Angus MacMillan’s Life Story – II [His Father]

A previous blog offered a summary of Angus MacMillan’s life story. It may be divided into eleven sections of varying lengths. Here is offered the second part (NFC 1180, pp. 307–13) where MacMillan described to Calum Maclean his father’s background and his amazing ability at storytelling. He was known as Calum Barrach MacMillan, indicating that he came from the Isle of Barra. The opportunity has been taken to modernise the Gaelic orthography and also to offer a translation. A summary of this section may be given as follows:

2.    His Father [Calum MacMillan]

Angus MacMillan described his father as being five feet ten inches tall. He was a crofter.  At the time of his death he was eighty-eight years of age and without any impairment to his memory or hearing. He had a good, strong voice and a prodigious memory for he only needed to hear a story twice before he had it committed to memory. He received no formal education and had never spent a day at school. He had three brothers, two of whom were in Kintyre and the other was over in Canada. None of them are living now [1948]. He left Barra when he was twelve years of age and he was the only one who came north. There was one in Bruarnish in Barra called Mòr an Tàilleir and she was his father’s sister.

Angus MacMillan then explains that his father got a great deal of his repertoire from an itinerant dance master who belonged to Morar named Ewen MacLachlan, styled An Dannsair Ciotach [due to a shrivelled hand], who stayed with his father when he over-wintered at his house. Angus tells that his father used to have a full house in which he would tell stories.  One such story was a translation from Jules Verne’s Six Weeks in a Baloon. The story was told in English by James MacDonald, a tailor from Gearradh Bheag.

M’ athair agus na Sgeulachdan

’S e ceist a th’ ann cà ’n d’fhuair e na sgeulachdan. Tha mi a’ smaointinn gur h-ann eadar Ormaicleit is Beinne na Faoghla a fhuair e na sgeulachdan. Bha maighstir-dannsa a seo a’ chiad fhear a thàinig a dh’ Uibhist a dh’ ionnsachadh dannsa. Bha sgoil dhannsa aige am Beinne na Faoghla. Bha e a’ fuireach an taigh m’ athar agus bha na sgeulachdan aige agus bhiodh e a’ gabhail sgeulachd a h-uile h-oidhche. Mun d’rugadh mise a bh’ ann. Bha Gàidhlig aige. ’S ann mu dheas a chuir m’ athair eòlas air. Nuair a thàinig m’ athair a Bheinne na Faoghla chaidh e dìreach gu taigh m’ athar nuair a thàinig e fhèin. Chuala mi gun robh làmh bheag air. Bha e geamhradh ann. Bha e cunntais bhliadhnaichean ann cuideachd. Thigeadh e an-dràsta is a-rithist. ’S ann a chionn 90 bliadhna a bha an dannsair seo mun cuairt. Fhuair e a’ Chrìosdachd sgeulachdan on mhaighistir-dannsa seo. Chan eil cuimhne agam an-dràsta dè ’n t-ainm a bha air.

Fhuair mi an t-eòlas seo a leanas o dhaoine eile:

(a) Iain Mac a’ Phearsain, an Coddaí, Bàgh a Tuath, Barraigh. Dh’innis an Coddaí dhomh gun cuala e mun mhaighistir-dannsa a bha sin. ’S e ’n Dannsair Ciotach an t-ainm a bh’ air. Bha làmh bheag no làmh ghoirid air. Bha e anns an Spàinn ag ionnsachadh a bhith na shagart a dhèanamh agus b’ fheudar dhà sgur an uair sin. An sin thàinig e dhachaigh agus thòisich e air a dhol timcheall ag ionnsachadh seann-dannsaidhean agus seann-sgeulachdan. Thàinig e a dh’ Uibhist. Chuala an Coddaí o dhuine a bha eòlach air Calum Barrach, athair Aonghais, gun robh Calum Barrach fhèin ag innseadh gun robh an Dannsair Ciotach air banais taighe an Ormaicleit. Bha an Dannsair Ciotach a’ dannsa ann agus bha crùisgean crochte air sìoman anns an taigh. Bha an Dannsair Ciotach cho math le chasan is gun do chuir e as na crùisgean ochd uirean an dèidh a chèile le bhith a’ togail a chasan. Thuirt an Coddaí gum biodh an Dannsair Ciotach a’ cruinneachadh sgeulachdan cuideachd.

