THE DAUGHTER OF THE KING OF ENCHANTMENTS
(Neghinn Righ Sionnach).
The daughter of Righ Sionnach was found in the hunting hill by a party of hunters, as the writer heard the story, and they took her home with them. The Chief married her, and she lived with his mother in the same house, and had three children before she was heard to utter a word. Afterwards, on the occasion of a feast being prepared, they gave her a candle to hold when she said:
“On thine account candle
Put in my hand to hold
Standing in the smoke
That was not my customary wont
In my mother and father’s house.”
Her mother-in-law answered:
“At your leisure, my good woman,
Well I knew the company,
One cow with three teats,
And nine people.”
She replied:
“That was not the custom
In my father and mother’s house
There was not one cow three teated
Nor a company of nine in number
But nine chains of pure gold
Hung in the house of the King of Enchantments.”[27]
By her words it was found out whose daughter she was, and whence she had come.
CHAPTER III.
DEATH WARNINGS.
Death has always been deemed the greatest evil that afflicts humanity, and the terrors and awe which its advent inspires have given superstition its amplest scope. The “King of Terrors” no doubt throws its shadows before it, but that foreshadowing belongs to medical diagnosis. The superstition connected with it consists in making unusual appearances and natural phenomena, having no relation to it beyond an accidental proximity in time, forerunners of its dread approach. The mind loves to dwell on the circumstances connected with the death of a departed and dear friend, and amid a sparse population, death is not an event of that frequency and daily occurrence which make it to the townsman little heeded, till it affects himself and his friends. Besides, doubt and scepticism are not spontaneous in the human mind, and whenever any one states positively that he saw supernatural indications connected with the death or spirit of one departed, he naturally and readily finds credence. By being frequently told the tale becomes more and more certain, and traditions, once they have attained the rank of beliefs, are very slow in dying out. That the excitable and imaginative mind of the Celt should, therefore, have a firm belief in supernatural fore-warnings of death is not at all surprising.
Certain families and septs had death-warnings peculiar to themselves, and whenever any of them was on his death-bed, particularly when the death of a chief was at hand, some one about the house was sure to see or hear the warning. Before the death of any of the Breadalbane family, the descendants of Black Duncan of the Cowl (Donncha du a churraichd), a bull was heard at night roaring up the hillside. The bellowing grew fainter as it ascended the mountain, and died away as it reached the top. The origin of this superstition probably is, that Black Duncan is accused of having once had a bull’s head brought in at a feast as a signal for the massacre of a number of the M’Gregors, whom he had invited in a friendly manner to the castle. The clan Maclachlan were warned of death by the appearance of a little bird; a sept of the M’Gregors, known as the children or descendants of Black Duncan (Clann Dhonncha dhui), by a whistle; another family of the same clan, “the children of little Duncan” (Clann Dhonncha bhig), by a light like that of a candle. Other signals were shouting (sgairt), cries of distress, screaming (sgriachail), sounds of weeping, etc. When any of them foreboded death, it was heard where no human being could be, and there was an unearthly tone about it that struck a chill into the hearer’s heart.
Before the death of a duine wassal (duin uasal, a gentleman), a light or meteor called Dreag or rather Driug, was seen in the sky proceeding from the house to the grave in the direction in which the funeral procession was to go. It was only for ‘big men,’ people of station and affluence, that these lights appeared, and an irreverent tailor once expressed a wish that the whole sky were full of them.
HUGH OF THE LITTLE HEAD (Eoghan a chinn bhig).
This was the best known and most dreadful spectre in the West Highlands, the phantom of a headless horseman, which made its appearance whenever any of the Maclaines of Lochbuy, in Mull, were near their dissolution. The spectral horseman is mounted on a small black steed, having a white spot on its forehead, and the marks of the hoofs of which are not like those of other horses, but round indentations as if it had wooden legs. Whenever any of the sept which he follows are on their death-bed Hugh is heard riding past the house, and sometimes even shows himself at the door. He does not sit straight on his horse’s back, but somewhat to one side, and the appearance of the almost headless body is that of a water-stoup tied on the horse’s back. The history of the man who is thus doomed to attend at the death of any of his clan is curious. Tradition is not always uniform on the subject, but the following statement reconciles most of the accounts and substantially agrees with them all.
