Dum vivimus, vivamus
This whole business is getting on my nerves. I was ploughing my way through these St Machar legends when right in front of me appeared what can only be a reference to that bastard Brendan O’Diunne. I dont like calling him that. Up until recently I reckoned him the greatest Scotchman to ever live and the greatest Scotchman who ever could live, in a logical sense. If writing this a couple of years back I would probably have been beginning in a manner approaching the following:
Ancient Schottisch Writtaris have chronicklt that which the Illustriss Buchanan has richtly acknowledgt “ane strange gamyn richt eneuch”.
A load of shite. Pointless carrying on from an opening like this because it leads to greater expectations of consistency and coherence whereas the entire thing is an utter mishmash, a shambles. This is why I discontinued the project when I did. It also explains why the old George fellow finally, and not too reluctantly, allowed his own welter of research to ‘slippit intill the muddis of auld annallis’. Of course he hesitated for ages but it has to be remembered the sort of person he was. And then as well, any writer as disciplined as that must readily — Ach. Who cares. And Boswell! Not to be spoken of in the same breath I know, but how come he fails to even rate it a mention? Especially when that English sidekick of his allows a reasonable sized paragraph to ‘the peculiarly Scotch game’? It could be he just wasnt present while the shepherd was recounting the tale. Perhaps Johnson had refused him attendance, lest he made the shepherd so nervous he might have been unable to communicate. Or maybe it is simply the case he had gone off on his own to ferret a dinner invitation from one of the local highland bigwigs. The point being that had he been there in the bothy we could have found ourselves in the possession of a genuine exposition of the game’s mechanics. As matters stand it would appear that either Johnson received a full and proper oral account of the game which for some reason best known to himself he neglected to record, or else he did not receive an account at all, and I am inclined to plump for the latter. The actual odds about the shepherd’s having had any detailed knowledge of the game’s mechanics are very very long indeed. And even if he did have such knowledge, so what? Does that really suggest he would have felt the need to pass it on to the good Doctor? Apart from anything else, as far as the shepherd was concerned, the whole point of the carry on lies not so much in the game itself but in its extraordinary and magnificent termination, for without that there is almost nothing at all — and certainly no rational explanation of how come the memory of an ancient game should yet be lingering in the mind of a people. And that to me is the crux of the problem. Other aspects are of interest but to regard any as crucial seems a psychological nonsense. Obviously to gain an understanding of how the game was played would be interesting for its own sake, and I for one would travel a long distance to find such a thing out, but that is as far as it goes. I used to take it for granted that the old commentators were assuming a working knowledge of the game’s mechanics, but I now know differently — and that’s being kind about it. The simple fact of the matter is that they didnt have a clue. It was always total guesswork — the slippery slopes of inference, some of the more common theories deriving from that astonishingly scientific premise that games in antiquity were much more liable to be of a physical nature. And even supposing that to be true, so what? Success at physical games need not entail having the build of an ox. It is certainly the case that by all accounts Brendan was a ‘greit baist of a man’ but this type of stuff is banal and leads to all sorts of wild conjecture, and I would prefer not to be involved in that. A quick instance of what I’m talking about, a ‘mathematician’ of early last century (whose name it is nicer not to mention though he seems to have accomplished some pioneering work in the science of phrenology) makes a grand case for O’Diunne’s having been a weedy individual because of the startling rigidity of the game’s rule-structure. Fine, is about all you can say to that. But it is a truism that the game’s limits were rigidly defined. There again though, insofar as this concerns the nature of Brendan’s skull, the guy makes the elementary error of confusing termination with inception, always a risk when somebody in that field strays beyond the somatic hedge. No wonder you start getting involved in discussions on the nature of the cranium! Too much. And yet to some extent he has to be given the benefit of the doubt; he was truly seeking after a disciplined approach and once that is begun every pathway, no matter how shady, seems an obligation. It would have been interesting to see his notes though, I have to confess. Better still but, seeing old George’s. What I really would like to know is where his first written reference comes from. I have always thought it would turn out to be via the Achnasheen Monk which if true presents us with quite an irony. There again, I just dont have the patience any longer. I’m also beginning to believe those who handle it in a quasihumorous way have got the right idea. But Buchanan couldnt manage that and neither can I. And why bother criticizing the likes of Achnasheen? Is it really an accident that he appears not to feel the need of dwelling at length on the famous exhortation? In fact, I’m beginning to think it might be a bit unhealthy to do so. In saying this I’ve got to remind myself there would be very little without it, at least nowadays. My own interest is well on the wane. Sometimes I just think, leave it to the linguists. But no. Definitely not. So much of it is just — Who cares. There again, I know that when Brendan leaves the field of play Achnasheen has him crying: Dum vivimus. It is all fine and good but the fascinating question here is not so much whether the ‘vivamus’ had already been dropped from the popular saying without affecting its sense but whether Latin was used at all. Did the Monk simply translate O’Diunne’s utterance from the Gaelic? Yes, and it would be nice to know what old George’s thoughts were on this specific point. Perhaps especially to know if he would have considered such thoughts as valid. Obviously too, it is worth bearing the matter in mind in regard to Boswell’s absence during the interview with the shepherd. And here I refer to his sidekick’s notorious rejection of the very possibility of Gaelic as a literary form. My own gut reaction is to oppose the good Doctor at all costs but on this particular issue I have to say no. I reckon Achnashseen was recording what he saw as a fairly amusing albeit minorish local legend and that he was recording it as roundly as he could, in other words, no translation. I am well aware that it has become a more controversial aspect than previously but I have to stick with it at this late stage, otherwise — who cares about the otherwise. I’m just sticking with it and that’s that. And how in the name of heaven anybody can accept that silly theory now being pushed by those taking a lead from Ghrame and the Latheron X11 I dont know. It just seems to me daft. As far as I can make out it hinges almost completely on the Abbot of Tain and his ‘dulce est desipire in loco’. And I know fine well that the existential mark of the ‘dum vivimus’ has to appeal to one and all. But surely that is the very strength of the argument? When O’Diunne leaves the field of play he does so in such a manner that the game terminates, never to be played again. I say this, that if he really had gone off in the huff then he would have been met by scorn. It is as simple as that and as basic as that. And never, not in ten thousand years, could such a legend have come about. For one thing, the game would have continued — if not on that selfsame day then the next one, or the next one, but certainly at some future date. And to so much as even suggest that the action might have been premeditated is a nonsense. No premeditated act could ever effect such a consequence. Ordinary people just arent so readily impressed. It had to be something else altogether. For what we are here dealing with is very close to a sort of universal appreciation of an absurdity; an immediate and absolute recognition of the validity of one individual’s action: a revelation. And revelations are by definition irrational. According to Martin the final day’s play occurs somewhere in the Caithness region and although his evidence is based on the same sources nobody raises any serious objections. I think this is the correct approach and I have nothing to criticize in it. Several months ago a Gaelic-speaking pal of mine spent a few days in Barra and got speaking to a very old lady. Out of it came the following, that her people hailed from a small island which has been formally uninhabited since the late seventeenth century, and that to the best of her knowledge the ancient Gaelic saying for ‘fair play’ on this island was always
cothrom na Dhiunne and not ‘cothrom na Fiunne’, as it is elsewhere. Now at the time I was less interested in this than my pal because of course the great Finn had a cousin whose name was Dhiunn. Then this latest turn-up in these St Machar things. I’m still not going to get involved either. I feel like wrapping the lot up in a brown paper parcel and dropping it off the Kingston Bridge, except with my fucking luck it would land in a rowing boat. But fair enough I suppose.