Thursday, 24 February 2022

Angus Cameron Robertson, 25/12/1867-11/9/1945.

Angus Cameron Robertson's words first reliably pop up in 1903 and place him as living in Alexandra and versifying about "My Highland Home."  In September of 1904 he is noted as having been made a Presbyterian missionary to the location of Ratanui in the Catlins. He was an active member of the temperance community.


An Explanation.

To the Editor, Sir, — In reference to the Rev. Wm. Thomson's Lecture, delivered at Stirling on the 24th inst., the 27th inst. issue of your paper stales that. Mr A. C. Robertson put a question, which the Chairman ruled as vulgar, offensive, and impertinent. The question in point is as follows: Is Mr Thomson a regenerated man, and if so, has he fallen away from grace?" I leave the community to form their own conclusions. — I am, etc., A C Robertson, Balclutha.   -Clutha Leader 31/10/1905.


He was also a keen player of the bagpipes, the 1905 Owaka Christmas sports day being enlivened by the playing of his, the only set of pipes present.


AN APPEAL TO THE CHARITABLE.

We have received a letter from Mr A. C. Robertson, of Balclutha, in which he sets forth the necessitous circumstances of the widow of a bush settler at Ratanui, Catlin's River, and appeals to the public to assist her and her family of six little ones in their sore distress. The late Mr Hugh McMaster, Mr Robertson informs us, was a struggling settler, and the little farm is not their own. "The district is extremely poor." says Mr Robertson, "the roads primitive, the little farm roughly hewn out of the heart of a wilderness of trees that lie and stand in all directions in the poor soil and swampy ground." Locally, the neighbours have collected what they can to help the sorrowing widow. "Her little boy Hughie, the only one of the family to whom she might have looked for help in the course of time — poor child, —had one of his legs amputated a few years back. He was, when I last saw him, "continues Mr Robertson, "suffering from swelling of the joints, languid, weak, pining away." Our correspondent appeals on behalf of the widow and her young family for help in their distress, and sends us his contribution towards the fund, which he hopes will quickly be raised. We gladly accede to his request that we should consent to receive subscriptions, which will be duly acknowledged. 

THE McMASTER FUND. 

A: C. Robertson, Balclutha, £1 13s.  -Otago Daily Times, 3/5/1906.


GAELIC SOCIETY.

The monthly meeting of the Gaelic Society was held at the Oddfellows’ Hall, Stuart street, last evening. The chief of the society (Mr D. McPherson) presided. 

The Chief announced that the society’s annual gathering would this year be held on October 5 — a little later than usual. He hoped that members would assist in making it a success, and endeavor to have as many friends and sympathisers present as possible. It was hoped that the arrangements which were being made this year would prove more enjoyable and draw members closer together than the huge concerts which they used to hold in the Garrison Hall. After referring to certain matters connected with membership tickets, the speaker went on to say that many of those present would remember that a number of years ago he gave a Scottish recitation; — the pathetic ballad of Flory Loynachan. It had proved a puzzle to many members, and after the meeting the secretary and others had asked him as to its meaning. He had promised to give a translation of it at some future time, and he was now able to announce that he had received a copy of the ballad and a glossary giving the meanings of words from Campbelltown, his native place. Gaelic place names were rather difficult to translate into English, but a few years ago a book on the Gaelic place names of Argyllshire, written by Dr Cameron Gillies, of London, had been presented to him by the writer’s brother, a resident of Dunedin. With these sources of information he hoped to he able to complete the translation of the ballad before next meeting and give it to members then. 

Mr A. C. Robertson, at the invitation of the chief, then gave a number of anecdotes illustrative of Gaelic folk-lore and the Gaelic sense of humor. Speaking of the Gaelic tongue itself, Mr Robertson remarked that it was a saying that the heart warmed to the tartan. More so was that the case regarding the Gaelic. It brought back to them memories of the happy days of childhood, when they lisped the Lord’s Prayer in their mother tongue. It was a remarkable fact that what were called “swear words’’ did not exist in Gaelic. In that tongue in its original form it was not possible to use lewd, blasphemous, or even profane expressions. If any such terms existed now, they must have been introduced by the Anglo-Saxon race. As to its duration, their ancestors held that it was the language which had been spoken in the Garden of Eden, and generally it was a language full of poetry, the language of a people who were the salt of the industrial world, and who were and always had been unconquerable. Even Caesar and his legions had been obliged to turn back before the Highlanders, of whom history said: “They were too fleet of foot and too strong and warlike to conquer." Mr D. Matheson, jun., sang ‘Eilean an fhraoich’; Mr Duncan McDonald (s.s. Monowai), ‘Tha na ghradh gach ciobair’; Miss McCallum. ‘Molladh an Larmdaidh’; Mr A. G. Robertson, ‘Mo nighean dubhdhfhas boidbeach dubh.’ The choir (Mr J. Davidson, conductor) sang ‘Dhealaich mi’ nochd ri in’ leannan,’ and Mrs Cross sang ‘We better bide a wee.’ Miss Reeve played the accompaniments, and Mr John McKechnie, jun., gave a number of bagpipe selections during the evening.   -Evening Star, 2/8/1906.


