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In Search of Scotland
A book by H. V. Morton is more than a travel it is a sensitive interpretation of a country's people and their history. The success of his first book on England, established the popularity of something new and refreshing in this type of literature. Mr Morton's travels have gained him thousands of readers in all parts of the world. The author has frequently been requested to define the secret of writing a travel book. He always 'There is no secret. You either enjoy yourself or you do not. If you do, say so if you do not - say so!' This disarming sincerity is, perhaps, responsible for the charm and fascination of his books. The feel and smell of the countryside, also a sense of movement, find their way into these light-hearted wanderings, and, combined with humour, acute observation, sympathy and an engaging curiosity, have justly gained for them a wide and increasing popularity. Contents I Go in Search of Scotland I Explore Edinburgh I See the Castle of Roslin Tells how I go on Through Rain to Lochleven In Which I Climb into the Highlands I Describe a Mystery of Aberdeen Describes a Sincere Scottish Breakfast In Which I Work East to West I Go by Sea to Sky How I Break the Sabbath I Sail up the Clyde into Glasgow In Which I Encounter Men Who Melt Steel
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First published January 1, 1929
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About the author
H.V. Morton
113 books50 followersHenry Canova Vollam (H.V.) Morton, FRSL, was a journalist and pioneering travel writer from Lancashire, England, best known for his prolific and popular books on Britain and the Holy Land. He first achieved fame in 1923 when, while working for the Daily Express, he scooped the official Times correspondent during the coverage of the opening of the Tomb of Tutankhamon by Howard Carter in Egypt.
In the late 1940s he moved to South Africa, settling near Cape Town in Somerset West and became a South African citizen.
In the late 1940s he moved to South Africa, settling near Cape Town in Somerset West and became a South African citizen.
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August 23, 2019
When she heard the title of this book, my wife's whimsical question was, "Was it lost?" :-) In fact, though, Henry Vollam Morton wrote (among others) some seven books with "In Search of...." titles, describing his journeys to various places in the British Isles and elsewhere. This is the only one of his books I've read; but he was apparently inclined to think that by traveling through a country for a couple of weeks or so, he could, through astute observation, discover and distill in writing its unique national essence. (More on that below.) I've actually read this twice, once as a kid in the mid-60s; but I'd forgotten the author and title information. Recently, a post in one of my Goodreads groups gave me the clue I needed to track it down; and since I could remember many parts of the text, once I had a copy of the book in hand (through interlibrary loan), it was quickly clear that this was indeed the book. It didn't take me long to realize that in order to do it justice in a review, I'd need a reread.
In 1929, Morton spent apparently a bit over two weeks (the chronology isn't very explicit) touring Scotland by motor car. A simple map inside the front and back covers shows his route: entering the country near Jedburgh, and driving thence to Edinburgh, Stirling, St. Andrews, Dundee, Perth, Aberdeen, Inverness, down through the western Highlands to Fort William (with a side trip to the Isle of Skye), Glasgow, Burns country around Ayr, and finally back into England near Carlisle. Of course, there were numerous stops in between! There's much description of Scottish scenery, which is obviously beautiful (the book is illustrated with 16 black-and-white photographs, but they lose a good deal because they're not in color). High points of the trip included his visit to Sir Walter Scott's great house, Abbotsford; Scotland's World War I memorial in Edinburgh, the National War Shrine (which greatly impressed him); Stirling Castle; the battlefield of Culloden; a description of a ship christening at Glasgow, which is Scotland's industrial hub and a major center for shipbuilding; and the many sites around Ayr with Burns associations. He brings in a great many anecdotes and discussions of Scotland's long history, a lot of which is tragic and bloody. (Although he did visit Loch Ness, there's no reference to Nessie. :-) )
Morton writes with a very vivid, descriptive style, and structures the incidents of the trip in such a way as to make an interesting narrative; his mastery of writing technique would actually have stood him in good stead as a writer of fiction, though I don't know if he ever wrote any. He also has a penchant for sweeping generalizations about national character (English and American as well as Scottish) or local character associated with different Scottish cities. Personally, while I think the history and conditions of some countries or regions have influenced a prevalence for certain traits among many of their people, that's as far as I'd go. I don't think there's really such a thing as a mystical "national character;" there are just a lot of individual's characters, some of whom live together in a particular place. (In other words, in medieval philosophical terms, I'm a strong "Nominalist," not a "Realist" --that's one part of the only philosophy book I ever sort of read that I did understand. :-) ). Also, a lot of what he describes are incidental happenstances of fellow tourists or locals he met and talked to along the way; and his perceptions of places and views are greatly influenced by the weather or the time of day when he saw them. And the emotional reactions things inspire in him are individual, and not necessarily the same as mine would be if I saw the same things. If I ever traveled in Scotland --which I'd love to do, but probably never will!-- my experience would probably be entirely different from his. So I can't regard his memoir as really being a meaningful substitute for actually going there myself. As I recall, that was exactly my reaction the first time I read this, and was why I've mostly never read travel books since then.
Nonetheless, I did like the book, not entirely just because of nostalgia for a childhood read. It was undeniably educational; I learned things about Scotland from it on the first read that I never forgot, and relearned some things this time that I'd forgotten (and expect will be more durable this time around!). For one thing, I have a much better grasp of Scots geography than I did before this read; I knew the shape of the country on the map, where the Highlands are and roughly where Edinburgh and Ayr are before, but I couldn't have located any of the other cities Morton visited. And the historical content was fascinating, though often painfully and morbidly so. (I'm not easily moved to tears, but his description of the battle of Culloden brought me close to crying --of course, my sympathies are with the Jacobites.) I'd read (also as a kid) Mary, Queen of Scots by Emily Hahn, but the material here helped to flesh out Mary's story, and show something of her personality. (The suggestion that her son James may actually have died in infancy, and that his caregiver, the Countess of Mar, may have substituted a child of hers for him --suggested by his marked physical resemblance, as a adult, to the Earl of Mar, who on that theory would have been his brother-- is intriguing; DNA testing would prove or disprove it, but I don't know if it's ever been done.)
