"A daimen icker in a thrave"

A family group has just asked me to schedule a visit to Robert Burns birthplace. By coincidence I was there, at the new Burns Museum, last week.

I'm a great fan of Burns and, having been born and bred in Scotland, many words are familiar to me. But for those who do not enjoy that great privilege Burns can be a bit impenetrable! Take a daimen icker in a thrave for example; it's a line from 'To a Mouse'. Who has any idea what that means? (actually it means 'the occasional ear of corn in a set of sheaves').

I visited the museum with some other tour operators and we were inevitably concerned as to whether overseas clients would be able to understand it. The short answer was 'No'. Indeed the National Trust for Scotland has made the whole thing even less penetrable by writing the explanations on the show cabinets in Burnsian Scots, with difficult words translated. Not much good for overseas visitors.

But after a bit I mused that this is a celebration of Burns and his work. Should it not also be a celebration of his language? David Hopes, museum curator said, "Our intention has been to get under the skin of Burns, encouraging a creative response in the reader-visitor." A noble intention, and I think he has succeeded.  But how important is the original language?

One translation of Burns into Russian apparently sold over 600,000 copies and Burns is still taught in Russian schools. But I'm sure Abraham Lincoln, who carried a volume of Burns' work with him, only read the original. And what of Steinbeck whose 'Of Mice and Men' was inspired by the ploughman poet and his line from 'To a Mouse': The best laid schemes o' mice an' men / Gang aft agley.'? How did he make sense of it? 'Translated' or not? Well, maybe some scholars can help me with that.

I do not believe that Scots is a language in its own right. But if traditional words and syntax are not used somewhere today, will it only be future academics who can revel in the earthiness and wonderful rhythms of Burns' poetry?

When I had seen the museum I wandered over to the old Brig o' Doon (of Tam o' Shanter fame) and the nearby Burns Monument, where I learned that there are 58 monuments to Burns around the world. Fifty-eight! More than any other poet.

This does not, of course, make him the world's greatest poet but it does convince me that Burns should not be celebrated in translation.

Barack Obama and Robert Burns

It's always irritating to be beaten to a good idea! With the newspapers today packed with the words of these two plain speaking, egalitarian-minded men (today is the 250th anniversary of Burns' birth), it seemed a good idea to link the two. Unfortunately Emma Cowing in the Scotsman got there first.

I have written already of how Abraham Lincoln used to carry a volume of Burns around with him. Indeed I wrote then that Burns' passion for social justice fuelled the US leader's crusade to emancipate African-Americans.

Has President Obama read any Burns? I suspect not, but I think he would enjoy it...

The Tree of Liberty (circa 1789)

Wi' plenty o' sic trees I trow,

The warld would live in peace, man;

The sword wad help to mak a plough ,

The din o' war wad cease, man.

Like brethren in a common cause,

We'd on each other smile, man;

And equal rights and equal laws,

Wad gladden every isle man.

I would like to trawl through President Obama’s Inaugural Address and other speeches looking for parallels but the haggis is smelling good and I am being called on to mash the neeps!

It looks like a good evening. Och Aye. And we’ll tak a right guid willy waught, for auld lang syne.

Happy Burns Night!

Usher's Old Vatted Glenlivet

'Freedom and Whisky gang thegither', wrote Robert Burns in 1786. The fiery local spirit that he enjoyed so much now boasts worldwide brands, each with a sophisticated baggage of wood finishes and production techniques.
Burns would have been amazed!

So was I, by the schedule for a day guiding an Australian couple: Glenfiddich, Macallan, Glenlivet. But all became clear, since Jarrod, bartender at the Castle Hill Tavern, Sydney, knew whisky and this was the highlight of his European trip!

They enjoyed each distillery, but The Glenlivet seemed to take the honours. Glenlivet is also a favourite of mine for different reasons.