A point beyond the pale of the higher criticism was settled at a meeting held last evening in the Oddfellows’ Hall. Said a speaker; “Our ancestors held the belief strongly that Gaelic was the language of the Garden of Eden. When Adam first saw Eve he walked up to her, like the gentleman he was, and said: ‘Cia mar tha thu mo mhoimneach chor?’” This was the story of the first proposal of marriage as Mr A. C. Robertson told it to the Gaelic Society. It is understood that the words mean: “How do you do, my fair woman?” but beside the majesty of the original mere English seems nowhere.  -Evening Star, 2/8/1906.


CORRESPONDENCE CONDENSED.

A. C. Robertson writes in a lurid way of the drink traffic, and sums up as follows: — "Do the fair sons and.daughters of New Zealand value chastity and purity as the apples of their eyes and the life's blood of the nation? Do we look forward to a holy, strong nation, pure, good, and noble, whose strong stamp, tramp, we may hear in the van of nations in the cause of strength, purity, God, and humanity? If so, blow the mists of mockery away, and rip the blanket of mock modesty to shreds, and let every man, woman, and child, who wishes to breathe the sweet, health-giving atmosphere of God, rush to the fray, and drive the monster devil drink from whence it came."  -Otago Daily Times, 29/11/1906.


CORRESPONDENCE CONDENSED

A. C. Robertson, writing on "The Future of the Drink Traffic," says it is very refreshing to note the manner in which women, practically throughout the world, are at length asserting their rights. Long has the suffering mother of a hunger-pinched, crying, neglected fledgling listened mournfully for the late, staggering footsteps denoting the home-coming of a drunken husband, and long has the husband, brutalised by strong drink, converted home, that should be a hallowed spot, into a miniature hell. The writer describes how in America a band of married women called the  "Nightcaps" sometimes deal with the drunken wifebeater by binding him to a tree and whipping him, and he thinks that New Zealand ladies should take the initiative, use less oral and moral suasion and a little more hemp.  There is no reason why they should not, as the Liquor party strongly advocates retrogression, and bases its arguments on historical precedent. However, it must only be a matter of time, and a comparatively short time at that, when this social curse is wiped off the national slate. The problem arises, What are brewers and publicans and their employees to do then? The solution is not difficult, and the writer would suggest (a) That the Legislature should pass a land law suitable for retiring brewers, publicans, and employees; (b) such law to embody cheap grants of land to these people on the lease-in-perpetuity system until the arrival of the third or fourth generation, when the people could go in for the freehold. Theirs would be an enviable future, and theirs the song of the murmuring brook instead of the drip of the beer-tap. He would, as their friend, lead these deluded people out of bondage.  -Otago Daily Times, 21/2/1907.


LETTERS TO THE EDITOR

MR ANGUS CAMERON ROBERTSON. 

Sir, — I exceedingly regret that Mr A. C. Robertson has permitted himself to use the offensive language which appeared in his last two letters in your columns. I do not propose to reply to them — at least in the meantime. Mr Robertson is well known to me, and what I fear most is that by the use of such language he is compounding with his conscience in a way that is not good. I do not wish to hurt Mr Robertson's feelings in the slightest, but if he will call here, or let me know when he conveniently can come, I shall be glad to talk with him on a matter which, in the kindest sense, will be for his own moral welfare. — I am, etc., Wm. Thomson. 23 Crawford street, Dunedin, February 18, 1907.  -Otago Daily Times, 21/2/1907.


THE REV. WILLIAM THOMSON.

Sir, — I am more than surprised to see a letter in to-day's issue signed by the rev. gentleman accusing me of giving offence. How on earth my friend can infer and take umbrage from my letters on the drink traffic is beyond me, especially when he and others must well know and feel that I wrote the truth, and nothing but the truth. Surely this is a huge misunderstanding. I must thank the rev. gentleman for his kind remarks in respect to my conscience, while I deeply fear and regret, that his own is in a dangerous state of flexibility. Moreover, I am sorry I must on principle decline with thanks his kind invitation to call on him, for the simple reason that, were I to do so his wise and beneficent benediction for the guidance and in the interest of my moral welfare would be imparted in solemn privacy. Why should the rev. gentleman thus place his light undcr a bushel? What is good for me must surely be good for the masses. I can only accept it through the columns of your paper. — I am, etc., A. C. Robertson, February 21.  -Otago Daily Times, 23/2/1907.


CORRESPONDENCE CONDENSED.

A. C. Robertson writes with reference to "Tortured's" query in Passing Notes as to who "perpetrated the bagpipes." He is greatly surprised at "Civis's" remarks concerning "'this beautiful and mellifluous instrument." He thoroughly believes, however, that "Civis" is in fun. As to "Tortured," he is sorry for that gentleman, who has evidently no ear for music. The writer proceeds at length to enlighten "Tortured" as to the history of the bagpipes with detailed reference to mythology and recapitulating the story of the pipes of Pan, besides giving other versions of the origin of the pipes for the authenticity of which he is not prepared to vouch. He concludes: "Whenever I imagine heavenly rapture I have a band of pipers with well-tuned pipes in my mind's eye."   -Otago Daily Times, 15/3/1907.


