Part 5

When a boy, and at the end of our house (slated, substantially built, two-storey high) and raising my voice, every word that I spoke was repeated by the house. I had a younger brother, who was a great mimic, and thought he was mocking me; so I turned about and addressed the supposed brother: “If you’ll take my advice you’ll be quiet.” “If you’ll take my advice you’ll be quiet,” instantly replied the mimicking brother. “I tell you again to hold your tongue.” “I tell you again to hold your tongue,” as quickly replied. “If you’ll not be quiet I’ll thrash you,” was as quick as lightning repeated. So having spent all my threats, and becoming more and more furious, the mimicking brother becoming equally so, I had at last to desist, being fairly mastered; he on my top, in spite of me. Now I am certain that were I to cry “Shame, shame,” or the more expressive Gaelic, “_Mo naire, mo naire_” (my shame, my shame), it would with equal distinctness be repeated by the house. So I would have all the Highlanders, from John o’ Groat’s to the Mull of Kintyre, and from Dunkeld to the Butt of Lewes and Cape Wrath, to raise their voices, and, with the strength of their lungs, to cry out “_Mo naire, mo naire_,” to those parents, those native proprietors, and those ministers and schoolmasters who wish to do away with the Gaelic by not teaching them to read it, so as to make all their castles, palaces, mansions, manses, school-houses, and dwelling-houses to resound “_Mo naire, mo naire_,” with such a terrific rattling noise as to startle the whole of them out of their houses; and seeing them still standing, each to address the troublesome noise, “_Mo naire_”—“If you’ll take my advice you’ll be quiet.” “If you’ll take my advice you’ll be quiet,” quickly repeated. “I tell you again to hold your tongue.” “I tell you again to hold your tongue,” instantly repeated. “If you’ll not be quiet I’ll thrash you.” “If you’ll not be quiet I’ll thrash you,” still repeated; and becoming more and more furious, the mimicking something becoming equally so, one and all of them be forced to give way, being fairly mastered, with the hearty Highlanders on their top.

CATECHISM.

A Catechism on the first principles of Divine teaching both by nature and revelation:—

Who are the two great teachers of mankind?—Nature and Revelation.

Who is the author of both?—The great God.

Is the teaching of both unerring or inspired?—Yes; because God is their author.

Is the teaching of both in anything opposed the one to the other?—In nothing, and cannot be so, because they have the same God as their author.

How ought the teaching of both to be received?—With an humble, teachable disposition of mind.

Does God teach the animal species?—Yes; he teaches them by putting what is called natural instincts in them.

Seeing that the human species have not only an animal body but also a rational soul, how does God teach them?—He teaches them by nature and revelation.

How does God teach them by nature? He teaches them by nature, by putting natural instincts in them, though not to the same extent as in animals.

How does God teach them by revelation?—By putting spiritual instincts in them. The unconverted have no spiritual instincts, are entirely influenced by a depraved nature, under the power of sin and Satan. But when God teaches them, he destroys the power of sin, puts spiritual instincts in them; they get an unction from the Holy One. The spiritual instincts of the converted differ as much from those of the unconverted as the natural instincts of the sheep differ from those of the wolf.

The same God who by instinct taught the ewe and the moor-hen to love their young and to care for them; the same God by instinct has taught the mother to love her child and to care for it. And as the same God by instinct has taught the former a language to express their kindness which by instinct their young can comprehend; so in like manner he has taught a language to mothers to express their kindness, which the instinct and ultimately the reason of their offspring can comprehend. The native languages of the Highlands and Lowlands are as much the languages of nature, of what nature taught them, as the bleating of sheep or the lowing of cattle. God has given the best languages to beasts and birds that could be given to them. The Gaelic (and I say the same of the broad Scotch) is the best that could be given to Highlanders in all the relations of life, and for keeping them a united, a happy, and a contented people. Yes, and the best medium for conveying the knowledge of God our Saviour to their minds. This, then, is the language which a gracious God in great kindness gave unto them.

