Annie McVicar Grant 1755 – 1838
The father of Annie McVicar was an officer in the British army and was transferred to this country for service in the American Colonies in 1757. When he left the old country with his troops his little daughter was but two years old. Soon after he went away the little girl wandered from home one day, greatly to the alarm of her family. She was overtaken by a friend, and when asked where she was going said, “I am going to America to see papa.”
In 1758, the mother and little girl crossed the ocean and landed at Charleston, finding still a long, tiresome trip to make before they rejoined the beloved soldier father, who was stationed at Albany, New York. Here it was, in this then frontier land, that Annie grew to girlhood. She had only two treasures besides Indian trinkets and relics of Scotland, and these were Milton and a dictionary. She committed Paradise Lost to memory, and the blind poet’s good and evil angels became as real to her as the soldiers about the fort. One day, when in the presence of Madame Schuyler, who was the great lady of Albany at that time, the little girl made a very appropriate quotation from Milton which so delighted the fashionable woman that thereafter she showed the child much kindness and regarded her as though she had been her own daughter.
When Annie was thirteen years old her father was transferred again to Scotland, and a few years later, at Fort Augustus, Annie McVicar fell in love with James Grant, the chaplain of the fort. She did her duty as a minister’s wife, and one can imagine that she had plenty to do, as eight children came to their fireside, one after another, in rapid succession. Mr. Grant died poor, leaving his wife with these eight children dependent upon her. She must do something to make a living and keep the wolf from the door, and in her sore straits she gathered up the poems which she had written from time to time, and successfully published them by subscription. Afterward she brought out several volumes entitled Letters from the Mountains, which passed through several editions and brought her considerable profit. These fairly launched her on the sea of authorship, and many volumes of prose and verse followed, which, together with a pension granted her by the government, placed her in most comfortable circumstances, and she reached the ripe age of eighty-four, surrounded by a large circle of admiring friends in the city of Edinburgh.
THE BLUE BELLS OF SCOTLAND
Oh! where, tell me where, is your Highland laddie gone?
Oh! where, tell me where is your Highland laddie gone?
“He’s gone with streaming banners where noble deeds are done,
And my sad heart will tremble till he come safely home,
He’s gone with streaming banners where noble deeds are done,
And my sad heart will tremble till he come safely home.”
Oh! where, tell me where, did your Highland laddie stay?
Oh! where, tell me where, did your Highland laddie stay?
“He dwelt among the holly trees, beside the rapid Spey,
And many a blessing followed him the day he went away,
He dwelt beneath the holly trees, beside the river Spey,
And many a blessing followed him the day he went away.”
Oh! what, tell me what, does your Highland laddie wear?
Oh! what, tell me what, does your Highland laddie wear?
“A bonnet with a lofty plume, the gallant badge of war,
And a plaid across the manly breast, that yet shall wear a star,
A bonnet with a lofty plume, the gallant badge of war,
And a plaid across the manly breast, that yet shall wear a star.”
Suppose, ah, suppose, that some cruel, cruel wound
Should pierce your Highland laddie, and all your hopes confound;
“The pipe would play a cheering march, the banners round him fly,
And for his king and country dear, with pleasure would he die,
The pipe would play a cheering march, the banners round him fly,
And for his king and country dear, with pleasure would he die.
“But I will hope to see him yet in Scotland’s bonnie bounds,
But I will hope to see him yet in Scotland’s bonnie bounds;
His native land of liberty shall nurse his glorious wounds,
While wide through all our Highland hills his war-like name resounds,
His native land of liberty shall nurse his glorious wounds,
While wide through all our Highland hills his war-like name resounds.”
Stirling Castle
Mrs. Grant wrote The Blue Bells of Scotland on the occasion of the departure of the Marquis of Huntly for the Continent with his regiment of Highland troops in 1799. A book entitled The North Country Chorister, printed in 1802, included this song under the title The New Highland Lad. Ritson, the editor of this book, says: “The song has been lately introduced upon the stage. It was originally The Bells of Scotland, but was revised by Mrs. Jordan, who altered the words and sang them to a tune of her own which superseded the old air.” When Charles Mackay and Sir Henry Rowley Bishop were arranging old English airs, this song came under discussion. Mackay says: “The Blue Bells of Scotland is almost invariably spoken of as a Scottish air; but Sir Henry found reason to suspect that it was English, and urged me to write new words to it, to dispossess, if possible, the old song of Mrs. Jordan. He was induced to form this opinion by receiving from Mr. Fitzgerald ‘a Sussex tune’ to a song commencing: ‘Oh, I have been forester this many a long day.’ Three or four bars of the melody were almost identical with the second part of The Blue Bells of Scotland, but as the remainder bore no resemblance to that popular favorite, and the whole tune was so beautiful that it was well worth preserving, I so far complied with Sir Henry’s wish as to write The Magic Harp to Mr. Fitzgerald’s kind contribution to our work. Sir Henry wrote under date of the 22nd of October, 1852, ‘I am strongly of the opinion that when Mrs. Jordan composed the music of The Blue Bells of Scotland, she founded the air upon that rescued from oblivion for us by Mr. Fitzgerald, or rather that she originally intended to sing it to that tune, but finding some parts of it too high for her voice, which was of a very limited compass, she altered them, and the air became that of The Blue Bells of Scotland.’”
Mrs. Grant’s Highland Laddie and Mrs. Jordan’s Blue Bells of Scotland have kept time together so long now, that it is not likely any musical critic will ever disturb them again. The following altered version of Mrs. Grant’s song has in some places been even more popular than the original:
“Oh where, and oh where is your Highland laddie gone?
‘He’s gone to fight the French for King George upon the throne;
And it’s oh! in my heart, how I wish him safe at home.’
“Oh where, and oh where does your Highland laddie dwell?
‘He dwells in merrie Scotland, at the sign of the Blue Bell;
And it’s oh, in my heart, that I love my laddie well.’
“What clothes, in what clothes is your Highland laddie clad?
‘His bonnet’s of the Saxon green, his waistcoat’s of the plaid;
And it’s oh! in my heart, that I love my Highland lad.’
“Suppose, oh, suppose that your Highland lad should die?
‘The bagpipes shall play over him, I’ll lay me down and cry;
And it’s oh! in my heart, that I wish he may not die!’”
Stirling Castle
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