292 SOME REMINISCENCES
word of Gaelic from myself— a word which has often
stood me in good stead in the Highlands — and a
tune on the " Pipes," she became quite communi-
cative, and informed us, in a queer mixture of
English and Gaelic, that her father was not at home,
and that the old Pipe had been burnt in the fire,
two years before, by her brother, at the request of
the minister.
A lonelier spot than this where the old piper lives
you could not imagine, nor a bleaker.
The one redeeming feature is the glorious ex-
panse of sea in front — its clear blue waters at
flood-tide swelling up almost to the door of the hut;
and the glorious sunsets — one of which we watched
with delight — to be seen from the little window,
which looks west across the bay. Otherwise, there
was nothing here to soften the asperities of life, or
to relieve its monotony. And yet, the one little
earthly source of comfort and consolation left to
these lowly dwellers by the lone sea — the chanter
which the old man had loved all his life, and
fingered so fondly and so often, and to which he
had confided all his little joys and sorrows in the
past, was taken from, him, and burnt before his
eyes, by his own son, at the instigation of the
F.C. minister. The old maiden lady looked sad as
she told us the story of the burnt Pipe ; otherwise
she complained none, but ever and anon she cast
a wistful glance at the well-appointed Bagpipe
under my arm, and her looks were eloquent of
regret.
AND THE BAGPIPE. 293
"You like the Pipes?" I said.
"Oh, that I do," she answered in Gaelic.
"Would you dance if I piped to you?" I then
asked.
She peered at me closely out of half-closed eyes,
as if not comprehending my meaning — as if trying
to read my thoughts — half afraid that I must be
laughing at her. But when I quietly repeated the
challenge, it touched my heart to see the tears well
up in those dim eyes, and the blush of pleasure
struggle through the tan on those thin cheeks.
She looked down at her feet, with a coy move-
ment of her short skirts, eminently feminine. The
feet were hopeless. The heavy, clay-covered boots
were sizes too large, and there was not the vestige
of a lace in either of them, so that the hard, fire-
baked tongues curled down in front.
As she stood on the large flat stone by the side
of the door, raised above the muddy pools of water
which lay everywhere around, waiting, with sad,
impassive face for the music to begin, she looked
a pathetic sight. Standing there, without one femi-
nine grace to relieve the hard, bony, angular,
weather-stained and weather-beaten frame ; without
one trace of colour in her dress to relieve its drab
monotony ; without one line of beauty on her face,
to tell that she had once been young, she seemed,
indeed, but the veriest anatomy of a woman — the
empty husk, out of which the joyousness of being
had long since fled.
But under the influence of the music, a perceptible
294 SOME REMINISCENCES
change was quickly brought about, and she became
transformed. The poor, bent back grew erect ; the
dull, expressionless face lighted up; the frail-looking
body, keeping time to the music, swayed gently to
and fro ; the clumsily shod feet began to move
about — at first with a dreamy, uncertain sort of up-
and-down motion, more like a woman walking cloth
or tramping clothes, then with more and more con-
fidence as memory wakened up under the spell of
that king of Strathspeys, " Tullochgorum,'' until at
length we saw evolved as out of chaos, some beautiful
old-world steps, smooth and graceful in movement,
and quite unknown to the modern lightning-speed
dancer.
Once before I saw the same steps danced by an
old lady of eighty, in Skye — Miss M'Leod, of Caroline
Hill — whose offer to teach me some thirty-two difter-
ent Strathspey steps, which she said she could dance,
I have ever since regretted not accepting.
When the dance was over, it was time for Mr
Southerne and myself to be getting back to the
yacht; so I paid the old lady a well-deserved com-
pliment on the pretty steps she shewed us, and we
bade each other a kindly good-bye. How little it
costs to give pleasure to a fellow-creature at times,
and yet how often we miss the chance? On this
occasion I felt pleased to think that we had managed,
with so little effort, to add a few happy moments to
the life of this lonely woman, whose chances of
amusement were so few. I like to think of the old
piper's daughter, not as we first saw her, when she
AND TPIE BAGPIPE. 295
came blinking and winking at us out of the smoke,
a worn-out, wizened woman, spiritless and dejected-
looking, but as we left her on that day, standing
upon the flat stone in front of the cottage, looking
years younger, and waving us a smiling farewell ; I
like to remember her as we saw her from the crest of
the hill for the last time, bathed in the warm glow
of the setting sun, with the light of the dance still
in her eye, and a look of happy wonderment on her
face at something which Mr Southerne had whispered
into her ear- -or ?
