Tha e doirbh mòran de dh’iomradh a lorg air fuadach a’ Bharra Bhric, air taobh Loch Obha. Mura b’ e gun do shàbhail an curaidh Ceilteach Calum MacPhàrlain (Malcolm MacFarlane, 1853–1931) an t-òran seo, a chaidh fhoillseachadh anns an Òbanach ann an 1890, bhiodh fiosrachadh feumail mu na thachair agus mun choimhearsnachd air a chall. Ach, dh’fhàg MacPhàrlain seud de dh’òran Earra-Ghàidhealach againn, òran a rinneadh a rèir aithris ann an 1840 le Catrìona NicLachlainn. Tha am facal-toisich goirid cuideachail gus co-theacsa agus tùs an òrain a thuigsinn. Tha an rud slàn an seo gun atharrachadh – ach airson corra chamag nuair a bha mearachd no rudeigin a dhìth – maille ri eadar–theanagachadh MhicPhàrlain. Às dèidh an teacsa, tha na nòtaichean agam fhìn agus tùs inntinneach eile a tha a’ toirt dhuinn barrachd fiosrachaidh air a’ Bharra Bhreac mun àm a rinneadh an t-òran.
A TALE OF EVICTIONS.
In these days when land reform is in the air and people inclined to recall incidents which tend to throw light upon the land administration of the past, the following song cannot fail to be of interest. lt was composed by Catherine MacLachlan, wife of John Fletcher, once a carrier between Kilchrenan and Oban. She lived in the house where old “Polinduich” (Duncan Sinclair) now lives. It was from Mr Sinclair the song was got. It was composed in 1840, and refers to the eviction by Campbell of Monzie of all the crofters on Barbreck for the purpose of letting it as one farm to Donald MacLulich (Domhnull laidir MucLulaich). I have frequently heard the Barbreck crofters referred to as having been a very comfortable peasantry. According to my information, there were eighteen families in all, having 120 cows, for whom a herd was maintained by the crofters. After the evictions several of them gradually became reduced to poverty.
M. MACFARLANE
CUMHA DO MHUINNTIR A’ BHARRA-BHRIC, TAOBH LOCH-ATHA.
LE CATRIONA NIC LACHLAINN, BEAN ARAIDH ANNS A’ BHAILE CHEUDNA, 1840.
Air Fonn:—“An raoir a chunnaic mi ’m bruadar
A dh’fhag luaineach mi ’m chadal.”
Och ’us och mar a ta mi!
Tha mi ’n trath s’ deth fo mhulad
Mu na coimhearsnaich ghradhach
A ta laimh rium a’ fuireach;
’S leann dubh air mo shuilean,
Mu’n sgeul ùr thainig h-ugainn,
A bhi ’g ar sgaradh o cheile,
’S sinn bhi cho reidhbheartach uile.
Tha Mon-gheadh a’ cur cùl ruinn;
Rinn e burach na dunaidh
Air na daoine bha baigheil,
Anns an aite so fuireach;
Fhuair e tuathanach araidh,
Domhnull laidir Mac Lulaich—
Cha ’n abhar farmaid an trath s’ e,
’S mallachd chaich dol ’n a chuideachd.
’S e so am baile tha ainmeil;
Tha e ’n seanchas gach duine;
’S ioma beul bha e biadhadh
Mu’n Mhaolan riabhach ’s Dun-Mhungain.
Ach ’s ann an taobh so de ’n gharadh
Tha ’n sluagh gun aireamh a’ fuireach;
’S mo chuid agam-s’ de’n tursadh
’S a bhothan cul na Druim-buidhe.
Gu ’m bheil seann-daoine leointe,
’Chaill an treoir leis an aois ann,
’Rinn ioma saothair ’us obair
Mu’n do thog iad an teaghlaich,
A shaoil gu ’m faigheadh iad comhnuidh,
Fhad ’s bu bheo iad ’s an t shaoghal,
’S gu ’m buaineadh iad far ’n do chuir iad,
’S nach biodh duilich mu ’n saothair.
Ach mar chloich as an athar
Fhuair iad brath air a’ chaochladh:
Thainig teachdaireachd chabhaig
Bho Ionar-Atha, le maor oirr’
Iad a chruinn ’chadh ’n a fhianuis,
A chur a bhriathran an ceill doibh—
Fhuair iad sgeul ri thoirt dachaidh
Nach robh taitneach ri eisdeachd.
