
beaming on his face revealed the joy and gladness with which the Holy
Spirit filled his inmost soul.” Columba, notwithstanding the strong
martial element of his nature, was evidently capable of attaching
disciples very powerfully to his person. We find this illustrated
also in the legend preserved in the _Book of Deer_ about his founding
the mission-station of Aberdour in Aberdeenshire: “_Drostan’s tears
came on parting from Columcille_. Said Columcille ‘Let Deur (Deer) be
its name henceforward.’”

Among the relics associated with the person of Columba is the
Cath-bhuaidh, or _Battle-Victory_, a celebrated crosier. The
following passage from a legend of the ninth century reminds us of
the great veneration with which the relic was regarded, as well as
of the spirit in which his followers, three or four centuries after
his death, went forth to meet the enemies of their country. “About
the same time the Fortreens and Lochlanns fought a battle. Bravely
indeed the men of Alba fought this battle, for Columkille was aiding
them; for they had prayed to him most fervently, because he was
their apostle, and it was through him that they received the faith.
One time when Imhar Conung was a young man, he came to Alba, with
three great battalions to plunder it. The men of Alba, both lay and
clerics, fasted and prayed to morning to God and Columkille; they
made earnest entreaty to the Lord; they gave great alms of food and
raiment to the churches and the poor, received the body of the Lord
at the hands of the priests, and promised to do all kinds of good
works, as their clergy would order them, and that their standard
in going forth to any battle should be the crosier of Columkille.
Wherefore it is called the _Cath-bhuaidh_ from that day to this. And
this is a befitting name for it; for they have often gained victory
in battle by it, as they did at that time, when they placed their
hope in Columkille. They did the same on this occasion. The battle
was bravely fought at once. The Albinians gained victory and triumph,
killed many of the Lochlanns after their defeat; and their king was
slain on the occasion, namely, Ottir, son of Iargna. It was long
after until either the Danes or Lochlanns attacked them; but they
were at peace and harmony with them.”

Writers in after ages have attributed poems and prophecies to
Columba which such a good authority as O’Curry declares not to be
the productions of the Saint, whose chief literary functions are
associated with the transcription of the sacred writings.

In his Life of the Apostle of the Highlands, Dr John Smith of
Campbeltown, has given translations of some of the Latin poems
attributed to Columba; the following abstract exhibits their manner:—

     “The God omnipotent, who made the world,
      Is subject to no change. He was, He is,
      And He shall be: th’ Eternal is his name.
      Equal in Godhead and eternal power,
      Is Christ the Son; so is the Holy Ghost.
      These sacred glories three are but the same,
      In persons different, but one God and Lord.
      This God created all the heavenly hosts:
      Archangels, angels, potentates, and powers;
      That so the emanations of His love
      Might flow to myriads diffusing good.
      But from this eminence of glory fell
      Th’ apostate Lucifer, elate with pride,
      Of his high station and his glorious form.
      Fill’d with like pride, and envying God himself,
      His glory, other angels shared his fate,
      While the remainder kept their happy state.
      Thus fell a third of the bright heavenly stars,
      Involv’d in the old serpent’s guilt and fate;
      And with him suffer, in th’ infernal gulf,
      The loss of heaven, in chains of darkness bound.”

Further remarks on the poetry attributed to Columba will be found in
the next chapter.

[Illustration: (decorative end-of-chapter icon)]




CHAPTER IV.

LATIN HYMNS OF THE CELTIC CHURCH.


The following entry among the Irish Charters in the famous Book of
Kells illustrates the fate of much of our ancient Celtic literature,
especially in Scotland: “Anno Domini m^o ui^o (_alias_ 1007).
Soiscela mor coluim cille do dubguit is ind aidci as ind iardom
iartarach in daimliacc moir cenannsa,” &c. A.D. 1006 (_alias_
1007)—The great Gospel of Calum-cille was sacrilegiously stolen at
night out of the western portions of the great church of Kells.
This was the chief relic of the west of the world on account of
the singular cover. This Gospel was found in twenty nights and two
months, with its gold stolen off, and a sod over it. Thus the “great
gospel” of Columba was preserved from destruction by the merest
accident. But cupidity has not been the only foe that the Celt’s
ancient manuscript literature has had to contend with. The ignorance
and indifference of many into whose hands it fell have also played
their part;—a tailor was seen last century in the Hebrides cutting
down Gaelic manuscripts for patterns. More fatal than ignorance has
been the active depreciation of a hostile church operating on the
animosity of a rival race. It is only now—a thousand years after
the era of the ancient Celtic Church—that scholars and unprejudiced
historians have succeeded in showing us a little of it. The “sod over
it” has been partly removed; and the “find” has not been altogether
uninteresting, although the “gold” has been “stolen off.” Zeuss has
furnished us with materials for the reconstruction of the ancient
Celtic language; Skene and others have given us some account of the
early Iro-British Church; but Church history has not fully examined
the available existing material that would show us the character of
the Christian life and devotion of our early Christian ancestors in
these islands. It is proposed in the following chapter to glance at
the Latin Hymns of the ancient Celtic Church in order to realise to
ourselves a little of the inner life of those early evangelists to
whose extraordinary labours and unwearied zeal we are indebted for
the conversion of our forefathers from heathenism. In these hymns
we have relics of that early religious literature which helped to
give Christian comfort to generations of lonely labourers on isle
and mainland. Here we have transmitted to us something of the loving
heavenly motives, the Gospel inspiration, by whose persuasive force
the strongholds of pagan darkness were pulled down throughout the
British islands, as well as in many districts on the Continent.

These devotional compositions were the common property of the whole
Celtic Church at home and abroad. It is intended to look at them here
as remains of the use and wont which prevailed during the “golden
age” of this early Free Church, as it existed in Scotland. In doing
so, it may deepen our interest in them if we briefly recall the
historical setting and political surroundings in which the great work
of this Church was accomplished.

In order to reach the heart of this Church, we must pierce through
that belt of ecclesiastical and religious darkness which Papal Rome
wove round the body of our national life during the four centuries
which preceded the Reformation. Beyond these centuries we are enabled
at once to grasp that one outstanding fact in our early annals, that
from the days of Ninyas, in the beginning of the fifth century, to
the accession of the “Sair Saint,” King David, in 1124 a Free Church,
comparatively evangelical and aggressive, existed in Scotland for a
period of 700 years. No definite attempt has been made to show the
full national significance of this fact. If we contrast that period
of 700 years with the following period of similar length, we find
that during the first half of the latter, decay and death prevailed;
and that even during the second half, with all the advantages
attendant on post-Reformation times, large tracts of our country,
once aglow with gospel life, remained practically heathen until the
lost ground began to be reconquered and reclaimed by the modern Free
Church of Scotland. In all this there is much to humble, instruct
and encourage us. We learn that the essential power of the gospel is
the same in all ages, and that similar results follow the earnest
proclamation of truth in ancient and modern times. The Christian
men that in early days made the gospel a living converting power
throughout our whole land, even in every village of the Highlands,
and every islet of the Hebrides, could not have been very unlike
their countrymen of the present day, among whom evangelical truth is
preserved and preached.

A glance at the early history of Ireland reveals the fact that a
similar course of things took place there. Pope Adrian IV., known
to England as Nicolas Breakspere, the only Englishman who ever sat
in the chair of St. Peter, issued a bill in 1155, giving the kingdom
of Ireland to Henry II. of England. This is a remarkable fact, and
deeply suggestive in connection with the reasons assigned for its
accomplishment. The Irish had all along been Protestants against Rome
and her rule. The Pope, who like all the bishops of that holy ilk,
claimed the right to dispose of all Christian lands, finding that
the Irish, according to Roman estimate, were “Schismatics” and “bad
Christians,” like their brethren of the same period in Scotland, made
a present of the island to Henry, in order to make good Catholics
of the inhabitants. Here were two Englishmen engaged in perverting,
or rather completing the perversion of the Free Independent Church
of Ireland to Rome. Hence all the tears of Ireland, England’s great
responsibility, much bloodguiltiness on all sides, the almost utter
futility of all attempts to restore to that much-enduring isle, the
comparatively pure faith of its ancient days. O’Driscol, an honest
Roman Catholic writer, describes the change as follows:—“There is
something very singular in the ecclesiastical history of Ireland.
The Christian Church of that country, as founded by St. Patrick and
his predecessors, existed for many ages free and unshackled. ‘For
above 700 years this Church maintained its independence.’ It had no
connection with England, and differed upon points of importance with
Rome. The work of Henry II. was to reduce the Church of Ireland into
obedience to the Roman Pontiff. Accordingly, he procured a Council
of the Irish clergy, to be held at Cashel in 1172, and the combined
influence and intrigues of Henry and the Pope prevailed. This Council
put an end to the ancient Church of Ireland, and submitted it to
the yoke of Rome. ‘That apostacy has been followed by a series of
calamities, hardly to be equalled in the world.’ From the days of St.
Patrick to the Council of Cashel was a bright and glorious era for
Ireland. From the sitting of this Council to our time, the lot of
Ireland has been unmixed evil, and all her history a tale of woe.”

The influence of Rome on the heart of the Scottish nation, began with
the marriage of Malcolm with the English Roman Catholic Princess
Margaret. This Saxon queen completed the outward perversion of
Scotland to Rome. She pretended to reform, but only managed to
enthral the native Church, whose clergy she summoned to a Council
in 1074. The Gaelic language was the only language the clergy could
speak—they had a professional knowledge of Latin—so King Malcolm,
her husband, acted as her interpreter. They refused to recognise
the absolute supremacy of the great Roman father; they were unable
to speak English; and the queen set herself piously to rectify
these abuses and shortcomings. The Roman Catholic influence of the
Norman went on increasing until the Court, as the Celtic Professor
at Oxford says, “in the time of David, who began to reign in 1124,
after being educated in England in all the ways of the Normans, was
filled with his Anglican and Norman vassals. He is accordingly,
regarded as the first wholly feudal King of Scotland, and the growth
of feudalism went on at the expense of the power and influence of
the Celtic princes, who saw themselves snubbed and crowded out to
make room for the king’s barons, who had grants made to them of land
here and there, wherever it was worth having. The outcome was a deep
seated discontent, which every now and then burst into a flame of
open revolt on the part of the rightful owners of the soil.” The
Celtic Church died away with the decay of the power of the Celtic
princes. At the same time the Roman religion was warmly supported in
the persons of Englishmen, Flemings and Normans, who received every
encouragement to settle in Scotland. The predominance of the Celtic
element seems to have passed away in the eleventh century. “At the
time, however, of the War of Independence, Gaelic appears to have
still reached down to Stirling and Perth, to the Ochil and Sidlaw
Hill, while north of the Tay it had as yet yielded to English or
Broad Scotch, only a very narrow strip along the coast.” The bulk
of Bruce’s army at Bannockburn was composed of the Ivernian and
Celtic descendants of the ancient Free Church of Scotland. The true
Christian devotion of the Fathers had not altogether disappeared:
like the Puritan soldiers of Cromwell these grand old Scots began
the grim work of battle for national freedom, with a fervent prayer
to the God of battles,—a species of homage which surprised the more
Catholic English.

The Latin hymns of this ancient Church will be found in the “Leabhar
imuin” (Book of Hymns) and the Bangor Antiphonary, both miscellanies
of odes, canticles, blessings, prayers, &c. Altogether the number
is upwards of thirty. The “Leabhar imuin” is a MS. of the ninth
or tenth century in Trinity College Library, Dublin, of which two
thirds have been printed. The first part, edited by the late Dr
Todd, appeared in 1855, and contained the following four hymns, with
extensive annotations from the “Leabhar Breac,” &c.:—1, The Hymn
of St. Sechnall in praise of St. Patrick; 2, The Hymn of St. Ultán
in praise of St. Brigit; 3, The Hymn of Cummain Fota in praise of
the Apostles; 4, The Hymn of St. Mugint. These are specimens of the
terminology of the hymn titles.

The Bangor Antiphonary is a MS. in the Ambrosian Library, Milan.
It was written between 680 and 691; and was printed by Muratori in
1713. Some of the pieces in this MS. have a historical, as well as a
devotional value, such as “The Versicles of the Family of Benchor,”
and “The Commemoration of our Abbots,” in which the names of fifteen
abbots of the Bangor (County Down) monastery are given in the same
order in which their obits occur in the annals. Dr Reeves speaks
well of its accuracy, considering that the MS. has been some 1200
years absent from Ireland. These are the sources in which this Latin
hymnology of the ancient Gaels will be found. They are not very
accessible. As already remarked, versions of them will be also found
in the “Leabhar Breac;” some of them were printed by Sir James Ware,
in the appendix to his “Opuscula S. Patricii;” while the Isidore
Codex of the “Leabhar imuin” recently brought from Rome to Dublin,
has never yet been printed. These MSS., written in a peculiar ornate
style, have become known to archæologists under the description
“libri Scottice Scripti,” (books written in Scotch).

Some of these devotional compositions are as old as the fourth
century, such as the “Hymnum dicat” ascribed to Hilary, and the
“Mediæ noctis,” ascribed to the famous Ambrose of Milan. The
“Audite Omnes” was composed by Sechnall, the nephew of Patrick,
towards the close of the fifth century, in praise of the Irish
apostle. This piece, rather a poem than a hymn, bears to have been
written “in Domhnach Sechnaill,” (now Dunshaughlin in Meath), by
the St. Sechnall, or Secundinus, who was a son of Patrick’s sister,
“by her husband _Restitutus_” of the “Longobards of Leatha.” The
superscription reminds us of the fact that the Scots and the Gaidels
were the same people, whether found in Ireland or parts of Britain.
It runs thus: “Incipit Ymnus sancti Patricii episcopi Scotorum.”
(“The hymn beginning, St. Patrick, Bishop of the Scots.”) The
following note on it occurs in the “Leabhar Breac”: “Tempus autem.”
(“But the time”);—viz: “when Leogaire, son of Niall, was King of
Eirinn came to praise Patrick. Sechnall said to Patrick, ‘When shall
I make a hymn of praise for thee?’ Patrick said, ‘I desire not to be
so praised during my life.’ Sechnall answered, ‘Non interrogavi utrum
faciam, sed quando faciam.’ (‘I did not ask whether I should do it,
but when’). Patrick said, ‘Si facias venit tempus.’ (‘If you do it,
the time has come’)—i.e. because Patrick knew that the time of his
(Sechnall’s) death was at hand.” In the third verse we have the old
Scottic interpretation of the famous passage in Matthew on which St.
Peter’s chair is founded:—

     “Constans in Dei timore
      Et fide immobilis
      Super quem aedificatur
      Ut Petrum Ecclesia.”

“Constant in the fear of God, and immovable in faith, upon him as
upon a Peter is built a Church.”

The student of these ancient writings is surprised to find the
modern Irish persist in making Patrick a Frenchman. In the “Leabhar
Breac” the following note, as decisive of his nationality, occurs in
connection with this hymn. “Patraic umorro do bretnaibh h ercluaide
a bunadus.” “Now Patrick in his origin was of the Britons of
Er-Cluaide”—i.e. of the Strathclyde Britons, among whom his name has
found its topographical monument in Kilpatrick, as already pointed
out.

The ancient Christian Scots had their own saints, to whom they were
naturally attached as the fathers of their Church. The names of
Patrick, Columba, and others, as well as of Brigit constantly occur
in these Latin Hymns. Brigit comes next in importance to Patrick in
Hibernian hagiology. Ultán’s hymn in praise of her begins with these
words, “Christus in nostra insola que uscatur hibernia;” and towards
the end, the “angelic and most holy Brigit” in all her wondrous works
of power, is spoken of as “like unto the holy Mary.” We have only
fragments of this poem. It appears to have been originally composed,
like Sechnall’s and several others in these MSS., in the A B C style,
with a stanza for each letter of the alphabet. There is another
found in the beginning of an old Celtic copy of the Greek Psalter,
in praise of Brigit, whose feast day is also celebrated in another,
“Phœbi diem.” The feast day of Patrick has also its celebration hymn,
beginning thus: “Lo, the solemn feast day of Patrick is shining most
brightly.”

The hymn “In Te Christe” is one of the three attributed to Columba,
and bears in some places the stamp of his majestic spirit. The
“Ignis Creator igneus” starts with the conception of the Paschal
candle, and proceeds to describe the columns of smoke and flame
which guided Israel out of Egypt. A few of the metrical compositions
in the Bangor Antiphonary have a more local and historical than a
devotional interest, such as the “Good Rule of Bangor,” and the
commemoration of the abbots of that place, already referred to. The
name of Comgall, the head of the monastery, who died in 602, occurs,
as also Molaisran, or Molio of the Holy Isle, Arran, who died in 639.
There is an evening hymn beginning with “Christe qui Lux es” and a
Pentecostal one about the Apostles, with the initial words “Christi,
Patris in dextera.” There is one hymn, and only one, in the group in
praise of the Blessed Virgin Mary, “Cantemus in omni die.”

Metrical translations of seven, in whole or in part, of these hymns
are given here, to indicate the general character of the devotional
portions of the group. The one beginning with the words: “Precamur
Patrem” has not had any date assigned it, but judging by internal
evidence, it appears to belong to the era of Patrick. It contains
one hundred and sixty-eight lines; starting with an address to the
Lord’s Day, it proceeds to give an abstract of the life of Christ. A
comparison made between the beginning of the physical and that of the
spiritual creation, is worked out in somewhat original fashion. In
the following verses the Lord and His Own Day are contrasted as the
first-born children of light:


          PRECAMUR PATREM.

      We worship Thee, Almighty King:
      To God the Father praise we bring;
      To Jesus, Saviour of the lost;
      And to the Blessed Holy Ghost.

      Thou art, O God, our life and might;
      The source of all the worlds of light,
      Which on the brows of heaven lie,
      And make resplendent earth and sky.

      Of old this day was earth’s first-born;
      It shone from heaven a holy morn:
      Even so the Word, Eternal Light,
      The Father gave this world of night.

      That day the chaos dark destroyed;
      Dispelling night into the void:
      So Victor o’er the foe did He
      This world from death’s fierce fetters free.

      Upon the deep thick darkness lay
      Before the dawning of that day;
      So ignorance the heart enwound
      Till Jesus shed His light around.

A remarkable composition, probably belonging to the same period, and
intended to be used on the birthdays of the martyrs has, like a few
others, the refrain “Alleluia” introduced after every verse. The term
“birthday” does not bear here its ordinary meaning, but birth by
temporal death into a higher life. This hymn is regarded as one of
the best productions of the Latino-Celtic muse:


          SACRATISSIMI MARTYRES.

      Martyrs of the God Most High,
      Who for Christ did bravely die;
      Leaders on the heavenly road;
      Victors, sing with saints to God,—
                                  Alleluia!

      Christ exalted! Cherubim
      Render homage unto Him,
      On the Father’s throne on high,
      While the saints with martyrs cry,—
                                  Alleluia!

      Glorious One! The first to bear
      Shame upon the Cross, our share;
      In thy triumph blessings came;
      Now the martyr saints proclaim,—
                                  Alleluia!

      The Apostles, strong in faith,
      Suffered on the Cross to death;
      Shielded now, and saved by grace,
      Chant within Thy holy place,—
                                  Alleluia!

      Christ! the Helper of the saints,
      Heard their weary hearts’ complaints;
      Now these martyrs praises bring
      And rehearse before their King,—
                                  Alleluia!

      Praised, O Lord, Thy power be,
      Which obtains the victory;
      Crushes Satan by the way
      While the saints with martyrs say,—
                                  Alleluia!

      God’s strong hand will be their shield;
      With His grace their hearts are steeled
      To resist the enemy’s ways,
      While with saints they ever raise,—
                                  Alleluia!

      Heirs with Christ! Their crowns behold!
      Filled with fruit a hundred-fold;
      Pains are past; they now rejoice,
      Uttering in thankful voice,—
                                    Alleluia!

      Let us humbly pray for grace,
      Till we see the Father’s face
      In Jerusalem on high
      Where we raise with saints the cry,—
                                    Alleluia!

Another very ancient hymn is the “Spiritus Divinae,” which is one of
the matins used for the Lord’s Day:


          SPIRITUS DIVINAE.

      O glorious Spirit of the Light Divine;
              Come, favour me;
      Thou, God of Truth, in Israel once didst shine;
              Lord, look on me;
      Thou, Saviour, Son, and Light of Light, I know:
      Shed forth Thy living lustre on my woe.

      Thy Spirit is one substance with the Son,
              Lord, look on me;
      Thou, Christ, the only first-begotten One,
              Wilt look on me;
      I have redemption from my sin in Thee:
      I seek Thy pardoning aid—Lord, look on me.

      Born of the Virgin that poor men might live;
              Lord, look on me;
      The rights of sonship, Thou alone canst give;
              Lord, look on me;
      Joint-heir with Thee, Creator of all things:
      God-Jesus, everlasting King of Kings.

      King of the everlasting ages, Light of God,
              Illumine me;
      Out of thy boundless fitness shed abroad
              Thy love in me;
      Father, and Son, and Spirit, One in Three,
      In power and substance One, Lord look on me.

The hymn “Sancti Venite” was intended for communion service. Dr
Neale has rendered it into English. A legend relates how Patrick and
his nephew Sechnall heard a company of angels once rehearsing it;
and declares, “So that from that time to the present, that hymn is
chanted in Eirinn when the body of Christ is received”:—


          SANCTI VENITE.

      Take the blessed Bread and Wine,
      Emblems of that Life Divine,
      That for sin has been out-poured,
      By our sacrificing Lord:
      Blessed Jesus crucified,
      Life flows from Thy bleeding side.

      He renews us by his grace:
      Let us give to God the praise:
      He has died the lost to save,
      Risen Victor o’er the grave:
      Giver of salvation He;
      Let His Cross our burden be.

      He, the Father’s suffering Son,
      Priest and Victim all in one,
      Has become the Lamb of God
      To remove our guilty load:
      Saviour, Giver of all light;
      He will lead by day and night.

      With pure minds let us draw near,
      And discern the Shepherd here;
      For the hungry, bread He brings,
      Water from the living springs;
      In our hearts He lives enshrined
      Lord and Judge of all mankind.

The Spirit of Gildas, the Welsh monk, who was born in 520, and who
pronounced bitter jeremiads on the princes of his own race and
time, is clearly traceable in the next hymn, of whose prologue
a translation is given. He is one of the Romish corrupters of
the native Church. His “Suffragare” is one of the “Loricae”
breast-plates, used to protect those who rehearsed them against evil:—


          SUFFRAGARE.

              O Unity in Trinity!
                Help, for in Thee I live,
              O Trinity in Unity!
                My sins forgive:
      Exposed, I need Thy help and sympathy,
      Like one in peril of the mighty sea!

        Thou wilt preserve me by Thy power
          From all my raging foes;
        Thy heavenly host in danger’s hour,
          Before me goes;
      Cherubic and seraphic ranks in might,
      Far scattering the forces of my night.

          I see the Patriarchs of eld,
            The Prophets bold and strong;
          Apostles who the Lord beheld,
            The Martyrs’ throng;
      All faithful witnesses, who hence have gone;
      I gaze, and pause afresh to reach the throne.

              O Unity in Trinity!
                In mercy grant Thine aid;
              O Trinity in Unity!
                I seek thy shade,
      Where Christ has made a covenant sure with me;
      Oh, fearless, there let me abide with Thee!

There is a hymn by another author of Welsh extraction, St. Mugint,
in the “Leabhar imuin,” beginning with the words “Parce dne.” The
“Altus” of Columba, who arrived in Scotland from Ireland in 563, is
a production of considerable length and much merit, in the A B C
Darian style. It takes cognisance of the whole sphere of sacred and
Scriptural truths, somewhat in the fashion of the compositions of the
Brytho-Saxon Caedmon, and has been regarded as a highly effective
“Lorica”:—


          ALTUS PROSATOR.

      Great Father of all, the Almighty, we praise,
      The One-unbegotten, the Ancient of Days,
      Eternally first, and eternally last!
      With Thee there remains neither future nor past.

      With Thee co-eternal in glory and might,
      Reigns Christ on the throne in the regions of light,
      Thine Only-begotten, the Son of Thy love,
      And there, too, the Spirit, the heavenly Dove.

      Bright myriads of angels a ministrant throng,
      Ring praises unceasing, rejoicing in song,
      Where crowns are cast down at Immanuel’s feet,
      And anthems eternal the elders repeat.

      The judgements of heaven shall be scattered abroad
      On all who deny that our Saviour is God;
      But we shall be raised up with Jesus on high,
      To where the new mansions all glorious lie.

There is a Gaelic hymn attributed to Columba, which illustrates the
manner and occasions of using these “Loricae”—in Gaelic _lurech_. Its
superscription runs thus: “Colum cilli cecinit, while passing alone;
and it will be a protection to the person who will repeat it going
on a journey.” The author in the first verse represents himself as
lonely on the hillside, and addressing the royal “Sun.” M’oenuran dam
is in sliabh, &c.:—

     “Alone am I in the mountain,
      O Royal Sun of prosperous path;
      Nothing is to be feared by me,
      Not if I were _attended by_ sixty-hundred.”

The _rig-grian_—Sun-king, is applied to the Creator.

The third Latin hymn ascribed to Columba, and beginning with the
words “Noli Pater” is also a “Lorica.” It is connected with the
lighting of fires on St. John’s Eve. In some prefatory remarks, its
virtues are thus described:—“It is sung against every fire and every
thunderstorm, and whosoever sings it at bedtime and at rising, it
protects him against lightning.”


          NOLI PATER.

      Father, restrain Thy thunder,
      Thy lightning from our frame,
      Lest in our trembling wonder
      They smite us with their flame!
      Thou Awful One! we fear Thee,
      For there is none like Thee;
      In thy dread steps we hear Thee;
      And to Thy shelter flee.

      To Thee awake loud praises,
      One universal song
      The great creation raises,
      Sung by the angel throng:
      Our Jesus, King most loving!
      The lofty heavens extol:
      We see Thee grandly moving
      Where flashing lightnings roll.

      O King of kings! Thou reignest
      In righteousness and love;
      And righteous rule maintainest
      From Thy pure throne above.
      God’s love—a blessed fuel—
      Burns in my heart a flame;
      Like to a golden jewel
      Preserved in silver flame.

Much is made of the elements in this composition. In the Gaelic one
already referred to, Columba guards in the last verses against any
tendency to Pantheism that might be connected with his expressions.
He declares:—

     “I adore not the voice of birds,
      Nor the _sreod_, nor a destiny, or the earthly world,
      Nor a son, nor chance, nor woman;
      My Druid is Christ, the Son of God,—
      Christ, the Son of Mary, the Great Abbot,
      The Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.
      My estates are with the King of kings;
      My order is at Cenannus and Moen.”

_Cenannus_ is now Headfort in Meath, where Columba erected a
monastery. _Moen_ is now Moon, in Kildare.

The renderings of hymns given in the preceding paragraphs will convey
some idea of the hymnology of the Gaelic Church. The singing of these
Latin compositions awoke echoes for ages along the glens of Gaelic
Scotland as well as in the forests of Germany; among the Swiss and
Italian Alps, as well as along the sweet hills of Devon and Cornwall.
They indicate a practical literary activity which served well its
generation; and frequently helped to soothe the relentless spirit of
revenge of the Pagan nations of the period.

The primitive Free Church of the Gaels of Britain was an important
branch of this powerful missionary Church of the Celts. Its
operations and results were largely obscured by successors on the
same fields who departed from its methods of work; but recent efforts
of impartial investigators, have helped to assign it its proper
place in the ancient Christianization of Western Europe. It does not
lie within the scope of this work to discuss the character of the
organization of this Church of the Gaels. Indeed the question has
been already so thoroughly investigated by competent pens that it
would be perfectly superfluous to attempt it. To the literary student
this period of church history is chiefly interesting on account of
the fact that it is through the hands of these devoted workers of
those ages that the first fruits of written literature have been
handed down to us. These men being our earliest literary artists, we
naturally turn with perennial interest to the Christian organizations
which some had founded, and in which others were bred.

A small production, some three quarto pages in prose, gives us a
picture of a holy brother who might be expected to cultivate the
virtues of the Gospel in solitude rather than in the circle of
the active community. It is called the “Rule of Calumcille;” and
has been found in the Burgundian Library of Brussells. The Rule
recommends residence close to a church; a fast place with one door;
the company of one attendant only, whose duties must be light; and
access to be granted only to those whose converse will be of God
and His Testament. The time is to be spent in prayers for those
taught and for those dying in the faith. The day is to be divided
into three parts, one for prayers, for good works, and for reading
respectfully. The work is to be divided into three parts; the first
for his own benefit in doing what is needed for his own habitation;
the second for the good of the brethren; and the third for that of
the neighbours. The work of benefiting his neighbours to consist in
giving precepts, writing manuscripts, sewing clothes, or any other
profitable industry. The great end to be obtained is that there “be
no idleness;” “ut Deus ait: non apparebis ante me vacuus.”

This sentiment of “no idleness” is highly creditable to the ancient
Gaelic Christian communities; and if we combine with it another found
in one of the lives of Columba,—

     “He drank not ale; he loved not satiety:
      He avoided flesh;”

we make a clean discovery which absolutely refutes the unneighbourly
charges of more southern brethren in our own time which associate
Celts, whisky, and idleness too closely and unfairly together.
Our early Highland teachers inculcated industry and sobriety; the
dangerous powers of whisky were unknown to them; and even the lighter
inspirations of ale they eschewed until their own primitive virtues
were undermined by contact with the beer-drinking Pagan Norse on
the one hand, and in later times with the fiercer spirits which
were imported from Teutonic fens on the other. Such are the strange
reversals of popular opinions which accurate study of the facts of
history unfolds. The alleged idleness of the Gael of the present
day, does not appear thus to have any essential connection with the
original sin of the race; the development of the quality appears to
have taken place in contact with a more sluggish and a less lively
people.

In his great work on “English Writers,” Professor Henry Morley
writes:—“When darkness gathered over all the rest of western Europe,
the churches and monasteries of the British island, first among the
Celts and afterwards among the English, supplied, says the Danish
scholar [Professor Sophus Bugge], in and after the seventh century,
the only shelter and home to the higher studies. The British clergy
travelled far in search of books, until in the time of Charlemagne it
was from the Church in Britain that the clearest light shone through
the western world.” The devotional spirit by which these men were
animated, will be fairly illustrated by the renderings of their Latin
Hymns contained in this chapter.

It is freely acknowledged that the ancient Free Church of the Scots,
even in its golden age, held and practised peculiar tenets which in
course of time developed undesirable and even unscriptural fruit.
On the other hand, it must be allowed that it adhered for a long
period to the main doctrines of evangelical Christianity. From the
hymns which we have been considering, and from Patrick’s “Epistle of
Coroticus,” and his “Confession,” in which we have something of the
nature of a creed or a confession of faith, as well as from other
sources, we gather a fair representation of the chief dogmas of its
faith. It held and taught the chief doctrines of the Trinity, of the
incarnation, death, resurrection, and ascension of Christ, and of His
coming again at the last day to judge all men; and likewise of the
outpouring of the Holy Spirit to make us sons of God, and heirs of
immortality. It held, moreover, the Holy Scriptures to be the Word
of God, and used them freely and exclusively as the authority by
which all statements of doctrine are to be proved and confirmed. At
the same time the doctrine of human merit, purgatory, saint-worship,
transubstantiation, papal infallibility, and other distinctive tenets
of modern Romanism, find no recognition. While, as we are told by
St. Bernard, its followers “rejected auricular confession as well as
authoritative absolution, and confessed to God alone, believing God
alone could forgive sins,” they would neither give to the Church of
Rome the tenths, nor the first-fruits, which of course rendered them
“schismatics and heretics” at Rome. Marriage was regarded as a civil
rite, and was performed by the magistracy.

The purity of doctrine and generally healthy influence cultivated and
exercised by the ancient Celtic Church, are shown in a remarkable
manner in the products of Celtic art, which attained to its highest
development in the tenth, eleventh, and twelfth centuries. The
remains of this school of ancient sculpture, if collected into one
national museum, would form an exhibition of native art such as,
according to Mr Joseph Anderson, the Rhind lecturer, no northern
nation can boast of. Respecting these sculptured stones, memorials
that are not unworthy of our valiant Christian ancestors, Burton,
in an interesting chapter, remarks: “It deserves to be commemorated
that in the hundreds of specimens of native sculpture of this class
recently brought to light there is no single instance of indecency,
while in the scanty remains of Roman art within the same area it
would be easy to point out several.”

The character of the two races that blended into one through the
agency of this Church and outward political pressure is not unfairly
represented by Professor Rhys, when he says, touching first on the
Gael or ancient Scot: “One of the lessons of this chapter is that
the Goidel, where he owned a fairly fertile country, as in the
neighbourhood of the Tay, showed that he was not wanting in genius
for political organisation; and the history of the kingdom of
Scotland, as modelled by Kenneth mac Alpin and his descendants, warns
one not to give ear to the spirit of race-weighing and race-damning
criticism that jauntily discovers, in what it fancies the character
of a nation, the reasons why it has not achieved results not fairly
placed within its reach by the accidents either of geography or
history.” The other ancient race of Albin was neither Celtic nor
Aryan in its origin. It has been generally known as Pictish, and
constitutes the backbone of the Scottish nation. Mr Rhys calls it
_Ivernian_. The following sentences state a fact and describe a
process: “The trouble the non-Celtic Picts were able to give the
Romans and the Romanising Brythons has often been dilated upon
by historians, who have seldom dwelt on the much more remarkable
fact, that a power, with its head-quarters in the neighbourhood of
the Ness, had been so organised as to make itself obeyed from the
Orkneys to the Mull of Cantyre, and from Skye to the mouth of the
Tay, so early as the middle of the sixth century. It is important
to bear this in mind in connection with the question as to how far
the earlier Celtic invaders of this country may have mixed with the
ancient inhabitants; since it clearly shows that there was no such a
gulf between them as would make it impossible or even difficult for
them to amalgamate; and it may readily be supposed that the Goidelic
race has been greatly modified in its character by its absorption
of this ancient people of the Atlantic seaboard.” The Latin hymns
considered here are the remains of the devotional literature of these
two races, and bind the history and memories of modern Scotsmen to
the history and memories of a people among whom the fervid national
genius of Scotland was first fashioned.

[Illustration: (decorative end-of-chapter icon)]




CHAPTER V.

ANCIENT BALLADS.

     “Thoir an eachdraidh Mhaighstir Dòmhnull
      A tha chòmhnaidh ’n cois na tuinne;
      An ùrnuigh bha aig Oisein liath-ghlas
      Nach robh riamh ach ’na dhroch dhuine.”

  ENGLISH:

      _To Master Donald take the story;
      There he dwells beside the billow;
      The prayer said by Ossian hoary,
      Who was aye a worthless fellow._


It has been well remarked that each of the literatures of the two
branches of our Celtic population was chiefly the utterance of
feeling stirred by a great struggle for independence, and that each
has at the heart of it “a battle disastrous to the men whose wrestle
with an overmastering power is the chief theme of their bards.” The
Gaelic struggle and literature began earlier, and its great battle is
that of _Gabhra_, said to have been fought in 284 A.D. In the later
Celtic literature of the Cymri the memorable battle described is that
of Cattraeth, said to have been fought in 570 A.D.

While _Cath Gabhra_ is the chief theme of the Gaelic bards,
individual combats, adventures, and other battles are also rehearsed
in the early ballads.

Macpherson’s “Ossian” and Smith’s “Old Lays,” whose authenticity
has been so fiercely disputed, are excluded from consideration at
present. They will be afterwards examined under the dates of their
production. The number of lines in these works and other two poems
respectively is:—

  Macpherson’s Poems of Ossian         10,232 lines.
  Smith’s Old Lays                      5,335   ”
  Clark’s Mordubh                         758   ”
  MacCallum’s Collath                     504   ”
                                       ——————
                            Total      16,829   ”

Laying aside these 16,829 lines of suspected poetry, there is still
the 54,000 lines of ancient poems of unquestioned genuineness in
Campbell’s “Leabhar na Féinne,” enough surely to sustain the literary
character and genius of our early ancestors.

The ballads which we are now to consider are all genuine and old, and
may be found in manuscripts written ages before Macpherson was born.

The Ossianic or Heroic Ballads will be found in the following
publications:—The Dean of Lismore’s Book (1512, published 1862);
Hill’s (1780); MacArthur’s (1784); Young’s (1784); Gillies’s (1786);
Stewart’s (1804); Highland Society’s Report (1805); Turner’s (1813);
Grant’s (1814); MacCallum’s (1816); Campbell’s great work (1872).
Some of the ballads contained in these books were printed from old
manuscripts; others were taken down during the last two or three
centuries from the oral recitation of old men, living in all parts of
the Highlands.

These collections represent a good deal of industry and literary
activity, which reflect very creditably on men who had not the
stimulus of a vast reading public to work upon their minds.


THE GENUINE GAELIC BALLADS.

The place in time occupied by these compositions is one of
considerable length—it extends at least as far back as the third
century of our era. It is very interesting to note that this body of
oral popular literature has been loved, preserved, and rehearsed by
the Gaelic clans of Albin for at least a thousand years; for a much
longer period, indeed, if we rely on fairly credible tradition.

The inter-tribal struggles described in these ballads—the patriotic
resistance against the Norse attempts to obtain the supremacy, mixed
up as they are with the encroachments of Christianity within the
realms of heathenism—took place mainly within the Albinic area. The
geographical limits of this area in those early times were very vague
and shifting. In a general way they may be said to have embraced the
Western Islands, the North-west, and part of the central Highlands,
as well as the Isle of Man and Ireland. Over all these regions we
watch in these ballads the shadowy movements of our brave ancestors.
We hear the faint echoes of their names, and the fame of their deeds,
the war-cries and voices of their almost semi-mythic heroes.

We regard the tribes whose deeds are celebrated in these productions
under two classes—those of the Cruithne or Albinic race and those
who have become known as the Scottish Iro-Gaelic race. At that period
there were Cruithne or Picts in Erin as well as in Albin.

Previous to the arrival of Patrick in Ireland and to that of Columba
in the Highlands, there is strictly speaking no chronological history
of either country. Of the earlier movements of the clans and their
battles we have no authentic account. But there are traditions with
a highly probable basis of truth sufficient for the purposes of the
present Ossianic discussion. Two or three of the central facts of the
Finian period, as related in a preceding section, are as follows:—

Finn MacCumhaill lived in the reign of Cormac MacArt who ruled from
A.D. 227 to 266, and whose daughter Gràinne he married. Goll MacMorni
was a contemporary. Finn was slain in 283, but the bards bring him
somehow alive next year to pronounce a eulogy on his grandson,
Oscar, who fell in the battle of Gabhra. Ossian and Caoilte lived
for a hundred and fifty years longer; and the blind old heathen
bard relates the heroic achievements of his departed fellow-heroes
to St. Patrick who arrives in Ireland about 432. Chronology did not
trouble the old ballad-makers of Albin and Erin. Such an anachronism
as brings Ossian of the third, into conjunction with Patrick of the
fifth century, did not disturb their heroic muse.

Ireland claimed this Ossian as her own, and her learned doctors
declared that Macpherson stole his poems from their country. Two or
three words will be sufficient to dispose of all this: 1. Macpherson
never was in Ireland; and never kept up any correspondence with
Irishmen. 2. The Ossianic poems published by the Dublin Gaelic
Society and the Ossianic Society were all collected and made known
subsequent to the publication of Macpherson’s Ossian. 3. It is
admitted by the late Eugene O’Curry, one of the highest authorities,
that prior to the 15th century there existed in Ireland only
_eleven_ Ossianic poems, which are extremely short, and which will
be found in the Book of Leinster, compiled in the 13th, and in the
Book of Lecan in the 15th century. Of these, seven are ascribed to
Finn himself, two to Ossian, one to Fergus, and one to Caoilte.
This clearly disposes of Ireland’s claim to possess anything like
Macpherson’s work. Indeed it has been given up by some who advanced
it, while at the same time these writers and others laboured to
manufacture and publish poems _a la_ Macpherson; but to the great
chagrin of these learned sons of Erin the public will not assign them
the same distinction and appreciation, which have been accorded to
Macpherson’s productions.

Let us now glance at the genuine, and indisputably ancient Ossianic
ballads preserved in Scotland: 1. We have the tragic tale of
_Deirdri_ in the Glenmasan MS., bearing the date of 1238, now in the
Advocate’s Library. 2. There is a MS. of the 15th century, containing
a glossary and a poem of five quatrains, attributed to Ossian. A text
the same as this poem is in the Book of Leinster of the 13th century.
3. There is the Book of the Dean of Lismore, compiled between 1512-20
A.D. This book contains 28 Ossianic poems, nine of which are directly
attributed to Ossian, two to Fergus, one to Caoilte; two to Allan
MacRuairi, and one to GillieCallum Mac an Olla,—these two last bards
being hitherto unknown; and there are eleven anonymous ones, which
in style and subject belong to the Féinne. These twenty-eight poems
extend to 2500 lines, or one-fourth of all Macpherson’s Gaelic poems.
The rest of the extant heroic poetry has been collected in the
Highlands and Islands, chiefly within the last 150 years; and in the
main consists of versions of the same productions that we have in the
Book of the Dean of Lismore. They are genuine Highland compositions
of an ancient character, and some of them are instructive as showing
how far oral transmission during the last 400 years has affected
their style and language.

We thus find that the work begun by Sir James Macgregor upwards
of 400 years ago, has been taken up at intervals by others since
his time. Towards the end of the last, and the beginning of the
present century the principal collectors of these ballads appeared.
Old men in all parts of the Highlands and Isles, famous for their
mnemonic and reciting powers were sought out by educated natives and
strangers, and their versions of the old ballads taken down. The last
and the greatest of the ballad and tale-collectors was Mr Campbell,
who in 1859-60 traversed the whole Gaelic area; and assisted by
intelligent Highlanders formed large collections, of which he has
given a considerable quantity to the world, in his four volumes of
tales. All these are genuine productions of the Gaelic popular mind.
No stigma or suspicion attaches to them. Some of them are at least as
ancient as the time of Dean Macgregor—400 years ago; and they were
regarded as ancient then. In character and spirit they resemble—are
in many cases only Scottish versions of—the kindred literature of the
Gael of Ireland; and possess much definite value to the student of
social life and the philologist.

Although many of those heroic compositions have been probably lost
and others marred in their oral transmission, yet enough remains to
interest the literary student and the historic antiquary. Upwards of
54,000 lines have been preserved, and are accessible in that truly
excellent and scientifically arranged work _Leabhar na Féinne_. In
this body of literature we have indubitable proof of the existence of
a large mass of popular literature among the ancient Gaels, who it is
evident must have developed considerable taste for ballad, song, and
story.

It is hard to assign any date to the composition of these ballads.
They may have been composed centuries before they were committed to
writing. We have fragments such as the Glen-mason MS. which were
written as early as the 12th century, scarcely anything earlier.
These are written in the hand and language common to the learned in
both Albin and Erin at the time. The book of the Dean of Lismore,
however, is written phonetically to represent the spoken language
of his day, and is mainly in the Perthshire dialect. The various
collections of ballads made between 400 and 70 years ago exhibit
different styles of writing, and the unsettled modes of orthography
prevalent at the time.

The poetic form of these productions is generally that of the
quatrain. Some pieces do not exceed a few stanzas in length, others
extend to 80 or 100 quatrains or to between 300 or 400 lines. Many
archaic expressions are to be met with; but on the whole when
presented in modern orthography they are understood by an ordinary
Highlander. Not a few of these phrases, though not generally
understood, have been preserved and transmitted even in the oral
versions taken down within the last 100 years.

Some of the most ancient ballads relate to Cuchulin and his deeds of
deathly valour; others tell the tragic tale of Deirdri; others relate
to the Norse wars; and not the least romantic describe the fierce
combats and heroic conflicts in which the brave heroes of the Féinne
indulged on the shores and plains of Albin and Erin. On many a field
of fame, east and west, had the banners of the Finian heroes gleamed
and gained renown; but with all their victories they always fell as
they went forth to the battle, until they all faded and disappeared
“like sungleam in wintry weather.”


THE COCHULIN BALLADS.

Taken in chronological order, the Cochulin ballads come up first for
consideration. Much credit is due to Mr Campbell for his attempt at a
chronological classification of these productions, a very difficult
matter, considering the vagueness, historically, of everything
connected with the heroic period. As far as dates of composition are
concerned, all that can be safely affirmed is that these ballads were
composed between the Christian era and the thirteenth century, some
of them undoubtedly belonging to the earlier, and some of them to
the later centuries of that period. Copies of many of them were made
by Sir James Macgregor, Dean of Lismore, between 1512-26. Then they
were regarded as very ancient. Those relating to Cochulin and to his
son Conlach are:—_Cochulin and Evir_; _Cochulin’s Sword_; _Cochulin’s
Car_; _Garbh Mac Stairn_; _Conlach’s Death_; _The Heads_. According
to ancient annals Cochulin lived in the first century. _Connal
Cearnach Mac Edirskeol_ is the author of the last-mentioned ballad,
_The Heads_, and the most ancient of all the Heroic poets. Cochulin
was his foster-son; and when he was slain Connal revenged himself
on his enemies by putting them all to death. In the ballad, Evir,
the wife or betrothed of Cochulin, is told the names of those put to
death, whose heads he carried on a withe. There is a heroine of Dun
sgathaich, Skye, called Aoife, who also is mixed up with Cochulin’s
story. The length of the ballad is 96 lines. The following is a
literal translation of the first six stanzas:—

      Connal, these heads are little worth,
        Though in their blood thine arms did’st soil;
      These heads thou hast upon the withe
        Tell me their owners, now thy spoil.

      Daughter of Orgill of the steeds,
        Evir, whose words sweet feelings waken,
      ’Twas to avenge Cochulin’s death
        That I these many heads have taken.

      Whose is that nearest thy left arm,—
        That mighty, hairy, dusky head,—
      That head whose colour has not changed,
        With cheeks than any rose more red?

      The king of fleet steeds owned that head,
        Said Cairbar’s son, keen lance in war;
      ’Twas to avenge my foster-son
        I took that head and bore it far.

      Whose is that head I see beyond
        Inwrapt with soft and flowing hair,
      His eye like glass, his teeth like bloom,
        With beauty that is peerless there?

      Manadh, the one that owned the steeds,
        The son of Aoife—pirate true;
      I left his trunk without its head,
        His people every one I slew.


THE DEIRDRI BALLADS.

The next class is that of the _Deirdri Ballads_. The story of
_Deirdri_ and _Clan Uisneach_, or the three brothers, Naos, Ainle,
and Ardan, sons of Uisneach, is very affecting and tragic. Mr
Campbell says:—“The story of Deirdre is related to Indian Epics, and
is an Aryan romance which pervades the whole world. A beautiful girl,
shut up to baulk a prophecy, is beloved by an old King. She runs away
with a family of brothers, and after adventures of many kinds, the
story ends in a tragedy.” Connachar, King of Ireland, whose reign is
placed about the middle of the first century, was preparing to marry
the beautiful princess, Deirdri, when she ran away with the three
sons of his sister, Naos, Ainle, and Ardan. They went to Scotland,
where they were well received. The names of places in the ballads
indicate that it was in Argyllshire they settled. While the brothers
were away on some expedition, to Lochlin, it is supposed, Deirdri
was left in charge of a “black-haired lad,” it is said, in an islet
north of Jura till they would return. The “lad” began to make love to
Deirdri in their absence, but they came back opportunely to save her.
By this time Connacher sent them a message of peace from Ireland; and
believing that the once wrathful monarch was sincere they returned
to Ireland. But they were at once met with the hostile forces of
the King; and after a fierce struggle the King slew his nephews.
When Deirdri saw her beloved Naos and his brothers fall, she rushed
forward, bewailing them, and died upon their bodies. There are six
or seven versions of this story, the oldest being in the MS. dated
1208, in the Advocates’ Library. It was written at Glenmasan, in
Cowal. The versions vary in length. The longest contains upwards of
400 lines. The ballad is sometimes divided into several parts, and
some collectors give only one or two parts. It is the part in which
Deirdri laments her departure from Scotland that is here translated.
This and the Book of Deer are the earliest specimens that we possess
of written Gaelic in Scotland.

The glens and other places mentioned in the following farewell of
Deirdri are readily identified. The large number of proper names
occurring in the piece renders it difficult to give anything more
than a very stiff translation, which is almost absolutely literal:—

  “Do dech Deardir ar a hèise ar crichibh Alban, agus ro chan an
  Laoidh”:—(_Deirdri looked back on the land of Albin, and sang this
  Lay._)

      Beloved land, that eastern land!
      Alba with waters wide:
      With Naos in those happy glens
      I wish I could abide!

      Beloved Dunfigha and Dunfin;
      The Dun above them seen;
      Beloved is Inis-Draighnde;
      Beloved is fair Dun Sween.

      Coille-Chuan! O Coille-Chuan!
      Where Ainle comes no more!
      Too short, I ween, was there my stay
      With Naos on Albin’s shore.

      Glen-Laye! O Glen-Laye!
      Oft by its stream I lay;
      Fish, flesh and fat of badger
      My repast in sweet Glen-Laye.

      Glen-Masan! O Glen-Masan!
      Where fairest boughs are seen;
      Lonely was my place of rest
      By Inver-Masan green.

      Glen-Eitive! O Glen-Eitive!
      There my first home was raised;
      Beautiful were its woods in morn
      When there the sun had blazed.

      Glen-Orchay! O Glen-Orchay!
      Straight vale of ridges smooth,
      Full joyful there round Naos
      Were the Glen-Orchay youth.

      Glen-Daruadh! O Glen-Daruadh!
      I love its men—I love it!
      Sweet are the cuckoos on the boughs
      On the grey hills above it.

      Beloved is Drayen—its sounding shore;
      Beloved is Avich of pure sand;
      Oh, that I might not leave the east,—
      Beloved and happy land.

On this tale, and on its connection with Scottish topography, Dr
MacLauchlan says:—“This is one of the most touching in the catalogue
of Celtic tales, and it is interesting to observe the influence it
exerted over the Celtic mind by its effect upon the topographical
nomenclature of the country. There are several Dun Deirdres to
be found still. One is prominent on the vale of the Nevis, near
Fort-William, and another occupies the summit of a magnificent rock
overhanging Loch Ness, in Stratherrick.” _Ness_, the name of the
loch, is thought to be from Naos. Dr Skene remarks—“Adomnan, in
his life of St. Columba, written in the seventh century, appears
to mention only three localities in connection with St. Columba’s
journey to the palace of the King of the Picts, near Lochness, and
these are Cainle (Ainle), Arcardan (Ardan), and the flumen Nesae
(Naise). Two vitrified forts in the neighbourhood of Lochness
are called Dun-_Dearduil_.” The same authority also observes
that “the ancient legends of Cochulin and the sons of Uisneach
connect them with those remarkable structures termed vitrified
forts.” Dun-Sgathaig and Dun-mhic-Uisneachan are vitrified like
Dun-dhearduil. It is suggested that a mythic meaning underlies this
topography and story.


THE FINIAN BALLADS.

A class of ballads which is wholly taken up with the Finian heroes
proper—with their intercourse and doings among themselves—may be
described as _Finnic_ ballads. Finn is the central hero; and the
other Finian characters are his attendant satellites.

There was more than one class of heroes known as Féinn, or Fianna:—

  1. Féinn of Albin: Albin was north of the firths of the Forth and
  Clyde.

  2. Féinn of Erin: The same class of heroes in Ireland.

  3. Féinn of Breatan: Breatan was the southern districts of
  Scotland, Dunbreatan, or Dumbarton, being the principal seat.

  4. Féinn of Lochlin: These according to Tacitus, dwelt on the right
  shore of the Suevic Sea, or the Baltic, and were called the Aestii.

There are some evidences which indicate that the last also were a
Celtic people, who spoke a Celtic language. The inhabitants of this
district now form part of the Kingdom of Prussia.

It is the Féinn of Albin and of Erin that the heroic lays generally
celebrate. Trenmor, the fifth from Baoisgne, from whom Finn and his
followers were called Clanna Baoisgne, was general of the Féinn;
Cumhal, his son, was the father of Finn. Oisein, Fergus, Raoidhne, or
Rayne, and Cairol were the sons of Finn. Oscar, the son of Oisein,
was his grandson; and Diarmad was his nephew, who eloped with his
queen, Gràine, daughter of Cormac Mac Art, King of Ireland, A.D. 227.
Caoilte, or Cailt, was a relative; and Goll, or Gaul, Conan, and
Garaidh were chiefs of the Clann Morna. But the heroes, one after
another, soon disappeared. The theme of several of the principal
ballads is the deaths of Oscar, Diarmad, Gaul, &c., and lastly, of
Ossian himself, who was left alone of all that noble band of heathen
heroes. In his last days the blind old bard came in contact with some
Christian Patrick, and dialogues of their discussions were for ages
repeated in Highland ballads. The following ballad, entitled the
“Sweetest Sound,” is a specimen of the less martial kind:—

      Once when the kindly feast was spread
        On Almhin’s golden slope,
      The bards they sang of bliss and woe,
        Despair, and love, and hope.

      And heroes, as they drained the bowl,
        With joy or sadness heard;
      For those good harpers as they pleased
        Men’s rising feelings stirred.

      Lord of the feast there Fingal sat—
        His fair hair touched with grey—
      Near his first son, the warrior bard,
        Strong as the noon of day.

      The good MacLuy there conversed
        With Oscar, young and bright,
      And bald head Conan, rash and bold,
        Who never shunned the fight.

      And Diarmad there sat, beautiful,
        And rolled his eye of blue,
      When Fingal spoke, and all the board
        His regal question knew.

     “Come, tell me now, my chieftains good,
        At Fingal’s feast who be,
      What sounds are they that form for each
        The sweetest harmony?

     “What are the notes that charm you most,
        And send your cares to flight—
      What sound most charms your inmost core,
        And thrills you with delight?”

      The Conan—the rash Conan spoke—
        Of all that company
      The first to speak, the first to fight—
        The last to think was he.

     “The rattling dice I love the most,
        When the play is running high;
      And my coming chances strain my ear,
        And almost blind my eye.”

     “When heroes rush together,
        When battle wakes around,
      With clash, and clang, and crushing blows,
        I hear my sweetest sound.”

      So Oscar spoke.—Thus Diarmad said,
        “When in my secret ear
      Sweet woman whispers love for me,
        My best loved sound I hear.”

     “When first I catch my good hounds’ cry,
        Where the proud stag stamps the ground,
      And stands at bay,” MacLuy said,
        “I hear my sweetest sound.”

      Then Fingal said, “My music is
        The banner’s fluttering fold,
      When winds blow free, and the brave I see
        Beneath its streaming gold.”

      Alas! alas! my sweetest sound
        Was once in Fingall’s hall;
      To hear bards sing and heroes speak,
        And now they’ve perished all!

The above has been translated by Pattison, and I use his rendering.
It gives us a good picture of a social gathering of the Finian
heroes. The bowl goes round, the harpers begin, and the warriors
deliver themselves successively on the objects which most moved
their hearts. Fingal sat there as lord of the feast, and directed
their intercourse. Conan, rash and thoughtless, but bold, loves
the rattling dice; Oscar loves the waking of battle, Diarmad the
whispering of woman’s love, MacLuy the hound in the chase. Fingal
himself delights in the banner fluttering over the brave in battle,
and Ossian, as usual, regretfully declares that his sweet sound was
once in the hall of Fingal, who now with his heroic followers have
all perished.

The titles of some of the other ballads are _Ossian’s Lament_,
_Cailte and the Giant_, &c. We have a special set in several
dialogues between Ossian and Patrick on the Féinn and their exploits,
and on the comparative merits of the Christian religion and the
stories of the Féinne. One of them is called _Oisein agus an
Cleireach_, or Ossian and the Cleric, in which we have a description
of a battle between the Finians and the Norse. The saint is very
agreeable in this poem, very unlike what he is in _Ossian’s Prayer_,
and concedes much to the bard, so much, indeed, that he is willing
to rear an altar, not to God, but to Finn! It is difficult to say
whether the ballad refers to a Manus, or Magnus, of the third or of
the twelfth century. Actually known historic facts favour the latter.
The length of the ballad varies; some of the versions are upwards of
two, some three hundred lines long.

I here translate the first few verses:—

    _Ossian._—O Cleric, that singest the psalms!
              Rude are thy thoughts I ween;
              Hearest thou a little my songs
              On the Féinn thou hast never seen?

    _Cleric._—’Tis thine to delight in the songs
              Of the Féinn whom thou didst see—
              Sounds of psalms on my lips are sweeter
              Than Finian rhymes to me.

         _O._—If thou darest liken thy psalms
              To the Finian arms blood-red,
              Cleric! I swear I would sever
              By blade from its trunk thy head.

         _C._—Great Bard! I compare them not;
              The lay of thy lips is sweet;
              Let us raise an altar to Finn,
              And render him praise complete.

         _O._—Kind Cleric! if thou wert south-west
              At the Fall of the soft-flowing stream
              Where it hastens to join the sea,
              The Féinn thou wouldest greatly esteem.

         _C._—Blessed be the soul of that hero!
              Who fought in his violent might—
              Mac-Cuhail, the chief of the host,
              Renowned in the field of fight.

         _O._—One day we were hunting for red-deer,
              And failing to meet with game,
              Ten thousand barks were seen,
              And towards the shore they came.

              We all stood there on the plain;
              Fins gathered on every side;
              Round the son of the daughter of Teig,
              Flocked full seven tribes in their pride.

              Their galleys they rushed ashore,—
              That host of the blades blood-red;
              They were many the tents of cloth
              That they reared above their head.

              They hastened along from the woods,
              And put on their armour bright,—
              The weapons on shoulders great
              As they moved from the shore for fight.

              To his heroes Mac-Cuhail spoke,—
              “These foes you have known before?
              You know how this cruel race
              Wakes warfare along our shore?”

              It was then that Conan replied,—
              “Who are these that came o’er the sea?
              Knowest thou who is chief, Finn of battles?
              The flower of Norse Kings is he!”

         _F._—“Who will go from the ranks of the Féinn
              To get word from the hostile host?
              My favour he’ll have if he brings
              Tidings sincere from the coast.”

              Then Conan made answer again—
              “Whom should’st thou send, O King,
              But Fergus, thy prudent son;
              Wise word, I ween, he’ll bring.”

              “Let my curse take thee, bald-headed Conan,”
              Said Fergus of gentlest face;
              “I will go, but ’tis not at thy voice,
              To get word from this Lochlin race.”

              Young Fergus, all armed, went off
              Those heroes to meet on the way;
              He mildly inquired, “What people
              Came over the sea that day?”

              Magnus, all bloody and fierce,
              Son of the red-shielded Bede,
              Was Chief King of Lochlin—well fitted
              Proud armies of men to lead.

              “What moved thee, thou cruel man,
              From the kingdom of Lochlin’s shore?
              Unless thou hast come our heroes
              To multiply more and more.”

              “I vow by thy hand, mild Fergus,
              Though brave be the Féinn of thy pride;
              We’ll make no terms with Finn without Bran,
              And his wife we will take from his side.”

              “Ere Bran thou shalt get our heroes
              Will try all thy strength in the strife,
              And Finn thou must meet in fierce combat
              Ere thou canst take captive his wife.”

Since the days of Eve and Helen women have been the cause of much
evil and strife; and many of the sore troubles of the Féinn arose
from the bewitching charms which their Gaelic maidens and mothers
possessed. The chief King of the Lochlins came to the shore of Albin
with “ten thousand barks”—the Northmen’s galleys must have been very
numerous in those times, our British navy of the present day would
be small in comparison—determined to possess himself of the dog and
wife of Finn, the Caledonian monarch. In these days this might seem
a small _casus belli_ indeed; but it must be remembered that the
dog Bran was a most remarkable one; the posthumous poetic honours
that have been paid to this canine worthy have far exceeded those
that Byron has given his favourite. As to the Caledonian Queen, the
elopement of Graine with Diarmad must not be forgotten; indeed, it
may help to explain the formidable descent of Magnus on the shores of
Albin. To put chivalrous heroes under _geasan_ was then a favourite
pastime among Gaelic ladies. And, being the weaker sex, it was
well that they should be invested with enchanting or supernatural
power that would somehow afford them protection in the midst of the
turbulent, ruthless forces by which they were surrounded in those
days. The battle and its results are described in thirty verses
more. The Norse invaders were worsted; Finn and Magnus met in single
combat; “stones and the heavy earth were wakening under the soles
of their feet.” At last the unfortunate Magnus was overcome. Though
unbecoming a king, he was bound hands and feet; but ultimately he
receives kind and chivalrous treatment from Finn; and he repents of
his conduct towards him, to whose mercy he said he would trust when
he heard the bald Conan—who was “ever drinking”—express a wish to be
allowed to sever his head from his body. The author—the ballad is
put into the mouth of Ossian of course—concludes with the declaration
that he and his father and Gaul performed the greatest feats that
day, though they are now “without strength,” compelled to listen to
psalm-singing clerics.

A particularly interesting poem—one of the many dialogues between
Ossian and Patrick—is called _Ossian’s Prayer_. I translate a few
verses of the beginning of Macnicol’s version, which will give an
idea of the piece. It is about 150 lines in length. The author makes
Ossian a thorough heathen, who prefers the glories of Finian deeds
and fame to all the Christian prospects that Patrick can unfold.

                    _Ossian._
              O Patrick of the reading
                To me a story tell;
              Say do the Féinn of Erin
                In Heaven high now dwell?

                    _Patrick._
              Let me tell thee truly, Ossian,
                To whom fame is given;
              That thy father, Gaul and Oscar,
                Can not be in Heaven.

         _O._ Sorry be the tale, O Patrick,
                Which thou art telling me;
              If Erin’s Féinn are not in Heaven
                Why should I Christian be?

         _P._ Grievous be thy story, Ossian,
                Fierce thy words have grown;
              What are all the Féinn of Erin
                To one hour with God alone?

         _O._ I would rather see one battle
                Waged by valiant Finn
              Than to see that Lord of heaven
                And thou cleric chaunting sin.

         _P._ Although the humming fly be small
                A mote beneath its wing
              Can not be hid unknown to Him
                Who reigns as mighty King.

         _O._ Think you that He was like Mac Cùil,
                The brave and mighty Finn?
              Into whose presence all on earth
                Could freely enter in?

         _P._ Ossian, long art thou in slumber;
                The psalms make thy delight,
              Since thou hast lost thy strength and fame,
                And ne’er again can fight.

         _O._ If I have lost my strength and fame,
                And nought of Finian worth remains,
              Thy cleric rank I slightly prize
                With all its gloomy strains.

Poor Ossian will not receive the new doctrine of the saint; and
his arguments with Patrick are not of a very edifying character.
The saint, in order to convey to the bard some conception of the
Creator’s omniscience, says that it would not be possible for the
smallest midge to enter heaven without His knowledge. But the bard
exclaims in reply, that that was very different from Finn, son of
Cuhal, in his hospitable hall. Thousands might enter, partake of
his cheer, and depart without notice. At last Patrick gets somewhat
impatient with his rather unsatisfactory pupil, and requests Ossian
to give up his elegiac strains over the departed glory of the Clan
Baoisgne, and relate the particulars of some hunt, battle, or
adventure. The old warrior-bard is nothing loth, and is consoled
for the moment by the recital of the deeds of his perished kinsmen,
the Fianna. As usual he ends with a wild burst of sorrow for having
survived them all.

“_Ossian and Evir-Alin_” has been a great favourite. In this ballad
we have the great poet’s wooing of the beautiful Evir described.
He sets out with twelve youths to ask the daughter of Branno “of
the silver beakers.” Hitherto the maiden refused the sons of kings
and nobles, and even the great gloomy chieftain Cormac, whom she
particularly disliked. After necessary preliminary questions the
ballad (in Pattison’s translation) proceeds:—

     “High is the place, O Ossian!
        Do men’s tongues to thee assign;
      If I twelve daughters had,” said Branno,
        “The best of them should be thine.”

      Then they opened the choice and spare chamber,
        That was shielded with down from the cold;
      The posts of its door were of polished bone,
        And the leaves were of good yellow gold.

      And as soon as the bright Evir-Alin
        Saw Ossian, great Fingal’s son,
      The love of her maiden youth
        By me, proud hero, was won.

      Then we left the dark lake of Lego
        And homeward took our way;
      But Cormac, fierce Cormac, waylaid us,
        Intent on the furious fray.

      Eight heroes had followed their Chieftain,
        And their men behind them stood;
      The hillside flamed with their armour,
        Their spears were raised like a wood.

      Eight came with Ossian the lofty,
        All equal to shield him in war.

Then the heroes met face to face, and the strife was fierce and long.
Ossian and Cormac at last met in personal combat with the following
result:

      Five times he dashed on my buckler;
        Five times I hurled him back,
      Ere I struck him down on the greensward,—
        Cormac in conflict not slack.

      I swept the head from his shoulders,
        And held it up in my hand;
      His troops they fled, and we came with joy
        To Fingal’s mountain land.

Oscar, the peerless son of Ossian, and the favourite grandson
of Finn, is one of the bravest and finest characters among the
Fingalians, and his early death greatly affected the hilarity of that
happy band of heroes and hunters. The following verses from Gillies’s
collection record, instructions and precepts which were inculcated by
his royal grandfather; (my own translation):—

     “Son of my son,” said the King,
      Oscar, thou young prince of might,
      When watching thy glittering blade, ’twas my pride
      To see thee triumph in the fight.
      Cleave thou fast to thy fathers’ fame,
      And keep unsoiled their honoured name.

      When Treunmor the prosperous lived,
      And Trahal, great warriors’ sire,
      They were victors on every field,
      Winning fame in the conflict dire.
      Their names shall flourish in story and verse,
      Which the bards hereafter shall rehearse.

      Oh! Oscar, spare not the armed hero,
      But the needy and feeble sustain;
      Like the spring-tide stream rushing in winter
      Attacking the foes of the Féinn;
      But gentle as summer’s breathing wind—
      To all that seek thy succour kind.

      Such was the victor Treunmor,
      And after him Trahal the brave;
      And Finn, too, befriended the weak
      From the power of the tyrant to save.
      I would meet him with welcome hand,
      And shield him beneath my brand.

These are indeed noble sentiments and precepts from a semi-barbarian
monarch such as Finn is supposed to have been. It may fairly be
questioned whether this is not one of the more recent productions.
One line, “’na aobhar shininn mo lamh”—_in his cause_, &c., reminds
us of Christian conceptions. Such a word as _aobhar_, cause, does
not, so far as I am aware, occur in the purely heathen poems.

The ballads on the deaths of Diarmad and of Oscar are among the
best, and have been great favourites with popular reciters. The _Lay
of Diarmad_ seems to have given names to many places in Scotland
and Ireland. The names of the heroes of the Féinn in general we
find embedded in the nomenclature of the soil, especially the name
of Finn, their great leader. This is evidence of the early era in
which they lived, as well as of the affection with which the people
cherished their memories. The death of Oscar is a very long ballad.
What follows is a free rendering of upwards of the first half:—

      The feast was over and the morn
        Shed round its brilliant blaze;
      The halls of Cairber gleamed afar
        Beneath the sheen of rays;

      The light within lit up the face
        Of heroes stout and tall,
      Who started early to their feet
        To leave that ancient hall.

      Brown Oscar from the Albin shore
        Was there among the rest—
      Of beauteous form and boldest eye
        He stood in might confessed.

     “But ere we part,” red Cairber said,
        In accents rude and strange,
     “Brown Oscar, come from Albin land,
        Our spear-shafts we exchange.”

     “Why so exchange,” young Oscar said,
        With calmly moving lips,
     “Thou red-haired Cairber, why exchange,
        Chief of the port of ships?”

     “Not much for me—not much for me,”
        The frowning Cairber said,
     “Though every warrior in your isles
        To me a tribute paid.”

     “Whatever, Cairber, thou shouldst ask
        Of gold or precious thing,
      All that without disgrace might be
        Asked by a manly King,

     “Were thine at once; but this exchange
        Of shafts without the heads,
      With ruthless scorn tears all the garb
        Of kindness into shreds.

     “Hadst thou not known, thou coward prince,
        That Fingal is not by,
      Thou hadst not dared to speak such words,—
        Less loud would be thy cry.”

     “Though Fingal and thy father both
        Were here, with sword in hand,
      I would have asked, and I should have,
        All that I now demand.”

     “If Fingal and my father both
        Were here, with sword in hand,
      Thou wouldst not, if they chose, retain
        One foot of Erin land.”

     “I make a vow,” quoth Cairber Red,
        “Away to drive the deer
      From Albin’s sea-girt hills, and bring
        The spoil to Erin here.”

     “I make a vow—a vow ’gainst that,”
        Quoth Oscar. “With this spear
      I’ll drive thee back from Albin’s hills
        To Erin mount and mere.”

      Then Cairber roared, “I make a vow;
        This spear of might possessed,
      Ere that, fair Oscar, thou shalt see,
        I’ll plant beneath thy breast.”

     “A vow! a vow!” cried Oscar fierce,
        “Ere that shall happen me,
      Red Cairber! in thy forehead proud
        This spear shall planted be!”

      Cold fear and rage alternately
        The other warriors shook,
      When they had heard the dreadful vows
        Both heroes undertook.

      They saw fierce gloom was gathering
        On Cairber’s knitted brows;
      They marked how like the breaking storm
        The wrath of Oscar rose.

      ’Twas then a bard upon his harp,
        Gentle as evening’s breath,
      Poured forth the numbers that presage
        A mighty hero’s death.

      Then Oscar seized with rage his arms,
        And cast a glance around,
      To see where stood his Albin chiefs—
        The few that there were found.

      Great was the host of Cairber there;
        But Oscar’s friends were few,
      Still they were brave and undismayed,
        And well their arms they knew.

      The strife began. We heard the shouts
        That came to us afar,
      And all the din of deadly clash
        From the dread scene of war.

      Then up we rose and hastened
        To join the widespread fight;
      Each joined the battle as he reached
        With furious delight.

