Taken by the Fairy Host

A number of fairy traditions talk of the fairies kidnapping infants – these are the changeling stories that are fairly common – or of the fairies helping with the harvest and demanding more work, or, of course, the fairy lover. Even though they are perceived to be familiar, the fairy folk are considered to be amoral: they can either be kind or malevolent as the situation dictates. This short anecdote hails from Barra: Carmichael either recorded it from Alexander MacNeil, Alasdair mac Ruairidh Bhàin  (c. 1787–1881) from Kentangaval, or John Cameron (1805–1889) of Borve, over a two day period from 24th to the 25th September 1872. This notebook (CW90) consists of seventy-two folios. Seeing as it only contains these two dates, Carmichael must have been extraordinarily busy over these two recording sessions.

An Sluagh

2 men comi[n]g thro[ugh] Cliff at
Creag an La’uir an ta gheo[bh]
mise mo dheachain a noc[hd].
Gu de[i]m[hi]in gheo[bh] [th]u sin. Than
slu[a]gh eir faicin[n] ma
cuairt. Cait bheil ad! Siad
as shuas point[ed] to the Skye
An oi[dh]che bhios ad dol gam
thogail bi ad ri moghs nan
nach bi ri ad a maoigha
an Tha ad ri mogh a noc[hd]
thog ad a sin e & bha e snamh
san adhar 3 f[ee]t above ground
mar ian eir eilg a plap
ail. Thog ad leo e Fag e fag
e la[bhu]ir e mu dh eir[eadh] Leig ad
s e air a mhuir. Shnamh
e gu tir. Carson shir [th]u sid?
Ge bu ait[e] am bi mise
leig ad as mi mar shir
orra. Bha e na lobrach an
bog boc[hd]

Interestingly enough, Carmichael noted this about the ‘Sluagh’: Host, the spirits of the dead. Tha an sluagh a’ tighinn ’s a’ falbh, is marbh gun bhith beò, the ‘host’ comes and goes, dead and not alive. Such a definition makes a connection between the fairy folk and the dead. In addition to this short anecdote, Carmichael recorded Carraig nan Al (‘The Rock of Rocks’) from John Cameron. Carmichael also took down material from Alexander MacNeil’s wife Mary MacDonald, and from his daughter, Marion MacNeil, Mór nighean Alasdair mhic Ruairidh Bhàin, one of the earliest recordings of Craobh nan Ubhal (‘The Apple Tree’). By all appearances, MacNeil was a renowned tradition bearer for he was also recorded by John Francis Campbell of Islay and Hector MacLean. Carmichael, in a brief biographical note, provides the following snippet:

Mr Iain Campbell of Islay and, for him, the distinguished scholar Mr Hector Maclean, Islay, took down many tales from this reciter. I wrote down many more, but all three of us made little impression upon the old man’s abundant lore. I noted from him the names and characters of several score of long heroic tales, any or all of which he was ready to dictate to me. Amongst them was a very long, complete and wondrously fine version of Deirdire. Alexander Macneil said that the version of this tale which I had already taken down from his brother Iain Donn was only a fragment. Yet this fragment of the story of Deirdire has been pronounced by critics equal to any ancient or modern classic.

Perhaps there was some sibling rivalry going on between the two brothers but it remains a bit of a mystery why Carmichael did not record a ‘superior’ version of Deirdire when the opportunity knocked, even if this was only from the say-so of the tradition bearer himself.

References:

CW90, fo. 58v.

Carmina Gadelica i, pp. 42–43; ii, p. 381; v. pp. 3, 23, 323; vi. p. 128.

Macneil, Calum, ‘Carmichael in Barra’ in Domhnall Uilleam Stiùbhart (ed.), The Life & Legacy of Alexander Carmichael (Ness: The Islands Books Trust, 2008), pp. 44–57.

Image: Satellite Image of the Isle of Barra

The Sweet Sorrow – An Arthurian Ballad

Carmichael, of course, was not the only collector to contribute to the pages of The Highlander, for his friend and sometime mentor, John Francis Campbell or Iain Òg Ìle was a prolific writer and correspondent. It can be easily discerned that Campbell was an inverterate notetaker as his books are filled with marginalia – sometimes of rather a scathing nature – and he kept scrapbooks of newspaper clippings that took his interest. The following, rather long article, was printed in 1876 with a contribution from Carmichael and with another contributed from a North Uist schoolmaster. Two versions of the famous Arthurian ballad Am Bròn Binn (‘The Sweet Sorrow’) are given, one from South Uist and the other from North Uist, together with a prefatory note from Campbell himself reflecting the scholarly Gaelic interests and concerns of that time.

