An Anecdote about Bonnie Prince Charlie

Berneray, Harris / Beàrnaraigh na Hearadh

Anecdotes and legendary accounts of Bonnie Prince Charlie were legion in the Western Isles and Alexander Carmichael was particularly fortunate to have collected quite a few of them. Although Carmichael is given rather scant acknowledgement by William Jolly, a school inspector and close friend, in his book Flora MacDonald in Uist: A Study of the Heroine in Her Native Surroundings (1886), it may be assumed with some degree of certainty that Carmichael would have supplied him with as much historical information as he had then to hand. In any case, this short anecdote tells of the Prince in the isle of Harris and his involvement with the Campbell of Srannda. He is said to have stayed, while on the lam, for six nights in Donald MacLeod’s house. Subsequently, or perhaps during the Prince’s visit, the host felt it expedient to make himself scarce and fled for safety to the nearby Cave of Ulladale. This would have been a wise move given that he did not wish himself to be associated with harbouring Public Enemy Number One at least as seen in the eyes of the Hanoverian Government. Nevertheless, MacLeod had clear Jacobite sympathies – he had been out – otherwise the Prince would not have been invited to have stayed in his house. For his trouble in offering such generosity despite the risks involved Berneray house was threatened by Captain Ferguson to be blown to kingdom come, a warning which came via the intermediary of Iain Laith mac ’ic Choinnich (a Campbell). It would seem that such a dire consequence was avoided as the house, it would seem, remained intact. The personalities mentioned were well-known in Jacobite circles: Dòmhnall mac Iain Òig, was Donald MacLeod (1671–1781), perhaps better known as Old Beneray or Old Trojan and Iain Mòr Liath mac ’ic Choinnich was John Campbell. The Captain Ferguson mentioned was a naval officer who originally hailed from Inverurie, Aberdeenshire and more details of his career can be found in John S. Gibson’s Ships of the ’45: The Rescue of the Young Pretender (1967):

Prince Charlie live[d] 6 nights in Don[ald]
Mac Iain oig[’s] ho[use]. Old Bearn[ar]y
fled to Ua[mh] Ulladail Capt[ain] F[e]rg[uson] set
his guns & casks of powder at the
house. Gen[e]r[al] Campbell came
to see Iain mor lia[th] mac
mhic Coinnich (Campbell)
(Strannd) then blind who told him
of their com[in]g & if he blew up Bearn[ar]y
house that he might levy Harris of
all the Camp[bells]. Gen[eral] took Iain lia[th] out
to see the long chog[aidh]. On their arri[val] F[e]rg[uson]
cursed Campbell insolentl[y] what
kept him.


Reference:
CW90/63, f. 24v.
Image:
Berneray, Harris / Beàrnaraigh na Hearadh.

Plague in Mingulay III

Neil Gillies, Niall Mhìcheil Nìll

Gus crìoch a chur air an naidheachd mun phlàigh a bha uaireigin ann am Miughalaigh, seo agaibh an còrr dheth a chlàraich agus a sgrìobh Calum Iain MacGilleathain bhon t-seanchas Nèil MhicGillÌosa. Cha mhòr nach e an aon naidheachd th’ ann a thog MacGilleMhìcheil agus MacGilleathain bho dhiofar dhaoine agus mu thrì fichead bliadhna eadarra:

“Well, on a tha thusa air tìr, gun fhios nach e plàigh air choreigin a bh’ air na daoine, nuair a tha iad marbh air fad, chan fhaigh thu dhan sgothaidh idir.”

Agus dh’fhàgadh an duine ann am Miughalaigh agus thill an sgoth gu ruige Bàgh a’ Chaisteil, agus cha robh aig an duine ach a bhith ann am Miughalaigh leis fhèin, agus cha leigeadh an t-eagal dà fuireach as na taighean. Ach cò-dhiù bha e a’ gabhail beagan dhen bhiadh a bha sna taighean. Dh’fheumadh e. Cha robh an còrr ann agus ’s ann shuas as a’ bheinn a bhiodh e a’ cadal air an oidhche, agus tha a’ bheinn ann am Miughalaigh fhathast, beinn ris an can iad Beinn Mhic a’ Phì. Sin far am biodh e a’ cadal. Co-dhiù bha e cola-deug ann, agus an ceann a’ chola-deug chuir MacNèill a-null an sgoth air n-ais feuch am faiceadh e a robh duine beò, ma bha iad a dhol air, tìr agus feuch gu dè mar a bha an gnothach.

Seo mar a bha.

Dh’fhalbh an sgoth à Bàgh a’ Chaisteil air n-ais an ceann a’ chola-deug agus nuair a ràinig iad Miughalaigh, bha Mac a’ Phì rompa gun bhàn, gun dearg agus e pailt cho beò is cho fallain is a bha iad fhèin. Cha robh ach dh’iarr iad air tighinn dhan sgothaidh, agus thàinig e a Bhàgh a’ Chaisteil, agus ghabh iad leis do chaisteal MhicNèill agus sin nuair a rinn e an naidheachd air n-ais do MhacNèill:

“Agus gheibh thusa a-nist Miughalaigh dhut fhèin, ma thèid thu ann, agus sgrìobhaidh mise dhut i, gum bidh i agad fhad ’s is beò thu, agus nach urrainn duine eile dragh a chur ort.”