’S e Mon-gheadh rinn ar mealladh
Leis an aidmheil bu mhilse,
Aig ceann drochaid Atha
’N uair a ghabh sinn an dinneir—
Sheas e suas air an sgafal
An coslas taitneach a’ Chriosdaidh;
Ach ’s ann an diugh rinn e dhearbhadh
Gu ’m bu shearmoin gun bhrigh i.
B’ i siod a’ chuirm a bha soghmhor;
Bha muilt-roiste gun dith ann,
Damh biadhte, slan, fallain,
’S air a ghearradh ’n a mhiribh,
Aran cruinneachd am pailteas,
’S deoch chasgadh ar[ ]n iota;
Ach ’s daor rinn sinn a paigheadh,
’S e nis ’g ar fagail ’n ar dibrich.
Na ’m bu mhac mar an[ ]t athair;
Bha e mathasach, faoilidh;
Bha e iochdmhor r’ a thuath-cheath’rn,
’S cha d’rinn e gluasad gun aobhar;
Bha e iriosal, baigheil,
A deanamh fabhair ri [daoine],
’S gu ’n robh beannachd an[ ]t shloigh leis
A’ dol fo ’n fhoid aig a chaochladh.
Ach tha amaideachd oige
Ri moran call do na [mil]tean;
Nach eisd comhairle ’cheartais
Gun suim do reachdan a’ Bhiobuill.
Ach ma thionnd’ar a thuigse,
’S e thigh[inn] gu gliocas na firinn,
Suilean inntinn theid fhosgladh
’S chi e ’n lochd bh’ anns an ni so.
Bu mhor am beud an duin’-uasal
Bhi cho truagh air a dhalladh,
Bhi cur cul ris an oigridh
Dh’ fheudadh comhnadh leis fathast.
Na ’m biodh naimhdean an toir air,
A dheanadh foirneart a[ ]dh aindeoin,
Bhiodh iad ullamh, fo ordugh,
Dhol an comhd[h]ail a’ chatha.
Cha’n ion da nis a bhi ’n dochas
Ged dh’ eireadh foirneart ’s an Rioghachd
Gu’n tog iad claidheamh no gunna
Dhol a chumail a chinn air.
’S ged is laidir mac Lulaich
’S na ’m bheil de chuid ’s de ni aig’,
Cha sheas e aite nan daoine—
Mu Dhun-Chaoch tha iad lionmhor.
’S goirt leam caradh nan daoine
Bha ri faoileachd ’us furan,
Ris a mhuinntir bha faontrach
Feadh an[ ]t shaoghail a’ siubhal;
A bheireadh biadh agus deirce
Do na feumanaich uile—
’S bochd an diugh e ri radh
Nach bi ’n an ait’ ach aon dhuine.
’S mor tha mis ann am barail
Gu’m feud mi aithris gu saor dhuibh
Nach eil an leithid ’n a fhearann
Ach gle ainneamh ri fhaotainn;
’S ann a chruinnicheadh iad comhluadh
A chur an ordugh gach rud ann,
Gun dol gu maighstir no factor
Le casaidean faoine[.]
’S tric bha Paruig Mac Ailpein
Gu ruig an achlais ’s na digean,
’S greis eile ri ruamhar
Gu fl[iu]ch fuar air droch-dhiol ann;
Ri fearas-tighe ’us aiteach
Bheir ioma barr ge b’ e chi e—
Bidh nis a bhuannachd aig cach dheth
O’ n s’ bhairlinn is ni dha.
Gu’m bi mnathan ’s paisdean,
’S an deoir gu laidir a’ sruthadh.
An àm togail na h-imrich,
’S iad fo iomgain ’us mulad;
’S mairg bhitheas ’g an eisdeachd,
’S trom an ceum air an turas,
Ag cur an cul ris an aite
’S am bu ghnath leo bhi fuireach.
Ach glacaibh misneach ’s bibh laidir,
’S bidh Righ nan Gràs air an stiuir dhuibh;
Fosglaidh Esan dhuibh aite,
Ged tha cach a cur cuil ribh;
Theag’ gu’n tionndaidh a chuibheall,
Mar tha mi guidhe le durachd,
’S gu’m pill sibh fathast le beartas
Do’n Bharra-bhreac chum ar duthchais.
