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WITCHCRAFT AND SECOND SIGHT IN THE HIGHLANDS AND ISLANDS OF SCOTLAND
* * * * * *
_BY THE SAME AUTHOR._
_Uniform with this Volume: Price 6s. net._
Superstitions of the Highlands and Islands of Scotland. Collected
entirely from Oral Sources by the late John Gregorson Campbell, Minister
of Tiree
_SOME PRESS OPINIONS_
The border line of fairyland once crossed is a bourne from which few
antiquaries return. We have had great difficulty in getting back
ourselves, led on as we were by the seductive John Gregorson Campbell,
assuredly, if ever man was, since Campbell of Islay’s day, in the
innermost secrets of the Elfin folk. Indeed, Campbell’s _Popular Tales
of the West Highlands_, full to overflowing though they are, do not seem
to us to express with anything like the same fullness and body the misty
legend and wayward romance and quaint realism of the Celtic supernatural
as does this plainer and prosaic notebook of an old parish minister
between 1861 and 1891. Folklore whether of Celt or Saxon, henceforward
has to reckon with the posthumous notebooks of John Gregorson Campbell
for an indispensable section of its apparatus of study.—_ANTIQUARY._
The importance of the work from the scientific point of view can hardly
be exaggerated, as its accuracy is absolutely indisputable. And yet being
little more than a collection of stories told in the simplest English, it
is as enjoyable as one of Mr. Lang’s fairy-books.—_THE SPECTATOR._
Altogether the volume is in its way singularly interesting, and forms a
rich mine for the folklorist. Some of the stories may be met with under
other versions, but most of them appear here for the first time and are
wonderfully varied. The light they throw upon the Highlander’s ways of
thinking is remarkable.—_SCOTTISH REVIEW._
Statements and beliefs are given exactly as they reached the author, nor
do I think it would be possible to detect a single instance in which
wider knowledge or prepossession of any kind has induced him to alter
or distort a fact. This rigid conscientiousness will always secure for
Mr. Campbell’s work the confidence and regard of true folklorists....
Campbell of Tiree takes his place by the side of Kirk, and of Walter
Gregor of Pitsligo, among those recorders of folk-lore to whom the
student can always turn with increased confidence and admiration.—MR.
ALFRED NUTT _in FOLKLORE_.
Students of tradition will find much to interest them in this new
collection of Highland folk-lore, for although a good deal of the
information is similar to that contained in previous works of the kind,
yet many details are new, and even those which are already familiar have
this great recommendation—that they were obtained at first-hand from the
peasantry, and not from other books.—_RELIQUARY._
On the whole their can be few richer fields of ancient folk-belief,
especially of the gloomier and sterner sort, than that which was so
successfully cultivated by the lamented author of this book.—_ATHENÆUM._
Mr. Campbell has escaped most of the difficulties by which his
predecessors were beset. A very interesting series of stories has
been collected, and the volume exercises much fascination over the
reader. On the subjects such as divination, spells, the devil, etc.,
much interesting information is given. While scientifically thorough
in treatment, the book is indeed admirably suited for general
perusal.—_NOTES AND QUERIES._
The tales are plucked directly from their native soil in the popular
memory; and while few of them are absolute rarities, there is hardly
anyone that does not in some way illustrate the infinite variety and
the vivid imaginative colouring, as well as the wealth of Highland
superstitions.—_SCOTSMAN._
This volume is posthumous, and we cannot but regret that the author was
not spared to see it safely launched. It is a capital book written in
a thoroughly sane and sober spirit. In this it differs from most books
that deal with the manners, customs, and usages of the Gaels of Scotland,
for in them the wildest theories, based mainly on fanciful ideas, are
treated as facts and enunciated as truths. In gathering his material the
late Mr. Campbell relied solely on oral communications made to himself so
that in every case of doubt he could interrogate his informant.—_SCOTTISH
GEOGRAPHICAL MAGAZINE._
Altogether the book is a notable and valuable addition to the literature
of British folk-lore not unworthy to take its place alongside Mr. J.
F. Campbell’s classic “Popular Tales of the West Highlands.”—_GLASGOW
HERALD._
The more collections of this sort we get the better will be the verdict
of all who read this interesting book; and those who look at the question
more from the scientific point of view will echo the wish.—_MAN._
The fairies and tales about them, gathered by himself or by
correspondents in all parts of the Highlands and Isles, take up the half
of the book before us, the remarkable feature of which is that the whole
of its contents has been taken down from oral sources. There are many
variants and many common stories which are variously localised. Printed
accounts of the fairies are religiously ignored.—_THE NORTHERN CHRONICLE._
Those who are interested in our west Highlands and Islands—and who is
not?—will find Mr. Campbell’s book a perfect mine of strange, weird
stories and legends, the latter entirely characteristic of the people,
the former dealing with magic, divination, and the superstitions of
fairyland. Indeed it takes a place by itself, and a very important place,
in our folk-lore literature.—_THE BAILIE._
The tales are very diversified. They relate to the “fairies” and
the superstitions regarding them. A chapter is devoted to augury,
another to premonitions and divination, to dreams and prophecies, to
imprecations, spells, and the black art. In short we have a very varied
and manifold collection of Highland beliefs told with great freshness and
vividness.—_OBAN TIMES._
Glasgow
James MacLehose and Sons
Publishers to the University
London and New York: Macmillan and Co., Limited
* * * * * *
WITCHCRAFT AND SECOND SIGHT IN THE HIGHLANDS AND ISLANDS OF SCOTLAND
* * * * * *
PUBLISHED BY
JAMES MACLEHOSE AND SONS, GLASGOW,
Publishers to the University.
MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD., LONDON.
_New York_, _The Macmillan Co._
_London_, _Simpkin, Hamilton and Co._
_Cambridge_, _Macmillan and Bowes_.
_Edinburgh_, _Douglas and Foulis_.
MCMII.
* * * * * *
WITCHCRAFT & SECOND SIGHT
IN THE
HIGHLANDS & ISLANDS OF SCOTLAND
Tales and Traditions collected entirely
from Oral Sources
by the late
JOHN GREGORSON CAMPBELL
Author of “Superstitions of the Highlands and
Islands of Scotland”
Glasgow
James MacLehose and Sons
Publishers to the University
1902
Glasgow: Printed at the University Press
by Robert Maclehose and Co.
CONTENTS
PAGE
_CHAPTER I_
Black Witchcraft
Introductory 1
Witches and Milk 7
Counter-Charms 10
Going to Sea 15
Raising Storms and Drowning People 19
Witches as Sheep 30
Witches as Hares 33
Witches as Cats 34
Witches as Rats 42
Witches as Gulls 42
Witch as Cormorant 43
Witches as Whales 44
Delaying the Birth of a Child 45
Clay Corpse 46
Silver Sixpence 49
Saving Horses 50
Tailor and Witches 50
Celebrated Witches 50
Wizard Rising after Death 52
How to Detect Witches 53
_CHAPTER II_
White Witchcraft
Introductory 54
Eòlas 57
Cure for the Evil Eye 59
Charm for Sprains 66
Charm for Bruises 67
Charm for Rheumatic Pains 67
Charm for Consumption 68
For Affections of the Chest 68
Charm for Toothache 69
Made for Merrion MacFadyn 70
Charms for Cattle 71
Charm against Danger 73
The Old Wife’s Charm for her Cow 73
Charm for a Sheep in its Cot 74
Against Drowning and in War 74
Charm against Dangers in War 75
Charm for Cloth 77
Charm for General Use 79
“The Gospel of Christ” 79
Charm for conferring Graces 80
Charm for the Faces of Young Women 81
Love Charm 82
Charm to keep away Harm in a Lawsuit 83
Serpent Stone 84
Snail Beads 88
Frog Stone 89
Stones 90
Fairy Arrow 91
Cruban Stone 92
Various 93
Gospel 94
Miscellaneous Cures 94
Warts 94
Stye 95
Tetter 95
Hiccup 96
Hooping-cough 96
Stiff Neck 96
Toothache 96
Falling Sickness 97
Madness 97
Axillary Swelling 99
Lumbago 100
Consumption 100
Leprosy 100
Loch Ma Nàr 101
Wells 101
Mountain Ash 103
Pearlwort 103
St. John’s Wort 104
Juniper 105
Yarrow 106
The Enticing Plant 106
The Daughter of the King of Enchantments 107
_CHAPTER III_
Death Warnings
Introductory 109
Hugh of the Little Head 111
_CHAPTER IV_
Second Sight
Introductory 120
Spectres of the Living 132
Apparitions of the Dead 137
Strong and Undue Wishes 141
Tàradh 144
Marriage 147
Coming Misfortune 148
Events at a Distance 149
Death 150
Coffin 151
Noise of Glasses to be used at Funerals 154
Funeral Procession 155
Wraiths seen before Death 158
Drowning 160
Horses and Dogs 163
Crying heard before Death 166
Lights 169
Spirits seen before Death 172
Return of the Dead 172
Bones of the Dead and Place of Burial 176
Spirits appearing in Dreams 179
To get rid of the Second Sight 180
_CHAPTER V_
Hobgoblins
Introductory 181
The Bodach, or Carle 187
Fuath 188
Cachlaidh Na Feusaig, Islay 189
The Headless Body 191
The Grey Paw 194
Ewen and the Carlin Wife 198
The Black Walker of the Ford 201
Strowan, Athole 203
The Unearthly Whistle 204
The Battle of Gaura 205
The Beast of Odal Pass 207
Luideag, “The Rag” 208
Lochan Doimeig 208
Return of the Dead 210
Donald Gorm’s Ghost 211
Taibhse Choimhlig 213
Kingairloch, Argyleshire 214
Fladdachuain 215
Haunted Houses 217
Bocain, Goblins 220
_CHAPTER VI_
The Celtic Year
Introductory 224
Nollaig 229
Calluinn 230
Christmas Rhymes 233
New-Year Night 236
New-Year’s Day 238
The Twelve Days of Christmas 243
Winter Season 244
February 245
Earrach beag nam Faochag 247
St. Bride’s Day 247
Spring 250
The Whistle 250
The Sharp-billed One 251
The Sweeper 251
Gearran, a Gelding, or perhaps Gearan, Complaint 251
The Old Wife 253
Three Hog Days 254
Seed-time 255
Shrovetide 256
Lent 258
St. Kessock’s Day 259
St. Patrick’s Day 259
Lady Day 261
Shore or Maundy-Thursday 261
Good Friday 262
Easter 263
All-Fools’ Day 266
Bailc na Bealltainn 267
May-Day 267
Month of May 272
Whistling Week 273
May 273
The Avoiding Day of the Year 273
Whitsuntide, Pentecost 274
St. John’s or Midsummer’s Eve 276
Dog Days 276
Translation of Martin 277
Lammas 277
The Hot Month (_i.e._ August) 279
Assumption Day 279
Roodmas, September 14th-26th 280
Michaelmas 281
Hallowmas 281
CHAPTER I.
