Showing posts with label Mary Macrae. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mary Macrae. Show all posts

Monday, 17 November 2014

Alexander Carmichael and the Island of Scarp - I



Recently we have heard quite a lot about the now uninhabited island of Scarp, An Scarp, four square miles in extent and separated by a narrow but dangerous channel from the mountainous north-west shoulder of ‘mainland’ Harris. 

Firstly, in the Sir Iain Noble Memorial Lecture at Sabhal Mòr Ostaig in Skye, Dr Hugh Dan MacLennan gave a fascinating talk about his mother’s native island, and the summers he spent there as a boy. Again, in a recent programme on BBC Radio Scotland, Remembering the Men of Scarp, we heard Murdo Maclennan, who also spent boyhood summers on the island, describing how he tends the graves of two relatives there who had lost their lives in the Great War.

This made us wonder if Alexander Carmichael had visited Scarp. A quick check in the files showed that, of course, he had:

Teampull an Scarp/Scarpa
’S na h-Earradh. 16 Nov 1881

Teampull an Scarp was pretty entire till a few years ago, [deleted: at least from 6 to 7 six to seven feet of the walls] were standing till then. A schoolmaster came to the island a man with newfangled notions about things and he made the people pull down the ruined walls of the temple to build a chimney for himself in his school house – his fire before then being on the floor of his single roomed dwelling.

A small crogan [little earthen dish or jar] stood in the litter of the little temple. The crogan was small and white, pure white and beautifully fashioned. Every one admired and no one touched the crogan till one night a woman took home the crogan. But the woman was ill at ease for what she did she could not sleep at night and she could not rest by day and at least she repented her deed returned the crogan to the window of the temple. The crogan was no time there when it disappeared this time for ever – cha’n fhacas a dhath no dhreach riamh riamh tuilleadh – cha’n fhacas a dhuine choir riamh riamh tuilleadh a dha[th] no dhreach.

In Scarp Greenock is called Chrianaig instead of Grianaig.

[CW MS 499 fos.642–4]

During the eighteenth century, like the similar Hebridean islands of Eriskay, Scalpay, and Rona, Scarp was a relatively small, relatively infertile and relatively underpopulated outlier in the wider estate economy. Like these other islands, Scarp’s circumstances changed drastically during the great convulsions of the clearances: in the aftermath of the Napoleonic Wars, it became home to a large community of tenant families who had been evicted from the somewhat more fertile ground on the ‘mainland’ opposite. There they would serve as a labour reserve for the huge new sheep farm run by Fear Hùisinis, Alexander MacRae from Kintail, on the lands from which they themselves had been cleared. Even the most cursory glance at the microhistory of North Harris in the Age of Clearance reminds us that issues of colonisation, dispossession, deportation, relocation, and, indeed, diaspora, can be traced not just in the multicultural British Empire overseas, but in a specifically Gaelic milieu within the Scottish Gàidhealtachd itself.

Alexander MacRae (1787–1874) was the second son of Archibald MacRae of Ardintoul (1744–1830) and Janet MacLeod, one of the ten daughters of John MacLeod of Raasay who so impressed Dr Johnson when he stayed with the chief during his tour of the Hebrides in 1773. In Harris tradition, Fear Hùisinis does not enjoy the best of reputations. His father Archibald was apparently invited to the island on the advice of the hated local factor Donald Stewart; the family ties that connected them, and other members of the ‘island gentry’, have been explicated and elucidated in a series of outstanding blog articles by Peter Kerr. 

The clan history, however, describes Alexander MacRae as a ‘good Catholic’, ‘a liberal and large-hearted man’ who ‘[a]s an amateur musician … possessed unusual taste and cultivation, and was an excellent violinist. He had also a keen appreciation of the national music and poetry of the Highlands’. It is perhaps not surprising that among the Tàilich that he brought to Harris were two important informants of Alexander Carmichael, the shepherd and seanchaidh Malcolm MacRae (c. 1806–66) at Abhainn Suidhe, and the dairymaid, singer, and all-round character Mary MacRae (c. 1790–1879) at Caolas Stiatair.



