Having emerged finally from Burton with his concluding insistence, “Be not solitary, be not idle”, a bit of varied literary refreshment is required. Along with the Kandinsky book which has been too long in the waiting, are volumes on Berlin art of the Weimar Republic by Rainier Metzger, and on the goddess, Aphrodite, by Geoffrey Grigson, which is a curious, but curiously engaging, assembly of history, archaeology and poetry on this once influential but now nearly forgotten figure.
Turning also to the Gaelic Songs of Mary Macleod, Blackie, 1934, edited by J.C. Watson, it is worth pointing out that this early twentieth century edition is still the staple edition of an important Highland poet. Mary Macleod, usually known as Mairi Nighean Alasdair Ruaidh, had a place in the seventeenth century household of Dunvegan, as a high-ranking retainer of sorts. She was related to the chiefly family, acting as nurse to the chiefs and as poet. This handsome little volume has notes and a facing page translation. However, a fresh edition might make it clearer whether any of these poems have been altered over the years to fit them into the shape of waulking songs, and the introduction could certainly do with being updated and expanded.
The verse itself is part of the corpus of aristocratic Highland poetry, revolving mainly around the chiefs and their households. The chiefs in their turn were, or were supposed to be, patrons of the arts, and protectors of their people. So there are laments on the deaths of chiefs and praise poems to them. Within this conventional framework, it was possible to show nuances of emphasis: for example by spotlighting the virtues of living chiefs or by passing over these in tacit criticism by stressing their lineage instead. Standard tropes include a hospitable, musical, well-feasted household; a chief like a sapling or the highest apple in an orchard; order as chess-playing; hair as golden as instrument strings.
Here is a representative stanza from Luinneag ( a song to Iain, son of Sir Norman on his presenting her with a snuff mull):
Tha mo chean air an Ruairidh,
Gur luaimneach mu d’sgeula mi;
Fior bhoinne geal suairc thu,
Am bheil uaisle na peucaige,
Air an d’fhas an cul dualach
Is e ‘na chuachagan teudbhuidhe;
Sin is urla ghlan shuairce:
Cha bu tuairisgeul breugach e.
My favour is with Ruairidh,
That you made my spirits leap with your news;
A true, bright, urbane drop you are,
With the nobility of the peacock,
On whom have grown tresses falling in locks
And with little curls string-golden;
That your aspect is clear and civil:
That would not be a lying, made-up report.
There is a typical ambiguity between the personal qualities of the Highland noble, and the standard type to which he (occasionally she) is expected to conform. Thus the poem is both personal and impersonal. The appearance of the person praised is important in displaying their moral and aristocratic virtues. In the final line, she uses what is a common feature in Gaelic literature, the use of negative understatement or litotes, saying something is not un-.
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