H.V.Morton
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Tag Archives: In Search of Scotland
The Soul of Scotland
HV Morton's "In Search of Scotland" was first published in 1929. A year later a section of chapter two was reproduced in a pamphlet, "The Soul of Scotland", a guide for visitors to the Scottish National War Shrine in Edinburgh Castle, something which Morton said he found it more difficult to write about than anything he had ever attempted to describe. This publication is now possibly the rarest piece of Mortoniana there is and I thought this excerpt from it would be a fitting one for today's post.
If you mount the Castle Rock in Edinburgh you will find the Soul of Scotland. Men call it the National War Shrine…
AS I stood inarticulate before the Shrine a thought came to me which was like a light. I was, not so long ago, in Ypres at the opening of the Menin Gate. It was a fine day with a wind blowing over the old front line. When the gate was declared open Scots pipers mounted high on the ramparts played the 'Flowers o' the Forest'.
No man at that moment dared to look into another man's eyes. It was one of life's terrible moments. The lament sobbed its grand way out along the road to Hooge, it wailed its way, sobbing, sobbing, 'the flowers o' the forest are a' wede awae' into every little dip and hollow where the corn now grows. . . .
It seemed to me, as I stood in Scotland's Shrine, that the sound of this lament had flown home to crystallize in stone upon the rock of Edinburgh. The Shrine is a lament in stone, the greatest of all Scotland's laments, with all the sweetness of pipes crying among hills, with all the haunting beauty of a lament, all the pride, all the grandeur.
I think the Cenotaph in London and the National Shrine in Edinburgh are the most remarkable symbols in existence of the temperamental difference between the two nations. One is Saxon and inarticulate; the other is Celtic and articulate. Grief locks the English heart, but it opens the Scottish. The Celt has a genius for the glorification of sorrow. All his sweetest songs are sad ; all his finest music is sad ; all his greatest poetry springs from tragedy.
That is why Scotland has built the greatest war memorial in the world.
THE 'Flowers o' the Forest' have all turned to stone.
Niall Taylor, Glastonbury, England
(Originally issued as HVM Society Snippets – No.244)
Filed under Armistice day, Quotations
Tagged as Armistice day, Edinburgh, In Search of Scotland, Scotland, soul of scotland
Stephen Twist's travels with Morton
HV Morton Society member, Stephen Twist, a self-confessed travelling, tango dancing barrister, is on a mission. He is setting out in his Auto-Trail Tracker (or Cosmic Campervan as he describes it) to retrace the Scottish journeys of HV Morton. En route he will be compiling a blog of his experiences as he describes "that which has changed in the invervening years since 1928, and those things that have remained the same".
He has already reached Galloway and the World's End, so if you don't want to miss any of his adventures make sure and pay him a visit, sign on for updates, and leave a message of encouragement while you're there!
Filed under Travel
Tagged as In Scotland Again, In Search of Scotland, Scotland, Travel
The secret portrait of Prince Charlie
In chapter eight of "In Search of Scotland" HV Morton takes his leave of Inverness to travel south-west, following the path of the Caledonian Canal, that majestic marriage of geology and human endeavour. He is en route to visit two towns whose names ring out like a clash of steel down the centuries from a most turbulent and bloody period of Scottish history – Fort Augustus and Fort William.
After spending a night of Jacobite revelry in Fort Augustus, his journey continues through what he describes as the "real" Highlands. "The heather" he writes, "was like spilt claret on the high, smooth slopes of the hills; the thick woods were stained with autumnal colour; there was a flash of lake water between the trees and the splash of mountain streams falling from the heights."
The Commando Memorial, Spean Bridge
Finally, passing Spean Bridge (where now stands the Commando Memorial), Morton arrives at his destination, a settlement referred to, in their native tongue by the Highland Clans it was built to impress, simply as An Gearasdan – The Garrison.
"Fort William crouches, with an air of pretending to be the end of the world at the foot of Ben Nevis, the highest and most famous mountain in the British Isles…"
Sadly, the original garrison has been completely obliterated by a now disused aluminium smelting plant.
Morton makes the traditional pilgramage from the town, up Glen Nevis and finally up all 4,406 feet of the Ben itself, wearing town shoes which gradually disintegrate as his climb continues. Finally he returns to share the tale of his trek with fellow veterans of the hike, ensuring instant popularity by comparing Ben Nevis favourably to the Swiss Alps, the Libyan Hills of Egypt and the Aures Mountains in Africa.
The following day Morton sensibly decides to spend a quiet day in town – presumably after having bought some more shoes! His account of his visit to the West Highland Museum fascinated me so, when I was in Fort William with the family a few years ago, I made a point of visiting it.
"The little West Highland Museum" as HVM describes it
Morton describes in some detail one of the highlights of the visit for me, the secret portrait of Prince Charlie. The "portrait", from a period when allegiance to the Stuart cause was punishable by a quick death (if you were lucky), is painted on a wooden board which, according to the notes by the display cabinet, was further disguised by being used as a casual tray for drinks. Morton describes it as being "… daubed with paint in a half circle. It looks like the palette of a rather careless painter".
The painting is housed in a glass cabinet up some very creaky stairs on the first floor of the museum, and is unrecognisable as a picture, just as Morton reports, until it is viewed with a special cylindrical mirror made especially for the purpose and placed at the correct point on the board. It is not at all easy to get the correct angle and focus, but with patience finally the tiny picture can be seen by viewing the 'blob' as it is reflected in the mirror. With even more patience the Young Chevalier, in all his glory, can be photographed.