Hugh was the only son of Hector the Stubborn (Eachunn Reuganach), first chief of Lochbuy, in the fourteenth century, and brother of Lachlan the Wily (Lachunn Lùbanach), first chief of Dowart. He got the name of “Hugh of the Little Head” in his lifetime, and from the actions ascribed to him fully bears his own testimony to the truth of the adage, “A big head on a wise man and a hen’s head on a fool” (Ceann mōr air duine glic ’s ceann circ avi amadan). Sayings of his, which tradition has preserved, illustrate the curious shrewdness sometimes found in connection with limited intellect. Thus, when his mother was being carried for burial, he thought the pall-bearers were carrying the body too high, and he told them not to raise her so high, “in case she should seek to make a habit of it” (mu ’m bi i ’g iarraidh a chleachdaidh), and the phrase has since continued, “to seek to make a habit of anything, like Hugh of the Little Head’s mother.” He was married to a daughter of the house of Macdougall of Lorn; and she proved but a very indifferent wife. Tradition ascribes to her several nicknames, all of them extremely opprobrious, “The Black-bottomed Heron” (Chorra thòn du), “Stingy, the Bad Black Heron” (Gortag, an droch chorra dhu), “The Macdougall Heron” (Curra Dhùghaill), and Dubhag tòn ri teallaich. He was a fearless soldier, and altogether a very likely person to have been made a wandering spectre of after his death.
Lochbuy first belonged to the Macfadyens. Maclaine (so the family spell the name) having obtained a grant of the place from the Lord of the Isles, deceitfully asked Macfadyen for a site for a sheep-fold (crò chaoraich), and, having obtained a hillock for the purpose, proceeded to build a castle. When the place was sufficiently fortified he shot an arrow from it at Macfadyen, who sat at some distance picking bones (spioladh chnàmh) at his dinner. In the end Macfadyen had to leave his own land and go to Garmony (Gar’moin’ an fhraoich), where he supported himself by coining gold, gathered in Beinn an Aoinidh, Mull, whence his descendants became known as “the Seed of the Goldsmith’s” (Siòlachadh nan òr-cheard). After this Lochbuy and Dowart quarrelled. The properties of the two brothers adjoined, and between them lay a piece of ground, the ownership of which they disputed. A ploughman belonging to Lochbuy was ploughing on the debateable ground, when a friend of Dowart, who was out hunting, shot him. Sometime after this Dowart’s two boys were on a visit to Lochbuy, whose wife, being a relative of the murdered ploughman, went a piece of the way home with the children, and at a well, since called “The Well of the Heads” (Tobar nan ceann), took off their heads and threw them into the well, leaving the bodies on the bank. For this foul deed a deadly feud sprang up between the two houses, and Hugh’s wife, being a foster-sister (co-dhalta) of Dowart’s wife, did not care though her husband and the house of Lochbuy should be worsted.
This feud, joined to the other grievances of the “Crane,” led to there being so little peace at Lochbuy that the old chief gave Hugh a separate establishment, and allotted to him the lands of Morinish. Hugh built himself a castle on an islet in Loch Sguabain, a small lake between Lochbuy and Dowart. His wife urged him to go and get the rights (còiricheaa), i.e. the title deeds, of the lands of Lochbuy, or perhaps to go and get more, from his father, and at last he went. It was explained to him that on his father’s death he would have a right to the whole property, and he went away pacified. His wife, however, urged that it would be a small thing for Lachlan the Wily, his father’s brother, to come and take from him everything he had. He went again, an altercation ensued, and he struck his aged father a violent blow on the side of the head. This came to the ears of the old man’s brother, the chief of Dowart. Glad of an excuse to cut off the heir presumptive and make himself master of Lochbuy, and gratify his desire for revenge, Dowart collected his men and marched to take Hugh to some place of confinement or kill him. Hugh collected his own men and prepared to give battle.
