One of the important aspects of the debate between William Lamb and myself about the history of the development of dance and dance music in the Scottish Highlands concerns the history of the violin / fiddle. A new form of the instrument was the favoured one for élite dance traditions in western Europe from the 16th century onwards and it thus played a pivotal role in the transmission of social dance music. It is my goal in this article to gather together surviving evidence about the introduction of the Baroque violin to examine who was involved in its integration into Highland music tradition and what the perceptions of, and agendas for, this innovation were at the time.
Keith Sanger has been compiling a list of records about fiddles / violins and fiddlers / violers from archival sources and has shared some of these with me. Keith has already pointed out the very early adoption (1653) of the fiddle by Cumming musicians under Grant patronage:
“The Grant family seem[s] to have been at the forefront of the latest musical trends” (Sanger 2015). The instrument or its usage does not appear to have penetrated the Highlands deeply until the early 1700s, however. As Keith has observed to me in a personal communication:
The really relevant point about all those fiddle references in that list is that the earliest are all at the edges of the ‘Highland area’. The entry for 1671 for McThomas fiddler in the townland of Inchmagranach being a case in point. Inchmagranach was a possession of the Robertsons of Lude at that time but its position is the key. Not far to the north of Dunkeld, right on the ‘edge’ of the ‘Highlands’.
This chronology is extremely important when assessing claims – often hyperbolic – of Highland musical tradition at particular times and especially of its presumed influence on the styles and repertoire of fiddle music elsewhere. If it is the case that the fiddle did not become a mainstream instrument in Highland musical practice until well into the 18th century, then it is unlikely that a distinctive Gaelic musical style would have evolved within the relevant social dance music genres (i.e., reel and strathspey) for immigrants to take with them to have an impact on host communities elsewhere, and Alan Jabbour’s model of simultaneous diffusion and regional variation across a wide trans-Atlantic zone is substantiated (Newton 2015b: 71-3).
Although we have some internal Gaelic documentary evidence from the 16th century onwards, these are overwhelming élite in orientation until the post-Culloden period, at which time it is clear that enormous social and cultural transformations are already underway. We need to look at 18th-century evidence to find reliable information about these transformations in the musical domain, given their impact on aesthetic norms and practices in the Highlands, and the dates at which they took place.
The early Gaelic sources, when music is mentioned at all, focus on the high-register music of the clàrsair, a profession which relied upon the patronage of Gaelic aristocrats to support. While a bowed string instrument was known in medieval Scotland and Ireland, it was a low-status instrument in élite Gaelic eyes and lacked the precision and volume to deliver the social dance music that developed in the early modern period (Purser 2007: 70, 91, 116; Newton 2009: 258, 270).
There are very few surviving records which comment upon the practices and perspectives of the non-élite members of Gaelic society. The Gaelic literary sources are quite different from the archival sources in that they are highly subjective and that is actually their strength: they reveal opinions about musical aesthetics and social norms (especially when they are transgressed). I believe that the references to musical instruments and styles in all of these sources support my assertion that the Baroque fiddle was a late arriver on the Gaelic scene and that it came with musical practices and norms that rankled adherents of previous traditions but ones that were integral to social dance. I’ll provide an overview of these sources, in roughly chronological order, to summarize my understanding of them and their implications.
(1) Anonymous MacGregor poet c.1590
One of the Gaelic sources that has been nagging at the back of my mind is one that I read in a class taught by Raghnall MacGilleDhuibh when I was a (much younger) Ph.D. student in Edinburgh, a song-poem now commonly called “Clann Ghriogair air Fògradh” (The MacGregors in Exile). A section of the text describes the clan chieftain and the entertainment to be found in his house. Although there are variants, the early texts are quite close to each other. Alasdair Duncan’s edition of these lines, based on the earliest sources (inc. the MacLagan MSS and the Turner Collection), describing the MacGregor chieftain is:
Leis am bu mhiannach an fhidheall
Chuireadh fiughair fo mhnathaibh;
Bheireadh treis air cheòl chlàrsaich
’S treis air thàileasg roimh latha.
[He] was eager for the fiddle
Which excited/stirred women;
[He] who would spend a while on harp music
And a while playing board games before daytime.
I also printed an edition of the poem based on an independent source from the 1820s that agrees very closely with these lines (Newton 1999: 188). It is certainly possible that this is an early interpolation into the poem, but the consistency of the sources seem to point away from this possibility.
