servant-girl in Islay, having the charge of attending to the feeding
of a pig, requested a man who had never been suspected of possessing
a hurtful eye to look at the pig to see how it was thriving. The man
refused, adding quite seriously that he did not like to look at a beast
that way, in case of any harm being done. When she persisted that there
could be no harm, he replied that not long ago M. McL. had a litter
of young pigs, and a man came that way and was looking at them one
evening, and the next morning they were all dead.
The reasons ascribed for the action of some are doubtless influenced
by the reciter’s own beliefs. Thus, it was often said of a gentleman
farmer in Rothiemurchus, well known in the countryside, that he would
never praise any beast of his own, and this was supposed to be owing to
his belief that he himself had an Evil Eye. It does not seem to have
occurred to his neighbours that it was native modesty.
To show the hold that belief in an Evil Eye has on certain minds, a
native of Ross-shire tells how he went to see a neighbour, who asked
his assistance in putting a ring in the nose of a pig to prevent it
rooting. “There was another neighbour of his there too, who had come
forward when he saw us, one W. M., an intelligent man, and one that I
would never have thought would give in to these superstitions; but he
was a man that believed in the Evil Eye, although nobody suspected him
of having it himself.” Accidentally the pig’s leg was broken. It was
understood to belong to the wife of the man who proposed to ring it,
who said:—
“Man, what will we say to the wife? But come away in and see what she
has got to say.” When we went in the wife asked us if we had got the
ring in the pig, and her man answered, “No, and I am sorry to tell you
the pig has broken her leg.”
“How did that happen?” she asked, and her husband said, out of pure
fun, “Oh, I don’t know, unless W. M.’s eye has fallen upon her.” That
was enough. Up W. got in a wild rage, and said he would not sit under
such a suspicion, and off he marched, terribly offended.
At the time of writing a reciter, a woman, admits that at K. in A. a
man is living whom his neighbours believe to have the Evil Eye, and
people not only do not like to meet him, but go out of their way to
avoid him when going on important matters. It is told of him that
a donkey belonging to a woman kicked his horse. The donkey’s owner
expressed a hope that he would not come to know of it, lest he should
hurt her beast. Her fear was justified, as it turned out, for the
man saw the donkey kick the horse, and however he managed it, people
believed that he put _cronachadh_ on the donkey, for it turned ill and
shortly died.
ACTION OF EVIL EYE INDEPENDENT OF POSSESSOR
It must be difficult, one would think, for any reasonably
kindly-intentioned person to accept as proved that they had an Evil
Eye. But a distinction is made between possessing an Evil Eye and doing
mischief with it. A native of Glen Urquhart, Inverness-shire, among
others says that there it is understood a person may possess an Evil
Eye and do mischief with it without intending it, and without knowing
that he has done it. When a person knows that he has an Evil Eye, and
does mischief with it intentionally, the ill-doing is usually supposed
to be more or less connected with witchcraft.
Many believe the injury from the Evil Eye is quite independent of the
will of the possessor. A farmer, a believer, said: “When we were in
the old place more than thirty years ago, there was a man living upon
the hill who would often be helping the farmers round about when they
were throng. He had the Evil Eye; but he could not help it. He would
be sorry for it himself; many a one would be scolding him for hurting
their beasts.”
Another says: “_Cronachadh_ is still in it, and those that have got the
Evil Eye cannot help it. They sometimes do harm with their eye when
they do not intend it, and even when they do not know that they are
doing it.”
This seems a thoroughly rooted idea in Islay, and a Tiree man informs
us that there it is also thought that injury by an Evil Eye is
involuntary on the part of the person who has such an eye, and not
necessarily malicious or intended.
This is also met with as a belief in Arran, and a reciter there tells
of a minister in the Parish of Kilmory who had the Evil Eye in spite of
himself, and if he looked on his own cattle or horses they were sure
to be ill after. Other cases are mentioned, and one of our reciters
told how a man, while resident in the south of the island, and fond
of fine cattle, in the place where he was well known and respected
had never been suspected of the Evil Eye, but removing to the Whiting
Bay district, where he was among strangers, suspicion of the Evil Eye
attached to him and remained with him to the day of his death.
