Reminiscences of Scottish Life and Character by Edward Bannerman Ramsay

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This was plain speaking enough, but there is something quite inimitable
in the matter-of-factness of the following story of an advertisement,
which may tend to illustrate the Antiquary's remark to Mrs. Macleuchar,
anent the starting of a coach or fly to Queensferry. A carrier, who
plied his trade between Aberdeen and a village considerably to the north
of it, was asked by one of the villagers, "Fan are ye gaen to the toon"
(Aberdeen). To which he replied, "I'll be in on Monanday, God willin'
and weather permitting an' on Tiseday, _fither or no_."

It is a curious subject the various shades of Scottish dialect and
Scottish expressions, commonly called Scotticisms. We mark in the course
of fifty years how some disappear altogether; others become more and
more rare, and of all of them we may say, I think, that the specimens of
them are to be looked for every year more in the descending classes of
society. What was common amongst peers, judges, lairds, advocates, and
people of family and education, is now found in humbler ranks of life.
There are few persons perhaps who have been born in Scotland, and who
have lived long in Scotland, whom a nice southern ear might not detect
as from the north. But far beyond such nicer shades of distinction,
there are strong and characteristic marks of a Caledonian origin, with
which some of us have had practical acquaintance. I possess two curious,
and now, I believe, rather scarce, publications on the prevalent
Scotticisms of our speaking and writing. One is entitled "Scotticisms
designed to Correct Improprieties of Speech and Writing," by Dr. Beattie
of Aberdeen. The other is to the same purpose, and is entitled,
"Observations on the Scottish Dialect," by the late Right Honourable Sir
John Sinclair. Expressions which were common in their days, and used by
persons of all ranks, are not known by the rising generation. Many
amusing equivoques used to be current, arising from Scotch people in
England applying terms and expressions in a manner rather surprising to
southern ears. Thus, the story was told of a public character long
associated with the affairs of Scotland, Henry Dundas (first Viscount
Melville), applying to Mr. Pitt for the loan of a horse "_the length_ of
Highgate;" a very common expression in Scotland, at that time, to
signify the distance to which the ride was to extend. Mr. Pitt
good-humouredly wrote back to say that he was afraid he had not a horse
in his possession _quite so long_ as Mr. Dundas had mentioned, but he
had sent the longest he had. There is a well-known case of
mystification, caused to English ears by the use of Scottish terms,
which took place in the House of Peers during the examination of the
Magistrates of Edinburgh touching the particulars of the Porteous Mob in
1736. The Duke of Newcastle having asked the Provost with what kind of
shot the town-guard commanded by Porteous had loaded their muskets,
received the unexpected reply, "Ou, juist sic as ane shutes dukes and
sic like fules wi'." The answer was considered as a contempt of the
House of Lords, and the poor provost would have suffered from
misconception of his patois, had not the Duke of Argyle (who must have
been exceedingly amused) explained that the worthy magistrate's
expression, when rendered into English, did not apply to Peers and
Idiots but to _ducks_ and _water-fowl_. The circumstance is referred to
by Sir W. Scott in the notes to the Heart of Mid-Lothian. A similar
equivoque upon the double meaning of "Deuk" in Scottish language
supplied material for a poor woman's honest compliment to a benevolent
Scottish nobleman. John, Duke of Roxburghe, was one day out riding, and
at the gate of Floors he was accosted by an importunate old beggar
woman. He gave her half-a-crown, which pleased her so much that she
exclaimed, "Weel's me on your _guse_ face, for Duke's ower little
tae ca' ye."

A very curious list may be made of words used in Scotland in a sense
which would be quite unintelligible to Southerns. Such applications are
going out, but I remember them well amongst the old-fashioned people of
Angus and the Mearns quite common in conversation. I subjoin some
specimens:--

_Bestial_ signifies amongst Scottish agriculturists cattle generally,
the whole aggregate number of beasts on the farm. Again, a Scottish
farmer, when he speaks of his "hogs" or of buying "hogs," has no
reference to swine, but means young sheep, i.e. sheep before they have
lost their first fleece.

