Part 8 (1/2)
It is not the least of Tennyson's claims to our grat.i.tude that his genius was sensitive alike to the beauties of Celtic and of Anglo-Saxon verse. It would be difficult to overpraise his masterly rendering of the ”Battle of Brunanburh,” a vigorous old poem he found in the _Saxon Chronicle_. Equally fine is his ”Voyage of Maeldune,” founded on a Celtic legend of the seventh century. Those who wish to know what is meant by Celtic glamour should read the last-named poem without delay.
CELT AND SAXON.
Between the literatures of the Celt and the Saxon there are, indeed, well-marked differences. The Anglo-Saxons were a set of enterprising pirates, who drove their keels over the misty ocean, came to Britain and took forcible possession of it, dispersing or enslaving the original possessors. They left a literature which is, in many respects, highly interesting, but is in the main devoid of suns.h.i.+ne, humour, and sprightliness. The old poem of ”Beowulf,” with its rough and st.u.r.dy verses, all splashed with brine, contains very few figures of speech: it is a poem, but not markedly poetical; it is solid and impressive, but not beautiful. Now, no one can read Celtic poetry, even in translation, without being powerfully struck by its refined beauty and mystic romance. The metaphors and similes are somewhat too abundant. The typical Anglo-Saxon has a firm grip of the world, but is not poetical enough; the Celt, on the other hand, is probably too much of a dreamer and a poet--he sits on the hill-side (forgetting sometimes to till it) and muses on fairies, second-sight, and enchantments. St. Paul used the right word in speaking to the old world Gaels, _i.e._, Galatians: ”O foolish Galatians, who hath _bewitched_ you?” (t?? ??? ??s?a?e;)
Combine these two races in the right proportion, and you get an admirable blend. It is not for me to say where the just man made perfect is to be found, the man in whom the elements--practical and poetical--are mixed in such exquisite proportion, that Nature might stand up and say, ”_There is a man_.” What is certain, is that there is a very p.r.o.nounced strain of Celtic blood coursing through the veins of the average Scotch Lowlander. Few Scots have to rummage far among their ancestry before they find a piece of tartan: such mixture of genealogy probably accounts for much that is best in their composition.
The supposition that the Scotch race-combination is Celt and Saxon, and only that, is of course erroneous. There is a very marked Scandinavian element both in the east and the west of the country. In the year 1600 A.D., the Norse tongue was spoken all over the Long Island from the b.u.t.t of Lewis to Barra. Certainly, in Lewis and Skye, an enormous number of the place-names are Scandinavian, and date from a time when the sea-kings had dominion over the islands of the West. Many fascinating problems of ethnology continue to occupy the attention of investigators, and are not likely to be settled for a long time to come. One thing is abundantly clear, viz., that purity of race and speech does not exist in any county of Scotland: everywhere there is a mixture of blood and language.[16]
[16] Mr. Tocher, a Peterhead gentleman, has adopted a special line of investigation. He has sent out schedules to every school in Scotland asking for detailed information as to the colour of the eyes and hair of the boys and girls. His desire is to connect _pigmentation_ and race-origin. He believes it is still possible to get definite information, by such means, of the settlement and blending of Picts, Celts, Nors.e.m.e.n, and Anglo-Saxons.
CHAPTER III.
ECCLESIASTICAL.
Sectarian feeling--Typical anecdotes--Music and religion--Ethical teaching in schools--The Moderates--A savoury book--The Sabbath--”The Men of Skye”--The auldest kirk--The Episcopal Church--An interlude of metre--The Christian Brethren--Drimnin in Morven--Craignish--A model minister--Ministerial trials in olden times--An artful dodger--Some anecdotes from Gigha--Growing popularity of Ruskin.
SECTARIAN FEELING.