But there is another great being—man—who frequently sets himself up in opposition to the great God, as if he were wiser and disposed to be kinder than what he is. He also must give a language of his own making, which he has made up in a great measure from dead languages. He looks upon his own language as greatly superior to theirs—more learned, more refined, more respectable, and more genteel. Sets his extraordinary machinery agoing, gets schools and schoolmasters established all over the kingdom to teach, not one word of the languages which God taught the people, but his own; gives prizes to his scholars, and rewards the best of them by giving them honorary titles—Bachelor of Arts, and Master of Arts, &c.—puffing them up to the very skies. Thus the artificial English comes in direct opposition to the native languages of the country, calling them vulgar. God their author might as well be called so.

It comes and ingratiates itself with the pride and the vanity of the higher class of society. They were too high before, but it gives them their heart’s desire, it exalts them to the very clouds. It comes, and instead of bringing a blessing in its train, brings a curse; instead of regenerating, actually degenerates society. It found people united—the rich and the poor, the high and the low—in a society of brotherhood, knit together by the same language. The Highlanders by their Gaelic and the Lowlanders by their broad Scotch, living together in mutual friendship, the one looking upon the other’s language as that which the God of nature taught them. But the great man comes with his pure English and snaps the link in the chain asunder that united the rich and the poor, the high and the low together—puts a complete separation between them—removes the former from the common brotherhood, and exalting them as high above their heads as if they were a race of foreigners and not of the same species at all. There is your handiwork, proud man, who would be as gods. Those who have received the language you have prepared for them are exalted, many of them, above common mortals, as if they were gods. Yet they shall die like men. Both parties are injured, but especially the Englified, the genteel, and the fashionable. They are puffed up with pride—filled with a vain conceit of their own superiority—their feelings of affection are dried up, being so far removed from the commonality as to have no sympathy with them. The others are injured also, being disheartened and discouraged from a conviction and a feeling of shame arising from it, that they are despised and treated with disrespect. This was not the case in former times. I knew proprietors in my younger days who not only spoke the Gaelic, but spoke it even better than the common people, and who, when they spoke English, spoke it in broad Scotch. At that time they were the men of the people, standing on a common level with them as regarded the language, and entered into their feelings. But how is the case now? All the answer that I will give to the question is, “God be merceful to my countrymen when foreigners are their proprietors!” Who has produced the melancholy change? Has it been brought about by God’s teaching, either by nature or revelation? Not at all; it is the doing of vain man, by introducing his artificial language. Is it not possible for men to receive all the benefits from the English which it is calculated to give without renouncing their own language and choosing it as the language of society.

Nature’s teaching and man’s teaching come contrary, the one to the other, in another respect. Nature teaches a beautiful variety, but the master of arts a dull uniformity. I have already referred to the beautiful varieties of the Gaelic, as spoken in the different parts of the Highlands. There is also the same variety in the different counties where the broad Scotch is spoken; but the master of arts comes with his artificial English, and with its rolling waves disfigures and spoils the whole, and leaves nothing but his own dull uniformity on their ruins. I believe that the time has come when God, as the great author of nature, and consequently as the author of the native languages of Scotland, shall say to the proud waves of man’s language, “Hitherto shalt thou come and no farther,” and “Here shall thy proud waves be stayed.” May all hearty Highlanders and all hearty Scotchmen say, “Amen, God grant it.” The great man does not duly set himself against the great God by going to the languages of nature and bringing a language out of them, which he sets up in opposition to the native languages as better and more genteel, but he must set himself up in opposition to Him likewise, as if he were wiser than he, by going to the other fountain of God’s teaching, Revelation, and bringing a creed and confession out of it, to be set up as the best and the most fashionable, and brands as a heretic every man who would differ from him. What do all the denominations of Christians attempt but to bring a creed and a confession out of Revelation as a bond of union and uniformity. But nature teaches a very different lesson. It teaches union and not uniformity, but union and variety. It teaches it in the human countenance, the human race, in trees and plants, four-footed clean animals, clean birds; in the Gaelic, broad Scotch, and, I am sure, in the French. Revelation teaches the same—a Trinity in unity. The bond of union amongst Highlanders is their Gaelic, and still there is no uniformity, but a beautiful variety. The bond of union amongst Christians is their Christianity. Christianity cannot exist without Christians. Christian union cannot exist amongst men without Christianity, and a real unity cannot exist amongst Christians without a glorious variety. This lesson nature teaches with perfect inspiration. Let Christians then treat Christianity as Highlanders treat the Gaelic. Let them follow their own views of it conscientiously and allow others to do the same, without attempting to set up their views as a confession of faith to others. Let the people of God then separate themselves from the unconverted world, and let this principle of nature’s Divine teaching be admitted by them, namely, unity and a glorious variety—unity as it regards the great essentials of Christianity, and variety as it regards the non-essentials. In that way, and in that way alone, shall they be properly united; in that way alone shall they enjoy one another, and, instead of living in the cold, narrow cell of sectarian selfishness, they will live in the expansive, the benign, the benevolent region of a glorious variety, and their minor differences, instead of detracting from, will actually add to the pleasure, the harmony, and the happiness of the whole.

