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Title: Evil eye in the Western Highlands
Author: Maclagan, Robert Craig
Language: English
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HIGHLANDS ***
Transcriber’s Notes
Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected. Variations
in hyphenation and accents have been standardised except in the Gaelic
passages, but all other spelling and punctuation remains unchanged.
Italics are represented thus _italic_, bold thus =bold= and
superscripts thus y^{en}.
EVIL EYE
IN THE
WESTERN HIGHLANDS
_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_
THE GAMES AND DIVERSIONS OF
ARGYLESHIRE. Demy 8vo, viii.-270 pp.,
cloth, uncut, 10s. 6d. net.
_This volume forms No. 47 of the Publications
of the Folk-Lore Society._
EVIL EYE
IN THE
WESTERN HIGHLANDS
BY
R. C. MACLAGAN, M.D.
AUTHOR OF
“THE GAMES AND DIVERSIONS OF ARGYLESHIRE”
LONDON
DAVID NUTT, 57-59 LONG ACRE
1902
Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO.
At the Ballantyne Press
CONTENTS
PAGE
INTRODUCTION 1
EVIL EYE 10
LOCALITY OF BELIEF 20
SOCIAL POSITION OF BELIEVERS 22
DESCRIPTION OF POSSESSORS OF EVIL EYE 24
OBJECTION TO MEETING AN EVIL EYE 28
AVOIDING SUSPICION OF EVIL EYE 32
ACTION OF EVIL EYE INDEPENDENT OF POSSESSOR 35
EVIL EYE TAKES EFFECT EVEN ON THINGS NOT SEEN 37
MORAL SOURCE OF THE EVIL EYE 40
THINGS THAT SPECIALLY ATTRACT 43
STRANGERS SPECIALLY LIABLE TO BE ACCUSED OF THE POSSESSION OF THE
EVIL EYE 46
PEOPLE SHOULD GIVE WHEN ASKED 48
SYMPTOMS IN ANIMALS ASCRIBED TO EFFECT OF EVIL EYE 51
BENEFIT TO THE OWNER OF AN EVIL EYE 68
DISADVANTAGE TO THE OWNER OF AN EVIL
EYE 70
CONSEQUENCE OF DIRECT PRAISE 76
A LOOK DOES IT 80
AVOIDING THE LOOK 84
CONVERSION TO BELIEF IN EVIL EYE 88
GIVING AWAY MILK DANGEROUS 89
SCIENCE VERSUS EOLAS 91
HURTER AND HEALER 98
TRANSMISSION OF EOLAS 101
FORMS OF INCANTATION 104
FORM OF PAYMENT 108
THE NECESSITY OF FAITH 112
PREVENTING EVIL BY BLESSING 114
PREVENTING BY DISPRAISING 117
PREVENTING BY ROWAN AND JUNIPER 119
PREVENTING BY HORSE NAILS AND SHOES 121
PREVENTING BY A SMALL GIFT 122
A PREVENTATIVE BY BURNING CLOTHING 125
PREVENTION BY SPITTING 126
PREVENTING BY CHURNING 129
PREVENTION BY PECULIARITY IN CLOTHES 131
TAR AS PREVENTATIVE 132
NICKING THE EAR 134
URINE AS PREVENTATIVE 135
A BURNT OFFERING 140
CHARMS. (STRING) 141
UISGE A’ CHRONACHAIDH (WATER OF INJURY) 151
STONES AND WATER 167
IRON AND WATER 172
WOOD AND WATER 175
SALT AS CURE AND PREVENTATIVE 176
MOST SUITABLE WATER 181
TABOO WHEN IN POSSESSION OF WATER 184
WATER, WHERE APPLIED 192
ODD CURES 195
HONEYSUCKLE CURE 195
CAT CURE 196
RUBBING HAIR THE WRONG WAY 196
CHANGING THE FIREPLACE 197
THE POWER OF A CHILD’S MUTCH 197
WHISKY CURE 198
LEAD DROPPING 198
AN EYE FOR AN EYE 200
SHOWING WHO IS THE MISCHIEF MAKER 205
PUTTING ELSEWHERE 214
APPENDIX 219
INDEX 225
EVIL EYE
INTRODUCTION
The Evil Eye is a superstition arising not from local circumstances,
or peculiarity of a great or small division of the human family, but
is a result of an original tendency of the human mind. The natural
irritation felt at the hostile look of a neighbour, still more of an
enemy, is implanted in the breast of all, however much they may be
influenced by moral teaching. When we add to this the feeling that some
valued possession has attracted the coveteous desire of another, the
fear of loss is added to the irritation of mere anger. To some such
natural feeling we must ascribe the belief in an Evil Eye.
Theories of an origin more restricted, founded on the fear of loss or
damage to particular possessions of individuals guaranteed them by the
custom of law, developed in the community of which they form part,
scarcely satisfy after inquiry. Where a subsistence can be easily
procured the Evil Eye would be little regarded in connection with food,
but might naturally develop itself in connection with the relations of
the sexes. No doubt the latter, the most interesting to individuals of
all passions, causes feelings of hostility between rivals universally,
but where the food supply is difficult to procure one would naturally
expect that damage from the covetous desires of others, where they
seemed to affect the life-preserving store, would become equally
important.
In the following study of the belief of an Evil Eye among the
Gaelic-speaking peoples of Scotland at the present day, an attempt is
made neither to disguise nor to improve upon what those in contact with
believers have learned from their mouths. The writer is a believer
in the Evil Eye only in so far as it may be a term for the natural
selfishness of the human being, as a “tender heart” is a recognised way
of speaking of a nature apt to sympathy. Selfishness, natural to all
of us, is apt to find expression in our habits, however much we may
disguise it by religious or charitable profession. Were it a part of
our nature to have for our neighbour the same affection that we have
for ourselves, no such superstition as that of the Evil Eye could have
arisen. But we are not made that way, and so reformers, in endeavouring
to cure this sin, as they consider it, have preached and tried to
practise such ordinances as “Thou shalt not covet,” and “Thou shalt
love thy neighbour as thyself.” Truly hard sayings, and in nine hundred
and ninety-nine cases out of a thousand with difficulty getting beyond
the status of a pious opinion.
Not that that teaching has been without effect; and we may hope that
with the extension of communications and the progress gradually being
made to that condition of things where
“Man to man the world o’er
Shall brithers be for a’ that,”
the _bad e’e_ may some day in these isles be merely a study for
folklorists as Totemism is, and as difficult to find as an auk’s egg.
Right or wrong, the theory here advanced accounts, satisfactorily, as
far as the writer can judge, for the present-day widespread belief in
Scotland of the power for evil of the glance of the human eye.
As will be seen afterwards, there are those who theorise on the bad
heart influencing the eye, the ill effect of the Evil Eye only arising
from the glance of the covetous; but this is probably the result of
preconceived religious ideas, and of the moral teaching to which its
believers have been accustomed. It is not to be wondered at; it would
be impossible indeed, but that the teaching of Christianity should have
affected and given a direction to this ancient superstition. Thus we
find it Christianised to a marked degree, its origin is conceived of
as a breaking of the commandment “Thou shalt not covet,” and its cures
are mostly connected with a reference to the Deity, and to the Trinity
of the Christian. The magic thread with the three knots on it, though
heathen in its origin, has surely some connection with the rosary, the
aspersion with water, with baptism, and the holy water of the Roman
Church. But it is not a superstition introduced with Christianity, it
is as native as the heather of our hills, or the sandstone rock of the
Coronation Stone.
This statement might be safely enough advanced upon general principles,
but we are not without satisfactory literary evidence of what we
advance. In the Ossianic “_Acallam na Senorach_” (The Colloquy with
the Ancient Men), the second longest prose composition of the mediæval
Irish, a collection (probably made in the late twelfth or thirteenth
century) of separate stories united together in one framework, we find
the following as related in MSS. of the fifteenth century and later.
The Fiann are on a visit to the King of Munster. The son of the King of
Ulster marries the daughter of the King of Munster.
“The damsel bore him a famous and beautiful son named Fer Oc (‘young
man’), and in all Ireland there were scarcely one whose shape and
vigour and spear-casting were as good as his.”
On a subsequent visit, the three battalions of the Fiann are lost in
admiration of the activity and skill of a young man who turns out to be
this Fer Oc. “Then was a hunt and a battue held by the three battalions
of the Fiann. Howbeit, on that day, owing to Fer Oc (and his superior
skill) to none of the Fiann it fell to get first blood of pig or deer.
Now when they came home, after finishing the hunt, a sore lung-disease
attacked Fer Oc, through the (evil) eyes of the multitude and the envy
of the great host, and it killed him, soulless, at the end of nine
days.” “He was buried on yonder green-grassed hill,” says Cailte, “and
the shining stone that he held when he was at games and diversion is
that yonder rising out of his head.”[1] The Gaelic here simply says
“_tre tsuilib na sochaide_” (through the eyes of the multitude), and
it will be seen that modern reciters sometimes speak in exactly the
same way of the “eye” unqualified, but meaning the Evil Eye. But there
is more than this in the story; it is a young man who suffers, and
the young are most easily affected. It is a remarkable and handsome
youth that suffers, and what attracts the eye, especially beauty, is
peculiarly liable to injury, and the statement is made that it was the
envious glance which affected the victim. _Cormac’s Glossary_ (an Irish
compilation begun in the tenth century, and added to throughout the
Middle Ages), preserved in MSS. of the commencement of the fifteenth
century, mentions the Evil Eye:—
_Milled_ (spoiling, hurting, (_b_) _i.e._ _mi shilledh_, a mislook,
_i.e._ an evil eye).
_Millead i mi shillead i silled olc._ [Or as in another MS.]
_Milliud quasi mishilliud i drochshilliud._
To this O’Clery adds “_no droch amharc_,” while O’Donovan’s note at
(_b_) is “the evil eye,” “the injury done by the evil eye.”[2]
[1] _Irische Texte._ Stokes and Windisch, fourth series, vol i. pp.
232, 234, 161.
[2] _Cormac’s Glossary_, translated by O’Donovan, edited by Whitley
Stokes, p. 107; and _Three Irish Glossaries_, by W. S., p. 28.
Our business is with the so-called facts of the Evil Eye, and whether
or not in this case the philology of the compiler of the _Glossary_
is right, there can be no sort of doubt of the allusion being to the
present living belief in the Evil Eye.
Apart from the doing of evil, and causing sickness and death without
immediate increase to the possessions of the witch, the effect of the
Evil Eye centres round the natural covetousness of the greedy person.
Where the owner of an evil eye gets no benefit himself, the effect
ascribed is always to diminish what he might envy in the possession
of another. It is always the young and _toradh_ of cattle (milk and
butter), or the fruits of the labour of the owner that is lessened
or destroyed. Whatever the philological root of this word _toradh_,
it must surely be allied with the irregular verb _thoir_ (give);
and though there seems at first sight no close relationship between
personal beauty and a good churning, yet both of them are highly
prized gifts. _Toradh_ means fruit produce; thus Cain’s offering was
the _toradh_ of the earth.
The expression used in Kintyre for the power of taking away produce
is _pisreag_. In Arran the word applied to the curative measures
is _pisearachd_. _Piseach_ means increase; thus in Proverbs xviii.
20, where it is said that a man shall be filled with the “increase
of his lips,” the Gaelic word used is _piseach_, and so it comes
to mean progeny and good fortune. _Piseach ort_ (Good fortune be
yours). Irish Gaelic gives _piseog_ (witchcraft). Surely this is a
secondary meaning from the idea of increase and good fortune being in
certain cases brought about by charms and witchery. And thus we have
found _pisearachd_ explained as the Arran and Kintyre equivalent for
_geasarachd_, of which all the evidence seems to favour its primary
signification being connected with spells and charms.
Another word which has been used to collectors for _eolas_ (science
of its own magical sort) is _fiosachd_, which the dictionaries give
as meaning “foretelling,” “augury.” This seems to be a secondary and
limited application of a term meaning possession of _fios_ (knowledge,
information).
The popular mixing up of legitimate curative measures, such as come
from the administration of drugs, with what undoubtedly is considered
illegitimate, namely, the use of charms and sorcery in general, is
of course as common as can be in the experience of those in contact
with genuine savagery, but it occurs also nearer home. A native of
Arran tells how she remembers an old woman, of whom the people were
afraid because she was supposed to be a witch. The groundwork of this
accusation was that she was to be often seen gathering herbs, and the
reciter remembers when she herself was a girl, that, to use her own
words, it was “the fright of her life” to meet her in a lonely place,
or in the dark.
* * * * *
An inquiry such as this has to be conducted with care. The believer
is sensitive to ridicule, and would take as a mortal offence being
publicly gibbeted, so as to cause animadversion from others, even
when he himself is convinced of the truth of his beliefs and sayings.
For this reason we must be excused giving the name and residence of
the various reciters. The information has to be drawn in general
conversation and incidentally, but every care has been taken to avoid
recounting anything in which _mala fides_ is suspected. We consider in
many cases things told by a daughter of her mother, or a son of his
father, as equally reliable as if detailed by himself when we know
they have been recited originally for information of the juniors.
Undoubtedly the younger generation are in many cases more critical than
their forefathers; but we have no hesitation in maintaining that what
will hereafter be set down allows of a fairly perfect appreciation of
the belief of the great majority of the less educated class, and of
many much above that in the West Highlands, up to the introduction of
the School Board as a universal institution. Of course there always
were doubters, and the tricks played to take a rise out of a believer
by an unbeliever may sometimes figure as accepted evidence of the bad
effects of the Evil Eye, when it was a trick played off merely for
fun, though in other cases deliberately intended to mislead. Tricks,
however, will not carry us back to an original cause, however much
they may have helped the maintenance of the belief in superstitious
minds. These fail entirely in power of appreciation of the jocular,
when what is done is dangerous according to their ideas. A strong
believer in the Evil Eye, and of course much afraid of it, in the
island of Skye, was one day out among the cows. Two of his neighbours
passing, one of them, a bit of a wag, said to his companion: “_Bheir
mi da sgillinn duit ma theid thu agus do cheann a chuir fodh’n mhart
sin agus glaodh ’nach mor an t-uth tha aig a bho_” (“I will give you
twopence if you will go and put your head under that cow and cry,
Hasn’t the cow the big udder?”)
The fellow agreed, and went and bent his head under the cow and
shouted out at the top of his voice, calling Rory’s attention to his
supposititious admiration of the remarkable development of the cow in
question. The man tempted to make the remark was “a little soft.” Rory
at once thinking of the Evil Eye, seized his stick and rushed at him,
threatening to break his head if he would not at once bless the cow.
The suborned perpetrator of the joke, it need scarcely be said, at once
took the method demanded to counteract his injudicious praise. How many
of us are, not in the belief of the Evil Eye, but in other beliefs,
just as touchy as our friend Rory.
The stick may be good enough for a defence of superstition, but
ridicule is the proper method of attack.
A young intelligent lady was lately in a house in the village of
Golspie, the occupant of which, mourning over the dying of her
fowls, said she suspected it was the result of the Evil Eye of Mrs.
X., a neighbour. The next day, being in the same house, another
neighbour came in carrying a growing plant, which she presented to the
complainer, saying: “Mrs. X. told me that you had your eye on this,
and ever since it has done no good; the leaves have been withering and
falling off. Now!—there it is to you! keep it.”
The person superstitious enough to believe in the force of the Evil Eye
may well be expected to have his superstitious faculty developed in
other directions. A child took ill, and its parents believed it was the
Evil Eye of a certain woman which had done the harm. With the view of
bringing her to confess her doings, or in any case to punish her, they
procured a square of turf, and having stuck a lot of pins in it, they
placed it on the fire. This action, one of the forms of the so-called
_corp creadha_, was intended to do personal injury to the suspected
party. There was no evidence of it having had any effect whatever.
EVIL EYE
After the long existence in this country of Christianity, while we talk
composedly of the superstitions of the heathen and of other Christian
nations, we are apt to forget our own, or if we speak of them, we look
on them pityingly as peculiar to some individuals of whose opinion
we reckon little. In towns, and among those who read many books,
the constant friction of man against man hinders the survival of a
belief in such a thing as the Evil Eye, now that a certain quantity
of education is common property. Where the incidents of life are less
crowded, and individual experiences are rarer and at longer intervals,
that is, in country districts and especially in the more mountainous
and less closely populated, the Evil Eye has yet in Scotland many
believers, and consequently considerable influence. Such a remark as
the following, made to a minister, is not so rare as one might suppose:
“Nae doot whatever Mac had the Evil Eye, that’s certain. I have known
many cases when a calf, or even a cow, died the day after he looked at
her.” Another said of the same: “I was once in the dairy when he came
in. ‘You should not have let that bad man in,’ said Nancy MacIntyre to
me. ‘Why?’ said I. ‘Because he has an Evil Eye,’ said she. Now, I will
not say that this was true, but this I know, that on that very day one
of the cows bursted, and died from eating clover. What do ye say to
that?”
Another sample is the following: A farmer’s son, whose father had lost
a horse, was thus addressed by a neighbour, “You had a horse that was
ill, is it better?” “Oh no, it is dead.” “You are unfortunate this
year. Isn’t that four that have died on you?” “Yes, but we know now
what was wrong with them.” “Weel, that’s well; ye’ll know what to
do should any more take ill. What was wrong with them?” “They were
_air-an-cronachadh_” (harmed). “Such nonsense! there is nothing of
that now.” The lad did not agree with this, said they knew who did it,
and the lad’s interrogator’s mother-in-law joined in the conversation,
agreeing as to the correctness of the diagnosis; and the doubter
rejoined, “Well, if you are all against me, I may stop.”
An Argyllshire islander says:—
“_Tha buideachas uile air falbh anis agus is math gu bheil, oir be
ni olc a bha ann. Ach, ma dh’fhalbh sin, tha rud eile nach d’fhalbh
fathast, agus ‘se sin cronachadh. Chunnaic m’i ann mo thigh fein
mucuircean, agus thainig ban-choimhearsnach a steach latha, agus
thubhairt i gum bu mhuc ciatach a bha’n sin. ‘Tha i gle mhath,’
fhreagair mi fhein. Well, chaidh am boireannach a mach, agus cha robh
i tiota air falbh, nur a thug a mhuc an aon sgreach aisde agus air
dol mun cuairt dith, thuit i air an urlar. Le so, thainig D. ‘ac A. a
stigh, agus fheoraich e ‘Co an t-aon mu dheireadh a chunnaic a mhuc?’
Dh’ innis mi fhein dha, gum be a leithid so ‘a bhean. ‘Mata’ ars esan,
‘s ise rinn an t-olc. Ach ma tha uillidh sam bi lar ruit, cha chreid
mi gum bi mise fada ga cuir ceirt. Fhuair mi dha uillidh nam piocach,
agus ghabh e a mhuc eadar a dha chois, agus thaom e lan copa dheth na
beul. Thug a mhuc reibhig, agus shaoil mi fhein gu robh i air chuthach
ach ann a’ mionaid a dh’uine, bha i ceirt gu leoir; Nis, nach be sud an
droch bhean?_”
(“Witchcraft is all gone now, and it is well it is, for it was a bad
thing. But if that is gone, there is another thing that has not gone
yet, and that is _Cronachadh_. I saw a breeding sow in my own house,
and one day a neighbour came in, and she said that that was a splendid
sow. I answered that she was very good. Well, the woman went out, and
she was no time away when the sow gave such a scream, and going round
about she fell on the floor. With this D. Mac A. came in, and he asked
who was the last person that had seen the sow. I told him it was such
and such a woman. ‘Well,’ said he, ‘it was she that did the harm, but
if you have any oil beside you, I believe I shall not be long putting
her right.’ I got saithe oil for him, and he took the sow between his
two legs, and poured a cupful into her mouth. She screamed, and I
thought she was mad, but in a minute’s time she was all right. Now,
wasn’t that the bad woman?”)
A young fellow who had received a liberal education, in fact, a
probationer of the Church, the son of a self-made man, fairly
well-to-do, avowed his own belief in the Evil Eye. He said in effect:
“As sure as you and I are sitting here there is an Evil Eye in it.
I know that when I was in Harris, and our M. an infant, there was a
certain woman who used to come in pretty often, the sister-in-law of
H., you know, and my wife, who you know is not one to tell a lie or
speak about these things, told me that every time that woman came in
she would be praising the child, and the child was always unwell after
it.”
We thus see, though we know that ministers of the Church are by their
profession kept in the dark on matters of which they would express
unbelief, yet that where a superstition is ingrained in a parishioner
it is not concealed from the minister. Ministers may be misled by
putting their own interpretation on the form in which the information
comes to them. A clergyman in one of the Western Islands said: “I
have observed that there is still a strong belief in blighting from
the Evil Eye among the people in the parish of K. A respectable and
intelligent man whom I visited often during a season of sickness,
once and again, when talking about his illness, made the remark
‘_fhuair mi cronachadh_.’ I always misunderstood what the man meant by
_cronachadh_, taking it in the sense of reproof, and therefore thinking
that what was meant was that the sufferer was placed under chastisement
by a dispensation of Providence. At last, however, I learned from a
third person that the sick man was strongly impressed with the belief
that his illness was caused by some evil-intentioned person who had
wished him ill.” This suggests witchcraft as much as or even more than
the Evil Eye; but the two things run into each other more or less.
We have already seen one Gaelic reciter maintaining that witchcraft,
_buidseachas_, did not now exist, but the Evil Eye did. Compare that
with this from a native of Uist:—
“_Ma ta bha buidseashas ann. Chaidh mi fhein aon latha gu tigh
coimhearsnaich airson coileach oig, agus bha laogh aca ceangailte aig
cul an doruis. Cha robh mi fada san tigh gus an d’thainig nighean a
steach. ’Nuair a fhuair mise an t-eun, dh’fhalbh mi, agus cha robh
mi ach beagan uine air falbh ’nuair a dh’fhas an laogh tinn. Chuir
muinntir an tighe fios thun boireannach a bha ’n sin, aig an robh sgil
mu bhuidseachas, mar bhiodh daoine ’g radh, ga h-iarruidh a thighinn
a dh’-amhairc an laogh. Thainig am boireannach, ach ma thainig, bha an
laogh marbh mus d’thainig i. Co luath ’s a dh’amhairc i air thubhairt
i riutha air an spot gum b’e ’n “suill” a dh’aobhraich am bas. Agus
air bharrachd air sin, dh’innis i dhoibh co rinn an gonadh. So mar
thubhairt i. “Nach robh dithist bhoireannaich agaibh an so am eigin
an diugh?” Agus ’nuair a fhreagair iad gun robh, thubhairt ise. “Bha
h-aon diubh soilleir, agus an te eile dorcha. Bha shawl glas air an te
shoilleir, agus b’bise a dh’oibrich am buidseachas._”
“_Nis bha sin gle fhior, oir bha an nighean a thainig a steach nur bha
mise san tigh soilleir, agus bha shawl glas oirre cuideachd._”
“Indeed, witchery was in it. I myself went one day to a neighbour’s
house for a young cock, and they had a calf tied behind the door. I was
not long in the house till a girl came in. When I got the bird I went
away, and I was only a short time away when the calf became unwell.
The people of the house sent word to a woman that was there, who had
skill of witchery, as people would be saying, asking her to come to
look at the calf. The woman came, but if (she) came, the calf was dead
before she came. As soon as she looked on it, she said to them on the
spot, that it was the ‘Eye’ that caused the death. And more than that,
she told them who had done the mischief (wounding). Here is how she
said: ‘Have you not had two women here sometime to-day?’ and when they
answered that there had been, she said: ‘One of them was fair and the
other dark. There was a grey shawl on the fair one, and it was she that
wrought the witchery.’ Now that was quite true, for the girl that came
in when I was in the house was fair, and there was a grey shawl on
her.”
A woman of about sixty-five, a reader of history and Gaelic
publications, remembers when the belief in the Evil Eye was so common
in Islay, that when any disease came among a person’s cattle, it
gave rise at once to a strong suspicion that they had been _air an
cronachadh_. The disease was called “_dosgach_.” When one would come
with the news of disease or death among a neighbour’s cattle, the
person to whom it was told would say, “_Mach an dosgach a so_”; or,
“_Mach a so an droch sgeul_” (“Away the plague from here;” or, “Away
the evil news from here.”) At the same time, suiting the action to the
words, he would tear some piece off the clothes he had on at the time
and throw it into the fire. This was supposed to prevent the evil from
coming his way.
Indeed there are very many who still act on the belief expressed in
the following, by an old distillery workman, uneducated, but naturally
shrewd, though we would say credulous: “They will be saying to me that
we have no mention of _cronachadh_ in the Bible, and they will be
putting it down my throat, but I tell them that it is there. Both the
Evil Eye and Witchcraft were in it from the beginning, and they will be
in it till the end.”
We may mention here that there is a very strong belief among many of
the influence of the “wish” for good or evil. “B. McL. affirms that
if she wishes ill to any person ill is sure to follow, and if she
wishes well good will come of it. She maintained that a person, lately
dangerously ill, owed her recovery to her good wishes.” A person
has only to maintain this view, and the superstitious will probably
find reasons for believing that it is true. This, however, opens the
question of the _guidhe_ (imprecation or intercession, as the case may
be), and there are not a few who are applied to to make _guidhes_ of
both sorts.
We must consider the meaning of the terms used.
In South Argyllshire the common expression regarding a person or thing
affected is that it is _air a chronachadh_, or, as another in Northern
Argyll expressed it, _air a chronachen_. _Cron_ means a fault or
defect, and the verb used seems to be an expression of the opinion that
something is wrong with the object, the usual meaning of the word being
best translated “reproved,” or “rebuked”; the speaker, as it were,
finding some fault in the person or thing spoken to, he _sees_ that
it is faulty, and says so. In the case of a person with an Evil Eye,
he actually causes defect to the object. Now the same would be true
of black magic; thus, _air a chronachadh_ is as apposite to a person
affected by witchcraft as by the Evil Eye. It is necessary therefore
to distinguish, when one hears of a case of _cronachadh_, whether it
is by mischievous intention or not; and this is done sometimes by the
reciter. Thus, a person consulted to cure an animal affected, when
telling who it was that was to blame for the evil, said: “_Well, ’se
duine le ceann dubh a chronaich do bho leis an droch shuil_” (“Well,
it is a man with a black head that has injured your cow, with the Evil
Eye”).
In many districts this expression would merely convey the idea
of rebuke (Tyree, Lewis, Dornoch, Kiltearn). In these places the
expression usually is _Luidh droch shuil air_ (An evil eye rested on
him). In Easter Ross, a person desirous of avoiding reflections would
say: “_Cha’n eil mi cuir mo shuil ann_” (“I am not putting my eye
in it”). Even in Arisaig in Southern Inverness-shire, marching with
Argyllshire, they use this expression only.
We have already given above, from Uist, an instance in which the
speaker simply called it “the Eye,” neither qualifying it as good or
bad.
The rapidity of the action is sometimes expressed thus:—A healer called
in, said in one case: “_Teum do bho, a bhean_,” equivalent to saying,
“Your cow is bitten or stung,” the word _teum_ being also applied to
something snatched. The operation of the Evil Eye in Uist is described
by a parallel phrase, _air a ghonadh_ (stabbed), an expression which
has been used in Kintyre as synonymous with _cronachadh_, though there
it generally expresses pain felt either bodily or mentally.
An elderly woman, a native of Duthill, Inverness-shire, while stating
that there were “plenty of people round about us here who have got the
Evil Eye and hurt both cattle and people with it,” gave the following
as the expressions used when mentioning it:—
_Thuit droch shuil air_ (An evil eye fell on him).
_Ghabh an droch shuil e_ (The evil eye took him).
_Laidh droch shuil air_ (An evil eye settled on him).
_Bhuail droch shuil e_ (An evil eye struck him).
In the part of Ireland nearest to Scotland at any rate, and so far as
the writer knows also in other places, the expression used in English
is “blinked.” The readiest conclusion come to as to what is wrong with
a sick cow is that “she has been blinked.” Blinked milk, therefore, is
milk which yields no butter. Blinked beer, beer which has become sour.
All these expressions, then, of the action of _an suil dona_, the
common expression in part of Inverness-shire, which, seeing “Donas”
is the Devil, we might translate the “diabolical eye,” evidently point
to the fact that a mere look will do the damage; so the remark of
the Islay man, “_Ni an fheadhainn aig am bheil an t-suil so cron air
beathach neo duine ged nach dean iad ach amhairc orra_” (“Those who
have this eye will do injury to beast or person, though they do nothing
but look on them”), expresses clearly what seems to have been the
original notion conveyed in the expressions used.
A strange charm for the closure of the eye was expressed in Arran by
the following saying: “_Cronachadh air do shuil, cac eun air muin sin_”
(“Ill on your eye, birds’ excrement on the back of that”). This was an
old practice, according to the reciter, who is a woman of about eighty.
The account she gave was as follows:—Her father had bought some cattle
at the market. “They were fine beasts, and the servantman and I, then a
young girl, were driving them home. When we were passing King’s Cross a
man stood and looked keenly at them. The servantman did not like this,
and turning towards him said the words recited.” They were avowedly
used to save the cattle from being hurt by the man’s eye, and as the
old lady said, “Whether that saved them or no I could not tell, but in
any case we reached home safely and no harm came to the cows.”
The Islay expression already quoted, _Mach an dosgach_, contains
within it the suggestion of evil coming to the unprotected, _Dosgadh_
(calamity, misfortune), etymologically having the signification,
_without protection_.[3] Subsequently we will find that no grown
person need be unprotected if he will take a very small amount of
trouble.
[3] Macbain, “Etymological Dictionary of the Gaelic Language.“
Another Arran formula used in connection with the Evil Eye, and said
to be protective, was mentioned in an account of a shepherd who lived
in the island, said to have an Evil Eye. He could hurt cattle, and
also cure the effect of the Evil Eye of another. The reciter said he
was a queer fellow, and remembers him at the first Cattle Show ever he
(reciter) attended, and being frightened by being addressed, with other
boys, for being in his road: “_Mach a sin leibh. Cha’n ann airson an
itheadh a tha iad_” (“Out of that with you. They are not for eating”),
said the shepherd, as he drove his cattle. His mentioning eating
recalled to the boys’ minds his Evil Eye, and the following formula
to be repeated in cases of _cronachadh_. “_Ma dh’itheas iad thu, gun
sgeith iad thu, agus gun garbh sgeith iad thu_” (“If they eat you, may
they vomit you, and roughly vomit you”). This seems to be chaff from
non-believers to believers, possibly also the case with the formula
above, more than a thing really said with a belief in its curative
power.
LOCALITY OF BELIEF
There is a considerable difference between some wandering folklorist
happening on a superstitious survival in some ancient crone or secluded
corner, and in the general acceptation by many, if not by a majority,
of some belief regarded by the more instructed as to be so classed.
The belief in the Evil Eye in the West of Scotland comes decidedly
under the latter category. Interrogatories show that it exists in
Caithness, Sutherland, Ross-shire, Inverness-shire, Elgin, Argyll,
Perthshire, in the Lewis, Harris, both Uists, Barra, Skye, Tiree,
Islay, the Isle of Man, Arran, and Antrim in Ireland. A wide enough
field this. Of course there are many unbelievers, of all classes
nearly, though the less the education, the more frequent the evidences
of belief. An attempt to state a proportion of believers as against
unbelievers is quite out of the question. One witness will tell you it
was common enough in his youth, or _very common_, but in speaking of
the present day, reliable witnesses will say, perhaps, most usually
“pretty common,” or “quite common,” not unfrequently, however, “very
common,” or, as one unbeliever said, “you hear of them often enough.” A
cautious man, when you try to get exact information as to the potency
of the belief, will answer that it is “strongly” held by some, and of
this there can be no sort of doubt; and it is much more common than
most people think.
Though we are treating of the Highlands and Islands, it must not be
supposed that the “ill e’e” is a Highland speciality, speaking of
Scotland alone, of course. It may with perfect sincerity be said, with
all due caution, that it is “pretty common” among Lowlanders also.
SOCIAL POSITION OF BELIEVERS
The persons among whom this belief is most usual are undoubtedly to
be found principally among the agricultural and fishing population,
though it is not unknown, by any means, even in such a town as Oban,
where a reciter of Evil Eye incidents says “it is pretty common.” When
one speaks of a farmer in many parts of the Low Country, one naturally
thinks of well-educated men with comparatively large holdings, and such
men, of course, are to be met with in the Highlands in appreciable
numbers. There is no evidence that these have faith in the Evil Eye;
but the smaller farmers, doing their own work with assistance, are
often deeply imbued. A native of Kintyre says, “I know a respectable
farmer who, when anything goes wrong with his horses, is quite in the
habit of suspecting that it is injury by the Evil Eye, and will send at
once for a certain woman in the neighbourhood, who is supposed to be
able to cure in cases of _cronachadh_.”
