Hey Kevin I though you might lke this. I got a message from Fiona Mac (it actuall came from a friend of hers>) A Living Tradition : Preservation or Innovation?
Category: Music
A Living Tradition : Preservation or Innovation?
This is the title of an article I'm going to write, and I want to gather as much opinion on the subject as possible!
I'd really like to hear from a broad range of people connected to the world of folk and traditional music -- avid folk fans, folk club organisers, folk gig and festival promoters, musicians... in fact, anybody with an opinion they'd like to express!
What role do preservation and innovation play in upholding our tradition?
Does one detract from the other, or are they mutually beneficial?
What tensions might exist between the proponents of preservation and innovation?
How far can innovation go before it no longer remains true to the tradition, or to what extent might preservation stifle innovation?
That's just a few questions to get you thinking, but feel free to take any angle that you feel is fitting!
I'd be really grateful if anybody would re-post this in their blog or on any folk-related internet forums to which you may belong, as I'd like to get as broad a range of responses as possible before I start to knit it all together!
I can be contacted by e-mail at mike @ folking . com (without the spaces!)
Thank you for reading!
Hi Fiona Mac...this is Old Munro here from America. Let me say I love all kinds of traditional music. Part of me likes to hear historic instruments like the mandolin, the Irish harp, the harpsichord and the clavichord. But I only play the piano myself and love hearing traditional and classical music played on the piano. The Piano is a wonderful, enduring and versatile instrument. It's defect is that it is heavy and so is best for the church or parlour. I love Scots songs and art songs and the old Big Songs. Poetrically I think the traditional Scots ballads and the Gaelic Big Songs are really superb for their quality. But commercially one has to cut down the songs to something more more accessible. People knock the Kennedy-Fraser and Kenneth MacLeod adaptations of the Songs of the Hebrides BUT it is their arrangements which are world famous and they helped create an interest and a wider audience for Gaelic songs. Today it is relatively easy to find Gaelic recordings and texts but for most of the 20th century it was a relatively rare thing. In the early 1960's, for example, I had perhaps a handful of Scottish songs sung in Gaelic (recordings by Sidney MacEwen from the '30's 78's and a handful of song sheets and I remeber I had one exact ONE folkways album with Irish Gaelic songs. I was fascinated that some of the melodies I recognized as Scottish such as MY AIN HOOSE (Mo Dhaichaidh) and O Sr run mo cheile bha ann. At that time I couldn't really read Gaelic at all I could just barely make out the song titles and of course I really didn't know there was any distinction at all between Irish and Scottish Gaelic (My Auld Pop could speak Scots Gaelic but he was almost completely illterate ; what little education he had was in English; he was born in 1886).
Later I bought a folkways recording of Hebridean waulking songs and it had historic interest but muscially it was very mediocre and the recording -from the 1930's or 40's was very primiitive. On the other hand my mother sang Songs of the Hebrides songs like Vair mi O, Turn Ye to Me, The Bens of Jura, the Road to the Isle etc and we always enjoyed them very much. Even in Irish ceilidhs in the New York area you would sometimes here these songs. We probably saw as much Irish traditional music and some Welsh -I remember Thomas L THomas as Scottish music in the 1950's and 1960's. The really big name in Scottish music in those years was Kenneth McKellar. He seemed to have a new album every year and he came to the states regularly and he even sang in our local high school (Kearney HS, Kearney NJ and made an appearance at the Argyll Restaurant. In those days before the Internet one bought albums at the concerts lp's or at the Piper's Cove shop next to the Argyll restaurant. That was -as far as I know the only place where one could get British and Irish pressings and labels like Gael-Linn and later Lismore. Of course when friends or relatives would travel back to Scotland they would bring special treats like Anne Lorne Gillies , Calum Kennedy records and Flora MacNeil records or the MacDonald sisters -things we never saw in the states. Then by the 1970's we had a weekly program on the radio the THISTLE AND SHAMROCK. That's how i was introduced to WILLIAM JACKSON(then of OSSIAN) and Mairi MacInnes and Maggie Maggine. So I have heard all sorts of Celtic music all of my life.
I heard it then car -songs my parents knew that I have never heard recorded anywhere. Songs my mother played on the piano- she mixed them up with broadway show tunes like Camelot and like South Pacific and art songs in Italian and German and hymns too. We heard a lot of Irish tenor music in the John McCormack tradition -I am thinking of Frank Paterson, Robert White, James McCracken (he was well known as an opera singer), and then of course Kenneth McKellar, Helen McArthur, Moira Anderson and Mary O'Hara Then of course there was the folk music one heard at Scottish Highland games and Irish resturants -it was less elegant and polished but made up for that by being very accessible. But one thing I remember in every venue everyone sang along at least part of the time. You would be amazed how many Americans like mysefl -the children and grandchildren of Scots- know so many songs by heart. I never was exposed to them at school except perhaps Loch Lomond and we had to sing a disgusting slowed down Americanized version with correct grammar (I and my true love...I am not kidding but the original version was a bad influence I suppose)
Then came the Clancy Brothers who were very commercial but lively and then came the Chieftains. the great thing about the Chieftains is that you could expect to see them regularly and like Kenneth McKellar you could always find their records. So in those years we had only three regular sourcs of music : radio (i hour a week ) the Thistle and Shamrock and then a few big international stars PLUS the Scottish and Irish ethnic stores where it was all hit or miss. There were some real treasures I remember David Solley -i have all his Gaelic LP's and then the SOUND OF MULL -they made two LP's and I have them both. Now both of these artists sang a somewhat moderinzed or commericalized Gaelic song. So to some purists they don't like them. As for myself I love Sean-nos singing and acapella singing I have done some myself! But to me the thing is INTRODUCING THE MUSIC, THE MELODIES and the SONGS to a new generation. I will be eternally grateful to
1) the Irish folk societies and all the concerts they hosted
2) The Scottish Regiments on tour
3) the Highland games you could always find books, song sheets and LP's there
4) the famous commerical artists like Frank Paterson and Kenneth McKellar and Mary O'Hara too they were trail blazers and they kept knowledge and awareness of the Celtic song tradition alive in the 1950's, 1960's and 1970's. And let me say one thing more. All of these singers had crossover songs in their repetoir. McKellar sang Irish songs or Italian songs and he sang Beatle Songs too and even recorded a few. Paterson -when he came to Jersey City or Kearney where there are so many Scots would talk about his wife's cousin Father Cumey who was a parish priest in Govan (big cheer there ; I think half the population at that time had Govan origins) and of course Frank would sing some Scottish songs like Loch Lomond, The Flowers of the Forest or the Four Marys, Mary O'Hara would sing in Welsh, Irish Gaelic, Scots Gaelic, English and even an Italian song now and then. So there is no question they all considered good songs good songs. They same SOME songs in a traditional way a cappella or just with a harp and other times with big orchestras. The best performances were the small venues in a school auditorium or in a church because afterwords you could talk to the peformers. I will never forget Mary O'Hara having coffee with us after Mass -we had seen her in the concert the night before and she recognized us and just sat down to talk to us. I will never forget what she said. I introduced myself and said my name was Richard and she said "Richard -that was my late husband's name" and then she talked about her love for her husband and the short happy marriage they had together. She was a very spiritual person and had a great personality on stage and in person. But talking to her was just like talking to my Aunt Annie or my mother. Sitting with us she was just one more. And that is the last thing I want to say. I love all kinds of music and I love classical music too. But classical music is not really my first love for this simple reason: It is remote and the artists are prima donnas and very remote. Folk music -Highland music in particlar -is a smaller world and very warm and humane world. I have met in my travels many artists in person -at the Park Bar in Glasgow -at St. Mungo's -in small Highland townships like Lochinvar and Dingwall at the Staig Fort Inn (Ireland) and Tom Moore's house -at the Sylvia Wood Harp Center in Glendale LA, in the George IV Pub in Vancouver , BC in Kearny High School auditorium and on the street corner of Kearney Ave on the way to Argyll Fish and Chip Restaurant. Sometimes the musicans were Black Watch Soldiers or Argyll soldiers. One time my father and I met a Corporal Munro who was from the North and came from the same place Cioch Mhor (Near Dingwall) where my great grandfather had been born. I think Corporal Munro was as thrilled as we were -it was his first visit to New York and I even asked him for his autograph. To me -I was a teenager at the time- to meet a real Argyll like my Auld Pop and his friends in person was a real thrill. Frank Paterson also was a very lovely man -I didn't see him as often as my friend Kevin Darcy who grew up in San Francisco but I did meet his wife's cousin Father Cumey because of all people who sat next to me in St. Mungo's cathedral but he! And we flew to America together on the same plane with Alistair Fraser! He was shocked i knew who he was and his parish but we had had news from Govan and Frank Paterson on an off for thirty years. He had been a priest in Scotland fo fifty years and yes, he knew Father Collins the man who baptized my father March 17, 1915 at St. Anthony's and the man who married my grandparents and the man who led my grannie and my father and his brother and sister to the clock tower near where you have the tall ships now. They took the ferry from Govan and he walked with them from West Glasgow up a hill and down a park right to the pier. That was August 1927 and I heard that story many times from my father. Grannie never returned and my father did not return until 1967 and then we walked down the same path. Every time i am in Glasgow 1975, 1979, 2000, 2005 I walk down that path to the tall ships. I walk in Kelvin Grove and visit the Kelvin Grove museum. I go to St. Mungo's and see the WWI memorial in George's Square. My granne and father were there in 1923 when it was inauguranted and the General was there (Haig I think). I always go to the Park Bar my Auld Pop and his Argyll cronies often went there and went there in August 1914 and the last time in November 1919. My great-grandfather went here too and he also went to the Commercial Bar -it is a rough old place in Dingwall -my Auld Pop never went there except to the front door... and of course there are the old Parish churches. My father's mother was born in Oban so the old church is not there -they have a Big Red Cathedral there I know my family was one of the many that contributed to help build it. I knew about it and dreamed about it long before I had ever seen it. It went up in 1959. Everyone was excited about it but the old folk never lived to see it. But I promised Auld Pop I would go there and say a prayer for granny there just for him and I did anns a Gaidhlig. Auld Pop knew his prayers and he taught us how to say them as well.
Well I am going on too much.
But the point I would like to make is that music must have an audience and must win over SOME of the new generation if it is to survive and not just be a fossil. Some people don't like CELTIC WOMEN -and they are not my favorite...but let's face it -they do sing traditinal material and they do sing Gaelic songs for a mass audience and are on TV and they sell out wherever they go. For my money I would rather see Anne Lorne Gillies , Mairi MacInnes , Arthur Cormack or William Jackson or Fiona MacKenzie and her sisters any time BUT shows like Celtic women will lead people to explore the REAL THING and of course if they develop a taste for the real thing they will help support traditional music.
And to some extent music changes and adapts. William Jackson uses a bouzoki (I hope I spelled that right) and the traditional music adds new and old instruments. The imporant thing is that there is respect for the continum of music. There are some groups that ONLY play new music or their own compositions and though it is always charming it is always disappointing. I expect fo hear SOMe songs I knwo like LOCH MAREE ISLANDS or FHIR A BATA or Lochnagar or even Westerning Home, the Rowan Tree, the Northern Lights or My Ain Folk. My people loved all kinds of music and to them they loved My Ain Folk -which dated back to WWI and the end of their time in Scotland- as much as old songs. Perhaps because they were song of their youth they were extra special for them. I know there is a special love for songs I learned from my mother or from my favorite artists.
So be authentic and learn from the old traditons and when possible do music in that style. But the fact remains one has to be commercial and one has to appeal to a mass audience to some degree and to a youth audience. That last point is very important. The Chieftains made recordings with James Galway -crossovers -that were very successful. They made recordings in Spain and play Galician music and had guest artists like Linda Ronstadt singing IN SPANISH. There is no reason French people and Spanish people and German people can't like Celtic music etc. etc. But above all Paddy Maloney and Frank Paterson and Kenneth McKellar were always entertaining and FUN. They were never too serious -William Jackson is the same way and so is Alistair Fraser -they are 100 times better in person because they are so funny! That is the key -be yourself be human be Highland which means be genuine and warm in the heart. And you will be loved and blessed keepers of the ancient flame.
MISE LE MEAS IS SPEIS
RICHARD KEITH MUNRO
Rothaich5@bak.rr.com
http://bydanfree.blogspot.com/
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
G-8 Summit: Perfidious Gordon Brown?
There is a wee Geordie from Alba,
Who eats like the Emperor Galba,
Though he is Labour through and through
He dresses and travels …..like the Counts of Anjou!
MUNRO: I understand the G-8 had a six course gourmet lunch and an eight course gourmet dinner.
This reminds me of that Renaissance Pope Leo X who said –in a letter to his brother->>Since God has given us the papacy, let us enjoy it.>>
This must be the attitude of Wee Gordon Broon (Gordon Brown).
Alba, is of course the ancient Celtic name for Scotland which could be translated as “land of the mountains white”, Alba being a cognate with ALPS.
It may have referred to Britain as a whole –thus deriving its name from the white cliffs of Dover or from its mountains which can be seen from Ireland and are snow covered year round.
Hence the Gallo-Latin word. Albion (Ἀλβίων) the oldest known name of the island of Britain as was used by Greek sailors and geographers. SOURCE: MacBain’s Eytymological Dictionary of the Gaelic Langauge.