_Discreet_ does not express the idea of a prudent or cautious person so
much as of one who is not rude, but considerate of the opinions of
others. Such application of the word is said to have been made by Dr.
Chalmers to the late Henry, Bishop of Exeter. These two eminent
individuals had met for the first time at the hospitable house of the
late Mr. Murray, the publisher. On the introduction taking place, the
Bishop expressed himself so warmly as to the pleasure it gave him to
meet so distinguished and excellent a man as Dr. Chalmers, that the
Doctor, somewhat surprised at such an unexpected ebullition from an
English Church dignitary, could only reply, "Oh, I am sure your lordship
is very 'discreet[60].'"

_Enterteening_ has in olden Scottish usage the sense not of amusing, but
interesting. I remember an honest Dandie Dinmont on a visit to Bath. A
lady, who had taken a kind charge of him, accompanied him to the
theatre, and in the most thrilling scene of Kemble's acting, what is
usually termed the dagger scene in Macbeth, she turned to the farmer
with a whisper, "Is not that fine?" to which the confidential reply was,
"Oh, mem, its verra _enterteening!_" Enterteening expressing his idea of
the effect produced.

_Pig_, in old-fashioned Scotch, was always used for a coarse earthenware
jar or vessel. In the Life of the late Patrick Tytler, the amiable and
gifted historian of Scotland, there occurs an amusing exemplification of
the utter confusion of ideas caused by the use of Scottish phraseology.
The family, when they went to London, had taken with them an old
Scottish servant who had no notion of any terms beside her own. She came
in one day greatly disturbed at the extremely backward state of
knowledge of domestic affairs amongst the Londoners. She had been to so
many shops and could not get "a great broon pig to haud the butter in."

From a relative of the family I have received an account of a still
worse confusion of ideas, caused by the inquiry of a Mrs. Chisholm of
Chisholm, who died in London in 1825, at an advanced age. She had come
from the country to be with her daughter, and was a genuine Scottish
lady of the old school. She wished to purchase a table-cloth of a cheque
pattern, like the squares of a chess or draught board. Now a
draught-board used to be called (as I remember) by old Scotch people a
"dam[61] brod[62]." Accordingly, Mrs. Chisholm entered the shop of a
linen-draper, and asked to be shown table-linen a _dam-brod pattern_.
The shopman, although, taken aback by a request, as he considered it,
so strongly worded, by a respectable old lady, brought down what he
assured her was the largest and widest made. No; that would not do. She
repeated her wish for a dam-brod pattern, and left the shop surprised at
the stupidity of the London shopman not having the pattern she
asked for.

_Silly_ has in genuine old Scottish use reference to weakness of body
only, and not of mind. Before knowing the use of the word, I remember
being much astonished at a farmer of the Mearns telling me of the
strongest-minded man in the county that he was "uncommon silly," not
insinuating any decline of mental vigour, but only meaning that his
bodily strength was giving way.

_Frail_, in like manner, expresses infirmity of body, and implies no
charge of any laxity in moral principle; yet I have seen English persons
looking with considerable consternation when an old-fashioned Scottish
lady, speaking of a young and graceful female, lamented her being
so _frail_.

_Fail_ is another instance of different use of words. In Scotland it
used to be quite common to say of a person whose health and strength had
declined, that he had _failed_. To say this of a person connected with
mercantile business has a very serious effect upon southern ears, as
implying nothing short of bankruptcy and ruin. I recollect many years
ago at Monmouth, my dear mother creating much consternation in the mind
of the mayor, by saying of a worthy man, the principal banker in the
town, whom they both concurred in praising, that she was "sorry to find
he _was failing_."

_Honest_ has in Scotch a peculiar application, irrespective of any
integrity of moral character. It is a kindly mode of referring to an
individual, as we would say to a stranger, "Honest man, would you tell
me the way to ----?" or as Lord Hermand, when about to sentence a woman
for stealing, began remonstratively, "Honest woman, whatever garr'd ye
steal your neighbour's tub?"

