TAGHAIRM, OR “GIVING HIS SUPPER TO THE DEVIL.”
The awful ceremony to which this name was given was also known among old men as “giving his supper to the devil.” It consisted in roasting cats alive on spits till the arch-fiend himself appeared in bodily shape. He was compelled then to grant whatever wish the persons who had the courage to perform the ceremony preferred, or, if that was the object of the magic rite, to explain and answer whatever question was put to him.
Tradition in the West Highlands makes mention of three instances of its performance, and it is a sort of tribute to the fearless character of the actors that such a rite should be ascribed to them. It was performed by Allan the Cattle-lifter (Ailein nan creach)[96] at Dail-a-chait (the Cats’ Field), as it has since been called, in Lochaber, and by Dun Lachlan (Lachunn odhar) in the big barn at Pennygown (sabhal mòr Peighinn-a-ghobhann), in Mull. The details of these two ceremonies are so exactly the same that there is reason to think they must both be versions of an older legend. Nothing appears to create a suspicion that the one account was borrowed from the other. The third instance of its performance was by some of the “children of Quithen” (Clann ’ic Cuithen), a small sept in Skye, now absorbed, as so many minor septs have been, into the great family of the Macdonalds. The scene was a natural cavity called the “Make-believe Cave” (an Eaglais Bhréige), on East Side, Skye. There is the appearance of an altar beside this church, and the locality accords well with the alleged rite. The following is the Mull legend.
Lachlan Oär and a companion, Allan, the son of Hector (Ailein Mac Eachuinn)—some say he had two companions—shut themselves up in the barn at Pennygown, on the Sound of Mull, and putting cats on spits roasted them alive at a blazing fire. By-and-bye other cats came in and joined in the horrible howling of those being roasted, till at last the beams (sparrun an tighe) were crowded with cats, and a concert of caterwauling filled the house. The infernal noise almost daunted Lachlan Oär, especially when the biggest of the cats said, “When my brother the Ear of Melting comes—” Allan the son of Hector did not allow the sentence to be finished. “Away cat,” he cried, and then added to his companion, in an expression which has become proverbial in the Highlands when telling a person to attend to the work he has in hand, and never mind what discouragements or temptations may come in his way, “Whatever you see or hear, keep the cat turning” (De sam bith a chì no chluinneas tu, cum an cat mun cuairt). Dun Lachlan, recovering courage, said, “I will wait for him yet, and his son too.” At last the Ear of Melting came among the other cats on the beams, and said, while all the other cats kept silence, “Dun Lachlan, son of Donald, son of Neil, that is bad treatment of a cat” (Lachuinn uidhir ’ic Dhò’uill ic Néill, ’s olc an càramh cait sin). Allan to this called out as before, “Whatever you see or hear, keep the cat turning,” and the fearful rite was proceeded with. At last the Ear of Melting sprang to the floor and said, “Whomsoever the Ear of Melting makes water upon will not see the face of the Trinity” (Ge b’e co air a mùin Cluas a Leoghaidh cha ’n fhaic e gnùis na Trianaid). “The cross of the sword in your head, wretch; your water is sweat” (Crois a chlaidheamh a’d cheann, a bhiasd; ’s tu mùn fallais), answered Dun Lachlan, and he struck the cat on the head with the hilt of his two-handed sword. Immediately the devil, under the potent spell, assumed his proper shape, and asked his wild summoners what they wanted with him? One asked Conach ’us clann (“Prosperity and children”), and Dun Lachlan asked “Property and prosperity, and a long life to enjoy it” (Cuid ’us conach, ’us saoghal fada na cheann). The devil rushed out through the door crying, “Prosperity! Prosperity! Prosperity!” (Conach! Conach! Conach!)
The two men obtained their desires, but were obliged (some say) to repeat the taghairm every year to keep the devil to the mark.
When Dun Lachlan was on his deathbed his nephew came to see him, and in the hope of frightening the old fellow into repentance, went through a stream near the house and came in with his shoes full of water. “My sister’s son,” said Lachlan, “why is there water in your shoe?” (a mhic mo pheathar, c’ arson tha bogan a’a bhróig?) The nephew then told that the two companions who had been along with Lachlan in the performance of the taghairm, and who were both by this time long dead, had met him near the house, and to escape from them he had several times to cross the running stream: that they told him their position was now in the bad place, and that they were waiting for his uncle, who, if he did not repent, would have to go along with them. The old man, on hearing this melancholy message, said, “If I and my two companions were there, and we had three short swords that would neither bend nor break, there is not a devil in the place but we would make a prisoner of.”[97] After this the nephew gave up all hopes of leading him to repentance.
A native of the island of Coll and his wife came to see him. Lachlan asked them what brought them? “To ask,” said the Coll man, “a yoke of horses you yourself got from the devil” (dh’ iarraidh seirreach each fhuair thu fhein o’n douus). Lachlan refused this and sent the man away, but he sent a person to overhear what remarks the man and his wife might make after leaving. The wife said, “What a wild eye the man had?” (Nach b’ fhiadhaich an t-sùil bh’aig an duin ’ud?) Her husband replied, “Do you suppose it would be an eye of softness and not a soldier’s eye, as should be?” (Saoil am bi suil an t-slauchdain, ach sùil an t-saighdeir mar bu chòir?) On this being reported to Lachlan, he called the Coll man back and gave him what he wanted.
Martin, in his Description of the Western Islands, p. 110, quoted by Scott (Lady of the Lake, note 2 T), after describing a mode of Taghairm by taking a man by the feet and arms to a boundary stream and bumping him against the bank till little creatures came from the sea to answer the question of which the solution was sought, says:—“I had an account from the most intelligent and judicious men in the Isle of Skie, that about sixty-two years ago the oracle was thus consulted only once, and that was in the parish of Kilmartin, on the east side, by a wicked and mischievous set of people, who are now extinguished, both root and branch.” The Taghairm here referred to seems to be that above-mentioned as having been performed by the M‘Quithens in the Make-believe or False Cave on East Side, Skye. The race have not borne a good reputation, if any value is to be attached to a rhyme concerning them and other minor septs in Skye:—
“The M‘Cuthan, expert in lies,
The M‘Quithens, expert in base flattery,
The M‘Vannins, expert as thieves,
Though no bigger than a dagger handle.”[98]
Another method of Taghairm, described by Martin, was by wrapping a person in a cow-hide, all but his head, and leaving him all night in a remote and lonely spot. Before morning his “invisible friends” gave him a proper answer to the question in hand, or, as Scott explains it, “whatever was impressed upon him by his exalted imagination, passed for the inspiration of the disembodied spirits who haunt the desolate recesses.” This method of divination cannot have been common; at least the writer has been able to find no trace of it.
As a third mode of Taghairm, Martin briefly describes that above detailed, viz., the roasting of a live cat on a spit till at last a very large cat, attended by a number of lesser cats, comes and answers the question put to him.
Both Martin and Scott fall into the error of supposing that the object of the Taghairm was solely divination, to ascertain the future, the issue of battles, the fate of families, etc. The mode by roasting live cats was too fearful a ceremony to be resorted to except for adequate reasons, and the obtaining of worldly prosperity, which was the object of the Mull Taghairm, is a more likely reason than curiosity or anxiety as to a future event.
The naming of the word Taghairm is not at first sight obvious. There is no doubt about the last syllable being gairm, a call. Ta is probably the same root that appears in so many words, as tannasg, taibhse, etc., denoting spectres, spirits, wraiths, etc., and Taghairm means nothing else than the ‘spirit-call,’ in fact, “the calling of spirits from the vasty deep.”