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WE come next to
Reminiscences which are chiefly connected with peculiarities of our
Scottish LANGUAGE, whether contained in words or in expressions. I am
quite aware that the difference between the anecdotes belonging to this
division and to the last division termed "Wit and Humour" is
very indistinct, and must, in fact, in many cases, be quite arbitrary.
Much of what we enjoy most in Scottish stories is not on account of wit
properly so called, in the speaker, but I should say rather from the odd
and unexpected view which is taken of some matter, or from the quaint and
original turn of the expression made use of, or from the simple and
matter-of-fact reference made to circumstances which are unusual. I shall
not, therefore, be careful to preserve any strict line of separation
between this division and the next. Each is conversant with what is
amusing and with what is Scotch. What we have now chiefly to illustrate by
suitable anecdotes is peculiarities of Scottish language—its various
humorous turns and odd expressions.
We have now to consider
stories where words and expressions, which are peculiarly Scotch, impart
the humour and the point. Sometimes they are altogether incapable of being
rendered in other language. As, for example, a parishioner in an Ayrshire
village, meeting his pastor, who had just returned after a considerable
absence on account of ill-health, congratulated him on his convalescence,
and added, anticipatory of the pleasure he would have in hearing him
again, "I’m unco yuckie to hear a blaud o’ your gab." This
is an untranslatable form of saying how glad he should be to hear his
minister’s voice again speaking to him the words of salvation and of
peace from the pulpit.
The two following are good
examples of that Scottish style of expression which has its own character.
They are kindly sent by Sir Archibald Dunbar. The first illustrates
Scottish acute discernment. A certain titled lady, well-known around her
country town for her long-continued and extensive charities, which are not
withheld from those who least deserve them, had a few years since, by the
unexpected death of her brother and of his only son, become possessor of a
fine estate. The news soon spread in the neighbourhood, and a group of old
women were overheard in the streets of Elgin discussing the fact. One of
them said, "Ay, she may prosper, for she has baith the prayers of the
good and of the bad."
The second anecdote is a
delightful illustration of Mrs Hamilton’s Cottagers of Glenburnie, and
of the old-fashioned Scottish pride in the midden. About twenty
years ago, under the apprehension of cholera, committees of the most
influential inhabitants of the county of Moray were formed to enforce a
more complete cleansing of its towns and villages, and to induce the
cottagers to remove their dunghills or dung-pits from too close a
proximity to their doors or windows. One determined woman, on the
outskirts of the town of Forres, no doubt with her future potato crop in
view, met the M.P. who headed one of these committees, thus, "Noo,
Major, ye may tak’ our lives, but ye’ll no’ tak’ our middens."
The truth is, many of the
peculiarities which marked Scottish society departed with the disuse of
the Scottish dialect in the upper ranks. I recollect a familiar example of
this, which I may well term a Reminiscence. At a party assembled in a
county house, the Earl of Elgin (grandfather of the present Earl) came up
to the tea-table, where Mrs Forbes of Medwyn, one of the finest examples
of the past Scottish lady, was sitting, evidently much engaged with
her occupation. "You are fond of your tea, Mrs Forbes?" The
reply was quite a characteristic one, and a pure reminiscence of such a
place and such interlocutors: "‘Deed, my Lord, I wadna gie my tea
for your yerldom."
My aunt, the late Lady
Burnett of Leys, was one of the class of Scottish ladies I have referred
to—thoroughly a good woman and a gentlewoman, but in dialect quite
Scottish. For example, being shocked at the sharp Aberdonian pronunciation
adopted by her children, instead of the broader Forfarshire model In which
she had been brought up, she thus adverted to their manner of calling the floor
of the room where they were playing: "‘What gars ye a’ it ‘fleer’?
Canna ye ca’ it ‘flure’? But I needna speak; Sir Robert
winna let me correc’ your language."
In respect of language, no
doubt, a very important change has taken place in Scotland during the last
seventy years, and which, I believe, influences, in a greater degree than
many persons would imagine, the turn of thought and general modes and
aspects of society. In losing the old racy Scottish tongue, it seems as if
much originality of character was lost. I suppose at one time the
two countries of England and Scotland were considered as almost speaking
different languages, and I suppose also, that from the period of the union
of the crowns the language has been assimilating. We see the process of
assimilation going on, and ere long amongst persons of education and birth
very little difference will be perceptible. With regard to that class, a
great change has taken place in my own time. I recollect old Scottish
ladies and gentlemen who really spoke Scotch. It was not, mark me,
speaking English with an accent. No; it was downright Scotch. Every tone
and every syllable was Scotch. For example, I recollect old Miss Erskine
of Dun, a fine specimen of a real lady, and daughter of an ancient
Scottish house, so speaking. Many people now would not understand her. She
was always the lady, notwithstanding her dialect, and to none could
the epithet vulgar be less appropriately applied. I speak of more than
forty years ago, and yet I recollect her accost to me as well as if it
were yesterday: "I didna ken ye were i’ the toun." Taking word
and accents together, an address how totally unlike what we now meet with
in society. Some of the old Scottish words which we can remember are
charming; but how strange they would sound to the ears of the present
generation! Fancy that in walking from church, and discussing the sermon,
a lady of rank should now express her opinion of it by the description of
its being, "but a hummelcorn discourse." Many living persons can
remember Angus old ladies who would say to their nieces and daughters,
"Whatna hummeldoddie o’ a mutch hae ye gotten?" meaning a flat
and low-crowned cap. In speaking of the dryness of the soil on a road in
Lanarkshire, a farmer said, "It stoors in an oor." [
Stoor is, Scotticé, dust in motion, and has no English synonym; oor
is hour. Sir Walter Scott is said to have advised an artist, in
painting a battle, not to deal with details, but to get up a good stoor;
then put in an arm and a sword here and there, and leave all the rest
to the imagination of the spectator.]
How would this be as tersely translated into English? The late Duchess of
Gordon sat at dinner next an English gentleman who was carving, and who
made it a boast that he was thoroughly master of the Scottish language.
Her Grace turned to him and said, "Rax me a spaul o’ that bubbly
jock." [Reach me a leg of that turkey] The unfortunate man was
completely nonplussed. A Scottish gentleman was entertaining at his
house an English cousin who professed himself as rather knowing in the
language of the north side of the Tweed. He asked him what he supposed to
be the meaning of the expression, "ripin the ribs." [Clearing
ashes out ofmthe bars of the grate] To which he readily answered,
"Oh, it describes a very fat man." I profess myself an
out-and-out Scotchman. I have strong national partialities—call them if
you will national prejudices. I cherish a great love of old Scottish
language. Some of our pure Scottish ballad poetry is unsurpassed in any
language for grace and pathos. How expressive, how beautiful are its
phrases! You can’t translate them. Take an example of power in a
Scottish expression, to describe with tenderness and feeling what is in
human life. Take one of our most familiar phrases, as thus: We meet an old
friend, we talk over bygone days, and remember many who were dear to us
both, once bright, and young, and gay, of whom some remain, honoured,
prosperous, and happy—of whom some are under a cloud of misfortune or
disgrace—some are broken in health and spirit—some sunk into the
grave; we recall old familiar places—old companions, pleasures, and
pursuits; as Scotchmen our hearts are touched with these remembrances of
AULD LANG SYNE.
Match me the phrase in
English. You can’t translate it. The fitness and the beauty lie in the
felicity of the language. Like many happy expressions, it is not
transferable into another tongue, just like the "simplex munditiis"
of Horace, which describes the natural grace of female elegance, or the
--------- of AEschylus, which describes the bright sparkling of the ocean
in the sun.
I think the power of Scottish dialect was
happily exemplified by the late Dr Adam, rector of the High School of
Edinburgh, in his translation of the Horatian expression "desipere
in loco," which he turned by the Scotch phrase "Weel-timed
daffin’"; a translation, however, which no one but a Scotchman
could appreciate. The following humorous Scotch translation of an old
Latin aphorism has been assigned to the late Dr Hill of St Andrews: "Qui
bene cepit dimidium facti fecit," the witty Principal expressed
in Scotch, "Weel saipet (well soaped) is half shaven."
What mere English word could have
expressed a distinction so well in such a case as the following? I heard
once a lady in Edinburgh objecting to a preacher that she did not
understand him. Another lady, his great admirer, insinuated that probably
he was too "deep" for her to follow. But her ready answer was,
"Na, na, he’s no’ just deep, but he’s drumly."
[Mentally confused. Muddy when applied to water]
We have a testimony to the value of our
Scottish language from a late illustrious Chancellor of the University of
Edinburgh, the force and authority of which no one will be disposed to
question. Lord Brougham, in speaking of improvements upon the English
language, makes these striking remarks "The pure and classical
language of Scotland must on no account be regarded as a provincial
dialect, any more than French was so regarded in the reign of Henry V., or
Italian in that of the first Napoleon, or Greek under the Roman Empire.
Nor is it to be in any manner of way considered as a corruption of the
Saxon; on the contrary, it contains much of the old and genuine Saxon,
with an intermixture from the Northern nations, as Danes and Norse, and
some, though a small portion from the Celtic. But in whatever way
composed, or from whatever sources arising, it is a national language,
used by the whole people in their early years, by many learned and gifted
persons throughout life, and in which are written the laws of the Scotch,
their judicial proceedings, their ancient history; above all, their
poetry.
"There can be no doubt
that the English language would greatly gain by being enriched with a
number both of words and of phrases, or turns of expression, now peculiar
to the Scotch. It was by such a process that the Greek became the first of
tongues, as well written as spoken.
"Would it not afford
means of enriching and improving the English language, if full and
accurate glossaries of improved Scotch words and phrases—. those
successfully used by the best writers, both in prose and verse—were
given, with distinct explanation and reference to authorities? This has
been done in France and other countries, where some dictionaries accompany
the English, in some cases with Scotch synonyms, in others with varieties
of expression."— Installation Address, p. 63.
The Scotch, as a people,
from their more guarded and composed method of speaking, are not so liable
to fall into that figure of speech for which our Irish neighbours are
celebrated—usually called the Bull; some specimens, however, of that
confusion of thought, very like a bull, have been recorded of Scottish
interlocutors.
Of this the two following
examples have been sent to me by a kind friend.
It is related of a Scottish
judge (who has supplied several anecdotes of Scottish stories), that on
going to consult a dentist, who, as is usual, placed him in the
professional chair, and told his lordship that he must let him put his
fingers into his mouth, he exclaimed, "Na! na! ye’ll aiblins bite
me."
A Scottish laird,
singularly enough the grandson of the learned judge mentioned above, when
going his round to canvass for the county, at the time when the electors
were chiefly confined to resident proprietors, was asked at one house
where he called if he would not take some refreshment, hesitated, and
said, "I doubt it’s treating, and may be ca’d bribery."
But a still more amusing
specimen of this figure of speech was supplied by an honest Highlander, in
the days of sedan chairs. For the benefit of my young readers I may
describe the sedan chair as a comfortable little carriage fixed to two
poles, and carried by two men, one behind and one before. A dowager lady
of quality had gone out to dinner in one of these "leathern
conveniences." and whilst she herself enjoyed the hospitality of the
mansion upstairs, her bearers were profusely entertained downstairs, and
partook of the abundant refreshment offered to them. When my lady was to
return, and had taken her place in the sedan, her bearers raised the
chair, but she found no progress was made—she felt herself sway first to
one side, then to the other, and soon came bump upon the ground, when
Donald behind was heard shouting to Donald before (for the bearers of
sedans were always Highlanders), "Let her down, Donald, man, for
she’s drunk."
I cannot help thinking that
a change of national language involves to some extent change of national
character. Numerous examples of great power in Scottish Phraseology, to
express the picturesque, the feeling, the wise, and the humorous, might be
taken from the works of Robert Burns, Ferguson, or Allan Ramsay, and which
lose their charms altogether when unscottified. The speaker
certainly seems to take a strength and character from his words. We must
now look for specimens of this racy and expressive tongue in the more
retired parts of the country. It is no longer to be found in high places.
It has disappeared from the social circles of our cities. I cannot,
however, omit calling my reader’s attention to a charming specimen of
Scottish prose and of Scottish humour of our own day, contained in a
little book, entitled Mystifications, by Clementina Stirling
Graham. The scenes described in that volume are matters of pleasing
remininiscence, and to some of us who still remain "will recall that
blithe and winning face, sagacious and sincere, that kindly, cheery voice,
that rich and quiet laugh, that mingled sense and sensibility, which met,
and still to our happiness meet, in her who, with all her gifts, never
gratified her consciousness of these powers so as to give pain to any
human being." These words, written more than ten years ago, might
have been penned yesterday; and those who, like myself, have had the
privilege of seeing the authoress presiding in her beautiful mansion of
Duntrune, will not soon forget how happy, how gracious, and how young, old
age may be.
"No fears to beat away—no
strife to heal;
The past unsighed for, and the future sure."
In my early days the
intercourse with the peasantry of Forfarshire, Kincardineshire, and
especially Deeside, was most amusing—not that the things said were so
much out of the common, as that the language in which they were conveyed
was picturesque, and odd, and taking. And certainly it does appear to me
that as the language grows more uniform and conventional, less marked and
peculiar in its dialect and expressions, so does the character of those
who speak it become so. I have a rich sample of Mid-Lothian Scotch from a
young friend, in the country, who describes the conversation of an old
woman on the property as amusing her by such specimens of genuine Scottish
raciness and humour. On one occasion, for instance, the young lady had
told her humble friend that she was going to Ireland, and would have to
undergo a sea voyage. "Weel, noo, ye dinna mean that! Ance I thocht
to gang across to tither side o’ the Queensferry wi’ some ither folks
to a fair, ye ken; but just whene’er I pat my fit in the boat, the boat
gae wallop, and my heart gae a loup, and I thocht I’d gang oot o’ my
judgment athegither; so says I, Na, na, ye gang awa’ by yoursells to
tither side, and I’ll bide here till sic times as ye come awa’
back." When we hear our Scottish language at home, and spoken by our
own countrymen, we are not so much struck with any remarkable effects; but
it takes a far more impressive character when heard amongst those who
speak a different tongue, and when encountered in other lands. I recollect
hearing the late Sir Robert Liston expressing this feeling in his own
case. When our ambassador at Constantinople, some Scotchmen had been
recommended to him for a purpose of private or of government business; and
Sir Robert was always ready to do a kind thing for a countryman. He found
them out in a barber’s shop, waiting for being shaved in turn. One came
in rather late, and seeing he had scarcely room at the end of the seat,
addressed his countryman, "Neebour, wad ye sit a bit wast?" What
strong associations must have been called up, by hearing in an eastern
land such an expression in Scottish tones.
