examination assurance of the presence of an individual to accuse.
Having put the string on a sick cow and the cow being cured apparently,
“she (the _eolas_ woman) came to the lassie that had been herding the
cow and said to her: ‘You saw a man among the cows to-day, and you
heard him saying that that cow was a good one.’” The girl said, “Yes.”
The woman then said: “The man was J. G.,” and the girl again said,
“Yes.” The woman then told them that it was the said J. G. who had
done the harm. They all knew him quite well. “And now,” added Mrs. M.
in telling her story, “if that woman had no knowledge, how could she
have known who had been among the cows on that day, or who had done the
mischief.”
In some cases a description is given of a method of identification of
the owner of the Evil Eye. Formerly we described how a woman consulted
shut her eyes, and opening them after an interval, informed her
interrogator that anything she saw of the nature of a burden was what
was pressing on the sick animal. In that instance it was said to be a
horse collar.
Probably in this case the woman satisfied herself of the gravity of the
illness by comparing it with the relative weight of the burden.
In another case in which Thursday and Sunday were said to be the lucky
days for the preparation of the _uisge a chronachaidh_, and it took
from Wednesday to Sunday to prepare the stuff, the blame was at the
end of that time laid to the charge of a stranger from Tiree. One
can scarcely doubt that in that case the time was utilised to make
inquiries.
In addition to these more crude methods there are indications of the
dark-room business carried on in more civilised places almost to the
present day. There was a man who lived at Balloch in the island of
Lewis much consulted, and believed to be specially skilful in dealing
with cases of the Evil Eye. “For a consideration he would produce the
likeness of those who had done the harm, showing it to the injured. He
would take them into a little room he had, where he would show them the
likeness of the owner of the Evil Eye.”
Another traditional method of identification was “to make some one
pass before the inquirer, and the one who had done the harm would be
of the same name.” We say traditional in this case, because we have
no information about smoke-raising, crystal balls, or anything of the
kind, and are therefore inclined to refer it back to the Biblical
account of Saul’s interview with Samuel.
That the story of the magic mirror has found its way into the Western
Highlands, however, is made clear by the following. A lighthouse-keeper
is our informant.
Five men meeting his neighbour outside the lighthouse stopped him and
informed him that having left their boat on the beach, when they went
back to it they found it had a hole, and they wished to see in the
looking-glass who had done the mischief. When the lighthouse-keeper
assured them that he had no such looking-glass, and expressed
astonishment that they would believe in such nonsense, they seemed
somewhat displeased. In recounting this incident afterwards the
light-keepers learned that an impression had gone abroad in the place
that there was a particular mirror at the station that had the property
of showing who those were that had taken part in cases of witchcraft.
It is easily comprehensible how the reflectors in a lighthouse might be
spoken of as of peculiar efficacy, with the usual “Three Crows” result.
The difficulty of course is to distinguish between claims advanced
of the possession of a power, of which, under the circumstances, a
demonstration cannot be demanded, and the actual carrying out of some
impressive hanky-panky. The following is an illustration:—
A messenger being sent for a cure, and having received it, the
scientist told him that if the cow had been his own she could make the
shadow (_faileas_) of the one who had done the mischief to pass before
him, or, if the woman who was the owner of the cow had come, she could
have done it for her.
One can scarcely be accused of a want of Christian charity if he
suggests that if the professor had had the owner before him he would
not have claimed the powers he did.
In the story already related of Campbell of Skipness showing the
injurious one in a carefully darkened barn, the reciter, also a
Campbell, had all the appearance of believing in the story, but as it
was told of a relative of his great-grandfather’s, no one can say what
are the accretions time has added to the facts of the case.
We have pointed out that even the Church has been brought in contact
with the Evil Eye scientist, and the following information from a
well-informed, clever, middle-aged lady, the sister of a clergyman
whose father took an interest in traditional Gaelic matters, as she
does herself, was heard from a Sutherlandshire minister who recited
it to her mother. The milk of their cows being unsatisfactory, the
housekeeper asked leave to consult an _eolas_ man. The minister was
very angry, but the housekeeper stuck to her text and carried out her
purpose, telling the minister, “_Na gabhadh sibhse gnothuch sam bith
leis, agus chi mise de ni mi_.” (“Take you nothing to do with it, and
I’ll see what I’ll do.”) She got the _eolas_ man, and he asked for a
basin of the sort of watery stuff they were getting instead of milk.