In a small country towns.h.i.+p, all the influences that operate to divide men into sects and parties are keenly and continuously felt. To a dweller there, it is well-nigh impossible to keep out of the arena of strife. Now that there is so much confusion and division in religious matters, strong feeling is more easily stirred on any secular subject that may happen to arise for discussion. If the Wee Frees, for example, desire a new road in a certain direction, the United Frees will probably deride the scheme and unanimously pet.i.tion against it. Their antipathy to each other becomes envenomed by their persistent proximity: if you are a villager, you cannot get away from your adversary--in the morning, when looking out of the window, you see him tilling his croft, mending his nets, or was.h.i.+ng his face in a tub at his front door. The fact that he is there is an obstacle to your peace of mind. If you did not see him so often, you would more readily come to believe that he possessed a conscience and some shred of principle and decent doctrine.
In a distant seaside town a library had been procured, and (though doctrine was not at stake at all) a most virulent debate at once arose as to where it should be housed. The United Frees voted for the school; the Wee Frees called aloud for the post-office. It would require the pen of Dean Swift (who did such justice to the strife between the Big-Endians and Little-Endians) to recount in appropriate style the intrigues and stratagems of the rival religionists. The local teacher did not wish the books in school _because_ the proposal came from the enemy. He was powerfully supported by all the young fellows of the place, whose reverence for him, born of recent severe whackings, was limitless. This teacher had an eloquent and vitriolic tongue, and delivered himself thus: ”What have I not done for the island? What have these reprobates ever done? Who was it that got the frequent Macbrayne connection with the mainland? _I did._ Who got up the concert to buy seats for visitors coming north from Glasgow? And yet for every blessing I give them, I get ten curses. _But I'll choke them yet._” It was needless for the United Frees to demand a plebiscite--or, as they called it, a _ple-biscuit_--the dominie was too forceful, persistent, and phraseful for them, and at the public meeting he laughed down a teetotal opponent by singing out: ”Sit down on your seat, man; _it's the drink that's speaking, no' you!_”
No matter what the subject may be, there is usually a smack of ecclesiasticism in the ordinary give-and-take of conversation. I cannot ill.u.s.trate this better than by giving the Lewis man's reply to an enquiry as to _how his wooden leg was behaving_. The enquirer was a newly-elected United Free elder, while he of the timber toes was a staunch Disruptionist. ”Well,” said the latter, ”my wooden leg is not unlike a U. F. elder; it's not exactly perfection, but, considering everything, we must just be putting up with what we can get.” This was said at a time when the Wee Frees were in a big majority in certain parts of the Highlands, and when, as a consequence, United Free elders had to be selected out of diminished congregations.
TYPICAL ANECDOTES.
The venerable Lord Halsbury, so well known for his judgment in the great Church case, resided, shortly after the decision, in the neighbourhood of Forres. Men plucked each other by the sleeve as he pa.s.sed along the street, and pointed with awe to the keen-witted lawyer who had caused such a kick-up in the realm. His most innocent doings were watched. One day he went into a book-shop and made a purchase. When he came out, in rushed a brace of theologians to enquire what he had bought. It turned out that he had purchased a copy of _Comic Cuts_. The news was all round Forres in an hour's time, and caused much consternation. ”What great men do, the less will prattle of,” and it is so difficult for the former to act up to their heroic role.
How thoroughly our dear native land has enjoyed its theological battles!
Will there ever be a truce to the long wars of faith? One cannot see much ground for a too sanguine hope. After a library had been given to a little village in the West, I paid the usual visit to the place, and requested a free expression of views as to the suitability of the books that had been given. One venerable old native, with eyes of fire, called out: ”_This Paisley Library has one fatal lack: it contains no works on controversial divinity._” I ventured to hint that perhaps the omission was intentional, but that he absolutely refused to believe.
