A firm believer gives the following:—“One time her mother had a brood

of ducks, and every time Mrs. Mac. came in she praised the ducks, but

meanwhile one after another was dying, until at last only one remained.

One day this one was in the kitchen when Mrs. Mac. came in, and she

praised it as usual, but when she was going away she tramped on it and

killed it. They were quite sure it was her Evil Eye that had been doing

the mischief.”

Not only live fowls but even eggs may be injured. B. S., a respectable

girl, a domestic servant, able to read and write, and quite reliable,

gives this as a sample. She had bought some eggs, and on bringing

them home a neighbour woman was in the house and looked at the eggs.

She went away, and afterwards some of the eggs were put on to boil.

Although left on the fire for the usual time, it was found they were

not boiled enough, and were returned to be further boiled. One of them

then cracked and sent the hot water in sparks in her face, and the

others were so broken that they were of no use. The people in the house

attributed the mishap to the woman who had been there when the eggs

were brought in.

* * * * *

On considering the whole of these symptoms, the principal thing that

strikes one to be urged in excuse of the faith that is in the reciters

is that what was wrong came on apparently suddenly, in some cases after

a visit from a person already suspected, but as often as not it was

the suddenness of the mishap which gave ground to the accusation of

some probably entirely innocent passer-by. Unless faith in the Evil

Eye were already present, there seems hardly ground for any person

with experience of cattle and their ailments to evolve a theory of

the existence of any such latent power in the individuals accused. So

little critical people became, that everything unexpected was referred

to the Evil Eye. As a Kintyre man said, “If anything went wrong with

the beef when the winter supply was cured, it was attributed to the

Evil Eye of some one or other.”

BENEFIT TO THE OWNER OF AN EVIL EYE

Though in many cases involuntary, it has been pointed out that some

believe that individuals knowing or professing to know that they have

an Evil Eye, from sheer devilry, exercise it to the injury of others,

though for no visible benefit to themselves.

A reliable and fairly educated woman, whose father began life as a

crofter and died what in that class of life is to be considered as a

rich man, a native of South Uist, relates:—There was a woman near her

father’s house believed to have a very bad eye, and to be able to do

mischief with it. Her aunt was very careful as much as possible to

keep out of this woman’s sight, and if she happened to come about at

churning time her aunt would put the churn so that the woman would

not see it. She would not sell a pound of butter to her for any

consideration. The curious thing was that although that woman could

take away the produce from other people’s cows, she seemed unable

to make any profit of it for herself. It was just her envious and

malicious nature that made her take it (the produce) from other people,

although it was not going to benefit herself. She was well known by all

the people in the district, and they all suspected her of the practice

of witchcraft. It was on account of this suspicion, selling butter to

her was objected to.

It is not necessary that the desire to possess something should be, as

it were, illegitimate or unreasonable to cause damage. Thus M. MacL.

was relating how a neighbour’s horse had died. “People say that it was

blighted by the Evil Eye. One of his sons had his eye _in_ it, for he

expected to get it for himself, but it took ill. At first they thought

it was going to get better, for it was eating its food in the evening,

but on the following morning this son went out to the stable when he

rose, and found it lying down. When it saw him it got up, gave itself a

shake, and fell down dead.”

There may be, however, indirect advantages from being credited by your

neighbours with having an Evil Eye. Mrs. MacE., a cottar, lived on the

farm of L. in one of the inner isles. She was believed to have had the

Evil Eye very strongly, and people would do almost anything rather

than offend her, so general was the impression that she could injure

any person if she wished to do so. The reciter served for some time on

a farm that marched with hers, and he says that when Mrs. MacE. came

their way she could have almost whatever favour she chose to ask, so

much were they afraid of her Evil Eye. He often heard his master remark

that he would not incur her displeasure for almost any consideration,

in case she might do him injury.

DISADVANTAGE TO THE OWNER OF AN EVIL EYE

If in an indirect way, as above pointed out, some benefits may accrue

to one credited with the Evil Eye, it is also said that they may

personally suffer serious loss. An old Islay woman who can read Gaelic

well, intelligent and full of information, says she knows for certain

there are people who possess the Evil Eye. She believes that it is not

a matter of choice with them, they cannot help it. Some even do harm

to their own cattle. R., who was at one time in Islay, could not go

into his own byre but one or other of the cattle would be ill after

it. This was so well known that a big dairymaid that he had engaged,

a north-country woman, protested against his coming over the byre

doorstep. It was because he had such an envious eye that he did so much

mischief.