It is used of course to refer to England or the UK including Scotland. Perfidious Albion or perfidious Gordon Brown?
Who eats like the Emperor Galba,
Though he is Labour through and through
He dresses and travels …..like the Counts of Anjou!
MUNRO: I understand the G-8 had a six course gourmet lunch and an eight course gourmet dinner.
This reminds me of that Renaissance Pope Leo X who said –in a letter to his brother->>Since God has given us the papacy, let us enjoy it.>>
This must be the attitude of Wee Gordon Broon (Gordon Brown).
Alba, is of course the ancient Celtic name for Scotland which could be translated as “land of the mountains white”, Alba being a cognate with ALPS.
It may have referred to Britain as a whole –thus deriving its name from the white cliffs of Dover or from its mountains which can be seen from Ireland and are snow covered year round.
Hence the Gallo-Latin word. Albion (Ἀλβίων) the oldest known name of the island of Britain as was used by Greek sailors and geographers. SOURCE: MacBain’s Eytymological Dictionary of the Gaelic Langauge.
It is used of course to refer to England or the UK including Scotland. Perfidious Albion or perfidious Gordon Brown?
Saturday, July 5, 2008
Col Munro and his brother Captain Munro {He} wrote of them as "men never to be parallel'd in the hills again".
Monument to a great Soldier-Politican
Sir Robert Munro of Foulis
(1684 - 1746 killed in action)
SIR Robert Munro of Foulis, who was killed at the Battle of Falkirk in 1746, was a soldier-politician whose life followed an 18th-century pattern which seems strange to us today. It has been described as "a well-wrought drama, whose scenes become doubly interesting as it hastens to a close", and its consistency lies in his own and his family's unwavering support of the Revolution Settlement and the House of Hanover, and their opposition to all attempts by the Jacobites to restore the Stewarts either by force of arms or by political intrigue.
He was a child when James VII and II lost his throne and the Protestant succession was secured, and a young man when Queen Anne's wars sent many Scots to fight under Marlborough on the Continent of Europe. His grandfather Sir John Munro, and his father Sir Robert, were successively chiefs of the clan: his uncle Andrew was a captain, and several of his relatives served before him in the Royal Scots. It is not surprising, therefore, that young Robert's thoughts should turn to an army career, and his earliest surviving letter (Oct. 1706) deals with plans for securing a commission, perhaps through the influence of the Duke of Argyll who was in Scotland for the critical pre-Union debates: even service at home was not to be despised, as it "might draw on a greater thing". Anyhow, the commission was soon forthcoming, although its exact date is unknown, and in March 1710, Robert Munro is on record as a Captain in the Royal Regiment of Foot (then at The Hague in Holland), commanded by the Earl of Orkney. He served for seven years in Flanders, it is said "with great reputation", and found himself out of employment when the war ended in 1712, and the Treaty of Utrecht brought 30 years of peace to the Continent.
But in the meantime, Robert had received a small Part of the family estate from his father, and become a member of Queen Anne's last Parliament. His patrimony, of which he received a crown character in 1708, comprised Meikle and Little Clynes and the lands of Drummond, near the present village of Evanton. Scotland's share in the Parliament of Great Britain at Westminster was 15 burgh members and 30 from the shires and at the general election of 1710 Robert was chosen under the limited franchise of those days by the northern burghs of Dingwall, Tain, Dornoch, Wick and Kirkwall, which he was to represent through five more elections for a period of 31 years.
With his Whig sympathies--which probably cost him his rank in the army on his return from Flanders--the young M.P. could always be relied on to oppose Tory measures, including their efforts to subvert the Protestant succession. The queen's health and the threat of invasion were matters of concern, and some weeks after her death in August 1714, King George arrived from Hanover to assume the throne with Whig support. Robert by now was moving in high political circles, reading his letters from Scotland to Walpole and his colleagues. London politicians liked to think that the Tories in Scotland would give no trouble in taking the oaths to King George, "but I that know them don't believe it", he wrote. When the king was proclaimed at Inverness there was something like a riot, and at Tain people were mustering and arming, with "guards upon all houses".
Support for the ministers in office was usually rewarded, just as opposition was penalised. After the king's arrival, Robert reported sadly more than once that "there is nothing yet done" for him; but in December he was offered and accepted a commission (backdated to 9 August) to replace a MacKenzie as Captain of an Independent Company raised ten years earlier to help in policing the northern Highlands. This was one of three such companies, forming distinct units unconnected with each other, and responsible for peace and security in their own area--one commanded by Captain Campbell of Fonab operating "besouth the braes of Athole and Angus", Captain William Grant's "benorth Dee", and the third to the north and west of Loch Ness. They wore no special military uniform, being clothed in "plads, tartan coats, trousers and hose" like other Highlanders. Captain Robert Munro (who had John Campbell of Carrick as his first Lieutenant, and Alexander Fraser of Culduthel as second) commanded his company for less than two years, as the events of 1715-16 brought him another and a more vital role.
The standard of rebellion was raised by the Earl of Mar, now out of office and out of favour with the new sovereign. In the northern shires the Earl of Sutherland was the King's Lieutenant, and the. Mackays, Rosses and Munros could be counted on to support the Government, but the Mackenzies, Macdonalds and Chisholms were Jacobites, and the Frasers divided owing to a disputed chiefship. The old Laird of Foulis, who lived until 1729, had lost his eyesight in early life, and the leadership of the Munros therefore devolved on his sons. Robert was in London when rumours first gained ground that a rising was intended, but his brother George of Culcairn put the clan in a state of readiness at the beginning of August, and this example was followed by others, in spite of a great shortage of arms, ammunition and money.
About a week after Mar raised the standard on September 6, the Jacobites occupied Inverness, where Seaforth put in a Mackenzie governor. Young Foulis made a move in that direction, but was stopped before he had crossed the River Conon. Calling on those well disposed to the Government to support him, he then formed an encampment at the bridge of Alness, where he was joined on October 5, by Sutherland and detachments from further north. Seaforth advanced-with a larger force by way of Dingwall, Clare and Boath, and after some parleying between the two sides and a council of war, Sutherland and Reay withdrew northwards, while the Munros (who had been for fighting) saw their country overrun and plundered by the enemy. Even the manses were looted and the ministers" libraries scattered (the Presbyterian clergy were anti-Jacobite to a man), and some worse excesses were reported. It was not until October 22, that Seaforth marched south to Perth, and his enemies believed that but for this "diversion" some 4,000 Jacobites from the north would have joined Mar three or four weeks earlier than they did, before Argyll had gathered a sufficient force to oppose them at Sheriffmuir.
In November, the Whig lairds of Kilravock and Culloden, now joined by Simon Fraser of Lovat (who had been outlawed and in exile), put pressure on the Jacobite garrison in Inverness, which was delivered upon the very day when Sherriffmuir was fought and another Jacobite force was defeated at Preston. Young Foulis marched into the town with 400 Munros and took over control as governor, although his commission (and his brevet of colonel) had been intercepted by the rebels at Perth. "James VIII" came and went (he was less than two months in Scotland), Government troops arrived in Inverness towards the end of February, and for some months the process of disarming the rebels went on, helped by a Munro detachment under Culcairn. With the rising suppressed, and the Hanoverian succession firmly established, Colonel Robert's interest with the Government and his own compassionate nature prompted him to mediate on behalf of some of the defeated leaders (including Alexander Macdonell of Glengarry) and their wives and children.
For the next ten years Robert Munro was kept busy, in addition to his duties as M.P. and landlord, as one of the only three Scots among the 13 M.P.s appointed (by a Commons ballot in June, 1716) to be Commissioners for the survey and disposal of the estates of more than 50 attainted Jacobites, "in order to raise money out of them for the use of the public". Each Commissioner received a salary of £1,000 a year, and as they could hold no other public office (though remaining M.P.s), Robert demitted his governorship of Inverness Castle and Independent Company command (both of which were given to Lovat). Four English M.P.s joined Robert Munro and his colleague Patrick Haldane for the Scottish part of the commission's business, but they were greatly hindered by the dilatory ways of some members (including Sir Richard Steele, who was fined for non-attendance). When Munro was in Edinburgh he lodged in the Bristo house of William Scott, Professor of Greek at the university. Many of the estates were deep in debt before forfeiture, it was not easy to find purchasers, and a balance of little more than £1,000 remained after all the claims, legal fees, and other expenses had been met. In 1725 the Forfeited Estates Commissioners ceased to operate, and the unsold estates were transferred to the Barons of the Exchequer.
After having been the effective leader of the clan for many years, Colonel Robert became Munro of Foulis and the sixth baronet on the death of his father in 1729. As a landowner he pioneered the planting of woodlands, of which he added nearly 500 acres on the Foulis estate. As a heritor and an elder of the Church of Scotland, he was one of those who arranged on behalf of the General Assembly for the spending of £1,000 a year of the "Royal Bounty" on the "reformation" of the Highlands and Islands by means of itinerant preachers and catechists. Described by a clansman as "an obliging, civil, moral gentleman, well beloved of his name", Sir Robert lived on friendly terms with his neighbours. His marriage to a member of a great English family --Mary, daughter of Henry Seymour of Woodlands in Dorset--took place in London in 1716, and the romantic story of a courtship interrupted by the purloining of their letters has been preserved by tradition. Their eldest son Harry was sent to Dr. Doddridge's academy at Northampton, Westminster School, and Leyden University, and another son entered the Royal Navy.
Of Sir Robert's activities in Parliament, the almost complete absence of reported debates leaves little to be said. Outside the House of Commons, we find him at various times trying to secure the reinstatement in a Customs post at Inverness of a neighbour's brother; he took an active part in pressing for Simon Fraser's pardon and succession to the Lovat estates; he helped to find employment for the son of a Mackenzie friend, and for a scape-grace of the Atholl family, but a political foe alleged that as Sherriff of Ross he had a Mackenzie sheriff-substitute stripped of office and replaced by a Munro.
The clan rivalries which had erupted in rebellion were finding an outlet in local politics. Seaforth was forfeited in 1716, and it seems to have been arranged that while the Rosses held the county seat the Munros would represent the Northern Burghs. To secure the burghs, control of three out of the five was necessary, and the manoeuvrings by which the councils were persuaded to send the "right" delegate to vote in parliamentary elections were often exciting, and even a show of force was not uncommon. Ross ascendancy was secure in Tain, and from 1716 to 1745 the Munros controlled Dingwall, with Robert of one of his brothers as provost --but not without something like two armed Munro "invasions" of the county town in 1721 and 1740, when opposing councillors were abducted to secure a favourable result (for the first incident Colonel Robert and his brother were fined £200 each, and after the second his parliamentary career came to an abrupt end with defeat at the 1741 election).
This probably mattered less to Sir Robert, as he was now securely back in the army. The Independent Companies, disbanded after the Rising, had been revived by General Wade, and in 1739 the six companies were increased to ten and formed into a regular Highland regiment 780 strong under his command--famous in military history as the 42nd Highlanders, Royal Highland Regiment, or Black Watch. Their uniform, approved personally by George II when Sir Robert presented a sergeant and private soldier to His Majesty in London in 1740, included a kilt of dark green "military" tartan, belted plaid, and blue bonnet with black cockade. The regiment's first colonel was the Earl of Crawford, who was briefly succeeded by Lord Sempill, but Sir Robert Munro as lieutenant-colonel had the chief responsibility during the formative years. Among the captains were his brother Culcairn and Campbell of Carrick, and a cousin John Munro of Newmore; George Monro of the Auchinbowie line, a distant kinsman, was surgeon. After mustering beside the Tay near Aberfeldy, and continuing the duties of the previous Independent Companies for some time in the North, the regiment was ordered to London in 1743, where a serious incident occurred. Believing that they would not be required to serve abroad, and alarmed by rumours that they were to be sent to the American plantations, about 200 men (without their officers) decided to return home and began the long march north. They were overtaken at Oundle, in Northamptonshire, where Newmore was one of the officers who disarmed and persuaded them to return. Three of those condemned to death by court-martial were shot, and the remainder transported to the West Indies: although they blamed the Government, and not their officers, for a breach of faith, it was an unfortunate start to what was to become a remarkable record of service.
War on the Continent was moving towards a direct confrontation between Britain and France, and the regiment embarked immediately for Flanders. There the men earned high praise for their behaviour towards the civilian population, and the regiment became a favourite choice as guardians of property; the Elector Palatine told his envoy in London that this was owing to Sir Robert's care, "for whose sake he should always pay a regard to a Scotchman". Their first action against the French came in the spring of 1745, near the village of Fontenoy. A British army under William Duke of Cumberland was defeated, but the "Highland furies" (as one Frenchman called them) saved it from disaster by their gallantry. Allowed "their own way of fighting" by the young Commander-in-Chief, each time they received the French fire Sir Robert ordered his men to "clap to the ground" (while he himself, because of his corpulence, stood alone with the colours behind him), and then springing up and closing with the enemy, they several times drove them back, and finished with a successful rear-guard action.