As well as contributing extra labour to Alexander MacRae’s sheep farm, the people of Scarp were expected to scratch a precarious living from the island itself – supplemented for a while by a little summer grazings, and later by a few patches of arable land across the sound. Above all, however, the Scarpaich were expected to turn themselves into fishermen. This they did with aplomb, celebrated for their remarkable seamanship – and oarsmanship – both in the treacherous waters around the island itself, and, for a while, with the long lines out in the open Atlantic.

As with similar islands such as Eriskay, Scalpay, and Rona, initially at least the islanders flourished in spite of the odds. Although the island lacked a deep harbour and safe anchorages, the Scarp fishing industry was able to keep the people alive. But during the century the population increased dramatically: crofts were subdivided to the point that by the time of Alexander Carmichael’s visit in 1881 the island was in danger of becoming severely overcrowded: 213 Scarpaich inhabited three adjacent townships. In the words of their representative to the Napier Commission in 1883, Scarp was ‘more of a pound or a fank than a habitation for them’. As the anecdotes recorded by Alexander Carmichael might suggest, during these years Scarp society was changing dramatically in other respects too.

Images: Scarp, by Nigel Brown: geograph.org.uk; Caolas na Scarp and North Harris, by Seymore Hicks: gb.geoview.info

Tuesday, 27 November 2012

Book Week Scotland: The Dancing Dairymaid

ook Week Scotland continues with two entries about one woman from Carmina Gadelica. These demonstrate well the personal details which Alexander Carmichael collected and which undoubtedly enhanced the folklore he recorded. It has to be said that on occasion he appears to have confused some people or misrecorded information but given the hundreds of individuals with whom he interacted it isn't entirely surprising that there are a few errors.


Be that as it may, the descriptions of the Harris dairywoman, Màiri Nic Rath [Mary Macrae] in Carmina Gadelica are corroborated by Carmichael's original notes, which are part of the Carmichael Watson Collection: notebook Coll-97/CW87/67 giving us a description of this lively nonagenarian. In addition, the published versions, given below,  mention useful historical information and surprisingly even refer to the literary figures of Bowell and Johnson.

Dia Liom a Laighe

This poem was taken down in 1866 from Mary Macrae, Harris. She came from Kintail when young, with Alexander Macrae, whose mother was one of the celebrated ten daughters of Macleod of Rararsay, mentioned by Johnson and Boswell. Mary Macrae was rather under than over middle height, but strongly and symmetrically formed. She often walked with companions, after the work of the day was done, distances of ten and fifteeen miles to a dance, and after dancing all night walked back again to the work of the morning fresh and vigorous as if nothing unusual had occurred. She was a faithful servant and an admirable worker, and danced at her leisure and carolled at her work like 'Fosgag Mhoire,' Our Lady's lark, above her.

View from Ard an t-Sobhail /Ardintoul.
The people of Harris had been greatly given to old lore and to the old ways of their fathers, reciting and singing, dancing and merry-making; but a reaction occurred, and Mary Macrae's old-world ways were abjured and condemned.

'The bigots of an iron time
Had called her simple art a crime.'

But Mary Macrae heeded not, and went on in her own way, singing her songs and ballads, intoning her hymns and incantations, and chanting her own 'port-a-bial,' mouth-music, and dancing to her own shadow when nothing better was available.

I love to think of this brave kindly woman, with her strong Highland characteristics and her proud Highland spirit. She was a true type of a grand people gone never to return.


Cailleach Beinne Brice

The wonderful woman who sang this song and many other songs to the writer has been described earlier (i. 4 f.). Mary Macrae, known as Màiri Bhreac, Màiri Bhanchaig, was dairywoman with Alexander Macrae of Hùisinis, Caolas Stiadar, Harris. In her ninety-ninth year she was hale, strong and comely, having been ill but once in her life, and that with smallpox. She had been always an active and excellent worker, bright, cheerful, and good-humoured, and these qualities she retained to the end of her days. She sang this song with remarkable effect, as if she were in her nineteenth rather than her ninety-ninth year.

She attended church every Sunday, no matter what the weather might be. If the tide was out she came across 'Tràigh Chliamain,' St Clement's Strand, which shortened the way, though wet; if the tide was in she had to come round the bay, which made the distance much longer. One stormy day of wind and snow the minister, Mr Charles Maclean, expected no one to come out in such weather; but, lest any should, he went down to the church. To his astonishment he found Mary in her usual place, alone in the church.

