Of the many hundreds
of storytellers recorded by Calum Maclean, Duncan
MacDonald of South Uist, better known as Donnnchadh mac Dhòmhnaill ’ic Dhonnchaidh, was reckoned by him to
have been the best in either Gaelic Scotland or Ireland. Just as he had done
with Angus
MacMillan, Calum Maclean recorded an autobiography of Duncan MacDonald.
MacDonald began reciting his story on the 6th of November 1949 and over the
ensuing days and nights poured out his life story on wax cylinders which
Maclean then transcribed.
Duncan MacDonald’s
antecedents came from North Uist. This is
where his grandfather, Iain MacDhòmhnaill ’ic Tharmaid
(‘John son of Donald son of Norman’)
was born. He was a tailor by profession.
He had brothers as well. Due
to his work he moved around a lot and eventually landed in South Uist.
He was tailoring for Fear a’ Ghearraidh Fhliuch
(‘The Tacksman of Gearraidh Fhliuch’) when he fell in love with this man’s
daughter, Catrìona. Although he was initially
against the marriage he was eventually won over once he had found out about the
tailor’s ancestry. After
they married they brought up a family of three boys,
one of them was Duncan, another
Tarmad (‘Norman’) and also another Donald. There
were also two daughters.
Duncan went to Ireland where he married a
daughter of James Flanagan. Duncan,
the informant’s grandfather, married in Gearradh Fhliuch.
Norman was also married but there are no sign of his descendents.
Regarding the informant’s
own grandfather, Duncan, who married very young and had three sons.
He also had two daughters from his first wife, a daughter of
Ludovick from Benbecula. A little
while after Duncan was married for a second time to a daughter of Dòmhnall Ruadh Mac an t-Saoir (‘Young
Red-haired Donald MacIntyre’) from Baile Buidhe.
Duncan was only thirty-five
years old at the time of his second marriage. They
had a further two daughters. Two Catrìonas and three sons, two called Iain, and
the other Donald, the informant’s father.
Donald rented Gerinish long after the death of the Tacksman of Gearradh Fliuch
which was now owned by a Chisholm who sold it to a Gordon. One of the
agreements was that anyone who rented from Gordon had to work half a week for
this landowner. John, Duncan’s son,
did this type of work when he had reached maturity. He worked so hard that he
died at just the age of twenty-one.
Duncan looked after the younger ones, and the other John worked for the miller
at Howmore. A deal was struck that Duncan got half a croft in Snishival and he
was willing to move away from Gerinish. But the land was difficult to work and
far away from the shore. The
informant’s father was only ten years of age at this time in 1844. There is
where the informant grew up. The two daughters worked away from home and one of
them married Alasdair mac Dhòmnaill ’ic
Dhòmhnaill ’ic Iain (‘Alasdair son of Donald,
son of Donald, son of John’) who were closely related to
the Tacksman of Bornish, that was
Mary (Màiri nighean Alasdair Ruaidh)
who knew a lot of songs and stories and who is now over eighty years of age.
John also married when he came of age and he built a house in Boisdale and
whose son still has it. They had a large family in Daliburgh; they are called Clann Dhòmhnaill ’ic Iain ’ic Dhonnchaidh
(‘The Children of Donald, son of John,
son of Duncan’). The informant’s father also married when he came of age and he
married Nighean Niall ’ic Iain Bhàin
(‘Daughter of Neill son of Fair-haired
John’), who belonged to the MacEachens of Snishival. All this family were
brought up in Snishival.
As there was not much land there they
eventually got a croft in Peninerine when the tack was broken up and new crofts
established. They were willing to take a new croft. The informant’s grandfather
died in 1866. The informant’s grandfather was a stonemason and likewise the
informant’s father. The informant states that his grandfather was an extremely
able storyteller and he had an enormous repertoire, many of which the informant’s
father did not learn. He also had a great many songs. The informant’s
grandfather learnt every single word from his own father and all these songs
and stories had been transmitted down the generations to the informant’s own
day.
