NOTES TO THEODRIC.

And stemmed De Bourgo’s chivalry.

The house of O’Connor had a right to boast of their victories over the English. It was a chief of the O’Connor race who gave a check to the English champion De Courcy, so famous for his personal strength, and for cleaving a helmet at one blow of his sword, in the presence of the kings of France and England, when the French champion declined the combat with him. Though ultimately conquered by the English under De Bourgo, the O’Connors had also humbled the pride of that name on a memorable occasion: viz., when Walter De Bourgo, an ancestor of that De Bourgo who won the battle of Athunree, had become so insolent as to make excessive demands upon the territories of Connaught, and to bid defiance to all the rights and properties reserved by the Irish chiefs, Aeth O’Connor, a near descendant of the famous Cathal, surnamed of the bloody hand, rose against the usurper, and defeated the English so severely, that their general died of chagrin after the battle.

Or beal-fires for your jubilee.

The month of May is to this day called “Mi Beal tiennie,”i.e., the month of Beal’s fire, in the original language of Ireland, and hence I believe the name of the Beltan festival in the Highlands. These fires were lighted on thesummits of mountains (the Irish antiquaries say) in honour of the sun; and are supposed, by those conjecturing gentlemen, to prove the origin of the Irish from some nation who worshipped Baal or Belus. Many hills in Ireland still retain the name of “Cnoc Greine,”i.e., the hill of the sun; and on all are to be seen the ruins of druidical altars.

And play my clarshech by thy side.

The clarshech, or harp, the principal musical instrument of the Hibernian bards, does not appear to be of Irish origin, nor indigenous to any of the British islands.—The Britons undoubtedly were not acquainted with it during the residence of the Romans in their country, as in all their coins, on which musical instruments are represented, we see only the Roman lyre, and not the British Teylin, or harp.

And saw at dawn the lofty bawn.

“Bawn,” from the Teutonic “Bawen”—to construct and secure with branches of trees, was so called because the primitive Celtic fortification was made by digging a ditch, throwing up a rampart, and on the latter fixing stakes, which were interlaced with boughs of trees. This word is used by Spenser; but it is inaccurately called by Mr. Todd, his annotator, an eminence.

To speak the malison of heaven.

If the wrath which I have ascribed to the heroine of this little piece should seem to exhibit her character as too unnaturally stript of patriotic and domestic affections, I must beg leave to plead the authority of Corneille in the representation of a similar passion: I allude to the denunciation of Camilla, in the tragedy of Horace. When Horace, accompanied by a soldier bearing the three swords of the Curiatii meets his sister, and invites her to congratulate him on his victory, she expresses only her grief, which he attributes at first only to her feelings for the loss of her two brothers; but when she bursts forth into reproaches against him as the murderer of her lover, the last of the Curiatii, he exclaims:—

“O Ciel! qui vit jamais une pareille rage:Crois-tu donc que je sois insensible à l’outrage,Que je souffre en mon sang ce mortel déshonneur!Aime, Aime cette mort qui fait notre bonheur.Et préfère du moins au souvenir d’un hommeCe que doit ta naissance aux intérêts de Rome.”

“O Ciel! qui vit jamais une pareille rage:

Crois-tu donc que je sois insensible à l’outrage,

Que je souffre en mon sang ce mortel déshonneur!

Aime, Aime cette mort qui fait notre bonheur.

Et préfère du moins au souvenir d’un homme

Ce que doit ta naissance aux intérêts de Rome.”

At the mention of Rome, Camille breaks out into this apostrophe:—

“Rome, l’unique objet de mon ressentiment!Rome, à qui vient ton bras d’immoler mon amant!Rome, qui t’a vu naître et que ton cœur adore!Rome, enfin, que je haïs, parce qu’elle t’honore!Puissent tous ses voisins, ensemble conjurés,Sapper ses fondemens encore mal assurés;Et, si ce n’est assez de toute l’Italie,Que l’Orient, contre elle, à l’Occident s’allie!Que cent peuples unis, des bouts de l’universPassent, pour la détruire, et les monts et les mers;Qu’elle-même sur soi renverse ses murailles,Et de ses propres mains déchire ses entrailles;Que le courroux du Ciel, allumé par mes vœux,Fasse pleuvoir sur elle un déluge de feux!Puissai-je de mes yeux y voir tomber ce foudre,Voir ses maisons en cendre, et tes lauriers en poudre;Voir le dernier Romain à son dernier soupir,Moi seule en être cause, et mourir de plaisir!”

“Rome, l’unique objet de mon ressentiment!

Rome, à qui vient ton bras d’immoler mon amant!

Rome, qui t’a vu naître et que ton cœur adore!

