Evil eye in the western Highlands

by Robert Craig Maclagan

SHOWING WHO IS THE MISCHIEF MAKER

We are so easily content to waive aside these superstitions when they come in our way, as if they were the unconsidered dreamings of the insane. Not one of them but has its origin, generally no doubt in a misguided fancy, but still based on something real enough to the mind of the believer, even if it be a mind of childlike simplicity. But when eolas men and women take on themselves to find out for the instruction of their clients to whom the Evil Eye damaging them belongs, one begins to doubt but that there is more of the wisdom of the serpent than of the simplicity of the dove in this part of their performance. We have already mentioned a case in which the eolas woman described to the reciter’s cousin “exactly” the man and woman who had harmed her child, though neither man nor woman had been mentioned to her, and the reciter expressed wonder at the knowledge so displayed.

This spotting the doer is evidently a little more difficult of belief to many than the other notions they entertain about the Evil Eye. Thus, a reciter says that one professor confirmed the owner’s suspicions, a fact openly admitted, but added, “It was said that she told them whose eye had taken the milk away.” In another, “It was believed he could also tell who had done the mischief?”

But in some cases the individual is straightforwardly given. Five reciters at least mentioned that, and in one of these the reciter accepted the nomination as indubitable because they had met “the very man she mentioned on the road.”

There can be no doubt that some of these eolas people have deliberately offered to disclose the personality of the one doing the harm. The owners of the sick animal have refused to have such information given them, stating that they would be entirely content with a cure without knowing any ill of a neighbour. Refinement of feeling of this sort is foreign to many, however, and indeed it is to be excused in a thorough believer, if for no other reason than the well-known principle that “prevention is better than cure.” Some of the indications are particularly vague.

“He asked if a dark-haired man had been praising the cow, and when they said that they didn’t know, ‘Well,’ said he, ‘it was a man with black hair (ceann dubh) that injured your cow, with the Evil Eye!’”

In another case the identified doer, as previously mentioned, had brown hair.

In some cases, though no names are mentioned, it is quite clear that identification was intended. Thus, in one of the cases cured by a cord, the professor stated that the child had been injured by a mother and her daughter. “My man said that that was quite true, but that they had no ill-will to us, and why should they do that?” To that the woman said, “That it was likely that they did not know themselves that they were doing it.”

In another thread-cured case, the man operating said that it had been injured by drovers who wanted to buy the animal in question. We may conclude that the eolas man knew that drovers had been in the neighbourhood.

Similar cases have already been mentioned, the particularity of the description pretty clearly demonstrating that the professor would have been more candid if, instead of asking whether a dark and a fair woman with a blue shawl had been calling, they had said there had been, and that they were responsible.

But this describing the individual without naming him is evidently a trick of the trade. A farmer’s wife consulting an eolas man without at first the consent of the farmer, the professor described to the couple the appearance of the man who had done the mischief. We then learn that from the description they knew at once who the man was, and also that he had been in the byre shortly before the cow had taken ill.

It was probably a safe enough decision to credit strange drovers with an injury of the sort, their stay in the district being of course but a temporary one; but one suspects local jealousy in the following case, when a woman, desirous of getting back her vanished butter, was told that those doing the injury were not a musket-shot from her house. This was in Islay, and some Jura people staying in the neighbourhood, it was concluded they were those pointed at.

A parallel appears in the case already mentioned, where all Tiree cailleachs are slumped as dangerous. One suspects that in the following case an undesirable neighbour had been suggested.

There were three farmers side by side in the parish of Kilbrandon. The one in the centre was not nearly so successful as his neighbours. The unfortunate farmer went to A—— to consult a certain eolas man. By him he was told it was no wonder he was not getting on, for he had on each side of him “those who were doing him harm, and until he would remove he would never get on.” Taking the hint he looked about him, removed to another farm, and succeeded very well.

When in doubt, the professor, in some cases at any rate, acquires by examination assurance of the presence of an individual to accuse. Having put the string on a sick cow and the cow being cured apparently, “she (the eolas woman) came to the lassie that had been herding the cow and said to her: ‘You saw a man among the cows to-day, and you heard him saying that that cow was a good one.’” The girl said, “Yes.” The woman then said: “The man was J. G.,” and the girl again said, “Yes.” The woman then told them that it was the said J. G. who had done the harm. They all knew him quite well. “And now,” added Mrs. M. in telling her story, “if that woman had no knowledge, how could she have known who had been among the cows on that day, or who had done the mischief.”

In some cases a description is given of a method of identification of the owner of the Evil Eye. Formerly we described how a woman consulted shut her eyes, and opening them after an interval, informed her interrogator that anything she saw of the nature of a burden was what was pressing on the sick animal. In that instance it was said to be a horse collar.

Probably in this case the woman satisfied herself of the gravity of the illness by comparing it with the relative weight of the burden.

In another case in which Thursday and Sunday were said to be the lucky days for the preparation of the uisge a chronachaidh, and it took from Wednesday to Sunday to prepare the stuff, the blame was at the end of that time laid to the charge of a stranger from Tiree. One can scarcely doubt that in that case the time was utilised to make inquiries.

