XVII.

SUPERSTITIONS OF THE HIGHLANDERS.

Essays on the Superstitions of the Highlanders of Scotland: to which are added, Translations from the Gaelic; and Letters connected with those formerly published. By the Author of "Letters from the Mountains."

Ir is a gloomy reflection which occurs to us, in contemplating the world as a very picturesque scene, that much the greatest portion of what man has contributed, and still contributes to make it so, is the result and proof of the perverted condition of the understanding and morality of the species. If we look at the more palpable and material division of the things by which that species have given to the world an aspect very striking to the imagination, it is False Religion that has raised so many superb temples, of which the smallest remaining ruins bear an impressive character of grandeur; that has prompted the creation, from shapeless masses of substance, of so many beautiful or monstrous forms, representing fabulous super-human and divine beings; and that has produced some of the most stupendous works intended as abodes, or monuments, of the dead. It is the evil next in eminence, War, that has caused the earth to be embossed with so many thousands of massy structures in the form of towers and defensive walls-so many remains of ancient camps-so many traces of the labours by which armies overcame the obstacles opposed to them by rivers, rocks, or mountains-and so many triumphal edifices raised to perpetuate the glory of conquerors. It is the oppressive Self-importance of imperial tyrants, and of their inferior commanders of human toils, that has erected those magnificent residences which make a far greater figure in our imagination, than the collective dwellings of the humbler population of a whole continent, and that has in some spots thrown the surface of the earth into new forms. Had an en

lightened understanding and uncorrupt moral principles always and universally reigned among mankind, not one of all these mighty operations, the labours of unnumbered millions, under the impulse and direction of a prodigious aggregate of genius and skill, would even have been thought of. Not one stone would have been laid of Pagan temple or embattled fortress, of mausoleum, or triumphal arch, or tyrant's palace. The ground occupied by the once perfect, and now ruined, mansions of the gods at Athens, or Palmyra, or Thebes, or Rome, the sites of the Egyptian pyramids, of the Roman amphitheatres, and of the palaces of the Alhambra or the Seraglio, might, some of them, have been cultivated as useful pieces of garden-ground, and some of them covered, from early ages till now, with commodious, but not showy, dwellings of virtuous families, or plain buildings for the public exercises of the true religion. In short, the world would have been a scene incomparably more happy and more morally beautiful, but it would have been without a vast multitude of objects that now conspire to make a grand, and even awful, impression on the imagination.

If we fix our attention on the other class of things contributed by the human species, to give what we call a pictuesque character to the world-the class supplied by their personal condition and manners-we find that in this part also of that character the most striking appearances are those which manifest error and moral evil. What is it, in this view, that most powerfully seizes the imagination? It is the wild and formidable character and habits of savages and barbarians,— of North-American Indians, South-Sea Islanders, Arabs, and Tartars: It is the monstrous forms of national polity, or of subordinate social institution: It is the contrast of the various systems of manners, rivals perhaps in absurdity: It is whatever is most pompous, most fantastic, or most vicious, in the ceremonial appointments of civilized and uncivilized society: It is that ferocious aspect of hostility with which the human tribes all over the earth are constantly looking at one another, and those dreadful collisions in which myriads are perishing every month; but perhaps, above all, it is their superstitions : for these, by their nature, partake more than all the other things enumerated, of that solemnity and mystery which have so mighty a power over the imagination.

We now come towards the purpose of this prolix array of

common places, by the double observation,-that the advance of just thinking and right moral principles will, proportionably, annihilate a great deal that is very striking and romantic in the now existing economy of the human species,—but that we ought to be pleased for these picturesque aspects to vanish, if their disappearance be owing to the removal of that intellectual or moral perversion by which they were produced. The complacent feeling here demanded, as a tribute due to the excellence of truth and moral rectitude, is, of course, only called for at the disappearance of such striking features of the world as belong to the latter division, that is, of such as are presented in the personal condition and habits of the human species, and indicate, so long as they appear, the continued operation of the evil causes from which they have arisen. For as to those material objects produced by the prevalence of evil, and which are so fascinating to the imagination,-the pyramids, the ruined temples, and the vast works that remain as monuments of former wars, we suppose almost all men may agree in wishing they might continue to exist to the latest periods of the world, to assist historians in representing, and a distant posterity in a happier age in believing, the true state of mankind in former periods. But the picturesque forms of practical superstition, and of any other thing in the human economy which indicates and results from a still operating perversion of understanding or moral sentiments, ought not to be deplored when they vanish to return no more,-even though they were as captivating to the fancy, as comparatively innoxious, and combined with as many virtues, half virtues, and romantic fine qualities, as the superstitions of the Highlanders of Scotland.

