"Story and Song from Loch Ness-Side"

[241]

(1) HIGHLAND HERDS AND DAIRYMAIDS.

During a certain period in the history of the Highlands, when the people's possessions consisted largely of cattle, the institution of herding was one of the utmost import ance. Then the wealthier class kept large herds of half- wild animals, which they sent from time to time to the Southern markets, to be converted into money, while both they and the lower class depended for their food supply very much upon milk and beef in their various forms. As a matter of course, in those times herdsmen were a numerous class, a fact to which we find many districts in the Highlands still testifying by the survival of such place-names as "Drochaid nam Buachaillean " ("The Herds' Bridge"); "Torran nam Buachaillean" ("The Herds' Hillock"); "Croit nam Buachaillean" ("The Herds' Croft"); "Ceum nam Buachaillean" ("The Herds' Path"), &c, &c.

It will be seen at a glance that the position of a Highland gentleman's herd was in those days one of considerable trust, and that his duties, on the whole, must have been of great importance. He had to tend the non-milking cattle ("an crodh seasg"), as they roamed more or less at large in the forests, a duty which, when cattle-lifting was uncomfortably rife, called for great vigilance, activity, and courage. At [242] the same time he was required to look after the milking cows, and give every assistance he could to the dairy maid in her work. Particularly requisite qualifications in a Highland herd were the ability to diagnose diseases incident to cattle, and the widest possible acquaintance with the curative properties of herbs. It is only fair here to mention that in these directions both herds and dairymaids possessed wonderful powers indeed; while not a few among them added a knowledge of the relative mystic rites which, though we may now-a-days characterise as superstition, form a very interesting element in the folk-lore of the country. It may, perhaps, be remembered that it was in the capacity of herd that Robert Mackay ("Rob Donn"), the famous Sutherland bard, served Lord Reay, while his wife attended to his Lordship's dairy.

It will probably occur to the reader that herds as a rule found time hanging heavily upon their hands. But not so at all. While tending the cattle they were not idle. With the help of a pocket-knife and a few other simple tools, they could turn their spare hours to excellent advantage, and every herd was in his way an artist. Wooden utensils formed the principal product of their diligence. Goganan (a kind of small keg), cuachan (drinking cups), meadraichean (milking pails), liadhan (ladles), and many such vessels of domestic utility, they, with a little assistance from outside craft, made in abundance; while they were not ignorant of rough basket work, such as the sgulain now-a-days in use. Indeed the common people possessed little or no house hold or dairy furniture for long except such as was the work of their own hands, and much of which was made while herding the cattle on the hillside, or in the valley, [243] wrapped up in their tartan plaids, warmly sheltered by a cluster of bushes, and listening to the birds and the brooks and the breezes. It might be interesting in this connection to quote what the Clachnacuddin Nona genarian says in regard to the work of a certain High land herd, forming part of the furniture of the old Gaelic Church of Inverness:

''The pulpit and desk, at present one of the most elaborately carved pieces of workmanship we have ever seen, is said to have been the work of a herd boy, who resided, ages ago, at the Muir of Culloden, and to have been all effected with one knife, and put together with one pin. Tradition says that the Incorporated Wrights of Inverness offered him the freedom of the craft if he would show them how he had put it together, but he refused. The seat occupied by the elders was also a piece of beautifully carved workmanship by the same hand. An attempt was made at the re-building of the High Church, in 1772, to remove this curious pulpit to that structure, but the workmen could not do so with­ out breaking it to pieces, and the heritors being against the removal, their interference was effectual."

The herd boy here referred to is said to have been known commonly as "Goban Saor", who was credited in Highland tradition with a mastery over the art of carving which none else has ever approached. He is the hero-carver in both Highland and Irish story. He is understood to have left many exquisite specimens of his remarkable handicraft, very few of which, unfor­ tunately, can now be traced. But "Goban Saor" might be found to be a myth in the ultimate analysis of this legend.

At the period we refer to, smuggling was common in the Highlands, and none knew better than the herds where the whisky "stills" were to be found.     Indeed, [244] they sometimes assisted at the process of distillation, and were of important service in watching the move ments of the notorious excisemen and their messengers. They also enjoyed the confidence of another class of dealers in the natural beverage - those who sold it "on the sly", of whom there was one here and there. To this order would appear to belong a certain herd well known at one time. He possessed the capacity for rhyming, which seems to have been more or less com mon to most families then. We subjoin a composition of his in praise of whisky, which ranks high among the best effusions on the subject:

[245] The "te ruadh " ("red-haired lady") referred to was the ''Poosie Nancy'' of an establishment in the vicinity of the herd's grounds, where he and other knowing ones could procure "a wee drappie o't," and this little song shows clearly enough that her visitors knew how to enjoy her cheer.