CORRESPONDENCE CONDENSED.

A. C. Robertson addresses "a kind word to Mr Thomson" and advises him to at once leave the trade and slip the mooring cables of certain correspondents who back him up. Concluding, our correspondent says, "Personally I like Mr Thomson, as he knows. I sincerely hope that he will take this word in the true spirit of brotherly friendliness in which it is written."  -Otago Daily Times, 16/3/1907.


CORRESPONDENCE CONDENSED

A. C. Robertson discusses the Chinese question at considerable length. He argues (1) that there always have been, and always will be, races of peoples that are superior to others: (2) that, judging from the slow progress Christianity has made, we are an infinitely long way from the arrival of the millennial era: (3) that the Divine command to preach the Gospel to every creature does not imply that we are to commingle, marry, and inter-marry alien and inferior races; this would be equally disastrous to both. If we are at all to come in contact with these races we must uplift them, or they, being numerically stronger, will inevitably pull us down to their own level: (4) that the blessed age of tranquillity and peace will come to pass, sooner or later, only at a period determined by the amount of good every individual will accomplish during a lifetime: (5) that no racial hatred should be countenanced or fostered, yet we have a perfect right to preserve the purity of our race, of which we are justly proud: (6) that every inferior and uncouth race will only be fit to commingle with us when we have brought them up as a whole to our own standard of refinement and civilisation. John Ruskin says: "I wish to plead for your several and future consideration of this one truth, that the notion of discipline and interference lies at the very root of all human progress or power; that the 'let-alone' principle is, in all things which man has to do with, the principle of death; that it is ruin to him, certain and total, if he lets his land alone, if he lets his fellow men alone, if he lets his own soul alone. His whole life, on the contrary, must, if it is a healthy life, be continually one of ploughing and pruning, rebuking and helping, governing and punishing; and therefore it is only in the concession of some great principle of restraint and interference in national action that he can ever hope to find the secret of protection against national degradation."  -Otago Daily Times, 15/8/1907.


CORRESPONDENCE CONDENSED

A. C. Robertson, referring to the fact that, a short time ago he had occasion to direct attention to the presence in the public streets of a ferocious dog, says that evil as this scourge is, there is another far more so in the drink hound. He writes of this: — "It sorely bit a large number of young and old of both sexes last Saturday night, who, yelping and staggering, dragged each other along our streets. Some of these — a pitiful-looking, distorted-faced, winking-eyed, vacant-staring, maudlin, hapless crew — stood, and reeled, and asked foolish questions around our open air meeting in the Octagon while the rev. Messrs Slade and Laws delivered stirring and eloquent messages of hope and deliverance and life and peace. The contrast was harrowing in the extreme — the more so, as I thought of the very possible misery and sorrow in these poor drunken ones' homes. Yesterday afternoon another poor victim had been bitten so severely that he bore marks of having been rolling in the gutter. He was dragged past us by another man in Princes street, and ultimately dumped on a doorstep. According to 'Sandy McTogg's' harrowing monthly list, not less than the astounding number of 114 souls have been wounded, some fatally, some irrecoverably, and all severely. What about the misery, the sorrow, and the shame of the myriads of cases not recorded?"  -Otago Daily Times, 9/11/1907.


RATTY ROBERTSON.

A No-License Crank.

As election time is getting nearer the daily press are inundated with letters from all sorts of the silly Prohibitionist ass, who seldom write anything new or worth remembering, and as often as not fill several inches with puerile rubbish. Why the papers print such piffle is an old hoary mystery, probably having a solution in the ancient hungry cry after subscribers: if a man's letter is not printed, he stops his paper, and patronises the rival rag. One of the most regular contributors of unsophisticated rot to the Dunedin papers is A. C. Robertson. He writes poetry. To anyone who knows anything about the rules of the game, A. C. Robertson's poetry is a source of unceasing joy. He writes letters supporting No-License, which contain neither reason nor sense. Here is a fair sample of his dogmatism, cut from the "Otago Daily Times," on the "Drink Question": — "Sir, — The drink question is like every other evil question that has been handed down to us across the centuries." He does not say in what way but goes right on: "That the traffic is an evil is well known by every rational creature in the world." Therefore, a big percentage of the people in this bad country are mad, according to the clever Robertson. "At the same time we respect the feelings of the men and women in the trade knowing that they are placed there by public demand." 

HOW AWFULLY GOOD OF ROBERTSON! The brewers and publicans of Dunedin must feel grateful to this amiable man for the little bit of consideration shown them. "Therefore, as a community, let us remove the demand for the marketable evil article, and the immediate result will be that the article will become a drug in the market." Then he goes on in his maudlin way to quote what he calls a noble speech by the late Archbishop Temple and observes that the late-lamented Archbishop's remarks are equally applicable on board ship and ends up with the gratuitous information that he was a ship's officer for 17 years, during which time he never ill-treated his men. This paper is curious to know what possible connection there is between the drink traffic and the sea experience of the asinine Robertson, what the sayings of the defunct Archbishop have to do with the No-License arguments of the hysterical Robertson, and what advantages the editors of the dull Dunedin dailies see in printing his silly vaporings. This letter is a fair sample of the effusions published regularly by the balmy boot-maker poet Robertson, and yet it is about on a par with the flow of rubbish from No-License pens that is commencing to be observable in the dead "Star", and the prosy "Times":  as if anything exuding from the intellects of such literary lunatics would influence a vote one way or the other when the time comes for people to cast their opinions into the polling boxes. 