Our old friend Mrs. Grant is some trifle below our standard, on this subject. She acknowledges, with full conviction, that that mode of personal character, (comprising notions, moral sentiments, and practical habits,) and that constitution of the social economy, which should be formed on the plain ground of absolute truth generally, and specially on the ground of religious truth, perfectly clear of every deceptive fancy, would be better than the very best state of the ancient Highland character and social system. And yet there is something so singular, so poetical, and really in some points so truly elevated, in the ancient character and economy of these Celtic tribes, that she shows a kind of reluctance to lose

any particle that entered into the constitution of so strange and interesting a moral order. She cannot help looking back with a feeling, perhaps in some slight degree tinged with fondness and regret, on some of the more romantic and harmless of the superstitions that once had so visionary and solemn an influence. She has somewhat of a similar feeling, in this retrospect, to that with which a solitary devotee to contemplation has sometimes beheld the beautiful delusive aspects of things by moonlight fading into the plain sober forms of reality under the commencing ascendency of day-light; or with which a person awaking from an enchanting dream, strives to recall the vanishing images, the last glimpse of which seems to convey something much finer than the objects arranged round the room, or to be seen through the window. And we must confess we were scarcely ever in an equal degree disposed to be forbearing to such a feeling. The departed or departing system of sentiments and habits certainly did contain a great deal that very powerfully tended to fix indelibly a fondly partial impression of almost all its parts on a youthful mind of sensibility and poetical enthusiasm, when presented to its view amidst that solemn mountain scenery, where that system had prevailed so many ages, had left so many religiously admitted traditions, and had continued, even down to that time, to maintain a very considerable, though declining, degree of actual prevalence among the people.

Setting aside historical correctness, we can well believe that our author is better qualified than any other person to delineate a lively picture of the former economy of Highland society. She complains, however, that it is now somewhat too late.

It certainly is to be regretted that there had not been, a century since, or even at a somewhat later period, just such an observer as our author, (saving, perhaps, that a somewhat smaller portion of enthusiasm would have sufficed for the object) introduced among the Highland tribes, and domesticated for several years among different clans, in order to enter into the very recesses of their character and social state, to learn their traditionary histories, to preserve the most striking of their written and unwritten poetry, to collect characteristic anecdotes, to discern the most material differences in the general character as appearing among the different sections

of the people, and then to come away with a comprehensive description of what certainly had no parallel among nations, and of what, being now in a great measure broken up and annihilated, will never return into existence. And that description ought to have been given with the same ease and animation as this before us,-the same power of presenting such moral portraits as will serve as well as if we conversed with the real living beings,-the same general and versatile force of colouring,-much of the same friendly sympathy with the people, and as little as possible of the same neglect of method.

But our author shows it would, at any time, have been very difficult to acquire any intimate knowledge of the character of the Highlanders. Between them and the Lowlanders there uniformly existed such an active antipathy as to preclude all unreserved intercourse.

The distance of half the circumference of the globe could hardly have been more effectual than such a state of neighbourhood, to keep the best and the most romantic qualities of the mountaineers unknown. And any friendly and inquisitive stranger who should have wished to reside among them, would have met, according to Mrs. Grant's very natural representation, almost insuperable obstacles. As a transient visitor, he would have been received with politeness and hospitality; but if attempting to establish himself, he would have been regarded as an intruder; and especially any attempt to obtain the smallest particle of land, even if it could have been successful, would have excited so strong a hostility, as to leave no security either to his property or person. The land was not more in any of the districts than to afford moderate allotments to the members of the clan, all of whom regarded themselves as the family of the chief, and as having therefore such claims on him that his granting one acre to a stranger would have been a piece of outrageous injustice.

Nor was any satisfactory information to be obtained concerning the interior character of this race, from such individuals of them as sometimes came among the more southern people of the island. For either they came for education, too early in life to bring with them either the mature example or the knowledge of that character; or, if they came at a more advanced age, their quick and proud perception of the liability of their most peculiar feelings and superstitions to ridicule