When the informant’s
grandfather died his father then looked after the croft and his other brother
John was married in Lochboisdale when the informant was around twenty-one
years of age. There was a family of five: the informant himself, Duncan, Neil,
then John (who died), another called Donald John (who became a joiner and was
married in Uist but who was subsequently killed during WW1 at Loos) and the
youngest, also called John who died during WWII. When
the informant’s father put in for the croft in Peninerine there were many
others who had also forwarded their names and so his father didn’t get one at
first and it instead went to Duncan Johnston (who had second sight). He thought
he had seen two coffins in the ruins of croft-house and thought that it was his
own family so he refused to take it. The bailiff was so annoyed about this that
he offered the croft to the informant’s father. They took the croft and they
completed finishing the building and they also built another house. The
informant thought that because his brother Donald John was a joiner then this
was the reason why the other man had seen the two coffins as two were made and
left in the ruins of the croft-house.
They were now at the croft in Peninerine and
a house was built in 1910 and all the family was there. The informant, Duncan
MacDonald, was born in 1882 in Snishival. At the age of five he was sent to
school at Stoneybridge, situated
two miles away over the moor. Every afternoon the informant’s father would meet
him coming back from school to make sure that he didn’t drown in the Geadarry
burn. The teacher at the time was Miss MacColl, from Perthshire, who had plenty
Gaelic. She used to speak to all the children in Gaelic. And although she was a
Protestant a day did not pass when she did not make the children say their
prayers in English. After she retired, a MacPherson woman from Benbecula then
taught at the school. She was only there a while before a new Irish teacher
arrived, Miss Mulcahay. She could only speak English. The informant stayed at
school until he was fourteen years of age. The informant states that he was
good at religious education as well as reading and writing English. He also
learnt to read and write Gaelic. They also had to buy all their stationary at
the school. They all had to take their own food to school as well as fuel for
the fire. They never wore shoes or socks apart from during the winter time. The
Informant also remarks upon the type of clothing worn by the scholars, kilts
and jackets which were usually hand-me-downs
from their parents. Not many had either hats or shoes. Those who stayed close
to the school went home for lunch. The informant never went home for lunch as
Snishival was too far away. They would then have their dinner at night. The
informant then gives brief details of the kind of activities the children would
get up to during playtime such as cutting peats, playing shinty and team games.
They would also have fights with peat sods against the boys from Ormaclete and
their schoolmistress would get very annoyed at how muddy they all were. During
playtime they would also go to neighbouring houses to warm themselves at the
fire. There was one old woman called Peinidh
Mhòr (‘Big Penny’) who was married to Alasdair
mac Dhòmhnaill ’ic Aonghais Ruaidh
(‘Alasdair son of Donald, son of
Red-haired Angus’) who had lots and lots of old
stories which the informant heard and which he could still remember some of
them.
As soon as the informant left school he began
to work harvesting seaweed. The shore was only three miles away and he had to
walk there everyday. The first winter and spring the informant managed to do
two tons for which he received £1 for each ton. A schilling from each pound was
paid for drying the seaweed. Informant’s father did not have a cart so it was
arranged for a cart to take the seaweed to Loch Eynort and this cost four
schillings to do so per ton. The informant worked at this for a year and
continued with it for one more but the price kept on going down. It was like
this for many years. When the informant was eighteen years of age he then got
employment with the miller in Snishival.
The informant, Duncan MacDonald,
then tells another story about his father-in-law,
Niall mac Nìll ’ic
Dhòmhnaill (‘Neil son of Neil son of Donald’), another of the MacIntyres. He
was an excellent poacher. As a
young lad he was always fishing. He lived very close to the gamekeeper and he
let the young lad carry on with his fishing. However,
the gamekeeper’s wife was quite against the young lad fishing in the burn.
The gamekeeper defended him by saying that the young lad just had
a hook at the end of a string and that he
wasn’t doing any harm. But he tricked the
gamekeeper for as soon as he left the young lad took out a good rod,
with a hook and bait and caught many fish.
During the winter months the informant would
work on the seaweed. During the winter the seaweed would blossom and by
springtime the stalks had fully matured and were full of juice.