(b) Niall Aonghais MacDhòmhnaill, Maighistir-sgoile, Bàgh a’ Chaisteil, Barraigh. Bha Niall Aonghais ag innseadh dhomh gur h-e Eòghain na Làimhe Bige an t-ainm a bh’ air an dannsair. Chuala Niall Aonghais a mhàthair fhèin a’ bruidhinn ma dhèidhinn an dannsair. Is ann a Beinne na Faoghla a tha màthair Niall Aonghais.

(c) Iain Ruadh MacLeòid, croitear agus maighistir-dannsa, Iochdar, Uibhist a’ Chinn á Deas. Bha Iain Ruadh MacLeòid ag innseadh dhomh gur h-e Eòghain MacLachlainn an t-ainm a bh’ air an dannsair. Bha esan ag ràdha gur h-ann san Fhraing a bha e ag ionnsachadh a bhith na shagart. Bha seann-duine anns an Ìochdar agus dh’ionnsaich e dannsa on Dannsair Chiotach. ’S e ’n seann-duine sin a dh’ionnsaich dannsa do dh’Iain Ruadh e fhèin. Gheibhear tuilleadh eòlais mun Dannsair san Ìochdar. C[alum] M[aclean]. 

Aonghas Barrach

Bhiodh làn an taighe a’ tighinn a-staigh a dh’èisteachd ri m’ athair a’ gabhail nan sgeulachd. Bhiodh iad a’ tighinn fad a’ gheamhraidh. Theannadh e am beul na h-oidhche agus bha e a’ dol gu deich uairean. Sin nuair a bhiodh e a’ stad. Mura biodh an sgeulachd uallamh an oidhche sin, bhiodh iad a’ tighinn glè mhoch an ath-oidhche gus an cluinneadh iad uile i. ’S e m’ athair a bhiodh ag innseadh nan sgeulachd an-còmhnuidh. Cha bhiodh bodaich eile ann aig am biodh stòireannan idir. Bhiodh m’ athair oidhcheannan a’ snìomh sìomain fraoich agus sìomain murrain agus bhiodh e ag innseadh nan sgeulachd mar a bha e ag obair. Bhiodh bundle aige de fhraoch fo chois agus e a’ tarraing às lìon bad is bad. Nan cluinneadh e sgeulachd aon uair bha i aige. Bha sgeulachd ga leughadh aig Seumas Dòmhnallach, an tàillear anns a’ Ghearradh Bheag. ’S ann ann am Beurla a bha i agus bha an tàillear ga tionnadh gu Gàidhlig [Six Weeks in a Balloon, an sgeulachd. Tha mi a’ smaointinn gur h-e Jules Verne an t-ughdair, ach chan eil mi cinnteach, C[alum] M[aclean]]. Thug an tàillear fad seachdain ga leughadh. Bha i agam nuair a bha an leabhar uallamh agus thàine mi dhachaigh tràth suas mu naoidh uairean agus bha mi air a’ fodradh a dhèanamh, am biadh a thoir’ dha na beothaichean is dha na h-eich agus dh’fhaighneachd m’ athair: an ann bochd a bha mi agus thuirt mi nach ann. Bha fhios aige taghta math gun robh mi ag èisteachd na sgeulachd a bha seo agus dh’iarr e orm pìos dhen sgeulachd a ghabhail gus am biodh àm dol a laighe ann agus thuirt mi ris gun gabhainn greim suipearach an toiseach mun teannainn. An rud a rinn sinn, ghabh sinn greim suipearach agus nuair a ghabh sinn an t-suipear theann mise air an sgeulachd. Cha robh a-staigh ach mi-fhìn agus m’ athair agus mo mhàthair agus dithis pheathraichean. Bha mi ag obair air an sgeulachd agus bhuail an cadal mo pheathraichean agus chaidh iad a chadal. Bhuail an cadal an seo mo mhàthair agus chaidh i fhèin a laighe. Ach aon phriobadh cha tànaig air m’ athair agus bha e gam shìor-chàineadh a h-uile h-oidhche cho fad is a bha mi gun tighinn dachaigh. Bha a’ ghrian ag èirigh mun do stad mi. Latha geamhraidh a bh’ ann. Thuirt mi ris gun dèanadh siud fhèin an gnothach an-diugh, gur h-e a bh’ ann is chan e a-nochd. Cha d’rinn mise ach tionndadh a-mach a dh’ fhodradh sa mhadainn gun dol a chadal idir. Chaidh m’ athair a chadal agus dh’èirich e am beul na h-oidhche an latha sin agus dh’iarr e orm teannadh air a’ chòrr dhen sgeulachd. Thuirt mi ris nach gabhainn a-nochd idir i, gum b’ fheàrr leam a dhol a leabaidh gun robh mi glè fheumach air a dhol a chadal agus mo dhùsgadh aig àm fodraidh, airson gun dèanainn a’ fodradh. Rinn iad sin. Dhùsgadh aig àm fodraidh mi agus an obair a bh’ aig m’ athair bha e ag innseadh na sgeulachd a chuala e a-raoir. Rinn mise a’ fodradh agus ghabh mi mo shuipear agus start mi air an sgeulachd far an do stad mi sa mhadainn agus chum mi orm gus an robh e còig uairean sa mhadainn an làr-na-mhàireach. Agus nuair a bha mi uallamh, thuirt mi ris: “Tha mi an dòchas nach bi sibh a-nist cho trom orm cho fada is a bha mi gun tighinn dhachaigh. Tha sibh fhèin a cheart cho fada rium a chionn dà oidhche.”
 