In these two last cases, in speculating upon the cause of the
accusation, it seems quite probable that the minister, being occupied
with his own special duties, rarely regarded the state of his beasts,
and only took notice of them under exceptional circumstances, and
coincidence had connected his inspection of them and their illnesses.
The other evidently was an amateur with an eye to beauty in others’
cattle, and probably had unfortunately expressed approval before
subsequent misfortune. One notorious incident was undoubtedly enough
to set the report going, and all know the results of giving a lie
half-an-hour’s start.
EVIL EYE TAKES EFFECT EVEN ON THINGS NOT SEEN
There is one simple way of keeping your property safe from the Evil
Eye: viz., by not letting it be known that you have what may be
affected. A certain D. MacF., who knew that his neighbour was crediting
his Evil Eye with having spoiled a churning, was standing in the
back-yard when the woman who suspected him was milking her cow. She,
having finished, should have passed him with her milk to carry it in
by the door, but on seeing him she started, and instead of coming
forward, passed the pitcher of milk in by a little window on the back
wall of the house, and then walked forward and went in at the door,
passing MacF. He concluded that her object was to keep the milk out of
his sight lest he should hurt it. MacF. disavows the possession of any
power of the kind.
Another reciter mentions that a certain Calum Ban, having the name of
the Evil Eye, others kept things out of his sight for fear that he
might hurt them.
The mere preventing the eye resting on the thing to be affected would,
however, have been quite insufficient, according to one reciter, a
native of Bernera (Harris). She told of one, recognised as possessing
an Evil Eye, that he was sure to covet everything in the possession
of his neighbours, and consequently “those nearest R. were very
unfortunate.” His influence was understood to extend beyond what he
actually saw, and therefore even hearing about things was kept from
him. On one occasion the young daughter of R.’s neighbour set eggs
under two hens, and being considered “lucky,” having usually been
successful, she expected two good broods. In the interval she mentioned
what she had done in the hearing of R.’s daughter. When the time came
not a single chicken appeared out of the two settings. Her mother then
said she would put eggs below the hens, but warned all in the house
to be sure and not tell that they were there. This was done, the hens
being kept carefully concealed, and full and thriving broods were got.
An old man now dead, a crofter who could read, who was strongly
superstitious, telling his stories with great gusto, and reliable, is
the authority for the following, which shows how the superstitions
of others were played on. In the time when ploughs were made of wood
of a home manufacture, the farmer in Octofad brought home a new one.
One day, using the new plough, coming round at the end of a furrow,
the plough was broken in two. The man between the stilts and the man
leading the horses threw the blame of the carelessness on one another.
At last the latter proposed that if the ploughman would leave to him to
tell the old man (the farmer) how it happened, and if he would not say
a word at all in the matter, he believed that he would be able to put
it past (_a chuir seachad_) right enough. The ploughman agreed. They
took the horses home, and when the farmer made his appearance looking
displeased (_coslas gu math crosda air_), the lad began his tale. “_De
ach am beist duine sin tha ann C. aig am bheil an droch shuil. Thainig
e an rathad far an robh sin a treabhadh, agus on a bhios a shuil aige
anns gach ni a chi e, thoisich e air a bhi moladh nan each agus a
chrann; agus cha robh e tiota air falbh, nuair a chaidh a’ chrann ann
an da leth._” (“What but that beast of a man that is in C., who has
the Evil Eye. He came the way where we were ploughing, and since he
will have his eye in everything he sees, he began praising the horses
and the plough, and he was no time gone when the plough went in two
halves.”)
The lad’s forecast was correct. His master’s eye lost its gloom, and
shaking his hand to them, he said: “Never mind, never mind; put in the
horses, and do not say a word about it to anybody in case he may do
more harm. If the horses are safe, we will not be long in dressing the
plough.”
It is perfectly clear that an interesting instance of the influence of
the Evil Eye was established here, so far as the farmer was concerned,
and doubtless the belief in it generally owes not a little to equally
fanciful stories.
MORAL SOURCE OF THE EVIL EYE
Though the action of the Evil Eye is accepted as involuntary, in the
majority of cases, this is not the accepted doctrine in all districts.
From Ross-shire (Strathpeffer) a reciter says:—
“It is a power which they are in some cases supposed to exercise
involuntarily, but oftener intentionally and with mischievous design.”
