One of the last great
tradition bearers from the isle of Eigg was undoubtedly Hugh MacKinnon
(1894–1972), a crofter and postman, who could trace his lineage back several generations
to families such as the MacQuarries and MacCormicks. MacKinnon married Mary MacDonald and had issue, two sons
called Angus and Archibald, and two daughters called Christina and Peggy. All of them
were brought up on the croft, situated in Cleadale to the north of the island,
which had been in the possession of the family since the mid-nineteenth
century.
Calum Maclean (1915–1960)
visited the Small Isles in 1946 and still found a great deal of songs and
stories to record and transcribe, especially on the isle of Eigg. His initial
regret though was that he arrived too late to take anything down from old
Duncan MacLellan, a renowned tradition bearer who had scores and scores of
songs and stories but who had, unfortunately, passed on a year before. What
Maclean may have lost with the passing of this storyteller was probably more
than made up by Hugh MacKinnon.
In Eigg I stayed with my writer friend,
George Scott-Moncrieff. Our nearest neighbour was Hugh MacKinnon, postman of
the island, and one of the most charming characters I have met on this sojourn
in the Isles. With him I spent most of my time in Eigg. Every evening for a
month I carried my Ediphone on my shoulders across the fields to his house and
set it down on his table. Every story he knew, every scrap of local and
historical tradition, every song he remembered was sung or spoken into that
machine.
Maclean even wrote a
three-page account of his collecting in Eigg for an Irish periodical Comhar which appeared in the December
issue of 1946. Elsewhere, Maclean was clearly impressed with MacKinnon’s poetic
ability and also with his linguistic skills:
He himself was the bard of the island. He
could compose songs almost extempore, and every event of local interest
occasioned a new song. Hugh MacKinnon was a very facile speaker both in Gaelic
and English. For a man who did not have more than a primary school education he
had a surprising command of English. He could name every field, stream, rock,
and hillock, on the island.
During his stay on Eigg,
Maclean found that the weather was rather inclement but when the sun decided to
show herself then who better to show him round the island as a guide than
MacKinnon:
It rained incessantly during my stay in Eigg.
One weekend the sun did show itself. With Hugh MacKinnon I climbed the cliffs
that overlook the township of Cleadale. From there I could see Skye and the
Cuillins to the north-east. That was the first time I had seen the Cuillins
from that direction. In my boyhood I had been used to looking at them from the
east. Away to the west was Barra. On fine evenings the islands of Barra could
be seen looming on the western horizon. Sometimes one island only was visible,
at other times several. But they begun to intrigue me. I decided to go to Barra.
Fr. Anthony Ross, who also had
the pleasure of knowing MacKinnon, writes a fitting tribute to the
storyteller’s diction and style:
He was an eloquent man. His words were
carefully chosen for accuracy of meaning and for beauty of rhythm and sound,
pondered and uttered without haste. Not only was his voice eloquent. All who
knew him will remember an astonishing mobility of facial and bodily gesture,
the movement of his eyes, the lift of an eyebrow or shoulder which gave
emphasis to his words. The whole man communicated, alert always to the response
of his listeners.
MacKinnon had an intimate
knowledge of the island’s tradition, such as genealogy, place-names, historical
lore as well as songs:
He loved Eigg and its traditions
passionately, but jealously guarding his community against scorn or disrespect
from the outside world. He had to be sure of those he was speaking to before
opening the treasure-house.
In conversation with the
late Donald Archie MacDonald, MacKinnon said that he got most of his lore from
his maternal uncle, Angus MacCormick, styled Aonghas Fhionnlaigh, who died in 1927 when Hugh himself would have
been in his mid-twenties. Perhaps Fr. Ross put it best when he wrote of
MacKinnon’s deep knowledge of his native island and the many traditions which
had come down to him from his maternal uncle as well as others who had told him
of Eigg’s history and people:
His mind moved freely in time, in a way that
was disconcerting at first to those who did not know him. It was as though he
lived in the whole tradition of the community as his immediate experience,
referring to three hundred years ago as easily as to the events of the previous
year, talking about people from the past with the warmth given to personal
friends or acquaintances, and often with well-phrased humour.
Hugh passed not a few of his
traditions onto his son Angus, styled Aonghas
a’ Charaidh, who, after retiring as an army engineer, returned to the
family croft in Eigg. With the passing of Hugh in 1972 and Angus, at the age of
seventy-three in 2000, a long line of Eigg tradition bearers came to an end and
their lore would have gone to their graves if it were not for dedication and
effort of a number of fieldworkers from the Irish Folklore Commission and the
School of Scottish Studies.
Reference:
Tocher, vol. 10 (1973)
[volume dedicated to Hugh MacKinnon]
Image:
The photograph of Hugh MacKinnon weeding
potatoes in June 1963 was taken by Edinburgh-born author Alasdair Alpin
MacGregor (1899–1970)
In the last part of her biography, The Lions Mouth, Kathleen Raine mentions meeting Hugh MacKinnon while staying on Eigg with the painter Winifred Nicholson
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