Well I I was not looking, and so could not swear
to it.
I hurried back to the Manse to have it out with
the old vandal, but found him from home, so I
discussed the situation with his housekeeper, a stout,
pleasant-looking old lady, who sympathized with me,
but could not vmderstand what I wanted with an
old set of Bagpipes when I had such a nice one
under my arm.
" I am very fond of the Bagpipe myself," she
said, "and I like no dance so well as the "High-
land Fling."
Here was a chance to avenge the burning of the
Pipe, so I immediately proposed a reel.
" O ! indeed, sir, I am much obliged to you, but I
am too stout : but there's Christina in the kitchen.
She comes from Inverness, and is a fine dancer."
Christina, a fair-skinned bonnie lassie, with a
wealth of golden hair, and straight as a lath, came
tripping out at the first call, every movement full
296 SOME REMINISCENCES
of grace. She wasted no time in idle pretence when
she learned from the housekeeper that we wanted to
see her dance, but turned to me, and said quietly,
"Can you play the ^ Semi Truis?''^''
In reply, I struck up the tune, and if her move-
ments in walking were graceful, her dancing was
superb. After a short rest, she danced the " High-
land Fling," and again we were forced to applaud, for
— as the old teller of tales would say — if the '■'■Sean
Tritis''' was good, the "Highland Fling" was better.
In the meantime some young men from the village,
which was a good way off, attracted by the sound
of the Bagpipe, joined us, and soon I had three or
four sets dancing together, under the very manse
window.
My revenge would have been complete, if only the
minister had come back in time to see his staid
housekeeper dancing, on his own lawn, with an
abandon which savoured of anything but the Church,
while Mr Southern, her partner — an absolute stranger,
too ! — endeavoured, but in vain, to encircle that
ample waist.
Christina, during this time, was doing great
execution among the young men of the village —
in fact, she fairly danced herself into the heart
of more than one susceptible that night, and I
felt that it was time to be moving yachtward,
when I saw Mr Southerne — all-forgetful of his dear
wife at home — disputing Avith one of the natives
as to the possession of the ruddy-cheeked, ruddy-
haired, laughing, dancing nymph of the manse, who
AND THE BAGPIPE. 297
in all she did, was but obeying nature, if perhaps
disobeying the mandates of the Free Church.
In the autumn of 1893 I found myself at Tongue,
in Sutherlandshire, on the old quest. Tongue was
famous at one time as a piping centre, and gave
more pipers to the British Army than any other
district of Scotland, excepting Skye. I found pipers
in plenty, but no Bagpipe older than myself. After
being entertained with some excellent Pipe music
in one house where no fewer than five brothers
fingered the Chanter, I, in return, was asked to
give a tune on the Northumbrian "Small Pipe,"
which I had with me, as I generally found that
the sight of a strange Pipe gave a jog to the
memory, and set people a-talking, but on this
occasion, the Tongue — I apologise — refused to wag.
No sooner had I strapped on the bellows, and
given it a squeeze or two, than a young girl, who
had hurried in from the shearing, astonished to
hear piping at such an hour — a delicate -looking
girl, with a sweet face, and a glorious head of rich
brown hair (who being an only daughter, was
evidently the pet of the family) burst out laughing.
'â– ^ Fan Samhachy''' said the mother, sharply. "Be
quiet ! "
But although the poor thing made convulsive
efforts to obey the warning voice, and stuffed the
corner of her apron into her mouth in the brave
attempt, she bubbled over, every time I began to
play, with uncontrollable laughter — in which I had
to join, so infectious was it — until at length she was
298 SOME REMINISCENCES
ordered out of the house ; but the others present
remained grave and stern as judges.
Time and again, peeping timidly round the corner,
the irrepressible one tried to come back — for, Eve-
like, she was curious to hear the strange little in-
strument — but never got further than the door.
The Bellows-Pipe was too much for her keen sense
of humour. At every fresh attempt she broke down,
and at last turned and fled from the rising wrath
ot her angry mother, who was afraid lest I should
" think her very rude.''''
Now, about the same time that I was picking up
my experience in the little village of Tongue, a
great "lady out in India found herself in somewhat
similar plight to this crofter lassie, and the Bag-
pipe was again the cause — shewing anew how true
it is that ' ' one touch of nature makes the whole
world kin."