Another reciter tells us of the same farmer that they kept him in the

house when his own cattle were being taken in from pasture, in case by

admiring them he might be the means of doing them an injury.

Another man in the same island, having got a first-prize animal, said

to the herd that he would go out to see it. The herd, fearing evil,

tried to dissuade him, but he persisted in going. Shortly afterwards

the animal died. His neighbours used to hurry their cattle out of his

sight when they saw him coming that way. It was said he could not help

it.

D. C. had the Evil Eye very powerfully. On one occasion he went to

examine some cattle he had newly bought, and when he looked at them

some of them fell down as if they would die. The herd ran across the

hill to a hamlet marching with D. C.’s farm and got a bottle of water

from a skilled person. When sprinkled on the cattle they at once

recovered.

A man in Bowmore went into his own byre one night when his cousin, who

lived with him, was milking his cow. He had a nice calf in the byre,

and he put his arms round its neck and began to praise it very much.

His cousin said to him it was not good to do that. The next morning the

calf was found dead, an occurrence credited to his Evil Eye.

A native of Mull avowed her firm belief in the Evil Eye, especially

quoting what her mother had told her of a large farmer where she had

been brought up who owned a number of cattle, and who had the Evil Eye.

“Every time that man went into his own byre the best of his cattle were

sure to be unwell afterwards, and they were often dying with him. He

could not help it. At last he got a dairymaid who, when she had become

acquainted with his peculiarities, would not allow him to go into the

byre at all, or near the cows. She turned him back when she would see

him coming.”

Exactly the same account of another farmer is given by a reciter in

Ross-shire in the parish of U——. She knew him very well by sight,

having often seen him at markets, and many times she had heard that he

had the Evil Eye, could not help it, and often hurt his own cattle

“by thinking too highly of them.” This information was corroborated

by another, D. McL., who also knew the man by name and sight, having

served on a farm in the same district, and he often heard of him

hurting his own cattle.

Of course the Evil Eye is as lively in Ireland as on this side of St.

George’s Channel; but the following experience of a native of county

Cork, an educated, reliable woman, the wife of a member of the lower

ranks of the Civil Service, while staying in Jura, is interesting.

Desiring a drink of water one day she called at a house, the mistress

of which met her at the door and invited her to come in to have a drink

of milk. When she went in she found a girl churning. After sitting for

a minute or two Mrs. M. would have left, but was urged to wait for

a little to taste the new butter off the churn on a scone. She sat

a while, and the girl continued at the churn, evidently working as

hard as she could, perspiring, and yet there were no signs of butter.

Mrs. M. innocently remarked, “Dear me, I never thought churning was

so difficult.” The woman and girl looked at each other, but without

speaking. The girl continued churning, until at last her mistress said,

“You may put the churn past, you will get no butter off it to-day.”

Shortly after Mrs. M. left without having tasted the butter, but

beyond that thinking nothing of the circumstances. About two months

afterwards, while walking in the same direction, she called at the

same house. When going in she noticed the girl again at the churn, but

making a rush with it to the other end of the house. Mrs. M. observed,

“Oh! Mrs. Mac., I hope I am not interfering with your work. I see J.

going out of the way.”

“She is churning, and is going away with the churn, for the last time

you were here she did not get one bit of butter off the churn.”

“I am sorry to hear that; I am sure I did nothing to keep the butter

from coming.”

“I do not know; she got none at any rate, that’s all I can say.”