We may observe here, that
marking the course any person is to take, or the direction in which any
object is to be met with, by the points of the compass, was a prevailing
practice amongst the older Scottish race. There could hardly be a more
ludicrous application of the test, than was furnished by an honest
Highlander in describing the direction which his medicine would not take.
Jean Cumming of Altyre, who, in common with her three sisters, was a true soeur
de charite, was one day taking her rounds as usual, visiting the poor
sick, among whom there was a certain Donald MacQueen, who had been some
time confined to his bed. Miss Cumrning, after asking him how he felt, and
finding that he was "no better," of course inquired if he had
taken the medicine which she had sent him; "Troth no, me lady,"
he replied. "But why not, Donald?" she answered; "it was very
wrong; how can you expect to get better if you do not help yourself
with the remedies which heaven provides for you?" "Vright or
Vrang," said Donald, "it wadna gang wast in spite o’
me." In all the north country, it is always said, "I’m ganging
east or west," etc., and it happened that Donald on his sick-bed was
lying east and west, his feet pointing to the latter direction, hence his
reply to indicate that he could not swallow the medicine!
We may fancy the amusement
of the officers of a regiment in the West Indies, at the innocent remark
of a young lad who had just joined from Scotland. On meeting at dinner,
his salutation to his Colonel was, "Anither het day, Cornal," as
if "het days" were in Barbadoes few and far between, as they
were in his dear old stormy, cloudy Scotland. Or take the case of a
Scottish saying, which indicated at once the dialect and the economical
habits of a hardy and struggling race. A young Scotchman, who had been
some time in London, met his friend recently come up from the north to
pursue his fortune in the great metropolis. On discussing matters
connected with their new life in London, the more experienced visitor
remarked upon the greater expenses there than in the retired
Scottish town which they had left. "Ay," said the other, sighing
over the reflection, "when ye get cheenge for a saxpence here, it’s
soon slippit awa’." I recollect a story of my father’s which
illustrates the force of dialect, although confined to the inflections of
a single monosyllable. On riding, home one evening, he passed a cottage or
small farmhouse, where there was a considerable assemblage of people, and
an evident incipient merry-making for some festive occasion. On asking one
of the lasses standing about, what it was, she answered, "Ou, it’s
just a wedding o’ Jock Thamson and Janet Frazer." To the question,
"Is the bride rich?" there was a plain quiet "Na."
"Is she young?" a more emphatic and decided "Naa!" but
to the query, "Is she bonny?" a most elaborate and prolonged
shout of " Naaa!"
It has been said that the
Scottish dialect is peculiarly powerful in its use of vowels, and
the following dialogue between a shopman and a customer has been given as
a specimen. The conversation relates to a plaid hanging at the shop door.
Cus. (inquiring
the material), Oo? (wool?)
Shop. Ay,
oo (yes, of wool).
Cus. A’
oo (all wool?)
Shop. Ay,
a’ oo (yes, all wool).
Cus. A’
ae oo? (all same wool?)
Shop. Ay,
a’ ae oo (yes, all same wool).
An amusing anecdote
of a pithy and jocular reply, comprised in one syllable, is recorded of an
eccentric legal Scottish functionary of the last century. An advocate, of
whose professional qualifications he had formed rather a low estimate, was
complaining to him of being passed over in a recent appointment to the
Bench, and expressed his sense of the injustice with which he had been
treated. He was very indignant at his claims and merit being overlooked in
their not choosing him for the new judge, adding with much acrimony,
"And I can tell you they might have got a ‘waur." [worse] To
which, as if merely coming over the complainant’s language again, the
answer was a grave "Whaur?" [Where] The merit of the
impertinence was, that it sounded as if it were merely a repetition of his
friend’s last words, waur and whaur. It was as if "echo answered
whaur?" As I have said, the oddity and acuteness of the speaker arose
from the manner of expression, not from the thing said. In fact, the same
thing said in plain English would be mere commonplace. I recollect being
much amused with a dialogue between a late excellent relative of mine and
his man, the chief manager of a farm which he had just taken, and, I
suspect in a good measure manager of the farmer as well. At any rate he
committed to this acute overseer all the practical details; and on the
present occasion had sent him to market to dispose of a cow and a pony, a
simple enough transaction, and with a simple enough result. The cow was
brought back, the pony was sold. But the man’s description of it forms
the point. "Well, John, have you sold the cow?" "Na, but I grippit
a chiel for the powny!" "Grippit" was here most
expressive. Indeed, this word has a significance hardly expressed by any
English one, and used to be very prevalent to indicate keen and forcible
tenacity of possession; thus a character noted for avarice or sharp
looking to self-interest was termed "grippy." In mechanical
contrivances, anything taking a close adherence was called having a gude grip.
I recollect in boyish days, when on Deeside taking wasp-nests, an old man
looking on was sharply stung by one, and his description was, "Ane o’
them’s grippit me fine." The following had an indescribable
piquancy, which arose from the Scotticism of the terms and the
manners. Many years ago, when accompanying a shooting party on the
Grampians, not with a gun like the rest, but with a botanical box for
collecting specimens of mountain plants, the party got very hot, and very
tired, and very cross. On the way home, whilst sitting down to rest, a
gamekeeper sort of attendant, and a character in his way, said, "I
wish I was in the dining-room of Fasque." Our good cousin the Rev. Mr
Wilson, minister of Farnel, who liked well a quiet shot at the grouse,
rather testily replied, "Ye’d soon be kickit out o’
that"; to which the other replied, not at all daunted, "Weel,
weel, then I wadna be far frae the kitchen." A quaint and
characteristic reply I recollect from an other farm servant. My eldest
brother had just been constructing a piece of machinery which was driven
by a stream of water running through the home farmyard. There was a
thrashing machine, a winnowjng machine, and circular saw for splitting
trees into paling, and other contrivances of a like kind. Observing an old
man, who had long been about the place, looking very attentively at all
that was going on, he said, "Wonderful things people can do now,
Robby!" "Ay," said Robby; "indeed, Sir Alexander, I’m
thinking gin Solomon were alive noo he’d be thocht naething o’!"
The two following derive their force
entirely from the Scottish turn of the expressions. Translated into
English, they would lose all point—at least, much of the point which
they now have :—
At the sale of an antiquarian gentleman’s
effects in Roxburghshire, which Sir Walter Scott happened to attend, there
was one little article, a Roman patina, which occasioned a good
deal of competition, and was eventually knocked down to the distinguished
baronet at a high price. Sir Walter was excessively amused during the time
of bidding to observe how much it excited the astonishment of an old
woman, who had evidently come there to buy culinary utensils on a more
economical principle. "If the parritch-pan," she at last burst
out—"If the parritch-pan gangs at that, what will the kail-pat gang
for?"
An ancestor of Sir Walter
Scott joined the Stuart Prince in 1715, and, with his brother, was engaged
in that unfortunate adventure which ended in a skirmish and captivity at
Preston. It was the fashion of those times for all persons of the rank of
gentlemen to wear scarlet waistcoats. A ball had struck one of the
brothers, and carried part of this dress into his body, and in this
condition he was taken prisoner with a number of his companions, and
stripped, as was too often the practice in those remorseless wars. Thus
wounded, and nearly naked, having only a shirt on, and an old sack about
him, the ancestor of the great poet was sitting, along with his brother
and a hundred and fifty unfortunate gentlemen, in a granary at Preston.
The wounded man fell sick, as the story goes, and vomited the scarlet
cloth which the ball had passed into the wound. "O man, Wattie,"
cried his brother, "if you have a wardrobe in your wame, I wish you
would vomit me a pair o’ breeks." But, after all, it was amongst
the old ladies that the great abundance of choice pungent Scottish
expressions, such as you certainly do not meet with in these days, was to
be sought. In their position of society, education either in England, or
education conducted by English teachers, has so spread in Scottish
families, and intercourse with the south has been so increased, that all
these colloquial peculiarities are fast disappearing. Some of the ladies
of this older school felt some indignation at the change which they lived
to see was fast going on. One of them being asked if an individual whom
she had lately seen was "Scotch," answered with some bitterness,
"I canna say; ye a’ speak sae genteel now that I dinna ken
wha’s Scotch." It was not uncommon to find, in young persons,
examples, some years ago, of an attachment to the Scottish dialect, like
that of the old lady. In the life of P. Tytler, lately published, there is
an account of his first return to Scotland from a school in England. His
family were delighted with his appearance, manners, and general
improvement; but a sister did not share this pleasure unmixed, for being
found in tears, and the remark being made, "Is he not charming?"
her reply was, in great distress, "Oh yes, but he speaks
English!"
The class of old Scottish
ladies, marked by so many peculiarities, generally lived in provincial
towns, and never dreamt of going from home. Many had never been in London,
or had even crossed the Tweed. But as Lord Cockburn’s experience goes
back further than mine, and as he had special opportunities of being
acquainted with their characteristic peculiarities I will quote his
animated description on a page of his Memorials. "There was a
singular race of old Scotch ladies. They were a delightful set -
strong-headed, warm-hearted, and high-spirited—merry even in solitude;
very resolute; indifferent about the modes and habits of the modern world,
and adhering to their own ways, so as to stand out like primitive rocks
above ordinary society. Their prominent qualities of sense, humour,
affection, and spirit, were embodied in curious outsides, for they all
dressed, and spoke, and did exactly as they chose. Their language, like
their habits, entirely Scotch, but without any other vulgarity than what
perfect naturalness is sometimes mistaken for."
This is a masterly description of a race
now all but passed away. I have known several of them in my early days;
and amongst them we must look for the racy Scottish peculiarities of
diction and of expression which, with them, are also nearly gone. Lord
Cockbum has given some illustrations of these peculiarities; and I have
heard others, expecially connected with Jacobite partialities, of which I
say nothing, as they are in fact rather strong for such a work as
this. One, however, I heard lately as coming from a Forfarshire old lady
of this class, which bears upon the point of "resolute"
determination referred to in the learned judge’s description. She had
been very positive in the disclaiming of some assertion which had been
attributed to her, and on being asked if she had not written it, or
something very like it, she replied, "Na, na; I never write onything
of consequence—I may deny what I say, but I canna deny what I
write."
Mrs Baird of Newbyth, the mother of our
distinguished countryman the late General Sir David Baird, was always
spoken of as a grand specimen of the class. When the news arrived from
India of the gallant but unfortunate action of ‘84 against Hyder All, in
which her son, then Captain Baird, was engaged, it was stated that he and
other officers had been taken prisoners and chained together two and two.
The friends were careful in breaking such sad intelligence to the mother
of Captain Baird. When, however, she was made fully to understand the
position of her son and his gallant companions, disdaining all weak and
useless expressions of her own grief, and knowing well the restless and
athletic habits of her son, all she said was, "Lord pity the chiel
that’s chained to our Davie !"
It is only due to the memory of "our
Davie," however, to add that the" chiel " to whom he was
chained had, in writing home to his friends, borne the highest testimony
to the kindness and consideration of Captain Baird, which he exercised
towards him in this uncomfortable alliance. General Baird was a first-rate
officer, and a fine noble character. He left home for active service so
soon (before he was fifteen) that his education had necessarily been very
imperfect. This deficiency he had always himself through life deeply
regretted. A military friend, and great admirer of Sir David, used
jocularly to tell a story of him—that having finished the despatch which
must carry home the news of his great action, the capture of Seringapatam,
as he was preparing to sign it in great form, he deliberately took off his
coat. "Why do you take off your coat?" said his friend. To which
the General quietly answered, "Oh, it’s to turn the muckle D in
Dauvid."
The ladies of this class had certainly no
affectation in speaking of those who came under their displeasure, even
when life and death were concerned. I had an anecdote illustrative of this
characteristic in a well-known old lady of the last century, Miss
Johnstone of Westerhall. She had been extremely indignant that, on the
death of her brother, his widow had proposed to sell off the old furniture
of Westerhall. She was attached to it from old associations, and
considered the parting with it little short of sacrilege. The event was,
however, arrested by death, or, as she describes the result, "The
furniture was a’ to be roupit, and we couldna persuade her. But before
the sale cam’ on, in God’s gude providence she just clinkit aff
hersell." Of this same Miss Johnstone another characteristic anecdote
has been preserved in the family. She came into possession of Hawkhill,
near Edinburgh, and died there. When dying, a tremendous storm of rain and
thunder came on, so as to shake the house. In her own quaint eccentric
spirit, and with no thought of profane or light allusions, she looked up,
and, listening to the storm, quietly remarked, in reference to her
departure, "Eh, sirs! what a nicht for me to be fleein’ through the
air!" Of fine acute sarcasm I recollect hearing an expression from a modern
sample of the class, a charming character, but only to a certain
degree answering to the description of the older generation.
Conversation turning, and with just indignation, on the infidel remarks
which have been heard from a certain individual, and on his irreverent
treatment of Holy Scripture, all that this lady condescended to say of him
was, "Gey impudent of him, I think."
A recorded reply of old
Lady Perth to a French gentleman is quaint and characteristic. They had
been discussing the respective merits of the cookery of each country. The
Frenchman offended the old Scottish peeress by some disparaging remarks on
Scottish dishes, and by highly preferring those of France. All she would
answer was, "Weel, weel, some fowk like parritch and some like
paddocks." [Frogs]
Of this older race—the ladies who were
aged, fifty years ago—no description could be given in bolder or
stronger outline than that which I have quoted from Lord Cockburn. I would
pretend to nothing more than giving a few further illustrative details
from my own experience, which may assist the representation by adding some
practical realities to the picture.
Several of them whom I knew in my early
days certainly answered to many of the terms made use of by his lordship.
Their language and expressions had a zest and peculiarity which are gone,
and which would not, I fear, do for modern life and times.
I have spoken of Miss Erskine of Dun, which
is near Montrose. She, however, resided in Edinburgh. But those I knew
best had lived many years in the then retired society of a country town.
Some were my own relations; and in boyish days (for they had not generally
much patience with boys) were looked up to with considerable awe as very
formidable personages. Their characters and modes of expression in many
respects remarkably corresponded with Lord Cockburn’s idea of the race.