My Father and his Stories

The real question is where did he get his stories. I think he got these stories between Ormaclete and Benbecula. A dance master came to Uist to teach dancing. He had a dance school in Benbecula and stayed at my father’s house. He had many stories and told them every night. This was before my time. He spoke Gaelic. My father knew him from Barra and just when my father came to Benbecula he went straight to my father’s house when he arrived himself. I heard that he had a shrivelled hand. He stayed for a winter. He stayed many years there also. He would come now and again. It is ninety years since the dancer was around. He had a Christendom of stories from this dance master. I cannot now recall what his name was.

I got this from various informants:

(a) John MacPherson, the Coddy, Northbay, Barra. The Coddy told me that he had heard about this dance master. He was called the Shrivel-handed Dancer as he had a small or short hand. He had been in Spain in order to be ordained as a priest but he had to give this up. Then he returned home and began to go around learning old dances and stories. He came to Uist. The Coddy heard from other people who knew Calum Barrach, Angus’s father, that Calum Barrach himself told how the Shrivel-handed Dancer was at a wedding in a house in Ormaclete. The Shrivel-handed Dancer was dancing and the lamps were hanging by heather-ropes in the house. The Shrivel-handed Dancer was so skilled with his feet that he put out the crushie lamps eight times after another by raising his legs. The Coddy said that the Shrivel-handed Dancer would collect stories as well.

(b) Neil Angus MacDonald, school-master, Castlebay, Barra. Neil Angus told me that the dancer’s name was Ewen of the Little Hand. Neil Angus heard his own mother speaking about the dancer. Neil Angus’s mother belonged to Benbecula.

(c) Red-haired John MacLeod, crofter and dance-master, Eochar, South Uist. Red-haired John MacLeod told me that the dancer’s name was Ewen MacLachlann. He told me that he went to France to learn the priesthood. An old man from Eochar was taught dancing by the Shrivel-handed Dancer and this old man in turn taught Red-haired John dancing. More information about the Dancer can be got in Iochdar. C[alum] M[aclean].

Angus Barrach MacMillan

There would be a full house listening to my father telling stories. They used to come all winter-time. They’d arrive at nightfall and he would perform until ten o’ clock when they used to stop. If the story wasn’t finished on that particular night then they would arrive late the next night until they had heard it all. My father always used to tell the stories. No other old men who were present had these stories. My father would spend the nights weaving heather- and grass-ropes and he would tell the stories while he worked. He used to have a bundle of heather under his foot and he pulled out a net, clump after clump. If he heard a story once he would have it. A story was read by James MacDonald, the tailor in Gearradh Bheag. It was in English and the tailor translated it into Gaelic [Six Weeks in a Baloon, the story. I think the author is Jules Verne, but I’m not sure, C[alum] M[aclean]. The tailor took a whole week to read it. I had it by heart by the time the book was finished and I came home early about nine o’ clock after I had made the fodder, the food to give to the cattle and the horses and my father asked me if I had been poorly and I replied that I had not been. He knew very well that I had been listening to this story and he asked me to tell a bit of the story until he was ready to retire for the night and I said that I would at first take my supper beside the fire. The thing we did, we took our supper and after we had supper I started on the story. There was no one at home except for myself, my father, my mother and two sisters.  As I continued with the story my sisters grew sleepy and retired. Soon after, my mother became sleepy and went to bed, but my father didn’t even wink – he had been constantly berating me every night for being so late in coming home. The sun was rising before I stopped reciting – it was a winter’s day – and I told him that would have to do for today for it was now daytime and the night had passed. So I just went out and worked on the fodder without going to bed at all. My father went to sleep and he got up at nightfall and he asked me to tell the rest of the story. I told him that I’d not tell it tonight for I preferred to go to bed as I was in great need of sleep and to be wakened up at fodder-time. They did that. I was awakened at fodder-time and my father’s work was to tell the story that he heard the night before. I made the fodder and I took my supper and I continued the story where I had left off in the morning and I kept on until it was five o’ clock in the morning of the next day. And when I had finished, I said to him: “I hope that you won’t be so hard on me for being so late coming home. You yourself are just as late as I was two nights ago.”