So lately as July 1898, in one of the islands a child was unwell. The
doctor was there and the minister was there, but still the child was
getting worse. At length the parents concluded that it was a case
of _cronachadh_, and a man who practises as a professional in cases
of that kind was sent for. On arriving he confirmed them in their
suspicion, and told them that it was a woman with brown hair that had
done the harm. The reciter (a minister’s wife) did not know what
means he took to cure the child, but whatever they were they were not
successful. The child died.
Most of our beliefs are inherited, and so it is, perhaps, no wonder
if one comes upon a young man, a probationer of the Church who has
gone through his curriculum of study, and yet believes in the Evil
Eye. No evidence, however, is forthcoming of a licensed medical man
having any belief in it. It must be admitted that the greater part of
the information is got from women, and if believers were polled, the
majority would be found of the less stern sex.
From the small farmer downwards, among all owners of stock, and this
includes chickens and the pig, believers are frequent.
In some places there is but little secrecy as to those who have
the Evil Eye, or at least are supposed to have it. We refrain from
publishing the full names, so that if by any chance those spoken of
see this they may not be offended; but this is a sample of a common
style of remark: “_Tha, tha, tha droch shuil aig Anna nic E. Nach robh
Mrs. MacT. ag innseadh dhomh fhein nach bu mhor nach robh aon da clann
marbh le droch shuil a’ bhoirionnach sin uair. Bha e air a chronachadh
leatha, agus bhitheadh e marbh ach airson Anna T._” (“Yes, yes, Ann
McE. has an Evil Eye. Was not Mrs. MacT. telling myself that one of her
children was once nearly dead through the Evil Eye of that woman. He
was injured by her, and would have been dead had it not been for Ann
T.”) Ann T. was a practitioner of _eolas_.
DESCRIPTION OF POSSESSORS OF EVIL EYE
Anybody may have the Evil Eye, but that certain people suggest the
Evil Eye to others from their appearance must be admitted. A minister,
himself a son of the manse, who has had Highland surroundings all his
early life, bears witness, “The possession was more frequently ascribed
to females than to males, and for the most part to elderly women.”
Another minister, an older man than the former, says of the Evil Eye:
“They were chiefly women that were suspected, and were generally much
disliked in the communities.” These two reciters were as far apart as
Arran and Ross-shire.
Was the Evil Eye ascribed to them because they were disliked, or were
they disliked because they had the Evil Eye? Women do not improve in
appearance with age, nor men either, for the matter of that, and one
of our reciters, in describing a case of _cronachadh_, said that the
operator was “a bad-looking woman at any rate, and had a queer look.”
In Knapdale we hear of one who was “a decent enough looking woman, but
there was this about her, people always suspected her of having some
evil power, and nobody liked to refuse her if she asked anything.”
Another of the accused was “strange in her dress, and spoke in an
imperious manner.”
It is curious to note that, having quoted all the descriptions of
individuals we have, the criticisms should all be levelled at women;
but it must not be supposed that men are at all exempt. The writer was
amused, and not a little astonished, to hear that an old gentleman, a
connection of his own, a large farmer and not unknown beyond his own
district, certainly not a greedy man, and a pleasant companion, was
among some as notorious for his Evil Eye as for his knowledge of his
business. He was a Low Country man by descent, ignorant of Gaelic,
and surrounded by Gaelic-speaking Highlanders, some of whom however,
proprietors and taxmen, were said to be as bad as himself.
The only diagnostic mark that has been mentioned, physically
demonstrating a possessor, was got from an Islay woman, who said that
she had always heard that a person whose eyes are of a different colour
has the Evil Eye. This seems explicable enough; if one were a nice
bright blue eye or a deep and gentle brown one, and the other paler
and less expressive, their best friends might say that they had a “bad
eye.” All the parti-coloured eyes in Scotland would not account for a
tenth part of the results accredited to evil eyes.
Small are the changes in the ideas of men in some respects, even after
long intervals.
In the old Irish saga, entitled the _Sack of Da Derga’s Hostel_,
describing events which occurred, according to the Irish analysts,
either B.C. 31, or A.D. 43:[4] “When they were there they saw a lone
woman coming to the door of the hostel, after sunset, and seeking to be
let in. As long as a weaver’s beam was each of her two shins, and they
were as dark as the back of a stag-beetle. A greyish, woolly mantle
she wore. Her lower hair used to reach as far as her knee. Her lips
were on one side of her head. She came and put one of her shoulders
against the door-post of the house, casting the Evil Eye on the King
and the youths who surrounded him in the hostel.”[5]
[4] Translated by Whitley Stokes, _Revue Celtique_, vol. xxii. p. 12.
[5] Whitley Stokes, _Revue Celtique_, xxii. pp. 57-59. The existing
redaction of within saga is certainly as old as the tenth century.
The Gaelic word translated by Stokes here “casting the Evil Eye” is in
the original Gaelic “_oc admilliud ind rig_,” literally to this day
“hurting or spoiling the king,” _cronachadh_, in fact. It says nothing
of incantations or magical observances, and the translation given seems
thoroughly justified. The description of Cailb, Samon, Sinand (she was
the possessor of many names), of course imaginatively exaggerates her
ugliness, but her evil looks, with her black fire-burned shins, is just
what one would expect to hear of an old woman credited with the Evil
Eye nowadays, though it is not now common to expose so much leg as to
show the effect of toasting it at the fire.
One can easily fancy that the warriors of Ireland would have no
pleasure in encountering Cailb. A like objection is common in the
present day in regard to persons with an Evil Eye.
A Western Islander says: “People would be blaming J. B., but there was
one worse than her. Nobody who ever met M. McA. when on his way to
fish, would go on, for it was believed that no fish would be got after
meeting her.” The reciter himself and another man were on their way to
fish when they met this woman. The other suggested that there was no
use going now, for they would not get anything, that was sure. The
reciter said that he grudged turning back, although he believed his
companion was right; but not to waste time, and to avoid the chance of
other mischief, they both returned home.
“J. McE. was said to have the Evil Eye, and no one liked to meet her if
they were going on important business, especially to fish; some would
even turn back if they met her.”
OBJECTION TO MEETING AN EVIL EYE
Another informant, speaking of a woman with an Evil Eye and who
consequently was unlucky to meet, said: “Three fishermen met her, and
one of them proposed that they should turn back; it was no use going
on, they would get nothing. The others persisted and overruled him.
They were for a while unsuccessful, and he who had proposed returning
was very impatient, and kept grumbling and saying they should have
returned home. They did catch a few at last.”
Speaking of those who were supposed to take the milk and butter from
other people’s cows, an educated Arran man said: “This class were
looked upon as being unlucky to meet on the road, and people tried to
avoid them, especially if they were going on any particular business.”
One would suppose that it would be exceedingly unpleasant to have the
reputation of an Evil Eye, consequently it is resented, but precautions
are taken sometimes, even before the accusation is made, to hinder the
report arising about individuals. In one village, where twice a week
a number of fishermen pass, the women and girls of the village try
to keep out of sight of the men on their way to the fishing-ground,
lest, if by chance a fisher should see one of them and he was unlucky
immediately thereafter, he would report to the rest his want of luck
and whom he had met, and she would be marked as one of the unlucky.
The reciter of this was an intelligent domestic servant, twenty-four
years old, a reliable girl, brought up by respectable grandparents.
A Kintyre reciter, an educated woman of about thirty, informs us of
a woman, a believer in the Evil Eye, living beside her father, and
who does not conceal the fact that she looks with some suspicion upon
certain of her acquaintances should they come her way, particularly
should she be engaged in churning. Her neighbours, knowing this, are
careful to avoid going to her house if she has a churning on hand.
Suspected persons do not learn their own infirmity merely by being
looked at askance.
A clergyman in one of the southern islands informs us: “It is said
that in cases where injury has been done by the Evil Eye, a remedy is
to charge the suspected party firmly and distinctly to his (or her)
face with having done it. When a little boy, a cow belonging to his
grandmother had lately calved, and a neighbour woman came one day and
went to see the cow. She was considered to be a respectable person,
even a good woman, but was believed to possess the Evil Eye. She was
no time away when the cow became very unwell, although there had been
nothing wrong with her up till then. There was considerable excitement,
and they were sure that the cow would die, and just as sure it was
the woman’s Evil Eye that had injured her. Another woman was sent
for, supposed to be knowing in these matters, and the case submitted
to her. She confirmed them in their suspicions, and advised, as the
best remedy, that she who had done the mischief should be confronted
and plainly told to her face that they believed her to be to blame.
This was agreed to and carried out at once, with the result, as it was
believed, that whatever power she had obtained over the cow to hurt her
was broken, and in a very short time the cow was as well as she had
ever been.”
An Arran woman tells us the same thing in some detail, but she says the
injury can only be repaired by the doer of the mischief taking upon
himself the evil done to the other, and illustrates it by the following
story:—A tramp who was supposed to have a bad eye, and even suspected
of witchcraft, made a request to Mrs. Mac—— which she refused. The
woman being angered, left in a rage. She was no time away when they
noticed that there was something wrong with the child, and when the
husband came from his work his wife told him of the woman having been
there, and her belief that she had injured their child. The man said
the woman was still in the neighbourhood, and he would bring her back.
He did so. They then charged her to her face with having hurt the
child, and said she must now heal her. The woman did not try to deny
this, but said: “_Tha e gle chruaidh gum feumainnsa an cron a rinn mi
air an leanabh agaibh a ghabhail orm fein, ach na’n d’thug sibhse bonn
airgeid dhomhsa an ait’ an olann a thug sibh dhomh, cha do thachair so
do’n leanabh_” (“It’s very hard that I should require to take on myself
the injury I have done your child, but if you had given me a silver
coin instead of the wool you gave me, this had not happened to the
child”).
She had to cure the child, however. What had happened to it was that
its mouth kept always open, and it could not catch the breast. The
reciter did not say that the malady of the open mouth stuck to the
woman, but being somewhat notorious, and a different incident being
told of her by another reciter, the latter remarked that “she had an
ungainly face, and that if ever there was a witch in Arran, he thought
that woman would pass for one.”
AVOIDING SUSPICION OF EVIL EYE
People have not always the candour to accuse the suspected.
A lady engaged in teaching gives the following information: “You would
hear of Mrs. McG.? She is making a great noise because, as she says,
the milk is being taken from her cow, and not long ago her horse and
some other beast of hers died, and she thinks it is because they were
_air an cronachadh_ by some person. She blamed a girl that was keeping
house with a neighbour, and she went to the girl’s sister and said to
her to say to her sister not to be taking away the milk from her cow.”
This was not supposed to be a case of witchcraft.
So far we have been dealing with women, but it must not be supposed
that such accusations are rarely made against men.
A small farmer, Alexander ——, having got into difficulties, lost his
farm. A neighbour, better able to stock it, entered into possession.
Soon, however, a cow died, and it was concluded that it was a case
of _cronachadh_, an opinion in which its owner agreed, declaring:
“_Well, cho fad’s bhios bo bheo agam, cha dean mise rithist namhaid de
Alasdair_” (“Well, as long as I have a living cow I will not again make
an enemy of Alexander”).
Men are also as cautious to avoid suspicion as women. Recently a
servant-girl in Islay, having the charge of attending to the feeding
of a pig, requested a man who had never been suspected of possessing
a hurtful eye to look at the pig to see how it was thriving. The man
refused, adding quite seriously that he did not like to look at a beast
that way, in case of any harm being done. When she persisted that there
could be no harm, he replied that not long ago M. McL. had a litter
of young pigs, and a man came that way and was looking at them one
evening, and the next morning they were all dead.
The reasons ascribed for the action of some are doubtless influenced
by the reciter’s own beliefs. Thus, it was often said of a gentleman
farmer in Rothiemurchus, well known in the countryside, that he would
never praise any beast of his own, and this was supposed to be owing to
his belief that he himself had an Evil Eye. It does not seem to have
occurred to his neighbours that it was native modesty.
To show the hold that belief in an Evil Eye has on certain minds, a
native of Ross-shire tells how he went to see a neighbour, who asked
his assistance in putting a ring in the nose of a pig to prevent it
rooting. “There was another neighbour of his there too, who had come
forward when he saw us, one W. M., an intelligent man, and one that I
would never have thought would give in to these superstitions; but he
was a man that believed in the Evil Eye, although nobody suspected him
of having it himself.” Accidentally the pig’s leg was broken. It was
understood to belong to the wife of the man who proposed to ring it,
who said:—
“Man, what will we say to the wife? But come away in and see what she
has got to say.” When we went in the wife asked us if we had got the
ring in the pig, and her man answered, “No, and I am sorry to tell you
the pig has broken her leg.”
“How did that happen?” she asked, and her husband said, out of pure
fun, “Oh, I don’t know, unless W. M.’s eye has fallen upon her.” That
was enough. Up W. got in a wild rage, and said he would not sit under
such a suspicion, and off he marched, terribly offended.
At the time of writing a reciter, a woman, admits that at K. in A. a
man is living whom his neighbours believe to have the Evil Eye, and
people not only do not like to meet him, but go out of their way to
avoid him when going on important matters. It is told of him that
a donkey belonging to a woman kicked his horse. The donkey’s owner
expressed a hope that he would not come to know of it, lest he should
hurt her beast. Her fear was justified, as it turned out, for the
man saw the donkey kick the horse, and however he managed it, people
believed that he put _cronachadh_ on the donkey, for it turned ill and
shortly died.
ACTION OF EVIL EYE INDEPENDENT OF POSSESSOR
It must be difficult, one would think, for any reasonably
kindly-intentioned person to accept as proved that they had an Evil
Eye. But a distinction is made between possessing an Evil Eye and doing
mischief with it. A native of Glen Urquhart, Inverness-shire, among
others says that there it is understood a person may possess an Evil
Eye and do mischief with it without intending it, and without knowing
that he has done it. When a person knows that he has an Evil Eye, and
does mischief with it intentionally, the ill-doing is usually supposed
to be more or less connected with witchcraft.
Many believe the injury from the Evil Eye is quite independent of the
will of the possessor. A farmer, a believer, said: “When we were in
the old place more than thirty years ago, there was a man living upon
the hill who would often be helping the farmers round about when they
were throng. He had the Evil Eye; but he could not help it. He would
be sorry for it himself; many a one would be scolding him for hurting
their beasts.”
Another says: “_Cronachadh_ is still in it, and those that have got the
Evil Eye cannot help it. They sometimes do harm with their eye when
they do not intend it, and even when they do not know that they are
doing it.”
This seems a thoroughly rooted idea in Islay, and a Tiree man informs
us that there it is also thought that injury by an Evil Eye is
involuntary on the part of the person who has such an eye, and not
necessarily malicious or intended.
This is also met with as a belief in Arran, and a reciter there tells
of a minister in the Parish of Kilmory who had the Evil Eye in spite of
himself, and if he looked on his own cattle or horses they were sure
to be ill after. Other cases are mentioned, and one of our reciters
told how a man, while resident in the south of the island, and fond
of fine cattle, in the place where he was well known and respected
had never been suspected of the Evil Eye, but removing to the Whiting
Bay district, where he was among strangers, suspicion of the Evil Eye
attached to him and remained with him to the day of his death.
In these two last cases, in speculating upon the cause of the
accusation, it seems quite probable that the minister, being occupied
with his own special duties, rarely regarded the state of his beasts,
and only took notice of them under exceptional circumstances, and
coincidence had connected his inspection of them and their illnesses.
The other evidently was an amateur with an eye to beauty in others’
cattle, and probably had unfortunately expressed approval before
subsequent misfortune. One notorious incident was undoubtedly enough
to set the report going, and all know the results of giving a lie
half-an-hour’s start.
EVIL EYE TAKES EFFECT EVEN ON THINGS NOT SEEN
There is one simple way of keeping your property safe from the Evil
Eye: viz., by not letting it be known that you have what may be
affected. A certain D. MacF., who knew that his neighbour was crediting
his Evil Eye with having spoiled a churning, was standing in the
back-yard when the woman who suspected him was milking her cow. She,
having finished, should have passed him with her milk to carry it in
by the door, but on seeing him she started, and instead of coming
forward, passed the pitcher of milk in by a little window on the back
wall of the house, and then walked forward and went in at the door,
passing MacF. He concluded that her object was to keep the milk out of
his sight lest he should hurt it. MacF. disavows the possession of any
power of the kind.
Another reciter mentions that a certain Calum Ban, having the name of
the Evil Eye, others kept things out of his sight for fear that he
might hurt them.
The mere preventing the eye resting on the thing to be affected would,
however, have been quite insufficient, according to one reciter, a
native of Bernera (Harris). She told of one, recognised as possessing
an Evil Eye, that he was sure to covet everything in the possession
of his neighbours, and consequently “those nearest R. were very
unfortunate.” His influence was understood to extend beyond what he
actually saw, and therefore even hearing about things was kept from
him. On one occasion the young daughter of R.’s neighbour set eggs
under two hens, and being considered “lucky,” having usually been
successful, she expected two good broods. In the interval she mentioned
what she had done in the hearing of R.’s daughter. When the time came
not a single chicken appeared out of the two settings. Her mother then
said she would put eggs below the hens, but warned all in the house
to be sure and not tell that they were there. This was done, the hens
being kept carefully concealed, and full and thriving broods were got.
An old man now dead, a crofter who could read, who was strongly
superstitious, telling his stories with great gusto, and reliable, is
the authority for the following, which shows how the superstitions
of others were played on. In the time when ploughs were made of wood
of a home manufacture, the farmer in Octofad brought home a new one.
One day, using the new plough, coming round at the end of a furrow,
the plough was broken in two. The man between the stilts and the man
leading the horses threw the blame of the carelessness on one another.
At last the latter proposed that if the ploughman would leave to him to
tell the old man (the farmer) how it happened, and if he would not say
a word at all in the matter, he believed that he would be able to put
it past (_a chuir seachad_) right enough. The ploughman agreed. They
took the horses home, and when the farmer made his appearance looking
displeased (_coslas gu math crosda air_), the lad began his tale. “_De
ach am beist duine sin tha ann C. aig am bheil an droch shuil. Thainig
e an rathad far an robh sin a treabhadh, agus on a bhios a shuil aige
anns gach ni a chi e, thoisich e air a bhi moladh nan each agus a
chrann; agus cha robh e tiota air falbh, nuair a chaidh a’ chrann ann
an da leth._” (“What but that beast of a man that is in C., who has
the Evil Eye. He came the way where we were ploughing, and since he
will have his eye in everything he sees, he began praising the horses
and the plough, and he was no time gone when the plough went in two
halves.”)
The lad’s forecast was correct. His master’s eye lost its gloom, and
shaking his hand to them, he said: “Never mind, never mind; put in the
horses, and do not say a word about it to anybody in case he may do
more harm. If the horses are safe, we will not be long in dressing the
plough.”
It is perfectly clear that an interesting instance of the influence of
the Evil Eye was established here, so far as the farmer was concerned,
and doubtless the belief in it generally owes not a little to equally
fanciful stories.
MORAL SOURCE OF THE EVIL EYE
Though the action of the Evil Eye is accepted as involuntary, in the
majority of cases, this is not the accepted doctrine in all districts.
From Ross-shire (Strathpeffer) a reciter says:—
“It is a power which they are in some cases supposed to exercise
involuntarily, but oftener intentionally and with mischievous design.”
From somewhat the same locality, Dores (near Inverness), a reciter
“thinks that the involuntary kind that is often met with in certain
other parts of the Highlands is not recognised, but in every case in
which injury arises from an Evil Eye, it is to be referred to active
covetousness and greed of gain at other people’s expense.” But even
in Kintyre, where the involuntary action is accepted, a native tells
us: “I believe in what people call the Evil Eye, and I have known very
many who believed in it just as much as I do; not that every man has
it, for there are only some that I would be afraid of. If I see a man
that thinks highly of what belongs to himself, and would not exchange
it with any man, that is the man I would like to have dealings with,
for although he might do injury to himself, or to any living thing he
might possess, he would do no harm to another. If I saw a man envying
everything he saw, and thinking what belonged to other people was
better than what belonged to himself, I would be afraid of that man,
and if I had cattle I would not like him to come among them, for if he
came I would be sure something would happen.”
A Mull woman said: “_Cronachadh_ is quite common. It is done usually by
a person that has an Evil Eye. It is just an eye with great greed and
envy.”
An Islay man says: “_Tha cronachadh ann. Se ‘n droch cridhe tha dol
thun na sul, agus a’ deanadh droch suil._” (“_Cronachadh_ exists. It
is the evil heart going to the eye and causing an Evil Eye.”) The
suggestion thus is that an Evil Eye is but the result of the natural
man who has not rooted out of his nature what is forbidden in the Tenth
Commandment, and so a native of Ross-shire (Tarbat) shows how strong
the belief was that mischief might come “through the Evil Eye or ill
wish of another.” A certain aunt of his formed a strong dislike to him
when he was a boy, simply because it was known that his grandfather
favoured him to the disadvantage of this aunt, as she thought, and he
well remembered how anxious his mother was for a long time, lest the
aunt’s known ill-will should cause some blight to come on him.
The following from Islay shows that though the belief there that it is
involuntary is strongly held, those who have the power may exercise
it deliberately. “There was a woman in Islay who had a sow that had a
litter of young pigs. One morning a neighbour came to her, and seeing
the teapot at the fire, asked if she would give her a drop of the tea.
This was given to her. She then said, ‘You have fine young pigs there.’
‘Yes, but they are all sold,’ answered the other. With that the visitor
turned towards the door to go, and said, ‘Well, you sold a pig to me
that died.’ That was all that passed, and she went her way; but the
following morning two of the pigs were dead, and the owner was quite
certain that the woman had done the mischief. The reciter who gives the
information is of the same opinion, and he adds that it was an unkind
thing to do on a poor woman.”
The strength of the Evil Eye, according to some, is to be gauged by the
following remark by an old man: “_B’abhaist gu’m biodh e air a radh le
sean daoine, gun sgoilteadh an t-suil sanntach eadhon na creagan fein o
cheile._” (“It used to be said by old people that the greedy eye would
split asunder the very rocks.”)
Another says _cronachadh_ is just envy, and it is said that envy will
break the very stones. A man who wishes to have everything for himself
will do harm to whatever he sees.
THINGS THAT SPECIALLY ATTRACT
A woman of twenty-eight, whose information is quite reliable, the
daughter of a respectable man in one of the inner islands, remembers
when young people talked a great deal about these things, and many were
very much afraid of them. “The idea was that it was always the best and
prettiest of beast or body that was most liable to be injured by a bad
eye. Her youngest brother was awfully pretty when a child. They used
to have him dressed in a red frock and white pinny, and with his fair
skin, fair curly hair, and red cheeks, he was the nicest-looking child
in all the place. Many a time, when my father would take him out, the
neighbours would be warning him to take good care lest some one might
do the child harm, and some would advise my father to go in and take
the frock and pinny off him, so that he might not draw one’s attention
so much.”
From Ross-shire we hear the same thing. A native “remembers when he
was young, people believed in the Evil Eye and were afraid of it.” It
was supposed that pretty children were specially liable to be injured
by it, and it was a common device with some mothers, in circumstances
where there was any suspicion of danger, to take care that at least
some article of the child’s dress would be at fault, either in respect
of neatness or cleanness, or better still, to have one of the child’s
stockings turned outside in when being worn. These were supposed to
form a protection to the child against injury.
The reciter remembers quite well a woman who in her own person and
house was the pink of neatness, but full of superstition, and he cannot
remember ever having seen her children without something untidy about
them. Always a stocking or something else wrong on, and this was done
intentionally by their mother to keep away the Evil Eye.
A native of Bernera (Harris) testified: “When a person appears well
dressed and good-looking, it is supposed that she is in danger of being
affected by the Evil Eye. A recommendation in such a case is to wear
some article of clothing with the wrong side out, as a preventative of
harm.”
An old man of eighty-seven, uneducated, but full of information,
somewhat difficult to understand from the loss of his teeth and the
weakness of his voice, telling his experiences in the most pathetic
manner, said: “_Bu nighean a’ cheud duine cloinne bha riomh agam, agus
bha deigh mhor agam oirre. Ach de thachair, ach latha bha ‘n sin, bha
i amach aig taobh an tighe, agus bha neach a’ dol seachad aig an robh
droch shuil, agus chaidh an droch shuil anns an leanabh, agus bha i air
a chronachadh. O’n am sin chaidh an creatur air a h-ais co mor gus aig
a cheann mu dheireadh cha robh i air a cumail beo ach le beagan fion a
bha air a chuir ann a beul le spain ti._” (“The first one of my family
was a daughter. She was a pretty child, and I was very fond of her. But
what happened but a day that was there, she was out at the side of the
house and a person passed who had an Evil Eye, and the Evil Eye went
into the child and she was injured. From that time the creature went
back so much, until at last she was only kept alive by a little wine
put into her mouth with a teaspoon.”)
“When people had occasion to go to farmer R.’s house, having children
with them, they contrived to put some attractive article of clothing
on the children, so that the gay clothes might divert his eye from the
wearers and save them from injury.”
A native of Knockando (Elgin) says that there is an impression that the
young, either of man or beast, are very liable to receive injury from
an Evil Eye fastening upon them, if that should be the first eye that
sees them after their birth. This belief makes people take great care
often to secure that any one supposed to possess an Evil Eye will not
be the first to see an infant immediately after birth, or any other
young animal.
Using short texts separated from the context leads undoubtedly to
misapprehensions on the part of the unlearned. In Isaiah xiii. 18, he
says of the Medes, alluding to physical injury alone, “their eye shall
not spare children.” That text has influenced not a few.
Without any suspicion of the owner of a beast having the Evil Eye
himself, his desire to retain it is supposed to render it specially
liable to the evil influence of any one possessed of the power. A
Kinlochbervie man remembers well how very common, in his youth, was
belief in the Evil Eye, and vividly recalls the terror his mother had
when any unknown vagrant came the way, lest, being possessed of an Evil
Eye, he might leave a blight on the house or anything belonging to it.
She would give almost anything they might ask so as to get them away in
a good mood.
STRANGERS SPECIALLY LIABLE TO BE ACCUSED OF THE POSSESSION OF THE EVIL
EYE
Acquaintances might be divided into two classes. The Evil Eyes and the
Non-Evil Eyes. Precautions should be taken against the former, and with
them it was safe to class strangers. The daughter of a tradesman, a
clever, intelligent woman, a farmer’s wife, whose husband’s people and
her own mother are very superstitious, having moved from one district
to another, her new neighbours, not long after she had came to live
beside them, lost a number of geese. The owners made a great “ado,” and
the position they took up relative to our reciter, the suspected one,
was: “_Faicibh fein an droch shuil tha aice. Cha deachaidh na geoidh
air seachran riomh roimhe, ach ghabh iad fuath ‘nuair a’ dh’ amhairc
ise orra._” (“See for yourself the Evil Eye she had; the geese never
before wandered, but took fright when she looked at them.”)
The owners of these geese seem to have had a very lively faith in the
Evil Eye. The collector having mentioned the experience to another
neighbour, she said: “That’s not so bad as I got. I went to inquire for
a friend if they would sell a goose. They said they would not sell, and
there was no harm in that; but shortly after all the geese flew away,
and if I did not catch it. They were in a fearful rage, blaming me for
putting my Evil Eye in them. Another time their hens ceased laying, and
they blamed my eye for that also.”
It is scarcely to be wondered at, the jealous ascription of the Evil
Eye to strangers, though Highland publications speak largely of the
noble characteristics of Highlanders at large, and the writer is the
last man to deny them credit due. It must be confessed there is a
large quantity of a ‘parochial’ feeling of jealousy in the Highlands
generally. It is not necessary to go into the question whether this is
or is not the modern aspect of previous district quarrels. Tramps trade
upon this fear of strangers in other Gaelic places than the Scottish
Highlands. A minister relates the following, which came under his own
observation in Antrim. A tramp was passing a house, and he went and
asked the housewife for a drink of milk. She said she had no milk, but
the tramp was sure she had, but did not want to part with it. He said,
“Oh, very well, I’ll take a drink of water, and let what will happen
to the cows.” This was enough; she was sure that this was a challenge
that he would have the milk in spite of her, so she repented and gave
him as good a drink of milk as he could wish for, no doubt in this way
escaping evil consequences.
PEOPLE SHOULD GIVE WHEN ASKED
The danger of refusing a request is great, not so much from the purely
Christian-charity point of view, as from that of escaping the Evil Eye.
A native of Knapdale, a believer, tells of a woman notorious in that
neighbourhood. She went to a farmer for a barrel of potatoes, which
he refused her. No more was said, but she had not long gone when the
best horse he had fell down and could not rise. It was foaming at the
mouth. A man skilled in counteracting the Evil Eye was consulted, and
declared that the horse had been injured by it. Having been informed
by the farmer that he had refused to give a barrel of potatoes to the
woman, he said it was that that had done the harm. His advice was a
little peculiar, not in that he recommended the sending the potatoes
to the woman, but that they should be sent on the injured horse, with
evidently a view to its cure. The potatoes were got into a bag, the bag
lifted on the horse’s back, and away it went quite briskly, and they
were delivered at the woman’s house, and thereafter the horse was quite
well.
Drovers are not, of course, complete strangers in the districts in
which they do business, but as a class they are looked on with some
suspicion. Thus we are told, “Some drovers are possessed of the Evil
Eye, and in consequence it is reckoned foolish not to sell any animals
to them if they appear anxious to have them.” The reciter’s father had
a good cow, and some drovers coming about wanted to buy her. His father
refused to sell. The drovers persisted, but still met with a refusal.
At last the drovers left, but shortly after the cow sickened, died, and
nothing remained of her value to the owner but her skin.
A parallel case was mentioned as happening in Islay. “I remember it
was a few days before the market a man came the way and wanted to buy
a beast from A. McI. The drover was very anxious to get it, but they
would not sell. The drover left, and before the sun went down that
evening that beast was dead and buried. The reciter of this, a man of
about fifty and a good workman, living by himself, is a piper, and
possibly the addition of the beast’s hurried burial may be the result
of a natural tendency to ‘blow,’ as they say. Anyhow, the piper said
that it was believed that it was the drover’s eye that had killed the
cow.”
Another reciter tells that a farmer in Islay had two good horses which
some dealers wished to buy. The farmer would not sell either, and the
following day one of them died. It was believed to be a case of Evil
Eye.
The risk of refusing purchasers is not solely in the case of drovers.
“Many are of opinion that it is risky for a person to refuse to sell
any animal he may have to any one who shows a great desire to purchase
it; some would sell at a sacrifice rather than run the risk. A native
of Killean, Kintyre, tells of a fine cow his father had, and on which
the family set a considerable value. A man who had known something
about the cow came all the way from Campbeltown purposely to buy her,
but the owner declined to sell her. “If he did, he hardly got any good
of her thereafter, for in a short time she became unwell, and lingering
for a time, died. The neighbours thought it was a real case of Evil
Eye.”
From the mainland of Argyllshire a lady relates: “An uncle had a farm
five miles from Oban. A neighbour on his way to attend a funeral,
thinking her uncle might drive along with him, called. As he was
passing the cow-fold the calves were being let out to their mothers,
and one of the cows had a beautiful calf. The neighbour fixed his eyes
on them and kept looking at and admiring them. He then asked her uncle
if he would sell him the calf, but the proprietor refused, saying he
did not intend to sell either cow or calf. That very week the calf was
dead, and they never doubted but that it was the man’s Evil Eye that
had killed it.”
A native of Applecross in Ross-shire told he had bought a fine horse,
but before the purchase another man had been looking at it and been
very anxious to have it, and praised it as a splendid beast. It was
not long in the reciter’s possession until it had some complaint from
which it died. The people—the reciter does not himself say he shares
the feeling—believe that it was killed by the Evil Eye, for it had been
known to everybody how anxious the disappointed man had been to get it,
and how highly he had spoken of it.
SYMPTOMS IN ANIMALS ASCRIBED TO EFFECT OF EVIL EYE
One naturally asks what are the symptoms which, when present in
animals, have given rise to the supposition that they were affected by
the Evil Eye.