_Superstitious_: A correspondent informs me that in some parts of
Mid-Lothian the people constantly use the word "superstitious" for
"bigoted;" thus, speaking of a very keen Free Church person, they will
say, "He is awfu' supperstitious."

_Kail_ in England simply expresses cabbage, but in Scotland represents
the chief meal of the day. Hence the old-fashioned easy way of asking a
friend to dinner was to ask him if he would take his kail with the
family. In the same usage of the word, the Scottish proverb expresses
distress and trouble in a person's affairs, by saying that "he has got
his kail through the reek." In like manner haddock, in Kincardineshire
and Aberdeenshire, used to express the same idea, as the expression is,
"Will ye tak your haddock wi' us the day?" that fish being so plentiful
and so excellent that it was a standing dish. There is this difference,
however, in the local usage, that to say in Aberdeen, Will you take your
haddock? implies an invitation to dinner; whilst in Montrose the same
expression means an invitation to _supper_. Differences of pronunciation
also caused great confusion and misunderstanding. Novels used to be
pronounced no_vels_; envy en_vy_; a cloak was a clock, to the surprise
of an English lady, to whom the maid said, on her leaving the house,
"Mem, winna ye tak the _clock_ wi' ye?"

The names of children's diseases were a remarkable item in the catalogue
of Scottish words:--Thus, in 1775, Mrs. Betty Muirheid kept a
boarding-school for young ladies in the Trongate of Glasgow, near the
Tron steeple. A girl on her arrival was asked whether she had had
smallpox. "Yes, mem, I've had the sma'pox, the nirls[63], the blabs[64],
the scaw[65], the kinkhost[66], and the fever, the branks[67] and the
worm[68]."

There is indeed a case of Scottish pronunciation which adds to the force
and copiousness of our language, by discriminating four words, which,
according to English speaking, are undistinguishable in mere
pronunciation. The words are--wright (a carpenter), to write (with a
pen), right (the reverse of wrong), rite (a ceremony). The four are,
however, distinguished in old-fashioned Scotch pronunciation thus--1,
He's a wiricht; 2, to wireete; 3, richt; 4, rite.

I can remember a peculiar Scottish phrase very commonly used, which now
seems to have passed away. I mean the expression "to let on," indicating
the notice or observation of something, or of some person.--For example,
"I saw Mr. ---- at the meeting, but I never let on that I knew he was
present." A form of expression which has been a great favourite in
Scotland in my recollection has much gone out of practice--I mean the
frequent use of diminutives, generally adopted either as terms of
endearment or of contempt. Thus it was very common to speak of a person
whom you meant rather to undervalue, as a _mannie_, a _boddie_, a _bit
boddie_, or a _wee bit mannie_. The Bailie in Rob Roy, when he intended
to represent his party as persons of no importance, used the expression,
"We are bits o' Glasgow bodies."

An admirable Scotch expression I recollect from one of the Montrose
ladies before referred to. Her niece was asking a great many questions
on some point concerning which her aunt had been giving her
information, and coming over and over the ground, demanding an
explanation how this had happened, and why something else was so and so.
The old lady lost her patience, and at last burst forth: "I winna be
_back-speired_ noo, Pally Fullerton." Back-speired! how much more pithy
and expressive than cross-examined! "He's not a man to ride the water
on," expresses your want of confidence and of trust in the character
referred to. Another capital expression to mark that a person has stated
a point rather under than over the truth, is, "The less I lee," as in
Guy Mannering, where the precentor exclaims to Mrs. MacCandlish, "Aweel,
gudewife, then the less I lee." We have found it a very amusing task
collecting together a number of these phrases, and forming them into a
connected epistolary composition. We may imagine the sort of puzzle it
would be to a young person of the present day--one of what we may call
the new school. We will suppose an English young lady, or an English
educated young lady, lately married, receiving such a letter as the
following from the Scottish aunt of her husband. We may suppose it to be
written by a very old lady, who, for the last fifty years has not moved
from home, and has changed nothing of her early days. I can safely
affirm that every word of it I have either seen written in a letter, or
have heard in ordinary conversation:--

"_Montrose_, 1858[69].