Such, then, is Angus Barrach’s portrait of his father which may be supplemented by an account from the pen of Marjory Kennedy-Fraser where she describes meeting Calum Barrach MacMillan in her autobiography A Life of Song:

Driving across the ford early next morning, we had to tramp five miles (and a bittock) in drenching rain and driving wind to the cosy fireside of a crofter, Calum Barraich [sic], the last apparently of the race of Ossian singers, a type even then supposed to have long passed away.

            A pastoral people are the folk of Benbecula, the surrounding sea too shallow for fishing-craft. Calum had spent over seventy years herding cattle on the grassy flats of the Machair, which stretches its white sands westward to the Atlantic. I had been attracted to the Isle by the fame of Calum as a singer of sacred songs. I looked for incantations and hymns such as are the staple of Carmichael’s Carmina Gadelica. What was my astonishment to find that Calum’s repertoire consisted entirely of ancient, rhymed, heroic tales and songs of pagan origin, just such Ossianic fragments indeed as Macpherson found here in the eighteenth century when covering the selfsame ground in search of materials for his famous epic. When Macpherson’s English interconnected version of this fugitive, fragmentary, orally transmitted lore appeared, all Europe reverberated to his Ossian. Macpherson died in 1796, but long before his death his poems, founded on these fragmants, had become, according to William Sharp, one of the most vital influences in literature.

            To Calum therefore we went. At eighty-seven, still bright and active, he was to be seen daily out on the Machair herding his cattle. And in the clean white-sanded kitchen of his thatched cottage he sang, but not before he had set everything in perfect order for the ceremony—these old pagan tales were sacred to Islemen. In a corner of the kitchen stood the hand-loom on which was stretched a blanket in the course of weaving; by the fire sat the cailleach carding or combing out wool; and by the other side of the fire the old, keen, bright-eyed, white-haired keeper of the traditional lore himself.

            He chanted many lays, some on a monotone, the phrases defined by cadences, some on a gradually descending scale within the compass of a sixth, and among them a well-defined air to which he sang the Lay of Aillte...And as the old Benbecula singer chanted the last verses, that tell of the glories of the Gael, his body became tense with excitement and his eyes glowed with the fire of racial memory.

            A strange, remote island is Benbecula, more cut off by its fords perhaps than even Eriskay by its currents. Low-lying, watery, its atmospheric conditions are favourable to optical illusions. The farther away an object stands the larger it looms on the horizon. I remember my first day there starting gaily off to walk to a house that seemed near, and how I nearly cried with vexation when I found that the nearer I approached it the father it seemed to draw away. Indeed, a fellow-traveller related to me how she had seen there one day what she took at first to be a mirage. It was a grove of trees on the horizon. Now there are no trees on those wind-swept isles. So she made towards the vision and kept it in sight. The trees gradually diminished to the height of a hedgerow and in the end proved to a row of potato shaws!

            In the chapel that stood on the western strands, just beside Calum’s croft, we ‘assisted’ at an island wedding. After the ceremony the bridal party formed up, with a piper at their head, to cut slantwise across the Machair to the bridgegroom’s house, some fiver miles distant. At we returned, driving by the high road, we could follow the progress of the party in the gathering darkness not alone by the music of the bagpipes but also by the sound of gunshots fired from each lamp-lit thatched cottage, as the bridal party approached and passed. The moon hung like a lamp from the dome of heaven, and the heat of the long summer day was raising white bridal veils of mist from each of the thousand and one little tarns and lochans that dispute the land in Benbecula. The bride must have been very tired at the end of it all. After the five-mile walk to her new home they danced, so we were told, to the sound of the pipes and the laughter of the sea until the ‘sma’ ‘oors’ of the morning.