Nam biodh sibhse co eolach
Ri’ daoine mora na tire,
’S gu’m faighte caraid ’s a chuirt duibh
A sgoilteadh cuisean le firinn,
Dh’ fhanadh sibh mar a tha sibh,
Air an laraich car bliadhna,
Dh’ aindeoin na rinn iad uile,
’S sibh bhi murach g’ a dhioladh.
Ach ’s e foighidinn ’fhoghlum
An ni is coir dhuinn a dheanadh,
’S a bhi cur casg’ air ar naduir,
’Tha an trath-s’ air dhroch fheuchainn.
An Ti thuirt “’s leamsa ’n dioghaltas,”
Mar tha ’m Biobull ag radhainn,
Gu ’m bi e reir mar tha sgriobhte,
’G a chur an gniomh mar is aill leis.
’N uair theid an aimsir so thairis
’S chuirear casg’ air an namhaid,
’S bhios riaghladh na talmhainn
Aig naoimh an Ti a’s ro airde,
Cha bhi foirneart air fearann,
’S cha bhi creach ann mar tha e;
’S ann bhios gach cuis ann an ceartas,
Mar tha ’m Focal ag radhainn.
Cha’n ioghnadh mise bhi tursach
’S a bhi fo mhulad mu ’r deighinn;
’S ioma là thug mi easlan,
’S bha bhur freasdal dhomh feumail;
’S ann fhuair mi coimhearsnaich chairdeil,
Gach aon toirt barr air a cheile;
’S bu chruaidh an turn rinn an duine
’Chuir sgapadh buileach ’s an treud so.
Ach tha latha gu tighinn,
Ma chrideas sinne an Soisgeul,
’S an teid ar cruinneachadh comhluadh—
Siod a chomhdhail bhios aoibhinn.
’S cha bhi Mon-gheadh no Mac Lulaich,
No aon duine fo ’n ghrein so,
A sgapas sinn as a’ chrò sin
’S am faigh sinn s[ò]las nach treig sinn.
’S diomhain dhomhsa bhi ’g aithris
Na bheil de eallaich air m’ inntinn
Mu dheigh muinntir a’ bhaile—
Mo mhile beannachd le sith dhoibh.
Guidheam aran ’us bainne,
Spreidh ’us sabhal lan innlinn,
Saoghal fad ’an deagh bheatha,
’S na h-uile latha gun dith dhoibh.
TRANSLATION.
Och and och! I am grieved for the friendly neighbours that are abiding near me. The tears are in my eyes because of this new tale that has reached us—that we are to be sundered from each other, and we so comfortable all.
Monzie has turned his back upon us. He has caused the wo[e]ful upturning to the kindly people of this place. He has brought a certain farmer, strong Donald MacLulich, to supplant them. No subject for song is he, with the curse of others following him.
This is the town that is famous. It is in everybody’s conversation[.] Many a mouth it fed round the gray Maolan and Dunmungan. But on this side the dyke the numberless people are harbouring; and my share of their sorrow is in the bothy at the back of Drumbuy.
The old people who have lost, with age, their pith are wounded; who had much trouble and labour ere they reared their families; who thought they would have a home as long as they lived; that they would reap where they had sown, and not grudge their labour.
But like a stone from the sky they got knowledge of the change; for a message of haste came with a bailliff from Inverawe asking the people to assemble in his presence and hear his words. They got a tale to bring home that was not pleasant to hear.
Tis Monzie has deceived us with his sweet professions, at the end of Awe Bridge, when we got the dinner. He stood up on the platform in the pleasing likeness of a Christian. But to-day he has proved that his was a meaningless sermon.
That was the luxurious feast—roast mutton without lack, venison healthy and fat cut into pieces, wheat bread in plenty and drink to quench the thirst. Dearly we paid for it, now that he has forsaken us.
If the son were like the father, good and charitable, and merciful to his peasantry! He made no removal without a reason. He was unpretentious and kindly, and favoured the people; and their blessing went with him to the grave.