Well ’s e seo a rinneadh. Thill Mac a’ Phì a-null gu ruige Miughalaigh, agus thìodhlaic e na daoine a bha marbh. Chuir e ’n a’ chladh a h-uile duine aca, agus thug e a-null feadhainn eile còmh’ ris, an fheadhainn a thogair e fhèin, agus bha iad all right dheth ann am Miughalaigh, agus cha robh sgàth air dìth orra.

Siud agad mar a chuala mise e.

Here is the rest of the anecdote about the plague that once visited Mingulay that was recorded and written out by Calum Iain Maclean from the recitation of Neil Gillies. Comparing this anecdote transcribed by Maclean and that by Carmichael even though collected from different people and with a gap of around sixty years intervening, it is practically the same with only minor variations:

“Well, since you are on land, and seeing that it might be some sort of plague or another that killed them all, you can’t get back into the boat at all.”

And the lad was left stranded on Mingulay. The boat then returned to Castlebay and he was the only person remaining on Mingulay. He was so afraid he wouldn’t venture near the houses. But, in any case, he managed to pilfer some food within the homesteads. He had no other option. There was nothing else for it but the go up the hill where he would sleep at night, and that hill is still there on Mingulay which is called Beinn Mhic a’ Phì (MacPhee’s Mountain). That’s where he would go to sleep. He spent a fortnight there and at the end of this period MacNeil of Barra sent a boat back to find out if he was still alive and as they were going to land to find out how things were.

This is how things turned out.

The boat left Castlebay and went back to Mingulay after a fortnight and they found MacPhee in as rude health as they were themselves. They merely then asked him to board the boat and so he returned to Castlebay and they took him to MacNeil’s castle [Kisimul] where he told MacNeil his news:

“And you’ll get Mingulay to yourself, if you are prepared to return, and I’ll grant this to you, and you’ll own it so long as you live, and no one will trouble you.”

Well, this was done. MacPhee returned to Mingulay. He then buried the dead in the cemetery, and he also brought along with him others who he had picked out and they were well off in Mingulay as they were never in any want.

That’s how I heard it.

Reference:
IFC MS 1029, pp. 413–16, Am Plàigh ann am Miùlaidh.
Image: Neil Gillies.

Plague in Mingulay II

Neil Gillies, Niall Mhìcheil Nìll

Chan eil e idir na iongnadh nach do leig cuid de na seanchaidhean Bharrach air dìochuimhne na thachair ann am Miughalaigh. Mu thrì fichead bliadhna as deaghaidh do MhacGilleMhìcheil an naidheachd fhaotainn bho Ruairidh an Rùma mun phlàigh ann am Miughalaigh (anns a’ bhlog mu dheireadh), fhuair Calum Iain MacGilleathain an dearbh rud ann an 1947 bho Niall MacGillÌosa, no mar a theirear ris Niall Mhìcheil Nìll (1887–1965), iasgair agus croitear a bha uaireigin ann an Gearraidh Gadhal faisg air Bàgh a’ Chàisteil, Barraigh. A rèir teist an t-seanchaidh fhèin, bhuineadh a phàrantan do Mhiughalaigh agus phos iad ann an sin. Chuir iad an cùl ri Miughalaigh mun bhliadhna 1912 dar a dh’fhàg na daoine air fad an t-eilean agus chaidh iad a-null a Bharraigh. B’ ann bho athair fhèin agus Ruairidh Ruairidh Mhòir a chuala Niall a chuid sheanchais agus naidheachdan. A rèir Chaluim Iain, rachadh Niall gu taigh Ruairidh Ruairidh Mhòir a h-uile h-oidhche gheamhraidh thar air barrachd na dusan bliadhna gus a sheanchas a chluinntinn agus gur gann a chualadh e an aon naidheachd!

Well, tha naidheachd eile ann an seoachd air a dhèanamh mun àm a bha MacNèill ann am Barraigh, MacNèill Bharraigh mar a bh’ air a ghràdha ris: agus bha daoine a’ fuireach ann a Miughalaigh an uair sin, mar a bha iad as a dheoghaidh; agus trup a bha seoachd bha iad a’ gabhail fadachd nach robh eathair a’ tighinn a-nall à Miughalaigh idir, MacNèill, agus dheònaich e sgoth agus sgiobadh a chur a-null gu ruige Miughalaigh feuch am faiceadh iad gu dè bha ceàrr, agus rinn e seoachd. Fhuair e sgoth agus sgiobadh agus chuireadh a-null a Mhiughalaigh iad agus ràinig iad thall Miughalaigh agus cha robh duine beò ri fhaicinn ann am Miughalaigh. Cha robh duine rompa air creig, ach nuair a chunnaic iad sineachd chuir iad air tìr fear dheth na gillean a bha san sgothaidh, fear Mac a’ Phì, agus dh’iarr iad air a dhol suas feuch am faiceadh e gu dè bha ceàrr nach robh duine ri fhaicinn; agus dh’fhalbh am fear sa suas, agus chaidh e dhan chiad taigh a thachair ris, agus nuair a chaidh e a-staigh cha robh duine beò a bha san taigh nach robh marbh a-staigh. Chaidh e an seo a thaigh eile, agus bha iad sin air an nòs cianda – o thaigh gu taigh gus na chuir e cuairt air a h-uile taigh a bh’ ann a Miughalaigh, is cha robh duine beò ann am Miughalaigh nach robh marbh a-staigh. Nuair a chunnaic e seoachd dh’fhalbh e agus thill e sìos a dh’ ionnsaigh na sgothadh, agus dh’innis e dhaibh mar a bha an grothach, nach robh duine beò ann am Miughalaigh nach robh marbh as na taighean: agus thuirt iad sin ris: (ri leanntainn…)