In June 1745, a little more than a month after the battle of Fontenoy, Sir Robert was "rewarded" by an appointment to succeed General Ponsonby as Colonel of the 37th Regiment of Foot. When the second Jacobite Rising broke out, his friends in the Highlands hoped for his presence among them (one wrote that it would have been "the greatest service to His Majesty and the common cause"), but it was not to be. His regiment was brought over by sea to Newcastle, and while his son and brother joined Cope with the able-bodied men of the clan, and his lands were devastated, "Munro's Foot" formed part of the force which operated under Wade's ineffective command in the north of England. Ordered to Scotland, they reached Edinburgh early in January, in time to march out and form part of the left wing of Hawley's force which met the Jacobites in a storm of rain and hail at Falkirk. At first, Sir Robert was reported wounded and a prisoner, and then "murdered in cold blood"; it seems that only a servant and his younger brother (Dr. Duncan, who rode unarmed to his assistance and was also killed) were with him when he was shot or cut down. By the Prince's orders, Sir Robert was honourably buried in Falkirk churchyard, where several of the rebel leaders attended; his snuff mull was found in his pocket after the battle, and is still preserved.
Later, when the third brother, Captain George Munro of Culcairn, was shot in mistake for another officer in Lochaber, the Commander-in-Chief (Lord Abermarle) wrote of them as "men never to be parallel'd in the hills again".
This multiple blow was felt most severely by the family and the clan, and one veteran soldier used to lament. "Ochon, ochon, had his ain folk been there!" It was some years before a monument was erected, as an entry in the Falkirk Parish Church accounts for October 1750 shows: "Present for the poor from Sir Harry Munro, five guineas, for the privilege of a Tomb upon Sir Robert, my Father, in the Church-yard". With elaborate decoration, and inscriptions in Latin and English, which were renewed in 1848 and again in 1901, the monument was left in position when neighbouring stones were cleared away a few in years ago. Now, by its latest restoration, it is once more a fitting reminder of the man it commemorates: "Sincere and active in the service of his friends, humane and forgiving to his enemies, generous and benevolent to all, his death was universally regretted even by those who slew him."
R. W. Munro
Munro ancestor of Three American Generals
Aberdeen to honour Scot
who has been US hero
for 228 years
Press & Journal
29/03/2005
HE WAS one of George Washington's greatest generals and led Revolutionary forces across the Delaware River in one of the defining battles that helped changed the shape of America.
Historians argue that, had it not been for his untimely and grisly death at the Battle of Princeton in 1777, Hugh Mercer, born in Aberdeenshire, would have been a greater leader than Washington and would rank as one of the greatest American heroes of all time.
Yet the military genius whose exploits turned the tide in the Revolutionary War only settled in America after fleeing his native Scotland a wanted man, having fought with Bonnie Prince Charlie at Culloden in 1746.
Now, 228 years after he was bayoneted to death by British soldiers, Mercer is to be recognised by his native city, which until recently had been unaware of his existence, let alone his immense contribution to American Independence.
Chris Croly, of Aberdeen city council's archaeological unit, said: "He was brought to our attention by a member of the public. There are so many great and good from the city that some have simply slipped through the net and not been remembered.
"Hugh Mercer was one of these people. He studied medicine at Marischal College in Aberdeen, joined the 1745 Rebellion after graduating then fled to America. His stock has always been high in the United States and it is great that we are remembering someone who had to flee this country."
Mr Croly said a commemorative plaque in Mercer's honour is to be unveiled in the quadrangle at Marischal College, where the young rebel spent his student life.
The council asked the public to come up with suggestions about anyone who might be worthy of a plaque and Mercer's name was put forward.
The scant knowledge in Scotland about Mercer's life and achievements contrasts sharply with the hero status he enjoys in America. Mercersburg, a town in Pennsylvania and the birthplace of President James Buchanan, is named after him and there are Mercer Counties in his honour in seven US states.
Statues of him have been erected in Philadelphia and the city of Fredericksburg, Virginia, where Mercer set up a medical practice and where he and Washington planned the early stages of the Revolutionary War. The Hugh Mercer Apothecary Shop in Fredericksburg is preserved and run as a historic site.
He was the great-grandfather of songwriter Johnny Mercer who wrote classics such as Moon River and That Old Black Magic and the great-great-grandfather of General George Patton, known as "Old Blood and Guts".
It is a far cry from his boyhood in rural Aberdeenshire. Born in 1725 at the manse at the village of Pitsligo, he grew up in the fishing port of Rosehearty.
A year after graduating from Marischal College he joined with Bonnie Prince Charlie's army and was an assistant surgeon at the Battle of Culloden.
On the run from the Hanoverian forces he sailed for America and settled in Philadelphia.
He distinguished himself during the French and Indian War when, despite being badly injured, he walked over 100 miles to safety and was honoured for his bravery. It was during this conflict he first met Washington and the two men settled in Fredericksburg.
"Washington made him a brigadier general at the start of the Revolutionary War and he was so highly respected as a soldier that many people feel he was as good a general as Washington, if not better.
"Unfortunately he died early in the war and he has become something of a forgotten hero," said Genevieve Bugay, site manager of the Hugh Mercer Apothecary Shop.
"It is the opinion of most biographers that he would have been greater than Washington. He led troops across the Delaware at the famous Battle of Trenton and shortly afterwards fought at Princeton where he died.
"These battles were critical to American history because the army badly needed a victory otherwise Washington would have lost. Hugh Mercer is something of a hero in these parts, and I am delighted that he is being recognised in Aberdeen."
Allan Maclnnes, professor of history at Aberdeen University, said: "We should not feel guilty about not knowing him here, we are just beginning to unravel a lot of people who went overseas and became famous. Historical research is opening up and revealing these people."
Mercer lived for nine days before dying of the wounds he suffered at Princeton. His funeral in Philadelphia was attended by more than 30,000 mourners.
THREE AMERICAN GENERALS
Scottish Ancestry corrected
Clan Munro Magazine 2000
This article by R.W. MUNRO explains how an American general's visit to Scotland in 1981 led to a re-examination of the Scottish ancestry of his family. Some of the information given in earlier biographies of Gen. Hugh Mercer can now be corrected.
IF a genealogist or family historian finds it impossible to accept an ancestral line hitherto adopted as correct, it is much more satisfactory for all concerned if it can be replaced by a well-founded alternative. This is the story of a search which incidentally brought to light some facts about a little-known fellow clansman who held public office in the north of Scotland more than 300 years ago, and was apparently not afraid to clash on matters of principle with the authorities of his day.
For some reason there has long been doubt and misinformation about Anne Monro, who was the mother of General Hugh Mercer (1726-77), of Fredericksburg, Virginia, a native of Scotland, who became one of the heroes of the American War of Independence, fatally wounded in Washington's victory at Princeton. As Anne was also the progenitor of at least two other Generals of the U.S. Army (the late Gen. George S. Patton and his son Major-General G.S. Patton), it is perhaps worth putting the record straight of their Munro ancestry.
Anne Monro - for so the clan name was often spelt in those days in Scotland - was the wife of William Mercer, parish minister of Pitsligo in Aberdeenshire. Sometimes she is thought to have been the daughter of Sir Robert Munro of Foulis, chief of the clan, killed at the battle of Falkirk in January 1746; and to add to the confusion, some writers have given the name of her husband as William Row. As neither of these statements is correct, although both are I believe in print, and have been quoted to me more than once, a meeting with General and Mrs Patton some years ago revived my interest in the problem and set me searching for the truth.
This search led me to investigate what was known in the public records about Andrew Monro, who as Sheriff Clerk of Moray was the principal official in the court of the highest judge in this Scottish county or shire, and therefore a key man in the local administration of justice.
Andrew Monro appears on record as Sheriff Clerk of Moray when, at Elgin on 8 June 1676, he acted as cautioner (surety) for Hugh Monro, writer or lawyer in Elgin (then 22 years of age or thereby), on his admission as notary public.1 This was a time of deep religious controversy in Scotland, and it was apparently as a result of his disapproval of the measures taken by the King's government to suppress the Presbyterian system of church organisation that Andrew was deprived of or resigned his office, at least temporarily.
Under the Test Act of 1681, all holders of public office, civil, ecclesiastical or military, had to take a new oath of allegiance. By this they would promise to maintain the Protestant religion as then established without seeking any change or alteration in it, and to accept the king as supreme governor of the realm in spiritual as well as temporal affairs. No record has been found of Andrew Monro having taken this oath, although the Test Act remained law until the Presbyterian system was established in Scotland by the Revolution of 1689/90. With Charles II's Catholic brother and heir, James Duke of York, as his his High Commissioner in Scotland. After James became king on Charles's death on 6 February 1685, there was considerable disaffection in various parts of Scotland.
At the end of 1684 the Scottish Privy Council appointed several commissions to visit certain areas and prosecute all persons guilty of neglect or irregularity in church ordinances and other crimes. For this purpose the 'bounds betwixt Spey and Ness' were allocated to the Earl of Erroll, the Earl of Kintore and Sir George Monro of Culrain, who were based at Elgin from 22 January to 11 February 1685. A report of their proceedings, sent to the Privy Council in Edinburgh early in March, and the council's own records, show that the royalist Sir George's chief and nephew (Sir John Munro of Foulis) and some of his tenants and clansmen in Easter Ross were among the 'disaffected'.2
Andrew Monro, described as 'late sheriff-clerk and commissary clerk of Elgin', and his spouse Barbara Cuming were among many people accused of 'ecclesiastical disorders' (19 January), 5 being among the 'dishaunters of ordinances' in Elgin parish (27 January) and classed as 'delinquents'. But it seems that they, or perhaps the commissioners, may have wavered: it was reported in early February that Andrew 'now keeps the kirk' and he and his wife 'will live regular', that they were making ready to go to Jersey and had taken the bond of peace;3 but within only a few days Andrew, along with Donald Monro baker in Elgin and many others, refusing to take the oath of allegiance to the new king, were sentenced to be banished from the kingdom (11 February).
King James protected his co-religionists and allowed a measure of toleration to presbyterians, but even his 'indulgences' led to widespread division among his people. Andrew seems to have been allowed to remain in Scotland and to resume his office as Sheriff Clerk, for he appears with that designation in Elgin town council's minutes (12 December 1687) as well as after the Revolution, and is said to have held office until 1703.
It is not known how long Andrew and his wife survived these ordeals, but they had three daughters who all married ministers of the (presbyterian) Church of Scotland. Grizel (or Grissel) married in 1702 Alexander Shaw, minister of Edinkillie; Anne married in June 1723 William Mercer, minister of Pitsligo; and Margaret married Hugh Anderson, minister of Rosemarkie and later of Drainie or Kineddar.4 Anne was the mother of Hugh Mercer, born in January 1726; she died in 1768, her sister Grizel in 1769, and Margaret in 1749.
Notes
1 National Archives of Scotland, MS ref. NP 2/11.
2 Sir George was of 'different principles' from his elder brother Robert Munro of Obsdale, who succeeded to Foulis in 1651 (Scotland and the Protectorate, ed. C.H. Firth, 88, 235-6).
3 Register of the Privy Council of Scotland, 3rd series, vol. x.
4 Fasti Ecclesiae Scoticanae, ed Hew Scott, revised edn., vi 419, 235,383; vii 22.
Ne Obliviscaris: Highland hero left forgotten in a Pauper's Grave
Colour Sergeant James MUNRO
93rd Regiment ( Argyll & Sutherland Highlanders)
Colour Sergeant James Munro VC
Soldiers honour Highland hero
left forgotten in pauper's grave
Medal entitlement of:
Colour Sergeant James MUNRO
93rd Regiment ( Argyll & Sutherland Highlanders )
• Victoria Cross
• Crimea Medal ( 1854-56 )
o 1 clasp:
o "Sebastopol"
• Indian Mutiny Medal ( 1857-58 )
o 1 clasp:
o "Relief of Lucknow"
• Turkish Crimea Medal ( 1855-56 )
Article from the Press & Journal
Aberdeen Edition 26/07/02
Copyright Press & JournalPhotographs supplied
by
NORTHPIX, Inverness
A FORGOTTEN Highland war hero is to be honoured 145 years after he won the Victoria Cross for rescuing a wounded officer under fire.
It emerged yesterday that despite receiving this country's highest award for gallantry from Queen Victoria in person, Colour Sergeant James Munro was left a broken man.
Instead of being the toast of the town as so many heroes were in Victorian times, he died a mental and physical wreck alone in a Highland asylum, the victim of the terrible wounds he received when he returned to the fray.
Investigations by the Army has discovered that Col Sgt Munro died in Craig Dunain Hospital, Inverness, which in Victorian times was called the lunatic asylum, and his body was buried in a pauper's graveyard in the grounds.
The tiny walled cemetery closed in 1893, and since then has lain overgrown and forgotten
But now, in honour of Col Sgt Munro, the Army has cleared away the trees and bushes masking the sad little burial place, and soon a plaque marking his last resting place will be erected, possibly along with a storyboard telling of his bravery and the background to the cemetery.
Munro's heroism was displayed on November 6, 1857, when his regiment, the 93d Sutherland Highlanders, was involved in fierce action during the relief of Lucknow, a notable action during the Indian Mutiny.
Munro's VC citation is in the briefest of terms. It states: "Munro, James. For devoted gallantry at Secundra Bagh, in having promptly rushed to the rescue of Captain Walsh of the same corps, when wounded and in danger of his life, whom he carried to a place of safety, to which the sergeant was brought in shortly afterwards badly wounded."
