The Celtic Magazine, Vol. I, No. VI, April 1876: A Monthly Periodical Devoted to the Literature, History, Antiquities, Folk Lore, Traditions, and the Social and Material Interests of the Celt at Home and AbroadVarious
History
The Celtic Magazine, Vol. I, No. VI, April 1876: A Monthly Periodical Devoted to the Literature, History, Antiquities, Folk Lore, Traditions, and the Social and Material Interests of the Celt at Home and Abroad
So far as I know, singing Gaelic songs has had no evil effect upon our
countrymen. Indeed, singing is one of the prettiest, and one of the most
harmless things connected with human nature, even in its degenerate
state. A man who can sing a Gaelic song well is properly considered a
favourite. It is felt that he spreads kindness, and infuses joy and
happiness in the social circle--the language and the sweet melody of the
piece will banish all melancholy and bitter feelings from the mind. A
man influenced by a wicked malicious disposition is certainly not
disposed to sing. The practice they have of fulling or shrinking cloth
in the West Highlands has had a great tendency to keep up the native
melodies. Five, six, or seven females are seated in a circle facing one
another. The cloth having been steeped, is folded in a circle. Each
holds it in both hands, while they raise it as high as the breast, and
then bring it down with a thump on the board. In this way it goes
gradually round from the one to the other. A person standing outside
would only hear one thump. The chosen leader commences the song, all
unite, and by raising and lowering their hands they beat time to the
tune. This generally attracts a crowd of listeners. I have seldom
listened to finer singing.
Lachlan M'Lean, the author of "Adam and Eve," and one of the greatest
enthusiasts for the language, the songs, and the music of the Gael, that
ever lived, was one day on board a steamer going from Tobermory to Oban.
A number of Skye females were on board. He placed them seated in a
circle on deck, and they commenced singing, with their handkerchiefs in
their hands, to the great delight of all on board, with the exception of
an elderly austere professor of religion, who frowned upon them and
silenced them. If such be the effect of real religion, I have yet to
learn it. I have no doubt the same man, if he could, would prevent the
larks from singing; and as well attempt to do the one as the other. I am
certain that he would rather have his ears stuffed with cotton than
listen to _Piobaireachd Dho'il Duibh_ played on the bagpipes.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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