An Comunn Gàidhealach Publications > Deo-gréine > Volume 16, October 1920-September 1921

AN DEO-GREINE.
185
In conclusion, I would mention that a
native of Inverness, of considerable distinc¬
tion in his day, in the person of David
MacDonald, the poet, was for a long period
attached to the Club. He sang eloquently
of its shinty matches, and, on one occasion,
of the famous Gallic, the henchman of the
Society, in the following verses : —
“GALLIE THE HENCHMAN’S CONQUEST OF
DEATH.
“As recited at a meeting of the Club of
True Highlanders, held in the British Coffee
House, Cockspur Street, by R. R. Maclain,
Esq., of the Theatres Royal, Covent
Garden, and the English Opera House, 183,5.
“On Styx’s banks one day I roamed,
Beside the Stygian ferry;
And on the verge of life I sat,
And there awhile did tarry;
“Deep ruminating on the past,
And reckless of the future;—
My muse disgusted at the time
With scenes that did not suit her.
“When, lo! the grim old tyrant, Death,
Sat rowing in his wherry;
And who, think ye, sat by his side,
But our good henchman, Gallic?
“Then horror struck, I hallo’d out,
In dreadful consternation:
Oh! Gallic! haste ye back, or he
Will waft you to damnation.
“When off his lethargy he shook,
Apprised then of his danger;
And cast a look towards the shore,
And saw I was no stranger.
“In Highland wrath he swore that he
Death’s brittle bones would sever,
If not restored quick back to earth,
Where he might live for ever.
“ ‘Well done! ’ quoth I, ‘that’s bravely said,
I’ll see a fair decision.
If ye beat Death, and gain the shore,
I’ll stand a pinch of sneeshin. ’
“Now Death insidiously strove
His opponent to strangle;
And still as keen did Gallic strive
His fleshless frame to mangle.
“I need not hint how Gallic beat
The mighty king of terrors,
Diverting him of all his arms—
But let me note some errors.
“Predominant in sages wise,
In poets, priests, and painters,
For Death is arm’d with scythe and dart
By these false representers.
“But none has ever yet return’d
To tell the tale, save Gallic,
Of all the spirits which grim Death
Hath wafted in his wherry.
“The trophies of that victory
Are now in his possession;
Which I have, as a witness, sworn
Before the Court of Session.
“A battle or Lochaber axe,
By which Death’s murder’d millions;
’Grav’d on the blade the car of death,
With snakes, and fiend postillions.
“One vivid scene still haunts my mind,
Which I can never bury:
That struggle in Death’s passage-boat,
While crossing Styx’s ferry.
“By night, by day, asleep or wake,
The vision haunts me ever,
With phantoms rising in my view,
Which set me in a fever. ’’
The humour and purport of these stanzas
will be better appreciated when the follow¬
ing particulars regarding the henchman,
taken from Mr. MacIntyre North’s volume,
are submitted: —
“The door is kept or sentinelled by a
certain official, styled a henchman. The
henchman in our time was one Gallic, a
native of Tain, a thick-set, sturdy, grim,
gruff old fellow, a Gaidheal of the purest and
roughest type, proud of his post, and looking
just as we may fancy Fingal’s door-keeper
to have looked ‘when the curtain of the night
descended on the hills, and heroes were
feasting in selma.’ On opening the door to
admit a visitor, he used to flourish a
tremendous battle-axe—the symbol of his
office—in a way so unexpected, and so
formidable, that every stranger who did not
start back in affright was astonished to find
his head on. There was nothing so
genuinely Gaelic-looking about the Club as
Gallic—he was a very Cerberus of a Celt—
though, poor fellow, ‘his look was worse
than his bite.’ To a Highland eye, wearied
of seeing Sassunach shapes and visages, it
was truly refreshing to look at him. ’ ’
0
We regret having to record the death of Mr.
Archd. MacKellar, President of the Mid-
Argyll Association. Mr. MacKellar was a
member of An Comunn for many years,
and represented his Association on the
Executive Council.