OF THEIR PROFESSIONAL POWERS AND PRACTICES.
On a nearer examination of a witch’s character, we will find her face a
very correct index to her heart. She is the arch-enemy of whatever is
good and amiable. Invested as she is with as ample powers of seduction
and mischief as Satan himself, she is equally expert in accomplishing
the ruin of the soul and body of the objects of her malignity. In
order to convey to the reader an idea of those powers with which she
is invested, and which she never fails to exercise, we shall detail
them in their order, illustrating our statements, as we go along, with
proofs from the best authorities.
The most formidable of all the powers conferred on a witch consists in
the torture and destruction of human beings by infernal machination.
There are various processes by which those hellish practices are
accomplished, but the most common process is that invented and used by
that eminent and distinguished witch, “_Crea Mhoir cun Drochdair_,”
who was burnt and worried at a stake at Inverness, about two centuries
ago, for bewitching and keeping in torment the body of the provost’s
son. Crea made an effigy of clay and other hellish ingredients, into
which she stuck pins and other sharp instruments. This effigy of the
provost’s son she placed on a spit at a large fire, and by these
cantrips the hag communicated such agonizing torments to the young
gentleman, that he must have had speedily fallen a victim to his
sufferings, had it not been for the happy discovery made by means of a
little grandchild of Crea Mhoir’s, who divulged the whole secret to a
little companion, for the small gratification of a piece of bread and
cheese. But although Crea, honest woman, was long ago disposed of, to
the great comfort and satisfaction of her countrymen, who naturally
enough ascribed to her all the calamities which happened in the country
during her lifetime, she left behind her the immortal fruits of her
genius, for the benefit of her black posterity, in those mischievous
inventions practised by the witches of latter times, who understand the
knack of torturing their unhappy contemporaries in all its branches, as
exemplified in the cases of several worthies noticed in the sequel.
The next important power of a witch and a warlock consists in their
control over air and water, whereby they raise most dreadful storms and
hurricanes by sea and by land, and thus accomplish the destruction of
many a valuable life, which otherwise might have been long spared. The
following account of the loss of a most excellent gentleman exhibits
too melancholy an instance of the success of their experiments in this
way:
“John Garve Macgillichallum of Razay was an ancient hero of great
celebrity. Distinguished in the age in which he lived for the
gallantry of his exploits, he has often been selected by the bard as
the theme of his poems and songs. Alongst with a constitution of body
naturally vigorous and powerful, Razay was gifted with all those noble
qualities of the mind which a true hero is supposed to possess. And
what reflected additional lustre on his character, was that he never
failed to apply his talents and powers to the best uses. He was the
active and inexorable enemy of the weird sisterhood, many of whom he
was the auspicious instrument of sending to their ‘black inheritance’
much sooner than they either expected or desired. It was not therefore
to be supposed, that, while those amiable actions endeared Razay to all
good people, they were at all calculated to win him the regard of those
infernal hags to whom he was so deadly a foe. As might be naturally
expected, they cherished towards him the most implacable thirst of
revenge, and sought, with unremitting vigilance, for an opportunity of
quenching it. That such an opportunity did unhappily occur, and that
the meditated revenge of these hags was too well accomplished, will
speedily appear from this melancholy story.
“It happened upon a time that Razay and a number of friends planned
an expedition to the island of Lewes, for the purpose of hunting the
deer of that place. They accordingly embarked on board the chieftain’s
yacht, manned by the flower of the young men of Razay, and in a few
hours they chased the fleet-bounding hart on the mountains of Lewes.
Their sport proved excellent. Hart after hart, and hind after hind,
were soon levelled to the ground by the unerring hand of Razay; and
when night terminated the chase, they retired to their shooting
quarters, where they spent the night with joviality, and mirth, little
dreaming of their melancholy fate in the morning.
“In the morning of next day, the chief of Razay and his followers rose
with the sun, with the view of returning to Razay. The day was squally
and occasionally boisterous, and the billows raged with great violence.