Rome, enfin, que je haïs, parce qu’elle t’honore!

Puissent tous ses voisins, ensemble conjurés,

Sapper ses fondemens encore mal assurés;

Et, si ce n’est assez de toute l’Italie,

Que l’Orient, contre elle, à l’Occident s’allie!

Que cent peuples unis, des bouts de l’univers

Passent, pour la détruire, et les monts et les mers;

Qu’elle-même sur soi renverse ses murailles,

Et de ses propres mains déchire ses entrailles;

Que le courroux du Ciel, allumé par mes vœux,

Fasse pleuvoir sur elle un déluge de feux!

Puissai-je de mes yeux y voir tomber ce foudre,

Voir ses maisons en cendre, et tes lauriers en poudre;

Voir le dernier Romain à son dernier soupir,

Moi seule en être cause, et mourir de plaisir!”

“And go to Athunree!” I cried.

In the reign of Edward the Second, the Irish presented to Pope John the Twenty-second a memorial of their sufferings under the English, of which the language exhibits all the strength of despair:—“Ever since the English,” say they, “first appeared upon our coasts, they entered our territories under a certain specious pretence of charity, and external hypocritical show of religion, endeavouring at the same time, by every artifice malice could suggest, to extirpate us root and branch, and without any other right than that of the strongest; they have so far succeeded by base fraudulence, and cunning, that they have forced us to quit our fair and ample habitations and inheritances, and to take refuge like wild beasts in the mountains, the woods, and the morasses of the country;—nor even can the caverns and dens protect us against their insatiable avarice. They pursue us even into these frightful abodes; endeavouring to dispossess us of the wild uncultivated rocks, and arrogate to themselves theproperty of every placeon which we can stamp the figure of our feet.”

The greatest effort ever made by the ancient Irish to regain their nativeindependence, was made at the time when they called over the brother of Robert Bruce from Scotland. William de Bourgo, brother to the Earl of Ulster, and Richard de Bermingham, were sent against the main body of the native insurgents, who were headed rather than commanded by Felim O’Connor. The important battle, which decided the subjection of Ireland, took place on the 10th of August, 1315. It was the bloodiest that ever was fought between the two nations, and continued throughout the whole day, from the rising to the setting sun. The Irish fought with inferior discipline, but with great enthusiasm. They lost ten thousand men, among whom were twenty-nine chiefs of Connaught. Tradition states that after this terrible day, the O’Connor family, like the Fabian, were so nearly exterminated, that throughout all Connaught not one of the name remained, except Felim’s brother, who was capable of bearing arms.

That gave the glacier tops their richest glow.

The sight of the glaciers of Switzerland, I am told, has often disappointed travellers who had perused the accounts of their splendour and sublimity given by Bourrit and other describers of Swiss scenery. Possibly Bourrit, who had spent his life in an enamoured familiarity with the beauties of Nature in Switzerland, may have leaned to the romantic side of description. One can pardon a man for a sort of idolatry of those imposing objects of Nature which heighten our ideas of the bounty of Nature or Providence, when we reflect that the glaciers—those seas of ice—are not only sublime, but useful: they are the inexhaustible reservoirs which supply the principal rivers of Europe; and their annual melting is in proportion to the summer heat which dries up those rivers and makes them need that supply.

That the picturesque grandeur of the glaciers should sometimes disappoint the traveller, will not seem surprising to any one who has been much in a mountainous country, and recollects that the beauty of Nature in such countries is not only variable, but capriciously dependent on the weather and sunshine. There are about four hundred different glaciers,[106]according to the computation of M. Bourrit, between Mont Blanc and the frontiers of the Tyrol. The full effect of the most lofty and picturesque of them can, of course, only be produced by the richest and warmest light of the atmosphere; and the very heat which illuminates them must have a changing influence on many of their appearances. I imagine it is owing to this circumstance, namely, the casualty and changeableness of the appearance of some of the glaciers, that the impressions made by them on the minds of other and more transient travellers have been less enchanting than those described by M. Bourrit. On one occasion M. Bourrit seems even to speak of a past phenomenon, and certainly one which no other spectator attests in the same terms, when he says that there once existed between the Kandel Steig and Lauterbrun, “a passage amidst singular glaciers, sometimes resembling magical towns of ice, with pilasters, pyramids, columns, and obelisks, reflecting to the sun the most brilliant hues of the finest gems.”

