You seem to be using an older version of Internet Explorer. This site requires Internet Explorer 8 or higher. Update your browser here today to fully enjoy all the marvels of this site.
A most interesting little blog from the True Highlands website regarding the "Witches Stones of Scotland" and includes a bit about the 'Cursing Stone' in the Millennial Walkway in Carlisle. http://www...A most interesting little blog from the True Highlands website regarding the "Witches Stones of Scotland" and includes a bit about the 'Cursing Stone' in the Millennial Walkway in Carlisle. http://www.truehighlands.com/witches-stones-scotla...
- July 17, 2017 8:58 pm
- ·
The Recapture of Edinburgh Castle from the English in 1313
"While Robert the Bruce was gradually getting possession of the country, and driving out the English, Edinburgh, the principal town in Scotlan...The Recapture of Edinburgh Castle from the English in 1313
"While Robert the Bruce was gradually getting possession of the country, and driving out the English, Edinburgh, the principal town in Scotland, with its strong castle, remained in possession of the invaders. Sir Thomas Randolph was extremely desirous to gain this important place; but, as you well know, the castle is situated on a very steep and lofty rock, so that it is difficult or almost impossible even to get up to the foot of the walls, much more to climb over them.
So while Randolph was considering what was to be done, there came to him a Scottish gentleman, named Francis, who had joined Bruce's standard, and asked to speak to him in private. He then told Randolph that in his youth he had lived in the castle of Edinburgh, and that his father had then been keeper of the fortress. It happened at that time that Francis had been much in love with a lady, who lived in the part of the town beneath the castle, which is called the Grassmarket.
Now, as he could not get out of the castle by day to see his mistress, he had practised a way by night of clambering down the castle rock on the south side, and returning at his pleasure; when he got to the foot of the wall, he made use of a ladder to get over it, as it was not very high at that point, those who built it having trusted to the steepness of the crag; and for the same reason, no watch was placed there. Francis had come and gone so frequently in this dangerous manner, that, though it was so long ago, he told Randolph he knew the road so well that he would undertake to guide a small party of men by night to the bottom of his wall; and as they might bring ladders with them, there would be no difficulty in scaling it. The great risk was that of being discovered by the watchmen while in the act of ascending the cliff, in which case every man of them would perish.
Nevertheless, Randolph did not hesitate to attempt the adventure. He took with him only thirty men and came one dark night to the foot of the rock, which they began to ascend under the guidance of Francis. The men were obliged to follow in a line a path fitter for a cat than a man. When they were far up the crag, near the foundation of the wall, one of the soldiers of the castle, willing to startle his comrades, suddenly threw a stone from the wall and cried out "Aha, I see you well." The stone came thundering down past the heads of Randolph and his men, who naturally thought themselves discovered. If they had stirred, or made the slightest noise, they would have been entirely destroyed; for the soldiers above might have killed every one of them, merely by rolling down stones... But the English passed on without further examination.
Then Randolph and his men got up, and came in haste to the foot of the wall. They planted the ladder which they had brought, and Francis mounted first to show them the way; Sir Andrew Grey, a brave knight, followed him, and Randolph himself was the third man to get over. Then the rest followed. When once they were within the walls, there was not much to be do, for the garrison were asleep and unarmed, excepting the watch, who were speedily destroyed. Thus was Edinburgh Castle taken in March 1313."
Written by Sir Walter Scott in "Tales of a Grandfather".
"While Robert the Bruce was gradually getting possession of the country, and driving out the English, Edinburgh, the principal town in Scotlan...The Recapture of Edinburgh Castle from the English in 1313
"While Robert the Bruce was gradually getting possession of the country, and driving out the English, Edinburgh, the principal town in Scotland, with its strong castle, remained in possession of the invaders. Sir Thomas Randolph was extremely desirous to gain this important place; but, as you well know, the castle is situated on a very steep and lofty rock, so that it is difficult or almost impossible even to get up to the foot of the walls, much more to climb over them.
So while Randolph was considering what was to be done, there came to him a Scottish gentleman, named Francis, who had joined Bruce's standard, and asked to speak to him in private. He then told Randolph that in his youth he had lived in the castle of Edinburgh, and that his father had then been keeper of the fortress. It happened at that time that Francis had been much in love with a lady, who lived in the part of the town beneath the castle, which is called the Grassmarket.
Now, as he could not get out of the castle by day to see his mistress, he had practised a way by night of clambering down the castle rock on the south side, and returning at his pleasure; when he got to the foot of the wall, he made use of a ladder to get over it, as it was not very high at that point, those who built it having trusted to the steepness of the crag; and for the same reason, no watch was placed there. Francis had come and gone so frequently in this dangerous manner, that, though it was so long ago, he told Randolph he knew the road so well that he would undertake to guide a small party of men by night to the bottom of his wall; and as they might bring ladders with them, there would be no difficulty in scaling it. The great risk was that of being discovered by the watchmen while in the act of ascending the cliff, in which case every man of them would perish.
Nevertheless, Randolph did not hesitate to attempt the adventure. He took with him only thirty men and came one dark night to the foot of the rock, which they began to ascend under the guidance of Francis. The men were obliged to follow in a line a path fitter for a cat than a man. When they were far up the crag, near the foundation of the wall, one of the soldiers of the castle, willing to startle his comrades, suddenly threw a stone from the wall and cried out "Aha, I see you well." The stone came thundering down past the heads of Randolph and his men, who naturally thought themselves discovered. If they had stirred, or made the slightest noise, they would have been entirely destroyed; for the soldiers above might have killed every one of them, merely by rolling down stones... But the English passed on without further examination.
Then Randolph and his men got up, and came in haste to the foot of the wall. They planted the ladder which they had brought, and Francis mounted first to show them the way; Sir Andrew Grey, a brave knight, followed him, and Randolph himself was the third man to get over. Then the rest followed. When once they were within the walls, there was not much to be do, for the garrison were asleep and unarmed, excepting the watch, who were speedily destroyed. Thus was Edinburgh Castle taken in March 1313."
Written by Sir Walter Scott in "Tales of a Grandfather".
Combats that Never End
THERE are two mountains that overlook the Spey valley, one to the east and one to the west, and a fairy king dwells on each of them. One fairy king is white, and has great fame a...Combats that Never End
THERE are two mountains that overlook the Spey valley, one to the east and one to the west, and a fairy king dwells on each of them. One fairy king is white, and has great fame as an archer; he has a silver bow and arrows of gold, and once a day he shoots an arrow across the strath. The other fairy king is black as the raven, and on his left breast there is a red spot. He has no weapon, but is yet terrible in battle, because he can make himself invisible at will. When he does so, nothing remains in sight except the red spot. He has great strength, and when he goes against his enemies he seizes them unawares and throws them to the ground. No matter how well they are armed, his enemies tremble when the invisible fairy comes against them. All they see is a red spot moving about in the air.
Now, the white fairy has a fair bride whose name is Face-of-Light. It is a great joy to her to wander among the mountains where herds of deer crop the green herbage, and through the strath where cornfields rustle in soft winds and fragrant flowers bloom fair to see. The black fairy has no bride, and is jealous of the white fairy because his days are filled with joy by the beauty of Face-of-Light.
These two fairies have ever been enemies. The black fairy keeps out of sight of the famous archer, fearing his arrows of gold.
One summer evening when the twilight shadows were lengthening and deepening across the strath, Face-of-Light tripped merrily over the grassy banks, gathering wild flowers. Silence had fallen on the world ; no bird sang and no wind whispered, the lochs were asleep, and the shrunken river made scarcely a sound louder than the sigh of a sleeping babe; it was no longer bright when Face-of-Light turned away from it.
The black fairy looked out from his mountain home. He knew that the white fairy had lain down to rest, and he watched Face-of-Light gathering wild flowers. Nearer and nearer she came to his dwelling, and he crept into a deep forest which conceals the entrance to his mountain, and waited to seize her. Face-of-Light, never dreaming of her peril, tripped towards the edge of the forest; and, seeing many flowers growing beneath the trees, went in to pluck them. She made the forest bright with her beauty, and the flowers grew fairer as she drew near.
Suddenly a great black hand was thrust out from a thick clump of bushes. The hand seized her, and she shrieked in terror and struggled to escape. The white fairy heard her cries, which pierced the air like the keen long whistle of the curlew, leapt up, and looked forth from his mountain top. In a moment he knew what had happened. Faceof-Light had been seized by his enemy, the black fairy, who was dragging her to a dark dungeon in the middle of his mountain. The white fairy was unable to come to her rescue for two reasons.
Like his dark enemy, he could not pass the utmost limits of his mountain house, and having already shot a golden arrow that day, he could not shoot another until a new day had dawned.
Night came on, and the black fairy climbed to the top of his mountain, where he danced with joy because he had taken captive the bride of his enemy. The white fairy was stricken with sorrow, and when he heard the cries of Face-of-Light coming from the dungeon, he fell down in a swoon.
All night long Face-of-Light sobbed and wept, while the black fairy danced on the mountain top and sang songs of triumph. He danced so fast that he raised a wind which swept down the strath and shook the trees from sleep, so that they moaned and sighed all night long. The cries of Face-of-Light were heard by human beings, and those who were awakened said one to another: "Listen to the hag of night. How terrible are her cries!"
Not until the dawn began to break did the white fairy recover from his swoon. Just when the first shaft of grey light pierced the eastern sky, he opened his eyes. Then he remembered his sorrow and wept softly. His tears fell as dew on the flowers and the grass.
Weeping, he climbed his mountain, and then wandered round about the crest of it. His heart was heavy for the loss of Face-of-Light, and when he listened he heard her moaning in her dark prison. The black fairy had ceased to dance. He stood upright on the highest point of his mountain house, and shouted to his enemy: "Ha! Face-of-Light is my prisoner." Then suddenly he was silent. He saw the white fairy stringing his silver bow and then drawing from his shining quiver a bright golden arrow.
"Ha!" cried the black fairy, "would you dare shoot at me?"
"Set free Face-of-Light, or I shall shoot," the white fairy made answer. His face was white as snow and hard as ice.
The black fairy laughed, and willed himself to become invisible, and then, just as the white fairy raised his bow to take aim, his enemy vanished from sight. No part of him could be seen but the great red spot on his left breast, which seemed to float in the air.
For a moment the white fairy, gazing eastward, looked with wonder at the red spot which grew brighter and brighter. His bow was bent, and his golden arrow was held ready for flight.
The sound of defiant laughter came down the wind as the black fairy, now invisible, danced with joy on his mountain top.
To and fro swayed the red spot, and the white fairy thought he would shoot at it. His aim was true and his arm was strong. Straight from the bow flew the bright golden arrow. It darted through the air with lightning speed and struck the red spot, which, be it known, was the heart of the black fairy. A shriek rang out across the strath. It was the death shriek of the black fairy, who fell down on the bare rock and died. His life-blood streamed forth, and the whole eastern sky was covered with it. In the midst of the redness gleamed the bright golden arrow of the white fairy.