A Christchurch person named Alex. Wilson lived in sin with a woman, who subsequently died, and then gave her a gaudy funeral worth £l0 19s. He failed to settle with corpseplanter Langford, and when that individual sued for the cash, Wilson claimed haughtily that his late mistress's husband ought to pay for the obsequies. An astonished magistrate ordered the payment of ten bob a week until the debt is liquidated, if the husband doesn't kill Wilson in the meantime.  -NZ Truth, 4/4/1908.


CORRESPONDENCE CONDENSED.

A. C. Robertson, having been asked by a number of people what he thought of the Rev. Mr Gibson-Smith's book, expresses the opinion that the rev. gentleman's mental and physical condition, whilst he was writing the book, should be carefully taken into consideration in a calm and dispassionate manner, as he understands that much writing is very trying on the nervous system. Then, the whole affair should be made a matter of fervent prayer, and the light will doubtless dawn in accordance with the promptings of the spirit.   -Otago Daily Times, 17/10/1908.


THE GAELIC SOCIETY.  (abridged)

The monthly meeting of this society was held last night in the Oddfellows' Hall, Stuart Street. There was a large attendance, and the Chief (Mr Dugald McPherson) presided. In his introductory remarks he mentioned that the New Year ceilidh had been a pronounced success, and a substantial amount would be added to the Widow McDonald Fund. He was happy to say that the call for subscriptions to this fund had been warmly responded to. He had received from Mr A. C. Robertson a fine poem, which that gentleman had composed in view of the 150th anniversary of the birth of Burns. The society had reason to be proud to have as one of its number a bard of such merit as Mr Robortson. He then read the poem, which was much appreciated, and added that it was a happy coincidence that there was present in the meeting Mr John Davidson, of Lawrence, a great grandson of no less a personage than "Souter Johnnie," immortalised by Burns in "Tam o' Shanter."   -Otago Daily Times, 4/2/1909.


The inter-island steamer SS Penguin struck a rock off the Wellington coast in a storm and sank on February 12, 1909, the ship being finally shattered when seawater reached the boiler which exploded. Seventy five people died.  Angus Robertson saw an excellent opportunity to poetise, describe the tragic scene as he imagined it, and offer spiritual comfort to the bereft.  His poem has all the attributes of one written by a great poet - except greatness.


THE WRECK OF THE PENGUIN.

The night is wild and stormy seas, Come swirling on the misty breeze. 

Abnormal currents here prevail, Which add a terror to the gale, 

And thro' the hedge-like, fog they dash, Till ho! Alas, a tearing crash 

Is heard above the roaring tide, As from the tragic rock they glide. 

"All hands on deck!" the orders ring, As helpless hands to mothers cling

"All hands on deck, the boats get ready" "Now seamen all keep cool and steady!" 

The boats are filled with precious freight, Amid the darkness of the night. 

The moaning winds and waves are sighing, For mothers fond and children crying. 

The boats are lower'd but sad to say, Engulphed amid the briny spray 

Leave all their occupants to lave, And welter in the angry wave 

By this the gallant ship goes down, While o'er her sweeping billows frown, 

Some now are swimming for the shore, Some sink alas! to rise no more. 

Along the beach ah! what a sight, That greets the dawn and morning light; 

Poor lifeless hands lie stark and cold, Poor rosy checks and locks of gold; 

I will not dwell upon this scene, It gives me pain too strong and keen, 

But trust a kindly word may cheer, Those left to mourn their loved ones dear. 

There's consolation in the thought, Tho' o'er and o'er most dearly bought 

That those poor lambs who fled away, Are happy now in endless day; 

And there will welcome dear ones home, The stormy seas no more to roam, 

Now mothers think — what gift you've given, To swell the melody of Heaven? 

A. C. Robertson, Belleknowes. Dunedin.  -Clutha Leader, 19/2/1909.


LATE ADVERTISEMENTS

STOP!  STOP!  STOP!

LOOK!  LOOK!  LOOK! 

A. C. ROBERTSON, Bard of the Gaelic Society of N.Z., Mariner, and Author, etc., has now Published a Small Book of English Poems, interesting, humorous, and pathetic. They are going like hot pies. If you want one posted to you, write at once, and enclose 2s 7 1/2d: outside the Dominion, 2s 8 1/2d. Address, Roseberry street, Belleknowes, N.Z. 

Yes! even the men in the street, Declare it is really a treat 

To purchase my book, And sit in a nook, 

To read my poetical screed.   -Otago Daily Times, 19/7/1910.