BLACK WITCHCRAFT.
Witchcraft introduces us to a class of popular superstitions entirely
different from those connected with Fairies. Fairies, water-horses, and
kindred supernatural beings were distinct from the Evil Spirits that
gave to witches their unhallowed powers. They could not be compelled
or conjured by mortals to appear when wanted, or enter into contracts
of service. The Powers of Darkness, on the other hand, were always at
the service of their votaries, and, by means of charms and incantations
known to the initiated, were made to lend their aid in any scheme of
malevolence.
A belief in magic widely, almost universally, prevails among the tribes
of mankind, and the witchcraft of the Christian era, while it undoubtedly
gained strength and character from mistaken interpretations of Scripture,
owes many characteristics to the delusions of Pagan times.
The Highland witches have of course many points in common with their
sisters of the south, but comparatively there is little repulsive or
horrible in their character. Tales regarding them make no mention of
incubus and succubus, midnight meetings and dances with the devil, dead
men’s fingers, and more of the horrible and awful, the ravings of poor
women driven crazy by persecution and torture. Neither is there mention
of their riding through the air on broomsticks, nor, like the witch
of Endor, raising the dead. Their art was forbidden, and their powers
came from the devil; but it does not appear under what paction, or that
there was any paction, under which this power was to be got. It was in
the name of the devil, and against the name of the Trinity, they set
about their cantrips, but a knowledge of the necessary charms, and the
courage to use them, seem to have been all that was requisite. Those
having the reputation of being witches were (and are, for a few still
survive) usually old women, destitute of friends and means of support,
and naturally ready to eke out a miserable livelihood by working on the
fears or the simplicity of their more prosperous neighbours.
There are instances in which a farmer has bribed a witch by yearly
presents not to do harm to his cattle; and we must remember that in
days of scarcity and famine, poverty with icy hand and slow-consuming
age will make people resort to shifts of which they would never dream
when food was abundant. In most cases, the reputed witch was merely
a superstitious and perhaps ill-favoured old woman, possessing a
knowledge of rhymes and charms for the healing of disease in man and
beast, and taking pains to _sain_ her own cattle, if she had any,
from harm. Sometimes she was also dishonest, desirous of being looked
upon with awe, and taking advantage of nightfall to steal milk from
her neighbours’ byres and corn from their stackyards. Her powers of
witchcraft satisfactorily accounted to the popular mind for her butter
and cheese—even if she had no cows—being abundant when the stores of
others failed. In dark uncultured times a claim to influence over the
unseen powers of nature, and to intercourse with spirits, had only to
be made to be allowed, and the mere pretension too readily invests the
claimant with awe to make it safe for any one to denounce the imposture.
Many believed in the efficacy of the arts they practised, and in their
own possession of the power with which the credulity of mankind was
willing to accredit them. Unusual natural events and phenomena can easily
be turned into proofs of a witch’s claim; imposture readily leads to
delusion, and hence among the poor and uneducated it is no wonder to find
witchcraft practised and believed in.
The power of witches was always at the disposal of those who were willing
to pay for it, and the fact that the rewards of witchcraft did not
sometimes exceed a pound of tobacco, alone shows how much the urgencies
of want had to do with the pretence to supernatural powers. Unless
payment was given the witch could do nothing; her spells were then of
no avail. To explain the anomaly that witches possessed such tremendous
powers and yet remained always in indigent circumstances, it was said
the poor wretches could not benefit themselves; their power, as might
be expected, considering the source from which it was derived, was only
one of mischief and doing harm to others. Much of the superstition is
at variance with this popular explanation, as, for instance, the taking
of milk from the neighbours’ cows and the substance from their butter
and cheese, but contradictions and absurdities never stand in the way of
credulity and superstitious fears.
The Gaelic name ‘_Buidseach_’ is identical in meaning with the
English ‘_witch_,’ a word it also somewhat resembles in form. The
term ‘_Bao_’ is sometimes translated wizard, but is properly only a
careless conversational form of _Baobh_, a wild furious woman, a wicked
mischievous female, who scolds and storms and curses, caring neither what
she says nor what she does, praying the houses may be razed (_làrach
lom_) and the property destroyed (_sgrios an codach_) of those who have
offended her. This is a word used in proverbs. “A raging woman obtains
her imprecation, but her soul obtains no mercy.”[1] _Baoth_, weak,
foolish, is often confounded with it. M’Intosh[2] makes the expression
‘_maca bao_,’ ‘a wizard’s son’ instead of _macan baoth_, a weak or little
child. “Pity of her who is the mother of a helpless child, when May-day
falls on a Thursday,” _i.e._[3] owing to the infant mortality of the
season.
A common answer to the question, What could witches do? is What could
they not do? The classes of actions, however, ascribed to them are not
numerous. They could take the milk from their neighbours’ cattle, bring
fish to their own coasts, make fishermen successful, go to sea for fish
themselves and bring home creelfuls, raise storms, sink ships, drown
those who offended them; give strings to sailors with knots on them, the
unloosening of which raised the wind; they could go to wine-cellars in
London or Ireland, and drink wine till morning; fly through the air with
magic quickness, and cross the seas in the most unlikely vessels, sieves,
eggshells, or dry cowsherds; produce a wasting disease in an enemy,
waylay and endanger the belated traveller, and by their cursed tricks
keep a child in its mother’s womb past its proper time; suck cows, and
assume various shapes. They could benefit, or at least ward away evil
from a favourite, but their power of doing so seems to have been much
feebler than their powers of mischief.
In carrying out their unhallowed cantrips, witches assumed various
shapes. They became gulls, cormorants, ravens, rats, mice, black sheep,
swelling waves, whales, and very frequently cats and hares. The shape
was not always well chosen for the object to be attained, a hare, for
instance, being but ill-formed for sucking cows, or a cat for drinking
wine; neither was a sieve or an eggshell a likely vessel to go to sea
in, nor a piece of tangle for carrying milk in, nor the chimney crook
a probable substitute for the cow’s udder. This, however, is of no
consequence. It is only part of the witch’s diabolical mode of going to
work. The truth is, that these harmless animals whose shapes witches
were said to assume, being seen in unusual places at unusual times,
or conducting themselves in an unusual manner, were converted by the
terrified imagination into witches pursuing their unlawful practices.
Many tales seem to have their origin in vain attempts to stagger
credulity, and in that delight which people of lively imaginations
sometimes take in ‘cramming’ their more stupid fellows.
In addition to change of shape, witches had a machinery of charms,
incantations, red, black, and blue threads, magic caps, and particularly
a magic staff, called ‘_an luirgean_’ ‘_an lorg ohn_.’
There were certain nights of the year on which they were unusually busy.
