The Highlands, 1914
The characteristics which stamp the individuality of a nation are the result, to a large extent, of the natural formation of the country; while the contrasts of mountain and valley,…
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“The Highlands” from Scottish Life and Character, by William Sanderson, 1914.
“Are there any countries, father, where no mountains are?" enquired the son of William Tell, and when he received the desired information, the sympathies of the lad went out to the dwellers in the plains who were deprived of the natural grandeur with which he was surrounded. The level country may be exceeding fair, its flower-spangled meadows may speak of peace and tranquillity, the murmur of its calm-flowing rivers may lull the senses into a pleasant langour, but these charms take little hold upon the mountain dweller whose heart is ever longing for the wild freedom of his native home. In all ages there have been those who have felt an irresistible longing to climb the mountains, even to the risk of their lives. This arises not from any vainglorious desire for fame, but from a feeling of intellectual superiority over the forces of nature. There is a charm and thrill in measuring the power of intellect and human will against the rough resistance of matter, and to this may be attributed the mountaineer's preference for his life of hardship and danger.
The characteristics which stamp the individuality of a nation are the result, to a large extent, of the natural formation of the country; while the contrasts of mountain and valley, field and forest, loch and moorland, are reflected in those delicate traits of character which distinguish the dwellers in various portions of the same land. In all countries there is a strongly marked difference between the natives of the mountainous districts and those whose early days have been spent in the lowlands or plains. In no country is this contrast more noticeable than in Scotland, where the Highlanders and Lowlanders were kept apart for many centuries by a difference in language which proved a mightier barrier than the Grampians.
To the average southeron of the past, the Highlands were a terra incognita, and he was considered a brave man indeed who would risk his life by penetrating the fastnesses of the North. Much of the danger and difficulty was purely imaginary, but none the less terrifying to the uneducated or untravelled. Nothing will dissipate ignorance and narrow-mindedness more rapidly than travel, which, if one understands it aright, provides us with almost everything that is precious in a concentrated form. The peculiar customs of different peoples, and the endless variety in Nature and Art, all combine to take the traveller away from the routine of everyday life. His mind expands, his sympathies broaden, and his groundless fears disappear before the knowledge and enlightenment which personal contact brings.
The wonderful development in recent years of railway and steamer communication has made it possible to penetrate the Highlands of Scotland, and return to such centres as Edinburgh and Glasgow, in one day, thus enabling the observant traveller to see much of the natural grandeur and beauty of the North at a comparatively small cost. In the one-day excursions to Oban or Fort William the tourist sees almost every type of Highland scenery, and "mountain, moor, and loch" pass before his gaze as if depicted in some moving panorama. From such flying visits hardly any idea can be formed of the Highlanders or their mode of life, but the barriers having been broken down, the desired end may be attained by an extension of time.
A knowledge of the language of the northern Celts is not now necessary to enable the visitor to get into touch with the Highlander, but if an affirmative answer can be given to the question, "Have you the Gaelic?" all things are made easy, and the heart of the Gael expands under the influence of his poetical speech. Much of the "Celtic gloom" which is attributed to the Highlanders is a comparatively modern thing, and is the result of the disaster of Culloden and the gloomy theology of the last century. The "gloom" is fast disappearing, and the true brightness of the Celtic character is coming once more to the surface. During the last fifty or sixty years, contact with the Southron (or Sassenach), and the necessity for mastering his language, has made the average Highlander neglectful of the literature of the Celtic race, and even the Gaelic tongue is little read, though still spoken.
There is every prospect, however, of a revival in Celtic literature, and though the visitor to a Highland household may not, as in former times, be met with the question "Am Cheil dad agad air an Fheinn? (Do you know anything of the Fingalian tales ?)," he may find that the people are alive to the necessity of rescuing from oblivion those ballads of Ossian which are yet unpublished.