A woman gives the following account of what happened to her mother. She
had been married very young, and was sitting by the fire suckling her
first child with her breasts bare. The child had fallen asleep on her
left arm. “My mother heard something behind her, and when she turned
her head, there was a tall, grey-haired, ill-favoured-looking woman
standing. My mother got up hurriedly, and having a great deal of milk,
the milk spouted from her right breast into the fire. The _cailleach_
gave an unpleasant laugh and said, ‘The milk has gone along with the
pee.’ My mother answered pleasantly enough, ‘Oh no, the milk and pee
will be all right,’ and gave the _cailleach_ what she wanted. She was a
Tiree _cailleach_, and they were all looked upon as being bad ones. The
next time my mother was going to give her baby a drink she found she
had not a drop of milk for him. The baby was crying, and when he would
cry she would cry too, and what was to be done? This state of things
lasted for a day, and my father then went for assistance from a person
supposed to be skilled.”
The expression used by the Tiree woman was understood by the reciter to
mean the milk that should have nourished the child was to turn into
water in the mother’s system, and be so discharged.
Yawning has been ascribed to the effect of the Evil Eye.
An Islay man said: “_Bha piuthair aig an te nach maireann agus bha i
cho boidheach ’sa chunnaic sibh riomh. Aon uair thainig boireannach a
stigh agus thoiseach i air a chaileag a mholadh gu ro mhor. Well, cha
robh a bhean sin ach gann air dol amach nur a thoiseach a chaileag air
meunanaich, agus cha robh fad gus an robh i cho dona agus gun robh iad
a saoilsinn gum bitheadh i air falbh._”
(“My late wife had a sister, and she was as pretty as ever you saw.
Once a woman came in and commenced praising the girl excessively. Well,
scarcely was that woman gone out of the house when the girl began to
yawn, and it was not long till she was so bad that they thought that
she would be away (die).”)
In the case of a child which was quite quiet and looking well, with
the mother sitting nursing it, a neighbouring woman, who is not much
liked in the place, came in. She sat a little while, and was no time
away until the child began to cry. It cried long and bitterly, and
its mother got into a fearful state, protesting of the other woman:
“_Co fior’s tha mi beo, chronaich i mo phaisde_” (“As true as I am
alive she injured my child”). It is interesting to note that in this
case “a little white powder” prescribed by a qualified practitioner
counteracted that Evil Eye.
Another case in which a child was ill was told as follows:—A woman went
to inquire after a man who had just lost his wife in the Low Country,
and brought their child home to his relations. She was told that the
child was “not but poorly.” “What is the matter with him?” I asked.
My informant answered me, that his mother had been sitting at the fire
and the child in her bosom, when two women came to ask for the child’s
father. The child was quite well and brisk when they came in, but
before they went away he began to cry and groan. “He was quite sure,”
he said, “that one or other of them had injured the child, but why they
should do that he did not know, for they both had families of their
own.” This case was cured by an unlicensed practitioner.
The following is from a woman of her own experience in the case of
her own son. She told that his sister went out with him one day to a
neighbour’s house. He was sitting in her lap, when the neighbour’s
daughter called her mother’s attention to the white beauty of the
child’s legs. The mother agreed, and something more was said praising
the child, and he then got a drink of milk. Well, as soon as he took
the milk, he began as if he were singing, “Do re do, do re do.” This he
continued to do for a good while, and was very fretful. This child was
cured by a magic thread which stopped the “humming.”
Cattle, in popular belief, are much more liable to damage from the Evil
Eye than other animals, judging from the greater number of instances
related of it in their case. “Two of M. McN.’s cattle died within a
short time of each other, and all the old people of the place persisted
in saying they were injured by some Evil Eye.” A reciter told of her
mother, who had married the elder of two brothers occupying a farm in
common, getting the credit of the Evil Eye because, shortly after her
marriage, the cattle on the farm “began to die right away.”
In the following case motive is given, and if any overt act of a
magical nature had been said to occur, it would certainly have to be
classified as witchcraft, but seeing there is no such history, it is
one of those cases in which the action of an Evil Eye was evidently not
supposed to be involuntary. The heir to a tenant who had fallen into
arrears, having paid what was owing, got possession from the superior.
Meanwhile a woman had been living in the house. She was warned to
leave, but paid no heed to the warning, and it became necessary to turn
her out by force. She got shelter from a relative near by, while the
new tenant went to live in the house from which she had been ejected.
“But if he did, he soon suffered for it, for he was not long there
until he had lost nine of his cattle by death, and he and every one
else believed that they had been “_air an cronachadh_” by the woman
from spite.
There are no symptoms recounted in these general losses.
More rarely than of cows, we hear of stirks being affected. This is
rather an old story, and the authority for this is the reciter’s
father, who told it of his own father. He was at market in
Stratherrick, and refused to part, after considerable bargaining, with
a stirk he had to a would-be buyer. “Before the market-day closed, down
fell the stirk on the ground and nothing could make it get up.”
In a quite recent case, however, a stirk, said to be affected by the
Evil Eye, “was very ill; its horns were quite cold, and it could not
eat anything. The beast recovered.”
By far most commonly, evil from a “bad eye” comes to cows. A reciter
tells of an instance that occurred to himself, where in a farm
previously occupied, his mother had a particularly good cow. “One day
my sister was in a neighbour’s house, and she was telling the woman
about the lot of milk this cow had. The next day when my mother went
out at the usual hour to milk the cow, she had scarcely begun when this
woman passed close to where she was milking. Well, not a drop of milk
could my mother get from that cow. The cow became suddenly unwell and
fell to the ground. The skin came off her udder and not a bit of skin
was on it after that. There was not the least doubt but that it was the
other woman that had injured her.”
A native of Skye, in whose younger days the belief in the Evil Eye was
very common there, and who remembers seeing “a general turn up” in the
township in which she was brought up, caused by the alleged effect of
one person’s Evil Eye upon the cattle of the neighbours, tells how
her father had a fine Ayrshire cow. She was such a good milker that
it was necessary to milk her three times every day. “All of a sudden
her milk left her, and they never could account for it, except on the
supposition of the action of an Evil Eye, and in fact were quite sure
that this was the case.”
The reciter of the following says she remembers a Sutherlandshire
minister telling it to her mother. He said that one time his cows were
not giving the right milk. The milk was more like water than milk, and
as for butter, not a bit could he get, no matter how well it might be
churned. The minister here, on the advice of his housekeeper, resorted
to witchcraft for a cure.
Another reciter says: “When my sister and myself were lumps of lasses
we were down the road one day with a cow of my father’s. When we
brought her home the milk was running from her, and she lay down on the
floor and she wouldn’t rise. When they tried to put her up she would
make as if she would climb up the wall.”
In fact, as another reciter in Rothiemurchus said: “It used to be a
very common experience to have cows going off their milk, and sometimes
dying from the effects of a person possessed of an Evil Eye looking
upon them, and it is still believed that cases of this kind happen.”
A cow that was “kicking and would let nobody milk her,” being cured by
one of the processes against the Evil Eye, the cure was understood to
certify the diagnosis.
Mrs. McN. was milking her cow. A woman passing at the time remarked,
looking at the cow the while, “That is a grand cow, and she gives a
great deal of milk.” “Yes, she is a good cow,” replied the owner, and
the woman having passed on there was no more about it, until a little
while after the milking was done the cow lay down on the ground and
began to roll in great pain. There never was any doubt but that it was
a case of injury by the Evil Eye. The cow was cured by magic.
Another cow “grew to be unwell, and she was rolling herself upon the
ground.” She was so unwell that the schoolmaster, who was a great
friend of her owner’s, advised him to send for a man to flay her. She
recovered.
Of course a recognised wizard may have the Evil Eye as much as a more
innocent person. The reciter of this, a credulous man, no doubt, and
uneducated, with the gift of the gab and a good deal of natural
shrewdness, a distillery workman, is detailing his own experience. “The
cows were all tied in the byre, and we were looking in the window and
saw the _Buidseach ruadh_ (the red wizard) standing at the byre door.
The door was in two halves, the upper half was open at the time, the
lower closed, and he was leaning on it and gazing with all his might
at one of the cows. The kitchen was at the end of the byre, and they
always came straight down from the kitchen when they were going to
milk. The women just came down then, and when they came to the cow
that he had been looking at, not a drop of milk could they get. When
they untied her to let her out she gave a loud bellow, and running up
by the kitchen door made for the fire and tried to go up by the chain
through the roof of the house. They had nothing for it but tie her up
again, and for some days they did not get a drop of milk from her, and
her skin became so loose on her it looked as if hardly sticking to her
flesh at all. When the day for churning came they found the butter was
gone also.”
A Kintyre man recites the following of an authority consulted for
the cure of the Evil Eye. “Her cow, put out for the first time after
calving, became wild and jumped against everything like to kill
herself. There was nothing for it but just to put her back into the
house. Everybody was sure the beast had been _air a cronachadh_ by
some person’s Evil Eye, or bewitched by witchcraft. When the woman to
whom the cow belonged came to know of it she came up, and going up to
the cow, gave her a clap or two on the back, said something, and in a
minute or two the cow was as quiet as she had ever been.”
A farmer of the name of M. had the farm of B., near Campbeltown. He
had a favourite cow which he would not part with for anything. Some
drovers wished to buy this cow, but M. refused, and though the drovers
persisted, he would not part with her. They went to the cow and began
to soothe and fondle her. When they left the cow began to go about in a
circle, and could not be got out of that circle. At length the farmer
was forced to kill her. This was told by an educated and reliable
gentleman, without prejudice, so to say, to his belief or disbelief in
the origin of the illness.
One is apt to smile at any one talking of an animal going up the
chimney by the pot chain; frightened animals do curious things. The
writer of this, having opened the window in the parlour widely, the
door being shut to prevent it going into the house, was trying to drive
out a strange cat. There was a lighted fire in the chimney, but the
cat, without trying the window, went up the chimney. The fire being
damped down and a dustpan put on the top of it, the cat returned to
civilisation, and then disappeared through the window.
One other symptom comes from the Black Isle, Ross-shire. H. says that
belief in the Evil Eye was very common in his native place, and has a
good hold still on people’s minds. It was said to do injury to beasts,
in many ways, among others that they could be blinded by it. His father
had a striking case while living in the Parish of Redcastle. One of
his cows died of what was considered a natural trouble, no Evil Eye
influence being thought of. He had a quey grazing on the farm of a
friend on the opposite side of the Beauly Firth, so he went for her
and brought her home by Kessock Ferry, where some people examined her
and admired her. She was a dun, and a fine-looking animal. Having
reached home the quey was tied in the byre, apparently in good health.
They however soon noticed that she had a habit of standing back in her
stall to the full extent of the tether rope, and do what they would
they could not get her to stand forward. A woman with knowledge of
Evil Eye cases was consulted. After examining the beast in the byre
by herself she told them the quey was blind, because some one’s eye
had fallen on her. She recommended the following procedure to cure the
animal and find out who had done the injury. She was to be let out and,
no one going before her or trying to turn her, allowed to go where she
liked. If this were done she said the quey would, of her own accord, go
to the house of the person who had made her blind, and that she would
go three times round the house bellowing, and then come back to her own
byre quite well with recovered sight. This procedure was carried out.
She went straight for a neighbour’s house, went round it three times,
bellowed, and came back quite well and seeing. The reciter added, “Now
the woman that could do that and find out things of that kind must have
had some power herself, quite as much as the one whose eye had fallen
upon the heifer.” The reciter of the above is an uneducated man, and
superstitious in other ways.
A believer, a native of Knapdale, tells the following. For a
considerable time none of her cows had quey calves, but at length she
got one, a nice beast, of which she was particularly careful. When it
was first let out she went herself to watch it. At that time she had
a neighbour who had an ill-will to her, although they were on speaking
terms, though without having much to do with each other. While she was
watching the calf this neighbour came out of her own house, and putting
her hands on each of her sides, stood and gazed for a few seconds at
the calf. While she was staring at it the calf gave a ‘loup,’ rushed as
if it were mad through the place, and when, with a deal of difficulty
it had been caught and put into the byre, it kept leaping straight
up, and seemed as if it could not rest. The person consulted said he
could do nothing in the case, and that it was ill from the other woman
looking at it. Subsequently she had two more quey calves of which she
was very proud and pleased to have them, and as they were grazing
in a park near the road, many people admired them. One day the same
objectionable neighbour went, and placing her two arms on the dyke,
stared at the calves for some time. “I saw her with my own eyes and
did not like it, but said nothing.” Not long after her daughter came
in and said that the white calf was lying dead among the nettles. “On
hearing this I trembled, but spoke quite calmly and said, ‘Is it?’”
On examination, sure enough the calf was dead, and the other was ill
also. She consulted a skilled woman, and the remaining calf got better.
This reciter added that since then she had lost beasts through the same
person’s Evil Eye, and is in terror when she sees her coming about the
house.
A woman who lived on Loch Awe-side, who was believed to have the Evil
Eye, and whose father was also credited with it, was exchanging brood
hens with a neighbour. She brought her own hen, and was going to take
away the one to be exchanged. In the absence of the mistress, the girl
who was keeping the house was going to give the cow a drink, and the
woman accompanied her. There was nothing wrong with the cow then, but
later in the day the cow’s calf died, and the cow herself began to take
some kind of fits, and though she lived for a while never got well.
When night came the hens were crowing, and next morning two of them
were found dead. The hen that had been brought was put on the eggs, but
if she was, it was not long that she remained on them. She took to the
hills and was never caught, and all this was the consequence of the
Evil Eye.
Even more common than injury to cows and calves is the deterioration of
milk. Mrs. McL., appealing to her husband for confirmation, told how
that in the winter-time she began to churn sometime after dark. Her
husband helped her with it, and they had just finished, and she was
going to stop and take off the butter, when a young man came in. When
he went away she went back to her churn, but not a bit of butter could
she get. To gather it she took another turn of churning, but the milk
only swelled and went over the churn mouth. The butter was all gone. It
was this young man’s Evil Eye.
Another nearly similar case to the above, and they could be
considerably added to, happened to the mother of the reciter, who
was churning, and a woman, supposed to possess an Evil Eye, and also
suspected of a measure of witchcraft, coming in, “the butter got
scattered into a kind of grainy substance, and do what she would the
churner could not get it to gather again.”
Horses, of course, are liable to the malign influence of the Evil
Eye. —— had a nice white horse which he used to lend on hire to
the minister. It was much admired, and one day when it came home a
neighbour, who bore the owner no goodwill, came forward and, standing
beside the horse, said in Gaelic, “You have got fine limbs;” he then
walked away. Shortly afterwards the horse threw itself down on the
ground and kicked as if in great pain. It was at first supposed to be
an attack of colic, and the son walked it out a little, but so soon as
it entered the stable it fell down and was like to die. A woman with
skill being consulted, cured the horse and confirmed their suspicion of
it being a case of Evil Eye.
Ministers’ horses do not escape any more than those of laymen. A Mull
woman related the following:—The minister, whose grave you may see
there, had a fine horse. His man had it out ploughing, and without
previous illness or warning of any kind, it fell down and could not
plough another furrow. The minister came to see it.
“_A mhinistear, tha an t-each air a chronachadh. Feumaidh mi dhol
airson eolas a chronachaidh._”
“_Eisd, eisd, cha dean thu sin. Tha fios agad nach eil mise a’
creidsinn ann a leithid sin._”
“_Direach falbhaidh sibhse a steach, agus managie mi fein an t-each._”
(“Minister, the horse is _air a cronachadh_, and I must go for _eolas
a chronachaidh_.” “Hush, hush, you will not do that; you know that I
do not believe the like of that.” “Just you go in, and I’ll manage the
horse myself.”)
We may finish the incident which tells how the minister did as was
suggested, and how, as soon as he was out of sight, off the lad set for
what he considered skilled assistance. Having got it, in less than
three hours the horse was quite well and ploughing. When the minister
was again looking on, the lad remarked on the rapid recovery from the
process used, but the minister was unconvinced.
“_Cha’n eil mi dol a thoirt creideas da leithid sin idir._”
_Thuirt an gille: “Well, tha mi fein ‘s an t-each a’ creidsinn ann.”_
(“I am not going to give credence to the like of that at all.” The lad
replied: “Well, both I and the horse believe in it.”)
A like case. “You remember A. B. He had a braw mare; everybody was
praising her, and there wasn’t the likes of her to be seen about the
place. A man who was passing waited to look at her, and praised her for
being a splendid beast. But if he did, when she reached home she fell
down and would neither rise nor eat.”
Mrs. G. said: “One of our horses, a fine beast, was going past the barn
when all at once it fell on the ground. They got it into the stable. In
a little time it could not move its body, but was tossing its head from
side to side and seemed to be in great pain. It was striking its head
on the ground so much that we thought it would kill itself.”
A case in which the illness had lasted for some time before skilled
advice was got, is the following: “D. D.’s father-in-law had a horse
unwell and not expected to recover. It was lying in the stable quite
stiff, and had neither eaten nor drunk anything for some days.”
A farmer who had two fine horses told the reciter to put the saddle on
one of them and meet him on his way home from a visit he had to pay. D.
McT., as instructed, saddled the better of the two horses and started
to meet his father. He was very careful, leading the horse instead of
riding it. He met his father within three miles of home driving in a
cart with a neighbour. When they met, his father said, “You have killed
that beast. Why did you ride it so hard?” D. told his father, what was
the fact, that he had not ridden at all, but walked all the way from
home. “Look at the horse,” said his father, and the horse was pouring
of sweat and trembling. He turned home, but could not keep up with the
cart, and only managed to make it crawl back with difficulty. As soon
as it was got into the stall, it lay down and commenced kicking as if
in great pain. The horse was cured.
A man of whom we have already spoken as injuring animals with his Evil
Eye unintentionally, as a reciter tells us, “was at this time threshing
with my father. They had no threshing-mill, and did it all with flails.
One day my father had been out ploughing, and had the best mare ever
they had in the plough. Coming home, he had to pass the barn to go to
the stable, and McA., of the Evil Eye, came to the door and looked
after the mare. That was enough; before the mare reached the stable
door she began to shake and tremble, and it was with great difficulty
they managed to get her into the stall. They knew quite well what was
the matter.”
One other horse case. The reciter says: “One Sunday I was standing
there on the little hill at C., and I saw a man coming towards me from
Gartachara. I knew the man and waited till he passed. He went down to
C. I never thought of anything being wrong, but when I turned down the
way the man had come up, what did I find but a beautiful brown horse I
had at the time, lying on his belly in the water where the horses used
to take their drink. He could not stand on his feet, but I got help,
and we managed to get him into the kailyard, where he lay groaning.”
The horse recovered.
* * * * *
Fowls are said to be affected. A certain woman had been suspected of
hindering the butter from coming at a churning. The case was being
reported to a collector, when a bystander expressed doubts as to the
existence of an Evil Eye. The reciter then said that her own experience
had proved the truth of the accusation in the case of this individual.
“She was living for a year beside me, and all that year, although I had
most beautiful hens, they laid nothing but soft eggs. They would be
found in the mornings all scattered here and there on the floor. Indeed
I thought they dropped more eggs than was natural. It was only when
talking about the hens to another neighbour that it was suggested to me
that her Evil Eye was the cause. Then I knew that there would be no use
keeping hens while that woman was beside me, so I sold them all. I got
clear of her at the end of the year. I never said anything to her about
it, for I was afraid.”
The reciter of the following said that he was positively certain that
the facts were as stated, though it had not occurred to himself. “A
certain man once called at a house, and a beautiful brood of chickens
were going about on the kitchen floor. He was not right out when a
stool fell on them and smothered every one of them. From the kitchen he
went to the byre, and saw there a beautiful quey, which he professed
to admire very much. He was not long gone when the quey became unwell.”
The belief was firmly established that the chickens and the quey had
been _air an cronachadh_.
A firm believer gives the following:—“One time her mother had a brood
of ducks, and every time Mrs. Mac. came in she praised the ducks, but
meanwhile one after another was dying, until at last only one remained.
One day this one was in the kitchen when Mrs. Mac. came in, and she
praised it as usual, but when she was going away she tramped on it and
killed it. They were quite sure it was her Evil Eye that had been doing
the mischief.”
Not only live fowls but even eggs may be injured. B. S., a respectable
girl, a domestic servant, able to read and write, and quite reliable,
gives this as a sample. She had bought some eggs, and on bringing
them home a neighbour woman was in the house and looked at the eggs.
She went away, and afterwards some of the eggs were put on to boil.
Although left on the fire for the usual time, it was found they were
not boiled enough, and were returned to be further boiled. One of them
then cracked and sent the hot water in sparks in her face, and the
others were so broken that they were of no use. The people in the house
attributed the mishap to the woman who had been there when the eggs
were brought in.
* * * * *
On considering the whole of these symptoms, the principal thing that
strikes one to be urged in excuse of the faith that is in the reciters
is that what was wrong came on apparently suddenly, in some cases after
a visit from a person already suspected, but as often as not it was
the suddenness of the mishap which gave ground to the accusation of
some probably entirely innocent passer-by. Unless faith in the Evil
Eye were already present, there seems hardly ground for any person
with experience of cattle and their ailments to evolve a theory of
the existence of any such latent power in the individuals accused. So
little critical people became, that everything unexpected was referred
to the Evil Eye. As a Kintyre man said, “If anything went wrong with
the beef when the winter supply was cured, it was attributed to the
Evil Eye of some one or other.”
BENEFIT TO THE OWNER OF AN EVIL EYE
Though in many cases involuntary, it has been pointed out that some
believe that individuals knowing or professing to know that they have
an Evil Eye, from sheer devilry, exercise it to the injury of others,
though for no visible benefit to themselves.
A reliable and fairly educated woman, whose father began life as a
crofter and died what in that class of life is to be considered as a
rich man, a native of South Uist, relates:—There was a woman near her
father’s house believed to have a very bad eye, and to be able to do
mischief with it. Her aunt was very careful as much as possible to
keep out of this woman’s sight, and if she happened to come about at
churning time her aunt would put the churn so that the woman would
not see it. She would not sell a pound of butter to her for any
consideration. The curious thing was that although that woman could
take away the produce from other people’s cows, she seemed unable
to make any profit of it for herself. It was just her envious and
malicious nature that made her take it (the produce) from other people,
although it was not going to benefit herself. She was well known by all
the people in the district, and they all suspected her of the practice
of witchcraft. It was on account of this suspicion, selling butter to
her was objected to.
It is not necessary that the desire to possess something should be, as
it were, illegitimate or unreasonable to cause damage. Thus M. MacL.
was relating how a neighbour’s horse had died. “People say that it was
blighted by the Evil Eye. One of his sons had his eye _in_ it, for he
expected to get it for himself, but it took ill. At first they thought
it was going to get better, for it was eating its food in the evening,
but on the following morning this son went out to the stable when he
rose, and found it lying down. When it saw him it got up, gave itself a
shake, and fell down dead.”
There may be, however, indirect advantages from being credited by your
neighbours with having an Evil Eye. Mrs. MacE., a cottar, lived on the
farm of L. in one of the inner isles. She was believed to have had the
Evil Eye very strongly, and people would do almost anything rather
than offend her, so general was the impression that she could injure
any person if she wished to do so. The reciter served for some time on
a farm that marched with hers, and he says that when Mrs. MacE. came
their way she could have almost whatever favour she chose to ask, so
much were they afraid of her Evil Eye. He often heard his master remark
that he would not incur her displeasure for almost any consideration,
in case she might do him injury.
DISADVANTAGE TO THE OWNER OF AN EVIL EYE
If in an indirect way, as above pointed out, some benefits may accrue
to one credited with the Evil Eye, it is also said that they may
personally suffer serious loss. An old Islay woman who can read Gaelic
well, intelligent and full of information, says she knows for certain
there are people who possess the Evil Eye. She believes that it is not
a matter of choice with them, they cannot help it. Some even do harm
to their own cattle. R., who was at one time in Islay, could not go
into his own byre but one or other of the cattle would be ill after
it. This was so well known that a big dairymaid that he had engaged,
a north-country woman, protested against his coming over the byre
doorstep. It was because he had such an envious eye that he did so much
mischief.
Another reciter tells us of the same farmer that they kept him in the
house when his own cattle were being taken in from pasture, in case by
admiring them he might be the means of doing them an injury.
Another man in the same island, having got a first-prize animal, said
to the herd that he would go out to see it. The herd, fearing evil,
tried to dissuade him, but he persisted in going. Shortly afterwards
the animal died. His neighbours used to hurry their cattle out of his
sight when they saw him coming that way. It was said he could not help
it.
D. C. had the Evil Eye very powerfully. On one occasion he went to
examine some cattle he had newly bought, and when he looked at them
some of them fell down as if they would die. The herd ran across the
hill to a hamlet marching with D. C.’s farm and got a bottle of water
from a skilled person. When sprinkled on the cattle they at once
recovered.
A man in Bowmore went into his own byre one night when his cousin, who
lived with him, was milking his cow. He had a nice calf in the byre,
and he put his arms round its neck and began to praise it very much.
His cousin said to him it was not good to do that. The next morning the
calf was found dead, an occurrence credited to his Evil Eye.
A native of Mull avowed her firm belief in the Evil Eye, especially
quoting what her mother had told her of a large farmer where she had
been brought up who owned a number of cattle, and who had the Evil Eye.
“Every time that man went into his own byre the best of his cattle were
sure to be unwell afterwards, and they were often dying with him. He
could not help it. At last he got a dairymaid who, when she had become
acquainted with his peculiarities, would not allow him to go into the
byre at all, or near the cows. She turned him back when she would see
him coming.”
Exactly the same account of another farmer is given by a reciter in
Ross-shire in the parish of U——. She knew him very well by sight,
having often seen him at markets, and many times she had heard that he
had the Evil Eye, could not help it, and often hurt his own cattle
“by thinking too highly of them.” This information was corroborated
by another, D. McL., who also knew the man by name and sight, having
served on a farm in the same district, and he often heard of him
hurting his own cattle.
Of course the Evil Eye is as lively in Ireland as on this side of St.
George’s Channel; but the following experience of a native of county
Cork, an educated, reliable woman, the wife of a member of the lower
ranks of the Civil Service, while staying in Jura, is interesting.
Desiring a drink of water one day she called at a house, the mistress
of which met her at the door and invited her to come in to have a drink
of milk. When she went in she found a girl churning. After sitting for
a minute or two Mrs. M. would have left, but was urged to wait for
a little to taste the new butter off the churn on a scone. She sat
a while, and the girl continued at the churn, evidently working as
hard as she could, perspiring, and yet there were no signs of butter.
Mrs. M. innocently remarked, “Dear me, I never thought churning was
so difficult.” The woman and girl looked at each other, but without
speaking. The girl continued churning, until at last her mistress said,
“You may put the churn past, you will get no butter off it to-day.”
Shortly after Mrs. M. left without having tasted the butter, but
beyond that thinking nothing of the circumstances. About two months
afterwards, while walking in the same direction, she called at the
same house. When going in she noticed the girl again at the churn, but
making a rush with it to the other end of the house. Mrs. M. observed,
“Oh! Mrs. Mac., I hope I am not interfering with your work. I see J.
going out of the way.”
“She is churning, and is going away with the churn, for the last time
you were here she did not get one bit of butter off the churn.”
“I am sorry to hear that; I am sure I did nothing to keep the butter
from coming.”
“I do not know; she got none at any rate, that’s all I can say.”
Of two women living beside each other in Islay, one was credited with
the Evil Eye, and supposed to take away the dairy produce from her
neighbours. One year her neighbour for a whole summer was unable to get
a bit of butter from her churning. Her suspicion rested strongly on the
other. Her account of it was as follows: “I tried everything. They told
me to put a horseshoe in the churn, and I did that. Others told me to
put salt in it, and I did that, but neither did any good. I scrubbed
and scrubbed the churn and the milk dishes, but it was of no use. The
milk would only come up with a hissing sound. I was even afraid to use
the sour milk in baking scones, for I was sure there was something not
right about it. The pig got fat that year, for it was getting the most
of the milk. At last I consulted a neighbour, and she told me just
what I knew already, that it was a bad woman beside me that was taking
away the butter. She advised me not to bother any more, and to keep
churning, for the woman would stop her mischief by-and-by, and then
the butter would come back as it had gone. I did as she told me, and
through time the butter came. I was not speaking about it to any one,
for I did not want people to know I believed that she could do so much
harm.”
A well-educated small farmer’s wife, a woman of five-and-thirty, knew
a husband and wife who both possessed the Evil Eye. They were quite
aware themselves that they did, and could not help it. Passing through
a park where several colts were grazing, one of which took their fancy,
they expressed their admiration of it. That evening the colt took ill
and never recovered.
One would think that a little consideration would have made it clear
that with two in the same house equally unfortunate nothing they had
could have succeeded with them, and yet there was no account of this
couple being in worse circumstances than their neighbours.
It certainly is a curious development, the belief already alluded
to of the injurious action of the Evil Eye of the farmer on his own
stock. “W. C. was on intimate terms with a neighbouring farmer, whom he
visited frequently. It was observed that if at any time he (the farmer)
praised an animal, something for certain happened to it afterwards. On
one occasion he talked admiringly of the poultry, and shortly after all
of them died.”
Another reciter said: “In our own time a farmer required to be kept
from going among his own cattle, lest by looking on them they should be
injured.” These cases respectively were in Islay and Harris.
Judging from personal experience of an old friend addicted to
prophesying on his first appearance in the morning the sort of
weather for the day, the result being, as we of a younger generation
all believed, almost invariably wrong, it seems probable that these
stories have arisen in connection with men who talked freely, giving
opinions based upon hurried observation. Where silence would have
left no ground for animadversion the wordy man had his sayings
remembered against him, especially when he was wrong, and the good
beasts subsequently turned out failures, as the fine days foretold were
generally wet.
CONSEQUENCE OF DIRECT PRAISE
The mere expression of admiration should be avoided by those who wish
to escape the accusation of the Evil Eye. A youngish woman says, “You
have seen my cousin J.’s third boy. He was the finest and nicest
looking of all the children. When six months old he was a very pretty
child. One day a woman came into the house; the baby was on his
mother’s arm, and the visitor began to praise the child, and praised
it very much. She was hardly away when a man came, and he began to
praise the child as the woman had done. After he went away like a shot
the baby took ill. They did not know what was the matter with him, or
what to do, for he was growing worse. He continued in that way for some
days. At last granny said she was sure he had been _air a chronachadh_,
and advised the mother to consult a woman who was supposed to have
knowledge to cure such cases. J. was not willing to go at first, but
granny insisted that it would do no harm at any rate to go and speak
to the woman. She went, but did not tell anybody at the time, for of
course they would be speaking about it. As soon as she told the woman
why she had come, the woman told her that the child had been injured by
the Evil Eye, and she described exactly the man and woman who had done
the harm, although my cousin had not mentioned man or woman to her. Was
it not wonderful how she knew the very ones that had done it?” She
cured the child. The above happened in one of the islands.
The following is from Ross-shire (Tarbat): “One of my sisters was
blighted by a woman who lived beside them. She was well known for her
uncanny ways. The way the thing happened was this: The little girl was
tied on an elder sister’s back, and they were sent out for a walk. They
had not gone far when the woman in question came forward, and putting
the shawl back from the child’s face said, ‘What a pretty little girl!
which of them is this?’ When the children returned their mother found
that the young one was very ill, and on questioning the elder girl,
she said that they had met this woman and repeated what she had said.
Mother at once suspected what was the matter, sent for the woman, and
charged her with having hurt her child. She protested that she had not
done the child any injury, but the elder girl spoke up and said, ‘Yes,
you looked at her and said she was pretty, and did not bless her.’ The
woman admitted this, and that if she had done any harm to the child she
was sorry for it, but it could be sorted if wrong had been done. She
operated a charm, and the child was soon as brisk as ever.”
A domestic servant relates that a woman who lived in Kil C. had a
first-rate cow that was giving a large quantity of milk. One evening
when she was milking another woman came into the byre and began
praising the cow, and expressing her amazement at the quantity of milk
she gave. No more was thought of this, till at next milking the cow did
not give so much, and continued to get worse. It became evident that
she had been injured by the person who had praised her so much.
A Campbeltown man says, “I am sure I do not know about these things,
for I have never seen anything of it myself, but I mind my neighbour
over there, D. M., saying to me one day not long ago, that a woman was
going past some time before that, and she began to praise one of his
cows, saying what a grand udder she had and such fine teats. No doubt
the cow was good, he said, and a fine milker, but after that day her
milk went from her.”
