BUCHANAN, DUGALD

BUCHANAN, DUGALD, an eminent Gaelic poet, was born in the year 1716, in the parish of Balquidder, Perthshire. His father was a small farmer who also rented a mill, and who appears to have given him a better education than was commonly taught in country schools. Having been sent, at the early age of twelve, to teach in a family, he was tainted by the bad morals of his associates, and fell into vice, of which he afterwards deeply repented. He was afterwards apprenticed to a house-carpenter in Kippen, whence he removed to Dumbarton. Having afterwards become a sincere Christian, he was appointed schoolmaster and catechist at Kinloch-Rannoch, on the establishment of the Society for Propagating Christian Knowledge, where he composed those hymns which will make his name known while the language in which they are written endures.
His mental powers were of a high order, and during many years he laboured, with extraordinary zeal and devotedness, in enlightening and instructing the inhabitants of that remoter district. At that period the extensive tract of country which surrounds Loch-Rannoch was under the charge of but one minister, who, in consequence of the wide circuits he was obliged to make, could only perform divine service at the end of the loch, where Buchanan was stationed, once in three weeks.
On those Sabbath days, however, that the clergyman was absent, Buchanan used to assemble the people together, and after prayer and an exhortation, he read to them a portion of the Scriptures. He is said to have rendered essential service to the Rev. James Stewart of Killinl, in translating the New Testament into the Gaelic language; and that he accompanied him into Edinburgh for the purpose of aiding in correcting the press. While there, he availed himself of the opportunity to attend the university, where he heard lectures on anatomy, and the various departments of natural philosophy. Some gentlemen, struck by his talents, endeavoured, unknown to him, to procure him a licence to preach the gospel; but without success. He published his hymns about the year 1767. Of these upwards of fifteen editions have been printed. He died June 2, 1768, of fever, in the fifty-second year of his age. €œDuring his illness he was frequently delirious, and in that state would sing of the €˜Lamb in the midst of the throne.€™ In his lucid intervals he expressed his full hope in the resurrection of the just, and his desire to depart and be with Christ. The people of Rannoch wished his remains to be buried among them, but his relations carried the body away to their own country, and he was buried in the burying-ground of the Buchanans at Little Lenny, near Callander. In his person he was considerably above the middle size, and rather of a dark complexion, but upon a close inspection his countenance beamed affection and benevolence Among his intimate acquaintance he was affable, free, jocular and social, and possessed much interesting information and innocent anecdotes, in consequence of which his company was much sought after by all the families in the country. In his dress he was plain and simple, wearing a blue bonnet and a black dress, over which he generally wore a blue great-coat. After his death his widow removed to Ardoch, where she remained till the time of her death. He left two sons and two daughters; one of the latter was alive in 1836.

The Day of Judgment, says the editor of the Beauties of Gaelic Poetry, displays great force of imagination, and fixes the mind on the sublime and awful scenes of a world brought to an end, amidst the wreck of elements, and the assemblage of the whole human race to judgment.

The Scull™ is full of good poetry, with appropriate reflections on the vanity of mortal enjoyments. It shows the fierce tyrant and the lowly slave the haughty chief and the humble tenant the mighty warrior and the blooming virgin the mercenary judge and the grasping miser all reduced to one level, the grave; to feed the lowly worm and the crawling beetle.

The Dream€™ contains useful lessons on the vanity of human pursuits, and the unsatisfactory rewards of ambition. The following lines ought to be remembered by every one who envies greatness:

˜Cha ˜n ˜eil neach o thrioblaid saor,™ A™ measg a™chinne-daonn™ air fad ˜S co lionmhor osna aig an righ, Is aig a neach is isle staid.™