The historical portion of the Ossianic literature is of the utmost importance, and a combined and intelligent study of the poems on the part of scholars may cause us to alter not a few of our ideas as to the history of the Celtic race. The battle which raged over a hundred years ago round the authenticity of MacPherson's Ossian may have to be fought again, but it is quite possible that the results will be different, and a much-abused name may be placed among the ranks of those to whom the world of literature is deeply indebted. The nature of the Highlander is highly poetical, for poetry has ever a fondness for the mountainous districts, where she comes as a gentle comforter to soften the lot of the upland dwellers, who have to endure weather discomforts unknown to the inhabitants of the plains.
The climate does not effeminate the people, for, as St Notker said of St Gallen in Switzerland, "Dura viris et dura fide, durissima gleba (hard people, hard faith, and very hard soil)," so it is with Scotland; and just as the mountain climate strengthens the saps and fibres of vegetation, so will it affect the mental and physical condition of the people. Although the weather conditions, which prevail in the North during certain portions of the year, may not prove attractive to the visitor, there is one season to which this does not apply, for nowhere is autumn more beautiful that in the Scottish Highlands, and the colour-effects produced by the sun, as it sinks behind some mighty ben, are gorgeous beyond description. The purple heather seems aflame, and even the grey rocks reflect its warm glow and stand out from their setting of green like giant amethysts from a bed of emeralds.
Should the enraptured stranger, while gazing upon the wondrous beauty and grandeur of the Highlands, hear at the same time the distant sounds of the bagpipes, the mental impression will be complete, and will remain as long as memory lasts. To one unaccustomed to the wild strains of the bagpipe, the sounds produced are at first bewildering and almost hateful, but gradually he comes under the spell and begins to understand what it means to the Highlander. His mind travels back into history, when the glens were peopled and the pibroch summoned the clans to battle. Back through the centuries of tradition to the days of Fingal and Ossian.
Should the visitor linger in the solitudes till the shades of night appear and the voice of Nature is lulled to sleep, then folklore and legend lift their heads and repeople the earth. Even though it be all intermingled with much superstition, it is full of poetry and should therefore be cherished. In this age of so-called scepticism we are as credulous and easily befooled, all things considered, as our forefathers were. If we require proof of this, we need only read the advertisements of palmists, mediums, and fortune-tellers which appear in the press, or reckon up their drawings when the law decides to bring one of the fraternity into the police court.
The tourist who visits the Highlands of Scotland will be amply repaid for his expenditure of time and money by what he sees, but he who can sojourn among the people will both see and hear what is hidden to the bird of passage. He will, in the remote parts, discover conditions of life of the most primitive description, and enter dwellings the architecture of which speaks of almost prehistoric times. He will find people contented to live as their forefathers lived, and to whom discomforts seem to appear as the natural conditions of everyday life. In studying the actual present in the lonely glens, he will be enabled to make the distant past live again, and the pages of history will be imbued with a living reality hitherto unknown to him. But he need not confine his investigations to the cots of the poor, for the homes of the wealthy still retain enough of the old Highland dignity which marked the days when clan allegiance was unbroken, and the word of the chief was the only law known in the ranks of the clansmen.
The earnest student of history will find ample scope for his energies among the older Highlanders, who are still in touch with the traditions of the past, while the searcher after old-world modes of life will be amply rewarded. The barefooted Highland lassie, as she trips along, her lithe figure enveloped in the plaid or shawl, may suggest the figure of Ruth, whose veil which held six measures of barley was the prototype of the plaid. In some districts, especially where the Roman Catholic faith retains its hold upon the people, the old Celtic hymns may still be heard. Each calling had its own special hymn which was sung at appropriate seasons; and though this form of folklore is fast disappearing, it is still possible to hear the "Herding Blessing," the "Milking Rune," the "Herding Rune," the "Shieling Hymn," and many others. But whatever be the impelling force which sends the visitor to the Scottish Highlands whether it be the glamour of Sir Walter Scott's poetry and romances, the rich field for historical research, or the wealth of folklore to be found there it is almost certain that he will desire to return again and again, till he can almost say with Burns, "My Heart's in the Highlands."
The misty Bens and heather hills,
The sombre forest trees,
The lonely glens and mountain rill
The deep clear inland seas,
Still ever haunt the mem'ry
Like some familiar strain,
And wake the hope within me
That I'll return again.
Sanderson, William. Scottish Life and Character. Adam and Charles Black, 1914.
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