When he got it he closed up every hole and crevice, even stuffing up
the key-hole. Then he put the milky water on the fire, and when it was
hot he took a knife and began to cut with it through the pot of milk.
While at this work a woman came to the door, screamed, and wanted to
get in; but he cried to her that he would give her plenty of it, and
he continued cutting away through the milk. Still she screamed and
begged him to let her come in, but he said he would not until she would
promise to give up her wicked work and give the _toradh_ back to the
minister’s cow, all the time continuing cutting with the knife. She
answered she would promise everything he wanted, for every cut of the
knife was going through her heart. The man then opened the door and
took the pot off the fire, and from that time the supply of milk, both
for quantity and quality, was satisfactory. In this case also, though
the authority is thoroughly respectable, it is impossible to say what
actually took place. In fact it may be that our informant may have
mistaken a traditional recitation as the experience of the reciter
himself. Though told àpropos of the Evil Eye, looking at the story in
all its bearings, it looks as if it had been, if it happened at all,
a case of pull devil pull baker between two witches, one of whom was
supposed to be taking the minister’s milk.
But your witch, male or female, still exists, and his presence probably
does not conduce to harmony in his neighbourhood. Two brothers lived
beside the father of our reciter in J——. They had a bit of land between
them, and their dwelling-houses stood end to end under one roof. The
wife of the one brother suspected the wife of the other of injuriously
affecting her dairy products by the Evil Eye. She persuaded her husband
to take her part, and he crossed to I—— to consult one having the
reputation of witchcraft there. The witch resolved to go in person to
examine into the matter, and he accompanied the man home, where he
assured the couple who considered themselves injured that he would
bring the injurer crying to their door. The suspected woman, already
much annoyed, sent for the reciter’s mother to come to her, who found
her sitting in tears. The visitor encouraged her, told her it was
all nonsense and advised her not to be downcast, and returned home.
Shortly thereafter she had a visit from the woman complaining, who
told her with glee that the man consulted had put them on a plan for
finding out who was injuring their milk. The mutual friend received
this information coldly, and proceeded to point out that there were
no grounds for suspecting any one outside her own house, and advised
her to go home, well clean her dishes and keep her eye on her daughter,
assuring her that if she did that she would probably have satisfaction
with her milk and cream. The result was quite satisfactory, as it
turned out to be as suspected, that the daughter helped herself in her
mother’s absence.
PUTTING ELSEWHERE
The procedure of the _eolas_ woman in Bernera (Harris), given above,
burning two of the knots of the charmed string to carry off the
disease, stating as she put each knot in the fire, “The disease and the
sickness I would put on the top of the fire,” it is evident that the
evil was treated as something capable of being destroyed, in that case
by the action of fire. The same idea appears in the following:—
The reciter remembered when misfortune came to their cattle. One cow
after another died, and then a horse died, and her brother, a good deal
older than herself, saying he could stand it no longer, went to consult
an _eolas_ man. The latter professed to understand the case, said it
was an Evil Eye that had done the mischief, and offered there and then
to make the individual appear before him so that he would know who it
was. Her brother refused to accept this offer, and the proposition made
to him then was that the illness should be transferred to the cattle
of the wrong-doer. This also met with disapproval, and then it was
proposed that the illness should be thrown in the sea. The cure in this
case was connected with waving the tether over the sick horse.
In another Islay case where the _dosgach_ was supposed to have come
to the locality with a newlymarried wife of one of two brothers,
a reputed curer was consulted. He made out that it was a case of
_buidseachas_, and he offered to put the _dosgach_ on any of the
consulters’ neighbours’ cattle. This did not meet with the farmer’s
approval, as he was unwilling that his neighbours should suffer, so
he declined to mention any name, but recommended that the evil effect
should be put in the sea. One can scarcely doubt that, there being
cattle sickness in the district, the chances were in favour of the
cattle of any named person being affected, so that even if the offer
had been accepted and the farmer committed himself as desiring harm
to his neighbour, the _eolas_ man’s credit or discredit would have
been maintained. He must by this time have had a fair idea of the
disposition of the man he was dealing with, and probably expected that
his offer next made to show him for half-a-crown the individual in
fault would be refused. It was so, and the reciter gave the reason for
this refusal, viz. that it would be _an t-aibhisdear_ (the adversary,
the devil), who would appear in the likeness of a man. This explains
sufficiently the reason influencing those who refuse such offers, even
if one did see an appearance which was recognisable. The evidence
that the individual shown did it was unreliable. The devil has been
a deceiver from the beginning, and if the vision was that of him
masquerading, doubtless for his own purposes, he might be deceiving the
inquirer.