M. Bourrit’s description of the Glacier of the Rhone is quite enchanting:—“To form an idea,” he says, “of this superb spectacle, figure in your mind a scaffolding of transparent ice, filling a space of two miles, rising to the clouds, and darting flashes of light like the sun. Nor were the several parts less magnificent and surprising. One might see, as it were, the streets and buildings of a city, erected in the form of an amphitheatre, and embellished with pieces of water, cascades, and torrents. The effects were as prodigious as the immensity and the height;—the most beautiful azure—the most splendid white—the regular appearance of a thousand pyramids of ice, are more easy to be imagined than described.”—Bourrit, iii. 163.

[106]Occupying, if taken together, a surface of 130 square leagues.

From heights browsed by the bounding bouquetin.

Laborde, in his “Tableau de la Suisse,” gives a curious account of this animal, the wild sharp cry and elastic movements of which must heighten the picturesque appearance of its haunts:—“Nature,” says Laborde, “has destined it to mountains covered with snow: if it is not exposed to keen cold, it becomes blind. Its agility in leaping much surpasses that of the chamois, and would appear incredible to those who have not seen it. There is not a mountain so high or steep to which it will not trust itself, provided it has room to place its feet; it can scramble along the highest wall, if its surface be rugged.”

Enamelled Moss.

The moss of Switzerland, as well as that of the Tyrol, is remarkable for a bright smoothness approaching to the appearance of enamel.

How dear seemed e’en the waste and wild Shreckhorn.

The “Schreckhorn” means in German, thePeak of Terror.

Blindfold his native hills he could have known!

I have here availed myself of a striking expression of the Emperor Napoleon respecting his recollections of Corsica, which is recorded in Las Cases’s “History of the Emperor’s Abode at St. Helena.”

Lochiel, the chief of the warlike clan of the Camerons, and descended from ancestors distinguished in their narrow sphere for great personal prowess, was a man worthy of a better cause and fate than that in which he embarked,—the enterprise of the Stuarts in 1745. His memory is still fondly cherished among the Highlanders, by the appellation of the “gentle Lochiel;” for he was famed for his social virtues as much as his martial and magnanimous (though mistaken) loyalty. His influence was so important among the Highland chiefs that it depended on his joining with his clan whether the standard of Charles should be raised or not in 1745. Lochiel was himself too wise a man to be blind to the consequences of so hopeless an enterprise, but his sensibility to the point of honour overruled his wisdom. Charles appealed to his loyalty, and he could not brook the reproaches of his Prince. When Charles landed at Borrodale, Lochiel went to meet him, but on his way, called at his brother’s house (Cameron of Fassafern), and told him on what errand he was going; adding, however, that he meant to dissuade the Prince from his enterprise. Fassafern advised him in that case to communicate his mind by letter to Charles. “No,” said Lochiel, “I think it due to my Prince to give him my reasons in person for refusing to join his standard.”—“Brother,” replied Fassafern, “I know you better than you know yourself: if the Prince once sets his eyes on you, he will make you do what he pleases.” The interview accordingly took place; and Lochiel, with many arguments, but in vain, pressed the Pretender to return to France, and reserve himself and his friends for a more favourable occasion, as he had come, by his own acknowledgment, without arms, or money, or adherents: or, at all events, to remain concealed till his friends should meet and deliberate what was best to be done. Charles, whose mind was wound up to the utmost impatience, paid no regard to this proposal, but answered, “that he was determined to put all to the hazard.” “In a few days,” said he, “I will erect the royal standard, and proclaim to the people of Great Britain that Charles Stuart is come over to claim the crown of his ancestors, and to win it, or perish in the attempt. Lochiel, who my father has often told me was our firmest friend, may stay at home, and learn from the newspapers the fate of his Prince.”—“No,” said Lochiel, “I willshare the fate of my Prince, and so shall every man over whom nature or fortune hath given me any power.”

The other chieftains who followed Charles embraced his cause with no better hopes. It engages our sympathy most strongly in their behalf, that no motive, but their fear to be reproached with cowardice or disloyalty, impelled them to the hopeless adventure. Of this we have an example in the interview of Prince Charles with Clanronald, another leading chieftain in the rebel army.

“Charles,” says Home, “almost reduced to despair, in his discourse with Boisdale, addressed the two Highlanders with great emotion, and, summing up his arguments for taking arms, conjured them to assist their Prince, their countryman, in his utmost need. Clanronald and his friend, though well inclined to the cause, positively refused, and told him that to take up arms without concert or support was to pull down certain ruin on their own heads. Charles persisted, argued, and implored. During this conversation (they were on shipboard) the parties walked backward and forward on the deck; a Highlander stood near them, armed at all points, as was then the fashion of his country. He was a younger brother of Kinloch Moidart, and had come off to the ship to enquire for news, not knowing who was aboard. When he gathered from their discourse that the stranger was the Prince of Wales; when he heard his chief and his brother refuse to take arms with their Prince; his colour went and came, his eyes sparkled, he shifted his place, and grasped his sword. Charles observed his demeanour, and turning briskly to him, called out, ‘Will you assist me?’—‘I will, I will,’ said Ronald: ‘though no other man in the Highlands should draw a sword, I am ready to die for you!’ Charles, with a profusion of thanks to his champion, said, he wished all the Highlanders were like him. Without farther deliberation, the two Macdonalds declared that they would also join, and use their utmost endeavours to engage their countrymen to take arms.”—Home’sHistory of the Rebellion of 1745.