These were particularly the last night of every quarter. On Beltane
night they were awake all night. Their object seems to have been to
_sain_, _i.e._ keep evil away from, their own cattle or those of the
farmers who employed them for the purpose. Others were no doubt taking
advantage of any neglect in this respect to secure to themselves the
butter and cheese for the next three months. No one, however, knows what
they were after, as a woman who believed in their being awake on Beltane
night piously said, “God and themselves know what they are doing.”[4]
Many tales relating to witchcraft, as has been already remarked, must
have had their origin in attempts to ridicule people out of their belief
and in an unbridled exercise of imagination. They only furnished a proof
that men will believe the incredible.
WITCHES AND MILK.
To the poor a cow is invaluable, and its ailments are naturally a source
of anxiety. Hence the poor man has been most frequently the victim of
imposture, and his cow has the most frequently lost its milk through the
machinations of witches. The folds of the affluent were seldom attacked,
or those byres in which regard was paid to cleanliness and tidiness.
The stories of witches assuming the shape of hares and sucking cows are
numberless. A boy who saw one described the hare as sitting on its hind
legs, with its fore paws resting on the cow’s udder. Some people profess
to have come upon the witch through the night while thus engaged, and
caught her. The hare then became a woman.
When a witch assumes this shape it is dangerous to fire at her without
putting silver, a sixpence or a button of that metal, in the gun. If
the hare fired at was, as indeed it often was, a witch in disguise,
the gun burst, and the shot came back and killed the party firing, or
some mischance followed. Old women used, therefore, to recommend that a
sixpence be put in the gun when firing at a hare.
Parties who entered the house of a reputed witch in Cornaig, Tiree, found
two churns full of water on the floor and a shallow milk-dish (_measair_)
full of butter on the table.
In olden times the master of a ship, dining with the Laird of Coll, was
asked if the butter on the table was not very fine. He said it was for
pig’s butter. The dairymaid was called up and questioned. She confessed
that seeing a whale (_muc-mhara_, lit. sea-pig) passing, and hearing its
bellow (_geumraich_), she had taken the substance (_toradh_) of its milk
from it. If the laird believed her, he was an honest, unsuspicious man,
who never dreamt of any collusion between her and his guest.
A Tiree witch once took all their milk from the Laird of Coll’s cows, and
was on her way home with it in a _duitheaman_, a black seaweed not unlike
a tangle, wrapped round her body. A man met her, cut the black tangle
with his knife, and all the milk flowed out on the ground. Witches also
carried away milk in needles, dung-forks, etc., and have been detected
taking it in a stream from the chimney crook. A sailor, whose ship was on
her way through the Kyles of Bute (_na caoil Bhòdach_), hearing a bull
roaring on the Cowal coast, took the milk from the herd of which it was
lord by cutting the cable with an axe. The milk came streaming from the
cable.
It is related of ‘Mr. Lachlan,’ a former minister of Kintail, that going
one day to the house of a reputed witch, without telling who he was, he
induced her, as a specimen of her power, to milk the chimney crook.[5]
The cow from which the milk was to be taken was the minister’s own. The
witch went to work, till all the milk was extracted, and then asked the
minister if he was satisfied. He told her to go on, and she milked the
iron till blood came. When the minister went home he found his cow dead.
A witch in Lochaber had a little pet sheep, by milking which she gathered
to herself the milk from the flocks of all the neighbouring farmers.
Hairy Donald (Dò’ull Molach), a Morven celebrity of last century,
professing great skill in healing or hurting cattle by means of magic
charms, was laughed at for his pretensions by the parish minister, and
his powers were made game of. Donald, at his own request, was shut up
in a room, and a particular cow was named by the minister for him to
exercise his talents upon. Before he finished his incantations the cow
fell over the rocks.
A man bought at a market from a stranger a mart or winter cow. When
killing it, the blows of the axe made no impression. An old man who came
the way, when told of this, examined the cow’s tail, and found a _red
string_ tied round it. On this being taken away, the cow fell at the
first blow.
COUNTER-CHARMS.
Of course the spells of witches could be counteracted. It would not
be right that such dangerous powers should be unchecked. Some of the
counter-charms were good disinfectants, but in general the efficacy of
the remedy was as imaginary as the enemy whose machinations were to be
defeated. It was to prevent the taking of milk from cows that nearly all
the counter-charms were used. Anything in which people believed would be
sufficient, but the antidotes in ordinary use were these.
_Juniper_ (_Iubhar-beinne_, _aiteal_), pulled in a particular manner, was
burned before the cattle and put in cows’ tails.
A ball of hair (_gaoisid_), called a _Ronag_, was put in the milk-pail
on Lammas-day or on the Thursday after, to keep its substance in the
milk during the rest of the year. MacSymon (_Mac-Shiomoun_, a sept of
MacArthurs), a native of Balemartin, Tiree, was much resorted to in
former times for these constitution balls. On Lammas-day (_Lùnasdal_) he
gave to all who came to him a little bag of plants, sewn up, to be placed
in the cream jug (_croggan uachdair_) for the ensuing year, that the
cattle and the milk might retain their virtue or substance (_toradh_).
Stale urine (_maistir_) should be sprinkled on the door-posts and about
the byre. It keeps away the evil eye. There was an old woman in Coll who
was taken notice of by her neighbours for sprinkling cows and door-posts
every night. Her intention no doubt was to make assurance doubly sure.
The mountain ash (_Caorrunn_) was the most powerful charm of any.
“A Rowan-tree and a red thread
Gars a’ the witches dance to dead.”
Its efficacy was known in England as well as in the Highlands. The peg
of the cow-shackle (_Cnag chaorruinn sa bhuaraich_) should be made of
it, as well as the handle and cross (_crois na loinid_) of the churn[6]
staff. In Islay, not twenty years ago, a man had a rowan-tree collar for
securing his cow at night, and every time the animal visited the bull
he passed this collar thrice through the chimney crook. On Beltane-day
annually he dressed all the houses with rowan. It was said of the man
in Craignish who gathered potent herbs on St. Swithin’s day and studied
magic with one foot in the chimney crook:
“A tuft of rowan twigs
From the face of Ailsa Craig,
Put a red thread and a knot on it,
And place it on the end of the sprinkler,
And though the Witch of Endor came,
Allan could manage her.”[7]
A _horse-shoe_ was of great power for the protection of cattle against
witchcraft. As in England, it must be found by accident. It was put
above the byre door, and a nail from it driven into the lowest hoop
(_cearcal_) of the milk-dish (_mias_) kept its substance in the milk. It
preserved horses when put above the stable door, and ships when nailed
to the mast. An entire horse could not be touched by evil spirits, and
its rider was safe from the attacks of witchcraft. A person in the
neighbourhood of Luing, Argyllshire, returning from a funeral, found
himself unable to make any progress on his road home, though he did his
utmost all night to get on. He was retarded by some unseen influence. He
rode an entire horse, and found himself safe at daybreak. His safety lay
in the horse he rode. The famed _Red Book of Appin_, according to one
version of the tale, was got by one who rode an entire horse to a meeting
of witches, and, having got hold of the book, made off with it in despite
of the devil and all his servants. In a West Highland tale (ii., 87), the
owner of the _Red Book_ advises the shoe of an entire horse to be nailed
on the byre door, to counteract the witches, who were taking the milk
from the cows. The shoes of entire horses probably are the proper kind to
use, though others came into use from being found equally efficacious.
_Tar_, put on the door, kept witches away, and put on the cow’s ear, was
believed to prevent _ceathramh gorm_, or quarter ill.
If, notwithstanding all these safeguards, or through neglect of them, a
cow lost its milk, or the milk ceased to yield butter or cream, there
were several methods by which the witchcraft, which was undoubtedly the
cause, might be counteracted. Some of these remedies appear more like the
inventions of practical jokers than ceremonies from which any rational
meaning can be taken.
When a cow ceases unaccountably to give milk, and witchcraft is
suspected, its owner is to take some of the animal’s urine (_maistir_),
put it in a bottle, and cork it well. The witch who has taken the milk
cannot make a drop of water till the milk is allowed to come back. It
is a common story that the owner of bewitched cows, under the advice of
‘wise’ people of his neighbourhood, put a potful of the cows’ dung on the
fire, and boiled it. He then put in half an ounce of pins and stirred
the compost, till at last the witch appeared at the hole which formed
the window, and entreated him to stop tormenting her, and all would be
well. He stopped, and next morning his cows had milk as usual. It was
also said that by putting pins in the cow’s milk, and boiling till the
dish is dry, the witch is made to appear and confess. A woman once did
this in Tiree, and found her own brother was the guilty party. Old people
in the east side of Skye remember the bull being put on the top of a
suspected witch’s house to bring back their milk to a farmer’s cows. The
more brutal method of _scoring_, or drawing blood from, the witch above
her breath—the object of which could only be to make clowns strike poor
old women on the face with their fists—was unknown in the Highlands. The
plant _mōthan_, pearlwort, put in the milk-pail, was a more gentle but
quite as sure a method of restoring its virtue to the milk. If a piece of
it was in the bull’s hoof at the time of pairing no witch could touch the
offspring’s milk.