      The bitter struggle lasted long,
        And many fell in death;
      Our smaller force still smaller grew
        On that dark fatal heath.

      Though Oscar’s sword—his friends oppressed—
        Was failing in its might,
      We saw him struggling fiercely on
        Amid the woful fight,
      Like a hawk darting on the birds
        That scattered in their flight!

      His course was like the rushing roll
        Of surges with their roar
      When winter storms have poured their force
        Upon the suffering shore.

      The Sunbeam of the battle rose—
        Finn’s standard we did know—
      Then slowly backward, foot by foot,
        Retired the treacherous foe—

      Scattered like sheep, and fall’n like leaves:
        The wild pursuit rolled on;
      And on that field of dread were we
        In silence left alone.

      And there lay Oscar bleeding much
        Upon the mournful plain;
      And every living Finian there
        Had friends among the slain.

The bard Fergus is asked to relate to Finn how the Féinn fared in the
conflict. In this part I follow a literal rendering of MacLauchlan’s,
modified by Morley:—

     “Say, Bard of the Féinn of Erin,
      How fared the fight, Fergus, my son,
      In Gabhra’s fierce battle-day? say!”

     “The fight fared not well, son of Cumhal,
      From Gabhra come tidings of ruin,
      For Oscar the fearless is slain.
      The sons of Cailte were seven;
      They fell with the Féinn of Alvin.
      The youth of the Féinn are fallen,
      Are dead in their battle array.
      And dead on the field lies MacLuy,
      With six of the sons of thy sire.
      The young men of Alvin are fallen;
      The Féinn of Britain are fallen.
      And dead is the king’s son of Lochlin,
      Who hastened to war for our right—
      The king’s son with a heart ever open,
      And arm ever strong in the fight.”

     “Now, O Bard—my son’s son, my desire,
      My Oscar of him, Fergus, tell
      How he hewed at the helms ere he fell.”

     “Hard were it Finn to number,
      Heavy for me were the labour,
      To tell of the host that has fallen,
      Slain by the valour of Oscar.
      No rush of the waterfall swifter,
      No pounce of the hawk on his prey,
      No whirlpool more sweeping and deadly,
      Than Oscar in battle that day.
      And you who last saw him could see
      How he throbbed in the roar of the fray,
      As a storm-worried leaf on the tree
      Whose fellows lie fallen below,
      As an aspen will quiver and sway
      While the axe deals it blow upon blow.
      When he saw that MacArt, King of Erin,
      Still lived in the midst of the roar,
      Oscar gathered his force to roll on him
      As waves roll to break on the shore.
      The king’s son, Cairber, saw the danger,
      He shook his great hungering spear,
      Grief of Griefs! drove its point through our Oscar,
      Who braved the death-stroke without fear.
      Rushing still on MacArt, King of Erin,
      His weight on his weapon he threw,
      And smote at MacArt, and again smote
      Cairber, whom that second blow slew.
      So died Oscar, a king in his glory.
      I, Fergus the bard, grieve my way
      Through all lands, saying how went the story
      Of Gabhra’s fierce battle-day.” “Say!”

I take the following lines of the close of this grand ballad from
Pattison’s blank-verse translation. Finn was beside his grandson
before he breathed his last. Oscar heard the great king’s wailing
cry, and looking round on all he sighed and said, “Farewell! I shall
return no more.” Finn, who never wept before in sight of man but
once, when Bran died, strode a pace away and wept. But—

      Then Finn came back; and, standing near my side,
      He bent again o’er Oscar, while he said:—
      “The mournful howlings of the dogs distress me—
      The groanings of the heroes old and grey—
      The people’s wailing and their blank despair.

      O son! that I had fallen in thy stead,
      In the dire battle with thy treacherous foes,
      And thou hadst loved to be a chief and leader,
      And bring the Finians east and west with joy!

      O Oscar! thou wilt never rise again!
      O’er thee, my old heart, like an elk, is leaping!
      Thou wilt return, thou wilt return no more!
      ’Twas rightly said, ‘I shall return no more!’”

These are some of the scenes of the great battle of _Gabhra_, the
Temora of Macpherson, fought about the year 284 A.D.

Strong-minded ladies in these days clamour for women’s rights; but
if men are wise they will, before conceding these, consider what
use was made by women in the early days of Finian chivalry of the
rights which they then enjoyed. In these Islands in ancient days the
gentler sex appears to have possessed some extraordinary powers and
to have exercised terrible privileges which were sometimes abused.
If a lady put _Geasan_ (obligation) on a knight or chief there was
no escape from the execution of her wishes. He had to obey her,
however unreasonable the request might be. Thus when the great Finn
himself was in the earlier stages of his barbarian youth, before
he became the celebrated General of the Féinn, and when he had no
better raiment than the skins of the animals he slew for food, he
came across one fine morning a grand assemblage of ladies resting
on one bank of a great chasm, and a party of gentlemen on the
other. One of the former, a proud Princess, insisted in her lover’s
case that he should clear that chasm before she gave him her hand;
but the poor fellow kept clapping his arms round his body till he
could screw his courage to the springing point. Finn understood the
conditions, and observed the unfortunate fellow’s predicament, and
modestly asked if she would take himself for her wedded lord on his
accomplishing the task. She replied that he looked a personable
enough man, though marvellously ill clad, and that if he succeeded
she would give him the privilege. Finn did succeed, but she laid
_Geasa_ on him that he should accomplish the same task every year.
This was not the only one that laid _Geasa_ on Finn. Another fair
tyrant insisted on his leaping over a dallan as high as his chin,
with a similar pillar-stone of the same dimensions borne upward on
the palm of his hand. In after days he acknowledged in confidence to
his father-in-law, that this was the most difficult feat he had ever
performed, and few indeed would be disposed to doubt his assertion.
On one occasion Finn nearly failed in one of these exploits; the
cause of his failure was thought to be his meeting a red-haired
woman on the road, and that it was a Friday morning. It is evident
that these Gaelic princesses were a little too exacting, and that it
would not do for every one to undertake satisfying their somewhat
unreasonable demands. That the laying on of _Geasa_ was attended at
times with much discomfort and danger is illustrated in the history
of the beautiful but unfortunate Diarmad MacDoon.

Diarmad appears to have possessed one fatal gift—the
_ball-seirce_—that of kindling love in all the women he met. It
is said that there was a spot of beauty on his forehead which
captivated all the ladies that saw him. He was the nephew of the
king; and full proud was Finn at times of the deeds of valour which
his sister’s son had achieved. He was generally described as the
young, the beautiful, the brown-haired Diarmad. He was as brave and
gallant as he was handsome, and a universal favourite among the
Féinn. But he was soon to come under the influence of the inexorable
_Geasa_ which decided “the woful fate of MacDoon.” At the wedding
feast of Finn and Gràine, the daughter of King Cormac, the bride
lays _Geasa_ on Diarmad to carry her off; and though this was highly
repugnant to his loyal feeling, and in direct contravention to his
military oath, as well as against his personal interests, he was
obliged to comply. With what result the well known ballad, called
“The Lay of Diarmad,” describes. There are many versions of this
ballad; the one translated here is that found in “The Book of the
Dean of Lismore.” It is here entitled “Bàs Dhiarmaid;” or, “_The
Death of Diarmad_. “A houdir so Allane M’Royree,” or “_The Author of
this is Allan M’Rorie_,” is prefixed. MacRorie was probably a mere
reciter. The ballad begins thus:—

      Here is Glen-Shee of the elk and deer,
        Where we hear the sweetest sounds!
      Where oft on its strath the Féinn
        Have hunted with eager hounds.

      On the fair brows of blue Ben-Gulbin
        The sun its bright rays has shed,
      Where Finn oft pursued the chase,
        And the streamlets ran down blood-red.

      Come, harken a little; I sing
        Of one of these heroes great—
      Of Ben-Gulbin and generous Finn;
        Of Diarmad’s sorrowful fate.

In other versions the name of Gràine and her elopement with Diarmad
are introduced here, as well as some sharp colloquy between the
latter and Finn.

      Mournful was Finn on that day
        That the fair ruddy Diarmad died,
      When he followed the terrible boar
        That yet had all spears defied.

      ’Twas left to bright-armed MacDoon
        To meet with the dreaded boar;
      It was Fingal’s deceitful plan
        That the others should flee it before.

      Few were beloved like him—
        MacDoon of that lovely band!
      By beautiful women bewailed
        As he lay with his spear in hand.

      Bravely he roused the boar
        On the hillside where it had lain—
      The old boar of the sweet Glen-Shee,
        The fiercest that ever was slain.

      There Finn of the ruddiest hue sat down
        ’Neath Ben-Gulbin’s grassy side;
      Whence issued the boar for the woodland;
        Oh, the ill that did there betide!

      ’Twas the clank of the Finian arms,
        And the echoing shout of the men,
      That wakened the slumbering monster:
        Before them he rushed down the glen.

      He attempted to distance the heroes—
        The old boar of the bristling hide—
      Which the spear and the shaft of the quiver
        Of the hunter so often defied.

In another version Finn is here represented as saying to Diarmad—“Son
of Doon, dost thou wish to win honour?”—thus the king spoke
wrathfully; and added—“Slay that boar by thyself, thou gay victor,
which the heroes so long has defied.” Diarmad attempts the task.

      Then MacDoon of the keen-edged arms
        Comes up with the monster fierce,
      With his strong poisoned spear he tried
        The side of the boar to pierce.

      But his spear broke—shivered in three—
        On that tough and bristling hide;
      With his warm and blood-red hand
        That spear he vainly plied.

      Then from its sheath he drew
        His blade of renown—thin-leaved;
      And with it MacDoon slew the monster
        While no hurt he himself received.

Finn is greatly disappointed at Diarmad’s success. He evidently
calculated that in his struggle with the boar alone his nephew would
receive his death-hurt. This was not the case, and—

      Then Finn of the Féinn grew sad,
        And sat on the side of the hill;
      It grieved him that brave MacDoon
        Escaped without wound or ill.

From the first Finn cannot be said to have adopted a very magnanimous
plan for punishing his nephew; but jealousy being cruel as the grave,
he has formed now a cruel expedient for compassing his death:—

      After long silence he spoke—
        These evil words spoke he—
      “Diarmad, measure the boar from the snout,
        Tell how many feet long he be.”

      Finn he had never refused—
        Alas! him no more we meet—
      He measures the back of the boar—
        MacDoon of the lightsome feet.

In the other versions it is told that Diarmad’s feet were bare, and
that the length of the boar was sixteen feet. Finn denied that he was
so long, and insisted on a second measuring.

     “Diarmad, measure with care again,
        The boar _against the hair_;”
      Mournful it was to see
        That deed of the hero fair.

      He went on that errand sad,
        And measured the boar again;
      But he trod on a poisonous bristle,
        And he felt in his heel a pain.

      The hero fell on the field—
        MacDoon that had no deceit;
      He lay there beside the boar:—
        Now, there is the tale complete.

At this part of the relation another version adds that Diarmad, in
asking several times for a drink at the hand of Finn, rehearsed how
he served him “eastward and westward.” But the king replied that the
ill he had done him in one hour outweighed all the good exploits he
could tell. “Thou shalt yet get no drink from my shell.” Diarmad
then addresses a melancholy farewell to Ben-Gulbin, the hill of his
love, and to courtship. He keenly feels his sorrowful plight as
his life-blood is ebbing away; and true to his character his last
thoughts are, as he dies, of “the maids of the Féinn.” Finn then
relents, and pronounces a regretful eulogy over the dead body of
Diarmad. In the Dean’s version it is the bard himself that pronounces
the praise of the dead, in verses which describe his person and
character:—

      Pierced to the heart he lies,
        MacDoon in the battle brave,
      The suffering son of the Féinn;
        On this hillock I see his grave.

      The blue-eyed hawk of Essroy,
        The victor in every fight,
      Pierced by the poisonous bristle—
        There he lies on the height!

      By the jealous design of Finn
        Fell the bright-souled MacDoon
      Redder his lips than the cherry,
        Whiter his breast than the sun.

      His tresses flowed golden yellow;
        Long eyelash ’neath brow so fair;
      Blue and gray in his eye;
        Pretty and curled his hair.

      Gentle and sweet in his speech
        Was that champion clothed with might;
      With elegant hands and a faultless form,
        And a skin of purest white.

      Fair winner of women’s love,
        MacDoon of the witching eyes;
      In courtship he’ll ne’er engage,
        For there ’neath the sod he lies.

      Nor with steed nor with hunter shall Diarmad
        Go forth for the chase again;
      The loved son of beauty and valour
        Is left there, alas, in the Glen!

The _Death of Diarmad_, like the _Death of Oscar_, has been a
great favourite with reciters. But believers in the authenticity
of Macpherson’s “Ossian” regard the former as inferior poetry.
The author of the version translated above, Allan Macrorie, lived
probably in the thirteenth or fourteenth century. Glen-Shee,
mentioned in the poem, is a well-known locality in Perthshire, and
Ben-Gulbin is a hill in Glen-Shee. But this is not the only place
that is said to be the scene of the slaying of the boar and of
Diarmad’s death. The district around West Loch Tarbert, Kintyre,
also affords topographical indications of the famous hunt having
taken place there. Nor can the claims of our friends, the Irish, be
forgotten; they also have their _Sliabh Gulbin_.

When some of the ballads are described as _Ossianic_ it is not to
be understood that they were composed at the time that Ossian is
supposed to have lived, but that the theme is Ossianic. Of this class
is a eulogistic poem on Finn in the Book of the Dean of Lismore.
Although written nearly 400 years ago it has yet a modern ring about
it as compared with many of the other ballads. The earlier versions
of these Ossianic ballads were composed probably in Pagan times,
but as the Pagan reciters of them were dying off, the minstrels
nominally Christian would take their place, and adapt the old
ballads to the new state of things. The elder productions would be
undergoing continual transformations in the hands of every new class
of reciters. While the theme is the same, sometimes the versions are
so different that no single verse in the one can be found in the
other. It is in this manner that their chronology becomes a puzzle.
Anachronisms abound. Ossian, who flourished upwards of two hundred
years before, is introduced by the Christian and post-Ossianic
reciters as holding converse with St. Patrick.

“Actor hujus Ossane M’Finn;” or _The Author of this is Ossian, the
Son of Finn_, is prefixed to the poem of which I am now to give a
translation. In the course of the ages, Ossian has had to accept
the paternity of many productions; but people took this as a matter
of course until the appearance of the celebrated works of James
Macpherson 250 years after Sir James Macgregor prefixed Ossian’s
name to this poem. The poetry of this piece is not of a very high
order, but is interesting as giving the popular conceptions regarding
Finn 400 years ago. It was probably composed by an ecclesiastic, the
number of which class at the time in the Highlands was considerable.
It begins thus:—

      For twice three days and one great Finn I did not see;
      And ne’er before a week such sorrow brought to me.
      The son of Teigi’s daughter, king of deeds and might,
      My teacher and my strength, my guidance and my light.
      Both poet he and chief, a king my love commands;
      Finn, monarch of the Féinn, the lord of many lands.
      Leviathan at sea, a lion on the shore,
      Keen as the air-borne hawk, and wise in art and lore;
      He’s courteous and just, a ruler firm and true,
      Full polished in his ways, deceit he never knew.
      A lofty chief is he in song and in the fight,
      Resistless to the foe, to friends their fame and might.
      His skin is like the chalk, his cheek is like the rose,
      His eye transparent blue, his hair like gold down flows.
      The trust of all his men, with every charm of mind,
      Prepared for worthy deed, to women meek and kind.
      Great champion was he, loved son of field and flood,
      The brightness of the blades, the tree above each wood.
      Full generous was the king—good and rich wine he poured
      From the large green-hued bottle on the festive board.

We never read in the older ballads of such non-primitive things as
bottles. _Am botul mor glas_, which the liberal Finn would place on
the table, must have belonged to the fifteenth century. The good
qualities of Finn are not yet exhausted.

      Of noble mind and form and of a winning mien—
      His people’s Head—he walked with step so firm, serene.
      In Banva of the hills the fame of war he sought;
      There battles twice fifteen the royal Fingal fought.
      Assistance for the weak MacCuhail ne’er withheld,
      In heart and on his lips no falsehood ever dwelled.
      Finn never grudged his aid, his people ne’er oppressed—
      The King above all kings, the sun above the rest.
      In Erin of the saints before his mighty hand
      The monsters left the lakes, the serpents fled the land.
      I never could declare, though mine were endless days,
      I ne’er could tell one-third of his good deeds and praise.

It is rather curious to find the stereotyped “Erin of the Saints,”
in a composition of the fifteenth century. While suggesting the
ecclesiastical character of the author, it does not prove that he was
a very zealous “saint” himself; for we find that he quietly ascribes
to Finn exploits which the Irish ecclesiastical world has all along
attributed to St. Patrick. “He cleared the lakes of monsters and the
land of serpents.” As usual, Ossian himself is described as _an deigh
na Féinne_:—

      But sad am I, and Finn of the brave Fianna dead;
      With him, the princely chief, my pride and joy have fled.
      Well may my tears outpour, for no delight survives
      The princes and the chiefs and all their royal wives.
      I lean on death’s cold arm—I’m like the shaking reed;
      I’m like an empty nut—I seem a reinless steed.
      A feeble kern am I, with sorrow sore within—
      Ev’n Ossian I, the bard, the son of noble Finn.

In his forlorn state the bard now remembers the house and court of
Finn, his royal father:—

      Since Finn now reigns no more, all that I owned is gone—
      His house had seven sides—the house of Cuhal’s son;
      And seven score of shields did hang on every side;
      There fifty robes of wool had been the king beside—
      Fifty warriors filled the robes, who were the royal pride.
      There were ten bowls full bright for drink, where Finn did dine,
      Ten horns of gold, and ten blue flagons of good wine.
      How goodly was that house! how grand the home of Finn!
      Mean grudging hands, false lustful hearts, there ne’er had been.
      Each man had equal rights among the mighty Féinn;
      To emulate the King his followers were fain.
      He was our chief renowned so far, so nobly good,
      Who never to the meanest man was proud or rude.
      None empty left his house, good, generous was he;
      No gifts were e’er like his—gifts scattered wide and free.

In _Cnoc-an-air_, an Irish poem, there is a description of the
treasures of the Finians, which were said to have been hidden under
Loch _Lene_ (Killarney), that reminds us of the robes of wool in
Finn’s house. The Irishman and the Highlander got the conception
probably from the same source:—

      This is the lake—the fiercest to be seen,
      That is under the sun truly;
      Many treasures belonging to the Fians,
      Are in it doubtless secured this night.
        There are in the northern side
          Fifty blue-green coats of mail;
        There are in the western side
          Fifty helmets in one pile!

And hundreds of swords, “broad” and “glittering,” and shields, and
gold and raiment in plenty. The Scottish author, perhaps because his
ideas were cast in a more ancient mould, was somewhat more modest in
his description of Finian wealth.


THE NORSE BALLADS.

The Norse ballads constitute another class. The wars between the
Féinn and the Lochlins are the theme of many of the ancient Ossianic
ballads. It is impossible to say exactly to what age they severally
belong. The Vikings, or sea-rovers, began their visits to the Western
Isles and Ireland as early as the first century, and continued
these visits for more than a thousand years. The name Viking has no
connection with King being derived from vic, a bay—vicing, baysman—as
Mr Robertson has clearly shown. The erroneous translation _sea-kings_
has been used by several writers. It is the same word as the Gaelic
_Uig_, the name of places on the west sides of Skye and Lewis. In
English it assumes the form of _Wick_—Inner_wick_. It also means a
bay or creek in Gaelic, as found in the words of a poet, “_uigean
saile_.” In 794 the Western Isles were ravaged and Iona destroyed.
The monastery of Iona was burnt in 802 by these Vikings; and in 806
the family of Iona, sixty-eight in number, were slain. The abbot of
Iona then retired to Kells, Ireland, and Iona ceased to be the centre
of Gaelic learning, while all relics of Gaelic culture were removed
to Dunkeld and other places.

The Gaelic people of Albin and Erin call the Danes and the Vikings
Lochlins. The Vikings were originally half Celtic, if not altogether
a Celtic race. Indeed the substrata of many of the Germanic tribes
were originally Celtic.

The following ballad probably relates to the wars of the eleventh
century:—


THE FINIAN BANNERS.

      The Norland King stood on the height
        And scanned the rolling sea;
      He proudly eyed his gallant ships
        That rode triumphantly.

      And then he looked where lay his camp,
        Along the rocky coast,
      And where were seen the heroes brave
        Of Lochlin’s famous host.

      Then to the land he turn’d, and there
        A fierce-like hero came;
      Above him was a flag of gold,
        That waved and shone like flame.

     “Sweet Bard,” thus spoke the Norland King,
        “What banner comes in sight?
      The valiant chief that leads the host,
        Who is that man of might?”

     “That,” said the bard, “is young MacDoon
        His is that banner bright;
      When forth the Féinn to battle go,
        He’s foremost in the fight.”

     “Sweet bard, another comes; I see
        A blood-red banner toss’d
      Above a mighty hero’s head
        Who waves it o’er a host?”

     “That banner,” quoth the bard, “belongs
        To good and valiant Rayne;
      Beneath it feet are bathed in blood
        And heads are cleft in twain.”

     “Sweet bard, what banner now I see
        A leader fierce and strong
      Behind it moves with heroes brave
        Who furious round him throng?”

     “That is the banner of Great Gaul:
        That silken shred of gold,
      Is first to march and last to turn,
        And flight ne’er stained its fold.”

     “Sweet bard, another now I see,
        High o’er a host it glows,
      Tell whether it has ever shone
        O’er fields of slaughtered foes?”

     “That gory flag is Cailt’s,” quoth he,
        “It proudly peers in sight;
      It won its fame on many a field
        In fierce and bloody fight.”

     “Sweet bard, another still I see;
        A host it flutters o’er;
      Like bird above the roaring surge
        That laves the storm-swept shore.”

     “The Broom of Peril,” quoth the bard,
        “Young Oscar’s banner, see:
      Amidst the conflict of dread chiefs
        The proudest name has he.”

      The banner of great Finn we raised;
        The Sunbeam gleaming far,
      With golden spangles of renown
        From many a field of war.

      The flag was fastened to its staff
        With nine strong chains of gold.
      With nine times nine chiefs for each chain;
        Before it foes oft rolled.

     “Redeem your pledge to me,” said Finn;
        “And show your deeds of might
      To Lochlin as you did before
        In many a gory fight.”

      Like torrents from the mountain heights
        That roll resistless on;
      So down upon the foe we rushed,
        And brilliant victory won.

The above set of verses occur in several ballads with considerable
variations. It was a sort of national war-song among the Finian
leaders in their frequent conflicts with the Norwegians. In the
translation several verses are taken from different sources.

Heroic daring and deeds are ascribed by the bard to each of the
warrior-chieftains. Brown Diarmad MacDoon is foremost in the fight;
the valiant Rayne leaves cloven heads behind him; great Gaul is ever
the first to fight, and never turns his back on the foe; Cailte has
won his fame on many a field; Oscar bears the proudest name of all
the chiefs; and, finally, Finn himself comes before us, his banner,
Deo-greine (Sunbeam), gleaming with its spangles of fame over that
heroic band, whom he now invites to sweep down on the Lochlins.

The specimens now given of the ancient ballad poetry of the Gael will
be sufficient to indicate its character and style. It only remains
now to mention in connection with the heroic ballads the names of a
few more of the better known ones.

There is a very fine ballad on the death of _Dearg_ or Dargo.
Others are the Expeditions or _Imeachd_ of Finn, of _Naoinear_,
or Nine, &c., and the Great Distress of the Fingalians—_Teantachd
Mor na Féinne_. A Norwegian _Hag_ is the theme of a good deal of
composition, while the _Invasion of Magnus_ or _Manus_ is a ballad of
considerable length and interest. This was probably the celebrated
Magnus Barefoot, so well-known in the Hebrides, and throughout the
north-west. From the Orkneys to the Isle of Man and Ireland, along
the west coast of Scotland, the Lochlins traversed the seas for
centuries and held rule; and well did they and the Highlanders know
one another.

[Illustration: (decorative end-of-chapter icon)]




CHAPTER VI.

PROSE ROMANCES.

  “Lying, worldly stories concerning the Tuatha de Danann, the sons
  of Milesius, and Finn Mac Cumhail with his Feine.”—CARSUEL (A.D.
  1567.)


It may be thought by some that too much has been said concerning
the ballads and the character of the Féinne. Others may be quite
dissatisfied with the fragmentary notices which have been taken
of those grand Gaelic ancestors. The former ought to bear in mind
that the authors of these Celtic romances were the fathers and for
centuries the cultivators of Gaelic song and story; and that they
were also “the cause” of much rhyme and romance in others. The
student of Gaelic literature can no more give up his devotion to
Ossian and to the bards who were his contemporaries and successors
than the English student can forget his Chaucer and Spenser and
the glorious poetic host of the Elizabethan age. The latter ought
to remember that instead of a few paragraphs it would require many
volumes to bring forward with fair adequacy the literature and
history of the Finian period.

Let us now glance at the popular fictions of Irish romancists. To
the Scottish student these are suggestive as presenting similar but
varying conceptions regarding the same class of heroes.

As bearing on the Irish character of the present day, it is very
remarkable that the Irish versions of the stories and ballads are, as
compared with those of Scotland, characterised by more magnificent
exaggerations and more gorgeous romance. The glow of richer eloquence
and of a more splendid verbiage, combined at the same time with
more of the sense of the ludicrous and incongruous, is felt as you
tread the famous field of _Magh-lene_, or the more renowned scene of
_Cathgarbh_ [Gabhra], or listen to the cleverly invented dialogues
between Ossian and Patrick, in the company and under the guidance of
the Irish Gaelic literati. This is worth noting, for it indicates how
early essential differences began to develop between the two tribes
of the same race. At this very day the natural eloquence of Irishmen
(proverbially all born orators) far transcends that of Highlanders,
whose hardy native hills appear to have made them generally more men
of brave deeds than of eloquent good words. The richer soil and the
softer climate of Ireland have had a more emasculating influence
on the Irish brother tribes; but nature is not always unkind; this
possible disadvantage is more than counterbalanced by the rich flow,
suavity, and sweetness of the Irish tongue. It is not only the
eloquence but the peculiar character of Irish wit and humour that is
traceable in Eire’s versions of the Celtic romances. There is also
a stationary element observable in the history of the nation. The
pre-Celtic, Celtic or Finian Ireland is very much to-day what it
was upwards of a thousand years ago. St. Patrick may have made the
most of Ireland nominally Christian but the essential heathenism of
many of the people has never been yet eradicated; nor was it in the
Highlands till this century, deeply and powerfully as the people were
touched by drastic ecclesiastical and political changes. A Highland
bard of great natural abilities and poetic endowments—William
Livingston—has very well expressed in an interesting poem, “Eirin
a’ gul” (Erin weeping), his satisfied conviction that the people
have never changed. Livingston sang as a Scottish Gael of the
pre-Reformation days would. He had as little regard for his Holiness
in Rome as he had for the late Rev. Principal Candlish, of Edinburgh,
when the latter was preaching in Greenock, and Livingston assumed a
threatening attitude as if he would dirk the preacher, who had the
temerity to touch up the Highlanders—about the Sustentation Fund, I
suppose. It is melancholy to observe—especially suggestive to those
who make so much of our boasted advancement in civilisation—that
the Gaelic peasantry of Munster to-day cannot show that they have
risen higher on the steps of their ancestral dead selves than what
they were when the Gaelic ballads were first rehearsed on the glens
and bens of ancient _Muiman_. The same remark till recently was
applicable to many parts of the Highlands.

Among the most famous of the old Celtic romances are the three
tragical stories of the “Children of Tuirrean,” the “Children of
Lir,” and the “Children of Uisneach,” whom we have already come
across in the Gaelic ballads; also the “Pursuit of Diarmad,” and the
“Cattle Raid of Cuailgne.” As it has been always so popular in both
Scotland and Ireland, let us look at the “Pursuit of Diarmad.” There
is no space for even the briefest outlines of the large number of
other celebrated fictions. The following paragraphs from this nearly
endless _Pursuit_ may be compared with the Scottish poetical version
already given.

Finn is about to be married to the daughter of King Cormac, and high
festival is held in the banquetting hall of royal Tara.

The King of Erin sits down to enjoy drinking and pleasure, with his
wife at his shoulder, and Gràine at her shoulder. Finn MacCuhail
is at the King’s right hand. Cairbre Liffeachair, the son of the
king, is there, and so is Ossian, the son of Finn. The other chief
Finian heroes are also there. (In the quotations I follow the Irish
orthography of the proper names.)

“‘Tell me now,’ said Grainne to Daire Mac Morna of the songs,
‘who is that warrior at the right shoulder of Oisin, the son of
Fionn?’ ‘Yonder,’ said the druid, ‘is Goll Mac Morna, the active,
the warlike.’ ‘Who is that warrior at the shoulder of Goll?’ said
Grainne. ‘Oscar, the son of Oisin,’ said the druid. ‘Who is that
graceful-legged-man at the shoulder of Oscar?’ said Grainne. ‘Caoilte
Mac Ronain,’ said the druid. ‘What haughty, impetuous warrior is
that, yonder, at the shoulder of Caoilte?’ said Grainne. ‘The son of
Lughaidh of the mighty hand, and that man is sister’s son to Fionn
Mac Cumhaill,’ said the druid. ‘Who is that freckled, sweet-worded
man, upon whom is the curling dusky-black hair, and [who has] the two
red ruddy cheeks, upon the left hand of Oisin, the son of Fionn?’
‘That man is Diarmad, the grandson of Duibhne, the white-toothed, of
the lightsome countenance; that is the best lover of women and of
maidens that is in the whole world.’ ‘Who is that at the shoulder
of Diarmad?’ said Grainne. ‘Diorruing, the son of Dobhar Damhadh
O’Baoisgne, and that man is a druid and a skilful man of science,’
said Daireduanach. ‘That is a goodly company,’ said Grainne.”

Miss Gràine Mac Cormac, or rather Princess Gràine, might well make
this remarkable admission regarding the character of those heroes.
She was emphatically a woman. The above series of questions is
thoroughly in harmony with the inquisitorial character of ladies of
fashion in general, as well as with ordinary feminine curiosity. This
curiosity was awakened by the vision of and contact with a band of
conquering heroes whose names have mysteriously touched the heart
of the Celtic world for centuries. Let handsome young Diarmads be
careful. Gràinne “called her attendant handmaid to her, and told her
to bring to her the jewelled-golden-chased goblet which was in the
_grianan_ after her. The handmaid brought the goblet, and Grainne
filled the goblet forthwith, and there used to go into it the drink
of nine times nine men. Grainne said, ‘Take the goblet to Fionn
first, and bid him take a draught out of it, and disclose to him
that it is I that sent it to him.’” This was done by the obsequious
handmaid; the same dose was sent to Cormac, his wife, and son, by
the orders of Princess Gràine, with the result that “one after
another they fell into a stupor of sleep and of deep slumber.” The
scheming Gràine might well be satisfied with the immediate fruits of
the potations which she administered to her father, Fionn and the
rest. She is now to administer a dose of a different sort to Finn’s
nephew, Diarmad. And while we cannot refuse our sympathies to the
brave and betrothed Finn, severe as our ethics in the marital sphere
may be, yet we cannot also help remembering that it was hard for a
young princess to be wedded to even a sovereign person whose son and
grandson were present. She must have intuitively felt it would be
the union of June and December. Diarmad, “the white-toothed, of the
lightsome countenance;” and “the best lover of women and of maidens
in the whole world,” and Finn’s nephew, would naturally be esteemed a
more desirable admirer by this highly passionate and royal girl.

Gràine turns to Diarmad and says to him: “Wilt thou receive courtship
from me, O son of Duibhne?” “I will not,” said Diarmad. “Then,”
said Gràine, “I put thee under bonds of danger and destruction, O
Diarmuid, that is, under the bonds of Dromdraoidheachta, if thou
take me not with thee out of this household to-night, ere Fionn
and the King of Erin arise out of that sleep.” Diarmad replies
by speaking of the bonds as “evil,” and indulges in expressions
or self-depreciation. She reminds him of some brave deeds he
performed once “on the plain of Teamhair [Tara],” when “Fionn and
the seven battalions of the standing Fenians chanced to be there.”
She insinuates that this was the cause of her admiration, seeing
Diarmad taking “his caman from the next man to him, and winning the
goal three times upon Cairber and upon the warriors of Teamhair.”
She turned the light of her eyes upon him that day, and never gave
her love to another, nor would she till she died. Diarmad wonders
why it was not Finn that was the object of her love instead of
himself, because “there is not in Erin a man that is fonder of a
woman than he.” He now makes another excuse: Finn has the keys of
Tara; they cannot leave the town. But the willing lady finds means
of exit for herself and the reluctantly gallant gentleman. “There
is a wicket-gate to my _Grianan_, and we will pass out through it.”
Diarmad, after some more ungallant excuses, goes to “his people,”
and particularly to Ossian, and says, “O, Oisin, son of Fionn, what
shall I do with these bonds that have been laid on me?” “Thou are not
guilty of the bonds which have been laid on thee,” said Oisin, “and I
tell thee to follow Grainne, and keep thyself well against the wiles
of Fionn.” The soft-hearted, but irresolute Diarmad, questions the
rest of the Finian heroes in a similar fashion; and they all appear
to be favourable to Gràine’s proposition and bonds; one of them,
Caoilte, says very gallantly and emphatically, “I say that I have a
fitting wife, and yet I had rather than the wealth of the world that
it had been to me that Grainne gave that love.” This sounds very like
the possible determination of a chivalrous Irish colonel of “the
seven battalions of the standing Fenians.” After a little further
hesitation, Diarmad at last exclaims. “Then go forward, O Grainne.”
The hero now enters on a series of manly exploits. Gràine and he flee
into Clanrickard, in Galway, where he fortifies a little grove in
which they shelter themselves. Those in pursuit discover this grove,
but Diarmad’s sagacious advisers before he left send the knowing dog,
Bran, half-human, half-brute, to warn him. Bran has “knowledge and
wisdom,” and thrusts his head into Diarmad’s bosom. That, and the
friendly shouts of the dog’s far-off masters are sufficient.

There now appears in the relation a character well known in many
stories—_Aonghas_, or Angus, _vel_ Innes, _vel_ Æneas, of the
Brough, a place on the Boyne. He was the son of Dagdae, a king of
the Danaans in Ireland; and _mirabile dictu_ reigned over the island
for eighty years. He was a great friend of Diarmad, to whom he
presented two remarkable swords and two javelins equally remarkable
and _venomous_ in their character, designated—the former _Moraltagh_
and _Begaltagh_; and the latter, _Gathdearg_ and _Gathbuidhe_. He now
comes to the help of the eloping fugitives in their besieged “grove,”
where “Grainne awoke out of her sleep” in a rather disconcerted
state of mind. _Aonghas_ carries her off in a fold of his mantle,
but Diarmad will not submit to be rescued in that rather inglorious
fashion.

After that Aonghas and Gràine had departed. Diarmad “arose as a
straight pillar and stood upright, and girded his arms and his armour
and his various sharp weapons about him.” He came to a door of the
seven-wattled doors that there were to the enclosure, and asked who
was at it. One or other of the chiefs of the Féinne was at the first
five doors at which he successively interrogated; and each and all
of them were ready to permit him tacitly to make his escape, but
his chivalrous nature would not allow him to regain his freedom in
any unknightly fashion. The sixth wicket is hostile: but it is not
Finn’s. He comes to the seventh:—“He asked who was at it? ‘Here are
Fionn, the son of Cumhaill, the son of Art, the son of Treunmhor,
O’Baoisgne, and four hundred hirelings with him; and we bear thee no
love, and if thou wouldst come out to us, we would cleave thy bones
asunder.’ ‘I pledge my sword,’ said Diarmuid, ‘that the door at which
thou art, O Fionn, is the first [_i.e._, the very] door by which I
will pass of [all] the doors.’ Having heard that Fionn charged his
battalions on pain of their death, and of their instant destruction,
not to let Diarmad pass them without their knowledge. Diarmuid having
heard that, arose with an airy, high, exceeding light bound, by the
shafts of his javelins and by the staves of his spears, and went
a great way out beyond Fionn and beyond his people without their
knowledge or perception. He looked back upon them, and proclaimed to
them that he had passed them, and slung his shield upon the broad
arched expanse of his back, and so went straight westward; and he was
not long in going out of sight of Fionn and of the Fenians.”

At Ros-da-shoileach (now Limerick) the hero found Aonghas and Gràine
in a warm and comfortable hut, with half a wild boar on spits.
Aonghas departs, leaving with them his best counsel against “the
wiles of Finn.”

After availing themselves of various refuges, the fugitive pair
approach the west coast of Kerry, where they see the allies of
Fionn from the French coast drawing close to the shore. Nine times
nine warriors step ashore, and Diarmad inquires what was their
business, and what county they came from. They reply that they
are “the three royal chiefs of Muir-n-iocht,” and are now come at
Fionn Mac Cumhaill’s order to seek and to curb “a forest marauder”
called Diarmuid O’Duibhne, whom he has outlawed. In a trial of
skill Diarmuid kills fifty of these French Finians. These are
styled “green” Finians, with three of whom Diarmad deals somewhat
remorselessly in the course of a day or two. Their names will be
interesting to the Gaelic reader—_Duch-chosach_ (black-footed),
_Fionn-chosach_ (fair-footed), _Treun-chosach_ (strong-footed).
Before he finally encounters these and the “three enchanted hounds”
Diarmad thus accoutres himself:—“He girt about him his suit of battle
and of conflict, under which, through which, or over which, it was
not possible to wound him; and he took the Moralltach, that is the
sword of Aonghas na Brogha, at his left side, which [sword] left no
stroke nor blow unfinished at the first trial. He took likewise
his two thick shafted javelins of battle—from which none recovered,
either man or woman, that had ever been wounded by them. After that,
Diarmuid roused Grainne and bade her keep watch and ward for Muadhan,
[saying] that he himself would go to view the four quarters around
him. When Grainne beheld Diarmuid with bravery and daring [clothed]
in his suit of anger and of battle, fear and great dread seized her.”
But an off-hand reply “soothed Grainne, and then Diarmuid went in
that array to meet the green Finians.” These are part of the troubles
and feats of Diarmad MacDoon, the alleged ancestor of the great
MacCailein line. The romance will be found in the third volume of the
Transactions of the Dublin Ossianic Society, well edited by Mr S. H.
O’Grady. Our own Highland versions on the subject are tolerably well
known.

During the dreamy period of the Middle Ages the great literary source
of amusement among the Gaels of Scotland were the “Ursgeuls,” _noble_
or romantic tales, which upwards of thirty years ago were collected
and published (1859-62) by J. F. Campbell, Esq., of Islay. They were
not produced in the heroic ages, the period of the great mass of our
ballad literature. The ballads and the tales, no doubt, have been
mixed together; but the latter are distinctly of a later growth. Some
of the tales were manufactured as recently as the eighteenth century;
but the most of them belong to the pre-Reformation period. Some of
them are traceable to classical sources; others indicate relationship
with Oriental stories. From Japan to the Hebrides, as shown by Mr
Campbell in his introduction and notes to the four volumes of his
“West Highland Tales,” are found the relics of the same original
“Sgeulachd,” with the modifications which country, clime, and
circumstance would naturally necessitate. In their fundamental lines
or conceptions these tales are the common property of the whole Aryan
race—of the Hindoo in the east, and of the German and Celt of the
west. The study of talelogy, as well as philology, leads us to the
common origin of all the members of the Indo-European family. Many of
the Highland tales must have been matured under the spirit that the
crusades into the east invoked in the west. We find reference in them
to Turks, Greeks, Romans, Spaniards, Franks, &c., and to conditions
of life which show their close relations to mediæval times. They
became the popular literary sustenance of the people, supplying the
want which is met by the popular works of fiction or novels of the
present day. We find every phase of character exhibited in their
outlines, extravagant as many of them often are. They are still
waiting classification.

Mr Campbell was a very enthusiastic collector of these tales for
years. He traversed more than once the whole of the Highlands to
gather up these fragments of bygone Celtic life. His success far
exceeded his sanguine anticipations. His volumes constitute the
monument of his success, as well as of the industry, talent, and
scientific spirit which he brought to bear upon the work. He had many
hearty assistants in all parts of the Highlands, whom he inspired
with much of his own enthusiasm. Mr Hector MacLean, of Ballygrant,
Islay, an able Gaelic scholar, and a man of real culture and literary
talent, helped him in transcribing the Gaelic, while he himself
transferred the tales into literal idiomatic English. It has been
fortunate for our limited Gaelic literature that Mr Campbell has
left us so much of our popular prose in these goodly four volumes,
and so much of genuine ballad poetry in his “Leabhar na Féinne.” I
give a specimen of these tales in translation. Space will not admit
of giving the _sgeulachd_ complete; but enough is presented to
illustrate the general style and character. The reader of these tales
realises at once their kinship with the Danish tales of Andersen, the
German stories of Grimm, and the Welsh Mabinogion translated by Lady
Guest.


MAOL A’ CHLIOBAIN.

There was a widow once of a time, and she had three daughters, and
they said to her that they were going to seek their fortunes. She
prepared three bannocks. She said to the big daughter, “Whether do
you like best the little half with my blessing, or the big half with
my curse?” “I like best,” said she, “the big half with your curse.”
She said to the middle one, “Whether do you like best the big half
with my curse, or the little half with my blessing?” “I like best,”
said she, “the big half with your curse.” She said to the little
one, “Whether do you like best the big half with my curse, or the
little half with my blessing?” “I like best the little half with your
blessing.” This pleased her mother, and she gave her the other half
likewise.

They left, but the two elder ones did not wish to have the younger
one with them, and they tied her to a stone. They held on, and when
they looked behind them whom did they see coming but her with the
rock on her back. They let her alone for a while until they reached
a stack of peats, and they tied her to the peat-stack. They held on
for a while, when whom did they see coming but her with the stack of
peats on her back. They let her alone for a while until they reached
a tree, and they tied her to the tree. They held on, and whom did
they see coming but her with the tree on her back. They saw that
there was no use meddling with her. They loosed her and they let her
come with them. They were travelling till night overtook them. They
saw a light far from them, and if it was far from them they were not
long reaching it. They went in. What was this but the house of a
giant. They asked to remain overnight. They got that, and they were
set to bed with the three daughters of the giant.

There were turns of amber beads around the necks of the giant’s
daughters, and strings of hair around their necks. They all slept,
but Maol a’ Chliobain kept awake. During the night the giant got
thirsty. He called to his bald rough-skinned lad to bring him water.
The bald rough-skinned lad said that there was not a drop within.
“Kill,” said he, “one of the strange girls, and bring me her blood.”
“How will I know them?” said the bald rough-skinned lad. “There are
turns of beads about the necks of my daughters, and turns of hair
about the necks of the rest.” Maol a’ Chliobain heard the giant, and
as quickly as she could she put the strings of hair that were about
her own neck and the necks of her sisters about the necks of the
giant’s daughters, and the beads that were about the necks of the
giant’s daughters about her own neck and the necks of her sisters,
and laid herself quietly down. The bald rough-skinned lad came and
killed one of the daughters of the giant, and brought him her blood.
He bade him bring him more. He killed the second one. He bade him
bring him more, and he killed the third. Maol a’ Chliobain wakened
her sisters, and she took them on her back and went away. The giant
observed her, and he followed her.

The sparks of fire which she was driving out of the stones with her
heels were striking the giant in the chin, and the sparks of fire
that the giant was taking out of the stones with the points of his
feet, they were striking Maol a’ Chliobain in the back of her head.
It was thus with them until they reached a river. Maol a’ Chliobain
leaped the river, and the giant could not leap the river. “You are
over, Maol a’ Chliobain.” “Yes, if it vex you.” “You killed my three
bald red-skinned daughters.” “Yes, if it vex you.” “And when will you
come again?” “I will come when my business brings me,” &c., &c.

The tale is a good deal longer; but the above portion will give
an idea of the style and manner of the whole. Unlike many of the
ballads, the language of these tales is thoroughly popular. Mr
Campbell had in his possession, besides what he published, much
material deposited after his recent death in the Advocates’ Library.

_A Popular Rhyme_, frequently occurring in the tales, is a great
favourite as a boat song. It fills the same place in the popular
romances that the “Banners” does in the heroic ballads. The original
will be found in the second volume of Campbell’s “Tales,” and is
regarded as very old. “The vigorous and elastic spirit that pervades
the following verses must have strung the heart of many a hardy
mariner who loved to feel the fresh and briny breeze driving his
snoring Birlinn, bounding like a living creature over the tumbling
billows of the inland loch, or the huge swell of the majestic main.”
Pattison translates thus:—

  We turned her prow unto the sea, her stern unto the shore,
  And first we raised the tall, tough masts, and then the canvas hoar;
  Fast filled our towering, cloud-like sails, for the wind came from
        the land,
  And such a wind as we might choose, were the winds at our command:
  A breeze that rushing down the hill would strip the blooming heather,
  Or rustling through the green-clad grove, would whirl its leaves
        together.
  It heaped the ruins on the land, though sire and sire stood by,
  They could no help afford, but gaze with wan and troubled eye!
  A flap, a flash, the green roll dashed, and laughed against the red;
  Upon our boards, now here, now there, it knocked its foamy head.
  The dun bowed whilk in the abyss, as on the galley bore,
  Gave a tap upon her gunwale and a slap upon her floor.
  She could have split a slender straw—so clean and so well she went—
  As still obedient to the helm her stately course she bent.
  We watched the big beast eat the small—the small beast nimbly fly,
  And listen to the plunging eels—the sea-gulls’ clang on high—
  We had no other music to cheer us on our way
  Till round those sheltering hills we passed, and anchored in this bay.

When the hero or heroes of the tale had to undertake a sea voyage
this rhyme was invariably introduced by the reciter as a fit
description of how it was accomplished. _Ghearradh i cuinnlein caol
coirce le feabhas a stiuraidh_ appears to have been the highest
conception of skilful steering, and we may readily believe that it
would be hard to surpass such a marvellous feat. Much complaint has
been made against these same “lying, worldly stories,” which the good
bishop Carsuel found obstructing his reforming efforts. Several of
his profession since have uttered the same complaint. But surely if
the minds of the people were not filled with a better gospel, the
wisest thing they could do was to extract any lessons of prudence and
morality that they could find in these simple tales.

As to the preservation and age of these romances the question is
excellently stated in the following sentences by Standish O’Grady:
“Whatever it may be that has given vitality to the traditions of
the mythic and elder historic period, they have survived to modern
times; when they have been formed into large manuscript collections,
of which the commonest titles, ‘Bolg an t-Salathair,’ answering to
a ‘Comprehensive Miscellany.’ These were for the most part written
by professional scribes and schoolmasters, and being then lent to,
or bought by those who could read, but had no leisure to write,
used to be read aloud in farmer’s houses on occasions when numbers
were collected at some employment, such as wool-carding in the
evenings; but especially at wakes. Thus the people became familiar
with all these tales. The writer has heard a man who never possessed
a manuscript, nor heard of O’Flanagan’s publication, relate at the
fireside the death of the sons of Uisneach without omitting one
adventure, and in great part retaining the very words of the written
versions.” “It has been already said that some of these legends and
poems are new versions of old; but it is not to be supposed that they
are so in at all the same degree or the same sense as, for instance,
the modernised _Canterbury Tales_ are of Chaucer’s original work.
There is this great difference, that in the former, nothing has been
changed but some inflections and constructions, and the orthography
which has become more fixed; the genius and idiom of the language,
and in a very great measure the words, remaining the same; while in
the latter all these have been much altered. Again the new versions
of Chaucer are of the present day; whereas our tales and poems, both
the modifications of older ones, and those which in their very origin
are recent, are one with the other, most probably three hundred years
old.”

It was the authors, writers, and preservers of these tales and
romances that manufactured and handed down to us the fabulous
chronicles in which the early migrations and history of the Gaelic
clans lie embedded. Let us cast a glance at these interesting
chronicles, the historical value of which has not yet been decided by
our Celtic literati.

It has been a question much discussed, how the British islands were
first peopled; whether some other nameless tribes landed before the
Celts; and in what manner the Celts came into possession. It is
admitted by some Cymri in traditions that their brother Gaels were
before them, whoever had been in possession before the Gaels. Hu the
Mighty, the great ancestor of the Welsh, being a wise ruler, entered
into federal relations with the Gaels on his arrival, the land being
extensive enough for the two Celtic tribes. This Hu Gadarn, who is
said to have come with his people direct from the regions round about
“where Constantinople now is,” is thus described in the poetry of his
country:—

     “The mighty Hu with mead would pay
      The bard for his melodious lay;
      The Emperor of land and sea
      And of all living things was he.”

Irish annalists make a certain Milesius and others leaders of the
Gaelic colonies by which Ireland was peopled. These colonies came
from the East, and having rested in Spain, they sailed thence
directly to Ireland. There are many historical romances extant
regarding these colonies of Gaels and their wanderings and final
settlement in Ireland. “The Chronicles of Eri” is among the most
interesting. Dr Keating, in his legendary history of Ireland,
gives the descent of the Gael from Gathelus, or _Gaidheal Glas_,
as follows:—Gathelus, who started westward from Egypt, was the son
of Niul, son of Fenius Farsa, son of Baath, son of Magog, son of
Japhet, son of Noah! The force of reason could no further go. Niul
was a man of much learning and wisdom, and was married to a daughter
of Pharaoh, called Scoto. She was the mother of Gathelus, who, it
is said, was an intimate friend of Moses. When the great exodus of
Israel from Egypt took place Gathelus was in his eightieth year.
After various adventures his descendants arrived in Spain, where they
remained for some time masters of the country. Milidh or Milesius
was an eminent warrior; greatly distinguished himself before leaving
Egypt in a war with the Ethiopians; fought in Scythia, and became
one of the kings of the descendants of Gathelus in Spain. He also
was married to a Scota, a daughter of Pharaoh. His sons, in the year
500 before Christ, sailed to Ireland with a fleet of thirty vessels.
They soon conquered the Tuatha de Danaan, and divided Ireland into
two parts. Ebir was made king of the southern part of the island, and
Eremon of the northern part.

The descendants of Gathelus in all their wanderings are supposed
to have carried with them Jacob’s Stone, the famous _Lia Fail_, or
stone of destiny, stolen from Scone by that royal robber of Scotch
antiquities, Edward I., now in the coronation chair in Westminster
Abbey. It is alleged that it was removed from Ireland to Scotland in
503 A.D. by Murtogh MacEarc that his brother Fergus Mor might be
crowned on it. Science makes havoc at times with tradition. After
examining the _Lia Fail_, Professor Geikie, according to Dr Skene,
declares that it is merely a block of Perthshire sandstone. At the
same time, it must be a stone of great antiquity, and lies at last
in a safe and honourable resting-place, at whose shrine, and before
the mightiest and most beloved Monarch that ever sat on an earthly
throne, Celt and Saxon, Dane and Norman, bend the knee in loyal
unity. There is an interesting prophecy of a very ancient origin
connected with the _Lia Fail_. O’Hartigan, an Irish poet, who died in
975, speaks of it in the following couplet—

      An cloch a ta fam dha shail,
      Uaithe raidhtear Inis Fail.
      _The stone beneath my two heels,
      From it, is said, the Isle of Fail._

Hector Boece, the Scottish historian, gives the following Latin
couplet:—

      Ni fallat fatum, Scoti, qnocunque locatum,
      Invenient lapidem, regnare tenentur ibidem;

Of which Keating gives the following Gaelic:—

      Cineadh Scuit saor an fine,
      Mun budh breag an fhaisdine,
      Mar a fuighid an liagh-fhail,
      Dlighid flaitheas do ghabhail.

Rendered thus in English—

      The Scots shall brook that realm as native ground,
      If weirds fail not, where’er this chair is found.

So much for the _Lia Fail_.

       *       *       *       *       *

There is a reluctance on the part of Irish writers to accept any
theory that implies the colonisation of Ireland from Britain. On
the contrary, they rather attempt to prove that the Scottish Gael
emigrated from Ireland—a theory which appears to have been invented
in the fifteenth century. It was afterwards adopted unquestioningly
by Scottish antiquarians, with few exceptions, of whom James
Macpherson of Ossianic fame was one. For some time the Highlanders
generally accepted the theory, and almost all the Highland clans
were somehow or other traced to an Irish original. _MacMhaighstir
Alastair_ thus sings of the original country of the clans according
to the belief of last century:—

     “There are thousands now in Alba
        As stout as are in any land;
      _The grey Gaels from Scota_,
        Who cheerful round your colours stand.”

By _Scota_ Ireland is meant. All the elaborate and romantic
chronicles by which Milesian and Spanish colonies are made to land on
Irish soil were mostly manufactured by monks in the Middle Ages, and
have no defensible historical foundation; the same may be affirmed of
the alleged colonisation of Argyllshire by Irish Gaels.

Some of the romances and the chronicles, however, suggest what appear
to be reliable facts respecting the several races of Erin and Albin.
Just as there were several tribes of Finians in ancient Eire, so
there are different tribes of Celts in modern Ireland. A powerful
pre-Celtic element, as in the north-west of Scotland, prevails in
the south-west of Ireland. On the other hand a Norse element also
prevails in the north-west of Scotland, which has largely entered
into the population of the north of Ireland. The difference of
character exhibited by the generic Irish and generic Scottish Celt is
to be traced no doubt to the degrees of original difference in the
blending of races.

The Norse element has always been recognised by the more intelligent
of the Highlanders. We find Mary MacLeod, the Harris poetess, born in
1569, addressing the Dunvegan chief of the day in these words:—

     “In counsel or fight, thy kindred
        Know these should be thine—
      Branch of _Lochlin’s_ wide-ruling
        And king-bearing line!
      And in Erin they know it
        Far over the brine;
      No Earl would in Albin
        Thy friendship decline.”

The matter of religion is, no doubt, an important factor in the
later difference; but the sturdier Norse element in the Highlander’s
constitution may account for much. In reading the literature of the
two countries, we are at once struck with the different keys to which
the bards attune their harps. An Irish bard, in English, sings thus
of his country:—

     “She sits alone on the cold gravestone,
        And only the dead are nigh her;
      In the tongue of the Gael she makes her wail;
        The night wind rushes by her:

     “‘Few, O few, are the leal and true,
        And fewer shall be, and fewer;
      The land is a corse;—no life, no force—
        O wind with sere leaves strew her!

     “‘Men ask what scope is left for hope
        To one who has known her story;
      I trust her dead! Their graves are red;
        But their souls are with God in glory.’”

This note is not to be found in the whole range of Highland poetry.
Perhaps it is because the retrospect of the past is not so full of
sadness for the Highlander, who, notwithstanding his rebellions
and their frequent non-success, has fairly maintained his ground
in Scotland. He has had his share in the struggles for Scotland’s
independence; and he now identifies himself with the whole nation,
proud of the name, and rejoicing in her glorious history. The
Jacobite bard, Alexander Macdonald, addresses the Scottish Lion thus:—

     “Hail! thou rending Lion,
        Of matchless force and rampant pride!
      When up thy chieftains roused them
        Gay banners fluttered far and wide.

             *       *       *       *       *

      Strong rock and everlasting,
        Hard and old and undecayed,
      High thy royal crest show,
        For thousands gather in thy shade,
      With mirth in their armour bright—
        The dauntless race that never yield—
      The spectres that stir panic flight,
        When quick striking swords they wield.
      Many gallant youths beneath thee,
        With stout hands and shoulders great,
      Go rushing on where’s honour won—
        For wild fight they’re never late.
      With steady foot and agile hand
        To thrust or cut each weapon gleams;
      Red on the ground death gasps around,
        But gay o’erhead the Lion streams.

      Thou roaring, frowning Lion!” &c.

This is the kind of poetry on which the Highland national spirit has
been fed. Retrospects have less weight and prospects more with the
Highlander. On the other hand the Irish Gael dwells intensely on the
past, and thus grievously sins against his future. As appendix to
this chapter on prose romances, I give some Irish _literary facts_
and a Hibernian _picture of Ossian_ in verse, as—


IRISH VERSIONS.

The early literature of the Scottish Gael cannot be well understood
apart from early Irish literature. The ballads of the two countries
describe the same struggles; the characters engaging in the strife
are the same, and bear the same names. So it ought to be interesting
to compare some of the idealised characters of early Irish literature
with those that we find in Scotland.

The early history of Ireland and its literature has not yet been
written, and the name remark is applicable to the Highlands of
Scotland. One able and scientific work has been recently produced
in the latter country—the learned three volumes of Dr W. F.
Skene—“Celtic Scotland.” The indefatigable labours of the late
Professor Eugone O’Curry have prepared the way for an authentic
history of Ireland; and it is to be hoped that such works as those of
the Gradys, Stokeses, &c., will clear the ground of fables and reveal
the genuine lines of early Irish annals. In his “Lectures on the
Manuscript Materials of Ancient Irish History,” O’Curry remarks—“It
will be found that all the writers who have published books on the
subject up to the time of delivering these lectures—books some of
them large and elaborate—_not one_ ever wrote who had previously
acquired the necessary qualifications, _or even applied himself
at all to the necessary study_, without which, as I think I have
established beyond a doubt, the history of Ireland could not possibly
have been written. _All_ were ignorant, almost totally ignorant, of
the greater part of the records and remains of which I have here, for
the first time, endeavoured to present a comprehensive, and, in some
sort, a connected account.” Irish scholars have an immense mass of
valuable ancient manuscripts in which they find rich remains of their
early literature, as well as materials for their early history. Let
us mention some of the most important. Here is a list of some of the
old and middle Irish periods:—

A copy of the Four Gospels, stained with the blood of the Irish St.
Killian, who was martyred in 678 A.D.; taken from his tomb in 743.
In the library of Trinity College, Dublin, are found—A Latin copy of
the Four Gospels, written previous to 700 A.D.; the Four Gospels
of Dimma, Latin, with a few Gaelic words, 620 A.D.; the Book of
Durrow, containing the Four Latin Gospels, about 700 A.D.; the Book
of Kells, same contents as last, about 800 A.D.; the Gospel of St.
Moling, about 800 A.D.; the Book of Armagh, containing the Latin New
Testament, notes on St. Patrick’s life, and the life of St. Martin of
Tours, 807 A.D.; the Book of Leinster, containing the Cattle Raid of
Cuailgne, and the Destruction of Troy, 1150 A.D.; the Yellow Book of
Lecain, 1391 A.D; and the Book of Brehon Laws—the last-named three
books are in the Irish language. In the Royal Irish Academy are the
Book of the Dun Cow, also containing the Cattle Raid, 1106 A.D.; the
Book of Ballymote, 1391 A.D.; also a copy of the Book of Lecain, 1416
A.D. These are all in the Irish language. Earlier dates than those
given have been assigned to some of these books. These and the Annals
of Loch Cè, the Annals of the Four Masters, the Annals of Tighernac,
&c., are all of great interest and value to Gaelic scholars in
Scotland. The ancient Celtic literature extant in Scotland cannot be
at all compared in extent with that preserved in Ireland.

As already remarked, the picture of Ossian that the Irish ballads and
tales present resembles that of the ballads and tales of Scotland.
In the fourth volume of the Transactions of the Ossianic Society of
Dublin, we find a description of the journey and residence of Ossian
in _Tir-nan-Og_, “The Land of Youth.” In Scotland this place is known
as _Eilein-na-h-Oige_, “The Isle of Youth.” Ossian and the rest of
the Fianna were “hunting on a misty morning nigh the bordering shores
of Loch Léin,” when a fleet rider was seen advancing towards them—

     “A young maiden of most beautiful appearance,
      On a slender white steed of swiftest power.”

The name of this maiden is “Niamh,” and she describes herself as the
“fair daughter of the King of Youth.”

     “A royal crown was on her head;
      And a brown mantle of precious silk,
      Spangled with stars of red gold,
      Covering her shoes down to the grass.

     “A garment, wide, long, and smooth,
      Covered the white steed:
      There was a comely saddle of red gold
      And her light hand held a bridle with a golden bit.”

In answer to Fingal’s inquiry she says that, “as yet she has not
been spoken of with any man,” but that “her affection and love she
has given to his son”—Ossian. In these ballads and tales “geasan,”
some bewitching obligations or bonds, are frequently spoken of. It
was by the exercise of this power—these invisible bonds—that the
faithless spouse of Fingal compelled the beautiful Diarmad to elope
with her. This Princess, “the golden-headed Niamh,” put her “geasan”
on Ossian. She thus addresses him:—

     “Obligations unresisted by true heroes,
      O! generous Oisin, I put upon thee,
      To come with myself now upon my steed
      Till we arrive at the ‘Land of Youth.’

     “It is the most delightful country to be found,
      Of greatest repute under the sun,
      Trees dropping with fruit and blossom,
      And foiliage growing on the tops of boughs.

     “Abundant there are honey and wine,
      And everything that eye has beheld,
      There will not come decline on thee with lapse of time,
      Death or decay thou wilt not see.”

He is to get there a “hundred swords,” and a hundred of every article
or possession that could be dear to the heart of a warrior or a bard.
Ossian thus replies:—

     “No refusal will I give from me,
      O charming queen of the golden curls!
      Thou art my choice above the women of the world,
      And I will go with willingness to the ‘Land of Youth.’”

The poet then describes in melancholy strains his parting with his
own people—the Féinne:—

     “I kissed my father sweetly and gently,
      And the same affection I got from him;
      I bade adieu to all the Fianna,
      And the tears flowed down my cheeks.

     “Many a delightful day had Fionn and I,
      And the Fianna with us in great power,
      Been _chess-playing_ and drinking,
      And hearing music—the last that was powerful?

     “A hunting in smooth valleys,
      And our sweet-mouthed dogs with us there;
      At other times, in the rough conflict,
      Slaughtering heroes with great vigour.”

Macpherson’s Ossian is never caught at “chess-playing,” or speaking
of other things that might savour of more recent days. The course of
Ossian and Niamh is thus described:—

     “We turned our backs to the land,
      And our faces directly due west;
      The smooth sea ebbed before us,
      And filled in billows after us.”

Before they arrive at the “Land of Youth,” Ossian rescues a
distressed Princess from the hated hands of a giant; and

     “We buried the great man
      In a deep sod-grave, wide and clear;
      I raised his flag and monument,
      And I wrote his name in Ogham Cráobh.”

They are welcomed to the “Land of Youth” by a “multitude of
glittering bright hosts,” and conducted to a Royal fortress, by whose
side are seen—

     “Radiant summer-houses and palaces,
      Made all of precious stones.”

     “When all arrived in one spot,
      Then courteously spoke the ‘King of Youth,’
      And said, ‘This is Ossin,’ the son of Fionn,
      The gentle consort of ‘golden-headed Niamh!’”

He spent a long time in the “Land of Youth;” but in the midst of its
calm, waveless existence, he longs for his old life with the Féinne,
and for a sight once more of his lost brothers-in-arms:—

     “I asked leave of the King,
      And of my kind spouse—golden-headed Niamh,
      To go to Erinn back again,
      To see Fionn and his great host.”

She reluctantly consents to Ossian’s return; and the parting is
bitterly sad to both:—

     “I looked up into her countenance with compassion,
      And streams of tears run from my eyes,
      O Patrick! thou wouldest have pitied her
      Tearing the hair of the golden head.”

She warns him on his return never to alight off the white steed, or—

      “Thou wilt be an old man, withered and blind.”

On his arrival in Erin he sought, with a doubtful and trembling
heart, for the Fianna. He soon met a great troop of men and women,
who saluted him kindly, and were surprised at the bulk of his person,
his form, and appearance. He asked them whether Fionn was alive, and
whether any disaster had swept the Fianna away. He was told that a
“young maiden” came for Fionn, and that he went away with her to the
“Land of Youth:”—

     “When I mysel heard that report,
      That Fionn did not live, nor any of the Fianna,
      I was seized with weariness and great sorrow,
      And I was full of melancholy after them.”

The poet immediately betakes himself to “Almhuin” of great exploits
in broad Leinster; but could not see the “Court of Fionn,” and—

     “There was not in its place in truth,
      But weeds, chick-weeds, and nettles.”

While passing through the Glen of the Thrushes he sees three hundred
men before him: their leader cries for help to the bard, whose
chivalrous instincts are roused, and who, forgetting the strict
injunctions of Niamh not to touch the earth, alighted and relieved
them from their difficulty, performing the most marvellous exploits.
But alas!—

     “No sooner did I come down,
      Than the white steed took fright;
      He went then on his way,
      And I, in sorrow, both weak and feeble.”

He had been a long time in the “Land of Youth,” and intended going
back to that country, perpetually “under the full bloom;” but now he
could not. His stay in that land reminds us of the seven sleepers of
Ephesus. He tells the everlastingly occurring Patrick—

     “I spent a time protracted in length,
      Three hundred years and more,
      Until I thought ’twould be my desire
      To see Fionn and the Fianna alive.”

The great prince-poet, as everywhere represented, is in his last days
poor and blind. After declaring to Patrick that—

     “There is many a book written down,
      By the melodious sweet sages of the Gaels,
      Which we in truth are unable to relate to thee,
      Of the deeds of Fionn and of the Fianna;”

he concludes his lengthy relation in these two stanzas:—

     “I lost the sight of my eyes,
      My form, my countenance, and my vigour,
      I was an old man, poor and blind,
      Without strength, understanding, or esteem.

     “Patrick! there is to thee my story,
      As it occurred to myself without a lie,
      My going and my adventures in certain,
      And my returning from the ‘Land of Youth.’”

Such is the picture we have of Ossian and his life in some of the
Irish ballads. There is no resemblance between this poetry and
that which Macpherson has given us. _Oisin an Tirna-h-Oige_ is the
production of a writer who lived not many centuries ago. It is
certainly much more modern than even the Oisian of the older ballads,
in which dialogues between the saint and the poet occur.

A very fine specimen of the old heroic poem of the Gael is the
Battle of _Cnoc-an-air_. Here we have terrible fighting among the
“Seven battalions of the standing Fenians.” The Irish versions of
the dialogues between Patrick and Ossian are very much like those of
Scotland.

[Illustration: (decorative end-of-chapter icon)]




CHAPTER VII.

MEDIEVAL BARDS.

     “Gach fili ’s bard, gach léigh, aosdan is draoi,
      Gach seanachaidh fòs, gach eoladhain shaor is saoi;
      Na diadhairean môr bu chliú, ’s bu ghloir do’n Chléir
      B’ ann leath’ gu tarbhach labhair iad briathra Dhé.”—MACLEAN.


The unwise utterance of Dr Samuel Johnson that no Scottish Gaelic
manuscript of an older date than last century existed is amply
refuted by the catalogues of British, Irish, and Continental
Libraries. Private individuals also are in possession of Gaelic
manuscripts, some of which come to light now and then. In 1873
Admiral Macdonald sent to Mr J. F. Campbell of Islay the famous
_Leabhar Dearg_, or Red Book of Clan-Ranald, which he had recovered.
This was one of the manuscripts which Macpherson was supposed to
have used and destroyed; but after having read it in company with Mr
Standish O’Grady, Mr Campbell declares that this paper manuscript
“does not contain one line of Macpherson’s Ossian.” It is highly
probable that many others may have ancient manuscripts among their
family archives like this one of Admiral Macdonald, the supposed
destruction of which by Macpherson caused so much literary waste in
connection with the Ossianic controversy.

There have been in Scotland many influences—changes dynastic,
political, and ecclesiastical—unfavourable to the preservation of our
manuscripts. In the midst of these turbulent changes and the ravages
of wars, the vandal hands of foes that demolished churches and burned
houses would not spare the native literary remains they might come
across. We have lost much by the ravages of the Norse in Iona, of the
English at Scone, and of the Reformers. But fresh access of national
life came in each case.

It is not the intention of these chapters to describe at length
the MSS. that we have left us, but a few of the older ones may be
mentioned. The earliest, as already remarked, are to be found in
Continental Libraries—those on which Zeuss founded his “Grammatica
Celtica.” Some of them are no doubt Irish, but some of them must
have been also written by the missionaries who went forth at that
time from the College of Iona. The language and MSS. of that period
in Ireland and Scotland were of the same character and were common
property, and continued to be so to a great extent till the period of
the Reformation, which, as above remarked, along with more violent
political changes in Scotland before then, helped to destroy relics
of preceding ages. The oldest Gaelic MS. extant in this country is a
folio beautifully written on parchment or vellum from the collection
of the late Major MacLauchlan of Kilbride. It is in the possession of
the Highland Society, and is marked Vo. A., No. I. It is supposed to
belong to the eighth century. The following remark is found on the
margin of the fourth leaf: —“Oidche bealtne ann a coimhtech mo Pupu
Muirciusa agus as olc lium nach marunn diol in linesi dem bub Misi
Fithil acc furnuidhe na scoile.” It has been thus rendered by the
late Dr Donald Smith:—“The night of the first of May, in Coenobium of
my Pope Marchus, and I regret that there is not left of my ink enough
to fill up this line. Jane Fithil, an attendant on the school.” The
MS. “consists of a poem, moral or religious, some short historical
anecdotes, a critical exposition of the _Tain_, an Irish tale.”

One of the next oldest is named “Emanuel,” and is ascribed to the
ninth century. Thirty-five lines are quoted in the appendix of the
Highland Society’s report.

There is a parchment book that is attributed to the tenth or eleventh
century. It contains Biblical legends, a life of St. Columba, &c.
It admits of no doubt that many Gaelic productions perished in the
eighth century, when Iona was sacked by the Norse. And it is only a
wonder that so many relics should have survived the ruthless changes
of those days.