In Scotland we don't use the expression 'single malt'. It's either malt (from one distillery) or it's blended (many whiskies including grain whiskies). But it was not always so. To produce a consistent, and palatable brand in 1853 was a challenge and led to the first mixture of malts, known as a vatted malt (as opposed to a single malt). It was called Usher's Old Vatted Glenlivet or 'OVG' and is arguably the only vatted malt ever to have become an established brand.

Andrew Usher established himself as the pioneer of whisky blending: he already held the exclusive right to distribute Glenlivet south of the Highlands and in 1885 he founded a grain distillery in Edinburgh, so building the twin pillars of his success. In 1890 the firm of Andrew Usher & Co. of Leith had the largest bonded warehouse in the world.

I have only seen one Old Vatted Glenlivet bottle, and that was in my sister's farmhouse kitchen in East Lothian where it was filled with paraffin. It may still be there, but its presence was no coincidence, as Andrew Usher was our great grandfather.

My connection with the great man promoted me, I think, from an average tour guide to an exceptional one in the view of these particular clients. And it may contribute to a good story one Burns Night, back in Sydney.

It seems 'Whisky' is still a little used word in the USA. I normally hear 'Scotch' or 'Single Malt'. So "Freedom and Whisky gang thegither" probably never resonated over there, even in 1786 when Freedom was quite an issue. But later, in the 1860s, whilst Andrew Usher was working his alchemy in Scotland, Abraham Lincoln was carrying a leather bound volume of Burns works with him wherever he went. When asked to propose a toast to the bard, he replied, "I can not frame a toast to Burns. I can say nothing worthy of his generous heart and transcendent genius."

Some might say the same of Andrew Usher whose generous heart stretched to bequeathing the City of Edinburgh with its fine concert venue, The Usher Hall. All on the back of The Glenlivet!

Robert Burns and Abraham Lincoln

I have previously referred to the influence of Robert Burns on Abraham Lincoln. Now a leading American academic, Dr Ferenc Morton Szasz, has published his findings that Lincoln could recite Burns' work by heart and that the Scot's passion for social justice fuelled the US leader's crusade to emancipate African-Americans. More detail in today's Scotland on Sunday.

The publication is timely as we approach 2009 and the 250th anniversary of the poet's birth, celebrated here in Scotland with the Year of Homecoming.

A Witch's Cursing Bone

It was a familiar voice on the car radio. But until he started talking about ancestry I hadn't recognised Bruce Durie, genealogist, broadcaster and chairman of the Ancestral Tourism Steering Group on which I sit. When he moved on to the cursing bone of Katherine McNure of Glen Shira, I stopped the car to listen.

The 'bone' in question is now in the National Museum of Scotland, Edinburgh. Further illumination is given by this 'Extract from the Proceedings of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland Vol.78 (1943-1944) pg141:

Witch’s Cursing-bone consisting of the marrow bone of a deer or sheep, stained deep brown by peat, and fixed through a diamond-shaped pice of bog oak. It was formerly the property of a reputed witch living at the head of Glen Shira, Argyll. According to the local tradition,“When the “witch” wanted to “ill will” one of her neighbours, she went out with her bone between sunset and cock-crow and made for the neighbour's croft. She did not go to the dwelling-house, however, but to the hen house and seized the hen that sat next to the rooster (his favourite), thrawed its neck, and poured its blood through the cursing bone, uttering her curses the while.

I am reminded of Isobel Gowdie, from Auldearn, just two miles from here in Nairn, who gave a full and detailed  confession of the doings of her coven at her trial in 1662. I have read the full transcript and she seems really quite proud of her doings -  even giving the magic spell by which a witch can turn herself into a hare, then back to a witch.

But soon (25 Jan) it is Burns Night and I finish with my favourite witch: 'Nannie' famous for her 'cutty sark', short skirt, in Robert Burns' epic tale, Tam o' Shanter.

Satan is blowing the pipes, the witches are dancing, Tom is captivated, his horse Maggie terrified...

'Even Satan glowr'd, and fidg'd fu' fain

And hotch'd and blew wi' might and main

Till first ae caper, syne anither

Tam tint his reason a' thegither

And roars out, "Weel done, Cutty-sark!"