No sooner was the black fairy slain than Face-of-Light was set free. The doors of her dungeon flew open, and she came forth in all her beauty. When she did so, the mountains and the strath were made bright, the river sparkled in the light, and the lochs flashed like burnished silver. All the land was made glad when Face-of-Light was set free from her dark prison. The slumbering flowers opened their eyes to gaze upon her, and the birds broke forth in merry song, while the white fairy smiled and danced with joy.
The black fairy lay dead and invisible on his mountain top until evening came on. Then his mother came to visit him. When she found that her son had been slain, she took from her wallet a pot of healing balsam and rubbed it on his wound. Then she rubbed the balsam on his eyes and on his lips. When she did this, he came to life, and began once again to plot evil against the white fairy and his beautiful bride.
This story, which used to be told in Strathspey, is the story of the struggle between darkness and light. The black fairy is night, which begins to make itself invisible at dawn, and the red spot on his left breast is the red light of morning. The golden arrow of the white fairy is the golden shaft of sunlight that darts across the eastern heaven as the sun rises in morning splendour. Face-of-Light is the spirit of the River Spey, which is bright in daytime and lost to sight in the darkness of night.
When the story-teller says that Face-of-Light leaves the river, he means that its brightness leaves it when the shadows of night are falling.
A different story is told in the Ness valley. There are two mountains on either side of Loch Ness, and on each is a Fooar, or giant. They are rivals too. One loves the daylight and the other loves darkness.
Every morning at dawn one Fooar flings across Loch Ness a white boulder. When the boulder goes through the air the sky becomes bright. Every evening the other Fooar flings across Loch Ness a black boulder, and the sky grows dark.
The rivals can throw their boulders only once in every twenty -four hours. When the white boulder is flung, it strikes the night Fooar, and he falls down in a swoon. He does not recover until evening, and then he rises and, in turn, flings his black boulder, and strikes down his rival, who then lies unconscious until the dawn. When the giant of day grasps his white boulder and raises it on high, his red hand can be seen in the sky, and the red hand of the giant of night is often seen at evening. Sometimes the giants turn round the boulders to adjust them for throwing. Then the gold rings on their fingers and the golden armlets on their arms flash across the sky in bright splendour.
THERE are two mountains that overlook the Spey valley, one to the east and one to the west, and a fairy king dwells on each of them. One fairy king is white, and has great fame a...Combats that Never End
THERE are two mountains that overlook the Spey valley, one to the east and one to the west, and a fairy king dwells on each of them. One fairy king is white, and has great fame as an archer; he has a silver bow and arrows of gold, and once a day he shoots an arrow across the strath. The other fairy king is black as the raven, and on his left breast there is a red spot. He has no weapon, but is yet terrible in battle, because he can make himself invisible at will. When he does so, nothing remains in sight except the red spot. He has great strength, and when he goes against his enemies he seizes them unawares and throws them to the ground. No matter how well they are armed, his enemies tremble when the invisible fairy comes against them. All they see is a red spot moving about in the air.
Now, the white fairy has a fair bride whose name is Face-of-Light. It is a great joy to her to wander among the mountains where herds of deer crop the green herbage, and through the strath where cornfields rustle in soft winds and fragrant flowers bloom fair to see. The black fairy has no bride, and is jealous of the white fairy because his days are filled with joy by the beauty of Face-of-Light.
These two fairies have ever been enemies. The black fairy keeps out of sight of the famous archer, fearing his arrows of gold.
One summer evening when the twilight shadows were lengthening and deepening across the strath, Face-of-Light tripped merrily over the grassy banks, gathering wild flowers. Silence had fallen on the world ; no bird sang and no wind whispered, the lochs were asleep, and the shrunken river made scarcely a sound louder than the sigh of a sleeping babe; it was no longer bright when Face-of-Light turned away from it.
The black fairy looked out from his mountain home. He knew that the white fairy had lain down to rest, and he watched Face-of-Light gathering wild flowers. Nearer and nearer she came to his dwelling, and he crept into a deep forest which conceals the entrance to his mountain, and waited to seize her. Face-of-Light, never dreaming of her peril, tripped towards the edge of the forest; and, seeing many flowers growing beneath the trees, went in to pluck them. She made the forest bright with her beauty, and the flowers grew fairer as she drew near.
Suddenly a great black hand was thrust out from a thick clump of bushes. The hand seized her, and she shrieked in terror and struggled to escape. The white fairy heard her cries, which pierced the air like the keen long whistle of the curlew, leapt up, and looked forth from his mountain top. In a moment he knew what had happened. Faceof-Light had been seized by his enemy, the black fairy, who was dragging her to a dark dungeon in the middle of his mountain. The white fairy was unable to come to her rescue for two reasons.
Like his dark enemy, he could not pass the utmost limits of his mountain house, and having already shot a golden arrow that day, he could not shoot another until a new day had dawned.
Night came on, and the black fairy climbed to the top of his mountain, where he danced with joy because he had taken captive the bride of his enemy. The white fairy was stricken with sorrow, and when he heard the cries of Face-of-Light coming from the dungeon, he fell down in a swoon.
All night long Face-of-Light sobbed and wept, while the black fairy danced on the mountain top and sang songs of triumph. He danced so fast that he raised a wind which swept down the strath and shook the trees from sleep, so that they moaned and sighed all night long. The cries of Face-of-Light were heard by human beings, and those who were awakened said one to another: "Listen to the hag of night. How terrible are her cries!"
Not until the dawn began to break did the white fairy recover from his swoon. Just when the first shaft of grey light pierced the eastern sky, he opened his eyes. Then he remembered his sorrow and wept softly. His tears fell as dew on the flowers and the grass.
Weeping, he climbed his mountain, and then wandered round about the crest of it. His heart was heavy for the loss of Face-of-Light, and when he listened he heard her moaning in her dark prison. The black fairy had ceased to dance. He stood upright on the highest point of his mountain house, and shouted to his enemy: "Ha! Face-of-Light is my prisoner." Then suddenly he was silent. He saw the white fairy stringing his silver bow and then drawing from his shining quiver a bright golden arrow.
"Ha!" cried the black fairy, "would you dare shoot at me?"
"Set free Face-of-Light, or I shall shoot," the white fairy made answer. His face was white as snow and hard as ice.
The black fairy laughed, and willed himself to become invisible, and then, just as the white fairy raised his bow to take aim, his enemy vanished from sight. No part of him could be seen but the great red spot on his left breast, which seemed to float in the air.
For a moment the white fairy, gazing eastward, looked with wonder at the red spot which grew brighter and brighter. His bow was bent, and his golden arrow was held ready for flight.
The sound of defiant laughter came down the wind as the black fairy, now invisible, danced with joy on his mountain top.
To and fro swayed the red spot, and the white fairy thought he would shoot at it. His aim was true and his arm was strong. Straight from the bow flew the bright golden arrow. It darted through the air with lightning speed and struck the red spot, which, be it known, was the heart of the black fairy. A shriek rang out across the strath. It was the death shriek of the black fairy, who fell down on the bare rock and died. His life-blood streamed forth, and the whole eastern sky was covered with it. In the midst of the redness gleamed the bright golden arrow of the white fairy.
No sooner was the black fairy slain than Face-of-Light was set free. The doors of her dungeon flew open, and she came forth in all her beauty. When she did so, the mountains and the strath were made bright, the river sparkled in the light, and the lochs flashed like burnished silver. All the land was made glad when Face-of-Light was set free from her dark prison. The slumbering flowers opened their eyes to gaze upon her, and the birds broke forth in merry song, while the white fairy smiled and danced with joy.
The black fairy lay dead and invisible on his mountain top until evening came on. Then his mother came to visit him. When she found that her son had been slain, she took from her wallet a pot of healing balsam and rubbed it on his wound. Then she rubbed the balsam on his eyes and on his lips. When she did this, he came to life, and began once again to plot evil against the white fairy and his beautiful bride.
This story, which used to be told in Strathspey, is the story of the struggle between darkness and light. The black fairy is night, which begins to make itself invisible at dawn, and the red spot on his left breast is the red light of morning. The golden arrow of the white fairy is the golden shaft of sunlight that darts across the eastern heaven as the sun rises in morning splendour. Face-of-Light is the spirit of the River Spey, which is bright in daytime and lost to sight in the darkness of night.
When the story-teller says that Face-of-Light leaves the river, he means that its brightness leaves it when the shadows of night are falling.
A different story is told in the Ness valley. There are two mountains on either side of Loch Ness, and on each is a Fooar, or giant. They are rivals too. One loves the daylight and the other loves darkness.
Every morning at dawn one Fooar flings across Loch Ness a white boulder. When the boulder goes through the air the sky becomes bright. Every evening the other Fooar flings across Loch Ness a black boulder, and the sky grows dark.
The rivals can throw their boulders only once in every twenty -four hours. When the white boulder is flung, it strikes the night Fooar, and he falls down in a swoon. He does not recover until evening, and then he rises and, in turn, flings his black boulder, and strikes down his rival, who then lies unconscious until the dawn. When the giant of day grasps his white boulder and raises it on high, his red hand can be seen in the sky, and the red hand of the giant of night is often seen at evening. Sometimes the giants turn round the boulders to adjust them for throwing. Then the gold rings on their fingers and the golden armlets on their arms flash across the sky in bright splendour.
Liz Doyle likes this.
Soon after Saint Columba established his residence in Iona, tradition says that he paid a visit to a great seminary of Druids, then in the vicinity, at a place called Camusnan Ceul, or Bay of Cells, i...Soon after Saint Columba established his residence in Iona, tradition says that he paid a visit to a great seminary of Druids, then in the vicinity, at a place called Camusnan Ceul, or Bay of Cells, in the district of Ardnamurchan. Several remains of Druidical circles are still to be seen there, and on that bay and the neighbourhood many places are still named after their rites and ceremonies; such as Ardintibert, the Mount of Sacrifice, and others. The fame of the Saint had been for some time well known to the people, and his intention of instructing them in the doctrines of Christianity was announced to them. The ancient priesthood made every exertion to dissuade the inhabitants from hearing the powerful eloquence of Columba, and in this they were seconded by the principal man then in that country, whose name was Donald, a son of Connal.
The Saint had no sooner made his appearance, however, than he was surrounded by a vast multitude, anxious to hear so celebrated a preacher; and after the sermon was ended, many persons expressed a desire to be baptized, in spite of the remonstrances of the Druids. Columba had made choice of an eminence centrally situated for performing worship; but there was no water near the spot, and the son of Connal threatened with punishment any who should dare to procure it for his purpose. The Saint stood with his back leaning on a rock; after a short prayer, he struck the rock with his foot, and a stream of water issued forth in great abundance. The miracle had a powerful effect on the minds of his hearers, and many became converts to the new religion. This fountain is still distinguished by the name of Columba, and is considered of superior efficacy in the cure of diseases. When the Catholic form of worship prevailed in that country it was greatly resorted to, and old persons yet remember to have seen offerings left at the fountain in gratitude for benefits received from the benignant influence of the Saint’s blessing on the water. At length it is said that a daughter of Donald, the son of Connal, expressed a wish to be baptized, and the father restrained her by violence. He also, with the aid of the Druids, forced Columba to take refuge in his boat, and the holy man departed for Iona, after warning the inhospitable Caledonian to prepare for another world, as his life would soon terminate.
