Part 6

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: “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.”

Translated by Whitley Stokes, Revue Celtique, vol. xxii. p. 12.

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.