But the foolishness of youth is cause of ruin to thousands. They listen not to the counsel of righteousness; they heed not the edicts of the Bible. But, should his understanding be changed and he come to a knowledge of the truth, his mind’s eyes will be opened to the harm that was in this thing.
’Tis cause [of] regret that the eyes of the gentlemen should be so blinded as to turn his back on the youth, who might yet be his supporters. If the enemy were after him to wrong him [de]spitefully, they would be ready at his command to face the battle.
He need not now hope, should oppression arise in the kingdom, that they will lift gun or sword to preserve his head for him. And, though strong is MacLulich, and great his wealth and cattle, he will not fill the place of the men that around Duncaoch were so plentiful.
I am grieved for the lot of the people who were kindly and hospitable to the world’s poor wanderers; who gave food and alms to all the needy. ’Tis sad to think there is now but one man in their place.
Oft Patrick MacAlpine was up to the oxter in the ditches, or delving wet and cold for poor recompense, or mending house affairs or taking in land, as to his credit is to be seen—the profit now falls to others since his is the warning.
The tears of the women and children flow freely as the flitting time comes and they leave under grief and apprehension. It is pitiful to hear their sorrow. Their step is heavy on their journey, as they turn their backs on their place of abode.
But take ye courage, and be strong; and the King of Grace will be your guide. He will open to you a place though others should forsake you. Perhaps the wheel will turn round, as I fervently pray it may, and you may return yet with riches to Barbreck, your rightful land.
If ye were as knowing as the great ones of the land and could get a friend in court to analyse affairs truthfully, ye might be where you were for another year in spite of them all; if ye were ready to recompense him.
But to exercise patience is what we should do, and to conquer our nature that is so sorely tried. He who said “vengeance is mine,” as the Bible tells, doeth all things as he [li]steth.
When this time has gone past and the enemy is vanquished and the ruling of the earth is in the hands of the Saints of the Most High, there will be no oppression on land nor harrying as now. All things shall be disposed of justly, as the Word sayeth.
’Tis no wonder I mourn for ye. Many days I was ill and your attention helped me. I found ye friendly neighbours, each striving to excel the other. It is hard that this flock should be scattered so utterly.
[But] there is a day coming, if we are to believe the Gospel, when we shall be gathered together again. That will be the joyful meeting! And neither Monzie, nor MacLulich nor any man under this sun, will part [us] from that fold where ours will be the happiness that will never forsake us.
It is in vain I try to tell the load that is on my mind on account of the people of this town. My thousand blessings with peace to them. I pray that bread and milk be theirs; barns full of produce, long and happy lives, and plenty always.
Tùs: M. MacFarlane, [deas.], ‘A Tale of Evictions’, Oban Times (4 Faoilleach, 1890).
Nòtaichean
Tha mi a’ dèanamh dheth gur e ‘Am Barra Breac’ an cruth ceart air a’ bhaile stèidhichte air an òran, m.e., ‘Do’n Bharra-bhreac’, seach ‘Am Bàrr Breac’. Cf. Am Barra Calltainn (Barcaldine).
Tha an t-òran seo na chumha le Catrìona NicLachlainn air briseadh suas coimhearsnachd a bha gu math faisg oirre, Am Barra Breac, taobh Locha Obha. Cha do dh’fhulaing Catrìona fhèin am fuadach a bha seo, ged a tha an tiotal ag ràdh gun robh i ‘anns a’ bhaile cheudna’. B’ ann a bha i na nàbaidh agus na sùil-fhianais air na bha a’ tachairt – tha i a-mach air ‘na coimhearsnaich ghradhach/ A ta laimh rium a’ fuireach’. Ach ged nach deach a fuadach fhèin, tha a cuid fhaireachdainnean làidir, a pian fhèin, gu math follaiseach anns an òran. B’ ann a bha i a’ faireachdainn gun robh an dlùth-choimhearsnachd san robh i fhèin ga reubadh às a chèile. Agus, ann am fear dhe na rannan as tiamhaidh, tha i a-mach air a’ chùram a bhiodh iad a’ nochdadh do chàch a chèile:
Cha’n ioghnadh mise bhi tursach
’S a bhi fo mhulad mu ’r deighinn;
’S ioma là thug mi easlan,
’S bha bhur freasdal dhomh feumail;
’S ann fhuair mi coimhearsnaich chairdeil,
Gach aon toirt barr air a cheile;
’S bu chruaidh an turn rinn an duine
’Chuir sgapadh buileach ’s an treud so.