Bishop Moore, of Norwich, afterwards of Ely, presented his library,
more than a century ago, to the University of Cambridge. Among his
large collection of books was a vellum MS. of 86 folios, about six
inches long by three broad. It is said that this MS. is as old as
the ninth century. The principal part of it is written in Latin,
and contains John’s Gospel and portions of the other three Gospels,
the Apostles’ Creed, and part of an Office for the visitation of
the sick. It belonged to an establishment of the Culdee Church, and
is an interesting relic of the Celtic learning and culture of the
time, particularly of the ecclesiastics of that Church, who, while
cultivating their native Gaelic, could also read and write Latin.
To the Gaelic scholar the chief interest lies in the Celtic portion
of the MS.—the Gaelic entries made on the margin and on other spaces
in the volume. The MS. was published some years ago by the Spalding
Club, under the excellent editorship of the late Dr John Stuart,
who has given us the Gaelic entries as well as the original in a
scholarly and careful fashion. A Gaelic paragraph on the founding of
the old monastery of Deer has attracted much attention, on account
of its reference to Columba, and because it shows the intimate
connection that existed between the parent establishment at Iona and
branch establishments in distant parts of Scotland.

The _Legend of Deer_ is as follows:—

  Columcille acus drostán mac cósgreg adálta tangator áhí marroalseg
  día doíb gonic abbordobóir acus béde cruthnec robomormáer buchan
  aragínn acus essé rothídnaig dóib ingathráig sáin insaere gobraíth
  ómormaer acus óthóséc. tangator asááthle sen incathraig ele
  acus doráten ricolumcille sí iarfallán dórath dé acus dorodloeg
  arinmormáer .i. bédé gondas tabrád dó acus níthárat acus rogab mac
  dó galár iarnéré na gleréc acus robomaréb act mádbec iarsén dochuíd
  inmormáer dattác na glerec góndendaes ernacde les inmac gondisád
  slánte dó acus dórat inedbairt doíb nácloic intiprat goníce chlóic
  pette mic garnáit doronsat innernacde acus tanic slante dó; Iarsén
  dorat collumcille dódrostán inchadráig sén acus rosbenact acus
  foracaib imbrether gebe tisad ris nabab blienec buadacc tangatar
  deara drostán arscartháin fri collumcille rolaboir collumcille
  bedeár áním óhúnn ímácc.

  TRANSLATION:

  (Columcille and Drostán of Gosgrach his pupil came from I as God
  had shown to them unto Abbordoboir and Bede the Pict was mormaer
  of Buchan before them, and it was he that gave them that town in
  freedom for ever from mormaer and tosech. They came after that to
  the other town, and it was pleasing to Calumcille, because it was
  full of God’s grace, and he asked of the mormaer to wit Bede that
  he should give it to him; and he did not give it; and a son of his
  took an illness after [or in consequence of] refusing the clerics,
  and he was nearly dead [lit. he was dead but if it were a little.]
  After this the mormaer went to entreat the clerics that they should
  pray for the son that health should come to him, and he gave in
  offering to them from Cloch in tiprat to Cloch pette mic Garnait.
  They made the prayer, and health came to him. After that Calumcille
  gave to Drostán that town and blessed it and left as (his) word,
  “Whosoever should come against it, let him not be prosperous.”
  Drostán’s tears (deara) came on parting with Calumcille. Said
  Calumcille, “Let Dear be its name henceforward.”)

According to this legend it seems that King Brude’s court at
Inverness was not the only distant place visited by the Iona Apostle,
but that he also went as far east as the district of Buchan. The
other chief Gaelic entries are records of grants of land made by
the Monastery. The majority of the names entered, though mere
patronymics then, became some time after clan names as understood
at the present day. It was then or very soon after that the ancient
inhabitants of Celtic Albin began to form themselves into clans in
the state in which they were found two centuries ago. The systems of
feudalism and clanship began to blend and develop. Towards the end of
the MS. the following interesting Gaelic entry is found:—“Forchubus
caichduini imbia arrath in lebran colli aratardda bendacht foranmain
in truagan rodscribai.” This has been translated by the distinguished
Celtic scholar Dr Whitley Stokes thus—“Be it on the conscience of
every one in whom shall be for grace the booklet with splendour; that
he give a blessing on the soul of the wretchock who wrote it.” The
same eminent authority says—“In point of language this is identical
with the oldest Irish glosses in Zeuss’s _Grammatica Celtica_.” This
precisely proves what has been elsewhere already stated, that the
Gaelic of Scotland and Ireland at that time was exactly the same, and
that it was at a later period that dialectic differences appeared. It
also suggests that many of old existing MSS. might have been written
by Scotchmen as well as by Irishmen.

The most ancient and authentic record of the Scottish Kings is to be
found in a poem called “The Albannic Duan,” which was recited by the
Gaelic bard-laureate of the day at the coronation of Malcolm III. It
was found originally in the MacFirbis Manuscript in the Royal Irish
Academy. The name of the author is not known. The Duan consists
of one hundred and eight lines, and is composed in the ballad
measure. Being mostly a catalogue of names, it does not bear a verse
translation very well. The first four stanzas run thus:—

      Ye learned men of Albin all,
        Ye yellow-haired and gentle band,
      Who first invaded, do you know,
        The ancient shore of Albin land?

      Albanus came with active men,
        That son of Isacon of fame,
      Brother of blameless Briutus he;
        From him did Albin get its name.

      Briutus sent his brother bold
        Across the stormy sea of Icht,
      The sea-swept point of Fotudan
        In Albin fair he took with might.

      Long after Briutus, brave and good,
        The Nevi-clans the land enjoyed;
      And Erglan, who came from his ship
        When he had Conning tower destroyed.

It was probably in this reign that the ancient language of Albin
ceased to be used in the Royal Court of Scotland. It continued,
however, to be the fashionable speech of the provincial princes of
the Isles until the lordship of the Isles terminated, towards the
end of the sixteenth century, with Angus MacDonald of Duneevaig,
Islay, and the Glens in Antrim. Sir James Macdonald of Antrim, who
had no English, came with a magnificent retinue to visit James IV. of
Scotland at Holyrood previous to his ascending the throne of England,
and stopped for some time at Court. Could the King, with whom Sir
James was a great favourite, and to whom he was closely related,
converse with him in the Gaelic language?

There is a parchment manuscript in quarto that belonged to the
Kilbride collection. It is prettily written, and contains a metrical
account or list of holidays, festivals, and saints’ days throughout
the year; an almanack; and a treatise on anatomy, abridged from
Galen, &c.; the Schola Salernitana in Leonine verse, drawn up about
1100 A.D., for the use of Robert, Duke of Normandy, the son of
William the Conqueror, by the well-known medical school of Salerno.
The Latin text is accompanied by a faithful Gaelic explanation. A
specimen follows:—

     “Sivis incolumem, sivis te reddere sanum;
      Curas tolle graves, irasci crede prophanum.”

  _Gaelic_—

     “Madh ail bhidh fallann agus madh aill bhidh slan;
      Cuirna himsnimha tromadhit, agus creid gurub diomhain duit fearg
            de dhenumh.”

Having the words _Leabhar Giollacholaim Meigleathadh_ on the last
page of the MS., it is supposed that it belonged to Malcolm Bethune,
a member of a family distinguished for their learning and medical
skill, that supplied for many ages with physicians the Western Isles
of Scotland. It was one of them, Fergus Mac Beth or Beaton, that
signed the holograph, of the famous Islay Charter of 1408 for Donald,
Lord of the Isles. A MS. dated 1238 on the cover is supposed to have
been written at Glenmason, in Cowal. It contains tales in prose and
verse—one about _Deardri_, _Dearduil_, or _Darthula_.

Another valuable and interesting MS., dated 1512-26, belonging to
Sir James Macgregor, Dean of Lismore—“Jacobus M’Gregor decanus
Lismorensis”—has been mostly published. The editors who have done
their work admirably, have been Dr Thomas MacLauchlan and Dr W. F.
Skene. The work of the former was very difficult and laborious—first
to change the orthography of the Dean, which was phonetic, into
modern Gaelic, and then give a literal English translation.

Among other known manuscripts of the period is that of Dunstaffnage,
October 12, 1603, by Ewen Macphaill. It contains prose tales
concerning Lochlin and Finnic heroes.

A paper manuscript 1654-5, by Edmond MacLauchlan, contains sonnets,
odes, epistles, and an ogham alphabet at the end.

A quarto paper manuscript of 1690-91 contains ancient and modern
tales and poems. It was written at Ardchonnail, on Lochawe side, by
Ewen Maclean for Colin Campbell—“_Caillain Caimpbel leis an leis an
leabharan_.” This Gaelic inscription appears on the seventy-ninth
leaf of the manuscript.

In the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries we have arrived at a period
in which Gaelic is very generally written. To the latter century
belong the most of the manuscript materials extant. The subjects of
these manuscripts are of the most various descriptions. We have among
them compendiums of theology, fables and anecdotes about saints, &c.
The most valuable, perhaps, are the genealogical manuscripts. The
historian of Scottish annals is not sufficiently equipped without
knowledge of these. Some of them no doubt, being family records
very frequently, are very partial; but when collated the one will
correct the other. Other subjects treated of in these manuscripts are
medicine and astrology. The substance of these is translated from
Greek and Moorish works, Galen, Averroes, and Avicenna being the
general sources. The largest number of the medical manuscripts were
written by or passed through the hands of the Beatons, the well-known
physicians of the western isles. Astrology appears to have been
studied by the aid of Arabian writers; so many of the superstitions
or popular ideas in the Highlands regarding the stars had probably
an Arabic, and not a Druidic origin, as the present Highlanders
generally believe. The surprising thing is that this science of the
period should be known and cultivated in such inaccessible places as
the Highlands and Islands. Dr MacLauchlan very pertinently and truly
remarks as follows:—“The metaphysical discussions [of the MSS.], if
they may be so called, are very curious, being characterised by the
features which distinguished the science of metaphysics at the time.
The most remarkable thing is there are Gaelic terms to express the
most abstract ideas in metaphysics—terms which are now obsolete, and
would not be understood by any ordinary Gaelic speaker. A perusal of
these ancient writings shows how much the language has declined,
and to what an extent it was cultivated at an early period. So
with astrology, its terms are translated and the science is fully
set forth. Tables are furnished of the position of the stars, by
means of which to foretell the character of future events. Whatever
literature existed in Europe in the 14th and 15th centuries extended
its influence to the Scottish Highlands. The nation was by no means
in such a state of barbarism as some writers would lead us to expect.
They had legal forms, for we have a formal legal charter of lands
written in Gaelic; they had medical men of skill and acquirement;
they had writers on law and theology, and they had men skilled in
architecture and sculpture.” But then these manuscripts, these
evidences of light and culture among the Gaels of the Middle Ages,
were buried in private and public libraries till some years ago; and
historians and others not suspecting their existence did not look for
them; and so wrote what their fancy dictated concerning the barbaric
Gael.

In examining the older MSS. and assigning them a nationality, the
student of Celtic literature must bear in mind that the language
spoken in the Highlands of Scotland and in Ireland in early times
was exactly the same, and that the dialectic differences existing
just now have mostly developed since the period of the Reformation.
The literature that the two Gaelic peoples possessed till then was
also to a great extent common property. As to their writing, what
is called “Irish hand,” or vulgarly _Erse_, or “Irish character,”
is nothing more than what was once common throughout the whole of
Europe. It was in it Gaelic writers once wrote in Scotland; and thus
is how some of our early MSS. have been assigned an Irish origin.

With the reign of Malcolm III., or _Ceann-Mor_, in the eleventh
century, and his marriage with an English Princess, Scottish
institutions and habits began to be radically affected. The
Anglicising and Romanising processes at work were in their final
stages in the Lowlands about the time of the last invasion of the
Norse in the thirteenth century. Soon after the laws and customs of
Scotland were found quite transformed. Feudalism was introduced,
and began to extend even among the Highland chiefs and clans. The
system of clanship, although having apparent points of resemblance
to feudalism, was in principle essentially different. “In the former
case the people followed their chief as the head of their race,
and the representative of the common ancestor of the clan; in the
latter they obeyed their leader as feudal proprietor of the lands
to which they were attached, and to whom they owed military service
for their respective portions of these lands. The Highland chief
was the hereditary lord of all who belonged to his clan wherever
they dwelt, or whatever lands they occupied; the feudal baron was
entitled to the military service of all who held lands under him, to
whatever race they might individually belong. The one dignity was
personal, the other was territorial; the rights of the chief were
inherent, those of the baron were accessory; the one might lose or
forfeit his possessions, but could not thereby be divested of his
hereditary character and privileges; the other when divested of his
fee ceased to have any title or claim to the service of those who
occupied the lands. Yet these two systems, so different in principle,
were in effect nearly identical. Both exhibited the spectacle of a
subject possessed of unlimited power within his own territories, and
exacting unqualified obedience from a numerous train of followers, to
whom he stood in the several relations of landlord, military leader,
and judge, with all the powers and prerogatives belonging to each
of those characters.” The system of clanship was for a time better
adapted for the Highlands; but the tendency of both clanship and
feudalism was to obstruct the administration of justice and impede
the progress of improvement.

Let us now glance at the general culture of this period. From the
poetry of Finlay MacNab, in _The Book of the Dean of Lismore_, we
learn that the ancient bards were in the habit of writing their
compositions. Indeed there was far more literary culture among the
Gaels for many centuries before the Reformation than existed for some
time subsequent to that period. As in earlier ages there was close
intercourse in literary matters carried on during the period of the
Kingdom of the Isles between the Highlands and Ireland. There are
many names, Irish and Scotch, well known in literary annals, to be
found in the Highlands at this time. The Beatons, originally O’Neils
or MacNeills, were a family of learned physicians in Islay and Mull.
Manuscripts, either written by them or in their possession, are still
in existence. The MacVurichs, descendants of Muireadhach Albannach,
who were hereditary senachies or bards to Clanranald, preserved the
literary torch lighted for generations in the Western Isles. Some of
them are said “to have received their education in Irish Colleges
of poetry and writing.” On the other hand it seems to have been a
general practice for Irish scholars to come to the Highlands, where
they and their writings were well received and well known. Irish
annals inform us of Irish scholars who were regarded as masters in
the Highlands. These are the names of four of them:—

In 1185 died Maclosa O’Daly, ollave or scholar, a poet of Erin and
Albin. He was famed for his poetry, hospitality and nobility.

In 1328 died blind O’Carril, chief minstrel of Erin and Albin in his
day.

In 1448 died Tadgog, son of Tadg, son of Giollacoluim O’Higgin, chief
preceptor of the poets of Erin and Albin.

In 1554 died Tagd, son of Aodh O’Coffey, chief teacher of poetry in
Erin and Albin.

From this we learn that literature existed, and that it was
sedulously cultivated both in the Highlands and in Ireland at this
time; and we also learn how much influence the one country exercised
on the language and literature of the other.

During this period Gaelic scholars and culture were encouraged and
fostered by the Princes, afterwards the Lords of the Isles. These
Princes were also very liberal in their benefactions to the Church;
it was one of them, the great Somerled, that endowed the Abbey
of Paisley. Iona and other places over which their sway extended
had always their constant help. And thus in their patronage of
churchmen they afforded shelter and protection to literature. The
MacVurichs and the Beatons, already mentioned, were at one time their
secretaries and senachies or clan-historians. Having in course of
time extensive possessions in Ireland as well as in Scotland, much
intercourse was maintained between the two countries, bards and
scholars of both countries going and coming in their train. The most
distinguished of them after Somerled were Donald, from whom the clan,
Donald Bulloch, with his brother John Mor, and James Macdonald the
last of the Isles who thus signs his name in a missive to the Irish
Privy Council, on January 24, 1546:—“James M’Connail of Dunnewaik and
ye Glinnis, and aperand aeyr of ye Yllis.” The Macdonalds, at one
time or another, as Princes or Lords of the Isles, ruled for upwards
of five centuries of the historical period over nearly the half of
Scotland and part of the north of Ireland. They occupy a prominent
place in Norse, Irish, and Scottish history. The Macdonalds finally
lost all their lands in the West, the most of which passed into the
hands of their powerful rivals the Campbells:—

      The Halls of Finlaggan no longer sound
      To joyous feasts and dances as of yore:
      The bard is dumb, the harper plays no more
      Where the proud princes of the Isles were crowned:—
      Their palace waste! while sadness sits around;
      And weeds and nettles flourish on the floor;
      Stark silence hovers round the islet’s shore
      Where tread of warriors oft had shook the ground.
      The chiefs and chieftains of the isles and west
      Are seen no more at great Macdonald’s court;
      Their galleys traverse not the island seas:
      They with their furious feuds are now at rest:
      Razed is each castle, ruined is each fort,
      Within thy bounds, Queen of the Hebrides!

The name that stands first on the roll of the bards of the Middle
and Modern Ages is that of MUIREADACH ALBANNACH. He is the author of
several poems which have been preserved in _The Book of the Dean of
Lismore_. Religious subjects are the theme of all his compositions.
None of the old bards exhibits so much earnestness and intensity of
feeling. There is also more subjectivity in his poems than in other
productions of the period. His name signifies Murdoch of Albin, or
Scotland, given probably to distinguish him from another Irish bard
of the same name. Muireadhach became the ancestor of a family of
senachies and bards who have been very distinguished in the literary
annals of Gaelic Scotland. They were hereditary bards and senachies
to the Clanranald family. One of them, Lachlan Mòr MacMhuireadhach
or Vurich, accompanied Donald Balloch of the Isles in 1411 at the
battle of Harlaw, reciting his grand war-incitement poem. The last
of them, Lachlan MacVurich, gives evidence in the report of the
Highland Society on Ossian, and traces his genealogy through eighteen
generations to Muireadhach Albannach. Muireadhach appears to have
lived between A.D. 1180 and 1220. I give here a metrical version of
a short religious poem of his in the Dean of Lismore’s book. He is
supposed to have been an ecclesiastic, as many of those who wrote in
early times were.

      I praise Thee, Christ, that on Thy breast
      A guilty one like me may rest;
      And that Thy favour I can share;
      And on my lips Thy cross may bear.

      O Jesus, sanctify my heart,
      My hands and feet and every part;
      Me sanctify in Thy good grace,—
      Blood, flesh and bones, and all my ways.

      I never cease committing sin;
      For still its love resides within:
      May God His holy fragrance shed
      Upon my heart and on my head.

      Great glorious One vouchsafe relief
      From all the ills that bring me grief;
      Ere I am laid beneath the sod:
      Before me smooth my way to God.

Another poem of Muireadhach is a curious dialogue between himself and
Cathal Cròdhearg, King of Connaught, who lived towards the end of the
12th century. Both of them were then entering on a monastic life.
It has been inferred from the dialogue that Murdoch was a man of
high birth. Another poem of his in the Dean of Lismore’s book I have
translated as follows:—

      ’Tis time to leave for Paradise
        Since it is hard this pain to bear,—
      To win unsoiled, the heavenly prize
        Which others cannot with us share.

      Now to thy priest thyself confess,
        And all thy sins recall to mind,
      Seek not His court with guilt-stained dress,
        For in that state none entrance find.

      None of thy many sins conceal,
        Though sore it be their ill to tell:
      Thy secret thoughts and deeds reveal,
        Lest thou incur His wrath in hell.

      And with the clergy make thy peace,
        Unworthy, helpless though thou be;
      Repent aright, and sinning cease,
        Lest heavy guilt be found on thee.

      He who forsakes the Lord Most High
        For love of sin, sinks deep in woes;
      The evils wrought in secresy
        Full well the Eye all-searching knows.

      Let these be thoughts for Adam’s race;
        To me they do not seem untrue;
      Men for a time may know their place,
        But death at last they can’t eschew.

Muireadhach Albannach occupies the same relation to a number of
succeeding generations of bards in Scotland that the famous Dafydd ap
Gwilym (born, 1293) does towards succeeding Welsh bards.

We have a specimen of the written Gaelic of this period in the famous
Macdonald charter, the earliest Gaelic one extant. In 1408 Donald,
Lord of the Isles, granted lands in Islay to Brian Vicar Mackay of
Rhinns, in that Island. The Mackays were an old family in Islay; from
them came the Magees of Ireland, and I believe the present Bishop
of Peterborough. The lands were Baile-Vicar, Cornobus, Cracobus,
Tocamol, &c., in the parish of Kildalton. The charter conveying these
lands, still in existence, is written in Gaelic. It was published
some time ago by the Record Commission. It is an interesting
document, and is here given in a literal translation. It was written
by one of the Beatons, already referred to, who signs himself “Fergus
M’Beth.” He was probably at the time physician to the Lord of the
Isles. As Dr M’Lauchlan, who deciphered it, says—“The style of the
charter is that of the usual feudal charters written in Latin, but
the remarkable thing is to find a document of the kind written in
Gaelic, at a time when such a thing was almost unknown in the Saxon
dialects of either England or Scotland.”

It is interesting to find that the Gaelic of the charter, written
470 years ago, is the same as that spoken in Islay at the present
day. One word _brach_, “ever” is spelt phonetically, just as it is
pronounced now in the dialect of the island. The only word which
seems to have changed its signification is _bheatha_, or unaspirated
_beatha_, which was then used for “world.” _Beatha_ in modern Gaelic
means life, but an older form was _bith_, which now means being or
existence, but in ancient Gaelic was used for “world.” See _Zeuss’s
Grammar_.

  In the name of God. Amen.

  I, Mac Donald, am granting and giving eleven marks and a-half of
  land from myself and from my heirs, to Brian Vicar Mackay and to
  his heirs, after him for ever and ever, for his services ... to
  myself and to my father before me; and this on covenant and on
  condition that he himself and they shall give to me and to my heirs
  after me yearly, four cows fit for killing for my house. And in
  case that these cows shall not be found, the above Brian and his
  heirs shall give to me and to my heirs after me, two marks and
  forty for the same above cows. And for the same cause I am binding
  myself and binding my heirs after me, to the end of the world,
  these lands, together with their fruit of sea and land, to defend
  and maintain to the above Brian Vicar Mackay, and to his heirs for
  ever after him in like manner. And these are the lands I have given
  to him and to his heirs for ever—namely, Baile-Vicar, Machaire,
  Leargariabhoighe, Ciontragha, Graftol, Tocamol, Ugasgog, the two
  Gleannastol, Cracobus, Cornubus, and Baile-Neaghtoin. And in order
  that there may be meaning, force, and effect in this grant I give
  from me, I again bind myself and my heirs for ever under covenant
  this to uphold and fulfil to the aforesaid Brian and his heirs
  after him to the end of the world, by putting my hand and my seal
  down here, in presence of these witnesses here below, and the
  sixth day of the month of the Beltane, and this year of the birth
  of Christ, one thousand four hundred and eight.

                                                             MCDONALD.

    John Mac Donald.
    Pat: Mac aBrian.
    Fergus Mac Beth.
    Hugh McCei.

It is a suggestive commentary on the uncertainty of sublunary things
that these lands which Donald was to “uphold” “to the end of the
world” to Brian and his heirs have passed through the hands of more
than one family since—they being now the property of John Ramsay, of
Kildalton. Neither a Mackay nor a Macdonald owns any land in Islay
now.

LACHLAN MOR MACVURICH.—This senachie and bard to the Clanranald is
the author of one of the most extraordinary poems in Gaelic or in any
language. He was of the family of the famous Muireadhach Albannach.
He accompanied Donald, Lord of the Isles, at the battle of Harlaw, in
1411, and rehearsed his poem to animate the followers of the Islay
chief. This war-song or battle-incitement (Stewart’s Collection)
consists of three hundred and thirty-eight lines. The theme of the
production is “O, children of Conn of the Hundred Fights! remember
hardihood in the time of battle.” Round this subject Lachlan Mòr
has gathered some six hundred and fifty adverbial adjectives,
arranged alphabetically, and every one of them bearing specially and
martially on the great theme of the song. There is nothing in the
poem but these adjectives, which certainly in themselves are not very
poetical; but rehearsed unhesitatingly from a good memory “in all
their astonishing alliterative array by a ready speaker gifted with
a strong and sensitive voice, they could not but have offered a rare
opportunity for impetuous, vehement, and effective declamation.”

It may be remarked here, _en passant_, that there is no decisive
evidence for the assertions of historians that Donald of Islay lost
that battle. He claimed the victory; but even although it were more
decided it would be equally barren of important results. It is also
a misconception of the character of the forces engaged when it is
said that one side was Celtic and the other Saxon, and that it was
a struggle for race supremacy. There were many Gaels on the other
side also, just as there were in the last battle fought on British
ground—that of Culloden.

THE FOUR WISE MEN.—One of the most interesting poems in the _Book
of the Dean of Lismore_ is a dialogue between four men who are
supposed to stand at the grave of Alexander the Great. It appears
to be somewhat older than the fifteenth or sixteenth century. It
illustrates the strong masculine character of those earlier ballads,
where sense is not buried under a heap of verbiage. Whoever the
author was, he was evidently a man of sound judgment and cultured
common sense. Being of more than average merit in the original, the
poem bears translation better than other inferior productions in
the Dean’s Book. It has been excellently done by the late Mr Thomas
Pattison, and I avail myself of his version. It is very interesting
to read the moralisings of Highlanders some five hundred years ago.

      Four wise men met beside the grave
        Where the Prince of Greece was laid—
        The mightiest Alexander;
          And these true words they said:—

     “But yesterday, to serve his need,
        The world’s great host would rise;
      And there, alas!” the first man said,
        “To-day he lonely lies.”

     “Proudly rode he on the earth
        Not many days bygone;
      And now the earth,” the second cried,
        “It rests on his breast bone.”

      Then did the third wise speaker say,—
        “Not many days ere this
      He own’d the whole round world; and now
        Not seven short feet are his!”

     “Alexander treasured gold
        To serve his every whim;
      And now,” the fourth man sagely said,
        “’Tis gold that treasures him.

     “Like gold was Philip’s son—the gold
        That binds the jewels bright;
      Like the palm among the trees; the moon
        Amid the stars of night;

     “Like the great whale among small fish;
        The lion ’mid the slain;
      The eagle when she drives the birds
        From the rock of her lone reign.

     “Like Zion hill amid the hills—
        The hill that holiest seems;
      Like the great sea unto the floods;
        Like Jordan ’mid the streams.

     “He was a man above all men,
        Save the High King of Heaven;
      To him were armies, towns, and lands,
        And herds and forests given.”

      Thus o’er the great man’s tomb they spoke!
        Wise do I count their lore;
      Unlike to women’s idle prate
        Were the sayings of these four.

In the Dean’s Book we have poems by two ladies—the first Gaelic
poetesses of whom we have any record. The name of one of them is
EFRIC MACCORQUDALE or MACNEILL. This poetess, whose name is written
“Effric neyn corgitill,” is the authoress of a very spirited poem.
She appears to have been the wife of the last MacNeill of Castle
Sween, an ancient strong-hold at the mouth of Loch Sween in Knapdale,
Argyllshire. The last constable of this clan was Hector MacTorquil
MacNeill, whose name is found on a Macdonald charter in 1472. He was
of the Gigha MacNeills, who sprung from Torquil MacNeill, designated
“filius Nigelli” in his charter of the lands of Gigha and Taynish
with the constabulary of Castle Sween. “MacTorquil,” half Gaelic,
half Norse, reminds us of the mixture of Teutonic and Celtic blood in
the veins of this clan. When the last MacNeill died, leaving no heir
in the direct line, the office and lands connected with Castle Sween
were given, in 1431, to the Earl of Argyll. Efric, his wife, here
laments the fact.

      Rosary, thou kindlest sorrow;
       Thou art ever my delight;
      Telling of the noble bosom
        Where I lay until to-night.

      Death has filled me with its sadness;
        Where’s the arm I clung to long?
      Ah! I saw it not departing;—
        His the valiant and the strong.

      Joyful voice of softest music;
        Known it everywhere remains;
      Lion of Mull of the white towers,
        Hawk of Islay of smooth plains.

             *       *       *       *       *

      There’s no joy among our women;
        At the sport men are not seen;
      Like the skies when winds are silent,
        So with music is Dun Sween.

      On Clan-Neill they’ve taken vengeance;
        See the palace of the brave!
      Cause to us of sad lamenting
        Till they lay us in the grave.

The other poetess is—

ISABEL, COUNTESS OF ARGYLL. In the Dean’s Book this lady is described
as “Isabella Ni vic Cailein;” elsewhere she is called “Contissa
Ergadien.” She was Isabel Stewart, eldest daughter of John, Lord of
Lorn. She was married to Lord Colin Campbell, who was created Earl
of Argyll in 1457, and died in 1493. The poems of these two ladies
are interesting as showing that Gaelic literature was cultivated
in fashionable quarters at that period. I have attempted a literal
rendering in verse of the Countess’s poem:—

      Pity one that bears love’s anguish,
        Yet the cause that must conceal;
      Sore it be to lose a dear one,
        And a wretched state to feel.

      And the love I gave in secret
        I must ever keep unknown;
      But unless relief comes quickly
        All my freshness will be gone.

      Ah! the name of my beloved
        Ne’er to other can be told;
      He put me in lasting fetters;—
        Pity me a hundredfold.

In surveying the arena of history we observe places geographically
small sending forth the most prevailing of the forces that have
fashioned the course of civilisation. A glance at one or two
countries will readily illustrate the significance of the great
factors at work in the making of the world’s annals. We discern in
Judea, a small strip of land, the country whence the all-conquering
religion and civilisation of the whole earth have come; we find in
Greece—a small concatenation of tribes and provinces—a philosophic
and æsthetic power which has supplied the minds of men with profound
wisdom for centuries; for our laws and many of our customs and
institutions we are indebted to Rome, Pagan and Christian—a city in
a comparatively petty peninsula; in our own isles of the Gentiles,
not excluding Man, Ireland, and St. Kilda, there has been developed
the greatest moral force of the present, and it may be said of
any millennium hitherto. Our British islands look small indeed on
the chart of the world; and it is possible that our geographical
insignificance may tempt everweening, inimical powers, and some of
our own subject nationalities, to touch unkindly some day the mane
of the British lion; but very vainly indeed as long as Christian
manliness resides in the hearts of never-enslaved Britons.

Along the coasts of Britain lie several islets where were nursed and
whence have emanated national elements of moral power which have
to some extent influenced our all-prevailing Anglo-Celtic empire.
Lindisfarne, Inchcolm, and Iona we generally know. Iona in Loch
Erizort, Lewis, the interesting islets that stud the west coast of
the latter island, the far north tiny little Rona, were in early
days centres of light and religion, if not of culture. To-day the
tourist finds few or none to welcome him in many of those once
heaven-favoured island-homes that repose in their attractive poetic
solitude and antiquarian suggestiveness on the majestic bosom of the
Atlantic Ocean. But in the far-west St Kilda there still resides
as monarch, priest, and judge, that zealous Free Church ordained
missionary, Mr Mackay, who, according to artist Sands’s admission,
bravely wrestles with all the elements, moral and physical, that
conflict with the interests of man. But leaving St. Kilda in its
loneliness and sailing in among the inner Hebridean Isles, we find
in the fertile Island of Lismore—the _great garden_—a man in the
fifteenth century, often now referred to in Gaelic literature, the
Rev. Sir James Macgregor. A native of Perthshire, belonging to a
royal clan that was afterwards “nameless by day,” with a heart filled
with the enthusiasm and perfervid spirit of his countrymen, he and
his brother got up a collection of the songs and ballads of their
native land, which was among the first of the literary efforts of
the kind. In Lismore also resided in later days another literary
ecclesiastic, the sturdy MacNicol, who produced an able volume of
obstinate Scottish prejudice, a pretty hearty, intelligent growl over
the great lexicographer’s “Journey to the Hebrides.”

To Macgregor’s book we are indebted for some specimens of the poetry
of his own and previous periods. Some of the votaries of the muse to
whom he assigned niches of honour in his collection have been already
referred to; the names of a few more, with a few specimen verses of
their compositions, are here given.

SIR DUNCAN CAMPBELL is described as “Duncan MacCailein, the good
knight.” He was Sir Duncan Campbell of Glenorchy, son of Sir
Colin, who died in 1478. He must have been a knight of some courtly
and literary importance in his day, for he not only wrote poetry
in Gaelic, but he obtained from the powers that were charters to
extensive lands in Perthshire, and became one of the Earls of
Breadalbane. He is the author of several pieces of poetry which have
been characterised as remarkable for caustic humour, indulged in
sometimes at the expense of the female sex. A published poem of his
is a satirical elegy on a miser, a species of beggar humanity that
the world has not yet succeeded in extinguishing. I give a literal
metrical translation of some of the verses:—

      Who is now the chief of beggars
        Since the best of them is gone?
      Sorely down our tears are streaming
        Since his begging face has flown.

      Piteous is the orphan’s case;
        Death to begging ill has brought;
      In each homestead there is sorrow,
        As the begging can’t be taught.

      Ever since our God created
        Man at first, I have not heard
      Of a mendicant like Lachlan,
        Whose decease our grief has stirred.

      Without father, without mother,
        Beggary grows weak and poor;
      For none e’er could beg like Lachlan:
        How can I my loss endure!

DUNCAN MACPHERSON is thought to have been an ecclesiastic, a class,
notwithstanding Professor Blackie’s genial sneer about the “solemn
sepulchral piety of certain North-Western Gospellers,” who have been
the authors and _media_ of the most of what the literary Highlander
can refer to with national pride. The “sombre nationality” of the old
Ossianic bards is discernible in the following lines:—

      Alastair, art still in sorrow?
        Or canst cast it to the ground?
      The old year is swiftly passing,
        And yet godless art thou found?

      Now while thou art grey and aged,
        Hast thou not the grace of heaven?
      If there be aught good in sorrow,
        God to thee rich gifts has given.

JOHN MACVURICH.—This writer was likely a member of the famous family
who were so long hereditary bards to Clanranald. Their ancestor was
the famous Muireadhach Albannach of the thirteenth century. I give a
metrical rendering of some verses:—

      O, sorry is the fate
        I find mine own to-day!
      Have pity kindly heav’n;
        Save from this pain, I pray.

      The misery I feel
        Is threefold here alone;
      And my misfortune black
        Comes weighted with a stone.

      My rage and wrath are great
        For how she’s grieving me.
      I see her sweet soft skin
        Like white foam on the sea.

      So rosy is her hand;
        Her lips like berries red;
      My soul she holds while sleep
        At night flies from my bed.

      I fancied she was nigh,
        And that she smiled on me;
      But since my grief began
        The maid I can not see.

      Her raven curly locks
        Are prettily arrayed;
      Five lovers there are knit
        To th’ name of the fair maid.

      O that she were my own:
        Then I should be so blest;
      My love for evermore
        To press her to my breast!

Many of the authors whose compositions appear in the Dean’s Book were
evidently professional men, either clerical or medical. It was among
these two classes that the lamp of literature was kept burning. Many
of the names are indeed suggestive of professional connections, such
as Mac-an-Olave, MacNab, Macpherson, Maol Domhnuich, &c.

It has been held that the Romish system of the celibacy of the clergy
was not introduced or acted upon till a century or two before the
Reformation. Whether or not this is true we have at all events
quite a crop of clans whose progenitors must have been the sons of
ecclesiastical persons. We have Mac-an-Aba, MacNab, from the son of
the Abbot; MacVicar, from the son of the Vicar: MacPherson, from
the son of the Parson, or Persona; MacTaggart, from the son of the
Priest; MacMaster, from the son of the Maighstir or Minister. Other
names come to us through those who devoted themselves to be the
_servants_ or _gillies_ of God or of some saints. Mac-gille-Chriost
is Gilchrist, or the son of Gilchrist, or the servant of Christ.
Mac-gill’-Iosa, is Gillies, or the son of the servant of Jesus;
Mac-gill’-Iain, or MacLean, is the son of the servant of Seathain,
or John; Mac-gill’-Aindreais is the son of the servant of Andrew;
Mac-gill’-Eóra (Gill’-an-Leabhair) is the son of the servant of
the Book, Macindeor; Mac-gill’-Mhoire is Morrison, the servant of
Mary, &c. The clerical element appears to have been a powerful
interest at one time in the Highlands and Islands. Indeed, this
may be said of Scotland as a whole, a characteristic which has not
yet become invisible. The Dean’s book shows us the Highlands under
the old order of things. A vast change was impending. The Catholic
ecclesiastical dispensation was drawing to a close. The Church of
Rome never gained a powerful hold of the people; so in general they
contemplated its downfall with indifference. The intelligent of them
who were interested in religion had more sympathy with the old native
Church—the Celtic—which Rome supplanted or were ready to embrace the
new faith of awakening Christendom.

GILLICALUM MAC-AN-OLAVE.—This bard is the author of several pieces
of fair merit in the Dean’s Book. He appears to have been one of the
famous Beatons, _Clann-an-Leigh_, of Islay, Mull, and Skye. Of him
and of several others in the Dean’s MS. we know little more than
their names, some of which I now give:—John of Knoydart, who poetises
on the murder of the young Lord of the Isles by the Irish harper,
Dermid O’Cairbre, at Inverness in 1490; Duncan Mor, from Lennox;
Gilchrist Taylor, Andrew Macintosh, the Bard Macintyre, John MacEwen
MacEachern, Duncan MacCabe, Dougall MacGille Glas, Maol Domhnuich
(Servus Domini), Baron Ewen MacOmie, MacEachag, and Duncan, brother
of the Dean, Sir James Macgregor, who transcribed the most of the
manuscript so famous under his brother’s name.

There are a good few verses of a satiric character to be found in
the Dean’s collection. The reader is rather surprised to find the
religious Dean admitting such an estimate as the following of monks
and monasteries into his collection:—

      I, Robert, went yesterday
        A monastery for to see;
      But to my wishing they said nay,
        Because my wife was not with me!

Among the Irish pieces there are several satirical productions by an
Irish Earl Gerald, the fourth Earl of Desmond, directed against the
fair sex.

The ruthless and vindictive spirit which at this time prevailed
in Scotland may be gathered from the following verses of a
battle-incitement on the eve of the invasion of the English, which
ended on the fatal field of Flodden:—

      Burn their women, lean and ugly!
        Burn their children, great and small!
      In the hut and in the palace,
        Prince and peasant, burn them all!
      Plunge them in the swelling rivers,
        With their gear, and with their goods;
      Spare, while breath remains, no Saxon;
        Drown them in the roaring floods!

These lines have been translated by Professor Blackie, as well as the
next piece of banter.

Black John Macgregor of Glenstrae, who was buried at Dysart, in
Glenorchy, May 26, 1519, was a kind patron to the red-haired bard
Finlay MacNab, who begins his praises as follows:—

      I’ve been a stranger long
      To pleasant-flowing matter;
      I’m tired of lashing fools
      With unproductive satire.
      I’ve dwarfed my Muse for nought,
      But now she shall grow bigger
      By chant of lofty theme—
      The praise of the Macgregor.
      A prince indeed is he,
      Who knows the craft of ruling;
      Well taught in each degree
      Of proper princely schooling.
      Men make boast of noble blood:
      Though money has its praises,
      I’d much liefer be well-born
      Than count the wealth of Crœsus.
      Hear me gentles and commons all,
      Cease your blame and banter;
      When I my pedigree rehearse,
      You’ll find I am no vaunter.
      From great Clan Dougall I descend;
      No better blood is flowing,
      But richer made in me from founts
      That I will soon be showing.
      From the MacCailein a good part
      Of my life’s blood I borrow,
      MacCailein bountiful to bards,
      Then how should I find sorrow?
      In Earla I was born and bred,
      I tell you true the story,
      A very noble place it is,
      ’Twixt Aros and Tobermory,
      Macdonald lies off to the west:
      I dwell with good Clan Gillean,
      Brave men who stood in battle’s breast,
      A hundred ’gainst a million.
      MacNeill of Barra, too, most sure,
      Gives gentle blood to me, sir;
      And Colonsay doth make her boast,
      I’m kin to the MacFie, sir.
      The mighty masterful MacSween,
      Clan Ranald and Macleod, sir.
      The stoutest chiefs e’er tramped on green,
      Give substance to my blood, sir.
      The Cattanachs and the Macintoshes
      Both make a goodly figure
      In my proud line; and linked with them,
      Clan Cameron and Macgregor:
      And Stewart’s seed, though sown on earth
      More wide than any other,
      The tale is true that one of them
      Was my grandsire’s grandmother;
      And if you will to do me harm
      I rede you will consider
      That I have cousins stout of arm
      In Breadalbane and Balquhidder;
      Clan Lauchlan and Clan Lamond, too,
      All numbered with my kin, sir;
      I really see no end in view
      When once that I begin, sir;
      For in my veins of noble blood
      Dame nature was so lavish,
      She added some drops from the flood
      Of thy pure fount Clan Tavish,
      Lads that plenish our green hills
      With virtue and with vigour,
      Tight little men, but with more pith
      Than many who are bigger.
      I visit MacDougall of Craignish,
      And from the good MacIvor
      I get my dinner full and free,
      And never pay a stiver.
      And now my race and lineage rare,
      When you have bravely mastered,
      You’ll find the best of all your blood
      Flows in my veins—the bastard!

The following poem is by a Phelim Macdougall. The power of his muse
cannot be said to be of so high an order as his moral suggestions.
But poetry and severe ethics do not always go together. So we can
afford some literary and religious sympathies to poor Phelim in his
fifteenth century gropings after light:—

      ’Tis not good to travel on Sunday,
      Whoever the Sabbath would keep;
      Not good to be of ill-famed race;
      Not good is a dirty woman;
      Not good to write without learning;
      Not good are grapes when sour;
      Not good is an Earl without English;
      Not good is a sailor, if old;
      Not good is a bishop without warrant;
      Not good is a blemish on an elder;
      Not good a priest with but one eye;
      Not good a parson if a beggar;
      Not good is a palace without pay;
      Not good is a handmaid if she’s slow;
      Not good is a lord without a dwelling, &c.

The author of the following verses was neither the first nor the last
that fathered their petty productions on poor Ossian.

  THE AUTHOR OF THIS IS OSSIAN, THE SON OF FINN.

      Long are the clouds this night above me;
      The last was a long night to me.
      This day that drags its weary way
      Came from a wearier yesterday.
      Each day that comes is long to me:
      Such was not my wont to be.
      Now there is no fine delight
      In battle-field, and fence of fight;
      No training now to feats of arms,
      Nor song, nor harp, nor maiden’s charms,
      Nor blazing hearth, nor well-heaped board,
      Nor banquet spread by liberal lord,
      Nor stag pursuing, nor gentle wooing,
      The dearest of dear trades to me.
      Alas! that I should live to see
      Days without mirth in hut or hall
      Without the hunter’s wakeful call,
      Or bay of hounds, or hounds at all,
      Without light jest, or sportive whim
      Or lads with mounting breast to swim
      Across the long arms of the sea—
      Long are the clouds this night above me.
      In the big world there lives no wight
      More sad than I this night.
      A poor old man with no pith in my bones,
      Fit for nothing but gathering stones.
      The last of the Finn, the noble race,
      Ossian, the son of Finn am I,
      Standing beneath the cold grey sky,
      Listening to the sound of bells.
      Long are the clouds this night above me!

One of the chief characteristics of the poetry of this period is the
clearness or distinctness of the ideas. The authors seize at once
their subject and straightway sing what they have to utter. They also
appear to have a definite object in view when they invoke the muse,
and they carry it out in a clear, direct, and unhesitating fashion.
The vagueness and mistiness of Macpherson’s Ossianic poems have been
much commented upon, and sometimes with good reason. Nothing like
mistiness can be affirmed of the Ossianic poems which were composed
or transcribed and were popular at this period. The ideas of the
authors stand out in brilliant distinctness, like stars looking forth
beneath the brows of a frosty night.

The Lismore collection of songs and poems is not the only manuscript
of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries that received but scant
attention from our forefathers. Many ancient Gaelic manuscripts
carried by Christian missionaries to the Continent have never
returned. More than two hundred, once in the possession of Gaelic
scribes, may still be met with in the various European libraries.
Drs Laing and Skene, especially the latter, have done good service
to Scotland in this field. The admirable collection of Gaelic MSS.
in Edinburgh, some of which, it is hoped will yet be published,
is the result of the energetic efforts of Dr Skene. The Fernaig
manuscript which he has put in the hands of Professor Mackinnon,
contains according to the latter, some 4000 lines of Gaelic poetry
of the seventeenth century. It is hoped that Mr Mackinnon will
lend his ability and scholarship to the early publication of this
work. Judging by a published article of the Professor of Celtic
in Edinburgh, at the present date (November, 1889), he seems to
be unaware that the “Red Book” of Clanranald is not lost. He will
be glad to know that it is in the possession of Admiral Reginald
Macdonald. Mr Campbell of Islay, informed the writer once that he and
Mr O’Grady had read the “Red Book.”

[Illustration: (decorative end-of-chapter icon)]




CHAPTER VIII.

JACOBITE BARDS.

     “A field of the dead rushes red on my sight,
      And the clans of Culloden are scattered in fight.”—CAMPBELL.


A retrospect of the remains of ancient Gaelic Literature establishes
the following among other facts:—1. That the Scottish Gael of the
first centuries of the Christian era was not a barbarian. 2. That a
considerable body of oral or traditional literature was then extant
among the people. 3. That there is no evidence that writing was known
in the British Islands before the Christian era. 4. That relics of
the writings of Churchmen from the fifth century downwards still
exist in manuscript. 5. That the literature of the Irish and Scottish
Gael, till the period of the Reformation in the sixteenth century,
had much in common, the language used in the north-west of Ireland
and in the north-west of Scotland being the same.

We have come now to the consideration of the poetry which may be
regarded as the beginnings of modern bardic literature. It shows a
different spirit, while it is generally presented in a different
form. After Mary MacLeod, the chief productions of the Gaelic muse
from _Iain Lom_ to _MacMhaighstir Alasdair_ were Jacobite.

The persecutions and sufferings of the Clan-Gregor, “the clan that
was nameless by day,” form the theme of many interesting and stirring
ballads. The terrible valour, the undying courage, and the heroic
faithfulness of this much injured sept have been beautifully drawn by
Sir Walter Scott.

The authoress of Macgregor’s Lullaby was a daughter of Colin Campbell
of Glenorchy, and the wife of Gregor Macgregor, whose death she
laments in this Lullaby. Her husband, his brother, Malcolm Roy, along
with their father, Duncan Macgregor, were beheaded in 1552 by Colin
Campbell of Glenorchy, Campbell of Glenlyon, and Menzies of Rannoch.
The Black Duncan mentioned in the song was her brother, the seventh
laird of Glenorchy, whose picture is still preserved at Taymouth
Castle. The following is Pattison’s rendering of the Lullaby, which,
along with the next two songs referred to (not in the Dean’s book),
have always been very popular:—

      Early on a Lammas morning with my husband was I gay;
      But my heart got sorely wounded ere the middle of the day.

          Chorus—Ochan, ochan, uiri,
                    Though I cry, my child, with thee—
                  Ochan, ochan, uiri,
                    Now he hears not thee nor me.

      Malison on judge and kindred, they have wrought me mickle woe;
      With deceit they came about us, with deceit they laid him low.

      Had they met but twelve Macgregors with my Gregor at their head;
      Now my child had not been orphaned, nor these bitter tears been
            shed.

      On an oaken block they laid him, and they spilt his blood around;
      I’d have drunk it in a goblet largely, ere it reached the ground.

             *       *       *       *       *

      When the rest have all got lovers now a lover have I none;
      My fair blossom, fresh and fragrant, withers on the ground alone.

      While all other wives the night-time pass in slumbers balmy bands,
      I upon my bedside weary, never cease to wring my hands.

      Far, far better be with Gregor where the heather’s in its prime,
      Than with mean and Lowland barons in a house of stone and lime, &c.

_Other Macgregor Songs_ of the same era are “_Macgregor O Ruara_” and
“_The Braes of the Ceathach_.” _Macgregor O Ruara_ begins thus:—

      There is sorrow, and sorrow, and sorrow now fills me—
        Poor pitiful sorrow no man can redress;
      It is sorrow and sighing, and sadness that thrills me—
        Oh! terrible sadness I cannot repress.

      Macgregor has perished—Macgregor, pine-bannered—
        Macgregor, beloved in Glenlyon the green;
      Macgregor, the brave, by whose foes ever honoured
        The threatening roar of our pibroch has been.

“The Braes of the Mist” is one of the sweetest and most affecting
songs in any language. The singer—a woman—concealed her husband
and two sons of the fiercely persecuted Macgregors in a bed as the
enemies were approaching the house. She sat at the fire and began
singing her song. She sang of herself as waiting in solitude for her
persecuted friends. The people outside listened as the woman sang,
and accepting as true what she said, they passed on without troubling
her. Her heart’s dearest wishes depended on the effect produced by
her extempore verses. It has been well said that “seldom, indeed,
has song or ballad been composed or chanted in circumstances of such
intense excitement.” The first verse runs as follows:—

      I sit here alone, by the plain of the highway,
      For my poor hunted kin, watching mist, watching by way;
      I’ve yet got no sign that they’re near to my dwelling;
      At Loch Fyne they were last seen—if true be that telling, &c.

_Mo Valie Veg Og_ is a very popular song, somewhat like “Helen
or Kirkconnel Lea,” and Tennyson’s “Oriana.” The occasion of the
composition was as follows:—One of the chiefs of the Clan Chisholm
having carried off a daughter of Lord Lovat, placed her on an islet
in Loch Bruiach, where she was soon discovered by the Frasers, who
had mustered for the rescue. (Other accounts of the origin of the
song have been given). A severe conflict ensued, during which the
young lady was accidentally slain by a chance blow from her own
lover, in defending her from her furious brothers. The lover was
condemned to be executed next day. The night preceding his execution
he composed Mo Valie Veg Og, _Young little May_. The following is a
rendering of the spirit of the song:—

      I groan for thee in prison,
        Mo Valie Veg Og
      O, dost thy spirit listen,
        Mo Valie Veg Og;
      From where the dew-drops glisten,
      From thy deep sleep uprisen,
      While these lone arms I miss in,
        Mo Valie Veg Og?

      We met when summer flowered,
        Mo Valie Veg Og;
      Where am’rous birds embowered
        Mo Valie Veg Og;
      The trees that near us towered,
      Sweet dew-drops on us showered;
      But something near us lowered,
        Mo Valie Veg Og.

      Wrapt in each other dreaming,
        Mo Valie Veg Og;
      We saw the distance gleaming,
        Mo Valie Veg Og;
      Thy kinsmen vengeful seeming,
      With fell intention teeming
      We strove, and blood was streaming,
        Mo Valie Veg Og!

      Encountering their lance,
        Mo Valie Veg Og;
      I struck by sore mischance
        Mo Valie Veg Og;
      Cursed aye be their advance!
      I bent in trembling trance
      To drink thy dying glance,
        Mo Valie Veg Og.

      Condemned thus I am grieving,
        Mo Valie Veg Og;
      Aye longing to be leaving,
        Mo Valie Veg Og;
      To-morrow sees them cleaving
      This frame; hope, undeceiving,
      Lifts me with thee believing,
        Mo Valie Veg Og.

_The Owlet._—It is said that this poem was composed by a Badenoch
deer-stalker about 1550. It is two hundred and sixty-eight lines in
length. The “Owl” is the form of a dialogue between the author and an
owl, which, old and feeble, the unkind hunter’s wife, who was much
younger than he, brought in to be a fit companion for her husband.
There is a good deal of cleverness and poetical ingenuity in the
piece. It is the only composition of the kind in the language, and
reminds us of “Listen Little Porker,” by the Welsh poet Merddyn Wyllt.

_The Aged Bard’s Wish._—This poem appeared towards the end of last
century, in the days of the Ossianic controversy, and has come under
the suspicions of the sceptical. It was then regarded as an old poem,
perhaps belonging to pre-Christian times. It probably belongs to the
first part of the seventeenth century. It begins thus—

      Oh! place me by the little brook,
        Of gentle wandering pace and slow,
      And lay my head near some green nook
        That kindly shades the sunny glow.

      At ease upon the grass I’ll rest
        Of the balm-breathing flowery brae;
      My foot by the warm wave caress’d
        That winds throughout the plain away.

      There the pale primrose let me see,
        There the small daisy close at hand,
      And every flower so dear to me,
        For grateful hue or odour bland.

      About thy lofty banks, my glen,
        Be bending boughs and blooming sprays,
      Where small birds sing from bush and fen
        To aged cliffs their amorous lays.

There have been several translations of this much-admired poem, but
on account of occasional vagueness of conception and obscurity of the
style it has been found very difficult to convey with certainty and
accuracy the sense of the original. In one hundred and forty-four
lines the bard conjures up many scenes and images before his mental
vision, and finally welcomes the “Hall of Ossian and Daol”—he cries,
“Open, fly, the night comes, and the bard is gone!”

Among the poetesses whose names have not been forgotten in the story
of Scottish letters is that of Mary Macleod, _Mairi ni’n Alastair
Ruaidh_, or Mary, the daughter of red-haired Alexander. Her name as
a poetess has become quite proverbial among the people. Apart from
the mantle of poetry which she wore she was a very remarkable person,
who would be long remembered. Like some others, her own assertive
personality accounts for much of the popularity of her productions.

MAIRI NI’N ALASTAIR RUAIDH, who has been regarded by some as the
first in point of time of the modern Gaelic bards, was born in
Harris, in the Long Island, in 1569, and died at Dunvegan, Isle of
Skye, in 1674, at the extraordinary age of 105 years. She received no
education, yet her poetry is characterised by boldness, freshness,
and originality. The metres she uses are often complicated and
unusual; but the native melody of her song and the pathetic character
of her conceptions render her poetry very enjoyable reading. She was
a well-known visitor among her neighbours, who generally rallied her
by references to a beverage stronger than water. Pattison translates
a song she composed on her being banished from Dunvegan by the young
chief of the MacLeods; who, on hearing her laudatory verses, sent a
boat to bring back the affectionate poetess.

      Alone on the hill-top, sadly and silently
      Downward on Islay and over the sea
      I look, and I wonder how time hath deceived me—
      A stranger in Scarba, who ne’er thought to be.

      Ne’er thought it, my island, where rest the deep dark shade
      The grand mossy mountains for ages have made;
      God bless thee! and prosper thy chief of the sharp blade
      All over these islands his fame never fade!

      Never fade it, Sir Norman! for well ’tis the right
      Of thy name to win credit in counsel or fight—
      By wisdom, by shrewdness, by spirit, by might,
      By manliness, courage, by daring, by sleight.

      In counsel or fight, thy kindred know these should be thine—
      Branch of Lochlin’s wide-ruling and king-bearing line!
      And in Erin they know it, far over the brine;
      No Earl would in Albin thy friendship decline.

The name of _Mairi ni’n Alastair Ruaidh_ has been affectionately
remembered by many generations of Highlanders.

JOHN MACDONALD.—This well-known Lochaber bard, called _Iain Lom_,
or _bare_ John, was of the Keppoch family; lived in the reigns of
Charles I. and II.; was a very old man about 1710.

The heir of Keppoch was sent abroad to be educated; and in his
absence his affairs were entrusted to his cousins, who planned
a scheme to get rid of him so that they themselves would get
possession. The bard perceived their wicked scheme beforehand; and
comes prominently before us in his endeavours to expose them; and
again in the active part he took in punishing the murderers. The
massacre took place in 1663; and soon after the poet persuaded
Sir Alexander Macdonald to concert measures for punishing the
perpetrators of the deed. They were seized and beheaded, and the
awful retribution is commemorated by the ugly monument, “Tobar
nan Ceann,” or “Well of the Heads,” in Invergarry. Macdonald was
politician as well as poet in his day. He was a keen Jacobite, and
acted as the laureate of the party in the Highlands. He was the means
of bringing the armies of Montrose and Argyll together at Inverlochy,
where, on Sunday, February 2, 1645, a bloody battle was fought, in
which the flower of the Campbell clan were slain. He is a poet of
great fire, vigour, and satiric power. He was buried in Dunaingeal,
in the braes of Lochaber.


          BATTLE OF INVERLOCHY.

      Did you hear from Cille-Cummin
        How the tide of war came pouring?
      Far and wide the summons travelled,
        How they drove the Whigs before them!

      From the castle-tower I viewed it,
        High on Sunday morning early,
      Looked and saw the ordered battle,
        Where Clan Donald triumphed rarely.

      Up the green slope of Cail-Eachaidh
        Came Clan Donald marching stoutly;
      Churls who laid my home in ashes.
        Now shall pay the fine devoutly!

      Many a bravely-mounted rider,
        With his back turned to the slaughter,
      Where his boots won’t keep him dry now,
        Learns to swim in Nevis water.

      On the wings of eager rumour
        Far and wide the tale is flying,
      How the slippery knaves, the Campbells,
        With their cloven skulls are lying.

I have availed myself here of the rendering of Blackie, whose
literary deftness in translation and poetic genius have successfully
transferred not only the sense of, but frequently improved on, the
more artless of the productions of the Gaelic muse. If the versatile
Professor is not always boldly and simply literal in his versions of
Gaelic poetry, he never fails to seize and attractively exhibit the
spirit of the bard.

ARCHIBALD MACDONALD.—This minor bard, called “An Ciaran Mabach,” was
a natural son of Sir Alexander Macdonald, 16th baron of Sleat. He was
contemporary with _Iain Lom_. He was a clever and highly practical
man, and was entrusted in matters of importance by his father, who
allotted him a portion of land in North Uist.

NEIL MACKELLAR.—-Mackellar was a farmer in Jura in 1694. He does not
appear to have composed much—a poetical address of his to _John Ruadh
Mac Cailein_, the Earl of Argyll, which I found among the papers of
the poet Livingston, was published in the fifth volume of the “GAEL.”

DIORBHAIL NIC-A’-BHRIUTHAIN, or Dorothy Brown, was a native of
Luing, an island in Argyllshire. She lived towards the close of the
seventeenth century, and, like many of the bards of the period, was
a keen Jacobite. Like _Iain Lom_, she used her bitter satire against
the Clan Campbell with considerable effect. She is known by her
_Oran do Alastair Mac Colla_, the famous Sir Alexander Macdonnell of
Antrim, and the gallant lieutenant of Montrose.

SILIS NI’N VIC RAONAILL, or Cicely Macdonald, was the daughter of
Macdonald of Keppoch, and lived from the reign of Charles II. to
that of George I. Like Iain Lom and Dorothy Brown, this poetess was
a Roman Catholic, and her muse was employed against the house of
Hanover. Her husband having died in a fit of intoxication while on
a visit to Inverness, she composed _Marbhrann air bas a fir_, and
afterwards some hymns.

NEIL MAC VURICH, who was born early in the seventeenth century, was
bard and senachie to the family of Clanranald. He belonged to South
Uist, where the land he had is still known as _Baile-bhaird_. He was
a descendant of Muireadhach _Albannach_, and grandfather of Lachlan
Mac Vurich, whose name appears in the Ossianic controversy. He wrote
a Gaelic history of the Clan Ranald, whose records he kept. He was
living and an old man in 1715.

JOHN MACDONALD, or _Iain Dubh Mac Iain ’ic Ailein_, a gentleman of
the Clan Ranald family, was born in 1665. He held the farm of Grulean
in the island of Eigg. One of his best pieces is a fiery martial poem
called “Oran nam Fineachan Gaelach.”

The AOSDAN MATHESON, who flourished in the seventeenth century,
belonged to Lochalsh, Ross-shire, where he had as his bard free lands
from the Earl of Seaforth. Much of his poetry, like that of Neil Mac
Vurich, has been lost. A poem, _Do’n Iarla Thuathach, Triath Chlann
Choinnich_, has been freely rendered by Sir Walter Scott: “Farewell
to Mackenzie, high Chief of Kintail.”

HECTOR MACLEAN, who lived in the seventeenth century, was bard and
senachie to Sir Lachlan MacLean of Duart. The Chief’s _Elegy_ is the
subject of a _special_ poem by the bard.

LACHLAN MACKINNON, who lived in the seventeenth century, was a
native of Strath, Isle of Skye. He was a bard of real power, and a
good many of his pieces have come down to us. Mackenzie, collector
of “The Beauties of Gaelic Poetry,” who delighted in unearthing and
publishing all the moral dirt he could lay his hands on, relates a
story about Mackinnon which does not represent the bard’s character
in a very attractive light.

RODERICK MORRISON.—This famous bard, commonly called _An Clarsair
Dall_, or the Blind Harper, was born in the island of Lewis in 1646.
He was a descendant of the _Brieve Leosach_, well known in the annals
of the island. Roderick’s father was a man of piety and culture, in
Lewis, whose memory is still fragrant among the people. It seems he
was a true gospel light amid the half-heathenism which then prevailed
in the Western Isles. He sent Rory and his other two sons to be
educated at Inverness, intending to educate the three sons for the
church. In course of time Angus settled in the parish of Contin, and
Malcolm in Poolewe, Ross-shire. Roderick lost his eyesight through
the small-pox when receiving his education in Inverness, and then
turned his attention to the study of music. He soon became famous not
only in Scotland, but also in Ireland. When returning from the latter
country it is said that he called at every baronial residence on his
way. Before going home to the north he visited Edinburgh, where at
the time the Scotch nobility and gentry were met in Holyrood House.
There he came across the chief, John Breac MacLeod of Harris, by whom
Roderick was at once engaged as his family harper. While with MacLeod
he composed many tunes and songs which are yet popular. His patron
MacLeod afterwards gave him a rent-free farm at Totamor, in Glenelg.
After the death of John Breac he went back to his native Lewis, where
he was much respected in his old age. He died in this island, and
was buried in the churchyard of I or Hy, near Stornoway. Morrison
is a poet of considerable power and culture, although his fame as a
harper—he was almost the last of that class so celebrated among the
Gaels—has obscured his name as a poet.

JOHN MACKAY.—This bard, known as _Am Piobaire Dall_, or the Blind
Piper, whose father was of the Sutherlandshire Mackays, was born in
the parish of Gairloch, Ross-shire, in the year 1666. Being born
blind he was taught music, first by his father, afterwards he was
sent to the College of Pipers, in Skye, which was then presided over
by MacCruimein, of world-wide fame. In course of time he became
family bard to the chief of Gairloch. While he stayed with this
chief he is said to have composed twenty-four _piobrachds_ and many
strathspeys, reels, and jigs. He died in 1754 at the great age of
ninety-eight, and was buried in Gairloch. The poems of this bard are
thoughtful and well finished, but, like many of that period, are
scarcely known now.

The learned Edward Lhuyd published his “Archæologia Britannica” in
1704; and the imaginative Celt of the day was delighted that so much
of the dying language of his forefathers would be preserved—that so
handsome a monument should be reared to its memory. In 1707 a second
edition was issued, in which complimentary poetical addresses from
Highland ministers were given. There is one from the Rev. James
MacPherson, Kildalton, Islay, and another from the Rev. John Maclean
of Killninian, Mull. The following stanzas from Maclean’s verses are
of considerable merit in the original Gaelic:—

      When the grey Gael—Milesian race from Spain—
      To green Ierne had crossed the mighty main,
      Great was the fame they carried to our shore,
      Of skill in arms, of poetry and lore.
      When that good seed had spread out far and near,
      The Gaelic then was honoured there and here;
      That musically sweet, expressive tongue,
      To which our fathers have so fondly clung.

      In royal courts a thousand years and more
      It reigned in honour—spoke from shore to shore;
      Then bard and lyrist, prophet, sage and leech
      Wrote all their records in the Gaelic speech:
      Since first Gathelus came from Egypt’s strand
      That ancient tongue was written in our land;
      The great divines whose fame is shed abroad
      In Gaelic accents learned to praise their God.

      ’Twas Gaelic Patrick spoke in Innis-Fayl,
      And sainted Calum in Iona’s Isle.
      Rich polished France, where highest taste appears,
      Received her learning from that Isle of Tears;—
      Ie, alma mater, of each tribe and tongue,
      Once taught for France and Germany their young!
      Well may we now our swelling grief outpour,
      That seat in ruin, and our tongue no more!

      Great praise and thanks, O noble Lhuyd, be thine,
      True learned patriot of the Cambrian line!
      Thou hast awaked the Celtic from the tomb,
      That our past life her records might illume.
      Engraved in every heart in lettered gold
      Thy name remains: thy silent words unfold
      To future ages what our sires had seen,
      While others say, ‘A Gaelic race hath been.’

The first of the Gaelic addresses comes from Andrew Maclean, Tyree,
who calls himself “the son of the Bishop of Argyll”:—

  _Aindra M’Ghileoin_ Fear an Cnuic, an tiridhe mac Easbuig
  _Earraghaoidhil_, C.C.

      Ordheirc an gniomh saor bhur comhluinn
        Cliu do fhoghlum beirid uainn:
      Ti do chur do na thuit or sinnsreadh
        Cus do sgeimh bhur linn a mfuaim.
      Molsid _M’Liath_ na Sheanchas,
        Ochd mhacigh’achd do leanmhuinn oirinn,
      Brathreachus _Gaoidhil Fear Shaxan_,
        Thabhart nar ccuimhne ceart na loirg:

which may be freely rendered thus:—

      Excellent is thy work completed;
        Thy deep lore is widely known;
      The sweet language of our fathers
        Grandly to the world hast shown.
      Praise shall be of Lhuyd’s great labours
        Which henceforth we emulate;
      Friendship for the Gael of England
        In our hearts he does create.

Robert Campbell, of Cowal, begins with the following dedicatory
preface:—

  “Den Uasal oirdherc Maighsdir _Edward Lhuid_, Fear coimhead tigh
  na seud a Noiltigh _Ath-Ndamh_ a _Nsagsan_, Ughdar a Nfoclair
  Ghaoidheilg, Failte.

  “_Robert Caimpbel_ Fear Faraiste mhic _Chailin_ an _Comhal_ CC.”

      To-day in Eire there is joy;
        While harp and song wake gentle sounds;
      The strains of tuneful throats are heard
        Within old Albin’s gladdened bounds.

      The pow’r that kindles this delight
        Is that sweet tongue of those fair lands
      Which lay so long in captive chains;
        It wakens now and breaks the bands.

      In it have terms of peace been sealed,
        In it Jehovah’s praises sung;
      Small be the lore of learned men
        Who know not this rich ancient tongue.

      This moved to work the noble Lhuyd,
        Whose words of eloquence proceed
      From that deep fount beside which grew
        The Oakling of the Celtic seed.

      ’Tis time to teach and woo the muse
        Where fair Oxonia rears her towers,
      Where classic learning finds her home,
        And Isis shows her banks of flowers.

Tyree, Mull, and Cowal are not the only places where clergymen
were wont to “woo the muse” in those days. Poetic expressions of
admiration and encouragement were also sent to Lhuyd from Ardchattan,
and Islay. Here is that of the Rev. James MacPherson, of Kildalton:

      Thou art welcome, gentle scholar,
        To the Highlands’ wave-worn shore;
      In all provinces of Eire
        Thine is welcome evermore.

      Welcome through the Gaelic borders,
        England will accord thee hail:
      Chiefs will make of thee companion,
        Praise will come from Ireland’s Gael.

      From the tomb thou hast awakened
        Our neglected ancient tongue,
      Which, though long in bonds forgotten,
        Into printed life has sprung.

      Rich and wise is thy instruction;
        Clear and learned is thy speech;
      Ancient words gain force and meaning
        On each page as thou dost teach.

      Bear to learned Lhuyd my blessing,
        Who our language has restored;
      Hence to him great praise and welcome
        Gaels shall everywhere accord.

The Rev. Colin Campbell wrote his in Latin, which till that period
was the medium of communication among Highland ecclesiastics.

JOHN WHYTE, called _Forsair Choir’an-t-Si_, belonged to the end of
the seventeenth and beginning of the eighteenth century. He lived
near Kilmun, and composed a good many songs which are recognised as
of a superior order. He was the ancestor of some of the name who have
been known for their strongly Celtic sympathies.

WILLIAM MACKENZIE, otherwise known as _An Ceisteir Crubach_, was born
in Gairloch about 1670. He was a bard of superior powers; but the
loose character and profanity of some of his compositions caused the
Presbytery that engaged his services as a Catechist to dismiss him
from his office. Mackenzie, of “The Beauties of Gaelic Poetry,” has
published a lengthy song of his which is a blot on the whole work.

JOHN MACLEAN, who was a native of Mull, where he was for long a
popular poet, is the author of a few songs of superior merit. His
compositions were general favourites at the time of Johnson and
Boswell’s journey to the Hebrides. They heard some of his songs sung
by a lady. He composed an excellent piece on Sir Hector MacLean when
he went to France in 1721. The bard died in 1760.

MALCOLM MACLEAN, otherwise known as _Calum a’ Ghlinne_, was a native
of Kinlochewe, in Ross-shire. He was a soldier, and served for some
time abroad, where he deeply learned the worship of Bacchus. “Mo
Chailin donn og” is yet popular. It was composed for his daughter. He
died in 1764.

AM BARD MUCANACH, a Macdonald, originally from Glencoe, lived in
the island of Muck, and is the author of a very good poem on the
“Massacre of Glencoe.”

ANGUS MACDONALD, a native of Glencoe, is the author of the popular
song “_Bha Claidheamh air Iain ’san t-searmoin_.” It was intended
to ridicule the cowardly conduct of a John Gibeach, who was at the
battle of Sheriffmuir in 1715, but who took to flight instead of
remaining to fight.

JOHN MACCODRUM.—This original and witty bard was a native of North
Uist. He lived at the same time as his more famous contemporary,
Alexander Macdonald. The accomplished Sir James Macdonald, who died
at Rome in 1766, made MacCodrum his bard, and gave him free land in
North Uist. He met James Macpherson when collecting Gaelic materials
for the poems of Ossian; and the Uist bard appears to have indulged
in wit at the expense of Macpherson. MacCodrum is a poet of great
ability and satiric power. His poems on “Old Age” and “Whisky” are
of a first-class order. He was, like many of the bards of his day, a
keen Jacobite.

The poet’s attachment to his patron inspired a tender elegiac song of
which the following translated verses are a specimen:—

      As I awake it is not sleep
      That strives with me in troubles deep;
      My bed beneath the tears I weep
            Is in disquiet:
            My bed beneath, &c.

      Of him, my patron bright, bereft,
      I have no fair possession left;
      While pain of loss my soul has cleft
            In sight and hearing:
            While pain of loss, &c.