PUBLICATIONS RECEIVED

Mr A. C. Robertson, of this city, has just published a small book containing a number of poems, prefaced by a laudatory sketch by a number of friends of a life which has been full of adventure, and illuminated by many kindly traits. Mr Robertson is a bard of the Gaelic Society, a member of the Burns Club, and naturally finds himself in his element in these bodies, as he hails from Skye, and is, as the preface says, descendant of a line of bards and pipers. The principal pieoe is entitled "Bygone Days in the Highlands," a dream of a Highland winter, in which this hardy Crofter's lot is depicted with a fidelity reminiscent of Burns's "Cottar's Saturday Night." There are other poems evoked by passing events, such as the visit of Mr J. Foster Fraser to Dunedin, the wreck of the Penguin, etc., but these have not the imagery of those dealing with the Highlands, where mysticism reigns supreme, and stories of witches and elves are traditional. A kindly spirit pervades the little book, showing that though the author has been buffeted by sea and land, he has not been soured in the process. The work will have not a little charm for Mr Robertson's compatriots, while the sassenach reader will see much in it to admire.  -Otago Daily Times, 23/7/1910.


Mr A. C. Robertson, of Dunedin, has received from Queen Alexandra's private secretary (the Hon. Sidney Greville) a letter in which, at the express desire of her Majesty, he conveys to Mr Robertson her acceptance of his poem on the death of King Edward and her appreciation of the sympathy extended her by Mr Robertson and his wife. Mr Robertson wrote his poem as bard of the Gaelic Society of New Zealand. He naturally regards the letter from Buckingham Palace with pride, and intends to have it framed and to hand it down as an heirloom to those that come after him.  -Otago Daily Times, 30/8/1910.


Mr A. C. Robertson, whose facile pen is well known, is at present looking up old friends and others in this district in the interests of a book he has recently published. The book contains an interesting biographical sketch of Mr Robertson himself, and quite a number of verses from his pen. He has apparently the faculty of dropping into poetry on a wide variety of subjects, though the view point of the Doric is evidently the most congenial. Many of his writings attain considerable merit — all are interesting — and have received commendation in high places. He holds letters from Queen Alexandra, the Duke of Argyll, Lady McDonald of the Isles, Lord Plunket, Lord Ranfurly, Lord and Lady Islington, and others.   -Clutha Leader, 13/12/1910.

By "and others," it is possible that the Clutha Leader means "or the private secretaries thereof."


GAELIC SOCIETY

One of those happy meetings which bring Highland folk together for the purpose of keepng green the memory of yon hills far away was held by the Gaelic Society last night in the Oddfellows’ Hall, Stuart street. The Chief (Mr Dugald McPherson) was in the chair. In the course of his remarks he made reference to the recent New Year ceilidh, which was one of the best ever held by the Society. He read the following autograph letter from His Grace the Duke or Argyll to Mr A. C. Robertson, the society's bard: — "Accept my thanks for your kind thought in sending me your poem, May you have many years before you to keep alive in the new land the memories of the old.”   -Evening Star, 2/2/1911.


Mr A. C. Robertson, our fellow townsman, submitted for acceptances by their Excellencies Lord and Lady Islington copies of his poem, "Coronation Souvenir from New Zealand" and received the following reply from his Excellency's private secretary "I am directed by the Governor to convey to you his thanks for your letter and for the poems which you were kind enough to send to Lady Islington and himself. His Excellency will be pleased to submit for the gracious acceptance of their Majesties the King and Queen and Queen Alexandra copies of the poems mentioned in your letter."  -Otago Daily Times, 11/3/1911.


PUBLICATIONS RECEIVED

Under the title of "Crown and Empire," Mr A. C. Robertson has collected a number of his patriotic pieces and presents them to the public. He dedicates the work to the little folk of the Empire in affectionate terms, adjuring them at the close to "Nail the British flag to the masthead, and guard it nobly through sunshine and storm alike and pass it down unsullied to-posterity." The poems include a letter to Queen Alexandra, a Lament to King Edward VII (in English and Gaelic), a "welcome" to Lord Islington, also one to Lady Islington, and facsimile letters of acknowledgments of these, as well as one from the Duke of Argyll, dated last October. The literal translation from the Gaelic is interesting inasmuch as it gives an insight into the structure of Celtic verse. As for example: 

The wind rushed at a gallop, 

Accompanied by the echo of the hills, 

Faintly sighing and sobbing to each other.  -Otago Daily Times, 11/4/1911.


The president of the Overseas Club (Mr C. S. Wood) has presented us with a copy of a patriotic poem by Mr Angus Cameron Robertson, of Dundee, called, "Welcome! H.M.S. New Zealand." Several copies of the poem are being distributed amongst the Campbell street school children who so kindly helped in the patriotic demonstrations given by the Overseas Club.   -Manawatu Standard, 21/10/1913.


SUPREME COURT

IN BANCO. (Before His Honor Mr Justice Sim.) 

DIVORCE DECREES. 

Martha Maria Robertson v. Angus Cameron Robertson; motion to make decree nisi absolute. Mr Irwin in support. — Mr Hanlon said that the respondent had communicated with him, saying: “I have not the slightest objection whatever. Therefore, kindly proceed with the good work and oblige.” — His Honor: He objected in the first instance. — Mr Hanlon: Yes. but he has got over that. — His Honor made the decree absolute.  -Evening Star, 16/12/1921.


