Travellers' Tales of Scotland

The following is from Travellers' Tales of Scotland by R. H. Coats:

II - Hector Boece

(1527)

WHEN the fifteenth century was drawing to a close, a young Scotsman of about thirty-five, named Hector Boece, returned to his native country from the University of Paris. He had already spent thirteen years in the French capital, during which time he had made the acquaintance of Erasmus, and eminently distinguished himself both as a student and as a professor. Now, in the year 1498, his services were solicited by Bishop Elphinstone, who was anxiously occupied in establishing King's College, Aberdeen, on the model of the seminaries of Paris and Bologne. The Pope's blessing on the scheme had been freely granted; King James IV had promised his hearty co-operation in promoting it; and the good Bishop himself had already collected substantial revenues for his favourite project, which enabled him to offer Boece a yearly emolument of forty merks. The sum does not seem princely to us in its modern equivalent of 26 13s. 4d. sterling, but in those days it could support learning, and it sufficed to attract a Scotsman to his own country. Elphinstone had provided for the future not only by collecting monies for his college. What interested the young scholar from Paris as much, or perhaps more, he had gathered together a unique store of MSS. and other materials of Scottish history, and Boece resolved to devote his life to their editing and elucidation. Hitherto the glories of Scotland's past had lain buried in chronicles like those of Wyntoun and Fordun, which were but little known. John Major, indeed, Boece's own countryman and fellow student in the old Paris days, was the first to write a connected history of Scotland, in a work which he published in 1521. But his style of composition was curt and pragmatical. He adopted a critical and detached attitude of aloofness towards his subject, and entered upon his task determined "not to credit the common Scot in his vituperation of the Englishman, nor yet the common Englishman in his vituperation of the Scot. It is the part of the sensible man," he wrote, "to use his own eyes, to put far from him at once all inordinate love of his own countrymen and hatred of his enemies, and thereafter to pass judgment, well weighed, in equal scales." To Boece all this seemed a woeful lack of patriotism and proper pride. John Major, in his eyes, was not glowing and oratorical enough. He did not swell and soar, as he should do, in relating the glories and sufferings of his country. Nor was his narrative sufficiently embellished with liveliness and fancy. A corrective, therefore, was sorely needed, and in 1527, fourteen years after the disaster of Flodden Field, Boece published in Latin his own History of Scotland, a glorification of his country which quickly won its way into popular favour, and was soon afterwards translated into the Scots language by John Bellenden, the Archdeacon of Moray, at the command of James V.

To whet the appetite of his readers, and to prepare the ground for good things to come, Boece prefaced his history with a general description of Scotland, which must ever be a delight to all lovers of the marvellous. Let it be remembered that Scotland in those days was much reported of, but little known. Thrust out, as it was, into the dim romantic mists of northern seas, it was a country amid whose wealth of shaggy woods, and beetling crags, and eerie whirlpools, anything or everything might happen which the tales of popular imagination could suggest. Boece thirsted to gratify this widespread spirit of credulity, and indeed he largely shared it. Nothing was too wonderful or too grand to take place in Scotland, and all that reached his ears must be faithfully recorded, provided it held up his country to the envy and admiration of mankind. The consequence is that the reader of the history is made to pass gasping from one strange portent to another. He is told of a mysterious rock in the neighbourhood of Ern, small in size yet baffling in its nature, which no force nor engine could move out of its place, no, not though a, hundred men were to bend themselves to dislodge it; and of another in Kyle, the "Deif Stane," as it was called, possessing the weird characteristic that a man standing on one side of it was unable to hear even the loudest cannon shot fired upon the other. In Argyle there is "ane stane of sic nature that it kindlis cauld stra or hardis [rags] in fire, quhen it is involvit thairwith;" and at the Bass Rock there is another, full of eyes and holes like to a sponge, of such virtue that all salt water washed therewith "becumis incontinent fresche and delicious to the mouth." The most favoured region, however, in respect of wonders, is Loch Lomond, in which we read "there are xxx Ilis, weil biggit with kirkis, templis, and housis; and in this loch ar thre notable thingis, fische swomand but [without] ony fin, ane richt dangerous and stormy wal [wave] but ony wind, and ane Ile that fletis [floats] heir and thair as the wind servis."