      Sore tears are ours; joy is no more;
      No hope of smiles; no cheer in store;
      We seem like the brave Fians of yore
            And Finn forsaken:
            We seem like the, &c.

      Ah! true it seems the tale to tell;
      Our cup is filled with doings fell;
      Provoking in a rage of hell
            Bless’d God the Highest:
            Provoking in a rage, &c.

      Blest One from Thee let us not swerve;
      Above with Thee he goes to serve;
      O Christ! do Thou for us preserve
            Our loving brothers:
            O Christ! do Thou, &c.

The early death of the subject of this elegy,—of Sir James
Macdonald,—wrought the bard into unwonted seriousness. As his name
indicates, this poet is a representative of the commingled Norse and
Celtic races of the Hebridean people.

HECTOR MACLEOD was a native of South Uist. Like MacCodrum, he was
a zealous Jacobite, and after 1715 lived in the Roman Catholic
districts of Arisaig and Morar. There is much originality and
poetical ingenuity in MacLeod, who, finding it dangerous to sing his
Jacobite leanings without disguise, had recourse to allegorical ways
of expressing himself.

ARCHIBALD MACDONALD, known as _Gilleasbuig na Ciotaig_, or
left-handed Archibald, also a native of Uist, is one of the few
comic bards that the Highlands have produced. An “Elegy” on John
Roy, a piper while living, and the “Resurrection” of the same, are
really clever productions, as well as his song for Dr MacLeod, a St.
Kildian, who was for some time a surgeon in a Highland regiment.

ZACHARY MACAULAY, whose father was an accomplished Episcopalian
clergyman, was born in the island of Lewis at the beginning of the
eighteenth century. He is thought in his youth to have written some
“wanton” songs; his published pieces show true poetic instinct and
power. The air of one of his songs was a favourite with Burns.
Lord Macaulay was a descendant of Zachary’s family, from whom the
brilliant essayist and historian evidently inherited his genius.

Like that of all other peoples, the limited literature of the
Scottish Clans has had its periods of revival and decadence. The
bolder and more original poetry of the early centuries of our story
was followed by the feeble and imitative strains of the verse writers
of the medieval generations.


ALEXANDER MACDONALD.

In the seventeenth century we had the silver age, and about the
middle of last century the golden age of modern Gaelic poetry.
Singers of original power appeared in every part of the country. Of
these Alexander Macdonald was the first and the greatest. From the
wilds of the Ardnamurchan regions he poured forth his imperishable
strains. After him Duncan Macintyre comes next, the poet-hunter
of Glenorchay. From the heart of central Argyll and Breadalbane
he sent forth unique and inimitable songs. In the grand wilds of
Perthshire Dugald Buchanan, the sacred bard of Rannoch, was writing
his sublime poems on such awful themes as the “Judgement” and the
“Passion” of the God-man. In the far North Robert Mackay, the
famous Sutherlandshire herd, was gladdening the firesides, of a
happy peasantry—whose descendants are now in Canada—with his witty
and satiric compositions. In the West the delicate and fine-fibred
William Ross began to sing soon after these, his sweet lays of love
and sorrow. Jacobite rebellions no doubt stirred up the Highland
heart at this period; and in the midst of the political ferment of
the times the muse appears to have thrown her choicest mantle on
receptive spirits among the people to give song-utterance to their
emotional aspirations. In the poetry of Macdonald, Mackay, and
Macintyre, we see the greatest bards of modern times. It is difficult
to decide which of the first and last mentioned is the greater
poet—Mackay is not regarded as equal to either. As far as the works
of preceding bards could help their poetic culture their minds were
moulded by the same influences.

But in regard to ordinary education it must be remembered that
Macdonald was for some time at a University, while Macintyre was
never able to write. In their descriptions of outward nature their
poetry shows very much like equal power, while the note of the one is
not always distinguishable from that of the other. But the passionate
depth of the one has no echo in the sweeter and gentler nature of the
other. Each in his own way is a mighty singer of whom any country
might be proud. And it is remarkable that both should be Argyllshire
singers.

Alexander Macdonald, also more frequently called _Mac-Mhaighstir
Alastair_, son of Master Alexander, was born early in the eighteenth
century, the exact date and place of his birth being nowhere
recorded. His father, Mr Alexander, as he was always styled by the
Highlanders, was an Episcopalian clergyman. He resided at Dailea, in
Moydart, and is said to have united farming with his ecclesiastical
functions. He had several sons and daughters, and Alexander was
his second son. Alexander received his education first under the
superintendence of his father, and afterwards for a session or two
in the University of Glasgow. His academic career was cut off early
by an imprudent marriage. It is not known with certainty whether it
was for the Church or for the Bar he was originally intended. It
was feared that his general character and conduct would scarcely
warrant entrance into the former; while his wild changeableness and
irregularities would seriously bar his progress for the latter.
He ultimately settled in Ardnamurchan, teaching, farming, and
writing poetry. He then changed his ecclesiastical creed, became
a Presbyterian and an elder in the Established Church, which he
continued to be till the year 1745, when again he changed his creed,
became a Roman Catholic, and forsook his all to join Prince Charles.
He held a commission in the Highland Army, which he tried to animate
by his fiery and warlike songs. For some time after the battle of
Culloden he suffered much hardship. One night, while lurking outside
somewhere, so intense was the cold that the side of Macdonald’s head,
which rested on the ground, was grey when he rose in the morning.
Soon after friends in Edinburgh procured teaching for the bard among
Jacobite families. But he did not stay long there. He returned to the
Highlands, where he died when he had reached a good old age. His life
was stormy and checkered, like the historic period which was then
also coming to a close.

Macdonald’s first literary work was a Gaelic and English Vocabulary,
published in 1741. It was the first attempt of the kind. His
poetry was first published in Edinburgh in 1761, and his volume
was the first book of original poems ever published in Gaelic. He
wrote extensively, but two thirds of his works in MSS. have been
lost or destroyed. As we read the works of Macdonald and those of
Macpherson’s Ossian—the two highest names in Gaelic poetry—we feel
at once that we breathe the air of different regions, or move in
the atmosphere of different ages. Between them and the common herd
of bards we discern a vast interval in the range of their poetical
conceptions. Both breathe the spirit of “Tir nam beann, nan gleann,
’s nan gaisgeach,” but their deep utterances of the soul from the
mystic land of fancy and passion are not alike. The inspiration of
both is that of the great Bens, the mysterious-seeming valleys,
and of deep crying unto deep. Macdonald is wild, picturesque, and
gorgeous, ever presenting the dread and sad realities of nature. He
loves to picture her coarser characteristics more than her qualities
of tenderness. His poetry glows with sensuous imagery, overflows with
luxuriance of thought and voluptuousness of feeling, and exhibits
much of the animal and material elements of creation. His music is
wild, impetuous, and fiery; his metres sometimes smooth, and ruggedly
rushing. In accomplishing his more elaborate efforts he shows signs
of spasmodic tendencies. He excels in intensity of thought and in
fiery vehemence of expression. The force of poetical ardour with
which he

      Hurls the Birlin through the cold glens,
        Loudly snoring,

is deeply absorbing. Natural scenes in the West Highlands he
describes with vigour and striking effect. Sometimes he becomes quite
majestic, as when he sings of “rain-charged clouds on thick squalls
wandering loomed and towered.” Some of the parts of his principal
poem, _The Birlin_, a boat voyage in the Hebrides, are very powerful
and sometimes sublime. The unrestrained vehemence and gorgeousness of
_The Birlin_ give place to simpler delineations in _The Sugar Brook_.
There is much delicious portraiture in this last poem.

_The Praise of the Lion_ is a fiery appeal to the Scottish
nationality. The Jacobite cause is the theme of many of his songs,
Prince Charles being sometimes personified under female names,
such as “Morag.” In his love songs Macdonald is sweet, tender,
and musical, rough though his muse is at other times. His “Praise
of Morag,” in a sort of _piobrachd_ measure, is powerful; but
composed under such conditions as Burns wrote “Mary in Heaven,”
Macdonald’s lawful spouse became alarmed and jealous. At once he
turns to “Dispraising Morag,” which he works out elaborately with
Mephistophelian ardour and spirit, regardless of all poetic justice
and decency. “The Resurrection of the Gaelic Tongue” is a powerful
poem, celebrating the antiquity and supreme excellence of the
language of the Gael.

As specimens of the sweet and tender in Macdonald’s poetry, let us
take a verse or two from his fine piece, _The Sugar Brook_. He has
done for this insignificant burn what Burns has done for the Doon
and Gray for the Luggie. He describes the different birds tuning
their little throats in the morning to take up the several parts
assigned to them in the great harmonic chorus of nature. He hears
the rich treble of Robin, the deep bass of Richard, the “goo-goo” of
the cuckoo; while on a stake apart from the rest the thrush sings
lustily, and the blythesome brown wren and the vieing linnet tune up
their choicest strings. The blackcock croaks, and the hen sings her
hoarse response. Then come the fishes, the bees, and the frisking
calves, the milkmaid and the herdsman, to fill up a scene already
sufficiently gorgeous. There also—

      The wailing swans their murmurs blend
        With birds that float and sing;
      Where joins the Sugar Brook the sea
        Their tuneful voices ring.
      Softly sweet they bend and breathe
        Through their melodious throat,
      Like the crooked bagpipes’ wailing strain,
        A sad but pleasing note.

The following two stanzas are very fine in the original, and Pattison
has very successfully rendered them into English:—

      O! dainty is the graving work
        By Nature near thee wrought!
      Whose fertile banks with shining flowers
        And pallid buds are fraught.
      The shamrock and the daisy
        Spread o’er thy borders fair,
      Like new-made spangles, or like stars,
        From out the frosty air.

      Ah! what a charming sight display
        The ruddy rosy braes,
      When sunbeams dye their flowers as bright
        As brilliants all ablaze:
      And what a civil suit they wear
        Of ribgrass and of hay,
      And gay-topt herbs, o’er which the birds
        Pour forth their pompous lay.

The _Birlin_ has been translated by Sheriff Nicolson, and a part by
Professor Blackie. The complete translation of Pattison was the first
and is still the best. This poem is a master-piece of Gaelic poetry,
and presents peculiar difficulties to the translator. After this
“Blessing of the Ship,” the “Blessing of the Arms,” we have in the
third part an incitement for rowing to a sailing place. The rowers
are asked with a powerful sweep to

      Wound the huge swell on the ocean meadow,
                  Rolling and deep.
      With your sharp narrow blades white and slender,
                  Strike its big breast;
      Hirsute and brawny, and rippled and hilly,
                  And never at rest.
      O, stretch, and bend, and draw, young gallants!
                  Forward going!
      Let your fists’ broad grasp be whitening
                  In your rowing!
      Ye lusty, heavy, stalwart youngsters!
                  Stretch your full length;
      With shoulders knotty, nervy, hairy,
                  Hard with strength;
      See you raise and drop together
                  With one motion.
      Your grey and beamy shafts well ordered,
                  Sweeping ocean.

In this spirit the poem extends to more than 500 lines, divided into
16 parts, until finally the voyage of the Birlin ends somewhat like
that of St. Paul.

Till within recent years the practice of walking cloth in peasant
homes was a general thing. The writer has often witnessed it in the
north as well as in the south Highlands, in places where walking
mills did not extinguish the ancient ways of Highland women. The
“MORAG” of Macdonald was a “Walking Refrain,” or song for a young
woman of fair bewitching tresses. In history her _alias_ is Prince
Charlie whose adventures touched the hearts of women, bards and
weak-minded statesmen. “Ho Morag” in other words is a treasonable
prayer, adoration, or incitement for Jacobitically-minded Highlanders
and others. The bard’s heart was evidently in this wretched and
ill-starred rebellion; but it ought not to be forgotten that if the
poet’s heart tended to disloyalty he had thousands of titled traitors
and sympathisers close to the Hanoverian throne. The Jacobite bard
rushes with inexhaustible enthusiasm into the “walking” labours of
the Highland women as their thoughts travel after the fair adventurer:

      Bright Morag of my heart’s emotion
      I long to see thy yellow tresses.
          Yes; and Ho Morag, child of love,
          Beloved of many.
      If thou art gone across the ocean
      Return to help in our distresses.
          Yes; and Ho Morag, &c.

      Bring back a set of winsome beauties
      To walk the red cloth well and tightly.
          Yes; and Ho Morag, &c.
      O! here at home amid thy duties
      Thy linen would be clean and sprightly.
          Yes; and Ho Morag, &c.

      And thou wouldst never be o’er-laden
      In menial office of the servant.
          Yes; and Ho Morag, &c.
      She, Morag, my own handsome maiden,
      With the hair circlets fair and fervent.
          Yes; and Ho Morag, &c.

Further on the bard is “enthused” over the deeds of Montrose and
_Alastair Mac Colla_, the brave Sir Alexander Macdonald of Antrim,
whose heroism has not yet received its due reward:

      On Mainland, Canna, Eigg, they wander,
      Brave troops, whom Allan led delighted.
          Yes; and Ho Morag, &c.
      When great Montrose and Alexander
      Proud Lowland hosts had fought and frighted.
          Yes; and Ho Morag, &c.

The close of this stirring lyric gives us the warrior-bard, after the
ancient manner:

      Thick and close, and walked and plaited
      Blood-coloured, reddened be the heather.
          Yes; and Ho Morag, &c.
      Haste with thy walking maidens mated
      With our brave girls to march together.
          Yes; and Ho Morag, &c.

[Illustration: (decorative end-of-chapter icon)]




CHAPTER IX.

MACPHERSON’S OSSIAN.

  “That is what I always maintained. He has found names, and stories,
  and phrases, nay passages in old songs, and with them has blended
  his own compositions, and so made what he gives to the world as the
  translation of an ancient poem.”—SAMUEL JOHNSON.


Few questions have more deeply disturbed the equanimity of the
literary world than the age and authorship of the “Poems of Ossian.”
The national antagonism and prejudices of three kingdoms were roused
over the name of the poor old bard, when his reputed works first
appeared nearly one hundred and thirty years ago. A controversy of
exceeding keenness ensued; it has not ended yet; and we may well
question whether it will ever be satisfactorily settled. It is
proposed here to give the history of the poems and annex the opinions
of all those entitled to be heard on the question of authorship.


THE OSSIANIC QUESTION.

1. _Sketch of the “Poems of Ossian._”—In the year 1759 James
Macpherson was tutor in the family of Graham of Balgowan, at Moffat.
There he met John Home, the author of “Douglas.” Home was told by
Professor Adam Fergusson, a Gaelic-speaking Highlander, that some
remains of ancient Gaelic poetry existed; and getting translations
of specimens from Macpherson, a native of Badenoch, he showed them
to Drs Blair, Fergusson, and Robertson, by whom they were highly
appreciated. Importuned by them, he translated all he had, and
published in 1760 “Fragments of Ancient Poetry Collected in the
Highlands of Scotland.”

The friends already mentioned wished to secure all other relics that
could be found in the Highlands; and the tutor, then a divinity
student, was provided with funds, and undertook his famous journey
through the Highlands, where he received MSS., and took down poetry
from the recitation of old people. He was first accompanied by
Lachlan Macpherson of Strathmashie, a gentleman and a scholar, and
also a bard himself, for some time on his tour; he was also joined
latterly by Captain Alexander Morrison, who subsequently assisted
him. He returned to Badenoch, and remained there till January,
1761, preparing his materials for the next publication, assisted by
Macpherson and Morrison. Two Perthshire clergymen were also near
him—the Revs. Mr Gallie and James MacLagan, the latter no mean poet
himself. By these also he was assisted, and he kept correspondence
with them.

In 1762 appeared in London, “Fingal,” an epic in six books, along
with other sixteen poems.

Next year appeared “Temora,” in eight books, and five other poems. “A
specimen of the original of ‘Temora,’” the seventh book in Gaelic,
was also published in this volume.

These _epics_ kindled scepticism in many minds; and the “translator,”
smarting under imputations of forgery, as well as filled with vanity
at being thought the author of the poems, indulged himself in sullen
silence.

2. _Dr Johnson._—The great king who reigned in literary matters
in those days was Samuel Johnson, a very worthy man, but full of
obstinate prejudices against everything Scotch and Highland. He
undertook a journey to the Hebrides purposely to investigate into
the Ossianic question; but he came with the absolute belief that
Gaelic was never written, and no poems of any consequence existed in
that language. Boswell’s journal:—“Dr Johnson proceeded—‘I look upon
Macpherson’s “Fingal” to be as gross an imposition as ever the world
was troubled with. Had it been really an ancient work ... it would be
a curiosity of the first rate.’...

“When Dr Johnson came down, I told him ... that Mr MacQueen repeated
a passage in the original Erse, which Mr Macpherson’s translation was
pretty like; and reminded him that he himself once said he did not
require Mr Macpherson’s ‘Ossian’ to be more like the original than
Pope’s ‘Homer.’

“Johnson—‘Well, sir, that is just what I always maintained. He has
found names, and stories, and phrases, nay, passages in old songs,
and with them has blended his own compositions, and so made what he
gives to the world as the translation of an ancient poem.’ So also
thought Laing in his famous and elaborate essay; as well as thousands
of others who accepted the dicta of these writers.”

3. _The Highland Society’s Report_, got up with great candour,
and after much inquiry and research, and with the testimonies of
noblemen, gentlemen, and clergymen, bearing on the question, from all
parts of the Highlands, appeared in 1806. It was prepared by Henry
Mackenzie, the author of “The Man of Feeling.” The result arrived at
was:—

1st, That the characters of Macpherson’s poem were not invented, but
were subjects of Highland tradition; and that poems certainly existed
which might be called Ossianic.

2d, That such poems had been handed down from an unknown period by
oral recitation, and that many Highlanders could still repeat them.

3d, That such poems had been written, and some were to be found in
MSS.

4th, That Macpherson used many such poems in his work by joining
separated pieces together, and that, by adding connective narratives
of his own, he had woven them into larger poems and the so-called
epics. No materials were found, however, to show the extent of this
process and the amount of genuine matter the poems as published by
Macpherson contained.

4. _The Gaelic Ossian_ was published in 1807, accompanied with
Macfarlane’s Latin version and Mac Arthur’s dissertation. It came
through the hands of Macphersons’s executors, assisted by Dr Thomas
Ross, of Lochbroom. Money was collected in the East Indies by
military gentlemen to defray the expense of publication, and before
Macpherson died in 1796 he had the copy ready for the press; but no
traces were to be found of any ancient MSS. which he might have used
in preparing his copy, if he ever had any such MSS. that he used.
There is nothing exceptionally ancient about the text of 1807.

5. _New State of the Question._—Highlanders, with very few
exceptions, if any, on its appearance accepted the Gaelic text of
1807 as the genuine originals from which Macpherson translated, and
which they regarded as composed by Ossian in the third century. But
the views of Johnson and Laing were still subscribed to by the great
majority of English-speaking people.

6. _Macgregor’s “Genuine Remains.”_—Patrick Macgregor, M.A.,
barrister, published in 1841 the genuine remains of “Ossian” in
an English rhythmical translation not much inferior to Dr Clerk’s
with a very well-written historical introduction maintaining the
authenticity of the Gaelic Ossian.

7. _Irish Writers_ were all along jealous of the attention which
Macpherson’s translations secured for Gaelic poetry in Scotland.
Societies and individuals determined not to be behind Scotland in
supplying the public with ancient Ossianic poems. The _Ossianic
Society_ especially published five volumes of tales, and poems, and
translations; Macpherson was charged with stealing the substance of
his poems from Ireland; and at the same time the arguments of Johnson
and Laing were reiterated; while the most of what they themselves
published as ancient was not more than a century or two old. The
Irish could neither manufacture nor lay their hands on epics like
those of James Macpherson, so Dr Drummond, Edward O’Reilly, &c.,
charged Macpherson with _fabricating_ the poems, when they found
they could not prove that he stole them from Ireland. Ireland has
extensive Celtic literature; much of it ancient too; but it can show
nothing like Macpherson’s productions.

8. _Dr W. F. Skene._—This Celtic scholar says:—“A review of all
the circumstances which have been allowed to transpire regarding
the proceedings of James Macpherson seems rather to lead to the
conclusion that the Gaelic version, in the shape in which it was
afterwards published, had been prepared in Badenoch, during the
months Macpherson passed there, after his return from his Highland
tour, with the assistance of Lachlan Macpherson of Strathmashie,
and Captain Morrison, and that the English translation was made
from it by Macpherson in the same manner in which he had translated
the fragments.” The following facts appear to favour Dr Skene’s
conclusion:—After Lachlan Macpherson’s death, a paper was found in
his repositories containing the Gaelic of the seventh book of Temora,
in his handwriting, with many corrections and alterations, and thus
described—“First rude draft of the seventh book of Temora.”

Mr Gallie sent to the Highland Society a part of the Gaelic of
Fingal, which afterwards appeared as part of the Gaelic version. He
had taken it from a MS. he had recovered, written by a friend, “who
was at that time with Mr Macpherson and me—a gentleman well known for
an uncommon acquaintance with the Gaelic, and a happy facility in
writing it in Roman characters.” Pressed to tell who this friend was,
he says:—“His name was Lachlan Macpherson, of Strathmashy. He died in
1767.” Dr Skene says:—“This Gaelic version seems, therefore, to have
been put together before 1767; and if before 1762, it will account
for the original of the seventh book of Temora having been published
in that year, and also for an advertisement which appeared soon after
the publication of the second quarto, that the originals were lying
at the publisher’s, and would be published if a sufficient number of
subscribers came forward; but as few subscribers appeared, and fewer
came to look at them, they were withdrawn.”

The view of Dr Skene was scarcely maintained hitherto by any Scottish
Gaelic scholar. Shaw in 1788 echoed Johnson’s sentiments. He began
to read through Macpherson; and was held immediately to scorn by the
Gaelic literati.

9. _The Late Rev. Thomas Pattison_, author of “The Gaelic Bards”
(1866), and a man highly capable of forming judgment on the question,
says, “When we consider that the finest parts of Macpherson’s Ossian
are incontestably proved to have been popular poetry long anterior
to his appearing, I think we should throw all prejudice aside, and
affirm that whoever composed the poems attributed to Ossian, James
Macpherson was not the man; and that whatever merit may belong to
him as a translator, or whatever claim he may have to be considered
their compiler in their present form, he has no legitimate title
to be called their author. They are substantially older than he,
probably by many centuries.” Pattison, like many others before him,
dwells on Macpherson’s inferior Gaelic scholarship; but the facts
do not warrant the conclusion drawn, that Macpherson was incapable
of writing the Gaelic Ossian. Macpherson was a man of genius, and
quite able to deliver himself in Gaelic as good and classical as many
scholars that lived then or since.

10. _John F. Campbell, Esq._—The most formidable opponent of the
authenticity of Macpherson’s Ossian recently is Mr Campbell of Islay.
His earlier views, as expressed in the Highland Tales, were those
of Gaelic-speaking Highlanders in general. But the longer he dwelt
among the genuine old ballads found in manuscripts and in collections
taken down from the oral recitation of Highlanders who lived before
Macpherson’s time, the more confirmed he became in his growing
conviction that Macpherson was both translator and author, and that
the English was first composed. “My opinion now,” he says, “is that
Macpherson’s translation was first composed by a great genius, partly
from a knowledge of Scotch nature and folk-lore, partly from ideas
gathered from books, and that he and other translators afterwards
worked at it, and made a Gaelic equivalent whose merit varies
according to the translator’s skill and knowledge of Gaelic. It is
said that an early copy of the 7th book of Temora, with corrections
in Strathmashie’s hand, was found after his death. I suppose that he
revised a Gaelic translation by Macpherson, or by some other. His
own Gaelic songs are idiomatic, whereas the 7th book of Temora is
Saxon Gaelic in general, and nonsense in many passages. The English
equivalent is like the rest of Macpherson’s work. In either case,
because of matter, manner, orthography, and language, Macpherson’s
English and Gaelic Ossian, must have been composed long after Dean
MacGregor collected his book in Macpherson’s country, near his
district, and in Morven.” This is the opinion of a Gaelic-speaking
gentleman thoroughly conversant with the facts of the case, and
eminently qualified to maintain his side of the question.

11. _Mr Hector MacLean_, Mr Campbell’s clever co-adjutor in much of
his work, takes a similar view. He says—“The so-called Gaelic Ossian
of Macpherson exhibits all the symptoms of being a translation from
English. Anglicisms abound everywhere; the structure of the verse is
fully as much akin to English as to Gaelic poetry. It is deficient in
all the good qualities of style, strength, clearness, and propriety.
The versification is exceedingly rugged and irregular; alliteration,
so characteristic of Celtic poetry, is generally deficient, and
frequently entirely wanting; the sentiment is usually morbid and
vapid; and in fact the so-called original Gaelic Ossian is almost
in every respect inferior to the so-called English translation.”
MacLean at the same time speaks of the ballads in Campbell’s _Leabhar
na Féinne_ as “characterised by purity of language, vigour of
expression, and smoothness of versification.” MacLean’s thorough
knowledge of Gaelic as well as his English culture and philological
attainments entitle him to be heard.

12. _Rev. Dr Archibald Clerk._—The dissertation prefixed to the
magnificent edition of Ossian, Gaelic and English, published in 1871,
at the expense of the Marquis of Bute, and edited with a new literal
translation into English by Dr Clerk, of Kilmallie, should be read
by all who wish to know the history of the Ossianic controversy. Dr
Clerk was an accomplished Gaelic scholar—a man of culture and sound
judgment. He ably and warmly maintains that Macpherson was only a
translator. In him his opponents find a writer thoroughly qualified,
by his literary, scholarly, and philological attainments, to deal
with this vexed question. When he and Mr Campbell fail to agree,
it is very difficult for others less conversant with the facts of
the case to arrive at any satisfactory conclusion. While Dr Clerk
was patriotically engaged on his splendid new edition of Ossian, Mr
Hector MacLean was regretting “that those who know Gaelic as their
vernacular should be so far duped as to spend their time translating
into English what is really nothing else than an inferior and
incorrect translation from that language.”

13. _The Rev. Dr Hately Waddell._—“Ossian and the Clyde” is the
title of a large, and elaborate, and ingenious work by Dr Waddell.
He holds that “Ossian” is historical and authentic; and he supports
this position by a three-fold argument—geological, geographical and
etymological, and traditional. The work is learned and eloquent; and
the author pursues his argument with much minuteness and research. He
believes in Ossian by instinct, just as many of his opponents have
rejected the same by instinct. He holds that Macpherson is merely
editor and translator; and that he has used no liberties with his
text beyond what an editor and translator is entitled to use. He,
however, labours under the disadvantage of not knowing the Gaelic
language, although this difficulty is much minimised by the help of
Dr Clerk’s literal translation and notes. Part of his arguments is
certainly new and original; and the book deserves perusal on the part
of the student of the Ossianic controversy.

14. _Dr August Ebrard._—This distinguished German divine and writer,
whom Professor Blackie describes as an “impartial spectator” and
a “well-trained German scholar,” has written an article on this
question in which, after giving a historical sketch, he indicates his
arguments in favour of the authenticity of Macpherson’s Ossian. He
says, “in Ossian’s poems there is presented to us the subject-matter
of Observations and thoughts, just such as would have occurred to the
remembrance of one who had taken part in these battles. And whoever
may have cast this material into its present form it is certain that
he has left the substance thus unaltered. And why should this not
actually have proceeded from this Ossian—prince, warrior, and poet?
We know that in old times it was the common custom of the Celtic
tribes that the bards should accompany the army to battle, and that
every warlike and heroic deed should straightway be celebrated in
more or less detailed song. Undoubtedly this would happen with the
numerous warlike deeds of King Finnghal. How intelligible it must,
then, appear, that after the death of Finnghal and the ruin of his
kingdom, the king’s son, Ossian, who had fled to the Hebrides,
and who was now a blind old man, should have collected into such
complex epics as “Carthonn,” “Finnghal,” and “Timora,” the songs
which had been sung, partly by himself and partly by friendly bards
(as Carul and Ulin). How intelligible that these poems, noble in
themselves, as well as being reminiscences of former magnificence,
should have been preserved with a fond tenacity, and transmitted
from generation to generation in the usual manner, by learning by
heart, in the centuries (300-900) when the Caledonian nation was so
heavily oppressed by the Nordmen, Picts, Britons, and Anglo-Saxons.”
He further says:—“And thus all the linguistic phenomena are forthwith
explained.” Dr Ebrard is well known as the author of a work on the
early Celtic Church, and by his Gaelic grammar.

15. _Professor John Stuart Blackie._—In presenting the views of
those entitled to be heard on this question it only remains now
to give the conclusions arrived at by Professor Blackie, who is
acquainted with Gaelic and thoroughly familiar with all the facts.
He holds that the question has never yet been examined in a strictly
philological fashion. After going through the whole of the originals
recently he holds, in opposition to Mr Campbell, that the Gaelic is
unquestionably the original. He brings forward five tests by which a
translator’s hand is clearly discoverable:—

(1.) In the English version, awkward, forced, and unidiomatic
expressions frequently occur, which can be clearly traced to the
influence of a Gaelic original.

(2.) In all poems of any antiquity handed down in manuscripts
difficulties will occur, arising from obsolete words, errors in
transcription, confused connection, and other causes. In such cases
it is a common practice with translators to skip the difficulty,
gloss over the matter with some decent commonplace, and sometimes to
make positive blunders, which it is not difficult for a philologer
to expose. All these signs of a translator’s hand are frequent in
Macpherson’s English, and would be more so had he not indulged in
such a habit of skipping generally, that it is difficult to say in
certain cases decidedly that the skip was made because the writer of
the English wished to shirk a difficulty.

(3.) It is a common practice with translators, when they find a
passage a little obscure, to remove the obscurity by some manifest
alteration of the phrase, or even by interpolating a line or
interlarding a commentary. This also occurs in Macpherson.

(4.) It is not always that a translator writes under the same vivid
vision, or the same fervid inspiration as the original poet. The
instance of failure to seize the most striking features of the
original, and the substitution of generic for specific epithets are
frequent in Macpherson.

(5.) Most translators yield—sometimes, no doubt, wisely—to the
temptation of improving on their originals, and Macpherson, from what
we know of him, was the last man in the world to think of resisting
such a temptation. How much of the Gaelic as we now have it—that is,
his clean copy of his own originals—was subjected to this process of
beautification no one can tell, but departures from the simplicity of
the original can be traced in several instances.

He thinks that the English, as a whole, is a translation from the
Gaelic, and not a translation of the best quality in many respects,
and that this may be accepted as one of the best ascertained facts
in the range of philological investigation. Philological induction,
combined with the amount of external evidence to be found in the
Highland Society’s report, produce a cumulative proof which he is
most anxious to see how Mr Campbell can rebut. Principal Shairp
thinks that Professor Blackie has hit upon the true solution of this
controversy.

16. _Mr Archibald MacNeill, W.S._, with his brothers Lord Colonsay
and Sir John MacNeill, who were all familiar with the Gaelic
language, firmly believed that the Gaelic text of Macpherson belonged
to the early centuries of the Christian era. Mr MacNeill published
his views in a small volume in which legal acumen is brought to
bear on the question, and which concludes as follows: “At what date
Ossian lived we do not pretend to determine; but this, at least, is
sufficiently clear, that the Gaelic Ossian was not the production of
Macpherson or any author of modern times, but must be referred to
a period of remote antiquity. It further appears from the internal
evidence of these poems, that they refer to a period prior to the
diffusion of Christianity and the era of clanship.” Of course
Macpherson was clever enough, granting he elected to do so, to give a
complexion of antiquity to his compositions.

17. My own opinion of the question I embody in the following
propositions. I began the study of Macpherson’s Ossian some twelve
years ago, and exercised myself then in translating many portions of
it, so I am fairly familiar with it.

I believe—

(1.) That the English is a translation from Gaelic, probably from a
ruder version than that published in 1807.

(2.) That Macpherson is neither absolutely the author, nor merely the
translator, of the poems connected with his name.

(3.) That he formed his original Gaelic by joining and recasting old
ballads, that he connected these ballads by paragraphs of his own
composition, and that the newly-written recast matter constitutes
the chief parts of the epics which he had thus formed, but in which,
however, the spirit of the old productions still survives.

(4.) That the Gaelic is far more elaborate than the English, is
subtler in conception, less concrete in expression, and has been
likely, before the text was finally published, the subject of many
alterations and improvements.

(5.) That on the whole the language of the text of 1807 is not, as
some allege, essentially different from that of the ballads that are
known to be genuine.

(6.) That the metre of the Gaelic text is not more irregular than
that of these same ballads, the chief difference being that while
the latter are mostly made up of either trochees or iambs the former
frequently mixes anapaests with trochees or iambs.

The Highland Society’s report, in a general way points to similar
conclusions. The process adopted by Macpherson was early described
by Dr Smith (1780) who is supposed to have dealt with ballads in
Macphersonic fashion:—“Mr Macpherson compiled his publication from
those parts of the Highland songs which he most approved, combining
them into such forms as, according to his ideas, were most excellent,
retaining the old names and leading events.” This is what Dr Smith
himself honestly did in his _Sean Dana_; and it is rather surprising,
after Dr Smith’s description of the process adopted by himself, and
probably also by Macpherson, that any intelligent persons, whether
Highland or otherwise, should insist on the absolute originality of
every line in the texts of both Smith and Macpherson. I believe no
conscientious dishonesty was intended by either, especially by Smith.
They were both influenced by the loose views of editorial functions
prevalent in their day. The question of what was Macpherson’s ideal
of editorial functions lay ignored all along at the root of the
Ossianic controversy. A seriously mistaken and uncritical view it
was; but he thought he was doing what would be for the credit of his
native country.

When the writer arrived at the conclusions just indicated, ten years
ago, he was not so clear as to the process by which Macpherson
wrought the Gaelic and English Ossians into their present forms.
Since then, in 1883, he entered more minutely into the question in
a paper read before the Gaelic Society of London and the conclusion
forced upon his mind, as the result chiefly of comparisons between
the various versions of the Gaelic fragments which were found
in mysterious circulation in Macpherson’s lifetime, was that the
Gaelic Ossian, like the English equivalent, was a production of the
last century, and that James Macpherson was the author as well as
translator of these celebrated compositions of the Gaelic muse. Dr
Macdonald, M.P., President of the Gaelic Society, and other expert
Gaelic scholars present, while reluctant to accept the conclusions
of the paper, did not seriously attempt to dispute them; while Mr
Macdonald Cameron, M.P., regarded the arguments brought forward as
clearly decisive on the question. Since then Mr Macbain of Inverness
ably discussed the poems from other standpoints, and has informed
the writer that the late Dr Cameron of Brodick adopted similar
views. The great Ossianic question may now be regarded as settled.
What was needed all along to settle it was sufficient knowledge,
culture, judgment, and honesty on the part of men familiar with the
Gaelic language. Such men have appeared since the publication of Dr
Clerk’s Ossian, the first note being sounded by Mr J. F. Campbell in
his celebrated review of Clerk’s work in _The Times_. Mr H. Maclean
adopted the same views; and the writer, in 1883, on independent and
other grounds was forced to take up the same position. Dr Cameron and
Mr Macbain, representing the midland and northern Highlands, having
now concurred, the students of the Gaelic language north and south
unite thus in regarding Macpherson’s Gaelic Ossian as compositions
of the last century. These compositions are great original works,
and ought to be thus described. Their spirit is ancient and Celtic,
though their form is modern. They, James Macpherson their author,
and Gaelic literature stand in the same relation to one another that
we find illustrated in the case of the “Idyls of the King,” Alfred
Tennyson, and Cymric literature. The only difference is that Tennyson
has not given us the “Idyls” in Welsh as well as in English, and
that Macpherson’s English version is in prose instead of being in
blank verse. As long as Gaelic scholars of undoubted respectability
believed otherwise, it was difficult for outsiders like the Blackies,
Ebrards, and Waddells, who discussed the question, to be certain
of their conclusions; but henceforth it will be inexcusable in any
man of letters to argue for the old views, as Mr George Eyre-Todd
does in an introduction to the “Poems of Ossian,” published in the
_Canterbury Poets_ series (1888) without taking any cognisance of the
latest deliverances of those most entitled to express an opinion.

For a long time the controversy regarding the poems of Ossian
had only the English version for its critical basis; so it was
unreasonable then to expect a satisfactory solution of the vexed
question of authorship. Those who knew the language could only guess
at the originals; and those who did not know it had to be satisfied
with all they could make of the English. Both parties occupied a
position critically absurd. The one side ignorant of the language
could not presume to pronounce whether the poems were or were not a
translation; and the other had not yet the materials for judgment
before them. But now in the year 1807 appeared the long looked-for
and much discussed Gaelic originals of the Ossianic translations
published some forty years previously. The following is the
title-page in full:—“The Poems of Ossian, in the Original Gaelic,
with a literal translation into Latin, by the late Robert Macfarlane,
A.M., together with a Dissertation on the Authenticity of the Poems
by Sir John Sinclair, Bart., and a translation from the Italian of
the Abbe Cessarotti’s Dissertation on the Controversy respecting the
Authenticity of Ossian, with Notes and a Supplementary Essay, by John
McArthur, LL.D., published under the sanction of the Highland Society
of London. _Magna est veritas et praevalebit._ Vol. I. _London._
[Printers and Publishers’ names], 1807, pp. ccxxxii., 278.

“—— —— —— Vol. II.,” pp. 390.

“—— —— —— Vol. III.,” pp. 576.

“Dana Oisen Mhic Fhinn, air an cur amach air son maith coitcheanta
muinntir na Gaeltachd. Duneidin; clo-bhuailte le Tearlach Stiubhart.
1818.” 8vo., pp. 344.

This last is a copy of the Gaelic text contained in Sir John
Sinclair’s magnificent edition of Ossian. It was printed at the
expense of Sir J. Macgregor Murray and other gentlemen that it might
be distributed among the Highlanders to cultivate and to preserve
their old chivalrous spirit. There was a copy sent for the use of
every parish school in the Highlands. These copies were addressed
to the care of the parish ministers, in whose hands they generally
remained. One thing is certain, they never reached nor became known
amongst the people in the manner in which other books circulated
amongst them.

Here were the Gaelic originals of Ossian at last; and certainly
there was no great reason to regret the delay in their appearance,
when they were now presented in so splendid a dress. Surely now all
controversy about them should cease for ever. All Gaelic-speaking
Highlanders thought so then; and there are many who think similarly
still.

This text was not exactly as it came from Macpherson’s hands,
who died while preparing it for the press. A standard of Celtic
orthography was then in course of formation; and John Mackenzie,
Esq., of London, one of Macpherson’s executors, engaged the Rev. Dr
Thomas Ross to write out with him the text of Ossian in the style
adopted by the excellent translators of the Gaelic Bible. Dr Ross,
although well acquainted with the language, was not the most accurate
scholar of his day. So until Clerk’s “Ossian” appeared in 1870 there
was no fairly correct and scholarly text of these poems. Had the text
come from Macpherson’s own hands, the orthography would probably
have been very different. Macpherson enjoyed neither the time nor
the practice in writing the language to enable him to write either
consistently with himself or with any system of orthography. What
he wrote, or took down, or copied at an earlier period, of which we
have a fair specimen in the 7th Book of “Temora,” published with the
translations, is like what many educated Highlanders of the present
day would write. When conducting Highland periodicals, the writer
frequently received articles from gentlemen with some reputation
for Gaelic scholarship which were much in the style of Macpherson’s
orthography. Yet these same gentlemen might be, as some of them were,
profoundly acquainted with the vocabulary and idioms of the language,
although they were unable to write consistently with their own or any
other mode of spelling; and were they poets of first-class genius,
they could produce, as far as acquaintance with the language was
concerned, poetry like that of Ossian, Macdonald, or Macintyre, the
last of whom could not write at all; whilst it will not be seriously
contended that Ossian was so familiar with the pen as he was ever
with the sword. The state of the text at any time since it was first
moulded in Macpherson’s hands could not be of the slightest value in
deciding the age of the poems. Neither could it be of more service
philologically than any other Gaelic books printed during the last
hundred years. It could have no value like _The Book of Deer_, and
_The Book of the Dean of Lismore_.

Though a very inviting field, it is not here intended to enter into
examination of the words of the text. When this question has been
competently investigated some of our views which at present waver
will be thoroughly confirmed.

Let the question of the authenticity be in the meantime laid
aside, and let the poems as they are be considered. One thing is
certain—they are the clever productions of a Gaelic genius—of a
master whose works have influenced the literature of modern Europe.
The healthy and grand old figure of Ossian appeared on the scene
of the artificial literary world of the eighteenth century, and
his tenderness, his naturalness, and his keen sympathies with the
external world of form, of colour, and of movement carried before
him the conventionalities of a hollow generation. Ossian, along
with Cowper, was the first influence at work in bringing back the
rising poets of the day to the study and contemplation of nature. The
poems were translated into all the languages of Europe. This “most
magnificent mystification of modern times,” as a German writer has
described Ossian, acted like a spell on poets in this country and on
the Continent. Goethe and Lamartine felt the force of this spell;
the former acknowledged it in the “Songs of Selma” in “Werther,” and
the latter in “Memoirs of my Youth.” The illustrious French poet
has vividly described in the following passage the enthusiastic
admiration of Ossian that prevailed in France in his younger days.

“It was now the period when Ossian, that poet of the genius of
ruins and battles, reigned paramount in the imagination of France.
Baour-Lormian had translated him into sonorous verse for the camp of
the emperor. Women sung him in plaintive romances, or in triumphal
strains, at the departure, above the tomb, or on the return of their
lovers. Small editions in portable volumes had found their way into
all the libraries. One of them fell into my hands. I plunged into
this ocean of shadow, of blood, of tears, of phantoms, of foam, of
snow, of fogs, of hoar frosts, and of images, the immensity, the
dimness, and the melancholy of which harmonise so well with the
lofty sadness of a heart of sixteen which expands to the first rays
of the Infinite. Ossian, his localities, and his images harmonised
wonderfully also with the nature of the mountain district, almost
Scottish in its character, with the season of the year, and with
the melancholy aspect of the places where I read him. It was during
the biting blasts of November and December. The earth was covered
with a mantle of snow, pierced here and there by the black trunks
of scattered pines, or overhung by the naked and branching arms of
the oaks, upon which flights of crows assembled, filling the air
with their coarse cawings. Icy fogs clothed the branches with hoar
frost, clouds swept in eddying wreaths around the buried peaks of the
mountains. A few streams of sunshine streamed for a moment through
their openings, and discovered distant perspective of unfathomable
valleys, which the eye might fancy gulfs of the sea. It was the
natural and sublime exposition of the poems of Ossian which I held
in my hand. I carried him in my hunting pouch over the mountains,
and while the dogs made the deep gorges of the hills echo with their
barking, I read his pages, sitting beneath the shelter of some
overhanging rock, only raising my eyes from its pages to find again,
floating along the horizon or outstretched at my feet, the same
mists, the same clouds, the same plains of ice or snow which I had
just beheld in imagination. How often have I felt my tears congealing
on the borders of my eyelids! I had become one of the sons of the
bard, one of the heroic, amorous, or plaintive shades who fought,
who loved, who wept, or who swept the fingers across the harp in the
gloomy domains of Fingal.”

In Italy the influence of Ossian was supreme. Cesarotti tells us
that he became the founder of a school of poetry there. Throughout
the literary world the power of Ossian’s muse was felt. The
artificiality, hollowness, and conventionality of the last quarter of
the eighteenth century rendered the natural echoes of the grand old
voice of Cona a fresh music and a welcome relief.

There are two complete translations of these Gaelic poems before
the world besides Macpherson’s—Macgregor’s and Clerk’s. The last is
absolutely literal, while Macgregor’s is also pretty faithful to the
Gaelic. Both versions are neither blank verse, nor rhyme, nor prose,
but are couched in a species of rhythmic verse in lines of various
lengths. Neither the one nor the other is ever likely to become
popular, so that a literal popular version is still required for
those whom Macpherson’s own cannot satisfy. I have thrown into a very
literal blank verse the whole of _Carrick_, from which I take the
following description of Finn’s encounter with the Ghost of Lodin. It
is a fair specimen of the poems as a whole, and gives us an inkling
of their mythology, which here and elsewhere is vague and shadowy:—


          LODIN’S GHOST.

        A fire descended in the dark beyond;
      The moon was red and languid in the east;
      A blast came down in sadness from the plain;
      And on its wings the semblance of a man;—
      Cru-Lodin standing pale upon the plain—
      He nigh approached unto his own abode,
      Holding his dark spear useless in his hand;
      His red eye like the blazing of the skies;
      His speaking like the thunder on the hill
      In shadowy darkness distant far away;
      Finn lifted up his spear amid the night;
      And on the meadow was his shouting heard.

          FINN.

        “Son of the Night, begone thou from my side.
      Betake thee to thy wind and be away!
      Why camest thou to my presence, shadowy one?
      Thy semblance is unreal as thine arms.
      Can thy brown form be terrible to me,
      Thou Phantom of the Circles Lodin owns?
      Frail is thy shield, and weak thy vapoury cloud;
      Thy bare sword like a flame across the surge;
      Which shall be cleft asunder by the blast,
      And scattered thou thyself without delay,
      Begone thou Dismal Offspring of the skies!
      Recall thy blast to take thee and begone.”

          THE GHOST.

        “Would’st thou from my own circle me coerce?”
      Spake the deep voice of hollowest refrain.
      “It is to me that hosts of heroes yield;
      I glance but on the people from the height,
      They are dispersed like ashes ’neath my gaze.
      Out of my breath proceeds the blast of death.
      I journey loftily upon the wind;
      And tempests hurry forth themselves on high
      Around my brow, cold, melancholy, pale;
      But calm is my abode beyond the clouds,
      And pleasant the broad fields of my repose.”

          FINN.

        “Go, and abide then on thy pleasant plains,”
      Replied the mighty king with hand on hilt,
      “Else, Cuhal’s Son, forget not in the field.
      Weak is thy spectre—and my strength is great.
      Did I direct my footsteps from the hill
      Toward thy hall, high on the peaceful plain?
      Or did my pow’rful spear e’er clash amid
      The garments of the skies against the voice
      Of the Black Ghost Cru-Lodin’s circle keeps?
      Why hast thou lifted with a scowl thy brow?
      Or wherefore shakest thou aloft thy spear?
      Little I dread thy words, thou Shadowy One!
      I fled not from an army in the field,
      Why flee before the Offspring of the Winds?
      The Valiant Brave, the King of Lofty Bens,
      He shall not flee! He knows, though he has not
      Been there, the frailty of thine arm in war.”

          THE GHOST.

        “Begone! flee to thy land,” replied the Form,
      “Flee on the dismal tempest, flee, begone!
      The blast is in the hollow of my hand.
      Mine are the conflict and the speed of storms;
      The King of Sora is a Son of mine;
      He kneels down in the mountain to my form;
      At Rock of Hundreds he upholds the strife,
      And scathless he shall gain the victory,
      Begone to thine own land, thou Cuhal’s son,
      Or to thy grief experience my wrath.”

          THE COMBAT.

        He lifted up his threatening spear on high,
      And fiercely forward bent his lofty head.
      Then Finn advanced, opposing him in wrath,
      Wielding his blue transparent sword in hand,—
      The sword—the Son of Luinn of duskiest cheek,
      The steely lustre pierced the Phantom through.
      The Evil wraith of death assumed a frown;
      He fell devoid of shape, far, far beyond,
      Riding the wings of the dark cairns, like smoke
      A sapling raises with a stick in hand,
      About a hearth of discord and of gloom.

        The Wraith of Lodin’s form shrieked on the Ben,
      Collecting his essentials in the wind;
      The Innis of the boars the tumult heard:
      The trembling waves stopped action in their course.
      The heroes of great Cuhal’s son arose.
      And in each hand a spear was held aloft;
      “Where is he?”—and their fury gathering gloom,
      And every mail loud clanking round its chief.

As formerly remarked, the “Old Lays” of Dr Smith are fully as
interesting and poetical as Macpherson’s Ossian; and all who wish
to read and enjoy good Gaelic poetry—fresh and idiomatic —should
go to these lays. Smith’s own translation is exceedingly loose and
turgid as compared with his Gaelic. As already observed, Smith also
comes under the suspicion of being the author of the Gaelic, as well
as translator. His own account of the translation has been already
given; and there seems no good reason why its honesty and correctness
should be doubted. His Gaelic originals appear to stand in the same
relation to pre-existent ballad and taleologic literature that Burns’
new versions of Scottish songs and ballads sustain to the older and
original productions. Like Macpherson, Dr Smith cannot be said to be
wholly the author nor merely the translator of these grand poetical
“lays.” Illustrative specimens of them are given in the next chapter.
To furnish a contrast to Macpherson’s Ossian and manner, I give the
following lines on _Bas Airt_, or the Death of Artho:—

      In battle-field he fell in fame;
      Terrible to many as he came
      Like thunder through the woods, or lightning
      That hid itself midst ruin frightning!
      The enemies trembled, fell, and fled;
      From Artho’s hand destruction sped,
      Like Melmor’s rocks dashed through the woods
      To sink below in sullen floods;
      Such seemed the low-laid hero’s form
      Ere came death’s arrow in the storm.

_Dan an Deirg_, one of the finest poems in Smith’s volume, has been
recently translated, edited, and annotated by an accomplished English
scholar and graduate of Cambridge, Mr C. S. Jerram, who has been at
the pains of studying the language. To this interesting little volume
is prefixed a very intelligent and fair account of the state of the
Ossianic question.

Dr Smith’s “Old Lays,” translated by himself in too free and turgid
a fashion, are as interesting as Macpherson’s “Ossian,” and not
inferior in any respect to that famed production. In the opening of
one of these “lays,” called “Finan and Lorma,” we find a very pretty
set of verses in which the young people around him, looking upon
the heavens, are represented as addressing the aged Ossian in the
following manner:—

        While on the plains shines the moon, O bard!
        And the shadow of Cona holds;
      Like a ghost breathes the wind from the mountain,
        With its spirit voice in its folds.

        There are two cloudy forms before us,
        Where its host the dim night shows;
      The sigh of the moor curls their tresses,
        As they tread over Alva of roes.

        Dusky his dogs came with one,
        And he bends his dark-brow of yew;
      There’s a stream from the side of the sad-faced maid,
        Dyes her robe with a blood-red hue.

        Hold thou back, O thou wind! from the mountain,
        Let their image a moment stay;
      Nor sweep with thy skirts from our eyesight,
        Nor scatter their beauty away.

        O’er the glen of the rushes, the hill of the hinds
        With the vague wandering vapour they go;
      O, Bard of the times that have left us!
        Aught of their life cans’t thou show?

          OSSIAN’S REPLY.

      The years that have been they come back as ye speak,
      To my soul in their music they glide;
      Like the murmur of waves in the far inland calm,
      Is their soft and smooth step by my side.

The translation is from “The Gaelic Bards.” Let us now glance at a
particular class of popular pieces that have become mixed up with
the suspected works of Macpherson and Smith. The original of the
specimens which follow was well known before Macpherson’s Gaelic
Ossian appeared. The famous “Address to the Sun” is found in English
in Macpherson’s _Carthon_. In the published Gaelic of 1807 its place
is marked by asterisks. The Gaelic is inserted to correspond with
the English in Clerk’s edition. A new literal translation is here
attempted:—

      O, thou that glidest in the sky,
        Round as the hero’s full hard shield,
      Thy frownless lustre, whence on high?
        Sun, whence thy ceaseless light revealed?

      Thou comest in thy lovely might;
        The stars conceal from us their motion;
      The moon pale hies from heaven’s height,
        And shrouds her in the western ocean.

      Thou in thy distance art alone;
        Who bold may dare approach thy might;
      With age, cairn, cliff, are overthrown;
        With age the oak falls from the height.

      The ocean shakes with ebb and flow;
        The moon is lost in depth of night;
      But, Victor, thou alone dost glow
        In endless joy of thine own light.

      When tempests darken round the earth
        With lightning, and with hoarse-voiced thunder,
      Fair through the storm thou look’st in mirth
        Upon the troubled heavens under.

      But vain to me are thy bright rays,
        Since I must see no more thy glance
      Gold-tressed that turns on eastern gaze
        Of heaven’s cloudy countenance,
      When thou art trembling in the west,
      Through ocean’s dusky doors to rest.

      But like myself thou art perchance—
        Once robed with weakness, once with strength;
      In circling sky our years advance
        Together to one end at length;
      Rejoice, O Sun, while thou art young;
      Be glad, thou Prince! while thou art strong!

      Old age is dark and void of mirth,
        Like faint moon ere her horn she fills;
      While looking from the clouds on earth
        Where hoary mist skirts cairny hills.
      The biting blast with breath of cold
      Beats on the traveller weak and old.

It is said that this address, the original of which was supplied to
the Highland Society in the year 1801, was well known in the central
Highlands early in the eighteenth century. The Rev. Mr Macdiarmid
wrote it down from the dictation of an old man in Glenlyon about
1770. It is said that this old man learned it in his youth from
people in the same glen before Macpherson was born.

The “Address to the Setting Sun” is given at the beginning of
Macpherson’s _Carricthura_. It consists of eleven lines, and has
been a great favourite among the people. The following is a literal
translation:—

      Leav’st the blue distance of the skies,
      Unsullied Sun, with tress of gold?
      Where west thy tent of slumber lies
      The portals of the night unfold.
      The cautious billows cower nigher
      Thy shining temples to behold;
      Awe-struck, their heads they lift up higher
      To view thee grand in thy repose!
      Pale from thy side they back retire!
      May in thy cave sleep o’er thee close,
      O, Sun! till thou the dawn inspire.

The above lines were written down by Mr Macdiarmid at the same time
as the “Address to the Sun.” In the two pieces we find abstract
conceptions that we never come across in the old ballads. This gives
real ground to the argument of recent writers that the poems are of
modern date. Whether ancient or modern, they are poetry of a high
order, superior to that of the Irish and Scottish ballads. The new
theory seems to some inconsistent with the honour and veracity of
more than one clergyman and gentleman of repute, who could have
no personal interest in helping to palm on the public the alleged
forgeries of Macpherson. There is another “Address to the Sun”—to the
rising sun—in Dr Smith’s Old Lays, which appeared many years before
the publication of Macpherson’s Gaelic. It is admirably translated by
Mr Pattison, and I avail myself of his translation:—

      Son of the young morn! that glancest
        O’er the hills of the east with thy gold-yellow hair
      How gay on the wild thou advancest
        Where the streams laugh as onward they fare;
      And the trees yet bedewed by the shower,
        Elastic their light bright branches raise,
      Whilst the melodies sweet they embower
        Hail thee at once with their lays.

      But where is the dim light duskily gliding,
        On her eagle wings from thy face?
      Where now is darkness abiding?
        In what cave do bright stars end their race—
      When fast, on their faded steps bending,
        Like a hunter you rush through the sky,
      Up those lone lofty mountains ascending,
        While down yon far summits they fly?

      Pleasant thy path is, Great Lustre, wide-gleaming,
        Dispelling the storm with thy rays;
      And graceful thy gold ringlets streaming,
        As wont in the westering blaze.
      Thee the blind mist of night ne’er deceiveth,
        Nor sends from the right course astray!
      The strong tempest, all ocean that grieveth,
        Can ne’er make thee bend from thy way.

      At the call of the mild morn appearing,
        Thy festal face wakens up bright;
      Thy shade from all dark places clearing,
        But the bard’s eye that ne’er sees thy light.

In an Irish poem from which quotations have been made the bard
is represented as blind. In two of these pieces we have touching
allusion to the same melancholy infliction. “Vain to me are thy
bright rays” occurs in the Address to the Sun, and “the bard’s eye
that ne’er sees thy light” in the Address to the Rising Sun. The
soul of the old poet seemed to take delight in contrasting his own
sightless condition with the brilliant sun in his course through
the heavens. This tone of melancholy pleasure—of deep and lonely
nurtured feeling—so characteristic of the Ossianic poems, is also
characteristic of the Celtic race, especially of the Scottish Gael,
whose spirit seems to have been enswathed in the majestic gloom of
his own native glens and mountains. The curtains of mist hanging over
the silent and weird-looking lochs, the ghost-like clouds that glided
across the glens or inwrapped the crests of the hills, the moan of
the sounding seashore mingling with the roar of a hundred streams
forcing their ways to join the boundless ocean, are sights and sounds
which naturally exerted a powerful influence on the souls of those
who lived daily in their midst. When the tempests darkened round the
earth, and lightnings flashed, and the hoarse-voiced thunder shook
the hills, how pleasant it must have been for the depressed spirit of
man to gaze on the face of the sun, looking “fair through the storm”
“upon the troubled heavens under” of a Hebridean sky!

These are specimens of a great deal of poetry which Highlanders of
the present day unhesitatingly ascribe to Ossian. Indeed, the Ossian
of these pieces appears to be a poet of quite a different calibre
from that of the old ballads. One thing is clear that whoever was the
author or authors of these much discussed productions, he or they
were poets of the highest order, and must have been Gaels born and
bred in the Highlands.

[Illustration: (decorative end-of-chapter icon)]




CHAPTER X.

OLD LAYS.

            “Lean gu dlù ri cliù do shinnsear;
            ’S na dich’nich a bhi mar iadsan.”—SEANN DAN.

      ENGLISH:

                _Follow thou thy fathers’ fame;_
                _Ne’er forget thy country’s claim._


After the Celtic poems and translations of the Bard of Badenoch had
begun to realise fame and fortune for their author, other writers
of varying gifts sought to enter into similar labours. For literary
students the Gaelic realm of letters hitherto had been obscure
and untrodden fields; but now all at once the old Celtic world of
the Scottish past became alive with heroes of magnificent deeds
and bards of illustrious renown. The refinement, the culture, the
heroic courage of grand old Scots, in the environment of the purest
chivalry, kindled everywhere admiration throughout Europe. People
wearied of the artificialities and platitudes of the eighteenth
century, allowed themselves to get into raptures over the healthy
pictures of ancient life which these Celtic compositions unfolded.
The blind old Ossian was then more popular than the blind old
Homer, and all “Old Lays” connected with the Highlands and Islands
acquired a value which they never had before. There was a general
rage for Gaelic old lays and ballads, and a search was instituted
throughout the land for such productions. Bards, senachies, reciters,
and singers of every description and every rank in life were
requisitioned for the supply of ancient Ossianic ballads.

One good result of this was to make the Highlands better known, and
to help in the removal of old race-prejudices which had all along
existed in some quarters, but which had become greatly intensified
through the recent Jacobite rebellions for which the Highlanders as a
people were not primarily responsible. John Knox may be said to have
made the Scotland of his time reforming, radical, and religious, and
Sir Walter Scott the Scotland of the nineteenth century romantic in
verse and story; and James Macpherson may be said with equal force
to have made the Highlands in the eighteenth century. It has been
said that old Celtic lays and ballads became then the fashion. The
pioneer in the field, it ought to be remembered, however, was not the
Badenoch tutor. Three or four years before Macpherson was heard of
there died, in June 1756, in the 30th year of his age,


JEROME STONE,

who was the first to direct public attention to Ossianic ballads. He
was born at Scoonie, Fifeshire, in 1727. His father was a seafaring
man. As a mere lad, Jerome became a packman; but dealing in buckles,
garters, and such small articles not suiting his “superior genius,”
he sold his stock, bought books, and finally struggled into St.
Andrews University, where he graduated in 1750. He soon received
the appointment of assistant in Dunkeld Grammar School, of which
he became Rector two or three years afterwards. In this position,
acquiring knowledge of the Gaelic language and of the people, along
with his other duties, he remained until struck down of fever, as
already stated, in 1756. At that time Dunkeld, an ancient home of
Celtic activity, learning, and enterprise, was more of a Gaelic
district than it is now and Stone found himself in social and
intellectual surroundings which were new to him. He had probably more
racial kinship, with the people than he himself knew or acknowledged,
or than even Professor Mackinnon, who has edited his collection, has
thought of. For centuries Gaidel and Brython lived and fought in his
native Fifeshire, and their fervid life-blood has never ceased to
run in the veins of Fife men. Probably the eloquent Thomas Chalmers
received much of the inspiration of his genius from this Celtic
source. Stone left a collection of Gaelic ballads which was for some
time regarded as lost. The MS., after passing through various hands,
passed two years ago into the possession of Edinburgh University
on the death of Dr Clerk, to whom it was given when preparing his
edition of Ossian, by David Laing. Professor Mackinnon has published
the collection of ballads in the Transactions of the Gaelic Society
of Inverness, 1887-88, occupying fifty pages of the volume, and
accompanied with an interesting biographical note, to which the
writer is indebted for some of the particulars given above. These
ballads are of exactly the same character as those of the Feinne
already considered. They are merely other versions of the same poems
dealing with the same themes of the Finnic environment of the old
Gaelic national life.

The first translator of Gaelic poetry deserves a memorial cairn in
any book devoted to the interests of our Anglo-Gaelic literature.
Jerome Stone gave the first translation of the old Gaelic Lays to
the world in 1756 four years before the appearance of Macpherson’s
_Fragments_. It appears that a St. Andrews Professor was the first to
interest young Stone in Gaelic poetry, and the best of his efforts
at translation was his free rendering of “Fraoch’s Death,” or as he
entitles it, “Albin and the Daughter of Mey”:—

      A thousand graces did the maid adorn:
      Her looks were charming, and her heart was kind;
      Her eyes were like the windows of the morn,
      And Wisdom’s habitation was her mind.
      A hundred heroes try’d her love to gain;
      She pity’d them, yet did their suits deny;
      Young Albyn only courted not in vain,
      Albyn alone was lovely in her eye:
      Love filled their bosoms with a mutual flame;
      Their birth was equal, and their age the same.

      Her mother Mey, a woman void of truth,
      In practice of deceit and guile grown old,
      Conceived a guilty passion for the youth,
      And in his ear the shameful story told;
      But o’er his mind she never could prevail,
      For in his life no wickedness was found;
      With shame and rage he heard the horrid tale,
      And shook with indignation at the sound;
      He fled to shun her; while with burning wrath
      The monster, in revenge, decreed her death.

      Amidst Lochmey, a distance from the shore,
      On a green island, grew a stately tree,
      With precious fruit each season cover’d o’er,
      Delightful to the taste and fair to see.
      This fruit more sweet than virgin honey found,
      Serv’d both alike for physic and for food:
      It cured diseases, heal’d the bleeding wound,
      And hunger’s rage for three long days withstood,
      And precious things are purchas’d still with pain,
      And thousands try’d to pluck it, but in vain.

      For at the root of this delightful tree,
      A venomous and awful dragon lay,
      With watchful eyes, all horrible to see.
      Who drove th’ affrighted passengers away;
      Worse than the viper’s sting its teeth did wound
      The wretch who felt it soon behov’d to die;
      Nor could physicians ever yet be found
      Who might a certain antidote apply:
      Even they whose skill had sav’d a mighty host,
      Against its bite no remedy could boast.

      Revengeful Mey, her fury to appease,
      And him destroy who durst her passion slight,
      Feign’d to be stricken with a dire disease,
      And call’d the hopeless Albin to her sight:
      “Arise, young hero! skill’d in feats of war,
      On yonder lake your dauntless courage prove,
      To pull me of the fruit, now bravely dare,
      And save the mother of the maid you love;
      I die without its influence divine,
      Nor will I taste it from a hand but thine.”

      With downcast look the lovely youth reply’d,
      “Though yet my feats of valour have been few,
      My might in this adventure shall be try’d;
      I go to pull the healing fruit for you.”
      With stately steps approaching to the deep
      The hardy hero swims the liquid tide:
      With joy he finds the dragon fast asleep,
      Then pulls the fruit, and comes in safety back;
      Then with a cheerful countenance, and gay,
      He gives the present to the hands of Mey.

      “Well have you done to bring me of this fruit;
      But greater signs of prowess must you give:
      Go pull the tree entirely by the root,
      And bring it hither, or I cease to live.”
      Though hard the task, like lightning fast he flew,
      And nimbly glided o’er the yielding tide;
      Then to the tree with manly steps he drew,
      And pull’d it hard from side to side:
      Its bursting roots his strength could not withstand;
      He tears it up, and bears it in his hand.

      But long, alas! ere he could reach the shore,
      Or fix his footsteps on the solid sand,
      The monster follow’d with a hideous roar,
      And like a fury grasped him by the hand.
      Then, gracious God! what dreadful struggling rose:
      He grasps the dragon by th’ invenom’d jaws,
      In vain; for round the bloody current flows,
      While his fierce teeth his tender body gnaws.
      He groans through anguish of the grievous wound,
      And cries for help; but, ah! no help was found!

The hero’s death is a tragic one; and the life of the “helpless
maid!” vanishes in the usual tender regrets of bards. Our great
interest in the production, apart from the early death of the
gifted and sympathetic Stone, lies in the fact that he was the
first English-speaking man of letters who attempted to deal fairly
with the products of the Gaelic muse. To students of Macpherson’s
Ossian and Ossianic ballads it will be apparent that the Badenoch
tutor merely imitated Stone in the English productions; he gave
the spirit, not the letter of Gaelic poetry. Macpherson’s trouble
lay in the originally unexpected necessity of providing Gaelic
originals which would be fair equivalents for his published English
versions. The bitter assaults made on his works naturally led to
his manner of self-defence. As an illustration of how _poetical_
translators deal with the original materials placed in their hands,
nothing better could be found than this Gaelic ballad which Stone
published in English dress in the “Scots Magazine.” In “Mackenzie’s
Report,” the original Gaelic, Stone’s rendering, and a literal
version are supplied. The second is described as a “Translation of
the foregoing,” as published by Stone in the “Scots Magazine” for
1756. In order to show how a “translation” was regarded in the age of
Macpherson, it may be well to give the last three verses of “Fraoch’s
Death” in the original, then the “Report’s” literal version, and
lastly Stone’s poetic translation. Here are the last three verses of
the Gaelic ballad:—

      Thogamar anois an cluin Fhraoich,
      Corp an laoich an Caiseal Chrò.
      On Bhas ud a fhuair am fear,
      Mairg is mairion na dheigh beo.

      Gu mhi sud an tuabhar Mna,
      Is mo chonairceas air mo dha Roisg,
      Fraoch a chur a bhuain a Chrainn,
      An deis an Caoran a bhi bhos.

      Air a cluain thughte an t’ainm,
      Loch meidhe raite ris an Loch,
      Am biodh a Bheist anns gach uair,
      Is a Craos a suas an Dos.

This is the “Report’s,” literal translation of these verses:

      We bore to the grove of Fraoch,
      The body of the hero to its circular pale;
      After the worthy has died,
      To be alive is our regret.

      Cruelest of woman was she,
      That ever was seen by eyes,
      Who sent Fraoch to tear the branch,
      After the fruit had been torn away.

      The grove bears his name,
      Loch Meyo is the name of the lake,
      Where the monster kept watch,
      And its open jaw to the tree.

This is the original material out of which Jerome Stone wrought his
translation as follows:—

      But now he’s gone and nought remains but woe
      For wretched me; with him my joys are fled;
      Around his tomb my tears shall ever flow,
      The rock my dwelling, and the clay my bed!
      Ye maids and matrons, from your hills descend,
      To join my moan and answer tear for tear;
      With me the hero to the grave attend,
      And sing the songs of mourning round his bier,
      Through his own grove his praise we will proclaim,
      And bid the place forever bear his name.

The idea may come to many readers as a surprise that if Jerome Stone
had been spared to perform the part of translator of the Gaelic
ballads and small epics of the Finnic mythus, he would probably
furnish the world with “translations” which would not be nearer the
“originals” than Macpherson’s have been. The reference here is not
to Macpherson’s Gaelic published subsequently, but to the Ossianic
compositions which became such a source of general Celtic inspiration
during the latter half of the eighteenth century.


JOHN SMITH, D.D.

This writer was among the most cultured and distinguished of those
who about a hundred years ago devoted time, means, and talent to the
study of Gaelic literature. The labours of the Rev. Dr John Smith
of Campbeltown, as an author and translator of prose and poetry,
were varied and abundant. He produced a Life of Columba the Apostle
of the Highlands; a work on The Functions of the Sacred Office,
which received the high commendation of Dr Bickersteth; and a work
on Gaelic Antiquities and the History of the Druids, which is still
sought after, and which exhibits considerable research and good
literary powers. These works, in English, enable us to judge of the
qualities of the man in general; but it is with his Gaelic works that
we have chiefly to deal. He was one of those who helped to translate
the Old Testament into Gaelic, edited a version of the Gaelic
Psalter, another of the Shorter Catechism; and was the translator
of some religious works, such as _Alleine’s Alarm_. When engaged
on the last-mentioned production, which he undertook to translate
at the request of a lady, he took portions of the “Appeals to the
Unconverted” with him into the pulpit, being too busy to prepare
sermons of his own, with the result that a spiritual revival took
place in the congregation, and anxious hearers flocked to the pastor
for spiritual comfort which he felt himself totally unable to supply.
It is said that this experience led to an emphatic spiritual change
in himself.

How Smith was moved to interest himself in Gaelic poetry is well
described in his own language in a letter to the Highland Society
Committee: “(31st January 1798), I can only say that from my earliest
years I was accustomed to hear many of the poems of Ossian and many
tales respecting Fingal and his heroes. In the parish of Glenurchay,
in which I was born, and lived till the age of 17, there were many at
that time who could repeat a number of Ossian’s poems; and there was
particularly an old man called Doncha (rioch) Macnicol, who was noted
for reciting the greatest store of them. That any of them had been
translated, I did not know till I became a student in philosophy,
when, in the year 1766 or 1767, I read Mr Macpherson’s translation,
with which, beautiful as it is, I was by no means so much charmed as
I had been with the oral recitation of such as I heard of the poems
in the original language. The elegance of the modern dress did not,
therefore, in my opinion, compensate for the loss of the venerable
and ancient garb.” When it became doubtful whether Macpherson would
publish the Gaelic originals, Smith formed the design of publishing
as many as he could of the originals, which “at that time would not
be a few.” “But,” he proceeds, “finding there was no encouragement
to be expected for such a work, and that those which I had already
collected would not defray their own expence, nor have been ever
published had it not been for the liberal support and patronage of
the Highland Society of London, I gave up the pursuit of Gaelic
poetry; about which I became so careless that I never took the
trouble of transcribing or preserving several pieces that had fallen
into my possession.” Smith is not the only one to whom the “pursuit
of Gaelic poetry” and Celtic studies became a painful and barren
enterprise.