The Saint was at sea during the whole night, which was stormy; and when approaching the shores of his own sacred island the following morning, a vast number of ravens were observed flying over the boat, chasing another of extraordinary large size. The croaking of the ravens awoke the Saint, who had been sleeping; and he instantly exclaimed that the son of Connal had just expired, which was afterwards ascertained to be true.
A very large Christian establishment appears to have been afterwards formed in the Bay of Cells; and the remains of a chapel, dedicated to Saint Kiaran, are still to be seen there. It is the favourite place of interment among the Catholics of this day. Indeed, Columba and many of his successors seem to have adopted the policy of engrafting their institutions on those which had formerly existed in the country. Of this there are innumerable instances, at least we observe the ruins of both still visible in many places; even in Iona we find the burying-ground of the Druids known at the present day. This practice may have had advantages at the time, but it must have been ultimately productive of many corruptions; and, in a great measure, accounts for many superstitious and absurd customs which prevailed among that people to a very recent period, and which are not yet entirely extinct. In a very ancient family in that country two round balls of coarse glass have been carefully preserved from time immemorial, and to these have been ascribed many virtues—amongst others, the cure of any extraordinary disease among cattle. The balls were immersed in cold water for three days and nights, and the water was afterwards sprinkled over all the cattle; this was expected to cure those affected, and to prevent the disease in the rest. From the names and appearance of these balls, there is no doubt that they had been symbols used by the Archdruids.
Within a short distance of the Bay of Cells there is a cave very remarkable in its appearance, and still more so from the purposes to which it has been appropriated. Saint Columba, on one of his many voyages among the Hebrides, was benighted on this rocky coast, and the mariners were alarmed for their own safety. The Saint assured them that neither he nor his crew would ever be drowned. They unexpectedly discovered a light at no great distance, and to that they directed their course. Columba’s boat consisted of a frame of osiers, which was covered with hides of leather, and it was received into a very narrow creek close to this cave. After returning thanks for their escape, the Saint and his people had great difficulty in climbing up to the cave, which is elevated considerably above sea. They at length got sight of the fire which had first attracted their attention. Several persons sat around it, and their appearance was not much calculated to please the holy man. Their aspects were fierce, and they had on the fire some flesh roasting over the coals. The Saint gave them his benediction; and he was invited to sit down among them and to share their hurried repast, with which he gladly complied. They were freebooters, who lived by plunder and robbery, and this Columba soon discovered. He advised them to forsake that course, and to be converted to his doctrines, to which they all assented, and in the morning they accompanied the Saint on his voyage homeward. This circumstance created a high veneration for the cave among the disciples and successors of Columba, and that veneration still continues, in some degree. In one side of it there was a cleft of the rock, where lay the water with which the freebooters had been baptized; and this was afterwards formed by art into a basin, which is supplied with water by drops from the roof of the cave. It is alleged never to be empty or to overflow, and the most salubrious qualities are ascribed to it. To obtain the benefit of it, however, the votaries must undergo a very severe ordeal. They must be in the cave before daylight; they stand on the spot where the Saint first landed his boat, and nine waves must dash over their heads; they must afterwards pass through nine openings in the walls of the cave; and, lastly, they must swallow nine mouthfuls out of the holy basin. After invoking the aid of the Saint, the votaries within three weeks are either relieved by death or by recovery. Offerings are left in a certain place appropriated for that purpose; and these are sometimes of considerable value, nor are they ever abstracted. Strangers are always informed that a young man, who had wantonly taken away some of these not many years since, broke his leg before he got home, and this affords the property of the Saint ample protection.
The Saint had no sooner made his appearance, however, than he was surrounded by a vast multitude, anxious to hear so celebrated a preacher; and after the sermon was ended, many persons expressed a desire to be baptized, in spite of the remonstrances of the Druids. Columba had made choice of an eminence centrally situated for performing worship; but there was no water near the spot, and the son of Connal threatened with punishment any who should dare to procure it for his purpose. The Saint stood with his back leaning on a rock; after a short prayer, he struck the rock with his foot, and a stream of water issued forth in great abundance. The miracle had a powerful effect on the minds of his hearers, and many became converts to the new religion. This fountain is still distinguished by the name of Columba, and is considered of superior efficacy in the cure of diseases. When the Catholic form of worship prevailed in that country it was greatly resorted to, and old persons yet remember to have seen offerings left at the fountain in gratitude for benefits received from the benignant influence of the Saint’s blessing on the water. At length it is said that a daughter of Donald, the son of Connal, expressed a wish to be baptized, and the father restrained her by violence. He also, with the aid of the Druids, forced Columba to take refuge in his boat, and the holy man departed for Iona, after warning the inhospitable Caledonian to prepare for another world, as his life would soon terminate.
The Saint was at sea during the whole night, which was stormy; and when approaching the shores of his own sacred island the following morning, a vast number of ravens were observed flying over the boat, chasing another of extraordinary large size. The croaking of the ravens awoke the Saint, who had been sleeping; and he instantly exclaimed that the son of Connal had just expired, which was afterwards ascertained to be true.
A very large Christian establishment appears to have been afterwards formed in the Bay of Cells; and the remains of a chapel, dedicated to Saint Kiaran, are still to be seen there. It is the favourite place of interment among the Catholics of this day. Indeed, Columba and many of his successors seem to have adopted the policy of engrafting their institutions on those which had formerly existed in the country. Of this there are innumerable instances, at least we observe the ruins of both still visible in many places; even in Iona we find the burying-ground of the Druids known at the present day. This practice may have had advantages at the time, but it must have been ultimately productive of many corruptions; and, in a great measure, accounts for many superstitious and absurd customs which prevailed among that people to a very recent period, and which are not yet entirely extinct. In a very ancient family in that country two round balls of coarse glass have been carefully preserved from time immemorial, and to these have been ascribed many virtues—amongst others, the cure of any extraordinary disease among cattle. The balls were immersed in cold water for three days and nights, and the water was afterwards sprinkled over all the cattle; this was expected to cure those affected, and to prevent the disease in the rest. From the names and appearance of these balls, there is no doubt that they had been symbols used by the Archdruids.
Within a short distance of the Bay of Cells there is a cave very remarkable in its appearance, and still more so from the purposes to which it has been appropriated. Saint Columba, on one of his many voyages among the Hebrides, was benighted on this rocky coast, and the mariners were alarmed for their own safety. The Saint assured them that neither he nor his crew would ever be drowned. They unexpectedly discovered a light at no great distance, and to that they directed their course. Columba’s boat consisted of a frame of osiers, which was covered with hides of leather, and it was received into a very narrow creek close to this cave. After returning thanks for their escape, the Saint and his people had great difficulty in climbing up to the cave, which is elevated considerably above sea. They at length got sight of the fire which had first attracted their attention. Several persons sat around it, and their appearance was not much calculated to please the holy man. Their aspects were fierce, and they had on the fire some flesh roasting over the coals. The Saint gave them his benediction; and he was invited to sit down among them and to share their hurried repast, with which he gladly complied. They were freebooters, who lived by plunder and robbery, and this Columba soon discovered. He advised them to forsake that course, and to be converted to his doctrines, to which they all assented, and in the morning they accompanied the Saint on his voyage homeward. This circumstance created a high veneration for the cave among the disciples and successors of Columba, and that veneration still continues, in some degree. In one side of it there was a cleft of the rock, where lay the water with which the freebooters had been baptized; and this was afterwards formed by art into a basin, which is supplied with water by drops from the roof of the cave. It is alleged never to be empty or to overflow, and the most salubrious qualities are ascribed to it. To obtain the benefit of it, however, the votaries must undergo a very severe ordeal. They must be in the cave before daylight; they stand on the spot where the Saint first landed his boat, and nine waves must dash over their heads; they must afterwards pass through nine openings in the walls of the cave; and, lastly, they must swallow nine mouthfuls out of the holy basin. After invoking the aid of the Saint, the votaries within three weeks are either relieved by death or by recovery. Offerings are left in a certain place appropriated for that purpose; and these are sometimes of considerable value, nor are they ever abstracted. Strangers are always informed that a young man, who had wantonly taken away some of these not many years since, broke his leg before he got home, and this affords the property of the Saint ample protection.
Liz Doyle likes this.
Here in the US I knew this as the The Gingerbread Man...
Story of the Wee Bannock
There was once an old man and an old woman who lived in a nice wee house by the side of a burn. They didn’t have very mu...Here in the US I knew this as the The Gingerbread Man...
Story of the Wee Bannock
There was once an old man and an old woman who lived in a nice wee house by the side of a burn. They didn’t have very much, but they had two cows that gave them milk, five hens who gave them lovely brown eggs to eat, a cock who crowed in the morning and told them when it was time to get up, a cat who kept the house free from mice and two kittens who played rough-and-tumble by the side of the fire. The old man looked after the cows and the hens and grew vegetables in the garden while his wife cooked, cleaned and spun wool on a spindle and distaff. One day, after their morning porridge, the old woman thought that she’d like a nice wee oatmeal bannock for their supper, so she took down her mixing bowl and she made two fine wee bannocks and she set them over the fire to cook. When they were ready, and lying toasting by the fireside, the old man came in and sniffed the air.
'Mmmm, bannocks,' he said, 'they smell grand!'
He picked up one of the bannocks and snapped it in two and started to eat it. The other wee bannock sat up, rubbed its eyes in horror as it saw its friend being eaten, and then it jumped down onto the floor and ran out of the house as fast as its wee bannock legs would carry it. The old woman ran after it, still carrying the spindle and distaff in her hand, but she was an old woman and it was a very young bannock and it soon disappeared out of sight.
It ran and it ran until it saw a fine house with a thatched roof and it ran through the door and headed for the fireplace. In the room were three tailors, who were sitting crossed legged on a big table, but as soon as they saw the wee bannock they gave a scream of terror and ran and hid behind the tailor’s wife, like chicks behind a mother hen.
'Och, you bunch of scardy-cats,' said the tailor’s wife, 'it’s only a wee bannock come to warm its wee nose by our fireside. Quick, catch it and we can have it along with a glass of milk.'
The tailor and his two apprentices tried to catch the wee bannock, but it was too fast for them. The tailor threw an iron at it, while his wife, who had been carding flax, threw her cards at it, but they both missed. The one apprentice tried to hit it with his lap-board while the other one ran after it with his shears, going Snip! Snip! Snip! trying to cut the wee bannock into two. But the wee bannock ran outside and was away.
By the side of the road stood a wee house, and the bannock ran in there to hide. There sat a weaver at his loom, weaving cloth, while his wife was winding a hank of yarn.
'Tibby, my love,' said the weaver, 'what was that?'