The above story was told by the daughter of one of the two brothers
concerned, and she vouches for the truth of it, having heard her
father and uncle talk of it often and often. She added a curious
incident, which seems to have had something to do with the diagnosis
of the case. The man consulted the “Red Witch,” as he was called,
and sent the farmer back “for the twelve points of the sick cow.” It
was explained that this meant the tips of the horns, ears, hoofs, &c.
These were examined, and the opinion expressed that the cow could not
be cured, for the mischief had got too near her heart, but it could
be lifted from all the rest, so that it would not trouble them any
more. She further explained that they were led to understand that it
was two brothers who were doing the harm, and we notice that it was
two brothers who were consulting the witch doctor. She said that the
sickness was put into the sea.
From another case we get information of how this could be done. “A
stirk of my father’s was ill, and we sent to a man for a cure. He sent
a bottle with instructions that part of it was to be sprinkled on the
stirk, and the rest thrown into the sea. As soon as what was in the
bottle went on the beast, its horns got warm. We threw the rest of the
stuff into the sea as ordered, and after that the stirk got quite well.”
It has been pointed out already that there is no witchcraft necessary
to the Evil Eye, but that the processes for its cure undoubtedly are
witchcraft. The following will show the idea prevalent as to the powers
of transferring illness.
The reciter, an Islay woman, said: “There was a lad at service with
Malcolm here beside us. He was one of the T.’s. He used to come our
way, and my father said to me not to have too much to do with him, for
there was something wrong about him (hereditary witch power). Well,
while that lad was beside us every foal that we had died. One day
my father went towards the march between ourselves and Malcolm. It
was pretty early, and he noticed the dog sniffing between two little
hillocks there. He went over to see what the dog was at, and what did
he find but a foal’s head buried under the ground. It was the head of a
foal of Malcolm’s that had died, and the lad had buried it at our march
to put the trouble upon us. My father was terribly angry (_fuasach
angrach_), for he would not do the like to another man. He lifted the
head and threw it into a drain, where it would not do any harm and away
from every man. _Ach coma leibh_ (but all the same), the time of one
of our mares was out, and when she cast (her foal), what was there but
two heads on the foal.” The reciter went on to say that that lad left
Malcolm and went to Fair Peter, but Peter got his burning with him, for
while he was with him the foals were dying on him, Besides the harm
that was done to what belonged to his master, he (the lad) got a piece
of a dead calf and put it on a neighbour’s land, and with this that
neighbour’s calves “began to go on him.”
This story was told apparently with full belief, and the only
conclusion we can draw from it, seems either that some cattle sickness
prevailing in the neighbourhood was credited to the unfortunate lad,
or else that for some revengeful or other purpose of his own he had
damaged the stock of his master.
We have another account of the same belief from a native of Kilbrandon,
Seil Island, where a belief in the Evil Eye was exceedingly common. He
said: “When a beast dies, there being a suspicion that the death has
been caused by such an Eye, the owner buries it stealthily, not on his
own ground, but on the ground of some other person, the idea being
that if buried on his own ground the influence of the Evil Eye would be
likely to remain, and he might lose still more beasts, but by burying
the animal on the ground of another he transfers the evil from himself
to the person on whose land it was buried.” The reciter knew of the
following instance of this:—
A very superstitious family, who believed in and were much afraid of
witchcraft and the Evil Eye, lost some of their beasts and were quite
sure that the Evil Eye was the cause of death. The head of the family,
watching a convenient opportunity, went at night and buried them in the
dunghill of another man who lived a distance of about two miles from
him. No one knew this at the time, and it was only when putting out the
manure they found the remains of the beasts and came to know that they
had been buried there.
It would be unfair to encourage the belief that the professors of
_eolas_ always give themselves to spreading evil reports of neighbours.
One being called in where the butter supply was unsatisfactory, after
advising the use of earthenware dishes in preference to wooden ones for
gathering the milk, the dairymaid asked if she could tell her who had
taken the _toradh_. The answer was, “Is not your name A.?” On being
answered that that was so, the _eolas_ woman said, “It may have been
yourself.”