It appears that Duncan Kennedy, a schoolmaster at Lochgilphead,
busied himself in collecting, transcribing, and editing in his
own peculiar manner all the old Highland lays he could find in
Argyllshire, and that some of his materials found their way into
Smith’s possession. It is understood that the latter refers
to Kennedy in the following sentences: “(1802), I remember
well,”—Kennedy was still alive,—“that a man who had given me the use
of a parcel of poems, without any restriction, had long threatened
a prosecution for publishing what he called translations of his
collection of poems, and alleged he had a claim to a share of the
profits. I believe, however, upon enquiry, that he understood the
profits were only a serious loss, as I had been persuaded to run
shares with a bookseller in the publication, which to me turned out
so bad a concern (when my income was but thirty pounds a-year), that
I could never since think of Gaelic poetry with pleasure or with
patience, except to wish it had been dead before I was born.” In this
same letter Smith declares that a little while before he had used
the last copy he had of his Translations “in papering a dark closet
that had not been lathed, in order to derive some small benefit from
what had cost” him so much. Macpherson reaped the first crop of the
ancient lays of the Celtic world of romance; piled a fortune out of
it; became a member of Parliament; bought a Highland estate on which
he erected a monument for himself; and arranged for the burial of his
body in Westminster Abbey. Some of his imitators found the path of
Celtic studies and poetry one of thorns, poverty and misfortune, and
obscure graves, without a cairn to mark their resting-place.

Smith’s Collection of Ancient Poems appeared in 1780, subjoined
to the Dissertations on Gaelic Antiquities. These poems were
translations, it was declared, “from the Gaelic of Ossian, Ullin,
Orran, and others;” and in 1787 he published the originals of these
poems, the number being fourteen. Their titles are: _The Lay of
the Red_; _The Death of Gaul_; _The Lay of Duhona_; _Diarmid_;
_Clan-Morni_, or _Finan and Lorma_, from which following lines are
taken to show the character of the verse and mode of thought:—


          CAOIDH MHUIRNE AIRSON A CHLAINNE.

      Och! ’s truaigh mi féin a chlann,
      ’N ’ur déigh gu fann aosmhor;
      Mar dharaig sheargte mi air aonach,
      Ris nach pill gu bràth a caoinchruth.

      Tha’n dùlach dorcha anns a’ ghleann,
      ’S gach crann air raoin gun duilleach;
      Ach pillidh ’sa’ cheitein am maise,
      Ged nach faicear mo sgèimh-sa tuille.

      Dh’ fhâilnich sìol Albha nam feachd,
      Mar smùid á teach fuaraidh dorcha;
      Cha’n iognadh mise bhi trom an nochd
      ’S tusa Fhionain ’san t-slochd, ’s a Lorma!


  _Translation._

          MORNI’S LAMENT FOR HIS CHILDREN.

      O children I am weak and old!
        Bereft of you I feel forlorn;
      Like oak-tree withered on the height,
        Whose leaves shall never more return.

      The winter darkens in the vale:
        The branches bloom with leaves no more;
      The spring their beauty will bring back,
        But ah! my strength nought can restore.

      The host of Alva has decayed
        Like smoke from a cold house of gloom;
      This night I grieve for there are left
        Finan and Lorma in the tomb.

The above Albha, Alva, is Allen in Ireland, and has no connection
with Alban, with which, however, it has been often confounded in the
old ballads. Ultra patriotic Scotchmen have frequently, likely in
ignorance, rendered the Irish Almhuin into Albin. This mistake occurs
in Mr Pattison’s _Gaelic Bards_. “Once, when the kingly feast was
spread on Albin’s golden slope,” p. 148.

The titles of the others in order are: _The War of Linne_; _Cathula_;
_The War of Manus_, which includes the highly popular _Lay of the
Great Fool_; _Trahul_, at the beginning of which there appears the
beautiful address to the Rising Sun—

      A Mhic na h-ôg mhaidne, ag éiridh,
      _Son of the young morn that risest_;

_Dargo_; _Conn_, in which a version of a passage occurs whose
equivalent is given in a translation thus:—

      See Loda’s gloomy form advance,
      On high he lifts his shadowy lance,
      Within his hand the tempests lour,
      The blast of death his nostrils pour:
        Like flames his baleful eyes
      Appal the valiant—from the fight
          They turn before the blasting light;
      His hollow voice like thunder shakes the skies,
      Slowly he moves along, exulting in his might.
          Vain are thy terrors, dreadful shade!
          Lo! Morven’s king defies aloud
          Thy utmost force.— His glaring blade
          Winds through the murky cloud.
          The form falls shapeless into air:
          His direful shrieks the billows hear,
          And stop their rapid course with fear.
      The hundred rocks of Inistore reply,
      As roll’d into himself he mounts the darkened sky.

The above is a specimen of Smith’s verse translations. From the
same poem is taken the following to show the manner of his prose
translation, in which the _Old Lays_ made their first appearance:—


  _Translation._

  But Ossian alone does not experience distress; aged Lugar, thine
  was part of the trouble. In thy halls were seen the feast, wax
  candles, and wine; though they be now desolate, they were once the
  residence of kings! But similar to the revolving year, Lugar and
  his beloved wife were seen houseless.

  Travelling through the vales of beautiful Moialuin, the habitation
  of Lugar was found desolate, the kid broused on its green surface,
  stretching itself in sleep in the once joyous dwelling. In its
  window was the bird of night, and green ivy shaded its desolate
  walls, the greyhound and dun roe surrounded them, and his
  hospitable door lies sorrowful under the falling rains.

  Sons of the hill, have you seen Lugar? Probably you rejoice that he
  is no more. But you shall decline like him, and your relations will
  one day inquire for you. Your children will shake their heads with
  sorrow, they know not the place of your abode!

  The vicissitudes of life are similar to those of the year. I lived
  void of trouble in the summer of youth, like firs on the green
  Mor-uth, careless of the storms of winter. I thought my verdant
  leaves would remain, and that age would not injure my branches. But
  now I am forlorn like thyself, and my aged locks are on the wings
  of the wind; our joyful days are both gone on the wings of the
  blast to the desert.

The passage just given explains Smith’s failure to impress the public
with his prose versions of Old Lays. It affords quite a contrast to
the style of Macpherson, which was sententious and clarified by a
Saxon as simple as that of the English Bible. In his Life of Columba,
Smith gave translated specimens of the Saints’ Latin Hymns, of which
an extract has been already given (p. 69). He rendered this passage
of the _Altus prosatur_ in blank verse—the beginning of the same
in rhymed metre by the writer being else where supplied (p. 81).
The following lines by Smith, accompanying the Gaelic of _Taura_,
show that he appeared to better advantage in verse than in prose
translations:—

          OSSIAN.

      Malvina, say what now renews thy woe?
      Say why thy tears, like rills, incessant flow?
      Why heaves thy bosom with the moanful cry,
      Like Lego’s reeds when ghosts among them fly?

          MALVINA.

      And dost thou ask the cause of all my woe,
      When yonder Selma’s mossy tow’rs lie low?
      When bats and thistles dwell in Fingal’s hall,
      And roes bound fearless o’er its mould’ring wall:
      —Besides, I heard upon the distant wind
      A sound that rous’d my sadly-musing mind;
      It is, I fondly said, Cuchullin’s car!
      The Chief returning from the roar of war!
      —A light had likewise gleam’d on Lena’s heath;
      My love, my Oscar! ’tis thy spear of death!
      I said: but Oscar’s spear is in the tomb;
      His shield, O Selma, in thy empty womb.
      I saw its bosses cover’d o’er with rust,
      And all its thongs fast-mould’ring into dust.

          OSSIAN.

      Ev’n so, Malvina, my brave Oscar’s love!
      Like those we mourn for, we must soon remove;
      No trace of us on Selma shall be found,
      Save the green mound that marks our sleep profound.
      Soft are the slumbers of that bed of peace:
      Let then Malvina’s flowing sorrow cease;
      Nor weep for friends whose actions were so bright,
      Whose steps were mark’d with beams of heavenly light.

          MALVINA.

      Now night descends with all her dusky clouds,
      And ocean in her sable mantle shrouds;
      Yet night will soon resign her place to day,
      But my protracted woe must last for aye.

The Gaelic of the last four lines runs thus:—

      Dh’aom an òiche le neoil,
      Thuit an ceo air an lear;
      Sinblaidh an oiche ’s an ceo,
      Ach tha mise ri m’ bheo gun ghean.

The remaining poems are: _The Burning of Taura_; _Calava_; and _The
Death of Art_. A very much quoted and admired passage which occurs in
the lay of _Taura_ is here given:—


          AISLING AIR DHREACH MNA.

        Innseam pàirt do dreach nan reul:
      Bu gheal a deud gu h-ùr dlù:
      Mar channach an t-sléibh
      Bha cneas fa h-eideadh ùr.
        Bha a bràighe cearclach bân
      Mar shneachda tlà nam beann;
      Bha a dà chich ag eiridh làn:
      B’e’n dreach sud miann nan sonn.
        Bu shoitheamh binn a gloir;
      S’ bu deirge na’n ròs a beul:
      Mar chobhar a sios r’a taobh
      Sinte gu caol bha gach meur.
        Bha a dâ chaol mhala mhine
      Dûdhonn air liomh an loin.
      A dà ghruaidh dhreachd nan caoran;
      ’Si gu iomlan saor o chron.
        Bha a gnùis mar bharra-gheuga
      Anns a cheud-fhâs ûr:
      A falt buidhe mar òradh shleibhtean;
      ’S mar dheârsadh gréine bha sûil.


  _Translation._

          VISION OF A FAIR WOMAN.

        Tell us some of the charms of the stars:
      Close and well set were her ivory teeth;
      White as the cannach upon the moor
      Was her bosom the tartan bright beneath.
        Her well-rounded forehead shone
      Soft and fair as the mountain-snow:
      Her two breasts were heaving full;
      To them did the hearts of the heroes flow.
        Her lips were ruddier than the rose;
      Tender and tunefully sweet her tongue;
      White as the foam adown her side
      Her delicate fingers extended hung.
        Smooth as the dusky down of the elk
      Appeared her two narrow brows to me;
      Lovely her cheeks were like berries red;
      From every guile she was wholly free.
        Her countenance looked like the gentle buds
      Unfolding their beauties in early spring;
      Her yellow locks like the gold-browed hills;
      And her eyes like the radiance the sunbeams bring.

This _Aisling_ in the original is, like the teeth of its subject so
“close and well-set,” that a good translation is not easily executed.

This “Vision of a Fair Woman” has nothing in common with that of the
“Fair Women” of Chaucer and Tennyson; but no one reading it can fail
to remember the poetry of Moore, and recognise the Celtic source of
the bright peculiarity of his melodious muse.


JOHN CLARK,

a land-surveyor in Badenoch, the county of James Macpherson,
published in 1780 a small volume of translations of ancient Gaelic
poetry under the title of “Caledonian Bards.” Among other pieces is a
poem entitled _Mordubh_, whose history is even more mysterious than
that of the work of “Ossian.” The translations in this volume are the
most unreadable stuff that one could imagine. Clark, and even Smith,
failed to catch the secret that enabled Macpherson to pour forth his
inimitable prose epics. Clark’s prose is frequently turgid nonsense,
and it is rendered ridiculous by his coining of proper names out of
unnatural collocations of adjectives. The “ingenious Mrs Grant of
Laggan” put some of the surveyor’s poetry into verse, and thought she
was handling ancient poetic material instead of eighteenth-century
stuff, which might be creditable enough were it not presented to the
public under a false garb. She knew the “gentleman’s character,” and
“the circumstance of his father and grandfather being great Gaelic
scholars and collectors, who most probably had an opportunity of
obtaining such poems which were not within her reach.” The pious and
honest Mrs Grant never fancied that this family of Clarks and others
at that time might spin out such stuff as they palmed on the public,
with or without ancient lays to help them. It is the volume of this
Badenoch surveyor that finally and fully opened the eyes of the
writer to the truth respecting the Ossianic productions of the last
century. Clark and Kennedy were men of considerable gifts;—if they
had used them with greater honesty the cause of Gaelic literature
would not have been so involved in suspicion a hundred years ago.
Their labours, however, have not been lost. Kennedy’s manuscript
collections of poetry, safely deposited in Edinburgh, have great
value, and Clark may be said to have produced a Gaelic composition
of some ability. Special efforts seem to have been made to get this
conglomerate of _Mordubh_ into appreciative circulation. It imposed
on Mrs Grant, as we have seen. In a stray number of the “General
Chronicle” for February 1811, which the writer found in London a
few years ago, part of _Mordubh_, with a literal translation, is
published; and the clever editor of “The Beauties of Gaelic Poetry”
commenced his splendid volume with this poem of _The Great-Black_,
with a foot-note which says: “The author of this poem, whose name is
Douthal, was both a chief and a bard of great repute. The accounts
which tradition gives of him are various, but the most probable makes
him the Poet of Mordubh, King of the Caledonians.” This was a more
ancient and illustrious ancestry for the author of the poem than the
genuine producer, John Clark of Badenoch, could boast of.

The Gaelic fragment, as given in the “General Chronicle,” begins thus
in Gaelic:—

      A’ bheil thūs’ air sgiathan do luathas,
      A ghaoth, gu triall le d’uile neart?
      Thig le cairdeas a dh’ionsuidh m’aois,
      Thoir scriòb eatrom thar mo chraig!

Englished in the same as follows:—

      Art thou on the wings of thy swiftness,
      O wind, travelling with all thy strength?
      Come to my age with kindness;
      Brush lightly over my rock!

John Clark was a third-rate imitator, whose imitations were almost
parodies. He had neither the learning nor the genius of either
Smith or Macpherson, who must henceforth be regarded as great
Highland bards. These two, no doubt, caused much confusion among
our heroic lays. James Macpherson and Dr John Smith helped to give
fresh currency to many of the false etymologies and Druidical
ideas that have afflicted the Gaelic world for the last century.
They have mystified our Ossianic poems and ballads, as well as the
pre-Christian religion of the Caledonians. They turned upside down
our early history, and placed our relations to the Irish on a false
basis, creating unnecessary antagonism between the Celts of the two
countries. But honour to whom honour is due. If no James Macpherson
had ever appeared, our Highland Ossian would have been as obscure,
perhaps, as the extant Oisins of Ireland. In some respects he was
the greatest genius that the Highlands ever produced, and ought not
to be regarded with so much contemptuous indifference. He had a most
peculiar gift for executing prose translation, notwithstanding the
failure of his Homer. In this one respect he was much superior to Dr
Smith, who, however, had the advantage of Macpherson in greater power
of sweet Gaelic versification. Smith was a born poet; all his works
are evidences. The two did their best to show forth the historic,
linguistic, and poetic glories of the Gael and his country; so let us
drop a tear on their cairns and pass on.

[Illustration: (decorative end-of-chapter icon)]




CHAPTER XI.

GENERAL LITERATURE.

  “It is easy to disparage the study of these scanty remains of
  a literary language which, though it be not dead, is more of
  an unknown tongue to our modern men of letters than almost any
  other.”—DR JOSEPH ANDERSON.


The intellectual activity created in the sixteenth century led to the
formation of a new literature for the diffusion of the new learning.
This literature belongs to that period in our national history when
religious ferment, political and ecclesiastical change, began to
operate effectually on the mind of modern Europe. The first Gaelic
effort in this direction was by John Carsuel, superintendent of the
diocese of Argyll, who translated and published (1567) John Knox’s
Prayer-Book. The English original was printed at Edinburgh in 1565,
and the Gaelic version appeared within two years after that date. It
is the first Gaelic book that ever was printed either in Scotland or
Ireland. Only three copies were known to exist previous to 1872; one
perfect copy in possession of the Duke of Argyll, and two imperfect
copies, one in the Edinburgh University Library and the other in
the British Museum. In 1872 the Rev. Dr Maclauchlan made a complete
transcript of the book, and a new edition was published page for page
and line for line with the original. Philologists regard it as very
valuable. Bishop Carsuel was a native of Kilmartin, well versed in
the Gaelic language, and thoroughly acquainted with the people of
the wide district of whose spiritual interests he had charge. In an
address prefixed to his book he alludes to the manuscript literature
then extant, “written in manuscript books in the compositions of
poets and ollaves, and in the remains of learned men.” The bishop
seems to have imbibed something of the earnest, critical spirit of
nineteenth-century Christianity, and deserves our respect for giving
us the first printed book in Gaelic.

Still it is unfortunate for Gaelic literature, though perhaps not
for the Protestant religion, that he and others determined on the
ruthless extinction of the popular ballads among the people.
The _Ursgeuls_, or prose tales, were condemned even with greater
emphasis. The following verses from a ballad from which an extract
has been taken already will show the character of the popular
literature which Carsuel did not consider edifying:—


          URNUIGH OISEIN.

                _Oisein._

      ’S gann a chreideás mi do sgeul,
        A chlérich leir d’ leabhar ban,
      Gu’m biodh Fionn, no cho fial,
        Aig duine no aig Dia an lăimh.

                _Pàdruig._

      Ann ifrinn tha e’n laimh,
        Fear le’n sath bhi bronnadh òir,
      Air son a dhìmeas air Dia,
        Chuir iad e’n tigh pian fo leòn.

                _Oisein._

      Nan robh Clann-Morni a steach,
        Is Clanna-Baoisgne, na fir threun,
      Bheireamiad-ne Fionn a mach,
        No bhiodh an teach againn féin.

                _Pàdruig._

      Còig còigeanna na h-Eirinn ma seach,
        ’Sair leat-sa gu mòr am feum,
      Gha tugadh sin Fionn a mach,
        Ged bhiodh an teach agaibh féin.

                _Oisein._

      Nach math an t-aite ifrin féin,
        A chléirich dh’an lĕir an sgoil!
      Nach go math is flaitheas Dé
        Ma gheibhear innt’ féidh is coin?


  Translation.

                OSSIAN’S PRAYER.

    _Ossian._—O clerk of the white book thy tale
             From me no faith can win;
           That God or man could keep in pain
             The brave and generous Finn.

    _Patrick._—Ay, captive, he is now in hell
             Who used to scatter gold;
           Because he scorned to worship God
             They thrust him in that hold.

      _O._ Clan-Morni and Clan-Baoisgne brave,
        If they would there resort,
      Soon would we have great Finn released,
        And make our own the fort.

      _P._ Though Erin’s Clans should all unite,
        A mighty host, believe,
      Possessing all that place yourselves,
        You could not Finn relieve.

      _O._ But hell is not so bad a place,
        Clerk, to whom school is clear?
      As good as is the high heaven of God,
        If _there_ be dogs and deer?

Earnest Reformers could not regard this sort of literature as a
powerful auxiliary in the recasting of a nation’s faith; so Carsuel
thought the Gaelic population would benefit spiritually by the
substitution of his own Gaelic liturgy for the popular songs and
tales.

Ossian’s “Prayer” appears to have been treated with disparagement by
the Highlanders of last century as well, especially by the “clerics,”
who were such a source of annoyance to poor Ossian himself while
he lived. One feels inclined to ask, after reading some of the old
ballads, whether the Patrick who described all the ancient Finians as
in hell, was a species of the modern Protestant, so well represented
by the late valiant Dr Begg and the late Dr Cumming. Whether or
not it is evident that he was a persistent Protestant against the
heathenism of the Féinne, indeed quite a thorn in the side of the
poor old bard. The Irish monks of later days, however, appear to have
taken very kindly to the laureate of the Fingalians, and to have
lopped off many of the excrescences of the faithful Patrick. Scottish
ecclesiastics appropriated the new Irish versions, but pruned off
the excrescences with which the Basque, or Spano-Iberian imagination
of the south-west of Ireland, had clothed the simple originals.
Carsuel, in the sixteenth century, under the pressure of Reformation
doctrines, was the first to touch unkindly the hoary locks of the
ancient bard. The Féinne and their singer, however, survived in
the affections and traditions of the population, until the Gospel
according to the English Puritans and our own Scottish Covenanters
began to out-root entirely the semi-heathen and Finian ideals of the
people. So now in many districts of the Highlands, and throughout
the Islands, much to the disgust of students of folk-lore, like
Campbell of Islay, the only singing you hear is, not the rehearsal
of the old heroic lays or the Ossianic duans, but the Psalms of David
or the hymns of Sankey. As already remarked, the “clerics” of last
century treated the Ossianic compositions with as little respect as
Patrick, Carsuel, or Spurgeon would. At the end of a copy of Ossian’s
Prayer there is a stanza by Duncan Rioch Macnicol, who was then
styled the “Modern Ossian,” very much in the fashion of our present
day Gaelic bards, who dub themselves as of this or that ilk. Duncan,
whose feelings towards the old bards must have been _rioch_ enough,
describes poor Ossian in the following terms, given already in the
original (p. 87), in sending the copy to the Rev. Donald Macnicol,
Lismore:—

      To Master Donald take this story;
      There he dwells beside the billow;
      The prayer said by Ossian hoary,
      Who was aye a worthless fellow.

The last line is a condensation—though Duncan Rioch was probably in
a fit of humour, supposed to be a rare state of soul for a Highland
Celt—of the Protestant or Evangelic disposition of Patrick, Carsuel,
and Peter Grant. These remarks have been suggested by the specimen
of Gaelic which follows. Specimens have already been given of the
style of writing ancient Gaelic from the earliest period down to the
beginning of the sixteenth century. To those who may have paid a
little attention to them it may have been interesting to discern the
gradual change which Gaelic has undergone, until we find it about
1600 beginning to take the Scottish form out of which our present
standard of the Gaelic Bible has been developed:—


      _Gaelic Prose_, 1567.

  Agas is mor an doile agas an dorchadas peacaidh, agas aineolais
  agas indtleachda do lucht deachtaìdh agas scriobhtha agas chumdaigh
  na gaoidheilge, gurab mó is mian leo agas gurab mó ghnathuidheas
  siad eachdradha dimhaoineacha buaidheartha bregacha saoghalta do
  cumadh ar thuathaibh dédhanond agas air mhacaibh mileadh agas arna
  curadhaibh agas hind mhac cumhaill gona fhianaibh agas ar mhoran
  eile noch airbhim.

  TRANSLATION:

  And great is the blindness and sinful darkness, and ignorance, and
  evil design, of such as teach and write, and cultivate the Gaelic
  language, that, with the view of obtaining for themselves the vain
  rewards of this world, they are more desirous, and more accustomed,
  to compose vain, tempting, lying, worldly histories, concerning
  the _Tuath de dannan_, and concerning warriors and champions, and
  _Fingal_ the son of _Cumhal_, with his heroes, and concerning many
  others which I will not at present enumerate.

The Highland love of Paganism was destined to flourish down to our
own time, a Stornoway woman having been seen worshipping the moon as
recently as the beginning of the present century, the parish minister
of Uig at the time being the witness.

In his Hibbert Lectures (1888) Professor Rhys says—“It is worthy
of note that this kind of Paganism died hard in the islands on the
Armoric coast; in fact it lasted, in spite of Church and State, down
to the time of the Norsemen’s ravages.” Fifteen centuries of vigorous
Christianity have not yet extirpated the serpent of superstition in
the British Islands.

After the publication of Carsuel’s Book of Prayers, which led the
way, the only species of literature that the press helped to diffuse
for more than a century was of an ecclesiastical or religious
character. In the seventeenth century appeared a translation of
Calvin’s Catechism, “_Faoseid Eoin Stiubhairt_,” the Synod of
Argyll’s translation of the Psalter, the Confession of Faith in
the eighteenth century, followed by catechisms and summaries of
Christian doctrine. Endeavours were made to awaken the people out of
the spiritual lethargy induced by the age of inaction which preceded
the Reformation era. The only successful way to reach the heart of
the people was felt to be through the medium of their native tongue.
Towards the close of the last century, for this end, translations of
all sorts of religious works became numerous, even Roman Catholic
Highlanders having a bulky volume of a summary of Christian doctrine
translated for their use.

During this time the Highlanders had no version of the Scriptures
in their own tongue, Welshmen and Irishmen being favoured earlier
than they in this respect. The first portion translated was the
Psalter by the Synod of Argyll in 1659. The Bible was not much known
in the north-west at this period. A few individuals possessed the
Irish version, but this was never much in practical use. Preachers
used the English Bible, of which they gave their own extemporaneous
translation as they went along. A good specimen of written Gaelic
towards the end of the seventeenth century will be found in the Rev.
Robert Kirk’s preface to his metrical version of the Book of Psalms.
To the ordinary reader it is hardly distinguishable from the Irish of
the same period. The Highlander will be glad to have an opportunity
of reading in his own language such an eloquent encomium on the
Psalms which he prizes so so dearly.


      _Gaelic Prose_, 1684.

  Ataid na Psalma taitneamhach, tarbhach: beag nach mion-fhlaitheas
  làn dainglibh, Cill fhonn-mhar, le ceol naomhtha. Mur abholghort
  Eden, lionta do chrannaibh brioghmhoire-na beatha, agus do
  luibhennibh iocshlainteamhail, amhluidh an leabhar Psalmso
  Dhaibhioth, a ta na liaghais air uile anshocair na nanma. Ata an
  saoghail agus gach beò chreatair da bfuil an, na chlarsigh; an
  duine se is Chlairseoir agus duanaire, chum moladh an mor-Dhia
  mirbhuileach do chein; agus ata Daibhidh do gná mar fhear don
  chuideachd bhias marso ag caoin-chaint gu ceolmhar ma nard-Rí.

  ENGLISH:

  The Psalms are pleasant and profitable. A church resounding with
  sacred melody is almost a little Heaven full of angels. As the
  Garden of Eden, replenished with trees of life of potent efficacy
  and with medicinal plants, so is this Book of Psalms of David,
  which contains a remedy of all the diseases of the soul. The world
  and every living creature it contains are the Harp; Man is the
  Harper and Poet, who sings the praise of the great wonder-working
  God; and David is ever one of the company who are thus employed in
  sweetly and tunefully discoursing about the Almighty King.

The Highland clergy at this time were, as a class, fairly
well-educated. This will be seen in the accounts of English
travellers who now began to take tours to the Celtic north-west. In
earlier times the intercourse between the Highlands and the great
world beyond was greater than in the seventeenth century. Before the
seats of government were all removed from the districts of the Gael
further south, the communication with Ireland and the Continent of
Europe in the north and in France was considerable. Till the days of
Queen Elizabeth relations were fitfully sustained between the insular
court of the Princedom of the Isles and the English Court. It was
during the seventeenth century that the Gaelic regions became a very
_terra incognita_ to South Britain. Now a learned and sympathetic
visitor arrived, from whose pages we get glimpses of the state of
learning and culture among the Gaels.

It is a Welshman, Professor Rhys of Oxford, that has given us
the best work on Celtic philology and Celtic paganism, in the
present day; and it was a Welshman that wrote the best book on
the same subjects upwards of 200 years ago. Edward Lhuyd’s great
work on Celtic scholarship appeared in 1707. The title runs
thus:—“_Archæologica Britannica_, giving some account, additional
to what has been hitherto published, of the Languages, Histories,
and Customs of the Original Inhabitants of Great Britain, from
collections and observations in travels through Wales, Cornwall,
Bas-Bretagne, Ireland, and Scotland. By Edward Lhuyd, M.A. of Jesus
College, keeper of the Ashmolean Museum in Oxford. Oxford: Printed
at the Theater for the author, MDCCVII.” Were the matter within
the bounds of the 460 folio pages of this handsome volume printed
in the style in which books are now generally published it would
make three or four very considerable volumes. At the beginning of
an appendix the following note occurs: “Having since the printing
this Irish dictionary sent copies to Ireland and Scotland in order
to have it improved, the following supplement consists chiefly of
some notes returned thence by two gentlemen well known to be able
scholars and masters of that language.” It is in connection with
these “copies,” I suppose, that the poetical complimentary verses
inserted at the beginning of the volume were sent to the author.
These verses were written in Latin, Gaelic, and Welsh. Two or three
Latin ones and four in Gaelic are sent from the Highlands. The
character of this great work may be gathered from the titles of the
several departments: Comparative Etymology, 40 pp.; A Comparative
Vocabulary of the Original Languages of Britain and Ireland, 130
pp.; An Armoric Grammar and Vocabulary, 33 pp.; Some Welsh Words, A
Cornish Grammar, British MSS., and a British Etymologican, 86 pp.;
A Brief Introduction to the Irish or Ancient Scottish Language, and
_Foclair Gaoidheilge-Shasonach no Bearladoir Scot-Sagsamhuil_; An
Irish-English Dictionary, 136 pp.; two pp. describing Gaelic MSS.,
and An Index. In the preface he proceeds to explain what induced him
“to an undertaking so laborious, so little diverting, and so much out
of the common road.”

It is interesting to note how this laborious Oxford student met
the prejudices of the day. The undertaking “proceeded not from
any conceited opinion, as some might be apt to imagine, of the
plausibleness of these languages. Most of us commonly hear or read
too much to be ignorant that the generality of people are rather
disposed to a ridiculing than a favourable reception of anything in
that kind. This did not, I own, in the least discourage me, as well
knowing that the same prejudice in the like case prevails in all
other great governments, and that in any uncommon undertaking the
judgment of men of distinction (or at least particular experience in
the subject proposed), is to be only regarded. The inducement I had
was no other than a seeming probability that such an essay might in
this curious age contribute not a little towards a clearer notion of
the first planters of the three kingdoms, and a better understanding
of our ancient names of persons and places.” No grammar of the
Scottish Gaelic appeared up to the time of Lhuyd; but he speaks of “a
Scotish gentleman who had some thoughts of publishing” one. It would
be interesting to know who this gentleman was; perhaps he was one of
those who sent the poetical addresses to Lhuyd.

In connection with this great work Lhuyd experienced the same
discouragements which often beset similar works of learning. He was
told by some considerate critic that his volume would meet with but
a cold reception; for it consisted “only of etymology and Welsh and
Irish vocabularies.” The critic exclaims, “Now there are not half a
dozen or half a score in the kingdom that are curious in that way.
The world expected, according to his promise and undertaking, a
natural history, which is a study of established request, and that
a great many are curious in.” But Lhuyd has in the published list
the names of two hundred lords, knights, and gentlemen of learning
and distinction belonging to England alone. This was something to
begin with for such a work, and must have been rather a disconcerting
refutation of the critic’s remark about “half a dozen” readers. It
is quite possible that this complaining critic looked forward to an
interesting dissertation on the strange human animals that inhabited
in those days Lorn, Mull, and Islay, and other Celtic parts. He
and others could scarcely realise to themselves that the Celtic
barbarians who dwelt in those distant regions could write and talk
good English; and in their leisure hours exercised themselves in the
composition of Latin verse or Gaelic poetry.

Lhuyd was accompanied everywhere on his travels by David Parry, A.B.
of Jesus College, Oxford, who wrote a small section of the work.
It is a very interesting picture that the travels of these learned
Oxonians in the Highlands suggest seventy or eighty years before the
mighty Johnson visited the Western Isles, which in earlier ages were
so well known throughout the ecclesiastical world. Here is a specimen
of Latin verse from the pen of a Highland minister two hundred years
ago:—


          IN EDV. LUIDI GLOSSOGRAPHIAM.

      Quid si reversus spiritus afforet
      Jam Buchanani, nobile callidi
        Tentare plectrum, pristinumque
          Officium renovare chordis?

      Antiqua tellus, dic, age, Scotia,
      Quem destinares Tu, facili Virum
        Ornare versu; quem parares
          Non humili celebrare cantu?

      Luidus priorum qui Britonum decus,
      Poscit Camœnas; pulvere sen diu
        Fœdata purgator reponat,
          In superam referatque lucem.

      Sive Ille morsu temporis improbo
      Exesa fida restituat manu,
        Atque acer Interpus recudat
          In veniens renovata sæclum.

      Sive Ille vocum exquirere origines
      Longo recursu gestiat, et suo
        A fonte deducat, redire
          Ad veterem faciatque ritum.

      Quamvis dolendo pressa silentio
      Jam Buchanani conticeat lyra,
        Stat fama Luido, vendicantque
          Perpetuam sibi scripta laudem.
                  ANDREAS FRAZIER, _Eccl. Scot. Presb._

Another poetical address is sent from the romantic district of North
Argyll, where many of the deeds recorded in the ancient ballads
took place, and where, no doubt, the distinguished Cymric scholar
received hearty Highland hospitality from Colin Campbell, pastor of
Ardchattan. The conclusion runs as follows:—

      Restituit Scotis sublapsa; caduca Britannis;
      Celtis et Pictis deperdita. Cornubiensis
      Cantaber, et Scotus quam linquam agnoscit uterque,
      Comparat: Affinis sensus hacarte resolvens,
      Et renovat surdis aures et lumina cæcis.
      Linguas prisca loqui, cogit dum vera fateri,
      Literulis larvas fucos dum vocibus aufert,
      Hispanum Scotum de divisâ stirpe, Britannum
      Historiæ ut taceant, statuit; sermonis amussi
      Albanii metas Bretonis Cambrique resignans.
      Primus enim Cephilos Scotus, Pephilosque Britannos,
      Nosque notas Britonum sib’lasse ostendit anhelas.
        Mille alia invenit doctis celebranda Camænis:
      Cedite Banniades: Non vestra cupressus erica.
            Amicitiæ et gratitudinis ergô
         COLLINUS CAMPBELL, _Ardchattanus Pastor_, Lornensis.

The Gaelic addresses are highly interesting to the philologist, as
showing Scottish Gaelic in a transition state. At the period of
Lhuyd’s visit to the Highlands and Isles, and down to the middle of
last century, the Highland clergyman wrote either in Latin or Gaelic.
It was at that time, also, that the Scottish Gael began to depart
from the old style of Gaelic writing and orthography. This departure
might have been dictated to some extent by a Protestant feeling,
but was mainly caused by the desire to make the orthography exactly
expressive of the popular speech. The difference between the Irish
and Scottish dialects was rendered greater by the change. Highland
clergymen of that period being of the better families throughout the
country, were generally well-educated gentlemen. Even generations
after, we find more literary talent than can be found in many places
to-day.

A glimpse of the state of the country after the gory struggle which
ended on Culloden Moor shows a far higher state of literary culture
than an outsider would readily believe possible in the circumstances.
The Ossianic controversy which subsequently arose brought forward the
names of many clergymen who during the last half of the eighteenth
century were a credit to their country. Such men were the Rev. James
Calder and the Rev. Dr Alexander Fraser, in the north-east; the
Rev. Thomas Ross of Lochbroom, the Rev. Mr Macqueen of Kilmuir, in
Skye, and the Rev. Dr Macpherson of Sleat, in the north-west; the
Rev. Dr John Macarthur of Mull, the Rev. Dr Macnicol of Lismore,
Johnson’s formidable opponent, the Rev. Mr Woodrow of Islay, and the
Rev. Dr John Smith of Campbeltown, with his accomplished brother,
Dr Donald Smith, in the south-west; the MacLaurins of Cowal, the
distinguished divine and the professor of mathematics, the Stewarts,
translators of the Bible, Professor Adam Ferguson of Edinburgh, and
Professor Macleod of Glasgow, the Rev. Dr Macintyre of Glenorchay,
Dr Grahame of Aberfoyle, and the Rev. Messrs Macdiarmid, Gallie, and
Maclagan, in the central Highlands. The atmosphere in which such
men breathed—and they were scattered throughout all parts of the
Highlands—could not be altogether one of ignorance; and the large
mass of the people were, no doubt, largely benefited by the culture
of and intercourse with their clerical superiors.

Dr Samuel Johnson, notwithstanding many surly prepossessions,
besought, with that good broad honesty of his nature, such educated
Highlanders and Irishmen to furnish the world with correct
information regarding their language and literature. All English
readers know of his tour to the Hebrides, whither he journeyed more
than a century ago, in those days of difficult travelling, to judge
for himself concerning the people among whom appeared so remarkable
a poet as Ossian. He did not visit Ireland, but early in life he
corresponded with an accomplished Irish gentleman, Mr Charles
O’Connor of Ballinegare, Roscommon, in relation to Irish literature.
In his first letter, April 9, 1737, he says:—“Sir William Temple
complains that Ireland is less known than any other country as to
its ancient state. The natives have had little leisure and little
encouragement for inquiry, and strangers, not knowing the language,
have had no ability. I have long wished that Irish literature were
cultivated. Ireland is known by tradition to have been once the seat
of piety and learning, and surely it would be very acceptable to all
those who are curious, either in the original of nations, or the
affinities of languages, to be further informed of the revolutions
of a people so ancient, and once so illustrious.” He hopes O’Connor
will continue his Irish studies, and speaks of the great pleasure
he has in hearing of the progress of his undertaking. Twenty-two
years afterwards Johnson renews the correspondence, and complains
of O’Connor disappointing him:—“I expected great discoveries in
Irish antiquities, and large publications in the Irish language,
but the world still remains as it was—doubtful and ignorant. What
the Irish language is in itself, and to what languages it has
affinity, are very interesting questions, which every man wishes
to see resolved that has any philological or historical curiosity.
Dr Leland begins his history too late; the ages that deserve an
exact inquiry are those times (for such they were) when Ireland
was the school of the west, the quiet habitation of sanctity and
literature. If you could give a history, though imperfect, of the
Irish nation from its conversion to Christianity to the invasion
from England, you would amplify knowledge with new views and new
objects. Set about it, therefore, if you can; do what you can
easily do without anxious exactness. Lay the foundation, and leave
the superstructure to posterity.” This is a very interesting and
remarkable letter, and exhibits Johnson as entirely free from the
vulgar anti-Celtic prejudices which long obtained in many quarters
after his day. It pointed to the lines of study which the Celtic
student should follow. But both Irish and Highland scholars failed
to comply with the lexicographer’s wishes. Philology did not then
exist, and accurate philosophical histories had not then made much
progress. Celtic scholars travelled to Spain and Egypt and other
places in the East for the cradle in which the first pure Gaelic
baby was rocked; linguistic affinities were sought in Hebrew and
Arabic; while Gaelic or Celtic was sometimes declared to be the
mother of all languages. This race of Gaelic Orientals continued
to exist till recently, if indeed it is even now wholly extinct.
The Irish, however, at last have abundantly shown the great extent
of literature, manuscript and printed, which is enshrined in their
language. The recent works of learned Irishmen are evidence that the
interest is not abating in Irish literature. While it is admitted
that the Irish Gael is in possession of some literature, it is yet
denied that the Scottish Gael has any literary remains to show. And
indeed, looking at the barrenness of the Highland hills, and the
bareness of the Highland glens, the stranger from the sunnier South
is apt to think that no literature could flourish on so sterile a
soil. The lakes and straths, swept by the fresh breezes, he feels
too coldly uncongenial—too frigid a home for the cultivation of
letters—too dreary a land for the muses to dwell in. Men of stout
arms and lion hearts have issued from these regions. That fact is
recognised. But it is not well known that also there, far from what
have hitherto been regarded as the great civilising centres, letters
and knowledge have had for ages their sacred precincts and earnest
votaries. Unpromising though the Highlands look to the literary
eye, yet we find that even Dr Samuel Johnson, no lover of either
Celts or Scotsmen, touches with pathetic beauty in two or three
sentences written upwards of a century ago, on the conditions under
which, even in the heart of the Highlands and Isles, in times of
old, the production of Gaelic literature was possible: “We are now
treading that illustrious island which was once the luminary of the
Caledonian regions, whence savage clans and roving barbarians derived
the benefits of knowledge and the blessings of religion. Far from
me and from my friends be such a frigid philosophy as may conduct
us indifferent and unmoved over any ground which has been dignified
by wisdom, bravery, or virtue. That man is not to be envied whose
patriotism would not gain force upon the plain of Marathon, or whose
piety would not grow warmer among the ruins of Iona.” Dr Macculloch,
again, speaks of our country as owing a “deep debt of civilisation,
of letters, and of religion” to the same place. From that little
isle, lying grandly with its white brows of sand on the bosom of the
mighty Atlantic, learned men went forth twelve and thirteen hundred
years ago to Ireland, to England, and to many places on the Continent
of Europe, to found colleges and establish churches. Adamnan and Bede
testify that at that period Gaelic and Latin learning was cultivated
in “the Celtic colleges of Iona, Oransay, Ardchattan, Uist, Rowdill,
and Melrose,” and then and subsequently also in a score of other
academic centres of Gaelic learning and activity.

Towards the close of the eighteenth century, when translations of
Gaelic poetry brought the genius of the Celtic spirit in contact with
the intellectual forces of modern Europe, many who hitherto despised
our Gaelic literature, began to look into this neglected field. Lord
Bute, a Scot, with Gaelic sympathies, was Prime Minister then. The
extract to be immediately given from a letter by the distinguished
Lord Bannatyne, who, as Sheriff of Bute, and subsequently as Judge on
Circuit at Inveraray, became interested in Gaelic manuscripts, will
show the attention bestowed on the subject by men of position. Lord
Bannatyne used his influence to get the valuable Gaelic manuscripts
of Major Maclachlan of Kilbride in Argyllshire transferred to the
Highland Society, and in writing on the subject says:—“The result,
you know, was, that by means of the Rev. Francis Stuart, minister of
Craignish, I obtained confirmation of the fact that his family had
once possessed a very large collection, of which he had given two or
three to General Sir Adolphus Oughton and the late Sir James Foulis,
both of whom were Gaelic scholars, and that there still remained
above twenty in his possession.” Elsewhere we come across these and
other titled gentlemen acquiring knowledge of Gaelic over a hundred
years ago. It was the Earl of Eglintoun, with the approbation of
Boswell and Johnson, that inspired the publication of the _Gaelic
Analysis_ by Shaw, who describes the acquisition of the language
late in life by Sir James Foulis in the following terms:—“who, late
in advanced years, has learned to read and write it, and now drinks
of the Pierian spring untainted by reading fragments of poetry in
Fingal’s own language.” Shaw was delighted with the patronage which
his aristocratic friends bestowed on Gaelic. The following verses,
translated by Sir James, found a place in his Grammar:—


          _CLAIDHEAMH_ GUTH-ULLIN, OR _The SWORD
                  of_ GUCHULLIN.

      Chuir e an claidheamh, fada, fiorchruaidh,
      Fulanach, tean, tainic, geur,
      ’So chean air a chuir ann gu socair,
      Mar chuis mholta gan dochair lein,
      ’Se gu dirach, diasadach, dubh-ghorm,
      ’Se cultuidh, cumtadh, conolach,
      Go leathan, liobhadh, liobharadh,
      Go socair, sasdadh, so-bhuailte,
      Air laimh-chli a’ ghaisgaich;
      Gur aisaiche do naimhdan a sheachnadh,
      No tachairt ris ’san am sin;
      Cho bu lughe no cnoc sleibh,
      Gach ceum a dheanadh an gaisgach.

  TRANSLATION BY SIR JAMES FOULIS, BARONET.

      He seized his sword, thick, broad, and long,
      Well-forged, well-hammered, tempered strong,
      Polished, of purest metal made,
      Like lightning blazed the shining blade;
      Jagged like a saw, it tore and hewed,
      Inured to slaughter, blood-embrued;
      Dire horror, and destructive fate,
      On the full age attentive wait;
      ’Twas certain death its stroke to feel;
      Strength-withering, life-devouring steel,
      Even valiant foes, struck at the sight,
      Durst hope no safety but by flight;
      Their ranks wide-scattering all abroad
      From hill to hill the hero strode.

[Illustration: (decorative end-of-chapter icon)]




CHAPTER XII.

SACRED BARDS OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.

     “Land where Religion paves her heavenward road!
      Land of the temple of the living God!
      Yet, dear to feeling, Scotland, as thou art,
      Shouldst thou that temple e’er desert,
      I would disclaim thee, seek the distant shore
      Of Christian isle, and thence return no more.”


The subject of the ancient hymns and religious poetry of the
ancient Gaels was discussed in earlier chapters, as also the
religious compositions of mediæval times. After the stormy era of
the Reformation and the Jacobite period, the sacred muse of the
Highlands began to make her voice heard once more. The sacred bards
of the Early and Mediæval times have thus received attention; it
now remains to treat of those of Modern days. The light of the
Reformation movement failed for some generations to reach the masses
of the people in many districts of the Highlands. The hindrances were
many: the want of suitable earnest pastors, and the large extent
of the districts assigned to each. It ought also to be remembered
that the complete translation of the Bible into Gaelic is not yet a
century old; and even although there had been a translation earlier
there were not many who were able to read it. The Highlanders then
were also in the first stages of a transition state. They felt the
system of clanship crumbling under their feet. Quarrels were easily
fomented. The strong and sagacious took advantage of the times,
and took care to adjust themselves to the developing circumstances
of the future. Jacobitism found a strong-hold in the Highlands,
not because the people were Papists or religiously indifferent or
fervent lovers of the Stuarts, but because they had a strong sense of
justice and loyalty, sore as they had frequently suffered for their
fidelity. Jacobite adventurers regarded the Highlands and Islands
as a suitable field for their treasonable operations—isolated from
the mighty stirring current of the kindling spirit of the times—a
spirit that began to question the right divine of kings to govern
wrong. The conflict between the enlightened Protestant mind and the
enslaving spirit of Jacobitism came to an end on Culloden Moor. Many
of the Highlanders forsook the Stuart cause earlier. Argyllshire in
the west, and almost whole counties in the north and north-east, did
not either stir for Prince Charles or espoused the opposite side.
Evangelical religion had turned the current of the people’s thoughts
in those districts. Especially was this the case in the north, where
able and godly ministers—some of them Lowland ministers, who found
asylum there from persecution—brought back the clans to the knowledge
of the true religion.

Yet even in the north there were many inaccessible glens and corners
where many—often desperate men—made for themselves a home, and where
they lived in a state of heathenism. And in this state they continued
almost down to our own time. Uncomplimentary as they were in many
respects to the religious character of his countrymen, there is no
doubt the following lines were very applicable last century. The
author—Dr Macgregor, the Gaelic apostle of Nova Scotia—laments that
the Highlanders were ignorant and blind, and that learning was rare
among them:—

     “Bha na Gaidhil ro aineolach dhall,
      Bha ionnsachadh gann nam measg:
      Bha ’n eòlas co tana ’s co mall,
      ’S nach b’aithne dhaibh ’n call a mheas.
      ’Se b’annsa leo ’n arigiod ’s an òr
      A chaitheadh go gòrach truagh,
      Ri amaideachd, òranaibh, ’s òl,
      Ri bannsaibh, ’s ri ceòl da’n cluais.”

This description of Macgregor was perfectly true, and applicable
to the Highlanders at the close of the great Jacobite struggle—so
absorbed were Highland energies with the social and political
enterprises of that disastrous period that the education and
religious training of the people were quite neglected. At the same
time there were many quiet corners north and south in which the
Gospel muse found an asylum, and one of these we find in Glendaruel,
Argyllshire, a spot closely associated with the early Celtic romances
and our ancient Gaelic manuscripts.


DAVID MACKELLAR.

The date of this author’s birth is unknown, but he appears to have
flourished in Glendaruel early in the eighteenth century. Among the
traditions preserved of him is the account that he was blind, and
that after the celebrated Hymn or Holy Lay associated with his name
was composed, his sight was restored.

_Laoidh Mhic-Ealair_, or Mackellar’s Hymn, was greatly prized among
religious people, and became very popular before Buchanan began to
tune his sacred lyre in Rannoch. His fame rests chiefly on this one
production, although it is declared that in his youth he indulged
in the composition of profane pieces. According to Reid, his hymn
was first published in Glasgow about the year 1750. It had, however,
an earlier publication among the people through many persons that
learned it by heart and loved to repeat it on account of its helpful
statements of Gospel truths. It consists of thirty-three stanzas or
quatrains, and furnishes a Scriptural exposition of the theme he took
up. The date of his death is as uncertain as that of his birth, but
one authority tells us that a granddaughter of his lived in Glasgow
in the second quarter of this century. The following verses remind us
of the manner of Buchanan, in whom we detect traces of Mackellar’s
muse:—

      ’N uair chaidh Criosd gu péin a bhàis
      ’Sa dh’uiling e air son an t-sluaigh,
      Sgoilt brat an teampuil sios gu làr,
      ’S dhùisg na mairbh an aird o’n uaigh.

      Chreathnaich an talamh trom le crith,
      Air a’ ghréin gu’n tainig smal;
      Le feirg Dhé do chrath e ’n sin;
      Dh’fhuiling Criosd an bàs re seal.

  ENGLISH:

      When Christ endured the pain of death,
      For men Himself a Victim gave,
      The temple’s veil was rent in twain
      As forth the dead came from the grave.

      With heavy thunder shook the earth,
      The sun endured a darkening cloud;
      Beneath God’s wrath he trembled then
      Awhile Christ lay within the shroud.


JOHN MACKAY.

This sacred bard is supposed to have been born about 1690, and
has been described as “a poet, a scholar, and a gentleman,” and
as of Mudale, parish of Farr, Sutherlandshire. He belonged to the
Clan-Abrach Mackays. A son of his, William, married and resided
at Knockfin, in the parish of Kildonan, and is said to have been
a contemporary of Rob Donn Mackay. He was a man of deep religious
spirit; and attained considerable local distinction among the people
of his district on account of the saintliness of his character. In
his “Metrical Reliques” John Rose describes Mackay as “an eminently
pious man,” and gives the following account of the conditions under
which one of the poems was composed: “The first of these poems
was composed by him on a fine moonlight night in harvest while he
happened to be out in the fields, lying on his back, contemplating
the glory and majesty of the heavenly luminaries.”

Some men of the Sutherlandshire Militia stationed in 1746 at Dunkeld,
immediately after the Rebellion, are represented as pious soldiers,
who, having sought out Dugald Buchanan of Rannoch, used to sing to
him the religious poems of Mackay of Mudale. The Sutherlandshire men
used to relate that Buchanan sang Mackay’s hymns “with great glee,”
and that it was the latter’s compositions that moved the former
to sing in sacred strains himself. There is probably little or no
foundation for this last statement. Mackellar had far more influence
on Buchanan’s mind than Mackay; but at the same time the story of the
“Men” of the far north is very instructive as indicating how readily
men of Evangelical sympathies and genuine Christian life understood
one another.

Five of Mackay’s compositions are preserved in Rose’s collection.
They are fair expositions of the pulpit themes with which the “Men”
of the north in those days were familiar, and appear to have been
well appreciated by the author’s religious contemporaries, by whom
they were orally preserved. The last, from which the following
two verses are taken, is composed in a simple easy measure, and
is entitled “_The Complaint_” in which we have early indications
of that Christian experience,—of the painful self-analysis and
introspection,—for which the “Men” subsequently became so remarkable:—

      ’S moch a thréìg mi do shlighe,
        ’S gu bheil m’ fhiachan gun áireamh;
      Gabh ri toillteannas Chriosda,
        ’S na iarr aig mo lămh-s’ iad.

      Dean mi réidh ris na phearsa,
        Thoir gu comunn a ghraidh mi;
      Cuir an àireamh na treud me,
        ’S mise chaora bha caillte.

  ENGLISH:

      I early wandered from thy path,
        My debts I ne’er can reckon o’er;
      The worth of Christ accept for me
        And at my hand seek them no more.

      In Him atonement let me find,
        Me in his love’s communion keep;
      Give me a place among the flock,
        Though I have been so lost a sheep.


DONALD MATHESON.

Matheson, a sacred bard of considerable originality and spiritual
insight, was born in the parish of Kildonan, Sutherlandshire, in
1719. At that time there was much religious fervour and feeling in
that part of the country as well as throughout the north in general.
So the “Sacred Poetry of the North” towards the end of last century
makes a pretty large volume. While Buchanan was tuning his sacred
harp in the central Highlands, Matheson began his religious strains
in the far north. Matheson cultivated a small farm, and lived to the
age of sixty-three, his death taking place in 1782. He exercised
great religious influence in his own parish—his power of satire
contributing much towards this influence. A single poem of his was
declared by the parish minister to have done more good than all his
own preaching for a series of years. As a poet he stands as high as
his countryman Rob Donn, with whom he has many points in common,
although Matheson’s poetry is decidedly sacred, which Rob Donn’s is
as decidedly not. His Gaelic is frequently unintelligible to the
western and southern Gael, which is one reason why his poems have not
been in greater request among them. The following verse shows his
manner in Gaelic:—

      Ar sinnsear o thùs,
      ’Nuair chaill iad an lùth’s,
      Gùn mhill iad an cùis
            Air sùsdanan àill;
      Tha’n truailleadh so lionmhor,
      Dh’fhag mis ’anns an fhionan,
      Mar chraobh a th’ air crionadh
            Gun fhiogais gun bhlath.

  ENGLISH:

      Our ancestors marred
      At the very beginning,
      Their strength and their case
                In old ways of sinning;
      The corruption widespread
      In the vineyard has left me,
      Like a poor withered tree—
                Of all bloom it bereft me.

When Matheson’s Poems were first published early in this century,
they were accompanied with a preface from the hands of the Rev. Dr
Macdonald of Ferintosh and the Rev. John Kennedy of Killearnan,
in which the natural gifts of the poet, and his great Christian
graces are referred to in very high terms: “Though destitute of the
advantages of education,” say the writers of the joint preface, “he
was one of the most celebrated Christians in that or perhaps any
other country. He possessed a clear and comprehensive view of Divine
truth, and discovered a deep and practical experience of its power
on the heart and life.” In the imperfect sketches of Matheson’s
life which have been preserved there are strong indications of the
religious and ecclesiastical discontent which prevailed among the
laity in those northern districts at the time, and of the latent
dissent which subsequently developed. It is interesting to read
that “at one time the parish church being vacant, Matheson headed
a deputation from the people to their Presbytery in quest of a
minister. Finding the Presbytery stiff to move, ‘I could sooner
accomplish my errand with the great Hearer of prayer,’ he said, ‘than
with the Presbytery.’ One member, a clergyman of the unmitigated
old Moderate school, or as our Anglican friends would express it,
of the extreme High Church party, ridiculed him as not possessed of
education or influence entitling him to be heard. ‘You may mock,’ he
replied, but I can tell you the word of Scripture by which the Lord
first wounded my conscience. I can also tell the word by which Christ
was made precious to my soul;—I suspect that is more than _you_,
sir, can say.’” If poor Burns had been fortunate enough to have a
little of this spirit his contact with the graceless members of the
Presbytery of Ayr might have had a happier issue for himself.

There were clergymen of considerable culture in Caithness and
Sutherland in the days of Matheson. Interesting sketches of some
of them will be found in local religious histories such as Auld’s
“Ministers and Men in the Far North.” Kennedy’s “Days of the Fathers
in Ross-shire” is another pleasant, gossipy work, in which the
struggle of light with darkness is vividly pourtrayed. At the same
time there were many spots in the central and western Highlands where
the truths of Christianity were scarcely known. Among these places
was Abriachan, on the north-west bank of the romantic Lochness, some
ten miles west of Inverness. To this day it is difficult of access,
notwithstanding the recently well-made winding road from the level
of the loch to the villages. It is a wild and barren-like gorge,
surrounded east and west by hills of a similar character. To the
north lies a dreary moor, which declines in the direction of Beauly.

The character and habits of the people at the beginning of the
eighteenth century harmonised well with the nature of the place
where they fixed their habitations. From this rather inaccessible
nest they carried on for years with impunity a regular system of
smuggling. They had every natural advantage on their side; they were
reluctant to give up a profitable though nefarious traffic, with the
lawfulness of which their consciences were not much concerned; and so
hitherto they had refused to submit themselves to the more civilised
conditions under which the people around them began to settle. This
was the sphere of labour assigned by the Society in Scotland for
Promoting Christian Knowledge to the poet-evangelist MacLauchlan,
who was virtually the first to preach the Gospel to the people of
Abriachan.


LAUCHLAN MACLAUCHLAN.

This bard-evangelist was born about the year 1729. He came of
a family who occupied for generations a portion of the farm of
Kinmylies, called Balmaclauchlan, near the town of Inverness. He
was about sixteen years of age when the Rebellion of 1745 broke
out, and remembered well seeing the wretched fugitives from that
disastrous field of battle being cut down in their flight by the
English soldiery. While quite a young man he was selected by the
society already mentioned to be one of their evangelist-teachers
at Culduthel, some three miles from Inverness. After a few years
of successful labour there he was sent to Abriachan, where by the
weight and general excellence of his character and the judicious
exercise of his talents, the people soon became quite transformed.
It is said that the godly people of the district used to travel ten
and even twenty miles to hear the bard MacLauchlan exhort. He was
twice married, but had no family by his first wife. In his second
wife he found a truly congenial companion. While he was an admirer
of the famous Hector Macphail, minister of Resolis, she was equally
devoted to the no less famous James Calder, minister of Croy, the two
being, along with Mr Alexander Fraser of Kirkhill, the most eminent
ministers in the north at that time. The poet died in the year
1801, and his remains lie interred in the churchyard of Kirkhill.
MacLauchlan was evidently a remarkable man in his day, and appears to
have possessed very fair culture. An English letter of his addressed
to his son, a divinity student, afterwards the Rev. James MacLauchlan
of Moy, shows how well he could write English, and how well versed
he had been in evangelical theology—“I say when two things are
awanting, to go along with either the doctrines of law or gospel has
little or no effect; _i.e._, when either wants a homely or particular
application. It may be sound morality or sound gospel (even when
both differ), yet so general that attentive hearers may hear, and
never be made to cry out, _What shall we do to be saved?_ Secondly,
when law or gospel is not attended with the operation of the Spirit
of Christ, what can be expected to be the consequence?... There is
no wind so proper to winnow Christ’s corn as that of the gospel....
I might say a great deal on this subject, but one thing I find is,
when some would maintain that never man spake like this Man, yet when
Christ would address Himself with particular homeliness the very same
lips would cry out, _Crucify Him! Crucify Him!_ And this is come on
the Church of Scotland, that she is now filled with a silly general
strain of preaching when and where soundest fearing if truth is told
so homely as to say like Nathan to David ‘Thou art the man,’ the
speaker would become a prey; and if such is the case with such as can
preach orthodox law and gospel, what can be said of such as can but
lecture out harangues that are neither true morality nor gospel?...
I think some, and no small part, of the distinction between a
picture and the real being of grace is first in the begetting, next
in the birth, then in the feeding, next in the growth, &c.” This
letter, like his poetry, shows what a keen insight into human nature
the bard possessed, and how well he understood the causes of the
religious deadness of his day throughout the Church of Scotland. The
poet makes here the “silly general strain of preaching” the cause
of this deadness; elsewhere, in one of his poems he attributes the
sad state of things in the Church to patronage. He was right in
both cases. It was the patron that forced on the people preachers
of the “silly general strain” stamp. The revival of religion in the
first quarter of this century owes much to the good seed sowed by
such earnest, faithful men, as MacLauchlan; and not a few of our
ablest ministers of the present day have descended from such worthy
ancestry. The late Rev. Dr Thomas MacLauchlan of Edinburgh, the
eminent Celtic scholar and eloquent preacher, was a grandson of the
poet-evangelist of Abriachan; and one of the doctor’s sons, Hugh, is
possessed of poetical endowments and literary talents worthy of his
great-grandfather.

It is very difficult to give satisfactory translations of any
poetry, but Gaelic measures and turns of expression present peculiar
difficulties. I have endeavoured in what follows to give renderings
of some verses of all the poems of MacLauchlan that have come down to
us. The longest is the “Elegy” on Macphail of Resolis; but much of
his poetry is said to have been lost. After committing several of his
poems to writing, the author, forming but a low estimate of his own
abilities, committed the MS. to the flames.

We first give a few verses of the “Elegy” above referred to, although
it cannot be said to be the best specimen of the poet’s productions—


          MACPHAIL’S “ELEGY.”

      Well may Resolis deeply mourn;
      We share her sorrow o’er his urn;
      Our holy feasts shall ne’er henceforth
      Enjoy the great Light of the North.

      No more we see that guiding Light;
      Oft did he tell in words of might
      The danger great to Albin nigh
      In clouds of gloom athwart our sky.

      Well in our slumber may we start:
      He warned, ere hence he did depart,
      That from the ominous day to come
      He would be taken to his home.

      As Lot was saved from Sodom’s fate
      Ere God poured out His fury great,
      So judgment from the Lord we dread
      Since good Macphail, our guide, is dead!

In the “Elegy” we find several good verses bearing on the subject
of patronage in the Church of Scotland. They show us how galling
that yoke of Parliament was always felt to be; and how clearly
Bible-cultured people, of no pretence to a knowledge of the mysteries
of statecraft, discern the radical ills by which communities and
individuals are fatally afflicted. It was only in 1874 that statesmen
legislatively acknowledged the evils which were so patent to the
poetic eye of MacLauchlan of Abriachan a century before:—


          PATRONAGE.

      Our Mother, by State’s wiles untaught,
      A thoughtless slumber low has brought;
      Dark perils grew before her face,
      In watchless and unfaithful days.

      Her true-soul’d witnesses are rare;
      The gospel now so few declare;
      Our secret griefs we cease to hide
      Since conscience everywhere has died.

      Though Patronage had her interred,
      Like Lazarus unsepulchered,—
      Forsaken in the bonds of death,
      All stinking with corruption’s breath;

      Yet when her Head the word has spoken
      The stone is raised; Death’s power is broken;
      The Patron’s power disappears,
      And we’ll have praise instead of tears.

The “State of the World,” or the worldly, is another poem of
considerable merit. It not unlikely represents much of the style
of thinking and manner of the bard in his preaching addresses.
Indeed our religious bards in general give us a good deal of general
preaching and exhortation in their productions. Buchanan has done
so; so has Macgregor; while Grant’s hymns, as well as those of Dr
Macdonald, are very much evangelical sermons in verse. The following
translation is as literal as the exigencies of rhyme and metre can
admit:—


          THE WORLDLY.

      When proudly they stand
        On the heights of the world
      The storm then descends
        And below they are hurled!
      When they are least anxious
        They’re hurried away,
      For iron misfortune,
        Will brook no delay.

      When life’s breath is going,
        At grim Death’s command,
      Think not thine own power
        Had helped thee to stand,
      Think not those weak hands
        Had preserved thee thy strength;
      Thy frail members yield
        To Death’s summons at length.

      Of better blood boast not,
        Vain child of the sod;
      We are all from that Adam
        First fashioned by God,
      We are all from that Adam,
        In him our life lay;
      And all have to carry
        These bodies of clay.

      In this clay, soul-fashioned,
        We march to the tomb,
      Leaving loved ones behind us
        When entering its gloom.
      How much, then, thou takest
        Of all this world’s good?
      Some few yards of linen,
        Some few deals of wood.

There are eight lines of a little poem called “An Samhla,” or _The
Comparison_, which reminds us of the generally subjective state of
mind which the Highland men were wont to cultivate so assiduously.
In Morrison of Harris and in Macrae of Petty we see the extreme
spiritual self-analysis which they carried on. I also give a
rendering of a few verses of a fair poem on those given to riches. It
has the same preaching ring that we find in the one on the state of
the world:—


          THE COMPARISON.

        I’m like a barrel sealed,
      Whose stores the others cannot see;
        The gazer scans in vain;
      Good wine or poison it may be:
        But strike thou in some spot
      Where all the staves are not so sound,
        Soon thou shalt see the stuff
      Outpouring on the ground.


          THE TRUE RICHES.

      I mourn for you that follow ill,
        Ye who misspend the days of youth;
      The cup of sin you daily fill,
        And grieve afar the God of Truth:
      He keeps you while you fast advance
        In fleshly pleasures’ passing train;
      But yours will be inheritance
        With heirs of everlasting pain.

      If thou wouldst follow Him each day,
        Be meek and mild—extinguish pride;
      To sinful lusts do not give way,
        And all dark habits cast aside.
      Though great thy faith be and thy pray’r,
        They cannot ease thy grievous load,
      Unless thine be a covenant share
        In the soul-sealing work of God.

      Behold her of Samaria:
        Deep in her soul the poison flowed;
      But when the face of Christ she saw
        Her heart turned from the guilty road.
      A drink before that spring supernal
        She sought with lips all parched and sore;
      He gave her of the life eternal,
        Which slaked her thirst for evermore.

Though MacLauchlan has not left much to prove that he possessed
the gift of satire, yet it seems that some of his poems helped his
preaching considerably in extirpating the habit of card-playing
once so universal in the Highlands—it used to be carried on at
baptisms, weddings, and even late wakes. Highlanders have had a
terrible dread of being satirised by the bards. To have come under
the satiric tongue of the poet acted like a social excommunication;
and bards frequently availed themselves of this power to accomplish
ends different from that to which MacLauchlan had set himself in the
following verses:—


          CARD-PLAYING.

      Oft I gazed with saddened feeling
        On the weak that went astray;
      Men of outward name and promise
        Whom I sought to teach the way.

      When I entered they were sitting
        The enjoyment to begin,
      At the table where the Christian
        Cannot shun committing sin.

      They would rather have my absence
        For they felt a glow of shame:
      Stopping then they promised never
        To take up the godless game.

      With a pack of Satan’s leaflets
        There the husband’s hands between,
      They lost time and vainly wasted
        Light at wicked work, I ween.

MacLauchlan’s poems have been considered at greater length than the
mere quality of his poetry might warrant because they shed light on
the life and manners of the Highlanders during a particular time in
a circumscribed district, and because hitherto they, in common with
those of several other religious bards, have received no attention
whatever. On the other hand, the great bards of the secular life have
been very abundantly written upon and their merits exhibited.


DUGALD BUCHANAN.

The Highlands produced several religious poets of considerable merit
during the eighteenth century, although the areas of living religious
activities were undoubtedly very limited. Chief among them was
Dugald Buchanan, whose hymns have taken a very high place. He has
been compared to Cowper, but he reminds us more of the celebrated
Welsh bard Goronwy Owen, who has much in common with Buchanan. It
is curiously suggestive that the sacred bard of Anglesea and the
sacred bard of Rannoch, the religious representative poets of their
respective countries, should be found composing highly spiritual
poems, and at the same period writing elaborate ones on the awful
theme of the “Day of Judgment,” while the polished Addison and
ethical Johnson were delivering their well-finished articles on mere
moral platitudes to a highly conventional generation. Perhaps the
Highlanders have received, apart from the Bible, no greater gift than
the holy and sublime strains of the muse of Buchanan, who impressed
his personality and character on all the Gaelic-speaking portion
of his countrymen who in his days were in the throes of painful
political changes, and about to enter on a new era of severe trial
and uncertainty. Much of what the world has admired in the Highland
character since is due to the formative and healthy influence of
Dugald Buchanan’s hymns.

Dugald Buchanan was born in 1716 on the farm of Ardoch, Perthshire,
where his father rented a farm and was the owner of a small meal
mill the remains of which are still standing. His people were deeply
religious people, of whom he speaks with much affection and respect
in the autobiographical sketch which he left written in English. It
is remarkable to find such people in Balquidder at that period—in
the country of Rob Roy, who the year before the poet was born had
marshalled his men on the field of Sheriffmuir under the banner of
the Pretender.

Young Buchanan was educated in one of the schools belonging to the
Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, which was formed in 1701.
There he received a good education, which was afterwards supplemented
by attendance on some classes in Edinburgh University, while he was
superintending the printing of the Gaelic New Testament. And this
last fact reminds me that I have recently counted more than twenty
well-known Gaelic bards who received University education; so the
general cry of illiteracy is not applicable to the majority of them
who at least were trained in the rudiments of learning.

Buchanan was afterwards appointed by the Presbytery of the bounds
to be catechist and evangelist in the district of Rannoch, where
he laboured with much acceptance and success. He died of virulent
fever in June 1768, when he was fifty-two years of age. His death
was profoundly mourned by every family in the district. His widow
survived till 1824, and one of his daughters died as recently as 1854.

It is said that Buchanan composed a good deal of poetry that has
never been published. He published his religious poems or hymns
in 1767. They are eight in number, the longest, “The Day of
Judgment,” is 408 lines in length. This poem is also his best. It is
dramatically vivid and very sublime. Indeed, Buchanan is the only
Gaelic bard that exhibits much sublimity. He was a man of culture,
of even judgment, and of true insight into human nature. There are
many evidences of his acquaintance with the literature of his own and
other times. While he knew something of Shakespeare and other masters
of English literature, he became especially a student of the living
religious thought of the England of his day. The writings of such
men as Philip Doddridge and Isaac Watts helped to feed his spiritual
needs and to colour the products of his own genius.

The works of Buchanan have maintained their popularity to the present
day. In 1875 the twenty-first edition of his poetry appeared,
accompanied by a new sketch of his life by the Rev. Allan Sinclair,
late Free Church minister of Kenmore. In November of the same year, a
monument, in the form of an obelisk of Peterhead granite, was erected
to commemorate his name and genius at Kinloch-Rannoch.

The poems of Buchanan, in whole or in portions, have been frequently
brought before the English-speaking world. Macgregor, Maclachlan
of Canada, Pattison, Sinclair, Blackie, and Macbean have attempted
translations with varying successes. As in the case of the finest
lyrics on less sacred themes, the translation of these hymns
presents peculiar difficulties which can only be fairly overcome by
translators whose own spirits are in holy unison with the language
and sentiments of the author. It is quite evident that such a
master-translator as Professor Blackie cannot feel at home among
religious truths and experiences, with which his sympathies are not
very warm. What Buchanan calls “conversion” Blackie would describe
as a new point of “ethical departure,”—a cold and philosophical
conception of an all-important event which could scarcely charm the
hearts of religious folks of the poet’s type. Only the pens of a
Mason Neale and like-minded men can glide along sympathetically on
these sacred heights of holy thought and life.

The first of the hymns is called _The Majesty of God_, which begins
in octosyllabic verse as follows:—

      O what is God! or what His name!
        Angels in glory cannot know;
      Where he is veiled in dazzling light
        No thought or eye can ever go.

