There was an individual at one time called “the Flower o’ Dumblane.” I wonder if there was one in the present time that might be called the Flower of Glasgow, what like would she be. I suppose she would be good-looking, a handsome body, and good features; I don’t say either pretty or beautiful, but good; her expression sweet, amiable, intelligent; her manner easy, graceful, natural; nothing awkward, nothing artificial, but the spontaneous outflow of a kind heart, good taste, and an enlightened mind. But how would the Flower be dressed? Of course many would answer—quite in the fashion. I am not very sure about that; I think quite in the fashion would disfigure the Flower. How then? Just in such a manner as that no person would notice the dress at all, but have the attention fixed upon the Flower, and that nothing could be said about it but that it was befitting. But the Flower of Glasgow would not require to be dumb, she must speak occasionally, but in doing so would not put herself in the front rank of speakers. She would, however, be an acute observer of what was said and done, and should anything deserve a laugh, she would of course give a hearty one to show her white teeth and her kind nature. When, however, any remark was made, or any question put to her, demanding her saying something, she would of course speak out. Bearing in mind that she is a native of Glasgow, that her mother was that before her, a truly Scotch woman, who spoke the broad Scotch, but considerably refined by her intelligence and good taste. Now, what would be her style of speaking? Many would answer, no doubt, “In first-rate English style.” I declare that that again would destroy the beauty of your flower. There must be nothing artificial in a flower. The moment art lays its hand upon it, or even touches it, its beauty fades. No doubt there are many flowers in Glasgow, but many of them are artificial, and differ as much from the real flower as the flowers in their shop windows differ from those in the West End Park. There are many Scotch parents who send their daughters to English boarding-schools to be as perfectly Englified there as possible, but it is the same as if they put their flowers into a hot-house in the month of July. A flower will never show its beauty but in connection with its parent stem; remove it from that and it fades.
In order that a man may be a good member of society, he must be affable and agreeable in his manner; but he can neither be the one nor the other unless he is homely. And how can that man be homely who assumes an Englified style of speaking foreign to his nature. I am aware that in certain circles to say that a man is homely is nothing to his praise, but implies that in their estimation he is awanting in something that would make him a better member of society. He is too homely in his dress, in his style, in his expressions—too homely in his manner as he sits and holds his head, laughs and smiles; in short, he is too homely in everything. But I wonder how they would improve the homely man. I suspect the improvement would be something like the improvement that a number of drunkards would make upon a sober man. They are intoxicated themselves with a vain conceit of a certain standard of refinement, and they must do their best to get him intoxicated also. In order to come up to their standard, he must make a fop of himself—must make a fool of himself by assuming a style of speaking not natural to him. He must sit and hold his head in the fashionable position; if that is not its natural position, he would require a person to sit behind him, and with a hand on each side to keep it in the genteel position. His laughing must be all feigned, not hearty, not natural; his smiling must be the same. In short, in order to come up to their standard, he must make himself a regular play-actor, a hollow hypocrite, a downright mimicking parrot. See that female, how straight she holds her head. Is that its natural position? Does she keep it that way at hame? I suspect not—there is evidently an effort. My young woman, I am sorry for the misery you are inflicting upon yourself. That which is generally called refined society is a society for inflicting misery upon their dupes, and upon their race; and the females of that society might be called sisters of cruelty, and not “sisters of mercy.”
Were there a society formed for improving nature as seen in birds and four-footed animals, I suppose all men would look upon such as a society of fools. But a society formed for improving nature as seen in the human species, is more highly thought of than any society on earth. I leave wise men to judge if there is not more of the fool in such a society than they are aware of. And the first attempt that has been made to improve the human species in Scotland is to do away with their native languages, which are the languages of their nature, and which God hath given them to make their feelings and their thoughts known to one another, and to impose upon them a language which is foreign to their nature and not in accordance with the feelings of their hearts. God knows what is better for Highlanders than they know, and their best plan is, if they would not set themselves up in opposition to him, to aid them in obtaining more knowledge of their own language, for certainly they will obtain the knowledge of salvation more readily through the medium of their own than any language they can teach them. There are various ways in which men attempt to improve nature as seen in the human species. I would say leave them, let them alone to be guided by their own natural instincts under the guidance of their parents. The only improvement that ought to be attempted is giving them spiritual instincts—to impart the knowledge of God to them through the medium of their own language—to make them acquainted with God’s method of saving men through Christ—bringing them under the influence of the love of God, giving them the hope of glory—making them to rejoice in God their Saviour, and uniting them to Christ and to one another in love. Then there will indeed be a refined society, with heaven’s stamp upon it—natural, beautiful, glorious: as far above what is called refined society as the heavens are high above the earth.