"My Dear Niece--I am real glad to find my _nevy_ has made so
good a choice as to have secured you for his wife; and I am
sure this step will add much to his comfort, and we _behove_
to rejoice at it. He will now look forward to his evening at
home, and you will be happy when you find you never _want_
him. It will be a great pleasure when you hear him in the
_trance_, and wipe his feet upon the _bass_. But Willy is not
strong, and you must look well after him. I hope you do not
let him _snuff_ so much as he did. He had a sister, poor
thing, who died early. She was remarkably clever, and well
read, and most intelligent, but was always uncommonly
_silly_[70] In the autumn of '40 she had a _sair host_, and
was aye _speaking through a cold_, and at dinner never did
more than to _sup a few family broth_. I am afraid she did
not _change her feet_ when she came in from the wet one
evening. I never _let on_ that I observed anything to be
wrong; but I remember asking her to come and _sit upon_ the
fire. But she went out, and did not _take_ the door with her.
She lingered till next spring, when she had a great
_income_[71], and her parents were then too poor to take her
south, and she died. I hope you will like the lassie Eppie we
have sent you. She is a _discreet_ girl, and comes of a
decent family. She has a sister _married upon_ a Seceding
minister at Kirkcaldy. But I hear he expects to be
_transported_ soon. She was brought up in one of the
_hospitals_ here. Her father had been a _souter_ and a _pawky
chiel_ enough, but was _doited_ for many years, and her
mother was _sair dottled_. We have been greatly interested in
the hospital where Eppie was _educate_, and intended getting
up a bazaar for it, and would have asked you to help us, as
we were most anxious to raise some additional funds, when one
of the Bailies died and left it _feuing-stances_ to the
amount of 5000 pounds, which was really a great
_mortification_. I am not a good _hand of write_, and
therefore shall stop. I am very tired, and have been
_gantin_[72] for this half-hour, and even in correspondence
gantin' may be _smittin'_[73]. The _kitchen_[74] is just
coming in, and I _feel_ a _smell of tea_, so when I get my
_four hours,_ that will refresh me and set me up again.--I
am, your affectionate aunt, ISABEL DINGWALL."

This letter, then, we suppose written by a very old Forfarshire lady to
her niece in England, and perhaps the young lady who received it might
answer it in a style as strange to her aunt as her aunt's is to her,
especially if she belonged to that lively class of our young female
friends who indulge a little in phraseology which they have imbibed from
their brothers, or male cousins, who have, perhaps for their amusement,
encouraged them in its use. The answer, then, might be something like
this; and without meaning to be severe or satirical upon our young lady
friends, I may truly say that, though I never heard from one young lady
_all_ these fast terms, I have heard the most of them separately
from many:--

"My Dear Aunty--Many thanks for your kind letter and its
enclosure. From my not knowing Scotch, I am not quite up to
the mark, and some of the expressions I don't _twig_ at all.
Willie is absent for a few days, but when he returns home he
will explain it; he is quite _awake_ on all such things. I am
glad you are pleased that Willie and I are now _spliced_. I
am well aware that you will hear me spoken of in some
quarters as a _fast_ young lady. A man here had the impudence
to say that when he visited my husband's friends he would
tell them so. I quietly and civilly replied, 'You be blowed!'
So don't believe him. We get on famously at present. Willie
comes home from the office every afternoon at five. We
generally take a walk before dinner, and read and work if we
don't go out; and I assure you we are very _jolly_. We don't
know many people here yet. It is rather a _swell_
neighbourhood; and if we can't get in with the _nobs_, depend
upon it we will never take up with any society that is
decidedly _snobby. I_ daresay the girl you are sending will
be very useful to us; our present one is an awful _slow
coach_. In fact, the sending her to us was a regular _do_.
But we hope some day to sport _buttons_. My father and mother
paid us a visit last week. The _governor_ is well, and,
notwithstanding years and infirmities, comes out quite a
_jolly old cove_. He is, indeed, if you will pardon the
partiality of a daughter, a regular _brick_. He says he will
help us if we can't get on, and I make no doubt will in due
time _fork out the tin_. I am busy working a cap for you,
dear aunty; it is from a pretty German pattern, and I think
when finished will be quite a _stunner_. There is a shop in
Regent Street where I hire patterns, and can get six of them
for five _bob_. I then return them without buying them, which
I think a capital _dodge_. I hope you will sport it for my
sake at your first _tea and turn out_.