Books and Bookmen

‘SALT SEA TANG’ 

(By Angus Cameron Robertson. Extra Master Mariner and Hon. Bard of Gaelic Society of New Zealand, 1 Lonsdale terrace, Mornington, Dunedin.) 

— An Appreciation, by D. McNeil, B.A., Invercargill. — ‘Salt Sea Tang’ is a unique compilation offering an astonishing variety of literary fare, prose and verse, selected from the prolific output of one versatile pen. Of the author’s gift of poetic expression there is cumulative evidence in the book. The chosen bard of the Gaelic Society of New Zealand reveals the bardic temperament in his sensitive response to the appeals of Nature and of humanity. From both these realms his themes are drawn and his inspiration kindled. With wealth of rhyme, double rhyme and assonance, he weaves festal and funeral wreaths; depicts notable events in the passing pageant of history; pays homage to worthy souls of high rank or low rank; and for once, changing his key, gives blistering castigation to an unworthy type of critic. Rounded fullness of treatment is the rule, but more wafts of sentiment, glimpses of thought, take form in scattered couplets or four-line fragments, as though the minstrel improvised a stray chord while feeling his way to a sustained theme. Not least fervid are the strains which give utterance to the Highlander’s love for his racial heritages, for the kilt, the tartan, the national dances, and especially the bagpipes. Often, as the bard turns from praise of New Zealand scenes to recall the glens and bens that were the ancient home of expatriated Gaels, one is reminded of the passionate outcry of the exiled Jew:

If thee, Jerusalem, I forget, 

Skill part from my right hand. 

My tongue to my mouth’s roof let cleave

If 1 do thee forget. 

Not one whit less loved than Zion are Lochabce and the sea-smitten Hebrides. As for the mother tongue of the Scottish Celt, it may be slowly dying, but with our author it lives, and its pulses throb again in the few Gaelic poems included in the collection. For the diverse prose pieces interspersed throughout the volume, material and atmosphere are largely derived from the author’s seafaring, from his experiences in different quarters of the globe, and from his many-sided activities. There is, however, a good deal that lies beyond these limits: not only the scenes of the visible world, but also the fruits of reflection and speculative thought take shape — sometimes untrammelled aud unexpected shape — in these writings. Behind all that the book contains there rises to mind the figure of the author as one conceives it from the few glimpses and incidental suggestions which the text affords; an unyielding battler with adversity from childhood, and always a learner in its uncompromising school; a rover who by sea and land has observed and mingled with cosmopolitan life; a hungry seeker after knowledge and enlightenment; an aspirant to whom self-expression in some form is a perpetual urge. And, as a reflex from a life thus conditioned and shaped, ‘Salt Sea Tang’ takes on a new interest.   -Evening Star, 20/8/1927.


Public Notices

“SALT SEA TANG,” 

A FINE CHRISTMAS GIFT BOOK. 

The biggest and most interesting book of its kind ever published in New Zealand. It consists of 164 subjects, well written in prose and in verse. One of the subjects is on “Infantile Paralysis: Its Cause and Prevention.” The volume is strongly bound, in good clear type, on the best of paper. This valuable book should be in every home in New Zealand. Encourage local industry! Order the book to-day! The price is only 36s, post free within New Zealand. 

Address your letter to the Author: ANGUS CAMERON ROBERTSON, Extra Master Mariner, C.P.O., Dunedin. ALL ORDERS PROMPTLY ATTENDED TO.   -Otago Daily Times, 20/12/1927.


Public Notices

“SALT SEA TANG.” 

A book of universal interest. Infants love it. The wise prize it. Old age cherishes it. Lovers memorise it. Inspiration of Elocutionists. One hundred and sixty-four different subjects in one book. Nervous maladies; their causes. Infantile Paralysis; Cause and Prevention. Save the children, our dearest jewels. Order book to-day. Price 36s. ANGUS CAMERON ROBERTSON, Extra Master Mariner, C.P.O., Dunedin.   -Otago Daily Times, 22/12/1927.


 “SALT SEA TANG” 

SELLS ITSELF. A Book that will Stand the Test of Time. Containing Postulates and Truisims, founded on the Immutable Functioning of Natural Laws. 

SELLING LIKE “HEY-MA-NANNIE.” 

Still Some Left. PRICE: 36s, Post Free. Apply to the Author direct for this big and valuable volume; ANGUS CAMERON ROBERTSON, Extra Master Mariner, C.P.O., DUNEDIN.  -Otagio Daily Times, 24/12/1927.


Public Notices

"SALT SEA TANG.” This big and valuable Volume is only procurable from the Author direct, at the comparatively reasonable price of 36s, post free. Cordial thanks and hearty greetings to the Author’s numerous patrons, who during the last 28 years cheerfully bought not than 36,000 copies of his variegated publications. 

ANGUS CAMERON ROBERTSON, Extra Master Mariner, C.P.O., Dunedin.  -Otago Daily Times, 24/12/1927.