There was a dry Scottish humour which we fear their successors do not
inherit. One of these Montrose ladies, Miss Nelly Fullerton, had many
anecdotes told of her quaint ways and sayings. Walking in the street one
day, slippery from frost, she fairly fell down. A young officer with much
politeness came forward and picked her up, earnestly asking her at the
same time, "I hope, ma’am, you are no worse? "to which she
very drily answered, looking at him very steadily, "‘Deed, sir, I’m
just as little the better." A few days after, she met her military
supporter in a shop. He was a fine tall youth, upwards of six feet high,
and by way of, making some grateful recognition for his late polite
attention, she eyed him from head to foot, and as she was of the opinion
of the old Scotch lady who declared she "aye liked bonny fowk,"
she viewed her young friend with much satisfaction, but which she only
evinced by the quaint remark, "Od, ye’re a lang lad; God gie ye
grace."
I had from a relative or intimate friend of
two sisters of this school, well known about Glasgow, an odd account of
what it seems, from their own statement, had passed between them at a
country house, where they had attended a sale by auction. As the business
of the day went on, a dozen of silver spoons had to be disposed of; and
before they were put up for competition, they were, according to the usual
custom, handed round for inspection to the company. When returned into the
hands of the auctioneer, he found only eleven. In great wrath, he ordered
the door to be shut, that no one might escape, and insisted on every one
present being searched to discover the delinquent. One of the sisters, in
consternation, whispered to the other, "Esther, ye hae nae gotten the
spune?" to which she replied, "Na; but I hae gotten Mrs Siddons
in my pocket." She had been struck by a miniature of the great
actress, and had quietly pocketed it. The cautious reply of the sister
was, "Then just drop her, Esther." One of the sisterhood, a
connection of my own, had much of this dry Scottish humour. She had a
lodging in the house of a respectable grocer; and on her niece most
innocently asking, "if she was not very fond of her landlord,"
in reference to the excellence of her apartments and the attention he paid
to her comfort, she demurred to the question on the score of its
propriety, by replying, "Fond of my landlord! that would be an unaccountable
fondness."
An amusing account was
given of an interview and conversation between this lady and the provost
of Montrose. She had demurred at paying some municipal tax with which she
had been charged, and the provost, anxious to prevent her getting into
difficulty on the subject, kindly called to convince her of the fairness
of the claim, and the necessity of paying it. In his explanation he
referred back to his own bachelor days when a similar payment had been
required from him. "I assure you, ma’am," he said, "when
I was in your situation I was called upon in a similar way for this
tax"; to which she replied in quiet scorn, "In my situation! an’
what were ye in my situation?—an auld maid leevin’ in a flat wi’ an
ae lass." But the complaints of such imposts were urged in a very
humorous manner by another Montrose old lady, Miss Helen Carnegy of Craigo;
she hated paying taxes, and always pretended to misunderstand their
nature. One day, receiving a notice of such payment signed by the provost
(Thom), she broke out: "I dinna understand thae taxes; but I just
think that when Mrs Thom wants a new gown, the provost sends me a tax
paper!" The good lady’s naïve rejection of the idea that she,
could be in any sense "fond of her landlord," already referred
to, was somewhat in unison with a similar feeling recorded to have been
expressed by the late Mr Wilson, the celebrated Scottish vocalist. He was
taking lessons from the late Mr Finlay Dun, one of the most accomplished
musicians of the day. Mr Dun had just returned from Italy, and, impressed
with admiration of the deep pathos, sentiment, and passion of the Italian
school of music, he regretted to find in his pupil so lovely a voice and
so much talent losing much of its effect for want of feeling. Anxious,
therefore, to throw into his friend’s performance something of the
Italian expression, he proposed to bring it out by this suggestion:
"Now, Mr Wilson, just suppose that I am your lady love, and sing to
me as you could imagine yourself doing were you desirous of impressing her
with your earnestness and affection." Poor Mr Wilson hesitated,
blushed, and, under doubt how far such a personification even in his case
was allowable, at last remonstrated, "Ay, Mr Dun, ye forget I’m a
married man!"
A case has been reported of
a country girl, however, who thought it possible there might be an excess
in such scrupulous regard to appearances. On her marriage day, the youth
to whom she was about to be united said to her in a triumphant tone,
"Weel, Jenny, haven’t I been unco ceevil?" alluding to the
fact that during their whole courtship he had never even given her a kiss.
Her quiet reply was, "Ou, ay, man; senselessly ceevil."
One of these Montrose
ladies and a sister lived together; and in a very quiet way they were in
the habit of giving little dinner-parties, to which occasionally they
invited their gentlemen friends. However, gentlemen were not always to be
had; and on one occasion, when such a difficulty had occurred, they were
talking over the matter with a friend. The one lady seemed to consider
such an acquisition almost essential to the having a dinner at all. The
other, who did not see the same necessity, quietly adding, "But,
indeed, oor Jean thinks a man perfect
salvation."
Very much of the same class
of remarks was the following sly observation of one of’ the sisterhood.
At a well-known tea-table in a country town in Forfarshire, the events of
the day, grave and gay, had been fully discussed by the assembled
sisterhood. The occasion was improved by an elderly spinster, as follows :—"Weel,
weel, sirs, these are solemn events—death and marriage—but ye ken they’re
what we must a’ come till." "Eh, Miss Jeany! ye have been lang
spared," was the arch reply of a younger member.
There was occasionally a
pawky semi-sarcastic humour in the replies of some of the ladies we speak
of, that was quite irresistible, of which I have from a friend a good
illustration in an anecdote well known at the time. A late well-known
member of the Scottish Bar, when a youth, was somewhat of a dandy, and, I
suppose, somewhat short and sharp in his temper. He was going to pay a
visit in the country, and was making a great fuss about his preparing and
putting up his habiliments. His old aunt was much annoyed at all this
bustle, and stopped him by the somewhat contemptuous question; "Whar’s
this you’re gaun, Robby, that ye mak sic a grand wark about yer claes?"
The young man lost temper, and pettishly replied: "I’m going to the
devil." "‘Deed, Robby, then," was the quiet answer,
"ye needna be sac nice, he’ll juist tak’ ye as ye are."
Ladies of this class had a
quiet mode of expressing themselves on very serious subjects, which
indicated their quaint power of description, rather than their want of
feeling. Thus, of two sisters, when one had died, it was supposed that she
had injured herself by an imprudent indulgence in strawberries and cream,
of which she had partaken in the country. A friend was condoling with the
surviving sister, and, expressing her sorrow, had added, "I had hoped
your sister was to live many years." To which her relative replied:
"Leeve! hoo could she leeve? she juist felled [Killed] hersell
at Craigo wi’ straeberries and ‘ream!" However, she spoke with
the same degree of coolness of her own decease. For when her friend was
comforting her in illness, by the hopes that she would, after winter, ‘enjoy
again some of their country spring butter, she exclaimed, without the
slightest idea of being guilty of any irreverence, "Spring butter! by
that time I shall be buttering in heaven." When really dying, and
when friends were round her bed she overheard one of them saying to
another, "Her face has lost its colour; it grows like a sheet of
paper." The quaint spirit even then broke out in the remark,
"Then I’m sure it maun be broon paper." A very
strong-minded lady of the class, and, in Lord Cockburn’s language,
"indifferent about modes and habits," I had been asking from a
lady the character of a cook she was about to hire. The lady naturally
entered a little upon her moral qualifications, and described her as a
very decent woman; the response to which was, "Oh, d--n her decency;
can she make good collops? "—an answer which would somewhat
surprise a lady of Moray Place now, if engaged in a similar discussion of
a servant’s merits.
The Rev. Dr Cook of
Haddington supplies an excellent anecdote, of which the point is in the
dry Scottish answer: An old lady of the Doctor’s acquaintance, about
seventy, sent for her medical attendant to consult him about a sore
throat, which had troubled her for some days. Her medical man was ushered
into her room, decked out with the now prevailing fashion, a mustache and
flowing beard. The old lady, after exchanging the usual civilities,
described her complaint to the worthy son of AEsculapius.
"Well," says he; "do you know, Mrs Macfarlane, I used to be
much affected with the very same kind of sore throat, but ever since I
allowed my mustache and beard to grow, I have never been troubled with
it." "Aweel, aweel," said the old lady drily, "that
may be the case, but ye maun prescribe some other method for me to get
quit o’ the sair throat; for ye ken, doctor, I canna adopt that cure."
Then how quaint the answer
of old Mrs Robison, widow of the eminent professor of natural philosophy,
and who entertained an inveterate dislike to everything which she thought
savoured of cant. She had invited a gentleman to dinner on a
particular day, and he had accepted, with the reservation, "If 1 am
spared." "Weel, weel," said Mrs Robison; "if ye’re
deed, I’ll no' expect ye."
I had two grand-aunts
living at Montrose at that time—two Miss Ramsays of Balmain. They were
somewhat of the severe class—Nelly especially, who was an object rather
of awe than of affection. She certainly had a very awful appearance to
young apprehensions, from the strangeness of her headgear. Ladies of this
class Lord Cockburn has spoken of as "having their peculiarities
embodied in curious outsides, as they dressed, spoke, and did exactly as
they chose." As a sample of such "curious outside and
dress," my good aunt used to go about the house with an immense
pillow strapped over her head—warm but formidable. These two maiden
grand-aunts had invited their niece to pay them a visit—an aunt of mine,
who had made what they considered a very imprudent marriage, and where
considerable pecuniary privations were too likely to accompany the step
she had taken. The poor niece had to bear many a taunt directed against
her improvident union, as for example:- One day she had asked for a piece
of tape for some work she had in hand as a young wife expecting to become
a mother. Miss Nelly said, with much point, "Ay, Kitty, ye shall get
a bit knittin’ (i.e., a bit of tape). We hae a’thing; we’re
no married." It was this lady who, by an inadvertent use of a term,
showed what was passing in her mind in a way which must have been quite
transparent to the bystanders. At a supper which she was giving, she was
evidently much annoyed at the reckless and clumsy manner in which a
gentleman was operating upon a ham which was at table, cutting out great
lumps, and distributing them to the company. The lady said, in a very
querulous tone, "Oh, Mr Divot, will you help Mrs So-and-So?
"—divot being a provincial term for a turf or sod cut out of the
green, and the resemblance of it to the pieces carved out by the gentleman
evidently having taken possession of her imagination. Mrs Helen Carnegy of
Craigo, already mentioned, was a thorough specimen of this class. She
lived in Montrose, and died in 1818, at the advanced age of ninety-one.
She was a Jacobite, and very aristocratic in her feelings, but on social
terms with many burghers of Montrose, or Munross as it was called. She
preserved a very nice distinction of addresses, suited to the different
individuals in the town, according as she placed them in the scale of her
consideration. She liked a party at quadrille, and sent out her servant
every morning to invite the ladies required to make up the game, and her
directions were graduated thus:- "Nelly, ye’ll gang to Lady
Carnegy’s and mak’ my compliments, and ask the honour of her
ladyship’s company, and that of the Miss Carnegys, to tea this evening;
and if they canna come, ging to the Miss Mudies, and ask the pleasure
of their company; and if they canna come, ye may ging to Miss Hunter and
ask the favour of her company; and if she canna come,
ging to Lucky Spark and bid her come."
A great confusion existed
in the minds of some of those old-fashioned ladies on the subject of
modern inventions and usages. A Montrose old lady protested against the
use of steam-vessels, as counteracting the decrees of Providence in going
against wind and tide, vehemently asserting, "I would hae naething to
say to thae im-pious vessels." Another lady was equally
discomposed by the introduction of gas, asking, with much earnestness,
"What’s to become o’ the puir whales? " deeming their
interests materially affected by this superseding of their oil. A lady of
this class, who had long lived in country retirement, coming up to
Edinburgh, was, after an absence of many years, going along Princes Street
about the time when the water-carts were introduced for preventing the
dust, and seeing one of them passing, rushed from off the pavement to the
driver, saying, "Man, ye’re skailin’ a’ the water."
Such being her ignorance of modem improvements.
There used to be a point
and originality in expressions made use of in regard to common matters,
unlike what one finds now; for example: A country minister had been
invited, with his wife, to dine and spend the night at the house of one of
his lairds. Their host was very proud of one of the very large beds which
had just come into fashion, and in the morning asked the lady how she had
slept in it. "Oh, vary well, sir;
but, indeed, I thought I’d lost the minister, a’thegither."
Nothing, however, in my
opinion, comes up to the originality and point of the Montrose old maiden
lady’s most "exquisite reason" for not subscribing to the
proposed fund for organising a volunteer corps in that town. It was at the
time of expected invasion at the beginning of the century, and some
of the town magistrates called upon her and solicited her subscription to
raise men for the service of the king—" Indeed," she answered
right sturdily, "I’ll dae nae sic thing; I ne’er could raise a
man for mysell, and I’m no’ ga’in to raise men for King
George."
Some curious stories are
told of ladies of this class, as connected with the novelties and
excitement of railway travelling. Missing their luggage, or finding that
something has gone wrong about it, often causes very terrible distress,
and might be amusing, were it not to the sufferer so severe a calamity. I
was much entertained with the earnestness of this feeling, and the
expression of it from an old Scotch lady whose box was not forthcoming at
the station where she was to stop. When urged to be patient, her indignant
exclamation was: "I can bear ony pairtings that may be ca’ed for in
God’s providence; but I canna stan’
pairtin’ frae my claes."
The following anecdote from
the west exhibits a curious confusion of ideas arising from the
old-fashioned prejudice against Frenchmen and their language, which
existed in the last generation. During the long French war, two old ladies
in Stranraer were going to the kirk; the one said to the other, "Was
it no’ a wonderfu’ thing that the Breetish were aye victorious ower
the French in battle?" "Not a bit," said the other old
lady; "dinna ye ken the Breetish aye say their prayers before ga’in
into battle?" The other replied, "But canna the French say their
prayers as weel?" The reply was most characteristic, "Hoot!
jabbering bodies, wha could understan’ them?"