It comes as no surprise that some of the Barra storytellers did not forget about what had happened in Mingulay. Some sixty years after Alexander Carmichael collected the story from Roderick MacNeil about the plague visiting Mingulay (posted in a previous blog), Calum Iain Maclean recorded the very same story in 1947 from Neil Gillies (1887–1965), styled Niall Mhìcheil Nìll, a crofter fisherman from Garrygall near Castlebay, Barra. According to the storyteller’s own testimony, his parents belonged to Mingulay where they were married. They left the island around 1912 along with everyone else and settled in Barra. Neil heard all his stories and anecdotes from his father and Roderick Mòr MacNeil. According to Calum Maclean, Neil would go to listen to the latter’s storytelling almost every winter’s night for a space of fifteen years and maintained that he hardly ever heard the same tale told twice!

Well, there’s another story here that happened in the time of MacNeil of Barra as he was called: people stayed in Mingulay then just as they did after that; and one of these times they were getting anxious that there was no sign at all of a boat coming over from Mingulay and so MacNeil of Barra was willing enough to send over a boat and crew to Mingulay to try and find out what has gone wrong. This was done. A boat and crew were found and sent over to Mingulay and when they reached Mingulay they found that there was no one alive there. No one was standing before them on the rock [to greet them] and when they saw this they put one of the lads from the boat on land – a MacPhee – and they asked him to go up and to see what was wrong as there was no one to be seen; the lad went up and he entered the first house he encountered and saw that no one was alive in the house: they were all dead. He then went to another house and met with the same sight – from house to house he went until he had been in all the houses in Mingulay; there was not one left alive in Mingulay as they were all dead. When he saw all of this he returned to the boat and told them what he had seen: that no one was left alive in Mingulay – they were all dead and they then said to him: (to be continued…)

Reference:
IFC MS 1029, pp. 413–16, Am Plàigh ann am Miùlaidh.
Image: Neil Gillies.

Plague on Mingulay

Mingulay / Miughalaigh 1888

Another short historical anecdote taken down by Alexander Carmichael probably from the recitation of Roderick MacNeil, nick-named Ruairidh an Rùma, tells of the time when plague visited the remote island of Mingulay. Although the actual word ‘plague’ is not used in the story it may be assumed that an outbreak of this or some other devastating disease took place at some point during the sixteenth century just as a similar outbreak of smallpox decimated the population of St Kilda during the late 1720s. A disaster of such a scale was bound to remembered by any of the survivors and their descendants or, indeed, by those that chose to relocate to Mingulay. MacNeil’s narrative suggests that MacPhie along with others helped to repopulate the island community as MacNeil of Barra granted them land there.

About 300 years ago ten families lived in Mi[ng]ulay
One time in win[ter] the MacNeil of the day won[dered] that he

was see[ing] no per[son] from Mi[ng]u[lay]. He sent a boats crew
to in[vesti]g[ate]. The boat came over and land[ed] and sent
up a man the name of MacPhie. When he came
to the houses which then stood on a rocky Bun[?]
N[orth] E[ast] of the pre[sent village] he found all within dead. He
ret[urned] to his com[panions] who were keep[ing] the boat. They as[ked]
him what news. I’ll tell that pre[sently] said Mac
Phi not a bone of your bone [recte: body] shall come
in till you tell us first. as he would
not do so the boat left him and ret[urned] to Cas[tlebay]
and told MacN[eil] For 7 w[eeks] no other boat was
able to come. In the mean[time] Mac[Phie] went to the
hill op[posite] Bearn[aray] where there was a hut where
the sheep shelt[ered] dur[ing] snow. He got hold
of some sheep skin and made a cov[ering]
for himself and used the fat of the sheep
when frozen as food. When MacN[eil] came fire
was set to all the huts and the dead bod[ies] were
burnt. MacN[eil] asked MacPh[ie] if he were
committed[?] an[d] live in Miul[ay]. He said he wo[u]ld
and chose 3 or 4 trust[y] frie[nds]. They built the
huts down on the stran[d] but from
this the pred[?ecessors] of the p[?opulatio]n had to remove
on acc[ount] of the en[croachment] of the sea. Ruary saw
a man to whose house the sea was
ap[proaching]. He left his old moth[er] in his [hut] and
had not got six y[ar]ds from the ho[use] when a
sea came and left not one stone.