This book has a two-page index, but it's pretty inadequate, and so not very useful. However, the two-page bibliography seems to be a pretty solid listing of useful sources on Scotland up to that time, though of course it's very dated now. (The read did whet my appetite for reading more books with a Scottish focus, but I probably won't use the bibliography for suggestions!)
In 1929, Morton spent apparently a bit over two weeks (the chronology isn't very explicit) touring Scotland by motor car. A simple map inside the front and back covers shows his route: entering the country near Jedburgh, and driving thence to Edinburgh, Stirling, St. Andrews, Dundee, Perth, Aberdeen, Inverness, down through the western Highlands to Fort William (with a side trip to the Isle of Skye), Glasgow, Burns country around Ayr, and finally back into England near Carlisle. Of course, there were numerous stops in between! There's much description of Scottish scenery, which is obviously beautiful (the book is illustrated with 16 black-and-white photographs, but they lose a good deal because they're not in color). High points of the trip included his visit to Sir Walter Scott's great house, Abbotsford; Scotland's World War I memorial in Edinburgh, the National War Shrine (which greatly impressed him); Stirling Castle; the battlefield of Culloden; a description of a ship christening at Glasgow, which is Scotland's industrial hub and a major center for shipbuilding; and the many sites around Ayr with Burns associations. He brings in a great many anecdotes and discussions of Scotland's long history, a lot of which is tragic and bloody. (Although he did visit Loch Ness, there's no reference to Nessie. :-) )
Morton writes with a very vivid, descriptive style, and structures the incidents of the trip in such a way as to make an interesting narrative; his mastery of writing technique would actually have stood him in good stead as a writer of fiction, though I don't know if he ever wrote any. He also has a penchant for sweeping generalizations about national character (English and American as well as Scottish) or local character associated with different Scottish cities. Personally, while I think the history and conditions of some countries or regions have influenced a prevalence for certain traits among many of their people, that's as far as I'd go. I don't think there's really such a thing as a mystical "national character;" there are just a lot of individual's characters, some of whom live together in a particular place. (In other words, in medieval philosophical terms, I'm a strong "Nominalist," not a "Realist" --that's one part of the only philosophy book I ever sort of read that I did understand. :-) ). Also, a lot of what he describes are incidental happenstances of fellow tourists or locals he met and talked to along the way; and his perceptions of places and views are greatly influenced by the weather or the time of day when he saw them. And the emotional reactions things inspire in him are individual, and not necessarily the same as mine would be if I saw the same things. If I ever traveled in Scotland --which I'd love to do, but probably never will!-- my experience would probably be entirely different from his. So I can't regard his memoir as really being a meaningful substitute for actually going there myself. As I recall, that was exactly my reaction the first time I read this, and was why I've mostly never read travel books since then.
Nonetheless, I did like the book, not entirely just because of nostalgia for a childhood read. It was undeniably educational; I learned things about Scotland from it on the first read that I never forgot, and relearned some things this time that I'd forgotten (and expect will be more durable this time around!). For one thing, I have a much better grasp of Scots geography than I did before this read; I knew the shape of the country on the map, where the Highlands are and roughly where Edinburgh and Ayr are before, but I couldn't have located any of the other cities Morton visited. And the historical content was fascinating, though often painfully and morbidly so. (I'm not easily moved to tears, but his description of the battle of Culloden brought me close to crying --of course, my sympathies are with the Jacobites.) I'd read (also as a kid) Mary, Queen of Scots by Emily Hahn, but the material here helped to flesh out Mary's story, and show something of her personality. (The suggestion that her son James may actually have died in infancy, and that his caregiver, the Countess of Mar, may have substituted a child of hers for him --suggested by his marked physical resemblance, as a adult, to the Earl of Mar, who on that theory would have been his brother-- is intriguing; DNA testing would prove or disprove it, but I don't know if it's ever been done.)
This book has a two-page index, but it's pretty inadequate, and so not very useful. However, the two-page bibliography seems to be a pretty solid listing of useful sources on Scotland up to that time, though of course it's very dated now. (The read did whet my appetite for reading more books with a Scottish focus, but I probably won't use the bibliography for suggestions!)
July 28, 2021
I love his evocative writing style, although written almost a hundred years ago I can still see Scotland in his eyes.
"The road, flinging itself round the shoulders of hills, rises and falls, running on in bleak solitude. It narrows to a pass; it opens out into moorland wine-dark with heather; and there is no sound over it but the bleating of sheep and the whistle of wind in the telegraph wires. The clouds sail in close communion with the hill crests. Crows like scraps of burnt paper, buffeting the upper air, cry harshly as they are blown downward to a distant valley. Here and there man, exercising his amazing sense of property, has painfully built stone walls, breast-high and brown, to include a few steep acres of tough and soggy grass where black-faced sheep, perpetually optimistic, seek scattered nourishment as they wander, shaggy and unkempt, their long, limp tails swinging in the wind. This is the Border"
This is the spell of the Border. ...the spell of a country wild and untameable, whose every nook and corner is marked down on the map of romance. There can be no wild place in the world which men have embroidered more richly with daring deeds. It shares with all places in which generations of men have loved or hated an arresting importance, almost as if some part of their passion had soaked itself into the grass and into the hard surface of the rocks, making them different from other grass and other rocks.
