Part 26

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].”

The same significance is applied to the same thing in the same way in Arabic, El aaouar (The one-eyed).

“Kruptadia,” viii. p. 24.

“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.