This is one of the less popular of his hymns, the theme being of a
more abstract nature than that on which he dwells generally.

The hymn which stands second in the order of publication is called
_The Sufferings of Christ_. This beautiful production has greatly
impressed Highland religious thought, and that before the Gaelic
Scriptures were yet entirely translated or in the hands of the
people. The form of verse chosen is very happy, and one into which
the Gaelic language flows with liquid ease and beauty. Its spirit and
manner may be imperfectly gathered from the following lines:—

      It is my Saviour’s sufferings
        My song will now proclaim,
      That High King’s life of humbleness
        In birth and death of shame;
      The miracle most wonderful
        That e’er to men was told:
      God who was from eternity—
        An infant born behold!

The poet then rehearses in tender and mellifluous strains the more
suggestive events of the Lord’s earthly life, and ends in a few
verses of extreme beauty, pathos, and simplicity, detailing the
agonizing circumstances of His death and crucifixion. The air to
which the hymn is usually sung is very pretty and plaintive, and is
a great favourite in the Highlands. At a time when living Gospel
preaching was far from general, the rehearsal of this and other
similar productions on Sunday in many humble Highland homes, helped
to keep alive the flame of spiritual life.

The next is the greatest of his poems or hymns—_The Day of Judgment_.
The poet begins in his usual Scriptural simple style, but as he
proceeds the treatment and the language become elevated and majestic.
We seem to see the _dramatis personæ_ acting their gorgeous parts on
the canvass of the poet’s grand conceptions. The verses beginning
with “’N sin fàsaidh rudhadh anns an speur,” are regarded as very
sublime. But there is no translation of this poem that will convey
anything like a fair impression of the original. The following verses
may give some idea of the manner of the poem:—

      Then, like the morn enkindling red,
      A glowing spreads throughout the skies;
      Where Jesus comes a glare is shed
      By heaven’s burning tapestries.

      The clouds all suddenly unfold
      To make for the High King a door;
      And we the Mighty Judge behold,
      Whose glory streams forth evermore.

      The rainbow glows around his form,
      His voice resounds like mountain-floods;
      Outflashing o’er the sullen storm,
      His lightning eye pours from the clouds.

      The sun, great lustre of the skies,
      Before His glorious Person pales;
      At length her failing brightness dies
      Before the light His face unveils.

      Her robes of gloom she will uptake,
      The blood-red moon drops down in space;
      The mighty heavenly powers shall shake,
      Outcasting planets from their place.

      Like tempest-shaken fruit on trees,
      So shall they tremble in the skies;
      Like heavy rain-drops on the breeze,
      Their glory like a dead man’s eyes.

The poetical conceptions of Buchanan on this subject have woven
themselves into the theological ideas of the Highlander, like those
of Milton into the religious thought of England.

_The Skull_ is well-rendered by Professor Blackie, whose version
begins thus:—

            I sat all alone
            By a cold grey stone,
      And behold a skull lay on the ground!
            I took in my hand,
            And pitiful scanned
      Its ruin, all round and round.

            Without colour or ken,
            Or notice of men,
      When a footstep may trample the ground;
            A jaw without tooth,
            And no tongue in the mouth,
      And a throat with no function of sound.

            In thy cheek is no red,
            Smooth and cold is thy head,
      Deaf thine ear when sweet music is nigh;
            In thy nostrils no breath,
            And the savour of death
      In dark hollow where beamed the bright eye.

            No virtue now flashes
            ’Neath eyelids and lashes,
      No message of brightness is sped;
            But worms to and fro
            Do busily go
      Where pictures of beauty were spread.

            And the brain that was there
            Into ashes or air
      Is vanished, and now hath no mind
            To finish the plan
            It so boldly began
      And left—a proud folly—behind.

            From that blank look of thine
            I gather no sign
      Of thy life-tale, its shame or its glory;
            Proud Philip’s great son
            And his slave are as one
      When a skull is the sum of their story.

The poem called _Winter_ begins in this manner:—

      The summer has ended,
        The winter is nigh us;
      The foe of all living
        Comes to spoil and to try us;
      Mars all that is lovely,
        And tramples it under—
      Full ruthless to all things,
        He rages for plunder.

      His wings he spreads o’er us,
        The sun behind pushing;
      While fiercely to scourge us
        His brood is forth rushing;
      The white-pinioned snow from
        The sky is forth flying,
      The hailstones like shot
        From the stormy north hieing.

      When he breathes upon it,
        Its soul leaves the flow’r;
      His lips the proud bloom
        Of the garden devour;
      The robes of the uplands
        And forests he tears them;
      His ice-flags of azure—
        The choked streamlet wears them.

      His breast’s frozen whistle
        Wakes loud the commotion
      Of the waves as they surge
        O’er the barm-swollen ocean!
      The sleet he congeals
        O’er the moors in their whiteness,
      Clean scouring the stars
        Till they dazzle with brightness.

The poet, after this introduction, goes on to moralise at great
length, drawing his lessons from the seasons and their changes. His
poems are eight in number, and altogether constitute but a very small
volume.

The titles of the other poems not referred to above are—_The Dream_,
_The Hero_, and _Prayer_. An excellent sketch of his life and
conversion written by the author himself in good English, has been
translated into Gaelic, and is found frequently prefixed to the
Hymns. This account the author solemnly signs, and prays that this
transaction of his signing himself as the Lord’s consecrated servant
on earth may be ratified in heaven. Buchanan tells us that he was
an anxious hearer at one of the sermons which the distinguished
evangelist George Whitefield preached at Cambuslang on the occasion
of the latter’s visit to Scotland.

Buchanan, in conception and utterance, shows more than the other
Gaelic bards the effects of his acquaintance with English literature.
The religious subjects which were the theme of his poetry partially
account for this. When in Edinburgh Buchanan became acquainted with
several distinguished men in the Scottish capital—among others, the
celebrated David Hume, who was much impressed by the culture and
character of the Sacred Bard of Rannoch.

[Illustration: (decorative end-of-chapter icon)]




CHAPTER XIII.

BARDS OF THE ANGLO-GAELIC ERA.

     “Here one thing springs not till another die,
      Only the matter lives immortally.”
                               —SYLVESTER’S DU BARTAS.


The authors whose works come under notice in this chapter may be
described as belonging to the Anglo-Gaelic era of Highland history,
when the influence of English thought, movements, and manners began
to penetrate into the most sequestered corners of the north west.
This influence came in through the two channels of the religious
literature of English Puritanism and Imperial politics. When the
Highlander came under the spell of the former in such works as those
of Bunyan, he no longer cherished alien feelings towards Bunyan’s
fellow-countrymen, many of whose struggles and sufferings were akin
to his own; nor did he want any longer to nurse a spirit of mere
Gaelic separatism that might conflict with the national purposes
of the latter. We, therefore, find traces of English reading and
culture in all the Gaelic poetry that has been produced since the
commencement of this era. Even very early last century there is
evidence that English thought began to exercise some influence on the
compositions of the Highland poets. As already pointed out, English
literature contributed not a little to the development of Dugald
Buchanan’s sacred muse. The chief Gaelic poets of this period were
fairly well educated, and knew the English language well. Several
of them were clergymen who had gone through a course of training in
Scottish Universities.

There are three elements of sadness that enter into the poetry of
this period—first, the sorrowful cry of baffled Jacobitism; second,
the vain cry of enthusiasts over the disappearance of Gaelic habits
and customs; and again, the intense wail of a fatherland spirit over
the depopulation of the Highlands. Along with greater devotion to
the cultivation of erotic poetry these are the themes of the bards
of this era, who feel painfully conscious that the ground of this
transition period is fast slipping away from under their feet.


ROBERT MACKAY.

This famous Sutherlandshire Bard, better known as Rob Donn, or Robert
the Brown, was born in the parish of Durness in 1714. He is said to
have composed verses between his third and sixth years, like some
other poets, early lisping in numbers. For a long time before his
death he filled the humble office of principal herd for his chief’s
(Lord Reay) cattle. He died in 1778, when he was sixty-four years of
age. Although most of his pieces cannot be said to be religious—some
much the reverse—we are told that he was an elder in the national
Presbyterian Church. His death was deeply regretted over the whole
country, where his memory is still most warmly cherished.

His poetical works were collected and edited early in this century
by the late Rev. Mackintosh Mackay, LL.D., who wrote a memoir of
the bard. Sir Walter Scott directed Lockhart to review Mackay’s
Poems eulogistically in _The Quarterly Review_, giving him a place
among the real sons of the muse. The monument to his memory has
inscriptions on it in Gaelic, Greek, and Latin, so that Rob Donn has
had fair justice done him.

Mackay wants imagination and the overpowering feeling we find in two
or three others of the Gaelic bards. But although he does not stand
among the very first of the Gaelic poets, he is yet a powerful,
refreshing, and influential singer, with a good deal of wit, point,
and satire. He is a shrewd and sensible man, with a Wordsworthian
tendency to exalt the commonplace into fit themes for poetry.

His _Elegy on Ewen_ is one of his best-known pieces. The morning he
composed it he heard of the death of Pelham, then Prime Minister to
King George the Second; and he contrasted his death with the dying
state of poor Ewen, in whose house he had stayed the previous night.
Ewen could not converse with the bard, who, after kindling the fire
in the morning for the dying man, composed the poem from which the
following stanzas translated by a clansman of the bard—Mr Angus M.
Mackay—are taken:—

      ’Tis thus thou dost instruct us, Death,
      That we should turn ere yet too late!
      The longest lives are but a breath,
      Thou callest hence both small and great!
      But these thy latest actions ought
      To ope at once our slumberous eyes—
      Thy sudden leap from Britain’s court
      To this low nook where Ewen lies!
          Long time, O Ewen, yes, long time,
          Has dread disease foretold thy fate;
          Now nigh Death’s door dost thou repine,
          With no one to compassionate!
          If unimproved the time has passed,
          And many a crime been done therein,
          Yet hope remains while life shall last,
          O yet repent thee of thy sin!

      If we believe thy word, O Death,
      These lessons we shall ne’er let slip!
      There is no mortal drawing breath
      Too vile for thy companionship!
      The solemn truth when will we learn,—
      Death’s vision is both high and low—
      From Ewen’s sores thou didst not turn,
      Great Pelham felt thy mortal blow.

      Thou makest grief in court and hall
      When at thy touch earth’s glories fade,
      The ragged poor man thou dost call
      For whom no mourning will be made!
      All men, O Death, thy face shall see,
      And all be forced with thee to go!
      Watchful and ready we should be
      ’Twixt Pelham high and Ewen low!

      And all around thy victims fall,
      Unseen thy sudden bullets fly;
      The noises round us loudly call
      That we should be prepared to die.
      Thou that art lowest in the throng,
      Hast thou not heard that Ewen dies?
      And thou whom riches render strong,
      That low in death great Pelham lies?

      Friend of my heart, and shall not this
      Make all our thoughts to heaven tend?
      Society a candle is
      That flames away at either end!
      Where shall we find a humbler man
      In Scotland than thy father’s son?
      And in all Britain greater than
      This Pelham, save the king, was none!
          Long time, O Ewen, &c.

This old beggar did not yet lose his power of hearing, and feeling
insulted by the manner in which his name was introduced into the
moralising verses he snatched up a club towards the close of the
song, and creeping behind the bard aimed a blow at him with all the
strength of his withered arm. Rob barely escaped, and tried to soothe
the enraged old man.

Mackay shows great detestation of greed in his poems. One is a
dialogue between the world and the greedy man. The wants of the bard
in his humble station were few and easily supplied, so he could
contemplate with sorrow the growing spirit of selfishness that began
to creep in along with advancing civilisation and change of habit.
This spirit he rebukes in the following verse from an address to Lord
Reay:—

      Hadst thou by nature been a man of greed,
      How soon had grown the tempting glittering hoard;
      If thou to pity’s tears hadst deigned no heed,
      And hard-wrung rents with human curses stored!

      But no, for when the yearly rents were paid,
      It was more joy to thee a thousand-fold
      To see a glad face in God’s image made,
      Than the king’s image on the yellow gold!

Like many of the bards, Rob appears to have suffered from a sore
affair of the heart. A yellow-haired Annie deceived him, and ran
away with a fair carpenter from the south, and he sang _Is trom leam
an àiridh_. It seems the courting was carried on at a shieling, a
favourite place of resort for fond swains and tender maidens:

      Oh, sad is the shieling,
        And gone are its joys!
      All harsh and unfeeling
        To me now its noise,
      Since Anna—who warbled
        As sweet as the merle—
      Forsook me—my honey-mouthed,
        Merry-lipped girl!

             *       *       *       *       *

      Ach, ach, now I’m trying
        My loss to forget—
      With sorrow and sighing,
        With anger and fret.
      But still that sweet image
        Steals over my heart;
      And still I deem fondly
        Hope need not depart.

      So fancy beguiles me,
        And fills me with glee,
      But the carpenter wiles thee,
        False speaker! from me.
      Yet from Love’s first affection
        I never get free;
      But the dear known direction
        My thoughts ever flee.

The above verses are Pattison’s translation. It is said that the
deceitful “Anna” led an unhappy life afterwards, and never recovered
her old spirits after the memorable parting at the “shieling,” of
which the bard sings so pathetically.

While Rob Donn is not equal to Macdonald or Macintyre in the highest
qualifications of the poet, he is their superior in power of
satire. His two rival bards have confounded vituperative language
with satire, but Mackay never. He is a great favourite with his
countrymen, who are very proud of him, and have laudably done all
they could to make known his poetry and perpetuate his fame.

In many respects Mackay is a typical representative of the northern
counties, where the intense Celtic spirit and feelings of nationality
which characterise Argyllshire Celts do not prevail so extensively.
The Teutonic element brought in by the Norse is stronger in the
North, and may partly account for this apparent lack of Celtic
enthusiasm and of the usual Celtic grace of style. In his own way,
though exercising his sportive muse in a more confined and humbler
sphere, Rob Donn might be described as a sort of Highland Praed or
Calverley.

The bard was in the service of two of his clan on whom he has
composed well-known elegies. These two were Lord Reay and John
Mackay. The elegy on the latter has been translated as follows by the
clansman already referred to in a good sketch which appeared some
years ago in a London periodical:—

      Some keep the verbal law of man,
      And yet hard creditors are they;
      They store what legally they can,
      What the law _makes_ them, that they pay!
      Though want and misery they see,
      Not less through pity grows their sum;
      Shut eyes and purse alike will be
      Against the poor and needy one!

      This bastard honour grows apace—
      The creed of numbers beyond ken,
      Who, greatly to their own disgrace,
      Would rather owe to God than men!
      Theirs will be loss beyond recall
      When God shall sum up all their debt—
      “Thou heededst not the poor man’s call,
      I also will thy prayers forget!”

             *       *       *       *       *

      If thou another’s want didst know
      Thou couldst not in thy goods rejoice;
      Towards the poor thy heart would glow
      Although his wants ne’er found a voice.
      Ah, sooner lose a pound of gold
      Than take to thee an ounce of sin,—
      The waters shall bring manifold
      For all thy treasures cast therein!

      I saw the gentle who was poor,
      And he was full of gloom and grief,
      He passed the once wide-opened door
      Where now no more he finds relief!
      I saw the widow in her tears,
      I saw the beggar hungering;
      The orphan now unclothed appears
      Unnoticed by the unpitying!

      Who needs advice must want it now,
      And see the prosperous times depart;
      All clouded is the poet’s brow,
      With none to reverence his art.
      None seek to make the poor rejoice;
      And when I ask why joys are fled,
      They answer me with tearful voice—
      “Alas! is not MacEachainn dead?”

      I see the gathering of the poor—
      Now poor indeed since thou art dead,
      And closed for aye the open door
      Where Love consoled and Bounty fed!
      And strangers now are praised to me
      As lib’ral—I knew only _one_—
      But ah! the wandering stars we see
      After the setting of the sun!


DUNCAN MACINTYRE.

This bard, Mac-an-t-Saoir—the Irish MacTear—meaning the son of the
joiner or carpenter, a recent intruder among the names of the Gaelic
clans, is one of the great Highland poets to whom the Gaelic patriot
refers with a pardonable measure of pride. Ossian, Macdonald, and he
are the chief names on the roll of our bardic annals.

This famous hunter bard, frequently called Duncan _Ban_, or
_fair-haired_, was born on the 20th of March 1724, at Druimliaghart,
in Glenorchay, Argyllshire. His parents lived in an out-of-the-way
spot, far from the parish school, so Duncan never learned to read
or write. Yet, rising from a humble sphere of life, with only the
education that the traditions, the popular poetry and scenery of his
native hills could afford, he has left us compositions which we would
not willingly allow to perish. Highly cultivated some of his mental
powers must have been. His memory was something wonderful; and yet
there have been at all times in the Highlands men equally trained
like Macintyre to remember and rehearse thousands of lines of poetry.
Upwards of six thousand lines of poetry composed by himself have been
published. All this he carried about with him for years, along with
the poetry of others, an immense mass of which he knew and was able
to repeat, until the Rev. Dr Stewart of Luss, one of the translators
of the Bible, was at the trouble of taking them down to the poet’s
own dictation some time before 1768, when they were first published
in one 12mo volume of 162 pages. A second edition appeared in 1799
and a third in 1804. These were all the editions before his death
took place in the year 1812. But thousands knew them who never read
them; while many of his more popular pieces found their way into
other Gaelic collections. There have been several other editions
since Macintyre died.

The first song of Duncan Bàn was composed on a sword with which he
was armed at the Battle of Falkirk, where he served on the Royalist
side as a substitute for Mr Fletcher of Glenorchay. The sword was
lost or thrown away in the retreat, and his employer refused to pay
the sum for which he had engaged the bard. But Duncan’s song became
popular and incensed Fletcher so much that, meeting the poor poet one
day, he suddenly struck him on the back with his walking-stick, and
bade him “go and make a song about that.” Macintyre appealed to his
patron the Earl of Breadalbane, who compelled Fletcher to pay the
bard the stipulated sum, 300 merks Scots (£16 17s 6d).

Soon after the noble Earl—always kind to the bard—appointed him
forester and gamekeeper in Coire Cheathaich and Ben-Dorain, the
subjects of his two chief and finest poems. He was afterwards in
the same capacity with the Duke of Argyll at Buachaill-Eite. Then
he joined the Fencible Regiment raised in 1793 by the Earl of
Breadalbane, where he served as a sergeant until 1799, when it was
disbanded. He afterwards served in the City Guard of Edinburgh till
1806, when he was enabled to live comfortably on his own savings
and on the profits of the third edition of his poems. He died in
Edinburgh in May 1812, in the 89th year of his age, and was buried in
the Greyfriars Churchyard, where a monument has been raised for him.

Duncan Bàn, in some respects, is the first of the Gaelic bards;
Professor Blackie seems inclined to rank him above Ossian. He is
certainly less artificial than the Gaelic Ossian of 1807—more in
harmony with the life and sentiments of the Highlanders. He is the
natural outcome as well as the true exponent of the spirit and
manners of the period of Highland history which was then drawing to a
close. His powers as a poet are of the highest order. But the sphere
of his life being so circumscribed, and the themes on which his muse
was exercised were so temporary and local in their character, that
Duncan Bàn can never receive from the world that homage to which his
wonderful and lofty genius entitles him. He has been called the Burns
of the Highlands; and, perhaps, his genius is equal to that of Burns,
taking into consideration the difference in their education. Burns,
however, shows more intensity of conception and stormy passion; while
Macintyre dwells with more luscious delight on the beauties and
glories of the external world.

Professor Blackie is a great admirer of Duncan Bàn, and has given
us what will always remain a delightful translation of Macintyre’s
unique poem, _Ben-Dorain_. The translator of Goethe’s “Faust”—whose
new edition of his translation of the great German bard’s work must
ever be regarded as the best—possesses the poetical ingenuity and
subtilty, as well as deftness in rhyme, necessary in a translator of
_Ben-Dorain_. _Coire Cheathaich_ is a poem equally celebrated with
_Ben-Dorain_, translated into English by Pattison, whose version has
been utilized by Mr Robert Buchanan, the distinguished dramatist and
poet, with slight alterations, in one of his works. Through these
translators the English reader is put in possession of some fair
knowledge of the muse of the Hunter-Bard of Glenorchay.

Here is the first verse of _Coire Cheathaich_, or The Braes of the
Mist:—

      My misty Coire! where hinds are roving;
        My lovely Coire! my charming dell!
      So grand, so grassy, so richly scented,
        And gemm’d with flowers of sweetest smell.
      Thy knolls and hillocks in dark-green clothing,
        Rise o’er the green sward with gentle swell,
      Where waves the cannach, and grows the darnel,
        And troop the wild deer I love so well.

Duncan’s chief love-song is characteristic. It is composed for his
“spouse newly wedded” and not for an unmarried maiden. This is how
the bard describes the manner in which he made choice of “Fair Young
Mary”:—

      My net I cast in the waters clear,
        And strained hard to draw it to land,
      And lo! I had caught a bright sea-trout,
        That lay like a swan on the strand.
      Pleased was my soul with the fortune
        That came with such joy to my hand;
      My spouse! thou art the star of the morning!
        Blest be thy slumbers and bland!

“Aged and grey” he visited the hills for the last time, and composed
his “Last Farewell to the Hills,” one of the most pathetic of his
poems. Taking a retrospect of the past, he sorrowfully sings:—

      And yesterday I trode yon moor—
        How many a thought it moved!
      The friends I walked with there of yore,
        Where were those friends I loved!
      I looked and looked, _and sheep, sheep still_,
        Were all that I could see:
      A change had struck the very hill—
        O world! deceiving me.

Few descriptive poets excel Macintyre in his representations of
external things, whether animate or inanimate. Everything he touches
he invests with the glow and the beauty of poetry. The hills with
their mist and deer, the streams and lochs with their teeming
inhabitants, and all the natural inhabitants of his native glens
and mountains, were congenial themes of his muse. “His Address to
his wife—Mairi Bhan Og—may be read beside the sweetest and most
expressive of the Lowland lyrics, while it certainly breathes a
refined courtesy and a purity of sentiment which these do not always
possess, and which is not in any way insignificant in such a man,
whether taken as an index of his moral nature, of his intellectual
endowments, or of the kindliness of nature in gifting him with such
unaffected manliness and good taste.” Macdonald could be sweet and
tender when he chose; it was far from being his nature. Macintyre is
generally genial and tender, for it is the habitual attitude of his
mind and heart. We are told “he was like the rest of the poets, very
fond of company and a social glass, and was not only very pleasant
over his bottle, but very circumspect.”

I give here a specimen of his poem, _Ben-Dorain_, of which we have a
translation from the pen of Professor Blackie:—

      My delight it was to rise
      With the early morning skies,
            All aglow,
      And to brush the dewy height,
      Where the deer in airy state
            Wont to go;
      At least a hundred brace
      Of the lofty antlered race,
      When they left their sleeping-place
            Light and gay;
      When they stood in trim array,
      And with low deep-breasted cry,
      Flung their breath into the sky,
            From the brae:
      When the hind, the pretty fool,
      Would be rolling in the pool
            At her will,
      Or the stag in gallant pride,
      Would be strutting at the side
      Of his haughty-headed bride,
            On the hill.
      And sweeter to my ear
      Is the concert of the deer
            In their roaring;
      Than when Erin from her lyre
      Warmest strains of Celtic fire
            May be pouring;
      And no organ sends a roll
      So delightsome to my soul
      As the bravely-crested race
      When they quicken their proud pace
      And bellow in the face
            Of Ben Dorain.

      Nor will they stint the measure
      Of their frolic and their pleasure
            And their play,
      When with airy-footed amble
      At their freakish will they ramble
            O’er the brae.
      With their prancing and their dancing,
      And their ramping and their stamping,
      And their plashing and their washing
            In the pools,
      Like lovers newly wedded,
      Light-hearted, giddy-headed
            Little fools.
      No thirst have they beside
      The mill-brook’s flowing tide
      And the pure well’s lucid pride
            Honey-sweet;
      A spring of lively cheer,
      Sparkling, cool, and clear,
      And filtered through the sand
            At their feet;
      ’Tis a life-restoring flood
      To repair the wasted blood,
      The cheapest and the best in all the land;
      And vainly gold will try
      For the Queen’s own lips to buy
            Such a treat.
      From the rim it trickles down
      Of the mountain’s granite crown
            Clear and cool;
      Keen and eager though it go
      Through your veins with lively flow,
      Yet it knoweth not to reign
      In the chambers of the brain
            With misrule;
      Where dark water-cresses grow
      You will trace its quiet flow,
            With mossy border yellow,
      So mild, and soft, and mellow,
            In its pouring.
      With no slimy dregs to trouble
      The brightness of its bubble
      As it threads its silver way
      From the granite shoulders grey
            Of Ben-Dorain.

      Then down the sloping side
      It will slip with glassy slide,
            Gently welling,
      Till it gather strength to leap,
      With a light and foamy sweep,
      To the corrie broad and deep,
            Proudly swelling;
      Then bends amid the boulders,
      ’Neath the shadow of the shoulders
            Of the Ben,
      Through a country rough and shaggy,
      So jaggy and so knaggy,
      Full of hummocks and of hunches,
      Full of stumps and tufts and bunches,
      Full of bushes and of rushes,
            In the glen.
      Through rich green solitudes,
      And wildly hanging woods,
      With blossom and with bell,
      In rich redundant swell,
            And the pride
      Of the mountain-daisy there
      And the forest everywhere,
      With the dress and with the air
            Of a bride.

The number and variety of Macintyre’s compositions is very large,
all sorts of themes being regarded as fit for the exercise of his
poetic fancy. Like those of the Highland bards, however, his subjects
are generally more of local and personal than of the larger human
interests—a fact which is not at all surprising when his education,
calling, circumstances, and surroundings are considered.

Personal satires and eulogies, as well as the ordinary events of
Highland humble life and occupations, form the circle of themes with
which his muse is occupied. But wherever he gets the opportunity of
seizing upon new subjects he straightway rushes at them, and turns
them over in the rural though rich alembic of his intellectual and
ethical processes, with results which show shrewdness, sagacity, and
poetic powers of observation of a high order. In the corrie, on the
hillside, or after the chase, Duncan Bàn is at home, and his poetry
then rises to the highest pitch of the true pastoral. Elsewhere
his muse necessarily travels on lower planes. But, like all his
countrymen, inspired by visions of the great bens and far-reaching
valleys, he is ever eager to extend his sphere of observation as well
as his horizon of knowledge.

In his suggestive poem in _Praise of Dunedin_, or of Edinburgh, where
the patriarchal poet died at the good age of eighty-nine, there is
a current of pleasant and pawky observation which reminds us of
the great changes that have come over the Scottish capital as over
_Ben-Dorain_ of the poet’s “Farewell.” The following verses of a very
literal rendering describes the author’s impressions of what usually
attracted his gaze in “Bonnie Dunedin”:—

      There’s many a noble lady
        A poor man here may meet
      In gown of silk or satin
        That sweeps along the street;
      And every pretty thing wears stays,
        To keep her straight and spare;
      And beauty-spots on her fair face
        To make her still more rare.

      Each one, as well becomes her,
        Polite among the rest;
      And proud, and rich, and ribbony,
        And round and gaily dressed:
      The clothes on the young maidens
        Just showing to your eye
      A strong and pointed well-made shoe—
        I thought the heels too high.

      When I went into the Abbey,
        It was a noble sight
      To see the kings in order,
        From King Fergus, as was right;
      But now since they are gone from us,
        Our Alba wants the Crown—
      No wonder that her once gay court
        Is like a desert grown.

      There is a lantern made of glass,
        With a candle in each place,
      That yields a light to every eye
        Around a little space.
      Nor less a cause of pleasure
        Are the instruments they play,
      That give a sweeter music
        Than the cuckoo does in May.

It is difficult to say how far the recovery of the regalia, her
Majesty’s frequent residence in the Highlands, the crowds of tourists
northward every year, and, above all, the Home Rule movement, might
affect the sentiment of the line—

      “Our Alba wants the Crown”—

but undoubtedly in these days of gas illuminations and electric-light
glories, the “lantern made of glass with a candle” would be no “cause
of pleasure” to the most unsophisticated son of the mountains.

Macintyre composed an Elegy for himself, from which the following
expressions of a feeble faith are taken:—

      Loudly shall the trumpet peal
        With echoes in all quarters heard;
      From the fields shall wake the dead
        Left by others there interred;
      All that perished in distress
        In the storm or in the flood;
      To Mount Zion go the host
        To triumph through the Saviour’s blood.

      To the world I say farewell,
        To all there on pilgrimage;
      Light and gay I lived my season
        Until I am weak through age:
      Changèd now my powers be
        While death stares me in the face,
      As I pray for welfare yonder
        Savèd through my Saviour’s grace.

Contemporary with and immediately after the great singers Macdonald,
Mackay, and Macintyre were many other bards whose inspiration is
clearly traceable to their era. Some of them composed very largely,
although in many cases not more than one or two of their compositions
are remembered. Many of the composers were well educated, and had
they written in a language better understood in the world in general,
their names would have been better known. The present Highlanders,
while frequently singing their songs, do not know so much as the
names of the authors. The same may be said also of Lowlanders with
regard to many of their own songs.

RONALD MACDONALD.—The merits of this bard were overshadowed by the
great fame of his father, _Mac Mhaighstir Alasdair_. He was a man of
considerable attainments and of undoubted poetic gifts, and published
a selection of his own and his father’s poems in 1775. He was to
publish more, but did not meet with suitable encouragement.

LACHLAN MACPHERSON.—This writer, probably better known as
“Strathmasie,” his territorial designation, and described as a
gentleman and a scholar, was born about the year 1723, and died in
1767. He gave able assistance to James Macpherson of Ossianic fame in
his translations. The relation of Strathmasie to the work has been
a subject of very acrid discussion. His own acknowledged poems are
in good idiomatic Gaelic, and in style and metre are quite different
from the Gaelic poems of James Macpherson’s Ossian, but quite like
the poetry of the other Gaelic bards. In all his published poems
there is not a stanza or even a line _a la_ Ossian. In poetic power
and originality he is much behind Duncan Bàn and _Mac Mhaighstir
Alasdair_, but he has shown that he is quite able to write tolerable
poetry. The titles of his poems are—_An Elegy on Cluny_; _The
Fellowship of Usquebay_; _A Marriage_; _The Dun Breeks_; _A Hunting
Song_; _The Advice_; _An Amorous Piece_; _Satire on Mice_.

JOHN ROY STUART.—Colonel Stuart was a native of Kincardine in
Badenoch. He first served in the French army against the British
Government. He was afterwards with Prince Charles on the fatal moor
of Culloden. After lurking for some time in this country he managed
to escape to France, where he died. His signal bravery at Culloden
was observed by the Duke of Cumberland, who asked who he was: “Ah,
that is John Roy Stuart.” “Good God!” exclaimed the Duke, “the man I
left in Flanders doing the butcheries of ten heroes! Is it possible
that he could have dogged me here!” Stuart’s Poems—the principal
of them is on _Culloden Day_—are impetuous, racy, and vigorous.
An English bit of humorous verses, called _Roy Stuart’s Psalm_,
extemporised where he was hiding on one occasion, runs thus:—

      The Lord’s my targe, I will be stout,
        With dirk and trusty blade,
      Though Campbells come in flocks about,
        I will not be afraid.
      The Lord’s the same as heretofore,
        He’s always good to me,
      Though red-coats come a thousand more
        Afraid I will not be.

KENNETH MACKENZIE.—This bard was born in 1758 at _Caisteal Leahuir_,
near Inverness. When quite a young man he went to sea, but returned
in 1789, when he began to collect subscribers’ names for his proposed
volume of poetry. Some time after the publication of his poems he
was procured the rank of an officer in the 78th Highlanders, through
the joint influence of Lords Seaforth and Buchan. After leaving the
army he got the situation of postmaster in an Irish provincial town.
He was living in 1837. His poems are of an high order, polished,
smooth, and well-finished. One of his songs has become a universal
favourite—_Am Féile Preasach_.

ALLAN MACDOUGALL.—This highly popular bard, better known as _Ailein
Dall_, or Blind Allan, was born in Glencoe in 1750. His parents
were poor, so Allan, incapacitated by his infirmity of blindness
for the usual spheres of industry, turned his attention to music as
a means of livelihood. He soon became well known as a fiddler in
the district, and by engagements at country weddings and raffles
earned a little to support himself. The poems also he composed helped
to make him popular; and with the assistance of Mr E. MacLachlan,
latterly of Aberdeen, who was then a tutor in the neighbourhood, a
volume was prepared and published. Soon after this Colonel Ronaldson
Macdonald of Glengarry took the poet under his patronage. In 1828 he
travelled the counties of Argyll, Ross, and Inverness for subscribers
for a new edition of his poems, but after procuring 1000 names, and
going to press in 1829, the poor poet died. He was buried in the
churchyard of Kilfinan. He has been regarded as the last of the
family bards. He was a man of true poetic gifts; many of his songs
are still highly popular, such as—

      “Nam faighainn gille r’a cheannach.”

JAMES SHAW.—Poor James Shaw, otherwise called _Bard Lochuan-Eala_,
was born about 1758. He subsequently lived at Ardchattan, where he
received some kindness from General Campbell and his lady. He died in
1828 suddenly on board a steamboat when returning from Glasgow, where
he was trying to get his poems printed. He has been described as idle
and dissipated. _Bidh Fonn Oirre Daonnan_, one of his songs, is still
very popular.

DONALD MACDONALD.—Like the Bard of Lochnell this composer too fell a
victim to his own infirmities of character. Macdonald, also called
_Am Bard Conanach_, was born in 1780 in Strathconon, Ross-shire.
He was a sawyer by trade, which he pursued after he removed to
Inverness, where he did not fail to give scope to his convivial
disposition. His moral conceptions of things do not seem to have
been of a very high order, judging by his well-known song _Fhuair me
Sgeula moch an dè_.

ALEXANDER MACKINNON.—This composer, whose father was a farmer in
Morar, Arisaig, was born in 1770. Early in life he enlisted in the
92nd Regiment, and was present at the Battle of Alexandria in 1801,
where he was wounded. He was discharged, and enjoyed his pension for
some time; but disliking the quietness of civilian life, he again
joined the army, where he remained till he died at Fort-William in
1814. His principal poems are on _Landing in Egypt_, _The Battle of
Egypt_, and _The Battle of Holland_. These are characterised by much
poetic fire and warlike enthusiasm.

ANGUS FLETCHER.—This gentle and cultured bard, the author of the
highly popular production _Clachan ghlinn Daruadhail_, was born on
the west bank of Loch Eck, in Cowal, 1776. He was educated at the
parish school of Kilmodan. Afterwards he lived for some time in
Bute, till he became, in 1804, parochial schoolmaster of Dunoon. He
is also the author of some other songs that have become popular,
especially _The Lassie of the Glen_, which, in an English dress from
Fletcher’s own pen, is well-known. This song was first published in
the “Edinburgh Weekly Journal.”

ALLAN MACINTYRE.—Very few Highlanders have ever heard of this author.
Macintyre, known as _Ailein nan Sionach_, or fox-hunting Allan, was a
native of Kintyre. He published early in the century a small volume
of his own, and other poems, but few of his productions are now sung,
and his book is rather scarce.

DONALD MACLEOD.—This author published while he was still young a
volume of original and other poems in 1811. Young of Inverness was
the publisher, and probably he and others influenced the young author
in his selection of such pieces of questionable taste and authorship
as those of the _Ceisteir Crubach_ and _Mordubh_. MacLeod’s
productions are rated very highly by his countrymen who delight in
designating him, _Am Bard Sgiathanach_, or The Skye Bard. While
Macleod is undoubtedly a man of good poetic parts, he ranks much
below his far more distinguished and gifted son, Neil Macleod, whose
songs have deservedly taken a high place in popular esteem.


Other bards of various gifts, and authors of published volumes of
poetry during this period, are—

_Duncan Campbell_, who describes himself as a native of Kilmun,
Cowal, published a “Gaelic Song Book” at Cork, 1798.

_John Macgregor_, published a volume of 227 pages in 1801, at
Edinburgh. There is none of decided merit.

_Angus Kennedy_, a native of Ardgour, Argyllshire, published a volume
at Glasgow in 1808. One or two of his songs have become very popular.

_William Gordon_, a native of Creich, Sutherlandshire, published a
volume of 156 pages in 1802. He was a soldier, and in his latter days
composed religious hymns.

_Margaret Macgregor’s_ poems appear in Mackintosh’s Collection in
1831.

There were many other composers of one or a few songs or poems which
may be found in various collections of whom we know little or nothing
more than their mere names. To this class belong Donald Macintyre of
North Argyll, George Morison of the far North, William MacMurchie of
Kintyre, Alexander Macinnes of Glencoe, Maclachlan of Kilbride, and
some female composers who are only known as the wives or daughters
of men described as of certain localities. There does not appear to
have been a parish or clachan in the Highlands and Isles that has not
brought forth its own singer.


WILLIAM ROSS.

This sensitive and delightful poet was born at Broadford, Isle of
Skye, in 1762. He received good education at the parish school of
Forres, where he highly distinguished himself. He made a particular
study of his native language, and was also well acquainted with
Latin and Greek. He sang sweetly, and played on the violin, flute,
and other instruments with considerable skill. He became parish
schoolmaster of Gairloch, Ross-shire, where he was a very successful
teacher. He did not fill this situation, however, very long. He died
of consumption in 1790, in the twenty-eighth year of his age. His
early death is said to have been hastened by a love disappointment.
In _Cuachag nan Eraobh_, one of his best-known songs, he indulges in
melancholy and painful reflections. It is addressed to a cuckoo that
settled on the branch of a tree beside him. He remembers his false
love and sings:—

      Nought to me but a sting all her bright beauties bring—
        I droop with decay, and I languish;
      There’s a pain at my heart like a pitiless dart,
        And I waste all away with anguish.

      She has stolen the hue on my young cheeks that grew,
        And much she has caused my sorrow;
      Unless now she renew with her kindness that hue
        Death will soon bid me “Good morrow.”

Death did soon bid poor Ross “good morrow” and in this song, like
Michael Bruce, he sang his own elegy. How pathetically the poet cries
in the prospect of death!—

      If she were thus low, with what haste should I go
        To ask how the maiden was faring:
      Now short the delay till a mournful array
        The brink of my grave will be bearing!

Ross is a poet of a high order, and one of the sweetest minstrels
the Highlands have produced. Many of his songs are highly popular.
The exquisite sweetness and finish of Ross appear in his praise of
the “Highland Maid,” the first two stanzas of which are rendered as
follows by Mr Angus Macphail, whose early death has been a loss to
Gaelic literature:—

      My pretty Highland maiden,
        With tresses golden bright,
      And blue eyes softly shading,
        And soft hands snowy white;
      O’er Scotland’s hills and plains
        With thee I fain would go,
      Wrapped in our native tartan plaids
        That in the breezes flow.

      Give me my Highland dress,
        ’Tis grand beyond compare;
      Give me my Highland maid,
        Sweet, smiling, young, and fair;
      Then banish sleep and care,
        From eve to rosy morn,
      In happy love beneath our plaid,
        The proudest dress that’s worn.

Ross is one of the best known and best loved of all the Gaelic bards.
His career, so similar to that of Keats, ends so prematurely and
pathetically that his memory has become engraven on the hearts of all
who hear his story and love to sing his songs.


EWEN MACLACHLAN.

Ewen MacLachlan, a poet of real culture, sweetness, and light, was
born in 1775, in Torracaltin, Coiruanan, where his ancestors, who
originally came from Morven, were for several generations. His
great-grandfather was a bard of note. He was educated first in the
parish school of Fort-William, and afterwards in King’s College,
Aberdeen. While carrying on his studies he was tutor successively in
the family of Cameron of Camishy, in that of Cameron of Clunes, and
in that of Macmillan of Glenpean. He distinguished himself highly at
school and at the University, especially in classics. He intended
to enter the Church, but on the eve of taking license some friends
dissuaded him from taking the step, recommending him to wait, and aim
at a professorial chair. Among these was the gentle author of “The
Minstrel,” Professor Beattie, who thought much of MacLachlan, and
became his fast friend. In 1798 MacLachlan published some of his own
productions in Allan Dall’s volume, which he himself committed to
writing for the Blind Bard. These were the “Songs of the Seasons,”
etc., and several books of Homer’s Iliad translated into Gaelic
heroic verse. In 1818 he published his “Metrical Effusions,” where
Greek, Latin, English, and Gaelic poems appear. He was engaged by
the Highland Society of Scotland to compile a Gaelic dictionary. For
this work he was eminently qualified, being intimately acquainted
with old Gaelic, as well as with Eastern and classical languages.
He died before the work was finished, in 1822, in the 47th year of
his age. When he died he was head master of the Grammar School of
Old Aberdeen, a post for which his classical attainments peculiarly
fitted him. A love-song by MacLachlan—_Gur gile mo Leannan_—is still
among the most popular in the language. He himself has furnished
us with an English equivalent, which will give a fair idea of the
more tender qualities of his genius. These simple and pretty verses,
usually sung to a plaintive air, come to us laden with the purity and
freshness of the mountain breeze:—

      Not the swan on the lake, or the foam on the shore,
      Can compare with the charms of the maid I adore;
      Not so white is the new milk that flows o’er the pail,
      Or the snow that is show’r’d from the boughs of the vale.

      As the cloud’s yellow wreath on the mountain’s high brow,
      The locks of my fair one redundantly flow;
      Her cheeks have the tint that the roses display.
      When they glitter with dew on the morning of May.

      As the planet of Venus that gleams o’er the grove,
      Her blue rolling eyes are the symbols of love;
      Her pearl-circled bosom diffuses bright rays,
      Like the moon, when the stars are bedimm’d with her blaze.

      The mavis and lark, when they welcome the dawn,
      Make a chorus of joy to resound through the lawn;
      But the mavis is tuneless—the lark strives in vain,
      When my beautiful charmer renews her sweet strain.

      When summer bespangles the landscape with flow’rs,
      While the thrush and the cuckoo sing soft from the bowr’s,
      Through the wood-shaded windings with Bella I’ll rove,
      And feast unrestrain’d on the smiles of my love.

MacLachlan counted a number of distinguished men among his
friends—among others, Alexander, Duke of Gordon; the late Glengarry,
Sir John Sinclair, Dr Gregory, and Lord Bannatyne Macleod. His
funeral was attended by the Professors of the University and
Magistrates of the city to show their respect. His remains were
removed to his native Lochaber for burial. On the way to the burial
place at Killievaodain in Ardgour the hearse was met and accompanied
to the last resting-place by Glengarry and a number of his clansmen
dressed in their native garb. Few of MacLachlan’s talents and culture
in modern times have devoted their energies to the cultivation of
Gaelic literature. There is a reason: the practical spirit of the
nineteenth century has, perhaps desirably, cooled even the enthusiasm
of bardic natures.


JOHN MACLEAN.

Among the bards of some note who flourished in the first quarter of
this century is John MacLean, usually styled the Laird of Coll’s
Bard. He is one of the last of the order of family bards, or
senachies. But the office in his case does not appear to have been
of much advantage to himself—it was more honourable and ornamental
than remunerative. MacLean was born in the Island of Tiree in 1787.
As an instance of the tenacity with which Highlanders cleave to the
traditional pedigrees of their families, it maybe mentioned that he
traced himself back through the MacLeans of Treisinnis, of Ardgour,
and of Duart to the great _Hector Roy of the Battles_, who was killed
at Harlaw in 1411. But this is a small claim as compared with that
advanced by a Dublin schoolmaster, John O’Hart, who, in a pamphlet
dedicated to her Majesty Queen Victoria, whom he regards somewhat
as a fellow-sovereign, pretends to trace his pedigree to the mighty
monarchs of Eire who once reigned in “Tara’s Hall!” MacLean published
a collection of poetry, most of the pieces being his own composition,
in 1818; another volume of his own poems appeared at Antigonish in
1836. His works complete have since been issued in excellent style
under the title of “Clàrsach na Coille” (Harp of the Wood), edited
with intelligence and care by the Rev. A. M. Sinclair of Nova Scotia,
whose Gaelic scholarship and enthusiasm are well known on this side
of the Atlantic. It is said that “in the poet’s younger days the
people of Tiree led merry lives; they did not trouble themselves with
hard work; they had, however, plenty to eat and drink. The island was
full of distilleries, and whisky-drinking was carried on to a very
great extent. There were capital dancers in the place, and certainly
these men did not allow their legs to become stiff through want
of exercise upon the floor.” This picture of island-life suggests
the material which was frequently the source of inspiration to
bardic lucubrations. After learning the trade of shoemaking, MacLean
started for Glasgow, where he married. In 1810 he was drafted into
the militia, but was discharged next year. In 1819 he emigrated to
Nova Scotia, where he lived till the year 1848, much respected and
appreciated by all his countrymen who knew him. It appears that
MacLean has composed religious poetry, though little known—some of
his hymns being printed in Glasgow in 1835. Here is an account of
this side of his nature: “It was not till he had been several years
in Barney’s River that he turned his attention to this species of
composition. His hard lot in this world no doubt tended to direct his
attention to a better world. He had always led a good moral life—a
more truthful or a more honest could not be found. He had always
observed the worship of God regularly in his family.” MacLean is a
bard of considerable powers, but cannot be compared with the bards
whose names are known wherever the Gaelic language is spoken. One
song of his has been highly popular, mainly because of the sweet air
that is attached to it. The following verses will show the manner of
the song, _Och a rùin gur tu air m’aire_:—

      Each day I sigh here a lonely stranger,
        I cannot sing with my heart love-laden;
      I was right foolish to give my promise
        To her of Canna, the youthful maiden.

      It was with gladness I left the island,
        Home of my childhood and my devotion,
      To seek the gold here that may be found not
        In those bare islands amid the ocean.

      How proud and happy I was with Allan
        Beginning work in the gray of morning;
      ’Twere better far to be there than labour
        A lonely stranger ’neath Lowland scorning.

      I would not stay in my native island,
        To my ambition the land was narrow;
      When Lowland lasses inquire in English,
        I say in Gaelic, “I came from Barra.”

This song is so painfully simple and commonplace, notwithstanding
its popularity, that it can scarcely bear translation at all, unless
the translator is permitted to introduce some of the stock sentiment
and phraseology of the muse. One of MacLean’s best pieces is on
the _Laird of Coll’s Boat_. Another of more than average merit was
written shortly after his arrival in Nova Scotia. It shows the bard
ill at ease in his new surroundings in the _Coille Ghruamach_, or
Gloomy Wood. It opens thus:—

      I stray alone in these woods of shadows,
      My thoughts are restless, I feel in pain;
      This place conflicts with the laws of nature,
      My strength forsakes me in heart and brain.
      I cannot sing the old songs of Albin,
      My bosom saddens to hear their strain;
      My Gaelic dies since I speak no longer
      That tongue still cherished beyond the main.

      Alas! small wonder although I sorrow
      Behind the hills in this gloomy wood,
      In this lone desert by Barney’s River,
      _With bare potatoes alone for food_.
      Ere cultivation is seen rejoicing
      O’er all the land and the trees are cleared,
      My strength will fail in an arm exhausted
      While yet the children are left unreared.

MacLean is one of the last of the old order of bards. His poetry
shows little or no trace of English reading; and the theme of the
majority of his poems is the praise of the Laird of Coll or some
kindred chieftain. Very appropriately might the happy couplet of Sir
Walter Scott describing the old and infirm minstrels of other days be
applied to MacLean—

     “A simple race! they waste their toil,
      For the vain tribute of a smile.”

It ought to be mentioned, however, that the Laird of Coll showed
on more than one occasion that he did not forget his enthusiastic
senachie.

[Illustration: (decorative end-of-chapter icon)]




CHAPTER XIV.

POPULAR SONGS.

     “Ho gur toigh leam! he gur toigh leam!
      Ho gur toigh leam féin a’ Ghàilig!
      ’S toigh leam i ’sgach àit am bi mi;
      Bheir i ann am chuimhn’ a’ Ghàidlh’ltachd.”
                             —CHORUS OF POPULAR SONG.

  ENGLISH:

      _Ho, I love the sweet old Gaelic!_
        _It reminds me of the Highlands,_
      _Hay, I love that tongue of heroes,_
        _Everywhere in far or nigh lands._


Considerable activity was shown in the beginning of this century in
collecting the floating mass of poetry then extant in the Highlands.
Celtic patriots who dreaded the immediate decease of the ancient
language of Albin set themselves in praiseworthy fashion to the task
of rescuing this popular literature from the devouring jaws of time
and change. A brief survey of the various publications which were
the practical outcome of this happy determination will exhibit no
unworthy results. These results, in many cases achieved at great
self-sacrifice, are more deserving of notice when it is remembered
how expensive it was then to publish bulky volumes, especially in
the Gaelic language, and how limited was the constituency to whose
support the persistent patriots appealed. Their devotion to their
venerable mother-tongue, supposed to be on her death-bed, deserves
our gratitude; and if their ghosts occasionally revisit in the
glimpses of the moon, the scenes of their self-denying labours, they
must be gratified to hear still the echoes of their much-loved tongue
resounding as of yore through the glens and by the seashore as well
as in crowded halls in our large centres of population. Peace be to
their names! and long may the torch of Gaelic enthusiasm, which they
kept lighted, and handed down to us, be preserved a burning power in
the bosoms of our Highland countrymen.

It is not proposed to do here much more than the mere enumeration of
some of these collections of poetry. This itself will be sufficient,
along with the array of Gaelic bards that have already passed in
review before us, to show further how unfounded is the general dictum
that there is no Gaelic literature—no books in the language of the
Highlander.

Some popular songs of this period are—“Mairi Dhonn” and “Mairi
Ghreannar,” by Kenneth Mackenzie of Lochbroom; “’Scanail m’Aigne,”
and “Soraidh Slàn do’n Ailleagan,” by the brothers William and
Alexander Mackenzie, of Lochcarron; “An Làr Dhonn,” by Murdoch
Mackenzie, of Achilty, Ross-shire; “Thug mi’n Oidhche raoir san
Airidh,” by John Macgillivray; “Gaor nam Ban Muileach,” by Margaret
Maclean of Mull; “O’n tha mi fo Mhuladh air m’Aineol,” by the Rev.
Charles Stewart, D.D., of Strachur; “Nighean Donn na Buaile,” by
the Rev. Duncan Macfarlane, latterly of Perth; “Gu ma slàn a chì
Mi,” by Hector Mackenzie, an Ullapool sailor; “A Nighean Bhui Bhan,”
by Donald Macinnes; “Mo run geal Og,” by Christina Ferguson, of
Contin; “Thainig an Gille Dubh,” by Lady Malcolm Raasay; “A Mhairi
Bhòidheach,” by a North Uist schoolmaster; “Moladh Caber-Féidh,”
by Norman Macleod of Assynt, whose two sons, Professor Macleod of
Glasgow and the Rev. Augus Macleod of Rogart, were well known last
century.

Anonymous pieces are many: “An Gille Dubh ciar Dubh,” “Mo Nighean
Chruinn Donn;” “Fear a’ Bhàta;” “Cuir a Chinn Dìleas;” “An Nochd gur
faoin mo Chadal domh;” “Och mar tha Mi;” “Ho-ro Eileinich, Ho-gu”
(the three last being evidently composed by Islaymen); “Tha Tigh’n
Fodham” (MacDhughail, ’ic Lachuin?), a verse of which Boswell boasted
of being able to sing when he was with Johnson on his tour in the
Hebrides. The popular collections of songs will supply many more.

Since 1812 the following collections of miscellaneous pieces of
poetry have appeared:—P. Macfarlane’s (1813); in this volume was
first published a part of MacLachlan’s translation of Homer (the
3rd Book). P. Turner’s (1813), mostly culled from the works of the
well-known heroic bards. H. and J. MacCallum’s (1816), principally
Ossianic or heroic ballads. J. MacLean’s (1818), containing much
original matter. Inverness collection (1821, Fraser); James Munro’s
_Ailleagan_ (1830), which has maintained its popularity all along.
Other small things appeared early in the century—_Eoin Bheag nan
Creagaibh Aosda_ (1819); _Ceilleirean Binn nan Creagan Aosda_ (1819),
and a choice collection of Scotch Songs with Gaelic translations
(Inverness, 1829). “The Harp of Caledonia,” “An t-Aosdana,” “The
Mountain Songster,” “An Duanaire,” have been published more
recently, and are still in circulation. The most valuable of all the
collections is “The Beauties of Gaelic Poetry”—a magnificent volume,
on which much labour was spent, by John Mackenzie. The productions
of many of the Gaelic bards are given in this work, along with
biographical notices, and much critical and explanatory matter.
Mackenzie, who was a native of Wester Ross, was a man of great talent
and industry; but his æsthetic and moral tastes not being of a high
order, he allowed many pieces of an immoral tendency to appear,
which somewhat marred the work. It is the _magnum opus_ of Gaelic
literature. The “Oranaiche,” by Archibald Sinclair (1879) is another
large and excellent work, which does great credit to the compiler
and publisher. With the exception of the “Beauties,” which is of a
different sort, there is no collection in Gaelic like Sinclair’s,
whether we regard the variety, the extent, and the quality of the
contents.

While the “Beauties” contain the best productions of the principal
bards during the last three hundred years, the “Oranaiche,” gives
us the better known songs of the present century, many of the
lyrics being the compositions of living writers, from whom Mr
Sinclair, often at very considerable trouble to himself, obtained
the manuscripts, and took down the words at the author’s or others’
dictation. There are two hundred and ninety songs in this handsome
volume, many of them very long—a general characteristic of Gaelic
songs—and not a few, it must be admitted, more of the nature of
poems than of lyrics. The songs in this collection are of all
sorts—humorous, patriotic, satiric, and sentimental. The latter class
predominates; indeed, it constitutes three-fifths of the whole. In
considering the range of poetic culture discernible in this volume,
it is remarkable to note the almost total absence of martial songs.
The bards of this century would appear to have been baptised in the
perennial stream of the tender passion of which they sing with such
evidently luscious delight. This is the one great theme which they
take up with the devotion of their whole being. Another subject
which here and there gives a tinge of sadness to the book is the
depopulation of the Highlands, which is so fitted, like the troubles
of a jilted and suffering lover, to elicit, in all its intensity,
the melancholic element in the Celtic nature. _Mac-na-bracha_ (Son
of Malt) also comes in for frequent and hearty praise, drinking
_Deoch-slainte_ being capable at all times of invoking in many
Highland bosoms the purest and most generous feelings and sympathies.
It ought to be observed, however, as Sheriff Nicolson suggests in
his excellent volume of Gaelic proverbs, that although _usqueba_
is so much identified with the failings of the modern Highlander,
this exhilarating beverage was almost unknown to the Gael until
last century, the drink known till then being mostly “fion dearg na
Frainc,” _the red wine of France_. It has been remarked above, that
this volume does not present us with many martial lyrics. This fact
reminds us of the great change that has come over the Highlands. The
obvious explanation is that the warlike ardour which was wont to
flow forth in battle incitements has been toned down by the altered
circumstances of the people since the day of Culloden, and runs now
into the natural stream of the tender passion. On the other hand, if
we go back to the days of Finian chivalry we find a martial element
in all the productions of the bards; and this continued largely to
prevail as long as the Gael habitually carried about with him his
claymore, ready to fight for his person or follow his chief to the
field.

One of the best, and the only genuine martial song in the
“Oranaiche,” is the first in the volume, _Buaidh leis na Seoid_,
by Alexander Macgregor, schoolmaster at Dull. It contains sixteen
stanzas of four lines of twelve syllables in length, and having a
chorus takes a long time to sing it; but the martial enthusiasm it
breathes, along with many suggestive historical references, are such
that audiences sit frequently spellbound till the whole piece is
rehearsed. Of the humorous pieces in the volume mention may be made
of _The Dun Horse_, _The Minister and the Bailie_, and _The Advent
of an Escaped Irish Balloon on the shore of one of the Hebrides_.
The author of the last-mentioned represents the whole island as in
commotion when the monster approached the shore—old men and old women
taking for granted that this could be no less a personage than the
devil himself, who came at last to claim his own.

There are upwards of fifty names of composers in the “Oranaiche,”
many of whom are still living, and who are not known on the pages of
another book. With this fact before us surely it cannot be affirmed
that the race of bards is gone. I was once present at a meeting of a
Highland Association in Glasgow, where I was informed there were no
less than six bards, authors of published, well-known songs. It is
difficult to conceive how so many of the irritable genius could work
in harmony or dwell together in unity and in poetic brotherhood.
Among the fifty above-mentioned occur the following less known Celtic
names:—Lady D’Olyly D. Orr, MacMurchie, MacPhail, Macroy, MacLugas,
MacAffer, Wilkinson, etc. etc. Let us now glance at some of the
best-known songs.

_Gu ma Slan a chi Mi_, the composition of an Ullapool sailor, the air
of which is very pretty, is a highly popular song. I have tried to
render some verses of it thus:—

      Full happy may I see thee,
        My faithful auburn maid!
      Sweet girl with flowing tresses
        In pretty smiles arrayed.
      My soul was oft-uplifted
        By words thy lips have said;
      And oft by strains of gladness
        My fluttering heart allayed.

      This night to me how dreary
        Upon the ocean tide!
      My slumber is full cheerless—
        To thee my fancies glide.
      Without thee here I sorrow,
        My thoughts are at thy side;
      I pine away in anguish
        Till thou become my bride.

      Warm eyes are thine like berries,
        With lashes sweetly lined;
      Fresh cheeks are thine like rowans,
        In loveliness enshrined.
      My heart is filled with fondness
        For one so true and kind;
      And ever since I left thee,
        The days like years I find.

      ’Twas said I shunn’d thee, dearest,
        Ere hither I was borne;
      My kiss that I denied thee
        While leaving thee forlorn.
      Let no such tale, dear, grieve thee,
        Reject their speech with scorn;
      Thy breath to me smells sweeter
        Than dewy grass in morn.

Some of the most popular songs are anonymous. _Ho-ro Eileinich_
belongs to this class, and is a great favourite at large Highland
gatherings on account of the swinging character of the air and metre.
Here are a few verses:—

      O, green island of the sea!
      Native home, I love but thee:
      Fairest fields of earth that be,—
        The bonnie braes of Landai.

      There afar I see Ardmore,
      Home of game that I adore;
      There my heart is evermore
        Among the hills of Landai.

      Thy dark brow though rocky be,
      Early shines the sun on thee;
      Heights of deer! I long to see
        Beyond the shore of Landai.

      Oft there fell beneath my hand,
      Spotted seal upon the sand;
      Snowy swans upon the strand,
        And heathcocks in fair Landai.

      O! I love thee, Islay green,
      Of my youthful days the scene;
      Where the best of men have been
        Who loved the songs of Landai.

One of the finest songs in the language is _Muile nam Mor Bheann_, or
Mull of the High Hills. On account of its peculiarity of metre, it
does not lend itself readily to easy translation. Some of its verses
run thus:—

      In Mull of the woods there lives the maiden
      For whom my poor heart is now love-laden:
      Though dead be that love like joys of Eden
      I woo no lasses in Cowal.

                CHORUS.

        All cheerless and lonely here I sorrow;
        No fond ray of hope is seen each morrow,
        My heart has refused fresh love to borrow;
        It turns to the wood-crowned island.

      Like beautiful sheen of rosy morning
      The glow of thy cheek is sweetly burning;
      The troth of my love if thou art spurning
      Soon linen and sods will shroud me.

      For thine is the charm that wins devotion
      The graces of form that wake emotion,
      As bright as the sea-gull on the ocean,
      Or cannach on brows of Morven.

      Were mine thy fond kiss I’d cease repining,
      Thy love would restore my health declining,
      O! let me behold the beauties shining
      Around the maiden of Morven.

A glance into the _Oranaiche_ and other collections of Gaelic songs
will reveal to the casual student of Gaelic literature what vast
treasures of lyrics the language contains. These songs admirably
exhibit the emotional lyrical spirit of the Gael, and leads us to
much of the source of the genius of song which has rendered Scotland
so deservedly renowned.

The Rev. Angus Macintyre, late of Kinlochspelvie, composed several
poems of great merit. His love-song, “O’s runach leam an ribhinn
donn,” is very pretty. A translation by Mr H. Whyte will be found
in an interesting little volume recently published, “The Celtic
Garland.” Here are some verses:—

      I dearly love my auburn maid
        That dwells behind the mountain,
      At eve I’ll meet her in the glade,
        To roam by dell and fountain.

      Though here with hounds I chase the deer,
        Where streamlets bright meander,
      To yonder glen, where dwells my dear,
        My thoughts will ever wander.

      The birds that round about me fly,
        Pour forth their notes of gladness;
      While here alone I sit and sigh
        In sorrow and in sadness.

      Her hair around her shoulders flows
        With graceful waving motion,
      Her snow-white bosom heaving goes
        Like sea-gull on the ocean.

One of the popular songs and airs among Highlanders is that of
“Finary.” The verses that have become so well-known in connection
with this song are not those to which the air was attached
originally. The original song was “Irinn àrinn u horo,” by Allan
Macdougall, a lyric of fair merit, but which has never attained to
anything like the popularity of “Finary.” The author of “Finary”
appropriated an air already popular, like the author of “Màiri
Laghach.” The reputed author of “Finary” is the elder Dr Norman
Macleod, and certainly the theme of the song is founded on an event
in his personal history. It is a farewell to Finary, where the manse
of his father was situated, in Morven, on the occasion of Norman
leaving home to attend the first session at Glasgow University. The
sentiment is very pathetic and natural, and very readily lays hold
of the tenderest chords of the heart of the home-loving Highlander.
There is something about it, the antiquarian reference to the past,
and its touches descriptive of natural scenery, which remind us of
the genius of Macleod. Yet it has been doubted whether he was the
author of the original English version—the English one being regarded
as the original. Mr Neil Campbell, of County Down, now of Glasgow,
a man who knows a good deal of generally unknown facts relating to
the Gaelic literature of this century, once told the writer that the
Rev. Mr Kelly, of Campbeltown, once Dr Macleod’s friend and colleague
in that town, was the author of the English version, which, apart
from the home-loving sentiment and air, is rather poor poetry. The
following is the first verse, which shows reason but the veriest
imperfection of rhyme:—

      The wind is fair, the day is _fine_;
      Swiftly, swiftly runs the _time_;
      The boat is floating on the _tide_.
        That wafts me off from Finary.

But apart from the artistic execution of the verses, the sweet,
high-souled, and patriotic sentiments conveyed in them would always
recommend them to the warm-hearted and emotional Gael. The history
of “Fionnairidh” has always seemed to me something like that of “God
Save the Queen,” or “The Address to the Cuckoo.” The names of Bruce
and Lowe are connected with the last just as those of Macleod and
Kelly are with the first. One of the few who could authoritatively
decide the precise authorship of “Fionnairidh”—was that true and
highly-gifted Highlander the late Dr John Macleod of Morven; and also
his learned relative Dr Clerk of Kilmailie, who could write with
accuracy of the different versions, English and Gaelic, of _Eirich
agus tiugainn, O_.

The following Gaelic version—eight stanzas, there are four more—are
given as they came through the hands of the late Archibald Sinclair,
who had probably something to do with it. It was first printed on
a leaflet, was then copied into the “Gael” in 1872, and has been
several times published in whole or in part since:—

      Tha ’n latha maith, ’s an soirbheas ciùin;
      Tha ’n nine ruith, ’s an t-àm dhuinn-dlùith;
      Tha ’m bat’ ’g am fheitheamh fo a siùil,
        Gu’ m thoirt a null o Fhionn-Airidh.

      Tha ioma mìle ceangal blath
      Mar shaighdean ann am féin an sas;
      Mo chridhe ’n impis a bhi sgaint’
        A chionn bhi fagail Fionn-Airidh.

      Bu tric a ghabh me scriob leam fhéin,
      Mu ’n cuairt air lùchairt Fhinn an tréin;
      ’S a dh’éisd mi sgeulachdan na Féinn
        ’G an cur an céill am Fionn-Airidh.

      ’S bu tric a sheall mi feasgair Mairt
      Far am biodh Oisein sinn a dhan;
      A’ comhead gréin’ aig ioma tra
        Dol seach gach la ’s mi ’m Fionn-Airidh.

      Beannachd le athair mo ghraidh,
      Bidh mi cuimhneah ort gu brath,
      Ghuidhinn gach sonas is agh
        Do ’n t-seaun fhear bhan am Fionn-Airidh.

      Mo mhathair!—’s ionmhuin t’ ainm r ’a luaidh—
      Am feum mi tearbadh uait cho luath?
      Is falbh a’m’ allabanach truagh
        An cian uait féin ’s o Fhionn-Airidh!

      Soraidh leatsa, brathair chaoin,
      Is fòs le peathraichibh mo ghaoil;
      Cuiribh bròn is deôir a thaobh
        ’S biodh aoibh oirbh ann am Fionn-Airidh.

      Beannachd le beanntaibh mo ghaoil!
      Far am faigh mi fiadh le lagh:
      Gu ma fad’ an coileach-fraoich
        A’ glaodhaich ann am Fionn-Airidh.

The chorus consists of _Eirich agus tiugainn, O_, “Let us rise and
come away,” repeated three times, with a fourth line, “Farewell,
farewell to Finary.” The following rendering is an adaptation by the
writer. The form “Finorie” is used to preserve a sort of sympathetic
sympathy with and likeness to terms with similar endings in Lowland
ballads, such as “Glenorie,” etc. This form has also more sympathy
with the music:—

  TRANSLATION:

      The day is good, the wind is fair;
      The sands of time the hour declare;
      There rides the boat that hence will bear
        Me far away from Finorie.

      A thousand ties my soul enchain;
      Like arrows they awaken pain;
      My heart is nearly broke in twain
        Since I must leave thee, Finorie.

      Often alone I sought the hold
      Where mighty Fingal lived of old;
      Often I heard long legends told
        Of Finian deeds in Finorie.

      Often I viewed at Eve the spring
      Where Ossian tuned his harp to sing;
      Where sheen of gold the sun did bring
      Upon the heights of Finorie.

      Farewell, dear father, best of men,
      Far from me in the Highland glen!
      Heav’n smile on thee till back again
      I come to see dear Finorie.

      Mother! a name to me most dear;
      To lose thy tender care I fear;
      But in my snareful journey here
      I think of thee and Finorie.

      O brother of my love, adieu!
      Dear sisters, hide your grief from view;
      Your tears suppress, your joys renew;
      Be happy while at Finorie.

      Farewell, ye mountains capp’d with snow;
      Ye wild resorts of deer and roe;
      Long may the heath-cock live to crow
      Among the braes of Finorie.

But matters are still further complicated in connection with this
favourite song. A gentleman from North Argyll assured the writer
that another Gaelic version was in general circulation long ago
in Mull and Morven. This might have been the original one by Dr
Macleod himself, from which Kelly translated; and the fact that the
original chorus, “_Eirich agus tiugainn O_,” has been known only in
Gaelic favours this supposition. Surely old folks in Morven must
still be able to repeat this supposed original version if it ever
had existence. If so, it is to be hoped that some one will take the
trouble of giving it to the world. But whoever the author was, the
song has obtained unquestionable hold of the Highland heart, no doubt
largely because it refers to an early event in the history of the
“Highlander’s friend,” the good, genial, and large hearted Norman
Macleod.

Poetry like that of A Mackay, of Moyhall (1821), of Archibald Grant,
of Glenmoriston (1863), of John Macinnes (1875), Callum Macphail
(1879), and of John Macfadyen (1890), shows excellent ease in
verse-making, and no small amount of humour at times; but it does not
demand serious examination. That so many volumes should be published
indicates much activity and energy on the part of an obscure Gaelic
muse.

Another bard of the name of Grant may be mentioned as belonging
to this class. Many of the popular lyrics have been composed by
authors who have not given us more than one or two songs. _Mo
Nighean Dubh_ was written by the Rev. Mr Morrison of Petty; _Mairi
Laghach_, by John Macdonald of Lochbroom; _Bonneid is it_, by
A. Macalister of Islay; _Eilein an Fhraoich_, by M. MacLeod of
Lewis. The mass of lyrics of this class is something enormous.
When translated into English they are felt to be simple—sometimes
painfully simple—metrical inartistic utterances of love-enkindled
hearts. Attached to tender and often very pretty airs they have lived
on the lips of thousands, and have cheered weary workers in the
field and at the fireside. Of the nameless class of plaintive lilts
is the following:—_Mo Run Geal Dileas_, well known throughout the
Highlands. There are many versions of it, and the number of verses
is scarcely ever the same. The chorus is rather unintelligible, and
may have belonged to an earlier set of verses. The verses translated
give a very fair conception of the merits and the spirit of the
original. Like the Laureate’s _Mariana_, many of these Highland
singers show much of the “a-weary, a-weary” condition of soul, and
people of pretended lofty moral culture condemn the poor lyrists for
manifesting such excess of feeling.

      My faithful fair one, my own, my loved one,
        My faithful fair one, return again;
      O, I return not! my love, I may not;
        For my own dear one is weak with pain.

      O, that I were in the form of sea-gull,
        That swims so lightly upon the sea;
      Soon would I leave for the isle of Islay,
        Where lives the maiden that grieved me.

      O, that I were with the best of maidens!
        In pleasant glades of the mountain side;
      With none to hear us but woodland songsters,
        I’d kiss my own one with loving pride.

      I was a season in foreign regions—
        In sunny climes that are far away;
      None with thy beauty my eye could find there;
        And with the fairest I would not stay.

      I will not strive with the tree that bends not,
        Though on its branch-tops sweet apples grow;
      Farewell be with thee, if thou hast left me,
        Ne’er came an ebb-tide without a flow.