Coming through the Sound of Mull one bl.u.s.tery November day, I heard a most animated discussion on the question ”Has the Deity unlimited Free Will?” The disputants had all the appearance of sensible crofters--they certainly talked more intelligibly than most commentators on Kant. Some of the s.h.i.+p's crew joined in the talk in such a way as to show that they understood perfectly well the question at issue. Every member of the ring was wet (the rain was coming down in torrents during the whole argument), but neither ”Ayes” nor ”Noes” would admit defeat. When the boat touched the terminus of Tobermory, much still remained to be said, and the amateur theologians retired to sum up in a local bar-room. The incident is characteristic, and could have happened in no other country but Scotland. Presbyterianism has made the Scot somewhat too disputatious, but it is surely better to see a man interested in religion than in nothing at all.
Talking of the union of the Free and U.P. Churches, I am reminded of a laughable tale told of a Hebridean minister. ”Themselves and their Union, I say, themselves and their Union,” he remarked; ”I will have nothing to do with it. I was born Free, ordained Free; I have lived Free, and I will die Free.” ”But what about the stipend, Angus?” said his wife, douce and cautious woman. ”Ah, the stipend! Well, if I lose my stipend, you will have to put on a short petticoat, strap a creel on your back, and sell _fush_.” ”And what will you do, Angus, when I'm away selling _fush_?” ”Oh, I will stay at home and pray for a blessing on your efforts.”
The use of Scriptural expressions undoubtedly gives great force to the language of every-day life. As is well known, certain cla.s.ses in cookery have recently been established in a few northern villages. A Highland minister, in publicly commending these cla.s.ses, remarked, with a rueful grimace: ”I _do_ wish such cla.s.ses as these had been in existence when my wife was young; for, as it is, every dinner she serves up to me is either a _burnt offering or a b.l.o.o.d.y sacrifice_!”
The following story comes from a minister in the neighbourhood of Loch Awe. ”A clergyman of my acquaintance was stationed in a poor parish near my own, and he called on the local laird for financial aid to help on some of the church schemes. This laird was a well-known philanthropist, but the call was made at the wrong psychological moment, for he chanced on this particular day to be in a very bad humour. He listened to the minister with great impatience, and at last, bounding to his feet and pointing to the door, he shouted: 'Silver and gold have I none, but such as I have, give I unto thee: in the name of Beelzebub, rise and _walk_!'”
It was my unfortunate experience to witness a great amount of sectarian strife in the north and west during my various visits. Sometimes my prospective chairman was unable to preside, owing to his having taken part in a doctrinal scuffle, and having his coat torn, and his church captured. These fantastic doings are in no way edifying, and are extremely shocking to our national pride.
Theologically, many districts of the Highlands have not advanced beyond the stage occupied by Lowland Scotland in the time of Burns. In certain parishes, the communion is dispensed in the open air, in the way familiar to readers of the ”Holy Fair.” Sky overhead, gra.s.sy turf beneath, solemnity, sobs, and sighs all around, certainly make up a most impressive whole. The sermon is unmercifully long--two hours, at least: probably, if translated into English, and shorn of repet.i.tions, it could be given in one-fourth of the time. If you or I, dear Lowlander, should stand on the outside of the crowd, and appear more curious than devout, we should certainly be alluded to in the sermon as _those wicked people_. The discourses are no gilt-edged harangues dealing with the ”larger hope,” and larded with quotations from Tennyson and Browning.
They are, on the contrary, full of Tartarean sulphur and strange fire, and rich in grotesque ill.u.s.trations, of which this is a sample: ”My friends, crowds of loathsome fiends are sent by the Prince of the Power of the Air to tempt us to our destruction. They hang over us waiting for their opportunity, just like a regiment of black crows hovering over a potato-field.”
I am afraid that crude Calvinism, as preached in certain parts of the north, is nothing less than monstrous. The good G.o.d, beneficent Father of us all, is unrecognizable when eternal reprobation is represented as the inevitable fate of the vast majority of His children. In time, no doubt (and the sooner the better), the results of modern theological thought will penetrate into the uttermost nooks of the land.
MUSIC AND RELIGION.