Reference:
CW 114, fos. 63r –64v.
Image:
Mingulay / Miughalaigh 1888.

The Last of the Vikings

This short anecdote about the last of the Vikings in Fuday, lying just off Barra, was probably collected by Alexander Carmichael from the famous storyteller, Roderick MacNeil, known as Ruairidh an Rùma (c. 1790–1875). It is not impossible that there may well be an element of truth in saying that MacNeil of Barra’s illegitimate son wiped out the last of the Vikings in Fuday. Although the Vikings came at first to pillage the Hebrides they would eventually come to settle and marry into the local populace. It could be that this historical tale refers to the bloodier side of the Viking ‘conquest’ for it is clear to see that the King of Lochlann’s son, Barp, made himself extremely unpopular not only to the native islanders but also to the Vikings themselves. Such a legend has all the hallmarks of an assassination motivated in part by political expediency in gaining influence and control in the Hebrides:

Dùn a’ Bhairp / Dùn Bharpa, Barra

The last of the Lochlannaich lived in

Fuda[y] and were killed there. They were
killed by Mac an Amharais. He was a
an [sic] illeg[itmate] son of MacNeil – disowned
by his father, hence the name. Mac
Neil at last said to him. If thou
be my son go and kill a ghraisg ud
am Fuda[idh]. He went and left none
of them living. The Lochlannaich
at one time owned all these islands
A son of the King of L[ochlann] whose name
was Barp and who was the embodi[ment]
of all that was fierce and cruel
and murderous died. He was buried
behind Bailenacreaige and all
the Loch[lannaich] in all the islands col[lected]
and piled stones over him for fear he
should rise again to be a scourge
upon them. This was the origin
of “Dun a Bhairp” in Barra.

It may be noted that Dùn Bharpa is really a Neolithic chambered burial cairn or passage grave, located between two hills near Borve, in Barra. The scale is quite impressive at five metres in height and thirty-four metres in diameter. The capstone measures three square metres which is now split in two. Outside the cairn itself there are single upright stones that used to lean against the cairn.

Reference:

CW 114, fos. 83r–83v.
Image: Dùn a’ Bhairp / Dùn Bharpa, Barra.

Captain Scott ‘Visiting’ Mingulay

As is well known the Hanoverian government, in the wake of Culloden in 1746, took some very heavy handed reprisals in order to put a stop to any future resistance from any disaffected Jacobites. One person – namely Captain Carolyn Scott – did not paint himself in glory at all for, according to oral testimony, he was a bloody and brutal man who gave but scant measures of justice to those who he had been ordered to repress in no uncertain terms:

The notorious Capt[ain] Scott came
to Mi[ng]ulay after Culloden. He got hold
of a man there Iain Mac Fhearachair ic Neill who had been in the army
of the Prince and without trial judge
or Jury hanged the man. The man whose
name was Iain Mac Fhear[achair] ic Mhur[chaidh] MacNeill
Iain mac Fhearachair ic Mhurach[a]idh ic Neill
was remarkably big and strong. When
his bones are still bro[ugh]t up they all
were large. Capt[ain] Scott and his soldiers
car[r]i[e]d them[selves] most ferociously. They
amused them[selves] by flaying the cattle
of the people alive and allowing them
then to run mad about the island.
Among the band was a High[lander] who after
the man was hanged whisper[ed] to the
peop[le] not to touch the body as Scott wou[ld]
yet return before going into the boat
and would give their houses to the flames
for the simple want [of] an excuse
The peop[le] took the advice. Scott re[turned]
from the strand but the body of the
man was where he left it so Scott
went away. The man had been
living in a cave long previous to this.

Another anecdote about Captain Scott in Mingulay stems from the pen of Miss Ada Goodrich-Freer in her rather romantic and over-wrought work entitled The Outer Isles (1904):

There was about this time a soldier, who had been in the ’15, who belonged to Mingulay. He was great-uncle’s son to Ian yonder, the son of Hamish, and he had some money, and the soldiers were coming after him. His brother advised him to put away the money in case of what might happen, but he said, ‘They’ve not done with me yet.’ However, he was surrounded by soldiers, and Captain Scott [whose name is execrated in the islands] ordered him to be shot, and he was robbed and murdered at the back of the house where the stackyard is.

The very same Captain Scott had been captured at the very outset of the ’45 Rebellion when he was captured at the skirmish known as the Battle of Highbridge (in Brae Lochaber). He was later released and, apart from his reputation for cruelty, is remembered for his successful defence during the Siege of Fort William in March 1746.

References:

CW114/72  fos, 83v–84r.

Goodrich-Freer, Ada, The Outer Hebrides (Westminster: Archibald Constable & Co., 1904), pp. 401–02.

Image:

Mingulay and Berneray.