There is one way only to bring a reluctant smile to the face of a bedroom which looks as though it doubted your ability to pay the bill-smother it in books! Pile them on chairs, tables, washstands, on mantelpiece, and if possible, on the floor. The most bitter and resentful room is flattered if you try to turn it into a library. Books, and a fire can humanize any room, so that if you travel, as I do, with more books than clothes you have nothing to fear from any hotel.
I remember many things about Edinburgh. ...I like to linger on the hill in the dark, where winds whistle like swords and darkness creeps with an air of conspiracy.
It was a wet day. The clouds hung so low over the hills that it seemed possible to stand on a chair and touch them with a stick. The thin rain came slanting down in successive windy sheets, wild gusts flung themselves round corners and appeared to be cast upward into the air again by the violence of the wind. The whole countryside seemed prostrate in grief. There are days like this Scotland when earth and sky abandon themselves to sorrow. Against the background of a weeping earth and a tearful sky the cheerful good nature of the people is flung in brilliant relief. Fires never look brighter in inn parlors, never comes with more seductive softness that voice asking: Will ye take an egg to your tea?
Out in the loch was a dreary island, just a cluster of dripping trees with a slow mist wandering through them like an old witch gathering poison berries.
Glasgow on a November evening...The sound of Glasgow is a human chatter punctuated by tram cars - coloured in broad bands like Neopolitan ices. There is a sharp clamor of bells, the asthmatic cough of an express engine clearing it's throat on the road to London, and most characteristic of all, the sudden yelp of a tug in a Clyde fog-the yelp of a terrier whose tail has been stepped on.
"The road, flinging itself round the shoulders of hills, rises and falls, running on in bleak solitude. It narrows to a pass; it opens out into moorland wine-dark with heather; and there is no sound over it but the bleating of sheep and the whistle of wind in the telegraph wires. The clouds sail in close communion with the hill crests. Crows like scraps of burnt paper, buffeting the upper air, cry harshly as they are blown downward to a distant valley. Here and there man, exercising his amazing sense of property, has painfully built stone walls, breast-high and brown, to include a few steep acres of tough and soggy grass where black-faced sheep, perpetually optimistic, seek scattered nourishment as they wander, shaggy and unkempt, their long, limp tails swinging in the wind. This is the Border"
This is the spell of the Border. ...the spell of a country wild and untameable, whose every nook and corner is marked down on the map of romance. There can be no wild place in the world which men have embroidered more richly with daring deeds. It shares with all places in which generations of men have loved or hated an arresting importance, almost as if some part of their passion had soaked itself into the grass and into the hard surface of the rocks, making them different from other grass and other rocks.
There is one way only to bring a reluctant smile to the face of a bedroom which looks as though it doubted your ability to pay the bill-smother it in books! Pile them on chairs, tables, washstands, on mantelpiece, and if possible, on the floor. The most bitter and resentful room is flattered if you try to turn it into a library. Books, and a fire can humanize any room, so that if you travel, as I do, with more books than clothes you have nothing to fear from any hotel.
I remember many things about Edinburgh. ...I like to linger on the hill in the dark, where winds whistle like swords and darkness creeps with an air of conspiracy.
It was a wet day. The clouds hung so low over the hills that it seemed possible to stand on a chair and touch them with a stick. The thin rain came slanting down in successive windy sheets, wild gusts flung themselves round corners and appeared to be cast upward into the air again by the violence of the wind. The whole countryside seemed prostrate in grief. There are days like this Scotland when earth and sky abandon themselves to sorrow. Against the background of a weeping earth and a tearful sky the cheerful good nature of the people is flung in brilliant relief. Fires never look brighter in inn parlors, never comes with more seductive softness that voice asking: Will ye take an egg to your tea?
Out in the loch was a dreary island, just a cluster of dripping trees with a slow mist wandering through them like an old witch gathering poison berries.
Glasgow on a November evening...The sound of Glasgow is a human chatter punctuated by tram cars - coloured in broad bands like Neopolitan ices. There is a sharp clamor of bells, the asthmatic cough of an express engine clearing it's throat on the road to London, and most characteristic of all, the sudden yelp of a tug in a Clyde fog-the yelp of a terrier whose tail has been stepped on.
May 29, 2022
This is the first book I’ve read by H.V. Morton, and it won’t be the last.
I much appreciate the books of Paul Theroux and felt him to be unrivalled as a travel writer, but after reading the present author, I must state that Theroux has met his match.
Scotland is my home country and I no longer live there, so this book is obviously of great interest to me (Absence makes the heart grow fonder.)
But it was first published in 1929, so H.V. Morton’s trip took place many years ago, much earlier than Theroux’s visit as portrayed in his book “Kingdom by the Sea”.
H.V. Morton was an Englishman. It was his first time in Scotland; he informs us that the Highlands of Scotland were discovered centuries after America, the greater area of the Highlands being “an unknown wilderness”.
The author patently did much research into Scottish history, and avails us of the results of this research in the present book. I learnt much from it.
He enjoyed Scotland and loved the Scots.
His writing is wonderfully eloquent, He quotes various poets, and informs us also of others who have written about Scotland.
He recommends we acquire Walter Scott’s ”Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border” which contains “deathless” ballads.
He quotes “The King sits in Dunfermline town, Drinking the blude-red wine”
The author calls the Border a “queer compromise between fairyland and battle-field".
