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[Illustration: CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL

OF

POPULAR

LITERATURE, SCIENCE, AND ART.

FOURTH SERIES

CONDUCTED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS.

NO. 723.      SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 3, 1877.      PRICE 1½_d._]




THE GAELIC NUISANCE.


It is not a very creditable fact that after centuries of national
consolidation, there should be communities within the British Islands
who use different vernacular tongues and are ignorant of English. In
other words, there are large numbers of persons who cannot in ordinary
circumstances be directly communicated with. They can neither send
nor intelligibly receive letters through the post-office. Summoned as
witnesses on civil or criminal trials, they are in the position of
foreigners, and stand in need of interpreters. Cut off from English
books and newspapers, a correct knowledge of history, of science and
art, and of passing events is scarcely possible. They necessarily
vegetate amidst vague legends and superstitions. Theirs is a life of
stagnation and impoverishment, in the spot where they were born; for
anything like voluntary emigration to improve circumstances is only
exceptional. And all this has been complacently tolerated, if not
pampered, for hundreds of years by a nation full of enterprise, and
which, with no injustice, aspires to be in the front rank of general
civilisation.

We are quite aware that much the same thing can be said of most of
the continental nations. All are a little behind in this respect. The
ancient Breton language survives in France, as does the Basque in
Spain. Switzerland, Germany, and Russia are respectively a jumble of
spoken tongues. In Holland and Belgium, we have the Dutch, French,
Flemish, and Walloon. To accommodate the inhabitants of Brussels, the
names of the streets are stuck up in two languages. These continental
diversities do not greatly surprise us. In frequent wars, revolutions,
conquests, annexations, along with want of means, and a host of
inveterate prejudices to be encountered, we have an explanation of
the strange mixture of languages and dialects which still prevails in
continental Europe.

The case is somewhat different in the United Kingdom, where everything
but old prejudices would seem to favour a uniform native language
which all can use and understand. Yet, as we have said, there exist
communities who are still less or more ignorant of English. Centuries
have rolled on, and notwithstanding all appliances, groups of people
are yet found speaking a language which was common a thousand years
ago, but now occupies an obscure and fragmentary position. We do not
say that matters have not been advancing towards uniformity. Little
by little, outlying communities have been satisfactorily Anglicised,
not by anything like legal compulsion, but by what might be termed a
natural process of assimilation. We may speak of two important cases.
In the Shetland and Orkney Islands the Norwegian language existed
until within the last two centuries. It is now totally gone, and the
vernacular is a pure English; vastly to the advantage of the natives,
who besides being open to common civilising influences, are prepared
for pushing their fortunes in any part of the British dominions;
some of them indeed making no mean figure in current literature. The
other case is that of Galloway, a district embracing two counties in
the south-west of Scotland, where the Gaelic prevailed longest in
any part of the Lowlands. 'The wild Scots of Galloway' was once a
well-known phrase. It has passed away along with the Gaelic speech.
The Gallowegians--abounding in men of genius--are now a lively and
prosperous English-speaking and English-writing people. For them the
change has been a very happy one.

With a knowledge of these two instances of social improvement, there
is the more reason to regret the protracted existence of non-English
speaking races. No one will say that any good has come of the continued
prevalence of Erse, the old Irish tongue; nor of Manx in the Isle of
Man; nor of Welsh, though that, as regards literature, is considerably
ahead of any branch of the once universal Celtic tongue. Considering
what spirit is demonstrated in the way of books, newspapers, and
otherwise, Welsh rises to a comparatively prominent position; but there
always remains the unpleasant reflection, that interesting as the
Welsh tongue may be, it distinctly mars national unity, and must be a
drawback on those adhering to it alone, and reared in ignorance of
English. To this cause is doubtless attributable the lingering of many
whimsical superstitions in the Principality.

Should any one desire to see what mischiefs are effected by adherence
to a language long since out of date, he should visit some parts of the
Highlands and the Western Islands of Scotland, where, by a well-meant
but mistaken policy, Gaelic is still perseveringly maintained. Some
years since, it was our fortune to pay a visit to Barra, one of the
Outer Hebrides; and the feeling which rose in our mind was that what we
beheld was a specimen of Scotland as it existed in the sixth century,
when St Columba spread a knowledge of Christianity in the western
Caledonian regions. We seemed to step back twelve hundred years. It
was a marvellous kind of look into antiquity. In their language, in
their rude dwellings of stone and turf, in their religious forms, and
in their dress, the people belonged to a far-back age. Their existence
was an anachronism. And the curious thing was to find this condition of
affairs within four-and-twenty hours of Glasgow, with its enterprise
and prodigiously busy population. We have seen the Micmacs living in
a way little better than dogs in the wilds of Nova Scotia, but one is
not greatly astonished to see Indians dwelling in a state of primitive
wretchedness. The sentiment of wonder is raised on finding natives
within the British Islands still living as their ancestors did at a
time coeval with Vortigern and the Saxon Heptarchy. There they are, for
anything we can see, unimprovable. Speaking Gaelic and nothing else,
they, in their dismal isolation, are left behind in all ordinary means
of advancement. Who has not heard of the institutions plausibly and
benevolently set on foot to enlighten the aborigines of the Highlands
and Islands? Well, here, after all that is done, things are much as
they were in the era of St Columba--people living almost like savages,
without the ability to hold intercourse with strangers, or the power
to improve their circumstances, in consequence of knowing no other
tongue than Gaelic. That language is their bane. It keeps them poor, it
keeps them ignorant. So far as they are concerned, the art of printing
might as well never have been invented. The intelligence communicated
by books and newspapers is for them wholly unavailing. Practically,
they are living hundreds of years before the ingenious discoveries of
Gutenberg and Coster. To think that with all the costly apparatus of
national education, such should be going on within the compass of the
British Islands!