We may automatically assume that the fiddle causes the women excitement because they anticipate “dancing” (i.e., a reel), but I believe we need to hold such preconceptions in check. As I have previously argued, definitions of and aesthetic perceptions of what dance is, how it is done and why, changed dramatically during the 17th and 18th century. There is no mention in this source of dancing, nor any explanation of what the women do to this music. I will delay further discussion of the kinesthetic dimension of this source until I enter into discussion source item 7.
The musical instrument referred to by the verse is clearly a medieval instrument, such as a viol, rebec or crwth, rather than a modern one.
(2) Richard James, 1618
Evidence from the 17th century suggests either that there were very few players of stringed instruments like the viol in the Highlands, that they were below the notice of most people, or that the rise of the bagpipes in the 17th century temporarily eclipsed whatever viol tradition might have existed before. About his trip to the Highlands, the Oxford scholar Richard James noted: “the instruments with which they make mirth are Iewes harpes which they call trumps and great lowd bagpipes uppon which they plaie and tune battails and combats and other such songs as they have.”
The trump (aka “Jew’s Harp,” “jaw harp,” etc.) is a very simple and old instrument and was likely common throughout the medieval period. There was a late medieval dance in Scotland whose name, I have suggested, might be interpreted as a Gaelic one referring to a player of the trump (Newton 2003: 231). Note, however, that there is no mention of fiddle or dance: the pipe seems to be understood as playing tunes related to warfare or in imitation of song airs.
(3) Chaloner and Clarke, 1656
What is interesting about the comments made by these travellers to the Isle of Man in the mid-17th century is that they specifically contrast the Manx use of the fiddle with the lack of it by their nearest neighbours: the Manx “are much addicted to the Musick of the Violynes, so that there is scarce a family but more or less can play upon it. … it is strange that they should be singular in affecting this Instrument before others, their Neighbours: the Northern English; the Scots; the Highlanders, and the Irish, generally affecting the Bag-Pipe” (Bazin 2002: 151-2).
The article I have used here by Bazin surmises that the Manx may have had a form of medieval Scandinavian fiddle before the modern violin arrived in the late 17th or early 18th century. An rather uncomplimentary remark by Waldron in his Description of the Isle of Man in 1726 about the unrefined choreographic manners of the Manx also suggests that this form of the fiddle predated the Baroque one which was typically accompanied by more elegant élite dance styles: “Dancing, if I may call it so, jumping and turning round at least, to the fiddle and base-viol, is their great diversion” (Bazin 2002: 153).
(4) Thomas Kirke, 1678
“Musick they have, but not the harmony of the sphears, but loud terrene noises, like the bellowing of beasts; the loud bagpipe is their chief delight, stringed instruments are too soft to penetrate the organs of their ears, that are only pleased with sounds of substance.” Although we should cast a skeptical eye on the claim that no stringed instruments were in use in the Highlands at all, Kirke confirms the dominance of the bagpipe and the lack of penetration of contemporary élite European aesthetic preferences for “pure” instrumental sounds and “refined” musical arrangements.
(5) “A Collection of Highland Rites and Customs” c. 1684
An important document about Highland customs written by an insider in the late 17th century notes: “The Greatest Music is Harp, Pipe, Viol & Trump. Most of the Gentry play on the Harp. Pipers are held in great Request …” (Hunter 2001: 63) Although three instruments are named as chief among the Gaels, only the harp and bagpipe receive further elaboration; the Viol / fiddle gets no further attention, suggesting either that it was not very important or had not had time to be integrated deeply into Highland practices.
(6) Robert Kirk, Secret Commonwealth…, 1692
Robert Kirk was a native Gaelic speaker and wrote a long treatise about Highland cosmology and supernatural beliefs and practices. Included in his document is the note: “Irish-men, our Northern-Scotish, and our Athol men are so much addicted to and delighteth with Harps and Musick (as if like King Saul they were possessed with a Forrein Spirit … for wee have seen some poor Beggers of them chattering their teeth for cold, that how soon they saw the fire, and heard the Harp, leapt thorow the house like Goats and Satyrs.” (Hunter 2001: 99)
Kirk indicates that Gaels were extremely fond of music and responded to it kinesthetically, but the music that inspired their movement was not the fiddle but the harp and their choreographic reaction – leaping like goats – is very unlike the refined motion of social dancing but is rather reminiscent of the derogatory comment about Manx dancing. This again suggests that Gaels did not yet have the dance traditions of reels and strathspeys that developed later (as I have argued in my other essays).