Early on the morning of the fight, others say the evening before, Hugh was out walking, and at the boundary stream (allt crìche) saw an Elfin woman rinsing clothes, and singing the “Song of the M’Leans.”[28] Her long breasts, after the manner of her kind (according to the Mull belief regarding these weird women), hung down and interfered with her washing, and she now and then flung them over her shoulders to keep them out of the way. Hugh crept up silently behind her, and catching one of the breasts, as is recommended in such cases, put the nipple in his mouth, saying, “Yourself and I be witness you are my first nursing mother.” She answered, “The hand of your father and grandfather be upon you! You had need that it is so.” He then asked her what she was doing. She said, “Washing the shirts of your mortally-wounded men” (Nigheadh leintean nam fir ghointe agad-sa), or (as others say) “the clothes of those who will mount the horses to-morrow and will not return” (aodach nam fear theid air na h-eich a màireach ’s nach till). He asked her, “Will I win the fight?” She answered that if he and his men got “butter without asking” (Im gun iarraidh) to their breakfast, he would win; if not, he would lose. He asked if he himself would return alive from the battle (an d’thig mise as beò?), and she either answered ambiguously or not at all; and when going away left him as her parting gift (fāgail) that he should go about to give warning of approaching death to all his race. The same morning he put on a new suit, and a servant woman coming in just as he had donned it, praised it, and said, “May you enjoy and wear it” (Meal is caith e). It was deemed unlucky that a woman should be the first to say this, and Hugh replied to the evil omen by saying, “May you not enjoy your health” (Na na meal thusa do shlàinte).
For breakfast, “Stingy, the Black Heron,” sent in curds and milk in broad dishes. She did not even give spoons, but told Hugh and his men to put on hen’s bills (gobun cheare) and take their food. Hugh waited long to see if any butter would come, rubbing his shoes together impatiently, saying now and then it was time to go, and giving every hint he could that the butter might be sent in. At last he threw his shoe down the house, exclaiming, “Neither shoes nor speech will move a bad housewife” (Cha ghluais bròg no bruidhinn droch bhean tighe), and demanding the butter. “Send down the butter, and you may eat it yourself to-morrow” (cuir anuas an t-ìm, ’s feudaidh tu fhein itheadh a màireach). She retorted, “The kicker of old shoes will not leave skin upon palm” (Cha’n fhàg breabadair na seana-bhròig craicionn air dearnaidh). When the butter came, Hugh said he did not want her curds or cheese to be coming in white masses through his men’s sides (tighinn na staoigean geala roi’ chliathach nam fear aige), kicked open the milk-house door and let in the dogs, and went away, leaving the breakfast untouched. The fight took place at Onoc nan Sgolb, at the back of Innsri (cùl na h-Innsribh), near Ceann a Chnocain, and not far from Torness in Glenmore. As might be expected of fasting men, Hugh and his followers lost the fight. The sweep of a broadsword took off the upper part of his head (copan a chinn). Instead of falling dead, he jumped on the top of his horse, a small black steed with a white spot on its forehead, and ever since is “dreeing his weird” by going about to give warning when any of his race are about to die.[29]
The ghostly rider of the black horse (marcaich an eich dhui), crosses the seas in discharging his task. When coming to Tiree (where there are now but two or three persons claiming to be of the sept of the Lochbuy Maclaines), he takes his passage from Port-nan-amhn’ near Ru-an-t-sléibh, in Treshinish, Mull. About fifty years ago a Mull woman, living there, insisted that she had often, when a young woman, heard him galloping past the house in the evening and had seen the sparks from his horse’s hoofs as he rode down to the shore on his way to Tiree.
It is told of an old man of the Lochbuy Macleans in Tiree, that on his death-bed the noise of a horse clanking a chain after it, was heard coming to the house. Thinking it was Hugh of the Little Head, he said, “The rider of the Black Horse is clanking on his own errand” (straoilich air ceann a ghnothuich fhein). On looking out the awe-struck company found the noise was caused by a farm-horse dragging a chain tether (langasaid) after it.
