By Hugh Macdonald.
Wha sees “the crawflower's early bell,”
Sweet blumin' in the woodlan' dell,
The wildin' rose that ees itsel
In lanely rill,
But feels his heart wi' mem'ry swell
O Tannahill.
Ye'se see Gleniffer's fir-crown'd brae,
Auld Stanely Castle's ruins grey,
Whar Paisley's minstrel wont tae stray
When fell the dew,
Enraptur'd weaving some sweet lay,
Tae Nature true.
Unblest wi Fortune's sunny smile,
His was a life o care an toil ;
Yet happy hours war his the while ;
At closin day
He left the busy town's turmoil,
Alane tae stray.
Yet tho unblest wi Fortune's shower,
His was in truth a nobler dower—
A heart o love, a soul o power,
That deeper joy
Coud win frae wildin bird or flower
Than wealth coud buy.
Soun sleeps he now 'neath death's caul wing,
But lang as woodlan birds shall sing,
Or wildflowers rise tae welcome Spring,
'Side gushin rills,
His mem'ry shall a halo fling
Aroun thae hills.
Hugh Macdonald was born in Bridgeton of Glasgow on 4th April, 1857, His parents were in humble circumstances, and had a large family. His education could not be considered liberal, and he was sent early to work. He became an apprentice block printer in the works of Henry, Monteith, & Company, at Barrowfield, and afterwards entered the employment of Harrow, M‘Intyre, & Company, block printers, Colinslie, Paisley. The first poetical effusion of Hugh Macdonald, “The Scottish Emigrant's Farewell,” appeared in the Chartist Circular of 16th May, 1840, page 140. His next appearance was in the select columns of the Glasgow Citizen newspaper, defending the character of Burns from the ill-advised attack of the Rev. George Gilfillan, of Dundee. Some of his sweetest songs first saw the light in the poet's neuk of that literary paper. In 1849 he was taken on to its literary staff. “Caleb's” (Macdonald's) “Rambles Round Glasgow” now appeared in the columns of the Citizen, and three chapters were devoted to “Cardonald and Cruickston,” “Paisley and its Environs,” and “Gleniffer and Elderslie.” The whole were published in a collected form in 1854, and since that time have passed through several editions. His connection with the Citizen ceased at the time of the abolition of the stamp duty on newspapers in 1855, when he commenced his “Days at the Coast” in the columns of the Glasgow Times, and also became a member of the staff of the Glasgow Sentinel. These appeared in a collected form in 1857, and have likewise passed through several editions. In June, 1858, the Glasgow Morning Journal was commenced, and the services of Macdonald were secured for the literary department of that newspaper, and he continued there till his sudden decease. He had introduced his "Footsteps of the Year" into that journal, intended for all the months of 1860. In January and February he discoursed on the subject, and in the month of March he walked to Castlemilk to see the snowdrops, and on his return took to his bed, and expired on the 16th day of March, 1860, in the 43rd year of his, age.—Ed.
The first stanza is taken from an Epistle to Peter Still of Buchan, author of "The Cotter's Sunday," and other poems. The remaining stanzas are taken from an Epistle to William Miller, author of “Wee Willie Winkie,” and many other beautiful nursery songs, reminding him of a visit he was to make to Paisley.
