An Historical Account of the Settlements of Scotch Highlanders in America. J. P. Maclean
into its element, where they were drowned, and then became its prey. It could skim along the surface of the water, and browse by its side, or even suddenly swell a river or loch, which it inhabited, until an unwary traveller might be engulfed. The Urisks were half-men, half-spirits, who, by kind treatment, could be induced to do a good turn, even to the drudgeries of a farm. Although scattered over the whole Highlands, they assembled in the celebrated cave—Coire-nan-Uriskin—situated near the base of Ben Venue, in Aberfoyle.
Coire-nan-Uriskin.
"By many a bard, in Celtic tongue,
Has Coire-nan-Uriskin been sung;
A softer name the Saxons gave,
And call'd the grot the Goblin-cave,
Gray Superstition's whisper dread
Debarr'd the spot to vulgar tread;
For there, she said, did fays resort,
And satyrs hold their sylvan court."—
Lady of the Lake.
The Daoine Shi' were believed to be a peevish, repining race of beings, who, possessing but a scant portion of happiness, envied mankind their more complete and substantial enjoyments. They had a sort of a shadowy happiness, a tinsel grandeur, in their subterranean abodes. Many persons had been entertained in their secret retreats, where they were received into the most splendid apartments, and regaled with sumptuous banquets and delicious wines. Should a mortal, however, partake of their dainties, then he was forever doomed to the condition of shi'ick, or Man of Peace. These banquets and all the paraphernalia of their homes were but deceptions. They dressed in green, and took offense at any mortal who ventured to assume their favorite color. Hence, in some parts of Scotland, green was held to be unlucky to certain tribes and counties. The men of Caithness alleged that their bands that wore this color were cut off at the battle of Flodden; and for this reason they avoided the crossing of the Ord on a Monday, that being the day of the week on which the ill-omened array set forth. This color was disliked by both those of the name of Ogilvy and Graham. The greatest precautions had to be taken against the Daoine Shi' in order to prevent them from spiriting away mothers and their newly-born children. Witches and prophets or seers, were frequently consulted, especially before going into battle. The warnings were not always received with attention. Indeed, as a rule, the chiefs were seldom deterred from their purpose by the warnings of the oracles they consulted.
It has been advocated that the superstitions of the Highlanders, on the whole, were elevating and ennobling, which plea cannot well be sustained. It is admitted that in some of these superstitions there were lessons taught which warned against dishonorable acts, and impressed what to them were attached disgrace both to themselves and also to their kindred; and that oppression, treachery, or any other wickedness would be punished alike in their own persons and in those of their descendants. Still, on the other hand, it must not be forgotten that the doctrines of rewards and punishments had for generations been taught them from the pulpit. How far these teachings had been interwoven with their superstitions would be an impossible problem to solve.
The Highlanders were poetical. Their poets, or bards, were legion, and possessed a marked influence over the imaginations of the people. They excited the Gael to deeds of valor. Their compositions were all set to music—many of them composing the airs to which their verses were adapted. Every chief had his bard. The aged minstrel was in attendance on all important occasions: at birth, marriage and death; at succession, victory, and defeat. He stimulated the warriors in battle by chanting the glorious deeds of their ancestors; exhorted them to emulate those distinguished examples, and, if possible, shed a still greater lustre on the warlike reputation of the clan. These addresses were delivered with great vehemence of manner, and never failed to raise the feelings of the listeners to the highest pitch of enthusiasm. When the voice of the bard was lost in the din of battle then the piper raised the inspiring sound of the pibroch. When the conflict was over the bard and the piper were again called into service—the former to honor the memory of those who had fallen, to celebrate the actions of the survivors, and excite them to further deeds of valor. The piper played the mournful Coronach for the slain, and by his notes reminded the survivors how honorable was the conduct of the dead.
The bards were the senachies or historians of the clans, and were recognized as a very important factor in society. They represented the literature of their times. In the absence of books they constituted the library and learning of the tribe. They were the living chronicles of past events, and the depositories of popular poetry. Tales and old poems were known to special reciters. When collected around their evening fires, a favorite pastime was a recital of traditional tales and poetry. The most acceptable guest was the one who could rehearse the longest poem or most interesting tale. Living in the land of Ossian, it was natural to ask a stranger, "Can you speak of the days of Fingal?" If the answer was in the affirmative, then the neighbors were summoned, and poems and old tales would be the order until the hour of midnight. The reciter threw into the recitation all the powers of his soul and gave vent to the sentiment. Both sexes always participated in these meetings.
The poetry was not always of the same cast. It varied as greatly as were the moods of the composer. The sublimity of Ossian had its opposite in the biting sarcasm and trenchant ridicule of some of the minor poets.
Martin, who travelled in the Western Isles, about 1695, remarks: "They are a very sagacious people, quick of apprehension, and even the vulgar exceed all those of their rank and education I ever yet saw in any other country. They have a great genius for music and mechanics. I have observed several of their children that before they could speak were capable to distinguish and make choice of one tune before another upon a violin; for they appeared always uneasy until the tune which they fancied best was played, and then they expressed their satisfaction by the motions of their head and hands. There are several of them who invent tunes already taking in the South of Scotland and elsewhere. Some musicians have endeavored to pass for first inventors of them by changing their name, but this has been impracticable; for whatever language gives the modern name, the tune still continues to speak its true original. * * *. Some of both sexes have a quick vein of poetry, and in their language—which is very emphatic—they compose rhyme and verse, both which powerfully affect the fancy. And in my judgment (which is not singular in this matter) with as great force as that of any ancient or modern poet I ever read. They have generally very retentive memories; they see things at a great distance. The unhappiness of their education, and their want of converse with foreign nations, deprives them of the opportunity to cultivate and beautify their genius, which seems to have been formed by nature for great attainments."[1]
The piper was an important factor in Highland society. From the earliest period the Highlanders were fond of music and dancing, and the notes of the bag-pipe moved them as no other instrument could. The piper performed his duty in peace as well as in war. At harvest homes, Hallowe'en christenings, weddings, and evenings spent in dancing, he was the hero for the occasion. The people took delight in the high-toned warlike notes to which they danced, and were charmed with the solemn and melancholy airs which filled up the pauses. Withal the piper was a humorous fellow and was full of stories.
The harp was a very ancient musical instrument, and was called clarsach. It had thirty strings, with the peculiarity that the front arm was not perpendicular to the sounding board, but turned considerably towards the left, to afford a greater opening for the voice of the performer, and this construction showed that the accompaniment of the voice was a chief province of the harper. Some harps had but four strings. Great pains were taken to decorate the instrument. One of the last harpers was Roderick Morrison, usually called Rory Dall. He served the chief of Mac Leod. He flourished about 1650.
Referring again to Gaelic music it may be stated that its air can easily be detected. It is quaint and pathetic, moving one with intervals singular in their irregularity. When compared with the common airs among the English, the two are found to be quite distinct. The airs to which "Scots wha hae," "Auld Langsyne," "Roy's Wife," "O a' the Airts," and "Ye Banks and Braes"