A rèir an tiotail a thug Calum MacPhàrlain don òran, b’ ann an 1840 a rinneadh an t-òran. Tha tùs sgoinneil eile againn, gu h-ìseal, a tha a’ cur taic ris an òran. ’S e a th’ ann litir le fear a bha na mhac de dhuine a rugadh anns a’ Bharra Bhreac ron fhuadach. Tha an litir, a chaidh fhoillseachadh san Òbanach ann an 1932, a’ toirt dhuinn ainmean nan croitearan a bha ann an coimhearsnachd ‘Barbreck’ ann an 1839. Fhuair an sgrìobhadair am fiosrachadh seo bho athair agus tha e ag innse beagan mu dhòigh-beatha is eagrachadh na coimhearsnachd bhig. Tha sinn fiù ’s comasach air, co-dhiù aon duine aithneachadh bhon liosta a tha anns an òran: ‘Peter MacAlpine’; ‘’S tric bha Paruig Mac Ailpein / Gu ruig an achlais ’s na digean’. (Tha mi air mo dhòigh, tha fios, gu bheil Ailpeineach eile a’ togail ceann!). Gu h-annasach, chan eil ùghdar na litreach a’ toirt iomradh soilleir air fuadach na coimhearsnachd. Ach, tha e a’ bruidhinn san tràth caithte, air coimhearsnachd a bha ann, agus tha na bliadhnaichean a’ tighinn ri chèile. ’S dòcha gu bheil an liosta a’ sealltainn nan croitearan – ach chan e na mnathan is clann gu lèir – a bh’ ann ann an 1839 agus gun deach an sgapadh dhan aindeoin a’ bhliadhna às dèidh sin. ’S cinnteach gun soilleiricheadh tùsan eile, leithid tùsan oighreachd, dè dìreach a thachair agus cuine. Bhiodh ùidh aig Calum MacPhàrlain anns an litir seo, ach cha bhiodh e air a faicinn oir shiubhail e fhèin ann an 1931.
Tha an t-òran a-mach air co-dhaingneachadh fearainn, a bha gu math cumanta san 19mh linn: rachadh àireamh lotaichean a bha a’ cumail taic ri grunn teaghlaichean a chur ri chèile airson tuathanas nas motha a dhèanamh a bheireadh, ’s dòcha, barrachd màil don uachdaran. Tha NicLachlainn ag innse gum b’ e ‘Domhnull laidir Mac Lulaich’ an duine a thàinig a-steach mar thuathanach an àite croitearan a’ Bharra Bhric. Chun an latha an-diugh, air mapa na Suirbhidh Òrdanais, tha coltas ann gur e tuathanas a th’ anns a’ Bharra Bhreac an àite coimhearsnachd sgaoilte.
Tha e follaiseach san òran cuideachd gum b’ e ‘Mon-gheadh’ (Monzie), an t-uachdaran, a bu choireach airson a’ cho-dhùnaidh seo. Saoilidh mi gum b’ e Alasdair Caimbeul Camshron (Alexander Campbell Cameron, 1812–1869) a bha seo. B’ esan an aon mhac a bha aig Alasdair Caimbeul (Alexander Campbell, mu 1750–1832), agus bha e na Bhall-Pàrlamaid Tòraidheach airson Earra-Ghàidheal eadar 1841 agus 1843.
Cleas òran a rinneadh mu na fuadaichean ro Aimhreit an Fhearainn, chithear gu bheil measgachadh ann de ‘chumha’ agus de dh’‘aoir’ (faic Meek, Tuath is Tighearna (1995), tdd 16–21). Tha Catrìona NicLachlainn a’ caoidh na tha a’ tachairt ri coimhearsnachd shona, chàirdeil, ach aig an aon àm tha i a’ toirt ionnsaigh orrasan a tha ag adhbhrachadh an fhulangais a tha seo: an tuathanach, MacLulaich; agus an t-uachdaran, ‘Mon-gheadh’ no Alasdair Caimbeul Camshron. (A rèir coltais, ’s e ‘Magh Eagh’ a thathas a’ moladh an-diugh air Monzie, faisg air Craoibh ann an Siorrachd Pheairt). Mar eisimpleir, anns an dàrna rann:
Tha Mon-gheadh a’ cur cùl ruinn;
Rinn e burach na dunaidh
Air na daoine bha baigheil,
Anns an aite so fuireach;
Fhuair e tuathanach araidh,
Domhnull laidir Mac Lulaich—
Cha ’n abhar farmaid an trath s’ e,
’S mallachd chaich dol ’n a chuideachd.