"I have nothing more to say particular, but am always

"Your affectionate niece,

"ELIZA DINGWALL."

"_P.S._--I am trying to break Willie off his horrid habit of
taking snuff. I had rather see him take his cigar when we are
walking. You will be told, I daresay, that I sometimes take a
_weed_ myself. It is not true, dear aunty."

Before leaving the question of change in Scottish expressions, it may
be proper to add a few words on the subject of Scottish
_dialects_--_i.e._, on the differences which exist in different counties
or localities in the Scottish tongue itself. These differences used to
be as marked as different languages; of course they still exist amongst
the peasantry as before. The change consists in their gradual vanishing
from the conversation of the educated and refined. The dialects with
which I am most conversant are the two which present the greatest
contrast, viz. the Angus and the Aberdeen, or the slow and broad
Scotch--the quick and sharp Scotch. Whilst the one talks of "Buuts and
shoon," the other calls the same articles "beets and sheen." With the
Aberdonian "what" is always "fat" or "fatten;" "music" is "meesic;"
"brutes" are "breets;" "What are ye duin'?" of southern Scotch, in
Aberdeen would be "Fat are ye deein'?" Fergusson, nearly a century ago,
noted this peculiarity of dialect in his poem of The Leith Races:--

"The Buchan bodies through the beach,
Their bunch of Findrams cry;
And skirl out bauld in Norland speech,
Gude speldans _fa_ will buy?"

"Findon," or "Finnan haddies," are split, smoked, and partially dried
haddocks. Fergusson, in using the word "_Findrams"_, which is not found
in our glossaries, has been thought to be in error, but his accuracy has
been verified singularly enough, within the last few days, by a worthy
octogenarian Newhaven fisherman, bearing the characteristic name of
Flucker, who remarked "that it was a word commonly used in his youth;
and, above all," he added, "when Leith Races were held on the sands, he
was like to be deeved wi' the lang-tongued hizzies skirling out, '_Aell
a Findram Speldrains_,' and they jist ca'ed it that to get a better grip
o't wi' their tongues."

In Galloway, in 1684, Symson, afterwards an ousted Episcopalian minister
(of Kirkinner), notes some peculiarities in the speech of the people in
that district. "Some of the countrey people, especially those of the
elder sort, do very often omit the letter 'h' after 't' as ting for
thing; tree for three; tatch for thatch; wit for with; fait for faith;
mout for mouth, etc.; and also, contrary to some north countrey people,
they oftentimes pronounce 'w' for 'v,' as serwant for servant; and so
they call the months of February, March, and April, the _ware_ quarter,
from _ver_[75]. Hence their common proverb, speaking of the storms in
February, '_winter never comes till ware comes_.'" These peculiarities
of language have almost disappeared--the immense influx of Irish
emigrants during late years has exercised a perceptible influence over
the dialect of Wigtonshire.