He tells a story about Bruce’s heart which was buried before the high altar of Melrose Abbey.
Edinburgh is obviously regal, plainly a capital. In his view, it is a “he”, not “she”. It is as masculine as London. (I don’t know if I agree.)
He tells us about Canongate (where I used to live). It forms the main eastern length of the Royal Mile. “Here are the ghosts of Edinburgh, here in these old stone courtyards – It is grey, sinister, mediaeval”
You stand in Canongate aware of many things -- “”those ill-fated, sallow Stuarts with their melancholy eyes, of that unhappy, lovely queen, who still stirs men’s hearts, of John Knox with his denunciatory finger”.
“As you go past the dim wynds -- a man with a limp and a fine high brow goes with you. Walter Scott!” And you may see Stevenson “in a black velvet jacket”.
“There are too many ghosts in Old Edinburgh – trying to drag you into dark, uncomfortable places, attempting to lure you all night long with their story”.
He tells us that the “alleged” portraits of 110 Scottish monarchs in Holyrood Palace are “”fascinatingly bad - this is the worst picture gallery in the world”. Morton states that all the earlier portraits and even many of the names are pure fiction.
He informs us that the Esplanade – the wide parade ground before the Castle gates – is legally on the other side of the Atlantic, it having been declared Novia Scotia territory in the reign of Charles I. This decree has never been annulled.
In a small room in the Castle, Mary, Queen of Scots, gave birth to a son.
But the story goes that the infant born to Mary three months after Riccio was murdered died at birth or soon after and “in order to avert a political crisis” a changeling was substituted who later ascended the thrones of England and Scotland as James I and VI.
James was never sure of his legitimacy.
In 1830 a small oak coffin was discovered behind the wainscoting; this coffin contained the bones of an infant wrapped in a richly embroidered silk covering. Two initials were worked on this shroud and one of hem was clearly the letter J. Was this the body of Mary’s infant and the rightful heir to the throne? If so, who was James VI?
It has been suggested that the changeling was in fact the infant son of lady Ryves, the “wet nurse of the royal infant”. Also, it has been commented on that James VI “departs from the facial characteristics of the Stuarts”. If you compare him with any of his ancestors, you will see that he is different.
“But he bears an astonishing resemblance to John, Second Earl of Mar, whose lifelong friend he was, whose mother, the Countess of Mar, took charge of Mary’s child soon after his birth and until his christening. Did the Countess substitute her second child for that of her royal mistress? If so, James VI was the younger brother of John, Earl of Mar.”
Apparently it has historically been proved that if the substitution took place, Mary never knew. Mary believed to her dying day that James VI was her son.
Two paintings, one of James and one of the Earl of Mar, show an almost exact facial resemblance. “The likeness is so startling that the pictures might be of one man.”
H.V. visits the Castle of Roslin, or all that was left of it. There was the legend of the buried millions said to be lying in a vault beneath the courtyard. The only person who knew the hiding-place was a lady of the house of St. Clair, now dead. If, however, a trumpet blown in the upper apartments is heard in the dungeons, she would appear and lead on to the gold.
H.V. visits the Palace of Linlithgow. In a little turret there Margaret, the Queen of James IV, waited day after day for the return of her husband from Flodden. “James IV, twelve Scottish earls, thirteen lords, five eldest sons of peers, fifty chief knights, and 10,000 men fell at Flodden.”
In another part of the palace is the room in which Mary, Queen of Scots, was born. When her father, James IV was told that his child was a “lass” he died of a broken heart, at the age of thirty.
H.V. tells us that a real Highlander is quick to take offence and is a fighter. He is a born aristocrat.
He witnesses a wedding in a hotel lounge.
“In Scotland a marriage can be solemnized anywhere. The declaration of a man and a woman that they take one another for husband and wife is a legal marriage. Hundreds of marriages are held in the hotel lounges of Scotland.” Marriages still take place in Gretna Green.
Outside Forres (on the North coast) is a remarkable monolith over 900 years old, supposed to commemmorate a victory of Sweyn, son of Harald, over Malcolm II.
Another stone near at hand marks the place where the witches of Forres were burnt in olden times.
Forres, though poor in 1809, is now (1929) “one of the snuggest towns you will find in the Highlands”.
He states that Inverness annoys and distracts him, He had thought that Edinburgh was the most romantic city in Scotland, but becomes uncertain. Edinburgh is more magnificent, but Inverness is more romantic. It has “a broad, lovely river that flows through the heart of it”.
Inverness is “the watch-tower of the Highlands. The Castle has an incredible view. The doorkeeper of Inverness Castle turned out to be a “Mr Macbeth”.
He had been warned to note the Inverness accent, He was charmed by the accent of the girl in the reception of the hotel and complimented her on it, only to be told that she was English! He failed to find any beautiful accent in the people of Inverness, and fears that the accent of Inverness has killed itself.
He goes to Culloden and tells us the whole story of the defeat of Bonnie Prince Charlie.
Culloden, of all the battle-fields known to the author, is ”still drenched with the melancholy of its association: it is the only battle-field I know which contains the graves of the fallen, buried in trenches as they died”.
Ben Nevis is the highest and most famous mountain in the British Isles. It is 4,406 feet in height, or 846 feet higher than Snowdon,
“Every healthy man who visits Fort William climbs Ben Nevis.”” What about the healthy women?
So he climbs it too, Suddenly, he is in a “valley of death”, where nothing grows. There is a cloud far below him. He enters a mist and meets two men, teeth chattering with cold, who tell him it’s only another half mile to the top.