In Tiree a person lost several stirks by the stakes falling and
strangling them in the byre. A ‘wise’ woman, reputed a witch, advised,
though her advice was not taken, that the _right hand part of a fore
horse-shoe, with three nails in it_, should be put below the threshold
(_stairsneach_) of the byre, along with a silver coin, and that the hind
quarter of one of the beasts should be taken _west_ and buried beyond the
limits of the farm. This was to prevent a similar calamity in future.
GOING TO SEA.
The Lewis witches were accounted the best for raising wind. A large
number of them were at one time destroyed in the following manner. A
tailor, working in a farmer’s house, where there happened at the time to
be a scarcity of seasoning for dinner (_gann-do-dh’annlan_), was told
by the farmer’s wife, this would not be the case to-morrow, if he could
get breakfast past without the goodman saying grace. The tailor managed
this, and his curiosity being roused, remained awake the following night,
to see what the wife would do. He saw a number of women, among whom he
recognised his own wife, assembling in the farm-house and accompanied by
the farmer’s wife, disappearing up the chimney, each in a wicker creel.
In the morning the farmer’s wife came back with her creel full of fresh
herring. The tailor, when he went home, strongly represented to his wife
the propriety of allowing him to accompany the witches in their future
fishing expeditions. Two shares of the fish would then fall to them
instead of one. The proposal was laid before a meeting of the witches,
and in the circumstances they consented. To the number of eighteen the
witches went to sea on a line of worsted thread, the tailor’s wife being
left ashore to hold the ball, or end of the line, in her hand. The tailor
persuaded her to go with the rest, and leave him in charge of the line.
She went and the tailor paid out more line, till he thought the witches
far enough out at sea. He then cut the thread and allowed the whole lot
to drown.
Similarly, somewhere in the north (all marvels of this kind are said in
the south Highlands to have occurred in the north) a tailor was working
in the house of an old woman, who knew the forbidden arts, but at the
time was short of _kitchen_ for dinner. She took a creel, sat in it, and
having muttered some mystic words, disappeared through a hole in the roof
that formed the chimney. In a while she came back with the creel full of
herring. The tailor kept the spell in remembrance, and the first day he
got the old woman out of the way, sat in the creel, and repeated it. He
does not seem, however, to have learned the words quite correctly, for
the creel, instead of making for the hole in the roof, rose straight up
and hit his head violently against the rafters. It then floated along
against the roof, as if in search of an outlet. It bumped his head a
second time against the rafters and he roared out, “Where, in the curse
of God, are you going now?” Instantly at the name of the Deity, the creel
fell down, and the tailor dislocated his hips (_chaidh e as a ghobhal_).
He never again dabbled in the dark science.
In Skye, one of a party of women, assembled at an old woman’s house to
full cloth, went by accident into the barn, and found it full of fish
suspended from the roof. “There are many herrings here,” she said; and
there being no way by which the old woman could have got them but by
witchcraft, she taxed her with unholy practices. The old woman got very
angry at the exposure.
A Barra and a Uist witch one year tried each other’s powers in drawing
the fish to their respective islands. The Barra witch proved the
stronger, and took the fish to Castlebay (_Bàgh Chìosamuill_).
Another year the Uist and Tiree witches had a similar contest. The
latter prevailed, and the men of a bygone generation believed that every
flounder caught that year on the Tiree shores had a hole in its tail,
made by the witches in the struggle.
On the shallows (_oitir_) between Tiree and Coll, the witches of the two
islands were often seen fighting for the flounders that abound in the
locality. The appearance that suggested the fancy was no doubt the same
as is still to be seen on these banks in stormy weather.
A witch, who left home every night, was followed by her husband, who
wondered what she could be about. She became a cat, and went in the
name of the devil to sea in a sieve, with seven other cats. The husband
upset the sieve by naming the Trinity, and the witches were drowned.
So the Skye story runs. In the Sound of Mull the witches went on board
the sieve, “against the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy
Ghost”; and the husband upset the concern by putting his foot on board
in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost. In Tiree the
unfortunate women were passing Kennavara hill in eggshells on their way
to Ireland, when the husband of one of them, seeing the fleet, wished
them God-speed. Instantly the eggshells sank, and the women were drowned.
RAISING STORMS AND DROWNING PEOPLE.
The belief that witches can trouble the sea and raise the wind is
widespread, reaching even to the native Africans. It is part of the
regular traffic of Finland witches to sell wind to mariners,—as in the
case of their Celtic sisters, tied in knots upon a thread. The following
story is common to many places.
A boatman from one of the southern islands was long detained in Lewis
by adverse winds. He was courting a witch’s daughter, and applied to
her mother for a favourable wind. He gave her a pound of tobacco, and,
assisted by neighbouring witches, after three days’ exertion, she
produced a string with three knots upon it. The first knot was called
‘Come gently’ (_Thig gu fòill_), and when he loosened it, as he left
the shore, a gentle breeze sprang up. The second knot was called ‘Come
better’ (_Teann na’ s fhèarr_), and on its being untied the breeze came
stiffer. As he neared the harbour, he out of curiosity loosened the last
knot, the name of which was ‘Hardship’ (_Cruaidh-chàs_). A wind came “to
blow the hillocks out of their places” (_séideadh nan cnoc_), and sent
the thatch of the houses into the furrows of the plough-land, and the
boatman was drowned. In Harris, they say the boat was drawn up on land
and secured before the last knot was untied. She was capsized and smashed
to pieces.
The following, known as “Big Macmhuirich’s Supplication” (_Achanaich Mhic
Mhuirich Mhòir_), is another form of the Celtic belief.
‘Macpherson of power’ (_Mac-Mhuirich nam buadh_), a noted wizard in South
Uist, was on a passage by sea on a calm day. The skipper said to him,
“Ask for a wind, Mac-Vuirich.” He did so, saying:
“An east wind from the calm aether,
As the Lord of the elements has ordained,
A wind that needs not rowing nor reefing,
That will do nought deceitful to us.”
“Weak and trifling you have asked it,” said the skipper, “when I myself
am at the helm.” Mac-Vuirich answered:
“A north wind hard as a rod,
Struggling above our gunwale,
Like a red roe sore pressed,
Descending a hillock’s narrow hard head.”
“It does not attain to praise yet,” said the skipper, and Mac-Vuirich
went on:
“If there be a wind in cold hell,
Devil; send it after us,
In waves and surges;
And if one go ashore, let it be I,
And if two, I and my dog.”
A sea came, that rolled the boat’s stern over her bows, and all were
drowned but Mac-Vuirich and his dog.
The power of this wizard over the elements was also shown on another
occasion. The MacRanalds were coming to attack the MacNeills of Barra,
to whom Mac-Vuirich was favourable. Their boat was seen coming along the
wild and rocky coast on the west of Skye, and was sunk by the mighty
wizard uttering the following words:
“A south-west wind toward Eiste point,
Mist and rain,
Clan Ranald on a breaking board,
I reck it not;
A narrow unsteady vessel,
A lofty pointed sail,
A lading of empty barrels,
And bilge-water to the thwarts,
A weak irascible crew
Having no respect one for another.”
As might be expected, such a boat did not go far before sinking.
The usual way witches took to shipwreck a vessel was to put a small round
dish (_cuach_) floating in a milk-pan (_measair_) placed on the floor
full of water. They then began their incantations, and when the dish
upset, the ship sank.
On one occasion three witches from Harris left home at night after
placing the milk-pan thus on the floor, in charge of a servant-maid,
who was straitly enjoined not to let anything come near it. The girl’s
attention was, however, called away for a short time, and a duck came in
and took to squattering about in the water on the floor. The witches
on their return in the morning, asked if anything had come near the
milk-pan. The girl said no, and one of them said, “What a heavy sea we
had last night coming round Càbag head!”
A few years ago a boat was lost coming from Raasa to Skye. The witches,
who caused the calamity, were seen at work in the Braes of Portree,
beside a stream. Three of them were engaged in the evil task, and a man
was present along with them. Jobs of the kind require the presence of a
man. A cockle-shell (_slige coilleig_) was placed floating in a pool, and
a number of black stones were ranged round the edge of the pool. When the
incantation was at its height, the black stones barked like dogs, and the
cockle-shell disappeared.
A farmer in Mull and his little daughter were walking along an eminence
that overlooked the Sound, through which a number of ships were passing
at the time. The little girl asked, “What will you give me, father, if
I sink all these ships?” Thinking she was in fun, he asked her how she
would do it. She stooped down, and looked backwards between her legs at
one of the vessels. The ship whirled round and sank. In this expeditious
manner all the ships in sight were sunk, but one. The man asked why this
one did not sink. The girl said it was because there was rowan-tree wood
on board, and she could not touch it. He then asked who had taught
her all this? She said it was her mother. The man, who was a good man,
and before ignorant of his wife’s dabbling in witchcraft, gathered his
neighbours and burned herself and daughter.