(7) James Garden, 1693
I referred to an antiquarian’s ethnographic report about Highland poetic performance in an earlier article (Newton 2015: 4) which makes mention of some kind of fiddle and dance: “There us’d likewise 9 or 10 sometimes 11 or 12 women to travel together, who as they came to anie house, two & two together, sang one of those songs these philies [filidhean] had made. They had ordinarlie a violer with them who played on his fidle as they sang, when they had done singing, then they danced, these were named avranich [amhranaich] i.e. singers.” (Hunter 2001: 126)
As I have previously remarked, this is a significant deviation from “standard” Classical poetic practices as they were prescribed by the Irish “bardic colleges,” but it could be that there is something else going on here. It is not clear whether or not the women danced to the fiddle, but I would suggest that this account may correspond to the scenario referred to by the MacGregor poem (item 1 in this list). I would suggest tentatively that this is a variant or development of an older practice of female celebratory song (see discussion in MacInnes 2006: 241; Nic Lochlainn 2013: 122-23).
(8) Martin Martin, A Description of the Western Islands…, c.1697
Martin says he had heard of eighteen men in Lewis who could “play on the violin pretty well without being taught.” Exactly what they played and how is not stated. We need to read most everything that Martin says about the Hebrides in the light of his role of advocacy of their sympathetic integration into the British State. In other words, he hints here and elsewhere of the innate capacity of Gaels to develop themselves along the lines of the British mainstream, musically and otherwise. So, unfortunately he tells us very little other than confirming that the violin had reached the Outer islands by the end of the 17th century, which we already know from other sources.
(9) Iain mac Mhurch’ ’c Ailen / J[ohn] Morison, 1700
In this account about customs associated with St. Brigit’s day on the Isle of Lewis, Morison states that “men & young women travelled in flocks from all quarters upon these saints days to whom these kerks were dedicated and kindled great fyres in these kerks all the neght over, & spent the whol neght in pyping singing prophane songs, danceing & whoreing too …” (Stiùbhairt 2006: 205).
This short account by a native Gael who is believed to have played the fiddle himself (Matheson 1970: xli) mentions dancing and the use of the bagpipe in local, rural celebrations but not the fiddle. While the use of the Baroque fiddle had begun to penetrate the Highlands, either it may have been restricted to élite players and contexts (and hence had not yet been incorporated into such vernacular social customs), the Highland peasantry hadn’t yet absorbed new ideas about social dance, or else the older ring dance may have been so closely tied to the functions and values of the celebration as to keep newer dance forms at bay. Carmichael’s descriptions of these proceedings as he presumably recorded them from mid-19th century informants indicates that the ring dance was still the dominant choreographic form at this calendar custom (Newton 2009: 277).
(10) Alexander Grant of Shewglie, first half of 1700s
Simon Fraser’s anthology of music of the Highlands contains a translation of an extract of a song by this accomplished musician who lived from about 1675 to 1746 (Sanger and Kinnard 1992: 153-5). This song could be from any time in his adulthood, although I suspect (given the dynamics summarized here and discussed in greater detail in Newton and Cheape 2008) that the date is later than earlier. The song was modelled on the melodic and metrical structure of pìobaireachd, also suggesting a later date (MacDonald 1995: 224).
The song was composed as expressing the rivalry between bagpipe, harp and fiddle (in that order) for the affections of Gaels. To the fiddle, who is personified as his partner (a common Gaelic practice for musicians at the time) named “Màiri nighean Deòrsa” (Mary, George’s daughter), he says (in translation):
“I love thee, for the sake of those who do – the sprightly youth and bonny lasses — all of whom declare, that, at a wedding, dance or ball, though with thy bass in attendance, can have no competitor — thy music having the effect of electricity on those who listen to it.” (Fraser 1815: 106)
The order given of these instruments suggests that the fiddle was the late-comer. Note also the contexts listed for this instrument: weddings, dances, and balls, all occasions for courtship between young men and women. The ball, of course, was a new type of social event that itself reflected and reinforced the latest popular dance fashions of the age; we should surely expect that the music played and dances danced at these new musical events to echo those in the rest of high society in Western Europe.