A married woman of about forty-five “believes firmly in the existence
of the Evil Eye,” and relates as a proof: Mrs. McD., a neighbour,
told her lately that she was churning. The butter was actually on the
churn when Mrs. B. came in, and looking into the churn began to praise
the stuff, and said how well off she was to be getting such beautiful
butter. She just stayed a minute or two and then went away. After she
was gone the butter scattered on the churn, and do what she would she
could not get it to gather again. All she could get was froth, and it
continued that way with her for several churnings.
A girl of twenty-four, a domestic servant, a crofter’s daughter with
a good School Board education, said, “_Cronachadh_ is still in it. My
mother was churning not long ago at all, and that woman Mrs. C. came
in, and looking into the churn said, ‘Oh! what a lot of butter!’ Well,
the butter went off, and though my mother churned and churned she did
not get a bit of that churning, nor for a churning or two after that.
We believed that the butter had been taken away.”
A woman who admits that she is a firm believer in the Evil Eye, tells
of the following case within her own knowledge. Two women were living
beside each other, and she knew them both personally. Each had a pig,
and they were striving whose pig should be fattest. One of them had a
cow, the other had not. The one that had the cow was giving her pig
lots of milk. It was growing fast and surpassing the other. One day
the neighbour came in, and while they were looking at it and saying
how well it was thriving, she remarked, “_Cha’n iongantach a mhuc
agadsa bhi cho math on is e sin an seorsa biadh tha thu toirt dith._”
(“No wonder your pig is so good, since that is the kind of food you
are giving to her.”) After a little while the woman left, but was not
long gone when the pig took ill, and when it was apparently getting
no better they sent to Gortan-na-lag for one living there believed to
have knowledge. When he came and saw the pig he said they had been too
late in sending for him, and told them at once that it had been _air a
cronachadh_, and he showed them who had done the mischief.
A _cailleach_, notorious as having the Evil Eye, was calling in the
house of an acquaintance of the reciter, and when she was leaving she
praised a fine hen that was in the yard. It was one of her best hens,
and the woman praised it very much. That very day what happened but
this hen was taken in dead, and the woman declared she could never get
out of her mind that it had been a case of Evil Eye blight.
A LOOK DOES IT
The belief in an Evil Eye having arisen, it is perfectly clear that
a mere look, quite unaccompanied by any other action, would soon be
considered a quite sufficient cause of the mischief such an eye would
occasion. A gamekeeper’s wife, a “canty body,” as she is described,
told how some lads on a Sunday, who had watched a mare and foal grazing
for some time, were credited with damaging the foal, because shortly
after they left it lay kicking on the ground and would not suck.
A horse going up the main street of Bowmore in Islay was looked at by
a man passing. A few minutes after it fell and could not rise, till
a woman, C. McI., came and did “something to it.” The horse got all
right, and the woman consulted maintained that it was a case of Evil
Eye.
A man now resident in Glasgow was visiting some friends on a farm in
one of the inner islands, and a man riding past was observed looking
rather attentively at the cows in a field beside the road. He was
supposed to have paid particular attention to a cow which, shortly
after he had passed, was noticed to be unwell. It was treated as a case
of the Evil Eye, and recovered.
These cases occurred with persons not notorious. The following is one
in which the woman who affected the cattle was generally believed to
have the Evil Eye. The reciter’s father was driving four cows from
the park one evening, and when passing this woman’s house she stood
at the door looking at the cows. In a moment off they went as hard as
they could run. One of them, a handsome beast that had been bought
from a farmer in Gartbreac, when they got them into the byre, was tied
to a heavy kitchen grate which was there, but she ran out of the byre
with the grate hanging to her neck, and climbed up a peat stack nearly
reaching the top of it. From that day they never got any further good
of that cow, and were decidedly of opinion that she had been bewitched
by the woman.
Not the cattle alone but milk also is influenced by a mere look. We
give an instance in the words of the narrator:—
“_Bha ’n toradh air a thoirt uam fein an uiridh. Mhaistir sinn gus
an robh Raonull agus Donull agus mi fein a ruith leis an fhallus ach
ged a leanamaid air fathast cha ’n fhaigheamaid mir ime. ’S an anns
an t-sabhal bhios sinn a cruinneachadh a bhainne agus thainig duine
’n rathad latha aig nach eil bo da chuid fein agus dh’amhairc e air a
bhainne ’san t-sabhal: bha sinn a’ deanadh dhe gum b’esan a rinn an
cron. Bha na cairdean gam’ chomhairleachadh gun a bhi leigeil le daoine
bhi faicinn a’bhainne ach mi bhi cuimhnicheadh nach eil na h-uile duine
cosmhuil rium fein. Well, o’n am sin, tha sinn a toirt fanear nach
fhaigh neach sam bith cothrom air dol far am bheil am bainne agus tha
sinn a faotainn a nis urrad ime’s bu chor air na h-uile maistreadh._”
(“The butter was taken from myself last year. We churned until Ronald
and Donald and myself were running with sweat, but although we had
continued at it till now we could not get a bit of butter. It is in
the barn that we gather the milk, and a man who has not got a cow of
his own came the way one day and he looked on the milk in the barn, and
we were making out that it was he who had done the harm. The friends
were advising me not to be allowing people to see the milk, but that I
should remember that every person is not like myself. Well, from that
time we are taking care that nobody will get an opportunity to go where
the milk is, and now we are getting as much butter as we ought to get
on every churning.”)
The Isle of Man, from a Gaelic point of view, may be considered
as likely to be much the same as the islands of Argyll, and a
lighthouse-keeper, stationed there for some time, tells us he heard a
good deal about the Evil Eye, and that belief in it is pretty common.
“If a person is seen to look closely at a cow when passing her he is at
once suspected, and is likely to be requested by the owner of the beast
to take certain steps to prevent injurious consequences.”
As we have seen above, the very natural consequence of this belief in a
look doing injury leads to the hiding of things liable to harm.
A somewhat amusing story of the effects of a look is from Arran.
“One time M. K. and myself were at a meeting, and there was an old
bachelor there who kept looking at us all the time. We noticed it, but
did not think much about it until after we went home, but when we got
home both of us began to yawn and rift, and could not stop it. We were
quite sure that we had been hurt by the ‘eye’ of the old fellow. M. K.
made a drink of salt and water for us, and we took it and that cured
us.”
Eructation in Arran seems to have a special connection with the Evil
Eye and witchcraft. Another reciter remembers quite well a reputed
witch going into her mother’s house, and not very long after she left
her younger sister, a child at the time, became unwell. Her mother at
once suspected that the fault lay with the woman who had left, so she
sent after her and brought her back. The reputed witch “mixed salt and
water, drank it herself, rifted fearfully, and in a little while the
child got quite well.”
The use of salt as a “preservative” is illustrated in the case of an
Arran woman who was a strong believer in and much afraid of the effects
of the Evil Eye. She had one cow, and it gave her much discomfort when
she saw the cow grazing near the roadside, fearing that some passer-by
might “put his eye in her.” To keep the milk right, if she gave any to
be carried away, or even “to be drunk on the premises,” she invariably
put salt in it, and that sometimes to excess. The reciter said, “For a
while we were getting milk from her for a man staying with us who was
seriously annoyed when the milk was more than ordinarily salt, giving
vent to his discontent saying, ‘Why the deuce does she not let us put
saut in oor ain milk?’”
AVOIDING THE LOOK
The following recited by a Mull woman is interesting as showing that
smiths and Druids, or their modern representatives, have still some
affinity. The reciter told how her mother’s cow had taken suddenly ill
as her brother Sandy was starting for the smithy. When he arrived there
he mentioned the circumstance to the smith. “‘And did your mother no
send any message to me?’ said the smith. Sandy said, ‘No, she had sent
no message.’ ‘Well, I think your mother might ken that anything that
I could do, I would do for her, and she might have sent for me.’ My
brother suggested that he had better come away down to see her, so the
smith came down and found my mother very vexed about the cow. He said,
‘The cow is bad enough, but it might have been one of the family, for
the one that could do this could do the other thing just as well, but
we’ll see what can be done.’ Having taken certain steps, he advised
her also not to allow any one to see the cow on any account, for three
would soon pass, he said, and if she would allow them in to see the
cow, the cow would be gone. The three were strong, and she would need
to use all her strength to keep them out. He told her that was all he
could do just then, but that she must send Sandy over twice to him for
a bottle. When he went away she told the children not to tell any one
where she was, and she went to the byre to watch the cow. Having got
tubs she filled them with stones and placed them against the byre door
with spades and everything she could think of to keep the door from
being opened. She was not long there when a man passed with a horse and
a dog. He came to the kitchen door and asked the children where their
mother was, but they did not tell him. He then came to the byre door,
lifted the sneck, and when it did not yield tried to force it open with
all his might, saying, ‘_A Cheit nic Iain, am bheil thu ann sud?_’
(‘Kate, John’s daughter, are you there?’) My mother knew his voice as
that of a near neighbour, and answered: ‘_Tha Iain, tha a’ mhart gu
bochd agus tha i na laidh cul an doruis ’s cha ’n urrainn dhuit tighinn
a steach._’ (‘Yes, John, the cow is unwell, and she is lying behind
the door and you cannot get in.’) My mother had to tell the lie, or he
would force the door open. The man went away, and these were the three
that the smith had said would come the way—the man and the horse and
the dog. And it was that man that had done the harm to the cow, but it
was found out in time and the cow got better, but it was that very year
my two brothers died, and nobody knows whether he had anything to do
with their death or no.”
We include this under Evil Eye, because there is no statement of any
accusation of witchcraft against the “man,” or for the matter of that
“of the horse or the dog.”
In another case, in which a certain George T., by his devices, cured a
cow of which he had said it was “bitten, wounded” (_teum_), he asked
if there had been a man with a black head praising the cow. When he
was told that they had no knowledge of such a thing, “Well,” said he,
“it is a man with a black head that has injured your cow with the Evil
Eye, but be under no anxiety, the cow is all right now.” He asked my
mother if she had shown to any person the whole of the butter that came
off the churn. My mother said that she was not showing (was not in the
custom of showing) the butter to any one. “That is right, Flora. For
all you have ever seen, although you would not keep but as much as the
size of an egg, be sure that you do not let the whole of the butter be
seen by anybody.”
An Islay farmer’s daughter remembers a certain woman who was supposed
to possess an Evil Eye, and who paid them occasional visits. So
terrified were they lest she should interfere with their butter, that
whenever they saw her coming while they were churning, they would throw
a cloth over the churn and put it out of sight until the woman left.
From Stratherrick, Ross-shire, a reciter said, “When she heard so much
talk about cattle being injured by the Evil Eye, and the substance
taken away, she became afraid of this, and especially when churning
disliked anybody to come where the churn was, so much so that she used
to do the churning in an out-of-the-way corner of the house.”
It is evidently not so easy to protect a horse or a cow from a glance
of an Evil Eye, but a lady tells how that, visiting at a farmhouse, she
saw the old cook, who had been long in the farmer’s service, running
in great excitement to gather in a brood of young ducklings that
were running about the yard. Being a frequent visitor and intimately
acquainted with the cook, she asked her what was wrong, and why she
was hurrying the ducklings at that hour of the day. “Oh,” said the
cook, “Mr. A. is coming up the road, and last time he was here I had a
beautiful brood of ducklings, and his eye took them and every one of
them died, so I am putting these out of sight in case he should look at
them.”
According to one authority the influence of an Evil Eye does not cease
at once with the absence of the possessor. “W. G. lived for some time
on a certain farm; she was supposed to be possessed of the Evil Eye,
and on one occasion it was particularly noticed that certain animals
she had praised died. When removed from the farm, the farmer met with a
succession of misfortunes which were credited to W. G.”
CONVERSION TO BELIEF IN EVIL EYE
We have already seen a case, in which a woman on her own showing
demonstrates that it was the influence of others which caused her to
believe in the power of the Evil Eye; but conviction has in some cases
been carried to the minds of men as a result of experience. A man
taking a valuable horse from the west coast of Kintyre to Tarbert was,
after leaving Musadale, offered a considerable sum for it. He said he
would not, could not sell the beast, and though the offer was raised to
sixty pounds, he still refused and went on his way. Before he reached
Tayinloan the horse fell dead on the road. The owner of the horse,
considered to be a religious man, after this incident could not be
shaken in his belief in the Evil Eye.
In another case, a woman having got from her mother a hen, a first-rate
layer, an acquaintance came in and the conversation turned upon the
excellence of the bird, frankly acknowledged by the owner, who added
her own quota of praise. The visitor was no time gone when the hen
“clapped her wings, fell down, and died.” Mrs. G. declared that it has
been her firm belief ever since that it was a case of _cronachadh_.
GIVING AWAY MILK DANGEROUS
All have heard of the belief in the power of witches to acquire
for themselves, among other things, the milk and butter of their
neighbours. This apparently requires some deliberate act of magic,
“drawing the tether,” as they say in the north of Ireland, or even
milking the pot chain, as reported in the Highlands. In only one case,
as reported, was this danger ascribed to the owner of an Evil Eye, and
the writer is still of opinion that his lady friend, who said, “If
an evil-disposed person who possesses an Evil Eye gets a little milk
from another, he or she will be able to operate through that to injure
all the milk that remains, and even the cows,” had not differentiated
in her own mind the “Evil Eye” from “witchcraft.” We will repeat the
incident.
A suspected woman, living near, one time asked her servant if she
could get a little milk daily, her own cow giving none at the time.
The servant girl told the lady that the woman was asking milk, and
then added, “I will not give it her.” Her mistress said, “Oh, you may
give it; she needs it, and you can spare it quite well.” The girl said
it was not that, but showed that she was afraid of the woman getting
what she asked, and thus taking their milk from them and perhaps
injuring the cow. Her mistress said there was no fear of that, and the
girl yielded, adding, “I know what I’ll do.” What she did was to put
pinches of salt and of sugar in the milk the woman was to get that
evening, and to take the first mouthful (_bolgam_) of it herself. This,
according to prevalent ideas in the district, would hinder the receiver
of the milk having any power to do harm for the remainder of that
season. This performance seems a common precaution in cases where milk
is given to suspected persons.
SCIENCE VERSUS EOLAS
It will be easily understood that to a believer in the Evil Eye mere
modern science, as met with in daily life, in doctors, and veterinary
surgeons, is of small account. A well-educated lady, a friend of the
writer, advised a neighbour whose cow was ill to send for the vet. The
answer was: “_Cha’n eil vet a chum feum sam bith, oir ’san a tha bho
air a cronachadh. ’S e rud is fearr eolas fhaotainn air a son._” (“A
vet is no use whatever, because the cow is _air a cronachadh_; the best
thing is to get _eolas_ for it.)”
In that case they didn’t even send for the “vet.” In the following
instance a certain preliminary confidence seems to have been shown
in medical men. The reciter gives this as a very clear case of Evil
Eye. A child had fallen sick; two doctors were attending it, but it
was getting worse. The parents, having done all that they could think
of, requested the aid of a woman who was known to deal with _eolas a
chronachaidh_. The woman went to see the child, and what she did the
reciter did not know, but, “sure enough, she soon cured the child and
told its parents that it had been _air a cronachadh_.” This may have
been “sure enough” for those immediately interested, others may be
permitted to doubt.
In these cases common sense has generally the minister on its side.
In a case already quoted, in which the mother’s milk was supposed
to have been turned into water in her system by the Tiree woman, her
mother was sent for. This old lady’s granddaughter tells us, “When my
grandmother came she suggested that a decent man who was living near
them, who was used to work with _eolas_ where people or beasts had been
_air an cronachadh_, should be called in, but she said they would need
to go to him secretly, for he had promised the minister that he would
not make any more _eolas_. My father and mother agreed, but my mother
requested my grandmother to go to the man, because she did not know how
to go about it. My grandmother went and spoke to the man’s wife first.
The wife said, ‘I am sure he will do what he can for John (the child’s
father), but he has promised the minister that he would not make any
more of that; but come and speak to him yourself.’ My grandmother
spoke to the man, who said that he had promised to the minister that
he would not do any more of these things. He could not go to her,
but she might come back to him again the following day. This was a
Wednesday, and there were only two days of the week on which he could
make _eolas_—these were Thursdays and Sundays. When she went back the
following day, he had not got his cure ready yet, he said, but would
have it on Sunday. He told her that her daughter would not have so much
milk as she had at first, but would have enough to bring up the child.
On Sunday he had the thing ready as he had promised, and he made it
twice for her afterwards. That is, he made it three times. He correctly
described the whole appearance of the woman who had taken the milk
away, although nobody had ever mentioned about the Tiree _cailleach_
to him. My mother had plenty of milk after that.”
We can scarcely wonder at the minister objecting to this magical
practitioner when we consider the nature and the time of his
performance. An old Islay man says that when he was a young man he
was very intimate with a woman who had knowledge of the curing of
toothache (_eolas deide_). She was a relative of his own, and many
a time she offered to teach him the words she used. She could teach
them to a male, not to a female. He was young at the time, and did not
like to learn them, for some people were saying that it was a sort of
witchcraft (_buideachas_), but it was not that, for the words were all
good words. They were taught by the Saviour, who taught them first to
His mother. Our reciter went on to say that this toothache cure is of
no use, and need not be tried, in any case beyond a first or second
attack. It is hard to make it succeed even in the case of a second
attack, and beyond that it can have no effect whatever. Neither will it
do in a case where the sufferer has his tooth taken out.
These latter confessions were doubtless memories of the instructions
of the teacher. Our old friend did not repeat the formula, but it has
appeared elsewhere.[6]
The “some” who said that _eolas_ was a sort of witchcraft seem
undoubtedly to be right, unless, of course, we admit that their
action is based on a scientific understanding. The Evil Eye itself is
unconscious, and therefore a natural phenomenon like measles or hay
fever, but its cure is a good deal like that employed for hay fever in
many cases, more empirical than scientific.
[6] “Gaelic Incantations, with Translations,” W. Mackenzie, p. 55 _et
seq._
We are lucky in being able to give in his own words medical science as
expounded by a Gaelic-speaking tailor, a simple-minded man of about
seven-and-thirty, a man who can read and can work, but with no special
affection for either. He belongs to one of the inner islands:—
“_Tha Eolas nathrach ann, agus tha Eolas deide ann. Tha Eolas sul,
agus Eolas greim, agus Eolas chronachaidh ann. Eolas gach ni, ’na aite
fein. Ma lotar neach le nathair, faigheadh e Eolas nathrach: agus
’nuair bhios an deide air duine faigheadh e Eolas deide; agus mar sin
leis gach ni eile. Is aithne dhomh fhein da neo tri, a fhuair leigheas
airson lot nathrach. Tha na facail th’ aca airson Eolais greim air an
toirt as an Tiomnadh nuadh, pios an so, agus pios an sin; agus iad sin
air an sgriobhadh air paipear, agus am paipear sin air fhuaigheal air
an taobh a steach de chot’ an duine air an robh an greim. Cuiridh so an
greim air falbh. B’aithne dhomh fhein duine a dh’ fheuch so, agus rinn
e feum dha. Ach feumaidh duine bhi cinnteach gum bu na facail ceart
aige. Agus tha na facail airson eolas deide air an cuir air paiper,
agus am paiper air fhuaigheal an taobh a stigh de aodach duin’ air a
cheart doigh. Ach ma tha na fiaclan air falbh, cha dean e math sam
bith, ach ma tha iad slan fathast, ni e feum, agus cha tig an deide air
ais tuille._
”_Chuala mi iomadh uair na facail th’ aca airson Eolas sul; ach
bheir mi dhuibh na chrunas an t-iomlan—ni a thug Mathair da Mac gus
olc a chumail air falbh, bho’n bhainne agus bho’n chuinneag. So na
briatharan:—_
‘_’Nuair a ni thu toiseachadh.
Cuir dorlach math salainn ann.
Cuir bun ’us barr an neonain ann.
Cuir mionach roin, ’us gearr fheidh ann.
Buain slat de’n chaoran a nall o aodann Eallasaid.
Snathain dearg le snuim teann
Air a chuir mu cheann a’ chratachan.
’S ged a thigeadh buidseach Hendry.
Cheannsaicheadh am balach i._’
_Tha sibh a faicinn, bha ’m buidseach Hendry anns a Bhioball. B’ ise’
m buidseach bu laidire bha beo riomh; ach nam faigheadh neach sambith
na nithe sin uile, agus an cuir gu feum, cha b’ urrainn dhise neo
do bhuidseach sam bith eile a chron a dheanadh. Chunnaic mi fein an
snathain dearg air clann, gus olc a chumail bhuapa._”
(“There is serpent knowledge (serpent bite) and toothache knowledge.
There is eye knowledge and stitch (gripes) knowledge and hurt knowledge
(by Evil Eye or Witchcraft). Knowledge of each thing in its own place.
If any person is wounded by a serpent let him get serpent knowledge,
and when a man has toothache let him get toothache knowledge, and so
with every other thing. I myself know two or three who got a cure for
serpent bites. The words they have for curing stitch (gripes) are taken
from the New Testament, a bit here and a bit there, and these written
upon paper, and that paper sewn in the inside of the coat of the person
who had the stitch. This will put the stitch away. I knew a man that
tried this, and it was of use to him. But one must be sure that he has
got the right words. And the words for toothache knowledge are put on
paper, and the paper sewn inside a person’s clothes in the same manner.
But if the teeth are gone it will do no good, but if they are still
whole it will do good, and the toothache will not return any more.
“I have often heard the words they have for eye knowledge, but I will
give you what crowns the whole, the thing a Mother gave to her Son to
keep evil away from the milk and from the churn. Here are the words:—
‘When you make a beginning
Put a good handful of salt in it.
Put root and flower of the daisy in it.
Put the entrails of a seal and a hare in it.
Cut a wand of rowan over from the face of Ellasaid.
A red thread with a tight knot
Put on the head of the churn staff.
And should the witch Hendry (of Endor) come.
The boy would conquer her.’
“You see the witch Hendry was in the Bible. She was the strongest witch
that ever lived, but if any person would get all these things and use
them, she, or any other witch, could not do him injury. I have myself
seen the red thread on children to keep evil from them.”)
The above is undoubtedly sheer witchcraft, white witchcraft, if you
like. It is not then surprising that the evidence is not in favour of
these _eolas_ professors being held in much social esteem. A native
of Harris, talking of one of them, said: “Notwithstanding the wide
reputation the man had, and the many who went to seek advice, he was
not held in high esteem, and this part of his occupation was not
admired although so many took advantage of his services.” The reciter
himself spoke of him as _bodach granda_ (nasty old man).
A Gaelic-speaking minister gave the following information. It refers to
Arran. He knew several old women who professed _eolas a chronachaidh_,
but he did not hold a high opinion of them. One case, however, he
remembers especially in this connection. A lad was taken suddenly ill,
supposed to be a case of _cronachadh_. An old woman, who was respected
in the district, came to see him, and going above him in the bed, made
motions with her hands over him and on her own person, repeating an
incantation of some length at the same time. The lad recovered. The
reciter admits the fact, but does not incline to accept the _eolas_
performance as having caused the recovery.
A reciter in Mull was telling before her mother of the operations of a
_cailleach_ of this sort, when the mother added, she herself had spoken
with the woman, she was a decent body, and assured her that there was
nothing whatever wrong in what she did for the cure of cattle when hurt
by the Evil Eye. The words used were good, and she repeated them, but
she added that a great deal depended upon the person who applied for
_eolas_, and that, unless such a person believed that a cure would be
effectual, there was little use in what she herself could do, and no
use at all in the contents of the bottle which she supplied. It might
just as well be thrown out on the roadside.
HURTER AND HEALER
A farmer’s wife, an old woman, but smart and intelligent, and showing
no failure of memory, expressed the following opinion:—
The power to do injury to beast or person, and the power to cure such
an injury appeared to have been given to different classes of people.
Those who did injury were supposed to be malevolent, and of course held
in bad repute, while the curers were looked upon as for the good of
people and to be respected. What the one did was called _cronachadh_,
and what the other did _beannachadh_ (blessing).
To another, an Islay lady, the remark was made that _cronachadh_ was a
strange thing. In answer she said: “Yes, but _beannachadh_ was quite
as strange.” “What is that?” “_Fiosrachadh or eolas._” (Knowledge the
result of inquiry, and knowledge apparently arrived at in any way, say
by revelation.)
That is one side of the picture. We see the other in the following:—
“There was a lad at service at one time with Malcolm here beside us. He
was one of the T’s. He was in the habit of coming to this house, and
my father said to myself, I should not have too much to do with him,
for that there was something bad in him. It was maintained that his
father had _eolas_, and people would be going to him when a beast or
person was unwell, but those that have the one thing, the knowledge
of healing, it is usual for them to have the other thing, knowledge to
cause injury also.” The reciter believed that this lad deliberately
did them an injury, and after recounting the particulars said, “My
father advised us not to show any anger to the lad for fear he might do
something worse to us, if he were to know that we were angry. ‘That is
the way the like of these people have. If they do harm to a person and
he shows anger they will do him more harm.’”
A domestic servant, speaking of an old woman that she knew very well,
said: “She was known as Mairi Siath (Mary of sprains?) and was looked
upon as one who had a great deal of secret power by which she could do
both harm and good. People were afraid to offend her, and would give
her almost anything she would ask rather than offend her.” The said
Mary, having been consulted about unsuccessful churning, “brought back
the butter every bit that should have been on the churn from the time
it had been taken away, and there was so much that the mistress was
afraid to use it in the house, for she said it could not have come in a
right way. She gave it away, and after that they always got butter on
the churn.”
There is no doubt that the girl who repeated this believed what she
was telling as of her own knowledge. The only explanation that occurs
to one is that the milk, having been for some reason poor for a time
from bad feeding or some such thing, the food having become better and
richer, the milk was thereby improved to such an extent as to give the
appearance, especially in comparison with the small yield before, of a
somewhat supernatural supply.
The same belief in the power of hurting and healing being united in one
person has been already mentioned in connection with an Arran shepherd
on page 19.
One other case as reported was that of an Islay farmer who, on one
occasion riding along the road, passed a man ploughing with a pair of
horses. Shortly thereafter the horses lay down, having become to all
appearance unwell. A messenger was immediately despatched after the
farmer, who, hearing what had happened, returned, and at any rate got
the credit of curing the animals.
TRANSMISSION OF EOLAS
It has already been mentioned how a woman who possessed a toothache
cure was willing to impart the necessary formula (incantation) to a
“relative” who was a male, but could not do it to a female. That case
was in Islay.
The following information from Skye shows the belief that _eolas_ is
imparted in the same way and under like circumstances there. This
Skye woman was believed to have the Evil Eye, and to have the power
of taking away the produce (_an toradh_) from other’s cows. When she
was on her deathbed, and when she came very near her end, she said to
those about her that she was anxious to see her husband. He happened at
that particular time to be out looking after something, and they sent
for him, but all the time till he came in she kept crying for him, and
urging that she wished to see him. When he came in she requested that
all the others should withdraw, and when they had done so she said
to her husband to shut the door that there might be nobody there but
themselves alone. What took place between them there nobody ever knew,
but one thing people firmly believed, that was that she gave the skill
that she had to her husband, for after that he could take away the
_toradh_ from other people’s cows, and did take it away too.
However, authorities do not always agree as to changing the sex in the
transmission of this magic.
A native of Harris, a woman of about forty, has no English, and can
neither read nor write. When asked as to her experiences, and if she
had ever seen a thread tied round a child’s neck to preserve it from
the effects of the Evil Eye, she said: “I did see it; wasn’t there one
on my own child? and that was for A. McE.‘s Evil Eye. She has an Evil
Eye (_Droch shuil_), and one day she came into the house and began to
praise the child greatly. She was only a short time gone when the child
began to vomit. ‘O Kate,’ said I to my sister, ‘my child is _air a
cronachadh_ with the Evil Eye of that woman.’ ‘If that is all that is
wrong, we won’t be long putting it right,’ said Kate, and she took a
red thread, and when she had said the word, she tied the string on the
child’s neck, and there was no time till it was quite well.” She was
asked whether Kate had the words, and she replied, “Oh yes, my mother
had them and she taught them to Kate.”
The general trend of belief is that the hereditary transmission of
_eolas_ is from father to daughter, and from mother to son. A reciter
said: “A woman still lives in the neighbourhood, said to have obtained
her _eolas_ secret from her father. She is often requisitioned, and her
skill to cure fully believed in.”
Another said: “You know A. McE. His mother had _eolas a chronachaidh_,
and he said that she left the secret with him before she died.” These
were “unprovoked” statements of the reciters, and in the latter case
the interest of the story was in pointing out the method taken to
determine whose Evil Eye had affected a sick horse. The owner was told
to watch the colour of the hair of the first woman that passed the
house, which would be the same as that of the person wanted. The result
was given in the following terms, “Now she is blaming Mrs. MacD.”
In all these cases we see that the _eolas_ was kept in the family, or
at least believed to be so. The deathbed scene of the wife and husband
may be a most uncharitable suggestion of heathenism, but the recital
was made in good faith.
The witch doctor sometimes apparently requires assistance. A horse
being taken ill while ploughing, supposed to be hurt by the Evil
Eye, the farmer refused to have anything to do with these irregular
practices. The horse died. Not long after a second took ill, and as the
ploughman, the reciter, said, “We were all about it saying it could be
cured.” At last the master said if there was any person who could do
it they might try it, it would do no harm at any rate. There was a man
there that had _eolas_, and he took another man out with him, and they
made the _eolas_ outside. They did nothing to the horse, but while they
were out making the _eolas_ the horse got up, shook itself, and was
better at once.
In Arran, as elsewhere, _cronachadh_ seems to be regarded as
hereditary. One reciter said of a man at Loch Ranza that it did not
matter what he would look at, his look would _cronach_ it. A lad from
another part of the island went to ask a daughter of this man to marry
him, and when the nearest neighbour heard of his courtship she became
exceedingly angry, and protested against any of that man’s daughters
being brought there “to _cronaich_ everything about the place.”
FORMS OF INCANTATION
For specimens of these incantations the reader should refer to “Gaelic
Incantations, with Translations,” W. Mackenzie, Inverness, 1895; and
to “Carmina Gadelica,” A. Carmichael, Edinburgh, 1900. Above we have
already given one as recited, but they are hard to get, there being
many reasons why the user is shy of repeating them. One thing is
certain, that a complete performance of any of these rites requires the
repetition of “words,” as they say, of some sort. In far the majority
of cases, the words are what are called “good” words, having a sanction
of Christianity about them, being generally invocations of the Trinity
and of Mary. As a native of Morven said, describing a cure in which
water is used at a certain stage, “The person making the _eolas_ kept
saying good words.” Another woman from Mull, describing a cure done by
herself, said: “I remember a child I cured myself with good words that
I have. It was very ill, and nearly gone when I took it and placed it
in my bosom and cured it. I said the words over it, but after curing
it I was very much exhausted until I got a cup of tea, and then I
felt myself getting better.” When requested to repeat the words, she
affirmed that they were all good words, and that it was in the name
of the Trinity she did it; but she went over the words in such a low
voice, and with so indistinct a pronunciation and so fast, that the
collector found it quite impossible to follow.
The writer was mentioning these circumstances to a lady visiting
him who gave the following example, which aptly illustrates how the
performance of some ceremony can form a foundation for belief in their
beneficial activity. Her sister’s child of three weeks old was lying
exceedingly ill and two medical men were in attendance, one having been
called in as a consultant.
They told my visitor themselves that the child could not live. The
family are Scotch, but this occurred in the neighbourhood of London.
The monthly nurse suggested and urged baptism. The clergyman was sent
for, and while going through the ceremony the child, who had been
lying motionless, made some slight movement. Within two days that
child had recovered, and is at the time of writing this as many years
old as it was then weeks. The consultant subsequently expressed his
dissatisfaction with the infant for having belied his prognosis.
In a case from Mull a servant, having been sent for a means of cure to
a woman supposed to have skill, she found her in bed. She sat up, took
the bottle containing water which had been sent for, put the mouth of
it to her own mouth, and began to say some words over it. The words
were spoken in a low tone, but so far as was recognised they were all
“good” words.