The following story is told of herself by Lady
Dufferin : —
*'The Maharajah entertained us right royally,
and every meal is a banquet ; his pipers played for
us at dinner, and walked round the table after-
wards. They are really rather good, but they played
several different tunes in the room." I suppose the
writer here means that they stopped at the end of
each tune, and started again without leaving the
room, not that they played different tunes at one
time — "and the Bagpipes groaned in such a fearful
manner at the beginning of each, that in spite of
AND THE BAGPIPE. 299
the viceregal gravity of D.'s face, / could not help
laughwgy
On another occasion, her good manners were also
severely tried, and the Bagpipe was again to blame.
"Another Punjaub Chief, Nabha, let his pipers
play to us at luncheon. It was very amusing to
see them, as the whole costume is Scotch, but pi7ik
silk tights have to be worn to simulate the delicate
complexion of the ordinary Highlander's knee." (The
italics are mine.)
I like Lady Dufferin's description of the High-
lander's knee, although it puts a different complexion
upon it. English tourists who wear the kilt in Scot-
land to distinguish themseh^es from the natives,
might, perhaps, take a needful hint from the pink
silk tights of this Indian Chief, and so bring the
over-delicate complexion of their knees — which is fre-
quently painful to contemplate — more into harmony
with the dress and its surroundings.
CHAPTER XXXI.
PIPING AND DANCING DYING OUT IN THE
HIGHLANDS.
TT is a great pity that piping and dancing have
-^ been so much discouraged in the Highlands in
recent times. The sources of amusement in the long
winter evenings left to these people, living often in
lonely townships — frequently cut off from all com-
munication with the outside world for a great part
of the year — were never too numerous, and it
would have been a wise and a generous policy on
the part of their spiritual guides to have left them
undisturbed, and added to them wherever possible.
But to-day, the choice of entertainment for the
Highlander lies between these two things — theologi-
cal discussion, and whisky — both good, no doubt,
in moderation, but both dangerous, and apt to lead
to quarreling when abused. For over fifty years,
the Free Church, carrying out, as I have said before —
perhaps, also, unconsciously? — the earlier policy of the
Catholic clergy, has been the sworn foe of piping
and dancing.
For over fifty years the Free Church priest
AND THE BAGPIPE. 3OI
has done his best to stamp out other innocent
amusements, such as the telling of old tales, and
the singing of old-world songs at the Ceilidh^ until
to-day, all sounds of mirth have fled the land and
left it desolate.
I have piped to the children standing in the
market-place, and they have not danced ; I have
mourned to them — over the loss of strathspey and
reel — but they have not wept. It is difficult to
believe that changes so sweeping could have taken
place in so short a space of time, but it is true.
Some years ago I passed through the Caledonian
Canal on board the S.Y. " Ileen," owned by Mr
Salvesen of Lathallan, and I was very much struck
with the number of people we met v/ho had seldom
or never heard the Bagpipe.
The Strathspey and reel, and "Highland Fling"
seemed also to have fallen into complete neglect,
and to be all but forgotten.
Whenever I got a few children together, I
questioned them on these matters, and was more
than astonished at their ignorance of Highland
music and dance. Some of the children could
dance a polka or a waltz, or even a schottische, to
the accompaniment of a concertina, but could not
dance a single reel step, even to the music of the
Great Highland Bagpipe. I tried always to wean
them from the Lowland abomination ; I tried always
to interest them in the dance of their forefathers ;
and at several places in the neighbourhood of Inver-
garry, I taught the little ones a reel step or two
302 SOME REMINISCENCES
wherever I could get a few together — whether on
the public road, or in the fields, or by the river
side. It was quite refreshing to note the quickness
with which they picked up the old steps, and to
mark the evident delight with which they listened
to the old music.
One beautiful afternoon we started off to visit
the Falls of Gary, and while walking by the side
of the river, I saw a little school, which stood on
an eminence some distance back from the stream, but
on the opposite side, dispersing for the day. One
blast of the Pipe was enough to draw the whole
school trooping down through the meadows to the
river side, and from the opposite bank, cries of:
"Please sir, a tune!" "Please, sir, a tune!"
came quickly in pleading accents from a score of
little throats.
"Give me a song, first," I said, "and I will give
you a tune."