'Why Willie, my dear,' said his wife, 'it’s a fine wee bannock.'
'Then be quick, and grab it,' said the weaver, 'for that porridge we had for breakfast was very thin and watery.'
The woman threw her hank of wool at the bannock, while the weaver lunged at it, but it was too fast for them. It was out the door and over the hill like a freshly tarred sheep!
It ran into another house where a woman was standing churning cream into butter. She smiled when she saw it enter and said:
'Come away in, wee bannock! I have some cream left over and you’ll be very tasty mixed with that.'
She chased the wee bannock around and around the churn, until she nearly knocked the churn over and only just managed to steady it to stop it from falling. By the time she had saved the churn she was just able to see its wee bannock backside disappearing through the door.
Down the hillside the wee bannock ran until it saw a mill and ran inside. The miller saw the wee bannock come puffing through the door, and he smiled a big smile.
'My, what a great country this is,' said the miller, 'that there is so much food that wee bannocks are running around wild. Why don’t you come here while I introduce you to my friend, Mr Cheese! I am very fond of cheese and bannocks, and will be happy to give you a nice, warm place to spend the night.'
As he said that he rubbed his big belly, and licked his lips. The wee bannock knew that cheese was a dangerous thing to be around, and he didn’t trust the miller, so he turned tail and ran out of the mill and away.
The next place that the wee bannock came to was a smiddy, and there inside was a huge blacksmith standing by his anvil hammering away at some iron to make it into horseshoe nails. The forge was burning brightly alongside of him, so the wee bannock toddled towards it for a warm. They seem to like the fireside, wee bannocks, maybe it’s because that are made over a fire, or maybe they are related to cats. Anyway, the blacksmith laughed when he saw the wee bannock, and he picked up an iron rod and put it into the forge and pumped the bellows until the sparks flew and the fire blazed.
'I’ll heat this rod until its red hot and then thrust it into a cog of strong ale to heat it up and make it tasty. Then I’ll toast you over the forge and eat you up with the ale.'
The poor wee bannock was frightened by the blacksmith, and he knew that ale was as dangerous to a wee bannock as cheese was, so he ran towards the door. The blacksmith picked up his heavy hammer and threw it at the wee bannock, but it ducked out of the way and escaped.
On and on the wee bannock ran until it reached a farmhouse that had a large stack of peats by the end of it. It ran in and up to the fire to warm its wee toes and nose. By the fire a man was busy beating lint on the floor with an iron bar while his wife was combing the flax that had been split by her husband.
'Look, Janet,' said the man, 'a wee bannock! I’ll have half of it.'
'And I’ll have the other half,' said his wife, 'hurry up John, and hit it over the back with the rod.'
The man swung the iron rod at the wee bannock, while his wife threw her flax comb at it, but it was too quick for either of them. They chased it around and around the room, but the wee bannock ducked and weaved around them. Why, if only they could have taught that wee bannock to play rugby then Scotland would never lose a match again! It slipped between the man’s legs, was out the door and away.
It ran up a stream to the next house, where a woman was stirring a porridge pot with a stick.
'Jock! Jock!' she shouted to her husband, 'You’re always crying that you would like a wee bannock, well, one has just walked through the door! Come here and help me to catch it.'
Jock came lumbering into the room and they both tried to grab the wee bannock, but it was far too clever for them. The woman threw her porridge stick at the wee bannock, while the man tried to catch it with the rope that he had been plaiting from rushes, but he didn’t know how to make a lasso, and so after leading them a merry dance the wee bannock slipped out of the door and away into the evening.
The next house that the wee bannock came to sat up on the hillside. It ran through the door and right up to the fire where the woman of the house was dishing up the supper porridge with a big spoon.
'Well, well! Will you look at that; a wee bannock is warming itself by our fire.'
'Quick,' said her husband, 'bar the door. We’ll have that wee bannock to eat after our porridge. There is never enough to eat around here.'
As soon as the wee bannock heard that it was off through the house, being chased by the man and his wife, both with spoons in their hand. The man threw his bonnet at the wee bannock, but despite its size it was as fast on its feet as a pancake and the bonnet skimmed over the top of its head and landed on the floor in front of it. The wee bannock jumped over the bonnet and was out the door in a flash.
By the time it reached the next house the sun was setting, and the old man and the old woman were getting ready to go to bed. The old man had just taken off his trousers and was standing by the bed in his long, woolly drawers, when the wee bannock ran past him.
'What was that?' he asked his wife.
'Why, it’s a wee bannock,' she replied.
'I could do with a bite of that bannock,' the old man said, 'for the supper porridge tonight wouldn’t have stuck much flesh to my ribs.'
'Catch it,' cried the old woman, 'for I could do with a piece of it too.'
The two of them scrambled around after it, but it was too fast for them.
'Throw your trousers over it,' shouted the old woman.
The old man grabbed his trousers and threw them over the top of the wee bannock. The wee bannock lay there on the floor, almost smothered by the old man’s trousers. They smelt of old string and Pan Drops mint sweeties, but eventually the wee bannock struggled free and ran out of the door and into the night. The old man ran after it too, but after a while he gave up and had the embarrassment of walking home wearing just his long woolly drawers and matching woolly simmet.
By this time it was getting dark, and the wee bannock thought that it would have to find a safe place to sleep for the night. There was a big clump of whin bushes up ahead, so the wee bannock slipped into them to find a soft spot to rest. There, under the whin bushes, was a big hole, so the wee bannock went inside to see what was there. Mr Fox sat and watched the wee bannock as it walked towards him; for this was the fox’s home. He hadn’t eaten for two days and he was very hungry. He smiled, a big, toothy smile, and said,
'Welcome, welcome!' and then with one snap of his sharp teeth he bit the wee bannock in two; and that was the end of the wee bannock.
Story of the Wee Bannock
There was once an old man and an old woman who lived in a nice wee house by the side of a burn. They didn’t have very mu...Here in the US I knew this as the The Gingerbread Man...
Story of the Wee Bannock
There was once an old man and an old woman who lived in a nice wee house by the side of a burn. They didn’t have very much, but they had two cows that gave them milk, five hens who gave them lovely brown eggs to eat, a cock who crowed in the morning and told them when it was time to get up, a cat who kept the house free from mice and two kittens who played rough-and-tumble by the side of the fire. The old man looked after the cows and the hens and grew vegetables in the garden while his wife cooked, cleaned and spun wool on a spindle and distaff. One day, after their morning porridge, the old woman thought that she’d like a nice wee oatmeal bannock for their supper, so she took down her mixing bowl and she made two fine wee bannocks and she set them over the fire to cook. When they were ready, and lying toasting by the fireside, the old man came in and sniffed the air.
'Mmmm, bannocks,' he said, 'they smell grand!'
He picked up one of the bannocks and snapped it in two and started to eat it. The other wee bannock sat up, rubbed its eyes in horror as it saw its friend being eaten, and then it jumped down onto the floor and ran out of the house as fast as its wee bannock legs would carry it. The old woman ran after it, still carrying the spindle and distaff in her hand, but she was an old woman and it was a very young bannock and it soon disappeared out of sight.
It ran and it ran until it saw a fine house with a thatched roof and it ran through the door and headed for the fireplace. In the room were three tailors, who were sitting crossed legged on a big table, but as soon as they saw the wee bannock they gave a scream of terror and ran and hid behind the tailor’s wife, like chicks behind a mother hen.
'Och, you bunch of scardy-cats,' said the tailor’s wife, 'it’s only a wee bannock come to warm its wee nose by our fireside. Quick, catch it and we can have it along with a glass of milk.'
The tailor and his two apprentices tried to catch the wee bannock, but it was too fast for them. The tailor threw an iron at it, while his wife, who had been carding flax, threw her cards at it, but they both missed. The one apprentice tried to hit it with his lap-board while the other one ran after it with his shears, going Snip! Snip! Snip! trying to cut the wee bannock into two. But the wee bannock ran outside and was away.
By the side of the road stood a wee house, and the bannock ran in there to hide. There sat a weaver at his loom, weaving cloth, while his wife was winding a hank of yarn.
'Tibby, my love,' said the weaver, 'what was that?'
'Why Willie, my dear,' said his wife, 'it’s a fine wee bannock.'
'Then be quick, and grab it,' said the weaver, 'for that porridge we had for breakfast was very thin and watery.'
The woman threw her hank of wool at the bannock, while the weaver lunged at it, but it was too fast for them. It was out the door and over the hill like a freshly tarred sheep!
It ran into another house where a woman was standing churning cream into butter. She smiled when she saw it enter and said:
'Come away in, wee bannock! I have some cream left over and you’ll be very tasty mixed with that.'
She chased the wee bannock around and around the churn, until she nearly knocked the churn over and only just managed to steady it to stop it from falling. By the time she had saved the churn she was just able to see its wee bannock backside disappearing through the door.
Down the hillside the wee bannock ran until it saw a mill and ran inside. The miller saw the wee bannock come puffing through the door, and he smiled a big smile.
'My, what a great country this is,' said the miller, 'that there is so much food that wee bannocks are running around wild. Why don’t you come here while I introduce you to my friend, Mr Cheese! I am very fond of cheese and bannocks, and will be happy to give you a nice, warm place to spend the night.'
As he said that he rubbed his big belly, and licked his lips. The wee bannock knew that cheese was a dangerous thing to be around, and he didn’t trust the miller, so he turned tail and ran out of the mill and away.
The next place that the wee bannock came to was a smiddy, and there inside was a huge blacksmith standing by his anvil hammering away at some iron to make it into horseshoe nails. The forge was burning brightly alongside of him, so the wee bannock toddled towards it for a warm. They seem to like the fireside, wee bannocks, maybe it’s because that are made over a fire, or maybe they are related to cats. Anyway, the blacksmith laughed when he saw the wee bannock, and he picked up an iron rod and put it into the forge and pumped the bellows until the sparks flew and the fire blazed.
'I’ll heat this rod until its red hot and then thrust it into a cog of strong ale to heat it up and make it tasty. Then I’ll toast you over the forge and eat you up with the ale.'
The poor wee bannock was frightened by the blacksmith, and he knew that ale was as dangerous to a wee bannock as cheese was, so he ran towards the door. The blacksmith picked up his heavy hammer and threw it at the wee bannock, but it ducked out of the way and escaped.
On and on the wee bannock ran until it reached a farmhouse that had a large stack of peats by the end of it. It ran in and up to the fire to warm its wee toes and nose. By the fire a man was busy beating lint on the floor with an iron bar while his wife was combing the flax that had been split by her husband.
'Look, Janet,' said the man, 'a wee bannock! I’ll have half of it.'
'And I’ll have the other half,' said his wife, 'hurry up John, and hit it over the back with the rod.'
The man swung the iron rod at the wee bannock, while his wife threw her flax comb at it, but it was too quick for either of them. They chased it around and around the room, but the wee bannock ducked and weaved around them. Why, if only they could have taught that wee bannock to play rugby then Scotland would never lose a match again! It slipped between the man’s legs, was out the door and away.