But Razay was determined to cross the channel to his residence, and
ordered his yacht to prepare for the voyage. The more cautious and
less courageous of his suite, however, urged on him to defer the
expedition till the weather should somewhat settle--an advice which
Razay, with a courage which knew no fear, rejected, and expressed his
firm determination to proceed without delay. Probably with a view to
inspire his company with the necessary degree of courage to induce
them all to concur in the undertaking, he adjourned with them to the
ferry-house, where they had recourse to that supporter of spirits under
every trial, the usquebaugh, a few bottles of which added vastly to
the resolution of the company. Just as the party were disputing the
practicability of the proposed adventure, an old woman, with wrinkled
front, bending on a crutch, entered the ferry-house; and Razay, in the
heat of argument, appealed to the old woman, whether the passage of
the channel on such a day was not perfectly practicable and free from
danger. The woman, without hesitation, replied in the affirmative,
adding such observations, reflecting on their courage, as immediately
silenced every opposition to the voyage; and accordingly the whole
party embarked in the yacht for Razay. But, alas! what were the
consequences? No sooner were they abandoned to the mercy of the waves
than the elements seemed to conspire to their destruction. All attempts
to put back the vessel proved unavailing, and she was speedily driven
out before the wind in the direction of Razay. The heroic chieftain
laboured hard to animate his company, and to dispel the despair which
began to seize them, by the most exemplary courage and resolution. He
took charge of the helm, and, in spite of the combined efforts of the
sea, wind, and lightning, he kept the vessel steadily on her course
towards the lofty point of Aird in Skye. The drooping spirits of his
crew began to revive, and hope began to smile upon them--when lo! to
their great astonishment, a large cat was seen to climb the rigging.
This cat was soon followed by another of equal size, and the last by
a successor, until at length the shrouds, masts, and whole tackle,
were actually covered with them. Nor did the sight of all those cats,
although he knew well enough their real character, intimidate the
resolute Razay, until a large black cat, larger than any of the rest,
appeared on the masthead, as commander-in-chief of the whole legion.
Razay, on observing him, instantly foresaw the result; he, however,
determined to sell his life as dearly as possible, and immediately
commanded an attack upon the cats--but, alas! it soon proved abortive.
With a simultaneous effort the cats overturned the vessel on her
leeward wale, and every soul on board was precipitated into a watery
grave. Thus ended the glorious life of _Jan Garbh Macgillichallum_
of Razay, to the lasting regret of the brave clan Leod and all good
people, and to the great satisfaction of the abominable witches who
thus accomplished his lamentable doom.
“The same day, another hero, celebrated for his hatred of witchcraft,
was warming himself in his hunting hut, in the forest of Gaick in
Badenoch. His faithful hounds, fatigued with the morning chase, lay
stretched on the turf by his side,--his gun, that would not miss,
reclined in the neuk of the boothy,--the _skian dhu_ of the sharp edge
hung by his side, and these alone constituted his company. As the
hunter sat listening to the howling storm as it whistled by, there
entered at the door an apparently poor weather-beaten cat, shivering
with cold, and drenched to the skin. On observing her, the hairs of
the dogs became erected bristles, and they immediately rose to attack
the pitiable cat, which stood trembling at the door. ‘Great hunter of
the hills,’ exclaims the poor-looking trembling cat, ‘I claim your
protection. I know your hatred to my craft, and perhaps it is just.
Still spare, oh spare a poor jaded wretch, who thus flies to you for
protection from the cruelty and oppression of her sisterhood.’ Moved to
compassion by her eloquent address, and disdaining to take advantage of
his greatest enemy in such a seemingly forlorn situation, he pacified
his infuriated dogs, and desired her to come forward to the fire and
warm herself. ‘Nay,’ says she, ‘in the first place, you will please
bind with this long hair those two furious hounds of yours, for I am
afraid they will tear my poor hams to pieces. I pray you, therefore,
my dear sir, that you would have the goodness to bind them together by
the necks with this long hair.’ But the curious nature of the hair
induced the hunter to dissemble a little. Instead of having bound his
dogs with it, as he pretended, he threw it across a beam of wood which
connected the couple of the boothy. The witch then supposing the dogs
securely bound, approached the fire, and squatted herself down as if
to dry herself. She had not sitten many minutes, when the hunter could
easily discover a striking increase in her size, which he could not
forbear remarking in a jocular manner to herself. ‘A bad death to you,
you nasty beast,’ says the hunter; ‘you are getting very large.’--‘Aye,
aye,’ replied the cat, equally jocosely, ‘as my hairs imbibe the heat,
they naturally expand.’ These jokes, however, were but a prelude to a
more serious conversation. The cat still continuing her growth, had
at length attained a most extraordinary size,--when, in the twinkling
of an eye, she transformed herself into her proper likeness of the
Goodwife of Laggan, and thus addressed him: ‘Hunter of the Hills, your
hour of reckoning is arrived. Behold me before you, the avowed champion
of my devoted sisterhood, of whom Macgillichallum of Razay and you
were always the most relentless enemies. But Razay is no more. His
last breath is fled. He lies a lifeless corpse on the bottom of the
main; and now, Hunter of the Hills, it is your turn.’ With these words,
assuming a most hideous and terrific appearance, she made a spring at
