“CLAW FOR CLAW, AS CONAN SAID TO SATAN.”
When the Highlanders prepared for Prestonpans (“Wav.,” vol. ii. p. 289), Mrs. Flockhart, in great distress about the departure of her lodgers, asks Ensign Maccombich if he would “actually face thae tearing, swearing chields, the dragoons?” “Claw for claw,” cries the courageous Highlander, “and the devil take the shortest nails!” This is an old Gaelic proverb. Conan was one of Fingal’s heroes—rash, turbulent, and brave. One of his unearthly exploits is said to have led him to Iurna, or Cold Island (similar to the Den of Hela of Scandinavian mythology), a place only inhabited by infernal beings. On Conan’s departure from the island, one of its demons struck him a blow, which he instantly returned. This outrage upon immortals was fearfully retaliated, by a whole legion setting upon poor Conan. But the warrior was not daunted; and exclaiming, “Claw for claw, and the devil take the shortest nails!” fought out the battle, and, it is said, ultimately came off victorious.
TULLY-VEOLAN.
(Traquair House.)
Tully-Veolan finds a striking counterpart in Traquair House, in Peebles-shire, the seat of the noble family whose name it bears. The aspect of the gateway, avenue, and house itself, is precisely that of the semi-Gothic, bear-guarded mansion of Bradwardine. It is true that, in place of the multitudinous representations of the bear, so profusely scattered around Tully-Veolan, we have here only a single pair, which adorn the gate at the head of the avenue: and that the avenue itself cannot pretend to match the broad continuous shade through which Waverley approached the Highland castle; and also that several other important features are wanting to complete the resemblance;—yet, if we be not altogether imposed upon by fancy, there is a likeness sufficiently strong to support the idea that this scene formed the original study of the more finished and bold-featured picture of the novelist. Traquair House was finished in the reign of Charles I. by the first Earl, who was lord high treasurer of Scotland at that period. This date corresponds with that assigned to Tully-Veolan, which, says the author, was built when architects had not yet abandoned the castellated style peculiar to the preceding warlike ages, nor yet acquired the art of constructing a baronial mansion without a view to defence.
It is worthy of remark, that the Earl of Traquair is the only Scottish nobleman, besides the Earl of Newburgh, who still adheres to the Romish faith:[8] and that his antique and interesting house strongly resembles, in its internal economy and appearance, Glenallan Castle, described in the “Antiquary.”
Among the illustrative vignettes prefixed to a late edition of the author of “Waverley’s” works, a view of Craig Crook Castle, near Edinburgh, is given for Tully-Veolan; and, to complete the vraisemblance, several bears have been added to the scene. It is only necessary to assert, in general, that these bears only exist in the imagination of the artist, and that no place has less resemblance to the Tully-Veolan of “Waverley” than Craig Crook, which is a small single house, in a bare situation, more like the mansion of poor Laird Dumbiedykes than the castle of a powerful feudal baron.
THE BODACH GLAS.
The original of the Bodach Glas, whose appearance proved so portentous to the family of the Mac-Ivors, may probably be traced to a legend current in the ancient family of Maclaine of Lochbuy, in the island of Mull, noticed by Sir Walter Scott in a note to his “Lady of the Lake.”[9] The popular tradition is, that whenever any person descended of that family is near death, the spirit of one of them, who was slain in battle, gives notice of the approaching event. There is this difference between the Bodach Glas and him, that the former appeared on these solemn occasions only to the chief of the house of Mac-Ivor, whereas the latter never misses an individual descended of the family of Lochbuy, however obscure, or in whatever part of the world he may be.
The manner of his showing himself is sometimes different, but he uniformly appears on horseback. Both the horse and himself seem to be of a very diminutive size, particularly the head of the rider, from which circumstance he goes under the appellation of “Eoghan a chinn bhig,” or “Hugh of the little head.” Sometimes he is heard riding furiously round the house where the person is about to die, with an extraordinary noise, like the rattling of iron chains. At other times he is discovered with his horse’s head nearly thrust in at a door or window; and, on such occasions, whenever observed, he gallops off in the manner already described, the hooves of his steed striking fire from the flinty rocks. The effects of such a visit on the inmates of the dwelling may be easily conceived when it is considered that it was viewed as an infallible prognostication of approaching death—an event at which the stoutest heart must recoil, when the certainty is placed before him of his hours being numbered. Like his brother spirits, he seems destined to perform his melancholy rounds amidst nocturnal darkness, the horrors of which have a natural tendency to increase the consternation of a scene in itself sufficiently appalling.