On the high road between Calachyle and Salen in Mull, a strong man of the name of Maclean was met at night by Hugh. The horseman spake never a word, but caught Maclean to take him away. Maclean resisted, and in the struggle caught hold of a birch sapling and succeeded in holding it till the cock crew. The birch tree was twisted in the struggle, and one after another of its roots gave way. As the last was yielding the cock crew. The twisted tree may still be seen. The same story is told of a twisted tree near Tobermory, and a similar one is localised between Lochaber and Badenoch.[30]
Other premonitions of death were the howling of dogs, the appearance of lights, loud outcries and sounds of weeping, apparitions of the doomed person’s “fetch,” or coffin, or funeral procession, etc. These sounds and appearances were more apt to precede an accidental and premature death, such as drowning, and to understand them properly it will be necessary to enter into an examination of the doctrine of the Second Sight.
CHAPTER IV.
SECOND SIGHT (an da shealladh).
Freed from a good deal of mystery in which an imperfect understanding of its character has involved it, the gift of second sight may be briefly explained to be the same as being “spectre-haunted,” or liable to “spectre illusions,” when that condition occurs, as it often does, in persons of sound mind. The phenomena in both cases are the same; the difference is in the explanation given of them. In the one case the vision is looked on as unreal and imaginary, arising from some bodily or mental derangement, and having no foundation in fact, while the other proceeds on a belief that the object seen is really there and has an existence independent of the seer, is a revelation, in fact, to certain gifted individuals of a world different from, and beyond, the world of sense. Science has accepted the former as the true and rational explanation, and traces spectral illusions to an abnormal state of the nervous system, exhaustion of mind or body, strong emotions, temperament, and others of the countless, and at times obscure, causes that lead to hallucination and delusion. But before optical and nervous delusions were recognised by science, while the spectres were believed to be external realities having an existence of their own, the visions were necessarily invested with an awe approaching to terror, and the gift or faculty of seeing them could not but be referred to some such explanation as the doctrine of the second sight offers.
“The shepherds of the Hebrid Isles” are usually credited with the largest possession of the gift, but the doctrine was well known over the whole Highlands, and as firmly believed in Ross-shire and the highlands of Perthshire as in the remotest Hebrides. Waldron describes it as existing in his time in the Isle of Man. It is a Celtic belief, and the suggestion that it is the remains of the magic of the Druids is not unreasonable. In every age there are individuals who are spectre-haunted, and it is probable enough that the sage Celtic priests, assuming the spectres to be external, reduced the gift of seeing them to a system, a belief in which formed part of their teaching. This accounts for the circumstance that the second sight has flourished more among the Celts than any other race.
The Gaelic name da-shealladh does not literally mean “the second sight,” but “the two sights.” The vision of the world of sense is one sight, ordinarily possessed by all, but the world of spirits is visible only to certain persons, and the possession of this additional vision gives them “the two sights,” or what comes to the same thing, “a second sight.” Through this faculty they see the ghosts of the dead revisiting the earth, and the fetches, doubles, or apparitions of the living.
The world to which apparitions belong is called by writers on the second sight “the world of spirits,” but the expression does not convey correctly the idea attached to visions of the kind. The object seen, usually that of a friend or acquaintance, the phantasm, phantom, apparition, or whatever else we choose to call it, was recognised to be as independent of the person whose semblance it bore as it was of the person seeing it. He knew nothing of the phantom’s appearance, it was not his spirit, and played its part without his knowledge or his wish. The seer, again, could not, or did not, trace it to anything in himself; it did not arise from any suggestion of his hopes or fears, and was not a reproduction of any former state of his mind or thought. As to its owing its origin to anything abnormal in himself, he was (as far as he could judge) as healthy in mind and body as other people. As long, therefore, as men believed the phantasm to be an external reality, they were compelled to believe in doubles, or semblances, that move in a world which is neither that of sense nor that of spirits. The actions and appearances of these doubles have no counterpart in any past or present event, and naturally are referred to the future and the distant.
