Wishing my friends in Scotland a very happy Burns Night! Mr. C and I will be celebrating this evening along with you. Our festivities will include watching the fantastic 1983 film “Local Hero” while we enjoy a bowl of delicious cock-a-leekie soup, homemade bread, and of course, raise a glass or two in honor of The Bard.
I leave you today with what is perhaps my favorite poem by Burns, “Afton Water.” I also added a link to “Sweet Afton,” Nickel Creek’s beautiful version of Burns’ poem. Enjoy!
Robert Burns, 1759-1796
“Afton Water”, by Robert Burns
Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes, Flow gently, I’ll sing thee a song in thy praise; My Mary’s asleep by thy murmuring stream, Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.
Thou stock-dove, whose echo resounds thro’ the glen, Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den, Thou green-crested lapwing, thy screaming forbear, I charge you disturb not my slumbering fair.
How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighbouring hills, Far mark’d with the courses of clear winding rills; There daily I wander as noon rises high, My flocks and my Mary’s sweet cot in my eye.
How pleasant thy banks and green valleys below, Where wild in the woodlands the primroses blow; There oft, as mild Ev’ning sweeps over the lea, The sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and me.
Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides, And winds by the cot where my Mary resides, How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave, As gathering sweet flowrets she stems thy clear wave.
Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes, Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays; My Mary’s asleep by thy murmuring stream, Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.
This cute poem by Scottish poet, Robert Louis Stevenson, was published in his collection of poetry for children, called “A Child’s Garden of Verses.” Enjoy and have a great rest of the week!
“Summer Sun”, by Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894)
Great is the sun, and wide he goes Through empty heaven with repose; And in the blue and glowing days More thick than rain he showers his rays.
Though closer still the blinds we pull To keep the shady parlour cool, Yet he will find a chink or two To slip his golden fingers through.
The dusty attic spider-clad He, through the keyhole, maketh glad; And through the broken edge of tiles Into the laddered hay-loft smiles.
Meantime his golden face around He bares to all the garden ground, And sheds a warm and glittering look Among the ivy’s inmost nook.
Above the hills, along with the blue, Round the bright air with footing true, To please the child, to paint the rose, The gardener of the World, he goes.
Happy Valentine’s Day, dear readers! Whether you are celebrating the day with that special someone, sharing the love with a cherished friend or family member, or by doing something nice for yourself, I hope it’s a very happy one! Here’s a little ooh la la for you on this day of love, brought to you by the master of love, Scottish poet Robert Burns.
O gin my love were yon red rose, That grows upon the castle wa’; And I myself a drap o’ dew, Into her bonie breast to fa’! O there, beyond expression blest, I’d feast on beauty a’ the night; Seal’d on her silk-saft faulds to rest, Till fley’d awa by Phoebus’ light!
If you live in Scotland, are of proud Scottish ancestry, or just love the Scottish people and culture, chances are that tonight you will be celebrating Burns Night. Every year, on January 25, people from Scotland to the Americas to Australia and beyond come together to commemorate the life and works of Scotland’s beloved poet, Robert Burns. It is an evening of merriment, good food, and good drink.
Sadly, Mr. C and I have to postpone our celebration this year. Poor ol’ Mr. C is ill, and I’m pretty sure haggis is the last food on his mind. So, in lieu of our traditional festivities, I am instead spending part of my day enjoying The Complete Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, a wonderful publication by Waverly Books. With a glass of the good stuff, of course. Not altogether a bad way to spend an afternoon.
If you are celebrating Burns Night tonight, have fun, be safe, and eat a bite of haggis for me.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart for your support of my blog this past year. Our interactions on here have meant so much. I will end this year with a Christmas Eve prayer by the wonderful Robert Louis Stevenson. Have a very merry Christmas, and I’ll see you all again in January!
A Prayer for Christmas Eve, by Robert Louis Stevenson
Loving Father, help us remember the birth of Jesus, that we may share in the song of the angels, the gladness of the shepherds, and worship of the wise men. Close the door of hate and open the door of love all over the world. Let kindness come with every gift and good desires with every greeting. Deliver us from evil by the blessing which Christ brings, and teach us to be merry with clear hearts. May the Christmas morning make us happy to be thy children, and Christmas evening bring us to our beds with grateful thoughts, forgiving and forgiven, for Jesus’ sake. Amen.
The lazy mist hangs from the brow of the hill, Concealing the course of the dark-winding rill; How languid the scenes, late so sprightly, appear! As Autumn to Winter resigns the pale year.
The forests are leafless, the meadows are brown, And all the gay foppery of summer is flown: Apart let me wander, apart let me muse, How quick Time is flying, how keen Fate pursues!
How long I have liv’d-but how much liv’d in vain, How little of life’s scanty span may remain, What aspects old Time in his progress has worn, What ties cruel Fate, in my bosom has torn.
How foolish, or worse, till our summit is gain’d! And downward, how weaken’d, how darken’d, how pain’d! Life is not worth having with all it can give- For something beyond it poor man sure must live.
Wishing you a restful Sunday and a happy week ahead.
Greetings, friends. I hope this day finds you all well.
In my recent post about Boleskine Cemetery, I told you about the mort house located within the graveyard. You may recall that mort houses were used to store the bodies of the deceased, under guard, until they were no longer a valuable commodity to body snatchers (i.e., decayed). Gross, I know. But as crazy as it sounds, body snatching was at one time a real problem!
“Why?” you wonder. During the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, medical and anatomical schools faced restrictions as to how they could legally obtain cadavers for dissection (for example, they could have the remains of the executed or those who had committed suicide). The resulting shortage of bodies gave rise to a rash of grave robbing by men who became known as ‘resurrectionists.’ These ‘resurrection men’ as they were also known, discovered they could make a buck or two by selling the stolen corpses to medical schools that were all too eager to receive them.