(11) Alasdair Òg Mac Fir Àrd na Bighe (MacDhomhnaill), mid-1700s
Alasdair Òg was born about the same year as Alexander Grant of Shewglie (above). This song is in praise of his fiddle, whom he also names as “Màiri nighean Deòrsa.” He borrowed the pìobaireachd tune and metre from the previous composition; Alasdair mac Mhaighstir Alasdair’s later responded to this piece by composing his song-poem “Moladh air Pìob Mhór MhicCruimein” to the same air (MacDonald 1995: 224-5). This thus gives us the impression of an extended dialog, or contention, between Gaelic aristocrat-literati in verse, not an unusual phenomenon at the time.
There are three different surviving variants of this Gaelic song, starting with the version printed in 1776 (Barron 2011: 94-6), although there are no significant deviations. The song needs a proper edition with a thorough analysis, but I’ll offer a few observations. Alasdair implies that he is extremely fond of his new companion – infatuated with her, we might say –, even though she seems anxious to travel around the Highlands. His dependence on non-Gaelic terminology betrays the fact that this instrument and its milieu are recent arrivals, however. For example, he uses the borrowing “music” twice in the song-poem and never uses the unmarked form ceòl (see my note on this very issue in an Irish source in Newton 2013: 64); in other words, the music meant to be made on this immigrant instrument was not the conventional, rustic, homegrown variety (for which the native term ceòl would suffice), but rather a new, “improved” sort which was best described by an exotic loanword.
The stanza with the greatest reliance on anglophone terminology (italicized in the original and underlined in the translation) reads:
’N àm éirigh ’s a’ mhadainn
Gum b’ ait leam bhith t’ éisteachd
Le d’ bheus is le d’ threble
Gur sgiobalt’ an gléus thu;
O, siud i suas
Ri mo chluais
I gu buaidh-leumnach;
Air chuntar ’s air thenor
’S glé shunntach le chéile iad;
I gun mhann, gun srann,
I gun cham-ghleusadh;
Gum bheil mi glé chinnteach
Gur music a sheinnt’ leath’.
When it is time to arise in the morning, I love to be listening to you with your bass and treble, you are lively in tune; oh, there she is up against my ear, cavorting; with contra[tenor] and tenor, they are very merry together; she is smooth and flawless, with no defect of tuning; I am very certain that she can sing “music.”
We thus get a glimpse not of a mature tradition but of a recent musical import that has yet to take root in a new locale. Not only this, but Alasdair explicitly acknowledges the élite and “refined” associations of this new instrument and its music:
Gur bagant ’s gur mùint’ thu …
’S tu tha fìor chùirteil,
’S mairg chì thu ’gad sheòladh
Ann an crògan an ùmaidh.
You are lively and learned … You are the one who is truly courtly; pity the one who sees you being used in the dolt’s hand.
These élite conceits are precisely the associations of the social dance music traditions connected to the modern fiddle that I’ve discussed in my previous essays on this topic.
(12) Ruairidh MacMhuirich/MacGilleMhoire: An Clàrsair Dall / Rory Dall, the Blind Harper
William Matheson’s extensive volume on An Clàrsair Dall contains an important commentary on a Gaelic proverb contained in the collection of Gaelic proverbs published in 1785 by Donald Macintosh. If we are to treat this as an actual utterance made by the harper, it would have had to be dated sometime between 1681 and 1755. Here is Matheson’s discussion in full:
Some of this class of [clàrsach/harp] music has survived as a result of the interest taken in it by fiddlers. The harpers would no doubt regard with disfavour the transference of their music to what they considered an inferior instrument, and it may be supposed that the Blind Harper was no exception. Indeed, according to tradition, when on one occasion he heard a fiddler playing music normally performed on the harp, he said:
Masa ceòl fidileireachd
Tha gu leòr siod dheth. —
If fiddling is music,
that is enough of it.