The object seen, or phantasm, is called taibhs (pron. taïsh), the person seeing it taibhsear (pron. taïsher), and the gift of vision, in addition to its name of second sight, is known as taibhsearachd. It is noticeable that many words referring to spirits and ghosts begin with this syllable ta. The following are worth noticing:
Tannas, or tannasg, a spectre, generally of the dead, and in the idea attached to it more shadowy, unsubstantial, and spiritual than a Bòchdan.
Tamhasg (pron. taüsg), the shade or double of a living person, is the common name for apparitions by which men are haunted, and with which, according to the doctrine of the second sight, they have to hold assignations.
Tàchar, a rare and almost obsolete word, but the derivatives of which, tacharan and tachradh, are still in common use. The only instances known to the writer of its occurrence are in the names of places. Sròn an tàchair, the Ghost-haunted Nose, is a rock between Kinloch Rannoch and Druim-a-chastail, in Perthshire, where faint mysterious noises were heard, and on passing which the wayfarer was left by the mysterious sprite which joined him in the hollow below. Imire tàchair, in the island of Iona, is a ridge leading from near the ecclesiastical buildings to the hill, and, till the moor through which it runs was drained in recent years, formed an elevation above a sheet of water,—a very likely place to have been haunted by goblins. The natives of the island have no tradition or explanation of the name. The derivatives tachradh and tacharan are applied to a weak and helpless person: when the first syllable is long, in pity; when short, contemptuously, as, e.g., an tăchradh grànda, “the ugly wretch.”
Tàslaich, a supernatural premonition, felt or heard, but not seen. Also applied to the ghosts of the living. For instance, a native of Skye being asked the reason why dogs were barking at night near a churchyard, said it was because they saw tàslaich nan daoine beò, the ghosts of the living, the premonition of a funeral.
Tàradh, noises (straighlich) heard at night through the house, indicating a change of tenants, a premonition by mysterious sounds of a coming event.
Taran, the ghost of an unbaptised child (Dr. Macpherson, p. 307), not now a common word.
Tàsg, perhaps a contraction of tamhasg, used commonly in the expression eigheach tàisg, the cry or wail of a fetch. Cf. taghairm, the spirit-call.
The whole doctrine of these apparitions of the living, or, as they are called in Cumberland, swarths, and premonitions of coming events, proceeds on the supposition that people have a counterpart or other self, an alter ego, which goes about unknown to themselves, with their voices, features, form, and dress, even to their shoes, and is visible to those who have the unhappy gift of the second sight. This phantasm, or other self, is not the life or the spirit of the person whom it represents. He has nothing to do with it; he may, at the time it is seen, be sunk in unconscious sleep, or his attention and wishes may be otherwise taken up, and death may not be at all in his thoughts. At the same time, it is not without some connection with him. Strongly wishing is apt to make one’s tàradh be heard at the place where he wishes to be, and if the person whose spectre is seen be spoken to the apparition disappears; but in general the taibhs is independent of all thought, or action, or emotion of the person whom it represents. The doctrine does not assert that all men have got such a double, much less that those who are most largely gifted with the second sight see it always, or even frequently. The spectres are visible to the seer only under exceptional circumstances, in certain situations, and at certain times. The most usual of these are after dusk and across a fire, when a sudden or violent death has occurred, or is to occur, when a friend is ill, when strangers are to come, or any event is impending calculated to make a deep impression on the mind.
Spectres are often seen with as much distinctness as external objects, and it would be a great injustice to the poor man, who claims to have visions of things that are not there at all, to say he is telling an untruth. To him the vision is really there, and it is but natural for him to think it has an existence separate from himself, instead of referring it to an abnormal state of his mind and nervous system. Some spectres “move with the moving eye,” being what the poet calls “hard mechanic ghosts”; others have their own proper motion, and probably arise in the brain. The former are the most common, and it was a test among taïshers, whether the figure seen was a wraith or not, to stoop down and raise themselves up again suddenly. If the figure did the same, it was an apparition, a tamhasg.