Some of these ladies, as
belonging to the old county families, had very high notions of their own
importance, and a great idea of their difference from the burgher families
of the town. I am assured of the truth of the following naïve specimen of
such family pride :—One of the olden maiden ladies of Montrose called
one day on some ladies of one of the families in the neighbourhood, and on
being questioned as to the news of the town, said, "News! oh, Bailie
‘s eldest son is to be married." "And pray," was the
reply, "and pray, Miss ——, an’ fa’ ever heard o’ a merchant
i’ the toon o’ Montrose ha’in an eldest son?" The
good lady thought that any privilege of primogeniture belonged only to the
family of laird.
It is a dangerous
experiment to try passing off ungrounded claims upon characters of this
description. Many a clever sarcastic reply is on record from Scottish
ladies, directed against those who wished to impose upon them some false
sentiment. I often think of the remark of the outspoken ancient lady, who,
when told by her pastor, of whose disinterestedness in his charge she was
not quite sure, that he "had a call from his Lord and Master to
go," replied, "Deed, sir, the Lord might hae ca’ed and ca’ed
to ye lang eneuch to Ouchtertoul (a very small stipend), and ye’d ne’er
hae letten on that ye heard him."
At the beginning of this
century, when the fear of invasion was rife, it was proposed to mount a
small battery at the water-mouth by subscription, and Miss Carnegy was
waited on by a deputation from the town-council. One of them having
addressed her on the subject, she heard him with some impatience, and when
he had finished, she said, "Are ye ane o’ the toon-council ?"
He replied, "I have that honour, ma’am." To which she
rejoined, "Ye may hae that profit, but honour ye hae nane";
and then to the point, she added, "But I’ve been tell’t that ae
thy’s wark o’ twa or three men wad mount the cannon, and that it may
be a’ dune for twenty shillings; now there’s twa punds to ye."
The councillor pocketed the money and withdrew. On one occasion, as she
sat in an easy-chair, having assumed the habits and privileges of age, Mr
Mollison, the minister of the Established Kirk, called on her to solicit
for some charity. She did not like being asked for money, and, from her
Jacobite principles, she certainly did not respect the Presbyterian Kirk.
When he came in she made an inclination of the head, and he said,
"Don’t get up, madam." She replied, "Get up! I wadna rise
out o’ my chair for King George himsell, let abee a whig minister."
This was plain speaking
enough, but there is something quite inimitable in the matter-of-factness
of the following story of an advertisement, which may tend to illustrate
the Antiquary’s remark to Mrs Macleuchar, anent the starting of a coach
or fly to Queensferry. A carrier, who plied his trade between Aberdeen and
a village considerably to the north of it, was asked by one of the
villagers, "Fan are ye gaen to the toon?" (Aberdeen). To which
he replied, "I’ll be in on Monanday, God willin’ and weather
permittin’, an’ on Tiseday, fitber
or no’.
It is a curious subject the
various shades of Scottish dialect and Scottish expressions, commonly
called Scotticisms. We mark in the course of fifty years how some
disappear altogether; others become more and more rare, and of all of them
we may say, I think, that the specimens of them are to be looked for every
year more in the descending classes of society. What was common amongst
peers, judges, lairds, advocates, and people of family and education, is
now found in humbler ranks of life. There are few persons perhaps who have
been born in Scotland, and who have lived long in Scotland, whom a nice
southern ear might not detect as from the north. But far beyond such nicer
shades of distinction, there are strong and characteristic marks of a
Caledonian origin, with which some of us have had practical acquaintance.
I possess two curious, and now, I believe, rather scarce, publications on
the prevalent Scotticisms of our speaking and writing. One is entitled
"Scotticisms designed to Correct Improprieties of Speech and
Writing," by Dr Beattie of Aberdeen. The other is to the same
purpose, and is entitled, "Observations on the Scottish
Dialect," by the late Right Honourable Sir John Sinclair. Expressions
which were common in their days, and used by persons of all ranks, are not
known by the rising generation. Many amusing equivoques used to be
current, arising from Scotch people in England applying terms and
expressions in a manner rather surprising to southern ears. Thus, the
story was told of a public character long associated with the affairs of
Scotland, Henry Dundas (first Viscount Melville), applying to Mr Pitt for
the loan of a horse "the length of Highgate"; a very
common expression in Scotland, at that time, to signify the distance to
which the ride was to extend. Mr Pitt good-humouredly wrote back to say
that he was afraid he had not a horse in his possession quite so long as
Mr Dundas had mentioned, but he had sent the longest he had. There is a
well-known case of mystification, caused to English ears-by the use of
Scottish terms, which took place in the House of Peers during the
examination of the Magistrates of Edinburgh touching the particulars of
the Porteous Mob in 1736. The Duke of Newcastle having asked the Provost
with what kind of shot the town-guard commanded by Porteous had loaded
their muskets, received the unexpected reply, "Ou, juist sic as ane
shutes dukes and sic like fules wi’." The answer was considered as
a contempt of the House of Lords, and the poor provost would have suffered
from misconception of his patois, had not the Duke of Argyle (who must
have been exceedingly amused) explained that the worthy magistrate’s
expression, when rendered into English, did not apply to Peers and Idiots
but to ducks and water-fowl. The circumstance is referred to
by Sir W. Scott in the notes to the Heart of MidLothian. A similar
equivoque upon the double meaning of "Deuk" in Scottish language
supplied material for a poor woman’s honest compliment to a benevolent
Scottish nobleman. John, Duke of Roxburghe, was one day out riding, and at
the gate of Floors he was accosted by an importunate old beggar woman. He
gave her half-a-crown, which pleased her so much that she exclaimed,
"Weel’s me on your guse face, for Duke’s ower little tae
ca’ ye."
A very curious list may be
made of words used in Scotland in a sense which would be quite
unintelligible to Southerns. Such applications are going out, but I
remember them well amongst the old-fashioned people of Angus and the
Mearns quite common in conversation. I subjoin some specimens :—
Bestial signifies
amongst Scottish agriculturists cattle generally, the whole aggregate
number of beasts on the farm. Again, a Scottish farmer, when he speaks of
his "hogs " or of buying "hogs," has no reference to
swine, but means young sheep, i.e., sheep before they have lost
their first fleece.
Discreet does
not express the idea of a prudent or cautious person so much as of one who
is not rude, but considerate of the opinions of others. Such application
of the word is said to have been made by Dr Chalmers to the late Henry,
Bishop of Exeter.
These two eminent
individuals had met for the first time at the hospitable house of the late
Mr Murray, the publisher. On the introduction taking place, the Bishop
expressed himself so warmly as to the pleasure it gave him to meet so
distinguished and excellent a man as Dr Chalmers, that the Doctor,
somewhat surprised at such an unexpected ebullition from an English Church
dignitary, could only reply, "Oh, I am sure your lordship is very ‘discreet.’
"
Enterteening has
in olden Scottish usage the sense not of amusing, but interesting. I
remember an honest Dandie Dinmont on a visit to Bath. A lady, who had
taken a kind charge of him, accompanied him to the theatre, and in the
most thrilling scene of Kemble’s acting, what is usually termed the
dagger scene in "Macbeth," she turned to the farmer with a
whisper, "Is not that fine?" to which the confidential reply
was, "Oh, mem, its verra enterteening!" Enterteening
expressing his idea of the effect produced.
Pig, in
old-fashioned Scotch, was always used for a coarse earthenware jar or
vessel. In the Life of the late Patrick Tytler, the amiable and gifted
historian of Scotland, there occurs an amusing exemplification of the
utter confusion of ideas caused by the use of Scottish phraseology. The
family, when they went to London, had taken with them an old Scottjsh
servant who had no notion of any terms beside her own. She came in one
clay greatly disturbed at the extremely backward state of knowledge of
domestic affairs amongst the Londoners. She had been to so many shops and
could not get "a great broon pig to haud the butter in."
From a relative of the
family I have received an account of a still worse confusion of ideas,
caused by the inquiry of a Mrs Chisholm of Chisholm, who died in London in
1825, at an advanced age. She had come from the country to be with her
daughter, and was a genuine Scottish lady of the old school. She wished to
purchase a tablecloth of a cheque pattern, like the squares of a chess or
draught board. Now a draught-board used to be called (as I remember) by
old Scotch people a " dam brod." Accordingly, Mrs Chisholm
entered the shop of a linen-draper, and asked to be shown table-linen a dam-brod
pattern. The shopman, although taken aback by a request, as he
considered it, so strongly worded, by a respectable old lady, brought down
what he assured her was the largest and widest made. No; that would not
do. She repeated her wish for a dam-brod pattern, and left the shop
surprised at the stupidity of the London shop-man not having the pattern
she asked for.
Silly has
in genuine old Scottish use reference to weakness of body only, and not of
mind. Before knowing the use of the word, I remember being much astonished
at a farmer of the Mearns telling me of the strongest-minded man in the
county that he was "uncommon silly," not insinuating any decline
of mental vigour, but only meaning that his bodily strength was giving
way.
Frail, in
like manner, expresses infirmity of body, and implies no charge of any
laxity in moral principle; yet I have seen English persons looking with
considerable consternation when an old-fashioned Scottish lady, speaking
of a young and graceful female, lamented her being so frail.
Fail is
another instance of different use of words. In Scotland it used to be
quite common to say of a person whose health and strength had declined,
that he had failed. To say this of a person connected with
mercantile business has a very serious effect upon southern ears, as
implying nothing short of bankruptcy and ruin. I recollect many years ago
at Monmouth, my dear mother creating much consternation in the mind of the
mayor, by saying of a worthy man, the principal banker in the town, whom
they both concurred in praising, that she was "sorry to find he was failing."
Honest has
in Scotch a peculiar application, irrespective of any integrity of moral
character. It is a kindly mode of referring to an individual, as we would
say to a stranger, "Honest man, would you tell me the way to ?"
or as Lord Hermand, when about to sentence a woman for stealing, began
remonstratively, "Honest woman, whatever garr’d ye steal your
neighbour’s tub?"
Superstitious: A
correspondent informs me that in some parts of Mid-Lothian the people
constantly use the word "superstitious" for "bigoted";
thus, speaking of a very keen Free Church person, they will say, "He
is awfu’ supperstitious."
Kail in
England simply expresses cabbage, but in Scotland represents the chief
meal of the day. Hence the old-fashioned easy way of asking a friend to
dinner was to ask him if he would take his kail with the family. In the
same usage of the word, the Scottish proverb expresses distress and
trouble in a person’s affairs, by saying that "he has got his kail
through the reek." In like manner haddock, in Kincardineshire and
Aberdeenshire, used to express the same idea, as the expression is,
"Will ye tak’ your haddock wi’ us the day?" that fish being
so plentiful and so excellent that it was a standing dish. There is this
difference, however, in the local usage, that to say in Aberdeen, Will you
take your haddock? implies an invitation to dinner; whilst in Montrose the
same expression means an invitation to supper. Differences of
pronunciation also caused great confusion and misunderstanding. Novels
used to be pronounced novels; envy, envy; a cloak was a
clock, to the surprise of an English lady, to whom the maid said, on her
leaving the house, "Mem, winna ye tak’ the clock wi’
ye?"
The names of children’s
diseases were a remarkable item in the catalogue of Scottish words :—Thus,
in 1775, Mrs Betty Muirhead kept a boarding-school for young ladies in the
Trongate of Glasgow, near the Tron steeple. A girl on her arrival was
asked whether she had had smallpox. "Yes, mem, I’ve had the sma’pox,
the nirls, [Measles] the blabs, [Netle-rash] the scaw, [The itch] the
kinkhost [Whooping-cough] and the fever, the branks [Mumps] and the
worm." [Toothache]
There is indeed a case of
Scottish pronunciation which adds to the force and copiousness of our
language, by discriminating four words which, according to English
speaking, are undistinguishable in mere pronunciation. The words are—wright
(a carpenter), to write (with a pen), right (the reverse of wrong), rite
(a ceremony). The four are, however, distinguished in old-fashioned Scotch
pronunciation thus—1, He’s a wiricht; 2, to wireete; 3, richt; 4,
rite.
I can remember a peculiar
Scottish phrase very commonly used, which now seems to have passed away. I
mean the expression "to let on," indicating the notice or
observation of something, or of some person. For example, "I saw Mr
--- at the meeting, but I never let on that I knew he was present." A
form of expression which has been a great favourite in Scotland in my
recollection has much gone out of practice—I mean the frequent use of
diminutives, generally adopted either as terms of endearment or of
contempt. Thus it was very common to speak of a person whom you meant
rather to undervalue, as a mannie, a boddie, a bit boddie,
or a wee bit mannie. The Bailie in Rob Roy, when he intended to
represent his party as persons of no importance, used the expression,
"We are bits o’ Glasgow bodies."
An admirable Scotch
expression I recollect from one of the Montrose ladies before referred to.
Her niece was asking a great many questions on some point concerning which
her aunt had been giving her information and coming over and over the
ground, demanding an explanation how this had happened, and why something
else was so-and-so. The old lady lost her patience, and at last burst
forth: "I winna be back-speired noo, Pally Fullerton."
Back-speired! how much more pithy and expressive than cross-examined!
"He’s not a man to ride the water on," expresses your want of
confidence and of trust in the character referred to. Another capital
expression to mark that a person has stated a point rather under than over
the truth, is, " The less I lee," as in Guy Mannering, where the
precentor exclaims to Mrs MacCandlish, "Awed, gudewife, then the less
I lee." We have found it a very amusing task collecting together a
number of these phrases, and forming them into a connected epistolary
composition. We may imagine the sort of puzzle it would be to a young
person of the present day—one of what we may call the new school. We
will suppose an English young lady, or an English educated young lady,
lately married, receiving such a letter as the following from the Scottish
aunt of her husband. We may suppose it to be written by a very old lady,
who, for the last fifty years has not moved from home, and has
changed nothing of her early days. I can safely affirm
that every word of it I have either seen written in a
letter, or have heard in ordinary conversation :—
"Montrose,
1858. [The Scotticisms are printed in italics]
"My DEAR NIECE—I am
real glad to find my nevy has made so good a choice as to have
secured you for his wife; and I am sure this step will add much to his
comfort, and we behove to rejoice at it. He will now look forward
to his evening at home, and you will be happy when you find you never want
him. It will be a great pleasure when you hear him in the trance, and
wipe his feet upon the bass. But Willy is not strong, and you must
look well after him. I hope you do not let him snuff so much as he
did. He had a sister, poor thing, who died early. She was remarkably
clever, and well read, and most intelligent, but was always uncommonly silly.