APPENDIX
An attempt has been made to give an honest account without literary
varnish of the present-day influence of the belief in an Evil Eye
in the Gaelic-speaking districts of Scotland. It is difficult to be
certain that nothing of moment has escaped observation. The influence
of Bible texts, no doubt used divorced from their contexts generally,
as well as the protective power of the Divinity, have been pointed out
as influencing the superstitious. One other instance we would give from
the island of Luing, which has been handed in since the rest has been
in type.
The reciter said: “I knew a real good woman who always, when the first
meal of the season was got from the mill, sent a pitcherful of it here
and there to the poor people round about. But there were some to whom
she would give none, because she suspected them of having evil in
their hearts, and that if they got a pitcherful they could take all
the strength out of what she kept for her house use. You see, Hezekiah
should not have shown the King of Babylon all his treasures.” Compare 2
Kings xx. 12-19, and Isaiah xxxix. Evidently the idea was that the King
of Babylon was envious of Hezekiah’s possessions, as the others might
have been of the good lady’s meal.
Mention has been made of the belief that the Evil Eye could split the
rocks themselves. A traditional account of such an incident comes
from the island of Coll. “One time a man was carrying a quern (hand
corn-mill) on his back in a poke, and was met by a servant of St.
Columba. Thinking the quern was a cheese, he coveted it, and when the
man came to take it out of the bag he found it in two. Columba said of
it, ‘_B’e farmad na suil a bhris a’ chlach_.’(‘It was the envy of the
eye that broke the stone.’)” The same story reached us at the same time
from a Breadalbane source. A local laird who hurt his own cattle, and
whose dairymaid had to slam the byre door in his face, met a girl on
her way home from the shieling. The girl had a quern (_muileann brath_)
in a bag on her back. When she passed the laird looked after her, and
supposing what she was carrying was a _ceapag caise_ (a small cheese),
he put his eye in it. When the girl reached home the mill-stone was in
halves, his Evil Eye had broken it.
Some verses describing the powers of a certain Macandeoir, give us a
lesson in popular comparative philology:—
“_A Mhurach biorach lom na suil olc.
Gonadh thu maigheach’s a fhiadh.
Gonadh thu ’t-iasg a bhiodh ’san loch
Nuair a shealladh thu orra gu dlu.
Latha caogda thu d shuil a bha olc,
Cha bhiodh luathas ’nan cleith
’S bhiodh gach creutair dhiudh na’n corp.
A Mhurach Macandeoir
Gonadh thu Para Caimbeal
Gonadh thu’ shleisdean ‘sa chnamhan.
’S d’ fhag thu e bioradh fann._”
(“Oh Murdoch, piercing, bare, of the bad eye,
You would wound hare and the deer.
You would wound the fish that would be in the loch
When you looked closely at them.
The day you cocked (winked) your wicked eye
There would be no motion (quick movement) in their bosom
And each creature of them a corpse.
Murdoch Macandeoir
You would pierce Para Campbell,
You would pierce his thighs and his bones
And you left him wounded, weak.”)
The respected correspondent who sends this and the writer differed as
to the word here translated “wound.” The original spelling suggested
that _gonadh_ was the word, and it corresponds with the other
information received in like cases, but the reciter explained, and
sticks to it, that it means “to covet.” Now the word _gionach_ means
“greedy” “gluttonous,” and _gonadh_ means “wounding” “bewitching,”
thus, _gonadh ort_ is a form of imprecation. The philologist will tell
us they have nothing to do with each other, and this may be admitted
from his point of view, but not from the popular one.
Murdoch here immortalised was credited with the power of destroying
the winter supply of beef, even after the slaughter of the animal.
“When I was a little lad, my father and my uncle William bought a cow
from him in winter. It was customary to buy a fat cow, kill it, and
divide it so as to have a cheap and good supply. The beast was killed
and hung in the barn. The same day Murdoch passed, and they knew that
on returning he would call to see how the animal bought from himself
turned out after killing. They were in a fix to prevent his seeing her
without offending him, and the plan they took was to close the barn,
locking the door and giving the key to some one who, if inquiries were
made, would not tell where it was. Murdoch called, asked if the cow
was killed, and said he wanted to see her. They then proceeded to the
barn, but of course could not get in. An apparent search was then made
for the missing key, which naturally they could not find. Murdoch was
disappointed, but asked if she had killed well. They said she had, and
expressed regret that they could not let him see her. So they prevented
him laying his eye upon her after killing; before that, while she was
his own, of course his eye would not harm her.” The latter remark is
not in accordance with the belief in other places.