Bonnie Charlie revealed!
One can just imagine the tray being brough forth during clandestine gatherings and, as HVM writes, "… you call to mind oak-panelled dining rooms and candles lit, a warm glow over family portraits, a guard over the door, and the company rising to lift their glasses to the cause that was fated to be lost".
With warm wishes,
Niall Taylor, Glastonbury, Somerset, England
This post was originally circulated as HVM Society Snippets – No.183 on 9 May 2015
Filed under HV Morton, Quotations, Travel
Tagged as Ben Nevis, Fort William, In Search of Scotland, Scotland, West Highland Museum
Thoughts of Glasgow
Bargain finds at Paddy's Market 1970 – (Photo copyright Jim Leggett – International Press Service)
"Glasgow on a November evening…
"The fog which has tickled the throat all evening relents a little and hangs thinly over the city, so that each lamp casts an inverted V of light downward on the pavement. The streets are full of light and life. Pavements are packed to the edge with men and women released from a day's work, anxious to squeeze a little laughter from the dark as they move against a hazy blur of lit windows…
"There is nothing half-hearted about Glasgow… She is the greatest, closely-knit community in Great Britain… a mighty and inspiring human story. She is Scotland's anchor to reality."
From "In Search of Scotland", chpt 11, section 2, 1929
Thinking of the people of Glasgow and those affected by the tragic events of Friday night.
Niall Taylor 1 December 2013
HV Morton on Whisky
Originally distributed to the HV Morton Society as: HVM Society Snippets – No.151
"The whisky had uplifted them… It had given them wings."
(from "In Scotland Again" chapter 6, section 9)
Product placement is nothing new. John Mills was sipping his "Ice Cold" Carlsberg in Alexandria a lifetime before James Bond inexplicably started flashing his omega ® watch and nokia ® phone – logos placed strategically for all to see – across the big screen and mysteriously eschewing his traditional vodka Martini (shaken, stirred or otherwise), in favour of the same well known (if somewhat out of character) Scandinavian lager, favoured by Sir John.
Surely, such mundane contrivances would have been beneath Morton. Never the less, it has occured to me, if he wasn't being sponsored by Talisker then he was missing a trick!
Morton wrote his books in the days when a malt whisky was something very special, to be savoured and enjoyed, as one might a rare work of art. The drinking of a single malt was a mark of distinction; hoi polloi were condemned to make-do, as best they could, with mere blends.
These days, with any number of malts so easily accessible from the shelves of the nearest supermarket, something of the mystique is being lost. Thus it is a wonderful reminder of times gone by to read of Morton's reverence for what is clearly his favourite whisky – with its hints of peat fires and sea salt and a strangely endearing, almost medicinal, tang.
It is Burns' night, and many a lover of Scotland – adopted, native or otherwise; at home or abroad – looks forward to raising a glass to celebrate the brief but colourful life of their country's great national poet, Robert Burns. I thought, on this occasion, a passage from Morton's "In Search of Scotland" might be appreciated. It is from chapter 10, section 5, after the narrator has offered a lift to a wandering highlander, soaked during a mountain storm, on the road to Crianlarich. As the weather lifts, the sun comes out, a little gold cloud dances over the head of Ben Dorian, and Morton writes:
"I remembered that I had in my bag a bottle of Talisker whisky, that remarkable drink which is made in the Isle of Skye and can be obtained even in its birthplace only with difficulty. This seemed to me an occasion. When my companion saw the bottle of Talisker he ceased to leap about and, becoming solemn, he said:
"'Talisker? Ye don't mean to open the bottle? It's a shame to waste it; but, man it's a grand whisky!'
"We settled down.
"He had a tin mug in his rucksack; I had one of those idiotic so-called drinking cups which you place firmly on a stone with the result that the whole thing telescopes and spills the liquor. We poured the amber-coloured Talisker into our mugs, and descending to an amber coloured burn in the heather we let a little ice cold water into the whisky.
"There is, so it is said, a time for everything, and the time for whisky is after physical fatigue in the open air among great mountains. This Talisker drunk below the great, windy clouds in the shadow of Ben Dorain was different from the whisky which a man drinks in his club as Lachryma Christi drunk in the shadow of Vesuvius differs from the same wine in Soho. This drink filled us with good nature and enthusiasm.
"My friend, perched picturesquely on a stone told me a lot about himself. He was something in a city. He always spent his holidays in his native highlands. He loved to wear the kilt for two to three weeks and to run wild in the heather. As the Talisker burned in him it lit fires of patriotism, and I listened with delight as he spoke of his love for the hills and the glens and the peat-hags and the great winds and the grey mists."
I like to think, just occasionally, the odd bottle of that "amber-coloured Talisker" might have found its way to Morton, sent from a grateful distillery owner across the water, in return for services rendered. Call it part of the angels' share.
"Freedom, friendship and whisky gang thegither" (Robert Burns).
With grateful thanks to Jim Leggett, of the The Bahamas
Filed under HV Morton, Quotations
Tagged as Burns' night, hv morton society, In Scotland Again, In Search of Scotland, Scotland, Talisker, Whisky
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H.V.Morton · Celebrating the travel writings of H. V. Morton