We nearly quarrelled because he wanted me to take his photograph in
his Sunday clothes from Galway, instead of his native homespuns that
become him far better, though he does not like them as they seem to
connect him with the primitive life of the island. With his keen
temperament, he may go far if he can ever step out into the world.
He is constantly thinking.
One day he asked me if there was great wonder on their names out in
the country.
I said there was no wonder on them at all.
'Well,' he said, 'there is great wonder on your name in the island,
and I was thinking maybe there would be great wonder on our names
out in the country.'
In a sense he is right. Though the names here are ordinary enough,
they are used in a way that differs altogether from the modern
system of surnames.
When a child begins to wander about the island, the neighbours speak
of it by its Christian name, followed by the Christian name of its
father. If this is not enough to identify it, the father's epithet -
whether it is a nickname or the name of his own father - is added.
Sometimes when the father's name does not lend itself, the mother's
Christian name is adopted as epithet for the children.
An old woman near this cottage is called 'Peggeen,' and her sons are
'Patch Pheggeen,' 'Seaghan Pheggeen,' etc.
Occasionally the surname is employed in its Irish form, but I have
not heard them using the 'Mac' prefix when speaking Irish among
themselves; perhaps the idea of a surname which it gives is too
modern for them, perhaps they do use it at times that I have not
noticed.
Sometimes a man is named from the colour of his hair. There is thus
a Seaghan Ruadh (Red John), and his children are 'Mourteen Seaghan
Ruadh,' etc.
Another man is known as 'an iasgaire' ('the fisher'), and his
children are 'Maire an iasgaire' ('Mary daughter of the fisher'),
and so on.
The schoolmaster tells me that when he reads out the roll in the
morning the children repeat the local name all together in a whisper
after each official name, and then the child answers. If he calls,
for instance, 'Patrick O'Flaharty,' the children murmur, 'Patch
Seaghan Dearg' or some such name, and the boy answers.
People who come to the island are treated in much the same way. A
French Gaelic student was in the islands recently, and he is always
spoken of as 'An Saggart Ruadh' ('the red priest') or as 'An Saggart
Francach' ('the French priest'), but never by his name.