A native of Bute enables us to give another illustration of care taken
to keep an Evil Eye from dead meat. A woman of whom, as our reciter
said, there could be no doubt she had a “bad eye,” asked some fishers
to take her along the coast in their boat. Not liking to refuse, they
agreed. They had a fine catch of salmon with them at the time, which
she praised loudly as they lay in the net at her feet. “Well, for many
a day after that we got no good from that net. We might every bit as
well look to the hills for fish as to it, and were quite sure it was
that woman that had taken its luck from it with her ‘bad eye.’ Many a
time after that we had to try to keep things out of her sight, and it
was not easy; she would be up and out as early as ourselves, no matter
how early we would be. I have seen us up at four in the morning, and
even at two, trying to get the salmon boxed before she would get her
eyes on them.”
We must add one other protective formula from the neighbourhood of
Ardrishaig. “This,” said the reciter, “is a good protection against
injury by an Evil Eye. I used it always with reference to the young
chickens, and found it kept them from being hurt by any greedy
person.” The words are: “_Beannachd Dhia air do shuil; sop muin mu do
chridhe._” (“The blessing of God on your eye; a splash of urine about
your heart.”)
The translation is given as received, but a “sop ” is a “wisp,”
“a loose bundle,” “a cowardly fellow.” Attention has been called
on pages 119 and 136 to the _iubhar_, and on 171 to the _Fachan_.
Compare the darning needle’s use and its one eye to the following
found among the Wallons of Belgium. “_Li bwegne_, le borgne. Cette
singulière appellation s’explique par la ressemblance vague que le
gland et ses levres presentent avec un œil et ses paupières. Expression
populaire: _sain-ni s’bwegne_, saigner son borgne, c’est-a-dire [Greek:
pisser].”[14]
The same significance is applied to the same thing in the same way in
Arabic, _El aaouar_ (The one-eyed).[15]
[14] “Kruptadia,” viii. p. 24.
[15] “The Garden,” p. 138. Sheikh Nefzaoui. Paris 1886.
This is “a word to the wise” which cannot here be considered further
in detail, but undoubtedly has much to do with the preventative of the
Evil Eye mentioned, and further explanation of much before alluded
to will be evident to the one who can read between the lines when we
mention that _maistir_ is in ordinary Gaelic urine, and _maistrich_ is
a verb, to churn, to shake together.
One other hint. A native of Garmouth on Spey said, “I have often heard
people saying that one peacock feather given away to a person is
unlucky to the one that gets it, but that more than one is all right.
One time Sandy took one to his landlady’s little boy. He noticed that
the landlady looked displeased, and it soon disappeared. When he was
telling me about it, I said, ‘Why did you not take two to her?’ He
replied he would have done so, but he did not want to yield to her
_freits_ (superstitious fancies).”
Compare this with what immediately precedes it, and notice that the
offering of a single eye—a single feather—of the bird in question
carried with it an evil influence.
A CHRIOCH
_Le durachd do
E. M. K.
mo leth-shuil’s mo dha chluais!_
INDEX
_Acallam na Senorach_, 3
Acquaintances, divided into two classes, 46
Admiration, expressions of, to be avoided, 76
Albumen, 198
Alum, 144
_Amhairc, droch_, 5
Animal, 110, 140, 145, 146, 150
_An t-olc_, 11
Antiseptic, 132
Augury, 198
Bad e’e, 2
eye, 25, 30, 43, 54, 207, 208
One, held by the, 106
Bardic Irish stories, 123
Bawbees, 154
_Beannachadh_, 98, 116, 124, 208
_Dia_, 116
Beliefs, 23
_Bhioball_, 95
_Bhuidseachas, sgil mu_, 13
Biblical account, 214
Bitten, 85
Black Art, 114, 123
pokes, 189
thorn, sloe, 138
Bless, 77, 115
Blessed, 115
Father, 160
for the purpose of keeping away the Evil Eye, 114
Blessing seems merely preventative, 117
Blight, 45, 152
by the Evil Eye, 69, 79
Blinked, 45, 164
_Bodach granda_, 96
Bonnet, darning needle stuck in a, 204
Bothan, 117