There is a text which I would give to all the ministers in Scotland as the subject of their discourse on the first Sabbath of January, 1869—“Doth not nature itself teach you.”—_1 Cor._ xi., 14.

I am convinced that the teaching of nature has not been attended to as it ought. A person properly influenced by it, and humbly receiving its teaching, is conscious that he is under the guidance of a safe teacher. I will give one instance of nature’s teaching. I have two grandchildren in my house, a boy and a girl, about four years of age, who are very fond of their grandpapa, so fond that they wish to be oftener with him than he considers desirable. Should he only request them to go out in the usual way, they only laugh at him. If he rises to put them out, they run under the table like kittens. When he is on the one side they are on the other, where his hand cannot reach them. He then has to take the strap and threaten them severely and, even when putting them out with that severity, they put their backs to the door to prevent him from shutting it, and sometimes weep bitterly, which is very painful to his feelings. Nature, however, has taught him a different lesson: to speak kindly to them in a low tone of voice, and instantly they go out quite happy, and even saying, “Put the snib on the door, grandpapa.”

THE GAELIC BANNER.

BRATACH NA GAELIC.

’S gu’m b’éibhinn, gu’m b’éibhinn, Gu’m b’éibhinn a’ Bhrataich i, ’S gu’n leumainn, gu’n leumainn, Gu’m leumainn le h-aiteas rith: Teannaibh dlùth le aon rùn,— Teannaibh dlùth gu cabhagach, Cuiribh ’n àird i ’s gach àit Biodh gu h-aluinn ’crathadh i, ’S aig éigheach, aig éigheach, Aig éigheach gur maireann i. ’S gur spéiseil, gur spéiseil, Gur spéiseil ri labhairt i! ’S gibht o Dhia i gach ial Chaoidh nan cian cha dealaich rith? Fhuair i àit ann ar gràdh, Tha ri ’r nàdur ceangailte, ’S cha tréig sinn, cha tréig sinn, Cha tréig sinn ’n ar n-anam i; ’S cha ghéill sinn, cha ghéill sinn, Cha ghéill sinn, do’n t-Shasunnach,

An e so seana Chabair-féidh?

Cumaibh suas a’ Ghàelic ghrinn Ann ’ur srathaibh ’us ur glinn; Deanaibh ’teagasg do ur cloinn, ’S na cuireadh Goill fo’n casan i.

Labhraibh i gu sgairteal dàn Gun aon rugh ’n ’ur gruaidh le nàir; Anns a’ bhaile ’s air an t-sràid, Ged bhiodh e làn do Shasunnach. Cumaibh suas, &c.

Cainnt na h-aoigheachd ’us na fàilt, Cainnt a’ chaoimhneis ’us a’ ghràidh, A bheir aoibhneas ’s gean gu fàs, ’S a chuireas blàth’s ’n ’ur n-aignidhean. Cumaibh suas, &c.

Cha b’ionnan i ’s Bhanshas’nnach mhòr ’Rinn àrd sgoileirean na h-Oigh, Le Gréigis thioram, ’s Laidionn reòt, ’S ann chuir iad còmhdach’ sneachdaidh oirr. Cumaibh suas, &c.

Cha’n’eil i tioram, [2]crainntidh, fuar, Mar bhean mhòr-chuiseach na h’uaill, Mu bhios sibh pòsda ri bidh truagh, ’Us ni le fuachd ’ur [3]meileachadh

’S dh’ fheumadh pige dh’ uisge sgàld, A chuir fo bhonn ’ur cos ’se làn, ’S còmhdach tlàth o’r ceann gu’r sàil Mu’m blàthaich sibh ’san leaba leth.