BRON BINN

SIR, - The following version of a current Gaelic ballad was sent to me by Mr Alexander Carmichael in January, 1876, while I was in the south of France. These, as appears, were collected, orally, in South Uist for me in 1865. In 1860 Mr Hector Maclean got me a version of one of these ballads in Islay. In 1872 I printed it at p. 208 Leabhar na Féinne. In that same year I discovered that ancient scribes has written “Arthurian” poetry and prose “in pure Irish,” translated, as was then surmised, from Welsh. The Mabiongian contains arthurian tales, taken from an ancient Welsh munuscript. These Welsh and Irish writings prove that Arthurian literature, which overspread all Europe of old, which occupies the Poet-Laureate now, and which purports to be ancient British history, was current long ago in Wales and in Ireland. The Gaelic ballads prove that fragments of Arthurian romance still are orally preserved, and greatly enjoyed in the Scotch Isles. In these days when the authenticity of Homer occupies the pen of Mr Gladstone, and the authenticity of Ossian in question, the authenticity of Celtic Arthur may possibly interest those readers of the The Highlander who are called MacArthur, and those of my clan who are MacAdams, and antiquarians. – I am, Sir, your obedient servant, J. F. CAMPBELL.

              Niddry Lodge, Kensington,
                    March 4, 1876.

BRON BINN

Bho Iain MacLeoid, craoitear, Iocar, Uist a Chinn a Deas 10 Sneaca (Jan.) 1865
                                                                                         ALEX. A. CARMICHAEL.

Bha bain draoigh ann uair agus bha toil aice cuir as do chuirstear (courtier) a bha aig Righ Breatunn ris an cante Sior Falaich, no Sior Folaich nan corn (Sior Falachaidh nan corn? which is rather suggestive of anti-teetotalism.) Thug a bhan draoigh eir Righ Breatunn bradar orra fhein agus fios aice gu’n tairgeadh Sior Falaich tighinn eir a toir agus mar so gum faigheadh i chur a dhi agus fhuair i sin – Seanachai

Chunnaig Righ Breatunn na shuain
An aona bhean a b’ fhearr anna fo ’n ghrein
Chunnaig Righ Breatunn na shuain
An aona bhean a b’ fhearr anna fo ’n ghrein


’S gu’m b’ fearr leis cuitean na cionn
Na comhradh fir (gin) mar e fein.

La’uir Sior Falaich gu fial
Theid mi fhein ga h-iarrai dhuit.


Mi fhe ’s mo ghille ’s mo chu
Na ’r truir a shireadh na mna.


Seac seacuinean us tri mios
Thug mi fein (sgith ri) siubhal cuain.


Mu ’n d’fuaradh cala no fonn
No ait an dianadh an long tamh.

Is teach gu iomal a chuain ghairbh
Chunnagas caisteal suingheal gorm


Uinneagaun gloin eir a stuaidh
Bu lionar an cuach us corn.


Am a dhaibh bhi teurnadh gu bhun
Thainig slauraith dhugh a nuas


Eagal cha do ghabh mi no fiamh
Ghabh mi orra nam ruith suas.

Chunnagas a bhean bhreid-gheal og
An cathair an oir is taigh.


Strol an t-sioda fo da bhonn
Bheannaich mi fher ga gnuis ghil.

A phleosgaich a thainig o’n chuan
’S fuara do bheannachadh oirnn.


Teann a nall do cheann air mo ghlun
’S gu’n seinninn duit ceol us cruit.

Cruit air uc na h-ighinn-ghill uir
Is guirme suil ’s is gile deud.


’S co binn ’s ga na sheinn i chruit
’S binne na sin guth a beuil.

Thuit easan na shioram shuain
An deigh bhi cuastachadh cuain ghairbh.


Thug i ’n claidh geur o chrios
Sgrid i dheth gu’n fhiost an ceann.


Sin agaibh derradh mo sgeoil.
’S mar a sheinneadh Bron Binn.

BRON BINN NO LAOI MHIC RIGH BREATUNN

This version was written down for me by a schoolmaster in North Uist, in 1866. No reciter’s name was given in the MS., but the schoolmaster told me that he wrote it down for me from the dictation of his own wife, who learnt the ballad from her mother, a woman who was famous for her old songs, stories, and proverbs.