"What song would you like, sir?"
" A song about Prince Charlie."
"Who was Prince Charlie?" queried the spokes-
man of the party, a tall, red-lipped, red-cheeked,
shapely laughing girl, with stray sunbeams in her
hair.
"You know well enough who Prince Charlie was,
and I want a song about him," I replied. After a
hurried consultation, and much whispering in groups,
and shaking together of litde heads, the leader stood
forward and shouted bravely across the swift-flowing
AND THE BAGPIPE. 303
Stream — " We can't sing any song" about Prince
Charlie."
I at once took "we can't" to mean '*\ve daren't,"
and said — "What ! you call yourselves Highlanders,
and live in the beautiful Highlands, and don't know
who Prince Charlie was, and you can't sing a song
about him? You should be ashamed of yourselves!
Why, I live in the Lowlands, but yet I can tell you
a lot about Prince Charlie, and I can sing you a song
about him too ; and I love his memory after all these
years. My forefathers bled and died for Prince
Charlie, if yours did not."
" Have you four fathers, sir?" piped in a little girl;
" I have only one." "And quite enough too," put
in a second mite ; at which they all laughed heartily.
No dullards, evidently. And — this I said to myself —
they know of, and can sing about, Prince Charlie,
in spite of their assumed ignorance. So, as a last
shot, I asked once more for a song, and promised —
in as solemn and mysterious a manner as I could
assume — that I would not tell the " Meenisther."
Again there was a clustering together of little heads
in consultation, but this time I was to be rewarded for
my perseverance. Falling back to right and left, the
group disclosed my Nighean Ruadh standing erect
like a queen in their midst. Stepping slightly in
advance of her companions, she sang in a clear voice,
and with many blushes which became her well, that
beautiful old song, "Come o'er the stream, Charlie,
brave Charlie, dear Charlie," leaving the chorus to be
taken up by the others.
304 SOME REMINISCENCES
It was a glorious day altogether — an Indian summer
day — and the warm sun shone brightly overhead,
lighting up the beautiful glen rarely. Seated by the
banks of the murmuring river, lazily enjoying the
warm air which came floating down the glen laden
with the smell of larch and spruce, my thoughts insen-
sibly went back to the days of the '45, and I thought
of Prince Charlie as he was before continuous misfor-
tune tried the temper of his spirit, and found it
awanting. I remembered him only as the brave
young soldier, hardy and temperate, kindly and true,
gallantly fighting for a crown that was his own, as
surely as anything can be called one's own in this
world. And the refrain of the old song, "Come o'er
the stream, Charlie" (in which perforce we joined),
sung by these little children as they sat round their
leader on the grassy banks of the Gary, with the
rushing sound of its black, quick-hurrying waters for
an accompaniment, went to my heart, and — I am not
ashamed to say it — brought the tear to my eye. I
responded with a Jacobite air on the " Pipes," and
the ice being now fairly broken, and the fear of the
" Church" put behind us — after some dancing, which,
I am sorry to say, did not include the reel, as none of
them could dance it — we sang and piped to each other
alternately until the lengthening shadows warned us
to start for the Falls if we were to get back before
dark. For some miles through the glen, these
children — always separated from friends and myself
by the swollen stream, which was that day in spate — •
followed the piper, altho' he was not what you might
AND THE BAGPIPE. 305
call a brilliant performer ; and it was always the same
soft, childish, pleading cry that floated across the dark
waters — "Just one other tune, sir; just one other
tune."
And yet this day of innocent pleasure for old and
young alike, and the children's evident delight in
the dear old music, would be denied them if the
" Meenishter" had his way. But, in spite of the Free
Church, I am glad to think that the so-called
reformers in the Highlands, who reformed on Knox's
principle — " Pu' doun the nests, and the rooks will
flee awa' " — have not quite eradicated — have not
eradicated at all — the love of the Celt for Bagpipe,
and dance, and song. It is still there, ready to assert
itself on the smallest encouragement, in spite of the
repeated attempts of clerical bigotry to stamp it out.
I had a capital example of this one day while waiting
on the Ileen, as she made her slow way through
one of the many locks on the canal. On the hillside,
due north of the lock, and not very far away, a little
thatched cottage peeped down timidly at the passer-by.
