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.

What’s in a name?

Borve Castle, Benbecula / Caisteal Bhuirgh, Beinn na Faoghla

Sometimes Alexander Carmichael’s entries are so full of information that they generally have to be unpacked and carefully read before they reveal anything. This example is not untypical for at the mere mention of a name – Àird nan Ceann, Benbecula, in this instance, where a battle is said to have been fought – a series of related items is given beginning with a prediction attributed to the so-called Brahan Seer, or Coinneach Odhar Fiosaiche. The exact location of the place is then given with some fascinating detail about a rock called Creaga Loisgte which was, according to this tradition, one of the first places to be utilised by an Irishman for the purposes of teaching the proper method of kelp-burning. And finally it is related that it was, and perhaps still is, a very fertile place used for planting potatoes and other crops as well as being a very good place for harvesting lobsters, crabs and sand-eels:

Aird-nan-ceann S[outh] E[ast] of the Caisteal
where a battle is to be fo[ugh]t & where a great army

has been seen under arms in a vision
Aird nan Ceann sin s Aird nan C[eann]
S mail liom nach mi bheir cam ann
Aig ceann a chlachain a deas
Sann a bheirear an cath teth teann
osa Cainneach O[dh]ar. Aird nan ceann
is bet[ween] the castle & Braobh fha[th]oil
Creaga Lois[g]te got its name fr[om] the first
kelp having been burnt there by Rua[i]ri[dh]
na Luath – an Irishman who came to
teach kelp making. This was the best plac[e]
for giomaich & crubagun. This is now
pota[to] ground bere &c. Each[ann]’s wife’s gr[ea]t g[r]and
mother Catri[o]na ni[gh]ean mhic a
Ghobh-an – used to bring basketfull[s] of siol
agaun from round the castle. Siolagun
can only be got from a clean strand at
low wat[er] spring tide.

Reference:
CW 116, f. 58v.
Image:
Borve Castle, Benbecula / Caisteal Bhuirgh, Beinn na Faoghla.

Song Narrative: Ailein Duinn a shiùbhlainn leat

A famous Gaelic song Ailein Duinn a shiùbhlainn leat (Brown-haired Allan, I would go with you) seems to have captured Alexander Carmichael’s imagination for he recorded around a half a dozen versions of it. One particular reciter from whom he got at least one version of this song was Kate Urquhart (1830–1927), Taransay, wife of Donald MacKinnon (the very same man who had guided Carmichael around the island). The following song narrative behind this tragic accident compares favourably with other versions that are scattered throughout many Gaelic journals and song anthologies. This note is also interspersed with some Campbell family history as, presumably, Anne Campbell, styled Annag nic Dhòmhnaill ’ic Iain Òig, was of this stock:

This song comp[osed] by An[n]a ni[c] Dho[mh]n[u]i[l]l ic Iain
Oig Chaimbeul. Iain Sheilebost was
the Duke of Argyle son cal[led] who came to Har[ris].
It was tho[ugh]t he and MacLeoids son kil[le]d a
young man at col[lege] & they ran here. He
was heir to the Duke his fath[er], but he nev[er]
went back. He went fr[om] Seilebost to Scapa
fr[om] which the Campbells of Scalpa came
The Camp[bells] of Strannd de[scended] fr[om] one
of the Barra breac fam[il]y who came to see
Iain Sheil[ebost] See here. Iain Sheile[bost]
came to Harris ab[ou]t 200 y[ea]rs ago.
The composer of the song was eng[aged] to a ship
Capt[ain] & had been drown[e]d near Scalpa or else
where. When she died soon after of a broken
heart she was to be bur[ied] at Rodail. On the
way thither the funeral boat kept close to land
The one cont[aining] the boy was furth[est] out & a storm
came which sever[ed] it fr[om] the rest They gave them
up for lost & set crainn which fell upon a dying
man An old man said We sill not throw
out the living till we throw out the dead.
They then threw out the corpse when it was
washed in again. They then took out the foot
end and all the body to slid[e] out when it w[en]t
to the bot[tom] & im[mediately] a dead calm en[sued] It was Miss
Camp[bell] own req[uest] that she sh[ou]ld be bur[ied] near
the place where he lover had been lost. She
was the dau[gh]t[er] of Don[ald] Camp[bell] who entertain[ed]
P[rince] Charlie.

