Scotland the Brave Land E-Book

Stuart McHardy

• Herausgeber: Luath Press
• Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 206

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2013

Beschreibung

From bold heroines to clan battles, standing stones to castles, there is hardly any aspect of Scotland's heritage that does not feature in our storytelling traditions. This collection of stories from all parts of Scotland, and from all periods of our dramatic - and often truly heroic - history is both an introduction to and a journey into Scotland's rich cultural heritage. Covering the same themes as Disney-Pixar's new fairytale film, Brave, this book provides the next step for those wishing to delve deeper into Scotland's culture and traditions. BACK COVER: There is not a stream or a rock that does not have its story. STUART McHARDY With the release of Disney-Pixar's 'Brave' the world's attention is being drawn to Scotland and its fascinating history. But 'Brave' merely scrapes the surface of Scotland's rich story-telling culture. This collection of tales is the next step for anyone wishing to look further into the traditions of Scotland. These enchanting tales reflect the wide diversity of its heritage and there are few aspects of Scottish tradition that have escaped memorialisation in folklore. With its captivating, and often gruesome, tales of heroic warriors in battle, bold heroines, deceitful aristocracy, and supernatural creatures Brave Land is a journey into the cultural heritage of a nation and the folklore surrounding the creation of the breath-taking landscape of its country. Scotland the Brave Land provides the reader the perfect opportunity to delve a little deeper into the myths, legends and history of this truly mesmerising country.

Leseprobe

STUART MCHARDY is a storyteller, writer, poet, musician, broadcaster and lecturer on Scottish history and folklore. Since graduating with a history degree from Edinburgh University in the 1970s he has found ongoing inspiration and stimulus in Scotland’s dynamic story and music traditions. His research has led him far beyond his native land and he has lectured and performed in many different parts of the world. Whether telling stories to children or lecturing to adults, Stuart’s enthusiasm and love of his material make him an entertaining and stimulating speaker.

His own enthusiasm and commitment have led to him re-interpreting much of the history, mythology and legends of early Western Europe. Combining the roles of scholar and performer gives McHardy an unusually clear insight into tradition and he sees connections and continuities that others may have missed. As happy singing an old ballad as analysing ancient legends, he has held such diverse positions as Director of the Scots Language Resource Centre and President of the Pictish Arts Society. He lives in Edinburgh with the lovely Sandra and they have one son, Roderick.

By the same author

Strange Secrets of Ancient Scotland (Lang Syne Publishers, 1989)

Tales of Whisky and Smuggling (Lochar, 1992)

The Wild Haggis an the Greetin-faced Nyaff (Scottish Children’s Press, 1995)

Scotland: Myth, Legend and Folklore (Luath Press, 1999)

Edinburgh and Leith Pub Guide (Luath Press, 2000)

Scots Poems to be read aloud (Editor) (Luath Press, 2001)

Tales of Whisky and Smuggling (House of Lochar, 2002)

The Quest for Arthur (Luath, 2002)

The Quest for the Nine Maidens (Luath Press, 2003)

MacPherson’s Rant and other tales of the Scottish Fiddle (Birlinn, 2004)

The Silver Chanter and other tales of Scottish Piping (Birlinn, 2004)

School of the Moon: the Scottish cattle raiding tradition (Birlinn, 2004)

On the Trail of Scotland’s Myths and Legends (Luath Press, 2005)

The Well of the Heads and other Clan Tales (Birlinn, 2005)

Luath Storyteller: Tales of the Picts (Luath, 2005)

On the Trail of the Holy Grail (Luath, 2006)

The White Cockade and other Jacobite Tales (Birlinn, 2006)

Luath Storyteller: Tales of Edinburgh Castle (Luath, 2007)

Scotland the Brave Land

10,000 Years of Scotland in Story

STUART McHARDY

Luath Press Limited

EDINBURGH

www.luath.co.uk

First published 2012

eBook 2012

ISBN (Print): 978-1-908373-49-6

ISBN (eBook): 978-1-909912-25-0

The author’s right to be identified as author of this book under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 has been asserted.