In the case of a sick horse already quoted, the man who saw it went at
once for G. T., then herding in the neighbourhood. The description of
the interview is as follows: “When I reached him he said, ‘Peter, you
need not tell me your business here.’ I said, ‘No.’ We went together to
a little stream, and he said that I might now tell him what had brought
me. When I told him, he asked me if I had tobacco. They do nothing
without pay; not money, but tobacco and things like that. I knew he
would ask for it, and I had it with me, and when I gave it him he asked
if I had a bottle. I had a good notion of every turn he had, and so had
taken a bottle with me, and when I gave it to him he turned his back
to me and began lifting the water and saying the words. There was not
a bad word in all he said, no, no. He said to me when he gave me the
bottle and told me how to use it, ‘Your horse will be all right, Peter,
as soon as you use it.’” His statement came true.
Things are not, however, always reported as of such an innocent
and Christian character. A collector happened to be present at a
conversation between two believers in the Evil Eye. One of them said,
“Those who are working at such as that, applying _eolas_, are not
helped but by the ‘bad one,’ for if it were that they were doing good
they would not need to be hiding themselves when they would be at it.
P. McL., a decent man, said his cow was injured, and sent for A. T.
The cow was in a little hut, and when A. went in where the cow was P.
put his ear to a little window that was in the wall, and he said, that
when he heard such language as A. had, he would never again send for
her should every cow he would have be unwell. She put her cap under her
two knees—she was bare-headed and with her knees bare, but kneeling on
her cap apparently—and she prayed to the vile one. (‘_Ghuidh i ris an
fhear mhosach._’) B. said, ‘Was that the time she said that my father’s
brother injured the cow?’ That was the very time. You were living
beside P. then.”
FORM OF PAYMENT
“The labourer is worthy of his hire.” A case has been already given
where the reciter said that nothing was done without pay, but not of
money. We must not generalise in that way. A native of Tiree says,
speaking of his experience in the cure of a horse of his father’s, “All
these _eolas_ folk must get a piece of silver. It may be a shilling
or two shillings. This they say makes the cure more certain, and they
cannot promise a cure without it. The lad took with him a two-shilling
piece and went to an _eolas_ man who lived five miles away.”
Apparently the silver is given in the form of money as the most
convenient medium, though there is good reason for the supposition that
the whiteness of silver makes it specially appropriate as a medium of
remuneration.
The instance in which the child that was ill is described as if singing
“do re do,” the woman who cured it received from the father tea and
sugar which he had taken with him when he went to consult her; but she
said to “my man” (it was the mother who recited the incident) “that she
was not wanting anything and would do it for us for nothing, but that
he would need to come back with white silver. I sent him back with a
sixpence to give her.”
An innkeeper, a well-read, shrewd woman of about five-and-forty, tells
of a case with which she was well acquainted in which a near neighbour
consulted an old man, wanting him to bring back her butter. “She said
that she would pay him if he would bring it back to her.” He said that
he did not want payment, but at the same time he could not bring it
back unless he were paid in silver for doing so; that being so, he
would require to take something from her, as otherwise the cure would
not be successful. So she gave him the silver and soon had all the
butter that she lost.“
Another reciter having been accustomed to do the churning in his
father’s house, after his father’s death, his stepmother sent for him
because she herself could not get any butter from the churn. He did
his best, but was unsuccessful. Having had a horse cured by _eolas_,
he suggested that the same man should be consulted. The man arrived,
and the case was explained, the woman stating, “_Feuch gun toir sibh
dhachaidh an toradh oir tha e air falbh._” (“Try if you can bring back
the due produce, for it is gone.”) “I’ll do that,” he said, and he did
it by his _eolas_; there was plenty butter on the churn. It cost the
woman a crown, but if it did, that was better than that the butter
should be lost.
A woman who prepared a bottle for a sick cow charged the man who
consulted her “two shillings for the bottle, and when she took the
money she poured a little water on it and spat on it.” She might, one
would think, with advantage have changed the order of her proceedings.
A sick bull which the veterinary surgeon had given up was referred to
an _eolas_ woman, the principal argument being that her assistance
“would only cost a shilling.” She ordered a bucket of water to be
thrown over the animal, and it recovered.
A Mull woman tells how her grandmother when newly married, after having
reared calves, could only get butter of such an ugly colour that nobody
would eat it, and it was used for greasing wool before carding. She was
asked by a neighbour for a bowl of butter one day, and accused of greed
for refusing it while she had eight cows. She explained the position,
and was then advised to consult an old man, the neighbour adding that
she would be coming back in a fortnight, when there would be plenty
of butter to give her. The results of the consultation were fairly
successful, though the _eolas_ man explained that she would not for
that year have so much butter as she should have, but that she should
consider herself lucky that her cattle had not died. The reciter then
said that her grandmother gave the man “plenty for his trouble, but did
not grudge it.” When the old woman called on her way back she said,
“Well, you can give me the butter now.” To which her friend replied,
“Yes, I am thankful to you that I can.” And she gave her a good bowl of
butter.
In the above case payment seems to have been in kind. A native of
Ardnamurchan tells of a neighbour of her mother’s who had a number
of cows and lost the due product of the whole of them. Her mother’s
people were sitting down to dinner when a beggar woman came and asked,
“_An sibhse a’ bhoirionnach a chaill an toradh?_” (“Are you the woman
who has lost the milk and butter?”) “My mother was very fond of her
neighbour, and thinking she might find out on her behalf how the milk
might be got back, she answered that she was. The beggar woman said,
‘_Ma bheir sibh dhomh lan meise de mhin bheir mise air ais dhuibh e._’
(‘If you will give me a (wooden) dishful of meal I will bring it back
to you.’) My mother said that she would give her all that was on the
table if she would bring it back, and then ran to the neighbour’s house
to tell what she had heard. They returned together and told the beggar
woman whose cows really had been ill.” They are said to have been
cured. Here also the payment was promised in kind.
A native of Harris tells us of an old man in Stornoway much consulted,
who “would undertake for so much money to bring milk and butter back.”
An Islay man gives us “_ni a chunnaic mise mi fein_” (“a thing I saw
my own self”). This was the cure of his father’s cow. A certain George
T. “came the way” “_b’e duine corr bha ann an Deorsa so, aig an robh
moran sgil mu’n chronachaidh_.” (“This George was a decent man, he had
much skill about _cronachadh_.”) The cure is described, and the reciter
continued: “_Cha b’e duine bha’ n an Deorsa a ghabhadh rud sam bith:
’se sin cha ghabhadh e pris airson a sheirbhis ann a leithid so do
ni._” (“George was not a man that would take anything for his service
in such a thing as this.”) “And my mother said to him, ‘Will you take
a cup of tea, George?’ ‘It is I that will,‘ he said, for he had been
about the cow a long time. When they were taking the tea they were
keeping an eye on the cow now and again. She took a long time that she
did not bend down her head, but at last she gave a shake to herself,
and George said to my mother, ‘Your cow is right, woman.’ In a little
while she gave the next shake, and again the third shake, and with that
she was as well as she had ever been.”
THE NECESSITY OF FAITH
A native of Lewis who professed disbelief in the Evil Eye, though she
knew numbers who did believe, was advised when her cow was ill to send
for a skilled woman. She refused. A woman who was in the habit of
assisting when they were busy, being told she might do as she liked,
went to the _eolas_ woman. When our reciter, Mrs. McN., looked into the
byre shortly afterwards she found the servant girl and the occasional
assistant hiding a bottle. “I asked them what they had in the bottle.
The woman answered that she had just gone to K. McI. for _eolas_, and
that that was what was in the bottle. They had put it in the cow’s ears
and over her back in the name of the Trinity, and the woman remarked
that if it would not do good it would do no harm at any rate. I told
them again that I did not believe in it at all, and as it turned out
I did not need to believe it, for the cow died not long after. But if
I did not believe the woman did, and so did the person who had made
the _eolas_, and they maintained that it was because I did not believe
in it that it failed to cure the cow, for it is believed the success
of _eolas a chronachaidh_ in its attempts to cure depends much upon
whether it is believed in or not.”
Compare this with the statement of another reciter, who on hearing of
a case of cure said, “When I was herding, one of the cows was _air a
cronachadh_, but the people did not believe in _eolas_, and if it had
not been that some of the neighbours went to A. T. the cow was dead.”
In another case in which the owner of the sick cow said that there was
many a thing that might happen to a beast, and that she did not believe
that the cow had been hurt by the Evil Eye. A friend persisted in her
opinion that it was the Evil Eye, and when the reciter’s mother refused
to send for _eolas_, the woman went off herself and came back with a
bottle which she sprinkled on the cow, and in less than an hour the
cow was eating as well as ever, and before the water had been put on
her she was groaning and would neither eat nor move. The probability
is, of course, that if no success had followed the application of the
remedy, want of faith on the part of the owner might have been urged as
a reason for failure.
PREVENTING EVIL BY BLESSING
A young man who could read and write, the son of a decidedly
superstitious father, said if any one were praising another person’s
beast, and danger was suspected, because praising by one that has an
Evil Eye is dangerous, if the owners say “God bless it” that would
prevent any mischief happening.
A native of Bernera (Harris) mentioned as among the ordinary
precautions effective against the Evil Eye a person blessing himself.
While another mentioned the keeping of ripe rowans (_caorain dearg_)
beside him, or regularly blessing himself and his belongings, as
sufficient to prevent any injury coming to him from the Evil Eye or
Witchcraft. This blessing seems to have been done in quite a formal
way. An old believer who can read Gaelic remembers having seen cattle
blessed for the purpose of keeping away evil, and when she was young it
was common in the district where she was brought up, when neighbours
visited one another, for the visitor on entering the house to bless
both the house and the people living in it. In this connection she
told the following story: “There was at one time living in the Harris
district of Islay a gentleman trained in the knowledge of the ‘Black
Art’ (_Sgoil Dhubh_). He visited the Laird of Balinaby and took from
every cow on his estate its due produce (_toradh_). He and the Laird
passed this cow, and the visitor remarked: ‘You have a witch on the
estate.’ ‘No,’ said the Laird. ‘Oh yes, there is no doubt of it.’
‘Well, if there is, it is without my knowledge.’ ‘To whom does that cow
belong?’ ‘To a widow that lives in the house over there.’ ‘Well, she
must be a witch, for I can take the produce from every cow on the place
except that one, but I am beat with her.’”
Balinaby called at the woman’s house and asked her what she did
to protect her cow. “I do nothing,” said the woman. “You must do
something, for I find that the _toradh_ can be taken from every cow
on the farm but yours.” “Well,” said she, “I am a God-fearing woman,
and am thankful to have the cow. Every morning I pray that she may be
preserved, and when I go to milk her I bless myself and the cow. That
is all I do.” This is evidently traditional, and is quoted merely as an
evidence of belief in the protection granted to those who audibly place
themselves under the protection of the Deity.
It is a curious fact that Balinaby (the Abbot’s Town), bulks very
largely in the supernatural folklore of Islay.
A native of Tarbat, Ross-shire, already quoted as telling of a child
taken ill because the visitor had not blessed it, details that
visitor’s action for the cure of the child, when taxed with the
dereliction, as follows. “She asked a bowl from my mother and a silver
coin, which she got. She put the coin in the bowl, and going to the
bedside where the child was lying, sprinkled the water on the child’s
face, and wet her lips and the palms of both her hands. While doing
this she blessed the child, repeated some words over it, and in a
little while the bairn was quite well and as brisk as ever.”
The materials used in this cure will be considered in more detail, but
the blessing was evidently an important part of it to repair a neglect
in the first instance.
An old lady in Arran remembers being told of an older generation who,
desiring not to injure their own or another’s beast lest there should
be evil in their eye unknown to themselves, always took the precaution
of blessing the animal before looking at it. The words they used were
“_Gum beannaicheadh Dia am beathach_” (“That God may bless the beast”),
or “_Gum beannaicheadh Dia an ni air am bheil mo shuil ag amhairc_.”
(“May God bless the thing my eye is regarding.”)
PREVENTING BY DISPRAISING
The expression of a blessing seems to be merely a preventative, which
of course is better than curative, if we accept the general proverb.
Another preventative, when the expression of praise seems likely to
be hurtful, is to miscall the animal spoken of. A man ploughing, who
thought very well of his horses, said to his master on seeing another
he knew approaching, “Here comes ——, and he will ruin both the horses
if he can, for he has the Evil Eye.” His master said, “I’ll tell you
what you will do, and if you do it he can do the horses no harm. When
he begins to praise either or both just begin to run them down, and be
sure you say as much against them as he shall say for them.” He of the
Evil Eye came up, and commencing with “What a fine pair of horses you
have,” went on to enumerate their good points. The servant objected
that they looked better than they were, that their looks were the best
of them, and for every point in their favour the other mentioned, the
lad said something to counterbalance it. The other began to show signs
of impatience, and went on his way not very well pleased with the way
his opinions of the horses had been disputed. “Well done, you have
saved the horses,” said his master. “Did I do it right?” said the lad.
“Yes, indeed, you could not have said more than you have said.”
A native of Campbeltown is the authority for the following. Mrs. M’F.
from Knapdale resided in Glasgow for some time after her marriage. She
was standing at the mouth of the close one day with her first child in
her arms when a little woman whom she had never seen before, and never
saw again, as far as she knows, came across the street, and looking
at the child began to praise it for its beauty. Mrs. M’F. had not the
presence of mind to praise it above what the other woman said, nor to
miscall it. Had she done either it would have prevented mischief. As it
was, the child began to cry as soon as the little woman went away. It
continued crying for a day and a half, and never was right afterwards.
The child died. Mrs. M’F. was quite certain it had been injured by the
eye of the little woman.
PREVENTING BY ROWAN AND JUNIPER
Every one knows of the value of the rowan tree as a preventative of
witchcraft. It is equally effective apparently against the Evil Eye.
It is scarcely worth while dilating on this, but it would not do to
neglect it. A resident in the Chanonry had a near neighbour terribly
suspicious of interference with her cow. She would never allow a cow
away from her own ground until she had first tied a sprig of rowan to
its tail.
A native of Kintyre, the opposite side of the country, connects this
observance with May Eve, on which occasion it was common to tie a sprig
of rowan to the cattle’s tails. Above we have mentioned rowan berries
as equally efficacious with a blessing. The rowan is tied to churns
as well as to cows’ tails. Another reciter mentions a case in which,
along with a bottle, a professor of _eolas_ “went to the back of his
house, taking a thin slice of juniper wood (_iubhar beinne_), which he
instructed was to be put between the wood of the churn and one of its
hoops.”
One cannot help speculating as to what may have caused the use of
these plants. We have a hint from the Chanonry that the rowan tree was
attached when the cow left her own ground. Now cows leave their owners’
ground solely when sent to the bull. In connection with the _iubhar_,
attention is called to the curious, incomprehensible shinty formula in
which the word iubhar occurs:—
_Ciod an caman?_ (What shinty-club?)
_Caman iubhair_ (Shinty-club of yew).
_Ciod an t-iubhar?_ (What yew?)
_Iubhar athair_ (Yew of air),
of which another reciter gave the slightly altered pronunciation,
_iubhar athar_ (father’s yew).[7]
A native of the Lewis says it was pretty common to protect cows from
evil influences by the use of a charmed _burrach_ (cow fetter). The
_burrach_ was made of different things, and when a cow calved it was
fixed on her hind legs.
The _burrachs_ the writer has seen were made of hair, possibly they may
have made them upon occasion of some tough wood.
Note that it was in calving that the charmed _burrach_ was of
advantage, and thus the observances for the protection of the cattle
are solely connected with their increase.
[7] “Games of Argyle,” pp. 33, 34.
PREVENTING BY HORSE NAILS AND SHOES
An Arran reciter said: “I was one time staying with a friend here,
and I noticed that a horse nail was tied round the churn. I mentioned
nothing about it till one day when washing the churn I said, ‘I suppose
I may take this off,’ but would she let me, though she did not tell me
why it had been put on, but I soon found that out for myself.”
Another authority mentions not the nail but the whole shoe. “The
produce of the churn may be effectually protected from the Evil Eye by
nailing the shoe of a colt or of an ass to the bottom of the churn.
Where this is done there are not on earth that can do it harm, and many
people always took care not to expose their churn without a shoe of
either a colt or an ass nailed to it.”
PREVENTING BY A SMALL GIFT
A well-informed woman, an innkeeper, said that in cases where a person
possessed of the Evil Eye admired anything belonging to another, no
injury could follow if some little present were given to the suspected
person on leaving.
Another, the daughter of a farmer, an office-bearer in the Church,
in the same island, gave the same information, but quoting an older
authority. Beside her father’s house was a woman who firmly believed
in the Evil Eye, and the power of preventing it by this gift. The
house commanded a view of the road, so that, for the most part, an old
woman suspected who lived in the neighbourhood could generally be seen
approaching. The woman, to whom the latter was a special object of
suspicion, never failed to advise our reciter’s people of the visitor’s
advent. Her advice was invariably given earnestly and in the same
form: “_A ghraidh thoir ni eigin dhi, cha’n eil odds cho beag no cho
suarach a bhios e, ach thoir ni eigin dhi agus an sin cha’n urrainn i
do chron a dheanamh_.” (“Dear, give her something, no odds how little
or how trifling, but give her something, and then she cannot do you an
injury.”)
In the case of churning the small present naturally takes the form of
a drink of milk to be given to any one suspected of the Evil Eye, and
so a reciter said that one should always, for safety’s sake, give a
visitor a drink of milk, and stated further that the beneficial effect
was added to if the one who gives it first take a little of it herself
before handing it to the stranger. As an illustrative incident the
reciter told how Black Colin of Balinaby when out hunting happened to
go to Balimony at the milking time. Not one of them offered him a drink
of milk, “_Ach coma leat_” (But all the same) the following morning
when the girls went to milk the cows not a drop of milk could they get,
while the cows kept running and roaring as if they were mad. At once
the man of Balimony, concluding that the mischief had been done by
Black Colin, saddled a horse, rode to Balinaby and took all the milk
from the Balinaby cows, transferring it to his own. When Colin saw
this he wrote to Balimony to this effect: “_Leig leamsa agus leigidh
mise leatsa_” (equivalent to “Let a be for let a be”). The reciter
added that the milk was properly distributed thereafter, and that the
incident was one of Black Art.
To a student of the old Bardic Irish stories the continual mention of
those who are recommended for their liberality to the poetic class
simply shows how they used their office for their own advantage. The
tricks of the non-producers continue the same now as they were in the
days of Cairbre. A poor Bodach passed the house of the manager of a
detached farm. He asked if he could get a drink. The manager’s wife,
who was churning at the time, left her churn and gave him a drink of
water. The Bodach took his drink and went away, the woman went back to
her churn, but let her churn ever so much not a bit of butter could she
get. The milk became merely froth, and swelled up so that she filled
all her spare dishes. That churning was no good, nor the next, nor many
succeeding ones, till she was afraid to look at her churn. So things
were when who should appear but the same old man with the same request.
The manager himself being in, translated the request liberally and
gave him plenty both to eat and drink. After resting a little the old
man rose to go away, and thanking them for their hospitality, added,
“If a poor man ask for a drink, do not give him a drink of water.” The
significant tone suggested to the manager to ask him for advice as
to bringing back the butter, offering him any reasonable reward and
putting a piece of money into his hand. This he said he would soon do,
and told him to tell his wife to clean her dishes and put a piece of
money in the churn and churn the next day. The story goes on to say
that every scrap that had been lost was got back in one churning.
As the story is told the product of each churning must have been but a
small matter, but there can be little doubt that this, if not a Bardic
praise of hospitality, is a beggar’s one, and the story of course no
better than an _ursgeul_. The reciter added a comment of her own:
“_Anns na laithean sin cha bhiodh daoine a beannachadh an cuid, agus
le sin bha e furasda gu leor an cronachadh_.” (“In those days people
were not in the habit of blessing their effects, and so it was an easy
matter to do them harm.”) No doubt those were the days before the
existence of a Free Church, but it is doubtful if there was much less
expression of blessings then than in the present.
A PREVENTATIVE BY BURNING CLOTHING
Allusion has already been made, on an Islay authority, to the efficacy
of burning a piece of the clothing to avert injury from any one
bringing bad news (page 15). A Tiree reciter gives the same information
a little more fully, and says it protects against witchcraft or the
Evil Eye. “If any woman comes into a house who is suspected, those
of the house should try to get a small piece of some article of her
clothing, without letting her know that they have got it, and throw it
on the fire; that will prevent her from taking anything away with her
or leave any mischief when she goes away. If they cannot manage to get
a bit of her own clothing, a good plan is, when she is leaving, to burn
a rag of some kind of cloth in the fire and throw it after her as she
goes.”
1 Corinthians, iii. 15. “If any man’s work shall be burnt, he shall
suffer loss: but he himself shall be saved; yet so as by fire.”
PREVENTION BY SPITTING
A native of Ross-shire and a minister gives the following information.
When he was living in K. a woman there had a child of about nine months
old. Another woman came in, and looking at the child on its mother’s
arm, remarked, “_Tha balach boidheach priseil agad an sin_.” (“You
have a pretty, dear boy there.”) Without more ado the mother turned
the child’s face to her and began to spit in it as hard as she could
to prevent any bad effect from the other woman’s Evil Eye. The reciter
said he has, in several places, heard of this being done with the view
of preventing harm, and he has often heard a person in the Isle of
Skye say “_Fliuch do shuil_” (“Wet your eye”) when any person praised
any of his cattle. The idea was that this would put away the chance of
mischief.
A native of Mull describes the practice as common there, particularly
as a preventative of injury to young children. Spit on your finger and
rub an eye of the child to be protected with the moistened finger. This
was called _fliuch an t-suil_ (eye wet), and was commonly practised and
believed by many to be a sufficient protection.
A farmer’s daughter, whose people have been for generations in the same
place in Islay, tells how she was scandalised by this practice. “We had
a web of cloth to sew for the boys, and the tailor we took in had the
name of the Evil Eye. One day he was sitting on the table sewing, and
my brother came into the kitchen to wash himself. He was but a boy at
the time, and stripped to his waist. C. B. began to say that his skin
was very white, and he was looking very well. _‘Fliuch do shuil, ’s na
cronaich mi,’ ars H._ (‘Wet your eye, and do not blight me,’ said H.)
‘They will be saying, that if a body will say that when any one who
has an Evil Eye is praising them, the Evil Eye can do them no injury.’
Well, when H. said that, my mother did not know where she was standing,
she was so much ashamed. You see the man had the name; if it had not
been for that she would not have cared much.”
But the performance of the full ceremony is still in use, and it is
interesting to be able to give the personal experience of my energetic
co-worker, to whom I am under so much obligation.
“A native of the Long Island was complimented by me (E. M. K.) recently
on the style of her dress, and the smart appearance it gave her, when,
to my surprise and amusement, stepping forward and wetting the point
of her finger by putting it on her tongue, she placed the finger on my
right eye, saying: ‘_Fliuch do shuil eagal gum bi mi air mo ghonadh_.’
(‘Wet your eye for fear that I may be wounded.’) She did this very
good-naturedly, and explained that when one is the subject of what
he may suspect to be envious praise, either in respect of person or
clothing, he may protect himself from consequences that might result
from the Evil Eye, by performing this ceremony on the one who has done
the praising.”
It would appear that this practice is comparable with the quenching of
a cinder in water—by wetting, the fire of the eye may be supposed to
be extinguished beneficially for the one on whom it might have an evil
influence.
PREVENTING BY CHURNING
It is specially difficult to distinguish between the Evil Eye and
witchcraft in the case of loss of the due produce of cattle—butter,
cream, &c. Certain preventatives are good for both. When any one is
churning and a visitor enters to whom any suspicion is attached of the
power of interfering with the butter, any such power can be taken from
her by getting her to do a spell of the churning. A woman, a strong
believer in witchcraft and the Evil Eye, invariably if she happens to
go into a house where churning is going on, takes the churn staff and
gives a pull at the churn, believing, by this means, that she frees
herself from suspicion if the churning go wrong. This woman, though a
professed believer in witchcraft and the Evil Eye, neither professes
practising it nor has ever been suspected by others.
An Excise officer in Islay kept some cattle. The servant was churning,
but though there was an appearance of butter, it could not be brought
to anything. The mistress of the house wondered what had come over the
milk, and a neighbour said that a woman who lived in the neighbourhood,
credited with the Evil Eye, had been in, and added, the best plan was
to send for her and get her to take a spell at the churn, which would
neutralise any bad influence she might have exerted. Acting on this
advice, the woman was sent for, and on coming was requested to give a
turn at the churn. She did not seem to be very willing, but no further
remark being made, she took the churn staff and churned for a while,
and the butter was got all right.
Another woman who was present when this was told doubted it being in
anybody’s power to do harm in that way, whereupon the reciter declared
that she believed it to be quite true and had experienced it with the
same woman, and then detailed how she had caused the fowls to drop
soft-shelled eggs, already quoted.
A domestic servant, speaking of this churning difficulty, said that
when she went into houses where they were churning they would not mind
her. “Many a time,” she added, “they have asked me to give them help
with the churn.” She apparently had not appreciated the reason of her
assistance being asked.
The explanation suggested for this procedure is, that if one does not
want the churning to be successful they will not do anything to assist
it; and, _vice versâ_, if they do give their help it is considered as
evidence of their desire to bring it to a successful termination.
PREVENTION BY PECULIARITY IN CLOTHES
When speaking of the liability of nice-looking, well-dressed children
suffering injury, the prevention by turning an article of clothing
outside in was mentioned. The authorities in these cases are from
Harris and from Islay. To show further the extent of this belief, a
Ross-shire man says a thing he has often seen done for the prevention
of evil influences was to turn a child’s coat or other garment wrong
side out, because: “It is believed that a witch is rendered powerless
in respect of any person who happens at the time when they might be
injuriously affected to be wearing any article of clothing wrong side
out.”
Another preventative in connection with clothing also comes from
Harris. When a dress is put on for the first time a small burning peat
or burning stick is waved over it, inside and out, and this is believed
to be an efficient protection of the wearer from an attack by the Evil
Eye. This is evidently the purification by fire already alluded to.
Attracting the Evil Eye by a piece of cloth also appears in the
following from a farmer and office-bearer in the church, a man of about
seventy, but an undoubted believer in what we may call superstitions.
Where he was brought up a rag was put in a _bruchag_ (cranny) of the
wall at the head of every milk cow in the byre as a protection against
the Evil Eye.
TAR AS PREVENTATIVE
The application of hot pitch to open wounds in ancient surgery is a
well-known fact. It may have acted as an antiseptic, and like its
congener tar applied for skin eruptions, may have so got into popular
use as a preventative of evil. In the island of Islay tar was well
known as an application against the Evil Eye, but its use seems to have
been restricted to Beltane night, May Eve. One of our reciters, a man
now of about fifty, when herding cattle as a boy remembers how all the
time he was on the farm of C. at a fixed hour on _Oidhche Bhealtuinn_
he went to the byre with the farmer and his son. They took with them a
small pot of tar and a bit of stick, little larger than an egg-spoon.
Our reciter held the dish while the son took hold of the ears of each
of the cattle in turn and the old man put a little tar into each ear
with the stick. If any words were spoken the boy did not hear them.
Another old man, a man of eighty, can neither read nor write, without
any English, adds to the putting it in the ears that it was also put on
the noses of the cattle for the purpose of “preventing injuries from
the Evil Eye.”
Another, a woman of about fifty-five, says her father was regular in
the habit of putting tar on the horns of his cows on May Eve to protect
the beasts from the Evil Eye.
A fourth reciter says he has often seen it put on the horns and ears,
and also rowan berries tied to the cows’ tails on the same occasion,
and adds that this was usually accompanied with the repeating of some
good words to protect the beasts from being hurt with the Evil Eye.
The germicide powers of tar products seem to have been further
reaching, and even more highly appreciated in those days than they are
now.
NICKING THE EAR
The ears, we now see, played a prominent part in the treatment of
_cronachadh_, and we learn on the authority of a minister how that
in the case of a quey supposed to be affected by the Evil Eye, the
owner loosed it from its stall, cut a slit in its ear, repeating some
incantation the while.
From a man of about fifty-five, a joiner, we have confirmation of this.
He remembers of a beast dying where he lived when he was a boy, and of
seeing the woman to whom the animal belonged and another _cailleach_
sitting over the dead beast cutting a piece out of its ear. They kept
the piece they cut. On asking why the women were handling the dead
animal, he was told that the piece cut from its ear would prevent an
Evil Eye affecting the rest of the cattle.
Weak or unhealthy eyes are in popular belief cured by piercing the ear
(and wearing earrings).
URINE AS PREVENTATIVE
The detergent, and let us say with all gravity, the cleansing power of
stale urine, is well known, and it is hardly to be wondered at when we
find this used to clear away, as it were, evil influences.
“There was at one time a farmer in Gruinart who used regularly to
sprinkle his cows when putting them out with the contents of the
chamber pot. This was with the view of protecting them against
witchcraft, and I have done that myself.”
Our informant for this was a woman of about sixty. This is supported by
another reciter in Islay, who said it was done in the morning.
Two other reciters tell that it was done in spring, or the early part
of summer, when they were put out on the grass “for the first time that
season.” The sprinkling was done with a broom from the chamber pot as
the cattle were passing out of the byre.
What was good for cows was also considered good for horses; they
also got their share of attention. Finally, in this particular, an
intelligent crofter’s wife who can read, and is of about seventy years
of age, informs us that it was customary to collect the bedroom slops
for a day or two before the birth of a child. So soon as the child
was born, to prevent any mischief from _cronachadh_, the house was
sprinkled both outside and in. She saw this done in her mother’s house.
The remark that this sprinkling was done when the cattle were first
turned out, and of a statement that it was common among farmers to
have the services of a man believed to have _colas_ to notch the ears
of cattle on May Eve against witchcraft, have to be taken together,
May Day being supposed to be a specially active moment for the witch
sisterhood. Two reciters mention this sprinkling with “salt” and
“urine” in connection with each other. That they were looked upon
as having somewhat the same action there can be no doubt, whatever
analogy drawn between the two may have existed in the mind of the
reciter. One of the two reciters gave an instance which, though
undoubtedly unperceived by the narrator, throws a sidelight upon the
ideas connected with it. The mother of our reciter consulted an _eolas_
man for the bettering of defective churning. He gave her a bottle,
directing her to hold it in her hand all the way on her journey home,
and on no account to let it touch the ground. When she got home she was
to sprinkle some of it on the cow and the outside of the churn, and
round about it. On her way home she rested for a minute, and forgetting
about the instructions, put down the bottle. Sprinkling the cow did
no good, and the scientist was again consulted. _“Leig thu leis fheum
a chall,” ars S._ (“You allowed it to lose its usefulness,” said S.)
“_Rinn i gair bheag ag’radh gun do leig i sios e car mionaid._” (“She
smiled, saying that she had let it down for a minute.”) “_Chaill thu
e mata._” (“You have lost it, then.”) Now comes the incident mentioned
on page 119 of his retiring to the back of the house and giving his
consulter the slip of _iubhar-beinne_ (juniper), the flavouring matter
of gin, the most diuretic of stimulants.
Putting all this together, it is not difficult to see why part at least
of the magic fluid would lose its effect if it touched the ground,
the place it most naturally reaches, if we accept Burt’s statement,
in Highland houses, and even in a recognised house of entertainment.
“But I had like to have forgot a Mischance that happened to me the next
Morning, for rising early, and getting out of my Box pretty hastily, I
unluckily set my Foot in the Chamber-pot, a Hole in the Ground by the
Bed-side, which was made to serve for that Use in case of Occasion.”[8]
When the next bottle reached the house and not the ground, the effect
was quite satisfactory. The reciter of this openly professed belief in
the whole story, even to the recovery of the missing butter.
Many will rise up in arms against my suggestion that the water to be
used, and which was used, and which is called water, was in many cases
and in its origin urine. In the Clonmel witch-burning case in Ireland
in 1895, Mrs. Cleary, the victim, had “water” thrown over her, fetched
by her cousin from an adjoining room. This was brought three or four
times, and the process of sprinkling lasted at intervals over a period
of ten or twenty minutes. This water, according to the _Cork Examiner_
and other reports, was called “a certain noxious fluid.” According
to accounts given by Leitrim people, the most effective way of
disenchanting folk was to throw over them a concoction of strong urine
and hens’ excrement. Compare with this the Arran man’s charm against
the Evil Eye mentioned on page 18.[9]
[8] Burt’s “Letters from the North of Scotland,” vol. ii. p. 65.
[9] See “Folk-Lore,” vol. vi. p. 378.
