The World of Rob Donn [Unknown Binding]

Grimble weaves the everyday stories of the family, for most all are related, into his book. The births and the deaths; the marriages and the affairs; the loves and the hates; the beauty of the country; the harshness of the winters; the travels and activities of the kirk ministers; the comings and goings on the estates of the great Lords. Descriptions of Tongue House, the beach parties at Balnakil, the intrigues at Bighouse and the events of the lesser estates are all recorded for us to read and enjoy. Grimble brings to life their secure existence under the protection of chief, the destruction the culture by the clearances and the sell out of the Chiefs in this a Trilogy of Strathnaver.

Even though a complete understanding of some of the poems is difficult and in some cases impossible; Grimble's expert interpretation provides an unforgettable reading experience. You can, however, read the poems and get a feeling for the story RobDonn is telling.

Rob Donn Mackay was a very outspoken bard. Grimble says, that "his poems are now recognized as supreme examples of Celtic verse-forms rivaling in quality the satires and elegies of the Scots-speaking Lowlander Robert Burns." Rob Donn was born to Donald Donn Mackay, a sub tenant on the Chief's estate in the Western Highlands in 1714. He says:

"I was born in the winter
Among the lowering mountains,
And my first sight of the world
Snow and wind about my ears."

He was born a genius with a gift to tell stories in prose. He could neither read nor write English or Gaelic. He made up his stories for the occasion and recited them from memory. He was serious, bawdy, humorous, and above all truthful in his approach to common folks and Lords as well. No one escaped his observations. His verse did not hesitate to reproach Lady Reay (wife of the fifth Lord Reay) when she tried to secure Rob Donn's silence over a marriage of convenience that she had forced upon two of her servents:

With sharp command and counsel
There was placed in my mouth a gag like a skewer
Concerning the incident to be spoken of,
Which did not resemble a love affair so much as a hunt,
Indeed I am sorry for the pair of them...

Grimble gives great praise "to the daughter of Reverend John Thomson, in Durness, to the Reverend Aeneas Macleod in Rogart, and to the Reverend Donald Sage..." for writing down Rob Donn's work.

Rob Donn was a naturalist. He loved more than anything else the forests, glens, mountains, and streams. He was most at home wandering and hunting in Reay Forest. He loved the deer of the forest, the cattle of the meadow, and most of all the pretty girl.

Country rich in deer and cattle
And in sprouting corn
Land protected from the tempest
Sheltered from the storm.

One of Rob Donn's most strange and moving poems depicts the cunning of old age. The meaning of the words are not always clear. It is one of my favorites, as I advance into my 70th year.

An old seaman, an old trader
With an old wife, and they without children,
With no sign of affluence in the bundle of masts,
And bracken ash for its first load.
There was an old anchor without any stays in it
On an old hook at an old house.
The old cable, giving no support,
Let the old skiff on an old rock.
Three stalwarts, not one of them fortunate,
Were in dire straits and running fast
To the Rispond boat that pays no dues.
The old shrouds hang miserably on her;
Great is the problem for the pensioner
Who used to be in the ranks far away,
To be behind the leaking bulk at the helm of the Sheena
With no prospect of good success.
There was the old carcase of the old hulk
Which an old pirate left to the old harrow.
There was an old compass without movement in it,
An old fragment of tobacco mull;
An old dodderer on an old shore,
An old covering on each old rower's bench
The old withered timber of the old, old man-

The very waves ashamed of you.

These books are a must for the serious. I think if I were to start over in reading these works, I would read first The World of Rob Donn; then The Chiefs of Mckay, and finally the Trial of Patrick Sellar. To read them takes concentration, but we should not be discouraged in doing so. These books certainly give a dimension of where Mackays come from. Gaelic tradition tells us that MacKays are probably all descendants, in one way or another, from one of the Chiefs of Mackay. If the tradition is true, than to discover the mystery of which one may be illusive if not impossible. Some Mackays may feel they want to leave well enough alone for some of these old Chiefs were not the most desirable characters.