La chai Astar na stuagh
Gu tulach nam buadh a shealg
Chunnacas a tighinn o’n mhaogh
Gruagach a ’b ailli cruth no ghrian.


Cruit an laimh na h-ighinn oig
Is milse pog ’s is gile gne
Cho binn s ga na sheinn i chruit
Bu bhinne ’n guth a leig i leo.

’S ann le fuaim a teudun binn
A thuit an Righ na shuain seimh
’S nuair a dhuisg e as a shuain
Thug e lamh gu luath air airm.


. . . .
Ma ’n nighinn a sheinn an ceol
Nach facas a beo no marbh.


Labhair fios Falaich (?Telegraph) gu fial
Theid mi fhien ga h-iarrai dhuit
Mi fhein ’s mo ghille ’s mo chu
Na ’n triuir a dh-iarrai na mne.


Dh falbh e le ghille ’s le chu
’S le luing bhriagh bhreid-gheal bhan
Bha e seac miosun air muir
Mu ’n fac e fearann no fonn
’S an leigeadh ann cuach us corn.

Bha Sior Gallo’aidh na bhun (in charge)
Bha slauraidh dhugh as a nuas
’S an d’ slaurai nach (do) gha crith
Thug i casan na ruith suas.

Chunnaig e nigheann mhin bhlath og
An eathair an or ’s an taigh
Slea-bhonn? (Strea-bhonn) sioda fo da bhonn
’S bheannaich mise ga gnuis ghil.


Na bhennaich Dia thu fhir
’S trom an cion thug thu thar tuinn (?cuain)
Ma tha fear na cloich so slan
Bha d’ ioir e cas no truas.


. . . .
Cuis is fhaide liom nach tig
’S comhrag dheanainn us gu luath


Ciamar a dheana tu sin
’S nach tu laoch is fear fo’n ghrein
’S nach dearg ann air an fhear
Ach a chlai geur glan fhein.


Duigemid bruithinn ’s trao’mid fearg
Suidhichmid cealg mu ’n fhear mhor
Goidemid a chlai bho ’n fhear
Sin mar a bheir sin dheth an ceann.


Chunnaig mi an deigh ti’inn o’n mhuir
Oganach air ghuin le airm
Bha spuir oir ma choise dheis
’S bu leoir a dheiseac ’s a dhealbh.


Bha spuir eile ma chois chli
Do dh’ airigiod righ no dh’ or feall
Thug mi lamh dh’ ionnsai an spuir
De ma thug cha bu mhath a chiall.


Thug esan glacadh air airm
’S b’ fear marbh dha bhi na niall
Fosadh! fosadh! oglaich mhoir
Mi beo agus (mi) am fochar m’ airm.


Innis dhomh beacai do sgeul
Co thu fein no gu do d’ ainm.


’S mi Bile Buadhach na(n) rath
Agam a bhios teach nan teud
An teagamh gu ’m bi mi nam righ
Mu ma ’m choineamh do bhi Greuig. (?)


’S ann agam a bhios a bhean
Is ailli leac ’s is gile deud
’S ann agam a bhios an long
Chuireas an tonn as a deigh.


’S ann agam a bhios an t-each
Is maith a bhuail cas air feur
’S ann agam a bhios an cu
Eir nach laidheadh tnu no tnu
Or, Eir nach laidheadh tnu na (seilg).


Gluaismid gu teach-eir-chloich
’S ann a gheo thu beac mo sgeul
Sin mar a mharcaich mi an t-each
Bu luaithe ’s bu ghasda ceum.


Mareac na fairge gu dian
Falaireac an druim a chuain
Chunnaig mi ath connachair triuir
Comhrag dlu mu cheann na mna.


Cuiri mi an corag na thosd
Cuiri mi an cosg orm fein
An triuir bhraithre mo sgeul trua
Corag cruai mu cheann na mne.

Sin an currai nach go ghabh fiamh
Cheud mhac a bh’ aig Righ Fraing
Liom a thuit dis mhacan Righ Greuig
’S iad fein a mharbh an treas fear.


Ma ’s ail leat mise thoirst leat
Treachaid leac chlann Righ Greuig
Sin mar a threachaid (eadh) an leac
O ’s i obair fir gu’n cheit.


Dianamid comhairle mne
Uaigh a threachaid ga deoin fein
Thug ise leum a sios ga ’n t-sloc
’S i bhean ghlic bu ghlaine snuagh


Leum an t-anam as a corp
Ochdan! a noc nach truagh.
Na ’m biodh agam’s a sin leigh
Chuirinn e gu feum ’s an uaigh (uair?)