Nas anmoiche, tha an t-òran a’ bruidhinn mu dhìnnear mhòr a chuir an t-uachdaran air dòigh do thuath na h-oighreachd aige ann an Drochaid Abha. Nach e dealbh inntinneach a tha siud air an dàimh ‘athaireil’ a bha eatarra? Ach, ge be dè a thuirt e aig an àm, b’ ann a rinn e ‘ar mealladh / Leis an aidmheil bu mhilse’. Cha robh an t-uachdaran coltach ri athair fhèin – agus seo ìomhaigh an deagh uachdarain thraidiseanta, a bha coibhneil don t-sluagh, a bha cho cumanta am measg nan Gàidheal. Tha e cudromach mar a tha NicLachlainn ga chàineadh le creideamh oir, ann an da-rìribh – agus ma tha mi ceart gum b’ e Alasdair Caimbeul Camshron an t-uachdaran – ’s e Crìostaidh gu math làidir a bh’ anns a’ Chaimbeulach seo, agus fear a bheireadh taic mhòr don Eaglais Shaoir às dèidh dhi a bhith air a stèidheachadh ann an 1843. Cha robh aige ach ‘An coslas taitneach a’ Chriosdaidh’ aig an dìnneir spaideil agus cha tug e ‘suim do reachdan a’ Bhiobuill’. Nas anmoiche, tha i a’ dol nas fhaide a’ cur mun aire gun dèan Dia dìoghaltas air an fheadhainn a rinn am fuadach:
An Ti thuirt “’s leamsa ’n dioghaltas,”
Mar tha ’m Biobull ag radhainn,
Gu ’m bi e reir mar tha sgriobhte,
’G a chur an gniomh mar is aill leis.
Agus, ann an rannan cumhachdach air mar a gheibh na daoine saorsa agus cothrom a bhith còmhla gu sunndach sona a-rithist, air nèamh, cha bhi an nàimhdean ann:
Ach tha latha gu tighinn,
Ma chrideas sinne an Soisgeul,
’S an teid ar cruinneachadh comhluadh—
Siod a chomhdhail bhios aoibhinn.
’S cha bhi Mon-gheadh no Mac Lulaich,
No aon duine fo ’n ghrein so,
A sgapas sinn as a’ chrò sin
’S am faigh sinn s[ò]las nach treig sinn.
A bharrachd air sin, tha argamaid gu math àbhaisteach airson òran nam fuadaichean a’ nochdadh: nach bi daoine aig an uachdaran a dhìonas e no a nì sabaid às leth na dùthcha nuair a bhios feum air. Agus, tha cuideam ga chur air aoigheachd dhùthchasach nan Gàidheal, a bha na cleachdadh bunaiteach aig muinntir a’ Bharra Bhric, agus a tha a’ calg-dhìreach an aghaidh giùlan an uachdarain.
’S goirt leam caradh nan daoine
Bha ri faoileachd ’us furan,
Ris a mhuinntir bha faontrach
Feadh an[ ]t shaoghail a’ siubhal;
A bheireadh biadh agus deirce
Do na feumanaich uile—
’S bochd an diugh e ri radh
Nach bi ’n an ait’ ach aon dhuine.
Tha creideamh daingeann cudromach airson furtachd a thoirt do na daoine agus airson ciall a dhèanamh air a leithid de mhì-shealbh is anaceartas. Aig an dearbh àm, ge-tà, ged a tha Catrìona a’ moladh foighidinn Chrìostaidh, tha rann ann cuideachd far a bheil i a’ moladh a bhith a’ cur an aghaidh an fhuadaich leis an lagh: ‘Nam biodh sibhse co eolach / Ri’ daoine mora na tire, / ’S gu’m faighte caraid ’s a chuirt duibh / A sgoilteadh cuisean le firinn, /Dh’ fhanadh sibh mar a tha sibh […]’. An siud ’s an seo, tha beagan de dhòchas ann gun ‘tionndaidh a chuibheall’ agus ‘gu’m pill sibh fathast le beartas / Do’n Bharra-bhreac chum ar duthchais’. Ach, tha tòna an òrain san fharsaingeachd, gu sònraichte mar a tha e a’ crìochnachadh, ag innse nach robh tilleadh ro choltach.
