You’ve helped yourself—now God help you!’”
I have spoken of Professor Aytoun, and his connection with the Bon Gaultier Ballads. As everybody knows, “The Massacre of the Phairshon,”
“With four-and-twenty men
And five-and-thirty pipers,”
is from Aytoun’s pen. In the Memoirs of the poet, written by his friend and collaborator, Sir Theodore Martin, there is this capital story of the ballad. “Being asked to get up an impromptu amusement at a friend’s house in 1844, for some English visitors, who were enthusiastic about the Highlanders and the Highlands, he fished out from his wardrobe the kilt with which he had electrified the men of Thurso in his boyish days. Arraying himself in this, and a blue cloth jacket with white metal buttons, which he had got years before to act a charity boy, in a charade, he completed his costume by a scarf across his shoulders, short hose, and brogues! The brevity of the kilt produced a most ludicrous effect, and not being eked out with the usual ‘sporran’ left him much in the condition of the ‘Cutty Sark’ of Burns’s poem. With hair like Katterfelto’s, on end in wild disorder, Aytoun was ushered into the drawing-room. He bore himself with more than Celtic dignity, and saluted the Southrons with stately courtesy, being introduced to them as the famous Laird of Macnab. The ladies were delighted with the Chieftain, who related many highly exciting traits of Highland manners. Among other things, when his neighbours, as he told them, made a foray, which they often did, upon his cattle, he thought nothing of ‘sticking a tirk into their powels,’ when the ladies exclaimed, in horror, ‘O, laird, you don’t say so!’
“‘Say so!’ he replied, ‘on my saul, laties, and to pe surely, I to it.’
“At supper he was asked to sing a song. ‘I am fery sorry, laties,’ he replied, ‘that I have no voice; but I will speak to you a translation of a fery ancient Gaelic poem,’ and proceeded to chant ‘The Massacre of ta Phairshon,’ which came upon all present as if it were the invention of the moment, and was greeted with roars of laughter. The joke was carried on until the party broke up, and the strangers were not undeceived for some days as to the true character of the great Celtic chief.”
Adam Skirving, author of the popular song of “Johnnie Cope,” and the equally facetious and felicitous ballad of “Tranent Muir,” was a wealthy farmer near Haddington, and a man of athletic body as well as of strong mind. Among the various persons referred to in “Tranent Muir” was a certain Lieutenant Smith, an Irishman, who displayed much cowardice in the battle. Says the poet:—
“And Major Bowle, that worthy sowl,