Nor do the animals of those parts come in any way behind its natural features in point of strangeness. Rats introduced into Buchan straightway languish and die, owing to the nature of the soil. No beast that is venomous to man can possibly survive in Orkney, any more than in Ireland. The sheep of Garioch are saffron in colour, and have teeth like gold. Foxes in Scotland, it seems, will never invade a henroost where the fowls have previously been fed on morsels of fox flesh, since these animals refuse to touch anything that tastes of their own kind. Penetrate the depths of the Caledonian Forest and you will come upon white bulls with crisp and curly manes like fierce lions, creatures so disdainful of man that they will not only gore him if he approaches, but will even refuse to eat fodder that men have touched, and, if caught by any craft, they pine away and die in insufferable dolour. Sail the distant seas to far-famed Orkney, and possibly you may be so fortunate as to see the extraordinary fish which fastens itself by the teeth to a crag above water, then falls asleep. "Als sone as the marineris findis hir on sleip, thay cum with ane strong cabill [cables] in ane boit, and, eftir that thay have borit ane gret hole throw hir tale, thay fesne hir to the samin. Als sone as this fische is awalknit, scho makis hir to leip with gret force in the see, and fra scho find hirself fast, scho writhis hir out of hir awin skin and deis." No less interesting are those sagacious creatures, the pearl-producing oysters of the river Dee. "This mussilis, air lie in the morning, quhen the sky is cleir and temperat, opnis thair mouthis a litill above the watter, and maist gredelie swellis [swallows] the dew of the hevin; and, ef tir the mesure and quantite of the dew that thay swellie, thay consave and bredis the perle. Thir mussillis ar sa doyn gleg [excessively quick] of twiche [touch] and hering, that, howbeit the voce be nevir sa small that is made on the bank beside thaim, or the stane be nevir sa small that is cassin [cast] in the watter, thay douk haistelie at anis, and gangis to the ground, knawing weill in quhat estimatioun and price the frute of thair wambe is to al peple."

Scotland's principal marvel in those days, however, was undoubtedly the far-famed barnacle that produced geese. This was a small mussel that attached itself to pieces of old timber tossed up by the sea. Being opened, it revealed in perfect miniature the claws, bill, wings, tail, and feathers of a tiny goose in embryo. As the animal grew, it fell from the trunk of the tree to which it had hitherto clung by means of its beak, and either was drowned in the sea, or flew about safely on dry land. Boece is most careful to give us a detailed and circumstantial account of this amazing phenomenon, and he brings forward the unimpeachable testimony of a clerical eye-witness to corroborate his statements. "The geis generit of the see ar namit Clakis, and becaus the nature and procreatioun of this clakis is strange, we have maid na litill laboure and diligence to serche the treuth and verite thairof. We have salit throw the seis quhare thir clakis ar bred, and findis, be gret experience, that the nature of the seis is mair relevant caus of thair procreatioun than ony uther thing. Treis cassin in thir seis be process of time apperis first worme-etin, and in the small boris and hollis thairof growis small wormis; first, thay schaw thair heid and feit, and last of all thay schaw thair plumis and wingis; finaly, quhen thay ar cumin to the just measure and quantite of geis, thay flie in the aire as othir fowlis dois, as was notably provin, in the yeir of God M.CCCC.XC, in sicht of mony pepill, beside the castle of Petslego... Maister Alexander Galloway, Parson of Kinkell, was with us in thir His, gevand his mind, with maist ernist besines, to serche the verite of thir obscure and misty dowtis; and, be adventure, liftet up ane see tangle, hingand full of mussil schellis, fra the rute to the branchis. Sone eftir he opnit ane of thir mussil schellis, hot than he was mair astonist than afore, for he saw na fische in it, hot ane perfit schapin fowle, small and gret an effering [proportioned] to the quantite of the schell. This Clerk, knawin us richt desirus of sic uncouth [strange] thingis, came hastely with the said tangle, and opnit to us, with all circumstance afore rehersit."

Professor Max Miiller has investigated the history of this extraordinary fable, and finds that it was widely believed by the most learned men in Europe for more than five hundred years, traces of it being discoverable as early as the twelfth century and as late as the Philosophical Transactions of 1677. [See Lectures on the Science of Language (1871), Vol. II, pp. 583-604.] Linnaeus himself calls the barnacle in question Anatifera, and the goose Bernicla, and the Lateran Council of 1215 gravely discussed whether this puzzling creature was a bird or a fish, and might be eaten in Lent. Professor Max Miiller's own conjecture is that the origin of the legend is philological. The curious little cirriped, with its fringe of feather-like antennae, is a barnacle without question. The goose referred to is probably an Irish bird, and may originally have been called Hibernaca, or Hibernacula. The very natural dropping of the aspirate, as in the word vernal, would account for the confusion. Be that as it may, the general belief in "Ciakis" languished as knowledge and education spread northwards, and it retired, like the early Britons themselves, to the remotest fastnesses and islands. Æneas Silvius made diligent search for the marvellous birds, during his visit to Scotland early in the fifteenth century. "But when I made enquiries concerning this story, I learned that the miracle was always referred to some place further off, and that this famous tree was to be found not in Scotland but in the Orkney Islands."

When Boece is willing to descend from these imaginative heights to the more sober level of ordinary fact, he can give us a narrative that is full of interest. Scotland, he maintains, was in his time rich in all kinds of cereals and minerals, and known all over Europe for its inexhaustible supplies of fish. John Major, too, had noted this fact, and piously commented upon it. "Whose ordination, if not that of Divine Wisdom, was this, that the northern people, far from the sun, should be blessed with deep waters, and in consequence with rivers that abound more in fish?" In one passage Boece depicts, with glowing patriotic pride, argosies of fleets sailing from all Europe, and even from the far Mediterranean, to relieve Scotland of its superfluities of fish in time of Lent. The only things lacking to the country are oil and native wines, for which, indeed, Boece is on the whole rather thankful, as he fears what might be the effect of too many and rich vineyards on the character of the people. "Thairfore the provident Beginnar of the warld has nocht without gret resoun maid thair regioun nakit and bair of winis; knawing, be His eterne wisdome, that winis, howbeit the samin ar richt necessar to all uther people, ar richt skaithfull [harmful] to the nature of Albianis for thay ar gevin to sic unnatural voracite and desire of uncouth metis and drinkis, that thay can nocht refrene thaimself fra immoderat excesse, as apperis weill be experience." A similar spirit of reverence for the inscrutable decrees of Providence appears in Boece's remarks on the mysterious disappearance of the herring from the coast of Inverness, because of some slight done there to a holy saint. "Treuth is, quhen ony avaricius and unhappy man fechtis for the fische that God sendis, be his infinit gudnes, to the sustentatioun of the peple, and diffoulis the see of thair blude, mony yeris ef ter na fische swomis in that place."