A witch was engaged to destroy a boat coming to Tiree. Another witch,
however, wished its safety. The former came in shape of a gull, that
hovered about the boat, and kept it back (a head wind?). The other came
as a cormorant (_sgarbh_), followed in the wake of the boat (_an uisge na
stiùirceach_, lit. the waters of the rudder), and saved it. (Favourable
tide?)
A former Lord Macdonald (_Mà-Cònuill_) was on his way by boat to Uist,
and experienced very unfavourable weather. When near his destination,
a towering wave, or, as it is called in Gaelic, ‘a drowning sea’
(_muir bhàite_), nearly overwhelmed the boat, and two birds, a skua
(_croma-ritheachar_) and an ordinary gull, were observed fighting in the
air. The one was Yellow Claws, daughter of Donald, son of Cormac (_spòga
Buidhe ni’ a Dò’uill ’ic Cormaig_), the other Hump-backed Blue-eye from
Cràcaig (_Gorm-shùil chrotach a Cràcaig_), both celebrated witches. The
former was for sinking the boat, the latter for saving it. Sometime
after Blue-eye met Lord Macdonald in Edinburgh, and reminded him of the
incident, and her own services on the occasion. He just remarked, “There
was indeed such a circumstance.”
A ship, sailing from Greenock, was to be destroyed by the Captain’s
wife and two other witches. An apprentice overheard them planning this,
and saying that they would come upon the ship on a certain day as three
rolling waves, and the ship would be sunk, unless the waves were cut with
a sword. At the time said the apprentice was allowed the command of the
vessel, and standing in the bow with a drawn sword, cleft the waves, and
defeated the witches.
A boat from Hianish, Tiree, went out fishing on the day before the New
Year. The morning was calm, but when the boat was returning the wind
rose and the sea became very heavy. The best steersman in the boat took
the helm. Another, sitting on the hindmost thwart (_tota shílidh_),
after looking for a while towards the stern, asked the helm from him,
and being again and again refused, at last took it by force. When he got
the rudder below his arm, he said, “Now, come on!” and the boat reached
shore in safety. He then explained that he had been seeing a gull, unseen
by the first steersman, following the boat, and had recognised her as a
woman of the neighbourhood. This woman had an illegitimate child by the
first steersman, and it was thought her object in raising the storm and
following so close in the wake of the boat, was to snatch her seducer
with her and drown him.
Ian Garve (stout John), laird of Raasa (_Iain Garbh Mac-ille-Challum
Ratharsa_), a man celebrated in Highland song and legend for his great
personal strength, was drowned by a witch who had this mysterious power
of raising storms. The event occurred on Easter Monday (_Di-luain
Càisge_), in the great ‘storm of the Borrowing Days,’ of which a
contemporary historian says “the like of this tempest was not seen in our
time, nor the like of it heard in this country in any age preceding,”
A.D. 1625; yet the traditions of the event are still fresh in popular
memory. The witch was Ian Garve’s own foster-mother (_muime_), and
resided on the islet of Trodda (_Trodaidh_), on the east of Skye. She
overheard a friend of hers say he wished Ian Garve, who was known to
have gone to the Lewis, was drowned, and took up seriously words spoken
only in jest. Others say she was bribed by an enemy to effect the hero’s
destruction. He left Loch Sealg in Lewis to proceed home on a calm day.
The witch was dairymaid (_banachag_) in Trodda, and, seeing the boat
coming, put milk in a large dish, and a small empty dish floating in it.
A boy was placed standing in the doorway, where he could see both the
milk-pan and Ian Garve’s boat. She herself stood with her foot in the
‘swey’ or chimney crook, and began her unholy incantations. Soon the
dish in the milk-pail began to be violently agitated. The boy reported
it first as going round sunwise (_deiseal_), then as going round
against the sun and striking the sides of the basin, and finally as
being capsized and floating bottom upwards (_air a bial foidhpe_). The
storm had been all this time increasing, till at last it blew a perfect
hurricane. That night the heap of shingle on East-side (_Du-sear_),
called _Moll-stabhan_, was washed ashore. Ian Garve’s boat disappeared
simultaneously with the capsizing of the bowl, and all on board perished.
Three ravens hovered about the boat as the storm was rising, and it
became afterwards known that these three were Yellow Claws (_Spòga
Buidhe_) from Màiligeir on East-side, Hump-backed Blue-eye (_Gorm-shùil
chrotach_) from Cràcaig near Portree, and Doideag from Mull. When the
boat was between Bare Skerries (_Sgeire maola_) and Trodda twenty birds
flew about, and some of them assumed the shape of frogs (_muileacha màg_)
on the deck. All the witches in Scotland were there, but were unable to
sink the boat till Ian Garve said to the frogs, “What the brindled one
has brought you here?”[8] After that he became distracted from the number
of birds and frogs coming upon him. A raven lighted on the gunwale of the
boat, and Ian Garve, striking at it with his sword, cleft the boat to the
water’s edge. The first news of the drowning was heard on Minigeig Hill
(_Monadh mhinigeig_) in Badenoch, and the particulars became known by the
telling of other witches. Another account says the hero appeared that
night to his wife in her dreams, and said:
“On Monday the wind arose,
And gathered its fury and rage;
Tell the mother of my body
’Twas the evils made the hunt.”[9]
The shade came thrice and repeated this. Next day the wife told the dream
to her mother-in-law, who exclaimed, “Then my beloved is lost” (_tha mo
laogh-sa caillte_).
By far the most celebrated tale of this class is that of the destruction
of Captain Forrest’s ship by witches in the Sound of Mull.
Viola (_Bheòla_), daughter of the King of Spain, dreamt of a remarkably
handsome man, and made a vow not to rest till she found him. She fitted
out a boat, and in the course of her wanderings came to Tobermory Bay.
Here she saw MacLean of Dowart, who proved to be the man she was in
search of, and, though he was a married man, became too intimate with
him. MacLean’s wife in her jealousy caused her servant Smollett, a south
countryman, to blow up the ship with all on board. After setting fire to
a fuse leading to the magazine, Smollett made his escape, and by the time
the explosion took place reached Pennygown, a distance of ten or twelve
miles. The cook was blown to Srongarve (_sròn-garbh_, rough nose), near
Tobermory, where there is a cleft still bearing the name of the Cook’s
Cave (_Uamh Chòcaire_). The Princess herself fell somewhere in the sound,
and was buried at _Cill_, the Loch Aline burying-ground in Morven.[10]
Upon the news of the dreadful event reaching Spain, Captain Forrest
(whose name is not very Spanish) was sent with a ship to take vengeance
upon the Mull people by taking off the right breast of every Mull woman.
When the ship came the Lady of Dowart sent for _Doideag_, the Mull witch,
and by her means, with assistance procured from neighbouring witches,
Captain Forrest’s ship was sunk before next morning. Doideag shut herself
up in a house alone at Guirman Point (_Rutha Ghuirmein_), near Dowart,
and there made her incantations. A rope was put through a hole in a
rafter, and all night long the handmill (_brà_) was hoisted up to the
beam, lowered, and hoisted again. A native of Tiree reported that, having
come that evening to Doideag’s house, he was compelled by her to hoist
and lower and hoist the mill-stone all night without rest or refreshment,
while the witch herself went away to Tiree and elsewhere for help. On
her return she said that when in Tiree she had been detained a little
in extinguishing a fire, which had been caused by a spark falling among
the fodder in the stirk-house belonging to the man who was her unwilling
assistant. As the quern was raised a gale sprang up, and increased
in fury as the operation went on. At the same time gulls (others say
hooded-crows, others black cats) appeared on the yard-arms of the devoted
ship. Captain Forrest knew the Black Art himself, and went below. As word
was brought him that another gull had appeared in the rigging, he said,
“I will suffice for this one yet” (_Fòghnaidh mi fhìn dhi so fhathast_).
He could keep the ship against some say eight, others nine, witches,
but “ere a’ the play was play’d” there were sixteen, some say eighteen,
on the yards. Their names depend on the fancy of the narrator. All the
Mull witches (_na doideagun Muileach_) were there, and the most powerful
of the sisterhood from the surrounding districts. _Nic-ill’-Domhnuich_
from Tiree is commonly mentioned.[11] All accounts agree that when
Big Blue-eye from Mey (_Gorm-shùil Mhòr bha sa Mheigh_), the powerful
Lochaber witch, came, the ship sank. Shortly before this Captain Forrest
told a sailor to look up and see how many gulls were on the yards (_seall
suas co miad faoileann air an t-shlait_). On being told eighteen, he
said, “We are lost.” In the morning Doideag was told her house had been
unroofed in the gale, but she was comforted by being told the dreaded
ship had gone down opposite Coire-na-theanchoir Bay. “If you are without
a house, Captain Forrest is without a ship” (_ma tha thusa gun tigh, tha
Captain Forrest gun long_).
WITCHES AS SHEEP.