Some Minor Poetry

Angus Cameron Robertson and his books of verse are well known to residents of Otago. He is possessed of a poetic fluency and a business pertinacity which, combined, have given his verses a very large circulation. With an ambition worthy of all praise he has now collected his writings in a substantial volume entitled “Salt Sea Tang,” which, to quote the author’s preface, is “full of variety and adventures on sea and land,” and which has been “picked from sufficient MS.S. to make five big volumes.” Mr Robertson has been wise in restricting himself to a single volume, and his well-wishers will doubtless come to his aid as he solicits orders for his now book.  -Otago Daily Times, 7/1/1928.


The Tasman Conquerors.

(By Angus Cameron Robertson, Dunedin). 

Aviation may be said to be still in its infancy, compared with what it will be in future ages. Like every other branch of knowledge, it is sure to advance with the years, it will be perfected and largely used in future, not only as a quick means of transport but likewise as a means of opening up the comparatively unknown and uncultivated empty spaces of the earth. The pioneers of this province are worthy of all praise and encouragement for they take their lives in their hands in their heroic ventures, and in consequence the toll taken of their numbers from time to time is a large one. When Squadron Leader Kingsford Smith and his heroic companions of the now world-famous Southern Cross crossed the Pacific from California to Australia, thence to New Zealand, they performed a feat that will always be remembered in historic pages. On that occasion, I had the honour and the privilege of writing the following lines to commemorate the event: 

THE TASMAN FLYERS. 

Hail! hail! to the heroes of infinite space. Who conquered the Tasman thro’ storm, snow, and hail. 

Extol and applaud them in every place — New Zealand united echoes “All hail.”

See! see! them in darkness with lightning flashing, Like gods or like seraphim soaring on high —

Now blindly steering while thunders are crashing, And tempests terrific are rending the sky. 

Ascending and dodging the tumult and rattle. They feel for an altitude out of the gale 

With nerves all a-quiver and tuned to the battle. They fly like an eagle thro’ thunder and hail. 

Amazing achievement — in song and in story — To record with pride in the annals of fame, 

Appealing to ages to be in its glory, And setting all air-minded hearts in a flame.

[When Mr Robertson wrote the above lines he forwarded them to Squadron-Leader Kingsford Smith, and in due course received the following acknowledgment. "Thank you very much for your kind letter of 23rd Sept, and for the kind thoughts expressed in same. The Tasman sea is certainly a rough stretch of water, and we had a pretty tough trip back to Sydney. My companions and myself appreciate the lines “The Tasman Flyers” very much indeed. Again thanking you and reciprocating your kind wishes. (Signed) G. P. Ulm, Co-Commander, “Southern Cross.”] 

As we all so well know, since that event these heroic men almost met their doom in the Northwest territory of Australia — the coast of which the writer knows well. We heartily and sincerely rejoice that these brave men were discovered, and may long life be theirs and may every good fortune attend them.  -Lake Wakatip Mail, 30/4/1929.


 "THE BAGPIPES! HISTORY AND A TRADITIONS!” 

A thnllingly interesting little Book by well-known author, tracing pipe history from the mists of antiquity down to present day. In book, Celtic is defended and upheld. On receipt of 2s 6d Book shall be forwarded, post free, to any address in Dominion. All orders promptly attended. — Apply to ANGUS CAMERON ROBERTSON. 34 Hope street, Dunedin.  -Otago Daily Times, 10/7/1930.


"THE BAGPIPES! HISTORY AND TRADITIONS!” 

Delightful pipe of moor and ben. Oh! Who can tell how old thou art? 

Majestic music of the glen, And. inspiration of the heart! 

Best Pipe Book written, containing the best defence of Gaelic in English literature. Thril;ingly interesting. By wellknown author. Great value. 2s 6d, ANGUS CAMERON ROBERTSON, 34 Hope street, Dunedin.  -Otago Daily Times, 16/7/1930.


Our "Marsyas” has been engaged, of late, in poetic peregrinations into the abdominal, and events other than gustatory have passed him by unobserved. Likewise our Angus Cameron Robertson, preoccupied finding what Celt first, took out a policy against expenditure and equally intent upon discovering a word to rhyme with insurance, is not concerned with songs in honour of salvaged seamen. The epic of the Tahiti deserves, however, some worthy monument of phrase and metre, Mr Masefield, having joined the King's apiary, will sing no more, but Mr J. C. Squire has written an emotional poem of shipwreck that may do, though his actual purpose was to give the Poet Laureate a lead in retelling. “Casabianca.”

"You dirty dog," "You snouty snipe," 

"You lump of muck,” "You bag of tripe," 

Such as their latest breaths, they drew, The objurgations of the crew. 

" —————— ” they roared. As they went tumbling overboard. 

Or frizzled like so many suppers All along the halyard scuppers. 

“You ——" . . .the last was gone. And Gassy yelled there all alone. 

(He thought the old man was on the ship.) “Father, this gives me the. fair pip!" 

Dogs barked, owls hooted, cockerels crew. As in my works they often do

When, flagging with my main design, I pad with a descriptive line,

Young Gassy cried again, "Oh damn! What an unhappy put I am!