Around May time, with the first big wind, the
stalks would separate from the seaweed and they would come in with the tide to
the shore in great heaps. This bragaire or oarweed was then taken to
the shore and spread around. Once it
had been lying for three days in the sun it was then ready to be turned over so
the other side could be sunned. When this
oarweed had been thoroughly dried it was then gathered and put into a stack and
then left for a number of days until it turned grey and tough from which the
best kelp could then be manufactured. If
the kelp was burnt then it was be a dry coal with black ash but when it had
grown grey and thin as if it were porridge then it would be best for burning in
the kiln. The kiln was around a foot and a half in
height and six to seven feet in length. When kelp was being burnt a bundle of
heather or a sack of shavings were put in the middle of the kiln.
The seaweed furthest away was spread over the kiln. The flame was
then kept going using a light bush until it had taken. As
the fire went on any openings were filled with a bush put into them.
This had to be used correctly. There used to be four or five, even
six with six kilns alight. Once the evening came they would let down each of
the kilns and all the kelp would then be collected. The informant then details
the process by which the kelp was prepared when they would beat the weed into a
mass using ‘kelp irons’ (long-handled
iron mallets or hooks). This process was then repeated for all the other kilns.
After one, two or
even three days the kelp was then beaten up using a mallet and put into heaps.
Then the kelp heaps were covered with turf to
protect it against moisture and left
to cool overnight. Over time more and more
kelp was manufactured until a vessel came to take away the kelp.
The kelp then had to be taken to the harbour in a cart and horse.
No-one had any idea as to how much money they would get until the bailiff told
them around Martinmas after the accounts had been calculated. Out of each ton
of seaweed a royalty of a shilling was kept but this was not the case with the
manufactured kelp.
By 1904 or 1905 the seaweed was still burnt
on the shore and then sent away in sacks. This was the ash left after burning
the seaweed. The price for this was £5 per ton, then
£4, £3, then down to a schilling for a ton. There was
no standard price. However, a crown in
royalties had to be paid for anyone burning seaweed. The ash had then to be
sent to Loch Eynort but the steamer never came into this bay at all – instead
it was kept at anchor at a good distance away. They used to take the kelp out
in boats at full-tide. They all helped in
loading either the ash or the kelp and they were not paid for this work. After
which the accounts were calculated and they all went over to Loch Skipport or
Lochboisdale to get paid. Once the informant tried to get away with paying for
the carting of bags by carrying it himself but he notes that he never managed
to get away with this.
It was then discovered that seaweed did not
have to be kelped at all but that once they seaweed had been burnt was to just
leave it in the kiln and to let it lie there. Many of the old people didn’t believe in this
method. The old way was to put a wall around but then to burn the seaweed on a
mound. However, once the old people started do die off the young people never
took to kelping as they could make kelp without using the old kelping process.
The informant notes that he has seen both processes used and they produce kelp
just as well as one another. Kelp work finished in 1932 but in 1941 Cefoil
started.
When the informant was young there used to be
weddings and balls. There was also waulkings and after them balls and dances.
They also used to play shinty games at special times of the year, especially
around Christmas time and also around St Andrew’s day. Every young lad who took
part in the shinty match received a schilling. Then a couple of lads were
chosen who would then go and get some whisky. On the night there would be a
ball in one of the school-houses and there would be plenty of whisky and fun
until the morning.
With regard to waulking houses the young
women would be very keen to go if they knew that a dance or ball would be held
after the waulking. The boys would gather with a piper after the waulking and
then food would be served and afterwards the dance would start. They used to
dance until one or two o’clock in
the morning before everyone went home.
A lot of drink would be taken at engagement
parties and weddings. The
informant heard that there was not enough drink at his own father’s engagement
party. A man at the party left the after midnight
and fell down a well. The next man who came out got the other man out of the
well.
The informant married in 1913 and his bride
came from the same township as he was himself. Both were born and brought up in
the same village. They (at the time of recording) are still married. Duncan
MacDonald’s wife is called Mairead
Aonghais Ruaidh Mhic an t-Saoir
(‘Margaret daughter of Red-haired Angus
Macintyre’). The first son they had died. He was an
excellent scholar. Those who stay in the household are the informant’s
own brother, another son and his two daughters. They have
three crofts all together and so have plenty land. The informant has one, his
bother Neil another and also his own son owns a croft. The also have plenty
stock. They have four cattle but used to have more. They have three or four
horses but used to have four or five. They usually plant an acre of potatoes,
six or seven acres of rye, and four or five acres of oats. In
winter they keep three haystacks. They also have around thirty sheep, three or
four calves. Sometimes they have more than this. They use the Highland plough
and use horses to pull it.