’Dhiairainn d’ ath-bheothachadh as ur –
Cha ’n fhagainn mo run nan uaigh.
Eir sliabh slighe nam briara cearst
Far nach gabhar nearst thar truaigh


Eir a dheas laimh a Mhic De
Gu robh mi fein gu la-luain.
Sin agaibh deireadh mo sgeoil
’S mar a sheinn am Bron Binn.

References:

Campbell, J. F., ‘Am Bron Binn’, The Highlander, no. 148 (11 Mar. 1876), p. 3.
Carmina Gadelica, ii, pp. 87–105.

Gillies, William, ‘Arthur in Gaelic Tradition. Part I: Folktales and Ballads’, Cambridge Medieval Celtic Studies, vol. 2 (Winter, 1981), pp. 47–72; ‘Arthur in Gaelic Tradition. Part II: Romances and Learned Lore’, Cambridge Medieval Celtic Studies, vol. 3 (Summer, 1982), pp. 41–75.

Gowans, Linda, Am Bròn Binn: An Arthurian Ballad in Scottish Gaelic (Eastbourne: privately printed, 1992).

Image: King Arthur

Early Sunday - Newspaper Letter

As with other collectors of oral traditions as well as scholars, Alexander Carmichael occasionally contributed pieces to The Highlander newspaper, founded by his friend and fellow Argyllshire Gael John Murdoch. Although Carmichael could in no way be described as a regular contributor to this newspaper, or any other newspaper for that matter, what he did publish was usually not without interest and was more often than not supplied with extensive background notes such as the one below concerning a song entitled ‘Mochra Domhnach’ or ‘Early Sunday’:

MOCHRA DOMHNACH
STRATHAVON, OBAN, 31st May, 1880

SIR, – The following poem, with music, was sent to the late Captain Donald Campbell when writing his book on the “Language, Poetry and Music of the Highland Clans.” It was not used, however – Captain Campbell having been able to publish but a small portion of the materials received from numerous friends and correspondents. This was a pity. Had he omitted things he inserted and given more of the music and lyric poetry, his book would, to my thinking, have been better.

Captain Campbell appointed his friend, new editor of The Highlander, his literary executor. It would be desirable that these poems should be published.

Of these there must be many. Of many Gaelic songs, with music, which, through the courtesy of friends, I had been able to send him, Captain Campbell was unable, from want of space, to give but one – “Buain an Rainich” – Cutting the Bracken. Other friends sent him similarly, and their contributions had to be similarly curtailed, if not altogether omitted.

Captain Campbell’s papers are still, I apprehend, in the house of his only surviving child – Mrs Brunton, Glasgow. The following will please most readers of The Highlander, as it pleased me. Upon one occasion Mrs Brunton found herself at a fashionable party where Highland music was spoken of with contumely. Her Highland blood was fairly roused: she whispered to her hostess, who, alone, knew that she was Highland, to ask her to sing, but to make no mention of Gaelic.

Mrs Brunton inherits, though, perhaps, not to so high a degree as her last sister – Mrs Lang, Port Glasgow – the fine musical ability of her father; and she sang, as she never sang before, the beautiful air of “Tir [recte Tri] nithe thig gu ’n iarraidh.” She held her audience spell-bound, and, when she was done, many of them crowded round to ask what it was – French? or German? though most thought it must be Italian? With a dignified bow, Mrs Brunton told them it was a Gaelic song!

The words of “Mochra Domhnach” were supplied by Mrs Mackerrel, Port Ellen, Islay; and the music was noted by Miss Mactavish, formerly of the Manse, Kildalton, and now of Knock, Mull.

Both words and music were got from Margaret Douglas, a decent old woman at Oa, Islay.

An accomplished musician and composer of Highland Music – Miss Macgrigor, of Oban – has kindly transcribed my clumsy copying of the music, and Miss Mactavish says that the music is correct.

To my uncultured ear, and partial Highland taste, the air is pretty; and I only hope that others may find it so.

The poem is new to me, and words and phrases occur therein, which I do not quite understand. I hope others may be more successful. In this hope, in the hope that Mr Hector Maclean of Islay, or others, may be able to throw light on the history and obscurity of the poem, I would deem it a favour if The Highlander would publish it.

