Part 23

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