'A Mhàiri, a Mhàiri, 'd é thug a mach sibh an diugh ri leithid seo do latha, agus sibh leibh féin?'
'Mary, Mary, what has brought you out on such a day, and all alone?'

'Thug, a Mhaighstir Tearlach, a dh'éisdeachd facal Dé 'ga leughadh agus 'ga mhìneachadh dhomh; agus nar bheil mi liom féin idir, a Mhaighstir Tearlach.'
'To hear the word of God being read and expounded to me, Mr Charles; and I am not alone at all, Mr Charles.'

'Nach bheil, a Mhàiri bhochd?' agus thug am ministir sù­il thuig agus sù­il uaidh mun cuairt na h-eaglais, feuch am faiceadh e neach na neach, ach chan fhac e neach idir. 
'Are you not, poor Mary?' and the minister glanced round the church, if by chance he might see somebody but he saw no one at all. 

'Nar bheil mi liom féin idir, a Mhaighstir Tearlach, is mi nach bheil. Bha triùir chairdean caomh caomhail liom gach ceum dha'n t-slighe tighinn.'
'I am not alone at all, Mr Charles; far from it. There were three dear and loved friends with me every step of the road coming.'

'An robh a nis? Chan fhaic mi iad, a Mhàiri! Có iad, na càit am bheil iad?'
'Were there now? I do not see them, Mary! Who or where are they?'

'Bha triùir chairdean coamh coibhneil liom gach ceum dha'n t-slighe, - an t-Athair agus am Mac agus an Spioraid liom gach ceum dha'n t-slighe,' arsa Màiri. Chuir Màiri Nic Rath agus am freagairt a thug i, gun facal sgoil 'na ceann, agus i faisg air ciad bliadhna dh'aois, gu smaoin am ministir mar nach do chuir dad riamh roimhe na 'na dhéidh.
'Yes, there were three dear kind friends with em every step of the way, - the Father, the Son and the Spirit were with me every step of the way,' said Mary. Mary Macrae and the answer she gave, though she had not a word of schooling in her head and she was close on a hundred years old, made the minister think as nothing before or since.
Shamrock, symbol of the Trinity
Alexander Macrae whose dairywoman Mary Macrae was, had come from Aird an t-Sobhail, Kintail, to live in Harris, and was known as 'Fear H­ùisinis,' the laird of Hùisinis. His brother was Sir John Macrae, general of India. Sir John, who was an able musician, sent to his brother for this song, and played it before Queen Victoria upon the pipes.

Mary Macrae, dairywoman, said that this song was sung by a woman whose mind was deranged by a sudden fright when she was but newly risen from childbed. She fled to the hills and lived in the 'frìth,' forest, with the deer, going with them wherever they went. The people of the town-land often saw and followed her, but they could not keep her in sight, far less catch her. At length a 'brocair,' foxhunter, found her asleep and came upon her from behind.

'Shuain an sealgair a folt fada m'a ghàirdean doisgeil, agus cha b'àil leatha teicheadh. Mo ghaol air féin! nach e bha tapaidh!' arsa seann Mhàiri bhochd.
The hunter twined her long hair around his left arm, and she had no wish to flee. My love on himself! was he not brave!' said poor old Mary. 

The sudden start she got put back her heart in its place, and she became quiet and gentle. The hair of her head reached down to her heels, and her body was covered all over with downy hair, a touching sight to see. The hunter put his 'breacan-guaille,' tartan shoulder-plaid, about her, and she came home with him quite quietly. This happened in Lochaber.



References: 
Alexander Carmichael, Carmina Gadelica, vol i (Edinburgh, 1900) pp. 4-5, 
Alexander Carmichael, Carmina Gadelica, vol v (Edinburgh, 1954) pp. 168-173
Images: 
Initial letter from Carmina Gadelica, vol i (Edinburgh, 1900 p. 22.
MacNicol dairymaid by R. R. MacIan, 1842.
View from Ard an t-Sobhail /Ardintoul panorama: copyright of http://www.highlandpanoramas.co.uk
Deer picture from http://favim.com/image/130659/

Stone whorls WHM 1992 13 2.4

Stone whorls WHM 1992 13 2.4
Stone whorls collected by Alexander Carmichael, held by West Highland Museum (ref. WHM 1992 13 2.4). [© carstenflieger.com]