It ran up a stream to the next house, where a woman was stirring a porridge pot with a stick.
'Jock! Jock!' she shouted to her husband, 'You’re always crying that you would like a wee bannock, well, one has just walked through the door! Come here and help me to catch it.'
Jock came lumbering into the room and they both tried to grab the wee bannock, but it was far too clever for them. The woman threw her porridge stick at the wee bannock, while the man tried to catch it with the rope that he had been plaiting from rushes, but he didn’t know how to make a lasso, and so after leading them a merry dance the wee bannock slipped out of the door and away into the evening.
The next house that the wee bannock came to sat up on the hillside. It ran through the door and right up to the fire where the woman of the house was dishing up the supper porridge with a big spoon.
'Well, well! Will you look at that; a wee bannock is warming itself by our fire.'
'Quick,' said her husband, 'bar the door. We’ll have that wee bannock to eat after our porridge. There is never enough to eat around here.'
As soon as the wee bannock heard that it was off through the house, being chased by the man and his wife, both with spoons in their hand. The man threw his bonnet at the wee bannock, but despite its size it was as fast on its feet as a pancake and the bonnet skimmed over the top of its head and landed on the floor in front of it. The wee bannock jumped over the bonnet and was out the door in a flash.
By the time it reached the next house the sun was setting, and the old man and the old woman were getting ready to go to bed. The old man had just taken off his trousers and was standing by the bed in his long, woolly drawers, when the wee bannock ran past him.
'What was that?' he asked his wife.
'Why, it’s a wee bannock,' she replied.
'I could do with a bite of that bannock,' the old man said, 'for the supper porridge tonight wouldn’t have stuck much flesh to my ribs.'
'Catch it,' cried the old woman, 'for I could do with a piece of it too.'
The two of them scrambled around after it, but it was too fast for them.
'Throw your trousers over it,' shouted the old woman.
The old man grabbed his trousers and threw them over the top of the wee bannock. The wee bannock lay there on the floor, almost smothered by the old man’s trousers. They smelt of old string and Pan Drops mint sweeties, but eventually the wee bannock struggled free and ran out of the door and into the night. The old man ran after it too, but after a while he gave up and had the embarrassment of walking home wearing just his long woolly drawers and matching woolly simmet.
By this time it was getting dark, and the wee bannock thought that it would have to find a safe place to sleep for the night. There was a big clump of whin bushes up ahead, so the wee bannock slipped into them to find a soft spot to rest. There, under the whin bushes, was a big hole, so the wee bannock went inside to see what was there. Mr Fox sat and watched the wee bannock as it walked towards him; for this was the fox’s home. He hadn’t eaten for two days and he was very hungry. He smiled, a big, toothy smile, and said,
'Welcome, welcome!' and then with one snap of his sharp teeth he bit the wee bannock in two; and that was the end of the wee bannock.
Liz Doyle likes this.
From heartoscotland.com...
Christmas in Scotland
What is Christmas in Scotland really like? The following article was written by a young Scotswoman willing to share with Americans how the Scots celebrat...From heartoscotland.com...
Christmas in Scotland
What is Christmas in Scotland really like? The following article was written by a young Scotswoman willing to share with Americans how the Scots celebrate Christmas.
A Real Scottish Christmas
Dear Americans.
I have entitled this article "A Real Scottish Christmas" and I hope that it gives interested people some insight into how the average Scot spends the festive season. Personally, I'm spending this year snowboarding in France, but for the majority of Scots stuck with it, here's how it goes:
Christmas shopping in Scotland: Apart from the supermarket "Christmas Savings Stamps", which start earlier, this now starts just before Hallowe'en, when the shops start filling up with a variety of gift ideas. The big out of town shopping centres tend to start their decorations earliest, but keen to attract shoppers to town centres, which are losing business to the out of town centres, local councils light up the streets and encourage shops to stay open later in competition. The bigger cities are now attempting a more classy look by putting fairy lights into the trees that are there all year round, while smaller towns tend to get multicoloured light bulbs into a big fir tree in the town centre. These get gradually smashed by young people in the run up to Christmas leaving one or two at the top by December 24th.
The advertising also gets into full swing round about Hallowe'en so that the children have plenty of time to drive their parents mad asking for the latest toys. Also in shopping centres Santa's Grottos appear, where children queue up to go in and ask Santa for what they want at Christmas, and get given a small toy.
Letters to Santa: Children at this time often start to make Christmas lists, which are lists of the presents they want. Some children send this list to 'Santa' in Lapland by one means or another. I was told that you could burn this on the fire and the list would go up the chimney and get to Santa that way. However my parents "living flame" fire was behind glass so that never really worked.
Decorating Houses: The next exciting thing that happens is that people start to decorate their houses. These decorations are getting gradually more outrageous as the years go by with the humble plastic tree and bits of tinsel strung across the ceiling being replaced by light up musical Santas climbing into windows and fake snow being rolled out across roofs. We don't tend to get real snow any more due to global warming (hence going to France). Children can join in the countdown by using advent calendars, which have little doors that you can open for every day in December with a little picture behind, ending on Christmas Eve.
On Christmas Eve: The children are in a frenzy of excitement waiting for their presents. Practice at this point varies; I used to have big presents put under the Christmas tree to find in the morning as well as a stocking for smaller presents at the end of the bed for Santa to come and fill in the night ready for me to find in the morning. Some families used pillow cases instead of stockings, and some don't see the point of stockings at all and just go for the big presents. We eat ordinary food on Christmas Eve.
On Christmas day: Usually families will get together to open their presents and have a big Christmas lunch. Everyone looks hopefully out of the window to see if it will snow, and I remember it did once. Presents are unwrapped carefully so that the wrapping paper can be used again. Often dads and grandpas get socks. Lunch is usually turkey with all the trimmings and one or two glasses of wine or champagne. Pudding is usually a Christmas cake - some people who don't like fruit cake may have a Yule log, which is a chocolate cake from Sweden. Most people have Christmas crackers and eat their dinner wearing a paper crown. Following this the whole family get together in front of the TV and fall asleep in front of either:
1. "The Wizard of Oz" or
2. "The Sound of Music" or
3. "The Queen's Speech" (always at 3pm).
At tea time, our family liked to have a light supper of bread and butter and smoked salmon, and more crackers if there are any left.
Thus ends Christmas and we all wait for a few days until Hogmanay. (Ed. note: Hogmanay is New Year's)
Hogmanay is the time of year when children get to stay up until 12:00 am. It goes like this:
1. Sit up watching 'hoochter choochter' music on the telly and trying not to fall asleep. For many years a comedy show called 'Scotch and Wry' was shown, even for several years after the death of the main character. Now we have pictures of the tourists in the streets of Edinburgh.
2. Just before midnight, go to your neighbour's across the road, where they will be waiting with bowls of mixed nuts and a glass of wine. Some (generally older) people may at this point drink whiskey. Remember to take a lump of stone symbolising a piece of coal for good luck. This is called "First Footing".
3. At "the bells" (on the telly), everyone stands up and stands in a circle with their hands crossed, holding hands with the people on either side of them, and sings 'Auld Lang Syne' while feeling slightly embarrassed.
4. Stay for a bit to make an effort and then go home and climb gratefully into bed.
The younger and more adventurous may go round to more than one person's house and take them all a lump of stone, and will get drunk. If there are a lot of people about in the streets, everyone will wish each other a happy new year and kiss each other on the (usually) cheek. This is what used to happen in Edinburgh but can no longer because the whole town is full of tourists who don't know what to do and the people who live in Edinburgh aren't allowed across town without a ticket.
January the 2nd is also a Scottish holiday. However we have two less public holidays than England throughout the rest of the year to make up for it.
I hope you have enjoyed this little slice of Scottish life, and you have my best wishes for recreating it in America.
Merry Christmas!
Well, there you have it! Sounds like Americans and Scots don't differ too much in our ways of celebrating that most commercial of holidays - but as we say in America: "It's for the children."
Christmas in Scotland
What is Christmas in Scotland really like? The following article was written by a young Scotswoman willing to share with Americans how the Scots celebrat...From heartoscotland.com...
Christmas in Scotland
What is Christmas in Scotland really like? The following article was written by a young Scotswoman willing to share with Americans how the Scots celebrate Christmas.
A Real Scottish Christmas
Dear Americans.
I have entitled this article "A Real Scottish Christmas" and I hope that it gives interested people some insight into how the average Scot spends the festive season. Personally, I'm spending this year snowboarding in France, but for the majority of Scots stuck with it, here's how it goes:
Christmas shopping in Scotland: Apart from the supermarket "Christmas Savings Stamps", which start earlier, this now starts just before Hallowe'en, when the shops start filling up with a variety of gift ideas. The big out of town shopping centres tend to start their decorations earliest, but keen to attract shoppers to town centres, which are losing business to the out of town centres, local councils light up the streets and encourage shops to stay open later in competition. The bigger cities are now attempting a more classy look by putting fairy lights into the trees that are there all year round, while smaller towns tend to get multicoloured light bulbs into a big fir tree in the town centre. These get gradually smashed by young people in the run up to Christmas leaving one or two at the top by December 24th.
The advertising also gets into full swing round about Hallowe'en so that the children have plenty of time to drive their parents mad asking for the latest toys. Also in shopping centres Santa's Grottos appear, where children queue up to go in and ask Santa for what they want at Christmas, and get given a small toy.
Letters to Santa: Children at this time often start to make Christmas lists, which are lists of the presents they want. Some children send this list to 'Santa' in Lapland by one means or another. I was told that you could burn this on the fire and the list would go up the chimney and get to Santa that way. However my parents "living flame" fire was behind glass so that never really worked.
Decorating Houses: The next exciting thing that happens is that people start to decorate their houses. These decorations are getting gradually more outrageous as the years go by with the humble plastic tree and bits of tinsel strung across the ceiling being replaced by light up musical Santas climbing into windows and fake snow being rolled out across roofs. We don't tend to get real snow any more due to global warming (hence going to France). Children can join in the countdown by using advent calendars, which have little doors that you can open for every day in December with a little picture behind, ending on Christmas Eve.
On Christmas Eve: The children are in a frenzy of excitement waiting for their presents. Practice at this point varies; I used to have big presents put under the Christmas tree to find in the morning as well as a stocking for smaller presents at the end of the bed for Santa to come and fill in the night ready for me to find in the morning. Some families used pillow cases instead of stockings, and some don't see the point of stockings at all and just go for the big presents. We eat ordinary food on Christmas Eve.
On Christmas day: Usually families will get together to open their presents and have a big Christmas lunch. Everyone looks hopefully out of the window to see if it will snow, and I remember it did once. Presents are unwrapped carefully so that the wrapping paper can be used again. Often dads and grandpas get socks. Lunch is usually turkey with all the trimmings and one or two glasses of wine or champagne. Pudding is usually a Christmas cake - some people who don't like fruit cake may have a Yule log, which is a chocolate cake from Sweden. Most people have Christmas crackers and eat their dinner wearing a paper crown. Following this the whole family get together in front of the TV and fall asleep in front of either:
1. "The Wizard of Oz" or
2. "The Sound of Music" or
3. "The Queen's Speech" (always at 3pm).