A native of Tiree was on his way home to the west end of the island in
the evening with a new gun in his hand. When above the beach called
Travay, he observed a black sheep running towards him from across the
plain of Reef. Alarmed by the animal’s motions, he put a silver sixpence
in the gun, and on its coming near enough, took aim. The black sheep
instantly became a woman, whom he recognised, with a drugget coat
wrapped about her head. The same woman had often persecuted him before,
particularly in shape of a cat. She asked him to keep her secret, and he
promised to do so, but one day, when drunk in the village to which the
woman belonged, he told his adventure and the name of the woman. In less
than a fortnight after he was drowned, and the witch (for such the woman
was universally reputed to be) was blamed as the cause.
Hector M’Lean, in Coll, according to his own account, was coming in
the evening from Arinagour to Breacacha, a distance of four miles
along what was then throughout the greater part a mountain track. When
halfway, at Airidh-mhic-mharoich, a black sheep came about his feet,
and several times threw him down. At last he took out a clasp-knife
(_sgian-lughaidh_), and threatened the sheep, if it came near him again,
to stick it with the knife. It, however, again and again came and threw
him down. In endeavouring to stab it, the knife closed upon his own hand
between the finger and thumb, and cut him severely. On coming to the
large open drain or stream below Breacacha Garden, he stood afraid to
jump across, in case the black sheep should come about his legs, and make
him fall in the drain. He was now, however, within hail of his own house,
and whistled loudly for his dog. It came, and was fiercely hounded by him
at the sheep. Every time the dog made a rush and came too near, the sheep
became an old woman, whom Hector recognised as one of his acquaintances,
and jumped in the air. She asked him to call off his dog, and he refused.
She asked him again, and promised, if he would do so, to befriend him in
right and wrong (_an còir’s an eucoir_). At last he did call the dog, but
it would not obey. He caught it by the back of the neck, and it tried to
turn upon himself. He promised to keep his hold till the woman made her
escape. The witch became a hare, and Hector called out to her, as she
seemed to have such wonderful power, to “add another leg to her stern,
to make her escape the faster.” When she was some distance away, he let
go the dog, and went home. The dog did not come home till the following
afternoon; it followed the hare, compelled it to take refuge on a shelf
of rock (_uirigh creige_), and lay below on the watch, till forced by
hunger to go home. The woman upbraided Hector, the first time she met
him, for letting go the dog. Afterwards, when he went as servant-man to
Arileod farm (_aìridh-Leoìd_) in the neighbourhood, the same woman was
often seen by him, in the shape of a hare, sucking the cows. His dog,
whenever it caught sight of her, gave chase, and compelled her to resume
her proper shape. When he left the farm, she was not seen there for some
days. He went in search of her, and accused her to her face of having
been the party that troubled the farm. She got into a rage, and said she
would punish him for raising such a story about her. He answered that the
proprietor of the island had offered a reward for the discovery of the
guilty person, and if all the women in Coll were gathered on one hillock
his speckled dog (_cu breac_) would pick her out as the offender. To this
she made no reply. He asked her to go to Arileod dairy that night, so
that people would not have it to say it was for him the evil had arisen.
She said this was _Wednesday_ night, and it was out of her power to do
anything, but the following night she would go, and he would hear of it.
On Thursday night she loosened the cows in Arileod byre, let in the
calves, and did much mischief.
WITCHES AS HARES.
In addition to the above tales, in which this transformation has been
mentioned, the following may be given as further illustrations of the
superstition.
A young man, in the island of Lismore, was out shooting. When near
Balnagown Loch, he started a hare, and fired at it. The animal gave
an unearthly scream, and it then for the first time occurred to the
young man that there were no hares in Lismore. He threw away his gun
in terror, and fled home. Next day he came back for the gun, and heard
that a reputed witch of the neighbourhood was laid up with a broken leg.
Ever after the figure of this woman encountered him and gave him severe
thrashings. This preyed on his mind, and he never came to any good. He
proved brooding, idle, and useless.
A Manxman, who was in Tiree a few years ago, told the following story. A
party of sportsmen, engaged in coursing, were at a loss for a hare. An
old woman told her grandson to go to them, tell them they would get a
hare at a certain spot, and get half-a-crown for himself. The boy went,
got his half-crown, and guided the sportsmen to the spot his grandmother
had indicated. When the hare started he cried, “Run, granny, run!” The
hare made straight for the old woman’s house, the dogs lost sight of
it at the back of the house, and the old woman was found sitting at the
fireside.
In Wigtonshire a hare ran up the chimney, and a suspected witch near hand
was found with burnt feet.
WITCHES AS CATS.
The association of witches with cats is of great antiquity. In the
legends of Greece and Rome, we are told of a woman, who had been
changed into a cat, being chosen as priestess by Hecate, the goddess
of sorcery and magic power, and of Hecate herself, when the gods were
forced to hide themselves in animals, taking refuge in the shape of a
cat. The association probably arose not so much from cats being the
frequent, almost invariable, companions of the poor old women accused
of witchcraft, as from the savage character of the animal itself. Its
noiseless and stealthy motions, its persevering watchfulness, its
extraordinary agility and tenacity of life, its diabolical caterwauling,
prowling habits, deceitful spring, and the luminous appearance of
its eyes in the dark, would alone suffice to procure it the name of
unearthly; but when infuriated, glaring, bristling, and spitting, it
forms a vivid representation of a perfect demon. In the Highlands, it was
not, as in the witchcraft of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries,
looked upon as the familiar or attendant imp of the witch, but merely as
an animal, whose form witches frequently assumed.
There were other superstitions connected with the animal. Were it not
the fear of being swallowed by the ground, a cat would run much faster
than it does. When people have a cat along with them in a boat, they
cannot, or will not, be drowned by witches. By burying a cat alive,
people waiting for a favourable wind get a breeze from the direction in
which its head is put; and a witch, that is, a young one, who is courted
by a sailor, can detain him with contrary winds as long as she likes by
shutting up the cat in the cupboard. A cat scraping is a sign that some
beast, horse, cow, pig, or dog will be found dead on the farm before
long. A cat washing its face portends rain next day, and turning its
back to the fire storm and rain. When removing from one house to another
(_imrich_), it is unlucky to take a cat. The animal was disliked by the
MacGregors, and the Camerons of Glenevis could not tolerate it at all.
A shepherd in Kintail, living alone in a bothy, far from other houses,
after kindling in the evening a bright cheerful fire, threw himself on a
heather bed on the opposite side of the house. About twenty cats entered
and sat round the fire, holding up their paws and warming themselves.
One went to the window, put a black cap on its head, cried “Hurrah for
London!” and vanished. The other cats, one by one, did the same. The
cap of the last fell off, and the shepherd caught it, put it on his own
head, cried “Hurrah for London!” and followed. He reached London in a
twinkling, and with his companions went to drink wine in a cellar. He
got drunk and fell asleep. In the morning he was caught, taken before
a judge, and sentenced to be hanged. At the gallows he entreated to be
allowed to wear the cap he had on in the cellar; it was a present from
his mother, and he would like to die with it on. When it came the rope
was round his neck. He clapped the cap on his head, and cried “Hurrah for
Kintail!” He disappeared with the gallows about his neck, and his friends
in Kintail, having by this time missed him, and being assembled in the
bothy prior to searching the hills, were much surprised at his strange
appearance.
This is a fair specimen of the popular tale. It forms the foundation
of the Ettrick Shepherd’s “Witch of Fife.” In Skye, the adventure was
claimed by a man nicknamed ‘Topsy-turvy’ (_But-ar-scionn_) as having
occurred to himself. After coming home, he made the gallows into a
weaver’s loom. The hero in Argyllshire made it the stern and keel of a
boat, which may be seen in Lorn to this day. In Harris the hero is a
tailor: and the tale has been even found in the Monach isles, west of
Uist.
Captain Burt (1730) tells a story of a similar kind which he had heard
from a minister. A laird, whose wine was disappearing mysteriously,
suspecting witches one night, when he thought the plunderers were at
work, entered the cellar, closed the door, and laid about him with a
broadsword. When light was brought, the cats, whose eyes he had seen
glaring at him in the dark, disappeared, and only some blood was found on
the floor. An old woman in the neighbourhood, suspected of being a witch,
was found, on her house being entered, in bed, with her leg cut off and
lying below the bed. The same story is told of the witches of Thurso
(_Inbher-Eòrsa_).
A tailor, named Macilduinn, was left in a house alone on Hallowe’en
night, while the rest of the household went to a neighbour’s house to
hold the festivities of the evening. As he sat on a bed, working at his
trade, a great many cats came in, and attacking a bag of flesh at the end
of the bed soon tore it up and devoured it. They then gathered round the
tailor. One said, “The back of my paw to Macilduinn!” Another said, “The
front of my paw to Macilduinn!”[12] These threats were repeated by all
the rest, while they held out their horrid claws, some derisively, some
menacingly, to the poor tailor. Frightened from his wits, he blew out the
light, sprung to the door, and took to his heels. The cats gave chase,
and by the time he reached a neighbours house his back was scratched
into shreds and thongs (_na iallun_) by the claws of the infernal cats.