References:

Marjory Kennedy-Fraser, A Life of Song: The Autobiography of Marjory Kennedy-Fraser (Kershader, Isle of Lewis: The Islands Books Trust, 3rd revised edition, 2011)

NFC 1180, pp. 301–548

Image:
Angus MacMillan, Benbecula, 1930s. 

Angus MacMillan’s Life Story – I [Family History]

A previous blog offered a summary of Angus MacMillan’s life story. It may be divided into eleven sections of varying lengths. Here is offered the first part (NFC 1180, pp. 301–07) where MacMillan related to Calum Maclean a little about his own family history and background. The opportunity has been taken to modernise the Gaelic orthography and also to offer a translation. A summary of this section may be given as follows:

1.    Family History

Angus MacMillan explains that his paternal grandfather came from Barra and his maternal grandfather came from Heisker in North Uist. His father [Calum MacMillan, Calum Barrach] came of a family of four boys and four girls. As a young lad he came to Uist and worked as a herd-boy, employed by a MacLellan of Ormaclete. His mother, a milkmaid, who also worked for MacLellan, met his father and they married.

Eventually his father, aged around forty-one, got land in Benbecula at Cnoc Fhraochaig. They had seven children all of whom died apart from the youngest, Angus MacMillan, and the third youngest, Mary Anna. They lost an infant boy when he was only two years old who was also called Angus; Peggy was the oldest daughter, and passed away in America, and there was Mary, Donald and Lachlann; and then there was Mary Anna, Jean and Angus MacMillan. Peggy, Donald, Lachlann and Mary all emigrated to America. Angus MacMillan was born at Cnoc Fhraochaig on 3 July 1874. His maternal grandfather, Lachlann Donald MacDonald, belonged to Benbecula.

Cunntas mu dhaoine agus mu a bheatha fhèin. Sgrìobh mi seo aig uairean air leth. Thòisich mi air air am 22 latha den Og-mhios, 1948

An account of his family and his own life. I have written this a down at different times. I started it on the 22 July 1948.

Mo sheanair ’s ann à Barraigh a dh’fhalbh e agus mo sheanair air taobh mo mhàthar ’s ann a Uibhist a Tuath a dh’fhalbh e, àite ris an canadh iad Hesigeir. Mo sheanair air taobh m’ athar a-mach sa Chuan an Iar chaidh a bhàthadh is e ag iasgach air creig am Barraigh, taobh an iar Bharraigh agus fhuaradh an corp aige ann an t-Heisgeir agus sin far a bheil e air a thìodhlacadh. Am Barraigh a bha e.

Dh’fhàg mo sheanair clann òg às a dheaghaidh. Bha iad ann ceathrar ghillean agus tha mi a’ smaointinn gun do dh’fhàg e ceathrar nighean às a dheaghaidh. Bha iad gu math òg. Chaidh an teaghlach sin a sgapadh, duine an siud is an seo dhiubh, far a b’ fheàrr am faigheadh iad. Thàinig m’ athair gu ruige Uibhist. Bha e cho òg is gur h-ann na bhuachaille-laogh a bha e aig fear ris an cainte MacGhilleFhaolain na Ormaicleit. Bha e aig an fhear seo riamh gus an d’fhuair e suas is gun robh e mu dheireadh na fhoreman air an luchd-muinntire aig an duine. Bha mo mhàthair, bha i na banachaig aig MacGilleFhaolain agus sin far an d’fhuair m’ athair eòlas oirre agus phòs iad. ’S ann an Ormaicleit a phòs iad.