A more detailed sketch of Hugh Macdonald is given by Robert Brown in "Paisley Poets" Volume 1 published in Paisley by J. & J Cook, 1889. He writes:—
HUGH MACDONALD was born in Bridgeton, Glasgow, on 4th April, 1817. He received only a limited education, his parents being in very humble circumstances. Indeed, he used to say, himself, that he never was in a day school, and that all the education he received was at a night school. While very young, he was apprenticed as a block-printer, in the Barrowfield Print Works, which he described in one of his poems as “The Gude Auld Field.” Having managed, by careful economy, to save a little money, he opened a provision shop in Bridgeton ; but not succeeding well, he paid all he owed, and returned to his trade at the Colinslee Print Works, Paisley, in the establishment of Messrs. Harrow, M'Intyre, & Coy. For a few days he walked from and to his Glasgow home daily; but he afterwards went into lodgings with Mr. Robert M'Intyre, who resided in Orr Street, Paisley, a son of John M'Intyre, a brother of three of the partners in the Colinslee firm. Hugh Macdonald continued to lodge in that house from six to nine months, and afterwards rented a dwelling-house for himself at No. 32 Calside, to which he brought his wife and family from Glasgow. The ground floor, as was then usually the case, was filled with weavers' looms, and on the second and top floor Mr. Macdonald had his dwelling. At the period of his coming to Paisley, he first commenced his poetical effusions which graced the poet's corner of the Glasgow Citizen, and he followed this up by a series of letters in defence of the character of Burns, in consequence of an attack that had been made upon the Scottish Bard by the Rev. George Gilfillan of Dundee.
Hugh Macdonald in 1846, while living in Paisley, had an interview with Professor Wilson (Christopher North) in Edinburgh, and as the account of it, by himself, is so graphic and interesting, I must give some extracts :
—
“Long and ardently had I desired to see the gifted author of the ‘Isle of Palms,’ the ‘Lights and Shadows of Scottish Life,' ‘Margaret Lindsay,’ &c., the far-famed Christopher North, of Blackwood's matchless Magazine. Happening to be on a visit to Scotia's Darling Seat about the middle of this year (1846), I determined to make an effort to have my wish gratified ; accordingly, I penned the following note, and sent it to the worthy Professor, with a copy of my verses, ‘To the Birds of Scotland,’ enclosed :—
“ ‘Lasswade, 21st August, 1846.—Respected Sir,—I have seen the mavis singing on the same bough with the wee wren ; I have seen the blackbird drop down from his lofty seat on the fir-tree top, to jink about the hedge-roots with the tiny hedge-sparrow ; and I have seen the lark, sweet ‘musical mote,’ sink from the blue curtain of the sleeping stars to rest on the brairded lea beside the clamorous craik ; ay, and I have marked the golden daffodil drooping her lovely head on the green lap of April, as if to hold converse with the crimson-tipped flower at her feet ; and I have also seen the queenly rose take the humble vetchling of the meadow into her fragrant bosom ; and I have fondly dared to hope, that the author of the ‘Isle of Palms,’ the delineator of the ‘Lights and Shadows of Scottish Life,’ the generous critic of the works and the eloquent vindicator of the character of Scotia's peasant bard, might condescend to grant half an hour of his company to a nameless individual like myself, one of Scotia's humblest poetlings.
“’I would fain shake hands with you, and thank you for the many hours of pleasure your writings have given to me, a lowly son of toil ; for though we have never met in person, yet in fancy I have been your enraptured companion on many a glorious excursion.
“’I am a working man, yet not altogether a poor man, as, by the sweat of my brow I can support myself in decency and comfort. I ask no man's patronage ; and though I ask this favour from you, a ‘monarch of the mind,’ I would scorn to cringe to the mere man of wealth or title.
“I have come from your native town, on a two-days' visit to Edinburgh ; and, as I have no one to introduce me, I take the liberty of sending you one of my humble productions, in the hope that it may open a door in your Scottish heart, and let out the little I am so anxious for.—
Yours respectfully, HUGH MACDONALD.'
“I handed in this note to the Professor's house, 6 Gloster Place, about half-past eight o'clock on Friday night, and next morning the following card was left for me at the Post-Office, Edinburgh :—
“‘Saturday morning.—Professor Wilson sends his kind regards to Mr. Hugh Macdonald, and will be glad to see him at any hour to-day before three o'clock, or at any hour to-morrow, except from eleven till two, in No. 6 Gloster Place.'
“On Saturday afternoon I left a note, stating that I would do myself the honour of waiting on him at half-past two on Sunday.