The general protective power of stale urine is curiously illustrated
in the following from a Mackay. The reciter said when he was young it
was a general custom throughout the Reay country to have a tub of stale
wash placed at the door cheek with a little stick always standing in
it. The stick was preferably, if it could be got, of blackthorn—sloe.
The object of this was that visitors might stir up the contents of the
tub before going into the house, a process intended to protect the
house and its inmates from being injured by any bad luck or misfortune,
or evil of any kind, that otherwise might accompany the visitor. To
comply with this condition was reckoned a sufficient passport for any
caller, and no matter who he was, or on what business he had come, he
was expected to do the stirring before crossing the threshold. The
reciter said that he had done it himself regularly in his youth.
The conclusion arrived at that the water supplied in some cases, and in
any case what ought to be supplied by the practitioner of _eolas_, was
diluted urine, seems to get important endorsation from the following
on the authority of John Kerr, LLD., late her Majesty’s Inspector of
Schools:—
“A man had a child suffering from water in the head, and carried him
on his back in a blanket from Lochcarron to Lochbroom and back—over
a hundred and twenty miles—to see a man who professed to cure such
ailments. He got a bottle of water, a spoonful of which was to be given
several times a day. The doctor found the water absolutely putrid.”[10]
[10] “Memories Grave and Gay,” John Kerr, LLD., p. 323.
Dr. Kerr having this from a medical man, one is inclined to fancy
that the description of the dose is given in a method corresponding
to an ordinary prescription; spoonful doses remind one of the regular
practitioner. The diagnosis ‘hydrocephalus’ is the doctor’s; the man
consulted was not a curer of water in the head, but of the results of
witchcraft or the Evil Eye. This, there can scarcely be any doubt of,
or that that also was the father’s idea of the cause of the child’s
illness—it had been _air a chronachadh_. Here the important point is
the putridity of the water. If it had been pure water it might have
been vapid enough, but we may be certain that no licensed practitioner
would have said that the fluid was absolutely putrid without sufficient
cause. The diagnosis is that its putridity was occasioned by containing
a greater or less quantity of stale urine.
A BURNT OFFERING
The following is vouched for by an intelligent and educated young lady
resident in Orkney, though as it is from a non-Gaelic island it takes
us to a different people from those we have been occupied with.
In one of the islands there a farmer was losing his cattle one after
another. The general opinion, in which the farmer himself concurred,
was that the fatality arose from some person’s Evil Eye having lighted
on the stock. It was also considered, as the best means of putting an
end to this, to burn one of the remaining animals alive. This was done,
and report has it that everything went well enough after that. This
case seems sufficiently notorious, though no more exact information has
been procured; but the Evil Eye is strongly believed in in Orkney, and
our informant herself knew a man who, on finding things “going back”
with him, as they say, confidently attributed his unprosperity to some
one having put his Evil Eye in his effects. Many of his neighbours,
knowing the circumstances, were of the same opinion as himself.
CHARMS. (STRING)
“No Christian shall attach short strings to the neck of women or of
animals, even if you see this practised by churchmen, and they should
tell you that this custom is a pious one.” Such was the pronouncement
of St. Eloi of the Abbey of Luxeuil, in the seventh century, the
successor of Columban, as reported by St. Ouen (Audoenus) in the “Nos
Origines.”[11]
[11] _Les Influences Celtiques_, by Charles Roessler, p. 59.
So far we seem to have seen that the damage done by the Evil Eye was
a malign dispensation of Providence, for which the owner was only to
blame to the same extent that one is to blame for a natural defect,
but the processes of cure being the result of science, so to say,
_eolas_, _fios_, are in reality magic processes. One of the most common
of the preventive charms is something to be worn by the person to be
protected, and one reciter, an elder in the church, assures us that he
knows a family every member of which wears such a charm suspended round
the neck.
This must have been something of the nature of an _ubag_, a thing which
takes the form generally of what, referring to American Indians, is
spoken of as a “medicine bag,” but which the Dictionaries translate as
a charm—an incantation. A much more common protective is the _sreang a
chronachaidh_, or _snathainn cronachaidh_ (string or thread of hurting).
The form that this took differed considerably. One reciter says it
was made of different colours of yarn, an incantation was said over it
while being made, and when finished it was tied round the child’s neck.
She has often seen these in use, and did not think that it mattered
anything what colours were used, provided that there were different
colours in it.
Another reciter says that the strings before being put on were soaked
in something, but does not mention if they were coloured, while two
others mention the fact, of their personal knowledge, that the threads
they had seen worn were red.
In one of the last cases the thread had been put on to cure a child
supposed to be already suffering. In the other, while the thread
was used as a protection, the reciter mentioned as a curative where
something had gone wrong with the first child of a marriage, especially
if there was any suspicion of _cronachadh_, that some article of
clothing which had been worn by the mother on the first night of
marriage, was put round the child three times, and “There are some,”
said he, “who take the precaution to do this as a preventative even
where no injury is suspected as having already taken place.”
One of our reciters quotes the following verse of a song as an
authority for the efficacy of the red thread:—
“_Snathainn dearg, is snuim air,
Bi sud air ceann a’ chrandachan;
Ged thigeadh Buidseach Henderson,
Cheannsaicheadh Ailean e._”
(“A red thread, and a knot on it,
That will be on the top of the churn staff,
Though Henderson the _witch_ should come,
Allan would subdue him.”)
There can be no doubt that it is our old acquaintance the Witch of
Endor who here again appears as Henderson.
The following is the account given by a man suspected of the Evil Eye,
who watched secretly through a chink in the door the performance by a
professor of _eolas_ who was supposed to have inherited his skill from
his deceased wife. The Evil Eye doctor went direct to the churn, which
stood very much on the middle of the floor, and walked round about it
several times, “six or seven,” says D. McF. Then taking a ball of yarn
from his pocket he wound it round about the churn-staff, putting a
good many turns on it. This done, he gave the staff two or three turns
as hard as he could, as if churning. He then came out, but in a short
time returned, and D., securing his point of observation, saw him take
the yarn off the churn-staff and wind it round the churn itself. Again
he gave a few turns at churning, and finally left. The reciter was
uncertain whether or not any benefit accrued to that churning itself.
The following method in the case of a lad on the one hand, and of a
cow on the other, demonstrates pretty fully the method of using the
red yarn in Harris. The skilled woman, having assured a sick lad that
she knew what was wrong, and that it could soon be put right, having
requested all present, except of course the patient, to leave the room,
procured a ball of _three-ply_ yarn and wound it round the points of
her thumb, middle finger, and ring finger of her left hand, holding
the thread between the thumb and mid-finger of the right hand. Having
done this she took a small piece of burning stick and passed it three
times through the circle formed by the thread on her fingers. She then
put a knot on the cord, bringing it close to her mouth, and repeating
a lengthy incantation commencing, “_Ni mi an obair so_” (“I do this
work”), in which were references to the “eye.” The knot having been put
on and the incantation finished she took the yarn off her finger, and
commencing at the crown of the head, she rubbed him with it in a round
and round way all over. At this stage there was a knock at the door to
which the performer replied: “You are there, I know you,” and without
opening the door, put the knot into the fire, saying, “_An galar ’s
caslainnte chuirinn air mulach an teine_.” (“The disease and the
illness I would put on the top of the fire.”) She repeated this three
times, and on the third occasion, instead of putting the thread in the
fire (it would appear from this that she had made three knots, and not
one as the description would lead us to suppose) she tied it round the
lad’s neck. The thread is always tied, said the reciter, where it will
not be seen, but it must be on the skin. Some wear such a thread as a
precaution against the Evil Eye. It was explained that the knock at the
door was done by the individual causing the illness.
The following is the information as to the conduct of the operation
in the case of a cow, and our reciter saw this herself. The _eolas_
operator first asked for yarn in which alum had been used in the
dyeing. Our informant explained that it was necessary that any yarn
to be used should have had alum applied to it, and as alum is always
used in dyeing red (as a mordant), red is very generally what is taken
on such occasions. Having got the little ball of red yarn, the thread
was wound round the fingers as above described, and here we learn
categorically that the forefinger must not be allowed to touch the yarn
throughout the performance. There was no burning stick here used, but
having taken the yarn off her finger, a knot was put on the thread, the
knot put to her lips, and an incantation alluding to the eye muttered
with it in that position. This winding, muttering, and knot-tying was
gone through altogether three times with equal care. Commencing then
with one of the horns of the animal, she rubbed the cow down with a
circular motion all over till she came to the other horn, and then
tied the first knot on the cow’s tail, taking care to have it out of
sight, the three knots being tied one after the other to the under
hairs of the cow’s tail. When the cow showed signs of improvement the
first knot was taken off and burned with the words used above. The same
performance being carried through with the second knot, but the third
knot was allowed to remain on the cow’s tail. This woman refused to
impart the incantation formula to any but a member of her own family,
and it is believed that the greater the admiration of the operator for
the person affected the more effectual the cure.
A native of South Uist said that while different methods were employed
to cure the Evil Eye, the most common, so far as she could judge, was
the _Snaithnean_ (thread). This was so well known that when the Evil
Eye was suspected in the case of an animal, _faigheamaid snaithnean
dhi_ (_dha_) (get a thread to it), and away they would go to an _eolas_
person. The snaithnean is simply a red woollen thread four or five
inches long. The giver of it says some good words over it, hands it to
the messenger with instructions to go straight home and tie the thread
round the animal’s tail till it recovers. In more important cases the
professor may deem it advisable to fasten the string on himself. The
reciter, though not admitting belief in the charm as such, has seen
this done several times with good effect.
The above statement was thoroughly corroborated by another from the
same locality, who “has often seen the red thread on beasts’ tails.”
She spoke of the injury as _gonadh_ (wounded).
An Islay woman remembers as a girl, in the case of a cow of her
mother’s, where a string was put on the cow that was ill, but as they
were all turned out of the byre she does not know what else was done.
Another reciter in the same island, in the case of one of his own
horses, which was said to have been injured by the evil eyes of
drovers, had it cured by a woollen thread being tied round its tail.
Before leaving the red thread, a reciter in Islay, whose aunt lived
next to a professor, said that when this woman was consulted in cases
of Evil Eye, she took a bottle containing a red thread and water, and
for the purpose of discovering the cause of the animals’ illness she
closed her eyes and repeated an incantation. This done she would open
her eyes, and the first living creature bearing any burden or weight,
that weight, whatever it might be, she maintained she saw pressing upon
the animal. A case in point is the following. Having gone through her
performance when consulted about a sick cow, on lifting up her eyes
they rested on a man carrying a horse collar. She told the owner of the
cow that the spirit of that man with the collar was pressing on the
animal, and would continue so until the water which was in the bottle,
over which she had repeated the incantation, was sprinkled on her. If
after that the cow shivered all over she would not get better, but if
she merely shook her ears she would be all right. The people about, the
reciter added, had great confidence in this woman’s professions.
Another reciter said that when a child was not thriving a red thread
was tied round its neck and allowed to remain on night and day. He has
seen this where he knew both the child and its parents very intimately.
It must not, however, be supposed that red thread alone was used.
Another Argyllshire reciter has seen on Hallowe’en different colours of
worsted thread tied on cattle as a prophylactic.
The mother of the child, in which the symptom of injury by the Evil Eye
was its seeming to sing “do re do,” gives the following account of the
thread tied on it which cured it. His father went to an _eolas_ woman
and told her his business. She took some lint that she had ready to
be put on the spindle and twisted a little bit into a thread. It must
always be green lint that is used for these threads. She made a string
that would go three times round his neck, and getting the man’s knife
she wound the thread round the steel, and handing it to him ordered
him to hold it in his hand all the way home, and not to open his hand
or speak to anybody till he would reach home. He was then to put the
string three times round the child’s neck, and as he was getting better
one string at a time was to be taken off and thrown into the fire. This
was all done as directed, the “humming” stopped, and the child got
quite well.
A native of Strontian gave the following as his own experience of the
use of a green thread. When a boy he had a “fallen” uvula, and was sent
to a woman who was said to be able to “lift” it. She took him into
a corner of the house and commenced manipulating the outside of his
throat and below his chin, speaking all the time as if to herself. At
all events he could not follow what she said, though he heard the words
_Sheumais, Eoin, ‘s Pheadair_ (James’, John’s, and Peter’s) frequently.
Having done this some time, she tied a green thread about his neck and
sent him away, saying it would be all right. Mr. McD. added the remark
that he had nothing to give the operator, though it is essential that
something pass from your hand into theirs. A reason for this was given
by a native of Fort William, that “unless the curer got something for
putting the trouble away the trouble would go on him- (her) self.”
A curer of cases of Evil Eye in the neighbourhood of Ballachulish,
though her method of treatment was not wholly known to the reciter,
part of it consisted in giving water and two threads (three articles),
one black and one white. The threads were to be twisted in a prescribed
manner round the person or animal affected, and if the threads showed
any tendency to knot, it was taken as a sure sign that it was a case of
the Evil Eye, _i.e._ apparently if they formed _eyes_ on the thread.
Ligatures other than thread were used. A native of Easdale tells how
his grandaunt used to tell him of a relative who lived with her father.
He was a farmer, and losing his cattle, and believing that they were
being affected by the Evil Eye, took his courage in both hands and
marched off to consult Campbell of Skipness, distinguished for his
skill in such cases. Having told his errand, Campbell took him into the
barn and, excluding all light, made the people—that is, the Evil Eye
people—pass before him, and he recognised them quite well. Campbell
then gave him a _gisreag_ (charm) made of a straw rope, and requested
him to take it home with him and throw it into the fire as soon as
he reached his destination. This was to protect him against further
injury. The man burned the _gisreag_ on reaching home, and from that
day his cattle throve quite well.
Another reciter remembers that her brother having gone to consult a
professor of _eolas_ on account of serious losses to his stock, while
he was away a new horse, bought to take the place of one that had died,
was taken ill between the plough chains. Well does she remember, on her
brother’s return, seeing him take the tether with which it had been
tied, and waving it three times over the horse, it got up at once, took
the food offered it, and was soon all right.
From Tomintoul, Banffshire, we hear of one who had a wide reputation
for skill in these matters, who was said to perform his charms by means
of a bridle that was in his possession. We have no further particulars,
but it is not impossible that the bridle was a rope one.
There has been mentioned the case of a young horse where the result of
the Evil Eye was to make it pour of sweat and tremble. Having got it
back into the stable, a recognised practitioner of _eolas_ was sent
for. Among his questions was one whether the lad who was leading it
had, or had not, met any one on the road. He then asked for the halter
which had been on the horse, and it having been brought him he said
one or two words which nobody present seemed able to catch, after
which, waving the halter three times over the animal, he said, “Rise
and eat.” At once the horse got on its feet, began to eat, and was
cured. McA., the _eolas_ man, now said it was a case of _cronachadh_,
and offered to tell who had done it. They assured him they did not wish
to know. But the reciter made the naïve remark that “he knew already,
for he knew who had met him on the road.”
UISGE A’ CHRONACHAIDH (WATER OF INJURY)
We have already mentioned, as one of the results of the Evil Eye, a bad
attack of yawning. Here is the account of the sufferer’s cure in the
words of the reciter. “_Chuir iad airson sean-mhathair Sheumais Ruaidh
so agus nur a thainig ise rinn i eolas le beagan uisge agus facailean,
agus cha robh a chaileag tiota an deigh sin gus an robh i cho mhath
’s bha i riamh. Dh’innis a bhean a leighis i ra mathair gur h-ann air
a cronachadh a bha i._” (“They sent for this Red James’ grandmother,
and when she came she made science with a little water and words, and
it was but a short time till the girl was as well as ever she was.
The woman that cured her told her mother that she had been injured by
_cronachadh_.”)
The water used here was what has been called in Arran at any rate
“_uisge a’ chronachaidh._”
One other account of this Evil Eye water we will give in the words of
the reciter, an old man speaking of his daughter:“ _‘Nuair a bha ’m
bas ag’oibrich rithe thainig i dhachaidh an so agus bha e soilleir gum
b’ann air a cronachadh a bha i. Nis chuala mi fhein daoine ag radh nam
biodh neach air a chronachadh agus nam biodh bonn airgeid air a chuir
ann am bowl uisge a bhiodh air a thoirt a tobar o’n taobh deas, nan
leanadh an t-airgiod ri grunnd a’ bhowl, nuair a dhoirte an t-uisge
dheth, gun cuireadh an t-uisge sin an cronachadh air falbh nam biodh
e air a chrathadh air a’ neach a bha fo’n chronachadh. Well, chaidh
mi fhein gu tobar a bha ris an taobh deas de’n tigh agam agus chuir
mi bonn se sgillinn an an lan bowl-de’n uisge ach nuair a thaomadh an
t-uisge dheth, cha do lean am bonn ris a bhowl. Ach co dhiu chrath
mi ’n t-uisge oirre ach ged a chrath cha d’rinn e feum sam bi, ’s
cha deachaidh i riomh ni b’fhearr. Ach bha daoine ag radh nan robh
an t-airgiod air leantuinn ris a’ bhowl gun deannadh an t-uisge an
cronachadh a thoirt air falbh._” (“When death was working with her she
came home here, and it was clear that she had been blighted. I myself
heard people saying if any one were blighted and a coin put into a
bowl of water, which would be taken from a southern well, if the money
stuck to the bottom of the bowl when the water was poured off it, that
that water would put away the injury if it were sprinkled on the person
harmed. Well, I went myself to a well that was on the south side of
my house, and I put a sixpenny piece in a bowlful of the water, but
when the water was poured off the piece did not stick to the bowl; but
however, I sprinkled the water on her, but though I did sprinkle it it
was of no use whatever, and she never got any better. But people were
saying, had the money stuck to the bowl the water would have caused the
blight to be removed.”)
The methods of preparation of this water undoubtedly vary, not merely
because the reciters do not give the particulars, but because the
operators make differences. A messenger being sent to a woman for
_eolas_, we are told “she gave the one that went a bottle of water with
directions that it was to be thrown on the cow.”
Another reciter said that a woman being brought to see a sick cow (D.
MacC.’s grandmother), “when she came she took a cog with water and
went in to where the cow was. She was a decent woman, and whatever she
did to the cow she got better.”
In another case the local practitioner, when sent for, walked round
the cow three times, and our reciter said, she may have done something
more, but in any case she failed to do any good, and the cow continued
ill. They then sent a messenger to another woman of the same sort, but
of greater repute, and who lived at a greater distance. This woman gave
the messenger a bottle of something like water, with instructions that
it was to be sprinkled over the cow. When the messenger returned home
and the stuff in the bottle was sprinkled on the cow, she got up, shook
herself, began to show signs of recovery, and in a short time was all
right.
In another case the woman sent for, “when she came said it was a case
of injury by _cronachadh_, and having repeated some words over the cow,
she sprinkled water she had prepared upon her with the result that the
cow soon got well.”
A male professor made up a bottle for a shepherd whose cow was ill,
and instructed him on reaching home to sprinkle “all that was in the
bottle” on certain parts of the cow. It is not advisable to take too
literally statements which apparently are very exact; “all the water”
in this case may simply mean the water that was in the bottle more
or less in its totality. Or it may have been the instruction was so
worded that if some of the water, even a drop or two, might be supposed
not to have got on the cow that the charm would be ineffective. The
destination of the water for particular parts of the animal was
undoubtedly a usual proviso.
So far the information might lead one to suppose that an incantation
said over water was sufficient in the beliefs of the operators. This
is however not the case, and there can be little doubt that to make
the incantation effective the water should have been in contact with
silver. A native of Harris said that he has heard of the “water of
silver” as a cure for people and beasts affected by the Evil Eye, and
also as a preventative of such injury if apprehended. In one instance
which came under his own observation, a respectable and intelligent
woman, to protect her cow and the milk and butter, first time she went
to milk the cow after calving, put a half-crown piece in the bottom of
the pail and drew the milk on to it. A friend who accompanied her saw
the whole performance.
A native of Islay informed us that for curing eyes of those suffering
from _cronachadh_ you should put “three bawbees in the water”; while a
native of Oban says that in all cases of _cronachadh_ where water is
used as a cure it must be poured on silver.
A clergyman living in Skye recently heard of a case in the parish of
Kildonan where water in which silver had been immersed was sprinkled
upon a cow which was unwell. The further information in this case was
that the woman in the district specially referred to was exceedingly
superstitious, and expressed her belief that she would become a bird
after death. She always repeated a rhyme when operating upon cattle.
She had died shortly before our reciter went to Skye.
A school teacher, a native of Skye and carrying on her occupation in
Argyllshire, confirms the strong belief in the Evil Eye in certain
places. A few years ago in D—— a young woman was driving her cow to
pasture when the cow fell. Her owner turned towards a neighbour’s
daughter who had been looking at them passing and scolded her for
the accident, finishing by stating that the onlooker was “mad.” The
retort was that that affliction was hereditary with the cow’s owner.
The interchange of compliments got the credit of curing the cow, which
arose and went its way. The cure, according to this reciter, for any
sudden sickness in cattle was to take a threepenny bit, or any small
silver, and ask a blessing on it in the name of the Father, place it
in a basin, pour water on it, and dash over the cow in the name of the
Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.
In the following case the operation, though carried out by
Gaelic-speaking Highlanders, was conducted in the Lowlands. A child was
supposed to be the victim of _cronachadh_, and the operator was the
daughter of a woman who had practised _eolas_. A fellow-servant of the
operator was the reciter. “Water was procured from a running stream,
it being necessary that the person bringing the water should have a
piece of bread of some sort in his possession at the time. A silver
coin was put in the dish in which the water was, and the operator waved
the dish in a particular manner and then sprinkled some of the water on
the child. The remainder was then dashed against a large stone. Stress
was laid on the necessity of this part of the performance, it being
essential that the stone was immovable. A solid wall, for instance the
gable of a house, was said to be equally efficient.[12]
[12] If, as the writer believes, the original fluid was that mentioned
in 1 Kings xiv. 10, xvi. 11, the deduction is that it should be that of
a male, not a female.
Brought up in a Presbyterian community, the writer has little knowledge
of the manœuvres of traditional Episcopacy or Romanism, but while
speaking of this a friend, whose niece was being baptized in a hurry,
gives the following information. Though the child was supposed to be
dying, the officiating clergyman had first to array himself in his
official costume, and then, producing a small alabaster font, prepared
the water of baptism in that. Having performed the ceremony, he
turned to the infant’s aunt and requested to be taken to the garden,
to which he himself carried the water and emptied it on the ground.
Our informant, herself a Presbyterian, was speaking of the matter
afterwards to the certificated nurse. She said the performance was
not new to her, and told how in a like case the clergyman, not being
provided with his own font, and asking for a basin, was given a nice
Sèvres bowl. After the ceremony he also proceeded outside, and not only
emptied out the water, but deliberately smashed the basin to prevent
its subsequent use for any other purpose.
A variation in the ceremony occurred in the following case, the
operator being a Lewis man. He had a nice foal which had been a good
deal admired, and he was desirous of protecting it from the Evil
Eye. Putting a silver coin in a dish he poured water on it. He then
poured off about half of the water, apparently making a libation, and
the other half he sprinkled over the foal. After this treatment he
considered it would be difficult for any Evil Eye to injure it.
A native of Bernera, Harris, who can neither read nor write and has
no English, shortens the process. “_Tha rathad eile anns an gabh
cronachadh bhi air a chuir air falbh. Nan gabhadh neach bonn airgeid
ann a’ laimh agus uisge dhoirteadh air an t-airgiod agus an sin a lamh
fhliuch a shuathadh air aodan an leanabh. Dheanadh sin e._” (“There is
another way in which _cronachadh_ can be cured. If one takes a piece of
silver in his hand and pours water on the silver and then rubs his wet
hand on the child’s face. That would do it.”)
In tracing the accounts we have received of this Evil Eye water we
started with those which seemed to deal with plain water, then with
water in which one coin, and that necessarily of silver, had been
placed, and now we will consider those cases where more than one coin
has been used. The number seems always to be, in this case, limited
to three. A native of Sutherlandshire, now resident in the mainland
of Argyle, remembers as a boy accompanying an old woman to a certain
well near his native place for water to be used to cure a sick child,
believed to have been _air a chronachadh_. The woman had a tin can with
her into which she put a sixpence, a threepenny bit, and other coins,
said our informant, all silver. Before setting out he was warned that
he must not speak a word, but forgetting himself he began to talk. The
woman instantly stopped him, insisting that he must return home at once
if he uttered another word. He kept silence after that, and when they
returned with the water the woman whom he had accompanied sprinkled it
on the sick child.
A native of Lochaber gives the following as the result of his own
observation there. He saw different coins used, but understood that,
at any rate, there should be silver. The description was given in
connection with the use of the water as a diagnostic of _cronachadh_,
and was as follows: The coins were put into an empty dish—a wooden
one—and the water poured upon them was well water, preferably from a
spring. The operator then tilted the dish over and observed whether
the coin adhered to the bottom or fell away. The reciter disclaimed
accurate knowledge, but said he believed if the coins adhered it was an
indication of _cronachadh_, but if they fell away the illness was from
some “natural” cause.
A diagnostic point with this coin water, over which however an
incantation had been repeated, the words of which had not been
understood by the bystanders, was made by a male practitioner of
_eolas_ who, sprinkling the water on some sick cows they immediately
began to bellow, said that beyond doubt they had been afflicted by
“witchcraft.” He inquired if any milk from the cows had been supplied
to others not on the farm, and when told the name of a woman so
supplied, at once said that it was she who had done the mischief. Again
repeating a word formula, whether the same or not, the reciter did not
know, he sprinkled the rest of the water on the cows, and thereafter
their milk was believed to have been quite normal.
A native of Morven giving her account of the practice there, and being
a firm believer in the Evil Eye, said that the water had to be taken
from a well facing the south, and the silver coin being in it, the
water had to be poured into a bottle from the original dish, and the
sticking of the coin to the bottom was a sign of the probable recovery
of the animal for whom the water was intended.
Above it was said that three coins seemed to be the essential number
when more than one was used, and we give here on the authority of a
clergyman, his report of information derived from the late Mr. Stewart,
the minister of Nether Lochaber. When a person is out of sorts and all
overish, as they say, he is considered a proper subject for the silver
water cure. A female well advanced in life is usually the operator,
and she produces from her store a silver coin, the larger the coin the
better, a crown piece for choice, but if it is to be had, a silver
brooch with silver interlacements is even better. Getting a wooden
bicker, or earthenware bowl, she goes to the nearest running water and
fills her vessel from the stream to the depth that when she dips her
middle finger straight down in it the water will be as high as the
second joint of the finger. Having got the water she drops the coin or
brooch into it, and then makes as straight a course as she can towards
the place where the one is upon whom the charm is to be wrought. She
must take great care that she does not spill a drop of the water by the
way, and this being accomplished, the straighter the course followed
the greater the omen of success. The one to be cured is now made to lie
on his back—chest and neck bare—while the woman stands over him with
the bowl of silver water in her left hand. Having dipped the forefinger
of her right hand in the water, she makes the sign of the cross upon
his forehead and in a low voice repeats an incantation. During the
incantation, with her right hand she sprinkles the water on the patient
seven times and as rapidly as possible. There is then only enough water
left to cover the coins; this the patient is made to drink till the
last drop, the bowl being tilted over till the coin touches his lips.
The patient being now assured that he has been cured, is made to rise
and resume his usual occupations. The words of the incantation as
translated are:—
“Trinity, and might, and mercy, Holy and most merciful to human
suffering and sorrow: Ever Blessed Father, loving Son of Mary, and Oh
kindly Spirit of health and healing. Expel the demon of despondency and
fear out of this Thy servant who believeth in Thy word.
“Holy Apostles, twelve, and Mary mother, and meek Saint Bridget, and
Saint Columba too, exquisite singer of holy hymns, good and wise,
intercede for him with intercession of efficacy and power. Let relief
come now, and health and peace.
“Let the evil that afflicted him be driven by the winds afar: And let
him arise in strength and hope and joy, to magnify the goodness of the
most High.
“With water of silver, from swiftly running stream I sprinkle Thee.
Arise and be well.”
Unfortunately our informant was unable to give us the Gaelic words.
The ceremonies here, probably having been performed in Lochaber where
the Romish faith is still strong, point them back to Roman influences.
There is an accuracy of description and attention to detail suggestive
of the literary man very rarely to be got from popular reciters. We
have however quoted our authority, one well known throughout the
Highlands.
In the above there is no question of prognosticating, and the choice
of the heaviest silver coin or of a silver brooch, which might be
the size of a saucer, militates entirely against the chance of its
sticking, even to the bottom of a wooden vessel. We are able to
give a quite unembellished account of the same process from the same
district by a native. “I mind one time the best cow I ever had was
_air a’ cronachadh_. I went for an old woman I knew who could cure
beasts. She was a decent woman, and when she came she had water with
her in a dish she had brought. She put a shilling in the dish, and then
poured the water into another dish and turned that in which it had been
upside down, but the shilling stuck to the bottom and did not fall.
She struck the dish on the bottom three times with her hand, but still
the shilling held on, and I had to pull it away with my fingers. The
woman said that was clear enough proof that the cow had been injured
by somebody’s ‘eye,’ and she went on to heal her. She put the water on
the cow’s head and horns, sprinkled some all over it, and put some down
its throat. In a short time the cow was all right.” Compare it with the
following account by a native of the parish of Urray, in Rosshire, who
has seen this “silver cure” as she calls it applied both to people and
beasts. She explained that it did not need a professional to do it,
any one can do it for another. Here, then, we see that the virtue lies
in the silver itself apparently. “Water must be taken in the name of
the Trinity from where the living and the dead pass. When the water is
brought home, silver, gold, and copper are put in a dish and the water
poured on their top. Usually coins are used, but a gold ring or earring
will do as well. The person or beast that is to be healed should be
made to drink a mouthful or two of the water, and should be sprinkled
all over with the rest of it. That is all that is needed for the cure.
When one desires to find out if it is a case of hurt by the Evil Eye,
the dish in which the water and the coins were is carefully turned over
till it is mouth downwards. If the coins left in it stick to the bottom
it is a sign that it was the Evil Eye that caused the trouble; if they
fall away the trouble was a natural one.
Here we see a distinct reference to the Trinity, and we also notice
that if we were to take that reciter’s account of it all the three
representatives, apparently, in order to settle the diagnosis would
require to stick to the bottom of the dish.
But another reciter from the same county, but from the parish of
Tarbert, makes it clear that if the silver sticks the question is
settled. When the reciter’s son was a baby she was living with her
aunt, and one day the child began to scream as if in great pain.
Nothing tried seemed to give relief, and her aunt, suspecting Evil Eye,
took the reciter’s marriage ring, a sixpence, and a penny, and putting
them into a dish, poured water on them and then poured the water slowly
off into another dish. She then turned the dish upside down. The ring
and the penny came out, but the sixpence stuck, and although the bottom
of the dish was struck with her hand outside, the coin still remained.
This confirmed her aunt’s suspicion. She said, “See you that? The child
was hurt by some one envying it.” The reciter added, “He was a very
pretty child at any rate.” The aunt gave the baby (some of?) the water
to drink, and he soon got better.
A man and his wife, natives of Kinlochbervie in Sutherlandshire,
separately interviewed, agree as to the common belief there in the Evil
Eye and _cronachadh_ generally. Mr. G. himself when a boy, being taken
ill somewhat suddenly, his mother, suspecting that he had been _air a
chronachadh_, got water, into which she put a gold, a silver, and a
copper coin, and sprinkled the water on his face.
Mrs. H. said she has often seen it done both to cattle and people,
and that it was, as well as a cure, a preventative where no suspicion
of evil had already occurred, but only when it was dreaded, as, for
example, in the case of young persons of prepossessing appearance.
From Back in Lewis we have evidence to the same effect, the belief
in the Evil Eye being very common, and the cure by sprinkling water
off the three metals usually resorted to. The reciter had seen it
frequently done in the case of animals, on one occasion to a child.
Application was here made to an _eolas_ woman. She had water for the
purpose brought from under where the living and the dead pass, put the
three coins in a dish, poured the water on the metal, and sprinkled the
child with the water.
The belief in the Evil Eye no doubt is pagan, though believed to be
supported by Christian dogma, and seeing the importance attached to
the rite of baptism in the name of the Trinity, it seems hardly to be
wondered at that some equivalent ceremony should have been evolved for
the cure of so mystic an influence as the Evil Eye. The writer would,
he believes, be the last person to insinuate anything derogatory to one
Church more than another; but using all honest material, the following
statement must not be passed over.