It is no use to mince a matter so grave in its results. The upholding
of Gaelic as a vernacular tongue is, in our opinion, an error to be
lamented and abandoned. In saying so, we are reminded that an effort
has been made by an eminently enthusiastic Professor to gather funds
for the purpose of endowing a Celtic Chair in the University of
Edinburgh. To that effort, which is likely to prove successful, we make
no special objection. Let Celtic, like any other ancient language, by
all means be cultivated among the higher aims of philology. Students
who like to pursue learned inquiries of this kind may do so. But it is
a wholly different thing to maintain a system of elementary teaching
in schools which tends to perpetuate Gaelic as a spoken tongue to the
exclusion of English. Apart from social intercommunication, there may
be a difficulty in substituting English for Gaelic. Teaching to read
English alone in Gaelic-speaking districts is said to be of little use.
The pupils learn to pronounce the words without attaching any meaning
to them. Impressed with this awkward consequence, the Society for the
support of Gaelic schools, which has been in existence upwards of
seventy years, suggests that the best way to promote a knowledge of and
taste for English is to begin by teaching pupils to read Gaelic. 'The
people,' it is represented, 'having once got a taste for learning, are
not satisfied with their children being able to read Gaelic; a number
of them pay the teacher for instructing them also in reading English
and writing at extra hours.' There may be some truth in this view of
the matter; but unfortunately we are confronted with the greater truth,
that considerable numbers in the Highlands and Islands still speak
Gaelic, and are ignorant of English to any useful purpose.

If it be absolutely necessary that schoolmasters must begin by teaching
to read the Gaelic, they ought not to end there, but proceed to
offer, by a close translation, the requisite knowledge of English.
There are surely teachers qualified to make Gaelic-speaking children
understand the meaning of English words. The trouble to be taken
may be considerable, but there are few things either great or good
which can be effected without trouble. We cannot doubt that Highland
school-boards might find a way to make pupils understand English
provided they have the will to do so. Indifference and the grudging
of expense perhaps lie quite as much at the root of the difficulty as
traditional prejudice. It is open to conjecture that, but for undue
fostering, Gaelic would stand a fair chance of disappearing altogether
from the Highlands and Islands, as it did in Galloway and elsewhere
simply through the operation of natural causes.

The question, Gaelic or no Gaelic, has, we fear, been too long treated
in a sentimental point of view. For example, we see it fervently
argued that Highlanders should be able to understand and relish the
ancient Gaelic poetry, as if an acquaintanceship with a few old songs
and ballads were a primary concern in life. Poor people nailed to
a sterile soil by their hereditary ignorance of English, are to be
congratulated for their knowledge of some poem which the world at large
never heard of, and does not care about! Happy people, to whom food,
clothing, and cultured intelligence are as nothing in comparison to the
enviable pleasure of singing a ditty ascribed to Fingal or some more
modern and less apocryphal Celtic bard! It is gratifying to know that
Highlanders themselves are a little scandalised by these and similarly
absurd propositions. Sensibly, they observe that it is time to get
rid of Gaelic, as being entirely out of date, and only an impediment.
Two years ago, in a Glasgow newspaper, one who subscribed himself a
'Western Highlander,' took exception to the unreasonable clamour that
had been got up for the maintenance of Gaelic as a spoken tongue. He
says very rationally: 'We Highlanders have a language that, whatever
its beauties, suffices merely for speech; a language by which we
cannot acquire knowledge in art, science, history, commerce, or--if we
exclude the Bible--even religion. With a poor and infertile soil, we
live alongside a people rich in every gift of nature, possessing every
advantage that can insure worldly prosperity. We are debarred from all
the stores of wisdom locked up in the English language. Thus heavily
weighted, we cannot hope to rival our neighbours' wealth, but we can
wish and strive to make the best of our opportunities. We intend to win
our way if industry and thrift can do it. We can endeavour to improve
our infertile soil, to attract capital to our agriculture, to establish
better communication with the rest of the world. Proud as we are of the
mountain and the glen, we know that we cannot live by scenic beauty
alone. We are tired too of kilted glory, and of dressing and acting
up to Cockney sentiment about the savage Celt. We wish to recognise
and study the conditions of existence, the methods of supporting life
and securing comfort. And to do all this, if our much-loved language
has become an impediment rather than a gain, why, let it go. We shall
remain good Highlanders regardless of any particular mode of speech.
At a time when the first whisperings of prosperity are beginning to
reach us, when steamers deeper and deeper laden ply to every corner of
the west, when the completion of a railway will soon make Oban a great
commercial centre, when comforts hitherto undreamt of are everywhere
obtainable--is it right at such a time of promise to intensify our
disadvantages and to make our backwardness more backward still?' Shrewd
remarks these, well worth taking to heart.