“And now I must say I felt rather afraid to venture into the presence of the redoubted Kit North ; my heart beat rather thickish when I thought of my hardihood ; however, there was no drawing back now, I must go on. Before starting I took two glass of genuine ‘mountain dew,’ and felt wonderfully comforted under its inspiring influence ; in fact I felt so elevated, that I could have faced a dozen D.D.'s, let alone one Professor of Moral Philosophy, even although he had a crutch that monie a dunce kens to his cost.
“In going up the stair to the great man's study, his sanctum sanctorum, the palpitating symptoms threatened to return on me ; but the moment I was shown in, and saw his noble, intelligent countenance brighten with a smile of welcome, as he shook me warmly by the hand and led me to a seat, saying, at the same time, that he was very glad I had called, I felt myself quite at home. He was in his workshop among his books, which were scattered about in all directions in glorious confusion, none of your gay glittering binding ranged for show, but mostly ‘scuft,’ and bearing the marks of having ‘seen service.’ He sat in his easy chair, with a good stout cudgel in his hand. Fillans's bust is very correct ; I would have known him by it,—although I had never been told whom I was speaking to. The long yellow hair, now silvered and thinned by time, hanging carelessly over his neck ; his fine manly features, and broad high domelike head, would have pointed him out at once as the mighty Christopher. He is becoming rather fat and corpulent ; and when he threw himself back, during our conversation, in his chair, with the one leg resting on the other, he brought Shakespeare's worthy Sir John, who was not only witty himself but the cause of wit in others, forcibly to my mind. Indeed, I felt above myself, as if he had not only genius himself, but that for the time he had inspired me with a portion of his glorious spirit.
“He said that, from my letter and poetry, he had looked for an older man ; that I was still a very young man, &c. Enquired very kindly after my circumstances ; was very sorry to hear that I had lost a wife. Said that a great many young men sent him verses—in general, the greatest trash—that they either would not or could not think for themselves. Said that he had been pleased with both my letter and verses ; had shown them to his son-in-law, Mr. Gordon, who was likewise pleased with them. Said that he had made up his mind at once, on reading them, to see me ; and again said he was proud I had called. He then read over ‘The Birds’ verse by verse, making remarks on each. ‘The lark that sings the stars asleep’ ; did I mean to say that the lark sung after the stars began to shine ? I said no ; but that this bird, rising in the early morn before the stars began to fade, and continuing to sing while they were one after the other disappearing, might, in a poetic sense, be supposed to sing them asleep. Said it was beautiful, but did not strike one at first. ‘The merle that wakes their beam’; he had often admired the song of the merle while he was wandering in the saft simmer gloamin'. ‘The wagtail by the forest-spring or lonely waterfall’; said that he had been once taken to see a painting of a waterfall, by a very clever artist, one Harvie, that he had noticed a bird sitting on a stone at the bottom of it ; he had turned to a friend and said, this must be a wagtail. This friend, who was a naturalist, said no; it is a waterpyet or ousel ; and that this bird was more frequently found in these situations than the wagtail. I could not agree to this ; said that what I had written was from actual observation. That the ousel was a comparatively rare bird, but that it was always to be seen walking about the margin of the lonely linns ; and that I saw several last time I was in Killoch Glen. Said he knew that sweet little glen, and he was glad I had stuck to my point, as his observations and mine were in accordance with each other. ‘The redbreast wailing sad alone’; he did not think the robin's song a sad one. When he lived last in the country, one came morning and evening, and sung sitting on the top of his pig-house, and he always thought it a very lightsome and blithe song ; he used to be quite charmed with it, but singing, as it did alone, at the fa' o' the leaf, there was no doubt but it excited melancholy feelings ; this was wholly owing to the associations, however. I said it was probably so, but it appeared sad to me, and I wrote as I felt. I said I had been to see poor Ferguson's grave that morning ; and while musing there, a redbreast had burst into song on a poplar tree in the churchyard, and that it had struck me as a very sad song indeed. He assented. ‘Familiar as a mother's voice.’ He was not sure of this ; there was familiarity in a mother's voice, but there was a great deal more; it might pass, however. ‘Matchless mottled breast.’ Thought it would be better without matchless. ‘Wells of glee’ was a strong phrase, but beautiful, applying both to throstle and merle ; and he thought there was strength enough without matchless. I did not understand his objection properly ; but I thought it read better with his improvement. The word ‘Minstrel’ occurs twice in the piece; he thought I should endeavour to alter one of them ; it was a striking word, and its recurrence was apt to catch the ear. These are the principal remarks he made on the piece ; it was well worth the pains of polishing, and all short poems should be attended to in this respect. When he had read it he folded it carefully up, placed it in a small rosewood box lying on the table, saying, at the same time, ‘I must take care of this.’