The mist turns to sleet, and the sleet turns to snow. He enters a ruin for shelter and hears a dreadful sound, “an evil, damnable sound”” - it is the sough of wind coming up over the crest of Ben Nevis.
The precipice over the edge of Ben Nevis is 1,500 feet deep. On his way down the mountain he sees a “brilliant panorama of mountains” and a rainbow, and then the sun shines.
H.V. goes by sea to Skye in the Stornoway boat.
“Shaggy islanders walk the forecastle --- They lean on long sticks – and talk in Gaelic about the price of sheep”. (How does he know?)
At the Kyle of Lochalsh he changes to the Skye boat, a paddle steamer.
The captain and his officers read the morning newspapers in English and discuss them in Gaelic - “a live, vivid language”. (I’m sure that now in 2021 no-one would be speaking Gaelic!)
He “feels himself hanging between this world and the next, between past and future, in some stange, timeless interlude”.
He arrives at Portree after dark and can feel the nearness of great mountains, but can see nothing in the mist.
In the morning he sees “a tremendous Vesuvius called Glamaig shot up in the air” - I assume he means a mountain.
When he departs the inn and turns to the right, the sight of the ‘Black’ Coolins hits him like a blow in the face! He has travelled the world but never seen anything like the ‘Black’ Coolins standing “grape blue and still, in morning sunshine”.
These mountains are “the essence of all that can be terrible in mountains”. They have “the fearful mystery of high places”, crved into “a million queer, horrible shapes”. They are “”formed of rock unlike any other rock so that they will never look the same for very long, now blue, now grey, now silver --- but always drenched in mystery and terror”.
H.V. believes that Skye is the strangest place in the British Isles. He has been told of “the hauntedness” of Skye.
All Skye names are a mixture of Norse and Gaelic. It was Viking land in remote ages. “The Viking named the hills, the lochs, and the moournful .”
With his poetic descriptions, the author eloquently depicts for us the sense of mystery and awe he feels when subjected to the Coolins.
The Coolins fascinate and thrill H.V. “They are frightful. They are stupendous.”
Theroux was also fascinated by these mountains, which however he spelt “Cuillins”, which is apparently the correct, or at least modern, spelling.
Dunvegan Castle, the oldest inhabited castle in Scotland, is opened twice a week for those who want to see the Fairy Flag. The flag would save the (Macleod) clan in three great dangers, by being waved. It had already been waved successfully twice.
H.V. visits the pass of Glencoe, where he learns about the terrible massacre in 1691, when 38 Macdonalds were murdered. When an inquiry was made about the massacre, it was deemed “the most foul and barbaric deed in the history of clan murder”.
Rob Roy was the Robin Hood of Scotland and he dies “as recently as 1734”, which in my view is not recent. He is associated with the Trossachs and Loch Lomond. I would have appreciated more information about Rob Roy than was given.
H.V. visits Glasgow, “the greatest, closely-knit community in Great Britain”. “She is the least suburban of all great cities.”
He tells us that Edinburgh is Scottish, while Glasgow is cosmopolitan.
There’s a section about food, mostly haggis and Scotch broth.
There is much about Robbie Burns, whom he calls the most attractive and in some ways pathetic figure in Scotland. He was “the Pan of Scotland”.
To sum up, I would go so far as to call H.V. Morton a brilliant writer; his descriptions are elegant and poetical and steeped with absorbing historical information. If his book has a downside, it may be that he assumes that the reader knows more Scottish history than he or she in fact does.
Also, it is an obvious drawback that the author’s visit took place so long ago; many things will now have changed, though not the history, of course.
I much appreciate the books of Paul Theroux and felt him to be unrivalled as a travel writer, but after reading the present author, I must state that Theroux has met his match.
Scotland is my home country and I no longer live there, so this book is obviously of great interest to me (Absence makes the heart grow fonder.)
But it was first published in 1929, so H.V. Morton’s trip took place many years ago, much earlier than Theroux’s visit as portrayed in his book “Kingdom by the Sea”.
H.V. Morton was an Englishman. It was his first time in Scotland; he informs us that the Highlands of Scotland were discovered centuries after America, the greater area of the Highlands being “an unknown wilderness”.
The author patently did much research into Scottish history, and avails us of the results of this research in the present book. I learnt much from it.
He enjoyed Scotland and loved the Scots.
His writing is wonderfully eloquent, He quotes various poets, and informs us also of others who have written about Scotland.
He recommends we acquire Walter Scott’s ”Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border” which contains “deathless” ballads.
He quotes “The King sits in Dunfermline town, Drinking the blude-red wine”
The author calls the Border a “queer compromise between fairyland and battle-field".
He tells a story about Bruce’s heart which was buried before the high altar of Melrose Abbey.
Edinburgh is obviously regal, plainly a capital. In his view, it is a “he”, not “she”. It is as masculine as London. (I don’t know if I agree.)
He tells us about Canongate (where I used to live). It forms the main eastern length of the Royal Mile. “Here are the ghosts of Edinburgh, here in these old stone courtyards – It is grey, sinister, mediaeval”
You stand in Canongate aware of many things -- “”those ill-fated, sallow Stuarts with their melancholy eyes, of that unhappy, lovely queen, who still stirs men’s hearts, of John Knox with his denunciatory finger”.
“As you go past the dim wynds -- a man with a limp and a fine high brow goes with you. Walter Scott!” And you may see Stevenson “in a black velvet jacket”.
“There are too many ghosts in Old Edinburgh – trying to drag you into dark, uncomfortable places, attempting to lure you all night long with their story”.
He tells us that the “alleged” portraits of 110 Scottish monarchs in Holyrood Palace are “”fascinatingly bad - this is the worst picture gallery in the world”. Morton states that all the earlier portraits and even many of the names are pure fiction.