It cannot be ascertained from any official Reports what is the exact
number of persons--men, women, and children--whose language is wholly
confined to Gaelic. In the second Report of the Education Commission
published in 1867, it is said to be 'probable that the population of
the parishes within which Gaelic continues to be the only language
which is understood by the majority of the people cannot exceed a
hundred and fifty thousand; these being chiefly the parishes of the
Hebrides, which are wholly insular, and the mainland parishes of the
west coast of the counties of Sutherland, Ross, Inverness, and Argyle.'
It is believed that since 1867, the number whose speech is limited
to Gaelic has diminished through various influences, among which
commercial intercourse by means of steam-vessels and otherwise has
been conspicuous. We should almost aver that Hutcheson's magnificent
fleet of steam-vessels, whether devoted to the carrying of goods or
passengers, had done more to introduce a knowledge of English, along
with conditions of prosperity, into the Hebrides than any other
appliance whatsoever. In the remoter or lesser islands which are little
visited by strangers, there is a corresponding backwardness. Barra we
have already spoken of as still in a singularly primitive condition. At
Coll, Tyree, and some other islands, the knowledge of English is also
unhappily deficient. In comparatively recent times, a great change in
proprietorship has come over these islands. The old families--such as
the Macneils and Macleans--have mostly disappeared, and new landlords
with the means and desire to improve the condition of the soil and the
population, find themselves obstructed by the difficulty of holding
any intelligent intercourse with the natives. The disadvantage is
mutual, for on all hands the Gaelic-speaking inhabitants are unable
to make their wants and feelings known to those who wish to be their
friends. A melancholy case of a rigid adherence to Gaelic, is that of
the extremely remote island of St Kilda. Here, as was described a few
months ago by Mr J. Sands in our pages, the natives speak Gaelic and
nothing else; in Gaelic they are preached to by a minister originally
from the mainland; he and his wife being the only individuals who know
English. Of course the natives can hold no epistolary correspondence
with the exterior world, on whose sympathy they are forced to rely. A
present of English books would be valueless, for they could not read
them. They could not emigrate unless accompanied by an interpreter,
much after the manner of a party of travellers in the East under the
guidance of a dragoman. We ask, Is that a position in which any of Her
Majesty's subjects should continue to be placed through the effect of
custom or prejudice? Such an afflicting condition of affairs is little
better than a national disgrace.

It is hard to run counter to long-cherished and in the main amiable
feelings. It is hard to find fault with persons and institutions whose
motives in encouraging Gaelic have been alike pious and benevolent.
But circumstances oblige us to be candid in a matter so momentous to
public welfare. The Gaelic language may be as copious and energetic as
the Greek; it may be not less suitable for poetry than the Italian; it
has strong archæological claims as a relic of the tongue which in its
various forms was at one time spoken all over the British Islands, if
not over all Europe; but it has survived its usefulness, and is out
of place as a vernacular. In short, looking to the wants of modern
society, and seeing the mischief it produces, we are--however hateful
the term--warranted in characterising Gaelic as a NUISANCE, which every
one should aid in removing with all reasonable speed.

    W. C.




FROM DAWN TO SUNSET.

BY 'ALASTER GRÆME.'


IN THREE PARTS.--PART II.


CHAPTER THE SEVENTEENTH.

No one but Mistress Margaret and Marjory knew that Deborah and Kingston
Fleming were betrothed. Meantime Deborah, with her love-secret folded
like a flower within her heart, devoted herself to her father, and
Kingston remained with them. But Deborah's presence was required at
Lincoln; the tenantry were anxious to welcome the new mistress; and
like a dutiful daughter, fondly hoping that the change would restore
her father, she determined, by Kingston's advice, to go there at once,
and to leave Enderby to undergo thorough repair. So they left the dear
old place. 'What will happen,' thought Deborah Fleming, 'ere I see
Enderby again?' Mistress Margaret would not leave Enderby, for certain
private and sufficient reasons of her own; so she pleaded to be left
behind. She was in daily expectation of receiving a secret summons to
follow her husband, and her heart clung to her old father and the old
place.

They arrived at Lincoln Castle in the late summer gloaming. Groups of
solemn cedars were just visible, and the little melancholy bats were
flitting round like spirits; the grand old ivied keep loomed darkly
before them; and beyond, under a glimmering archway, were lights and
figures. Deborah shuddered; she knew not whether to weep or pray, as
she laid her head on her father's shoulder, and thought of herself
entering in triumph as Adam Sinclair's bride. She felt a traitor,
taking Kingston there, her lover, her betrothed, even though he was
going away that night; and the grim presence of Adam Sinclair pervaded
all the place. The same in the gorgeous rooms, gloomy though full of