A word or two in passing as to the Highland dairy maid. She also occupied a very responsible position in the social economy of the Highlands before the days of tea, toothache, and trumpery. By common consent she is usually considered to have been a being of charm ing attractiveness. The works of the poets largely betray the influence of her inspiration, and they depict her as of exquisite loveliness. Alexander MacDonald, the renowned Jacobite bard, and the greatest of Gaelic poets, did not think it beneath the dignity of his muse to sing frequently and fervently of her beauty, in words of inimitable sweetness. "A' Bhanarach Dhonn" ("The Brown-haired Dairymaid") is one of the finest lyrics in the world; and if there should ever again be such a thing as a Gaelic nationality, and that the language should be a national tongue, MacDonald's verses to " Nighean na h-Airigh " ("The Maid of the Shieling") will rank among the highest lyrical productions of the Muse in any country.

[247] The maids of the milk pail sometimes expressed their feelings in poetry, and we trace the story of love and maternal affection in the following very pretty lullaby sung in our district:

And    here    are    a    few    snapshots    of   the    life    we    are depicting:

There is a characteristically captivating sweetness in the subjoined strain:

LUINNEAG AlRIGH

Here we submit some more similar verses which we think worthy of a place in this connection. Though they may not be native to Loch Ness-side, yet they did duty there among the olden time shieling songs for many a day and generation:

As part of this song a few other verses were sung which seem to be a "reply". In olden times it was not un common for lovers to carry on a sort of correspondence in poetry, somewhat as is now done in letters, but much more honest and passionate - probably because the fear of breach of promise experiences did not disturb. This maiden's reply - if such it can be taken to be - would seem to more or less reflect disparagingly upon the ladies of the airigh.     It says:

Gloomy death sometimes visited our milk-maids, and under circumstances which naturally appealed to the Muse for expression. The following poem records the accidental death of a young woman by her lover's gun going off while he was playing with her in the little bothy. We leave it to tell its own tale:

Another very fine song lamenting the death of a young woman by her lover's dirk, under similar circum stances, is as follows:

(2) Love Tales and Traditions.

Those were numerous and involved circumstances or incidents from which sprang a number of most interest ing old Gaelic songs, but which are not, so far as we are aware, so well known as they deserve to be. We subjoin a few:

I. NA LUBAN LAGHACH (LOVE'S SWEET WILES).

This is an interesting love tale. It is told on Loch Ness-side as peculiar to the district; but we suspect the theme is a somewhat general one in Scotland, and have heard of it as not uncommon in Ireland. The story is that a well-to-do lady in our country was courted by a man hailing from another district, who represented himself to her and her relatives as a gentleman of position and means. While pressing his suit he is reputed to have made desperate efforts to impress her and her father's household. He had a servant who evidently understood his master's game well. When the latter called for a suit of clothes, the former usually asked which of the great number in such and such a trunk was meant; but, after some discussion, the same old one was day after day produced. The lady eventually married her suitor; but found, on going home with him to his boasted castle and estate, that those possessions were simply not in existence, and that he was, besides, an undesirable match for her. In her disappointment she composed some melancholy verses, [257] in which she describes, among other things, that instead of a big house there was only a bothy, which belonged to his sister. The following is our version of the composition:

Thomas Pattison's "Gaelic Bards"contains the translation of an old Gaelic song entitled "Breigein Binneach"    ("The Lilting Deceiver"),   the burden of [258] which is substantially similar, and the relationship is interesting as showing how those old legends travelled about. It is not impossible, indeed, that they are ultimately reducible to myths.