“He asked in what part of Paisley I worked, and said he was sorry to go to that place now—the old familiar faces were nearly all gone ; even the houses, he scarcely knew them now. There were only two families that he knew—the Lowndses, in the Sneddon, and some old ladies named Orr, somewhere in Causeyside. He remembered the Lowndses. They came from England when boys ; and he remembered very well that he envied their roast beef and plum pudding dinner, when he got his parritch and milk. When he was last in Paisley, he went to see the garden outside the town where he used to go for gooseberries and to look for birds' nests when a boy. He had gone into some old haunt of his childhood (a garden), when an old woman came out and looked after him, as much as to say—‘I'm no very sure about you.’ He said he was glad to walk off. He had known very little of Tannahill until quite recently. He said he had left Paisley when a boy, before Tannahill's time, and was in England for a lengthened period; and somehow, even when on visits to his native place, his friends had never spoken to him of the weaver bard."
“He said that if I came to Edinburgh again, he would like that I should give him a call ; and added that whenever he came to Paisley he would endeavour to find me out: so we shook hands, and I came away with a heart rinin' ower wi' gratitude, pride, and love to the greatest mind I have ever met, or in all likelihood ever may meet in this world.”
Macdonald's contributions to the Citizen newspaper were so much appreciated by the able editor, that he was led, in 1849, to the giving up of block-printing and becoming one of the members of the literary staff in that journal. He therefore left Paisley, after being resident in it for about four years; and some time afterwards he began his series of fascinating descriptive “Rambles Round Glasgow,” which appeared in the Citizen under the signature of “Caleb.” Other sketches, under the name “Days at the Coast,” also appeared at that time. They were commenced in the Citizen and concluded in the Glasgow Times. Both of the works were very popular, and were repeatedly republished.
In 1855 Mr. Macdonald joined the Glasgow Sentinel newspaper, and soon afterwards received the appointment of editor of the Glasgow Times. In June, 1858, when the Morning Journal was started, he agreed to be literary editor, and he continued at this work till his death. While holding this honourable but laborious position, poetical pieces, sketches, essays, and reviews flowed from his pen, and among these a “Series of Pilgrimages to Remarkable Places.” After eleven years of exertion and labour to instruct and amuse his readers in this way, he died on 16th March, 1860, at the early age of 43 years. Immediately before his death he was engaged in a work on “Old Folk-Lore,” the purpose of which was to gather “auld warld” stories of the West of Scotland. Mr. Macdonald was held in the highest esteem by all classes; and after his death a sum of £900 was raised, and invested for the benefit of his widow and five children. His remains were interred in the Southern Necropolis. His poetical pieces, along with a memoir, were published at Glasgow in 1865. He was an enthusiastic admirer of Nature, and this was the main cause of his prose works being so highly prized. His love of Nature was equally conspicuous in his songs. I knew him a little, and the last time I met him was at the dinner of the Royal Potato and Herring Incorporation at Renfrew, in 1856. On that occasion he sang with great effect and geniality “The Ewie wi' the Crookit Horn.”