The gift of second sight was not in any case looked upon as enviable or desirable. Seers frequently expressed a wish that they had no such gift. In some instances it ran in the family; in others, but rarer cases, the seer was the only one of his kindred who “saw sights” (chì sealladh). Some had it early in life, upon others it did not come till they were advanced in life. These characteristics alone show it to be in its origin the same as spectral illusions. It arose from hereditary disease, malformation, or weakness of the visual organs, and derangements of mind or bodily health. It was not voluntary; the visions went and came without the option of the seer, and his being visited by them was deemed by himself and others a misfortune rather than a gift. A difference was also recognised in the kinds of apparitions visible to different individuals.
When the figure of an acquaintance was seen, the manner in which the taibhs was clothed afforded an indication to the skilful seer of the fate then befalling, or about to befall, the person whose taibhs it was. If the apparition was dressed in the dead-clothes, the person was to die soon; but if in every-day clothes, his death would not occur for some time. If the clothes covered the entire face, his death would be very soon; if the face was uncovered, or partly covered, death was proportionately more remote. Others saw the dead-clothes first about the head, and lower down at each succeeding vision. When the feet were covered death was imminent. There were, however, grave-clothes of good fortune (lion-aodach àigh) as well as grave-clothes indicative of death (lion-aodach bàis), and it was considered extremely difficult for the most skilful seer to distinguish between them. He required, he said, a close view of the spectre to tell which it had on.
The time of day at which the vision was seen was also an indication. The later in the day, the sooner the death. If as late as 5 p.m., soon; but if as early as 2 a.m., the man might live for years.
If the person seen was to be drowned at sea, phosphorescent gleams (teine-sionnachain), such as are common in the Hebridean seas on summer nights, appeared round the figure, or its clothes seemed to drip, or there was water in its shoes.
The swarths, or doubles, were believed to go through all the actions and occupy the places which the originals would afterwards perform or occupy. This was particularly the case with regard to funerals. They went for the glasses to be used on the occasion, for the coffin, and even for the wood to make it, and marched in melancholy procession to the churchyard. When the funeral procession was seen, the seer was unable to say, except by inference, whose funeral it was. For anything he could directly tell, it might be, as it sometimes was, his own. He could only tell the dress, position in the procession, and appearance of those performing the sad duty. It is dangerous to walk in the middle of the road at night, in case of meeting one of these processions, and being thrown down or forced to become one of the coffin-bearers to the graveyard. Persons in the latter predicament have experienced great difficulty in keeping on the road, the whole weight of the coffin seeming to be laid upon them, and pushing them off the path. If the seer goes among the swarths he will likely be knocked down, but in some districts, as Moidart, he is said to have one of the staves or bearers (lunn) of the coffin thrust into his hand, and to be compelled to take his part in the procession till relieved in due time. In Durness, in Sutherlandshire, the cry of “Relief!” there used at every change of coffin-bearers, has been heard at night by persons whose houses were near the high-road called out by the phantasms in their ghostly procession. Persons have been caught hold of by those reputed to have the second sight, and pulled to a side to allow a spectral funeral to pass; and it was universally believed that when the seer saw a procession of the kind, or, indeed, any of his supernatural visions, he could make others see the same sight by putting his foot on theirs and a hand on their shoulder. He should, therefore, never walk in the middle of the road at night. Taïshers never did so. At any moment the traveller may fall in with a spectral funeral, and be thrown down or seized with the oppression of an unearthly weight.
The visions of the seer did not always relate to melancholy events, impending death, funerals, and misfortunes. At times he had visions of pleasant events, and saw his future wife, before he ever thought of her (at least so he said), sitting by the fireside in the seat she was afterwards to occupy. He could tell whether an absent friend was on his way home, and whether he was to have anything in his hands when coming. He could not tell what the thing was to be, but merely the general appearance of the absent man when returning, and whether he was to come full or empty handed.