Cha b’ionann i ’s a’ [4]chruinneag chòir, Nighinn a’ Ghàel ’s a’ cridh a’ teòth, Tha innte blàth’s ’us tlus gu leoir, ’S i gun mhòrchuis ceangailt rith. Cumaibh suas, &c.

A bhan-[5]Ephiteach ’s a’ bhan-tràill Na gabhaibh steach an caidreamh blàth, Na bean-taigh’ na biodh gu bràth, Biodh i ghnàth ’na ban-oglaich.

Cumaibh i ri obair chruaidh, Biodh i mach ri am an fhuachd, (Ged tha i làn do ’n stràichd ’s do ’n uaill); Oir tha [6]ghruagach cleachdta ris. Cumaibh suas, &c.

Tha ’feachd ’sa h-armailt ri dian strì, Gach bochd ’us beairteach thoirt fo ’cìs, ’S a cuir ’n a suidhe mar bhanrìgh, Anns an tìr mar [7]Ealasaid.

Ach fhad ’s a bhios an fhuil gu blàth, ’Ruith ann an cuislibh nan Gàel, Cha dean iad strìochdadh dhi gu bràth Ged ni sgàin ’s a chraicionn i.

Cha cheadaich iad d’am [8]Màiri ghrinn, Mhàlda, bhanail, cheolmhòr bhinn, Bhi gun tròcair call a cinn Leis a’ mhilltear Shasunnach. Cumaibh suas, &c.

Am maighstir-sgoile anns gach àit Deanaibh ghrad chuairteachadh gun dàil, ’S abraibh ris gu daingean, dàn’, “Cha leig ’ur cànain seachad sinn!”

“’S dean thusa ’teagasg do ar cloinn, A chum ’s gu ’n leugh iad i le sgoinn, ’S nach bi iad uimpe mar na doill ’Us na Goill ri fanaid orr’.

“’Us àill leinn thu dhoibh theagasg beurl, A chum ’s gu ’n tuig iad i ’s gu ’n leugh, Ach do ’n Ghàelic thug sinn spéis, ’S thoir-sa éisdeachd ealamh dhuinn.” Cumaibh suas, &c.

’S gach neach ’n ur measg a chi ’ur sùil ’Us earball peacaig air a chùl, ’Le uaill ’s le mòr-chuis a chion-tùir A’ diùltadh bhi ga labhairt ruibh.

Labhraibh ris gun mhodh gu grad, Abraibh ris gun sgeig, gun mhag’; Tha sinne ’faicinn mach troimh t’aid’ Cluasan fad na h-asail ort! Cumaibh suas, &c.

Tha Goill ’us Sas’nnaich tigh’nn ’nam brùchd A nios le carbadan ’n a smùid, ’S ni iad a fògradh as an dùth’ch Mar grad dhùisg na h-Athalaich’.

Dùisgibh, dùisgibh, ’luchd mo ghaoil, Seasaibh le dùrachd air a taobh, ’Bratach gu sùrdail deanaibh sgaoil, A chum ’s a ghaoth gun crathadh i.

’S na bodaich dhubh ’n taobh thall [9]Lochbraon, Abraibh riu le h-iolaich glaoidh, Nach ’eil sibh uile gabhail nàir, ’S gu’n d’fhàg sinn n’ ur [10]cadal sibh?

Nach ’eil fo nàir sibh thaobh ’ur dùth’ch’, Ris a bhan Ghàel bhi cuir ’ur cùl, ’S mar na tràillean lub ’ur glùn ’S toirt ùmhlachd do ’n bhan Shasunnaich! Cumaibh suas, &c.

Gach creag ’us coire, stùchd ’us càrn, Gach lag ’us cnochd, ’us slios, ’us learg, Gach glaic ’us tullaich, eas ’us allt, Tha ’labhairt cainnt ar n-athraichean,

Tha guth ri chluiantinn o gach fonn,— Gach dail, ’us bail’, ’us dùn, ’us tòm,— Gach beinn, ’us coill, ’us leachduinn lòm Tha gu pongail ’labhairt iad. Cumaibh suas, &c.