© Stuart McHardy 2012

Table of Contents

Foreword - Scotland - Where Legends Come to Life

Introduction

ANCIENT SCOTLAND

Calanais

The Ghost of Norrie’s Law

Sueno’s Stone

Vanora’s Stone

CASTLES AND ROYALTY

A Dangerous Man

Couttie and the King

The Black Dinner

For Love of the Prince

The Scottish Regalia and the Wizard of the North

MYTHS AND LEGENDS

Atholl Brose

Stoneputter’s Challenge

St Monenna

The Nine Maidens and the Dragon

Scotland’s National Flag

CLANS AND CULTURE

Colenel Anne

The Macdonald Hen Chief

Son of the Carpenter

A Grand Archer

Macnab and the Sheriff’s Officer

The Silver Buttons

The Clean Shaven Minister

Cave of Raitts

The Daft Lad

LANDSCAPE

The Corryvreckan and the Cailleach

The Lost Fiddler

WILDLIFE

Conachar's Dog

A Kelpie Tale

Columba and Nessie

SCOTLAND- Where Legends Come to Life

THE SUCCESS OF the animated movie ‘Brave’ is a bold reminder, were any needed, that Scotland is a treasure trove of myth and legend.

The oldest layers of story grow quite literally out of the landscape. They are about the gods, goddesses, giants and heroes who made our country. Whether by acts of boastfulness and bravado such as mountain tossing and rock putting, or by acts of generous love that allow rivers and springs to flow, lochs to form and the land to take life – the elemental forces are all around in wave, rock, storm and stream. Scotland is a brave land, a stronghold of the free, yet it is a stronghold that nurtures and protects her children, and welcomes the stranger. Storytelling is the hospitable art.

After the creation myths, come legends such as the Saints tales of Columba, Ninian and Mungo; sagas of Norse settlers and raiders, historical tales of the independence heroes William Wallace and Robert Bruce, and stories of the Highland and the Border clans. These flow seamlessly into later stories of inventors and explorers along with numerous pioneers in education, international friendship and human rights.

But all of these stories arise too from Scotland’s diverse cultural geography. Facing outwards north, east and west by sea – and south by land – Scotland is a crossroads of people and events. Moreover, within our big small country there are formidable barriers of mountain and loch that divide different areas of cultural influence and tradition. With Gaelic, Pictish, Scots, Germanic, Norse, Flemish, Mediterranean, old British and Atlantic cultures all lapping at our shores, and taking root in different regions, Scots have never been wanting for choice when it comes to songs and stories.

After these waves of myth and legend comes the tsunami of our Scottish folk tales. Stories of the little people, of ghosts, tricksters, derring-do lassies, wicked magicians and magical helpers are all around us in the landscape, often perpetuating yet older traditions. These stories are also found in the cities where new forms of urban community and entertainment developed from the old. City dwellers are keen to stay connected with the hills and valleys in which they are located.

The key thing in folktales was to entertain while also passing on lots of cultural knowledge and life wisdom. In our own time these folk traditions have experienced a remarkable renaissance as new storytellers have taken up old themes and given them back to a wider audience. Perhaps ‘Brave’ itself is part of that movement of rediscovery and reinvention.

As long as people want to tell and to enjoy stories, then the storytelling traditions will remain alive, continuous yet ever changing in new contexts. Scots of all ages and cultures like to talk! The river of memory, entertainment and wisdom is as unstoppable as the moment Auld Mither Cailleach unplugged the well of stories and let it flow.

But however excellent Scotland’s storytellers, authors, poets and filmmakers may be, there is only one place to truly enjoy these traditions and that is in Scotland – where the legends were born and where their authentic life remains. When you see the land then you can recognise the stories for what they truly are – the life and soul of a whole country. Equally, without stories the land is a territory unknown, unmapped, unfriendly. We are all the children of our landscape and when we feel that kinship then the stories and the songs begin to bubble up.

The game changing ecologist Patrick Geddes, a Scotsman of the industrial age, coined the phrase ‘think global, act local.’ If we love our own land, tend it like a garden, and share its gifts, then the whole earth can once again flower and flourish. Brave land makes beautiful planet. Stuart McHardy has provided an ideal threshold for Scotland’s older storytelling traditions. It is my pleasure to open the door and invite you inside.