[Delicate in health] In the autumn of ‘40 she had a sair
bost, and was aye speaking
through a cold, and at dinner never did more than to sup a few
family broth. I am afraid she did not change her feet when she
came in from the wet one evening. I never let on that I observed
anything to be wrong; but I remember asking her to come and sit upon the
fire. But she went out, and did not take the door with her. She lingered
till next spring, when she had a great income, [Ailment] and her parents
were then too poor to take her south, and she died. I hope you will like
the lassie Eppie we have sent you. She is a discreet girl, and
comes of a decent family. She has a sister married upon a Seceding
minister at Kirkcaldy. But I hear he expects to be transported soon.
She was brought up in one of the hospitals here. Her father had
been a souter and a pawky chiel enough, but was doited for
many years, and her mother was sair dottled. We have been greatly
interested in the hospital where Eppie was educate, and intended
getting up a bazaar for it, and would have asked you to help us, as we
were most anxious to raise some additional funds, when one of the Bailies
died and left it feuing-stances to the amount of 5000 pounds, which
was really a great mortification. I am not a good hand of write,
and therefore shall stop. I am very tired, and have been gantin' [Yawning]
for this half-hour, and even in correspondence gantin’ may be smittin’.
[Catching] The kitchen [Tea-urn] is just coming in, and I feel a smell
of tea, so when I get my four hours, that will refresh me and
set me up again.—I am, your affectionate aunt,
ISABEL DINGWAL."
This letter, then, we
suppose written by a very old Forfarshire lady to her niece in England,
and perhaps the young lady who received it might answer it in a style as
strange to her aunt as her aunt’s is to her, especially if she
belonged to that lively class of our young female friends who indulge a
little in phraseology which they have imbibed from their brothers, or
male cousins, who have, perhaps for their amusement, encouraged them in
its use. The answer, then, might be something like this; and without
meaning to be severe or satirical upon our young lady friends, I may
truly say that, though I never heard from one young lady all these
fast terms, I have heard the most of them separately from many :—
"My DEAR AUNT—Many thanks for your kind letter and its enclosure.
From my not knowing Scotch, l am not quite up to the mark, and some of the
expressions I don’t twig at all. Willie is absent for a few days,
but when he returns home he will explain it; he is quite awake on all
such things. I am glad you are pleased that Willie and I are now spliced.
I am well aware that you will hear me spoken of in some quarters as a fast
young lady. A man here had the impudence to say that when he visited my
husband’s friends he would tell them so. I quietly and civilly replied,
" You be blowed!" So don’t believe him. We get on famously at
present. Willie comes home from the office every afternoon at five. We
generally take a walk before dinner, and read and work if we don’t go out;
and I assure you we are very jolly. We don’t know many people here
yet. It is rather a swell neighbourhood; and if we can’t get in
with the nobs, depend upon it we will never take up with any society
that is decidedly snobby. I daresay the girl you are sending will be
very useful to us; our present one is an awful slow coach. In fact,
the sending her to us was a regular do. But we hope some day to sport
buttons. My father and mother paid us a visit
last week. The governor is well, and, notwithstanding years and
infirmities, comes out quite a jolly old cove. He is, indeed, if you
will pardon the partiality of a daughter, a regular brick. He says he
will help us if we can’t get on, and I make no doubt will in due time fork
out the tin. I am busy working a cap for you, dear amity; it is from a
pretty German pattern, and I think when finished will be quite a stunner.
There is a shop in Regent Street where I hire patterns, and can get six
of them for five bob. I then return them without buying them, which I
think a capital dodge. I hope you will sport it for my sake at your
first tea and turn out.
"I have nothing more to
say particular, but am always
"Your affectionate niece,
"ELIZA
DINGWALL."
"P.S.—I am trying to
break Willie off his horrid habit of taking snuff. I had rather see him take
his cigar when we are walking. You will be told, I dare-say, that I
sometimes take a weed myself. It is not true, dear amity."
Before leaving the
question of change in Scottish expressions, it may be proper to add
a few words on the subject of Scottish dialects, i.e., on the
differences which exist in different counties or localities in the
Scottish tongue itself. These differences used to be as marked as
different languages; of course they still exist amongst the peasantry
as before. The change consists in their gradual vanishing from the
conversation of the educated and refined. The dialects with which I am
most conversant are the two which present the greatest contrast, viz.,
the Angus and the Aberdeen, or the slow and broad Scotch—the quick
and sharp Scotch. Whilst the one talks of "Buuts and shoon,"
the other calls the same articles "beets and sheen." With
the Aberdonian "what" is always "fat" or
"fatten"; " music" is " meesic"; "
brutes" are "breets"; "What are ye duin’?"
of southern Scotch, in Aberdeen would be "Fat are ye deein’?"
Fergusson, nearly a century ago, noted this peculiarity of dialect in
his poem of the Leith Races :—
"The Buchan bodies through the
beach,
Their bunch of Findrams cry;
And skirl out bauld in Norland speech,
Gude speldans fa will
buy?"
"Findon," or "Finnan
haddies," are split, smoked, and partially dried haddocks. Fergusson,
in using the word "Findrams," which is not found in our
glossaries, has been thought to be in error, but his accuracy has been
verified singularly enough, within the last few days, by a worthy
octogenarian Newhaven fisherman, bearing the characteristic name of Flucker,
who remarked "that it was a word commonly used in his youth; and, above
all," he added, "when Leith Races were held on the sands, he was
like to be deeved wi’ the lang-tongued hizzies skirling out, ‘Aell a
Findram Speldrains,’ and they jist ca’ed it that to get a better
grip o’t wi’ their tongues."
In Galloway, in 1684, Symson,
afterwards an ousted Episcopalian minister (of Kirkinner), notes some
peculiarities in the speech of the people in that district. "Some of
the countrey people, especially those of the elder sort, do very often omit
the letter ‘h’ after ‘t’ as ting for thing; tree for three; tatch
for thatch; wit for with; fait for faith; mout for mouth, etc.; and also,
contrary to some north countrey people, they oftentimes pronounce ‘w‘
for ‘v,’ as serwant for servant; and so they call the months of
February, March, and April, the ware quarter, from ver. [The
Spring months] Hence their common proverb, speaking of the storms in
February, ‘winter never comes till ware comes.’" These
peculiarities of language have almost disappeared— the immense influx of
Irish emigrants during late years has exercised a perceptible influence over
the dialect of Wigtownshire.
When a southerner mentioned
the death of a friend to a lady of the granite city, she asked, "Fat
dee’d he o’?" which being utterly incomprehensible to the person
asked, another Aberdonian lady kindly explained the question, and put it
into language which she supposed could not be mistaken, as thus,
"Fat did he dee o’?" If there was this difference between the
Aberdeen and the Forfar dialect, how much greater must be that difference
when contrasted with the ore rotundo language of an English southern
dignitary. Such a one being present at a school examination in Aberdeen
wished to put some questions on Scripture history himself, and asked an
intelligent boy, "What was the ultimate fate of Pharaoh?" This the
boy not understanding, the master put the same question Alierdonicé, "Jemmy,
fat was the hinner end o’ Pharaoh?" which called forth the ready
reply, "He was drouned i’ the Red Sea." A Forfarshire parent,
dissatisfied with his son’s English pronunciation, remonstrated with him,
"What for div’ ye say why? Why canna ye say ‘what for’?"
The power of Scottish
phraseology, or rather of Scottish language, could not be better
displayed than in the following Aberdonian description of London theatrjcals
:—Mr Taylor, at one time well known in London as having the management of
the opera-house, had his father up from Aberdeen to visit him and see the
wonders of the capital. When the old man returned home, his friends, anxious
to know the impressions produced on his mind by scenes and characters so
different from what he had been accustomed to at home, inquired what sort of
business his son carried on. "Ou," said he (in reference to the
operatic singers and the corps de ballet), "he just keeps a curn [A
number] o’ quainies [Young girls] and a wheen widdyfous,
[Gallows birds] and gars them fissle, [Make whistling noises] and loup, and
mak’ murgeons, [Distorted gestures] to please the great fowk."
Another ludicrous
interrogatory occurred regarding the death of a Mr Thomas Thomson. It
appeared there were two cousins of this name, both corpulent men. When it
was announced that Mr Thomas Thomson was dead, an Aberdeen friend of the
family asked, "Fatten Thamas Thamson?" He was informed that it was
a fat Thomas Thomson, upon which the Aberdeen query naturally arose,
"Ay, but fatten fat Thamas Thamson?" Another illustration of the
Aberdeen dialect is thus given: "The Pope o’ Rome requires a bull to
do his wark, but the Emperor o’ France made a coo dee’t a’ "—a
cow do it all—a pun on coup d’état. A young lady from Aberdeen
had been on a visit to Montrose, and was disappointed at finding there a
great lack of beaux, and balls, and concerts. This lack was not made up to
her by the invitations which she had received to dinner parties. And she
thus expressed her feelings on the subject in her native dialect, when asked
how she liked Montrose: "Indeed there’s neither men nor meesic, and
fat care I for meat?" There is no male society and no concerts, and
what do I care for dinners? The dialect and the local feelings of Aberdeen
were said to have produced some amusement in London, as displayed by the
lady of the Provost of Aberdeen when accompanying her husband going up
officially to the capital. Some persons to whom she had been introduced
recommended her going to the opera as one of the sights worthy the attention
of a stranger. The good lady, full of the greatness of her situation as wife
of the provost, and knowing the sensation her appearance in public
occasioned when in her own city, and supposing that a little excitement
would accompany her with the London public, rather declined, under the
modest plea, "Fat for should I gang to the opera, just to creat’ a
confeesion?" An aunt of mine, who knew Aberdeen well, used to tell a
traditionary story of two Aberdonian ladies, who by their insinuations
against each other, finely illustrated the force of the dialect then in
common use. They had both of them been very attentive to a sick lady in
declining health, and on her death each had felt a distrust of the perfect
disinterestedness of the other’s attention. This created more than a
coolness between them, and the bad feeling came out on their passing in the
street. The one insinuated her suspicions of unfair dealing with the
property of the deceased by ejaculating, as the other passed her, "Henny
pig [Honey jar] and green tea," to which the other retorted, in the
same spirit, "Silk coat and negligee." [A kind of loose gown
formerly worn] Aberdonian pronunciation produced on one occasion a curious
equivoque between the minister and a mother of a family with whom he was
conversing in a pastoral way. The minister had said, "Weel, Margaret, I
hope you’re thoroughly ashamed of your sins." Now, in
Aberdeenshire sons are pronounced sins; accordingly, to the minister’s
surprise, Margaret burst forth, "Ashamed o’ ma sins! na, na, I’m
proud o’ ma sins. Indeed, gin it werna for thae cutties o’ dauchters, I
should be ower proud o’ ma sins."
Any of my readers who are not
much conversant with Aberdeen dialect will find the following a good
specimen :—A lady who resided in Aberdeen, being on a visit to some
friends in the country, joined an excursion on horseback. Not being much of
an equestrian, she was mounted upon a Highland pony as being the canniest
baste. He, however, had a trick of standing still in crossing a stream.
A burn had to be crossed—the rest of the party passed on, while
"Paddy" remained, pretending to drink. Miss More, in great
desperation, called out to one of her friends: "Bell, ‘oman, turn
back an gie me your bit fuppie, for the breet’s stannin’ i’ the peel
wi’ ma."
A rich specimen of Aberdeen
dialect, under peculiar circumstances, was supplied by an Aberdonian lady
who had risen in the world from selling fruit at a stall to be the wife of
the Lord Provost. Driving along in her own carriage, she ordered it to stop,
and called to her a poor woman whom she saw following her old occupation.
After some colloquy, she dismissed her very coolly, remarking, "Deed,
freet’s dear sin’ I sauld freet in streets o’ Aberdeen." This
anecdote of reference to a good lady’s more humble occupation than riding
in her carriage may introduce a somewhat analogous anecdote, in which a more
distinguished personage than the wife of the Provost of Aberdeen takes a
prominent part. The present Archbishop of Canterbury tells the story
himself, with that admixture of humour and of true dignity by which his
Grace’s manner is so happily distinguished. The Archbishop’s father in
early life lived much at Dollar, where, I believe, he had some legal and
official appointment. His sons, the Archbishop and his brother, attended the
grammar school, rather celebrated in the country; they ran about and played
like other lads, and were known as schoolboys to the peasantry. In after
days, when the Archbishop had arrived at his present place of dignity as
Primate of all England, he was attending a great confirmation service at
Croydon—the church-wardens, clergy, mayors, etc., of the place in
attendance upon the Archbishop, and a great congregation of spectators. Oh
going up the centre of the church, a Dollar man, who had got into the crowd
in a side aisle, said, loud enough for the Archbishop to hear, "There
wasna muckle o’ this at Dollar, my Lord."
I have not had leisure to
pursue, as I had intended, a further consideration of SCOTTISH DIALECT, and
their differences from each other in the north, south, east, and west of
Scotland. I merely remark now, that the dialect of one district is
considered quite barbarous, and laughed at by the inhabitants of another
district where a different form of language is adopted. I have spoken of the
essential difference between Aberdeen and Southern Scotch. An English
gentleman had been visiting the Lord Provost of Edinburgh, and accompanied
him to Aberdeen. His lordship of Edinburgh introduced his English friend to
the Provost of Aberdeen, and they both attended a great dinner given by the
latter. After grace had been said, the Provost kindly and hospitably
addressed the company, Aberdonicé: "Now, gentlemen, fah tee, fah
tee." The Englishman whispered to his friend, and asked what was meant
by "fah tee, fah tee"; to which his lordship replied, "Hout,
he canna speak; he means fau too, fau too." Thus one Scotticism was
held in terror by those who used a different Scotticism; as at Inveraray,
the wife of the chief writer of the place, seeking to secure her guest from
the taint of inferior society, intimated to him, but somewhat
confidentially, that Mrs W. (the rival writer’s wife) was quite a vulgar
body, so much so as to ask any one leaving the room to "snib the
door," instead of bidding them, as she triumphantly observed,
" sneck the door."
Now, to every one who follows
these anecdotes of a past time, it must be obvious how much peculiarities of
Scottish wit and humour depend upon the language in which they are clothed.