Bhiodh e mu shia bliadhna an Ormaicleit an deaghaidh dhaibh pòsadh. Bha aon ghille teaghlaich aca nuair a thàinig iad às Ormaicleit. Ghabh m’ athair fearann am Beinn na Faoghla. Bha am fearann sin riamh aige gus an do bhàsaich e. ’S ann an Cnoc Fhraochaig ri taobh na h-eaglaise Caitligiche a bha an taigh aige. Bhiodh e mu chòig deug air fhichead nuair a phòs e. Bhiodh e mu dha fhichead is a h-aon nuair a thàinig e a Bheinn na Faoghla. Rugadh seachdnar chloinneadh dhà ann am Beinne na Faoghla. Tha iad marbh an-diugh ach an duine is òige, mi fhìn agus an treas tè a b’ òige, Màiri Anna. [Tha Màiri Anna i fhèin marbh a-niste, 6/6/’49. Dh’eug Màiri Anna air an treas latha den Damhair (Oct[ober].) 1948. C[alum]. M[aclean].] Dh’eug gille orra nuair nach robh e ach dà bhliadhna a dh’aois. Aonghas a bh’ air a’ ghille. Bha an sin ann Peigidh, an nighean bu shine. An America a dh’eug i agus dh’fhàg i teaghlach ann. Bha Màiri an sin agus fear air a robh Dòmhnall an sin agus Lachlann. Bha e sin ann Màiri Anna agus Sìne agus mi fhìn.

Dh’eug Aonghas nuair a bha e dà bhliadhna a dh’aois. Chaidh Peigidh agus Dòmhnall agus Lachlann agus Màiri a-null a dh’ America. ’S ann a bhos a phòs Dòmhnall, bean às a’ Ghearradh Bheag am Beinne na Faoghla an Uibhist. Thàinig e à America ga pòsadh agus dh’fhalbh e leithe a-rithist. Tha i thall fhathast ach tha esan marbh. Bha teaghlach aige Dòmhnall. ’S e Lachlann a’ chiad duine a chaidh a-nall an toiseach agus bha e deich bliadhna thall agus thàinig e a-nall a dh’iarraidh an teaghlaich uile, ach cha deach e a nall còmh’ ris ach Dòmhnall agus Peigidh. Phòs Lachlann thall an deaghaidh dhà a dhol air ais, tè a mhuinntir Ghlaschu a phòs e thall. Bha Màiri pòsda agus an teaghlach aice a’ dol a-null. ’S ann an deaghaidh a-null a chaidh ise a-null. ’S ann an Alexandria an taobh a muigh de Ghlaschu a bha i pòsda aig fear, Millar. ’S ann air falbh a bha Sìne aig seirbhis suas ri dà fhichead bliadhna. ’S ann an Glaschu a bha i, aig an teaghlach. Thàinig i dhachaigh ann a sheoach agus cha robh i ach beagan bhlianaichean ann a sheo nuair a dh’eug i. Tha còrr is dà bhliadhna on a dh’eug i. ’S ann aig an taigh a bha Màiri Anna riamh, mi fhìn agus i fhèin. Bha Màiri Anna nar bainfhigheach agus bha beairt aice. Tha mi 74 air a’ mhios a bha seo, air an treas latha de July. Rugadh mi an Cnoc Fhraochaig air an 3mh là dhe July, 1874 (17/6/’48).

Mo sheanair, athair mo mhàthar, ’s ann às Beinne na Faoghla a bha e, Dòmhnallach, Lachlann Dòmhnall. Nighean do Lachlann Dòmhnallach a bha nam mhàthair. ’S ann à Beinne na Faoghla a dh’fhalbh mo mhàthair na banachaig mu dheas gu Ormaicleit. Thachair i ri m’ athair an sin, agus phòs i ann a shin. Cha robh iad ann ach bliadhna an dèidh dhaibh pòsadh. Thàinig i an uair sin a thaigh a h-athar fearann an uair sin an Cnoc Fhraochaig agus ’s ann a thog e a theaghlach agus a bhàsaich e. Dh’eug mo mhàthair roimhe, mu chòig bliadhna roimhe.

Cha robh m’ athair ro àrd idir. Bhiodh mu chòig troighean is deich oirlich ann. ’S ann na chroitear ag obair air fearann a bha e riamh. Is suarach an ùine a bha e air leabaidh mun do dh’eug e. Cha robh e mìos idir air an leabaidh. Bha e ceithir fichead is a h-ochd deug nuair a bhàsaich e. Dh’fhuirich a chuimhne, a chlaisneachd agus a fhradharc aige gun do bhàsaich e. Thàinig crith ann cunntais mhòr bhliadhnaichean mun do bhàsaich e. Dhèanadh e a chuid obrach a dh’aindeoin sin. Bha guth math aige, guth làidir. Dh’fhuirich an guth aige fad an t-siùbhail. Bhiodh e ag innseadh sgeulachdan fad an t-siubhail. Cha chuala e sgeulachd dà uair riamh nach robh aige. Bha cuimhne aige a bha eagalach. Cha robh facal sgoile aige. Cha robh e ann an sgoil riamh. Bha dithis bhràithrean aige an Cinn Tìre agus fear thall fairis an Canada, ceathar ghillean agus ceathrar nighean a bha san teaghlach.