He informs us that the Esplanade – the wide parade ground before the Castle gates – is legally on the other side of the Atlantic, it having been declared Novia Scotia territory in the reign of Charles I. This decree has never been annulled.
In a small room in the Castle, Mary, Queen of Scots, gave birth to a son.
But the story goes that the infant born to Mary three months after Riccio was murdered died at birth or soon after and “in order to avert a political crisis” a changeling was substituted who later ascended the thrones of England and Scotland as James I and VI.
James was never sure of his legitimacy.
In 1830 a small oak coffin was discovered behind the wainscoting; this coffin contained the bones of an infant wrapped in a richly embroidered silk covering. Two initials were worked on this shroud and one of hem was clearly the letter J. Was this the body of Mary’s infant and the rightful heir to the throne? If so, who was James VI?
It has been suggested that the changeling was in fact the infant son of lady Ryves, the “wet nurse of the royal infant”. Also, it has been commented on that James VI “departs from the facial characteristics of the Stuarts”. If you compare him with any of his ancestors, you will see that he is different.
“But he bears an astonishing resemblance to John, Second Earl of Mar, whose lifelong friend he was, whose mother, the Countess of Mar, took charge of Mary’s child soon after his birth and until his christening. Did the Countess substitute her second child for that of her royal mistress? If so, James VI was the younger brother of John, Earl of Mar.”
Apparently it has historically been proved that if the substitution took place, Mary never knew. Mary believed to her dying day that James VI was her son.
Two paintings, one of James and one of the Earl of Mar, show an almost exact facial resemblance. “The likeness is so startling that the pictures might be of one man.”
H.V. visits the Castle of Roslin, or all that was left of it. There was the legend of the buried millions said to be lying in a vault beneath the courtyard. The only person who knew the hiding-place was a lady of the house of St. Clair, now dead. If, however, a trumpet blown in the upper apartments is heard in the dungeons, she would appear and lead on to the gold.
H.V. visits the Palace of Linlithgow. In a little turret there Margaret, the Queen of James IV, waited day after day for the return of her husband from Flodden. “James IV, twelve Scottish earls, thirteen lords, five eldest sons of peers, fifty chief knights, and 10,000 men fell at Flodden.”
In another part of the palace is the room in which Mary, Queen of Scots, was born. When her father, James IV was told that his child was a “lass” he died of a broken heart, at the age of thirty.
H.V. tells us that a real Highlander is quick to take offence and is a fighter. He is a born aristocrat.
He witnesses a wedding in a hotel lounge.
“In Scotland a marriage can be solemnized anywhere. The declaration of a man and a woman that they take one another for husband and wife is a legal marriage. Hundreds of marriages are held in the hotel lounges of Scotland.” Marriages still take place in Gretna Green.
Outside Forres (on the North coast) is a remarkable monolith over 900 years old, supposed to commemmorate a victory of Sweyn, son of Harald, over Malcolm II.
Another stone near at hand marks the place where the witches of Forres were burnt in olden times.
Forres, though poor in 1809, is now (1929) “one of the snuggest towns you will find in the Highlands”.
He states that Inverness annoys and distracts him, He had thought that Edinburgh was the most romantic city in Scotland, but becomes uncertain. Edinburgh is more magnificent, but Inverness is more romantic. It has “a broad, lovely river that flows through the heart of it”.
Inverness is “the watch-tower of the Highlands. The Castle has an incredible view. The doorkeeper of Inverness Castle turned out to be a “Mr Macbeth”.
He had been warned to note the Inverness accent, He was charmed by the accent of the girl in the reception of the hotel and complimented her on it, only to be told that she was English! He failed to find any beautiful accent in the people of Inverness, and fears that the accent of Inverness has killed itself.
He goes to Culloden and tells us the whole story of the defeat of Bonnie Prince Charlie.
Culloden, of all the battle-fields known to the author, is ”still drenched with the melancholy of its association: it is the only battle-field I know which contains the graves of the fallen, buried in trenches as they died”.
Ben Nevis is the highest and most famous mountain in the British Isles. It is 4,406 feet in height, or 846 feet higher than Snowdon,
“Every healthy man who visits Fort William climbs Ben Nevis.”” What about the healthy women?
So he climbs it too, Suddenly, he is in a “valley of death”, where nothing grows. There is a cloud far below him. He enters a mist and meets two men, teeth chattering with cold, who tell him it’s only another half mile to the top.
The mist turns to sleet, and the sleet turns to snow. He enters a ruin for shelter and hears a dreadful sound, “an evil, damnable sound”” - it is the sough of wind coming up over the crest of Ben Nevis.
The precipice over the edge of Ben Nevis is 1,500 feet deep. On his way down the mountain he sees a “brilliant panorama of mountains” and a rainbow, and then the sun shines.
H.V. goes by sea to Skye in the Stornoway boat.
“Shaggy islanders walk the forecastle --- They lean on long sticks – and talk in Gaelic about the price of sheep”. (How does he know?)
At the Kyle of Lochalsh he changes to the Skye boat, a paddle steamer.
The captain and his officers read the morning newspapers in English and discuss them in Gaelic - “a live, vivid language”. (I’m sure that now in 2021 no-one would be speaking Gaelic!)
He “feels himself hanging between this world and the next, between past and future, in some stange, timeless interlude”.
He arrives at Portree after dark and can feel the nearness of great mountains, but can see nothing in the mist.
In the morning he sees “a tremendous Vesuvius called Glamaig shot up in the air” - I assume he means a mountain.