As I have before remarked, much of the point depends upon the broad
Scotch with which they are accompanied. As a type and representative of
that phraseology, we would specially recommend a study of our Scottish
proverbs. In fact, in Scottish proverbs will be found an epitome of the
Scottish phraseology, which is peculiar and characteristic. I think it quite
clear that there are proverbs exclusively Scottish, and as we find embodied
in them traits of Scottish character, and many peculiar forms of Scottish
thought and Scottish language, sayings of this kind, once so familiar,
should have a place in our Scottish Reminiscences. Proverbs are literally,
in many instances, becoming reminiscences. They now seem to belong to
that older generation whom we recollect, and who used them in conversation
freely and constantly. To strengthen an argument or illustrate a remark by a
proverb was then a common practice in conversation. Their use, however, is
now considered vulgar, and their formal application is almost prohibited by
the rules of polite society. Lord Chesterfield denounced the practice of
quoting proverbs as a palpable violation of all polite refinement in
conversation. Notwithstanding all this, we acknowledge having much pleasure
in recalling our national proverbial expressions. They are full of
character, and we find amongst them important truths, expressed forcibly,
wisely, and gracefully. The expression of Bacon has often been quoted:
"The genius, wit, and wisdom of a nation, are discovered by their
proverbs."
All nations have their
proverbs, and a vast number of books have been written on the subject. We
find, accordingly, that collections have been made of proverbs considered as
belonging peculiarly to Scotland. The collections to which I have had access
are the following :—
1. The fifth edition, by
Balfour, of "Ray’s Complete Collection of English Proverbs," in
which is a separate collection of those which are considered Scottish
Proverbs—1813. Ray professes to have taken these from Fergusson’s work
mentioned below.
2. A Complete Collection of
Scottish Proverbs, explained and made intelligible to the English reader, by
James Kelly, MA., published in London 1721.
3. Scottish Proverbs gathered
together by David Fergusson, sometime minister at Dunfermline, and put ordine
alphabetico when he departed this life anno 1598. Edinburgh, 1641.
4. A collection of Scots
Proverbs, dedicated to the Tenantry of Scotland, by Allan Ramsay. This
collection is found in the edition of his Poetical Works, 3 vols. post 8vo,
Edin. 1818, but is not in the handsome edition of 1800. London, 2 vols. 8vo.
5. Scottish Proverbs,
collected and arranged by Andrew Henderson, with an introductory Essay by W.
Motherwell. Edin. 1832.
6. The Proverbial Philosophy
of Scotland, an address to the School of Arts, by William Stirling of Keir,
M.P. Stirling and Edin. 1855.
The collection of Ray, the
great English naturalist, is well known. The first two editions, published
at Cambridge in 1670 and 1678, were by the author; subsequent editions were
by other editors.
The work by James Kelly
professes to collect Scottish proverbs only. It is a volume of nearly 400
pages, and contains a short explanation or commentary attached to each, and
often parallel sayings from other languages. [Amongst
many acts of kindness and essential assistance which I have received and am
constantly receiving from my friend, Mr Hugh James Rollo, I owe my
introduction to this interesting Scottish volume, now, I believe, rather
scarce.] Mr Kelly bears ample testimony
to the extraordinary free use made of proverbs in his time by his countrymen
and by himself. He says that "there were current in society upwards of
3000 proverbs, exclusively Scottish." He adds, "The Scots are
wonderfully given to this way of speaking, and, as the consequence of that,
abound with proverbs, many of which are very expressive, quick, and home to
the purpose; and, indeed, this humour prevails universally over the whole
nation, especially among the better sort of the commonalty, none of whom
will discourse with you any considerable time but he will affirm every
assertion and observation with a Scottish proverb. To that nation I owe my
birth and education; and to that manner of speaking I was used from my
infancy, to such a degree that I became in some measure remarkable for
it." This was written in 1721, and we may see from Mr Kelly’s account
what a change has taken place in society as regards this mode of
intercourse. Our author states that he has "omitted in his collection
many popular proverbs which are very pat and expressive," and adds as
his reason, that "since it does not become a man of manners to use
them, it does not become a man of my age and profession to write them."
What was Mr Kelly’s profession or what his age does not appear from any
statements in this volume; but, judging by many proverbs which he has retained,
those which consideration of years and of profession induced him to omit
must have been bad indeed, and unbecoming for any age or any profession.
[Kelly’s book is constantly quoted by
Jarnieson, and is, indeed, an excellent work for the study of good old
Scotch.] The third collection by Mr
Fergusson is mentioned by Kelly as the only one which had been made before
his time, and that he had not met with it till he had made considerable
progress in his own collection. The book is now extremely rare, and fetches
a high price. By the great kindness of the learned librarian, I have been
permitted to see the copy belonging to the library of the Writers to the
Signet. It is the first edition, and very rare. A quaint little thin volume,
such as delights the eyes of true bibliomaniacs, unpaged, and published at
Edinburgh, 1641—although on the title-page the proverbs are said to have
been collected at Mr Fergusson’s death, 1598. [This
probably throws back the collection to about the middle of the century.]
There is no preface or notice by the author, but an address from the
printer, "to the merrie, judicious, and discreet reader."
The proverbs, amounting to 945, are given
without any comment or explanation. Many of them are of a very antique cast
of language; indeed some would be to most persons quite unintelligible
without a lexicon. The printer, in his address "to the merrie,
judicious, and discreet reader:’ refers in the following quaint
expressions to the author :—" Therefore manie in this realme that
hath hard of David Fergusson, sometime minister at Dunfermline, and of his
quick answers and speeches, both to great persons and others inferiours, and
hath hard of his proverbs which hee gathered together in his time, and now
we put downe according to the order of the alphabet; and manie, of all ranks
of persons, being verie desirous to have the said proverbs, I have thought
good to put them to the presse for thy better satisfaction. . . . I know
that there may be some that will say and marvell that a minister should have
taken pains to gather such proverbs together; but they that knew his forme
of powerfull preaching the word, and his ordinar talking, ever almost using
proverbiall speeches, will not finde fault with this that he hath done. And
whereas there are some old Scottish words not in use now, bear with that,
because if ye alter those words, the proverb will have no grace; and so,
recommending these proverbs to thy good use, I bid thee farewell."
I now subjoin a few of Fergussos’s
Proverbs, verbatim, which are of a more obsolete character, and have
appended explanations, of the correctness of which, however, I am not quite
confident :—
A year a nurish, [Nurse] seven year
a da. [Daw, a slut] Refers, I presume, to fulfilling the maternal
office.
Anes payit never cravit. Debts
once paid give no more trouble.
All wald [Would]
have all, all wald forgie. [Forgive] Those who exact much should be
ready to concede.
A gangang [Going
or moving] fit [Foot] is aye [Always] getting (gin [If]
it were but a thorn), or, as it sometimes runs, gin it were but a
broken tae, i.e., toe. A man of industry will certainly get a living;
though the proverb is often applied to those who went abroad and got a
mischief when they might safely have stayed at home—(Kelly).
All crakes, [Boasters] all bears. [Used
as cowards] [Boasters] all bears. [Used
as cowards] [Boasters] all bears. [Used
as cowards] [Boasters] all bears. [Used
as cowards] Spoken against bullies
who kept a great hectoring, and yet, when put to it, tamely pocket an
affront—(Kelly).
Bourd [Jest] not wi’ bawtie [A
dog's name] (lest he bite you). [Jest] not wi’ bawtie [A
dog's name] (lest he bite you). [Jest] not wi’ bawtie [A
dog's name] (lest he bite you). [Jest] not wi’ bawtie [A
dog's name] (lest he bite you). Do
not jest too familiarly with your superiors (Kelly), or with dangerous
characters.
Bread’s house skailed never. [To skail
house, to defurnish] While people
have bread they need not, give up housekeeping. Spoken when one has bread
and wishes something better—(Kelly).
Crabbit Crabbit
[Being angry or cross] was and
cause bad.
Dame deem
[Judge] warily, ye (watna [Know not] wha wytes [Blames] yersell).
Spoken to remind those who pass hard censures on others that they may
themselves be censured.
Efter lang mint [To aim at] never
dint. [A stroke] [To aim at] never
dint. [A stroke] Spoken of
long and painful labour producing little effect. Kelly’s reading is "Lang
mint little dint." Spoken when men threaten much and dare not
execute—(Kelly).
Fill fou’ [Full] and haud [Hold]
fou maks a stark [Potent or strong] man. Fill fou’ [Full] and haud [Hold]
fou maks a stark [Potent or strong] man.
He that crabbs
[Is angry] without cause should mease [Settle] without mends.
[Amends] Spoken to rernind those who are angry without cause, that they
should not be particular in requiring apologies from others.
He is worth na weill that may not bide na wae. He deserves not the sweet that will
not taste the sour. He does not deserve prosperity who cannot meet
adversity.
Kame
[Comb] sindle [Seldom] kame sair. [Painfully] Applied to those
who forbear for a while, but when once roused can act with severity.
Kamesters
[Wool-combers] are aye creeshie. [Greasy] It is usual for men to look
like their trade.
Let alane maks mony lurden. [Worthless
fellow] Want of correction makes many a bad boy—(Kelly). ‘‘
Mony tynes [Loses]
the half-mark [Sixpenny] whinger [A sort of dagger or hanger
which seems to have been used both at meals as a knife and in broils]
(for the halfe pennie whang). [Thong] Another version of penny wise, and
pound foolish.
Na plie Na plie [No lawsuit]
Reavers [Robbers]
should not be rewers. [Rue, to repent] Those who are so fond of a
thing as to snap at it, should not repent when they have got it—(Kelly).
Sok and seil is best. The
interpretation of this proverb is not obvious, and later writers do not
appear to have adopted it from Fergusson. It is quite clear that sok or sock
is the ploughshare. Seil is happiness, as in Kelly. "Seil comes not
till sorrow be o’er"; and in Aberdeen they say, "Seil o’ your
face," to express a blessing. My reading is "the plough and
happiness the best lot." The happiest life is the healthy country one.
See Robert Burns’ spirited iong with the chorus:
"Up wi’ my
ploughman lad,
And hey my merry ploughman;
Of a’ the trades
that I do ken,
Commend me to the
ploughman."
A somewhat different reading
of this very obscure and now indeed obsolete proverb has been suggested by
an esteemed and learned friend :—" I should say rather it meant that
the ploughshare, or country life, accompanied with good luck or fortune was
best; i.e., that industry coupled with good fortune (good seasons and
the like) was the combination that was most to be desired. sal, in
Anglo-Saxon, as a noun, means opportunity, and then good luck,
happiness, etc.
There’s mae
[More] madines [Maidens] nor
makines. [Hares]
Ye bried Ye bried [Take after]
of the gouk, [Cuckoo] ye have not a rhyme [Note] but ane.
The collection by Allan
Ramsay is very good, and professes to correct the errors of former
collectors. I have now before me the first edition, Edinburgh, 1737,
with the appropriate motto on the title-page, "That maun be true that a’
men say." This edition contains proverbs only, the number being 2464.
Some proverbs in this collection I do not find in others, and one quality it
possesses in a remarkable degree—it is very Scotch. The language of the
proverbial wisdom has the true Scottish flavour; not only is this the case
with the proverbs themselves, but the dedication to the tenantry of
Scotland, prefixed to the collection, is written in pure Scottish dialect.
From this dedication I make an extract, which falls in with our plan of
recording Scotch reminiscences, as Allan Ramsay there states the great value
set upon proverbs in his day, and the great importance which he attaches to
them as teachers of moral wisdom, and at combining amusement with
instruction. The prose of Allan Ramsay has, too, a spice of his poetry in
its composition. His dedication is: To the tenantry of Scotland, farmers of
the dales, and storemasters of the hills—
"Worthy friends—The
following hoard of wise sayings and observations of
our forefathers, which have been gathering through mony bygane ages, I have
collected with great care, and restored to their proper sense. . . .
"As naething helps our
happiness mair than to have the mind made up wi’ right principles, I
desire you, for the thriving and pleasure of you and yours, to use your een
and lend your lugs to these guid auld saws, that shine wi’ wail’d
sense, and will as lang as the world wags. Gar your bairns get them by
heart; let them have a place among your family-books, and may never a
window-sole through the country be without them. On a spare hour, when the
day is clear, behind a ruck, or on the green howm, draw the treasure
frae your pouch, an’ enjoy the pleasant companion. Ye happy herds, while
your hirdsell are feeding on the flowery braes, you may eithly make
yoursells master of the haleware. How usefou’ will it prove to you (wha
hae sae few opportunities of common clattering) when ye forgather wi’ your
friends at kirk or market, banquet or bridal! By your proficiency you’ll
be able, in the proverbial way, to keep up the saul of a conversation that
is baith blyth an usefou’?’
Mr Henderson’s work is a compilation from those
already mentioned. It is very copious, and the introductory essay contains some
excellent remarks upon the wisdom and wit of Scottish proverbial sayings.
Mr Stirling’s (now Sir W. Stirling-Maxwell’s)
address, like everything he writes, indicates a minute and profound knowledge of
his subject, and is full of picturesque and just views of human nature. He
attaches much importance to the teaching conveyed in proverbial expressions, and
recommends his readers even still to collect such proverbial expressions as may
yet linger in conversation, because, as he observes, "if it is not yet
registered, it is possible that it might have died with the tongue from which
you took it, and so have been lost for ever. I believe," he adds, "the
number of good old saws still floating as waifs and strays on the tide of
popular talk to be much greater than might at first appear."
One remark is applicable to all these
collections, viz., that out of so large a number there are many of them on which
we have little grounds for deciding that they are exclusively Scottish.
In fact, some are mere translations of proverbs adopted by many nations; some of
universal adoption. Thus we have—
A burnt bairn fire dreads.
As swallow makes nae simmer.
Faint heart
ne’er wan fair lady.
Ill weeds wax weel.
Mony sma’s mak a muckle.
0’ twa ills chuse the least.
Set a knave to grip a knave.
Twa wits are better than ain.
There's nae fule like an auld fule.
Ye canna ma’ a silk purse o’ a sow’s lug.
Ae bird i’ the hand is worth twa fleeing.
Mony cooks ne’er made gude kail.