An do thachair am fuadach nuair a rinn Catrìona NicLachlainn an t-òran? Mar a tha mise ga leughadh, cha do thachair. B’ e naidheachd an fhuadaich a phiobraich an t-òran agus tha iomraidhean ann gu bheil e an impis tachairt: ‘Gu’m bi mnathan ’s paisdean, / ’S an deoir gu laidir a’ sruthadh. / An àm togail na h-imrich’. Tha 19 ainmean air liosta an tùs eile againn, an litir a dh’fhoillsicheadh ann an 1932. Ma ghabhas sinn a-steach teaghlaichean mòran dhe na croitearan sin, sin tòrr mòr dhaoine a dh’fheumadh an dachannan fhàgail. Am faigh sinn a-mach an còrr mun deidhinn?
San dùnadh, cha d’ fhuair mi air mapa a lorg ro mheadhan an 19mh linn a shealladh dhuinn am Barra Breac mar a bha e, ach tha e inntinneach na h-ainmean-àite a tha a’ nochdadh san òran a lorg air seann mhapa na Suirbhidh Òrdanais (chaidh am fear as tràithe fhoillseachadh ann an 1875).
‘Mu’n Mhaolan riabhach ’s Dun-Mhungain.’
Maolan? Chan fhaigh mi sgeul air.
Dun-Mhungain = Dùn Bhugan
‘’S a bhothan cul na Druim-buidhe.’
= (An) Druim Buidhe.
‘Mu Dhun-Chaoch tha iad lionmhor.’
= Dùn na Cuaiche
A thuilleadh air ‘Ionar-Atha’, ‘ceann drochaid Atha’, ‘Mon-gheadh’ agus am Barra Breac fhèin.
CROFTERS AT BARBRECK, LOCHAWESIDE, 1839
[TO THE EDITOR OF THE Oban Times]
13th September 1932.
SIR,—I have in my possession the list of the names of the crofters who lived at Barbreck, Kilchrenan, in the year 1839, and think it may be of interest to some of your readers. These details I got from my father over twenty years ago, and, as he was born at Barbreck in 1821, the source of information is reliable.
They were a little community by themselves, from time to time holding meetings, presided over by a few chosen men, to arrange about matters of mutual interest, such as the portioning out of grazing ground, etc. They were straight and honest in their dealings; at these meetings all debts were cleared off, and it was no unusual sight to see £1 passed from hand to hand—from the smith to the shoemaker, from the shoemaker to the miller, and from the miller, and from the miller to someone else—till all were satisfied. They were industrious, fond of song and story, with a keen sense of humour and wit which was without malice.
The women were simply splendid in the times of privation and hardship. Of the terrible years of the short corn and the complete failure of the potato crop they did not care to speak.
Musical instruments were scare; the herd laddies made their own whistles, played the Jew’s harp, or, as they watched their flocks, whistled or sang the haunting Highland melodies.
Crofters at Barbreck, 1839
John MacInnes (Tighchreggan)
Mrs MacInnes (Toman-uisge-bheatha)
Charles MacArthur
Alexander Sinclair
Donald MacDonald
Donald MacCall
Peter MacAlpine
Alexander MacIntyre
Dugald Fletcher
Nelly MacArthur
Donald Sinclair
Archibald Orr
Gilbert Sinclair
Archibald Sinclair
Duncan Sinclair
Donald Campbell
Alexander MacCalman
Peter Turner
Mrs MacArthur
I am, etc.,
[AGASHA.]
Tùs: ‘Crofters at Barbreck, Lochaweside, 1839’ [Litir], Oban Times (1 Dàmhair, 1932).
An tar-sgrìobhadh agus na nòtaichean le T. MacAilpein (2024).
A’ Cheàrdach 