A native of the north of Ireland, admitting the common belief in his
own district in the Evil Eye, there called, as we have already stated,
“blinked,” informs us that the services of the priests are in demand in
such cases, and it is currently reported that priests do give bottles
of fluid to be sprinkled on the animals affected, with what is believed
to be satisfactory result. He added that there was a story told of a
man damaging his cow by using another bottle containing vitriol instead
of that given by the priest. If such a thing did happen it was the
man’s fault, and in no way affects the question under discussion.
In reciting their incantations the practitioners also vary. The
performance, as described by an eye-witness, in one case was that the
woman consulted put something in a bottle, put the bottle to her mouth,
spoke something into it, and then threw what was in the bottle over the
cow to be cured. The result in this case was quite satisfactory, almost
immediate.
In an Islay instance the woman consulted “went down to the little river
that was below the houses. She had a wee dish with her, and she went on
her knees and said some of the good words that she had while she was
lifting the water. She took the water to where the mare was and said
more of the words, and sprinkled the water over the mare.” The result
in this case was that the mare got better, but was never so sound as
she had been before, and once she got out of the stable she never could
be either forced or coaxed to enter it again, do what they would, and
the attempt was frequently made.
It seems possible that the account given by one reciter of the
preparation of _uisge a chronachaidh_, in which he stated that the
performer takes the water to be used into his or her mouth, and from
the mouth puts it into a bottle to be sprinkled from the bottle upon
the person or beast to be cured, may have been a conclusion formed from
the incantation process being carried on over the mouth of the bottle.
The following account, however, by a Mull woman of her own experience
shows that spitting into the healing water has actually been practised.
The reciter’s aunt, suspecting that a cow which she had was suffering
from _cronachadh_, sent her to the _eolas_ woman to tell her about
the beast. She found the professor in bed ill, but after giving her
message the woman sent her for water to be taken from under a bridge
in the neighbourhood. The living and the dead pass over this bridge,
and it was always from this place that healing water for _cronachadh_
was taken. While repeating the incantation she would now and again spit
into the bottle, which she gave our reciter to take to her aunt. The
water was sprinkled over the animal, which recovered.
Before considering water as a curative which had been in contact with
other things than coin, the importance attached to silver will be
made more clear by the belief put in practice that a silver coin in
the pail at milking time will prevent any one taking the butter away
by witchcraft. This was first noticed by a native of Ayrshire, and is
practised in Islay also.
An Islay farmer and his wife being from home, the niece in charge
during their absence found the churning had gone wrong. It was
suggested to her to put a silver coin under the churn to counteract
the action of any Evil Eye. What the result was in that case could not
be found out; but recently a cow having calved, to prevent any ill
effect from the Evil Eye, a silver coin was put in her first milk,
which was given to the cow herself to swallow, as soon as drawn from
her.
Throughout the country at large the water prepared upon coin is
undoubtedly generally known as “silver water,” though we have shown
that gold as well as copper—but gold more frequently—is associated
with the silver. It is interesting to notice that in one account from
Sutherlandshire the silver cure is described as being done with “a
gold ring, and a silver coin put in a dish of water. The best dish is
a wooden one with wooden hoops and no nails or iron of any kind about
it.” The silver coin should be “a shilling for a man, but if it is for
a woman a sixpence will do.”
From West Ross-shire, and from it alone, has information reached us
of the use of the title “gold cure.” Our informant says, “I went to
see a child that was unwell, and its mother told me that she believed
that it had been hurt by the Evil Eye. She said she was going to try
the ‘gold cure’ for it, but she had no gold of any description in the
house, and she asked me if I had any about me that I could lend her for
the purpose. I had none at the time, so I could not oblige her, but
inquired of her how it was to be used. She said she would put it in a
dish of water and wash the child with the water.”
STONES AND WATER
Above it was indicated that the water was put in contact with other
things besides coins. In the case of the Mull woman already quoted, who
had to use her butter from its unpleasant appearance for wool-greasing
and such like, the _eolas_ man whom she consulted put things right by
getting water “and some kind of stones from a particular burn which
he put in the water. It was necessary,” said the reciter, “that the
stones should be taken from a particular burn.” She was unable to state
what were the peculiar conditions which made that burn essential.
The collector, who got this information in speaking to another woman
in Tobermory and who believed that _cronachadh_ was quite common,
remembering the previous case, and hoping to draw information,
suggested that certain stones were used for curing in Evil Eye cases.
“Yes,” said the reciter, “but there is nothing so good as three pieces
of silver, three silver coins of any kind. If the water is poured on
three silver coins, and the words said over either beast or body, it
will cure them.”
The following is a fairly circumstantial account from the parish of
Clyne, Sutherlandshire, of the performance with stones and silver
of a strong believer. She had a delicate daughter, and believed if
people, especially strangers, looked at the girl she was sure to be
ill after it, and often she would be so bad that she had to go to
bed. The mother then tried the following cure, believed by many to be
successful. She took a basin and put a silver coin into it, and went
to a running stream near her house. From the bottom of the stream she
chose seven small stones, which she put in the basin along with the
coin, then dipping the basin in the stream so that the water ran into
it on the top of the silver and the stones till slightly more than
half full. She then went home, gave her daughter a little of the water
to drink, and sprinkled a little of it on her. She kept the remainder
beside her, and whenever there was any suspicion that an Evil Eye had
again fallen upon her, the same process was carried out. Unfortunately
the cure failed, the girl having died. It is more than probable that
the weakly girl, imbued with her mother’s superstition, suffered when
looked at by strangers, or when she thought she was regarded with
curiosity; if she had merely been nervous she would probably have been
cured.
A native of Jura told how, when living with her sister there, one of
the children becoming unwell an _eolas_ woman was sent for, who got
some stones, a darning needle, water, and other things, and with these
did something to the child, but it did not recover. Our informant
said they were strong in the belief that the child had been _air a
cronachadh_.
Another account of the use of the darning needle comes from Ardrishaig.
Our informant’s grandmother had a cow grazing at the roadside, and
a woman, suspected of having an Evil Eye, passing, said, “_S mart
bhriagh thu, ge bi leis thu_” (“You are a bonnie cow, to whomsoever you
belong”). Shortly after the cow was found “lying rolled up in a lump.”
“My grandmother went with a luggie for water and put a darning needle,
silver, and copper into the water. She then poured some of the water
down the cow’s throat, rubbed her horns with the water, and sprinkled
the rest all over her. In a little the cow was all right.”
The same reciter mentioned another case, in which the operator was
her mother. A calf became ill, and the owners were in doubts what to
do with it. “My mother, remembering my grandfather’s cow, put spring
water in a luggie (it must be spring water) and a silver and a copper
coin and a darning needle. She forced some of the water down the calf’s
throat, and sprinkled the rest over it. The calf recovered, and the
farmer’s wife was so pleased and said to my mother, ‘Well, well, Mrs.
S., I never saw the like of you, you can do anything.’”
No detailed description was given of the stones used, but as
_clach-na-sùil_, the stone (apple) of the eye, is common Gaelic, they
were doubtless of a sort more or less representative of eyes.
From Kintyre, the following information in the words of the reciter
gives us some indication. “They used tae hae a bunch o’ sea-shore
stanes wi’ holes in them hanging up at the door tae keep awa‘ witches.”
The collector had seen such stones in a house in Kintyre, but at the
time did not know their purpose. They were of the honeycombed sort that
may be found on shores where there are quantities of shingle. There
were six or seven tied on a string hung above the inside of the inner
door; they were of different sizes, guessed at from fourteen to sixteen
ounces in weight.
From the island of Lewis we have another indication. There, there is
a considerable amount of superstition connected with what is called
_a’ chlach nathrach_ (the serpent’s stone). The reciter, who had seen
several of them, said they were usually round with one hole through
them, though there may be two in some cases. The popular account of the
information given was as follows: A number of serpents congregating at
certain times form themselves into a knot and move round and round on
the stone until a hole is worn. They then pass and repass after each
other through the hole, leaving a coating of slime round the hole,
which by-and-by becomes hard. It is this slime that gives to the stone
the healing properties it is supposed to possess. The principal use of
the stone was as a cure for the Evil Eye. Water is poured on the stone,
and the person or beast affected is caused to drink the water, or has
it sprinkled on them; sometimes the application is both external and
internal. These stones are much prized by their possessors, who are
very unwilling to part with them, and would not even willingly show
them, or even acknowledge that they possessed them.
Stories of the knot of serpents being seen are still told. A very old
man, a labourer, without English, and who can neither read nor write,
gives the following account:—
“All the serpents in the country round about gather together to one
place on one day every year, where they have a day’s play. The play
consists in rolling in a lump on a stone and running through a hole
on the stone one after another. One time Georsa Cailean’s wife (the
wife of George, the son of Colin) was going home to her father, and
when she was just beside a beautiful green spot near _Beinn Tartbheil_
(Islay), she noticed that it was covered with serpents as thick as they
could lie on the top of one another. They had gathered there that year
for their play. She got a fright and ran, but if she had gone among
them she would have got the serpent’s stone.”
A strong endeavour was made to acquire one of these stones, said to
have been found in a serpent’s den, but negotiations came to nothing,
as the owners believing that it was good as a cure, especially for
serpents’ bite, refused to part with it.
It is not necessary here to discuss St. Fillan, but it is a well-known
fact that the three stones, supposed to have been in his possession
and kept in the meal mill at Killin, were supposed to impart healing
efficacy to water in which they were steeped, and which recently, at
any rate, was given to diseased cattle as a curative.
The stones principally used then are stones with an eye or eyes in
them—compare usual description of the hole in the top of a needle, the
eye of the needle. The stones of St. Fillan seem the nearest symbolical
equivalent we have to the protruded fingers of southern Europe, which
again is nearly identical with the one-eyed Fachan—the _Direach glinn
Eiti_ (Straight of the downy glen?) of I. F. Campbell,[13] and with
which we may connect the protruded forefinger which was not to touch
the yarn, mentioned on page 145.
[13] “West Highland Tales,” iv. 326.
IRON AND WATER
An Islay woman tells the following of her mother. “She was telling
me how one time the butter went away from their milk, and for a good
while they could not get a bit of butter. She was advised to go to that
woman, and she went. When she told her that she could get no butter the
woman took an iron and put it into the fire until it was red-hot; she
then took it out and put it into a stoup of water, repeating some words
at the same time. Some of this water was given to my mother to put into
the churn, and would you believe it, the butter came back, and not only
that, but with the very first churning there was a great quantity,
equal to all that had been lost since things had gone wrong.”
The reciter was a woman of about five-and-thirty, now a small farmer’s
wife, and well educated for her station.
The iron in this case was heated, but in another instance, in which a
horse belonging to the reciter’s grandfather was supposed to be injured
by the Evil Eye, the _eolas_ professor, a woman, having got water,
dipped a bunch of keys into it and then hung the keys round the horse’s
neck, and sprinkled the water over the animal, repeating words which
the reciter could not catch. The horse got well.
That for the cold iron, and now for the heat. “_Nan tigeadh neach a
steach gus an tigh againne ‘nuair a bhitheamaid a’ maistreadh dhe nach
biodh m’athair ro chinnteach, ghabhadh e eibhleag as an teine agus
chuireadh e ann an soitheach uisg’ e, agus ghleidheadh sin an toradh._”
(“If a person of whom my father would not be quite sure would come into
our house when we would be churning, he would take a live ember from
the fire and put it in a dish of water, and that would preserve the
produce.”)
As a mere suggestion, a guess for what it is worth, knowing that
the old process of preparing hot water by immersing heated stones
in it was practised by Highlanders, we here may have the ordinary
method of scalding the churn and dishes, at one time common, become a
superstitious formula.
The power of iron as protective against witchcraft, fairies, and all
supernatural powers is too widespread to need special consideration.
We must not however always conclude that when what is used as a means
of cure is composed of iron that the iron is the principal matter. A
reciter near Campbeltown gave the following information:—
“Mattie Lavarty used to be going about the country here makin’ _eolas_.
I mind yince a coo belongin‘ tae yin Neil R. took ill before calfing,
an’ they sent for Mattie Lavarty. She worked aboot the coo wi’ water,
an’ said her paternoster or somethin’ else o’er’t an left a horseshoe
in front o’t. But the next mornin’ whan Neil gaed intae the byre the
calf was lyin’ deed in the greep (byre gutter). That pit Neil frae gaun
near Mattie or the like o’ her ever after.”
Our business here is not with Mattie’s success or failure, but with
the subject matter used in her attempted cure. The illness of the cow
was probably a protracted labour, and Mattie put before it what was
symbolical of a free passage for the expected calf. It was no mere
placing of something for luck, but a use of the symbol of reproduction
on an appropriate occasion.
WOOD AND WATER
The reciter in this case was a native of Tarbert, Kintyre. Believing
his cow to be suffering from the Evil Eye, he sent for a practitioner
of _eolas_. When she arrived, the first thing she did was to procure
various kinds of wood and “different kinds of water.” She made circles
with a stick, repeating “words” the while. This done, she requested
the owner to go out of the byre, she remaining alone in it for a
considerable time. She put the water in which the wood had been steeped
on the cow. The animal recovered.
It seems reasonable to conclude that the _iubhar beinne_ (the
juniper) would be one of the woods used, but no exact information was
obtainable. (See page 119)
SALT AS CURE AND PREVENTATIVE
Salt is employed as a cure and preventative. The following experience
of a Kintyre farmer’s wife, recited by herself, gives considerable
detail of the process carried out. “I mind yin o’ oor ain coos was ill,
an’ I sent for M. McC., that was a woman beside us that had _eolas_. As
shune as she seen the coo she said M. McS. was here. That was a woman
folk didna’ like, for they thocht she had a bad e’e. Says I: ‘Ay, she
was here.’ ‘Weel, she did harm to the coo.’ She gied to the march burn
and lifted water oot o’t in three pairts. The first she lifted in the
name o’ the Father, the second in the name o’ the Son, and the third
in the name o’ the Holy Ghost. Then she got salt and did the same wee
hit. She pit the first taitie intae the bottle in the name o’ the
Faither, the second in the name o’ the Son, and the third in the name
o’ the Holy Ghost. She then gied tae a corner o’ the byre and prayed
some prayer. When that was finished she pit the water in the coo’s ears
and some on her back, an’ then said, ‘She has plenty noo.’ The coo
shune got better. Peter, Paul, and Mary’s names war in the prayer. She
offered to learn me that _eolas_, but I didna want tae learn’t.”
From an Islay reciter who saw the performance we have the operation
described as follows. She (the professor) first went on her knees and
repeated words, then put salt on a paper. This salt she measured with
a thimble painted blue in the inside. She then put it into a cloth,
poured water through it into a bottle, after which she repeated words
over it and gave the bottle to the man who had come to consult her
about the cow.
The salt seems sometimes to be used dry. We have mentioned George ——,
described as a worthy man, who was consulted to cure a cow so ill that
the schoolmaster had already advised its owner to send for a man to
flay it. George required that it should be put in the byre, and it had
to be pulled in by main force with a rope round its horns. This being
accomplished, he told the boys that they might go now and he would do
the rest himself. He then asked my mother if she had salt, and when
she replied that she had, he ordered her to give him the full of her
hand. She gave him that, and said if there was anything he would like
to have one of the children would go for it. But he answered, “This
will do my business.” He went back to the _bothan_ (byre), and he began
to work the salt in the palm of his hand. After a good while he came
out and said to my mother, “Your cow is dressed now, Flora.” They then
went to take her out of the _bothan_, but still she would not walk, and
they had to drag her out and leave her again on the green. With this
my father was after coming back, and a man along with him, to take the
skin off the cow. George advised her to let her alone, for she would be
all right yet. The cow recovered.
The use of urine as a preventative has been considered already. The
following from an intelligent woman of about fifty, a farmer’s wife in
Kintyre, a well-read woman who takes an interest in things which she
admittedly does not believe in, tells that when she was young, in one
farm in Kintyre where she was in service, her mistress was regularly in
the habit of sprinkling urine (house slops) on every cow after calving,
and before she was allowed to go out, the intention being to protect
the cow from the effects of the Evil Eye.
In another farm, however, in Kintyre, at the same time and for the
same purpose, salt was sprinkled on every cow’s back as soon as she
had calved. It was an encouraging sign if the cow licked off the salt,
which was specially sprinkled on either side of the rump.
It seems quite fair here to consider the salt as a more civilised
representative of the other fluid, though in fact the latter is of
considerable value as a cleanser under certain circumstances.
Another native of Kintyre informs us that it was a common custom
at farms when the cattle were being put out on the 1st of May for
the mistress to stand and throw a handful of salt on each as they
passed out of the byre. She saw this done in a farm in the parish of
Campbeltown, and was well aware of it being a common practice. It was
avowedly done against _cronachadh_.
The writer having no skill in churning, has no knowledge what result
would come from putting of salt in the churn, but an Arran woman is
responsible for the statement that she had herself often seen salt put
into a churn as a protection against any evil influence.
A careful observer in Islay tells how that at one time their butter
having left them and they had got none for some weeks, they sent for
a woman, a professor in the neighbourhood. When she came they had a
churning ready to commence with, but on examining it she advised that
it should be thrown to the pigs, and added that they must clean and
scrub well all the dishes used for gathering the milk, and that she
would return on the next day they were ready for a churning. That day
having come, the _eolas_ woman returned, and the first thing she did
was to sprinkle a little salt on the bottom of the empty churn. The
milk was then poured in and the churning commenced, with unexpectedly
satisfactory results. The practitioner here was an _eolas_ woman
of a very good sort, and set about her operations in a manner well
calculated to be successful. On the farm, however, they regarded that
butter with suspicion and sold it.
To judge from what we are told in the following as having occurred in
the north of Ireland, so strong is the action of salt that it will put
matters right with a bad churning, even though it neither touch cream
nor churn. Failing one day to get their butter properly, the reciter’s
master sent for an old woman in the immediate neighbourhood. When she
came she just glanced at the churn, and seeing at once what was wrong,
she said to the farmer, “If you like I will show you the one who has
done the harm.” He assured her that he did not wish that, but would be
pleased if she could do anything with the churning. Without more ado,
so far as W. could see, she took a handful of salt, which she threw
into a pot boiling on the fire. She then gave a turn or two at the
churn, and sure enough the butter came all right.
We have already mentioned the use of salt in connection with sugar as
put in milk given to a woman suspected of influencing her source of
supply, and from which the dairymaid took the first mouthful as a sure
preventative of evil, not only for the quantity immediately given, but
also for any that would be supplied subsequently during the season.
One other instance of the use of salt we give on the authority of an
Arran man of about sixty-five years of age, a shrewd business man, but
of whom the collector says that to judge from appearances he thinks his
knowledge of the island and his family connection with it extends about
as far back as the origin of the island itself.
He said his father was a great believer in the Evil Eye. One day a
neighbour, walking with him while ploughing, had spoken in praise of a
brown horse that was in the plough. His acquaintance had hardly left
when the horse turned ill, and lay down and kicked and groaned. It was
unyoked and taken home, and the Evil Eye being suspected N. R.’s wife
was sent for. She came and got a mixture of salt, soot, and a lot of
other things which she rubbed on the horse. She felt it all over with
her hand to find out the particular spot where the eye had struck.
Whatever did it, the horse recovered and was quite well afterwards.
The passing the hand over the animal to feel for material damage is
peculiar. This is a usual proceeding in cases of elf-shot, but not of
the Evil Eye; however, of course the woman was thoroughly entitled to
make her own diagnosis in her own way.
MOST SUITABLE WATER
In the course of the preceding, various sources for water used to cure
Evil Eye have been mentioned. “A certain well.” This may have been a
holy well of some sort, consecrated by traditional connection with some
saint, though after all it may have been chosen merely to fulfil the
condition mentioned elsewhere that a spring is preferable. A narrowing
of the choice of springs from which water could be taken was shown in
the case where one of our reciters told us that, believing the water
_a bhiodh air a thoirt a tobar o’n taobh deas_ (should be taken from
a south well), he proceeded to take it from a well south of his own
house, while another mentioned that the water required to be taken from
a spring facing the south.
While roughly one-half of our reciters have expressed a preference for
well or spring water, the other half prefer running water. One said
“it should come from a march burn,” and two mentioned “that it should
be from a running stream,” not mentioning any advantage to be derived
from its dividing two properties. One pointed out that a piece of bread
must be in the possession of the taker. In two other instances the
information was given that it must be taken where the living and the
dead pass. The condition further annexed that it must be from under a
bridge is probably merely an expression of the reciter’s own for this
same idea. He would probably have considered stepping-stones, or a
commonly used ford which led to a burial-place, as equally effective.
The specified qualifications really cover all the usual sources from
which water can be drawn. From a native of Kintail, we hear of a case
which was considered the result of the Evil Eye, though she spoke of
the patient, a boy, having been “injured by some spell.” He was quickly
cured by the sprinkling of water from a “certain well.”
An Islay reciter was very clear upon the necessity of choosing “_uisge
fior_” (spring water).
From the same island, in a case where a cow was said to be suffering
from “_buidseachas_” (witchcraft), which in this case seems to mean
Evil Eye, the water was taken in a small tub from the Saligo River.
The cow recovered, so if there is any doubt in any one’s mind as to a
proper source of supply, he can always procure it in the river running
from Lochgorm to the west of Islay.
Another reciter said that water would be more efficacious if taken
from a point where three parishes touched each other, or failing that,
from a spot from which three parishes could be seen, and that he knew
of water being frequently taken from a spot which answered these
conditions for healing purposes of the sort we are considering. This is
again an invocation of the Trinity by suggestion.
A woman who herself practised _eolas_, when asked whether it mattered
what sort of water she used, said “Oh yes, it must be water from a
march over which the living and dead pass.” The use of this water need
not apparently be accompanied by incantations and other formulæ.
A reliable informant mentioned a case which came under her own notice
of a Skye woman living at Kenmore, who, having taken it into her
head that a passing tramp had injured her child with the Evil Eye,
“hurriedly bundling up her child, went with him to a little river near
her house, and washed the boy under the bridge which was on the main
road there, and the regular thoroughfare, alike for ordinary passengers
and funeral processions.” In fact, a running water over which the
living and the dead passed.
For dwellers in towns these instructions, if carried out, might mean
considerable trouble, but in one case at any rate, in Campbeltown,
Kintyre, a firm believer in the Evil Eye, with a view to her own
protection, “used to stand over the water tap in her own kitchen and
allow the water to run while she repeated some words over the running
water.”
The position of some wells undoubtedly makes them fashionable. One
of our informants who has lived at Crianlarich says that within the
last thirty years she has known people come considerable distances
to take water from a well between the old Priory and the Kirkton
burying-ground, over which the “living and the dead” were wont to pass.
It was taken for the purpose of curing cattle injured by an Evil Eye.
A silver coin was generally in the vessel in which they carried away
the water. The efficacy of this cure was commonly, if not universally,
believed in by the people of the place.
TABOO WHEN IN POSSESSION OF WATER
In accordance with all the traditions of magical observance, we must
expect to find the use of this curative water made dependent upon the
observance of certain rules laid down by the professor. In one case
already cited, a young person going with an old woman to a well for
water, was ordered to keep silence, even though he himself was not
carrying the water; and this was insisted upon rigidly. This was in
Sutherland.
This insisting on silence is a very common taboo in other cases.
From an Arran reciter, in the case of an unmarried woman being sent
for the _pisearachd_, as it is there called, the professor instructed
her to go straight home, no further particulars being mentioned. This
daughter of Eve and Adam sat down at the roadside and indulged her
curiosity in examining what she had got from the _eolas_ woman. Our
reciter said, “After this, of course, it was of no use; for anything
these _eolas_ people give for curing should never be opened till it
is going to be used. If it is opened before that, it will lose its
virtue.” At any rate in this case it did no good, for the cow died.
Anything approaching careful reasoning in folklore matters is not to be
expected, as in religion, faith takes the first place, and reason, if
admitted at all, quite a back seat. Sometimes, however, things occur
which tend to diminish superstitious faith and reassert the advantage
of applied reason.
In Arran, a horse was supposed to be suffering from _cronachadh_.
The farmer sent a woman to get the advice of a professor, W. She had
to take care of a young child at the time, and probably it was not
convenient for her to leave the child at home, anyhow, she took it with
her in a shawl. Having told her errand to the _eolas_ man, he gave her
a bottle with instructions how to use it. On her way home, constantly
hitching up the child on her back, the cork came out of the bottle, and
all that had been put in it was spilled. When she found this was the
case she was in a “great stew” and wondered what she should do. She
made up her mind that she would fill the bottle from the burn and say
nothing of what had happened on reaching home if the horse did not get
better; if it did she could tell the truth. She refilled her bottle,
retailed the _eolas_ man’s instructions, the water was applied to the
horse in accordance with these, and recovered. The woman now let out
the secret, which, as may be supposed, somewhat shook the confidence of
the public in the powers of that individual professor of _piscarachd_.
We have to take these stories as we get them. Cross-questioning the
reciter has various results, from complete silence and a consequent
drying-up of all information, to an acquiescence in anything they think
will satisfy their interrogators. One is inclined to believe that in
the following case a cracked bottle was deliberately given to the
messenger so as to lead up to what happened. Our reciter said, “It was
just last week I was speaking to R. G. about the man in R. One of his
cows was ill, and a boy was sent to a man who cured cattle that had
been _air an cronachadh_. The boy got a bottle with instructions, and
was told, “I am not sure whether you will get back in time, but if the
bottle does not break on the way and you can reach home before the cow
dies, this will cure her.” The boy went as fast as he could, but when
almost home the bottle broke in halves, and all that was in it was
lost. He turned back and went as quick as he could to the _eolas_ man,
who told him: “I knew the bottle would break, but I will make another
that will not break, only I’m afraid you will not be in time.” The boy
hurried home to find the cow dead.
One would have supposed that any one not a fool would have looked upon
this as a trick, but the reciter, a tradesman who can read and write,
really an intelligent man and shrewd in other matters, added, “Was it
not wonderful that he knew the bottle would break?” The collector asked
him what he supposed had caused it to break. “Oh, just the strength
of the evil that was inside it. One evil trying to beat another evil;
the man that gave the bottle, you see, was a strong wizard.” Asked to
explain his idea as expressed by the one evil trying to beat the other,
and was not the man who professed to cure as bad as the one who had
done the harm, he explained his position by saying: “Well, no, it is
right to do good and to beat the wicked one.”
The spilling of the water, and consequently the impossibility of
recovering it from the ground, would naturally put an end to any hope
of cure from it, but it would appear that even laying it down while in
the bottle deprived it of its virtue, as already pointed out.
“When myself and my father,” said a reciter, “were in service at E——,
I was the herd, and one of the milch cows was attacked and not a drop
of milk was left with her, but there was nothing to be seen wrong. We
had a suspicion of what it was, and I went up to a worthy, clever man
(_duine corr gasda_) that would be at work curing beasts that were _air
an cronachadh_. When I told him what was wrong he took a bottle from
the corner, while I sat by the fire. It is not known what he said on
the bottle, but when giving it to me, he said: ‘_Air na chunnaic mi
riomh gun am botal a leigeil ris a ghrunnd gus an ruiginn dhachaidh_’
(‘Upon what I had ever seen not to let the bottle touch the ground
until I would reach home’), and upon reaching to put what was in the
bottle in the cow’s two ears, and he said that this would make her that
she would have plenty of milk that same night. When I got home we did
exactly as he had said, and the creature had plenty milk after that.”
The above occurred in Islay, but the same taboo was laid on the
carriage of a like medicament in Rothiemurchus. The reciter said: “My
mother was for a while that she could not get any butter. Whenever she
would try to gather it, it would run like sand. At last her suspicions
fell on a woman in the neighbourhood believed to have the Evil Eye. My
mother was advised to consult a woman supposed to have skill in these
things, then resident in the parish of Rothiemurchus. When she spoke of
it to my father he did not object, and said he would speak about it to
the woman’s husband, both being at that time at work about the laird’s
house. Next day the woman’s husband promised my father that he would
tell his wife, which he did, and she made something. I remember quite
well being sent to the woman’s house for the thing that was to cure the
cow; my sister was with me, and the woman gave us a bottle, and what
was in it was just like clear water. When giving it to us she cautioned
us to be careful of it, for it must not be allowed to touch the ground
until it would reach the cow; and I remember how very carefully we
carried it home, and how feared we were for it. The cow was made to
swallow it, and whether it was that that did it, I cannot tell, but I
know they believed it was. In any case, after that the butter came all
right.”
The reciter of this, a woman aged about thirty-eight, was a crofter’s
daughter, fairly well educated and more than usually intelligent.
A very full account of the taboos to be observed by the carrier of an
_eolas_ cure comes from a reciter at Whiting Bay in Arran.
Two men, each having but one horse, were in the habit of doing their
ploughing by uniting the pair in one team. One day both horses took
ill and the Evil Eye was diagnosed. One of the owners sent for _eolas_
and his horse began to recover; the other man, who at first expressed
disbelief, seeing his neighbour’s horse improving while his own did
not, sent his niece, on the “sly,” to the same practitioner, Bean A.,
for _pisearachd_. It is the niece who gives us the information. “Well,
I went, and I told her my errand. I had a shawl on my head. When she
heard my errand she went and put her hand up the lum and took something
from there, and then she went into a corner and took out three wee
pokes as black as soot and took something out of them. She was in the
dark, but I knew that there were stones in the pokes, for I heard them
rattling. She then gave me a paper with something in it, and told me
that I was on no account to open the paper or let light or air into
it till I would reach home. As soon as I would reach I was to tell my
uncle to put what was in the paper into a bottle of water, and that
he was to sprinkle the water over the horse, repeating its name three
times while sprinkling it. He was then to pour a little into each of
its ears, and the rest, if there should be any over, he was to put in
its food. These were her directions, and I went away with the paper;
but two people met me on the road and spoke to me. I did not answer
them properly, for I was afraid, but just said I ‘_iim_,’ keeping my
mouth shut all the time. I had a strong wish to see what was in the
paper, but was afraid if I would let in light or air it might be of
no use. I resisted the temptation till I was nearly home, and then,
getting behind a dyke, I put the shawl over my head in such a way
that neither light nor air could get into the paper, as I thought.
When I opened the paper what I saw were three wee black balls, black
as soot, just like balls of soot. I never let on at home that I had
opened the paper, and my uncle did all as he was ordered to do, and
after a while the horse began to get better. I do not know whether it
was the bottle that cured it, but it took a good while before it came
to be quite well. People used to say that when a beast or body was
_air a’ cronachadh_ it would take as long to complete the cure after
the application of the _eolas_ as had been between the injury and the
application of the cure. Bean A. assured my uncle afterwards that it
was a person of the name of Stewart that had done the harm, and there
were only three of that name in the place at that time. Suspicion fixed
on one of them, and by-and-by they began to cast it up to her. She got
angry and went to check my aunt for reporting a thing of the kind about
her. This was the first my aunt had heard of the cure, for my uncle
wanted to conceal it from her, and she was very angry with him for
having sent to the _eolas_ woman.”
In the above an express proviso was that while sprinkling the water
over the horse its name was to be repeated three times. The necessity
for this was expressly laid down by a Sutherlandshire reciter who said,
“The person or beast to be cured is made to drink some of this (silver
water), and is also sprinkled all over with some of it. The sprinkling
is done in the name of the Trinity, and the name of the person or beast
being operated upon must also be mentioned. This is all that is needed
if it is a case of Evil Eye.”
Of course there is a certain amount of pure swindle in some of these
performances.
A lad was sent some miles in Islay for _eolas_ for a sick cow. He gave
his account of the case to the man, who then promised him a bottle.
Having got the bottle and directions for its use, the messenger put it
in his pocket and took his way home. Before he had got quite half-way,
he fancied he heard a “commotion” in the bottle, which was still in his
pocket. He then discovered that the bottle had burst (?) and what had
been in it had all gone. Thinking this was not as it should be, after
standing for a minute or two wondering what he should do, he made up
his mind to go back and tell the scientist what had happened. Back
he went, made his report, and the man said to him: “Did they manage
to do that to you? I’ll give you a bottle they cannot break.” He got
another bottle ready, waved his hands over it before giving it to the
lad, saying as he did so, “Here, _they_ cannot break this one, but
the cow will not be saved.” He told the boy who had injured the cow.
_They_ were the doers of the evil, evidently supposed to be acting with
intention to do injury; so this case might be considered as one of
witchcraft by those concerned in it.