It is true that the Gaelic is not to be compared as a learned language with the English, being very deficient in those technical terms that are used in the various branches of education. But for ordinary purposes, the Gaelic is not only equal but in many things surpasses the English. The tongue of a Highlander surpasses any that I have listened to for sarcasm, wit, and good humour. For showing the good qualities of one, or the bad qualities of another, it is before the English. For expressing sympathy with a fellow sufferer—for the house of prayer—for the family and the social circle—for expressing the conjugal, the parental, the filial, the brotherly, the friendly feelings and affections of the heart, it is far in advance of the English. For preaching the gospel, for expatiating on the love of God, for holding forth Jesus Christ and him crucified, for catching and keeping the attention, for reaching and searching the conscience, and for applying the subject to the heart, I have always preferred it; and I am convinced that those who know it properly, and are in the habit of using it, have the same feelings. Its very simplicity gives it a power which the English does not possess. Who does not see that the very simplicity of Judah’s pleading with Joseph for his brother Benjamin gave it greater force than had it been delivered by Lord Brougham. Many of the translations which I have seen in Gaelic are far too literal and stiff. A literal translation will never tell on the minds of Highlanders. The best way is to catch the ideas, and to express them as they would do themselves.
What the Gaelic is capable of doing is clearly seen from the Gaelic Messenger and Dr. M’Leod’s Collection, also the Pilgrim’s Progress with notes, and other works of John Bunyan, translated and edited by Dr. M’Gilvray, Glasgow, which has not only come up to the original, but in some things surpasses it. If Good Words in the hands of the son are good, good words in the hands of the father are not behind. Any periodical more expressive, more telling, more touching, and more entertaining than the Gaelic Messenger I have never read; and the principal reason why that periodical had not been more extensively circulated, and why it has ceased to exist, is the great misfortune connected with Highlanders—that the great body of them are not taught to read the Gaelic. This misfortune is their disgrace—the disgrace of parents—the disgrace of noblemen and gentlemen who are native proprietors; yes, and the disgrace of ministers and schoolmasters. Let them all awake and wipe away the disgrace from their native country. It is with blushing shame for my country that I have to declare that never in my younger days did I get a single lesson in the Gaelic in any school that I attended, and I feel the ill effects of it to this day.
There is one thing, however, in which the Gaelic greatly exceeds the English, namely, in lyric poetry. From the very constitution of the two languages the English will not even make a near approach to it. It is capable of a great many contractions that the English is not capable of, agus and ’us, ’s. All monosyllables and trisyllables ending with a, or e, may drop the last. Such words as saoghalta (worldly), saoghalt, saogh’lt; participles of verbs, such as riarachadh (satisfying), riarach’, or riar’chadh; the verb to be, is maith (it is good), ’s maith; bithidh (will, or shall be), bi’dh; bithibh (be ye), bi’bh; bi thusa (be thou), bi’-sa. But what makes the Gaelic so superior to the English, is, not merely that it is capable of more contractions, but as the vowels are more distinctly sounded and the consonants less so, we are satisfied if we get the vowels to rhyme; but that will not do in the English, the consonants must rhyme also. The vowels in the Gaelic have only the two sounds, the short and the long, and are pronounced as in the broad Scotch. We have several sounds which are not in the English at all, sounds formed by the union of two and even three vowels, which are the most melodious in the language. Union of two vowels—ao, gaol, saor (love, free); ia, grian, srian (sun, bridle); ei, greine, srein (the genitive of sun, bridle); eu, speur, neul (sky, cloud); ua, fuachd, shuas (cold, up); ai, baigh, traigh (kindness, seashore); io, fior, dion (true, protection); eo cleoc reota, (a cloak frozen). The union of three vowels, the sweetest sounds in the language—aoi, aoibhneas (joy); uai, buaidh (victory). Besides these, there are many words where eu may be changed into ia, as feur, geur, neul (grass, sharp, cloud), fiar, giar, nial. The former is the standard Gaelic, but the latter is more common in the west and north.
To translate lyric poetry from English into Gaelic is comparatively easy, but to translate it into English is not only more difficult, but we have many pieces which cannot be translated at all so as to rhyme. Let any person compare our metrical version of the Psalms of David with the English, and he cannot but see how superior it is; and even the paraphrases, although originally composed in English, the Gaelic not only comes up to it, but actually surpasses it in many places. In the English, in common metre, the last syllable of the second and fourth line only rhyme, whereas frequently in the Gaelic the last syllable of the first, and the fourth of the second rhyme.
“C’arson a struidheas sibh ’ur maoin