In 1909 the informant’s uncle, William
Deering, came from Glasgow. His wife had recently died
and he had two children which he expected to leave with the MacDonalds. But as
the MacDonalds had just moved to Peninerine they did not have enough room. But
the informant promised that he would go out to visit him in Glasgow. Shortly
afterwards the informant left from Lochboisdale on the boat to Glasgow. By the
time the informant left he had no way of sending a telegram to his uncle to
tell him to meet him when he got off the boat in Glasgow. The boat went at
first to Barra where the informant met a man called Ronald Johnston who
arranged for a telegram to be sent. However, when the boat reached Glasgow
there was no one to meet the informant. So by asking a young lad the informant
got a tram to Bryers Road in Glasgow. The informant then briefly describes his
trip on the tram. The informant thought that 229 Bryers Road was his
destination. Eventually the informant found the place and then the flat inside.
After the informant knocked on the door his uncle’s daughter answered the door
and was surprised to find the informant standing there. The informant went in
and found William Deering lying in bed taking a rest and the informant asked if
he had received the telegram that he had sent. He said that he had not but had
been expecting one. In any case the informant made it all the way without any
fuss. The informant spent fifteen days in Glasgow. The informant describes Glasgow
as full of noise with all the shipyards. The informant also attended football
matches as well as going to the pictures. After his fortnight’s stay the
informant then went back to Uist but the weather was worse. The boat visited
many places and because the weather was far worse it took far longer to reach
Uist.
After the informant married in 1913 he took
wife to his mother’s house as she had grown
weak and was now aged over sixty. The informant’s mother was very pleased to
have a strong, young woman around the house. She had known the informant’s wife
since she was born and they got on well with one another. The informant,
nevertheless, expected to get themselves a place of their own.
But then the Great War broke out the year after the informant
married. The informant’s two brothers, Neil and Donald John,
the former stayed with the informant while the latter was married
in Howbeg and was a joiner to trade, were both enlisted. The informant was left
by himself as his youngest brother went to Lamber Asylum in 1915. Donald John
was killed in action at Loos on 25 September 1915. The informant’s youngest
brother took this news so badly that he too enlisted in search of revenge. He
was trained and then sent over to France where he served until Armistice Day.
The informant took over another croft before
the war ended and until his brother returned from the war. The informant,
however, decided to stay on the croft that he father once had.
The informant’s family was growing up and his eldest son won a
bursary and went to school at Fort William but he was home sick and died at
early age on 3 August 1934 at only twenty years of age. The informant’s son
died in Invergarry and the informant went there to take him home.
The informant’s father died on 1 August 1919
and who had never suffered any type of illness before. He took a stroke after
breakfast and lasted two days in bed before he passed away. He never recovered
his power of speech before he died. He was eighty-five and a half years of age
when he died. The only thing that he had suffered from was
rheumatism. He had been a stonemason and was exceptionally strong. He could
lift 200 pounds of kelp without any trouble. The
informant’s father could also lift a locally-known
stone that was very heavy. He was
reckoned to be one of the strongest men on the island. He was 5 foot ten inches
tall and had a 48 inches in the chest but did not look overweight. He used to
sing all the time while he was working. He never seemed to rest and if people came to
visit they would talk and he would tell stories. The people used to like
listening to these stories. The informant himself was a young child and
remembers every word he said. The informant’s father used to reward them by
telling his children stories. The informant believes that his own father did
not have even half of the stories of his own father. He
also had old songs. He always used to sing the old songs.