An account of the second sight, in Irish called “Taish,” is thus given in Martin’s “Description of the Western Isles of Scotland,” p. 3-11:—

“The second sight is a singular faculty of seeing an otherwise invisible object, without any previous means used by the person who sees it for that end. The vision makes such a lively impression upon the seers, that they neither see nor think of anything else except the vision as long as it continues; and then they appear pensive or jovial according to the object which was represented to them.

“At the sight of a vision the eyelids of the person are erected, and the eyes continue staring until the object vanish. This is obvious to others whoare standing by when the persons happen to see a vision; and occurred more than once to my own observation, and to others that were with me.

“There is one in Skye, of whom his acquaintance observed, that when he sees a vision the inner parts of his eyelids turn so far upwards, that, after the object disappears, he must draw them down with his fingers, and sometimes employs others to draw them down, which he finds to be much the easier way.

“This faculty of the second sight does not lineally descend in a family, as some have imagined; for I know several parents who are endowed with it, and their children are not; andvice versa. Neither is it acquired by any previous compact. And after strict enquiry, I could never learn from any among them, that this faculty was communicable to any whatsoever. The seer knows neither the object, time, nor place of a vision before it appears; and the same object is often seen by different persons living at a considerable distance from one another. The true way of judging as to the time and circumstances is by observation; for several persons of judgment who are without this faculty are more capable to judge of the design of a vision than a novice that is a seer. If an object appears in the day or night, it will come to pass sooner or later accordingly.

“If an object is seen early in a morning, which is not frequent, it will be accomplished in a few hours afterwards; if at noon it will probably be accomplished that very day; if in the evening perhaps that night; if after candles be lighted, it will be accomplished that night; the latter always an accomplishment by weeks, months, and sometimes years, according to the time of the night the vision is seen.

“When a shroud is seen about one, it is a sure prognostic of death. The time is judged according to the height of it about the person; for if it is not seen above the middle, death is not to be expected for the space of a year, and perhaps some months longer: and as it is frequently seen to ascend higher towards the head, death is concluded to be at hand within a few days, if not hours, as daily experience confirms. Examples of this kind were shown me, when the person of whom the observations were then made was in perfect health.

“It is ordinary with them to see houses, gardens, and trees in places void of all these, and this in process of time is wont to be accomplished; as at Mogslot, in the Isle of Skye, where there were but a few sorry low houses thatched with straw; yet in a few years the vision, which appeared often, was accomplished by the building of several good houses in the very spot represented to the seers, and by the planting of orchards there.

“To see a spark of fire is a forerunner of a dead child, to be seen in the arms of those persons; of which there are several instances. To see a seatempty at the time of sitting in it, is a presage of that person’s death quickly after it.

“When a novice, or one that has lately obtained the second sight, sees a vision in the night-time without doors, and comes near a fire he presently falls into a swoon.

“Some find themselves as it were in a crowd of people, having a corpse, which they carry along with them; and after such visions the seers come in sweating, and describe the vision that appeared. If there be any of their acquaintance among them, they give an account of their names, as also of the bearers; but they know nothing concerning the corpse.”

Horses and cows (according to the same credulous author) have certainly sometimes the same faculty; and he endeavours to prove it by the signs of fear which the animals exhibit when second-sighted persons see visions in the same place.

“The seers,” he continues, “are generally illiterate and well-meaning people and altogether void of design: nor could I ever learn that any of them ever made the least gain by it; neither is it reputable among them to have that faculty. Besides, the people of the Isles are not so credulous as to believe implicitly before the thing predicted is accomplished; but when it is actually accomplished afterwards, it is not in their power to deny it, without offering violence to their own sense and reason. Besides, if the seers were deceivers, can it be reasonable to imagine that all the islanders who have not the second sight should combine together, and offer violence to their understandings and senses, to enforce themselves to believe a lie from age to age? There are several persons among them whose title and education raise them above the suspicion of concurring with an impostor, merely to gratify an illiterate, contemptible set of persons; nor can reasonable persons believe that children, horses, and cows, should be pre-engaged in a combination in favour of second sight.”

THE END.

MORRISON AND GIBB, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.

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