In addition to these more crude methods there are indications of the dark-room business carried on in more civilised places almost to the present day. There was a man who lived at Balloch in the island of Lewis much consulted, and believed to be specially skilful in dealing with cases of the Evil Eye. “For a consideration he would produce the likeness of those who had done the harm, showing it to the injured. He would take them into a little room he had, where he would show them the likeness of the owner of the Evil Eye.”

Another traditional method of identification was “to make some one pass before the inquirer, and the one who had done the harm would be of the same name.” We say traditional in this case, because we have no information about smoke-raising, crystal balls, or anything of the kind, and are therefore inclined to refer it back to the Biblical account of Saul’s interview with Samuel.

That the story of the magic mirror has found its way into the Western Highlands, however, is made clear by the following. A lighthouse-keeper is our informant.

Five men meeting his neighbour outside the lighthouse stopped him and informed him that having left their boat on the beach, when they went back to it they found it had a hole, and they wished to see in the looking-glass who had done the mischief. When the lighthouse-keeper assured them that he had no such looking-glass, and expressed astonishment that they would believe in such nonsense, they seemed somewhat displeased. In recounting this incident afterwards the light-keepers learned that an impression had gone abroad in the place that there was a particular mirror at the station that had the property of showing who those were that had taken part in cases of witchcraft. It is easily comprehensible how the reflectors in a lighthouse might be spoken of as of peculiar efficacy, with the usual “Three Crows” result.

The difficulty of course is to distinguish between claims advanced of the possession of a power, of which, under the circumstances, a demonstration cannot be demanded, and the actual carrying out of some impressive hanky-panky. The following is an illustration:—

A messenger being sent for a cure, and having received it, the scientist told him that if the cow had been his own she could make the shadow (faileas) of the one who had done the mischief to pass before him, or, if the woman who was the owner of the cow had come, she could have done it for her.

One can scarcely be accused of a want of Christian charity if he suggests that if the professor had had the owner before him he would not have claimed the powers he did.

In the story already related of Campbell of Skipness showing the injurious one in a carefully darkened barn, the reciter, also a Campbell, had all the appearance of believing in the story, but as it was told of a relative of his great-grandfather’s, no one can say what are the accretions time has added to the facts of the case.

We have pointed out that even the Church has been brought in contact with the Evil Eye scientist, and the following information from a well-informed, clever, middle-aged lady, the sister of a clergyman whose father took an interest in traditional Gaelic matters, as she does herself, was heard from a Sutherlandshire minister who recited it to her mother. The milk of their cows being unsatisfactory, the housekeeper asked leave to consult an eolas man. The minister was very angry, but the housekeeper stuck to her text and carried out her purpose, telling the minister, “Na gabhadh sibhse gnothuch sam bith leis, agus chi mise de ni mi.” (“Take you nothing to do with it, and I’ll see what I’ll do.”) She got the eolas man, and he asked for a basin of the sort of watery stuff they were getting instead of milk. When he got it he closed up every hole and crevice, even stuffing up the key-hole. Then he put the milky water on the fire, and when it was hot he took a knife and began to cut with it through the pot of milk. While at this work a woman came to the door, screamed, and wanted to get in; but he cried to her that he would give her plenty of it, and he continued cutting away through the milk. Still she screamed and begged him to let her come in, but he said he would not until she would promise to give up her wicked work and give the toradh back to the minister’s cow, all the time continuing cutting with the knife. She answered she would promise everything he wanted, for every cut of the knife was going through her heart. The man then opened the door and took the pot off the fire, and from that time the supply of milk, both for quantity and quality, was satisfactory. In this case also, though the authority is thoroughly respectable, it is impossible to say what actually took place. In fact it may be that our informant may have mistaken a traditional recitation as the experience of the reciter himself. Though told àpropos of the Evil Eye, looking at the story in all its bearings, it looks as if it had been, if it happened at all, a case of pull devil pull baker between two witches, one of whom was supposed to be taking the minister’s milk.

But your witch, male or female, still exists, and his presence probably does not conduce to harmony in his neighbourhood. Two brothers lived beside the father of our reciter in J——. They had a bit of land between them, and their dwelling-houses stood end to end under one roof. The wife of the one brother suspected the wife of the other of injuriously affecting her dairy products by the Evil Eye. She persuaded her husband to take her part, and he crossed to I—— to consult one having the reputation of witchcraft there. The witch resolved to go in person to examine into the matter, and he accompanied the man home, where he assured the couple who considered themselves injured that he would bring the injurer crying to their door. The suspected woman, already much annoyed, sent for the reciter’s mother to come to her, who found her sitting in tears. The visitor encouraged her, told her it was all nonsense and advised her not to be downcast, and returned home. Shortly thereafter she had a visit from the woman complaining, who told her with glee that the man consulted had put them on a plan for finding out who was injuring their milk. The mutual friend received this information coldly, and proceeded to point out that there were no grounds for suspecting any one outside her own house, and advised her to go home, well clean her dishes and keep her eye on her daughter, assuring her that if she did that she would probably have satisfaction with her milk and cream. The result was quite satisfactory, as it turned out to be as suspected, that the daughter helped herself in her mother’s absence.