Munro was shot through his loins by two musket balls, which shattered his lower vertebrae, tearing bone away and leaving wounds that never properly healed.
Through amalgamation, Munro's regiment became the famous Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders, and it is soldiers of their regiment's Stirling-based E Company Assault Pioneers that are helping with the clearance work at Craig Dunain Hospital, which recently closed and is lying empty.
Lieutenant Colonel Malcolm McVittie, chairman of the regimental association, which is funding much of the work, said: "Normally we don't spend money on the dead. Our money is mostly spent helping the living.
"But having discovered this information about Col Sgt Munro, we are now trying to put right what was wrong before, in full co-operation with the hospital trust that owns the land.
"It is very sad that a soldier with such a distinguished record should have died and been buried in such circumstances"
Once work is completed the regimental association plans to hold a small ceremony.
Munro is believed to have been born on October 11, 1826, the son of a wright at Easter Rariche, Nigg, Easter Ross, and died in February 5 1871, aged 45, some 13 years after his bravery. He was 20 when he joined up, and by 1854 he was a sergeant serving in the Crimean War.
Eighteen months later, the regiment went to India and in 1857 Munro was promoted to colour sergeant. On his return to Britain he was declared unfit for further duty and left the Army after more than 12 years.
Lt Col McVittie's research revealed he had a good-conduct medal and was receiving good-conduct pay from 1851.
Munro received his medal from Queen Victoria at Windsor Castle in 1860, two years after he was discharged.
The next that is documented about Munro is when he came to the attention of Edinburgh police while working as a ranger in the Queen's Park, now Holyrood Park.
He had become demented and a kleptomaniac, most likely through a combination of his terrible wounds and the alcohol he consumed to help him get through life.
He was also becoming paralysed as a result of his injuries and was said to have been demented in appearance.
Munro was 44 when admitted to hospital in Inverness, and died the next year. Records show he may have been married to a Jessie Ross from Tain.
The Inverness graveyard where James Munro was laid to rest
Forgotten VC hero honoured at last
Article from the Press & Journal by Andrew Black
Highland Edition 16/09/02
Copyright Press & Journal
Piper Ian Mackenzie plays a lament for
Sergeant James Munro VC.
Picture by Les Parker
A FORGOTTEN Highland war hero who was awarded the Victoria Cross for rescuing a wounded officer under fire - but who later died in a lunatic asylum - has been honoured 145 years after receiving his medal.
Despite receiving the country's highest award for gallantry from Queen Victoria, Colour Sergeant James Munro died a mental and physical wreck alone in Craig Dunain Hospital, Inverness, which in Victorian times was called the lunatic asylum.
But he has now been recognised with a memorial stone in the grounds of the former hospital where he was buried.
After he received his medal in 1860, two years after he was discharged, he came to the attention of police in Edinburgh while working as a ranger in the Queen's Park, now Holyrood Park.
He was said to have become a demented kleptomaniac and an alcoholic and was becoming paralysed because of terrible wounds he received in action.
He was admitted to hospital in Inverness when he was 44 and died the following year.
His body was buried in a graveyard in the hospital grounds but after the cemetery closed in 1895, it became overgrown and forgotten.
Munro's heroism was displayed on November 6, 1867, when his regiment, the 93rd Sutherland Highlanders, was involved in fierce action during the relief of Lucknow.
Munro's brief VC citation read: "Munro, James. For devoted gallantry at Secundra Bagh, in having promptly rushed to the rescue of Captain Walsh of the same corps, when wounded and in danger of his life, whom he carried to a place of safety, to which the sergeant was brought in shortly afterwards badly wounded.
Ian Munro, the Soldier Poet
http://www.scottishradiance.com/poet/poet0101.htm
(GAELIC POETRY CORNER)
Ian Munro, (Military Cross for bravery) was killed in action, October 30, 1918. He volunteered for service in August 1914 and saw action in some of the war’s fiercest battles. At the time of his death the young officer was 28 years old.. Munro was born in Swordale, Isle of Lewis and, writing in his native Gaelic as "Iain Rothach", came to be ranked by critics alongside the major war poets. Derick Thomson - the venerable poet and Professor of Celtic Studies at Glasgow - hailed Munro's work in his Companion to Gaelic Scotland as being: "the first strong voice of the new Gaelic verse of the 20th century".
NE OBLIVISCARIS …DO NOT FORGET
Ar Tir
Our Land (translation R. Munro)
Brat Shneachda air mullach nam beann,
currachd ceòtha mar liath-fhalt m'an ceann,
feadain is sruthain mòintich
a' leum 's a' dòrtadh,
a' sporgail air ùrlar nan glean,
aig còsan 's mu shàilean nam mò-bheann;
fèid ruadh', fir na cròice,
air sliosaidbh fraoich ruadh-dhonn -
si Tìr nan Gaisgeach a th' ann,
Tìr nam Beann, nan Gaisgeach, 's nan Gleann,
si Tìr nan Gaisgeach a th' ann.
Cloak of snow on the peaks of the bens,
Misty-capped like gray hair about their heads,
Moorland burns and streams
a-rushing –a-gushing-a shooting
a-dashing through the wilds of the glens,
a-rustling onto the floors of the glens,
Interleaved into the “sleeves” rounding the foot of the great bens,
Red deer, big fellows with antlers,
Upon red-brown slopes of heather,
Such is the Land of the Heroes,
And aye, the Land of the Bens, aye, of the Heroes, and of the Glens,
Such our land, the land of the Heroes, aye!
Iain Rothach (1889 - 1918)
Ian Munro, The Soldier Poet
MC Seaforth Highlanders
See An Tuil - Anthology of 20th Century Scottish Gaelic Verse.
The Scent of the Corona Coronas and Puccini
"Here, at this point, Giacomo Puccini broke off his work. Death on this occasion was stronger than art." Another report has him saying: At this point, the maestro laid down his pen." TOSCANINI April 26, 1926
For some Saturdays evokes great sports contests but in my youth there is no question Saturdays meant the smell of Corona Corona cigars and music, particularly opera. My father, Thomas Munro, jr. , had a deep and abiding love for music particularly opera and great singers.
I add as well that he was of one mind with John McCormack, Marjorie Kennedy-Fraser, Frank Paterson, James McCracken , Anne Lorne Gillies and Kenneth McKellar that the BIG SONGS of the Gaeltacht of Ireland and Scotland were great songs worthy to be included in the pantheon of the great songs of the world. The matchless melody of "Eileen Aroon" which dates back to the early Irish Renaissance (circa 1290? ) during a great period of Gaelic minstrelsy in the Gaeltachts of Ireland and Scotland. It is curious to think that this song may well have been contemporaneous with Sir William Wallace. Handel is said to have declared, after hearing it sung in Gaelic, that he would have preferred to have been its composer over all the music he had written which is great praise indeed since Handel himself was one of the greatest composers of the last five hundred years. But of course what he was saying is that there were great men and women composers before Agamemnon (and Mozart). I always admired my father for the reason that he, unlike so many classical devotees was not a snob about music. He derived as much joy from Ma Ain Folk, Rothsay Bay Oft in the! Stilly Night as he did from E Lucevan le Stelle, Questa o Quella or Recondita Armonia. Of course, it goes without saying that he introduced me to the Spanish language and Spanish art songs as well through Shirley Verrett and Victoria de Los Angeles (whom we saw live) and Teresa Berganza. My fathers best languages I think were French and German but he and my Uncle Andy Muir Tracey who had worked in Argentina and Chile and spoke Spanish quite well- encouraged me to study Spanish from an early age as well as picking up pieces of course through song-of Italian etc. I never sang German songs however, though I heard a lot of them. I have to admit I could never understand why my father would listen to GERMAN songs. As a small boy all the villains of Two World Wars were Germans. Listening to German songs I always had a feeling that the ghost of Adolph Hitler was near and could influence me somehow; even to this day the POWER OF THE! WILL and Nazi regalia give me an uncomfortable feeling that I am in the presence of evil so if I listen to Wagner it is always the overtures only. I still think German is a horrible guttural language though I have to admit I have tried to overcome this great prejudice for all things German all my life not completely successfully. I knew a few Germans some quite shapely- in college and one thing we had in common was a love of classical music. But inevitably the Germans I met were avant guarde, irreligious and to the left PLUS they were Germans so there was no hope in this case for a Scottish-American-German Bund.
My father had many recordings of NESSUM DORMA, naturally , Tito Schipa, Beniamino GIGLI, Enrico Caruso, McCormack, Domingo, Pavarotti, Carerras, just to name a few. I was blessed to hear some great live performances of Turandot in my travels as a young man in New York, Rome and Milan. But the first NESSSUM DORMA I really remember was not a famous recording at all but part of a Ceilidh session we had at the Munro household circa 1961. My mother used to lead us while she played the piano in song sessions with childrens songs, hymns naturally she loved CHILD IN A MANGER (Leanaibh an Aigh! ) and HOW GREAT THOU ART and of course Scottish songs and some of her favorite musicals such as the SOUND OF MUSIC and CAMELOT which she (but not me I was too young) had seen and heard on Broadway. One of our dinner guests in those days, now far far gone who sang at the piano was the lyric tenor WILLIAM TABBERT who originated the role of Lieutenant Cable (South Pacific on Broadway playing over 1900 performances) with his great friend EZIO PINZA. http://www.ibdb.com/person.asp?id=61759
Younger than Springtime was his signature song and I heard him sing it in concerts and at our home. Bill Tabbert was our next door neighbor in Livingston, New Jersey and though he traveled a lot on tours (his career was really on the down spin since he never got the movie role) he was a sometime visitor at our house. Tabbert was thus a lesser Laurence Tibbet or a lesser Robert Goulet but he was a great talent and I remember him as a very humble and kind man. Thinking back, he was very fond of the drink and that and his sensitive temperament probably set back his career. My wife always says people drink to drown their sorrows but the problem is sorrows know how to swim. (La gente! beben para ahogar sus penas pero el problema es las penas saben nadar) I still have a couple of his autographed LPs he gave my father including some of his last songs he had recorded in Rome. He used to hawk them at his concerts and night club acts. One night in those days before U-TUBE and the Internet- my father encouraged him to sing a few Italian songs such as Torna Sorrento and O Sole Mio. But the highlight of the evening was when he sang NESSUM DORMA. My father gave us the context of the song and my mother played the music in a subdued fashion because it stretched the very limits of her musical talent-but she has a great ear for music and a talent for improvisation so she played all the appropriate chords. I suppose I always liked singing and music I dont think there was any period of my life in which I was not exposed to good singing an! d fine music both traditional and classical- but I fell in love with N essum Dorma that night and wanted to hear it again and again. I was delighted a few years later when my favorite Scottish singer , Kenneth McKellar, made a crossover classical recording of NESSUM DORMA (circa 1965) and this was the version I probably listened to the most as a young child. I must admit I was always fascinated with the barbaric theme of Turandot and the heroism exemplified by the Prince for if he failed in his quest he would be executed as all the previous suitors had been.
Turandot by PUCCINI.
There are many beautiful art songs and arias but NESSUM DORMA is one of the greatest as it marries great romantic lyric poetry with soaring musical expression.
The aria ends with a sustained high B-"Vincero!" ("I shall win!").
The prince is confident that at dawn his name will remain unknown.
After that aria, Puccini wrote just a small amount of music perhaps 10 or 15 minutes. He was very sick when he composed Turando and on November 29, 1924, he succumbed to cancer, aged 66, leaving Turandot unfinished.
His devoted pupil Alfano following his masters notes completed the opera. But it is interesting and moving to note that at the premiere at La Scala, Milan, on April 25, 1926, the performance ended on the last note which Puccini committed to the score. The conductor, Toscanini, then turned and addressed the audience. Accounts differ as to his exact words. According to one report they were: "Here, at this point, Giacomo Puccini broke off his work. Death on this occasion was stronger than art." Another report has him saying: At this point, the maestro laid down his pen." See http://home.earthlink.net/~jw3/Home.htm
And http://www.toscaninionline.com/
The aria "Nessun dorma" is near the beginning of Act 3.
At the end of Act 2 Turandot still is mystified by the Prince and cold to this approach by means of romantic poetry. A real despot Turandot believes -Medusa-like- all she has to do is to induce someone to tell the Princes name so that she can wreak her savage frenzy and have the Princes head chopped off like so many before him. Thereby she declares an imperial order that no one in Peking is can to sleep until the name of the Prince is revealed.
Act 3 opens with a dark and drear night; the orchestra sounds lugubrious chords. Heralds call out from afar "Tonight no one in Peking sleeps" ("Questa notte nessun dorma in Pekino"), and the chorus disconsolately drones ("nessun dorma")"no one sleeps".
In the first words of this most famous and beloved aria, the Prince repeats the words of the chorus. One might expect a suicidal dirge but instead there is a great song of courage and hope.
Charles Mangan has written
Whenever authentic hope is recognized in another, the observer comes away greatly edified, fortified in his own difficulties and strengthened in his personal pursuit of an increase in supernatural hope. Saint John Bosco (1815-1888), whom the Church liturgically commemorates on January 31, is a model of hope for all brothers and sisters of Jesus. Riddled by scorn heaped upon him by the anti-clerics of his day and acknowledging the horrendous obstacles which plagued the young men under his charge, Don Bosco responded with warmth, courage and charity. His eyes were fixed firmly on the Savior. This indefatigable apostle of the youth hailed by Pope John Paul II as the teacher and father to the young endured all trials which confronted him. Instead of lashing out in anger, he realized that God would preserve Him and give the success to his hands which the Lord Himself desired.