If that wasn’t unscrupulous enough, some were even worse than the grave robbers.
Case in point: enter one William Burke…
William Burke-portrait by George Andrew Lutenor; Public Domain
and one William Hare, two of the nastiest so-and-so’s you could ever meet.
William Hare-portrait by George Andrew Lutenor; Public Domain
Both men hailed from Northern Ireland (born in the late 1700s) but, by mere coincidence, found themselves living on the same street in Edinburgh, Scotland. It is there that Burke lived with his mistress Helen McDougal, and where Hare ran a boarding house with his girlfriend, Margaret Laird. The two men, who had so much in common, became friends. Unfortunately, that friendship would take them to some very dark places.
In late 1827, one of Hare’s lodgers passed away. Frustrated that the fellow still owed £4 on his rent, Burke and Hare devised a plan to recoup the loss by selling the body to local anatomists. They transported the corpse to the medical school at The University of Edinburgh, where they were directed to Professor Robert Knox, an anatomy lecturer. Knox paid the duo a handsome sum for the deceased body. And so it began…
Professor Robert Knox-artist unknown; Public Domain
Motivated by money, greed, and what had to be sheer evil, the duo went even further the next time. In early 1828, another of Hare’s tenants became ill. In a bold move, they intoxicated the man before physically restraining and suffocating him. Their method of killing – suffocation involving the mouth and the nose – eventually became known as “Burking.” Burke and Hare continued their murderous spree for the rest of the year, always plying their victims with alcohol and then suffocating them. In total, sixteen people fell victim to this savage duo.
Up the close and down the stair,
But and ben’ wi’ Burke and Hare.
Burke’s the butcher, Hare’s the thief,
Knox the boy that buys the beef.
-19th century rhyme
The pair committed their last murder on Halloween in 1828. A woman named Marjorie Docherty, who had been invited to lodge at Burke’s. Following her death, her body was found by two other lodgers, Ann and James Gray, who reported the discovery to the police. However, by the time law enforcement arrived, Marjorie’s body had already been hauled off to Knox.
Burke, Hare, Helen, and Margaret were subsequently arrested and charged with murder, while Robert Knox was investigated for his part in the drama. The case went to trial on Christmas Eve in 1828 before the High Court of Justiciary in Edinburgh’s Parliament House. In the end…
Professor Robert Knox was cleared of wrongdoing for lack of hard evidence (although his reputation and career were sullied).
The two women were released. Margaret fled to Ireland, but no clear accounts are given for what became of Helen.
Though charged with murder and making a full confession, William Hare was released for testifying against Burke and turning king’s evidence. Though no one really knows what became of him, rumor has it that he escaped to England and lived out his days as a beggar.
William Burke was charged with murder and hanged in front of a massive, cheering crowd in Edinburgh.
In perhaps the greatest bit of irony to this whole sordid tale, today William Burke’s smiling skeleton (no, really, it looks like it’s smiling) is on display at the Anatomical Museum at The University of Edinburgh. A book, bound in his skin, is on display at The Surgeons’ Hall Museums in Edinburgh. Ick.
The Anatomy Act of 1832
“The combination of body snatchings, murder, and resurrection riots led to the enactment of the Anatomy Act in Britain in 1832 and similar acts in U.S. states in subsequent years. These acts, which were amended and refined over the years, recognized the need for bodies for medical education and research and sought to control snatching by making more bodies available—at first by allowing medical schools to take unclaimed bodies of the poor and ill and later requiring family permission before a body could be taken. Although these laws had some effect by making more bodies available, it was really embalming, which was in regular use by the 1880s and which enabled medical schools to keep bodies for months, that led to the demise of body snatching.” –Encyclopedia Britannica
What a crazy tale, isn’t it? It’s difficult to understand the evil that pervades some human hearts.
Anyway, I do hope you enjoyed today’s post, and I wish each of you a fantastic week ahead. Halloween is this week. Stay safe, everyone. xo
Hi guys! I hope you have had a great weekend. I have been nursing a crappy ear infection. But alas, it’s been a good excuse to catch some extra z’s, lay around the house in my bathrobe, binge some television, and sip a little whisk(e)y. Always look on the sunny side of life, my friends!
In keeping with said whisk(e)y, today, we are going to make a whisky cocktail called a Rob Roy. Mr. C and I happen to LOVE Manhattans, as we have been on quite the bourbon kick lately (thus the reason I included the ‘e’ in the spelling of whiskey). Our newfound appreciation for bourbon began last fall when we visited Lexington, Kentucky, and toured three different distilleries.
Named after the 17th-century Scottish outlaw Rob Roy MacGregor, a Rob Roy is essentially a Manhattan. But instead of bourbon – or if you’re a purist, rye whiskey – it is made with a blended Scotch (whisky without the ‘e’). We initially wanted to make today’s recipe with Dimple Pinch, a smooth, non-peaty blend that is perfectly suited for mixed drinks. Unfortunately, Mr. C couldn’t find any, and the liquor store he went to was thin on blends. So instead, he decided to try one we have never had. It’s called Monkey Shoulder. Great name, right? It describes itself as “blended in small batches of three fine Speyside single malts, then married to achieve a smoother, richer taste.”
Robert Roy MacGregor (1671-1734) was a marauder in the Highlands of Scotland. After falling out with the Duke of Montrose, Roy ran a racket, whereby he earned a living stealing cattle and then extorting money from farmers to ‘protect’ them from thieves. His name was made even more famous by writer Walter Scott when he published his novel “Rob Roy” in 1817.
Based on its description, I think Monkey Shoulder sounds promising. Let’s see if the taste is as inventive as that fun name!
