Mary MacDonald

This specific sculpture is inspired by a story about Mary MacDonald, who was the grandmother of Donald Black, the author of the book "A Tale or Two from Lismore." In this literary work, Donald Black shares the challenges faced by his grandmother in finding employment while residing in a rural setting, an issue that continues to affect many individuals on the island to this day. An excerpt from Donald Black's book concerning Mary MacDonald is presented below for your enjoyment!

”Let me tell you about a young girl who left this island for the first time about a hundred and fifty years ago. Mary MacDonald was only thirteen years old when she left her home, her family, and her native isle for the first time. She didn't travel all that far – only across the Firth of Lorne to a small farm at Achnacree in Benderloch. She was employed to look after the children, a boy and a girl a little younger than herself. Unfortunately, Marry's employers, the master and mistress, were hard-hearted and penny-pinching, but with aspirations to gentility!

One very special day, very important visitors were expected to call, and everything was set out to create an appearance of wealth. For effect, a pot of jam was placed on the servant’s table, which for Mary and the herd-boy, Donald MacCaul, was their first time meeting with such luxury. The jam tasted so exquisite that one spoonful led to another, and the jar was soon empty. This was the first time, and indeed the last time that jam was on the menu! Incidentally, Donald was also an islander from Lismore.

One of Mary's duties was to take the children to Sunday School, which was situated in a large cave in Ledaig. Their teacher was rather unusual: John Campbell, well-known as the Bard of Ledaig. There is no evidence now of this cave’s existence, as it was destroyed during the building of the railway to Ballachulish, what a loss. This line is now overgrown with scrub: it was closed in 1963 when trains had gone out of fashion and the car was the favoured mode of travel.

Wee Mary worked at Achnacree for a year, often carrying a basket of eggs to Oban – a round trip of twelve miles and two crossings of Loch Etive at Connel Ferry. There was little consideration given to her extreme youth.

At long last the year ended, as most of the trials which afflict mankind do! On a warm and mellow autumn morning, Mary gathered her meagre possessions and left. She had three miles to walk to a place called Dun Bhachallaich on the northern shores of Benderloch, which looked to the little port of Achnacroish on Lismore. From this point, a traditional ferry could be alerted by lighting a bonfire. As most islanders owned a dingy, almost always someone would respond to this signal and row across. Mary lit a fire with a few sticks, but it was just a tiny fire, and sadly, it sputtered to extinction and no friendly boatman appeared. Our friend had, as was often the custom, been paid partly in kind. For Mary, this 'kind' was represented by a piglet in a sack. All day long they waited... she and the piglet waited and waited, and the sun was shrinking behind the hills of Mull. With a heavy heart, Mary was forced to walk back to Achnacree, for nobody had seen her little fire.

Good fortune smiled on her the next morning, and, being much better prepared, she lit a beautiful bonfire. Very soon she saw the morning sun flash over oar blades as they rose and fell, propelling a row boat which was nearing with every stroke. “Not long now,” Mary said to her piglet friend. One island lass had returned from her first great journey to the mainland. Mary MacDonald became my much-loved grandmother and was to encounter many a storm in a long and eventful life. Though she was physically small, within her beat a strong and courageous heart.”

Domhnall MacIlleDhuibh. (2006). A Tale or Two from Lismore. Glasgow: The University of Strathclyde. Page 19-20.