Of numerous proverbs such as
these, some may or may not be original in the Scottish. Sir William remarks that
many of the best and oldest proverbs may be common to all people—may have
occurred to all. In our national collections, therefore, some of the proverbs
recorded may be simply translations into Scotch of what have been long
considered the property of other nations. Still, I hope it is not a mere
national partiality to say that many of the common proverbs gain much by
such translation from other tongues. All that I would attempt now is, to select
some of our more popular proverbial sayings, which many of us can remember as
current amongst us, and were much used by the late generation in society, and to
add a few from the collections I have named, which bear a very decided Scottish
stamp either in turn of thought or in turn of language.
I remember being much struck the
first time I heard the application of that pretty Scottish saying regarding a
fair bride. I was walking in Montrose, a day or two before her marriage, with a
young lady, a connection of mine, who merited this description, when she was
kindly accosted by an old friend, an honest fish-wife of the town, "Weel,
Miss Elizabeth, hae ye gotten a’ yer claes ready?" to which the young
lady modestly answered, "Oh, Janet, my claes are soon got ready"; and
Janet replied, in the old Scotch proverb, "Ay, weel, a bonnie bride’s
sune buskit." [Attired] In the old collecton, an addition less
sentimental is made to this proverb, A
short horse is sune wispit. [Curried]
To encourage strenuous exertions
to meet difficult circumstances, is well expressed by Setting a stout
heart to a stey brae.
The mode of expressing that the
worth of a handsome woman outweighs even her beauty, has a very Scottish
character—She’s better than she’s bonnie. The opposite of this was
expressed by a Highlander of his own wife, when he somewhat ungrammatically said
of her, "She’s bonnier than she’s
better."
The frequent evil to harvest
operations from autumnal rains and fogs in Scotland is well told in the saying, A
dry summer ne’er made a dear peck.
There can be no question as to
country in the following, which seems to express generally that persons may have
the name and appearance of greatness without the reality—A’ Stuarts
are na sib [Related] to the
king.
There is an excellent Scottish
version of the common proverb, "He that’s born to be hanged will never be
drowned."—The water will never warr, [Outrun] the widdie, i.e.,
never cheat the gallows. This saying received a very naive practical
application during the anxiety and alarm of a storm. One of the passengers, a
good simpleminded minister, was sharing the alarm that was felt around him,
until spying one of his parishioners, of whose ignominious end he had long felt
persuaded, he exclaimed to himself, "Oh, we are all safe now," and
accordingly accosted the poor man with strong assurances of the great pleasure
he had in seeing him on board.
It’s ill getting the breeks aff the Highlandman is a proverb that savours very strong of a Lowland Scotch
origin. Having suffered loss at the hands of their neighbours from the hills,
this was a mode of expressing the painful truth that there was little hope of
obtaining redress from those who had no means at their disposal.
Proverbs connected with the
bagpipes I set down as legitimate Scotch, as thus—Ye are as lang in
tuning your pipes as anither wad play a spring. [Tune] You are
as long of setting about a thing as another would be in doing it.
There is a set of Scottish
proverbs which we may group together as containing one quality in common, and
that in reference to the Evil Spirit, and to his agency in the world. This is a
reference often, I fear; too lightly made; but I am not conscious of anything
deliberately profane or irreverent in the following:—
The deil’s nae sae ill as he’s
caa’d. The most of people may be found to have some redeeming good point:
applied in Guy Mannering by the Deacon to Gilbert Glossin, upon his
intimating his intention to come to his shop soon for the purpose of laying in
his winter stock of groceries.
To the same effect, It’s a
sin to lee on the deil. Even of the worst people, truth at least
should be spoken.
He should hae a
lang-shafted spune that sups kail wi’ the deil: He should be well
guarded and well protected that has to do with cunning and unprincipled men.
Lang ere the deil dee
by the dyke-side. Spoken when the improbable death of some powerful and
ill-disposed person is talked of.
Let ae deil ding anither. Spoken
when too bad persons are at variance over some evil work.
Ye bried [Take after]
of the gouk, [Cuckoo] ye have not a rhyme [Note] but ane.
The collection by Allan
Ramsay is very good, and professes to correct the errors of former
collectors. I have now before me the first edition, Edinburgh, 1737,
with the appropriate motto on the title-page, "That maun be true that a’
men say." This edition contains proverbs only, the number being 2464.
Some proverbs in this collection I do not find in others, and one quality it
possesses in a remarkable degree—it is very Scotch. The language of the
proverbial wisdom has the true Scottish flavour; not only is this the case
with the proverbs themselves, but the dedication to the tenantry of
Scotland, prefixed to the collection, is written in pure Scottish dialect.
From this dedication I make an extract, which falls in with our plan of
recording Scotch reminiscences, as Allan Ramsay there states the great value
set upon proverbs in his day, and the great importance which he attaches to
them as teachers of moral wisdom, and at combining amusement with
instruction. The prose of Allan Ramsay has, too, a spice of his poetry in
its composition. His dedication is: To the tenantry of Scotland, farmers of
the dales, and storemasters of the hills—
"Worthy friends—The
following hoard of wise sayings and observations of
our forefathers, which have been gathering through mony bygane ages, I have
collected with great care, and restored to their proper sense. . . .
"As naething helps our
happiness mair than to have the mind made up wi’ right principles, I
desire you, for the thriving and pleasure of you and yours, to use your een
and lend your lugs to these guid auld saws, that shine wi’ wail’d
sense, and will as lang as the world wags. Gar your bairns get them by
heart; let them have a place among your family-books, and may never a
window-sole through the country be without them. On a spare hour, when the
day is clear, behind a ruck, or on the green howm, draw the treasure
frae your pouch, an’ enjoy the pleasant companion. Ye happy herds, while
your hirdsell are feeding on the flowery braes, you may eithly make
yoursells master of the haleware. How usefou’ will it prove to you (wha
hae sae few opportunities of common clattering) when ye forgather wi’ your
friends at kirk or market, banquet or bridal! By your proficiency you’ll
be able, in the proverbial way, to keep up the saul of a conversation that
is baith blyth an usefou’?’
Mr Henderson’s work is a compilation from those
already mentioned. It is very copious, and the introductory essay contains some
excellent remarks upon the wisdom and wit of Scottish proverbial sayings.
Mr Stirling’s (now Sir W. Stirling-Maxwell’s)
address, like everything he writes, indicates a minute and profound knowledge of
his subject, and is full of picturesque and just views of human nature. He
attaches much importance to the teaching conveyed in proverbial expressions, and
recommends his readers even still to collect such proverbial expressions as may
yet linger in conversation, because, as he observes, "if it is not yet
registered, it is possible that it might have died with the tongue from which
you took it, and so have been lost for ever. I believe," he adds, "the
number of good old saws still floating as waifs and strays on the tide of
popular talk to be much greater than might at first appear."
One remark is applicable to all these
collections, viz., that out of so large a number there are many of them on which
we have little grounds for deciding that they are exclusively Scottish.
In fact, some are mere translations of proverbs adopted by many nations; some of
universal adoption. Thus we have—
A burnt bairn fire dreads.
As swallow makes nae simmer.
Faint heart
ne’er wan fair lady.
Ill weeds wax weel.
Mony sma’s mak a muckle.
0’ twa ills chuse the least.
Set a knave to grip a knave.
Twa wits are better than ain.
There's nae fule like an auld fule.
Ye canna ma’ a silk purse o’ a sow’s lug.
Ae bird i’ the hand is worth twa fleeing.
Mony cooks ne’er made gude kail.
Of numerous proverbs such as
these, some may or may not be original in the Scottish. Sir William remarks that
many of the best and oldest proverbs may be common to all people—may have
occurred to all. In our national collections, therefore, some of the proverbs
recorded may be simply translations into Scotch of what have been long
considered the property of other nations. Still, I hope it is not a mere
national partiality to say that many of the common proverbs gain much by
such translation from other tongues. All that I would attempt now is, to select
some of our more popular proverbial sayings, which many of us can remember as
current amongst us, and were much used by the late generation in society, and to
add a few from the collections I have named, which bear a very decided Scottish
stamp either in turn of thought or in turn of language.
I remember being much struck the
first time I heard the application of that pretty Scottish saying regarding a
fair bride. I was walking in Montrose, a day or two before her marriage, with a
young lady, a connection of mine, who merited this description, when she was
kindly accosted by an old friend, an honest fish-wife of the town, "Weel,
Miss Elizabeth, hae ye gotten a’ yer claes ready?" to which the young
lady modestly answered, "Oh, Janet, my claes are soon got ready"; and
Janet replied, in the old Scotch proverb, "Ay, weel, a bonnie bride’s
sune buskit." [Attired] In the old collecton, an addition less
sentimental is made to this proverb, A
short horse is sune wispit. [Curried]
To encourage strenuous exertions
to meet difficult circumstances, is well expressed by Setting a stout
heart to a stey brae.
The mode of expressing that the
worth of a handsome woman outweighs even her beauty, has a very Scottish
character—She’s better than she’s bonnie. The opposite of this was
expressed by a Highlander of his own wife, when he somewhat ungrammatically said
of her, "She’s bonnier than she’s
better."
The frequent evil to harvest
operations from autumnal rains and fogs in Scotland is well told in the saying, A
dry summer ne’er made a dear peck.
There can be no question as to
country in the following, which seems to express generally that persons may have
the name and appearance of greatness without the reality—A’ Stuarts
are na sib [Related] to the
king.
There is an excellent Scottish
version of the common proverb, "He that’s born to be hanged will never be
drowned."—The water will never warr, [Outrun] the widdie, i.e.,
never cheat the gallows. This saying received a very naive practical
application during the anxiety and alarm of a storm. One of the passengers, a
good simpleminded minister, was sharing the alarm that was felt around him,
until spying one of his parishioners, of whose ignominious end he had long felt
persuaded, he exclaimed to himself, "Oh, we are all safe now," and
accordingly accosted the poor man with strong assurances of the great pleasure
he had in seeing him on board.
It’s ill getting the breeks aff
the Highlandman is a proverb that savours very strong of a Lowland Scotch
origin. Having suffered loss at the hands of their neighbours from the hills,
this was a mode of expressing the painful truth that there was little hope of
obtaining redress from those who had no means at their disposal.
Proverbs connected with the
bagpipes I set down as legitimate Scotch, as thus—Ye are as lang in
tuning your pipes as anither wad play a spring. [Tune] You are
as long of setting about a thing as another would be in doing it.
There is a set of Scottish
proverbs which we may group together as containing one quality in common, and
that in reference to the Evil Spirit, and to his agency in the world. This is a
reference often, I fear; too lightly made; but I am not conscious of anything
deliberately profane or irreverent in the following:—
The deil’s nae sae ill as he’s
caa’d. The most of people may be found to have some redeeming good point:
applied in Guy Mannering by the Deacon to Gilbert Glossin, upon his
intimating his intention to come to his shop soon for the purpose of laying in
his winter stock of groceries.
To the same effect, It’s a
sin to lee on the deil. Even of the worst people, truth at least
should be spoken.
He should hae a
lang-shafted spune that sups kail wi’ the deil: He should be well
guarded and well protected that has to do with cunning and unprincipled men.
Lang ere the deil dee
by the dyke-side. Spoken when the improbable death of some powerful and
ill-disposed person is talked of.
Let ae deil ding anither. Spoken
when too bad persons are at variance over some evil work.
The deil’s bairns hae deil’s
luck. Spoken enviously when ill people
prosper.
The deil’s a busy bishop in his
ain diocie. Bad men are sure to be active
in promoting their own bad ends. A quaint proverb of this class I have been told
of as coming from the reminiscences of an old lady of quality, to recommend a
courteous manner to every one: It’s aye gude to be ceevill as the auld wife
said when she beckit [Curtsied] to the deevil.
Raise nae mair deils than ye are
able to lay. Provoke no strifes which you
may be unable to appease.
The deil’s aye gude to his ain.
A malicious proverb, spoken as if those
whom we disparage were deriving their success from bad causes.
Ye wad do little for God an the
deevil was dead. A sarcastic mode of
telling a person that fear, rather than love or principle, is the motive to his
good conduct.
In the old collection already
referred to is a proverb which, although somewhat personal, is too good
to omit. It is doubtful how it took its origin, whether as a satire against the
decanal order in general, or against some obnoxious dean in particular. These
are the terms of it: The deil an’ the dean begin wi’ a letter. When the
deil has the dean the kirk will be the better.
The deil’s gane ower Jock
Wabster is a saying which I have been
accustomed to in my part of the country from early years. It expresses generally
misfortune or confusion, but I am not quite sure of the exact meaning, or
who is represented by "Jock Wabster." It was a great favourite with
Sir Walter Scott, who quotes it twice in Rob Roy. Allan Ramsay introduces
it in the Gentle Shepherd to express the misery of married life when the
first dream of love has passed away:—
"The ‘Deil gaes ower Jock
Wabster,’ hame grows hell,
When Pate misca’s ye waur than tongue can tell."
There are two very pithy Scottish
proverbial expressions for describing the case of young women losing their
chance of good marriages by setting their aims too high. Thus an old lady,
speaking of her grand-daughter having made what she considered a poor match,
described her as having "lookit at the moon, and lichtit [Fallen] in
the midden."
It is recorded again of a
celebrated beauty, Becky Monteith, that being asked how she had not made a good
marriage, she replied, "Ye see, I wadna hae the walkers, and the riders
gaed by."
It’s ill to wauken sleeping
dogs. It is a bad policy to rouse
dangerous and mischievous people, who are for the present quiet.
It is nae mair ferly It is nae mair ferly [Surprise]
to see a woman greit than to see a goose go barefit.
A Scots mist will weet an
Englishman to the skin. A proverb,
evidently of Caledonian origin, arising from the frequent complaints made by
English visitors of the heavy mists which hang about our hills, and which are
found to annoy the southern traveller as it were downright rain.
Keep your ain fish-guts to your
ain sea-maws. This was a favourite
proverb with Sir Walter Scott, when he meant to express the policy of first
considering the interests that are nearest home. The saying savours of the
flshing population of the east cost.
A Yule feast may be done at
Pasch. Festivities, although usually
practised at Christmas, need not, on suitable occasions, be confined to any
season.
It’s better to sup wi’ a
cutty than want a spune. Cutty means
anything short, stumpy, and not of full growth; frequently applied to a
short-handled horn spoon. As Meg Merrilies says to the bewildered Dominie,
"If ye dinna eat instantly, by the bread and salt, I’ll put it down your
throat wi’ the cutty spune."