WATER, WHERE APPLIED
There has been already occasion to mention that the instruction given
with the healing water was to make the animal swallow some of it,
but yet more frequently to sprinkle it on the beast. The most usual
locality, however, to which it is ordered to be applied is that of the
ears.
A reciter’s father-in-law had a sick horse which was supposed to have
eaten or drunk nothing for some days. A woman in the neighbourhood was
consulted, who, when she came into the stable, put some water (?) in
the ear of the horse, saying some words at the same time. The horse,
which was lying down, rose to its feet, began to eat, and recovered.
Another reciter told of her own husband, who got something in a bottle,
which he was ordered to put a portion of in the horse’s ears, and to
sprinkle some all over its body. As soon as he came home he did what he
had been ordered, the sick horse rose to its feet, began to eat, and
completely recovered.
In another case the reciter’s father had a grey horse which he
described as not being _uamhasach bochd_ (frightfully bad), but it
would not eat. To tempt the horse it was allowed in among their
standing oats, but it would not bend its head to eat a bite. His
father, taking the advice of another, went to J. R.’s grandmother and
told her how the matter was. She assured him she would not be long
in giving him what was wanted; she then gave him a bottle with the
instruction, “_A chuir a cheud da spuit dhe na bha ’sa bhotal, aon
anns gach cluais dhe ’n t-ainmhidh, agus an corr a chrathadh sios air
a mhuidh, agus air a dhruim agus leigeil leis sruthadh sios air_.” (To
put the first two spouts of what was in the bottle one in each ear of
the horse, and to sprinkle the remainder down on his mane and on his
back, and allow it to run down on him.) In this case also the horse
gave himself a shake, began to eat, and recovered.
The same formula was applied to cattle. A Kintyre farmer had a sick
cow, and was advised to consult an _eolas_ woman in the neighbourhood.
Having no faith in that sort of thing, it was some time before he
consented, but he did at last on the plea that it could do no harm.
The woman being sent for, procured water and salt; these she put into
the cow’s ear, reciting some unintelligible form of words. The cow
seemed to brisk up at once, and the result was so satisfactory that
the owner’s sister-in-law, who was present at the performance and had
previously taken up a position of unbelief, said to him, “I think, J.,
there is something in it after all.”
We have already given the particulars of how two beautiful quey calves
were affected by the Evil Eye of a woman who stared at them over the
field dyke. One died, but the other was cured by what appeared to be
pure water which the owner was told to put in the ear of the sick calf.
When this was done it shook its head, got on its feet, and recovered.
These cases all get the credit of being recoveries. But a
Dumbartonshire case was less successful. When the reciter was in
service one of the cows took ill, and old J. W., who was always in the
byres and well acquainted with cattle, insisted that the beast was ill
from the influence of some one _aig am bheil droch shuil_ (who had an
Evil Eye). Nothing would satisfy him till a woman, A. T., was sent for.
She did not find it convenient to come herself, but sent a bottle with
water in it, instructing the messenger how to put it in the cow’s ear.
The instructions were carefully carried out, but the cow died.
Any person who had been made to shudder by the inside of the ear being
tickled, would see at once how the animal was recalled to activity.
The following, from a native of Tiree, shows either that he had
forgotten the instruction given to put the water directly into the
ears, or the professor, while still remembering the shaking of the head
as sign of returning activity, had contented himself with the simple
sprinkling. It was the reciter’s cousin who went to the _eolas_ man,
and who, having “made up a bottle,” told him to sprinkle it on the
horse when he would reach home; and if it would shake its ears when the
stuff would go on it, he said it would live, but if not they need do
no more, for it would die. Our information was that the thing was done
according to the directions given, as soon as the horse felt the water
it shook its ears, and as the _eolas_ man had said, recovered.
ODD CURES
There are some odd cures mentioned in individual cases.
HONEYSUCKLE CURE
From a good correspondent in the North of Argyllshire comes the
following account of a clerk in a factor’s office. He complained at
times, and certainly did not look very well, but not much attention
was paid to him, as any illness he had did not seem serious. “A frail
old woman came into his parents’ house one evening as the lad returned
to supper. She looked at him keenly, waited till he went out, and
then asked, ‘What is he complaining of?’ His mother was surprised,
but answered that he was feeling the confinement in his office a good
deal, but that there was not much wrong. ‘You need not tell me that,’
said the old woman, ‘I can easily see there is something very real
the matter with him. Some one has laid their Evil Eye upon him. I’ll
tell you what you should do. Go to the woods, get a good long bit of
the _iadh-shlait_, take it and twist it this way round his whole body,
repeating the following words, and you will see your son hale and
hearty soon.’ The lad’s mother did not believe in the cure and did not
try it, nor could she give the words recommended to be used.” The plant
here is the honeysuckle, the Gaelic name given being used for it alone
in the district. Dictionaries, however, say that it is also used for
“ivy,” which in those parts as elsewhere is called _eitheann_.
CAT CURE
The reciter, a probationer of the Free Church and well up in folklore
matters, when in Harris, of which he was a native, heard of the
following. A man’s cow was taken suddenly ill, and the only conclusion
they could come to was that it was a case of Evil Eye. The owner of the
cow, acting on advice, took a cat and rubbed it on the cow. The cow
recovered.
RUBBING HAIR THE WRONG WAY
The reciter’s grandfather was a Stratherrick man (Loch Ness), and when
attending the market there, was approached by another man to sell him a
stirk. There was a good deal of bargaining. No agreement was come to,
the offerer leaving as if dissatisfied. Before the market closed the
stirk fell to the ground and could not be got to rise. F.’s suspicions
of course fell upon the rejected offerer. An acquaintance who also was
attending the market, and was supposed to have eolas, happened to come
about, and seeing F. in distress reassured him: “_Cha’n eagal do’n
bheachan a laochain_.” (“No fears of the beast, my lad.”) He then drew
the palm of his hand up the stirk’s back against the hair, repeating
words which the reciter, however, had never heard. The stirk got on its
feet and was soon brisk and well.
CHANGING THE FIREPLACE
“There was a man living in Machri whose cattle and horses were dying,
and things generally going against him. He knew quite well it was the
Evil Eye, so he consulted a _buidseach_. The _buidseach_ told him to
change his fire to the other end of the house. Having done this his
cattle recovered, and he was prosperous ever after.”
Unfortunately this is the whole information available. The cattle not
improbably were housed beneath the same roof as himself; but it would
be of no benefit speculating as to the effect of changing the fireplace
nearer to or farther from his stock. All that can be said is that the
change of position of the fireplace was credited with a change in the
man’s luck.
THE POWER OF A CHILD’S MUTCH
Whether the child in this case was suffering directly from the Evil Eye
the reciter was not prepared to say.
In the neighbourhood of Tayinloan, Kintyre, there were several women
who professed to be able to cure sicknesses arising from the Evil Eye.
One of these women was sent for in the case of a child thought to be
dying. When she arrived the household were gathered round the child,
thinking he was approaching immediate death. When the woman looked at
him she said nothing, but asked for a child’s mutch (close cap), and
when it was given her she went outside, repeated a charm over it, and
returning, put the mutch on the child’s head and said he would soon be
well. In a little while he kicked and stretched himself, and it was not
long till he was all right.
WHISKY CURE
In only one case have we heard of this universal solvent of misfortune
being used as a cure for the Evil Eye. The churning was unsuccessful;
the dairymaid was convinced that it was a case of Evil Eye, and advised
that a glass of whisky should be put in the churn. The advice was not
taken, so we have still to learn the effects of whisky in like case.
This was in Caithness-shire, where belief in the Evil Eye is very
common.
LEAD DROPPING
We have already considered the reference of the diagnosis to the augury
of a piece of silver sticking to the bottom of a dish. All sorts of
prognostications are got by pouring albumen of eggs into water as well
as melted lead; the latter was used in the following instance of what
it disclosed as a case of Evil Eye.
The reciter was a well-educated sick-nurse, of middle age and
thoroughly reliable. A girl had taken suddenly ill. A young man in the
neighbourhood was desirous of marrying her, but the suitor was not
acceptable, and the girl took every opportunity of letting this be
seen. A neighbour, supposed to have special skill and whose method of
hanky-panky was the dropping of melted lead into water, was consulted.
She went through her performance and showed the lead, part of it at
least, in the form of a heart with a hole through it. She explained to
the sick girl, “Look at that, his eye is in you and you are far better
to take him.” The match was made, and the girl recovered her health.
The same woman, going through the same performance with reference to a
sick lad, showed to his aunt and sister some of the lead in the form of
a coffin, and from that pronounced the case hopeless. The lad shortly
thereafter died.
In the case of the pierced heart, there is no doubt, the idea on the
part of the reciter was that actual illness was brought on by the
desirous eye of the young man, not merely that the lad had an eye to
her as a satisfactory partner.
AN EYE FOR AN EYE
We have pointed out that the belief in an Evil Eye is founded upon
a literal acceptance apparently of the validity of the commandment
“Thou shalt not covet.” To the writer this seems the hardest of the
Decalogue. It forbids thoughts which pass involuntarily through the
mind. A person to whom Nature has given an ambitious and acquisitive
disposition breaks this commandment necessarily, however openhanded
may be his practice. With all reverence, the commandment seems to be a
pushing into the region of thought what has been forbidden in practice
by the commandment “Thou shalt not steal.” No doubt to covet means
more than a simple liking to possess, and it is the inordinate, the
excessive desire which is forbidden. The theory of the Evil Eye as
demonstrated in the beliefs of the West Highlanders shown here may have
sprung entirely, and owe their origin to, if not the tenth commandment
of the Decalogue, an acceptance as valid of the instruction therein
contained. The acceptance of this commandment as binding, demonstrates
that there is a power for evil in thought alone. The covetous man’s eye
is “in it,” let him do as he likes. This power is shown vividly by the
belief so often expressed that admiration of one’s own possessions will
result in evil to them.
To counteract this deleterious result the possible sufferer has to
be put under the protection of a higher Power, and so, if the person
coveting remembers, a simple “God bless” will ward off evil. But the
Evil Eye is not the sole property of the active-minded Christian, and
even when it is so it is not necessarily a simple matter to suggest to
him that he is breaking the tenth commandment; in fact there may be a
difference of opinion on the matter, and it will not do to leave to the
other’s goodwill your security from loss and damage. A curative ritual
has been excogitated. In these ceremonies the Trinity is frequently
made, or, let us say, called on to take a part. The curative water is
prepared on three metals—gold, silver, and copper—the magic thread has
three knots on it, and sickness thus divided into three is destroyed,
say by burning two portions, one in the name of the Father, the other
of the Son, while that given over to the influence of the Holy Spirit,
which may be naturally supposed to counteract the covetous instinct,
remains attached to the sufferer in the third and unburned knot.
To show that this symbolism is carried out fairly consistently, we
would call attention here to the use of the three-knot charm in the
procuring for sailors of a favouring breeze. Readers must take it on
our authority that there are numberless accounts of the giving of a
three-knotted thread for this purpose, and the usual instructions for
its use fully bear out our contention. After starting one knot is to
be unloosed, and the breeze will be favouring and probably gentle. To
expedite matters the second knot may be untied, and the result will be
increase in the force of the favouring wind, but on no account must the
third knot be interfered with, or the breeze will rise to a gale, and
none will be able to answer for the effect. Compare the above statement
with what appears in the Gospel of St. John iii. 8: “The wind bloweth
where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not
tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth: so is every one that is
born of the Spirit.” Add to this Genesis i. 2: “And the Spirit of God
moved upon the face of the waters.”
This is not to be considered as a reasonable deduction from the texts
quoted. It merely shows that the authority may seem to give support to
a connection being suggested as existing between the Spirit of God, and
the Holy Spirit of the Trinity, and the uncertainty and force of the
wind which is put under its governance.
But when we come to symbols and metaphors we open a wide field which
need not be restricted by what is within the domain of the Church.
The fact stares us in the face that the _uisge a chronachaidh_ (the
water of (against) injury) is more frequently prepared from one
metal—silver—even than from three. It is in fact frequently called
Silver Water. There can be here no traceable connection with a Trinity.
The idea seems to be that the white metal represents an eye. Seeing
that the principal medium of exchange among the people is silver, as
things go, it is not very far fetched to make a silver coin stand
for what is acknowledged to be hurtful from the point of view of
covetousness, seeing that St. Paul tells us, 1 Timothy vi. 10, that
“the love of money is the root of all evil.” Having this in mind, we
can easily see how the adherence of a silver coin to the bottom of a
wooden or other vessel comes to be relied on as settling the cause of
an illness, whether it be the Evil Eye or something else. The round
white coin staring at you, as it were, from the bottom of the cogue
says “Eye” as distinctly as it is possible. If it does not adhere no
suggestion of an eye is made, consequently the sickness in question
arises from something else. We do not hear of a copper, and very rarely
of a gold coin being used by itself. We hear of gold being used in the
form of the marriage ring, but the symbolism here is the same as in the
serpent stones and the honeycombed stones in Kintyre, it represents an
eye by its form.
A reciter from the Chanonry, Ross-shire, says he has frequently seen
women take the ring off their finger, and hurriedly putting water on
it in a dish, dash the water over their children if they saw a person
coming to call about whom they had any suspicion. This was with a view
to prevent _cronachadh_, either witchcraft or the Evil Eye.
This connection with an eye explains also how the giving away of a
darning needle means the giving away of one’s luck. This seems somewhat
peculiar to the island of Arran. We give the following as a sample:—
An Arran reciter said: “Bettie many a time tells me of a woman they
have beside them who never darns stockings or anything else. One day
this woman came in and asked Bettie for a darning needle. Bettie
suspected it was for no good end she wanted it and would have refused
it, but the woman having seen it went and took it with her. For some
time thereafter Bettie was very unlucky. Things were going against her,
and one night she dreamed that somebody came to her and said, ‘Why
did you give away your darning needle? You have given away your luck
with it.’ When she got up in the morning she just went into the woman’s
house, and seeing the darning needle stuck in a pincushion, she went
and took it with her.”
Bettie here had given away the magic eye of its owner, which acted as
a counter charm to the Evil Eyes of others. The above is not the only
power inherent in a darning needle in Arran. There, stuck in the cap
or bonnet, it is as complete protection against the under-world as
represented by fairies, as elsewhere a knife is frequently quoted as
being.
SHOWING WHO IS THE MISCHIEF MAKER
We are so easily content to waive aside these superstitions when they
come in our way, as if they were the unconsidered dreamings of the
insane. Not one of them but has its origin, generally no doubt in
a misguided fancy, but still based on something real enough to the
mind of the believer, even if it be a mind of childlike simplicity.
But when _eolas_ men and women take on themselves to find out for
the instruction of their clients to whom the Evil Eye damaging them
belongs, one begins to doubt but that there is more of the wisdom of
the serpent than of the simplicity of the dove in this part of their
performance. We have already mentioned a case in which the _eolas_
woman described to the reciter’s cousin “exactly” the man and woman who
had harmed her child, though neither man nor woman had been mentioned
to her, and the reciter expressed wonder at the knowledge so displayed.
This spotting the doer is evidently a little more difficult of belief
to many than the other notions they entertain about the Evil Eye. Thus,
a reciter says that one professor confirmed the owner’s suspicions, a
fact openly admitted, but added, “It was said that she told them whose
eye had taken the milk away.” In another, “It was believed he could
also tell who had done the mischief?”
But in some cases the individual is straightforwardly given. Five
reciters at least mentioned that, and in one of these the reciter
accepted the nomination as indubitable because they had met “the very
man she mentioned on the road.”
There can be no doubt that some of these _eolas_ people have
deliberately offered to disclose the personality of the one doing
the harm. The owners of the sick animal have refused to have such
information given them, stating that they would be entirely content
with a cure without knowing any ill of a neighbour. Refinement of
feeling of this sort is foreign to many, however, and indeed it is to
be excused in a thorough believer, if for no other reason than the
well-known principle that “prevention is better than cure.” Some of the
indications are particularly vague.
“He asked if a dark-haired man had been praising the cow, and when they
said that they didn’t know, ‘Well,’ said he, ‘it was a man with black
hair (_ceann dubh_) that injured your cow, with the Evil Eye!’”
In another case the identified doer, as previously mentioned, had brown
hair.
In some cases, though no names are mentioned, it is quite clear that
identification was intended. Thus, in one of the cases cured by a cord,
the professor stated that the child had been injured by a mother and
her daughter. “My man said that that was quite true, but that they had
no ill-will to us, and why should they do that?” To that the woman
said, “That it was likely that they did not know themselves that they
were doing it.”
In another thread-cured case, the man operating said that it had been
injured by drovers who wanted to buy the animal in question. We
may conclude that the _eolas_ man knew that drovers had been in the
neighbourhood.
Similar cases have already been mentioned, the particularity of the
description pretty clearly demonstrating that the professor would have
been more candid if, instead of asking whether a dark and a fair woman
with a blue shawl had been calling, they had said there had been, and
that they were responsible.
But this describing the individual without naming him is evidently a
trick of the trade. A farmer’s wife consulting an _eolas_ man without
at first the consent of the farmer, the professor described to the
couple the appearance of the man who had done the mischief. We then
learn that from the description they knew at once who the man was, and
also that he had been in the byre shortly before the cow had taken ill.
It was probably a safe enough decision to credit strange drovers with
an injury of the sort, their stay in the district being of course but a
temporary one; but one suspects local jealousy in the following case,
when a woman, desirous of getting back her vanished butter, was told
that those doing the injury were not a musket-shot from her house. This
was in Islay, and some Jura people staying in the neighbourhood, it was
concluded they were those pointed at.
A parallel appears in the case already mentioned, where all Tiree
_cailleachs_ are slumped as dangerous. One suspects that in the
following case an undesirable neighbour had been suggested.
There were three farmers side by side in the parish of Kilbrandon. The
one in the centre was not nearly so successful as his neighbours. The
unfortunate farmer went to A—— to consult a certain _eolas_ man. By him
he was told it was no wonder he was not getting on, for he had on each
side of him “those who were doing him harm, and until he would remove
he would never get on.” Taking the hint he looked about him, removed to
another farm, and succeeded very well.
When in doubt, the professor, in some cases at any rate, acquires by
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
Bottle, 109, 113, 136, 137, 146, 147, 153, 177, 191, 221
Bridge, 165
_Bruchag_, 131
_Buidseach_, 197
_dh’ oibrich am_, 14
Henderson, 142
Hendry, 95
_Buidseachas_, 11, 13, 14, 182, 220
Burning stick, 143
waved over it, 131
Burnt, if any man’s work shall be, 125
_Burrach_, 121
Butter not to be seen by anybody, 86
_Cac eun_, 18
Cailb, Samon, Sinand, 26
_Cailleach_, 134
_Cairbre_, 123
_Caorain dearg_, 114
Cap under her two knees, 106
“Carmina Gadelica,” 104
Cat cure, 196
_Ceapag caise_, 205
_Chaoran, slat de’n_, 95
Charm, 137, 146, 153, 159, 197, 198
Charm, operated a, 77
Charmed string, 21
Charms, 6, 149
Chickens, _air an cronachadh_, 66
Cholic, 62
_Chratachan_, 95
Christian dogma, 163
_Chronachadh, air a_, 23, 44, 62, 76, 102, 112, 151, 157, 161
injury by, 153
Churn, 123
horse nail tied to the, 121
nailing the shoe of a colt to the, 121
scalding the, 173
staff, 130, 143
Churning, 29, 37, 57, 65, 99, 122, 124, 129, 198
spoiled by the Evil Eye, 72, 73, 78
Cinder, 128
Circle formed by the thread, 143
Circular motion, 145
_Clach-na-sùil_, 169
Cloth thrown over the churn, 86
Clothing, burning a piece of the, 125
_Cluais_, 193
Coat, wrong side out, 131
Coins, 157, 158, 163
or brooch, 159
three, seem to be the essential number, 159
Columba, 160, 205
Cook protects ducklings, 86
Cormac’s Glossary, 5
_Corp creadha_, 9
Covetous, 200
desire, 1, 2
glance, 3
Cow’s head and horns, 161
_Cron_, 81
meaning of, 6, 16, 30
_Cronachadh_, 12, 13, 15, 22, 34, 88, 97, 98, 103, 124, 135, 154,
165, 203
_air a_, 57, 91
_air an_, 11, 15, 16, 32, 54, 92, 186, 187
_air do shuil_, 18
cases of, 32, 150
cure in cases of, 22
_fhuair mi_, 13
is just envy, 42
is quite common, 41, 167
is still in it, 35, 78, 79
Crown piece, 159
Curative, 117, 184
ritual, 201
water, 201
Cure, 181, 215
view to its, 48
Cured by magic, 56
thread, 53
Darning needle, 169, 203
Decalogue, 200
_Deide_, 92, 93, 94
Deity, 115
_Dh’itheas_, 19
Diagnosis, 139, 162, 180, 198
Dish struck on the bottom three times, 161
Divinity, 204
_Dosgach_, 15, 219, 220
Drawing the tether, 89
_Droch sgeul_, 23, 39, 44, 46, 102, 194
Drovers, 112
looked on with suspicion, 48, 49
Druids, affinity to smiths, 84
Ear, nicking the, 134
_Eibhleag as an teine_, 128, 173
_Eolas_, 6, 91, 92, 152, 176, 188, 189, 190
_a’ chronachaidh_, 62, 91, 94
applied for, 97
_deide_, 93, 94
_gach ni’n aite fein_, 94
_greim_, 94
his father had, 98
is from father to daughter, 102
made the, 112
makin’, 173
man, 110, 136, 150, 167, 184, 186, 194, 210, 212, 216, 219
_nathrach_, 94
performance, 97
practitioner of, 23, 149
professor of, 149, 172
professors of, 96
_sul_, 94
was kept in the family, 103
woman, 109, 112, 147, 165, 168, 184, 210, 213
Eructation connected with the Evil Eye and witchcraft, 83
Evil Eye, 1, 5, 10, 13, 16, 197, 200, 203, 205, 207, 210, 219
action of an, 55
anybody may have the, 24
avoiding suspicion of, 32
belief in, 1, 12, 20, 45, 88, 154, 163
belief that he himself had an, 33
believed in, 33, 43, 140
believer in the, 8, 129, 158
case of the, 51, 148, 190
cases of the, 146
casting the, 26
cattle more liable to damage from the, 53
churning spoiled by the, 61, 124, 129
counteracting the, 48, 131
cows dying from effect, of the, 56
developed by relation of sexes, 1
different from witchcraft, 89
difficulty of evolving a theory, 67
distinction between possessing an, and doing harm with it, 35
doubts as to the existence of an, 65
effects of the, 7
eggs injured by the, 66
fowls affected by the, 61, 65, 130
having the, 45
horses liable to be affected by the, 61
hurt by the, 82, 97, 113, 161, 166
indirect advantage to those credited with the, 69
is involuntary, 36
is not always involuntary, 40
literary evidence of the, 3
locality of belief in the, 20
modes of expressing the, 17
no visible benefit to possessor, 68
origin of, 1, 7
or witchcraft, 114
people who possess the, may suffer loss, 7
possession of the, ascribed to females oftener than to males, 24
possessors of the, disliked, 24
possessors of the, to be charged to their face, 29, 30
possessors of the, unlucky to meet, 26, 27, 28
reputation of an, 28, 129
scientists, 216
serpent’s stone, a cure for the, 170
stirks more rarely affected than cows by the, 54
survival of belief in, 10, 140
symptoms, 51
their, 195
to be referred to active covetousness, 40
to cure the, 145
to keep away the, 44, 131
water, 157
women, believers in the, more than men, 23
young more liable to the influence of the, 45
Eye, 4, 17, 161, 203
diabolical, 18
envious, 70
had struck, 180
has fallen upon her, 34
my, 47
put his, in her, 83
shall not spare, 45
_Facail_, 94
_airson eolas_, 94
_ceart_, 94
_Fachan_, 171
_Farmad na sul_, 205
Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, 155
_Fhear mhosach_, 107
_Fiam_, 4
_Fios_, 6, 141
_Fios-achd_, 6
_Fiosrachadh_, or _eolas_, 98
Foal, 222
Folklorists, 2
Formula, 101, 145, 158, 173, 193, 208
_Galar’s easlainnte_, 144
_Garbh sgeith_, 19
_Gearr fheidh_, 94
_Geas-arachd_, 6
Germicide the, 133
_Ghonadh, air a_, 17
_mo_, 127
_Ghuidhe i ris an fhear mhosach_, 107
_Gisreag_, 149
Glance, envious, 5
Gold, silver, and copper, 163, 201
cure, 166
ring and silver coin, 166
or earring, 161
_Gonadh_, 146, 246
Green lint, 147
_Greim_, 94
Ground, must not touch the, 136, 137
emptied it on the, 156
Harm, 99, 222
Heifer, 59
Hendry, witch, 96
Holy Ghost, 176
Honeysuckle, 195
Horse collar, 146, 213
repeating its name three times, 189
shoe in the churn, 73
front o’t, 173
to sprinkle the water over the, 189
Humming, 53, 147
a symptom of the Evil Eye, 53
Hurtful eye, 33
Hurting and healing, united in one person, 99
_Iadh-shlait_, 195
Ill-will, 60
Incantation, 60, 97, 134, 144, 145, 146, 147
form of, 104
processes, 165
repeats an, 59, 164
Injured, 76, 86
by _cronachadh_, 151
by Evil Eye, 56, 183
the cow, 107
Injury, protection against, 44, 45, 114, 123
_Iubhar_, 119, 120
Ivy, 196
Juniper wood, 119, 136
Kicking, 56, 80
Knife, 216
Knowledge, 98
of healing, 98
the result of inquiry, 98
to cause injury, 99
_Laochain_, 196
_Laogh_, 13, 14
Lint, 147
Lips, 159
Living and the dead were wont to pass, 183
Look, a foal hurt by a mere, 80
a horse hurt by a mere, 80
cows hurt by a mere, 80, 81
Look, his would _cronach_ it, 103
milk hurt by a mere, 81
Loup, 60
Lucky, 38
Magic eye, 204
fluid, 137
mirror, 114
thread, 201
_Maistir_, 209
_Maistirich_, 209
Malevolent, 98
Manure, 223
Marriage ring, a sixpence, and a penny, 162
Medicine bag, 141
_Meise de mhin_, 111
Melted lead, 198
Metal, 202
Milk, 90
a drink of, given to any one suspected of the Evil Eye, 122, 123
deterioration of, 90
taking a mouthful of, 90
Miscall, 117
Mislook, 5
Mordant, 144
Motive, 54
_Muin_, 208
_Mulach an teine_, 144
_Nathrach_, 94, 170
_leigheas airson lot_, 94
Neck, 141
bare, 157
_Neonain, Bun ’us Barr_, 94
Neutralise any bad influence, 129
Nicking the ear, 134
_Nos Origines_, 141
_Obair_, 144
_Oidche Bhealtuinn_, 132
_Olc_, 95
Operator, 145, 155, 156, 159
Overt act, 54
Paid, 109
Pail, half-crown piece in the, 154
Paper, put salt on a, 117
Pay, they do nothing without, 106
Payment, he did not want, 109
Pee, the milk has gone along with the, 57
Perform his charms by means of a bridle, 149
Performance, 97, 199
Peter, Paul, Mary, 176
_Piseach_, 6
_Pisearachd_, 6, 184, 185, 188
_Piseog_, 6
_Pisreag_, 6
Pokes, three wee, 188
Practice, 200
Practitioner of _eolas_, 23, 149, 158, 172
qualified, 52
unlicensed, 53
Practitioners vary, 164
Praised, animals she had, died, 87
butter scattered by being, 78
hen taken in dead by being, 79
pig injured by being, 79
Preventative, 117, 131, 132, 154, 163
charms, 141
Professional, 22
Professor, 210
of _eolas_, 96
Prognostications, 198
Protection of the Deity, 115
Quern, 205
Quey, 59
Quey, _air a cronachadh_, 66
blind, 59
calves, 193
Rag, burn a, 125
Remedy, 113
Request, 48
Rhyme, 154
Rift, 82
_Roin_, 94
Rowan, 118, 119, 133
_Sack of Da Derga’s Hostel_, 25
Saint Bridget, 160
_Salainn, dorlach_, 94
Salmon, 207, 208
Salt, a preservative, 83
and urine, sprinkled with, 136
used as a cure and preventative, 176
Sell, risky to refuse to, 49, 88
Serpent’s stone, 170, 171, 203
Seven small stones, 168
_Sgeith_, 19
_Sgil mu’n chronachaidh_, 111
_Sheirbhis, pris airson a_, 111
_Sheumais Eoin’s Pheadair_, 148
_Ruaidh_, 151
Shilling, 109, 161
_Shuil, an droch_, 16, 23
_bhuail an droch_, 16
_Fluich do_, 127
_ghabh an droch_, 17
_mo_, 116
_thuit an droch_, 17
Sign of the Cross, 159
that it was the Evil Eye, 162
Silver brooch, 160
coin, 30, 115, 155, 156, 158, 165, 166, 203
cure, 161
gold and copper, 161
piece, 108
Silver, white, 108
Sixpence to give her, 108
Skill, 101
Skilled, 51, 60, 71
Skin, 144
Slime, 170
Smiths, 84
_Snaithnean_, 145
_Snathainn cronachaidh_, 141
_dearg_, 95, 142
_Snuim_, 95, 142
Son of Mary, 160
_Sop_, 208
Sorcery, 6
Spells, 6
Spilling, 186
Spirit of health and healing, 160
Spit, 126
Spitting into the healing water, 165
Spot from which three parishes could be seen, 182
Sprinkle, used regularly to, 135
Sprinkled, 147, 152, 153, 155, 156, 157, 161, 164, 168, 193
_Sreang a’ chronachaidh_, 141
Stanes, bunch o’ sea-shore, 169
Stirk, 221
Stone, water dashed against, 155
Stones, and silver, performance with, 167
certain, used for curing in Evil Eye cases, 167
in the pokes, 189
taken from a particular burn, 167
_Suil sanntach_, 42
Tar, an Islay application against the Evil Eye, 132
_T-aibhisdear_, 220
Tether, waving it three times over the horse, 149
_Teum_, 17, 85
Thread, cure, 211
different colours used, 147
green, 148
must always be green lint, 147
red, 145, 146, 147
three knots on the, 145, 201
to be put three times round the child’s neck, 147
woollen, 145, 146
Threads, two, one black, and one white, 148
Three articles, 148
_Tiomnadh nuadh_, 94
_Tobar, ris an taobh deas_, 152
_o’n taobh deas_, 181
Toothache, curing of, 93
_Toradh_, 216, 223
bring back the, 109
meaning of, 5, 6
power of taking away, 101
Transmission of _eolas_, 102
_Tre tsuilib na sochaiae_, 4
Trinity, 104, 161, 182, 190, 201, 202
Turf, square of, 9
_Ubag_, 141
Udder, 77
_Uisge a’ chronachaidh_, 164, 202, 214
_bonn airgeid air a chuir ann am bowl_, 151
_dhoirteadh air an t-airgiod_, 157
_fior_, 182
Uncanny ways, 77
Urine as a preventative, 164, 209
sprinkling, 178
stale, 135, 139
strong, 138
Usual proviso, 153
Uvula, fallen, 148
Vet is no use, 91
Veterinary surgeon, 109
Vomit, 102
Water, 113, 124, 158, 159, 181, 186
absolutely putrid, 138
and copper coin, and a darning needle, 169
and stones, 167
and two threads, 148
as a diagnostic of _cronachadh_, 158
bottle of, 71, 152, 158
from a march over which the living and the dead pass, 182
from where the living and the dead pass, 161
must be poured on silver, 148
of silver, 154, 160
poured on three silver coins, 167
sprinkled on the child’s face, 115
Whisky, 198
Wish, 15
Witch, 6
Witch, burning, 137
cure, 221
doctor, 103, 221
Hendry, 96
of Endor, 96
reputed, 83
Witchcraft, 55, 129, 158, 215, 217, 221
Witchery, 6, 14
and the Evil Eye, 129, 223
protecting against, 135
resorted to as a cure, 55
white, 96
Wizard, a strong, 186
may have the Evil Eye, 56
red, 57
Wooden bicker, 159
Word, a, must not be spoken, 157
Words, 104, 145, 164, 172
good, 104, 145, 164
Yarn, ball of, 143
different colours of, 142
red, 144
three ply, 143
Yawn, 82
Yawning, an effect of the Evil Eye, 151
Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO.
Edinburgh & London
*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "Evil eye in the Western Highlands" ***
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