At tea time, our family liked to have a light supper of bread and butter and smoked salmon, and more crackers if there are any left.
Thus ends Christmas and we all wait for a few days until Hogmanay. (Ed. note: Hogmanay is New Year's)
Hogmanay is the time of year when children get to stay up until 12:00 am. It goes like this:
1. Sit up watching 'hoochter choochter' music on the telly and trying not to fall asleep. For many years a comedy show called 'Scotch and Wry' was shown, even for several years after the death of the main character. Now we have pictures of the tourists in the streets of Edinburgh.
2. Just before midnight, go to your neighbour's across the road, where they will be waiting with bowls of mixed nuts and a glass of wine. Some (generally older) people may at this point drink whiskey. Remember to take a lump of stone symbolising a piece of coal for good luck. This is called "First Footing".
3. At "the bells" (on the telly), everyone stands up and stands in a circle with their hands crossed, holding hands with the people on either side of them, and sings 'Auld Lang Syne' while feeling slightly embarrassed.
4. Stay for a bit to make an effort and then go home and climb gratefully into bed.
The younger and more adventurous may go round to more than one person's house and take them all a lump of stone, and will get drunk. If there are a lot of people about in the streets, everyone will wish each other a happy new year and kiss each other on the (usually) cheek. This is what used to happen in Edinburgh but can no longer because the whole town is full of tourists who don't know what to do and the people who live in Edinburgh aren't allowed across town without a ticket.
January the 2nd is also a Scottish holiday. However we have two less public holidays than England throughout the rest of the year to make up for it.
I hope you have enjoyed this little slice of Scottish life, and you have my best wishes for recreating it in America.
Merry Christmas!
Well, there you have it! Sounds like Americans and Scots don't differ too much in our ways of celebrating that most commercial of holidays - but as we say in America: "It's for the children."
Liz Doyle likes this.
Phillip Arron McKenzie
I have spent a few Christmas's in Scotland. It is always fun to go caroleing and drink hot tea or coco after. One time it snowed! I miss a good Scotland Christmas! Thank you for sharing.
Sawney Bean - truth or myth is unknown but a strange, sad tale indeed...
Alexander "Sawney" Bean was the head of a 48-member clan in 15th- or 16th-century Scotland, reportedly executed for the mass mur...Sawney Bean - truth or myth is unknown but a strange, sad tale indeed...
Alexander "Sawney" Bean was the head of a 48-member clan in 15th- or 16th-century Scotland, reportedly executed for the mass murder and cannibalisation of over 1,000 people.
The story appears in The Newgate Calendar, a crime catalogue of Newgate Prison in London. While historians tend to believe Sawney Bean never existed or his story has been greatly exaggerated, his story has passed into local folklore and become part of the Edinburgh tourism industry.
According to The Newgate Calendar, Alexander Bean was born in East Lothian during the 1500s. His father was a ditch digger and hedge trimmer, and Bean tried to take up the family trade but quickly realised that he had little taste for honest labour.
He left home with a vicious woman who apparently shared his inclinations. The couple ended up at a coastal cave in Bennane Head between Girvan and Ballantrae where they lived undiscovered for some twenty-five years. The cave was 200 yards deep and during high tide the entrance was blocked by water.
The couple eventually produced eight sons, six daughters, eighteen grandsons and fourteen granddaughters. Various grandchildren were products of incest. Lacking the inclination for regular labour, the clan thrived by laying careful ambushes at night to rob and murder individuals or small groups. The bodies were brought back to the cave, where they were dismembered and eaten. Leftovers were pickled, and discarded body parts would sometimes wash up on nearby beaches.
The body parts and disappearances did not go unnoticed by the local villagers, but the Beans stayed in the caves by day and took their victims at night. The clan was so secretive that the villagers were unaware of the murderers living nearby.
As more significant notice of the disappearances was taken, several organised searches were launched to find the culprits. One search took note of the telltale cave but the men refused to believe anything human could live in it. Frustrated and in a frenetic quest for justice, the townspeople lynched several innocents, and the disappearances continued. Suspicion often fell on local innkeepers since they were the last known to see many of the missing people alive.
One fateful night, the Beans ambushed a married couple riding from a fair on one horse, but the man was skilled in combat, deftly holding off the clan with sword and pistol. The clan fatally mauled the wife when she fell to the ground in the conflict. Before they could take the resilient husband, a large group of fairgoers appeared on the trail and the Beans fled.
With the Beans' existence finally revealed, it was not long before King James VI of Scotland (later James I of England) heard of the atrocities and decided to lead a manhunt with a team of 400 men and several bloodhounds. They soon found the Beans' previously overlooked cave in Bennane Head. The cave was scattered with human remains, having been the scene of many murders and cannibalistic acts.
The clan was captured alive and taken in chains to the Tolbooth Jail in Edinburgh, then transferred to Leith or Glasgow where they were promptly executed without trial; the men had their genitalia cut off, hands and feet severed, and were allowed to bleed to death; the women and children, after watching the men die, were burned alive. (This recalls, in essence if not in detail, the punishments of hanging, drawing and quartering decreed for men convicted of treason while women convicted of the same were burned.)
The town of Girvan, located near the macabre scene of murder and debauchery, has another legend about the cannibal clan. It is said that one of Bean's daughters eventually left the clan and settled in Girvan, where she planted a Dule Tree that became known as "The Hairy Tree." After her family's capture, the daughter's identity was revealed by angry locals who hanged her from the bough of the Hairy Tree.
Alexander "Sawney" Bean was the head of a 48-member clan in 15th- or 16th-century Scotland, reportedly executed for the mass mur...Sawney Bean - truth or myth is unknown but a strange, sad tale indeed...
Alexander "Sawney" Bean was the head of a 48-member clan in 15th- or 16th-century Scotland, reportedly executed for the mass murder and cannibalisation of over 1,000 people.
The story appears in The Newgate Calendar, a crime catalogue of Newgate Prison in London. While historians tend to believe Sawney Bean never existed or his story has been greatly exaggerated, his story has passed into local folklore and become part of the Edinburgh tourism industry.
According to The Newgate Calendar, Alexander Bean was born in East Lothian during the 1500s. His father was a ditch digger and hedge trimmer, and Bean tried to take up the family trade but quickly realised that he had little taste for honest labour.
He left home with a vicious woman who apparently shared his inclinations. The couple ended up at a coastal cave in Bennane Head between Girvan and Ballantrae where they lived undiscovered for some twenty-five years. The cave was 200 yards deep and during high tide the entrance was blocked by water.
The couple eventually produced eight sons, six daughters, eighteen grandsons and fourteen granddaughters. Various grandchildren were products of incest. Lacking the inclination for regular labour, the clan thrived by laying careful ambushes at night to rob and murder individuals or small groups. The bodies were brought back to the cave, where they were dismembered and eaten. Leftovers were pickled, and discarded body parts would sometimes wash up on nearby beaches.
The body parts and disappearances did not go unnoticed by the local villagers, but the Beans stayed in the caves by day and took their victims at night. The clan was so secretive that the villagers were unaware of the murderers living nearby.
As more significant notice of the disappearances was taken, several organised searches were launched to find the culprits. One search took note of the telltale cave but the men refused to believe anything human could live in it. Frustrated and in a frenetic quest for justice, the townspeople lynched several innocents, and the disappearances continued. Suspicion often fell on local innkeepers since they were the last known to see many of the missing people alive.
One fateful night, the Beans ambushed a married couple riding from a fair on one horse, but the man was skilled in combat, deftly holding off the clan with sword and pistol. The clan fatally mauled the wife when she fell to the ground in the conflict. Before they could take the resilient husband, a large group of fairgoers appeared on the trail and the Beans fled.
With the Beans' existence finally revealed, it was not long before King James VI of Scotland (later James I of England) heard of the atrocities and decided to lead a manhunt with a team of 400 men and several bloodhounds. They soon found the Beans' previously overlooked cave in Bennane Head. The cave was scattered with human remains, having been the scene of many murders and cannibalistic acts.
The clan was captured alive and taken in chains to the Tolbooth Jail in Edinburgh, then transferred to Leith or Glasgow where they were promptly executed without trial; the men had their genitalia cut off, hands and feet severed, and were allowed to bleed to death; the women and children, after watching the men die, were burned alive. (This recalls, in essence if not in detail, the punishments of hanging, drawing and quartering decreed for men convicted of treason while women convicted of the same were burned.)
The town of Girvan, located near the macabre scene of murder and debauchery, has another legend about the cannibal clan. It is said that one of Bean's daughters eventually left the clan and settled in Girvan, where she planted a Dule Tree that became known as "The Hairy Tree." After her family's capture, the daughter's identity was revealed by angry locals who hanged her from the bough of the Hairy Tree.
Gowk stane
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
The name gowk stane (English: cukoo stone or fool's stone) has been applied to certain standing stones and glacial erratics boulders in Scotland, often f...Gowk stane
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
The name gowk stane (English: cukoo stone or fool's stone) has been applied to certain standing stones and glacial erratics boulders in Scotland, often found in prominent geographical situations. Other spelling variants, such as gowke, gouk, gouke, goilk, goik, gok, goke, gook are found.
Gowk in Scots means a common cuckoo (Cuculus canorus), but also a stupid person or fool. The word derives from the Old Norse 'gaukr', a cuckoo. Other explanations and origins for the term are also found. The word derives from Anglo-Saxon (Old English) 'gouk' and was replaced in the south and central England by the French loan word 'coucou' after the Norman Conquest. The cuckoo family gets its English and scientific names from the call of the bird.
The Scottish Gaelic names are Coi: Cuach: Cuachag (poetical name): Cuthag. The Welsh for cuckoo is cog.
Celtic mythology in particular is rich in references to cuckoos and the surviving folklore gives clues as to why some stones were given the gowk name.
The term gowk is perhaps best known in the context of the old Gowk's Day, the Scottish April Fools Day, originally held on April 13 when the cuckoo begins to call, and when children were sent on a gowk hunt, a harmless prank involving pointless errands.
Gowk meant both cuckoo and fool, the latter were thought to be fairy-touched. The call of the cuckoo was believed to beckon the souls of the dead, and the cuckoo was thought to be able to travel back and forth between the worlds of the living and the dead.
It was once commonly thought that the first appearance of a cuckoo also brought about a "gowk storm", a furious spring storm.
Cuckoos were said to have the power of prophesy and could foretell a person's lifespan, the number of their children and when they would marry.
It has also been suggested that the gowk or fool originated in the Dark Ages as a name for the Britons, given by the Saxons invaders, and carried some of the meaning of the Devil in the context of an arch foe, who is likened to the fool.
In the Outer Hebrides a cuckoo's call heard when a person was hungry was bad luck, however the opposite was true if the person had recently eaten.