ALEX. A. CARMICHAEL

Mochra Donmhnach, dh'fhalbh an t-oigear,
Dhol tha eolais a null an Spainn,
Cha robh e ari chois nach trath no dha,
’Nuair leag am bron e sio gu lar;
’S thug e ordugh ga shean eolach
A chridhe feola cur na small,
’S thoirt dhise an luib li tir
’S du bhi clisge roimh bhraid-sheimh

Bith’ mise liom fein mar ghlaisein air feur,
Mar faigh mi thu fein, cha bhi mi beo.
Ged a gheibhinn do spreigh na chunnt air feill,
B’ anns thu fein no co ceud bo,
O! lionar cnead am chridhe steach;
Do ghaol na beacaidh rinn mo leon,
Chuir e truimeid am cheud mailleid am cheum,
’S mi ruith leis a bheinn da leir iad bron.

O! saoil sibh fein, nach teachdar o ’n eug,
Thainig an raoir gu ’n fhiosd am shuain;
Mar aiteal nag rein air iomall nan speur
Nochd ’s i i fein air ghleus gu ’n uaill,
Is baine am folt tha cur sgeimh air a corp,
Na an sian daithte air dhreach an oir,
Basan caoin air dhreach an aoil,
’S gile ’taobh na sneachd nan lon.


Gach aon dual a tha na gruaig,
Air ’chireadh a nuas mar shido buadhaidh air or
Am fac na ’n cual thu, an caidre na cuach,
Na ’s binne ri luaidh na fuainn a beoil;
Cuir i a steach ann an seomar glaisde,
Oiche thais gheamhraidh thall
A geala bhroilleach ni solusd
Mar ghrein shoilleir a bhitheadh air allt.

'Nuair chaidh an t-oigear a chruineachadh bord,
Theann e na coir a mhias a b’ fhearr,
Ghabh i a leoir ’s chaidh is stor [?]
’S ghabh e da deoin na bha ’s a mheis,
Run beag og thu, miann nam ban posd thu,
Gabh do leoir ’s bithidh tu slan,
’S e cridhe do ghaoil a chuir e cho maoth,
Tha litir ri m’ thaobh a sgriobh a lamh.


Leugh i le aidmheil a beoil,
Bu lionan na deoir a sruthadh gu lar;
Thug in all a spain gheal, fein.
’Us ghadh gu leir nab ha ’s a mheis.
Mo ghradh am chri’; ’s mi slan na dheigh
An leomhann ur an robh mo mhiann
Biadh no deoch, cha teid am chorp
A chaoidh nan cros os cionn do chre

Within Carmichael’s papers there are at least two mentions of the ‘Mochra Domhnach’ and it seems that the version he sent to Captain Campbell was returned to him, perhaps after he had his letter published in The Highlander. There were a number of advantages of publishing such items not only for the sake of making them more widely available but also of generating interest from the public who often contributed further titbits of information or, as in some cases, sent in questions as a plea to find out more information about any particular subject that satisfied the criteria of The Highlander. Carmichael ends his letter by asking whether Hector MacLean would be able to throw more light on the song. It is not recorded whether MacLean every replied to Carmichael and, so far, it seems that he did not reply to The Highlander. Newspapers such as The Highlander are full of interesting snippets of information, sometimes that which is unavailable elsewhere, and even a cursory survey of them will reveal some previously hidden gems. Doubtless there are quite a few of these that remain to be found which Carmichael, in his moments of leisure, had sent to various Highland or Gaelic-related newspapers and journals.

References:
Carmichael, Alexander A. ‘Mochra Domhnach’, The Highlander, vol. VIII, no. 370 (11 June 1880), p. 6
CW379, fos. 1-12
CW244(122)

Image: Newspaper

Courting in the Kiln

In a fieldwork notebook in which the earliest date of 1871 appears, Alexander Carmichael noted down quite a few items about courting and how young women would go to extreme lengths to find out who their prospective or future husbands might well be. This following story may have been taken down from the recitation of Gilleasbuig Dòmhnallach (Archibald MacDonald), a cobbler from Bailanloch in North Uist on 20th November 1873:

“Co sid shuas air ceann mo ropain” A
girl threw a ball of thread – “ceaisle shnath”
into the soin of the kiln.” Killogie in the
dark. The person who answered to the name
was the man to whom the girl was to be
married.
On one occasion this had a serious effect
A bevy of bright girls were on their way in
the dark to the Kiln to go through this performance
Some young men watched them and got in
to the Kiln before them and one of them into the
Soin-Kilogie. The first girl threw in her
ball of thread and called out Co sid shuas
air ceann an ropain”? Answering a false
voice the young man answered accordingly to the
girls’ wishes. Then another girl as[ke]d the same and
got a satisfactory answer. Then the third girl
threw in her ball and called out “Co sid shuas an
ceann mo ropain”? “I am, the devil, come
to take you away for teaching these goslings my
secrets”! The poor girl got such a fright that
she died from the effects of it soon thereafter.
It was in vain that the young man explained
to her and implored her forgiveness; the mis-
chief was done.