From somewhat the same locality, Dores (near Inverness), a reciter
“thinks that the involuntary kind that is often met with in certain
other parts of the Highlands is not recognised, but in every case in
which injury arises from an Evil Eye, it is to be referred to active
covetousness and greed of gain at other people’s expense.” But even
in Kintyre, where the involuntary action is accepted, a native tells
us: “I believe in what people call the Evil Eye, and I have known very
many who believed in it just as much as I do; not that every man has
it, for there are only some that I would be afraid of. If I see a man
that thinks highly of what belongs to himself, and would not exchange
it with any man, that is the man I would like to have dealings with,
for although he might do injury to himself, or to any living thing he
might possess, he would do no harm to another. If I saw a man envying
everything he saw, and thinking what belonged to other people was
better than what belonged to himself, I would be afraid of that man,
and if I had cattle I would not like him to come among them, for if he
came I would be sure something would happen.”
A Mull woman said: “_Cronachadh_ is quite common. It is done usually by
a person that has an Evil Eye. It is just an eye with great greed and
envy.”
An Islay man says: “_Tha cronachadh ann. Se ‘n droch cridhe tha dol
thun na sul, agus a’ deanadh droch suil._” (“_Cronachadh_ exists. It
is the evil heart going to the eye and causing an Evil Eye.”) The
suggestion thus is that an Evil Eye is but the result of the natural
man who has not rooted out of his nature what is forbidden in the Tenth
Commandment, and so a native of Ross-shire (Tarbat) shows how strong
the belief was that mischief might come “through the Evil Eye or ill
wish of another.” A certain aunt of his formed a strong dislike to him
when he was a boy, simply because it was known that his grandfather
favoured him to the disadvantage of this aunt, as she thought, and he
well remembered how anxious his mother was for a long time, lest the
aunt’s known ill-will should cause some blight to come on him.
The following from Islay shows that though the belief there that it is
involuntary is strongly held, those who have the power may exercise
it deliberately. “There was a woman in Islay who had a sow that had a
litter of young pigs. One morning a neighbour came to her, and seeing
the teapot at the fire, asked if she would give her a drop of the tea.
This was given to her. She then said, ‘You have fine young pigs there.’
‘Yes, but they are all sold,’ answered the other. With that the visitor
turned towards the door to go, and said, ‘Well, you sold a pig to me
that died.’ That was all that passed, and she went her way; but the
following morning two of the pigs were dead, and the owner was quite
certain that the woman had done the mischief. The reciter who gives the
information is of the same opinion, and he adds that it was an unkind
thing to do on a poor woman.”
The strength of the Evil Eye, according to some, is to be gauged by the
following remark by an old man: “_B’abhaist gu’m biodh e air a radh le
sean daoine, gun sgoilteadh an t-suil sanntach eadhon na creagan fein o
cheile._” (“It used to be said by old people that the greedy eye would
split asunder the very rocks.”)
Another says _cronachadh_ is just envy, and it is said that envy will
break the very stones. A man who wishes to have everything for himself
will do harm to whatever he sees.
THINGS THAT SPECIALLY ATTRACT
A woman of twenty-eight, whose information is quite reliable, the
daughter of a respectable man in one of the inner islands, remembers
when young people talked a great deal about these things, and many were
very much afraid of them. “The idea was that it was always the best and
prettiest of beast or body that was most liable to be injured by a bad
eye. Her youngest brother was awfully pretty when a child. They used
to have him dressed in a red frock and white pinny, and with his fair
skin, fair curly hair, and red cheeks, he was the nicest-looking child
in all the place. Many a time, when my father would take him out, the
neighbours would be warning him to take good care lest some one might
do the child harm, and some would advise my father to go in and take
the frock and pinny off him, so that he might not draw one’s attention
so much.”
From Ross-shire we hear the same thing. A native “remembers when he
was young, people believed in the Evil Eye and were afraid of it.” It
was supposed that pretty children were specially liable to be injured
by it, and it was a common device with some mothers, in circumstances
where there was any suspicion of danger, to take care that at least
some article of the child’s dress would be at fault, either in respect
of neatness or cleanness, or better still, to have one of the child’s
stockings turned outside in when being worn. These were supposed to
form a protection to the child against injury.