Donald Smith

Director

Scottish Storytelling Centre

INTRODUCTION

SCOTLAND HAS BEEN described as a land of story. In fact it has been said that there is hardly a stream or a rock that does not have its own tale. It is true that many places have their own tales for, like people everywhere, the Scots have always had a deep love of the land and a great respect for those who went before, our ancestors. In the modern world we are dominated by the idea of history as the written word, but for tens if not hundreds of millennia humans only had stories to tell them who they were and where they came from. And story survives despite the introduction of writing, television, computer games and increasingly sophisticated means of electronic communication. All of them need stories. Story is in our hearts and seems almost to be in our DNA. Children come into the world surrounded by story and it is no accident that what are thought of as children’s stories are often rooted in the far past and draw up on myth and legend for their ongoing power and popularity. And in Scotland we are blessed that the art of story-telling, whether in our schools, our homes, or in the pub, has never gone away. Nowadays of course we have storytelling clubs and there have never been as many storytellers.

Scotland’s tales are rich in all aspects of the human story. This collection taken from a variety of earlier compendia of our native tales covers the far past, our kings and castles, our deepest myths and legends, the culture of our Highland clans, our landscape and the supernatural. It tells of our beautiful landscape but also the psychological reality of who we are. We continue to tell our stories to remind us of who we are, to honour our ancestors and to help educate our children. For truly in this ancient country storytelling has never faded. And hopefully this small selection of our tales can serve as an introduction to the vast treasury of the fascinating, frightening, entrancing and inspiring tapestry of Scotland’s storytelling.

ANCIENT SCOTLAND

CALANAIS

ON THE WESTERN SIDE of the Isle of Lewis, overlooking Loch Roag is one of the most remarkable megalithic structures in the British Isles. This is the unique stone circle of Calanais. The landscape around it is dotted with many more megalithic sites, showing that this was an area of major importance 5,000 years ago. The location of the site by a sea loch at the westernmost edge of Europe reminds us that in that distant time traveling by water was commonplace – and much easier than traveling across the heavily wooded land mass of the continent. The monument itself is roughly the shape of a Celtic cross with a central circle, a long avenue running north-south and shorter avenues leading from the circle to east and west, though nowadays the original design is no longer complete. What is agreed amongst a wide range of scholars is that Calanais is ideally positioned to see the standstill of the moon. This is the time every 18.6 years that the moon reaches its furthest west setting and can be seen clearly in a notch of the hills to the south from the avenue of Calanais. It is not a coincidence that the hills to the south are known as caillich na mointich – usually translated as the ‘old woman of the moors’ but, in all probability, in ancient belief was a reference to the appearance of a sleeping goddess in the landscape. While this is remarkable in itself there is more, much more.

When Martin Martin visited the island in 1695 he was told that the site had been a place of worship in heathen times, though we should be careful of the then current fashion for linking all megalithic structures with the shadowy figures of the Druids. However, it seems he was not the first to write of this mysterious and awesome place. An ancient Greek writer told of a priest called Abaris coming to Athens round about 350AD from ‘the winged temple of Apollo’ in Hyperborea. Hyperborea means ‘the place beyond the north wind’ and is generally agreed to mean the British Isles. Many scholars have tried to make out that the reference is to Stonehenge but Calanais is in fact a much better fit. The god Apollo was said to dance at this temple every 19 years and we have already seen how Calanais was created to watch the 18.6 year cycle of the moon. Apollo is however thought of as a sun god and it is here that the local legends of Calanais begin to really matter. It has been handed down through the oral tradition that each Midsummer the ‘Shining One’ walks down the central avenue of Calanais. This would appear to be the Gaelic God Lugh who has, like Apollo, often been portrayed as a sun god. He is heralded by a cuckoo and it was thought that all cuckoos visiting Lewis first flew to Calanais. There is a great deal of bird lore hinted at in Celtic legend and the cuckoo was portrayed as coming to call the time for Beltain, the great ancient traditional fire festival that took place on 1 May throughout the British Isles and beyond.