And in an instant all was dark

And scarcely had he Maggie rallied

When out the hellish legion sallied.'

The new Robert Burns Birthplace Museum opened today, 22 January 2011.

I look forward to visiting on Monday and will report back.

The 52nd Grandfather Mountain Highland Games

Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled,
Scots, wham Bruce has often led,
Welcome to your gory bed,
Or to victorie.

Just after sunset on the eve of the Games the commentator intoned Robert Burns' evocative words as a fiery cross descended Grandfather Mountain to light torches held by eighty clan representatives, each of which then declared the clan present with a short speech. Most of us there knew that clans rarely, if ever, stood shoulder to shoulder in battle, normally being preoccupied with the theft of each other's cattle, but this detail did not detract from the successful drama of the occasion.

Next day it was a real pleasure to go round the clan tents, discussing clan lands and talking of homecoming journeys, past and future. Here in Scotland we tend to wear our name lightly, often unaware of its origin, or details of our clan's 'named ancestor'. We may have a kilt but we are oblivious to the major characters in our family's history. Not so in North Carolina! Here they all know the history, or were there to discover it. Particularly whilst there, it seemed a wonderful accident of birth to be born a Scot in Scotland!

One recurrent theme was the International Clan Gathering, to be held in Edinburgh in July 2009. This will be the largest gathering of clansmen in Scotland since George IV visited in 1822. And in 2009, as then, there will be a march by the clans up the Royal Mile to Edinburgh Castle. The Games will be held in Holyrood Park and the highlight of the event will be a clan pageant on the castle esplanade.

Now there's something that even Scots in Scotland can get excited about!

If you would like to visit your Scottish homeland, then drop me an email.

How to enjoy Scotland, on the cheap, off season, without a car, and travelling alone.

This is an unedited email from a lady who descibes herself as a 'semi-retired divorcee, who teaches piano and Celtic harp'...

"I wanted to thank you for helping me organize my dream-trip to Scotland, which turned out just fabulously.  I must have walked 6 miles or so on many days, but also many were spent just gazing out of train or bus windows at the intense beauty of the landscape.  Yes, I had to forego the Shetland Islands (next time!), but in two weeks I covered pretty much every other bit of ground I'd planned on.  Landing in Aberdeen, I at once took the train to Inverness, where I spent 4 nights.  I was able to visit Cawdor Castle, which was having an artisanal food festival on the grounds, both were lovely.  I toured Loch Ness & Urquhart Castle, as well as the "Nessie" museum with "The Jacobite," quite reasonable and fantastic guidance, lots of local lore.  I walked along the River Ness and got into the rhythms of the people a bit, noticing how they are after work, fishing and swimming their ubiquitous dogs.  I grew to love the border collies which were on trains and ferries, so smart they are!  Visited the Archival Center for some free genealogy, and shopped at House of Fraser, shipping three boxes home in the end, so I would not grow heavy with my tiny rolling suitcase.  How did I get by "on the cheap?"  Well, eating a huge breakfast (nearly always inc., both at B&Bs and in the wonderful hostels you have), sometimes even kippers (now there IS a hearty breakfast), and carrying some oatcakes during the day, going to a pub for an ale and the "special" around 4 or 5, thus, black pudding, haggis, neaps & tatties, etc.  Allowing someone to buy a local whiskey for me (!) 

To make a long story short:  I then went to Orkney, saw the seals, visited Kirkwall and the Cathedral of St Magnus, walked all over Skara Brae & the Ring of Brognar since my tour didn't go, as the ferry from John O'Groats didn't run that day!  Got down to Skye, worshiped in the Presbyterian Church there with the old Scottish Psalter on a Tues. night, took a boat trip out to see the Sea Eagles and the salmon farms, the huge Cuillen mountains, and thence to Sleat, meeting a nice Professor of Gaelic at a Pub there.  I must take a crash course in Gaelic someday!  There was a castle ruin there I saw, and don't know which one now, in Sleat near a hotel.  Thence from Stromness all the way down through Mull to Iona, where the hostel is really lovely, on the north shore, and then made my way to Arran and visited the Arran Heritage Museum, truly marvelous place, thence to Ayr to embrace Robbie Burns for a day, thence to Edinburgh for 2 nights, walking the Royal Miles, seeing the Castle and Holyrood, as well as lingering in the (free!) Museum of Scotland, always shopping a bit here and there to delight my children this Christmas and provide small souvenirs for my friends.  I spent a lot on postcards, and it took 35 days for my parcel posted from Kyle an Lochalsch to get home!