MacNeil of Barra and Rob Roy MacGregor

One of the most renowned of the MacNeil chiefs of Barra, Ruairidh an Tartair (fl. 1634), once challenged Rob Roy MacGregor (1671–1734) to a duel. Alexander Carmichael took down this information from Roderick MacNeil or Ruairidh an Rùma, who coincidentally shares the namesake of the protagonist in this short anecdote concerning a sidelight of Highland history. Others aver that the likelier candidate for the MacNeil chief in question was rather Ruairidh Dubh, who, after hearing of Rob Roy’s prowess with a broadsword, rashly challenged him. Rob Roy was no fainting lily-livered coward and took up the challenge and as a result the MacNeil chief almost lost his arm. Despite this rather ill-starred beginning they became fast friends:

Rua[ry] an Tart[air] once went to challenge

Rob Roy. He reach[ed] his house along

with one body ser[vant]. He ask[ed] Ellen

if her hus[band] was in. She repl[ied] that he

was at a market but that he must

be coming home by this time. He i[?nquired]

were any met a batch of gent[lemen] on

the road ask[ing] if they said one with

whom he had some business to him

– Rob Roy. Yes said one of the gen[tlemen]

What’s your bus[iness]

Nist or is dileac[hd]an boc[hd] mi

Oighre dir[each] eir Ois[ein]

Bha gri inns[eadh] chruai[dh] fhortain

Do Phad[raig]

Another version of the this duel is given by Alexander MacDonald in his article about the MacNeils of Barra that appeared more than a century ago in The Celtic Review:

At another time Black Ruairidh went to try Rob Roy. When he reached the district of Rob Roy he met a little man on a horse, and the little man looked very tired. Black Ruairidh asked him where Rob Roy lived. ‘You have him here,’ said the man, ‘and he will be very glad to welcome you to the district.’ ‘Well,’ said Black Ruairidh, ‘I am MaNeil of Barra, and since I heard of your having a great name I came to try you.’ ‘I am very tired just now,’ said Rob Roy, ‘after making a great journey, and you had better dwell peacefully with me this night and we will try each other to-morrow.’ ‘Out of here I will not go,’ said Black Ruairidh, ‘till you try me.’ ‘Right enough, if that is how it is,’ said Rob Roy, coming off the horse. The heroes began at each other, and at the first beginning the top of the ear was taken off Black Ruairidh, and Rob Roy asked him if that would do. But with the way that Black Ruairidh was so full of the wickedness that had given him his name, he said it would not do. At the next draw his right arm was in two even halves above the elbow. He could not do more at that time and he yielded. Rob Roy took him home with him till his arm healed, and Black Ruairidh was as faithful a friend as Rob Roy had after that.

References:

CW114/25, fos. 58v–59r.

MacDonald, Alexander, ‘Some Legends of the MacNeils of Barra’, The Celtic Review, vol. I, no. 3 (1905), pp. 264-67.

Sinclair, Rev. Alexander Maclean, ‘The MacNeils of Barra’, The Celtic Review, vol. III (1906–1907), pp. 216–23.

Image: Rob Roy MacGregor.

Taking the Best, Leaving the Rest

Historical legends were (and still are to some extent) a common enough type of story to met with in the Highlands and Islands. Some tradition bearers were renowned for their ability to specialise in this genre such as Angus MacLellan, or Aonghas mac Iain ’ic Chaluim, from Griminish (Benbecula), from whom many such tales were recorded by Calum Iain Maclean during the 1950s. Indeed, almost a century before John Francis Campbell of Islay remarked upon those storytellers who had a deep knowledge of certain genres which, it may be assumed, is where there interests lay:

...Each branch of popular lore has its own votaries, as branches of literature have amongst the learned; that one man is the peasant historian and tells the battles of the clans; another a walking peerage, who knows the descent of most of the families in Scotland, and all about its neighbours and their origin; and other are romancers, and tell about the giants; other are moralists, and prefer the sagacious prose tales, which have a meaning, and might have a moral; a few know the history of the Feni [sic], and are antiquarians.

In this particular tale, the son of Sir Seumas Ruadh (or Sir James MacDonald of Sleat), who was but only around five years of age at the time of Culloden and who died in 1766, plays a key role. Seumas Òg or James MacDonald of Sleat, acting as a kind of knight errant, sees off the ruthless big bailiff through the intervention of his nursemaid. Having arrived from Trotternish in Skye, the bailiff was to come and collect the best horse from a poor widow but the undaunted Seumas Òg could not let such an injustice be done and took action as he thought fit necessary to deter any further visits from Skye bailiffs.