A legend concerning the erection of the stones was written down by a local minister last century and it tells of a group of ships coming into Loch Roag, manned by black men. They were accompanied by priests, the chief of whom had a white cloak of bird feathers. After the stones were erected the ships and their crews left but the priests stayed behind to officiate at the stones. This is a striking story and all the more relevant because nowadays we know that the megalith builders seemed to have sailed up the coast of Europe from as far south as Morocco. All the Atlantic coastal lands have great stone creations and it is intriguing that many of them from Morocco, Galicia in north-west Spain, Brittany, Scotland and Ireland also share a love of music created on pipes and drums.

Until the 19th century some local families were known as ‘of the Stones’ and tradition says that they had the duty of raising the neid-fire at the Beltain ceremonies held at the stones. Neid-fire was raised by the friction of wood on wood. After all fires had been put out and after walking the bounds of village and fields people would then use the sacred fire to light their house fires. Much care was taken to ensure that the fire was properly damped down at night in such a way as to be brought to life again in the morning. If the fire went out bad luck was sure to follow and to give someone a light to restart their own fire was to give away part of your own good luck. Here as at other locations the actual raising of the neid-fire was probably a complex ritual. Such traditions lasted long, for despite the blandishments of the parish priests – and Hebrideans have long been noted for their Christian devotion – it was believed that it would be a bad thing to neglect the old stones.

Calanais has attracted other types of more general stories through its long existence. Apart from the motif of the Fir Bhreige one story told was that the local giants met to discuss what to do about the arrival of a Christian missionary – St Kieran, who, once they were gathered turned them into stone! Hardly an act of Christian kindness.

Another story tells of a great white cow that came to the stones from Loch Roag itself in a time of hardship and near famine, following a Viking raid on the island. No matter how often she was milked this white cow gave freely to everyone who brought their pail. One day a woman came with two pails and the cow, being a magical beast, asked her in Gaelic, what she was doing. The woman explained that her friend was sick and had asked her to bring her pail for milk. So the cow duly let her have two pails. This was noticed by another woman, who happened to be a witch, and greedy with it. Next day she too brought two buckets but the cow realised what was happening and only let her have the one. Angered by this, the spiteful witch returned the following day with one pail – but a pail with no bottom. In this way she milked the cow dry and the magical creature disappeared, never to be seen again.

Another tale of witchcraft concerns two young women in the locality who were in love with the same man. They had been friends but they were being driven apart by this and one of them went to consult a witch as to how she could ensure her success in winning the love of the man. The witch gave her a magic belt which she was told to give as a gift to her rival, who would then be ‘taken away’ by her master. This was obviously the devil and the lass, though accepting the belt began to realise what she was doing and despite being lovesick decided against harming her friend. However she had no idea how she could get rid of such a dangerous object.

At last she thought she had found a way. She went on her own late one evening to the stones of Calanais. Summoning up all her courage she took the belt and fastened it around one of the stones. The stone burst into flame and the air was filled with a great noise of howling and honking and the flapping of wings. A great cloud of smoke began together and the lass took to her heels. The next day she returned. The stone round which she had fastened the belt was broken just above where it had been clasped, the upper half of it lying on the ground and scorch marks covering the stone round the break. This was believed to be the stone just outside the circle on the east side of the southern avenue and given as number 34 in some descriptions.

The range of stories relating to Calanais is hardly surprising. Today as you approach the stones on the road from Stornoway and see them first along the ridge at Breasclete they can still take the breath away and as more and more sites in the locality are discovered, the fundamental importance of this magical place is underlined.

THE GHOST OF NORRIE’S LAW

ON THE NORTH SIDE of the river Forth stands Largo Law overlooking the coastal village of Upper Largo. A mile beyond the Law is the remains of an ancient burial mound, known locally as Norrie’s Law, which is linked to Largo Law by a strange tale…

On the slopes of Largo Law itself the local children would play a widely known game, but with its own local slant. One child would stand in front of a group of pals and say,

‘A’ll tell ye a story, Aboot Tammie o Norrie, If ye dinnae speak in the middle o it, Will ye no?’ The idea was simple, to make one of the other, probably younger children, say no and thus the story couldn’t be told. This is a very widespread bairns’ game, the difference here being the mention of Tammie o Norrie, a local cowherd who figures in the tale. There was a local tradition that a ghost haunted the slopes of Largo Law, a ghost that was condemned to roam the earth till it could unburden itself of a secret. The secret was where the robber, whose apparition now haunted the hill, had buried his gold. In life he had been an evil creature driven by the lust for gold and in death his obsession cursed him. He had no hope of attaining eternal bliss unless he could unburden himself of his secret. Many people had thought to help the poor creature by listening to his tale, and of course get some benefit for themselves for their kindness, but all, when confronted by the grim apparition in the gloaming of the shores of the Law had been unable to control their terror and had run away.