the hunter. The two dogs, which she supposed securely bound by the
infernal hair, sprung at her in her turn, and a most furious conflict
ensued. The witch, thus unexpectedly attacked by the dogs, now began
to repent of her temerity. ‘_Fasten, hair, fasten_,’ she perpetually
exclaimed, supposing the dogs to have been bound by the hair; and so
effectually did the hair _fasten_, according to her order, that it at
last snapt the beam in twain. At length, finding herself completely
overpowered, she attempted a retreat, but so closely were the hounds
fastened in her breasts, that it was with no small difficulty she
could get herself disengaged from them. Screaming and shrieking, the
Wife of Laggan dragged herself out of the house, trailing after the
dogs, which were fastened in her so closely, that they never loosed
their hold until she demolished every tooth in their heads. Then
metamorphosing herself into the likeness of a raven, she fled over
the mountains in the direction of her home. The two faithful dogs,
bleeding and exhausted, returned to their master, and, in the act of
caressing his hand, both fell down and expired at his feet. Regretting
their loss with a sorrow only known to the parent who weeps over the
remains of departed children, he buried his devoted dogs, and returned
home to his family. His wife was not in the house when he arrived, but
she soon made her appearance. ‘Where have you been, my love?’ inquired
the husband.--‘Indeed,’ replies she, ‘I have been seeing the Goodwife
of Laggan, who has been just seized with so severe an illness, that
she is not expected to live for any time.’--‘Aye! aye!’ says he, ‘what
is the matter with the worthy woman?’--‘She was all day absent in the
moss at her peats,’ replies the wife, ‘and was seized with a sudden
colic, in consequence of getting wet feet, and now all her friends
and neighbours are expecting her demision.’--‘Poor woman,’ says the
husband, ‘I am sorry for her. Get me some dinner, it will be right that
I should go and see her also.’ Dinner being provided and dispatched,
the hunter immediately proceeded to the house of Laggan, where he found
a great assemblage of neighbours mourning, with great sincerity, the
approaching decease of a woman whom they all had hitherto esteemed
virtuous. The hunter, walking up to the sick woman’s bed in a rage,
proportioned to the greatness of its cause, stripped the sick woman of
all her coverings. A shriek from the now exposed witch brought all the
company around her. ‘Behold,’ says he, ‘the object of your solicitude,
who is nothing less than an infernal witch. To-day, she informs me, she
was present at the death of the Laird of Razay, and only a few hours
have elapsed since she attempted to make me share his fate. This night,
however, she shall expiate her crime, by the forfeiture of her horrid
life.’ Relating to the company the whole circumstances of her attack
upon him, which were too well corroborated by the conclusive marks she
bore on her person, the whole company were perfectly convinced of her
criminality; and the customary punishment was about to be inflicted
on her, when the miserable wretch addressed them as follows: ‘My
ill-requited friends, spare an old acquaintance, already in the agonies
of death, from any farther mortal degradation. My crimes and my folly
now stare me in the face, in their true colours, while my vile and
perfidious seducer, the enemy of your temporal and spiritual interests,
only laughs at me in my distress; and, as a reward for my fidelity
to his interest, in seducing every thing that was amiable, and in
destroying every thing that was good, he is now about to consign my
soul to eternal misery. Let my example be a warning to all the people
of the earth to shun the fatal rock on which I have split; and as a
strong inducement for them to do so, I shall atone for my iniquity to
the utmost of my ability, by detailing to you the awful history of my
life.’ Here the Wife of Laggan detailed at full length the way she was
seduced into the service of the evil one,--all the criminal adventures
in which she had been engaged, and ended with a particular account of
the death of Macgillichallum of Razay, and her attack upon the hunter,
and then expired.
“Meanwhile, a neighbour of the Wife of Laggan was returning home late
at night from Strathdearn, where he had been upon some business, and
had just entered the dreary forest of Monalea in Badenoch, when he met
a woman dressed in black, who ran with great speed, and inquired of
the traveller, with great agitation, how far she was distant from the
church-yard of Dalarossie, and if she could be there by twelve o’clock.
The traveller told her she might, if she continued to go at the same
pace that she did then. She then fled alongst the road, uttering the
most desponding lamentations, and the traveller continued his road to
Badenoch. He had not, however, walked many miles when he met a large
black dog, which travelled past him with much velocity, as if upon the
scent of a track or footsteps, and soon after he met another large
black dog sweeping along in the same manner. The last dog, however, was
scarcely past, when he met a stout black man on a fine fleet black
courser, prancing along in the same direction after the dogs. ‘Pray,’
says the rider to the traveller, ‘did you meet a woman as you came
along the hill?’ The traveller replied in the affirmative. ‘And did you
meet a dog soon after?’ rejoined the rider. The traveller replied he
did. ‘And,’ added the rider, ‘do you think the dog will overtake her
ere she can reach the church of Dalarossie?’--‘He will, at any rate, be
very close upon her heels,’ answered the traveller. Each then took his
own way. But before the traveller had got the length of Glenbanchar,
the rider overtook him on his return, with the foresaid woman before
him across the bow of his saddle, and one of the dogs fixed in her
breast, and another in her thigh. ‘Where did you overtake the woman?’