Sir Seumas Rua[dh] lived in Sollas
and had a caisteal there the ruins of this
were taken down ab[ou]t 80 y[ea]rs ago for fear
the[y] would injure cattle & horses that
used to shelter there. They were higher than
Carinish temple. When taken down
they nearly kill[e]d several. The pillars would
sway to & fro like trees. An anchor was pl[ace]d
at a distance and a cable on the top
tier of the binneag & then taken down.
This was Caisteal Shollais. C[aisteal] Sheum[ais].
Ruai[dh]. Sir Seumas Rua[dh] was mar[ried]
twice. Had a son by the first wife also
Seumas Og. A Maor mor came fr[om]
Trotarnish to take up the Each Ursann.
He went to Baileshear and took the
best was the E[ach]-ursann and taod gao[i]s[id]
fr[om] a poor wid[ow] there He came to
Sollas heated in a warm day. He
stooped to drink out of Tobar
Pheadair and Seumas og saw
him and rush[e]d out with his sw[or]d
Take up y[ou]r bon[ne]t said he and put
it on y[ou]r he[a]d and be off and never
let me see y[ou]r face here again or
Ill cut y[ou]r head into that well
His muim[e] heavy with child came
betw[een] them and S[eumas] Og said I give him
his life not for his own lifeless car
cass but f[o]r your sake but let me
never see his face again. The Maor
mor ran off as hard as he c[ou]ld an[d]
no maor has ever come fr[om] Trot
airnis since to N[orth] Uist. Tobar
Pheadair was closed there after
that and op[ene]d 30 y[ar]ds lower down.

References:
CW 107, fols. 32v–33v
Campbell, J. F. Popular Tales of the West Highlands, vol. 1 (Edinburgh: Birlinn Ltd., 1994), p. 34.
Image:
The MacDonald Boys (Sir Alexander MacDonald 1745–1795, 9th Baronet of Sleat and 1st Baron of Sleat, with Sir James MacDonald, 8th Baronet of Sleat 1741 –1766, father of Seumas Òg) by William Mosman.

Eòghan na h-Iteig / Ewen of the Feather

Sometimes an oblique entry, not to mention an unfinished one, noted down by Alexander Carmichael can be just as interesting, if not even more so, than a fuller account for, if nothing else, its piques curiosity. The following four lines of a story concerning Eòghan na h-Iteig (Ewen MacLean), chief of the Ardgour MacLeans is as good an example as any:

Gabhail mhath air a Chudain[nean]
The Macmasters had Air[d]gour
where Eon nan Iteag killed. The
Sionnach was the byname of the

On face value, this fragment does not make a great deal of sense. It may have been a note, an edited highlight, that Carmichael heard in the passing and which he was going to write up about later. It may also have just been all the information, a mere scrap, that the informant had. From this piece of information we have: Gabhail mhath air a' Chudainnean (The cuddies are taking well); that the MacMasters once had the upperhand in Ardgour until Eon nan Iteag (Ewen of the Feathers) had something to say about it; and then there was Sionnach (Fox) which was a nick name for somebody or another. All in all, there is not a great deal to go on from this merest of historical anecdotes. What then was going on here? Tradition relates that Ardgour had at one time been held by the MacMasters but they were dispossessed by the MacLeans. Somerled MacMillan relates the following tale:

One night Donald MacLean and a band of ruffians called at MacMaster's house, loudly demanding food, and when old MacMaster gave them a fiery rebuff they used his refusal as a pretext for murdering him. The Chief's eldest son made his escape from the house to Corran Ferry, but the ferryman named MacGurraclaich was out fishing at the time, and when young MacMaster shouted to him to come ashore and take him to the other side he received this callous reply: "Ta iad gabhail ro-mhath air na cudainnean an nochd" ("The 'cuddies' are taking too well to-night"). Young MacMaster was being hotly pursued and was forced to flee to a recess in the glen, but was soon discovered by the MacLean who murdered him on the spot. A cairn was erected over his grave and is believed to be still standing.

The story continues that MacGurraclaich was also killed by MacLean for his duplicity and disloyalty and was hung using oars used as a temporary scaffold. Now the back story to the enmity of the MacLeans against the MacMasters was due to an insult fired at the latter to MacDonald of the Isles. MacDonald is said to have sent the MacLeans as his henchmen in order to exact revenge and they would receive Ardgour in payment for their services. But the MacLean is usually ascribed to Eòghan na h-Iteig (sometimes Eòghan nan Iteag) from whom the chiefs of the Ardgour MacLeans took their patronymic Mac 'ic Eòghain. So far, so good. But what on earth is the mention of the fox doing here? Well, apparently, this is a veiled reference to the son and heir of the slain MacMaster chief. Perhaps he had the reputation of being rather wily. He is said to have sneaked off and hidden in a nearby wood. Wily or not he was eventually captured by Eòghan na h-Iteig and summarily executed and the spot on which he was buried was known as Càrn an t-Sionnaich ('The Cairn of the Fox'). It is said that the rest of the MacMasters fled across Corran Ferry to Inverlochy, where they can still be found, while their places were filled in Ardgour by the Boyds and Livingstones, who had come from Ireland with MacLean, and to this day several families of their descendants flourish in that district. So this is the traditional story of how the MacLeans tooks over Ardgour from the once powerful MacMasters.