Eventually though, one local man, a shepherd on the farm of Balmain decided that he was just the boy to approach the ghost and relieve it of its burden, thereby enriching himself. Like the robber he was driven by dreams of wealth and was a sour and bitter man. Dissatisfied with his lot as a shepherd he thought he deserved better and that if he could get the buried treasure the people of the area would see his true mettle! He thought about it long and hard and then one evening, summoning up all his courage he went to Largo Law in the gloaming, hoping to meet the unfortunate spirit. Walking along the northern shoulder of the hill in the darkening light he saw what appeared to be a shimmering cloud of smoke not far in front of him. As he watched, the strange shimmering seemed to solidify and in the blink of an eye he found himself confronted by the ghost. A tall deathly looking figure it was and the spectre looked long and hard at him causing his blood to run cold. The spirit stood silent before him.

‘I have come…’ he stammered and fell silent, flinching under the steely gaze of the undead eyes, he steeled himself he spoke again. ‘I have come to listen to your tale and help you seek eternal rest.’

The creature looked hard at him and it seemed as if a cold vice had grabbed his heart. Then a sepulchral voice boomed out,

‘If the Auchendowrie cock disnae craw,

An the herd o Balmain disnae blaw,

A’ll tell ye where the gowd is on Largo Law.

Come here on the morrow an dinnae be late

For I’ll no wait longer than the hour o eight’

At that the spirit shimmered and seemed to drift away like smoke on the soft breeze blowing off the river. The shepherd was shaking with excitement. He was going to be rich. The next day at eight o’clock he would know where the buried treasure was. All he hed to do was follow the ghost’s instructions. What had he said? ‘If the Auchendowrie cock disnae blaw’ that was easily enough done he thought. The other bit, ‘An the herd o Balmain disnae blaw’ well he could sort that too. The cowherd of Balmain was Tammie o Norrie, a man he had little time, or respect for, and he was sure he could stop him blowing on his horn to summon the cattle into the byre in the early evening without too much bother.

The following morning the entire household of Auchendowrie farm slept in. No cock had cried to waken the maid to light the fore. When the farmer’s wife heard this and went to check she found her prize rooster dead on the dung heap, strangled. The shepherd had been round before dawn and later was waiting to catch Tammie o Norrie as he drove his cows out to pasture. He was standing leaning on a gatepost when Tammie drove the cattle out of the byre and through the farmyard.

‘Hey you, Tammie o Norrie, I want a word wi ye,’ he said, looking furtively around.

Now Tammie knew who the shepherd was and was aware there were few people who had a good word to say about him but, never one to pay attention to gossip, he had nothing against the man.

‘Aye, well whit is it?’ Tammie asked, ‘Be quick though I’ve tae get these beasts out tae the pasture.’

‘Listen tae me. Tonight ye’ had better no blaw yer horn tae summon the cows hame or it’ll be the worse for ye, understand,’ and he drew back his coat to reveal a long knife stuck in his belt.

‘Whit dae ye mean. No blaw my horn. How will I get the cattle hame’ Tammie asked, puzzled by this turn of events.

‘Ye can run them in wi yer dugs,’ snarled the shepherd, his hand clasping the handle of the knife and glowering at Tammie. ‘Mind what I say or ye’ll suffer for it,’ and saying that he turned and stamped off.

Now Tammie was quite bemused by this. The man was obviously dangerous and had made it pretty clear what he wanted. However Tammie was never a man that liked to be ordered about and as he looked after the retreating figure he muttered to himself, ‘Aye well, we’ll see, we’ll see.’

That evening the shepherd made his way to the northern slope of the hill just before eight o’clock. Just as the wraith appeared and was about to speak, the sound of a cow horn floated through the air from Balmain. The ghost, deprived of its release from earthly torment, spat out the words,