Welcome to the blog of writer and musician Andrew Martin. Here I'll post original photographs and observations as I encounter the history and culture of the San Fernando Valley, the City of the Angels, Alta California and the far-flung Pacific Rim… but mostly the Valley.
The View is embarrassed at shoving so much Scots at Patient Reader; but I saw this, and the coincidence was too rich to resist. From the sublime Lorimer translation of the Gospels, to this ridiculous story of how Scots Wikipedia has been mangled by some idiot American kid. Read the full article by clicking below.
In August, someone going by the handle Ultach posted threads on 4chan and Reddit revealing that an American teenager who does not speak Scots was responsible for nearly half of the articles on Scots Wikipedia. That teenager is the 19-year-old North Carolinian behind the username AmaryllisGardner, whose alias is often shortened to AG. Ultach wrote in his viral posts that Scots Wikipedia was “legendarily bad” in part because AG did not understand Scots grammar or vocabulary.
— Stephen Harrison writing for Source Notes, a column on Slate.com 9/9/2020
Spes altera vitae — hope in the other life — the Lorimer motto
When King James VI of Scotland became King James I of England (1603), one of his famous projects was the Authorized English Bible. Any corresponding attempt to do a Scots version was scrapped. Duplicative at best, a “competing project” — at worst, a subversion of royal authority.
Un-authorized Scots translations existed, but were virtually outlawed (…blood, burnings, beheadings, mighty castles cast down.) For lang whiles, Scots itself was virtually outlawed (…mayhem, slaughter, massacres, cathedrals burnt.) Thus, Scots never had a language-unifying national Bible, the way English did. It set back Scots as a literary language by a couple hundred years.
This one came out in 1983; the year before I arrived in Edinburgh. (Milne’s Court is adjacent to New College, so I took meals with all the Kirk of Scotland divinity students. If anyone was excited about the first published translation of the Bible ever into Scots, I don’t remember it.) For readability, it beats the Sassenach Bible hollow. The print and binding are exemplary, the traditional gold leaf exquisite (with the Lorimer arms). Lorimer also did a Buik o Psaums, I’ll be hunting on Alibris for that one, too.
Imagine, all those dour Covenanters having witches’ tongues pulled out with red-hot iron pincers, had to lash them to damnation by reading out English Bible verses…it must have been exquisite torture to their own tongues. Well, now they have their own New Testament, so today’s exorcisms and shunnings must be more fun for everybody involved.
The translator, William Laughton Lorimer, (1885-1966) was a Professor of Greek at St. Andrews, seemingly an overlooked Mr. Chips sort, a shy genius. It’s appropriate that the city and University (and maybe even the miraculous bones) of St. Andrews should produce this masterpiece of literature. Add Lorimer (including his family and foundation) to the canon of St. Jerome, Wulfila, Cyril and Methodius, the King James council, Martin Luther, John Wycliffe, John Winthrop, and all the other brilliant Bible translators who have synthesized and preserved and extended human language and consciousness through their inspired hours of pedantry and word-sleuthing.
Today, September 9, 2020, marks the anniversary of the Battle of Flodden, 1513.
Remember the Auld Alliance between Scotland and France? This is one time where the Scots were drawn into a fight with England because of a continental territory dispute. England whomped. 10,000 Scots died — the floor o Scotland. Miss Jean Brodie tells her girls of the tragic loss at Flodden, and of the ghostly rider who appeared at the Mercat Cross beside St. Giles, and read out the list of all the noble familes who had lost sons and fathers, and there was not one family that did not have cause to grieve that day.
Flowers of the Forest is one of the solemn “dead marches” of the British military. The words recall Flodden and the tremendous toll of woe among the Scots.
The Flowers of the Forest
I’ve heard the lilting, at the yowe-milking, Lasses a-lilting before dawn o’ day; But now they are moaning on ilka green loaning; “The Flowers of the Forest are a’ wede away”. As buchts, in the morning, nae blythe lads are scorning; The lasses are lonely and dowie and wae. Nae daffin’, nae gabbin’, but sighing and sobbing, Ilk ane lifts her leglen, and hies her away. In hairst, at the shearing, nae youths now are jeering, The Bandsters are lyart, and runkled and grey. At fair or at preaching, nae wooing, nae fleeching, The Flowers of the Forest are a’ wede away. At e’en, in the gloaming, nae swankies are roaming, ‘Bout stacks wi’ the lasses at bogle to play. But ilk ane sits drearie, lamenting her dearie, The Flowers of the Forest are a’ wede away. Dule and wae for the order sent our lads to the Border; The English, for ance, by guile wan the day: The Flowers of the Forest, that foucht aye the foremost, The prime o’ our land are cauld in the clay. We’ll hae nae mair lilting, at the yowe-milking, Women and bairns are dowie and wae. Sighing and moaning, on ilka green loaning, The Flowers of the forest are all wede away.
— Jean Elliot, 1762, a lament for the lost King James IV, and the flower of Scottish nobility
The Valley Village View 