When a southerner mentioned the death of a friend to a lady of the
granite city, she asked, "Fat dee'd he o'?" which being utterly
incomprehensible to the person asked, another Aberdonian lady kindly
explained the question, and put it into language which she supposed
_could_ not be mistaken, as thus, "Fat did he dee o'?" If there was this
difference between the Aberdeen and the Forfar dialect, how much greater
must be that difference when contrasted with the _ore rotundo_ language
of an English southern dignitary. Such a one being present at a school
examination in Aberdeen wished to put some questions on Scripture
history himself, and asked an intelligent boy, "What was the ultimate
fate of Pharaoh?" This the boy not understanding, the master put the
same question Aberdonice, "Jemmy, fat was the hinner end o' Pharaoh?"
which called forth the ready reply, "He was drouned i' the Red Sea." A
Forfarshire parent, dissatisfied with his son's English pronunciation,
remonstrated with him, "What for div' ye say _why_? why canna ye say
'what for'?"

The power of Scottish phraseology, or rather of Scottish _language_,
could not be better displayed than in the following Aberdonian
description of London theatricals:--Mr. Taylor, at one time well known
in London as having the management of the opera-house, had his father up
from Aberdeen to visit him and see the wonders of the capital. When the
old man returned home, his friends, anxious to know the impressions
produced on his mind by scenes and characters so different from what he
had been accustomed to at home, inquired what sort of business his son
carried on? "Ou," said he (in reference to the operatic singers and the
corps de ballet), "he just keeps a curn[76] o' quainies[77] and a wheen
widdyfous[78], and gars them fissle[79], and loup, and mak murgeons[80],
to please the great fowk."

Another ludicrous interrogatory occurred regarding the death of a Mr.
Thomas Thomson. It appeared there were two cousins of this name, both
corpulent men. When it was announced that Mr. Thomas Thomson was dead,
an Aberdeen friend of the family asked, "Fatten Thamas Thamson?" He was
informed that it was a fat Thamas Thamson, upon which the Aberdeen query
naturally arose, "Ay, but fatten fat Thamas Thamson?" Another
illustration of the Aberdeen dialect is thus given:--"The Pope o' Rome
requires a bull to do his wark, but the Emperor o' France made a coo
dee't a'"--a cow do it all--a pun on _coup d'etat_. A young lady from
Aberdeen had been on a visit to Montrose, and was disappointed at
finding there a great lack of beaux, and balls, and concerts. This lack
was not made up to her by the invitations which she had received to
dinner parties. And she thus expressed her feelings on the subject in
her native dialect, when asked how she liked Montrose: "Indeed there's
neither men nor meesic, and fat care I for meat?" There is no male
society and no concerts, and what do I care for dinners? The dialect and
the local feelings of Aberdeen were said to have produced some amusement
in London, as displayed by the lady of the Provost of Aberdeen when
accompanying her husband going up officially to the capital. Some
persons to whom she had been introduced recommended her going to the
opera as one of the sights worthy the attention of a stranger. The good
lady, full of the greatness of her situation as wife of the provost, and
knowing the sensation her appearance in public occasioned when in her
own city, and supposing that a little excitement would accompany her
with the London public, rather declined, under the modest plea, "Fat for
should I gang to the opera, just to creat a confeesion?" An aunt of
mine, who knew Aberdeen well, used to tell a traditionary story of two
Aberdonian ladies, who by their insinuations against each other, finely
illustrated the force of the dialect then in common use. They had both
of them been very attentive to a sick lady in declining health, and on
her death each had felt a distrust of the perfect disinterestedness of
the other's attention. This created more than a coolness between them,
and the bad feeling came out on their passing in the street. The one
insinuated her suspicions of unfair dealing with the property of the
deceased by ejaculating, as the other passed her, "Henny pig[81] and
green tea," to which the other retorted, in the same spirit, "Silk coat
and negligee[82]." Aberdonian pronunciation produced on one occasion a
curious equivoque between the minister and a mother of a family with
whom he was conversing in a pastoral way. The minister had said, "Weel,
Margaret, I hope you're thoroughly ashamed of your _sins_" Now, in
Aberdeenshire _sons_ are pronounced sins; accordingly, to the minister's
surprise, Margaret burst forth, "Ashamed o' ma sins! na, na, I'm proud
o' ma sins. Indeed, gin it werena for thae cutties o' dauchters, I
should be _ower_ proud o' ma sins."

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