One of the writings of Saint Teresa of Avila wrote (this is the translation from the Spanish,
Hope, O my soul, hope. You know neither the day nor the hour. Watch carefully, for everything passes quickly, even though your impatience makes doubtful what is certain, and turns a very short time into a long one. Dream that the more you struggle, the more you prove the love that you bear your God, and the more you will rejoice one day with your Beloved, in a happiness and rapture that can never end
The translation of NESSUN DORMA, (R. MUNRO, 2007)
The Prince
Nessun dorma, nessun dorma ...
Tu pure, o Principessa,
Nella tua fredda stanza,
Guardi le stelle
Che tremano d'amore
E di speranza.
Sleeps none! Sleeps none...
Thou ,too, o Princess,
In your cold room,
Look upward toward the stars,
That quiver with love
And with hope.
Ma il mio mistero h chiuso in me,
Il nome mio nessun sapr`, no, no,
Sulla tua bocca lo dirr
Quando la luce splender`,
Ed il mio bacio scioglier` il silenzio
Che ti fa mia.
But my secret is locked up within me;
Mine name nane sall ken, no, no,
Upon thy mouth I shall speak it
When the light beams brightly,
And mine kiss will melt the silence
That makes thee mine.
Chorus
Il nome suo nessun sapr`
E noi dovrem, ahimh, morir.
Nane sall ken his name
And we have to, (woe is me!), die.
The Prince
Dilegua, o notte!
Tramontate, stelle!
All'alba vincerr!
Disappear, o night!
Set, stars!
At first light, I will win the gree! (prize)!
· "Dire sulla bocca", literally "to say on the mouth", is a poetic Latin way of saying "to kiss." There is no question that kissing for friendship and affection- as much or more than for erotic love- is one of the great pleasures of humanity.
· Bisame (is Spanish for kiss me); I understand this is a Celticism from the Celtic speaking parts of Spain and Northern Italy (Basium in Latin; used only by Catullus, Martial and later Juvenal the way Burns would use tassie for cup.) The classical republican Romans, like the Japanese, did not kiss. My father somewhat jocularly theorized that Romans Gallic slaves taught the fashion to their Roman masters. In modern Gaelic one says POG MI (Ki! ss me; from the Latin Pax) or Thoir pog ; but seem to remember hearing BEUL for kiss or mouth or BUS (or PUSS).but I really cant tell if THOIR BUS would mean KISS ME ON THE CHEEK(I never kissed my Auld Pop on the mouth) or just kiss. Perhaps Anne Lorne Gillies would know!
· Fredda stanzameans cold room but of course has a double meaning as a stanza is a stanza in poetryuntil now all her love songs left her cold!!! La stanza del trono means THRONE ROOM
· Ma il mio mistero h chiuso in me, il mio nessun sapr`; I chose to use Scots idiom to translate this is in the great song THE NEW SLAIN KNIGHT or the TWA CORBIES (TWO CROWS) which by the way Kathleen MacInnes has recorded recently in Gaelic. Gree of course is Scots; Burns uses it several times at least. There is a old Gaelic proverb I recall just now
FAR NACH BI AM BEAG CHA BHI AM MOR (Where there is not a wee will there will never be a big one either
FAR AM BI TOIL BIDH GNIOMH (Where there be a will there be a gree (a prize or deed)
Of course this is where there is a will there is a way but it has a little more to it I think. Will must be developed bit by bit (beag is beag)
This is a piece of traditional wisdom I often share with my students though not as much as It is not good to marry without a ring; no ring no ding (Ni math posadh gan fainne)
· Scraggy, black feathered, mean beaked carrion crows tearing at the tender flesh of a dead helpless abandoned Scottish knight fallen in battle for a lost cause. It is a very strong image of impermanence and mortality and perhaps the futility of and tragedy of war. I also know this from my oldest anthology of Scots poems and have a moving recording of it by Kenneth M! cKellar. It is a very cynical variation of the Three Ravens (Child Ballad 26) whose derry down, derry down chorus suggests a Welsh (or Breton) original which may be lost. I have heard it said that the versions that are song are based on a Manx or Breton melody. It seems that the two folk poems are similar but I have always had the feeling they were both translations different ones- of an earlier song though of course I have no evidence whatsoever for this belief except for the fact that both songs though similar are different. The Scots version is much darker even skeptical and seems to question the existence of the afterlife.
http://www.contemplator.com/child/twacorbies.html
As I was walking all alane,
I heard twa corbies making a mane;
The tane unto the t'other say,
'Where sall we gang and dine to-day,
Where sall we gang and dine to-day?'NG>
'In behint yon auld fail dyke,
I wot there lies a new slain knight;
And naebody kens that he lies there,
But his hawk, his honnd, and lady fair,
His hawk, his honnd, and lady fair.
'His hound is to the hunting gane,
His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame,
His lady 'a ta'en another mate,
So we may mak our dinner sweet,
We may mak our dinner sweet.
'Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane,
And I'll pike out his bonny blue een;
Wi ae lock o his gowden hair
We'll theek our nest when it grows bare,We'll theek our nest when it grows bare.'
'Mony a one for him makes mane,
But nane sall ken where he is gane; {NONE SHALL KNOW WHERE HE IS GONE}
Oer his white banes, when they are bare, {OVER HIS WHITE BONES WHEN THEY ARE BARE
The wind sail blaw for evermair, THE WIND SHALL BLOW FOREVER MORE!
The wind sail blaw for evermair.'
Thus I spend a pleasant Friday evening, reading and translating and listening to music as I sip my tea. All the lassies and dugs and the wee pussy-cat are sleeping.
It is already sacred Saturday again; a day that will know sunlight and peace and reading and music and quiet solitude broken by a few songs at the piano and there will be thought and there will be prayer and their will be remembrance.
For some Saturdays evokes great sports contests but in my youth there is no question Saturdays meant the smell of Corona Corona cigars and music, particularly opera. My father, Thomas Munro, jr. , had a deep and abiding love for music particularly opera and great singers.
I add as well that he was of one mind with John McCormack, Marjorie Kennedy-Fraser, Frank Paterson, James McCracken , Anne Lorne Gillies and Kenneth McKellar that the BIG SONGS of the Gaeltacht of Ireland and Scotland were great songs worthy to be included in the pantheon of the great songs of the world. The matchless melody of "Eileen Aroon" which dates back to the early Irish Renaissance (circa 1290? ) during a great period of Gaelic minstrelsy in the Gaeltachts of Ireland and Scotland. It is curious to think that this song may well have been contemporaneous with Sir William Wallace. Handel is said to have declared, after hearing it sung in Gaelic, that he would have preferred to have been its composer over all the music he had written which is great praise indeed since Handel himself was one of the greatest composers of the last five hundred years. But of course what he was saying is that there were great men and women composers before Agamemnon (and Mozart). I always admired my father for the reason that he, unlike so many classical devotees was not a snob about music. He derived as much joy from Ma Ain Folk, Rothsay Bay Oft in the! Stilly Night as he did from E Lucevan le Stelle, Questa o Quella or Recondita Armonia. Of course, it goes without saying that he introduced me to the Spanish language and Spanish art songs as well through Shirley Verrett and Victoria de Los Angeles (whom we saw live) and Teresa Berganza. My fathers best languages I think were French and German but he and my Uncle Andy Muir Tracey who had worked in Argentina and Chile and spoke Spanish quite well- encouraged me to study Spanish from an early age as well as picking up pieces of course through song-of Italian etc. I never sang German songs however, though I heard a lot of them. I have to admit I could never understand why my father would listen to GERMAN songs. As a small boy all the villains of Two World Wars were Germans. Listening to German songs I always had a feeling that the ghost of Adolph Hitler was near and could influence me somehow; even to this day the POWER OF THE! WILL and Nazi regalia give me an uncomfortable feeling that I am in the presence of evil so if I listen to Wagner it is always the overtures only. I still think German is a horrible guttural language though I have to admit I have tried to overcome this great prejudice for all things German all my life not completely successfully. I knew a few Germans some quite shapely- in college and one thing we had in common was a love of classical music. But inevitably the Germans I met were avant guarde, irreligious and to the left PLUS they were Germans so there was no hope in this case for a Scottish-American-German Bund.
My father had many recordings of NESSUM DORMA, naturally , Tito Schipa, Beniamino GIGLI, Enrico Caruso, McCormack, Domingo, Pavarotti, Carerras, just to name a few. I was blessed to hear some great live performances of Turandot in my travels as a young man in New York, Rome and Milan. But the first NESSSUM DORMA I really remember was not a famous recording at all but part of a Ceilidh session we had at the Munro household circa 1961. My mother used to lead us while she played the piano in song sessions with childrens songs, hymns naturally she loved CHILD IN A MANGER (Leanaibh an Aigh! ) and HOW GREAT THOU ART and of course Scottish songs and some of her favorite musicals such as the SOUND OF MUSIC and CAMELOT which she (but not me I was too young) had seen and heard on Broadway. One of our dinner guests in those days, now far far gone who sang at the piano was the lyric tenor WILLIAM TABBERT who originated the role of Lieutenant Cable (South Pacific on Broadway playing over 1900 performances) with his great friend EZIO PINZA. http://www.ibdb.com/person.asp?id=61759
Younger than Springtime was his signature song and I heard him sing it in concerts and at our home. Bill Tabbert was our next door neighbor in Livingston, New Jersey and though he traveled a lot on tours (his career was really on the down spin since he never got the movie role) he was a sometime visitor at our house. Tabbert was thus a lesser Laurence Tibbet or a lesser Robert Goulet but he was a great talent and I remember him as a very humble and kind man. Thinking back, he was very fond of the drink and that and his sensitive temperament probably set back his career. My wife always says people drink to drown their sorrows but the problem is sorrows know how to swim. (La gente! beben para ahogar sus penas pero el problema es las penas saben nadar) I still have a couple of his autographed LPs he gave my father including some of his last songs he had recorded in Rome. He used to hawk them at his concerts and night club acts. One night in those days before U-TUBE and the Internet- my father encouraged him to sing a few Italian songs such as Torna Sorrento and O Sole Mio. But the highlight of the evening was when he sang NESSUM DORMA. My father gave us the context of the song and my mother played the music in a subdued fashion because it stretched the very limits of her musical talent-but she has a great ear for music and a talent for improvisation so she played all the appropriate chords. I suppose I always liked singing and music I dont think there was any period of my life in which I was not exposed to good singing an! d fine music both traditional and classical- but I fell in love with N essum Dorma that night and wanted to hear it again and again. I was delighted a few years later when my favorite Scottish singer , Kenneth McKellar, made a crossover classical recording of NESSUM DORMA (circa 1965) and this was the version I probably listened to the most as a young child. I must admit I was always fascinated with the barbaric theme of Turandot and the heroism exemplified by the Prince for if he failed in his quest he would be executed as all the previous suitors had been.
Turandot by PUCCINI.
There are many beautiful art songs and arias but NESSUM DORMA is one of the greatest as it marries great romantic lyric poetry with soaring musical expression.
The aria ends with a sustained high B-"Vincero!" ("I shall win!").
The prince is confident that at dawn his name will remain unknown.
After that aria, Puccini wrote just a small amount of music perhaps 10 or 15 minutes. He was very sick when he composed Turando and on November 29, 1924, he succumbed to cancer, aged 66, leaving Turandot unfinished.
His devoted pupil Alfano following his masters notes completed the opera. But it is interesting and moving to note that at the premiere at La Scala, Milan, on April 25, 1926, the performance ended on the last note which Puccini committed to the score. The conductor, Toscanini, then turned and addressed the audience. Accounts differ as to his exact words. According to one report they were: "Here, at this point, Giacomo Puccini broke off his work. Death on this occasion was stronger than art." Another report has him saying: At this point, the maestro laid down his pen." See http://home.earthlink.net/~jw3/Home.htm
And http://www.toscaninionline.com/
The aria "Nessun dorma" is near the beginning of Act 3.
At the end of Act 2 Turandot still is mystified by the Prince and cold to this approach by means of romantic poetry. A real despot Turandot believes -Medusa-like- all she has to do is to induce someone to tell the Princes name so that she can wreak her savage frenzy and have the Princes head chopped off like so many before him. Thereby she declares an imperial order that no one in Peking is can to sleep until the name of the Prince is revealed.
Act 3 opens with a dark and drear night; the orchestra sounds lugubrious chords. Heralds call out from afar "Tonight no one in Peking sleeps" ("Questa notte nessun dorma in Pekino"), and the chorus disconsolately drones ("nessun dorma")"no one sleeps".
In the first words of this most famous and beloved aria, the Prince repeats the words of the chorus. One might expect a suicidal dirge but instead there is a great song of courage and hope.
