‘Noo Bogie wis a hungery chiel,
An this I knew fu well;
But he had a lovely dochter,
An her name wis Isabelle.’
Since its first appearance in 1865, the Ballad of Bogie’s Bonny Belle has been sung and recorded many times. In recent years Kate Rusby, Christy Moore and The Old Blind Dogs have all had a crack at it.
It’s a traditional song from North East Scotland, the true story of James Stephen, a farm labourer who falls for the beautiful daughter – ‘the lily o’ the valley, the primrose o’ the dell’ – of his employer (Alexander Morison, known as Bogie, or Bogieside O’ Cairny, as farmers often took the name of their farm.) Stephen beds (possibly rapes) poor Isabelle in the bothy, gets her pregnant, wants to marry her but is refused – and summarily dismissed – by the arrogant Bogie. No farm hand is good enough for his Isabelle. Eventually Isabelle runs off with a pedlar, leaving her father to regret his arrogance.
The original ballad is told entirely from James’s perspective; Isabelle’s role in it is purely decorative. But what about Isabelle’s side of the story? What did she think about all of this?
Now Lucy Beth, an emerging performer from Inverurie, has given Isabelle her own speculative voice. In Ma Name is Isabelle, a stunning solo show delivered entirely in what would have been Isabelle’s native Doric, Beth takes us through Isabelle’s tribulations – and her joys – to tell a story of perseverance, wit, and triumph over adversity.
Beth opens the show with a quick explanation of the bones of the story, and then she’s away. From the outset, she inhabits the character of this remarkable woman, and we feel we’re hearing Isabelle’s story from her in person. Beth’s fluent Doric brings immediacy to her highly conversational style; you don’t have to live in NE Scotland to feel the spontaneity and freshness of this vibrant storytelling. It’s as though Isabelle’s chatting to us on a (country) bus.
The daughters of the family were, she explains, used as bait to attract good workers at the Hiring Fair. James was one of them, and Isabelle enjoyed the attention. James is ambitious – but she notes that he only talks about his plans, his wish to have ‘a fertile wife at his side.’
Isabelle also takes issue with the original ballad, possibly written by Bogie’s grieve John Geddes. Sex with James was not romantic, it was coercive, a violation. All she remembers about their first kiss is their teeth clacking together.
Beth gives an animated description of Isabelle’s inevitable pregnancy. Despite the serious subject matter, there are great comic moments in this show. It’s clear Isabelle is no doormat, she’s as much of her own woman as she’s allowed to be in 19th century farming country. She tells it like it is. The morning sickness, her mother trying to tighten her stays for her Sunday dress, the eventual, agonising birth. The censure of community and kirk.
One of Beth’s strengths is her ability to move from comedy to heartache in a second. When Bogie refuses to approve the marriage, Isabelle gets no say in what will happen to her ‘wee bonny loon’. To this day she thinks of him, wonders where he is, hopes he doesn’t ever hear her song, fears he may be dead. Beth communicates Isabelle’s wistful sorrow so well; she’s moved on with her life, had more children, loves her husband, James Bowman. But there’s still a little place in her heart for her firstborn.
Isabelle’s recently been to her father’s farm, delivering goods with her husband. They’re doing pretty well now but being there is ‘like revisiting the scene of a crime.’ There’s a wonderful description of the way her father watches everything,
‘his vision like a buzzard’s.’
The show also addresses the racism and snobbery still sadly prevalent in the treatment of Scottish Travellers. James Bowman may be a ‘tinker’, but he alone listens to Isabelle’s story, he alone gives her a good, fulfilling life. Despite this, people look down on the couple, ‘We were the lowest of the low’, and Bogie is so horrified that his daughter has wed a pedlar that he regrets his refusal to bless her union with Jams Stephen.
For in the end, it’s Isabelle who’s won. Bogie has no-one to take over the farm at his death, and he’s lost his beloved daughter,
‘I just let him stare at me on nice man Bowman’s cart.’
I have lived in a Doric-speaking area, and even so I wondered if I’d be able to keep up with Beth’s performance, but her lively delivery, combined with her expressive gestures, meant that I had no trouble at all. Having read my Nan Shepherd, I was once again reminded that it’s much easier to understand the dialect if you simply listen; it all makes perfect sense. No one in the audience at this preview seemed to be struggling.
Ma Name is Isabelle is a powerful reimagining of one woman’s story, a woman who, though born into a patriarchal society, beat the odds and found happiness on her own terms. It’s also a valuable and timely celebration of one of the lesser known Scottish dialects. See this show and go back to read Nan Shepherd; you’ll be surprised how accessible you now find her books.
Ma Name is Isabelle is at the Scottish Storytelling Centre (George Mackay Library), 43-45 High Street (Venue 30) at 3.45pm on even dates only until 24 August 2025.
https://www.edfringe.com/tickets/whats-on/ma-name-is-isabelle