inquired the traveller. ‘Just as she was entering the church-yard of
Dalarossie,’ was his reply. On the traveller’s return home, he heard
of the fate of the unfortunate Wife of Laggan, which soon explained
the nature of the company he had met on the road. It was, no doubt,
the spirit of the Wife of Laggan flying for protection from the
infernal spirits, (to whom she had sold herself,) to the church-yard
of Dalarossie, which is so sacred a place, that a witch is immediately
dissolved from all her ties with Satan, on making a pilgrimage to it,
either dead or alive. But it seems the unhappy Wife of Laggan was a
stage too late.”
There is another power given to them, which is a most mischievous one,
and proves the fruitful source of almost all the crimes and miseries
which deluge the land,--that of sowing the seeds of discord amongst
mankind in public and private life. We will say nothing of the degree
of secret influence which these worthies probably enjoy in overruling
the councils of our nation, and thwarting the judgment of our
ministers, so as to answer their private purposes, as it would be out
of our strict line of delineation. But we speak from the best authority
when we say, that they are the common and secret instigators of those
deplorable quarrels and divisions which sometimes happen between
those who ought to be one flesh. Whenever we see a broken-hearted
wife mourning over the misconduct of her husband, who, once tenderly
affectionate and attentive to the discharge of his domestic duties,
is now changed into the domestic tyrant and whisky-bibber, we need
never hesitate for a moment to pronounce the cause to be witchcraft.
And the same rule holds good in regard to the misconduct of the wife,
_vice versa_. Behold, again, the man of sin, clothed in the garment of
disgrace, that sits “_girnan on the creepy._” Ask him what blind-fold
infatuation could have induced him to have defiled his neighbour’s bed,
and he will tell you, with a groan, it was “_Buchuchd_.”[F]
Nor are their operations confined to the injury of a person’s spiritual
interest alone--they even descend to the lowest incidents in a man’s
calling. If the reader should see a termagant of a wife raise over
the _caput_ of her poor cuckold of a husband the tongs or spurtle,
demanding of him, with vehement eloquence, the cause of purchasing a
horse or a cow at double its value, his answer to her will certainly
be--“Me ve ar mu Buchuchd.”
Thus the ruination of our spiritual interest is not enough to satisfy
their inveterate malignity,--they must likewise injure our temporal
interests, which, however incomparable to the former in point of
intrinsic importance, yet cause the sufferer fully as much grief.
Indeed, so dearly do the most of the people of this world love their
temporal means and estate, that we feel fully persuaded, that did
those agents confine their operations to the injury of our spiritual
interests alone, which, as Satan’s instruments, we should naturally
suppose to be their proper line of business, the clamour against their
ruinous and abominable practices would be much less violent than it
is. This much, however, of the Highlander’s liberal disposition the
sly sounding witch is intimately acquainted with, and for this very
reason she redoubles her diligence to cause him all the loss in her
power, as the most effectual way of completing his misery. Hence it
oftens happens, that should a horse, an ox, or a cow, of unequalled
symmetry and beauty, be so unlucky as to attract the favour of its
affectionate owner;--by whatever means the sagacious witch discovers
the secret we know not, but certain annihilation, accomplished by some
means or other, will be the poor animal’s lot. Such a calamity as this
is sufficiently mortifying, but it is a small one when compared to
the loss of a person’s whole stock, which too frequently follows the
loss of one. Having once inserted the infernal pillow into some snug
corner, its influence will give the finishing stroke to all the cattle
and creeping things on a farm. This pillow, not to give it a worse
name, is a little four-cornered _bag_, packed with divers exterminating
diseases, in the familiar likeness of hair, grease, parings of nails,
shoe tackets, salt, powder, and other infernal knick-knacks, too
tedious to be described, which, when thrown into the fire, makes a
noise the like of which has seldom been heard.
No sooner is this bag deposited in a cleft in the stable or byre than
it commences its destructive career, producing the death of the bestial
in whole lots, until the last hen on the roost will fall a sacrifice to
its deadly influence. Nor is this all; they will attach some infernal
cantrips to the farming-utensils that no good crop will follow their
operations, and what may escape the influence of the _baggie_ is
commonly destroyed by frost, rain, lightning, and other calamities,
which the craft can produce at their pleasure, so that it is unfit for
the use of man or beast. In short, of all the ills incident to the
life of man, none are so formidable as witchcraft, before the combined
influence of which, to use the language of an honest man who had
himself severely suffered from its effects, “the great Laird of Grant
himself could not stand them if they should fairly yoke upon him.”