The “Killogie” is a good Scots word meaning the space in front of the fireplace of a kiln. So it seems that a practical joke has gone completely wrong here because of the fatal results. This might well be the moral of the story: to be very wary of playing practical jokes. Or could it be that it was a story told in order to simply warn off any young women who put too much trust in such old-fashioned superstitions? Then, again, perhaps this anecdote is deliberately ambiguous for a good reason: to make the audience think and reflect upon the consequences of their own actions.

Reference:
CW7, fos. 33r-33v

Image: Ball of Thread

A Long Time Healing

During the past few weeks the Carmichael Watson Project has begun to compile capsule biographies of the people recorded by Alexander Carmichael. These biographies represent part of a wider indexing process using the Encoded Archival Context (EAC) standard, in order to record, preserve, systematise, and make available information about the creators of the archival materials in Carmichael’s collection. We are, apparently, the first university-based project in Britain to employ EAC. Over the next few months we intend to publish various blogs based upon the life-stories of the many different people Carmichael met during his career as folklore collector.

Sgeulachd Chois’ Ó Céin, or the Story of the Healing of O’Kane’s Leg, was a story celebrated throughout the Gàidhealtachd for its length and complexity. The eponymous anti-hero of this portmanteau tale had his leg broken in 24 places, and each break could only be healed by a story being told. Such a starting point offered the skilled storyteller an opportunity to relate and fuse together a whole series of well-known romances over several nights. We have several tellings of the tale of various lengths, but by far the most famous recording is the sustained 30,000-word, 142-page narration of Lachlan MacNeill, a shoemaker from Islay then living in Paisley, written down on 22 March 1871 by Hector MacLean with John Francis Campbell.

Alexander Carmichael would have been well aware of the tale’s existence: indeed, it became something of a holy grail for those involved in John Francis Campbell’s collecting project which was to come to fruition in the four volumes of Popular Tales of the West Highlands (Edinburgh: Edmonston & Douglas, 1860–2). The minister of Lismore, the Rev. Donald MacNicol, had written of Gaelic tales in his Remarks on Dr. Samuel Johnson’s Journey to the Hebrides (London: T. Cadell, 1779):

One of those, in particular, is long enough to furnish subject of amusement for several nights running. It is called Scialachd Choise Ce, or Cian O Cathan’s Tale; and though Scialachies, or tellers of tales by profession, are not now retained by our great families, as formerly, there are many still living, who can repeat it from end to end, very accurately. [p. 322]

It must have been while Carmichael was researching lore in Lochalsh and Kintail while employed as a gauger in Carbost, Skye, at the beginning of the 1860s, that he first heard of a man who was able to recite Sgeulachd Chois’ Ó Céin. The problem was, the seanchaidh was now working as a shepherd in the Isle of Harris in the Outer Hebrides.

Malcolm MacRae [Calum MacRath] was born around 1805, son of Murdo MacRae, crofter, and Barbara, née MacRae. By the 1860s he was employed as a shepherd at Abhainn Suidhe, North Harris under Alexander MacRae from Kintail. The latter, known as Fear Hùisinis from his house at Caolas Stiatar, was one of the biggest farmers in the Outer Hebrides at the time. Alexander MacRae had taken a number of fellow Tàilich or Kintail people over to Harris to work for him. Malcolm, a fellow MacRae, was probably among them.

In a letter to John Francis Campbell written on 18 October 1861 [NLS Adv. 50.2.1 fo.360], Carmichael tells how he had tried to meet Malcolm MacRae to record ‘Sgeul na Coise Cein’, probably the previous month, but all in vain: the weather was so bad he had to wait a whole week then leave Harris without seeing him. The implication is, of course, that MacRae was busy working with the sheep and lambs the entire time.