References:
CW 116, fos. 2v–3r.
Carmina Gadelica, ii, p. 282.
Gillies, Anne Lorne, Gaelic Songs of Scotland (Edinburgh: Birlinn, 2006), pp. 50–53.
Image: Scalpay, Harris © Copyright David Wake and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence.

“Your Gaelic intuition must be extraordinary”

Fr. Allan McDonald and Alexander Carmichael were regular correspondents from at least the mid-1890s if not earlier until the former’s lamentably early death that took place on his adopted isle of Eriskay in 1905. This interesting and important letter was written just after Fr. Allan had received and obviously absorbed a great deal of Carmina Gadelica which, after all, had been a long time in the making and to which he had been given due acknowledgement in the introduction to Carmichael's masterwork. In general terms, the letter praises the work although at one particular point it is couched in irony bordering perhaps even on the sarcastic. One wonders whether Carmichael even detected this. Fr. Allan was in a position to know for he had done a great deal of collecting himself and he knew – though perhaps he does not state this explicitly – where Carmichael had been disingenuous with his sources and had been gilding the lily.

Eriskay

Sept[ember] 20th, 1900

Dear Mr. Carmichael,

The “Ortha” arrived safely and I am very thankful for it.

The work is well done. I am not surprised now at your delay. There is nothing to cavil at and everything to admire in the finished book you put together. The notes come in so well, scattered as they are instead of being all kept for the end. They balance the book and keep the interested equally divided between the sweetness of the hymns and the variety of your own patient researches. The translation is marvellous. It is a puzzle to me how you were able to interpret what I know the reciters themselves would tell you they could not understand, and yet when I read any such piece and look at the translation I say “Yes, it must be that”.

Your Gaelic intuition must be extraordinary. I once used to think that Alasdair Mac Mh[aighsti]r Alasdair coined words impromptu to express his feelings. If it had been the case, you intuition would have interpreted.

The English translation could not be excelled.

Your vocabulary is the most interesting I ever read. It hasn’t even the fault that the man found with Johnson’s English Dictionary when he said it was good reading if it didn’t change the subject so often. Every page of your vocabulary affords only another phase of the Gaelic spirit and culture.

You have done what no other could do now. Forty years have worked havock [sic] in our traditions. You stepped in and picked up these fragments in the search, and they more than anything else that we have will prove to the world the thoroughness of the Christianity that was spread from Iona and the piety of the people whose life in its every action was but a new act of worship of God. The traditions and the spirit are nearly gone and a bombastic bluster with no high or distinct ideals is nearly all we have left.

Many a time I have said, when hearing a pretty expression of politeness of the old Christian kind: What a fine old people were here when these expressions and the like of them were the natural expressions of the heart and not a mere lip of courtesy and politeness.

You have linked us with the Christian past, the best era that the Scottish Gael ever had, and have given us something more to be proud of than broadswords and bloodshed.

I am glad your picture is in the book. It could be nowhere better framed and set then there.

With thanks and congratulations and very good wishes,

I am, dear Mr. Carmichael

Yours truly,

Allan McDonald

P.S. Kindest wishes to Mrs. Carmichael and Miss Carmichael

Reference:

Canna House Archive, Letter of Fr. Allan McDonald to Alexander Carmichael, 20 September 1900.

Image:

Fr. Allan McDonald, styled Maighstir Ailein.