(The form fidileireachd is used instead of the standard fidhleireachd to express contempt.) Macintosh quotes this saying in his collection of proverbs – Mas ceòl fidileireachd tha na leòr againn dith – and states that “Roderick, a famous harper, met with a man who played every tune upon the violin, which Roderick played on the harp, a thing not common in those days, which made the harper repeat the above words (now become a proverb), meaning that he did not reckon the violin music, but if it was, he had enough of it.” Macintosh does not identify the harper. The assertion that he was Roderick Morison is made only in the second edition of the work, and is of less value on that account. …
Macintosh’s statement that the playing of harp music on the violin was “a thing not common” is not to be taken too seriously; the context rather suggests that what was uncommon was for a fiddler to play every tune in a harper’s repertoire. …
As to [the harp tune named] Fuath nam Fidhleirean [“the Contempt of the Fiddlers”], such a title accords well with the saying already quoted, if tradition is correct in ascribing it to him. (Matheson 1970: 164, 165, 167)
It is unlikely that Ruairidh would have condemned all fiddlers as a class, given that his own father (author of item 9 in this list) had been an early adopter of the instrument, but the historical accuracy of the attribution is far less important than the symbolic significance of this anecdote put into the mouth of an iconic figurehead of the older tradition. It certainly represents the encroachment of a new group of “upstarts” who were co-opting the musical resources and legacy of the establishment (i.e., professional harpers), who had had the benefit of élite patronage and extended, formal training. Here we see the seams and messy breaks between the older Gaelic world and the new one, which seems to be characterized by self-taught fiddlers appropriating elements of the old professionals (a theme resounding in the post-Kinsale professional literati of Ireland).
It has been previously argued (see esp. Cheape 2008) persuasively that the context of cultural change in the Gaelic world during the 17th and 18th centuries, not least in terms of musical tradition, needs to be interpreted particularly in terms of:
- Extinction of the older aristocratic Gaelic system of patronage and associated “Classical” standards
- Assimilation of surviving native élite into Anglo-British social and cultural milieu
- Loosening if not breakage of connections between Gaelic élite and lower social classes
- Growing emergence of Highland cultural forms that depart from older norms and practices
- Greater direct connectivity of all Gaelic social classes with cultural forms and norms from other cultural regions (esp anglophone).
Anecdotes relayed in Robert Forbes’ The Lyon in Mourning provide ample evidence of how contemporary musical and choreographic fashions were practiced in the big houses of Highland aristocrats of the mid-18th century. It is easy to see how these were transmitted to the lower classes of Gaelic society of the time and filtered through local aesthetics to create regional, vernacular variations.
The violin – or fiddle – was certainly an important example of these developments as well as vehicle for accompanying changes in musical styles and aesthetics and choreographic practices. As these innovations were absorbed into Gaelic society, they were inflected by Highland social norms and musical predispositions (such as dotted rhythms) and took on new meanings and customary conventions. Self-legitimating folklore and pseudo-historical narratives were constructed to obscure their external origins and aid their “naturalization” into Gaelic tradition in an unself-conscious manner (tales of sìthichean providing talents and instruments to accomplished fiddlers fall into this category). This is why 19th-century sources cannot be relied upon to provide us any useful information or insight into earlier processes and phenomena.
You can find out more about Michael Newton’s work at the following link: https://unc.academia.edu/MichaelNewton
Michael Newton (photo left) was awarded a Ph.D. in Celtic Studies from the University of Edinburgh in 1998 for his dissertation The Tree in Scottish Gaelic Literature and Tradition. He has given lectures and taught workshops on Scottish topics at venues such as the Smithsonian, the U.S. Library of Congress, Slighe nan Gaidheal in Seattle, and the Toronto Scottish Gaelic Learners’ Association. He has written several books and numerous articles on many aspects of Gaelic tradition and history, including Bho Chluaidh gu Calasraid (1999), We’re Indians Sure Enough: The Legacy of the Scottish Highlanders in the United States (2001), and Warriors of the Word: The World of the Scottish Highlanders (2009). His research interests and areas of expertise include Scottish Highland immigrant literature and history; ethnicity and identity politics; human ecology; dance traditions.
Thanks to Kate Dunlay for comments and corrections on an earlier draft of this essay and to Keith Sanger for copious supplemental information and caveats.
Hugh Barron. “Some Gaelic Verse from North Inverness-shire.” In The Hugh Barron Papers: The Collected Writings of Hugh Barron, 80-102. Inverness: The Gaelic Society of Inverness, 2011.
Fenella Bazin. “ ‘The Devil once a Fiddler Made’: The Connection Between Manx, Scottish and Norwegian Fiddle Music.” In Mannin Revisited: Twelve Essays on Manx Culture and Environment, ed. Peter Davey and David Finlayson. Edinburgh: Scottish Society for Northern Studies, 2002.