A curious feature of the book is Boece's praise of antiquity and his lament over the degeneracy of contemporary Scotland. Boece is an inveterate laudator temporis acti. In the olden time Scotsmen were "maist hardy at jeopardy is, richt agill and deliver [nimble] of bodyis, richt ingenius to every new inventioun, maist sichty [skilful] in craft of chevalrie, and kepit thair faith and promes with maist severite and Constance." The men were primitive in peace, and untamed in war. The women nursed their own children, fought desperately in battle beside their own husbands, and were prepared even to slay them if they proved cowards. Young and old disdained, luxury, thought it a base thing to die in bed, and slept in the open on bare straw without a cover. They lived on oatmeal bread, prepared "on the samin maner as the Romans did, specialy Antonius Caracallus, Empriour." No meals were taken but at night and morning. "Trew, at the sowper thay war mair large, howbeit thay had bot ane cours. The flesh they ate was seized as prey from their enemies, and eaten half raw, "for the saup [soup] is maist nurisand [nourishing] in that maner." But alas! in these degenerate times, says Boece, everything is changed. Double courses and extra meals are the order of the day. Wines are fetched from France, Spain, Italy, and even Greece, and all Africa and Asia searched for new delicacies. The old people have become gluttonous and avaricious, and the young are given over to lust and insolence. It is interesting to note that the feeling of alarm because of the decay of manners was very widespread during this period. In the reigns of James III and even James II, Acts of Parliament were passed to check the rising luxury. These sought to suppress mystery plays, which were rapidly becoming a cause of moral scandal, to restrain all but persons of consequence from wearing rich silks or costly furs, and to revive the interest in archery by imposing heavy fines on golf and football. It is not difficult to discern in these legislative enactments the first early mutterings and preludings of the storm that was soon to sweep over the country in the Protestant Reformation.

Boece did not hesitate to attribute the corruption of his time to the baneful influence of England, which began in the days of Malcolm Canmore and seemed, to the great grief of our historian, to be steadily increasing. "By frequent and daily cumpany of the Inglishmen we began to rute [root] thair langage and superflew maneris in oure breistis, throw quhilfc the virtew and temperance of maneris of our eldaris began to be of litel estimatioun amang us. Than we war gevin, eftir the arrogance and pride of Inglishmen, to vane glore and ambitioun of honouris, and began that time to seke new namis of nobilite; howbeit afore thay day is he was maist nobil that was decorit mair with virtew than riches, confiding mair in his awin dedis than in ony dedis of his eldaris."

Into one favoured district, at least, this mischievous southern influence had not yet penetrated, and that was the part of Scotland furthest removed from England, the happy, blissful isles of far-off Shetland. Boece gives us an idyllic picture of the contentment of the inhabitants of those regions, which reads like a description of the Golden Age. "Thocht the peple of thir Isles be pure, [poor] yet thay leif langer and ar better content of thair livis than thay that hes mair welth and riches of the warld. Na contentioun is amang thaim for singulare [individual] proffit. Thir peple ar nakit of all ambitioun and vice, and ar nevir trublit with uncouth weris [Foreign wars]. Amang all pleseris quhilkis ar josit [enjoyed] be mankind, thay think na thing sa gud as to leif in concord and peace, havand ane quiet life but ony uthir displesir. This perfectioun of life cumis to thaim onlie throw thair simplicite, and followis, be the samin, the f utsteppes of Christ. Besides, thay have guid helth of body quhilk may be preferrit to all riches, as weill knawier thir men that hes experience of lang infirmiteis." In the year of the publication of his history, Boece received a royal pension of 50 Scots. He was also honoured with a doctor's degree from his university, and the equivalent in value of a tun of wine. His remaining days were spent in studious leisure, and in imparting to Aberdeen University a reputation for sound learning, which it has ever since retained. Dr. Samuel Johnson had a kindly liking for Boece, and he has summed up his merits and defects for us in words which may fittingly form our conclusion of the whole subject. "Boece's history is written with eloquence and vigour, but his fabulousness and credulity are justly blamed... Learning was then rising on the world, but eyes so long accustomed to the darkness were too much dazzled with its light to see anything distinctly. The first race of scholars in the sixteenth century, and for some time afterwards, were for the most part learning to speak rather than to think, and were therefore more studious of elegance than of truth."

III - Ben Jonson (1618)