When he departs the inn and turns to the right, the sight of the ‘Black’ Coolins hits him like a blow in the face! He has travelled the world but never seen anything like the ‘Black’ Coolins standing “grape blue and still, in morning sunshine”.
These mountains are “the essence of all that can be terrible in mountains”. They have “the fearful mystery of high places”, crved into “a million queer, horrible shapes”. They are “”formed of rock unlike any other rock so that they will never look the same for very long, now blue, now grey, now silver --- but always drenched in mystery and terror”.
H.V. believes that Skye is the strangest place in the British Isles. He has been told of “the hauntedness” of Skye.
All Skye names are a mixture of Norse and Gaelic. It was Viking land in remote ages. “The Viking named the hills, the lochs, and the moournful .”
With his poetic descriptions, the author eloquently depicts for us the sense of mystery and awe he feels when subjected to the Coolins.
The Coolins fascinate and thrill H.V. “They are frightful. They are stupendous.”
Theroux was also fascinated by these mountains, which however he spelt “Cuillins”, which is apparently the correct, or at least modern, spelling.
Dunvegan Castle, the oldest inhabited castle in Scotland, is opened twice a week for those who want to see the Fairy Flag. The flag would save the (Macleod) clan in three great dangers, by being waved. It had already been waved successfully twice.
H.V. visits the pass of Glencoe, where he learns about the terrible massacre in 1691, when 38 Macdonalds were murdered. When an inquiry was made about the massacre, it was deemed “the most foul and barbaric deed in the history of clan murder”.
Rob Roy was the Robin Hood of Scotland and he dies “as recently as 1734”, which in my view is not recent. He is associated with the Trossachs and Loch Lomond. I would have appreciated more information about Rob Roy than was given.
H.V. visits Glasgow, “the greatest, closely-knit community in Great Britain”. “She is the least suburban of all great cities.”
He tells us that Edinburgh is Scottish, while Glasgow is cosmopolitan.
There’s a section about food, mostly haggis and Scotch broth.
There is much about Robbie Burns, whom he calls the most attractive and in some ways pathetic figure in Scotland. He was “the Pan of Scotland”.
To sum up, I would go so far as to call H.V. Morton a brilliant writer; his descriptions are elegant and poetical and steeped with absorbing historical information. If his book has a downside, it may be that he assumes that the reader knows more Scottish history than he or she in fact does.
Also, it is an obvious drawback that the author’s visit took place so long ago; many things will now have changed, though not the history, of course.
August 13, 2024
I read this book after a recent trip through the Scottish Highlands and Islands and it had the effect of bringing me right back there - like extending a perfect journey. Morton, a century ago, painted pictures still relevant today of this wild, romantic, and rugged place and people. I will never think of the Scots and Scotland the same way again, their independence, ingenuity, and individuality - and how that came about, clans and all. You’ve got to read the book to find out.
August 26, 2022
Written a hundred years ago, In Search of Scotland was written with enough pop and dash and exuberance to keep it alive after so long. Morton has strong "travel blogger" vibes and he's not shy about saying some castle in Edinburgh is a must see or that you haven't properly done Scotland until you've worn your soles out on Ben Nevis. As far as the writing style goes it's a pretty exceptional book, and he has a pretty cheeky way of transliterating the Scottish brogue, but beyond a couple of memorable encounters with locals near the end of his travels he's a bit on the solitary side, whereas my favourite writers are able to connect with the locals and their livelihoods on a deeper level. I wouldn't be surprised if I found myself in possession of another Morton if i can find some decent used bookshop here in Stockholm.
August 28, 2011
Four Stars is a bit generous but a travel book by Morton is like hearing about a country from a good friend with a big heart and an appreciation of literature, history and above all people who just returned from a trip to a foreign land full of enthusiasm. Morton wrote travel books for over 40 years and I think this was his first published in 1929 based on a series of articles he wrote for The Daily Mail as he an Englishman explored Scotland. Amazingly, the accounts are fresh and ring true for me in my trip to Scotland almost 80 years later. Some of it has changed such as the stern piety of the prysbyterian Calvinist which forbade any commerce on the sabbath but much else is unchanged. Today as you travel in Scotland, you see many a church converted to apartments or stores. Scotland like Ireland has fascinated the English for being so utterly different. No wonder, since they are both Outposts of Gaelic culture and resistance.
August 20, 2016
HV Morton's In Search of Scotland is one great, near century old, travelogue.
Part history, part experience, part travel diary it gives you a wonderful sense of the atmosphere of the places he visited on his tour of Scotland in 1929. These parts of the book are seamlessly woven together in a compelling and rich narrative that draws you into how things were in days past.
Included are maps of his route and several plates of his photographs recording especially notable places and views such as the Galashiels Memorial.
If the opportunity arose I would certainly travel to Scotland and follow in his footsteps with this book in hand and compare today to how things were nearly a century ago.
Part history, part experience, part travel diary it gives you a wonderful sense of the atmosphere of the places he visited on his tour of Scotland in 1929. These parts of the book are seamlessly woven together in a compelling and rich narrative that draws you into how things were in days past.
Included are maps of his route and several plates of his photographs recording especially notable places and views such as the Galashiels Memorial.
If the opportunity arose I would certainly travel to Scotland and follow in his footsteps with this book in hand and compare today to how things were nearly a century ago.
July 21, 2016
Morton seems to be enchanted by the rugged romance of Scotland, and he writes about it very movingly. His telling of history is so fresh and imaginative.