Chan eil aonan dhiubh beò an-diugh. Dh’fhàg e Barraigh nuair a bha e dusan agus ’s esan an t-aon duine a thàinig mu thuath. Bha tè am Brùdharnais am Barraigh ris an canadh iad Mòr an Tàilleir agus ’s e piuthar dha m’ athair a bh’ innte.

And the translation goes something like the following:

1.    Family History

My grandfather came from Barra and my maternal grandfather came from Heisgeir in North Uist. My paternal grandfather was drowned in the Atlantic when he was rock-fishing in Barra, on the western side of Barra and his corpse was found on Heisgeir and that’s where he was buried. He belonged to Barra.

My grandfather left a young family of four boys and, I think, of four girls. All of them were quite young. The family was then scattered, one here and another there, going to where they could best get on [in life]. My father came to Uist. He was so young that he was a herds-boy looking after cattle employed by a man named MacLellan of Ormaclete. He worked for this man until he latterly became foreman overseeing the other workers. My mother was a milkmaid, also employed by MacLellan, and that’s how my father met her and they married. They were married in Ormaclete.

After they married, they spent around six years in Ormaclete. They had one boy by the time they left Ormaclete. My father got land in Benbecula and he had this land until he died. His house was situated at Cnoc Fhraochaig next to the Catholic church. He would have been aged about forty-one when he moved to Benbecula. He had seven children in Benbecula but they all died apart from the youngest, myself and the third youngest, Mary Anna. They lost an infant boy when he was only two years old who was called Angus. Then there was Peggy, the oldest daughter, and she passed away in America but she had issue. Then there was Mary, Donald and Lachlann; and then there was Mary Anna, Jean and myself.

[As I said] Angus died when he was only two years of age. Peggy, Donald, Lachlann and Mary emigrated to America. Over here, Donald married a woman from a’ Ghearradh Bheag in Benbecula in Uist. He came over from America to marry her and left with her again and she is still over there but he has now passed away. Donald had issue. Lachlan was the first to emigrate and spent ten years over there but then came back in order to get the whole family to move over but only Donald and Peggy went. After he went back, Lachlann married a woman from Glasgow. By then Mary had married and she took her family over as she followed Lachlann over. She was married to a man named Millar from Alexandria, just outside Glasgow. Jean spent her time away from home in service. She was in Glasgow with the family. She came home but she was only here a few years when she passed away. More than two years have passed since she died. Mary Anne always stayed at home along with myself. Mary Anne was a weaveress and she had a loom. I reached 74 years of age last month on the the 3^rd of July. I was born on the 3^rd day of July, 1874.

My maternal grandfather, a MacDonald, belonged to Benbecula, Lachlann Donald. My mother left Benbecula to work as a dairymaid at Ormaclete and my father met and married her there. They only stayed there one year after their marriage. She then returned to her father’s house and land at Cnoc Fhraochaig and he brought up the family and died there. My mother died before him, five years before.

My father was not very tall and he would have been about five feet ten inches in height. He had always worked the land as a crofter. He spent only a little time in bed before he died. He had only ever spent a month in bed. He was eighty-eight years of age when he died. His memory was clear as well as his hearing and sight right up until the time he died but he did have a shake many years before his eventual death. Despite this he could still do his work. He had a good, strong voice. The quality of his voice was always there. He always used to tell stories. He only needed to hear a story twice before he had it memorised for he possessed a very powerful recall. He received no education whatsoever as he had never been to school. He had two brothers in Kintyre and another one over in Canada. There were four boys and four girls in the family.

None of them are living now. He left Barra when he was twelve years of age and he was the only one who came north. There was one in Bruarnish in Barra called Mòr an Tàilleir and she was my father’s sister.

Reference:

NFC 1180, pp. 301–548

Image:

Angus MacMillan, Benbecula, 1930s.