Evil eye in the western Highlands

by Robert Craig Maclagan

The Islay expression already quoted, Mach an dosgach, contains within it the suggestion of evil coming to the unprotected, Dosgadh (calamity, misfortune), etymologically having the signification, without protection.[3] Subsequently we will find that no grown person need be unprotected if he will take a very small amount of trouble.

[3] Macbain, “Etymological Dictionary of the Gaelic Language.“

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.