_Mairi Laghach_ has become a great favourite, and has been translated
more than once. The author was John Macdonald, latterly of Crobeg,
in Lewis. He adopted the chorus of an inferior song which a _Muracha
nam Bo_ composed for his own daughter, who did not seem to elicit
much admiration from the ungallant bachelors in the neighbourhood.
Macdonald took up the air and composed the set of verses that are
now so popular. It is worthy of remark that in his case also the
subject of his song was a baby, and not a grown-up girl or woman.
Steering his barque across the Minch his thoughts reverted to the
friendly home he left behind him in Stornoway, and anxious to examine
his poetic gifts he composed his song to _Wee Mary_, as it might be
rendered, who then could not walk. Eventually she became his wife.
Once on a visit to Ireland, the author was surprised to hear, while
he himself was still a young man, his own song sung in an adjoining
room, which shows how readily a song that catches the popular ear and
taste will travel.

An endeavour is made to be as literal as possible in the following
translation, which must necessarily want much of the aroma of the
original:—

      Early roved my Mary
        With me through Glen-Smeoil,
      When young love’s keen arrow
        Pierced me to the soul.
      With such living fervour
        We together drew,
      That none under heaven
        Ever loved so true.

      Oftentimes with Mary
        To the hill I strayed,
      Innocent and happy
        Through the grassy glade:
      Cupid ever busy
        Teaching us to love,
      As we rested fondly
        In the sun-lit grove.

      Though the wealth of Albin
        Were assigned to me,
      How could I be happy,
        Dear one, without thee?
      I would rather kiss thee,
        As my own true bride,
      Than possess the treasures
        Found in Europe wide.

      Thine the snowy bosom,
        Filled with love for me,
      Breast of beauty fairer
        Than the swan on sea:
      With the lovely tresses
        Round thy ears that stray,
      Golden curly wavelets
        In their fond array.

      All the pomp of princes
        Did our pride surpass,
      With our bed of grandeur
        On the leaves and grass:
      Flowers of the desert
        Heart and soul to feed;
      Streamlets from the mountains
        Nourishing each seed.

      Nought that men invented—
        Pipe nor harp—could play
      Music with the sweetness
        Of our love-born lay:
      With the larks above us,
        Thrushes on the spray,
      Cuckoos in the greenwood
        Warbling to the May.

It is of course impossible to preserve the music of the original in
any translation; the renderings given above are intended merely to
indicate something of the spirit of the lyric treasures enshrined
in Gaelic. Any one turning to our collections of poetry, especially
to Sinclair’s “Oranaiche,” will at once see that the Highlands are
as rich as the Lowlands in song literature, and that the poetry
produced, is of an equally high order. There are hundreds of pieces
nameless and claimless on the lips of thousands which will continue
to be sung as long as there will be a tongue to speak the Gaelic
language. Such has been the poetic literature which for ages the Gael
has chiefly loved and cherished, and the better recognition of which
would enable the Highlander and Lowlander alike to show to the world
a body of song such as no country of the size of Scotland has ever
yet produced. Many suppose that the ancient language of Caledonia is
dead or dying;—it was never read nor written so extensively as now.
And it ought to be further remembered that the lyric genius of the
Highland Celt is not confined to what we have in Gaelic. Many men
of Gaelic extraction have exhibited their gift of song and music in
other spheres. Not to speak of the poets Ferguson and Burns, in whose
veins Celtic blood largely flowed, Thomas Campbell, was one of these.
Hector Macneill, the hope of Scotland after the death of Burns, was
another. The connection of Lord Macaulay with the lyric genius of
the Gael has been already pointed out. The songs of Dr Charles Mackay
are known to all the readers of English poetry; and those of Peter
Macneill of Tranent are on the full tide of popular esteem. The
names of George Macdonald and Robert Buchanan are familiar to all
the students of contemporary literature. In the kindred spheres of
music and the drama we come across the names of Mr Hamish MacCunn,
Dr A. C. Mackenzie, President of the Royal Academy of Music, and
the prima donna Miss Macintyre. Scores of others might be mentioned
whose genius is traceable to their Gaelic extraction, there being
scarcely a Highland clan name that has not its representative among
the crowned sons of song. In the ecclesiastical world the stars of
Celtic or Gaelic names are a legion. The position of Archbishop in
the great see of York has been attained successively by two men
of Gaelic extraction—the eloquent Magee being a descendant of the
Mackays of Islay, and his successor MacLagan being a member of a
distinguished Highland family which has given us the Gaelic bard
MacLagan, a profound Professor of Theology, late of Aberdeen—and now
the Archbishop himself.

The survey which we have just taken of our popular poetry clearly
indicates that the Gaelic is still the language in which many compose
and write. Many would heartily sing thus with Professor Blackie:—

      Is there a Gael that dare despise
        His mither tongue and a’ that,
      And clips his words in Saxon wise?
        He’s but a cuif for a’ that,
            For a’ that, and a’ that,
            Their hums and ha’s and a’ that,
            We’ll still be true to speech we drew
            Frae mither’s lips for a’ that.

      The deep, full-breasted Highland tongue,
        Wi’ _gairm_ and _glaodh_ and a’ that,
      Ere Roman fought or Greeklings sung,
        Was sounded loud for a’ that,
            For a’ that, and a’ that,
            Their classic lore and a’ that,
            On Highland braes the Celtic phrase
            Comes banging out for a’ that.

At the same time we have no wish to preserve Gaelic, as Professor
Blackie has said, in any artificial or galvanised existence. We
merely ask fair-play for it on the scene of linguistic competition.

And this fair-play it is now more than ever likely to receive, the
Highlanders having their own representatives now in Parliament and
in the county and parochial councils. As long as bards continue
to arise—and there is no sign that the supply will be readily
exhausted—and the people love to rehearse their strains, so long will
the Gaelic remain a living factor in the land. In these pages it is
attempted to show the extent and nature of this sort of literature
of the people; but as Highlanders we do not wish, in attempting to
bring the literature of our language before the world, to challenge
comparison with other bodies of literature. Our main purpose is
served if we succeed in showing to our fellow-countrymen, Highland
and Lowland, that there are national literary treasures which have
been hitherto comparatively overlooked, and which ought in an
important degree to add to the already high fame of bonnie Scotland
as a land whose glens and bens, whose rivers and lakes are everywhere
vocal with songs of love and patriotism.

[Illustration: (decorative end-of-chapter icon)]




CHAPTER XV.

BARDS OF THE CELTIC RENAISSANCE.

     “That poet turned him first to pray
      In silence; and God heard the rest,
      ’Twixt the sun’s footsteps down the west.”
                                      —E. B. BROWNING.


Before the plough of cruel eviction from their homes cut deep furrows
into the Highland heart, the bards, such as Duncan Bàn, loved to
sing of the pleasures of the chase; but the second quarter of the
nineteenth century witnessed a change in this respect. A new, if
not a revolutionary spirit—at least one of discontent—got abroad
throughout the land. This “divine discontent” seized upon the
Highland bards, and the burning strains of Maclachlan of Morven and
William Livingston, no longer ran in the older moulds of Macintyre
and others. The extension of the franchise, the study of history
and the science of language, the growing sympathy with oppressed
nationalities, the revival of Christian forces, and the increasing
value attached to human life,—these and many other “cries of the
human,” helped forward a movement which may be fitly described
as a _Celtic Renaissance_. This Highland movement was reinforced
by kindred and sympathetic influences from Ireland, Wales, and
circles of social and linguistic learning on the Continent, until it
eventually bore statutory fruit in the Highland Land Act of 1886,
which constitutes an Imperial Charter of hereditary right to their
native land for the Gaelic-speaking communities of Scotland. This was
an achievement which even bards with millennial visions and hopes
could scarcely look forward to a generation ago.

The wails of the bards over Highland depopulation, however, nursed
the people’s discontent as well as their resolution to assert
themselves. A good proportion of the authors whose compositions come
under notice in this chapter come under the spell of the Celtic
Renaissance. Indeed this spirit of national resurrection is the
vital force pervading their productions which would be poor and
barren without it.


EVAN MACCOLL.

At the head of the Bards of the Victorian era stands Evan MacColl,
who was born in 1808 at Kenmore, Lochfyneside, Argyleshire, where
his father was a small farmer. Young MacColl eagerly seized on all
the sources of culture within his reach, and at an early age became
familiar with some of the chief works of English literature. He was
born and educated in the midst of strongly Celtic influences and
associations which continued to mould his mind and heart throughout
his whole career.

In 1836 he published “_The Mountain Minstrel; or, Clarsach nam
Beann_,” a series of English and Gaelic poems and songs. He is one
of the best known of our living Gaelic bards. Fletcher of Dunans and
Campbell of Islay, to whom the English and Gaelic parts of his volume
are respectively dedicated, befriended the young bard, who had proved
himself highly deserving of the patronage they extended to him. The
genius of MacColl is entirely lyrical, very few poems of any length
having come from his pen. His English songs are generally playful and
pleasant, but do not show much depth of passion. His Gaelic poems
have the same ring as his English pieces, but are more natural, and
show the bard at his ease in the use of language. MacColl is a sweet
and intelligent singer, but in real power of thought and expression
he is not Livingston’s equal. The following verses show MacColl in
his more vigorous style:—

        “Ho! landed upon Moidart’s coast is Scotland’s rightful King!”
      Such was the news to which the Gael once gave warm welcoming;
      And soon, glad-buckling on their arms, stout chiefs and clansmen
            true
      Have sworn in his good cause to try what good broadswords can do.
      No cravens they to count the cost of failure; man alive!
      We’ll never see their like again—the Clans of ’Forty-five.

      Brief time hath passed till Finnan’s vale is all alive with men
      From east and west in loyal haste proud gathering to their ken,
      The royal standard is unfurled—their prince himself is there,
      Their loving homage to receive, their dangers all to share;
      Grey chiefs, who for his fathers fought, the fire of youth revive,
      To stirring pibrochs marshalling the Clans of ’Forty-five.

      Let no man say that to restore a deed proscribed they arm—
      They think but of _his_ loving trust, his Highland heart so warm,
      His royal rights usurped—and they upon his princely brow
      Would place his father’s crown or die. Too well they kept their
            vow.
      Let men who prate of loyalty in this _our_ day derive
      Instruction in that virtue from the Clans of ’Forty-five.

      Ay! let them think of brave Lochiel and Borrodale the bold—
      Of Keppoch and Glengarry, too, those chiefs of iron mould—
      The Chisholm, Cluny, Brahan’s lord, the Mackintosh so keen,
      The Appin Stuarts and MacColls, the lion-hearts Maclean,
      With many a Chief and Clan besides, who quickly did contrive
      To make their names immortal in the famous ’Forty-five!

The poet, who entered the Liverpool Custom-House in 1839 through W.
F. Campbell of Islay, M.P. then for Argyleshire, removed to Canada
in 1850, where in a similar position at Kingston he remained until
he was superannuated in 1880. The venerable poet, now in the eighty
third year of his age, resides in Canada, where a son of his is an
able Congregational minister, and a daughter known as a poetess of
much merit.

None of the Gaelic bards had a wider acquaintance, nor a larger
outlook of life than MacColl. But in the midst of all new
associations and attractions, he remained at heart frankly and even
sternly Highland. The following verse of an address (1878), to a
well-known Highland patriot, Mr John Murdoch, illustrates this phase
of his character:—

      I think I see thy manly form,
      Firm and unyielding as Cairngorm,
      The poor man’s cause maintaining warm,
          Just like a true-souled Highlander;
      I see the scorn within thine eye
      _As some evicting Chief goes by—_
      One whose forbears would sooner die
          Than dispossess a Highlander.

Before Celtic things were held in such esteem as they are now, or
rather, perhaps, before their value was appreciated as recently,
men of Celtic extraction like Macaulay and Charles Mackay wrote of
the Highlanders and Highlands, not only without discrimination and
sympathy, but without knowledge, and even in a spirit of savage
contempt. The latter lived to express regret for his earlier conduct;
the former had not the same opportunity of modifying his earlier
impressions, and his Highland fellow-countrymen were not slow to
declare their minds on the subject. Among those who sought to pay
back the illustrious historian in his own coin was Evan MacColl. On
the occasion of Macaulay’s death some one had written “Macaulay now
is registered among England’s mighty dead!” On this MacColl wrote
verses the first and last of which are as follows:—

      Hech, sirs! “Macaulay’s registered
        ’Mong England’s mighty dead!”
      Let us hope that he lies buried near
        Her first mean-mighty Ned.
      Scotland can never well forget
        The zeal of those two men,—
      The one to stab her with the sword—
        The other with the pen.

             *       *       *       *       *

      But let that pass,—he’s there—John Bull
        Is not so much to blame;
      He lived to magnify John’s rule,—
        John magnifies _his_ name.
      The wonder, after all, is how
        John could be fooled so far
      As a mere meteoric light
        To worship as a star.

The warm and generous heart of the bard is revealed in much of his
poetry. His little poem, _Let us do the best we can_, shows his
sympathy with the struggling poor:—

      Mark yon worldling lost in self,
        Dead to every social glow;
      Wouldst thou, to own all his pelf,
        All life’s purer joys forego?
      Truest wealth is doing good—
        Doctrine strange to him, poor man!
      If we can’t do all we would,
        Let us do the best we can.

One of the best criticisms on MacColl’s poetry comes from the pen
of Hugh Miller: “There is more of fancy than of imagination in the
poetry of MacColl, and more of thought and imagery than of feeling.
In point, glitter, polish, he is the Moore of Highland song.
Comparison and ideality are the leading features of his mind. Some of
the pieces in this volume are sparkling tissues of comparison from
beginning to end.”


JAMES MUNRO.

A little volume, _Am Filldh_, mostly written by James Munro (1840),
author of the “Gaelic Grammar,” contains a great deal of first-class
poetry. In the composition of small pieces of the sentimental
kind, Munro is scarcely inferior to Livingston in freshness and
condensation, and is MacColl’s equal. We have in the “Filidh” several
pieces by other hands, as well as excellent translations from
the English. Munro was a man of thorough culture, and profoundly
acquainted with the extent and idioms of the Gaelic language. Of all
this there is undoubted evidence in his poetry. Here is a rendering
of one of Munro’s songs, which is attached to a very fine air:—

      Dark winter is going;
      Kind breezes are blowing;
      The mountains are glowing
          With colours more fair.

      The face of the flowers
      Grows fresh ’neath the showers;
      And warmer the bowers
          Appear in the glare.

      The summer advances
      With heat-shedding glances;
      His sunny beam dances
          With joy on the cold.

      The little birds singing,
      The woodlands are ringing;
      The primrose is springing
          To deck the green wold.

      The sun in fresh power
      Calls forth bird and bower
      In robes of fair flower
          Enchanting to see

      But, honey-lipt lover,
      Thy charms I look over;
      In them I discover
          Sweet beauties more rare.

      Come with me, then, dearest,
      To woodlands the nearest,
      To plight troth sincerest
          Of love evermore.


JOHN MACLACHLAN.

The late Dr Maclachlan of Rahoy, in Morven, stands high as a poet.
A little volume of his poems was published in 1868. Like all the
singers whose works have become popular in the Highlands, all that
he wrote was intended to be sung. He looks at nature as a man of
culture and tender sympathies, and with an independent eye; and what
he sings comes with all the freshness of the evening breeze as it
sweeps o’er the Highland loch. One theme he especially dwells on—the
depopulation of the Highlands. His heart is saddened as he sees the
Lowland shepherd, who has no sympathy with the place, the people,
or their language, treading with his dogs the glens and hillsides
where many expatriated Gaels had once their happy homes. He has
also written several love lyrics which are admirable in conception
and expression. A song on “Drink,” _Cha’n òl mi deur tuille_, is
the best of that sort in the language. Dr Maclachlan lived all his
days in Morven, beside his accomplished neighbour, the Rev. Dr John
MacLeod, himself a man of no mean poetic powers. Although a skilful
practitioner, and possessing considerable talents, he never sought
for a more ambitious sphere. He loved the people around—he was widely
known—and they loved him in return. He never married, and he lived
till he was an old man, not perhaps less liked by his neighbours
for his weakness for a dram, which he and they thought a necessary
beverage in chill and misty Morven. Here is a translation, well
executed by Mr H. Whyte, of one of Maclachlan’s poems:—

      O lovely glen! as through a haze
        Of tears that dim mine eye,
      Upon thy futile fields I gaze,
        Fair as in days gone by.

      Thy stately pines their tall heads rear
        O’er fairy knolls and braes;
      Thy purling streamlets now I hear,
        Like music’s sweetest lays.

      Thy herds are feeding as of yore
        With sheep upon the lea;
      The heron fishes in the shore,
        The white-gull on the sea.

      The cuckoo’s voice is heard at dawn,
        The dove coos in the tree;
      The lark, above thy grassy lawn,
        Now carols loud with glee.

      Repose supremely reigns o’er all,
        Low crowns the mountains hoar;
      And vividly they now recall
        The days that are no more.

      Thy gurgling brooks, and winds that fleet
        Through groves of stately pine,
      Awaken with their converse sweet
        Sad thoughts of auld lang syne.

      Thy peaceful dwellings, once so bright,
        In dreary ruins lie;
      The traveller sees not from the height
        The smoke ascending high.

      To yonder garden once thy pride,
        No one attention shows,
      And weeds grow thickly side by side,
        Where bloomed the blushing rose.

      Where are the friends of worthy fame,
        Their hearts on kindness bent;
      Whose welcome cheered me when I came,
        Who blessed me as I went?

      Full many in the churchyard sleep,
        The rest are far away,
      And I forlorn in silence weep,
        With neither friend nor stay.

      Death in my breast has fixed his dart,
        My heart is growing cold,
      And from this world I’ll soon depart,
        To rest beneath the mould.

A new edition of his poems, with a sketch of his life from the pen
of Dr Cameron Gillies, was published some twelve years ago under the
auspices of the Glasgow Morven Association, whose members had also in
hand the erection of a monument to the bard’s memory.


ANGUS MACDONALD.

The compositions of Angus Macdonald, the Glen-Urquhart Bard, show
poetic genius of a high order in the few poems of his which have yet
seen the light. He has left some poems in manuscript which it is
hoped, will some day be published. The poems in the _Gael_ and in
the _Inverness Transactions_ remind us of the productions of very
kindred spirits, Livingston and R. Macdougall. He and Livingston
seem to have diligently cultivated the style and manner of Ossian,
particularly of the Gaelic of 1807. He was a master of rich idiomatic
Gaelic, and having also the “accomplishment of verse,” he could make
himself terrible or tender, just as his muse was stirred. He had a
particularly true eye for the beauties of nature; and was always
accurate and graphic in his descriptions. He possessed a keen and
cultivated ear—was a teacher of music for some time; so his verse
is full of melody and harmonious cadences. He excelled in poetry of
the Ossianic type; but, like all masters of the art, he shows also
much tenderness in his love lyrics. He was appointed the first bard
of the Inverness Gaelic Society, an office filled by Mrs Mackellar
afterwards. He received in 1869 a medal for a prize poem from “The
Club of True Highlanders,” London. His daughter, Mrs A. Mackenzie of
Inverness, has inherited some of her father’s genius, and is herself
the author of compositions of considerable excellence.


MARY MACKELLAR.

A volume of goodly size, _Poems and Songs: Gaelic and English_, by
this poetess, was published in 1881. Mary Mackellar has for many
years been well-known as a woman of bright poetic powers; and her
talents in this respect were some time ago recognised by the Gaelic
Society of Inverness, when she was appointed Bard. Her poems are
characterised by much vigour and freshness, and evince a subtlety
of conception which is quite beyond the ability of the ordinary
Gaelic versifiers. It is premature yet to judge what position she
may take among the Gaelic bards. Her songs, superior as some of them
are, have not yet been accorded much popularity. There is a sort
of straining—an occasional abstruse Browning element in her Gaelic
pieces—which is probably the cause of this and which has evidently
resulted from too close a following of the abstract conceptions
of modern English poets, the natural utterance of which Gaelic is
somewhat unfitted for. She possesses keen and nervous sensibilities,
and looks at nature with a warm, sympathetic, and observant eye.
Like the brook from the gully she bursts forth with rich thought
and melody; but her poems frequently want breadth of basis. She has
generally the true inspiration, but she does not manage sufficiently
to lose her self-consciousness—to fall into that state of _abandon_
which is needed for the production of the highest forms of poetry.
At the same time she has proved herself one of the best Gaelic
poetesses the Highlands has produced. Her English pieces are vigorous
and readable. They are not inferior to her Gaelic poems, although
occasionally exhibiting want of Wordsworth’s “accomplishment of
verse” so keenly felt by Hugh Miller in his own case. All Highlanders
welcomed Mary Mackellar’s excellent contribution to their native
literature. She died in 1890 in Edinburgh, and members of the Cameron
Clan—her maiden name being Cameron—accompanied her remains to their
final resting-place in her native Lochaber.


DUGALD MACPHAIL.

This cultivated poet, a native of Mull, author of _An t-Eilein
Muileach_, one of the popular songs in the language, was a man of
strong and well-cultivated intellect, who did not at all give us
what might be expected from one of his rich poetic endowments. But
what he has done is first-class. The most of it will be found in
the “Oranaiche.” Macphail was also known as a most effective Gaelic
speaker, as well as a clever writer of Gaelic stories. He has done
good work in translating religious productions, his translation of
MacLaurin’s magnificent sermon on “Glorying in the Cross of Christ”
being one of the best little books in the Gaelic language.

       *       *       *       *       *

There are several minor bards whose names have for a long time been
known in different parts of the Highlands—

ROBERT MACDOUGALL, author of “A Gaelic Guide” to Canada, where he
resided for some time, published an interesting volume of poems
in 1840. Along with original pieces of great merit he gives a
translation of _Tam o’ Shanter_, and of some poems of Byron, whom he
somewhat imitated. He was the first, along with James Munro, of the
new school of poetry to which Livingston, Angus Macdonald, and others
of the present day belong.

ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL, of Kinloch-Earn, brought out a neat volume of
songs and poems in 1831. One or two of them have become very popular.
His style is unaffected, and the sentiment natural. The whole volume
is fully of average merit.

JOHN CAMERON, of Ballachulish, author of “Dan Spioradail” (1862), has
written several poems and songs of considerable merit. The best-known
is _Duil ri Bailc-ehaolais fhaicinn_. Like Mary Mackellar, Cameron
did not continue a worshipper at the shrine of the sacred Muse, to
which he seems to have been devoted in his early days.

JOHN CAMPBELL, of Leadaig, is well-known as the author of several
excellent poems, one of which has been translated by Professor
Blackie. There is much taste as well as evidence of fair culture in
all that Campbell has written. His poetry is distinguished by the
pastoral sweetness and light of a simple Highland life.

JOHN MACKORKINDALE, a native of Islay, afterwards in Canada,
possesses true poetic insight, and had he continued to cultivate
Gaelic poetry he could produce excellent work. Parts of a poetic
dialogue on “Dun Bhrusgraidh” by him were reprinted in the first
volume of _The Gael_.

GEORGE CAMPBELL, late of Kinabus, in the same island, composed a
great deal of poetry of more than average merit, but his compositions
were never collected and published. _Fuirich a Ribhinn phriseal_
is to be found in the “Oranaiche.” The maiden addressed is Jean
Wodrow, daughter of the Kildalton minister, who published in 1771
a mellifluous rhyming version of _Fingal_, founded on Macpherson’s
English.

THE REV. DONALD MACRAE, a native of Plockton, late of Ness, Lewis,
was a true poet, although he did not produce much. A sweet, pathetic
poem, by him, _The Emigrant’s Lament_, written on the occasion of
many of his congregation in Lewis leaving for Canada, has been much
admired, and has been translated into English by a daughter of late
Rev. Dr Gibson of Glasgow:—


          THE EMIGRANT’S LAMENT.

      We’ve gone to the shore,
      With those who no more
      Shall see their own isle
              For ever.

      Th’ iron ship’s now their home,
      Through white, curling foam
      They speed, some in joy,
              Some weeping.

      See childhood’s glad eye;
      But list woman’s sigh!
      Even manhood’s stout heart
              Is breaking!

      Hot streaming tears flow,
      Now silent in woe,
      They’re looking behind
              In sorrow.

      Still sailing on west,
      From the land they love best,
      They gaze upon nought
              But Muirneag!

      See Muirneag depart!
      Dear hill of their heart
      Now lost to their view
              For ever!

      ’Tis sunk in the sea,
      Each cheek becomes pale!
      Oh! list yon wild wail
              For Muirneag!

      Dear friends, loved so well,
      Are left far behind,
      Fond bleeding hearts swell
              With anguish!

The bereaved pastor continues the wail further in a more religious
strain, hoping—

      When time shall have passed
      May all meet at last,
      Safe at yon fair haven,
              In glory!


WILLIAM LIVINGSTON.

The Bard of Lochfyne is probably the best-known hitherto of the
Gaelic _singers_ of this century; but his place is disputed by
the sweet lyrist of Rahoy. Though not so popular as these two, as
a mere singer, because he has produced so few songs suitable for
singing, William Livingston must be regarded as the most powerful
poetic personality among the Celtic bards of this century. Like
Browning among the English poets, Livingston is less known than
minor claimants for bardic recognition, because the general reader
of Gaelic poetry is not always capable of appreciating anything
higher in the poetic scale than smooth-flowing verse and mellifluous
rhymes that make no demand on the severer exercise of thought. But
his position as a bard among his contemporaries has been more than
once recognised by a few of the most distinguished Celtic scholars
and critics of his time. In competition for prizes offered by the
Glasgow Celtic Society, on three occasions Livingston obtained the
first prize, some of the adjudicators being the late Rev. Dr Smith
of Inverary; the late Rev. Duncan MacNab of Renfield Free Church,
Glasgow; and the late Rev. Duncan MacLean of Glenorchy;—the last
being himself a sacred poet of very considerable genius. Many of his
competitors on these occasions are authors of very popular songs, but
their productions must be credited with more rhyme than poetic power.

William Livingston was born in Gartmain, in Islay, in the year
1808. There are not many of his kith and kin in that island now,
nor is there any evidence that his humble progenitors were anything
else than some of those nomadic individuals or families, of a
Celto-Germanic character, unconnected particularly with any of the
well-known clans, but who, in the political economy of the Highlands
were ranged under the name of “siol Dhomhnuill,” or some other,
and in latter days became more unreasonably Celtic in their race
antipathies than the purer Celts themselves. The late notorious
Mitchell and the present leaders of the Irish Home Rulers are Irish
instances of what has been stated. The bard Livingston is a Scottish
instance; and the proximity of his native place to Ireland’s northern
coasts may have some suggestive value, especially when his training,
or rather no training, and the sources of his historical and social
knowledge are taken into consideration. There is another Livingstone
of Highland extraction—his family were originally from Mull—who has
had some connection with Glasgow like his namesake the bard; but Dr
David Livingstone, the devoted and distinguished African traveller,
turned his attention and directed his labours to the amelioration of
the condition of Africa’s benighted and dusky children. Livingstone,
the traveller, regarded all the sons of humanity, whether they were
black or white, of whatever race, as the sons of the one great
Father, equally good and precious in his sight, and all of one blood;
but Livingston the bard devoted all his energies to the patriotic
rehearsal, in prose and verse, of the doughty deeds and ancient
prowess of our Scottish ancestors; with him the Scotsman alone ought
to occupy the position of lord of creation, especially if it could
be proved he was a Celt,—and the Englishman especially, on account
of his continual oppression of the smaller kingdom of Scotland, he,
like Irishmen of a certain order, regarded with intense dislike, as
the universal tyrant throughout the civilised world. The bones of
the distinguished traveller Dr Livingstone were deposited in their
final resting-place in Westminster Abbey amid the sympathetic tears
of all civilised nations. He was a cosmopolitan patriot, one of the
few extraordinary men whom God vouchsafes in the progress of the
ages for the enlightenment of the dark places of the earth and the
promotion of the highest interests of universal humanity. Livingston,
the bard, whose pursuit after knowledge under unusually unfavourable
conditions, and whose indomitable perseverance and fervour of heart
were not unlike those of David Livingstone had but a very limited
vision of the functions of his mission into the world. The duties
which he assigned to himself were the magnifying of Scotland’s fame
and glory, the lashing in Wallace and Bruce fashion of the Teutonic
intruder from the south of the Tweed, and the special vindication
of the Celtic character from the continual aspersions of the
uncircumcised Saxon. He did his work with a will, but there was no
need for it. It was as uncalled for as Thomson’s work on _Liberty_,
which, undertaken in an unwise moment, notwithstanding its fine
poetry, the public, not without reason, condemned to “gather spiders
and to harbour dust.” When highly needed work goes without its reward
it cannot be a matter of surprise that unnecessary ebullitions of
patriotism do not always pay; so poor Livingston, like not a few of
the order of Bards, died somewhat neglected in an obscure street of
the philanthropic city of Glasgow. But he did not die unknown to a
few sympathising friends. The members of the Islay Association and
others were always anxious to relieve the necessities of the poet
when his temper and ways made it possible to be of some service
to him. In some respects his own independence was like that proud
independence of his native country, of which he was so fervent a
singer. He died in 1870, his wife predeceasing him a few weeks.

Much of the character of Livingston is traceable to his upbringing.
In youth he received no education, and his earliest training when a
boy was herding cattle. Was not Rob Donn, the Sutherlandshire Bard,
also a herd? But it was thought fit to set the embryo herd-poet
to learn a trade, and he served his time at tailoring, which he
carried on in a desultory fashion all his days, and in which he was
intelligently and sympathetically assisted by his frugal wife. He was
thus a grown-up man before he got any education, and all he ever got
was self-taught; and had his pride permitted him to tell the story
of his struggles after knowledge, English, Latin, French, Greek,
and a little Hebrew, it would furnish an interesting chapter in the
annals of the pursuit of learning under difficulties. The manuscripts
of his in possession of the writer show the extraordinary pains he
took with his work—his endeavours after a purer English style, even
when well-advanced in years—and what a long time he was a wooer of
the muses before he arrived at the intensity of poetical conception
which distinguished his later poetry. His earlier efforts do not seem
to have been very successful, and they are of a somewhat humorous
character. He almost stands alone among the prominent Gaelic bards in
having given us no love songs. The reason is that he was probably a
married man before the dormant powers of his poetic nature awakened.
While there is much tenderness in all his descriptions of nature, the
reader of his poetry must feel that he is always surrounded by an
atmosphere of martial enthusiasm and intense patriotic sentiment. He
was too wise to attempt the singing of a passion the power of which
did not evidently permeate his nature; but the love of fatherland,
the story of the gory struggle of Scottish independence were to him
all-absorbing sources of inspiration; and to these he always turns,
and finds in them the congenial themes on which he enthusiastically
lavishes the rich poetic gifts with which he was endowed.

Livingston published his first volume of poetry in 1858. A smaller
volume followed a few years afterwards, in 1865; and in 1868 a few
poems in pamphlet form, one of them being a prize production—being
the third piece for which he received a prize from the Glasgow Celtic
Society. The year before his death he began to arrange his poems
with a view to publishing them all in one volume, but before he
transcribed more than half a dozen of them his pen was arrested by an
invisible Power.

                “Death’s subtle seed within,
      Sly treacherous miner! working in the dark
      Smiled at the well-concerted scheme.”

I well remember how the old bard, with his magnificent beard, which
he often stroked with evident admiration, and which seemed to be
growing up to his very eyes—small piercing eyes that scanned the
neighbours suspiciously—emphasised the hope that when the proposed
volume would appear, it would contain fully as much first-class
poetry as the works of either of the three Gaelic modern bards,
Mackay, Macintyre, or Macdonald. It is pleasant to know that the work
which the bard had so much at heart has been accomplished under the
auspices of the Islay Association, mainly at the suggestion and with
the assistance of a patriotic countryman—Mr Colin Hay—who is a great
admirer of Livingston’s poetry.

The longest of Livingston’s poems is a dramatic piece entitled _The
Danes in Islay_. It is the only proper dramatic poem in the language.
The subject is one that the poet could take up with much enthusiasm,
as he pictured to himself the Norse army in a fleet of sixty-three
sail entering the spacious Lochindaul, and dropping anchor there with
no friendly intent. The bard’s historical and antiquarian knowledge
stood him here in good stead. The great Macdonald, Prince of the
Isles, is the central figure, and next to him the aged but faithful
Mackay of Rhinns, both of whom are immediately informed by their
watchful scouts of the advent of those hereditary foes, the Norse
invaders, on the green shores of Islay, which was once in their own
possession. The fiery cross is sent all over the island to call
together the brave subjects of the Macdonald to defend their homes
and hearths. A battle takes place; and in the final struggle there
are many heroes who do great and incredible deeds, chief among whom
are—Nuagan Mor, a Norse prince; Raosbun, Gilleathain Thora, and
Donncha Mor Laorain. Though this is one of the most ambitious of
Livingston’s productions, yet it is not equal as a whole, and not so
finished, nor of so high an order as, for example, his prize poems;
but the lyrical portions of it are very fine, the marching song of
Mackay of Rhinns, to the tune of _Mnathan a’ Ghlinne so_, being quite
a gem. Here are some verses of a war chant which occurs in the poem.
The Norse invaders are supposed to rehearse the following wild and
fierce lyric as they drop anchor in the harbour of Lochindaul:—

      Here we come, but we thus will not leave you—
              The axe, axe;
      To-morrow will startle and grieve you
              With the axe, the axe.
      A red blazing torch in each dwelling—
              The axe, the axe;
      Your goods plundered, your captured wives yelling—
              The axe, the axe.
      Fleeing, and cursing, and wailing—
              The knife, knife;
      The girth of your knees shall be failing
              For the knife, knife,
      They who meet us shall leave that place never—
              The knife, knife;
      Morn or eve shall they see them for ever—
              The knife, knife;
      None shall live to tell of the Reaver
              With the axe, axe;
      But the raven above shall be croaking—
              The axe, axe;
      And then feast on their limbs till he’s choking—
              The axe, axe.
      You now live who in blood then shall welter—
              The knife, knife;
      Cave or hole cannot hide you or shelter
              From the knife, knife.
      Through your throats the hoarse chorus ascending—
              The knife, knife;
      In that cry screams and groans shall keep blending—
              The knife, knife.
      All these ills shall your great men entangle—
              The axe, axe—
      Ere their heads on our green withs shall dangle—
              The axe, axe;
      The nerves of their necks we will rend them—
              With the axe, axe;
      To the anvil to roast then we’ll send them—
              The axe, axe—
      The head of Mackay shall we shinty—
              The axe, axe—
      Down the Rhinns, where his kin shall grow scanty,
              With the axe, axe.

The _Danes in Islay_ is not the only _cath_ or battle that the bard
has sought to immortalise in tough classical Celtic. We have also
several vigorous poems on the battles of Scotland’s earlier struggles
for independence. Livingston’s muse is nearly wholly of a martial
order, which, while it explains his want of popularity among what
he would regard as a somewhat effeminate generation, is the more
remarkable when it is remembered how purely sentimental the most of
his contemporary bards have been. The titles of three other poems
are—_The Battle of Mona Phraca_, _The Battle of Dail-righ_—regarded
as his best—and that of _Tra-Ghruinard_, where the great Sir Lachlan
MacLean of Duart fell, pierced by the fatal shaft of the dwarf
_Dubh-Shee_, who offered services the Knight of Duart despised. The
dwarf is described by the bard in pretty expressive terms—“_Treoich
a ghuir an Diabhul ’san Lag an Diura!_” The best of all his poems is
the 100 lines (the number was limited) prize poem on the achievements
of the Highland regiments in the Crimean war. There is nothing
better, and not many poems equal to it in the whole range of Celtic
poetry. The best-known of his poems is _Fios thun a’ Bhaird_, or
Word to the Bard, supposed to have been sent to him in Glasgow from
a farmer’s wife in Islay, the late Mrs Blair, of Lonban, who showed
much kindness to the bard when on a visit to his native island, and
whose son is the popular minister, the Rev. Robert Blair, who was a
constant friend of Livingston, and who edited the complete edition of
his works (1881). In this delightful poem he describes in stanzas of
great beauty and tenderness the changes that have taken place, the
ruins of the depopulated districts, and the natural scenery of the
island. The following are the opening stanzas of the _Message to the
Bard_:—

      The morn is bright with sunshine,
        And soft the west wind sighs;
      The loch is calm and quiet,
        Since peace reigns in the skies.
      Bedecked with canvas gaily,
        Barks glide unwearily;
      To the Bard rehearse the story
        Of these things I hear and see.

      This is the month of blossom,
        When the herds of cattle go
      To the glens of lonely corries,
        Where they neither reap nor sow.
      But in these green-clad inches
        My kine now never be:
      To the Bard rehearse the story
        Of these things I hear and see.

      On heathy heights in thousands
        Stray flocks of kine and sheep;
      And deer rush o’er the wild steeps
        Where freshening breezes sweep—
      The noble antlered race
        Bedewed that tread the hills with glee,
      To the Bard rehearse the story
        Of these things I hear and see.

One of the most admired of Livingston’s poems is that on the
achievements of the Highland regiments under Sir Colin Campbell
in the Crimean War. As much of its beauty consists in a sort of
proverbial form of expression, of which the bard was a consummate
master, and in a rhythm of consonantal rhymes, much of what is
powerful in the original becomes quite prosaic when rendered
literally into English. Here is the first half of the poem, which may
indicate something of its manner:—


          ALMA.

      Tidings of awe came to my ear—
      An ominous threat that war was near;
      I sought out Albin’s central height,
      To view the distant scene of fight.
      I saw beneath one standard there—
      The figure of the Northern Bear.
      There thousands in their armèd might
      Panted for battle’s fierce delight.
      O’er Alma’s heights the Russians rolled,
      Defiant, warlike, keen, and bold;
      In war-array the hostile force
      Stood there in ranks of foot and horse;
      Then came the order for the Gael
      Those scarpy brows of death to scale.
      Down from that hoary rocky crest
      Poured showers of fire into their breast;
      Forward the fearless heroes leapt;
      Mid clouds of slaughter on they swept;
      “For Victory” the Lion roared;
      The Finian clans unsheathed the sword,
      Like rapid swollen floods in Clyde;
      Grand, swift as Es-linn’s silver tide;
      So rushed the heroes in their might
      Of ardour to the field of fight,
      Beneath that proud, unconquered shred
      Of ancient fame the Gaels were led;—
      With those broad brands ye did unsheathe
      Ye left destruction, groans, and death;—
      Ye from the land of hill and flood
      Heroic thus the foe withstood;
      And from those rocky heights of woe,
      Ye swept disgraced that host of snow.
      They trembled as they saw with dread
      The lion, rousing, raging, red,
      To scatter with resistless force
      And ire their columns, man and horse;
      Deeds sure to kindle our emotion
      While earth remaineth wed to ocean.


          BALACLAVA.

      ’Mid thund’ring guns and clash of arms
      I saw amass the Russian swarms
        On Balaclava’s dusky plain;
      There waved the eagle fierce and fell
        To widen more its ravenous reign,
      Like a foul bird of restless hell.
      Thousands responding bent on prey,
      And gorging blood her power obey;
      The hoarse-voiced horn began to bray;
      The steeds of war began to neigh, &c.

Notwithstanding his exceeding patriotism it cannot be said that
Livingston was either very generous or magnanimous. While haunted
with painful suspicions he allowed the canker of vindictiveness to
mar the finer elements of his nature. His envy also rendered him
almost intolerable to all his Highland literary friends in Glasgow.
But these, as one of them once remarked, could afford to prize all
that was good in the bard and overlook his shortcomings. When this
friend was dying William came to ask his forgiveness, which he was
assured he had, with the remark, “William, my ghost will not trouble
you.” This gentleman knew the bard’s selfish motive in asking pardon,
and the superstitious reason for his so doing. Notwithstanding all
this, the man was not many days in his grave when the bard began to
attack him in a scurrilous letter in the newspapers, which, however,
was not inserted. He might be described as a Celtic brother of
Walter Savage Landor, whom he resembled in several respects. But the
sphere of life in which Livingston was born, and his want of early
education, ought to make us charitable in our judgments of the savage
element of his character. It must be acknowledged, at the same time,
that beneath the barbarian patriotism of his nature there lay a depth
of tenderness and warmth of a grateful heart, which we discern in
several of his pieces on individual persons. There can be no doubt,
also, that many of his eccentricities arose from finding himself out
of joint in the social world, where mere patriotism or poetic talent
cannot frequently obtain the means or influence which self-conscious
spirits so hopelessly look for.

_Blar Shunadail_, a piece of considerable length and merit, was
published in _The Gael_ after his death. The only other piece of
importance is _Driod-fhoitan Imhir an Racain_, a poem of five or six
hundred lines long.

It ought to be mentioned that two gentlemen, one belonging to Kintyre
and the other to Cowal, were constant friends to Livingston—the
late Mr Gilchrist, printer, Glasgow, and also Mr Duncan Whyte, of
the same city. Livingston was intensely Celtic in all his ideas and
habits. He has written a good deal of prose in English; but in that
language he is like a lion in chains. He published “A Vindication
of the Celtic Character,” a goodly volume of strong Celtic feeling
and prejudice, such as we would now expect from an Irish Celt; also,
several parts of a history of Scotland, which he did not finish,
he and the publishers having disagreed on account of the strong
anti-English feeling displayed by the writer. He swallowed the old
Scottish chroniclers, especially their anti-English prejudices, and
accepted as pure truth all that they have recorded. The Scotsman
of the days of Bruce and Wallace scarcely cherished so much of the
spirit of nationality and animosity against England as Livingston
did. At the same time there was an element of hollowness in his
assumed patriotism into which, however, he sought to thoroughly work
himself, like some others of his countrymen of the present day. It
can scarcely be denied that an element of unhealthiness prevailed in
the moral basis of his nature; but unlike many others of the Highland
poets, the smallest trace cannot be found in his works. A few years
ago a monument was erected to his memory in Janefield Cemetery,
Glasgow. Well has he described his own spirit in the following
quatrain of Scotch:—

      We see the buckles glancin’
        On his _fraochan_ shoon,
      _He’ll mak’ the Lawlands Hielan’_
        Ere he’ll lea’ the toun.


NEIL MACLEOD.

This author, the son of the well known _Bard Sgiathanach_, Donald
Macleod, is undoubtedly chief among the living singers of the
Gael. Several of his songs have become very popular, such as _An
Gleann ’san robh mi Og_. All his productions are characterised by
purity of style and idiom, freshness of conception and gentleness
of spirit, and liquid sweetness of versification. His “Clarsach an
Doire” contains as much variety of good popular songs as any volume
of a single author in the language. The Gaelic Society of Inverness
has just appointed him to the position of Bard to the Society in
succession to Mary Mackellar. May he long live to wear his laurels,
and continue to delight his countrymen with new songs of his native
land and people.


REV. DONALD MACCALLUM.

The Rev. Donald Maccallum, a native of central Argyleshire, now a
parish minister in Lewis, is the author of a small volume of songs
and poems entitled _Sop as gach Seid_. His works evince a genuine
poetic spirit,—a quiet meditative mood and thoughtful observation
that so many parts of the Highlands are so well fitted to produce and
nurse. Mr Maccallum has perfect command over the language and the
“mechanic exercise” of verse; but he will probably be more remembered
in Highland history as almost the only minister of the State Church
in Scotland who had the moral courage to stand up for the people in
the struggle of the crofter agitation in the years 1883-86.


DR JOHN MACGREGOR.

This writer, Surgeon-Major Macgregor, M.D., of the Bombay Army, a
native of Lewis, has kept alive the Gaelic muse for many years in
the far-off fields of Hindostan. In that land of many languages
and many races Dr Macgregor composed many excellent lyrics in his
native tongue of the Gael, and got them printed there as well.
In the midst of his honourable and successful career, the poet’s
fancies continually turn to home scenes and dear ones left in the old
country. Memories of _Mairi na h-Airidh_, “Mary of the Shieling,”
or some others, find pleasant embalmment in smooth-flowing verse.
In 1890 appeared a long English poem from his pen, _The Girdle
of the Globe_, which has been very well received by many who are
well-entitled to judge, some of the lyrics scattered throughout the
cantos showing the spirit and power of utterance of the true poet.
We look for much more some of these days from his pen, especially
when, as he may do before long, he retires from the honourable
service of his country to cultivate the favours of the muse at home.


MARY MACPHERSON.

Mrs Macpherson (née Macdonald), a native of Skye, had some bitter
experiences of life some twenty years ago or more, when she was
about fifty years of age, and then her latent powers of verse-making
began to assert themselves. In recent years she has composed largely
on themes of local interest,—on the land question, her favourites
among those by whom this question has been kept alive, and on her
own personal grievances. Like Rob Donn she has been very fortunate
in having some _patroni_ who have patriotically espoused the cause
of her muse and borne the expense of publishing in excellent style
her compositions. The highly competent pens of Mr John Whyte and
Mr Alexander MacBain have helped in the production of the volume
(Inverness, 1891). The one took down the poems in correct writing
from the composer’s dictation, while the other has supplied an
introductory biographical sketch. The portraits of the poetess in
various attitudes representative of Highland home industry are a good
feature of the volume.

       *       *       *       *       *

If we follow the Highlander across the ocean we find him there as
fond of poetry and song as he was in his original home. The REV.
D. B. BLAIR, of Canada, has contributed a good deal to Gaelic
literature. He is the author of many original poems of much merit,
one on the Falls of Niagara being particularly excellent. He has
translated parts of Virgil’s Æneid from the Latin. It was said some
time ago that he had ready for the press a Gaelic grammar and a new
Gaelic version of the Psalms.

The REV. A. M. SINCLAIR, of Nova Scotia, is also a worshipper of the
muse. He, indeed, belongs to a family of bards. The Gaels on this
side are particularly indebted to Maclean Sinclair for his valuable
contributions to their literature, his last two volumes (1890) being
a handsome addition to the catalogue of good Highland books

But it is not in America alone that we find the cultivation of
the Gaelic muse. If we go to New Zealand we find there FARQUHAR
MACDONNELL, once of Plockton, a composer of considerable genius, and
one of whose songs has become a popular favourite.

It is not only in Canada and New Zealand but also in Australia that
the Gaelic muse is kept alive. Here are verses of a pretty poem in
Gaelic and English by the Rev. A. Cameron, a native of Lochaber, from
that broad continent in the Antipodes. The author holds communion
with the Ree waterfall, Nether-Lochaber, in a dream:—

      I gaze on thee thou wondrous fall!
        As I had done long years ago;
      I travelled far on duty’s call
        Since last I saw thy currents flow.

      In days gone by, when joy was young,
        ’Twas my delight to sit me here;
      When thy grave voice, so full and strong,
        A pleasant song was to mine ear.

      Methinks I hear thy waters say,
        In greeting accents bathed in tears,
      “Where did thy wandering footsteps stray
        These many long and weary years?

     “I missed thee on the rocky brink,
        Thy youthful shadow on the pool,
      When thou would’st say as thou would’st think
        Thy daily lesson for the school:

     “When none but I was to thee near
        Save He who guides our weary ways,
      To whom creation all is dear,
        As joining in His glory’s praise.”

We have thus seen that throughout India, America, and Australasia
we can find singers and composers of Gaelic songs, representing
leal-hearted sons of the Highlands, who have nobly served their
country, their people, and their God.

[Illustration: (decorative end-of-chapter icon)]




CHAPTER XVI.

SACRED BARDS OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY.

     “O happy saints! rejoice and sing!
      He quickly comes, your Lord and King!”
                    —W. D. MACLAGAN, D.D., _Abp. of York_.


The religious Highlander of the present day is known to be stubbornly
opposed to the use of hymns of human authorship in public worship.
His prejudice was deepened and played upon recently in connection
with a Union controversy between two well known ecclesiastical
bodies. One result has been that many of the southern Highlanders
who were in the habit of using the translated Scripture Paraphrases
have discontinued the practice. But notwithstanding the prejudices
of many Highlanders against hymns, all the writers of sacred poetry
have been very popular among them. There were many authors of
religious poetry whose compositions did not become much known until
the beginning of this century. To this class belonged _John Ban Maor_
and _Bean a’ Bharra_, under whose names a good deal of verse appears
in a collection by Duncan Kennedy of Melfort, who plays a rather
unenviable part in the Ossianic controversy. The names of other two
authors also occur in the volume—Macindeor and Mackeich. Macfadyen,
a Glasgow student, published a volume of hymns in 1770, but nothing
more is known of him or his work.


WILLIAM MACKENZIE.

This poet was born at Balvicphadrick, on the estate of Culduthel,
near Inverness. His father, who was a farmer at Borlum, bestowed some
pains on the education of William, who, after his marriage, rented
successively the farms of Bailedubh, in Tordarroch, and that of
Cnocbui, in the parish of Daviot. He afterwards gave up farming, and
was appointed by the Society for Propagating Christian Knowledge to
teach one of their schools at Leys, in the parish of Croy, some three
miles from Inverness. He laboured there as teacher and evangelist for
forty years. He died in 1838 at the advanced age of ninety, and was
buried in the churchyard of Dunlichity. Mackenzie appears to have
been a man of fair culture and was well read. His poetry, although
not first-class, has a masculine, sensible ring about it. A good
deal of it consists of excellent sermon matter, expressed in clear
natural language and smooth and flowing verse. Scripture history and
the usual evangelical doctrines of Christianity with an underlying
practical application, constitute his general theme. He has also
composed several elegies and addresses to persons. The poet deals
thus with a certain class of religious professors:—

      Bheir iad cuireadh dhuitse dh’òl
        Le daimh is mòran carthannas;
      ’S bidh iad cho cràbhach an àm,
        ’S gu’m feum thu’n dràm a bheannachadh.

  ENGLISH:

      They will invite thee to the drink
        As friends each hour grow thicker;
      And then each one seems so devout
        That thou must bless the liquor.


DONALD MACRAE.

If not the most powerful, this bard is certainly the keenest and
subtlest that the Highlands have produced. His father was a native
of Glenalchaig, in Kintail; but Donald was born in the parish of
Petty, Inverness-shire, the date of his birth being 11th November
1756. His parents were poor people in humble life, and their son
got no education whatever. But Christian teaching and Biblical
knowledge became a deeply cultivating power in his case. He earned
his livelihood by labouring at his loom, when he lived as a cottager
on the estate of the Earl of Moray in his native parish of Petty. He
lived to the good age of eighty-one, his death taking place in 1837.
He was buried in the churchyard of Petty, where a small tombstone
points out his grave. He got his poems published in Inverness some
time before he died, under the title of _Spiritual Songs_. He has
composed a considerable quantity of poetry, the most of which is
first-class when the bard’s theme is of more than local interest. He
combines the spiritual insight and holy sympathies of George Herbert
with the subtlety of Shelley. He is the only bard that distinctly
illustrates the tendency to mysticism in Highland religion manifested
in some quarters. His profound self-analysis may be seen the poem
_Luireach_:—

      Bha ’n inntinn dhiomhain riamh mar tha,
        Aig spionadh tràth na h-ùmhlachd,
      Mar eun aig itealaich gu h-àrd,
        ’Snach gabhadh tâmh ’san dùthaichs’.

      Is coslach mi ri madadh tàir’
        Le lotaibh grannd a’ bùraich,
      Ach le a theangaidh a rinn slàn
        Na leòin a ta ’ga chiurradh,

  ENGLISH:

      The mind of vanity e’er so
        Obedience true o’er-riding,
      Like birds on flight in highest heaven
        And ne’er on earth abiding.

      I am so like that dog despised
        That with sore wounds is moaning,
      But with his tongue has healed his hurts
        That caused his painful groaning.


MARY CLARK.

This poetess—_Bean Torra dhamh_—who was the daughter of Ewen
Macpherson, schoolmaster in Laggan, Badenoch, appears to have been a
woman of great piety. She began first to compose in English, but her
husband, whose name was Clark, persuaded her to compose in Gaelic. At
the beginning of this century she went to Inverness to get her poems,
some thirty in number, written, she herself being at that time blind,
and also to publish them. Her works appeared some time ago, anew
edited and very well translated by the Rev. John Kennedy. Mrs Clark
is a natural and intelligent singer, but without much freshness or
originality. The warmth of her religious feelings renders her pieces
more readable than they would otherwise be. She died at Perth at an
advanced age.


MARGARET CAMPBELL.

Margaret Campbell was born at the farm of Clashgour in Glenorchay.
Her father’s name was Peter Campbell. She was married a second
time to a Cameron at Fort-William, when she became much reduced in
circumstances. She published a little volume of songs in 1785; a
second edition, which relieved her embarrassments a little, in 1805.
Her _Laoidhean Spioradail_ appeared in Edinburgh in 1810, a volume
which seems to have escaped Reid’s notice. The hymns are thirty-four
in number. An English appendix gives an abstract of the themes with
which the hymns are occupied. The metre is not always very regular,
but a few of the pieces show some poetic vigour.


REV. PETER GRANT.

Next to Dugald Buchanan, the author whose hymns are best and most
widely known, is the late Peter Grant, a Baptist minister in
Strathspey, who published the first edition of his hymns as early as
1813. As he tells us in one of his poems, he was deeply impressed
with the extent of practical heathenism among the Highlanders. He
complains, as Bishop Carsuel in the sixteenth century did before
him, that the Highlanders loved the tales of Fingal and Ossian
more than the Gospel, and that they spent all their spare time in
the recital of these vain heathen stories. Carsuel gave his own
generation a liturgy, and Grant to his a series of Gospel hymns; and
it need scarcely be asked which of them was the more successful. The
hymns became immediately widely popular, and edition after edition
was called forth, and they have maintained their popularity to the
present day. Grant is not a powerful poet, but he is a very sweet
singer. His hymns and poems have a holy fragrance about them that
is quite captivating. The simplicity of the conception and the
naturalness of the style at once affect and enchain the heart. Grant
succeeds where a hymnist of more ambition and power would fail. The
warmth of his earnest nature is felt in every stanza he has written.
He died full of years and honours, beloved by all who knew him. A
sweet poem of his begins with the experience of a child emerging in
heaven:—

              ’S leanabh solasach mi
              Gle og chaidh á tim;
      Chaidh mo threorach o’n chich do’n uaigh;
              ’S ged bu ghoirid mo thim
              Gabhail fradbarc do’n tir,
      ’S mor th’agam ri innse do’n t-sluagh.

  ENGLISH:

              A child joyful, beloved,
              Early from time removed,
      From the breast to the grave they bore me;
              Though brief was that state
              I have much to relate
      To the many I see before me.


REV. JAMES MACGREGOR, D.D.

Macgregor (1759-1830), sent by the General Associate Synod to Nova
Scotia in 1786, has written hymns (1819) which have been highly
valued by sections of Highlanders at home and abroad. He was a native
of St. Fillans, in Perthshire, and wrote and spoke Gaelic with
greater purity and elegance than the natives of that county in the
present day are able to do. The University of Glasgow conferred on
him the degree of D.D. in recognition of his arduous and successful
labours in the Colonies among his countrymen. His poetry, although
not of the first order, is yet sweet and natural—metrical effusions
in which the simple truths of the Gospel are rehearsed with
earnestness and freshness. The following verses are translated from
his poem on _The Resurrection_:—

          Great must be that might,
          Keen must be that sight,
      That so wisely all parts exhume;
          All the craven and brave,
          The master and slave,
      He shall call from the dust of the tomb.

          Widely scattered though be
          Heads and bodies, yet He
      Reunites them in one again;
          Then forth shall be hurled
          From the graves of the world
      All the ashes of slaughtered men.

          The bones that are placed
          On the hill or wild waste,
      In the desert, or pit, or shore;
          In the ocean deep,
          ’Neath the river’s sweep—
      To life he shall then restore.

          When the earth shall be shaken
          All classes shall waken—
      The poor, and the king, and the brave;
          Then forth shall be rolled
          The young and the old,
      The maiden, and lover, and slave.

          Some will rise in great fear
          When the Lamb shall appear,
      The just from the evil to sever;
          Some will wake with delight
          In garments all bright,
      As the heirs of the kingdom for ever.

Macgregor’s grandson, the Rev. George Patterson, D.D., has written
his life, much of which is founded on an autobiographical sketch.


REV. JOHN MACDONALD, D.D.

Dr Macdonald, of Ferintosh, as “The Apostle of the North,” is
a household word in the Highlands. As an orator, preacher, and
evangelist, no man of his day was the instrument of greater good
to his countrymen, by whom his memory will be warmly cherished for
generations. In _The Gaelic Messenger_ (1829-30) appeared the first
and the best of his poems, which have been the delight of more than
one generation of Highlanders. This was a poem of three parts—_The
Christian on his Journey to, at, and beyond Jordan_. Some of his
other poems are biographical. His poetical works were published in
a neat volume in 1846. Here are a few verses translated from the
“Christian’s Journey:”—


          ON THE WAY TO JORDAN.

      He often sought for special grace
        At mercy’s fountain free,
      To keep up aye a cheerful face
        Hard though the heart might be;
      And by that smile of happiness—
        That fragrance sweet he found—
      He helped a holy cheerfulness
        In all the saints around.

      He hated all hypocrisies,
        The silent face of gloom,
      The moaning and the plaintive sighs
        That savour of the tomb.
      But the sweet breath of life he knew
        Amidst the tainted air;
      Heart-brokenness that came to view
        Would have his tender care.


          ON THE BANKS OF JORDAN.

      I hear the floods of Jordan roll,
        My flesh is seized with dread;
      But shame shall ne’er approach my soul,
        By hope of heaven led.
      That hope the Rock of Ages showed
        To those who went before,
      Who safely trod the sacred road
        That leads to Canaan’s shore.

      My spirit trembles with affright
        As down to death I go;
      Around me glide the shades of night,
        And weary doubtings grow.
      Before is an eternity
        Unreckoned by our years;
      The shoreless and the boundless sea
        That wakens shrinking fears.

      But on the Christ my eye doth rest,
        I trust his gracious power;
      He succoured me when sore distressed,
        And He will save that hour.
      Yea, He a help will yet provide,
        While I am on this shore;
      The waters great He will divide,
        Till Jordan I am o’er.


          BEYOND JORDAN.

      That Christian who once fearful stood
        Where high the waters swell’d
      Lamenting there before the flood,
        Corruption still unquell’d,
      Has entered now into that rest
        Whose light aye filled his eye;
      His spirit now in glory drest
        Surrounds the throne on high.

The popular and living character of Macdonald’s preaching genius
is everywhere apparent in his hymns. Sweetness, elegance, and
genial, broad spiritual-mindedness, have rendered his compositions
universally pleasing. He will probably ever remain the chief type of
the Highland preacher.


REV. DUNCAN MACDOUGALL.

The name of this sacred bard was once very popular in the South-West
Highlands and Isles, and his memory is still green with many aged
Christians particularly in the island of Tiree, where he laboured
with success as a Nonconformist minister. His hymns—_Laoidhean
Spioradail_—appeared in 1841, and for many years continued to be
great favourites in certain circles. Macdougall and Peter Grant
belong to the same order of simple bard-evangelists who have always
been a spiritually elevating force in humble quarters where more
ambitious labours have been failures. Their productions have been
sermons in verse which the common people have received with greater
gladness than has been accorded to the more elaborate and ambitious
utterances of the regular pulpit.


JOHN MORRISON.

Morrison, originally a blacksmith to trade, and latterly a Free
Church catechist in Harris, is one of the most powerful and
ingenious of the bards. I do not know in any language a poem like
his _Duin og is seann Duin’ agam_ in its subtlety of conception, its
felicity of expression, and its cunning weavings and turnings of
verses. Its theme is the “holy war” in the Christian soul, which he
treats not at all in the style of Bunyan, but in quite an original
fashion. It was published in 1835, again in America along with many
of his other poems. His poetry shows that he was profoundly exercised
and interested in the spiritual problems and difficulties of the
Christian life. Few men ever obtained a deeper insight into the
human heart, and fewer still possessed equally great poetic gifts
for uttering what has been seen and felt. A good edition of his
whole works is much required; and it was once hoped that his son,
Dr Morrison of Edinburgh, would satisfy the wishes of his father’s
admirers. The bard died in 1852, sixty-two years of age, before any
of his works in book-form appeared.

Usquba has been the theme of frequent laudations by the secular
bards; the following verses are from a preaching poem of a very
different strain:—

      Ye friends whom I cherish, nurse not in your mind
      That I sing in this song from a motive unkind;
      My theme is the drink-plague—that ill-unconfined,
            That feeds on our ravage and ruin.

      Ye cannot dislike though the satire be keen;
      For disgrace, woe, and want are where’er it has been;
      And spirits immortal enslaved may be seen
            Its road to the devil pursuing.

      Degraded is he who delights in its breath,
      For its trade has been plann’d in the regions beneath;
      Its curse has been wed to consumption and death
            In bodies’ and souls’ undoing.


REV. DUNCAN MACCALLUM.

This was an able minister of the Church of Scotland, who was for
some time settled at Arisaig. _Collath_ is a poem of the heroic
kind, which Mackenzie had inserted in “The Beauties” as a specimen
of ancient poetry! Mr MacCallum published it first anonymously, as
he did another booklet in which he acknowledged himself to be the
author of _Collath_. His poetry shows fair poetic gifts. We meet with
MacCallum again as the author of a Church History.


REV. DUNCAN MACLEAN.

The late Free Church minister of Glenorchy, Mr MacLean, was a
religious poet of great power and originality. Buchanan, Morrison,
and he are poets of the first order. The “Gaelic Hymns” of MacLean
appeared in 1868 in a small closely-printed volume. The pieces
in this volume are rather religious poems than hymns. A keenly
æsthetical spirit pervades all that MacLean has written; and he
has written more than any of the first-class religious bards. He
is exceedingly rich in poetic illustration, and very profound in
thought. He was a man of wide general culture, and he brought the
power and fruits of it with him into the sphere of Gaelic religious
poetry. But though his countrymen highly appreciated his able
ministrations in that language in the pulpit, they do not appear to
be ready to understand that they have such a deep mine of fresh and
original thought in his poetry. The thoughtful reader, however, will
at once feel that MacLean is a man of great culture and a poet of a
high order, in full sympathy with man and the works of creation. Like
Morrison of Harris, he is too profound for the present popular taste.
Here are some translated verses of one of his best poems, on the
scenery of his native place:—

      As I sit on the knoll, on the steep scarpy height,
      And lonely survey all that falls ’neath my sight,
      My crowding thoughts, stirred in their slumber, fast roll
      In currents resistless all over my soul.

      Loch Tay there I see with a beautiful shade
      On its bosom that’s pure as the breast of a maid;
      Like a child in sweet rest, in its fairy bed laid,
      Touch gently its locks ere its glory will fade.

      Oh fair is the vision before me outspread!
      Kind nature’s bright face that awakens no dread,
      The green woods where songsters attune on each tree
      Their throats for sweet warbling—beloved of me.

      The Dochart is rushing to Lochy’s domain
      To meet her, good woman, so gentle and plain;
      When they have embraced and are wed into twain
      His fierceness forsakes him, he yields to her strain.

      Glen Dochart, Glen Lochy, are bright to the view,
      With their corries of green when their dress they renew;
      With the shadowy nooks where the streamlet fast rushes,
      Where you hear the gay chorus of robins and thrushes.

      All changeless I see them, hill, river, and road,
      But where are the people that once there abode?
      Some rest in their graves ’neath the slumberous sod,
      But the many are scattered o’er ocean abroad.

      The smoke rises high from our house as before,
      In volumes encircling the same as of yore;
      But where is that father so kindly nursed me,
      And, gentlest of mothers—O, where now is she?

      The schoolhouse, unaltered, stands there all alone,
      But where the young friends of my bosom are gone?
      The schoolhouse is there still, but where are the boys
      With whom I oft tasted of innocent joys?

      The church there I see on the desolate street,
      But where are the crowds that I there used to meet?
      The minister, too, who had won my regard?
      The answer of echo is, “Under the sward.”

MacLean was a scholarly man and possessed rich gifts for preaching
to his fellow-countrymen. His style was concise and suggestive, his
matter well-arranged and weighty, while the inspiring spirit invested
all with a heavenly force and meaning which greatly delighted all the
more thoughtful Highlanders.


MINOR RELIGIOUS POETS.

The Hymns of John Morrison of Skye (1828), are now scarcely read.
Others also published religious poems and hymns; but there is none
of them of any particular merit. They are just sermons and Christian
experiences put in respectable verse. They, however, helped no doubt
to propagate, especially in some parts of the west, the earnest
evangelical teaching of the authors. _The Gaelic Elegies_, published
in 1850 by the Rev. W. Findlater of Durness, do not show much poetic
freshness either; but owe much of their interest to their religious
character and Christian sentiments. Two of the elegies are on Dr
Macdonald of Ferintosh, and on the Rev. A. Stewart of Cromarty.
MacEachern of Eisdale (1866) scarcely reaches mediocrity. The Rev. A.
Farquharson, a native of Perthshire, who spent the most of his life
in Tiree, also published a good deal of religious poetry, scarcely
equal in merit to Macdougall’s. He died a few years ago. The Rev.
Malcolm MacRitchie, a native of Lewis, wrote a good many poems
and hymns, which were published upwards of 30 years ago. They are
superior to those already mentioned in poetic vigour and freshness
of expression. A small volume by Cameron of Uist is just published
(1891). Hendry of Arran and D. Macdougall have both composed a
quantity of religious poetry; as also Alexander Cook, a native of
Arran, who was a lay preacher of great ability. The writer published
a poem of considerable merit by Cook in _Bratach na Firinn_ in
1873. Macquarrie and Macintyre, both of Ross and Mull, the former
a Baptist preacher and the latter a farmer, have both composed
religious poems and hymns. It would be needless to catalogue the
names of others whose names have never taken the smallest hold of
public attention. It is very remarkable that men of powerful genius
in all countries have often sunk to mediocrity whenever the theme
was purely religious. There are not, it appears, many hymns in any
language, with the exception of the Psalms, that can be described as
first-class poetry.


COLLECTIONS OF RELIGIOUS POETRY.

Many laudable attempts have been made to bring the power of the
sacred muse to bear on Highland life. Principal Daniel Dewar, D.D.,
published a considerable collection of hymns in 1806 for public
worship. It was translated wholly from English, and consisted of
paraphrases and hymns then current in the English language. Another
collection by John Munro appeared in 1819, printed by D. Mackenzie,
Glasgow. This is made up chiefly of translations from Watts’s hymns,
and many of them are well rendered. Another appeared in 1832,
published by John Reid. This tiny volume is neatly printed, and
consists mainly of translations from the Olney hymns. Some of the
compositions in Kennedy’s collection have been referred to already.
The “Sacred Poetry of the North,” edited by John Rose, and published
in 1851, is the most valuable collection of sacred poems yet given
to the Highlanders. The authors whose works are contained in this
volume have been already brought before the reader in chronological
order. In more recent times many of the hymns of our own day,
translated by Archibald Macfadyen, Rev. Dr John MacLeod, and others,
were published by Duncan Campbell in 1874. A new edition of the same
is just published, the collection being in request among Baptists
who have always encouraged more hymn-singing in public worship than
their Presbyterian neighbours. The latter, however, are beginning to
cultivate more liberty in this respect. A few of the hymns sung in
Scotland by Mr Sankey in 1874, were translated by the Rev. Alexander
MacRae of Clachan, and were received with much appreciation. The
first part of “The Highland Hymnal,” by the writer, was published in
1886. In connection with Highland hymnology, ancient and modern, Mr
Lachlan MacBean, Mr Stewart of Killin, and Mr Alexander Carmichael
have done good work in exhibiting some of the treasures of the Gaelic
sacred muse. Still a good volume of Church Praise with music has
never yet been given to the Highland Gael.


SCRIPTURE PARAPHRASES.

These were first translated by the Rev. Alexander Macfarlane of
Kilmelfort and Kilninver. Forty-five of them were published in
1753. They were afterwards revised and remodelled, and published
in complete form by the Rev. John Smith, D.D., to whom also we
are indebted for the best version of the Psalter. During the
second and third generations of this century, the Paraphrases,
through no lack of life or poetic merit, fell into disrepute in
some Highland districts, particularly in the north-west, through
theological controversies in whose train rather mechanical theories
of inspiration began to be introduced. These views, hitherto unknown
among the Gaels, now followed out to their logical issues, led to the
rejection of all hymns of mere human authorship in public worship.
This result, however, is only temporary; and in its operations
confined to certain circumscribed districts.


THE PSALTER.

The first fifty Psalms were published in 1684 by the Rev. Robert Kirk
of Balquidder. A version by the Synod of Argyle appeared in 1694.

Several other attempts were made in the eighteenth century to produce
a good translation of the Psalms in metre, chiefly under the auspices
of the Synod of Argyle. At last there appeared in 1783 a version
which has been generally received by all good judges of Gaelic idioms
and poetry as the best. The author of this version of the Psalter
was the elegant Dr John Smith, who received the unanimous thanks of
the Synod of Argyle for “executing it in so faithful and beautiful a
manner.”

An effort was made to force upon the Churches another translation of
the Psalter by the Rev. Dr Ross of Lochbroom, a man of considerable
ability and distinguished for his knowledge of Gaelic. This version,
however, is marred by obsolete phrases and idioms, and has never
obtained universal circulation in the Highlands.

[Illustration: (decorative end-of-chapter icon)]




CHAPTER XVII.

THE GAELIC REVIVAL.

     “Dùisg a leoghain euchdaich, ’s dean éirich gu faramach,
      Air brat ball-dearg, breid-gheal, ’s fraoch sleibhe mar bharan air;
      Tog suas do cheann gu h-eutrom, ’s na speuraibh gu caithreasach,
      ’S theid mi-fhìn cho géire ’s a dh’fheudas mi d’arabhaig:
      Togam suas do mholadh prîseal, ’s do cheann ríoghail farasda,
      Cha’n’eil ceann no corp ’s an rioghachd an cruaidh-ghniomh thug
            barrach ort,—
      An ceann cruadalach àrd sgiamhach, maisach, fior-dheas, arranta,
      ’Stric agairt ri uchd an fhuathais, ri âm luchd t’fhuatha tarruinn
            riut.
                                                           —MACDONALD.