It looked old enough and Highland enough for any-
thing ; so being anxious to throw away no chance
of finding an original Highland Bagpipe, I ascended
the hill and knocked at the door. No welcome
**//?c i stoi'' fell upon my ears in answer to my
summons, but, after some delay, a man with a very
pale face and black bushy whiskers, appeared in the
doorway, and eyed us suspiciously. I greeted him
in Gaelic, but he only stared at me : he knew no
Gaelic. Campbell was his name. He was a shoe-
u
.-^Od SOME REMINISCEN'CES
O
maker to trade. He knew nothing about the Bagpipe,
and he had never seen an old set of " Pipes," nor had
he heard the sound of the Bagpipe itself for years.
Strathspey and reel had ever been strangers to him.
His children, the eldest of whom was a nice-looking,
intelligent boy of six, had never seen a Bagpipe, nor
even heard of the Highland fling. Not a healthy
state of affairs, surely, in a Highland cottage — no
Gaelic, no kilt, no Bagpipe, no Highland fling. I
began at once to teach the little ones something of
these matters, and finished off the lesson with a
practical demonstration — Air Ure, one of my friends,
dancing to them, while I piped. Then by dint of a
little coaxing, and the expenditure of a few pence, I
got the children themselves formed up in line, and
in an incredibly short space of time my friend and I
had them going through the figure of eight — at first
without, and then to music — "as if to the manner
born."
When the smaller ones were tired, I took Johnnie,
the eldest, and taught him one or two strathspey
steps, which he was soon able to dance to the music
of the Pipe, along with other steps of his own, extem-
porised on the spot.
The old love of the Pipe and the reel was here,
evidently, in the blood. Before our arrival, Johnnie
knew nothing of the Bagpipe or of the Highland
fling, and yet after one short lesson of ten minutes
or so, he learned to wriggle and throw his feet about
in most precise fashion, and even to extemporise
steps for himself, keeping ail the while most excellent
AND THE BAGPIPE. 3O7
time to music, the like of which he had never heard
until that moment ; and he heeled and toed, and
curved his arms gracefully over his head, as he spun
now to right, now to left, and gave an occasional
little "Hooch!" at the psychological moment, as if
he had danced and "hooched" all his life before.
When we reached Fort Augustus, the Royal Mail
steamer Gondolier^ crowded with passengers for
Oban and the South, could be seen coming down
Loch Ness, and the Ileen was detained above the
lock until she first passed through. This, it seems,
is the custom. Here we met with a poor Highland
crofter and his family, who had just been dispossessed
of their croft, and who were now travelling west in
search of a new home. Why they had thus been
suddenly thrown out upon the cold world I did not
learn. They carried their household goods with them,
strapped on their backs. The father, who told me his
simple story, without any grumbling against the hard
fate which dogged his footsteps, groaned under the
weight of a heavy kitchen table and two wooden
chairs ; the mother, who stood patiently in the back-
ground while her goodman recited his w^oes, was bent
double beneath a huge bundle of linen wrapped up
in a couple of red and black bedcovers ; while the
children were laden down to and beyond Plimsoll's
mark with pots and pans, and the minor household
utensils.
They were footsore and travel-stained ; and little
wonder, as they had been on the road since daybreak.
The little ones looked tired and hungry, and when
3o8 SOME REMINISCENCES
I learned that they were of my own clan — bad luck
to it ! — I got my friends interested in them, and we
feasted them upon milk and scones from a little
wooden stall which stood close by for the convenience
of travellers by the different boats passing through
the canal. The milk and scones disappeared in
princely fashion, but before famished appetites were
appeased the Gondolier had entered the lock.
And while she was still in the deeps, and the gates
were being closed, a brilliant idea came to me, who
am generally rather slow in seizing the occasion, and
I acted instantly upon it.
Why not get up an impromptu dance, with the
assistance of my companions, and make a collection
for the poor wanderers ? There was only one objec-
tion to the carrying out of the idea. Two of my four
friends knew little or nothing about the strathspey,
and the other two owned only one step between them.
But when I divulged my scheme, they, like the good
fellows that they were, immediately consented to give
an exhibition ; and they kept their word.
Hurried orders were given by everybody to every-
body, and in a moment all was excitement and bustle.
The directions reduced to paper v.'ere delightful in
their simplicity. Jump high enough, and "hooch"
smartly, and do an occasional figure of eight.
There was time for a little practice before the boat
rose to view, and I took advantage of it, as I must