Of two women living beside each other in Islay, one was credited with

the Evil Eye, and supposed to take away the dairy produce from her

neighbours. One year her neighbour for a whole summer was unable to get

a bit of butter from her churning. Her suspicion rested strongly on the

other. Her account of it was as follows: “I tried everything. They told

me to put a horseshoe in the churn, and I did that. Others told me to

put salt in it, and I did that, but neither did any good. I scrubbed

and scrubbed the churn and the milk dishes, but it was of no use. The

milk would only come up with a hissing sound. I was even afraid to use

the sour milk in baking scones, for I was sure there was something not

right about it. The pig got fat that year, for it was getting the most

of the milk. At last I consulted a neighbour, and she told me just

what I knew already, that it was a bad woman beside me that was taking

away the butter. She advised me not to bother any more, and to keep

churning, for the woman would stop her mischief by-and-by, and then

the butter would come back as it had gone. I did as she told me, and

through time the butter came. I was not speaking about it to any one,

for I did not want people to know I believed that she could do so much

harm.”

A well-educated small farmer’s wife, a woman of five-and-thirty, knew

a husband and wife who both possessed the Evil Eye. They were quite

aware themselves that they did, and could not help it. Passing through

a park where several colts were grazing, one of which took their fancy,

they expressed their admiration of it. That evening the colt took ill

and never recovered.

One would think that a little consideration would have made it clear

that with two in the same house equally unfortunate nothing they had

could have succeeded with them, and yet there was no account of this

couple being in worse circumstances than their neighbours.

It certainly is a curious development, the belief already alluded

to of the injurious action of the Evil Eye of the farmer on his own

stock. “W. C. was on intimate terms with a neighbouring farmer, whom he

visited frequently. It was observed that if at any time he (the farmer)

praised an animal, something for certain happened to it afterwards. On

one occasion he talked admiringly of the poultry, and shortly after all

of them died.”

Another reciter said: “In our own time a farmer required to be kept

from going among his own cattle, lest by looking on them they should be

injured.” These cases respectively were in Islay and Harris.

Judging from personal experience of an old friend addicted to

prophesying on his first appearance in the morning the sort of

weather for the day, the result being, as we of a younger generation

all believed, almost invariably wrong, it seems probable that these

stories have arisen in connection with men who talked freely, giving

opinions based upon hurried observation. Where silence would have

left no ground for animadversion the wordy man had his sayings

remembered against him, especially when he was wrong, and the good

beasts subsequently turned out failures, as the fine days foretold were

generally wet.

CONSEQUENCE OF DIRECT PRAISE

The mere expression of admiration should be avoided by those who wish

to escape the accusation of the Evil Eye. A youngish woman says, “You

have seen my cousin J.’s third boy. He was the finest and nicest

looking of all the children. When six months old he was a very pretty

child. One day a woman came into the house; the baby was on his

mother’s arm, and the visitor began to praise the child, and praised

it very much. She was hardly away when a man came, and he began to

praise the child as the woman had done. After he went away like a shot

the baby took ill. They did not know what was the matter with him, or

what to do, for he was growing worse. He continued in that way for some

days. At last granny said she was sure he had been _air a chronachadh_,

and advised the mother to consult a woman who was supposed to have

knowledge to cure such cases. J. was not willing to go at first, but

granny insisted that it would do no harm at any rate to go and speak

to the woman. She went, but did not tell anybody at the time, for of

course they would be speaking about it. As soon as she told the woman

why she had come, the woman told her that the child had been injured by

the Evil Eye, and she described exactly the man and woman who had done

the harm, although my cousin had not mentioned man or woman to her. Was

it not wonderful how she knew the very ones that had done it?” She

cured the child. The above happened in one of the islands.

The following is from Ross-shire (Tarbat): “One of my sisters was

blighted by a woman who lived beside them. She was well known for her

uncanny ways. The way the thing happened was this: The little girl was

tied on an elder sister’s back, and they were sent out for a walk. They

had not gone far when the woman in question came forward, and putting

the shawl back from the child’s face said, ‘What a pretty little girl!

which of them is this?’ When the children returned their mother found

that the young one was very ill, and on questioning the elder girl,

she said that they had met this woman and repeated what she had said.

Mother at once suspected what was the matter, sent for the woman, and

charged her with having hurt her child. She protested that she had not

done the child any injury, but the elder girl spoke up and said, ‘Yes,

you looked at her and said she was pretty, and did not bless her.’ The

woman admitted this, and that if she had done any harm to the child she

was sorry for it, but it could be sorted if wrong had been done. She

operated a charm, and the child was soon as brisk as ever.”