II. NA    CRAOBHAN    CAORAINN    (THE    ROWAN   TREES).

The following verses relate one of the most interesting Highland love stories which we know of. It would appear that a young lady and gentleman belonging to Glenmore Valley fell in love with each other. Both were well-to-do, being the children of respectable farmers. There was, however, another aspirant to the young lady's hand, whom her parents preferred to the choice of her own heart. But the lovers persevered; they met from time to time in secret. Their meetings were, however, put a stop to eventually, and they had, it would appear, recourse to letters. Things thus went on fairly well for a time; but by-and-bye the gentleman was getting no reply to his numerous communications, and in course he was made acquainted v/ith the tidings of the lady's marriage to his rival. He fell into a con sumption immediately, and, while pining away on his death-bed, composed a love-song which found its way to her ears. Later on it transpired that his letters to her had been interfered with; and feeling the pity of the circumstances keenly, she also composed a love song, and eventually fell into a decline. Both died. The story now assumes a still more pathetic turn. It is related that the two were buried, one on each side of a building within the churchyard, and that, sometime afterwards, a rowan tree grew out of each grave, and that the two formed a knot right over the top of the building. Without wishing to detract in the least from the interest attaching to a beautiful story, we should point out that [259] the pretty ending which tradition gives it here is quite a common one, and occurs in similar connections in various countries all over the world. In the Legend of the Willow Pattern, a willow tree sprang up from the place where the bodies of the lovers sank, and a couple of turtle doves built their nest in its branches. The sentiment is, in one way or another, associated with a number of old love ballads. Many will remember the lines:

"The compositions speak for themselves. They are not to be found in many collections, and we give them a place here. The gentleman, who has been by some identified   as possibly the  composer   of    ''Cuachag   nan Craobh,''says:

III. AN GAOL A CHIURR. (The Love that Pained).

Little is known concerning the author of this passionate lyric, except what is to be gathered from the effusion itself and some vague traditions. He is said to have been a native of Skye, born and brought up in good circumstances. As the story goes, he appears to have fallen deeply in love with his father's serving maid, a pretty Highland lassie, whom he calls Jessie in his song. His passion was warmly reciprocated, and the attachment having aroused the suspicion of the young man's parents, they dismissed the girl. She soon afterwards died, leaving her heart-broken lover in misery. It is related further that, in his wild despair, he one day visited her grave to shed tears of sorrow over her memory, and, while there, that he was seized by his relations, stripped of his clothes, and lashed with horse reins. Ever afterwards he could suffer little cloth ing, and, his mind giving way, he left his native place and wandered from district to district during the rest of his life. It was his pastime when left alone to tear such clothing as might be put about him to pieces with his teeth. When being supplied with his meals, he was in the habit of asking, as his door was being opened: "An tu a th' ann, a Sheonaid?" ("Is that you, Jessie?"). We make no apology for including the com­ position in full:

IV.—MAIRI-ANNA (MARY-ANNA).

Many years ago now, an affection is said to have sprung up between a lady living in the Braes of Glen Urquhart and a young man occupying a humbler posi tion in the same district. The lovers met secretly, and poured the sweet music of love into each other's ears, and shed its silvery dew over each other's hearts. From the first, however, any possibility of a union seemed out of the question. The gulf between them was too wide. Tradition mentions that he - at any rate for a time - simply served as a temporary teacher in the lady's home.

[265] There was no demonstration of parental displeasure in this case: the sweethearts quietly and with good sense parted at once lovers and friends with an " ae fond kiss" - he to reconcile himself to his own circumstances, and she to seek happiness in a foreign clime. But there was a touch of:

"Had we never loved so blindly,
Had we never loved so kindly—
Never met or never parted,
We had ne'er been broken hearted."

This little romance has come down to posterity through the medium of a love song, understood to have been composed by "Cruachan" - or a Captain Maclntyre, who is known to have resided for a time at, or at anyrate have some close connection with, Abriachan, on Loch Ness-side, which, as another composition not nearly so well known as it should be, we include:

A rather interesting story attaches to the love song known by the name of "Oran Nighean Fhir na Ruilig." It appears that this young lady had a sweetheart who, after a time, transferred his affections to another - a country girl of his acquaintance. Preparations for the marriage were being proceeded with, and when this became known to the young lady of Reelig, she composed a powerful song, the well-known first two lines of which would appear to repeat an older sentiment:

The song is said to have been sung as the contract with the   rival    was    in    process, with  the result that the [267] young man softened towards his first love, and a little later on married her. It is in various collections. The story associated with the exquisite love song known as "Mali Bheag Og" to be found in numerous song books, is also so well known as not to require repetition here; and there were many others - as many indeed as would fill a volume - which came under contribution from time to time.

Chapter 14