The use of the term gowk at these sites suggests a link with springtime and some of the surviving legends associated with standing stones do have a link with the heralding of spring by the first cuckoo of that season to arrive. In the churchyard at Nevern in Wales is an old stone cross, carved with intricate knotwork. Villagers of Nevern would wait for their "harbinger of spring" and on 7 April, St Brynach's feast day, the first cuckoo of the year would arrive from Africa, alighting on the cross and singing to announce the arrival of spring.
A local belief of the Gaelic-speaking community on the Isle of Lewis was that when the sun rose on midsummer morn, the "shining one" walked along the stone avenue at Callanish, his arrival heralded by the cuckoo's call.
The cuckoo traditionally sends forth its first call in spring from the gowk stone at Lisdivin in Northern Ireland.
A few cuckoo stones are present at sites in England and Cornwall.
The various gowk stones often had other functions, such as acting as boundary markers or meeting places in what may have sometimes been featureless landscapes. The gowk stone at Whitelee may have been used as a pulpit of sorts by ministers preaching at conventicles held on this remote spot in Covenanting times.
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
The name gowk stane (English: cukoo stone or fool's stone) has been applied to certain standing stones and glacial erratics boulders in Scotland, often f...Gowk stane
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
The name gowk stane (English: cukoo stone or fool's stone) has been applied to certain standing stones and glacial erratics boulders in Scotland, often found in prominent geographical situations. Other spelling variants, such as gowke, gouk, gouke, goilk, goik, gok, goke, gook are found.
Gowk in Scots means a common cuckoo (Cuculus canorus), but also a stupid person or fool. The word derives from the Old Norse 'gaukr', a cuckoo. Other explanations and origins for the term are also found. The word derives from Anglo-Saxon (Old English) 'gouk' and was replaced in the south and central England by the French loan word 'coucou' after the Norman Conquest. The cuckoo family gets its English and scientific names from the call of the bird.
The Scottish Gaelic names are Coi: Cuach: Cuachag (poetical name): Cuthag. The Welsh for cuckoo is cog.
Celtic mythology in particular is rich in references to cuckoos and the surviving folklore gives clues as to why some stones were given the gowk name.
The term gowk is perhaps best known in the context of the old Gowk's Day, the Scottish April Fools Day, originally held on April 13 when the cuckoo begins to call, and when children were sent on a gowk hunt, a harmless prank involving pointless errands.
Gowk meant both cuckoo and fool, the latter were thought to be fairy-touched. The call of the cuckoo was believed to beckon the souls of the dead, and the cuckoo was thought to be able to travel back and forth between the worlds of the living and the dead.
It was once commonly thought that the first appearance of a cuckoo also brought about a "gowk storm", a furious spring storm.
Cuckoos were said to have the power of prophesy and could foretell a person's lifespan, the number of their children and when they would marry.
It has also been suggested that the gowk or fool originated in the Dark Ages as a name for the Britons, given by the Saxons invaders, and carried some of the meaning of the Devil in the context of an arch foe, who is likened to the fool.
In the Outer Hebrides a cuckoo's call heard when a person was hungry was bad luck, however the opposite was true if the person had recently eaten.
The use of the term gowk at these sites suggests a link with springtime and some of the surviving legends associated with standing stones do have a link with the heralding of spring by the first cuckoo of that season to arrive. In the churchyard at Nevern in Wales is an old stone cross, carved with intricate knotwork. Villagers of Nevern would wait for their "harbinger of spring" and on 7 April, St Brynach's feast day, the first cuckoo of the year would arrive from Africa, alighting on the cross and singing to announce the arrival of spring.
A local belief of the Gaelic-speaking community on the Isle of Lewis was that when the sun rose on midsummer morn, the "shining one" walked along the stone avenue at Callanish, his arrival heralded by the cuckoo's call.
The cuckoo traditionally sends forth its first call in spring from the gowk stone at Lisdivin in Northern Ireland.
A few cuckoo stones are present at sites in England and Cornwall.
The various gowk stones often had other functions, such as acting as boundary markers or meeting places in what may have sometimes been featureless landscapes. The gowk stone at Whitelee may have been used as a pulpit of sorts by ministers preaching at conventicles held on this remote spot in Covenanting times.
Liz Doyle likes this.
Known as Veterans Day in the US but known throughout the Commonwealth as Remembrance Day.
Remembrance Day (sometimes known as Poppy Day) is a memorial day observed in Commonwealth of Nations member sta...Known as Veterans Day in the US but known throughout the Commonwealth as Remembrance Day.
Remembrance Day (sometimes known as Poppy Day) is a memorial day observed in Commonwealth of Nations member states since the end of the First World War to remember the members of their armed forces who have died in the line of duty. Following a tradition inaugurated by King George V in 1919, the day is also marked by war remembrances in many non-Commonwealth countries. Remembrance Day is observed on 11 November in most countries to recall the end of hostilities of World War I on that date in 1918. Hostilities formally ended "at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month", in accordance with the armistice signed by representatives of Germany and the Entente between 5:12 and 5:20 that morning. ("At the 11th hour" refers to the passing of the 11th hour, or 11:00 am.) The First World War officially ended with the signing of the Treaty of Versailles on 28 June 1919.
The memorial evolved out of Armistice Day, which continues to be marked on the same date. The initial Armistice Day was observed at Buckingham Palace, commencing with King George V hosting a "Banquet in Honour of the President of the French Republic" during the evening hours of 10 November 1919. The first official Armistice Day was subsequently held on the grounds of Buckingham Palace the following morning.
The red remembrance poppy has become a familiar emblem of Remembrance Day due to the poem "In Flanders Fields". These poppies bloomed across some of the worst battlefields of Flanders in World War I; their brilliant red colour became a symbol for the blood spilled in the war.
The common British, Canadian, South African, and ANZAC tradition includes a one or two minute silence at the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month (11:00 am, 11 November), as that marks the time (in the United Kingdom) when the armistice became effective.
The Service of Remembrance in many Commonwealth countries generally includes the sounding of the "Last Post", followed by the period of silence, followed by the sounding of "Reveille" or sometimes just "The Rouse" (often confused for each other), and finished by a recitation of the "Ode of Remembrance". The "Flowers of the Forest", "O Valiant Hearts", "I Vow to Thee, My Country" and "Jerusalem" are often played during the service. Services also include wreaths laid to honour the fallen, a blessing, and national anthems.
The central ritual at cenotaphs throughout the Commonwealth is a stylised night vigil. The Last Post was the common bugle call at the close of the military day, and The Rouse was the first call of the morning. For military purposes, the traditional night vigil over the slain was not just to ensure they were indeed dead and not unconscious or in a coma, but also to guard them from being mutilated or despoiled by the enemy, or dragged off by scavengers. This makes the ritual more than just an act of remembrance but also a pledge to guard the honour of war dead. The act is enhanced by the use of dedicated cenotaphs (literally Greek for "empty tomb") and the laying of wreaths—the traditional means of signalling high honours in ancient Greece and Rome.
Remembrance Day (sometimes known as Poppy Day) is a memorial day observed in Commonwealth of Nations member sta...Known as Veterans Day in the US but known throughout the Commonwealth as Remembrance Day.
Remembrance Day (sometimes known as Poppy Day) is a memorial day observed in Commonwealth of Nations member states since the end of the First World War to remember the members of their armed forces who have died in the line of duty. Following a tradition inaugurated by King George V in 1919, the day is also marked by war remembrances in many non-Commonwealth countries. Remembrance Day is observed on 11 November in most countries to recall the end of hostilities of World War I on that date in 1918. Hostilities formally ended "at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month", in accordance with the armistice signed by representatives of Germany and the Entente between 5:12 and 5:20 that morning. ("At the 11th hour" refers to the passing of the 11th hour, or 11:00 am.) The First World War officially ended with the signing of the Treaty of Versailles on 28 June 1919.
The memorial evolved out of Armistice Day, which continues to be marked on the same date. The initial Armistice Day was observed at Buckingham Palace, commencing with King George V hosting a "Banquet in Honour of the President of the French Republic" during the evening hours of 10 November 1919. The first official Armistice Day was subsequently held on the grounds of Buckingham Palace the following morning.
The red remembrance poppy has become a familiar emblem of Remembrance Day due to the poem "In Flanders Fields". These poppies bloomed across some of the worst battlefields of Flanders in World War I; their brilliant red colour became a symbol for the blood spilled in the war.
The common British, Canadian, South African, and ANZAC tradition includes a one or two minute silence at the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month (11:00 am, 11 November), as that marks the time (in the United Kingdom) when the armistice became effective.
The Service of Remembrance in many Commonwealth countries generally includes the sounding of the "Last Post", followed by the period of silence, followed by the sounding of "Reveille" or sometimes just "The Rouse" (often confused for each other), and finished by a recitation of the "Ode of Remembrance". The "Flowers of the Forest", "O Valiant Hearts", "I Vow to Thee, My Country" and "Jerusalem" are often played during the service. Services also include wreaths laid to honour the fallen, a blessing, and national anthems.
The central ritual at cenotaphs throughout the Commonwealth is a stylised night vigil. The Last Post was the common bugle call at the close of the military day, and The Rouse was the first call of the morning. For military purposes, the traditional night vigil over the slain was not just to ensure they were indeed dead and not unconscious or in a coma, but also to guard them from being mutilated or despoiled by the enemy, or dragged off by scavengers. This makes the ritual more than just an act of remembrance but also a pledge to guard the honour of war dead. The act is enhanced by the use of dedicated cenotaphs (literally Greek for "empty tomb") and the laying of wreaths—the traditional means of signalling high honours in ancient Greece and Rome.
http://www.insiders-scotland-guide.com/images/175x...
All throughout the life of Sir James Matthew Barrie, you meet the characters that were to become Wendy, The Lost Boys, and Peter Pan himself. J. M...http://www.insiders-scotland-guide.com/images/175x...
All throughout the life of Sir James Matthew Barrie, you meet the characters that were to become Wendy, The Lost Boys, and Peter Pan himself. J. M. Barrie's life was poignant but filled with real-life drama and a cast of real-life people to rival any work of fiction.
Born on 9 May, 1860 in Kirriemuir, Angus, to a Calvinist family, J. M. Barrie was one of ten children, and his father was employed successfully as a weaver. His mother had taken over the responsibilities of a parent at the tender age of 8, when her own mother died, and was the model for the young but maternal Wendy. Death was to claim many members of his actual and adopted family too early, and perhaps the boy who was never to grow up may have in part been based on his next-oldest brother,(and his mother's favourite) who was killed in a skating accident just two days before his 14th birthday, when Barrie himself was only 6 years old.
J. M. Barrie's mother was inconsolable, and Barrie attempted to take his brother's place by entertaining her with his storytelling and even at times wearing his brother's clothes, but it was a hopeless task. Once, on entering his mother's room he heard her say "Is that you?" and he believed she was talking to his dead brother. Barrie replied, "No, it's no' him, it's just me".
His mother drew comfort from the fact that his lost brother would be forever young, echoes of Barrie's most famous character, the eternally boyish Peter Pan.