Cameron of Doïni, or Glenevis, was out hunting, and killed a wild-cat.
The animal, when expiring, asked him to tell, when he went home, that
‘the King of the Cats’ (_Righ nan Cat_) was dead, or according to others
‘the Key of Battle’ (_an Iuchair Chath_), or ‘the streaked Brindled one’
(_a Bhruchail Bhreac_). As he told his story, the little black kitten in
the ash-hole (_an toll na luath_) bristled up and swelled, till it was as
large as a dog. Cameron said, “You are swelling, cat.” The cat answered,
“My feathers and my swellings are growing bigger with the heat,”[13]
and, springing at the chieftain’s throat, killed him. The scions of this
family (_Teaghlach Dhomhainnidh no Ghlinn-Ibheis_) till quite recent
times, would not tolerate a cat in the house, from the memory of this
tradition.
The same story is told in the following manner, without any locality
being assigned for the incident. A hunter killed a wild-cat, and when he
came home told his adventure. He said,
“To-night has well prospered with us,
The big urchal-erchal has been slain.”
A kitten that was listening rose and said, “Has Bald Entrails of the Cats
been killed? If it were not the many nights I have got meat and milk in
your family, I would have your long brindled weasand in my claws. Tell
Streaked Foul-Face, that Bladrum is dead,”[14] and saying this the kitten
went away, and was never seen afterwards.
Near Vaul in Tiree, a man riding home at night, with his son, a young
boy, seated behind him, was met by a number of cats. The boy had his
hands clasped round his father, and the man, pressing them to his sides,
to make surer of the boy’s hold, urged his horse to its speed. The cats
sprang, and, fastening on the boy, literally devoured him. When the man
reached home, with his horse at full gallop, he had only the boy’s arms
left.
A Wexford legend of the same kind (the two stories might have been
originally identical), said to be at least as old as 1584, will be found
in the _Dublin University Magazine_ for September, 1869.
A woman detected a strange cat drinking the milk in her kirn, caught it
by the back of the neck, and rapped its nose against the floor. It went
about mewing in a melancholy manner, till the woman took pity on it, and
called it, saying, “Puss, puss, till you get a drop” (_Puis, puis, gus am
faigheadh tu diar_). The cat answered, “It is not a drop I want, but the
way my mouth is, Mary” (_Cha-ne diar tha mi’g iarraidh ach mar tha mo
bhial a Mhàiri_). It then went away, but came back through the night with
two other cats. One said they would take the back of their paws to the
woman, but the second said the front of their paws. This resolution was
carried by the casting vote of the injured cat, and the woman was torn in
shreds.
A man, going in the evening to see a girl he was courting, was met at a
lonely part of the road (near the end of Balefetrish Hill in Tiree) by
seven cats, and was so terrified that he turned back and thereby lost his
sweetheart. She married an old man from the village of Hianish, where a
noted witch dwelt. The old man got the blame of bribing the witch to send
the cats.
In olden times a cat belonging to the tenant of Heynish in Tiree was much
addicted, like the rest of its kind, to stealing cheese. It was caught in
the act, and, as a punishment for the past and a lesson for the future,
its ears were taken off. The tenant had occasion to go from home, and on
his return found the cat lying dead, having been hung for theft in his
absence. He took it in his lap, and thus addressed it:
Did I not tell you, little Duncan,
You had needs of being wary;
When you went where the cheeses were,
The gallows would teach you how to dance.
Evil is it, earless cat,
They you have killed, because of cheese;
Your neck has paid for that refreshment,
At this time, after your death.
On hearing these expressions of sympathy, the cat began to revive, and
the man went on:
A hundred welcomes wait you, cat,
Since in my lap you’ve chanced to be;
And, though I do not much liberty allow,
Many have you greatly loved.
Are you the untamed cat that Fionn had,
That hunted wild from glen to glen?
Had Oscar you at the battle of Bla-sguinn,
And left you heroes wounded there?
You drank the milk Catherine had,
For entertaining minstrel and meeting;
And why should I praise you?
You ought to be, like any kitten,
On the hillside seeking mice,
’Neath greyish grassy stems and bramble bushes.
On hearing this the cat ran away and was never again seen.
A Tiree boat was tacking out of a loch in the north. A man met it at a
point of land near which it came, and asked to be taken to the other
side. One of the boatmen was willing, but the rest were not, as they
would thereby lose time. Next tack back, the man met the boat again, with
the same result. “Well, then,” he said, “perhaps you will repent it.” At
the mouth of the loch the boatmen heard a howling as of innumerable cats.
A storm arose, and with difficulty they reached shelter at the island of
Eigg.
WITCHES AS RATS.
A Tiree boatman, bringing a load of peats from the Ross of Mull, was met
at the Treshinish Isles by two rats sailing along on dry cowsherds. As
good luck did not direct him, he threw a piece of peat at the rats, and
upset their frail barks. A storm sprang up, and with difficulty he got to
land. The rats were witches, and he should not have meddled with them.
WITCHES AS GULLS.
A witch assumed the shape of a gull, delighting in storms, not only to
bring danger or safety to a boat, as already told, but also for payment
to bring back news of fishing boats driven away in a storm.
A boat from Tiree, going for a cargo of wood, was caught in a violent
gale and driven north past Ardnamurchan Point. With difficulty the
boatmen, four in number, secured her in a creek. They remained in a
cave for four days, till the storm abated. The suddenness and violence
of the gale caused much anxiety to their friends, and two women, one
of whom had two sons and a son-in-law in the boat, and the other, a
widow, her youngest and only surviving son, consulted a famous witch,
_Nic-ill’-Dòmhnuich_, in Caolas, as to their fate. The witch told them
to come next day, and she would tell them. Early next morning the
widow went. “Yea,” said the witch, “they live, and they had no little
amusement last night fighting for the _Fallaid_ bannock, and your son had
his own share of it.” When the young men came home, they were questioned
as to their seeing anything the night the witch was sent for news. They
said a grey gull was seen by them sitting on the edge of the rocks that
overhang their place of shelter and peering down at them. One was for
throwing stones at it, but the rest dissuaded him. It was only seen that
night and next morning.
WITCH AS CORMORANT.
A man named Campbell, in the Long Island, as the outer Hebrides are
called, had two sweethearts, for one of whom he did not very much care.
They were both to be present at a gathering of women for fulling cloth,
and he resolved to go and see them. When he arrived he found only the
one he least liked. He left shortly, and set off to where the other was.
On the way he had to cross a ford on large stepping-stones. As he was
doing so a cormorant (_sgarbh_) came, and splashed him fiercely with
water. He had a cudgel in his hand, and gave the strange bird a whack
on the back. He then passed on, and the distance being considerable did
not return till next day. When returning he had to pass the house of the
slighted damsel. Her mother met him at the door, and said, she could not
understand what was wrong with her daughter; she had got suddenly ill
last night, and was very bad with a sore back. Campbell said he knew the
reason, and would have nothing further to say to her daughter. The woman
then threatened him, but no evil ever came of her threat.
WITCHES AS WHALES.
A Skye fisherman gave the following narrative of witchcraft to which he
himself was a witness. He and his brother were at the herring fishing in
Portree in his native isle, and during that season out of all the herring
boats one only was successful. It had only a crew of two, and every night
caught from eight to ten crans of fish. The other boats were empty or
nearly so. One night when the nets were set, the boat, in which he and
his brother were, sprang a leak, and was taken back to the harbour and
beached. The rest of the crew went away to the village, but he remained
till the boat was left dry by the receding tide. In a while he also left,
and as he did so, saw a young girl coming out of a house and tapping at
a neighbour’s window. Another girl came out of that house, and wondering
what the two could be about at that hour of the night, he followed them
from the village. On reaching the green, the two girls began to disport
themselves (_braise_), then of a sudden became hares, and chased each
other round and round. After this they made their way to the shore, and
at the edge of the water (_gob na tuinne_), leapt into the sea and became
whales. They went out from land spouting the water as high as a ship’s
mast. Next morning the boats came in empty. The fishermen said they had
seen during the night two whales throwing up the sea in a dreadful manner
(_smùideadh na fairge gu h-eagallach_), which made them think there was
fish in the neighbourhood. The lucky boat was full as usual.
The meaning of this tale seems to be that the man had been listening the
night before to tales of witchcraft, had fallen asleep in the boat on the
beach, and had a troublous dream.
DELAYING THE BIRTH OF A CHILD.
This infernal cantrip was played by means of a ball of black worsted
thread in a black bag, kept at the foot of the witch’s weaving loom,
where it might not be detected. If the ball was taken away the plot fell
through. In proof of this, there is a story told that a child was once
kept twenty-two years in its mother’s womb by means of witches, and when
born it had hair, beard, and teeth, like a person of that age.