Charles Mangan has written
Whenever authentic hope is recognized in another, the observer comes away greatly edified, fortified in his own difficulties and strengthened in his personal pursuit of an increase in supernatural hope. Saint John Bosco (1815-1888), whom the Church liturgically commemorates on January 31, is a model of hope for all brothers and sisters of Jesus. Riddled by scorn heaped upon him by the anti-clerics of his day and acknowledging the horrendous obstacles which plagued the young men under his charge, Don Bosco responded with warmth, courage and charity. His eyes were fixed firmly on the Savior. This indefatigable apostle of the youth hailed by Pope John Paul II as the teacher and father to the young endured all trials which confronted him. Instead of lashing out in anger, he realized that God would preserve Him and give the success to his hands which the Lord Himself desired.
One of the writings of Saint Teresa of Avila wrote (this is the translation from the Spanish,
Hope, O my soul, hope. You know neither the day nor the hour. Watch carefully, for everything passes quickly, even though your impatience makes doubtful what is certain, and turns a very short time into a long one. Dream that the more you struggle, the more you prove the love that you bear your God, and the more you will rejoice one day with your Beloved, in a happiness and rapture that can never end
The translation of NESSUN DORMA, (R. MUNRO, 2007)
The Prince
Nessun dorma, nessun dorma ...
Tu pure, o Principessa,
Nella tua fredda stanza,
Guardi le stelle
Che tremano d'amore
E di speranza.
Sleeps none! Sleeps none...
Thou ,too, o Princess,
In your cold room,
Look upward toward the stars,
That quiver with love
And with hope.
Ma il mio mistero h chiuso in me,
Il nome mio nessun sapr`, no, no,
Sulla tua bocca lo dirr
Quando la luce splender`,
Ed il mio bacio scioglier` il silenzio
Che ti fa mia.
But my secret is locked up within me;
Mine name nane sall ken, no, no,
Upon thy mouth I shall speak it
When the light beams brightly,
And mine kiss will melt the silence
That makes thee mine.
Chorus
Il nome suo nessun sapr`
E noi dovrem, ahimh, morir.
Nane sall ken his name
And we have to, (woe is me!), die.
The Prince
Dilegua, o notte!
Tramontate, stelle!
All'alba vincerr!
Disappear, o night!
Set, stars!
At first light, I will win the gree! (prize)!
· "Dire sulla bocca", literally "to say on the mouth", is a poetic Latin way of saying "to kiss." There is no question that kissing for friendship and affection- as much or more than for erotic love- is one of the great pleasures of humanity.
· Bisame (is Spanish for kiss me); I understand this is a Celticism from the Celtic speaking parts of Spain and Northern Italy (Basium in Latin; used only by Catullus, Martial and later Juvenal the way Burns would use tassie for cup.) The classical republican Romans, like the Japanese, did not kiss. My father somewhat jocularly theorized that Romans Gallic slaves taught the fashion to their Roman masters. In modern Gaelic one says POG MI (Ki! ss me; from the Latin Pax) or Thoir pog ; but seem to remember hearing BEUL for kiss or mouth or BUS (or PUSS).but I really cant tell if THOIR BUS would mean KISS ME ON THE CHEEK(I never kissed my Auld Pop on the mouth) or just kiss. Perhaps Anne Lorne Gillies would know!
· Fredda stanzameans cold room but of course has a double meaning as a stanza is a stanza in poetryuntil now all her love songs left her cold!!! La stanza del trono means THRONE ROOM
· Ma il mio mistero h chiuso in me, il mio nessun sapr`; I chose to use Scots idiom to translate this is in the great song THE NEW SLAIN KNIGHT or the TWA CORBIES (TWO CROWS) which by the way Kathleen MacInnes has recorded recently in Gaelic. Gree of course is Scots; Burns uses it several times at least. There is a old Gaelic proverb I recall just now
FAR NACH BI AM BEAG CHA BHI AM MOR (Where there is not a wee will there will never be a big one either
FAR AM BI TOIL BIDH GNIOMH (Where there be a will there be a gree (a prize or deed)
Of course this is where there is a will there is a way but it has a little more to it I think. Will must be developed bit by bit (beag is beag)
This is a piece of traditional wisdom I often share with my students though not as much as It is not good to marry without a ring; no ring no ding (Ni math posadh gan fainne)
· Scraggy, black feathered, mean beaked carrion crows tearing at the tender flesh of a dead helpless abandoned Scottish knight fallen in battle for a lost cause. It is a very strong image of impermanence and mortality and perhaps the futility of and tragedy of war. I also know this from my oldest anthology of Scots poems and have a moving recording of it by Kenneth M! cKellar. It is a very cynical variation of the Three Ravens (Child Ballad 26) whose derry down, derry down chorus suggests a Welsh (or Breton) original which may be lost. I have heard it said that the versions that are song are based on a Manx or Breton melody. It seems that the two folk poems are similar but I have always had the feeling they were both translations different ones- of an earlier song though of course I have no evidence whatsoever for this belief except for the fact that both songs though similar are different. The Scots version is much darker even skeptical and seems to question the existence of the afterlife.
http://www.contemplator.com/child/twacorbies.html
As I was walking all alane,
I heard twa corbies making a mane;
The tane unto the t'other say,
'Where sall we gang and dine to-day,
Where sall we gang and dine to-day?'NG>
'In behint yon auld fail dyke,
I wot there lies a new slain knight;
And naebody kens that he lies there,
But his hawk, his honnd, and lady fair,
His hawk, his honnd, and lady fair.
'His hound is to the hunting gane,
His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame,
His lady 'a ta'en another mate,
So we may mak our dinner sweet,
We may mak our dinner sweet.
'Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane,
And I'll pike out his bonny blue een;
Wi ae lock o his gowden hair
We'll theek our nest when it grows bare,We'll theek our nest when it grows bare.'
'Mony a one for him makes mane,
But nane sall ken where he is gane; {NONE SHALL KNOW WHERE HE IS GONE}
Oer his white banes, when they are bare, {OVER HIS WHITE BONES WHEN THEY ARE BARE
The wind sail blaw for evermair, THE WIND SHALL BLOW FOREVER MORE!
The wind sail blaw for evermair.'
Thus I spend a pleasant Friday evening, reading and translating and listening to music as I sip my tea. All the lassies and dugs and the wee pussy-cat are sleeping.
It is already sacred Saturday again; a day that will know sunlight and peace and reading and music and quiet solitude broken by a few songs at the piano and there will be thought and there will be prayer and their will be remembrance.
Some Memories of Gilbert Highet
Gilbert Highet
FROM http://www.columbia.edu/cu/alumni/Magazine/Spring2002/Coda2.html
A WORD OF THANKS and praise for the elegant remembrance of Gilbert Highet, my old Latin teacher. Of the many memories I have of Columbia, his remains one of the brightest. Robert Ball did an excellent job of capturing the sweep and breadth of his learning and achievement, as well as the warmth of his personality and the dynamic style of his teaching.
“Your mothers will grow mustaches before I leave this building by a window,” was, I believe, the exact quote Highet gave the occupying students barricading Philosophy Hall in 1968. He overawed them by sheer presence. They opened the door and let him walk out, while other teachers had to let themselves out via the windows.
He could be exceptionally kind to students. When I was drafted into the U.S. Army in 1972, when it was already clear we were losing the Vietnam War, Highet wrote me a friendly letter urging me to make the best of it and maximize the experience. Later he sent me a first edition of his book of essays, Explorations, as “a slight alleviation of military boredom,”and I still have it. Beneath his dignified Scots exterior, he was an exceedingly kind man. He maintained a correspondence with me over the next two years, letters I treasured. I showed one of them, in which he described his visit to Hitler’s Fuehrerbunker beneath Berlin after the war, to a fellow soldier who had never been to college, and who read it raptly. “God, this guy just sees everything, doesn’t he?” he exclaimed in a Kentucky accent.
Moses Hadas passed away the summer before I came to Columbia, but Highet mentioned him affectionately in a tribute delivered during our freshman orientation week. Highet’s noontime lecture on the poet Robert Burns, given that winter, still lingers in memory. It was electrifying. He was more than a learned man. He was practically a hypnotist, and he cast a genial spell over every student he taught.
Thanks for recalling many fond memories!
—Michael C. Browning ’70C ’73GSAS
Note: Robert Ball ’71GSAS, author of “Gilbert Highet and Classics at Columbia,”
FROM http://www.columbia.edu/cu/alumni/Magazine/Spring2002/Coda2.html
A WORD OF THANKS and praise for the elegant remembrance of Gilbert Highet, my old Latin teacher. Of the many memories I have of Columbia, his remains one of the brightest. Robert Ball did an excellent job of capturing the sweep and breadth of his learning and achievement, as well as the warmth of his personality and the dynamic style of his teaching.
“Your mothers will grow mustaches before I leave this building by a window,” was, I believe, the exact quote Highet gave the occupying students barricading Philosophy Hall in 1968. He overawed them by sheer presence. They opened the door and let him walk out, while other teachers had to let themselves out via the windows.
He could be exceptionally kind to students. When I was drafted into the U.S. Army in 1972, when it was already clear we were losing the Vietnam War, Highet wrote me a friendly letter urging me to make the best of it and maximize the experience. Later he sent me a first edition of his book of essays, Explorations, as “a slight alleviation of military boredom,”and I still have it. Beneath his dignified Scots exterior, he was an exceedingly kind man. He maintained a correspondence with me over the next two years, letters I treasured. I showed one of them, in which he described his visit to Hitler’s Fuehrerbunker beneath Berlin after the war, to a fellow soldier who had never been to college, and who read it raptly. “God, this guy just sees everything, doesn’t he?” he exclaimed in a Kentucky accent.
Moses Hadas passed away the summer before I came to Columbia, but Highet mentioned him affectionately in a tribute delivered during our freshman orientation week. Highet’s noontime lecture on the poet Robert Burns, given that winter, still lingers in memory. It was electrifying. He was more than a learned man. He was practically a hypnotist, and he cast a genial spell over every student he taught.
Thanks for recalling many fond memories!
—Michael C. Browning ’70C ’73GSAS
Note: Robert Ball ’71GSAS, author of “Gilbert Highet and Classics at Columbia,”
Then memories sweet and tender come like music's plaintive flow
like music's plaintive flow,
Of someone in Ellan Vannin
That lov'd me long ago…...
Ellen Vanin is how the locals call the place. More popularly known abroad as the Isle of Man, the island is in the wild waters of the Irish Sea, between Ireland and England. One famous Manxman is Fletcher Chirstian who led the MUTINY ON THE BOUNTY; when you realize he was a Gael and not an Englishman it gives the whole mutiny a different perspective.
My Auld Pop knew many Manxmen in the Great War; they the Manxmen called the Welsh "Taffies" and the Scots " the Jocks". On a memorable afternoon in the late 1970's I met one such ex-soldier -the last of his Regiment- in a memorial cementary near the Menin Gate (Ypres, Belgium). We had an interesing talk and later had a drink together. I surpised him greatly by singing from heart ELLEN VANIN and it made a great impression. He said, "You Yanks are not so bad and here's a toast to the JOCKS as well…." I have known many veterans of the Great Wars of the 20th century and feel it was a great priviledge to meet them and here their story to assure them that NE OBLIVISCARIS….their sacrifice and the sacrifice of their mates would never be forgotten.
The English, though, tend to forget about the Isle's existence, unless they suddenly come into money. Then they are quick to remember Ellen is a tax haven, far enough away from the penny pinchers of the Inland Revenue Service and yet just a short flight or ferry journey from England. The Isle of Man is now the adoptive home of a number of rich English gentry.
This is one of the beautiful songs of the British Isles; the ELLEN in the song means ISLAND and the VANIN is for VANX or MANX. so "ELLEN VANIN" is Manx Gaelic for the Isle of Man. Songs in celebration of music and poerty are especially dear to me because I love music and song so much. I hope you enjoy this too. The link gives you the melody; and yes I have my own version -with a Spanish setting in English and Spanish! I used to sing it to my wife when we were first going together and still do from time to time. I suppose it is flattery to a girl to have songs and poems in your honor!
I have been told that it is varient of ancient airs of Wales, Ireland and Scotland once all Celtic-speaking regions with a common musical heritage.
Eliza Craven Green, before 1896
When the summer day is over
And the busy cares have flown,
Then I sit beneath the starlight
With a weary heart. alone,
And there rises like a vision,
Sparkling bright in nature's glee,
My own dear Ellan Vannin
With its green hills by the sea.
Then I hear the wavelets murmur
As they kiss the fairy shore,
Then beneath the em'rald waters
Sings the mermaid as of yore,
And the fair Isle shines with beauty
As in youth it dawned on me,
My own dear Ellan Vannin
With its green hills by the sea.
Then mem'ries sweet and tender
Come like music's plaintive flow,
Of someone in Ellan Vannin
That lov'd me long ago,
So I give with tears and blessings,
And my fondest thoughts to thee,
My own dear Ellan Vannin
With its green hills by the sea.
HITLER AT YPRES
See Hitler article:
http://www.firstworldwar.com/features/aslowfuse.htm
When I was a little boy my Auld Pop told me Hitler’s regiment was opposite his in the Ypres Salient. I asked Auld Pop since Hitler was there why didn’t he finish him off at the time?
Auld Pop replied, with a twinkle in his eye: “ Laddie, the Jairmans were running so faSt we couldna get them a’ ! Och, more’s the pity, aye! Wee Corporal Hitler jumped in a hole and I lost the only chance I had!”
Of course, this was just an amusing story not to be taken seriously but Hitler WAS at Ypres and had a close call.