Fairy Cattle

It was not completely unusual for Alexander Carmichael to note down succinct and short examples of Gaelic lore. Here, for example, is one that involves fairy cattle. Unfortunately, the Clanranald hero named in the story cannot be identified but his location is: Rosinish or Roisinis which may be taken to be the one in Benbecula rather than the one further south in Eriskay. He owned a cow but it gave little milk and so it happened that his wife one morning found three fairy cattle and went to milk them. A voice suggests that she spills a pail full of milk on the fairy-mound at Rosinish. She followed this instruction and she benefited by having plenty of milk thereafter. The story concludes with the woman’s death and the disappearance of the cattle. Presumably she could no longer provide a milk sacrifice to the fairy folk and so they then withheld their fairy cattle. Because the story has been summarised there is little to explain why the fairy cattle arrived on the scene in the first place:

A hero of Clanranald lived at Roisinis

& had 1 cow & but little milk. One morn[in]g his

wife saw 3 cro[dh] maol bui[dhe] & went to milk

them. A voice came to her at night & request[ed]

her to spill the full of the cuman

on the top of the sithein (Roisinis)

She did so each day & ever aft[er] she had

the cows & plenty of milk. When the woman

died the cows left & never ret[urne]d.

In Gaelic tradition such cattle are usually referred to as crodh sìdhe or mara (fairy or sea cattle). Elsewhere in Carmina Gadelica, Carmichael supplies a short note under the heading Crodh-mara, which he translates as sea-cows:

‘Cra-chluasach’, crimson-eared and ‘corc-chlusach’, purple-eared, are terms applied to a species of cattle with red ears which are alleged to be descended from sea-cows. Some of these cattle have one or both ears scalloped, and are hence called ‘torc-chluasach’, or notch-eared. Probably these red-eared cattle are descended from the old Caledonian cattle are also called ‘earc iucna’, notched cattle.

Several sea-cows came ashore at Struth, Obbe, Harris. The sea-maiden was tending the sea-cows, and singing the following song as she sent them back to sea and away through the Sound of Harris:–

Chualas nuall an cuan Canach,

Bo a Tiriodh, bo a Barraidh,
Bo a Ile, ’s bo a Arainn,
’S a Cinntire uain a bharraich.

A low is heard in the sea of Canna,
A cow from Tiree, a cow from Barra,
A cow from Islay, a cow from Arran,
And from green Kintyre of the birches.

References:
CW 116, fos. 53v–53r
Carmina Gadelica, ii, pp. 260–61.
Image:
Rosinish, Benbecula / Roisinis, Beinn na Faoghla

2,500th catalogue entry created

Friday saw another milestone for the Carmichael Watson Project as the 2,500th item was catalogued (ref. Coll-97/CW116/16 folio 4v). The item relates to a man called Taogai MacCuinn who is said to have been the progenitor of all the MacQueens in Skye and Uist. He is described as being litigious and the item tells how he 'got off' a charge of crop damage.

Taogai MacCuinn from whom descended

the MacCuinns. This Taog was litigious. He had a

g[rea]t law plea about corn damaged. He wa[s] pur[sued] for

this corn & he sug[gested] that the inj[ury] might have been down

to the seals rolling them[elves] over the corn & he got off.

He lived in Trotarnish Skye from him all

the MacCuinns in Skye & Uist.

This nugget of information was collected by Alexander Carmichael on Taransay from a man called Ranald MacDonald (c1834-1913), who was a sheep farmer and the son of John MacDonald, tacksman of Taransay, during his visit there in July 1870.

So far, these 2,500 catalogue entries cover over 500 subjects, 130 families, 800 people and 1,300 places. You won't have too long to wait until you can explore these items for yourself as the online catalogue is due to be made live during our conference "Alexander Carmichael: Collecting Controversy and Contexts" on Thursday 23 June 2011. 

Reference: Coll-97/CW116/16 folio 4v.
Image: Loch na h-Uidhe, Taransay © Copyright Peter Standing and licensed for reuse under Creative Commons Licence via http://www.geograph.org.uk/