Only one mystery remains, however, and it is why was Ewen MacLean given his nickname Eòghan na h-Iteig ('Ewen of the Feather')? One historian, dating the story back to the time of Harlaw, 1411, also states that that Ewen was the son of the redoubtable MacLean chieftain Hector MacLean, Eachann Ruadh nan Cath ('Red Hector of the Battles'), and his name arose from a time when he was fighting at Dunbarton: "after having killed his opponent, appropriated the head-covering of the dead warrior, which was ornamented by three feathers, he was dubbed by his Highland comrades Eobhan nan iteag ("Ewen of the Feathers")." Whereas the author of Clan Gillean offers an alternative folk etymology as well as a brief sketch of the chief:

Ewen of Ardgour was known as Eoghan na h-Iteige, or Ewen of the feather, an appellation which indicated that he was quick and active in his movements or like a bird flying from place to place. He was laird of Ardgour in 1587. He married a daughter of Stewart of Appin, by whom he had two sons, Allan and John. He was killed in his boat, by the Macdonalds of Keppoch […] He was slain probably about the year 1590. Allan, his elder son, became laird of Ardgour. John had a son named Allan. This Allan was the father of John Maclean, the famous Mull poet, who was known as Iain Mac Ailein Mhic Iain Mhic Eoghain.

But perhaps the best explanation for Ewen's appellation is not that he pilfered another warrior's helmet, or because he was fleet of foot, but rather that he was an expert archer.

References

CW120, fol. 97r

Somerled MacMillan, Bygone Lochaber: Historical and Traditional (Glasgow, 1971) pp. 99–101

Gary J. McMaster, 'Clan a Mhaighstir of Ardgour', The Scottish Genealogist, vol. 46, no. 2 (1999), pp. 57–70

W. Drummond Norie, Loyal Lochaber, Historical Genealogical and Traditionary (Glasgow, 1898) pp. 32–33

Alexander MacLean Sinclair, The Clan Gillean (Charlottetown, 1899) pp. 307–08

Image: Arrowhead

A faculty she would give worlds to be without

On the 27 May 1869 Alexander Carmichael visited, possibly for the first time, a woman with a remarkable store of the tradition of her native Uist: Penelope MacLellan née MacDonald (c. 1795–1873), known as Bean Ormacleit or ‘the wife of Ormacleit’, ‘Ormacleit’ here referring to her husband the tenant farmer John Maclellan. Carmichael would later describe her in Carmina Gadelica as ‘a lady of great beauty, excellence, historical knowledge, and good sense.’ According to reminiscences he wrote down many years later, Penelope was endowed with a another, rather less welcome ability:

She had been head dairymaid at Ormacleit for ten or twelve years where she had acquired much knowledge of cattle: cattle diseases, cattle ailments, cattle cures, cattle charms and cattle spells of many kinds. It was interesting to hear the woman describing these ailments and their symptoms their cures and their charms – the shrewd observations and the natural causes the skilful cures and the occult beliefs blending and mingling shading into one another like the tints of the rainbow.
     Penelope Macdonald is endowed with the faculty of the taibhse manadh – second sight or premonition. She has inherited this faculty from her paternal people who possessed the power for more generations than she could count. She says that the gift is unsolicited and undesired and that she would willingly dispense with it were she able. The visions come to her at any moment day or night when least expected and least convenient. These visions are mostly about the dead and the dying the dead being carried to their graves by the living sometimes those nearest and dearest to herself being nearest concerned. She judges of these events from the nearness of the persons to the ‘giùlan – carrying’. She sees bas cinn aghart agus bas cinn uisge – death head pillow and death head water – that is death by dying in bed and death by dying in water. She sees daoine saoghal nam marbh agus daoine saoghal nam beo a measg a cheile – an t-athair marbh agus am mac beo – an nighean beo agus am mathair marbh ann an cuideachd a cheile agus a siubhail seachad air a cheile gun suil gun diu aca do chach a cheile nas mo na bhitheadh aig coigirich an t-saoghail a bhos, agus iomadh rud eile a bhuineas dha’n t-saoghal thall. People of the world of the dead and people of the world of the living – people of the thither world and people of the hither world among one another – the dead father and the living son the living daughter and the dead mother in the society and in the company of one another and walking past one another without looking without heeding one another no more than were they strangers in the world here – and many other things that belong to the world beyond.
     The woman says that she often sees visions but she seldom speaks of them seldom even alludes to them. These visions trouble her much but she keeps her troubles to herself – to speak of them would only cause untimely sorrow and sorrow black sorrow comes betimes to all.
     Whatever the faculty may be there is no reason to doubt the sincere belief of this woman in her own faculty – a faculty which she says she would give worlds to be without. [CW MS 493 fos.141–2]

This piece was written as an introduction to a calving charm from Bean Ormacleit – Bò a’ breith – apparently no longer extant.

Penelope lived beside the ruins of the old mansion house of Ailean Dearg, the Clan Ranald chief who had fallen at the Battle of Sheriffmuir in 1715.

She had the happiness, a few years before she died, of handing to her chief and relative, Admiral Sir Reginald Macdonald of Clanranald, some jewellery that had been found in the ruins of the castle. The jewellery in all probability had been the property of Penelope Mackenzie, the lady of gallant Clanranald of the ’15, and for whom Penelope Macdonald had been named. [CG ii, 27]

One of her ancestors was the famous Uist hero Dòmhnall mac Iain ’ic Sheumais under whose leadership the MacDonalds destroyed a MacLeod raiding party at the Battle of Càirinis in 1601.