The mother of a celebrated West Highland freebooter, ‘Allan of the
Faggots’ (_Ailein nan sop_), was a servant maid who became pregnant by a
married man. The man’s wife, when she heard of the scandal, got a _bone_
from a witch, which, she was assured, would, as long as it was kept,
delay the birth of the child. Allan of the Faggots was thus kept in his
mother’s womb for fifteen months beyond the usual time. The husband got
word of his wife’s doings, and took a plan to defeat her. He made his
Fool one day come home, pretending to be very drunk, staggering about,
and smashing the furniture. On being called to task, the Fool said he had
been in a house down yonder (that of the servant-maid), where a child
had at last been born, and had got a dram, which went into his head. The
wife, on hearing this, thought the witch had deceived her, and threw the
bone into the fire. It disappeared in blue smoke, and knocked down the
chimney! Allan was then born, with large teeth.
In other tales to the same effect, the trick usually is played on a
married woman, by the mother of a maid who had been slighted on her
account.
CLAY CORPSE.
The greatest evil that witches can do is to make, for a person whose
death they desire, a clay body or image (_corp creadha_), into which
pins are stuck, to produce a slow and painful disease, terminating in
dissolution. Waxen figures for the same purpose, and melted by exposure
to a slow fire, were known to Lowland superstition. In the Highlands wax
was not accessible to poor bodies, and they had to make clay serve the
turn. It is said that when a person wants a limb he cannot be destroyed
by witches in this manner.
MacIain Ghiarr, the Ardnamurchan thief, stole so many cattle from MacLean
of Dowart that he made that chief his deadly enemy. On one of his roving
expeditions he was passing at midnight the chapel or burying-ground of
Pennygown (_caibeal Peighinn-a-ghobhan_), on the Sound of Mull. Seeing
a light in the chapel, he entered, and found three witches sticking
pins in a clay body (_corp creadha_) intended to represent MacLean of
Dowart. As each pin was stuck in, MacLean was seized with a stitch in
the corresponding part of his body. Only the last pin remained to be
stuck in. It was to be in the heart, and to cause death. MacIain Ghiarr
scattered the witches, took with him the clay corpse, and made his way to
MacLean, whom he found at death’s door. He took out in his presence the
pins one by one, and when the last was taken out MacLean jumped up a hale
man, and remained ever after the warm friend of MacIain Ghiarr.
MacGilvray, a former minister of Strathfillan, in Perthshire, was seized
with burning pains all over his body, and was slowly wasting away by some
malady, of which the nature could not be understood. He lived at Clachan
in that strath, and one morning early a woman from the opposite side of
the river, on her way to call and ask for him, saw another woman going
along before her, who had the reputation of being a witch. Wondering
what her neighbour was about at that early hour, she kept well behind and
watched. The foremost woman, on coming to a hollow, stooped down, buried
something in the ground, and then walked on towards the minister’s house.
The other came and dug up what had been buried. It proved to be a piece
of wood stuck all over with pins. She took it with her to the manse, and
produced it, to the confusion of the witch. On the pins being withdrawn
the minister was freed from his pains and got quite well again.
Ross-shire witches could not destroy ‘Donald of the Ear’ (_Do’uill na
Cluaise_), of whom they had made a clay figure, from being unable to put
on the ear. Donald had lost the ear in battle. Similarly a _corp creadha_
made for Lord Macdonald by _Raonaid a Chreagain_ failed, because the
witches never could put the arm on.
Witches could also produce disease in other ways. Thus, a young man
in Perthshire—the tailor Cumming in Drimachastle, Rannoch—fell into a
decline. He accounted himself for the loss of health, decay, and sweats
at night by witches coming at night when he was in Badenoch (a district
at the time celebrated for witchcraft), and converting him into a horse,
on which they rode through the air to Edinburgh and other places to spend
the night carousing in well-stored cellars. He now saw them often passing
in different shapes and in eggshells, etc. The poor young man did not
understand the sweats of consumption, and his imagination was disordered
by the many tales of witchcraft he had heard.
The same tale, of converting men into horses, is with slight variations
common. In Lorn, a woman came night after night and shook a bridle at the
son of a neighbouring farmer. He immediately became a horse, on which she
rode to London, etc. A younger brother exchanged beds with him, and when
the witches were carousing, secured the magic bridle, converted the witch
herself into a horse, rode home, and before taking off the bridle took
his horse to a smithy, and put on four shoes. Next day an old woman of
the neighbourhood was found with her feet and hands horribly mangled.
SILVER SIXPENCE.
As already said, silver fired from a gun will wound a witch, and force
her to assume her proper shape. An English sportsman, according to a
Perthshire version of an old story, was sitting surrounded by his dogs,
in a mountain bothy at the dead hour of night. A cat came in, but the
dogs did not move. It sat with its back to the fire, and swelled till
it was as large as a yearling calf. The Englishman took a silver button
off his clothes, and putting it in the gun, fired at the cat. The brute
scampered out at the door. On going to the strath next day, the sportsman
being a doctor, was sent for to see a farmer’s wife, who had got
suddenly ill. He went, and extracted his own silver button from her right
breast.
SAVING HORSES.
In Uist, a band of horses wandered on to a ledge in the face of a steep
precipice. It was impossible to take them from their dangerous position
to the top of the cliff by ropes, and to force them from the ledge to
the sea, which washed the base of the precipice, seemed from the height
of the fall, inevitable destruction. An old man, who was reputed to know
more than his paternoster, advised, however, they should be driven over,
and himself began an incantation, beginning “_Casa Gurra, Casa Gurra_,”
whatever that may mean. The horses of their own accord went over the
ledge, and swam safely to land.
TAILOR AND WITCHES.
A Glen-Quoich tailor, detected among a company of witches, was asked what
had brought him into such society? He said it was “for the pleasure of
the company” (_mar shodan ris a chuideachd_).
CELEBRATED WITCHES.
The best-known names seem to have been merely nicknames, given perhaps to
more than one old woman. ‘Blue-eye’ (_Gorm-shùil_) is said to originate
from the witch having one eye black or brown and the other blue. It
is, however, a corruption of _Gormla_, an ancient and pretty Gaelic
name, usually rendered Dorothy. _Gormla Mhòr_ from Meigh, Lochaber, was
stronger than all the witches of Mull, and gave the finishing stroke,
as already detailed, to Capt. Forrest’s ship. She met her death when
astraddle on a mountain stream, to intercept a salmon that had made its
way up to spawn. A large fish made a rush, knocked her backwards in the
water, and drowned her. There was a Gormshuil in the village of Hianish,
Tiree, a most notorious local witch, and one in Cràcaig in Skye, equally
notorious. ‘Brindled-Headless-Stocking Foot’ (_Cas a mhogain riabhaich_)
and ‘Rough Foot-gear, the Herdsman’s daughter’ (_Caiseart gharbh ni’n an
Aodhair_) were anywhere but where the person who is telling about them
comes from himself. Shaw, the Lochnell bard, makes them sisters dwelling
in Glenforsa in Mull, when Ossian was a little boy, and contemporaries of
Mac-Rùsluin. ‘Sallow Spot’ (_Ball Odhar_) was from Kintra (_Ceann-trà_)
in Ardnamurchan; ‘Yellow Claws’ (_Spòga buidhe_) from Maligeir on the
east side of Skye; _Doideag-un_ is the well-known name of the Mull
witches, and is given by children to the falling snowflakes, which they
are informed are the Mull witches on their journey through the air. Big
Kate MacIntyre in Fort-William was extensively known some forty years ago
as a person skilled in divinations and possessing mysterious powers.
WIZARD RISING AFTER DEATH.
People who practised forbidden arts, as may readily be supposed, did not
rest after death. When buried they remained quiet like other people, but
till then might be troublesome.
Among the hills of Ross-shire, an old man, who in his time was not
‘canny,’ died in his son’s house, a lonely hut in the hills remote from
other houses. He was stretched and adjusted (_air a ruidheadh ’s air a
chàradh_) on a board in a closet, and the shepherd, leaving his wife and
children in the house, went to the strath for people to come to the wake
and funeral. At midnight, one of the children, playing through the house,
peeped in at the keyhole of the closet and cried out, “Mother, mother!
my grandfather is rising.”[15] The door of the closet was fast locked,
and the dead man, finding he could not open it, began to scrape and dig
the earth below it, to make a passage for himself. The children gathered
round their mother, and in extremity of terror all listened to the
scraping of the unhallowed corpse. At last the head appeared below the
door, the corpse increased its exertions, and the terror of the mother
and children became intense. The body was halfway through below the door
when the cock crew and it fell powerless in the pit it had dug. That pit
could never afterwards be kept filled up to the level of the rest of the
floor.
In Tiree, a head-stone, placed at the grave of a man whom report accused
of dabbling in the dark science, would not remain in its place till
secured by a chain. It fell every now and then out of its position, but
after the chain was fastened to it, it remained firm, and is so now
without the chain.
HOW TO DETECT WITCHES.
Early in the morning, on the first Monday of each of the four quarters of
the year, the smoke from a witch’s house _goes against the wind_. This
may be seen by any one who takes the trouble of rising early and going to
an eminence, whence the witch’s house can be seen.