The reciter remembers quite well a woman who in her own person and
house was the pink of neatness, but full of superstition, and he cannot
remember ever having seen her children without something untidy about
them. Always a stocking or something else wrong on, and this was done
intentionally by their mother to keep away the Evil Eye.
A native of Bernera (Harris) testified: “When a person appears well
dressed and good-looking, it is supposed that she is in danger of being
affected by the Evil Eye. A recommendation in such a case is to wear
some article of clothing with the wrong side out, as a preventative of
harm.”
An old man of eighty-seven, uneducated, but full of information,
somewhat difficult to understand from the loss of his teeth and the
weakness of his voice, telling his experiences in the most pathetic
manner, said: “_Bu nighean a’ cheud duine cloinne bha riomh agam, agus
bha deigh mhor agam oirre. Ach de thachair, ach latha bha ‘n sin, bha
i amach aig taobh an tighe, agus bha neach a’ dol seachad aig an robh
droch shuil, agus chaidh an droch shuil anns an leanabh, agus bha i air
a chronachadh. O’n am sin chaidh an creatur air a h-ais co mor gus aig
a cheann mu dheireadh cha robh i air a cumail beo ach le beagan fion a
bha air a chuir ann a beul le spain ti._” (“The first one of my family
was a daughter. She was a pretty child, and I was very fond of her. But
what happened but a day that was there, she was out at the side of the
house and a person passed who had an Evil Eye, and the Evil Eye went
into the child and she was injured. From that time the creature went
back so much, until at last she was only kept alive by a little wine
put into her mouth with a teaspoon.”)
“When people had occasion to go to farmer R.’s house, having children
with them, they contrived to put some attractive article of clothing
on the children, so that the gay clothes might divert his eye from the
wearers and save them from injury.”
A native of Knockando (Elgin) says that there is an impression that the
young, either of man or beast, are very liable to receive injury from
an Evil Eye fastening upon them, if that should be the first eye that
sees them after their birth. This belief makes people take great care
often to secure that any one supposed to possess an Evil Eye will not
be the first to see an infant immediately after birth, or any other
young animal.
Using short texts separated from the context leads undoubtedly to
misapprehensions on the part of the unlearned. In Isaiah xiii. 18, he
says of the Medes, alluding to physical injury alone, “their eye shall
not spare children.” That text has influenced not a few.
Without any suspicion of the owner of a beast having the Evil Eye
himself, his desire to retain it is supposed to render it specially
liable to the evil influence of any one possessed of the power. A
Kinlochbervie man remembers well how very common, in his youth, was
belief in the Evil Eye, and vividly recalls the terror his mother had
when any unknown vagrant came the way, lest, being possessed of an Evil
Eye, he might leave a blight on the house or anything belonging to it.
She would give almost anything they might ask so as to get them away in
a good mood.
STRANGERS SPECIALLY LIABLE TO BE ACCUSED OF THE POSSESSION OF THE EVIL
EYE
Acquaintances might be divided into two classes. The Evil Eyes and the
Non-Evil Eyes. Precautions should be taken against the former, and with
them it was safe to class strangers. The daughter of a tradesman, a
clever, intelligent woman, a farmer’s wife, whose husband’s people and
her own mother are very superstitious, having moved from one district
to another, her new neighbours, not long after she had came to live
beside them, lost a number of geese. The owners made a great “ado,” and
the position they took up relative to our reciter, the suspected one,
was: “_Faicibh fein an droch shuil tha aice. Cha deachaidh na geoidh
air seachran riomh roimhe, ach ghabh iad fuath ‘nuair a’ dh’ amhairc
ise orra._” (“See for yourself the Evil Eye she had; the geese never
before wandered, but took fright when she looked at them.”)
The owners of these geese seem to have had a very lively faith in the
Evil Eye. The collector having mentioned the experience to another
neighbour, she said: “That’s not so bad as I got. I went to inquire for
a friend if they would sell a goose. They said they would not sell, and
there was no harm in that; but shortly after all the geese flew away,
and if I did not catch it. They were in a fearful rage, blaming me for
putting my Evil Eye in them. Another time their hens ceased laying, and
they blamed my eye for that also.”