"Fules mak feasts and wise
men eat ‘em, my Lord." This was
said to a Scottish nobleman on his giving a great entertainment, and who readily
answered, "Ay, and Wise men make proverbs and fools repeat ‘em."
A green Yule [Christmas]
and a white Pays [Pasch or Easter] mak a fat kirkyard. A very
coarse proverb, but may express a general truth as regards the effects of season
on the human frame. Another of a similar character is, An air [Early] winter
maks a sair [Severe] winter.
W'ha will bell the cat? The
proverb is used in reference to a proposal for accomplishing a difficult or
dangerous task, and alludes to the fable of the poor mice proposing to put a
bell about the cat’s neck, that they might be apprised of his coming. The
historical application is well known. When the nobles of Scotland proposed to go
in a body to Stirling to take Cochrane, the favourite of James the Third, and
hang him, the Lord Gray asked, "It is well said, but wha will bell the
cat?" The Earl of Angus accepted the challenge, and effected the object. To
his dying day he was called Archibald Bell-the-Cat.
Ye hae tint the tongue o’ the
trump. "Trump" is a Jew’s
harp. To lose the tongue of it is to lose what is essential to its sound.
Meat and mass binders nae man. Needful
food, and suitable religious exercises, should not be spared under greatest
haste.
Ye fand it whar the
Highlandman fand the tangs (i.e., at
the fireside). A hit at our mountain neighbours, who occasionally took from the
Lowlands—as having found—something that was never lost.
His bead will ne’er rive (i.e.,
tear) his father’s bonnet. A
picturesque way of expressing that the son will never equal the influence and
ability of his sire.
His bark is waur nor his bite. A
good-natured apology for one who is good-hearted and rough in speech.
Do as the cow of Forfar did, tak
a standing drink. This proverb relates to
an occurrence which gave rise to a lawsuit and a whimsical legal decision. A
woman in Forfar, who was brewing, set out her tub of beer to cool. A cow came by
and drank it up. The owner of the cow was sued for compensation, but the bailies
of Forfar, who tried the case, acquitted the owner of the cow, on the ground
that the farewell drink, called in the Highlands the dochan doris, [The
proper orthography of this expression is deoch-an-doruis (or dorais). Deuch, a
drink; an, of the; doruis or dorais, possessive case of
dorus or doras a door.] or stirrup-cup, taken by the guest standing by the door,
was never charged; and as the cow had taken but a standing drink outside, it
could not, according to the Scottish usage, be chargeable. Sir Walter Scott has
humorously alluded to this circumstance in the notes to Waverley, but has
not mentioned it as the subject of an old Scotch proverb.
Bannocks are better nor nae kind
o’ bread. Evidently Scottish. Better
have oatmeal cakes to eat than be in want of wheaten loaves.
Folly is a bonny dog. Meaning,
I suppose, that many are imposed upon by the false appearances and attractions
of vicious pleasures.
The e’ening brings a’ hame is
an interesting saying, meaning, that the evening of life, or the approach of
death, softens many of our political and religious differences. I do not find
this proverb in the older collections, but Sir William Maxwell justly calls it
"a beautiful proverb, which, lending itself to various uses, may be taken
as an expression of faith in the gradual growth and spread of large-hearted
Christian charity, the noblest result of our happy freedom of thought and
discussion." The literal idea of the "e’ening bringing a’ hame,"
has a high and illustrious antiquity, as in the fragment of Sappho, —which is
thus paraphrased by Lord Byron in "Don Juan," iii. 107
"O Hesperus, thou
bringest all good things—
Home to the weary, to the hungry cheer;
To the young birds the
parent’s brooding wings,
The welcome stall to the o’er laboured steer, etc.
Thou bring’st the child, too, to
the mother’s breast."
A similar graceful and moral
saying inculcates an acknowledgment of gratitude for the past favours which we
have enjoyed when ye come to the close of the day or the close of life—
Ruse [Praise] the fair day at e’en.
But a very learned and esteemed
friend has suggested another reading of this proverb, in accordance with the
celebrated saying of Solon —Do not praise the fairness of the day till evening;
do not call the life happy till you have seen the close; or, in other
matters, do not boast that all is well till you have conducted your undertaking
to a prosperous end.
Let him tak a spring on his ain
fiddle. Spoken of a foolish and
unreasonable person; as if to say, "We will for the present allow him to
have his own way." Bailie Nicol Jarvie quotes the proverb with great
bitterness, when he warns his opponent that his time for triumph will
come ere long—" Aweel, aweel, sir, you’re welcome to a tune on your am
fiddle; but see if I dinna gar ye dance till’t afore its dune."
The kirk ts meikle, but ye may
say mass in ae end o’t; or, as I have
received it in another form, "If we canna preach in the kirk, we can sing
mass in the quire." This intimates, where something is alleged to be too
much, that you need take no more than what you have need for. I heard the
proverb used in this sense by Sir Walter Scott at his own table. His son had
complained of some quaighs which Sir Walter had produced for a dram after
dinner, that they were too large. His answer was, "Well, Walter, as my good
mother used to say, if the kirk is ower big, just sing mass in the quire."
Here is another reference to kirk and quire—He rives [Tears] the
kirk to theik [Thatch] the quire. Spoken of unprofitable persons, who
in the English proverb, "rob Peter to pay Paul."
The king’s errand may come the
cadger’s gate yet. A great man may need
the service of a very mean one.
The maut is aboon the meal. His
liquor has done more for him than his meat. The man is drunk.
Mak a kirk and a mill o’t. Turn
a thing to any purpose you like; or rather, spoken sarcastically, Take it, and
make the best of it.
Like a sow playing on a trump. No
image could be well more incongruous than a pig performing on a Jew’s harp.
Mak by luck than gude guiding. His
success is due to his fortunate circumstances, rather than to his own
discretion.
He’s not a man to ride the
water wi’. A common Scottish saying to
express you cannot trust such an one in trying times. May have arisen from the
districts where fords abounded, and the crossing them was dangerous.
He rides on the riggin’ o’
the kirk. The rigging being the top of
the roof, the proverb used to be applied to those who carried their zeal for
church matters to the extreme point.
Leal heart never lee’d, well
expresses that an honest, loyal disposition will scorn, under all circumstances,
to tell a falsehood.
A common Scottish proverb, Let
that flee stick to the wa’, has an obvious meaning—"Say nothing
more on that subject." But the derivation is not obvious. [It
has been suggested, and with much reason, that the reference is to a fly
sticking on a wet or a newly painted wall; this is corroborated by the addition
in Rob Roy. "When the dirt’s dry, it will rub out," which seems to
point out the meaning and derivation of the proverb.]
In like manner, the meaning of He that will to Cupar maun to Cupar, is
clearly that if a man is obstinate, and bent upon his own dangerous course, he
must take it. But why Cupar? and whether is it the Cupar of Angus or the Cupar
of Fife?
Kindness creeps where it canna
gang prettily expresses that where love
can do little, it will do that little, though it cannot do more.
In my part of the country a
ridiculous addition used to be made to the common Scottish saying. Mony a
thing’s made for the pennie, i.e., Many contrivances are thought of to get
money. The addition is, "As the old woman said when she saw a black
man," taking it for granted that he was an ingenious and curious piece of
mechanism made for profit.
Bluid is thicker than water is
a proverb which has a marked Scottish aspect, as meant to vindicate those family
predilections to which, as a nation, we are supposed to be rather strongly
inclined.
There’s aye water where the stirkie [A
young bullock] drouns. Where certain
effects are produced, there must be some causes at work—a proverb used to show
that a universal popular suspicion as to an obvious effect must be laid in
truth.
Better a finger aff than aye waggin’. This
proverb I remember as a great favourite with many Scotch people. Better
experience the worst, than have an evil always pending.
Cadgers are aye cracking o’ crook saddles
[Saddle for supporting paniers] has a very Scottish aspect, and signifies that
professional men are very apt to talk too much of their profession.
The following is purely Scotch, for in no country
but Scotland are singed sheep-heads to be met with: He’s
like a sheep head in a pair o’ tangs.
As sure’s deeth. A
common Scotch proverbial expression to signify either the truth or certainty of
a fact, or to pledge the speaker to a performance of his promise. In the latter
sense an amusing illustration of faith in the superior obligation of this
asseveration to any other, is recorded in the Eglinton Papers. The Earl
one day found a boy climbing up a tree, and called him to come down. The boy
declined, because, he said, the Earl would thrash him. His Lordship pledged his
honour that he would not do so. The boy replied, "I dinna ken onything
about your honour, but if you say as sure’s deeth I’ll come doun."
Proverbs are sometimes local in their
application.
The men o’ the Mearns canna do mair than
they may. Even the men of Kincardineshire can only do their utmost—a
proverb intended, to be highly complimentary to the powers of the men of that
county.
I’ll mak Cathkin’s covenant
wi’ you, Let abee for let abee. This is
a local saying quoted often in Hamilton. The laird of that property had—very
unlike the excellent family who have now possessed it for more than a century—been
addicted to intemperance. One of his neighbours, in order to frighten him on his
way home from his evening potations, disguised himself, on a very wet night,
and, personating the devil, claimed a title to carry him off as his rightful
property. Contrary to all expectation, however, the laird showed fight, and was
about to commence the onslaught, when a parley was proposed, and the issue was,
"Cathkin’s covenant, Let abee for let abee."
When the castle of Stirling gets
a bat, the Carse of Corntown pays for that. This
is a local proverbial saying; the meaning is, that when the clouds descend so
low as to envelop Stirling Castle, a deluge of rain may be expected in the
adjacent country.
I will conclude this notice of
our proverbial reminiscences, by adding a cluster of Scottish proverbs, selected
from an excellent article on the general subject in the North British Review of
February 1858. The reviewer designates these as "broader in their mirth,
and more caustic in their tone," than the moral proverbial expressions of
the Spanish and Italian:—
A blate
[Shy] cat maks a proud
mouse.
Better a toom
[Empty] house
than an ill tenant.
Jouk
[Stoop down] and let the
jaw
[Wave] gang by.
Mony ane speirs the gate
[The way] he kens fu’ weel.
The tod
[Fox] ne’er
sped better than when he gaed his ain errand.
A wilfu’ man should be unco
wise.
He that has a meikle nose
thinks ilka ane speaks o’t.
He that teaches himsell has a fule for his maister.
It’s an ill cause that the lawyer thinks shame’ o’.
Lippen
[Trust to] to me, but look to yoursell.
Mair whistle than woo, as the
souter said when shearing the soo.
Ye gae far about seeking the
nearest.
Ye’ll no sell your hen on a
rainy day.
Ye’ll mend when ye grow
better.
Ye’re nae chicken for a’ your cheepin’.
[Chirping]
I have now adduced quite
sufficient specimens to convince those who may not have given attention to the
subject, how much of wisdom, knowledge of life, and good feeling are contained
in these aphorisms which compose the mass of our Scottish proverbial sayings. No
doubt, to many of my younger readers proverbs are little known, and to all they
are becoming more and more matters of reminiscence. I am quite convinced that
much of the old quaint and characteristic Scottish talk which we are now
endeavouring to recall depended on a happy use of those abstracts of moral
sentiment. And this feeling will be confirmed when we call to mind how often
those of the old Scottish school of character, whose conversation we have
ourselves admired, had most largely availed themselves of the use of its proverbial
philosophy.
I have already spoken of (p.9) a
Scottish peculiarity, viz., that of naming individuals from lands which have
been possessed long by the family, or frequently from the landed estates which
they acquire. The use of this mode of discriminating individuals in the Highland
districts is sufficiently obvious. Where the inhabitants of a whole countryside
are Campbells, or Frasers, or Gordons, nothing could be more convenient than
addressing the individuals of each clan by the name of his estate. Indeed, some
years ago, any other designation, as Mr Campbell, Mr Fraser, would have
been resented as an indignity. Their consequence sprang from their possession.
But all this is fast wearing away. The estates of old families have often
changed hands, and Highlanders are most unwilling to give the names of old
properties to new proprietors. The custom, however, lingers amongst us, in the
northern districts especially. Farms also used to give their names to the
tenants. I can recall an amusing instance of this practice belonging to my early
days. The oldest recollections I have are connected with the name, the figure,
the sayings and doings, of the old cow-herd at Fasque in my father’s time; his
name was Boggy, i.e., his ordinary appellation; his true name was Sandy
Anderson. But he was called Boggy from the circumstance of having once held a
wretched farm on Deeside named Boggendreep. He had long left it, and been
unfortunate in it, but the name never left him—he was Boggy to his grave. The
territorial appellation used to be reckoned complimentary, and more respectful
than Mr or any higher title to which the individual might be entitled. I
recollect, in my brother’s time, at Fasque, his showing off some of his home
stock to Mr Williamson, the Aberdeen butcher. They came to a fine stot, and Sir
Alexander said, with some appearance of boast, "I was offered twenty
guineas for that ox." "Indeed, Fasque," said Williamson, "ye
should hae steekit your neive upo’ that."
Sir Walter Scott had marked in
his diary a territorial greeting of two proprietors which had amused him much.
The laird of Kilspindie had met the laird of Tannachy-Tulloch, and the following
compliments passed between them:—"Yer maist obedient hummil servant,
Tannachy-Tulloch." To which the reply was, "Yer nain man, Kilspindie."
In proportion as we advance
towards the Highland district this custom of distinguishing clans or races, and
marking them out according to the district they occupied, became more apparent.
There was the Glengarry country, the Fraser country, the Gordon country, etc.,
etc. These names carried also with them certain moral features as characteristic
of each division. Hence the following anecdote :—The morning litany of an old
laird of Cultoquhey, when he took his morning draught at the cauld well, was in
these terms: "Frae the ire o’ the Drummonds, the pride o’ the Graemes,
the greed o’ the Campbells, and the wind o’ the Murrays, guid Lord deliver
us."
The Duke of Athole, having
learned that Cultoquhey was in the habit of mentioning his Grace’s family in
such uncomplimentary terms, invited the humorist to Dunkeld, for the purpose of
giving him a hint to desist from the reference. After dinner, the Duke asked his
guest what were the precise terms in which he was in the habit of alluding to
his powerful neighbours. Cultoquhey repeated his liturgy without a moment’s
hesitation. "I recommend you," said his Grace, looking very angry,
"in future to omit my name from your morning devotions." All he got
from Cultoquhey was, "Thank ye, my Lord Duke," taking off his glass
with the utmost sangfroid. |