It has been said that the phantasm (taibhs or tamhasg) was independent of all thought and volition on the part of those whom it represented, as well as on the part of the seer himself. At the same time, it was part of the creed that if the person whose double was seen was spoken to and told to cease his persecutions, the annoyance came to an end. The person spoken to, being utterly unconscious that his phantasm was wandering about and annoying any one, got very angry, but somehow the spectre ceased to appear. Before taking a final leave, however, it gave the person whom it had haunted (as an informant described it) “one thundering lashing.” After that it was no more seen.
When a double is first met, if it be taken to be the man himself whose semblance it bears, and be spoken to, it acquires the power of compelling the person who has accosted it to hold nightly assignations with it in future. The man, in fact, from that hour becomes “spectre-haunted.” Hence it was a tenet of the second sight never to be the first to speak, on meeting an acquaintance at night, till satisfied that the figure seen was of this world. The seer did not like, indeed did not dare, to tell to others whose figure it was that haunted him. If he did so, the anger of the spectre was roused, and on the following evening it gave him a dreadful thrashing. When he resisted, he grasped but a shadow, was thrown down repeatedly in the struggle, and bruised severely. This form of the disease was well known in the Western Islands. The haunted person, as in the case of those who had Fairy sweethearts, had to leave home at a certain hour in the evening to meet the spectre, and if he dared for one night to neglect the assignation he received in due course a sound thrashing. Sometimes at these meetings the spectre spoke and gave items of information about the death of the seer and others. Ordinarily, however, it had merely an indistinct murmuring kind of speech (tormanaich bruidhinn).
People noted for the second sight have been observed to have a peculiar look about the eyes. One of them, for instance, in Harris was described as “always looking up and never looking you straight in the face.” Those who are of a brooding, melancholy disposition are most liable to spectral illusions, and it is only to be expected that the gloom of their character should appear in their looks, and that many of their visions should relate to deaths and funerals.
Among a superstitious and credulous people the second sight, or a pretence to it, must have furnished a powerful weapon of annoyance, and there is reason to believe that, in addition to cases of nervous delusion and of men being duped by their own fancies, there were many instances of imposture and design. So much, indeed, was this the case, that a person of undoubted good character, born and brought up among believers in the second sight, and himself not incredulous on the subject, said: “I never knew a truthful, trustworthy man (duine fìrinneach creideasach) who was a taïsher.” While being spectre-haunted was honoured by the name of a Second Sight, and was invested with mystery and awe, no doubt many laid claim to it for the sake of the awe with which it invested them to annoy those whom they disliked, or to make capital out of it with those anxious about the future or the absent.
SPECTRES OF THE LIVING (Tamhasg).
Some thirty years ago a man in Tiree, nicknamed the Poult (am Big-ein), was haunted for several months by the spectre of the person with whom he was at the time at service. The phantom came regularly every evening for him, and if its call was disregarded it gave him next evening a severe thrashing. According to the man’s own account, the spectre sometimes spoke, and, when he understood what it said, gave good advice. Its speech was generally indistinct and unintelligible. The person whose spectre it was, on being spoken to on the subject, got very angry, but the visits of the spectre ceased.
Only a few years ago a young man, also in Tiree, was on his way home about midnight from the parish mill, where he had been kiln-drying corn. He had to go against a strong gale of north-west wind, and, having his head bent down and not looking well before him, ran up against a figure, which he took to be that of a young man of his acquaintance. He spoke to it, and the figure answered in broken, inarticulate speech (tormanaich bruidhinn). Every evening afterwards during that half-year he had to leave the house in which he was at service to meet, he himself said, the spectre that had thus met him. A person who doubted this followed one evening, and saw him, immediately on leaving the house, squaring out in boxing style to some invisible opponent, and falling at every round. The haunted youth said the apparition gave him much information. It said the person whose semblance it itself bore was to die of fever, that the coffin was to be taken out of the house by certain individuals, whom it named, and was to be placed on two creels outside the door. On speaking to the lad whose apparition haunted him, the persecution ceased. The common opinion was that this was a case of imposture and design.