Barrie's parents wanted him to become a minister but he had other dreams...he wanted to be an author. Barrie was sent away to school in Dumfries, after a short time in Glasgow. There Barrie and his schoolfriends spent time playing pirates, in an ongoing game that would eventually become the play of "Peter Pan" and the little group would go on to form a drama club.
Always fascinated by the stage, Barrie then attended the University of Edinburgh where he wrote drama reviews. After working for a while in England as a journalist, he returned to his home town of Kirriemuir, where he wrote a piece about a town he called "Thrums" (based on his mother's stories of Kirriemuir) for a London paper. The editor read and liked what he called "that Scotch thing" and these became his first novels, entitled "Auld Licht Idylls" "A Window in Thrums" and "The Little Minister".
Barrie was established not only as an author, but a successful author.
Still in love with the theatre he began to write plays, one of his best known being "The Admirable Crichton" which was about an aristocratic family, shipwrecked on a desert island, where the butler takes charge of the situation and the roles of servant and master are reversed. The theatre also introduced him to his first wife, actress Mary Ansell in 1891.
"Peter Pan" himself first appeared in the novel "The Little White Bird", which was published in serial form in the US, then in 1901 as a single volume in the UK. Peter Pan was finally performed on stage on 27th December 1904 and later developed into a novel called "Peter and Wendy". ("Wendy" was actually Barrie's own nickname. His friend, W.E. Henley's daughter Margaret called Barrie "Friendly-Wendy". After this girls began to be named "Wendy").
Mary and Barrie stayed married until 1909 and it was in the cottage he shared with her where he wrote "Peter Pan". Sadly, the marriage seemed more of a companionable friendship than a great romance. When Mary had an affair with one of his friends, Barrie granted her a divorce. Divorce was almost unheard of in those days, and there was some scandal. The couple had no children.
Barrie had met the Llewelyn-Davies children several years before when the family was out strolling with their nanny. He was in Kensington Gardens with his St. Bernard dog, Porthos, a wedding present from Mary, when they met.
George, Jack, baby Peter, Michael and Nicholas were to become the family he never had, and their characters were woven into his books. Later, and by chance, he met their mother Sylvia, (nee du Maurier and the aunt of famous author Daphne du Maurier)at a dinner party and the two became close. After the death of Sylvia's husband in 1907 Barrie was able to give Sylvia financial assistance from the profits of his plays and writings. The story of their relationship was made into a movie called Finding Neverland and starred Johnny Depp as Barrie, Kate Winslett as Sylvia and Dustin Hoffman as Charles Frohman, Barrie's friend and producer.
Sadly Sylvia was to follow her husband to the grave just three years later, in 1910. After her death Barrie took over responsibility for the boys, going as far as to say that he and Sylvia had been engaged to be married, and that her Will had stated that he was to assume responsibility for their care. He stayed in close touch with the boys through their adolesence and young adulthood.
More tragedy was to follow later, and Barrie lost the two boys to whom he was closest. George was killed in action in World War I. Michael, with whom Barrie corresponded daily, drowned in 1921 with his friend, Rupert Buxton, near Oxford, one month short of his 21st birthday. Peter became a publisher, and sadly he too died before his time, after throwing himself under a train.
Barrie himself was short in stature - he never grew much taller than five feet, and his almost perpetual expression of sadness tells of unfulfilled longings and the wistfullness which was reflected in his writing. There is a certain poignancy in the idea of a boy who can neither grow up, nor return to the real world. Peter Pan can return from Neverland, but only to visit. It has been said that great art comes from deep suffering. The true wonder of this tale is that Peter and his friends have indeed obtained true immortality in Barrie's classic story, living on in the minds and imagination of children in a world where people can fly, life is a long grand adventure, and death never happens.
Barrie became a baronet and in 1922 and also received the Order of Merit. Even in his old age, Barrie could still play the part of Captain Hook with the son of his secretary, Lady Cynthia Asquith. Barrie was elected Lord Rector of St. Andrew's University and in 1930 Chancellor of Edinburgh University. He died on June 3, 1937.
He was friends with literary luminaries such as Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, H.G. Wells, P.G. Wodehouse,("Jeeves") A.A. Milne (The creator of "Winnie the Pooh") and the son of Alfred Tennyson. He corresponded with Robert Louis Stevenson, although the two never actually met, as Stevenson was at the time living in Samoa.
He was also friends with Antarctic explorer Robert Falcon Scott. Barrie was one of the seven people to whom Scott wrote in the final hours of his life following the doomed expedition to the north pole.
Before his death Barrie specified that the copyright of the Peter Pan works should go to the United Kingdom's leading children's hospital, Great Ormond Street Hospital in London.
You can visit Barrie's house at Kirriemuir, which is now preserved as a museum by the National Trust for Scotland. Kirriemuir is in the county of Angus, close to Dundee and Carnoustie.
All throughout the life of Sir James Matthew Barrie, you meet the characters that were to become Wendy, The Lost Boys, and Peter Pan himself. J. M...http://www.insiders-scotland-guide.com/images/175x...
All throughout the life of Sir James Matthew Barrie, you meet the characters that were to become Wendy, The Lost Boys, and Peter Pan himself. J. M. Barrie's life was poignant but filled with real-life drama and a cast of real-life people to rival any work of fiction.
Born on 9 May, 1860 in Kirriemuir, Angus, to a Calvinist family, J. M. Barrie was one of ten children, and his father was employed successfully as a weaver. His mother had taken over the responsibilities of a parent at the tender age of 8, when her own mother died, and was the model for the young but maternal Wendy. Death was to claim many members of his actual and adopted family too early, and perhaps the boy who was never to grow up may have in part been based on his next-oldest brother,(and his mother's favourite) who was killed in a skating accident just two days before his 14th birthday, when Barrie himself was only 6 years old.
J. M. Barrie's mother was inconsolable, and Barrie attempted to take his brother's place by entertaining her with his storytelling and even at times wearing his brother's clothes, but it was a hopeless task. Once, on entering his mother's room he heard her say "Is that you?" and he believed she was talking to his dead brother. Barrie replied, "No, it's no' him, it's just me".
His mother drew comfort from the fact that his lost brother would be forever young, echoes of Barrie's most famous character, the eternally boyish Peter Pan.
Barrie's parents wanted him to become a minister but he had other dreams...he wanted to be an author. Barrie was sent away to school in Dumfries, after a short time in Glasgow. There Barrie and his schoolfriends spent time playing pirates, in an ongoing game that would eventually become the play of "Peter Pan" and the little group would go on to form a drama club.
Always fascinated by the stage, Barrie then attended the University of Edinburgh where he wrote drama reviews. After working for a while in England as a journalist, he returned to his home town of Kirriemuir, where he wrote a piece about a town he called "Thrums" (based on his mother's stories of Kirriemuir) for a London paper. The editor read and liked what he called "that Scotch thing" and these became his first novels, entitled "Auld Licht Idylls" "A Window in Thrums" and "The Little Minister".
Barrie was established not only as an author, but a successful author.
Still in love with the theatre he began to write plays, one of his best known being "The Admirable Crichton" which was about an aristocratic family, shipwrecked on a desert island, where the butler takes charge of the situation and the roles of servant and master are reversed. The theatre also introduced him to his first wife, actress Mary Ansell in 1891.
"Peter Pan" himself first appeared in the novel "The Little White Bird", which was published in serial form in the US, then in 1901 as a single volume in the UK. Peter Pan was finally performed on stage on 27th December 1904 and later developed into a novel called "Peter and Wendy". ("Wendy" was actually Barrie's own nickname. His friend, W.E. Henley's daughter Margaret called Barrie "Friendly-Wendy". After this girls began to be named "Wendy").
Mary and Barrie stayed married until 1909 and it was in the cottage he shared with her where he wrote "Peter Pan". Sadly, the marriage seemed more of a companionable friendship than a great romance. When Mary had an affair with one of his friends, Barrie granted her a divorce. Divorce was almost unheard of in those days, and there was some scandal. The couple had no children.
Barrie had met the Llewelyn-Davies children several years before when the family was out strolling with their nanny. He was in Kensington Gardens with his St. Bernard dog, Porthos, a wedding present from Mary, when they met.
George, Jack, baby Peter, Michael and Nicholas were to become the family he never had, and their characters were woven into his books. Later, and by chance, he met their mother Sylvia, (nee du Maurier and the aunt of famous author Daphne du Maurier)at a dinner party and the two became close. After the death of Sylvia's husband in 1907 Barrie was able to give Sylvia financial assistance from the profits of his plays and writings. The story of their relationship was made into a movie called Finding Neverland and starred Johnny Depp as Barrie, Kate Winslett as Sylvia and Dustin Hoffman as Charles Frohman, Barrie's friend and producer.
Sadly Sylvia was to follow her husband to the grave just three years later, in 1910. After her death Barrie took over responsibility for the boys, going as far as to say that he and Sylvia had been engaged to be married, and that her Will had stated that he was to assume responsibility for their care. He stayed in close touch with the boys through their adolesence and young adulthood.
More tragedy was to follow later, and Barrie lost the two boys to whom he was closest. George was killed in action in World War I. Michael, with whom Barrie corresponded daily, drowned in 1921 with his friend, Rupert Buxton, near Oxford, one month short of his 21st birthday. Peter became a publisher, and sadly he too died before his time, after throwing himself under a train.
Barrie himself was short in stature - he never grew much taller than five feet, and his almost perpetual expression of sadness tells of unfulfilled longings and the wistfullness which was reflected in his writing. There is a certain poignancy in the idea of a boy who can neither grow up, nor return to the real world. Peter Pan can return from Neverland, but only to visit. It has been said that great art comes from deep suffering. The true wonder of this tale is that Peter and his friends have indeed obtained true immortality in Barrie's classic story, living on in the minds and imagination of children in a world where people can fly, life is a long grand adventure, and death never happens.
Barrie became a baronet and in 1922 and also received the Order of Merit. Even in his old age, Barrie could still play the part of Captain Hook with the son of his secretary, Lady Cynthia Asquith. Barrie was elected Lord Rector of St. Andrew's University and in 1930 Chancellor of Edinburgh University. He died on June 3, 1937.
He was friends with literary luminaries such as Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, H.G. Wells, P.G. Wodehouse,("Jeeves") A.A. Milne (The creator of "Winnie the Pooh") and the son of Alfred Tennyson. He corresponded with Robert Louis Stevenson, although the two never actually met, as Stevenson was at the time living in Samoa.
He was also friends with Antarctic explorer Robert Falcon Scott. Barrie was one of the seven people to whom Scott wrote in the final hours of his life following the doomed expedition to the north pole.
Before his death Barrie specified that the copyright of the Peter Pan works should go to the United Kingdom's leading children's hospital, Great Ormond Street Hospital in London.
You can visit Barrie's house at Kirriemuir, which is now preserved as a museum by the National Trust for Scotland. Kirriemuir is in the county of Angus, close to Dundee and Carnoustie.
Liz Doyle likes this.