April 9, 2020
"First published in 1927, In Search of Scotland is as fresh and evocative as ever. H.V. Morton can unearth a country's past and relate it to the present with infallible instinct, and no one conveys the quintessence of a place better than he. From the Border hills to the grace of Edinburgh and the grit of Glasgow, the coasts, the mountains, moors and islands, Morton's eye for the typical, the timeless and the telling detail never fades. He stirs up all kinds of ghosts from Scottish history -- Walter Scott and Stephenson, Bonnie Prince Charlie and the tragic Mary, Queen of Scots."
~~back cover
I had a hard time with this book at first, and came close to abandoning it several times. What was exciting writing in 1927 sometimes borders on boring 100 years later. But I persevered and I'm glad I did, even though my life would have been no poorer had I succumbed to temptation and abandoned it. Even at 288 pages, the book is merely a skimming of Scotland, which made it frustrating for me. And yet he does manage to catch glimpses here and there of the spirit of Scotland, the things that make her different and yet unchanging. If you're a Scot, or of Scottish descent, I think you'll enjoy this book, even though it does have to be read in short gulps, with recovery time in between.
~~back cover
I had a hard time with this book at first, and came close to abandoning it several times. What was exciting writing in 1927 sometimes borders on boring 100 years later. But I persevered and I'm glad I did, even though my life would have been no poorer had I succumbed to temptation and abandoned it. Even at 288 pages, the book is merely a skimming of Scotland, which made it frustrating for me. And yet he does manage to catch glimpses here and there of the spirit of Scotland, the things that make her different and yet unchanging. If you're a Scot, or of Scottish descent, I think you'll enjoy this book, even though it does have to be read in short gulps, with recovery time in between.
May 7, 2025
Having visited Scotland several times and loving it as I do, reading this wonderful travel adventure was a delightful experience. It's true that H.V. Morton, writing in the 1920's, was not attuned to current sensitivities and, in fact, wasn't a very nice man, but when you get past his occasional unsavory remarks (particularly about Jewish people), the stories of Scotland are interesting and revealing. He wrote a sequel to this book that I'm looking forward to reading.
Would I recommend this book? I enjoyed it, and the history hasn't changed; indeed, much of the Scotland he describes hadn't changed very much when I last visited in the 2010's. If you can, visit the country. If, for whatever reason, you're an armchair traveler as I've become, you might really enjoy this ramble through Scotland.
Would I recommend this book? I enjoyed it, and the history hasn't changed; indeed, much of the Scotland he describes hadn't changed very much when I last visited in the 2010's. If you can, visit the country. If, for whatever reason, you're an armchair traveler as I've become, you might really enjoy this ramble through Scotland.
December 28, 2024
This is a book that makes me feel bad about giving some books 5 stars cause it's incomparable to all but a few. As far as non fiction goes it has everything - insight, depth, knowledge and fun. I'm not a reader of travelogues but I think by being (just shy of) a hundred years old something clicked. I thoroughly enjoyed being transported to the places I've seen whilst having that different time perspective - although some commentary is not far from today's!
The writing style is old timey but only in its elegance- the pacing is perfect. I truly look forward to reading more of his books but I don't think anything will compare with him writing about my home country, cities and people.
Needless to say try and find this book and give it a read!
The writing style is old timey but only in its elegance- the pacing is perfect. I truly look forward to reading more of his books but I don't think anything will compare with him writing about my home country, cities and people.
Needless to say try and find this book and give it a read!
January 22, 2022
An evocative book charmingly dated in many ways but captures Scotland poignantly 10 year post the end of The Great War, before they knew another World War was to come. Don't be deceived by Morton's relaxed and descriptive style - he knows his Scottish history well as well as the works of previous writers who have travelled or lived there and that gives the book more weight than is initially apparent.
July 7, 2025
This book was written about 100 years ago and its style makes that apparent. Morton is a good writer, he is witty and his prose is very evocative of time and place. Having said that when your goal is to read about, for example, Jedburgh Abbey and he devotes 2 paragraphs to the actual abbey and a full pages to a description of his bedroom in the local inn.... The book just didn't give me what I was looking for. The writing was just too colorful but not substantive enough for my taste.
April 25, 2024
HV Morton is now my favorite guide to exploring parts of the world that I've yet to have the joy of visiting.
Through this book I encountered Scotland in a way that is beyond what I could possibly get out of a 2 week vacation there.
I really hope I can go and experience it someday. I'll be very well prepared.
Through this book I encountered Scotland in a way that is beyond what I could possibly get out of a 2 week vacation there.
I really hope I can go and experience it someday. I'll be very well prepared.
July 3, 2024
One of my favorite books having read and reread it many times. There is a recipe for Scotch Broth by the author. Every time I want to make the soup, I end up rereading the entire book loving it just as much each time. And the soup is delicious, warming, comforting and most certainly Scotish.
March 29, 2019
A step back in time in preparation for a visit to a country I've never seen. Will I recognize anything of what H.V. Morton saw before World War II?
February 6, 2024
This book was written in 1929 about a Scotland between the wars. It is definitely dated but Mortons descriptions were beautifully written describing portions of the Highlands of Scotland.
April 24, 2009
This was one of the first books I really fell in love with...besides Lord of the Rings. I read it when I was 13 or 14 and I just ordered a copy from amazon to revisit it. Morton was a travel writer and he wrote a massive amount of books on various different countries.
August 4, 2023
I have enjoyed an interesting and delightful holiday in Scotland through the pages of this book, re-visiting many places I know and love. H.V. Morton is a fount of information as well as an excellent travel writer making his books an interesting and educational pleasure.
April 16, 2016
Did not read the entire book, but read the parts that interested me
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