Evil eye in the western Highlands

by Robert Craig Maclagan

We have already seen a case, in which a woman on her own showing demonstrates that it was the influence of others which caused her to believe in the power of the Evil Eye; but conviction has in some cases been carried to the minds of men as a result of experience. A man taking a valuable horse from the west coast of Kintyre to Tarbert was, after leaving Musadale, offered a considerable sum for it. He said he would not, could not sell the beast, and though the offer was raised to sixty pounds, he still refused and went on his way. Before he reached Tayinloan the horse fell dead on the road. The owner of the horse, considered to be a religious man, after this incident could not be shaken in his belief in the Evil Eye.

In another case, a woman having got from her mother a hen, a first-rate layer, an acquaintance came in and the conversation turned upon the excellence of the bird, frankly acknowledged by the owner, who added her own quota of praise. The visitor was no time gone when the hen “clapped her wings, fell down, and died.” Mrs. G. declared that it has been her firm belief ever since that it was a case of cronachadh.

GIVING AWAY MILK DANGEROUS

All have heard of the belief in the power of witches to acquire for themselves, among other things, the milk and butter of their neighbours. This apparently requires some deliberate act of magic, “drawing the tether,” as they say in the north of Ireland, or even milking the pot chain, as reported in the Highlands. In only one case, as reported, was this danger ascribed to the owner of an Evil Eye, and the writer is still of opinion that his lady friend, who said, “If an evil-disposed person who possesses an Evil Eye gets a little milk from another, he or she will be able to operate through that to injure all the milk that remains, and even the cows,” had not differentiated in her own mind the “Evil Eye” from “witchcraft.” We will repeat the incident.

A suspected woman, living near, one time asked her servant if she could get a little milk daily, her own cow giving none at the time. The servant girl told the lady that the woman was asking milk, and then added, “I will not give it her.” Her mistress said, “Oh, you may give it; she needs it, and you can spare it quite well.” The girl said it was not that, but showed that she was afraid of the woman getting what she asked, and thus taking their milk from them and perhaps injuring the cow. Her mistress said there was no fear of that, and the girl yielded, adding, “I know what I’ll do.” What she did was to put pinches of salt and of sugar in the milk the woman was to get that evening, and to take the first mouthful (bolgam) of it herself. This, according to prevalent ideas in the district, would hinder the receiver of the milk having any power to do harm for the remainder of that season. This performance seems a common precaution in cases where milk is given to suspected persons.

SCIENCE VERSUS EOLAS

It will be easily understood that to a believer in the Evil Eye mere modern science, as met with in daily life, in doctors, and veterinary surgeons, is of small account. A well-educated lady, a friend of the writer, advised a neighbour whose cow was ill to send for the vet. The answer was: “Cha’n eil vet a chum feum sam bith, oir ’san a tha bho air a cronachadh. ’S e rud is fearr eolas fhaotainn air a son.” (“A vet is no use whatever, because the cow is air a cronachadh; the best thing is to get eolas for it.)”

In that case they didn’t even send for the “vet.” In the following instance a certain preliminary confidence seems to have been shown in medical men. The reciter gives this as a very clear case of Evil Eye. A child had fallen sick; two doctors were attending it, but it was getting worse. The parents, having done all that they could think of, requested the aid of a woman who was known to deal with eolas a chronachaidh. The woman went to see the child, and what she did the reciter did not know, but, “sure enough, she soon cured the child and told its parents that it had been air a cronachadh.” This may have been “sure enough” for those immediately interested, others may be permitted to doubt.

In these cases common sense has generally the minister on its side. In a case already quoted, in which the mother’s milk was supposed to have been turned into water in her system by the Tiree woman, her mother was sent for. This old lady’s granddaughter tells us, “When my grandmother came she suggested that a decent man who was living near them, who was used to work with eolas where people or beasts had been air an cronachadh, should be called in, but she said they would need to go to him secretly, for he had promised the minister that he would not make any more eolas. My father and mother agreed, but my mother requested my grandmother to go to the man, because she did not know how to go about it. My grandmother went and spoke to the man’s wife first. The wife said, ‘I am sure he will do what he can for John (the child’s father), but he has promised the minister that he would not make any more of that; but come and speak to him yourself.’ My grandmother spoke to the man, who said that he had promised to the minister that he would not do any more of these things. He could not go to her, but she might come back to him again the following day. This was a Wednesday, and there were only two days of the week on which he could make eolas—these were Thursdays and Sundays. When she went back the following day, he had not got his cure ready yet, he said, but would have it on Sunday. He told her that her daughter would not have so much milk as she had at first, but would have enough to bring up the child. On Sunday he had the thing ready as he had promised, and he made it twice for her afterwards. That is, he made it three times. He correctly described the whole appearance of the woman who had taken the milk away, although nobody had ever mentioned about the Tiree cailleach to him. My mother had plenty of milk after that.”

We can scarcely wonder at the minister objecting to this magical practitioner when we consider the nature and the time of his performance. An old Islay man says that when he was a young man he was very intimate with a woman who had knowledge of the curing of toothache (eolas deide). She was a relative of his own, and many a time she offered to teach him the words she used. She could teach them to a male, not to a female. He was young at the time, and did not like to learn them, for some people were saying that it was a sort of witchcraft (buideachas), but it was not that, for the words were all good words. They were taught by the Saviour, who taught them first to His mother. Our reciter went on to say that this toothache cure is of no use, and need not be tried, in any case beyond a first or second attack. It is hard to make it succeed even in the case of a second attack, and beyond that it can have no effect whatever. Neither will it do in a case where the sufferer has his tooth taken out.