A domestic servant relates that a woman who lived in Kil C. had a

first-rate cow that was giving a large quantity of milk. One evening

when she was milking another woman came into the byre and began

praising the cow, and expressing her amazement at the quantity of milk

she gave. No more was thought of this, till at next milking the cow did

not give so much, and continued to get worse. It became evident that

she had been injured by the person who had praised her so much.

A Campbeltown man says, “I am sure I do not know about these things,

for I have never seen anything of it myself, but I mind my neighbour

over there, D. M., saying to me one day not long ago, that a woman was

going past some time before that, and she began to praise one of his

cows, saying what a grand udder she had and such fine teats. No doubt

the cow was good, he said, and a fine milker, but after that day her

milk went from her.”

A married woman of about forty-five “believes firmly in the existence

of the Evil Eye,” and relates as a proof: Mrs. McD., a neighbour,

told her lately that she was churning. The butter was actually on the

churn when Mrs. B. came in, and looking into the churn began to praise

the stuff, and said how well off she was to be getting such beautiful

butter. She just stayed a minute or two and then went away. After she

was gone the butter scattered on the churn, and do what she would she

could not get it to gather again. All she could get was froth, and it

continued that way with her for several churnings.

A girl of twenty-four, a domestic servant, a crofter’s daughter with

a good School Board education, said, “_Cronachadh_ is still in it. My

mother was churning not long ago at all, and that woman Mrs. C. came

in, and looking into the churn said, ‘Oh! what a lot of butter!’ Well,

the butter went off, and though my mother churned and churned she did

not get a bit of that churning, nor for a churning or two after that.

We believed that the butter had been taken away.”

A woman who admits that she is a firm believer in the Evil Eye, tells

of the following case within her own knowledge. Two women were living

beside each other, and she knew them both personally. Each had a pig,

and they were striving whose pig should be fattest. One of them had a

cow, the other had not. The one that had the cow was giving her pig

lots of milk. It was growing fast and surpassing the other. One day

the neighbour came in, and while they were looking at it and saying

how well it was thriving, she remarked, “_Cha’n iongantach a mhuc

agadsa bhi cho math on is e sin an seorsa biadh tha thu toirt dith._”

(“No wonder your pig is so good, since that is the kind of food you

are giving to her.”) After a little while the woman left, but was not

long gone when the pig took ill, and when it was apparently getting

no better they sent to Gortan-na-lag for one living there believed to

have knowledge. When he came and saw the pig he said they had been too

late in sending for him, and told them at once that it had been _air a

cronachadh_, and he showed them who had done the mischief.

A _cailleach_, notorious as having the Evil Eye, was calling in the

house of an acquaintance of the reciter, and when she was leaving she

praised a fine hen that was in the yard. It was one of her best hens,

and the woman praised it very much. That very day what happened but

this hen was taken in dead, and the woman declared she could never get

out of her mind that it had been a case of Evil Eye blight.

A LOOK DOES IT

The belief in an Evil Eye having arisen, it is perfectly clear that

a mere look, quite unaccompanied by any other action, would soon be

considered a quite sufficient cause of the mischief such an eye would

occasion. A gamekeeper’s wife, a “canty body,” as she is described,

told how some lads on a Sunday, who had watched a mare and foal grazing

for some time, were credited with damaging the foal, because shortly

after they left it lay kicking on the ground and would not suck.

A horse going up the main street of Bowmore in Islay was looked at by

a man passing. A few minutes after it fell and could not rise, till

a woman, C. McI., came and did “something to it.” The horse got all

right, and the woman consulted maintained that it was a case of Evil

Eye.

A man now resident in Glasgow was visiting some friends on a farm in

one of the inner islands, and a man riding past was observed looking

rather attentively at the cows in a field beside the road. He was

supposed to have paid particular attention to a cow which, shortly

after he had passed, was noticed to be unwell. It was treated as a case

of the Evil Eye, and recovered.