Will nobody go out and search for dad, who’s left me in the lurch. 

For dad, who's left me on the poop, For dad, who’s left me in the soup. 

For dad, who’s left me on.the deck? Perhaps it’s what I should expeck, 

Considerin’ ’ow he treated me Before I came away to sea." -Otago Daily Times, 27/8/1930.


“ADVANCE NEW ZEALAND!”

" Advance New Zealand! " By Angus Cameron Robertson. Dunedin: David M. Lister.

The latest work from the pen of Mr Angus Cameron Robertson, of Dunedin, is part inspirational, part economic. Mr Robertson in “Advance New Zealand!" identifies himself with those many New Zealanders who have an earnest belief in the high destiny of this Dominion and a profound distrust of the politicians in whose hands, they aver, it is presently held. “Had we been governed by good, sincere and honest men,” he states, “possessing a true knowledge of the fundamentals of nationhood, there certainly would be little or no depression in this young and beautiful country; favoured, as it is, by Nature. But, alas, we have fallen on evil days by wrong government. . . .” 

Mr Robertson traces the cause of the present depression to the Great War, and repeats the warning so often heard that in another conflict “our poor civilisation shall be buried in the dust like former civilisations, and Nature will hurl us each into the savage state of cave men.” The hope for the future lies “in having faith and trust in each other and in cultivating the arts of industry and universal peace and brotherhood — rather than suspicious fear, enmity and warfare.” After warning the public against being “bull-dosed and gulled by political candidates and the press,” the author outlines a programme which he considers can create a Utopia in New Zealand. Among his proposals may be mentioned prison reform and the abolition of capital punishment; the extension of the old-age pension system; the abolition of legal and medical fees and of land agents in favour of State institutions; the abolition of alcohol as a beverage; the acclimatisation of British herring in our waters; and "the best to be taken out of every creed and sect, and merged into one, thus forming one National Church, whose ministers shall be paid by Government.” 

This book, which has been well-pro-duced, is embellished with quotations from the poets and philosophers and with several poems by the author, including “ The National Prayer of New Zealand,” in the manner of Burns. J. M.  -Otago Daily Times, 30/7/1932.


The Pilgrims Progress

(By Angus Cameron Robertson, Author and Pilgrim.)  (excerpt)

As already indicated, if such a small body of water as the Teviot River is capable of generating such power as it certainly does, can the imagination of the reader portray what shall happen when the river Molyneux is harnessed up on the American principle. From Cromwell to Port Molyneux powerful pumps shall be worked by power generated from the river. Elevated dams shall be filled with millions of tons of water. The mountain side as well as the plain shall be worked. The Molyneux shall become the garden of New Zealand, powerful spray force pumps shall have jets of sparkling waters right over the summits of the mountains. Every foot of land shall be cultivated; waste lands shall be planted in trees. Tramways shall run to the summit of Mt. Benger, and the people in the coming city of Roxburgh shall have their summer lodges in the summit of Mt. Benger. The river shall be full of salmon and trout: deer and other game shall abound in the mountain forest. Roxburgh shall become a great seat of culture and learning. In other parts of the world it shall be said of refined and cultured Roxburgh young men and young women: — “ That refined, and scholarly person is a graduate of Roxburgh Universitv.” As a natural sanatorium, Roxburgh shall assuredly become world-wide famous. Its young men and women shall become distinguished abroad on account of their good physique, their manly qualities, the women by their womanly charm and beauty — they shall he known as the Roxburgh “peaches” and Dumbarton “apricots”; and women from Coal Creek shall he referred to as the Coal Creek “roses.” In the midst of this gloomy depression we have great reason to be thankful to God, refrain from grousing, and feel truly grateful for the charm of our surroundings. Our pilgrimage in this charming district has been made exceeding pleasant on account of us being the honoured guests of the Misses Haughton in “Avoca House.” We have in our day jostled in royal Oriental courts and camps: we have lived with saints of great sanctity; we have circumnavigated the globe some twenty-seven times, but the kindly homeliness and genuine comforts of “Avoca House” shall always recall kind and happy memories.  -Mt Benger Mail, 1/3/1933.


Deaths

ROBERTSON. — On September 11, 1945, at Dunedin, Angus Cameron Robertson (native of Skye); aged 77 years. "At rest.” Private interment. — R. McLean and Son, funeral directors.  -Evening star, 14/9/1945.


GAELIC SOCIETY CONCERT   (excerpt)

Members of the Gaelic Society assembled last evening in the R.S.A. Social Hall. Chief Thomas Stuart presided and was supported by Chieftains W. R. McKenzie, W. H. McLeod. A. Matheson, and D. McInnes. The chief, in opening the meeting, welcomed members and a visitor, Miss Baird, and also Mr Cattanach, of the Burns Club, Wellington. Two old and honoured members of the society, Bard Angus Cameron Robertson, and Treasurer James D. Cameron, died recently, and the chief called on Pipe-major Neil Munro to play a lament as a tribute to their memory.   -Evening Star, 6/10/1945.

Andersons Bay Cemetery, Dunedin.



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