Near Salen, in Mull, a workman, when going home from his employment in the evening, forgot to take his coat with him. He returned for it, and the apparition (tamhasg) of a woman met him, and gave him a squeezing (plùchadh) that made him keep his bed for several days.
In the same island a man was said to have been knocked off his horse by an apparition.
A crofter (or tenant of a small piece of land of which he has no lease) in Caolas, Tiree, went out at night to see that his neighbour’s horses were not trespassing on some clover he had in his croft. He was a man who had confessedly the second sight. He observed on this occasion a man going in a parallel direction to himself, and but a short distance off. At first he thought it was only a neighbour, Black Allan, trying to frighten him, but, struck by the motion and silence of the figure, he stooped down, and then raised himself suddenly. The figure did the same, proof of its being a tamhasg or phantasm. The seer reached home, pale and ready to faint, but nothing further came of his vision.
Three years ago a man, who claims to have the second sight, was on his way home at night to Barrapol, in the west end of Tiree, from the mill (which is in the centre of the island) with a sack of meal on his back. He laid down the sack, and rested by the wayside. When swinging the burden again on his shoulder he observed a figure standing beside him, and then springing on the top of the sack on his back. It remained there, rendering the sack very oppressive, till he reached home, some miles further on.
The son of a seer in Coll was away in the south country. The seer when delving saw his son several times lending assistance, and on two occasions when coming home with a creelful of peats, after taking a rest by the way, saw him helping to lift the creel again on his back. Before long word came of his son’s death.
Alexander Sinclair, from Erray, in Mull, was grieve at Funery in Morven. Two, if not three, of the servant women fell in love with him. He had to cross one night a bridge in the neighbourhood, between Savory and Salachan, and was met by the apparitions of two women, whom he recognised as his fellow-servants. One, he said, was the figure of a dark little woman, and lifted him over the parapet. The other was that of the dairymaid, in the house in which he was, and it rescued him. The adventure ended by his marrying the dairymaid.
A man, going home at night to Ledmore (Leudmòr), near Loch Frisa, in Mull, saw the kitchen-maid of the house in which he was at service waiting for him on the other side of a ford that lay in his way. Suspecting the appearance, he went further up the stream to avoid it, but it was waiting for him at every ford. At last he crossed, and held on his way, the apparition accompanying him. At the top of the first incline, the apparition threw him down. He rose, but was again thrown. He struggled, but the figure, he said, had no weight, and he grasped nothing but wind. On the highest part of the ascent, called Guala Spinne, the apparition left him. After going home, the man spoke to the woman whose spectre had met him. “The next time,” he said, “you meet me, I will stab you.” This made the woman cry, but he was never again troubled by her apparition.
A native of Glenbeg in Ardnamurchan, Henderson by name, was at service in Kilfinichen in Mull. One of the servant maids there made him a present of a pair of worsted gloves. After returning home from service, he had, one evening towards dusk (am bial an anmuich, lit. in the mouth of lateness) to go from Glenbeg to Kilchoan, by a path across a steep incline on the side of the lofty Ben-shianta, towards the projection known as “The Nose of the Macleans” (Sròin Chloinn Illeathain). Steep mountain paths of this kind are called Catha, and this particular catha is called Catha na Muice (the pig’s pass). Near the top of the ascent (aonaich), and where the difficult path ceases (bràighe na Catha), there is a narrow step (aisre), which only one person at a time can cross, leading towards another ascent (aonaich). When going up the first ascent, or cadha, Henderson was joined by the apparition of the woman who had made him the gloves in Kilfinichen. She was on the up side of him, and he saw, when he came to the aisre, if she chose to give him a push, he would be precipitated into the black shore (du-chladach), which the rocks there overhang, and become a shapeless bundle (seirgein cuagach). He blessed himself, and taking courage crossed in safety. When he got on more level ground, over towards Correi-Vulin, he took the gloves she had given him, and threw them at her, saying “that is all the business you have with me.” He stayed that night in Laga Fliuch, and next day went to Kilchoan. On his return he looked for the gloves, and saw them where he had thrown them. He had no return of the vision.