Hugh Cheape. Bagpipes: A National Collection of a National Instrument. Edinburgh: National Museums of Scotland, 2008.
Alasdair Duncan. “Some MacGregor Songs.” Unpublished MLit dissertation, Edinburgh University, 1979.
Simon Fraser. The Airs and Melodies… 1815.
Michael Hunter. The Occult Laboratory: Magic, Science and Second Sight in Late Seventeenth-Century Scotland. Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 2001.
William Lamb. “Reeling in the Strathspey: The Origins of Scotland’s National Music.” Scottish Studies 36 (2013): 66-102.
— “Grafting Culture: On the Development and Diffusion of the Strathspey in Scottish Music.” Scottish Studies 37 (2014): 94-104.
— “A Response to Newton’s ‘The Origins of the Strathspey: A Rebuttal’.” 2014. https://www.academia.edu/9130337/A_Response_to_Newton_s_The_Origins_of_the_Strathspey_A_Rebuttal_
Allan MacDonald. “The Relationship between Pibroch and Gaelic Song” (Master’s Thesis) University of Edinburgh, 1995.
John MacInnes. Dùthchas nan Gàidheal: Selected Essays of John MacInnes, (ed.) Michael Newton. Edinburgh: Birlinn, 2006.
William Matheson (ed.) An Clàrsair Dall / The Blind Harper: The Songs of Roderick Morison and his Music. Edinburgh: Scottish Gaelic Texts Society, 1970.
Michael Newton. Bho Chluaidh gu Calasraid / from the Clyde to Callander. 2011 .
— “Dancing with the Dead: A Highland Wake Custom,” in Cànan & Cultar / Language & Culture: Rannsachadh na Gàidhlig 2003, edited by Wilson McLeod, James Fraser and Anja Gunderloch, 215-234. Edinburgh: Dunedin Academic Press, 2006.
— Warriors of the Word: The World of the Scottish Highlanders. Edinburgh: Birlinn, 2009.
— “‘Dannsair air ùrlair-déile thu’: Gaelic evidence about dance from the mid-17th to late-18th century Highlands.” International Review of Scottish Studies 38 (2013): 49-78.
— “The Origins of the Strathspey: A Rebuttal.” January 2014. https://virtualgael.wordpress.com/2014/01/04/the-origins-of-the-strathspey-a-rebuttal/
— “The Earliest Gaelic Dances.” May 2014. https://virtualgael.wordpress.com/2014/05/16/the-earliest-gaelic-dances/
– “Keeping it Reel: In which Dr Newton rejoins the response of Dr Lamb to his rebuttal of the lecturer’s hypothesis on the origins of the Strathspey as a choreographic and musical form.” 2015a. https://www.academia.edu/12364911/Keeping_it_Reel_The_Origins_of_the_Reel_in_a_Scottish_Gaelic_Context
— Review of Wayfaring Strangers: The Musical Voyage from Scotland and Ulster to Appalachia. eKeltoi Book Reviews 2015b https://www4.uwm.edu/celtic/ekeltoi/bookreviews/vol01/pdf/newton13.pdf
— and Hugh Cheape. “ ’The keening of women and the roar of the pipe’: from clàrsach to bagpipe, 1600-1782,” in Ars Lyrica. Journal of the Lyrica Society for Word-Music Relations. Harvard: Center For European Studies Volume 17 (2008), 75-95.Sorcha Ní Lochlainn. “The Foster-Mother as Praise Poet in Gaelic Tradition.” Celtica 27 (2013): 119-47.
John Purser. Scotland’s Music: A History of the Traditional and Classical Music of Scotland. Edinburgh: Mainstream Publishing, 2007.
Keith Sanger. “Home Is Where The Harp Is: The evidence for “harper’s lands.” 2015?. http://www.wirestrungharp.com/harps/harpers/home_harp_lands.html
— and Alison Kinnaird. Crann nan Teud / Tree of Strings: A History of the Harp in Scotland. Temple, Scotland: Kinmor Music, 1992.
Domhnall Uilleam Stiùbhairt. “‘Some Heathenish and Superstitious Rites’: A Letter from Lewis, 1700.” Scottish Studies 34 (2000): 205-226.