The composer of this extremely popular song was the, Rev. John Skinner, born 3rd October, 1721. After ministering at Longside, Aberdeenshire, for 65 years, he went to reside with his son, the Bishop of Aberdeen, where he died on 16th June, 1807, only twelve days after his arrival. Mr. Skinner was also the author of the song “Tullochgorum,” which Burns said was “the best Scottish song ever Scotland saw.”
From the considerable time during which Mr. Macdonald resided in Paisley, there is no doubt its poetical traditions and surroundings powerfully influenced him in his courting of the muse. I am therefore justified in holding him to be, if not wholly, at least to a great degree, one of our local poets. His own pen has told us how greatly he liked Paisley. “We have a warm side to Paisley and its ‘bodies.’ Some of our happiest days were spent in that locality, and we have never experienced more genuine kindness than among its inhabitants. Nowhere else have we such troops of friends, and nowhere else do we meet so many smiling faces and frankly-extended hands, or so many homes where we are certain of a warm and hearty welcome. Blessings be upon thee and thy denizens, old town! and may the prosperity which now shines upon thee be of long continuance! May thy trade flourish and thy comforts increase ! and may the gift of song, in which so many of thy sons have excelled, still find its most faithful votaries in thee!” (“Rambles Round Glasgow: Descriptive, Historical, Traditional,” p. 212). Mr. Macdonald was twice married.
Several years after the death of the genial and gifted poet, the members of the Glasgow Ramblers' Club had a stone fount erected at “the Bonnie Wee Well on the Briest o' the Brae” as a tribute of respect to their departed “Prince of Ramblers.” On several occasions afterwards, the fount was maliciously injured. The Ramblers as often got it repaired; but becoming wearied of continuing this, they ultimately removed it to a site in Glasgow Green. The Paisley Old Weavers' Society resolved to erect a fount in the same place, and readily obtained subscriptions of money to carry this into effect. Plans were invited by the committee; and from thirty which were given in, that of Mr. Angus Ferguson, glazier, Causeyside, was all but unanimously selected. Mr. John Gordon, sculptor, Broomlands Street, was entrusted with the work of finishing the memorial, with the exception of the medallion, which was executed by Mr. Mossman, sculptor, Glasgow.
The memorial consists of a rustic stone fount, erected on the site of “the Bonnie Wee Well,” nine feet by four, formed of rough boulders of stone found on the adjoining hills. Near to the top of the fount is a raised block of Rubislaw granite, in the centre of which is a medallion bust of the songster, with the simple inscription— “Hugh Macdonald. Born, 1817. Died, 1860. Erected, 1883.” The ceremony of inaugurating the fountain, at which I was present, took place on 8th September, 1883, in presence of an audience of about 6000 to 7000 persons—Treasurer Cochran presiding. The proceedings were further enlivened by an open-air concert given by a choir of 200 voices, conducted by Mr. James Roy Fraser. A son of the poet's was present. The weather was everything that could be desired ; and this, combined with the unequalled scenery stretching along the extensive valley beneath, with the range of the lofty Kilpatrick Hills forming the northern background, and Gleniffer Hills on the south, made the view from the commanding site at the “Bonny Wee Well” grand in the extreme to me, and I am sure to every other spectator that afternoon.
THE BONNIE WEE WELL.
The bonnie wee well on the breist o' the brae,
That skinkles sae cauld in the sweet smile o' day,
And croons a laigh sang a' to pleasure itsel',
As it jinks 'neath the bracken and gentle bluebell.
The bonnie wee well on the breist o' the brae
Seems an image to me e a baimie at play ;
For it springs free the yird wi' a flicker o' glee,
And it kisses the flowers while its ripple they pree.
The bonnie wee well on the briest o' the brae
Wins blessings and blessings fu' monie ilk day ;
For the wayworn and weary aft rest by its side,
And man, wife, and wean a' are richly supplied.
—Grian Press.