Carmichael did not give up. Barely six months after he had taken up his post with the excise in the Outer Hebrides, he returned to Harris. On the evening of Wednesday 5 July 1865 he recorded Malcolm MacRae telling ‘Sgeul Chois O Céin’. Carmichael clearly had to find MacRae at his work: he notes as an adjunct to the story:

Sgriobhte ri taobh tomain na grobain anns Bheinne-tuath anns na h-Earradh

‘Written beside a little hillock or knoll in Beinn a Tuath in Harris’: probably Mullach or Mulla fo Thuath in North Harris is the mountain he meant. It’s interesting that Carmichael took a new notebook with him to record MacRae’s story, probably to give himself as much space as possible to write down the great Sgeulachd Chois Ó Céin. In actual fact, MacRae’s version was only a truncated episode of barely 2,400 words: whether because this was all the seanchaidh knew, or because the circumstances weren’t favourable for a longer rendition, we cannot tell. Carmichael would record another, relatively short, version of the tale from the ‘fine old sgialaiche’ Patrick Smith of Leth-mheadhanach, South Uist, on 25 March 1871.

Malcolm MacRae died barely a year later, suddenly on 26 May 1866 at Ardhasaig, Isle of Harris. In a note penned over the story later, Carmichael writes that: ‘He was after taking some bread and milk when he leant back in his chair and expired’. The death certificate states ‘Disease of the Heart’. Malcolm MacRae was married to Jessie MacRae: maybe their marriage is that recorded in the parish of Strath, Skye, on 13 March 1838, between Malcolm MacRae, Dornie, and Janet MacRae, Kyleakin. They had at least one son, Alexander, who recorded his father’s death. Carmichael describes Malcolm MacRae as ‘an honest decent man’.

References:

CW MS 105 fos.1–10; also MS 119 fos.23–33.

National Library of Scotland, Adv. MSS 50.1.10 fos.81–2; 50.1.13, fo.442; 50.2.2 fos.55, 192; 50.2.3

Craig, K. C. (ed.). Leigheas Cas Ó Céin (Stirling: for the editor, 1950).

Rev. John Gregorson Campbell (ed.). ‘Sgeulachd Casa Cein – The Healing of Keyn’s Foot’, Transactions of the Gaelic Society of Inverness, xiv (1887–8), 78–100.

Henderson, Rev. George (ed.). ‘Sgeulachd Cois’ O’ Cein’, Transactions of the Gaelic Society of Inverness, xxv (1901–3), 179–265.

MacInnes, Rev. Duncan (ed.). ‘Coise Céin: Koisha Kayn, or Kian’s Leg’, Folk and Hero Tales (London: David Nutt, Waifs and Strays of Celtic Tradition, Argyllshire Series ii, 1890), 206–77.

Mackay, John G. (ed.). More West Highland Tales (Edinburgh and London: Oliver & Boyd, 1940), 68–73.

Nutt, Alfred, ‘The Campbell of Islay MSS. at the Advocate’s Library, Edinburgh’, Folk-Lore, i(3) (Sep., 1890), 373–7.

Image:
Thanks to Dr Kate Davies, at needled.wordpress.com, for her picture of the Harris summits.

Àirigh na h-Aon Oidhche / The One Night Sheiling

The mythological nature of vampires is a common theme throughout world folklore and, of course, Gaelic tradition is not an exception to this as it is imbued with many such riches. The following story was recorded by Alexander Carmichael probably from Duncan MacDonald aged 86 on the 28th March, 1871. We have previously met Duncan MacDonald or Donnchadh mac an Tàilleir, as he was the grandfather of the young prodigy (Donald MacDonald), and also of his name-sake Duncan MacDonald (1882–1954), one of the best Uist storytellers to be recorded by Calum Maclean.