(MUNRO)
THE PATHS OF GLORY LEAD BUT TO THE GRAVE
Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure; 30
Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile
The short and simple annals of the Poor.
The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e’er gave
Awaits alike th’ inevitable hour:— 35
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
No permitáis que la ambición se burle de las tareas útiles de ellos
De sus sencillas alegrías y oscuro destino;
Ni que la grandeza escuche, con sonrisa desdeñosa
las breves y sencillas crónicas de los pobres.
El alarde de la heráldica, la pompa del poder
y todo el esplendor, toda la abundancia que da,
espera igualmente la hora inevitable.
Los senderos de la gloria no conducen sino a la tumba.
(Traducción; translation R. K. Munro)
http://www.bartleby.com/40/285.html
LINCOLN had the shortest autobiography of all time; he merely quoted Gray “the short and simple annals of the Poor”
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure; 30
Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile
The short and simple annals of the Poor.
The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e’er gave
Awaits alike th’ inevitable hour:— 35
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
No permitáis que la ambición se burle de las tareas útiles de ellos
De sus sencillas alegrías y oscuro destino;
Ni que la grandeza escuche, con sonrisa desdeñosa
las breves y sencillas crónicas de los pobres.
El alarde de la heráldica, la pompa del poder
y todo el esplendor, toda la abundancia que da,
espera igualmente la hora inevitable.
Los senderos de la gloria no conducen sino a la tumba.
(Traducción; translation R. K. Munro)
http://www.bartleby.com/40/285.html
LINCOLN had the shortest autobiography of all time; he merely quoted Gray “the short and simple annals of the Poor”
McRae's IN FLANDERS FIELDS
The Ypres Salient, 2 May 1915
It is believed that doctor John McCrae (30 November 1872-28 January 1918) began the draft for his famous poem 'In Flanders Fields' on the evening of 2 May, 1915 in the second week of fighting during the Second Battle of Ypres. He was serving as a Major and military doctor and was second in command of the 1st Brigade Canadian Field Artillery. The field guns of his brigade's batteries were in position on the west bank of the Ypres-Yser canal, about two kilometres to the north of Ypres. The brigade had arrived there in the early hours of 23 April.
Inspiration for the Poem
On 2 May, 1915, in the second week of fighting during the Second Battle of Ypres Lieutenant Alexis Helmer was killed by a German artillery shell. He was a friend of the Canadian military doctor Major John McCrae. It is believed that John began the draft for his famous poem 'In Flanders Fields' that evening.
In Flanders Fields
by John McCrae, May 1915
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep,
though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
To the 51st Division by Mackintosh
To the 51st Division:
High Wood, July-August 1916
Oh gay were we in spirit
In the hours of the night
When we lay in rest by Albert
And waited for the fight;
Gay and gallant were we
On the day that we set forth,
But broken, broken, broken
Is the valour of the North.
The wild warpipes were calling
Our hearts were blithe and free
When we went up the valley
To the death we could not see.
Clear lay the wood before us
In the clear summer weather,
But broken, broken, broken
Are the sons of the heather.
In the cold of the morning,
In the burning of the day,
The thin lines stumbled forward,
The dead and dying lay.
By the unseen death that caught us
By the bullets' raging hail
Broken, broken, broken
Is the pride of the Gael.
Ewart Alan Mackintosh (1893-1917)
Cha Till Maccruimein (McCrimmon Will Never Return)
(Departure of the 4th Camerons)
The pipes in the streets were playing bravely,
The marching lads went by
With merry hearts and voices singing
My friends marched out to die;
But I was hearing a lonely pibroch
Out of an older war,
Farewell, farewell, farewell, MacCrimmon,
MacCrimmon comes no more.'
And every lad in his heart was dreaming
Of honour and wealth to come,
And honour and noble pride were calling
To the tune of the pipes and drum;
But I was hearing a woman singing
On dark Dunvegan shore,
In battle or peace, with wealth or honour,
MacCrimmon comes no more.'
And there in front of the men were marching
With feet that made no mark,
The grey old ghosts of the ancient fighters
Come back again from the dark;
And in front of them all MacCrimmon piping
A weary tune and sore,
On gathering day, for ever and ever,
MacCrimmon comes no more.'
Ewart Alan Mackintosh (1893-1917)
The Original Lament -a very famous pipe tune which dates from the '45 Rising has been recorded many times. My favorte modern recording is from Mairi MacInnes from her CAUSEWAY album. http://www.musicscotland.com/mairimacinnes/
Dh' aidh cèo nan stùc mu aodann chuilinn
(The mist of the stacks is about the face of the Cuillinn)
'Us sheinn a' bheinn-shith a torman mulaid
*And the fairy woman has sung her sad song)
Gorm shuilean ciuin san Dun a' sileadh
Gentle blues eyes in the fort are crying
O'n thriall thu bhuainn 's nach till thu tuille
Since you left, and will never return
Sèist: Chorus (after each verse):
Cha till, cha till, cha till Maccrimmain
Never returning! O MacCrioman is never returning!
An cogadh no sìth cha till Maccrimmain
In war-time or peace he will never return
Le airgiod no ni cha till Maccrimmain
With neither money nor possessions he will return
Cha till e gu bràth gu la na cruinne
He will never return 'til judgement day
Tha osag nam beann gu fann ag imeachd
The sigh of the hills is weakly departing
Gach sruthan 's gach allt gu mall le bruthach
Each stream and brook go slowly down the hillside
Tha ealtainn nan speur feadh geugan dubhach
The birds of the sky are sad in the branches
A caoidh gu'n d'fhalbh 's nach till thu tuille
Lamenting that you left and will never more return
Cha chluinnear do cheòl san Dun mu fheasgar
Your music will not be heard in Dunvegan in the evening
'Smac-talla nam mùr le muirn ga fhreagairt
And the echo of the ramparts mourning in answer
Gach fleasgach us òigh, gun cheol gun bheadrach
Each handsome man and maiden without music or merriment
O'n thriall thu bhuainn, 'snach till thu tuille
Since you left us and never will return!
href="http://www.musicscotland.com/mairimacinnes/">
In memoriam PRIVATE D. SUTHERLAND
This poem was written by Ewart Alan Mackintosh (1893-1917).
Mackintosh is widely regarded as one of Scotland's finest war poets. He went to the Western Front with the 5th Seaforth Highlanders in 1915. A. Mackintosh served as an officer in the Seaforth Highlanders from December 1914. He played the pipes, spoke Gaelic, and was loved by his men who affectionately called him "Tosh."
For his part, Mackintosh returned that love.
On May 16th, 1916, he carried wounded Private David Sutherland through 100 yards of German trenches with the Germans in hot pursuit. However, before Mackintosh could bring him to friendly trenches, Private Sutherland died and his body had to be left behind. Mackintosh's bravery would win him the Military Cross.
After being invalided home after being gassed, Mackintosh was offered a post instructing cadets. But he chose to return to France and was killed at the Battle of Cambrai in November 1917.
The full title of the poem is "In Memoriam, Private D. Sutherland, killed in action in the German trench 16 May 1916, and the others who died."
Ewart Alan Mackintosh
Born: 4th March 1893
Died: 21st November 1917 (Killed in Action)
Aged 24 years
Lieutenant
War, The Liberator, and Other Pieces, by E.A. Mackintosh, M.C., lt. Seaforth Highlanders (51st division) ; with a memoir. -- London, John Lane ; New York, John Lane company, 1918.
In Memoriam, Private D. Sutherland
So you were David's father,
And he was your only son,
And the new-cut peats are rotting
And the work is left undone,
Because of an old man weeping,
Just an old man in pain,
For David, his son David,
That will not come again.
Oh, the letters he wrote you
And I can see them still,
Not a word of the fighting
But just the sheep on the hill
And how you should get the crops in
Ere the year got stormier,
And the Bosches have got his body,
And I was his officer.
You were only David's father,
But I had fifty sons
When we went up in the evening
Under the arch of the guns,
And we came back at twilight-
O God! I heard them call
To me for help and pity
That could not help at all.
Oh, never will I forget you,
My men that trusted me,
More my sons than your fathers',
For they could only see
The little helpless babies
And the young men in their pride.
They could not see you dying,
And hold you when you died.
Happy and young and gallant,
They saw their first-born go,
But not the strong limbs broken
And the beautiful men brought low,
The piteous writhing bodies,
They screamed 'Don't leave me, sir"
For they were only your fathers
But I was your officer.
For his gallantry during the raid 2nd Lieutenant (temporary Lieutenant) Ewart Alan Mackintosh was awarded the Military Cross. The citation for his award is listed in the Supplement to the London Gazette, dated 24th June 1916:
"For conspicuous gallantry. He organised and led a successful raid on the enemy's trenches with great skill and courage. Several of the enemy were disposed of and a strong point destroyed. He also brought back two wounded men under heavy fire."
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Afghanistan: ‘It was a battlefield last time I was here. The progress is remarkable’
DOUGLAS MUNRO (MEDAL OF HONOR GUADALCANAL) RESCUING HUNDREDS OF U.S. MARINES
3RD MARINE DIVISION (U.S.)
"But it's Thin red line of 'eroes' when the drums begin to roll -
The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,
O it's Thin red line of 'eroes' when the drums begin to roll ".
Rudyard Kipling
FROM the TIMES online
http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/world/asia/article4251531.ece?print=yes&randnum=1215075205859
The Mastiff armoured car lumbered its way down the dusty main street of Garmsir’s newly opened market, past broken, mud-brick shops, and the impassive stare of watching Afghans.
With the rear door manned by a soldier of 5 Scots battalion armed with an SA80 rifle, and “top cover” provided by a wary machine-gunner, we were well-protected. But the Chief of the Defence Staff wanted a closer look at his newly secured territory. Standing up, he poked his head through the manhole on the roof of the vehicle and surveyed the passing scene.
“Want to have a look?” asked Air Chief Marshal Sir Jock Stirrup. I stood up gingerly, my blue helmet a worryingly obvious target, I thought, for any passing Taleban. The roof of the Mastiff was too hot to touch, in the 50C (122F) temperature, but the experience was exhilarating.
We lurched over potholes. The dust swirled. And, through it, we studied the passing scene, attempting to gauge the mood of a liberated people. Some of the shops, battered by the armaments of past battles, stood open to the sky, others were boarded up. But there was a scattering of local traders who watched impassively as we passed. Two men, stripped to the waist, washed themselves in a cattle trough. A turbaned draper set out his goods. Then a little boy waved at us. Just one – but it delighted Sir Jock. “Oh yes, he definitely waved,” he said. On such uncertain straws of evidence are the achievements of the Helmand task force judged in these testing days of the West’s Afghan venture. They are, however, straws worth studying.
A few weeks ago, Garmsir was a no-go area for all but the hunkered down British troops in their heavily guarded forward operating bases, and for the US Marines, beginning to arrive in force. Known as the “snake’s head” because of the distinctive shape of the area – a broad expanse of fertile country in the north, tapering to a long tail of farmland, supporting a rural population, mostly cultivating opium poppies – Garmsir was, until recently, held by the Taleban.
“The last time I was here, I wasn’t able to come into the town at all. It was a full-scale battlefield,” Sir Jock said. “Now we’ve just come twice through the main street. I wouldn’t say for one moment that we’ve restored Garmsir to total peace and security, but the progress we’ve made over the last few months is remarkable.”
Seizing it back was due in part to the surge of the US Marines, with their massively resourced Marine Expeditionary Unit. But it was also achieved through a classic piece of soldiering by A Company of the Argyll and Suther-land Highlanders – the kind of infantry operation that hasn’t changed much in character since the Second World War. In the cramped forward operating base of Delhi (these FOBs, a key part of the Helmand strategy, mostly bear classic names from Britain’s military past, like Inkerman, Balaklava and Nijmegen) Major Neil Den-McKay took me up to his tiny observation post, protected by sand-bags, with a thin slit looking out over a 120-degree arc of the countryside. He pointed to an open field, falling away to a ditch, barely 300 yards away.
“The Taleban were there,” he said.
“We knew they were there because they kept attacking us. So we had to clear it.” He did so by taking a company of jocks in point formation, with bayonets fixed, straight down the ditch until they encountered the Taleban head on. “I don’t think they were expecting us,” said Major Den-McKay drily. “They certainly seemed surprised.” The Argylls drove the Taleban out, inflicting heavy casualties, and without losing a man. It may not have been more than a skirmish, but it sent out a powerful message about the determination of the British forces to make the territory their own.
Earlier, I had sat with Sir Jock and the commanding officer of the Helmand task force, Brigadier Mark Carleton-Smith, listening to the commander of the US Marine Expeditionary Unit, Colonel Lewis Henderson, who spoke of how a combination of military might and civil resources had taken and held the snake’s head itself. He talked of the use of powerful armoury to defeat the Taleban, including blowing up more than 200 bunkers, seizing caches of weaponry and destroying the infrastructure, together with tactics designed to win over the local population once victory had been achieved.
“To sustain and secure,” was the way he described it. It was the sustaining part that provided a fascinating insight into how far American counter-insurgency tactics have developed since the invasions of Iraq and Afghanistan. Aware of the danger of suicide bombers, one of the first things they did was to carry out random finger-printing of suspicious-looking civilians in the outlying areas of the snake’s head. It suggested that the Marines had good local knowledge, whereas in fact they had encountered what Colonel Henderson described as “black holes of intelligence”.