Nach ro mhuladach an sgeul, Ma bhios ’ur gincil thig ’n-’ur déigh Gun aon smid dhi ann am beul, Ach i gu lèir mar Laidionn doibh.

[11]Dal-an-amair an Gleann Ile? Cha tuig aon anam tha ’s an tìr An [12]t-alltan _burn_ rinn iad na bhurn; Ach ’n a bhurn ’us cabhbaig air. Cumaibh suas, &c.

FOOTNOTES

[1] Not published yet.

[2] Parching.

[3] Chill.

[4] A tidy young woman.

[5] The Egyptian Hagar was a foreigner, not a free-born; so is the English not to be permitted to assume authority, but to keep her own place as a slave, and not as the mistress.

[6] A word taken from _gruag_ (hair), and given to females on account of the long hair which they wear, and means a young woman, also a household goddess, and is often used in irony, as here.

[7] Elizabeth, the Queen of England.

[8] Mary, a name given to the Gaelic, which was the name of the Queen of the Scots whom Elizabeth beheaded.

[9] A loch between Athole and Strathardle.

[10] The Atholites used to provoke the Ardleites with a tune which they played on the bagpipes when leaving them—_Bodaich dhubh Sratharduil, gu’n d’fhag sinn nan cadal iad_—The black churls of Strathardle we have left them asleep. In the Free Church of Kirkmichael, Strathardle, there has been no Gaelic preached for several years, and it is going and almost gone in the Established Church. I wish with all my heart that a company of the Atholites would cross over with a piper at their head, and play the following on the street of Kirkmichael:—

Bodaich dhubh Srathàrduil, Cha Ghàel iad ach Sasannuich, Thréig iad mar na tràillean Cainnte bhlath an athraichean.

And that they on their part would play the following:—

Tosdaibh, bithibh sàmhach Cha n’ àill leinn sibh bhi magadh oirnn, Bheir ar crìdh do n’ Ghàelic, ’Sa chaoidh gu bràth cha dealaich ri. ’S ’n uair thig rìs do ar tìr Le ceòl pìob ’us cridhcalas, Aran grinn, ’s còmhdach’ ìm’ Agus cīr-mheala leis Gheibh sibh uainn gu càirdeal A shàsachadh ’ur stamagan, ’Us seinnibh do na Ghaelic Na h’-Ardlich ’s na h’-Athalich. Nuair bhios Goill mar na doill ’Us an oidhch a’ luidhe orr, Gu ro thruagh, crith gu luath, ’Us le fuachd ’g am meileachadh, Bidh sinne air ar blàth’chadh, ’Sa Ghàelic ’gar teasachadh, ’Us caoimhneas, gean ’us càirdeas Siòr fhàs ann ar n-anamaibh.

Although my native country, I am quite ashamed of them. Is the schoolmaster a Highlander? Was it he who wrote the inscription “_Mile failte_” (a thousand welcomes) on the top of the arch on the occasion of a certain gentleman up the country taking home his English bride? I passed under it, and expressed my astonishment to see it, as the children spoke nothing but English on the street. Is the spark still alive in his soul? Is that spark capable of being enkindled into a flame? _A thraill! Na’m bithinn ann ad ait, bheirinn oidhearp air mo chainnt-mhathaireil a theasairginn, ged a bhiodh i mar an t-uan ann am fiaclan casgraidh an leomhainn._ Ye slave! Were I in your place, I would endeavour to rescue my mother-tongue, should it be like the lamb in the devouring teeth of the lion.

[11] A channel from a river to a mill, or a mill-dam.

[12] _An t-alltan burn._ When the Gaelic was spoken in Glenisla, the name of the stream was _an t-alltan_, the same as we would say in broad Scotch, the burnie, that is the small stream. But when the Gaelic ceased to be spoken, and the broad Scotch came in its place, they called it an t-alltan-burn. Now burn is taken from the Gaelic word _burn_, which means water, as the word whisky is taken from _uisge_ (water), also. In singing this poem, where two, or three, or four verses are following one another without the chorus, let them be sung to the same key. It will sing to the air of “_Och nan och, ’us och mo leon!_”

GLASGOW: PRINTED BY WILLIAM GILCHRIST, HOWARD STREET.