They used to take the grain to the mill at
Mingarry in order for it to be milled. Sometimes
they used to go to the mill in Benbecula when the tide permitted. One time the
informant went to Benbecula with four sacks of grain. There was no bridge over
the ford in those days. The informant went over to Creagorry to find that there
was an auction for Hugh Boyd going on. The informant saw John MacDonald from Stoneybridge
who came over to talk with the informant. Afterwards the informant went over to
the mill and got the grain grounded. The informant did not expect to go home
until tomorrow when the tide was out at mid-day. But on his way to the hotel
the informant met John MacDonald again and they talked for a while and then
this man asked the informant if he was going back over. The informant was
persuaded to go along with John MacDonald. They decided to meet at Mary Bell’s
house. The informant went to get his horse and cart ready along with the sacks
of grain. It was a dark night. The informant did not have a lantern or any kind
of light. The informant reached Mary Bell’s house to find quite a crowd of
people. The informant got hold of someone to look after the mare while he went
inside the house to fetch John MacDonald to find him in bed and once he was
awoken made an excuse not to go over that night. Instead he told the informant
that Ronald the Doctor was willing to over and that he could accompany him instead.
So Ronald the Doctor came and he and the informant left together. It was a
terribly dark night which nearly led to their destruction. There was no light
be seen in the direction of Carnan. If there had been then it would have been
easier to cross over. They went over the ford at Creagorry and there was a
south-westerly wind. The informant noted this well as they could follow
direction of the wind by putting their faces towards it. When the reached half-way
and were at Àth Ghobhlach (‘The Forked Ford’) the horse became skittish and
turned round. The informant then thought that the wind direction had changed to
a north-easterly. The other man just thought that it was because they had
turned round. And the other man wished to carry on towards the Ford but the
informant was against this course of action. The informant waited until the
other man came back. They could not see the beach as it was so dark. The
informant then thought that if the wind had indeed changed its course to a
north-easterly then they could still reach a ruin over by. They followed this
course and they eventually made it across to a place that the informant knew
well. The informant tied the horse up and they then went to Big John’s house
and his daughter got up and made them some tea and food. They also had a dram.
The other man left for home and the informant stayed in the house until
daybreak. The informant then rigged to horse and cart and safely arrived home.
The informant would never again take the advice of someone else with regard to
going over the ford or to cross it during the night.
The miller in Benbecula was called Am Muillear Ruadh (‘The Red-haired
Miller’) and the informant knew him well before he moved out of Howbeg. This is
where he had been a miller at first. The informant knew full well that this
miller had the reputation of producing more mould than he should have done.
The informant’s own miller in Mingarry was very honest. If two
sacks of grain were given to him then you would have to take an extra sack for
once the grain was ground it would fill more than the original two sacks. At
one time the informant went to see the miller in Benbecula with seven bushels but
only two were returned. This time the informant had two bushels in three sacks
and another bushel in the fourth sack. The informant said to himself that the
miller was not going to trick him this time around. But they had a dram on
their way to the mill and so when the reached the mill the miller had a ploy by
which he made the informant go to see the miller’s mother who had been asking
for the informant. The informant did not wish to go out of sight of the grain
being grounded. But every time the miller went out that his mother was
complaining that the informant had not come to see her. The miller knew what
the informant suspected. But the informant then asked the miller if he was
going in as well. He said that he was and they both left together. The miller’s
mother was there along with the miller’s wife and a child. The table was set
with food and three cups. The informant sat round the table along with the
others. They talked for a while and then the miller’s wife poured tea for the
informant and the lad. The informant then asked if the miller was staying for
tea but he replied that he had some earlier. The informant then knew that he
had been outwitted once again for the miller would leave while he was drinking
tea. The informant vowed there and then that it would never happen again. The
informant was very far from being pleased but only for a little while. When the
informant was lifting the grain from the chest there were only three sackfulls.
The miller said that there was another sackfull on its way. They informant said
that there was three sackfulls left in the chest and that he was going to take
them. The miller didn’t say a word. The informant got back what he had been
owed.
At the outbreak of WWI when the informant’s
brothers had enlisted that was the time when stonemason work came to a stop and
the informant turned his hand the working on the land. His father’s croft was
far better than the one on which they had been raised. It was only half a croft.
The informant then continued his work as a stonemason and he relates all the
houses that he built around South Uist from around this time until around 1944.