Airi[gh]-na h-aon-oi[dh]che. A man MacPhie
lived in Benbecula & he had a dog & the
dog grew up a large animal & he never
barked. Ev[er]y per[son] was expressing a sur
prise that the dog was never barking
but MacPhie would only say never mind
the black dog’s day’s is not come yet. Coma
leibh tha là choin dui[gh] gun tighinn
fha[tha]st So time passed on & MacPhie
who was known as MacPhie of the
black dog, Mac a Phi a choin
duigh – built an airi[gh] shamhrai[dh]
out south of Staireval. When fin[ish]ed
he & his da chomhalta dhiag men
(some say women) went to the airi[gh]
They all lay down each in his bed
& each said that he wished he had
now his leannan with him Don e
don e bad bad ^[supra: have you wished] said MacPhie to have
bro[ught] the upon us & he flew out of the airi[dh] to the
utter astonismhment of this coaltun & the
[underlined: cu-dugh] after him. He had hardly got
out when twelve witches in the form
of women but with goib (beaks)
chnamha flew in upon his coalt[un]
& another went after him. He set ([underlined: stuig e])
his cu du[gh] at her & he himself flew
home. He request[ed] 4 boynes [del: miasrach]
(miasraichean) bain[n]e to be set outside
the ^[supra: house] door to be there on the arrival of the
cu du[gh]. This was done & aft[er] a while the
dog came He flew at the milk & [del: licked
licked] lapped (làp) [del: e su] up the 3 of
the boynes & on the fourth burst. He
was raving (mad) ([underlined: conàdh]) [underlined: conà thuil]
(raving flood) & not a hair left upon
him. Early in the morn[in]g people rushed
to Airi[dh]-na h-aon-oi[dh]che to asc[er]t[ain] the fate
of MacPhies 12 co-altun & found there were
12 stack[ed] dead some say with their
throat cut & drained of the blood &
others say with not a wound but the wounds
the gob-chnamha the bone-beacked
[in]flicted upon them & not a drop of blood
left in them The airi[gh] was abandon[ed]
& never more used & so the name.

In this particular version of the tale MacPhee’s Black Dog has been added, perhaps because this gave the story more pedigree! An excellent version of this tale was edited and published in 1883 by the Rev. John Gregorson Campbell (1836–1891) taken down from the recitation of Donald Cameron, from Ruag, Tiree. But the tale itself without this addition can and does stand by itself and very similar stories have been collected as far afield as Lochaber, Wester Ross as well as the isle of Lewis. As with the above story each place is grounded in the local area in order to not only to give credence to the tale itself but also must have been used to good advantage by the storyteller to add that little bit of spice to an engaging narrative. A similar version of this was collected by Calum Maclean in 1948 from Angus Barrach MacMillan (1874–1954) from Griminish in Benbecula suggesting that it was a fairly well known story in the Uists and doubtless elsewhere. A similar story, or folk etymology, seems to be connected each time the place-name Àirigh na h-Aon Oidhche (‘The One Night Sheiling’) appears (and not that uncommonly) throughout the Highlands and Islands.

References:
CW119, fos. 45v-46r

Bruford, Alan & MacDonald, Donald A. (eds.), Scottish Traditional Tales (Edinburgh: Polygon, 1994), pp. 318–19

Campbell, Rev. John G., ‘MacPhee’s Black Dog’, The Scottish Celtic Review, vol. 4 (1885), pp. 262–73

MacDougall, Rev. James (auth.); Calder, Rev. George (ed.), Fairy Tales and Fairy Lore (Edinburgh: James Grant, 1910), 258–61

Robertson, Rev. Charles M., ‘Folklore from the West of Ross-shire’, The Transactions of the Gaelic Society of Inverness, vol. XXVI (1904–07), pp. 268–69

Image: Hebridean Sheiling

Pet names of infants

The following list of pet names for very young children appears in a parcel  of various manuscript and typed material rejected as unsuitable for Carmina Gadelica iv. The hand may be that of Professor James Carmichael Watson (1910–42), Alexander’s grandson and editor of the volume. The names lay great, doubtless wishful, emphasis on deep sleep!

suainean
                         Pet names of infants
suainean
suaineag   little sleeper, from suain deep sleep
suainean beag bòidheach
suainean beag brònach bochd
suaineag bheag bhronach bhochd, gun ghò ’nad cheann, gun fhoill ’nad chom
cadalan, cadalag
cadalan Moire
cadalan ràithe   little quarter [i.e. season] sleeper
caidilean caomh   little sleeper beloved
caidilean / cadalan Moire
     ”          na Moire Mhàthar
caidileag
ciùinean = silent one
     ”      an àigh
     ”      nan aingeal
     ”      mìn na Moire
closaran
     ”      caomh
closan / – caomh / – cadail / – Moire / – na h-Oighe
Maol Domhnaich (unbaptised)
Maol Moire
maolan cadail
Sùilean / – Moire, m., sùileag f.
Clothan / – cadail

   Sùilean sùileag are applied to infants after their first 3 months. = The observant one, keen eyed one. For its first 3 months the infant is called suainean & suaineag m. & f. = the sleepy little one.

Reference:
CW MS 502 fo.99
Image:
Werner Kissling, Old man with child in Eriskay, 1934