ENGLISH:

      Awake thou furious lion! awake with lusty roar,
      On thy bright blood-stained standard, heath-circled as of yore;
      Thy head lift up full lightly in heaven with raging might,
      And I will rush with fervour to mingle in thy fight:
      I raise thy praises precious round thy calm regal head;
      None e’er throughout the kingdom excelled thy deeds of dread;—
      That head of strength and valour where fearless beauty glows,
      Oft roared it out its terrors when onward pressed the foes.


This was the spirit and manner in which the great poet Alex.
Macdonald went about rousing his countrymen to lofty deeds of valour
in the second quarter of the eighteenth century. He lavished all his
poetic enthusiasm on the “praises” of the national lion, and the
inspiration of his muse and of that of a hundred-others bore fruit a
century afterwards. Such poems as Macdonald’s have had a profoundly
formative influence on the minds of the young Highlanders of our own
times,—especially the more susceptible and less sordid spirits, who
would not deny their country, race, or language for all the golden
success that self-effacement as Gaels could secure. These enduring
sons of the Highlands and Islands succeeded at last, although in the
midst of much obloquy and secular loss, in accomplishing a Gaelic
revolution;—in creating a Gaelic revival, and ultimately a powerful
agitation that bore a fruit that has justified the more sanguine
expectations and claims of bards and patriots. This has been the
fruit of a century of Gaelic effort devoted to the study of the
language, history, and interests of the people. While the foes of
such an endeavour have been numerous and supercilious, even in
selfish Highland quarters, let it not be forgotten that a great deal
of sympathy and practical help came from many kindly hearts and hands
among our Lowland fellow-countrymen.

It is interesting to trace the influences that have brought about
this bloodless revolution in the Highlands, some of whose people
a little over a century ago were engaged in rebellion against the
present dynasty. A healthy form of Christianity and common sense
have done it all. The meaning of the one came to them through the
translation of good religious writings and the Gaelic Bible: and the
exercise of the other became possible through the instructed good
qualities of the Highlanders themselves. I therefore in this last
chapter devote some paragraphs to the results that the chief forms of
Gaelic endeavour have produced.


THE GAELIC BIBLE.

The first portion of the Bible translated was the New Testament,
in 1767, by the Rev. James Stewart of Killin. Dugald Buchanan, the
poet, accompanied Mr Stewart to Edinburgh to superintend the work
through the press. The title-page bears that the translation was
undertaken at the request and at the expense of the Society in
Scotland for Propagating Christian Knowledge. The translator adopted
an orthographical system, which has been perfected into a standard of
Gaelic by succeeding scholars. The first edition of the translation
of the Old Testament was published in the following order:—

  Part I., 1783, translated by John Stuart, D.D., of Luss.
  Part IV., 1786, translated by John Smith, D.D., of Campbelton.
  Part II., 1787, translated by Dr Stuart.
  Part III., 1801, translated by Dr Stuart.

The fourth part, assigned to Dr Smith, contained the Prophets, which
had afterwards to be revised, Smith’s version being more poetical
than literal. Dr Stuart was a son of the translator of the New
Testament, and received in 1819 for his labours in connection with
the first and other editions of the Gaelic Scriptures the sum of
£1000 from the Lords of the Treasury, a Government favour which has
not been always recognised. A new and revised edition on which Dr
Alexander Stewart, of Dingwall, was engaged with Dr Stuart, of Luss,
under the instructions of a large committee of Gaelic scholars
appointed by the General Assembly in 1816, was published in quarto
in 1826. It is acknowledged by all competent judges that this
Gaelic version of the Scriptures is beyond all praise; that in many
instances it adheres more closely to the original than the English
Bible, whose beauty and excellence have won universal admiration. The
translation of the Old Testament was also undertaken at the expense
of the Society for Propagating Christian Knowledge, and through its
liberality the Scriptures were sold at half the cost price. On the
publication of the Revised Version of the English Bible, a committee
of Gaelic scholars undertook the revision of the Gaelic Bible; but
on account of some difficulties with the Society for Propagating
Christian Knowledge the fruit of their labours has not yet appeared.


TRANSLATIONS INTO GAELIC.

It is mostly religious works of the Evangelical and Puritan type that
have been translated into Gaelic. The masterpieces of Bunyan, Brooks,
Baxter, Burder, Owen, Howe, Doddridge, Alleine, etc. etc., have been
rendered into good, popular Gaelic, and have had immense circulation.
Hundreds of religious works have been translated, some as old as
_The Imitation_, and as recent as Newman Hall’s _Come to Jesus_. The
principal translators have been the Macfarlanes, Dr Smith, MacLaurin,
Rose, Dr Macgillivray, Dr Mackintosh Mackay, the Rev. Allan Sinclair,
and the Rev. A. Macgregor, translator of the Apocrypha. It was
MacEachen, a Roman Catholic priest, that translated _The Imitation_.
Several books of Homer’s _Iliad_ were translated by the accomplished
Ewen MacLachlan of Aberdeen; Virgil’s Æneid by Blair; and _Tam
O’Shanter_ and other poems by Robert MacDougall, the bard. As is well
known, the Queen’s Book has been translated into excellent Gaelic by
Mary Mackellar. The Good Templar and Masonic rituals were, with the
help of the present writer, translated by Duncan Macpherson and Angus
Nicholson respectively. Not the least important of recent efforts of
this kind is the admirable translation of that great Highland charter
of Gaelic emancipation, the Crofters’ Act, from the able and accurate
pen of Mr Henry Whyte.


TRANSLATIONS INTO ENGLISH.

A good deal of Gaelic literature has been translated into English,
whilst the “Ossian” of Macpherson has been rendered into Latin and
into most of the European languages. Following is a list of the names
of those who have published anything of importance:—

  Jerome Stone                 1756
  James Macpherson             1760
  Rev. J. Wodrow               1771
  Ewen Cameron                 1777
  John Clark                   1778
  Rev. Dr Smith                1780
  Rev. Dr Ross                  ——
  The MacCallums               1816
  Mrs Grant                     ——
  Patrick Macgregor            1840
  Robert Munro                 1843
  Rev. Dr MacLauchlan          1862
  J. F. Campbell, Esq.         1866
  Rev. Thomas Pattison         1866
  Rev. Dr Clerk                1870
  Robert Buchanan              1872
  C. S. Jerram, Esq.           1873
  Professor J. S. Blackie      1876

The names of some others, such as Sinclair, the Whytes MacBean,
etc., will occur to the Gaelic reader. The works translated by these
writers would fill many volumes. The works of Macpherson, Dr Smith,
Dr MacLauchlan, J. F. Campbell, Thomas Pattison, Dr Clerk, and
Professor Blackie have received much attention, and are well-known.
Macpherson and Smith translate, on the supposition of translation,
very much in the style of Pope in his Homer with this difference,
that their paraphrastic renderings are only in prose. MacLauchlan,
Campbell, and Clerk have adopted a rigid literality of rendering
which the Ossianic controversy, among other reasons, compelled them
to follow. These writers give the original Gaelic along with the
English version. So does Jerram, whose _Dan an Deirg_ is scholarly
and accurate, very much in the style of Clerk’s _Ossian_. In the
_Gaelic Bards_ of Pattison the original is not given, the work
being intended for popular use among English readers. Pattison’s
translations are metrical and rhyming; and so are Blackie’s in his
admirable and interesting work, _The Language and Literature of the
Scottish Highlands_. Those to whom the Gaelic is a sealed language
have kindled the flame of patriotic enthusiasm by the healthy
mountain breezes which the perusal of these translations has brought
down.


GRAMMARS AND DICTIONARIES.

Several good grammars and dictionaries have been published. Shaw,
towards the end of last century, published a grammar and dictionary
which are not of much value. Stewart’s Grammar in 1812 is still the
best, and any new grammar must take Stewart’s as a basis. Currie,
MacAlpine, Forbes, and Munro have also published grammars. Munro’s
is a work of real scholarship and value, but badly arranged. Dr
Macgillivray and L. MacBean have also written grammars, but the
best of all recent attempts is that published by the late D. C.
Macpherson, Edinburgh. Good grammars have also been written by
Irishmen, and even Germans, from which much help may be obtained.
The vocabularies of Macdonald and Macfarlane paved the way for the
Highland Society’s Dictionary, published in 1828, a noble monument
of Gaelic talent and industry. It appeared in two large volumes.
Its departments are—Gaelic, English, and Latin; Anglo-Gaelic,
Latino-Gaelic. There are 837 pages in the first volume, and 1016 in
the second. The general conduct of the work was entrusted to the
Rev. Dr John MacLeod of Dundonald. He was assisted by the Rev. Drs
Irvine, Macdonald, and Ewan MacLachlan. In its progress through the
press the work was carefully superintended and corrected by the
Rev. Dr Mackintosh Mackay. None of the Celtic languages can boast
of so extensive and learned a lexicon, although it is defective in
etymology, the science of language being then only in its infancy.
Armstrong and MacAlpine have also produced excellent and useful
dictionaries. That of the former is not much inferior to that of
the Highland Society’s, while MacAlpine’s has perhaps been the most
successful of all. The indefatigable labours of the Macfarlanes,
father and son, have been placed to the credit of Drs MacLeod
and Dewar, whose names were thought a necessary guarantee by the
publisher that their dictionary was of standard value. Theirs and
MacAlpine’s are in general circulation. That of the latter is a
pronouncing dictionary, and has been highly appreciated by those
anxious to acquire the language. The translations of phrases and
idiomatic expressions under the principal words are acknowledged
to be a chief excellence of the work. The English-Gaelic part of
MacAlpine’s dictionary was compiled by John Mackenzie, editor of “The
Beauties of Gaelic Poetry,” who had some peculiar ideas of reform
in Gaelic orthography. He was heartily execrated by the irascible
MacAlpine for his labour, which was no doubt a hack business
undertaken for publishers whom Mackenzie could not control. A good
deal of material for an etymological dictionary was left by the late
Dr Alexander Cameron of Brodick, the publication of which is looked
for under the editorial care of Mr Alex. MacBain, M.A.


PROSE WRITERS.

The number of Gaelic prose writers is very limited. This fact is
the result of various causes on the surface of things. Till the
beginning of this century the vast masses of the Highland people were
utterly unable to read, and even those who were able to make use
of books turned to English productions sooner than to Gaelic ones,
a tendency that is not invisible even in our own day. All that the
plain Highlander has been able to consume in the way of literature he
has found in the Book of Books—the Bible—and in the many translations
of religious literature placed within his reach. Families and
individuals destitute of the spiritual instinct have found all the
literary sustenance needed in the old popular tales and poetry which
circulated from mouth to mouth rather than in written forms. To the
Finian tales and similar stuff the Highlanders of the nineteenth
century were till recently as partial as those of the sixteenth
century were to the oral literature of the same pagan character
against which Superintendent Carsuel raised his ineffectual protest
at the time of the Reformation. This oral form of literature required
neither money nor ability to read for its enjoyment; while the manner
of its culture helped to relieve the weariness and monotony of
Highland life. Literature in books, which meant money, was therefore
at a discount.

But to the great credit of sagacious patriots of the Presbyterian
Church of Scotland, efforts were continually made to teach the
people to read and to circulate healthy literature. The Society for
Promoting Christian Knowledge rendered splendid services in both
respects, as did also in later times the circulating Gaelic-School
teachers, whose labours early in this century converted many a
dreary moral wilderness into fair fields of spiritual life. Similar
excellent work has been accomplished by the Ladies’ Associations of
Edinburgh and Glasgow during the last forty years. And now at last
well-trained teachers are to be found in Board Schools established by
the national system of education introduced by the Act of 1872, under
which the good old parish schools have vanished. But with all these
revolutionary changes there is no adequate encouragement yet afforded
to the teaching of Gaelic, which a prejudiced Government Department
in London feels reluctant at heart to acknowledge. This state of
matters is a sufficient explanation of the fact that our Gaelic prose
literature is so scanty, and that the writers of it have received so
little reward for their patriotic labours.

In the following paragraphs will be found the names of the most of
those who are the authors of volumes of Gaelic prose, or who are
otherwise recognised as having contributed considerably to our prose
literature:—

REV. HUGH MACDIARMID.—This well known minister of Callander is
the author of a goodly volume of sermons which have had a fair
circulation in the South Highlands. They exhibit no special ability
in the author, but are plain common-sense productions which would not
rouse much holy enthusiasm in the reader, nor make serious demands on
his intellect. At the same time they were often in request in pious
homes, where, on the poor man’s great Day of Rest, they might be
brought forth to be read.

PRINCIPAL DANIEL DEWAR, D.D.—Though the Principal of a Scottish
University, Dr Dewar did not allow himself to get contemptuous
towards the language of his forefathers like many much smaller men
when they get into posts of honour. As pointed out elsewhere, Dewar
published early in the century a fair collection of Gaelic hymns, the
preface to which shows him to be a man of culture and devout spirit.
We find his name also associated with a popular dictionary, and with
all enterprises of his time for the uplifting of Gaelic life. “The
Gaelic Preacher,” a booklet by Dr Dewar, is well-known to the present
generation of Gaelic readers.

REV. JOHN MACMILLAN.—This Arran preacher was one of the ablest men
who occupied Gaelic pulpits in the early part of this century. The
unction and power of his sermons are still remembered by old folks in
his native island, where his labours have been highly esteemed and
loved. “Macmillan’s Sermons” is a posthumous volume issued under the
editorial care of his relative, the Rev. Mr Stewart, who in their
publication has conferred a boon on his Highland fellow-countrymen.
The founders of the great publishing house of Macmillan were not
unrelated to the distinguished preacher of these sermons.

REV. MACKINTOSH MACKAY, LL.D.—This Sutherlandshire divine was the
most distinguished and thorough Gaelic scholar of his time. He
collected and edited Rob Donn’s poems, no small achievement in
itself; had a prodigious share in the production of the Highland
Society’s Dictionary, and published the _Fianuis_ at the time of
the Disruption of the Scottish Establishment—a monument of good
Gaelic prose and powerful exposition of great principles in the
language of the Gael. The pages of the _Fianuis_, however, being
largely controversial, they are now very much forgotten like the
many pamphlets which the Union controversy subsequently brought
forth. For many years Dr Mackay was one of the best-known ministers
of the Scottish Churches at home and abroad. In Australia he helped
divided Presbyterians to unite, but on his return home in his old age
he opposed a similar union in Scotland. He kept up his interest in
Gaelic studies to the very last, and his love of accuracy continued
to the end. Mr William Mackenzie, publisher, of Glasgow, engaged him
to write a Gaelic Church History (1872), which in his last years he
accomplished with all the care and scholarship which distinguished
his work for the great Gaelic dictionary in his younger years.

REV. ALEXANDER BEITH, D.D.—This remarkable divine has only recently
passed away over ninety years of age. As early as 1824 he published
a little book on “Baptism” when he was minister at Oban. It is
interesting as being one of our earliest original prose works.

REV. NORMAN MACLEOD, D.D.—Well has Dr Macleod been styled “The
Highlander’s Friend,” for no Gaelic man of eminence has ever
identified himself with his countrymen more thoroughly than he. The
favourite of Royalty, the personal friend of Sir Robert Peel, few men
of his cloth have ever received more public honour and respect; and
his no less famous son found a people, when he came forward publicly,
affectionately ready to welcome him. It is as a powerful writer of
Gaelic prose, however, that the elder Norman will be remembered.
His writings are full of wit, wisdom, and humour, and will be read
by Highlanders as long as Gaelic continues to be spoken. No other
man has fashioned by his literary efforts the mental habits of his
countrymen so much as he. He has been the Dickens (_plus_ powerful
religious feelings) of the Highlands. No Highlander ever knew better
than he how to touch the heart-chords of his country men. In many
of his labours he had a worthy and scarcely less able co-adjutor
in his brother, the Rev. Dr John Macleod of Morven. His works were
collected, edited, and republished by his accomplished relative, the
Rev. Dr Clerk of Kilmallie.

Macleod’s _Leabhar nan Cnoc_ became their first introduction to
Gaelic literature to thousands of Highlanders who never lost the
first impressions it left on their minds in youth. The first volume
of the _Gaelic Messenger_ for 1830 was condemned by some as too
light and racy; the second and last for 1831 received so little
support that the magazine was stopped. The late Mr W. R. MacPhun,
the publisher, informed the writer, in 1873, that the parcels of
“Messengers” sent to the Highlands and Islands came back at the end
of the year, _after they had been read_, without any accompanying
payment, of course. Dr Macleod and his enterprising publisher saw
then that it was time to give up the business. Some who have lost
time and money in recent times over Gaelic affairs may find some cold
comfort in this incident in the experience of our greatest of prose
writers.

JOHN MACKENZIE.—The compiler of “The Beauties of Gaelic Poetry” wrote
largely in prose, for which he had great natural gifts. He was the
author of an admirable “History of Prince Charles,” in which much
easy and idiomatic Gaelic will be found. His other works of “The
Beauties,” “The English-Gaelic Dictionary,” “The Gaelic Melodist,”
etc., are so well-known that no further description of them is
necessary. The late Gaelic publishers, Maclachlan & Stewart of
Edinburgh, employed Mackenzie on various works for years.

REV. DUNCAN MACCALLUM.—This Arisaig minister has come before us
already as the author of _Collath_, once sent forth as an ancient
heroic poem. He is better known as the author of a Gaelic Church
History, which is written with fair ability. This has at least the
distinction of being the first of the kind in the language.

REV. JOHN FORBES.—The author of the “Double Grammar” (Gaelic and
English in parallel columns), second edition (1848), was a very
clever and a very learned Highlander. He translated much into Gaelic,
in which he wrote with purity and ease. He was very ingenious in
coining new terms for conceptions hitherto alien to Gaelic. He and
Munro having no access to the works of the ancient writers of the
Celtic Missions Churches described by Zeuss became thus needlessly
neologists. Forbes’s _Lochran_, _Long Gheal_, etc., are well-known to
the readers of Gaelic religious literature.

REV. ARCHIBALD CLERK, LL.D.—Dr Clerk’s greatest work is the elaborate
edition of Macpherson’s Ossian (1870), with new translations and
notes, and Macpherson’s original prose version running at the foot
of the pages. All that Celtic culture and accurate knowledge of
Gaelic could do for the Gaelic of 1807 Clerk has done; and the
splendid work, in two volumes, was published at the expense of the
generous Marquis of Bute. But all to no avail; for I find, just as
write, that even Professor Mackinnon at last has given up the old
faith in Ossian. Dr Clerk’s prose writings were numerous as editor
and contributor in connection with periodical literature. He, in
conjunction with Dr MacLauchlan, undertook the revision of the Gaelic
Bible, but with results rather unsatisfactory.

REV. THOMAS MACLAUCHLAN, LL.D.—A very difficult task was taken
in hand by MacLauchlan when he undertook the transcription and
modernisation of the MS. and Gaelic of the Dean of Lismore’s Book.
This work he also translated literally into English. He, too, edited
Macpherson’s Gaelic Ossian, the small edition in circulation having
been issued under his care. Like Dr Clerk he had a hand in and helped
various Gaelic enterprises of his time. Among others he had charge of
the new edition of Carsuel’s Liturgy. His “Celtic Gleanings” (1857),
and “Review of Gaelic Literature” (1872) in Fullarton’s work on the
Highlands and Highland Clans, were the first attempts to give us an
account of the literature of the Gael. His “Early Scottish Church”
was a creditable production, considering the limited materials which
were then available for the general historian’s purposes.

REV. ANGUS MACKENZIE.—Mr Mackenzie, a native of Lewis, has the honour
of being the only man who has ever attempted to write a complete
history of Scotland in Albin’s ancient tongue. His _Eachdraïdh na
h-Alba_ (1867) is written with much ability and in good idiomatic
Gaelic. It covers the whole period of Scottish story, and ought to
have an extensive circulation among Highlanders. But it is feared
that although sold very cheaply it had not the sale it so well
deserved.

REV. ALEXANDER MACGREGOR.—This excellent and patriotic “Sgiathanach”
was among the best story-tellers of his age, ranking probably, as
far as that gift is concerned, next to Norman Macleod. Tales and
sketches on almost everything Highland were continually pouring from
his facile pen for many years. His translation of the Apocrypha,
undertaken at Lucien Bonaparte’s request, will remain a fine monument
of his knowledge of his native tongue. The Gaelic Society of
Inverness and _The Celtic Magazine_ were much indebted to him during
the first years of their existence. When he died he was minister of
the West (Established) Church of Inverness.

REV. ALEXANDER CAMERON, LL.D.—No one in this generation has
contributed so much towards accurate Gaelic scholarship as the late
Free Church minister of Brodick. He taught Gaelic with great success
for years at Glasgow University to scores of Highland students who,
but for his enthusiasm and self-denying labours, would be settling
in Highland pastorates with more than enough of Latin and Greek
and Hebrew but quite ignorant of Gaelic grammar. The more learned
products of Dr Cameron’s pen were published in the _Scottish Celtic
Review_ begun in 1880. This periodical was chiefly written by himself
and largely filled with philology. Mr MacBain of Inverness is
understood to be preparing for the press the materials left behind by
Dr Cameron.

REV. JOHN GEORGE MACNEILL.—The Free Church minister of Cawdor began
writing Gaelic articles while still a student in 1873. He contributed
a large proportion of the general contents of two volumes of _Bratach
na Firinn_ in which also a telling short story, _Tighnacloiche_
appeared from his pen. _An Soisgeul ann an India_ (1888) is a living,
natural and idiomatic translation of Miss Rainy’s admirable volume
on the Gospel in India. This is one of the most interesting, books
in the language the reader finding here the life and customs of
Aryans in the East described in the ancient tongue of Aryans in the
extreme West of Europe, the children of Sanscrit and of Celtic being
once more brought there into close contact. Mr MacNeill has edited
the Free Church Gaelic Quarterly with much spirit and success for
some years. The Gaelic preface to the _Oranaiche_ and a biographical
sketch and notes to the second edition of “Pattison’s Gaelic Bards”
are from his pen.

PROFESSOR DONALD MACKINNON, M.A.—After ages of unreasonable neglect
of the Gaelic language, it is satisfactory to Gaels at last to be
able to point to the Celtic Chair in Edinburgh University as an
academic recognition of its claims; and it is not less satisfactory
to know that the first occupant of the Chair is a scholar well fitted
to adorn the position. Professor Mackinnon’s first contributions
to the literature of his native language appeared in _The Gael_,
and showed that the native ability and culture which secured him
recognition in other spheres of study might be of exceptional service
to Gaelic literature. Mr Mackinnon has published a text-book for the
use of his class; and has contributed more than one series of fresh
and delightful articles to the columns of _The Scotsman_, which will
no doubt appear some day in a more permanent form.

REV. WILLIAM ROSS.—Coming early under the influence of Dr
MacLauchlan, Mr Ross, in the midst of much public work and various
activities, has carried on his Gaelic studies and Celtic researches,
which have been of a careful and extensive character. He has taught
with success a Gaelic class, and lectured on Gaelic literature for
many years at the Free Church College, Glasgow. He has also rendered
a good deal of public service in connection with Highland education.

REV. ROBERT BLAIR, D.D.—This able and popular minister of the Church
of Scotland has contributed very largely to our Celtic periodicals,
delivered many delightful Gaelic lectures, and has in various ways
heartily promoted the cultivation of the Gaelic language. He has
edited an edition of the poetical works of Livingston, and supplied a
good biographical sketch of the bard.

HENRY WHYTE.—“Fionn” is well-known to the Gaelic-reading public at
home and abroad as a clever and industrious Anglo-Gaelic journalist.
A volume of Gaelic-English and English-Gaelic metrical translations,
“The Celtic Garland” (1881), has had a very good circulation.
In prose and verse, in English and Gaelic, Mr Whyte shows great
versatility and considerable culture; while his knowledge of the
music, manners, and life of the Highlanders is extensive.

JOHN WHYTE.—Although his name is attached to no special volume, Mr
Whyte has for many years been recognised as one of our ablest Gaelic
scholars. He writes with elegance and accuracy in both languages,
and, like his brother Henry, is well able to express himself in
verse as well as in prose. He wrote largely for _The Gael_, _The
Highlander_, etc.; while recently he transcribed for the press the
poems and songs of Mrs Macpherson.

LACHLAN MACBEAN.—MacBean’s _Lessons in Gaelic_ has been perhaps the
most popular of all the helps provided for the student anxious to
acquire the language. The author has for many years been a successful
journalist, but in the midst of his professional duties he has found
time to produce some remarkable works, particularly translations
from such standard authors as Dugald Buchanan, etc. Mr MacBean is
equally at home in the use of the Gaelic and English languages, and
it ought to be said that his translations have the desirable quality
of being readable in their English dress. Perhaps the fact ought not
to be omitted that his works have been published by a gentleman who
has shown considerable enterprise for many years in connection with
Gaelic publications—Mr John Noble of Inverness.

The list of those known as fair writers of Gaelic prose is now
well-nigh exhausted. Mackellar, Dugald Macphail, and others whose
names appear in other chapters might also be described as prose
writers. Among others the following also may be mentioned as having
used a Gaelic pen with varying successes:—

_Rev. Neil Dewar_ of Kingussie is an able and accurate Gaelic
scholar, who helped in the publication of an edition of the Gaelic
Bible with references.

The _Rev. D. M. Connell_ is the author of a little treatise on
astronomy published more than forty years ago.

_Dr D. Black_ of Poolewe published a booklet on medicine and nursing
in 1877 which is well written and full of valuable knowledge and
guidance.

_Dr Morrison_ of Edinburgh, son of the sacred bard of Harris, wrote
for some time a good deal for the columns of _The Gael_.

The _Rev. John MacRury_ has supplied in excellent style much of the
Gaelic Supplement to _Life and Work_, the organ of the Established
Church. He has also written well versions of some ancient Gaelic
tales.

_Dr John Clerk_ has exercised his able and ingenious pen in verse and
prose products of various kinds.

_Dr Hugh Cameron Gillies_, another gentleman of the same profession,
author of a small Grammar and Text-book, is at home in the use of the
Gaelic language, and has edited some poetry and music.

_Malcolm Macfarlan_, the author of a little interesting work of
Gaelic Phonetics, has written a good deal in Gaelic with care and
fair accuracy.

The _Rev. James Dewar_, late of Oa, Islay, produced quite a unique
little work, and one of some ability—a Gaelic reply to the celebrated
“Claim and Protest” of the Free Church of Scotland.

       *       *       *       *       *

There may be some small productions of merit, such as a Sermon by
the _Rev. Archibald Cook_, and similar publications, which are
unnoticed here; but I do not think that many works of any importance
have escaped reference. As already mentioned in another chapter, the
Gaelic is cultivated in Canada as at home. We are all familiar with
the name of the Rev. D. B. Blair, but there have been many others
in the Dominion who have laboured to keep the flame of Gaelic
literature alive. Patrick Macgregor the well-known barrister, was
one of them; and the name of Dr Neil MacNish reminds us that there
are not a few even now—men of ability and patriotic spirit—who
strenuously uphold the interests of Albin’s ancient tongue.


PERIODICALS.

Strenuous efforts were put forth early in this century to supply
the Highlanders with useful literature in their own tongue, but the
necessary sustained support has not hitherto been accorded to such
efforts. Popular poetry and religious writings have therefore been
the main channels through which literature has reached the Gaelic
mind. The following list embraces the chief publications of this
kind:—

In 1803 the _Ros-Roine_, a magazine, commenced, but the publication
ceased with the fourth number.

In 1829-31 _An Teachdaire Gaidhealach_, a monthly, was sent forth by
W. R. MacPhun, publisher, Glasgow, with the elder Dr Norman Macleod
as editor.

In 1835-36 _An Teachdaire Ur Gaidhealach_ was published.

In 1840-43 _Cuiartear nan Gleann_ appeared, with Dr Macleod once more
as chief support and editor.

In 1848 _Fear-tathaich nam Beann_ made its appearance only to
succumb, like its predecessors, after a brief existence.

Some of the writers associated with these efforts were Lachlan
Maclean, Archibald Sinclair, Campbell (the Glasgow publisher), and
the late Rev. Dr Archibald Clerk of Kilmallie.

The Disruption of the Church of Scotland in 1843 became the chief
theme of an ably conducted periodical, _An Fhianuis_, edited by the
Rev. Dr Mackintosh Mackay.

Even in Canada attempts were made to keep the Gaelic alive by means
of magazine literature. Between 1840 and 1841 Urquhart published in
Canada _Cuairtear nan Coiltean_; and about 1851 John Boyd published
_An Cuairtear Og_ in Antigonish, N.S.

For many years afterwards no efforts were made to publish magazines
till 1871, when Mr Angus Nicholson, a native of Lewis, published in
Canada the first three numbers of _An Gaidheal_ (THE GAEL). On the
advice of some Celtic friends the spirited projector of this venture
transplanted his young sapling into Scottish soil in 1872, where
it continued to appear for about six years. In 1872-4 _Bratach na
Firinn_, chiefly a religious magazine, appeared, published by the
writer in his undergraduate days.

At present the Church of Scotland’s own organ of “Life and Work” has
a _Gaelic Supplement_. The Free Church issues _The Gaelic Record_.
Gaelic articles have also appeared in the newspapers of Inverness
and Oban, editors having discovered of late years that the insertion
of Gaelic articles is not inimical to the circulation of their
journals. _The Celtic Magazine_, ably carried on for some years by Mr
Alexander Mackenzie, and the _Highland Monthly_ at present, though
not written in Gaelic, have helped forward Gaelic scholarship. Nor
must I omit to mention the earlier patriotic efforts of Mr John
Murdoch in _The Highlander_, in writing the language and advocating
its claims—efforts which ought to find a special place in the pages
of the historian of the Gaelic Renaissance of this quarter of the
nineteenth century.


HIGHLAND SOCIETIES.

The Highland Societies of London and Scotland have contributed
materially towards the cultivation of Celtic literature, although
the latter for more than half a century has developed into a merely
agricultural association. The Scottish one has given us the learned
“REPORT” on the Ossianic literature, which Henry Mackenzie, author of
“The Man of Feeling,” edited as well as the magnificent Dictionary
already described. The London Society helped to give Smith’s _Seann
Dana_ to the world more than a century ago, and Patrick Macgregor’s
_Genuine Remains_ of Ossian in 1840. Ibis Society still flourishes
under royal and aristocratic smiles in London, and in recent years,
under the guidance of Dr Farquhar Matheson, Dr Roderick Macdonald,
M.P., and others, has helped many Highland youths with bursaries
to enable them to obtain University training. The Gaelic Society
of London was formed in the year 1777, and is still rejoicing in a
vigorous manhood. In those days there were many Gaelic patriots about
the metropolis who had made considerable fortunes abroad and in the
south; and they felt it a sacred duty to encourage organisations
which might nurse the apparently decaying spirit of the threatened
Scottish nationality. Some twenty years ago the Gaelic Society
of Inverness was formed, and to it the Celtic world is indebted
for a series of annual volumes of Transactions in which we have
materials for a rich museum of folk-lore, poetry, tradition, history,
philology, etc. These volumes will be of the utmost value for the
future student. Two names deserve special mention in connection
with these volumes—that of Mr William Mackenzie, Principal Clerk
of the Highland Land Court, a gentleman who wields a facile pen in
both Gaelic and English; and that of Mr William Mackay, solicitor,
Inverness, who is among the most distinguished archæological lawyers
in the country, and who has furnished contributions of the highest
value to these volumes.

The Gaels of Glasgow more recently formed a Gaelic Society, of
which Mr Magnus Maclean, M.A. of Glasgow University, is the
admirable secretary. This Society has made a good beginning with the
publication of the first volume of its Transactions lately published.
Perth and other large towns have also their Gaelic Societies in this
country, and if we look across the Atlantic we find quite a large
number of them in Canada. The Gaelic Society of Toronto, of which
a distinguished native of Islay—Mr David Spence—has been a moving
spirit, is in a very flourishing condition.

       *       *       *       *       *

In the great political change which has just come over the dreams
of Highlanders the Gaelic language has been of the most undoubted
service. Indeed it is through its judicious use as a political weapon
that this change was brought to a successful pass in 1886. It was
the thousands of the Gaelic Land-Law Reform manifestoes sent forth
from London in 1883-4, that organised the Highlands and Islands for
the brilliant Parliamentary triumph of 1885, by which the first
practical fruits of the Gaelic revival were reaped. And here it may
be interesting to preserve a copy of one of these manifestoes, which
played so prominent a part in bringing about the Imperial recognition
of Highland rights. The following prose paragraphs may be referred to
as a specimen of the Gaelic of the period as well as a monument of
the services rendered by the use of Gaelic in an important national
crisis:—


      A GAELIC LAND-LAW REFORM MANIFESTO.

  “_Comunn Gaidhealach Lunnuinn airson Lagh an Fhearainn Aihleasachadh._

  “Chuireadh an Comunn so air chois an toiseach air son gu’m biodh
  Teachdairean Rioghail air an cur feadh Gàidhealtachd agus Eileana
  na h-Alba a rannsachadh mu chor agus mu ghearan na Tuadh Bhig
  anns na ceàrnaibh sin; mar an ceudna air son atharrachaidhean a
  dheanamh air Laghan an Fhearainn, a shocruicheadh gu dainghean Mail
  Chothromach, Greim Seasmhach airan Fhearann, agus Pàidheadh air
  son Athleasachaidhean maille ri leithid d o Ath-shuidheachadh air
  an Fhearann ’sa bhiodh feumail air son math an t-Sluaigh.

  “Air an dara là do Sheptember 1884, choinnich Fir-ionaid o na
  Comuinn Ghàidhealach a tha air son Lagh an Fhearainn Ath-leasachadh
  ann an Co-Labhairt ann an Inbher-feothrain; agus dh’aontaich
  iad air a bhonn a leanas mar Chlar-innsidh air son a’ Chomuinn
  Ghàidhealaich a tha air son Lagh an Fhearainn Ath-leasachadh:

  “Gu’m biodh Cuirt Fearainn le comasan breith agus riaghlaidh air
  a stéidheachadh air son Gàidhealtachd agus Eileana na h-Alba air
  son gach ceist a dh’éireas eadar na h-uachdarain agus an Tuath
  a shocrachadh; agus an coitcheannas a dh’òrdachadh gu’m biodh
  am fearann air a roinn agus air a chur am feum air son math an
  t-sluaigh.

  “Làn ughdarras gu bhi aig a’ Chùirt—

    ‘1mh.—A shuidheachadh nam màl a bhios air am pàidheadh, agus nan
    cumhnantan air am bi am fearann air a ghabhail.

    ‘2mh.—A mheudachadh nam bailtean anns am bheil Croitearan a nis,
    agus a dheanamh bailtean ùra agus tuathanachais air fearann ’sam
    bith a chi a’ Chùirt freagarrach; paidheadh iomchuidh a bhi air
    a thoirt airson call ’sam bith a thig air an fheadhainn aig am
    bheil am fearann an dràsd.

    ‘3mh.—A dh’ŏrdachadh gu’m biodh tighean freagarrach, le roinnean
    do’n fhearrann, air an ullachadh, air cùmhnantan ceart, air son
    seirbheisich agus luchd-obair an fhearainn.

    ‘4mh.—A shochrachadh gach riaghailt a bhuineas do Shealg; gun
    fearann ’sam bith ri bhi air a ghabhaìl air son seilg ás eugmhais
    aonta na Cùirt.

  “Gu’m bi comas aig Luchd-riaghlaidh nan Sgirean, fo sheoladh
  na Cùirt, air aigiod rioghachdail fhaotainn an iasad air urras
  nan cisean, gu bhi air a’ thoirt an coingheall do’n Tuath Bhig,
  Croiteirean, is Coiteirein, a dh’ullachadh thighean is stoc; na
  h-iasaid so ri fuireach fo bhoinn ath-phàidhidh air urras nan
  tuathanachais, nam bailtean, nan croitean, ’s an stuic gus am faigh
  Luch-raighlaidh nan Sgìrean an cuid féin air ais.

  “Gur h-ann aig a’ mhuintir a tha ag àiteachadh a’ ghruinnd a
  bhios còir air toradh gach ath-leasachadh no seilbh a bhios air a
  chruthachadh ann no air an fhearann leosan a tha ’ga oibreachadh;
  agus bidh e comasach doibh an còirchean ’nan gabhaltais a reic no
  air dòigh eile dealachadh riu; a’mhuinntir a thig ’nan déigh gu bhi
  fo na h-aon chùmhnantan, ’s an seilbh air na h-uile chòirichean
  agus shochairean, a bha aig an fheadhainn a bha rompa.

  “Gu’m hi gabhaltais cinnteach no seasmhach aig uile
  luchd-aiteachaidh an fhearainn; se sin ri râdh nach bi iad air an
  gluasad cho fhad ’s a bhios na màil a shuidicheas a’ Chùirt air am
  pàidheadh, agus cùmhnantan a ghabhaltais air an coimhlionadh.”


HISTORY AND ARCHAEOLOGY.

The earlier labours of many Highlanders in these fields are not now
of so much value, but a similar remark is equally applicable to those
whose names are associated with other peoples and their history. The
results of such efforts as these are certainly not Gaelic literature,
but they are referred to here as kindred and indispensable in
understanding it. Such books as Grant “On the Descent of the Gael”
and Logan’s “Scottish Gael” remind us of the earlier periods, while
we are able to point to Skene’s monumental work “Celtic Scotland”
as embodying the fruits of the Gaelic learning of our generation.
The “Antiquarian Notes” and other excellent productions from the pen
of Mr Fraser-Mackintosh, M.P., show that some of our legislators in
these times take a living and hearty interest in the annals of their
ancestors. That splendid series of publications, “The Historians of
Scotland,” the Celtic student will find a much-prized possession; and
the series of volumes the Rhind Lecturers have given us will be felt
to be equally valuable. Gregory, Browne (supplemented by Keltie), and
others have written on general Highland history and the achievements
of the Highland regiments. And a large number of writers have
published important works on county and clan histories.

Among those who have published clan histories the name that
undoubtedly stands highest is that of the indefatigable Mr Alexander
Mackenzie of Inverness, whose labours in this field are quite
gigantic. He has produced many large and interesting volumes on
some of the chief clans, and the fulness and accuracy of them
are acknowledged by those most competent to judge. In this field
Mr Mackenzie stands head and shoulders above all his fellows. As
projector and editor of the _Celtic Magazine_ first, and subsequently
of the _Scottish Highlander_, he has supplied his countrymen with an
immense mass of Highland lore of every description.

Very interesting volumes of Celtic waifs and strays, Gaelic tales,
and folk-lore have been published by Mr Nutt, London; and to these
have been contributed exceedingly valuable notes by Mr Alfred Nutt.
The material for these volumes has been supplied by able ministers
of the Church of Scotland—the Rev. Mr MacInnes, Rev. J. G. Campbell
of Tiree, and the Rev. Mr Macdougall of Duror. The name that stands
highest in this sphere of folk-lore is undoubtedly that of the Rev.
Alexander Stewart, LL.D., the well-known and accomplished “Nether
Lochaber,” whose gifted pen has shed the lustre of literary beauty
on all it has touched. Dr Stewart’s powers are as versatile as they
are original and full of the patriotic spirit. For more than a
generation he has poured forth rich contributions in poetic prose and
in verse, in English and in Gaelic, on natural history, literature,
and folk-lore.

       *       *       *       *       *

In the preceding chapters an attempt has been made to point out the
value of the literary treasures which lie enshrined in the Gaelic
language, as well as the fact that no previous age has witnessed more
Celtic activity than the present, and that the tongue of Ossian is
still a subject of fond use and devotion with many. As an interesting
proof of this the following verses may be appropriately introduced
as a Gaelic close to the volume; and in relation to them it may be
stated that they were first sung in a London church at a Gaelic
service, with organ accompaniment, by a congregation of Gaels, Scots,
Welsh, and Angles!—


          THE GAELIC NATIONAL ANTHEM.

          A NEW VERSION.


              I.

      Dhia, gléidh an sluagh le d’ ghràs!
      An rîoghachd ás gach câs!
            Dhia, gléidh an Crùn!
      Biodhmaid a ghnăth fo d’ lâimh
      Le buaidh os ceann gacli náimh,
      ’Nad ghrâdhsa faotainn sâimh!
            Dhia, gléidh an Crùn!


              II.

      A Thighearna, Dhia na glôir,
      Dean air gach diblidh fòir
            Is gléidh an Crùn!
      Cum suas Victoria chaomh:
      Roinn ceartas air gach taobh:
      Dion oighreachd bhochd do naomh!
            Dhia, gléidh an Crùn!


              III.

      Ar sùil tha Riutsa suas:
      Seall air ar cor le truas;
            Is gléidh an Crùn!
      Cair cuibhreach uilc mu sgaoil!
      Tog sinn á slochd an t-saogh’il!
      A steach do thir a’ ghaoil!
            Dhia, gléidh an Crùn!

[Illustration: (decorative end-of-chapter icon)]




INDEX.


  Adamnan, 15, 47, 52, 68, 95

  Addis, 33

  Adrian, 72

  Aengus, 49

  Ainle, 93, 95

  Andersen, 127

  Anderson, Joseph, 27, 85, 222

  Aoife, 95

  Ap Gwilym, D., 151

  Ardan, 93, 95

  Argyll, Countess of, 156

  Argyll, Duke of, 222

  Arnold, 33

  Arnold, Matthew, 21

  Arthur, 10

  Averroes, 146

  Avicenna, 146

  Auld, 241


  Baithen, 63

  Bannatyne, Lord, 232

  Beattie, Professor, 272

  Bede, 99

  Beith, Rev. Dr, 333

  Bethune, Malcolm, 145

  Black, Dr D., 338

  Blackie, Professor, 20, 171, 192, 252

  Blair, Rev. D. B., 312, 330, 338

  Blair, Dr Hugh, 185

  Blair, Dr Robert, 307, 337

  Bopp, 7

  Boswell, 186

  Bourke, 20, 21

  Breadalbane, Earl of, 261

  Boyd, John, 339

  Breakspere, 73

  Brendan, 59, 66

  Brendan of Birr, 59

  Brigit [Bridget], 31, 41, 45, 76

  Broccan, 51

  Brown, Dorothy, 172

  Browne, 343

  Browning, E. B., 292

  Browning, 302

  Bruce, King R., 303

  Bruce, Michael, 271, 284

  Brude, 8, 63

  Bryant, Dr Sophie, 56

  Buchanan, Dugald, 248-253

  Buchanan, Robert, 261, 290

  Bugge, Professor Stephen, 84

  Bunyan, 254

  Burns, 4, 181

  Burton, 55, 85


  Cadoc, 59

  Caedmon, 81

  Cailte, 30, 89, 96

  Cainnech, 59, 67

  Cairbre, 13, 104

  Cairnaan, 63

  Calder, 229, 242

  Calverley, 258

  Calphurnius, 32

  Cameron, Rev. A., 313

  Cameron, Dr A., 38, 336

  Cameron, John, 300

  Cameron, J. M., M.P., 195

  Campbell, Archibald, 300

  Campbell, Sir Colin, 308

  Campbell, Colin, 146, 176

  Campbell, Colin, 228

  Campbell, Lord Colin, 156

  Campbell, Duncan, 270

  Campbell, Sir Duncan, 157

  Campbell, Rev. R., 175

  Campbell, J. F., 10, 20, 21, 88, 141, 189

  Campbell, Rev. J. G., 343

  Campbell, John, of Ledaig, 300

  Campbell, George, 301

  Campbell, Margaret, 316

  Campbell, P., 339

  Candlish, Principal, 121

  Carmichael, Alexander, 324

  Carsuel, 120, 129, 222

  Caston, Sarah, 4

  Cessarotti, 196

  Charles, Prince, 237, 268

  Chaucer, 130, 219

  Ciaran, of Saigheir, 59

  Ciaran, of Clonmacnois, 59

  Clark, John, 87, 219-220

  Clark, Mary, 316

  Clerk, Dr Archibald, 12, 20, 190, 208, 334, 339

  Clerk, Dr John, 338

  Cobhtach, 63

  Cochulin, 30, 92

  Colonsay, Lord, 193

  Columba, 27, 31, 36, 41, 54, 57

  Columba, son of Crimthan, 59

  Comgall, 77

  Conan, 39, 96

  Congell, 63

  Connacher, 93

  Connal, 92

  Connell, Rev. D., 338

  Conung, 69

  Cook, Rev. A., 338

  Cook, Alexander, 323

  Cormac, 45

  Cowper, 198, 248

  Crodhearg, 151

  Cromwell, 4, 74

  Cumberland, Duke of, 268

  Cumhal, 96, 98

  Cusack, Miss, 40


  D’Oyly, Lady, 281

  David, K., 72

  David, St, 59

  Deirdri, 95, 95, 145

  Desmond, Earl Gerald, 161

  Dewar, Rev. N., 338

  Dewar, Rev. J., 338

  Dewar, Principal, 324, 332

  Diarmad, 30, 96, 110

  Diefenbach, 7

  Docus, 59

  Doddridge, 349

  Domnal, 49

  Donald, Lord of the Isles, 145

  Donnan, 66, 67

  Drostan, 68

  Du Bartas, 254

  Dubthach, 52

  Duncan Mor, of Lennox, 160


  Eachaid, 63

  Ebrard, 191

  Earnaan, 63

  Eglinton, Earl of, 232

  Eliot, George [Evans], 5

  Ethne, 54

  Eve, 100

  Evir, 92, 102

  Eyre-Todd, G., 195


  Farquharson, 323

  Fechno, 63

  Fergus, 54, 89, 96, 99

  Finian, 63

  Finnbarr, 48

  Flannan, 66

  Fletcher, Angus, 269

  Forbes, Rev. John, 334

  Foster, 40

  Foulis, Sir James, 232

  Fraser, Dr A., 229

  Frazier, Andrew, 228

  Fergus, 54, 89, 96, 99

  Ferguson, Professor Adam, 185, 229

  Ferguson, Christina, 278

  Ferguson, Sir S., 5, 27

  Findlater, 323

  Fingal, Fionn, Finn, 10, 13, 29, 30


  Galen, 146

  Gallie, 186, 188, 229

  Gaul, Gall, 30, 89, 99

  Geddes, Principal, 23

  Geikie, 132

  German, 59

  Gibson, Rev. Dr, 301

  Gilchrist, 310

  Gildas, Gillas, 59, 80

  Gillies, 88

  Gillies, Dr H. C., 298, 338

  Glas, 160

  Glengarry, 273

  Goethe, 198

  Gordon, W., 270

  Gordon, Duke of, 273

  Grahame, P., 229

  Graine, 10, 30, 80, 89, 96, 100, 110, 122

  Grant, 88

  Grant, 340

  Grant, A., 286

  Grant, Mrs, 219

  Grant, Rev. Peter, 317

  Gray, 181

  Gregory, 273, 343

  Grillaan, 63, 88

  Grimm, 88

  Guest, 127

  Guinevere, 10


  Haco, 17

  Hay, Colin, 305

  Helen, of Kirkconnel, sen., 167

  Hendry, 323

  Hennesy, 40

  Henry II., 73

  Herbert, George, 315

  Hill, 88

  Homer, 28

  Hu Gadarn, 130

  Hume, David, 253


  Irvine, Rev. Dr, 330


  James IV., 145

  Jerram, 329

  Jocelyn, 43, 44

  Johnson, Samuel, 141, 185, 230

  Joyce, 20, 231


  Keating, 131

  Keats, 272

  Keltie, 12, 343

  Kennedy, Angus, 270

  Kennedy, Duncan, 22, 314

  Kennedy, Rev. John, 241

  Kennedy, Rev. John, 316

  Kennedy, Rev. Dr John, 241

  Kentigern, 42, 44

  Kirk, 224, 325

  Knoydart, John, of, 160

  Knox, John, 4, 208, 222


  Laing, Dr, 164, 208

  Laisren, 59

  Lamartine, 198

  Landor, 309

  Leland, 230

  Lhuyd, 7, 173, 225

  Livingstone, David, 303

  Livingston, William, 24, 121, 302-10, 347

  Logan, 340

  Lovat, 167

  Lowe, 284

  Luguid, 63


  MacAffer, 281

  MacAlister, 287

  MacAlpine, 32

  MacAlpine, Kenneth, 58, 86

  MacAlpine, Neil, 330

  Mac-an-Olla, 9, 160

  MacArt, Cormac, 89, 96, 108

  MacArthur, 88, 196, 229

  Macaulay, Lord, 178, 294

  MacAulay, Z., 178

  MacBain, A., 195, 312

  MacBean, 249, 324, 337

  MacBeth, Fergus, 145

  MacBride, 49

  MacCabe, 160

  MacCaille, 51

  MacCallum, D., 87

  MacCallum, 311

  MacCallum, Rev. Duncan, 321, 334

  MacCallum, J. and H., 88

  MacCei, Hugh, 153

  MacCulloch, 231

  MacCunn, 290

  MacDiarmad, Rev. H., 204, 229, 332

  MacColl, Evan, 293-5

  MacCodrum, John, 177

  MacCrimmein, 173

  Macdonald, Admiral Sir Reginald, 141, 164

  Macdonald, Sir A., of Antrim, 184

  Macdonald, Alexander, 134, 179-184

  Macdonald, Sir Alexander, 170

  Macdonald, Archibald, 171

  Macdonald, Archibald, 178

  Macdonald, Angus, of Islay, 145

  Macdonald, Angus, of Glen-Urquhart, 298

  Macdonald, Angus, 177

  Macdonald, Cicely, 172

  Macdonald, Dr George, 290

  Macdonald, D., 269

  Macdonald, Sir James, 178

  Macdonald, John, 170

  Macdonald, John, 287

  Macdonald, John, 172

  Macdonald, John, D.D., 241, 319-20

  Macdonald, Dr R., M.P., 195, 340

  Macdonald, Ronald, 267

  Macdonnell, F., 312

  Macdougall, Rev. 343

  Macdougall, Allan, 268

  Macdougall, Phelim, 163

  Macdougall, Robert, 300

  MacDougall, Rev. Duncan, 320

  MacEachern, 160

  MacEachern, 323

  MacEachaig, 160

  Macfadyen, 314

  Macfadyen, John, 286

  Macfadyen, Archibald, 324

  Macfarlane, Duncan, 278

  Macfarlane, P., 278

  Macfarlane, Robert, 196

  Macfarlan, M., 338

  MacFirbis, 144

  Macgillivray, John, 278

  Macgregor, Alexander, 280

  Macgregor, Duncan, 160

  Macgregor, Gregor, 165

  Macgregor, Sir James, 88, 90, 145

  Macgregor, Rev. A., 335

  Macgregor, James, D.D., 237, 317

  Macgregor, Surgeon-Major, 316

  Macgregor, John, 161

  Macgregor, Margaret, 270

  Macgregor, Patrick, 187, 339, 340

  MacHale, 19

  MacInnes, Rev. D., 343

  MacInnes, A., 271

  MacInnes, D., 278

  MacInnes, John, 286

  Macindeor, 314

  Macintyre, 160

  Macintyre, Dr, 229

  Macintyre, Allan, 270

  Macintyre, Donald, 276

  Macintyre, Rev. Angus, 283

  Macintyre, Duncan, 259-267

  Macintyre, Miss, 290

  Macintosh, Andrew, 160

  Mackintosh, Fraser, M.P., 343

  Mackellar, David, 233

  Mackellar, Mary, 299

  Mackellar, Neil, 171

  Mackenzie, Alexander, 340, 343

  Mackenzie, Dr A. C., 290

  Mackenzie, Rev. Angus, 335

  Mackenzie, Henry, 187, 340

  Mackenzie, John, 279, 334

  Mackenzie, John, of London, 197

  Mackenzie, Kenneth, 268

  Mackenzie, Murdoch, 278

  Mackenzie, William, 176

  Mackenzie, William, 314

  Mackenzie, William, 341

  Mackay, A. M., 255

  Mackay, Bryan V., 152

  Mackay, A., 286

  Mackay, Charles, 298, 294

  Mackay, Rev. Dr M., 255, 332, 339

  Mackay, John, 173

  Mackay, Robert, 255-259

  Mackay, William, 341

  Mackinnon, A., 269

  Mackinnon, L., 172

  Mackeich, 314

  MacLagan, Rev. James, 186, 229

  MacLagan, Archbishop, 315

  MacLachlan, Dr, 296-7

  MacLachlan, Ewen, 269, 272, 274

  MacLauchlan, Lauchlan, 242-247

  MacLauchlan, Major, 142, 232

  MacLauchlan, Dr T., 12, 20, 95, 107, 145, 222, 335

  MacLauchlan, Edmond, 146

  MacLaurin, 229

  MacLean, Andrew, 184

  MacLean, Rev. Duncan, 321

  MacLean, Hector, 127, 190

  MacLean, Hector, 172

  MacLean, Rev. John, 174

  MacLean, John, 176

  MacLean, John, 274, 276

  MacLean, Ewen, 146

  MacLean, Lachlan, 339

  Maclean, Magnus, 341

  MacLean, Malcolm, 177

  MacLean, Margaret, 278

  Mackinnon, Professor, 164, 208, 336

  Mackorkindale, John, 300

  MacLear, Rev. Dr, 40

  MacLeod, Lord Bannatyne, 273

  MacLeod, Donald, 270

  MacLeod, Professor, 229

  MacLeod, Hector, 170

  MacLeod, Murdoch, 287

  MacLeod, Dr John, 324

  MacLeod, Norman, D.D., 283, 333, 339

  MacLeod, Neil, 311

  MacLeod, Mary, 133, 165, 169

  MacLugas, 281

  MacLuy, 96, 107

  MacNab, Finlay, 148, 161

  MacNab, 302

  MacMurchie, 271

  Macmillan, Rev. John, 332

  Macmillans, publishers, 332

  MacNeill, Archibald, 193

  MacNeill, Efric, 155

  MacNeill, Gilleonan, 68

  MacNeill, Hector, 289

  MacNeill, Rev. John G., 336

  MacNeill, Leogaire, 36, 39, 75

  MacNeill, Peter, 290

  MacNeill, Sir John, 193

  Macnicol, 161, 223, 229

  MacNish, Rev. Dr N., 339

  MacOmie, Baron Ewen, 160

  Macphail, Angus, 272

  Macphail, C., 286

  Macphail, Dugald, 289

  Macphail, Ewen, 146

  Macphail, Rev. Hector, 242, 244

  Macpherson, Dr, 239

  Macpherson, Rev. James, 174, 176

  Macpherson, Mary, 313

  Macpherson, James, 12, 15, 37, 87, 185-300

  Macpherson, D. C., 330

  Macpherson, Duncan, 338

  Macpherson, Duncan, 158

  Macpherson, Lachlan, 267

  MacPhun, W. R., 339

  Murdoch, John, 340

  Macquarrie, 323

  Macqueen, Dr, 186, 229

  Macrae, Rev. Donald, 301

  Macrae, Donald, of Petty, 315

  Macritchie, Rev. M., 323

  Macroy, 281

  MacRuairi, 90, 110

  MacRury, Rev. John, 338

  MacVurich, 150, 153

  MacVurich, John, 159

  MacVurich, Neil, 172

  MacCrubha, 66

  Magee, Abp., 152

  Malcolm III., 16, 58, 73, 144, 147

  Manning, 33

  Manus, 96, 119

  Măol-Donuich, 160

  Margaret, Queen, 17, 57, 73

  Martin, 58

  Miller, Hugh, 295, 299

  Morison, George, 271

  Morrison, R., 173

  Morrison, of Petty, 287

  Morrison, John, of Harris, 320

  Morrison, John, 323

  “Mary of The Gael,” 47, 50, 52

  Matheson, 172

  Matheson, Donald, 240

  Matheson, Dr F., 340

  Merddyn, 168

  Milton, 4, 251

  Mitchell, 303

  Mobhr, 59

  Molaisren, 77

  Moluoc, 66

  Montrose, 184

  Moore, Bishop, 142

  Moore, Thomas, 219

  Moran, Bishop, 33

  Morrison, Dr, 338

  Morely, Henry, 4, 84, 107

  Mugint, 75, 81

  Muireadach, 148, 150

  Mullin, Rev. M., 18

  Munro, James, 278, 295-6

  Murdoch, John, 294

  Murray, Sir John Macgregor, 196


  Naos, 93

  Neale, Dr, 79, 250

  Niamh, 136

  Nicholson, Angus, 328, 339

  Nicolson, 182, 286

  Ninian, 31, 36, 48, 72

  Ninnidh, 59

  Noble, J., 338

  Nutt, 341, 343

  Nutt, Alfred, 341, 343


  O’Cairbee, Diarmid, 160

  O’Carril, 149

  O’Connor, Charles, 230

  O’Curry, 20, 46, 60, 89, 135

  O’Daly, 149

  O’Donovan, 20

  O’Driscol, 73

  O’Flanagan, 130

  O’Hart, John, 274

  O’Grady, 20, 126, 130, 141

  O’Hartigan, 132

  Orr, D., 181

  Oscar, 30, 89, 104, 108

  Ossian, 5, 11, 28, 30, 114, 136

  Ottir, 69

  Oughton, Sir Adolphus, 232

  Owen Goronwy, 48


  Parry, David, 227

  Patrick, 27, 28, 31, 34, 41

  Patterson, Rev. Dr, 318

  Pattison, 30, 96, 101, 108, 154, 189

  Peter, St, 76

  Petrie, 47

  Pictet, 7

  Politus, 32

  Pope, 188

  Praed, 258

  Pritchard, 7


  Ramsay, John, 153

  Rayne, 30, 96

  Reay, Lord, 255-258

  Reeves, 75

  Rhys, Professor, 21, 28, 48, 74, 86, 224, 225

  Robert, Duke, 145

  Robertson, 117

  Robertson, Principal, 185

  Ronan, 66

  Rose, John, 324

  Ross, Dr Thomas, 187, 196, 229, 325

  Ross, Rev. William, 271-2

  Ross, Rev. William, 337

  Ruadbhan, 59

  Rus, 63


  Sankey, 324

  Sayce, Professor, 1, 28

  Scandal, 63

  Scott, Sir W., 208, 255-276

  Sechnall, 75, 79

  Senell, 59

  Serf, St, 42

  Shairp, Principal, 193

  Shaw, 189

  Shaw, James, 269

  Shakespeare, 5

  Shelley, 315

  Sherman, 40

  Sinclair, Archibald, 279, 289

  Sinclair, Rev. A., 149

  Sinclair, Rev. A. M., 274, 312

  Sinclair, Sir John, 196, 273

  Skene, W. F., 12, 20, 95, 132, 135, 145, 164, 188, 343

  Smith, Dr D., 142

  Smith, Dr John, 22, 69, 87, 201, 202, 212-218, 229

  Spence, David, 341

  Stephens, 27

  Stokes, Miss, 40

  Stokes, G. T., 40

  Stokes, Dr Whitley, 20, 38, 49, 45, 144

  Stone, Jerome, 208-9

  Stewart, Rev. Dr Alex., 343

  Stewart, A. & D., 88

  Stewart, Rev. Dr Alexander, 341

  Stewart, Charles, D.D., 278

  Stewart, Elizabeth, 4

  Stewart, Isobel, 156

  Stuart, Francis, 232

  Stuart, Dr, John, 143

  Stuart, John Roy, 268


  Tadgod, 149

  Tagd, 149

  Taylor, Gilchrist, 160

  Temple, 230

  Tennyson, 167, 195, 219

  Thomson, 303

  Tochan, 63

  Todd, Rev. Dr, 38, 40, 62, 74

  Tremor, 96, 103

  Turner, 88, 278


  Ultán, 47, 50, 74

  Urquhart, 339


  VICTORIA, Queen 274, 342


  Wallace, 303

  Ware, Sir James, 75

  Waddell, Dr Hately, 191

  Watts, 249

  Wellington, 4

  Whyte, Henry, 283, 328, 337

  Whyte, John, 176, 312, 337

  Whitefield, George, 253

  Wilkinson, 281

  Wodrow, 229

  Wordsworth, 299


  Young, 88


  Zeuss, J. C., 4, 6, 7, 71, 141, 144

[Illustration: (decorative end-of-chapter icon)]




  The reader is requested to substitute on page 54 the date “521” for
  “520;” and on page 164 “O’Grady” for “Hennesy.”




  TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE

  The original book had decorative icons at the end of every chapter.
  They were missing from Chapter I, IV and VII due to lack of printing
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  Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been
  corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within
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  Some hyphens in words have been silently removed, some added,
  when a predominant preference was found in the original book.

  The titles Dr, Mr and Mrs sometimes had a period (Dr. Mr. and Mrs.);
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  Some names have several variant spellings in the book, for example:
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  Gràine, Graine, Gràinne, Grainne.
  These variants have been left unchanged.

  The Index has many entries misplaced alphabetically. The printed
  order has been left unchanged in this etext.

  Except for those changes noted below, all misspellings in the text,
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  Pg 7: ‘Library of Millan’ replaced by ‘Library of Milan’.
  Pg 8: ‘in the pronounciation’ replaced by ‘in the pronunciation’.
  Pg 13: ‘of his mistifying’ replaced by ‘of his mystifying’.
  Pg 15: ‘was alway under’ replaced by ‘was always under’.
  Pg 27: ‘EARLY GAELC’ replaced by ‘EARLY GAELIC’.
  Pg 30: ‘a mighty metamorphoses’ replaced by ‘a mighty metamorphosis’.
  Pg 30: ‘to develope an’ replaced by ‘to develop an’.
  Pg 32: ‘latest authorative’ replaced by ‘latest authoratative’.
  Pg 41: ‘which occured in’ replaced by ‘which occurred in’.
  Pg 41: ‘heart of of his’ replaced by ‘heart of his’.
  Pg 49: ‘in Gaelie Scotland’ replaced by ‘in Gaelic Scotland’.
  Pg 50: ‘in oppositiion’ replaced by ‘in opposition’.
  Pg 51: ‘Be in sackloth’ replaced by ‘Be in sackcloth’.
  Pg 64: ‘that we posess’ replaced by ‘that we possess’.
  Pg 68: ‘if an increduluos’ replaced by ‘if an incredulous’.
  Pg 72: ‘which preceeded the’ replaced by ‘which preceded the’.
  Pg 74: ‘ancient Chureh’ replaced by ‘ancient Church’.
  Pg 75: ‘Audite Onmes’ replaced by ‘Audite Omnes’.
  Pg 76: ‘and inmovable in’ replaced by ‘and immovable in’.
  Pg 78: ‘best production’ replaced by ‘best productions’.
  Pg 88: ‘considerale length’ replaced by ‘considerable length’.
  Pg 89: ‘It it admitted’ replaced by ‘It is admitted’.
  Pg 93: ‘Noas, Ainle’ replaced by ‘Naos, Ainle’.
  Pg 104: ‘great favourities’ replaced by ‘great favourites’.
  Pg 106: ‘Thongh Oscar’s’ replaced by ‘Though Oscar’s’.
  Pg 109: ‘he acknowleged in’ replaced by ‘he acknowledged in’.
  Pg 115: ‘of the fifteeenth’ replaced by ‘of the fifteenth’.
  Pg 119: ‘brillant victory’ replaced by ‘brilliant victory’.
  Pg 121: ‘proberbially all’ replaced by ‘proverbially all’.
  Pg 124: ‘stood upwright’ replaced by ‘stood upright’.
  Pg 125: ‘The reply that’ replaced by ‘They reply that’.
  Pg 127: ‘with much o! his’ replaced by ‘with much of his’.
  Pg 130: ‘Standish G’Grady’ replaced by ‘Standish O’Grady’.
  Pg 131: ‘in Wesiminster’ replaced by ‘in Westminster’.
  Pg 135: ‘ancient manuscrips’ replaced by ‘ancient manuscripts’.
  Pg 146: ‘science of metaphsies’ replaced by ‘science of metaphysics’.
  Pg 148: ‘who held hands’ replaced by ‘who held lands’.
  Pg 148: ‘the adminstration’ replaced by ‘the administration’.
  Pg 153: ‘one thouand four’ replaced by ‘one thousand four’.
  Pg 154: ‘For wise men’ replaced by ‘Four wise men’.
  Pg 157: ‘literary offorts’ replaced by ‘literary efforts’.
  Pg 159: ‘famous Muireach’ replaced by ‘famous Muireadhach’.
  Pg 165: ‘the beginings of’ replaced by ‘the beginnings of’.
  Pg 169: ‘has been regardd’ replaced by ‘has been regarded’.
  Pg 174: ‘might illnme’ replaced by ‘might illume’.
  Pg 179: ‘of orignal power’ replaced by ‘of original power’.
  Pg 180: ‘sons and daughers’ replaced by ‘sons and daughters’.
  Pg 181: ‘this insignificent’ replaced by ‘this insignificant’.
  Pg 191: ‘conflex epics’ replaced by ‘complex epics’.
  Pg 192: ‘former magnificance’ replaced by ‘former magnificence’.
  Pg 194: ‘the Gaelic Soeiety’ replaced by ‘the Gaelic Society’.
  Pg 196: ‘magnficent edition’ replaced by ‘magnificent edition’.
  Pg 199: ‘useless in his haud’ replaced by ‘useless in his hand’.
  Pg 200: ‘the dismal tempet’ replaced by ‘the dismal tempest’.
  Pg 200: ‘in the the hollow’ replaced by ‘in the hollow’.
  Pg 203: ‘Wih lightning’ replaced by ‘With lightning’.
  Pg 204: ‘reccnt writers’ replaced by ‘recent writers’.
  Pg 204: ‘the melodsts sweet’ replaced by ‘the melodies sweet’.
  Pg 205: ‘made the the bard’ replaced by ‘made the bard’.
  Pg 205: ‘also chatacteristic’ replaced by ‘also characteristic’.
  Pg 210: ‘in this adveuture’ replaced by ‘in this adventure’.
  Pg 211: ‘was the was the first’ replaced by ‘was the first’.
  Pg 220: ‘part of _Morduth_’ replaced by ‘part of _Mordubh_’.
  Pg 220: ‘James Macphersou’ replaced by ‘James Macpherson’.
  Pg 220: ‘creating unneccssary’ replaced by ‘creating unnecessary’.
  Pg 226: ‘their own tougue’ replaced by ‘their own tongue’.
  Pg 228: ‘of of the Original’ replaced by ‘of the Original’.
  Pg 235: ‘but by flght’ replaced by ‘but by flight’.
  Pg 239: ‘contempoporaries, by’ replaced by ‘contemporaries, by’.
  Pg 240: ‘is decidely sacred’ replaced by ‘is decidedly sacred’.
  Pg 250: ‘beautful production’ replaced by ‘beautiful production’.
  Pg 253: ‘acount the author’ replaced by ‘account the author’.
  Pg 259: ‘With noue to’ replaced by ‘With none to’.
  Pg 261: ‘from the the world’ replaced by ‘from the world’.
  Pg 262: ‘bright sea-tront’ replaced by ‘bright sea-trout’.
  Pg 263: ‘vety fond of’ replaced by ‘very fond of’.
  Pg 266: ‘ths crowds of’ replaced by ‘the crowds of’.
  Pg 267: ‘and immmediately’ replaced by ‘and immediately’.
  Pg 267: ‘names of the the authors’ replaced by ‘names of the authors’.
  Pg 269: ‘many of of his songs’ replaced by ‘many of his songs’.
  Pg 270: ‘till he become’ replaced by ‘till he became’.
  Pg 274: ‘bards, or seanachies’ replaced by ‘bards, or senachies’.
  Pg 274: ‘and and ornamental’ replaced by ‘and ornamental’.
  Pg 277: ‘to their manes’ replaced by ‘to their names’.
  Pg 278: ‘by the the brothers’ replaced by ‘by the brothers’.
  Pg 278: ‘Uist scholmaster’ replaced by ‘Uist schoolmaster’.
  Pg 279: ‘immoral tentendency’ replaced by ‘immoral tendency’.
  Pg 279: ‘in for requent’ replaced by ‘in for frequent’.
  Pg 283: ‘A translatlon by’ replaced by ‘A translation by’.
  Pg 285: ‘repeated tree times’ replaced by ‘repeated three times’.
  Pg 287: ‘chorus rather’ replaced by ‘chorus is rather’.
  Pg 289: ‘after the the death’ replaced by ‘after the death’.
  Pg 292: ‘Celtic Rennaissance’ replaced by ‘Celtic Renaissance’.
  Pg 293: ‘show he bard’ replaced by ‘show the bard’.
  Pg 315: ‘not first first-class’ replaced by ‘not first-class’.
  Pg 328: ‘by the accomplised’ replaced by ‘by the accomplished’.
  Pg 329: ‘Gaelic along wth’ replaced by ‘Gaelic along with’.
  Pg 334: ‘the distiction of’ replaced by ‘the distinction of’.
  Pg 336: ‘the secoud edition’ replaced by ‘the second edition’.
  Pg 337: ‘has has had a very’ replaced by ‘has had a very’.

  Index
  Pg 345: ‘Boyd, John, 389’ replaced by ‘Boyd, John, 339’.
  Pg 346: ‘Dewar, Principal, 324, 352’ replaced by
          ‘Dewar, Principal, 324, 332’.
  Pg 346: ‘Gœthe, 198’ replaced by ‘Goethe, 198’.
  Pg 347: ‘MacAlpin, 32’ replaced by ‘MacAlpine, 32’.
  Pg 347: ‘MacAlpin, K., 58, 86’ replaced by
          ‘MacAlpine, Kenneth, 58, 86’.
  Pg 347: ‘MacAlpin Neil’ replaced by ‘MacAlpine, Neil, 330’.
  Pg 348: ‘Mackay, Wililam, 341’ replaced by ‘Mackay, William, 341’.
  Pg 349: ‘MacVurich, Neii, 172’ replaced by ‘MacVurich, Neil, 172’.
  Pg 349: the entry ‘Mossison, John’ was deleted.
  Pg 350: ‘Ross, Rev. William, 357’ replaced by
          ‘Ross, Rev. William, 337’.
  Pg 350: ‘Stewart, Rev. Dr Alex., 353’ replaced by
          ‘Stewart, Rev. Dr Alex., 343’.
  Pg 350: ‘Stewart, Charies, D.D., 278’ replaced by
          ‘Stewart, Charles, D.D., 278’.



*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 74510 ***