So, a whirlwind tour of two weeks, meeting many friendly and helpful people, and not spending really as much as I anticipated.  The B&Bs were roughly 30-40 pounds, and the hostels, some nicer than others, but none crowded in late September, I often had a "private" room, especially as I am older and they simply gave me a room that was not filled with others, hostels were only 15 pounds, and one often found a delicious salad left behind, or someone anxious to kill the bottle of whiskey in the evening, since they were flying out the next day, etc. The great room at Iona was simply lovely at the hostel.  Yes, you had to walk a couple of miles to get there, but worth it!  A Danish Pastor awaiting his "weeklong adventure" in the abbey, several other Englishmen and Scotsmen & women, gathering around the solid wood table adorned with candle light, as we drank and solved all the problems of the world...........

So, thanks for helping me organize my trip.  Next time, I will bring my daughter, and we will be sure to go pony trekking in Arran and Shetland, before I get too old to do this!"

What is a clan? When is a clan not a clan?

Clans (Gaelic clann, children) provided the social fabric of the Scottish Highlands from medieval times until 1746. Central to this system, the roots of which lie in the Celtic tribes that confronted Julius Caesar, was that the clan chief held land, duthcas, on behalf of his people. He was responsible for their security, wellbeing and the administration of justice. The clansmen (anyone living on the duthcas) in turn owed unswerving loyalty to the chief. Clansmen felt no allegiance to the king of Scots or his lowland adherents, sasannach.

The last Gaelic speaking king of Scotland died in 1513. Thereafter Gaelic became marginalised and the Highland clans developed separately from Lowland Scotland which housed the ruling elite. Apart from a different social structure and a different language, the Highland clans had a different dress (kilt), different music (bagpipes) and a different morality (the clan chief had an absolute duty to ensure the clan had food; if that meant stealing cattle then so be it). Clansmen raided regularly into Lowland Scotland and the Jacobite uprisings of the 18th century all had their roots in the Highlands. As with any minority aggressively asserting its own culture and threatening the status quo, the clans were resented, feared, despised. It was only in the 19th century under the influence of Queen Victoria's 'Balmorality' that Highland culture became not just accepted but highly fashionable.

In my recent post on the last Cunningham Chief I referred to the 'Cunningham Family'. But the tombstone states 'Chief of Clan Cunningham'. So which is it?

When the Cunninghams arrived in Ayrshire south of Glasgow in the 12th century (along with the Bruces, the Grahams and many others), they spoke English and it's unlikely any land-owning Cunningham ever spoke Gaelic, understood about duthcas, or felt the least affinity with Gaelic culture. Their language became the rich Ayrshire Scots of Robert Burns. And the last Earl of Glencairn, who took holy orders in the Church of England, was certainly the most unlikely clan chief.

So runs the argument for the Cunninghams being a Lowland Family rather than a Highland Clan.

Sadly, since the death of the Earl of Glencairn in 1796, there has been no chief to provide guidance. There is also no Cunningham Association in the UK. There are two quarrelling Cunningham Associations in the USA; about the only thing that they agree on is that we are a clan not a family. Our American cousins actually take an active interest in preserving the Cunningham heritage; so who are we, who do nothing about it, to tell them what is right or wrong?

So 'Long Live Clan Cunningham!' and thank you Larry Augsbury, High Commissioner of the Clan Cunningham Society of America, for that fine memorial to our last clan chief!