During WWI the informant’s son enlisted but was captured at St Valery [Donald
John MacDonald later wrote an account of his time as a POW entitled Fo Sgàil a’ Swastika]. During this time
the informant looked after the crofts.
In
1949, the informant then relates another trip to Glasgow in order to take part
in a broadcast which had been arranged by Calum Maclean and David Thompson. He
stayed with his brother-in-law Donald MacIntyre in Paisley. The radio programme
entitled ‘Black House Into White’ was broadcast on the 15th of March 1949 on
the BBC’s 3rd Programme. The informant then describes the changes that he noted
since last being in Glasgow in 1909.
The
informant began work on collecting seaweed again as Cefoil was established in
1944. In the meantime, the price of seaweed had gone up and the informant was
happy with the work he was undertaking. He also notes that the seaweed was transported
by lorry between South Uist and Benbecula. Informant here notes that his mother
died in 1927.
The
informant then recollects that K. C. Craig came to visit him in order to
collect stories from him in 1942 and came back again to visit in 1944. He notes
(speaking in 1950) that the stories that he collected had yet to be published.
The
informant ends his narrative by saying that he is now more or less retired and
has given up heavy work. He says that if it had not been for Calum Maclean whom
he first met in March 1947 then he would not now be telling his life story. He
finishes by saying that he is now aged sixty-six years of age on the second
last day of the last month of Spring in 1950.
Duncan MacDonald died
only four years later after recording his life story and Calum Maclean wrote a
brief obituary for him which was printed in The Scotsman which
is here reproduced in full:
The late Duncan MacDonald: An Appreciation
The death of Duncan MacDonald came as a shock
to all whoever met this remarkable man. His passing robs us of the finest
Gaelic storyteller in either Scotland or Ireland. He was the most authoritative
tradition bearer in the Highlands, and with him a very great part of lore
passes into oblivion, lore of which he alone was in proud possession. His name
is, of course, known to leading folklorists in many European countries and his
storytelling was the highlight of the International Conference on Folklore in
Stornoway and Oban last October. For over a whole hour the leading folklorists
of Europe listened spellbound to his telling of the heroic tales, Fear na
h-Abaide, the Man of the Habit. His storytelling was a perfected art, an art
that delighted not only learned audiences but also his humbler fellow-islanders
at the firesides in South Uist. Duncan was a stonemason, whenever he came to
work in any township the people gathered in to listen to his telling of tales.
Duncan the son of Donald the son of Duncan son of Iain son of Donald the son of
Norman, a descendant to the MacRury family of hereditary bards to the
MacDonalds of Sleat will be long remembered. To Gaelic folklore his death is an
irreparable loss. Seven of his tales were published in 1950 by Mr J. Kirkland
Craig. The Irish Folklore Commission recorded 120 of his tales, the Folklore
Institute also recorded several scores of songs, lays and tales from his
dictation while his son, Donald John, recorded over 1,500 MS. pages of material
from him during the past winter. Duncan’s stories were featured on The Third
Programme in David Thomson’s Black House
into White first broadcast in 1949.
In his own sphere
Duncan MacDonald was a truly great man, a man whose name ought to be revered
and honoured in any country with a sense of cultural value. His life was
absolutely exemplary. His religious duties never forgotten. Even during his
working hours he always found time to may down his tools and pray. Duncan is
gone. Requiescat in Pace.
References:
Calum
I. MacGilleathain, ‘Aonghus agus Donnchadh’, Gairm, air. 10 (An Geamhradh, 1954), pp: 170–74
Calum
Maclean, ‘Uist Storyteller: Death of Duncan MacDonald’, The Scotsman, no. 34651 (18 June 1954), p. 8
NFC 1180, pp. 1111–256 [Duncan MacDonald’s autobiography]
NFC 1180, pp. 1111–256 [Duncan MacDonald’s autobiography]
Image:
Duncan MacDonald rope-making by Dr Werner Kissling, 1953. Courtesy of the School of Scottish Studies Archives, University of Edinburgh
Very interesting and informative but the text should read "Dòmhnall Ruadh Mac an t-Saoir (‘Red-haired Donald MacIntyre’) " - there is no "Young" in the Gaelic text.
ReplyDelete