As an opening to the recording session on 27 May 1869, Bean Ormacleit narrated the exploits of her famous ancestor. She then gave Carmichael several songs and more local historical traditions, before rounding off their céilidh, as has happened in many other céilidhs before or since, with a supernatural ghost story. At a further meeting, on 12 April 1870, she gave him much valuable information – some of it apparently not entirely accurate – about the family of the jacobite heroine Flora MacDonald. Some time in April or May 1877, after recording more information about Flora, Carmichael mentions Penelope’s grandfather:

Uistean Ban Chillepheadair came fr[om] N[orth] Uist – His son Donald lived at Dallbrug & was the father of the late Bean Ormacleit (Mrs Maclellan) [CW MS 108 fo.18v]

Ùisdean Bàn Chille Pheadair was the Hugh MacDonald who in August 1800 gave a fascinating overview of the history of the islands to the Committee of the Highland Society of London set up to enquire into the authenticity or otherwise of James Macpherson’s Ossianic epics.

References:

CW MS 108 fo.18v.

CW MS 493 fos.141–3.

Carmina Gadelica ii, 27.

Henry Mackenzie (ed.), Report of the Committee of the Highland Society of Scotland appointed to enquire into the Nature and Authenticity of the Poems of Ossian (Edinburgh, 1805), 38–44.

Image:

Thanks to Donald MacIsaac for kindly giving permission to use his photograph of Ormacleit Castle and Farmhouse.

The Appin Banner: Donald Molach Livingstone the Standard Bearer

The impact of the Battle of Culloden, the last major battle to have been fought on British soil in 1746, will be forever imprinted upon the psyche of the Highlands. Alexander Carmichael lived and was actively collecting at only around two or three generations remove from those who had either fought at the battle or who had lived through the experience of post-Culloden society which saw a sea change throughout the Highlands and Islands. And, of course, though many would have been reticent about mentioning anything about Culloden and its aftermath, stories of heroism, heart-rending songs or stirring pipe tunes would and, in some ways, had to be remembered to commemorate the last and bloodiest of the many battles that were to see the Jacobite Rising of the ’45 eventually flounder and fail. On that fateful day, the Livingstones followed the Stewarts of Appin, and accompanied them at the Battle of Culloden, where Donald Livingstone saved the banner of the Stewarts, and conveyed it back to Appin. The family of Livingstones were Barons of the Bachull and received grants of lands in Lismore as keepers of the crozier or baculum of the Bishops of Lismore, known in Gaelic as the Bachull Mòr:

John Livingstone son of h Ach
na crei went to Morven his son Donald
fo[ugh]t at Culloden aged
18. Nine Donald[s] were shot
down carrying the Bratach of the
Prince when Don[ald] Livingstone
took it up and swathed round
his body. He was shot down and
was thought to be dead but he got up
with nine bullet wounds –
fresh wounds which were seen
in his body when he died aged
79 or 80 years old. Never had
trews on. He was drover to George
being commissariat to the garri
son at F[ort] William to the
last. Died at Morvern. He
had six sons – two of whom
were drowned on Cuan
na h-Eirinn having a ves[s]el of
their own with which they
traded to Ireland. There we[re]
2 da[ugh]t[er]s died unmarried.
Donald Molach – “hairy Don[al]d”
He was called – in Savary.
His wife Jane Stewart of
Ardslignish. The mother
of Donull Molach was Ann
Macinnes native of Morvern

Some of the story has clearly been exaggerated from the telling but it is based upon historical facts such as those provided by the Rev. Ian Carmichael from his book Lismore in Alba (1948):

The Appin Banner has a yellow St. Andrew’s Cross on a back-ground of light blue silk; the dimensions 5 feet hoist, with a fly of 6 feet 7 inches. It is now in the Military Museum, Edinburgh Castle, hanging beside the banner of the English troops-Barrel’s Regiment (King’s Own Royal) – whom the Appin Regiment charged and broke. Dark stains, said to be the blood of its defenders, are still to be seen, together with the marks of bullet holes…Twelve banners of the Highland Clans flew at Culloden. Only the banner of the Appin Regiment came home again. The remaining eleven were publicly burned by the common hangman at the Mercat Cross in Edinburgh.

As is stated, the banner named in Gaelic Bratach Bhàn nan Stiùbhartaich (The White Banner of the Stewarts [of Appin]) was kept for many years in the United Services Museum in Edinburgh Castle. It can still seen as it is now housed in the Jacobite Room in the New Museum of Scotland on Chambers Street, Edinburgh.

References:

CW 126(g), fos. 203r-203v

Ian Carmichael, Lismore in Alba (Perth: Leslie, 1948)

Duncan Livingstone, 'The Stewarts of Appin at Culloden', The Celtic Monthly, vol. 4 (1896), pp. 91-93, 119-20, 131-33.

Image:

The Appin Banner, National Museum of Scotland, Edinburgh.