He admitted that they knew very little about local power bases and the complexities of tribal allegiances. So instead the marines went out into the villages with grapes. Why grapes? “They give off a nice smell, and they’re not threatening,” he said. They also sent out leaflets – not warning the local people about the Taleban, but explaining what the Americans were trying to do. Reckoning that many residents of Garmsir were underinformed about the war, they distributed 400 clock radios. And they began compiling data – about the number of shops, the distribution of farms, the availability of schools. They discovered things they didn’t know before, like the fact that although this was a very poor rural population, it was surprisingly well-educated, with some of the villagers speaking two or more languages.
The British listeners were clearly impressed by Colonel Henderson’s presentation, but some of the flies in the Garmsir ointment emerged almost immediately. In the first place, the US Marines are due to pull out of the area in September, leaving this experiment in winning the peace open-ended. Could the British maintain the momentum without the kind of resources that the Americans had deployed? “The commander of the Helmand task force will deploy his units as he sees fit to ensure that we can hold on to and sustain the progress that’s been made here and bring it forward,” said Sir Jock, in the clipped manner of one who is not certain of the answer.
Next door, the man with part of the task of sustaining that progress, Doug-las Alexander, Secretary of State for Overseas Development, on a flying visit to Helmand, listened to the other side of the equation: the Afghans themselves. Seated in front of a semicircle of British and American top brass – including the minister, the British Ambassador to Afghanistan, Sir Sherard Cowper-Coles and representatives of US and British aid agencies – were three local leaders, whose powers may not have begun to match those of their audience, but whose words were listened to as eagerly as if they had been those of Metternich himself. They were the local governor, his deputy and the chief of police. On them depends the outcome of the experiment in Garmsir. Their expressions were inscrutable.
“What,” asked Mr Alexander, “do you and your families most need from us?” The interpreter leant forward, the Afghans’ eyes were blank. They answered with disappointing briefness. To say that their words were opaque, would be to overstate the case. They were unwilling to be precise, but there was some mention of the need for security; unless they were protected from the Taleban, all would be at naught. Whether they were secret supporters of the Taleban or not was, of course, far from clear.
“Can you persuade the farmers to abandon the opium crop?” asked an official. The eyes narrowed slightly. That depended on the security of the borders, was all they would say – an almost impossible condition to deliver. It was the ambassador who asked the boldest question. “How many of your men take opium?” he asked the chief of police. His eyes bulged momentarily; the Afghan National Police are a byword for corruption in Helmand. “Maybe one or two,” was all he would say. Afterwards, the ambassador told me that their estimate was that 60 per cent of the force took opium.
“Do you need roads?” asked an American official. “We can build you a road from here to Lashkar Gah as good as anything in America.” The governor looked straight ahead of him. His expression said nothing. He agreed that roads were a good thing.
Afterwards I asked Louise Perrotta, the local head of the British stabilisation unit, whose aim it is to win the trust of the people of Garmsir, whether the American approach – big projects, swiftly delivered, and backed by huge resources was the answer to gaining the support of the Afghans. “I think there is a little more to it than that,” she said carefully. Her approach is to find out more about the society in which all this is happening, to understand the mentality of the local people, to win their trust by delivering what they really need, rather than giving them what others think they should have. It is a long-term approach, and it needs a long-term commitment, which Britain will have to ful-fil if it is serious about its plan for Helmand and the future of Afghanistan. But it did strike me that a combination of American might and British diplomacy was not a bad one. Whichever approach is right, Garmsir is going to be on our international agenda for many years to come.
To Helmand and back
— A total of 44 British and other Western troops were killed in Afghanistan in June, compared with 31 in Iraq. It was the second consecutive month that more Western troops have died in Afghanistan than Iraq. There are nearly three times as many Western troops deployed in Iraq
— Located in southwest Afghanistan, Helmand’s capital is Lashkar Gah. Helmand’s desert terrain is divided into 13 districts and more than a thousand villages. It has a largely Pashtun population of just over a million
— In the 1950s, Helmand was known as ‘little America’ because it was the centre of a US development programme building irrigation channels and a hydroelectric dam
— Helmand’s economy was badly damaged during the long wars of past decades. Unemployment is high. The economy is largely based around farming and the main crops are wheat, corn and opium poppy
— If Helmand were a country, it would be the second largest producer of opium in the world, after Afghanistan as a whole
— 8,500 British troops are currently stationed in Helmand
Sources: www.culturalprofiles.org.uk; www.icasualties.org ; www.senliscouncil.net
3RD MARINE DIVISION (U.S.)
"But it's Thin red line of 'eroes' when the drums begin to roll -
The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,
O it's Thin red line of 'eroes' when the drums begin to roll ".
Rudyard Kipling
FROM the TIMES online
http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/world/asia/article4251531.ece?print=yes&randnum=1215075205859
The Mastiff armoured car lumbered its way down the dusty main street of Garmsir’s newly opened market, past broken, mud-brick shops, and the impassive stare of watching Afghans.
With the rear door manned by a soldier of 5 Scots battalion armed with an SA80 rifle, and “top cover” provided by a wary machine-gunner, we were well-protected. But the Chief of the Defence Staff wanted a closer look at his newly secured territory. Standing up, he poked his head through the manhole on the roof of the vehicle and surveyed the passing scene.
“Want to have a look?” asked Air Chief Marshal Sir Jock Stirrup. I stood up gingerly, my blue helmet a worryingly obvious target, I thought, for any passing Taleban. The roof of the Mastiff was too hot to touch, in the 50C (122F) temperature, but the experience was exhilarating.
We lurched over potholes. The dust swirled. And, through it, we studied the passing scene, attempting to gauge the mood of a liberated people. Some of the shops, battered by the armaments of past battles, stood open to the sky, others were boarded up. But there was a scattering of local traders who watched impassively as we passed. Two men, stripped to the waist, washed themselves in a cattle trough. A turbaned draper set out his goods. Then a little boy waved at us. Just one – but it delighted Sir Jock. “Oh yes, he definitely waved,” he said. On such uncertain straws of evidence are the achievements of the Helmand task force judged in these testing days of the West’s Afghan venture. They are, however, straws worth studying.
A few weeks ago, Garmsir was a no-go area for all but the hunkered down British troops in their heavily guarded forward operating bases, and for the US Marines, beginning to arrive in force. Known as the “snake’s head” because of the distinctive shape of the area – a broad expanse of fertile country in the north, tapering to a long tail of farmland, supporting a rural population, mostly cultivating opium poppies – Garmsir was, until recently, held by the Taleban.
“The last time I was here, I wasn’t able to come into the town at all. It was a full-scale battlefield,” Sir Jock said. “Now we’ve just come twice through the main street. I wouldn’t say for one moment that we’ve restored Garmsir to total peace and security, but the progress we’ve made over the last few months is remarkable.”
Seizing it back was due in part to the surge of the US Marines, with their massively resourced Marine Expeditionary Unit. But it was also achieved through a classic piece of soldiering by A Company of the Argyll and Suther-land Highlanders – the kind of infantry operation that hasn’t changed much in character since the Second World War. In the cramped forward operating base of Delhi (these FOBs, a key part of the Helmand strategy, mostly bear classic names from Britain’s military past, like Inkerman, Balaklava and Nijmegen) Major Neil Den-McKay took me up to his tiny observation post, protected by sand-bags, with a thin slit looking out over a 120-degree arc of the countryside. He pointed to an open field, falling away to a ditch, barely 300 yards away.
“The Taleban were there,” he said.
“We knew they were there because they kept attacking us. So we had to clear it.” He did so by taking a company of jocks in point formation, with bayonets fixed, straight down the ditch until they encountered the Taleban head on. “I don’t think they were expecting us,” said Major Den-McKay drily. “They certainly seemed surprised.” The Argylls drove the Taleban out, inflicting heavy casualties, and without losing a man. It may not have been more than a skirmish, but it sent out a powerful message about the determination of the British forces to make the territory their own.
Earlier, I had sat with Sir Jock and the commanding officer of the Helmand task force, Brigadier Mark Carleton-Smith, listening to the commander of the US Marine Expeditionary Unit, Colonel Lewis Henderson, who spoke of how a combination of military might and civil resources had taken and held the snake’s head itself. He talked of the use of powerful armoury to defeat the Taleban, including blowing up more than 200 bunkers, seizing caches of weaponry and destroying the infrastructure, together with tactics designed to win over the local population once victory had been achieved.
“To sustain and secure,” was the way he described it. It was the sustaining part that provided a fascinating insight into how far American counter-insurgency tactics have developed since the invasions of Iraq and Afghanistan. Aware of the danger of suicide bombers, one of the first things they did was to carry out random finger-printing of suspicious-looking civilians in the outlying areas of the snake’s head. It suggested that the Marines had good local knowledge, whereas in fact they had encountered what Colonel Henderson described as “black holes of intelligence”.
He admitted that they knew very little about local power bases and the complexities of tribal allegiances. So instead the marines went out into the villages with grapes. Why grapes? “They give off a nice smell, and they’re not threatening,” he said. They also sent out leaflets – not warning the local people about the Taleban, but explaining what the Americans were trying to do. Reckoning that many residents of Garmsir were underinformed about the war, they distributed 400 clock radios. And they began compiling data – about the number of shops, the distribution of farms, the availability of schools. They discovered things they didn’t know before, like the fact that although this was a very poor rural population, it was surprisingly well-educated, with some of the villagers speaking two or more languages.
The British listeners were clearly impressed by Colonel Henderson’s presentation, but some of the flies in the Garmsir ointment emerged almost immediately. In the first place, the US Marines are due to pull out of the area in September, leaving this experiment in winning the peace open-ended. Could the British maintain the momentum without the kind of resources that the Americans had deployed? “The commander of the Helmand task force will deploy his units as he sees fit to ensure that we can hold on to and sustain the progress that’s been made here and bring it forward,” said Sir Jock, in the clipped manner of one who is not certain of the answer.
Next door, the man with part of the task of sustaining that progress, Doug-las Alexander, Secretary of State for Overseas Development, on a flying visit to Helmand, listened to the other side of the equation: the Afghans themselves. Seated in front of a semicircle of British and American top brass – including the minister, the British Ambassador to Afghanistan, Sir Sherard Cowper-Coles and representatives of US and British aid agencies – were three local leaders, whose powers may not have begun to match those of their audience, but whose words were listened to as eagerly as if they had been those of Metternich himself. They were the local governor, his deputy and the chief of police. On them depends the outcome of the experiment in Garmsir. Their expressions were inscrutable.
“What,” asked Mr Alexander, “do you and your families most need from us?” The interpreter leant forward, the Afghans’ eyes were blank. They answered with disappointing briefness. To say that their words were opaque, would be to overstate the case. They were unwilling to be precise, but there was some mention of the need for security; unless they were protected from the Taleban, all would be at naught. Whether they were secret supporters of the Taleban or not was, of course, far from clear.
“Can you persuade the farmers to abandon the opium crop?” asked an official. The eyes narrowed slightly. That depended on the security of the borders, was all they would say – an almost impossible condition to deliver. It was the ambassador who asked the boldest question. “How many of your men take opium?” he asked the chief of police. His eyes bulged momentarily; the Afghan National Police are a byword for corruption in Helmand. “Maybe one or two,” was all he would say. Afterwards, the ambassador told me that their estimate was that 60 per cent of the force took opium.
“Do you need roads?” asked an American official. “We can build you a road from here to Lashkar Gah as good as anything in America.” The governor looked straight ahead of him. His expression said nothing. He agreed that roads were a good thing.
Afterwards I asked Louise Perrotta, the local head of the British stabilisation unit, whose aim it is to win the trust of the people of Garmsir, whether the American approach – big projects, swiftly delivered, and backed by huge resources was the answer to gaining the support of the Afghans. “I think there is a little more to it than that,” she said carefully. Her approach is to find out more about the society in which all this is happening, to understand the mentality of the local people, to win their trust by delivering what they really need, rather than giving them what others think they should have. It is a long-term approach, and it needs a long-term commitment, which Britain will have to ful-fil if it is serious about its plan for Helmand and the future of Afghanistan. But it did strike me that a combination of American might and British diplomacy was not a bad one. Whichever approach is right, Garmsir is going to be on our international agenda for many years to come.
To Helmand and back
— A total of 44 British and other Western troops were killed in Afghanistan in June, compared with 31 in Iraq. It was the second consecutive month that more Western troops have died in Afghanistan than Iraq. There are nearly three times as many Western troops deployed in Iraq
— Located in southwest Afghanistan, Helmand’s capital is Lashkar Gah. Helmand’s desert terrain is divided into 13 districts and more than a thousand villages. It has a largely Pashtun population of just over a million
— In the 1950s, Helmand was known as ‘little America’ because it was the centre of a US development programme building irrigation channels and a hydroelectric dam
— Helmand’s economy was badly damaged during the long wars of past decades. Unemployment is high. The economy is largely based around farming and the main crops are wheat, corn and opium poppy
— If Helmand were a country, it would be the second largest producer of opium in the world, after Afghanistan as a whole
— 8,500 British troops are currently stationed in Helmand
Sources: www.culturalprofiles.org.uk; www.icasualties.org ; www.senliscouncil.net
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