It is scarcely to be wondered at, the jealous ascription of the Evil
Eye to strangers, though Highland publications speak largely of the
noble characteristics of Highlanders at large, and the writer is the
last man to deny them credit due. It must be confessed there is a
large quantity of a ‘parochial’ feeling of jealousy in the Highlands
generally. It is not necessary to go into the question whether this is
or is not the modern aspect of previous district quarrels. Tramps trade
upon this fear of strangers in other Gaelic places than the Scottish
Highlands. A minister relates the following, which came under his own
observation in Antrim. A tramp was passing a house, and he went and
asked the housewife for a drink of milk. She said she had no milk, but
the tramp was sure she had, but did not want to part with it. He said,
“Oh, very well, I’ll take a drink of water, and let what will happen
to the cows.” This was enough; she was sure that this was a challenge
that he would have the milk in spite of her, so she repented and gave
him as good a drink of milk as he could wish for, no doubt in this way
escaping evil consequences.
PEOPLE SHOULD GIVE WHEN ASKED
The danger of refusing a request is great, not so much from the purely
Christian-charity point of view, as from that of escaping the Evil Eye.
A native of Knapdale, a believer, tells of a woman notorious in that
neighbourhood. She went to a farmer for a barrel of potatoes, which
he refused her. No more was said, but she had not long gone when the
best horse he had fell down and could not rise. It was foaming at the
mouth. A man skilled in counteracting the Evil Eye was consulted, and
declared that the horse had been injured by it. Having been informed
by the farmer that he had refused to give a barrel of potatoes to the
woman, he said it was that that had done the harm. His advice was a
little peculiar, not in that he recommended the sending the potatoes
to the woman, but that they should be sent on the injured horse, with
evidently a view to its cure. The potatoes were got into a bag, the bag
lifted on the horse’s back, and away it went quite briskly, and they
were delivered at the woman’s house, and thereafter the horse was quite
well.
Drovers are not, of course, complete strangers in the districts in
which they do business, but as a class they are looked on with some
suspicion. Thus we are told, “Some drovers are possessed of the Evil
Eye, and in consequence it is reckoned foolish not to sell any animals
to them if they appear anxious to have them.” The reciter’s father had
a good cow, and some drovers coming about wanted to buy her. His father
refused to sell. The drovers persisted, but still met with a refusal.
At last the drovers left, but shortly after the cow sickened, died, and
nothing remained of her value to the owner but her skin.
A parallel case was mentioned as happening in Islay. “I remember it
was a few days before the market a man came the way and wanted to buy
a beast from A. McI. The drover was very anxious to get it, but they
would not sell. The drover left, and before the sun went down that
evening that beast was dead and buried. The reciter of this, a man of
about fifty and a good workman, living by himself, is a piper, and
possibly the addition of the beast’s hurried burial may be the result
of a natural tendency to ‘blow,’ as they say. Anyhow, the piper said
that it was believed that it was the drover’s eye that had killed the
cow.”
Another reciter tells that a farmer in Islay had two good horses which
some dealers wished to buy. The farmer would not sell either, and the
following day one of them died. It was believed to be a case of Evil
Eye.
The risk of refusing purchasers is not solely in the case of drovers.
“Many are of opinion that it is risky for a person to refuse to sell
any animal he may have to any one who shows a great desire to purchase
it; some would sell at a sacrifice rather than run the risk. A native
of Killean, Kintyre, tells of a fine cow his father had, and on which
the family set a considerable value. A man who had known something
about the cow came all the way from Campbeltown purposely to buy her,
but the owner declined to sell her. “If he did, he hardly got any good
of her thereafter, for in a short time she became unwell, and lingering
for a time, died. The neighbours thought it was a real case of Evil
Eye.”
From the mainland of Argyllshire a lady relates: “An uncle had a farm
five miles from Oban. A neighbour on his way to attend a funeral,
thinking her uncle might drive along with him, called. As he was
passing the cow-fold the calves were being let out to their mothers,
and one of the cows had a beautiful calf. The neighbour fixed his eyes
on them and kept looking at and admiring them. He then asked her uncle
if he would sell him the calf, but the proprietor refused, saying he
did not intend to sell either cow or calf. That very week the calf was
dead, and they never doubted but that it was the man’s Evil Eye that
had killed it.”