These cases occurred with persons not notorious. The following is one

in which the woman who affected the cattle was generally believed to

have the Evil Eye. The reciter’s father was driving four cows from

the park one evening, and when passing this woman’s house she stood

at the door looking at the cows. In a moment off they went as hard as

they could run. One of them, a handsome beast that had been bought

from a farmer in Gartbreac, when they got them into the byre, was tied

to a heavy kitchen grate which was there, but she ran out of the byre

with the grate hanging to her neck, and climbed up a peat stack nearly

reaching the top of it. From that day they never got any further good

of that cow, and were decidedly of opinion that she had been bewitched

by the woman.

Not the cattle alone but milk also is influenced by a mere look. We

give an instance in the words of the narrator:—

“_Bha ’n toradh air a thoirt uam fein an uiridh. Mhaistir sinn gus

an robh Raonull agus Donull agus mi fein a ruith leis an fhallus ach

ged a leanamaid air fathast cha ’n fhaigheamaid mir ime. ’S an anns

an t-sabhal bhios sinn a cruinneachadh a bhainne agus thainig duine

’n rathad latha aig nach eil bo da chuid fein agus dh’amhairc e air a

bhainne ’san t-sabhal: bha sinn a’ deanadh dhe gum b’esan a rinn an

cron. Bha na cairdean gam’ chomhairleachadh gun a bhi leigeil le daoine

bhi faicinn a’bhainne ach mi bhi cuimhnicheadh nach eil na h-uile duine

cosmhuil rium fein. Well, o’n am sin, tha sinn a toirt fanear nach

fhaigh neach sam bith cothrom air dol far am bheil am bainne agus tha

sinn a faotainn a nis urrad ime’s bu chor air na h-uile maistreadh._”

(“The butter was taken from myself last year. We churned until Ronald

and Donald and myself were running with sweat, but although we had

continued at it till now we could not get a bit of butter. It is in

the barn that we gather the milk, and a man who has not got a cow of

his own came the way one day and he looked on the milk in the barn, and

we were making out that it was he who had done the harm. The friends

were advising me not to be allowing people to see the milk, but that I

should remember that every person is not like myself. Well, from that

time we are taking care that nobody will get an opportunity to go where

the milk is, and now we are getting as much butter as we ought to get

on every churning.”)

The Isle of Man, from a Gaelic point of view, may be considered

as likely to be much the same as the islands of Argyll, and a

lighthouse-keeper, stationed there for some time, tells us he heard a

good deal about the Evil Eye, and that belief in it is pretty common.

“If a person is seen to look closely at a cow when passing her he is at

once suspected, and is likely to be requested by the owner of the beast

to take certain steps to prevent injurious consequences.”

As we have seen above, the very natural consequence of this belief in a

look doing injury leads to the hiding of things liable to harm.

A somewhat amusing story of the effects of a look is from Arran.

“One time M. K. and myself were at a meeting, and there was an old

bachelor there who kept looking at us all the time. We noticed it, but

did not think much about it until after we went home, but when we got

home both of us began to yawn and rift, and could not stop it. We were

quite sure that we had been hurt by the ‘eye’ of the old fellow. M. K.

made a drink of salt and water for us, and we took it and that cured

us.”

Eructation in Arran seems to have a special connection with the Evil

Eye and witchcraft. Another reciter remembers quite well a reputed

witch going into her mother’s house, and not very long after she left

her younger sister, a child at the time, became unwell. Her mother at

once suspected that the fault lay with the woman who had left, so she

sent after her and brought her back. The reputed witch “mixed salt and

water, drank it herself, rifted fearfully, and in a little while the

child got quite well.”

The use of salt as a “preservative” is illustrated in the case of an

Arran woman who was a strong believer in and much afraid of the effects

of the Evil Eye. She had one cow, and it gave her much discomfort when

she saw the cow grazing near the roadside, fearing that some passer-by

might “put his eye in her.” To keep the milk right, if she gave any to

be carried away, or even “to be drunk on the premises,” she invariably

put salt in it, and that sometimes to excess. The reciter said, “For a

while we were getting milk from her for a man staying with us who was

seriously annoyed when the milk was more than ordinarily salt, giving

vent to his discontent saying, ‘Why the deuce does she not let us put

saut in oor ain milk?’”

AVOIDING THE LOOK

Evil eye in the western Highlands · 第 4 / 13 段