by Anne Ross
The each-uisge also had a penchant for young girls, many of whom seemed to have time to be lying invitingly on tufts of sweet-smelling heather, or by the grassy lakeside. A youth of great beauty would sit down beside the girl and would begin to converse with her. Totally disarmed by his god-like appearance, she, uncharacteristically, would submit to the embraces that he soon began to lavish on her. It would seem to her that she had encountered the great love of her life, and lying back, she would begin to stroke his head and sing a love song to him and he would be put under the spell of her sweet voice and sleep would overcome him. She would tenderly stroke his hair, and then, in a terrible moment of truth, she would come upon the water weeds which were still entangled in his copious locks. Alarmed, she would look down at his feet, and now see that they were not those of a youth, but the hooves of a horse. Fear of death would give her a wild courage, and, if she were lucky enough to rise without disturbing him, she would have to run for her life. More often, however, he would entice her to climb on his back and then plunge deep into the waters with her, and she would never be heard of again. I myself have heard various versions of this widespread and sinister motif, both in the Hebrides and on the Scottish mainland, and have sometimes felt a sense of dread when walking near a lake or river where the water-horse and other unpleasant beings were traditionally believed to lurk. But not all spirits were evil and dangerous to mankind. Unexpectedly, perhaps, it was the fairies who could manifest the greatest malevolence to human beings, and who had an unpleasant habit of stealing their babies. The best remedy for this was to put the cradle out in the sunshine or leave it in the living room which served many purposes, while placing the long, iron tongs, which were to be found in every home, across the infant’s cradle. Iron was a powerful averter of evil and dangerous spells.
There were countless other spirit beings, such as the glaistig (a female spirit, half-human and half-beast), the ùruisg (half-human, half-beast, and very hirsute), the nigheag (the little washer), the caoineag (the little weeping one), the beanshith (the banshee), and the direach (26). A vast amount of oral material pertaining to spirits such as those we have described was in circulation in the Highlands and Islands of Scotland, and we owe a great debt of gratitude to the collectors who so painstakingly collected and recorded for posterity this fascinating, and in many ways unique, material which coloured and controlled the daily lives and actions of the Gaelic peoples.
Over and above the repertoire of cures brought about by the prayers and skills of the charmers or white witches, there were many other folk cures in circulation in the Highlands, as elsewhere, both for people and for animals, some based on respectable herbal remedies, and others relying on magic of some kind. As long ago as the second century AD the writer Pliny noted some of the plants that were used by the Gauls for purposes of healing and protection and recorded the various ways in which they must be collected in order to make them magically efficacious. Martin Martin gives a long list of diseases known, and not known, in Skye and the smaller Islands. He likewise notes that simple remedies used by the natives were effected by plants, roots, stones, parts of animals, and so on. Blood-letting was widely practised. He tells of a smith in the parish of Kilmartin in Skye who was believed to be able to cure faintness of the spirits (Martin does not say exactly what disease this is). The patient was seemingly laid on the anvil with his face upwards; the smith then seized a large hammer in both hands, and with a fierce expression approached the sick person. He then raised the hammer from the ground as if preparing to strike the patient with all his considerable strength. It was a risky cure to perform, because the smith must terrify the sick person, but use the hammer with so much skill that he did not in fact harm him.
26Direach ghlinn eiti, or fachan, in the ritual pose used by, for example, Druids as they went round armies in order to protect them, using one leg, one arm extended, and one eye closed. From J.F. Campbell Popular Tales of the West Highlands, Edinburgh 1862, 326
The smith in question was apparently famed for his pedigree; he constituted the thirteenth generation of smiths, all possessed of this healing power. This too represents an archaic Celtic belief. The smith not only held an elevated position in society; his ability to handle the most potent charm against evil — iron — imbued him with semi-sacred powers in the eyes of his fellows (27). The early Celtic smiths were widely believed to possess healing and magical powers and such a belief has continued down the ages. It is an impressive feature of extant, or very recently extant, Highland folklore that one can constantly glimpse beneath all the borrowings and accretions that have taken place down the centuries, traces of that much older, much more powerful Celtic world, where the gods and goddesses walked side by side with mankind, with goodwill or hostility, as the case might be, and where the day-to-day life of the people was moulded and controlled by hidden forces, the powers of which linger on as pale shadows.
It was a widespread belief that the seventh son of a seventh son had the ability to heal people of King’s Evil (scrofula). Those with the power of healing were not always regarded with approval, especially by the Church; one famous physician, Neil Beaton of Skye, doctor to MacLeod of Dunvegan, was so skilled that it was darkly hinted by many that he had learnt his art from the Devil himself. He was in great demand all over the Highlands and Islands.
Together with cures for sickness induced by natural or magical agents, we must consider measures that could be taken to ward off ill-fortune before it had occurred. These include the reading of omens which could warn people of impending ill-luck, and things that must — or must not — be done in order to prevent evil powers from gaining access in the first instance. In early Irish society, a hero, when he was first initiated into the elevated status of warrior, had a number of tabus, or geasa as they were called, placed on him. Violation of these tabus meant certain destruction. It was always the aim of enemies, whether natural or supernatural, to trick the hero into violating his tabus, and many of the tales are concerned with the ways in which this was brought about. Tabu was also a major feature of Highland folk-life, and there were lucky and unlucky days, times, or situations, when things should or should not be attempted. For example, Martin again records that it was a custom of the natives of Colonsay, after they had landed on Oronsay Isle, to make a tour sunwise of the Church before they entered on any kind of business. The magical ritual of going sunwise, often three times, round a church, a holy well or a domestic building was very widespread indeed; it is known in Gaelic as deiseal. It was a custom — familiar to Martin, but not openly practised in his day — in the Island of Lewis, to make a fiery circle about the houses, cattle, corn, and other possessions belonging to every family. A man would carry a burning brand in his right hand and move round in a sunwise direction. This apotropaic round was performed in the village of Shadir in 1700, but Martin records that it proved fatal to one man; he was called MacCallum. The night after he had performed this undoubtedly pagan rite, all his own property and possessions were destroyed by fire.
27Smith god with a La Tène-type anvil on a pottery mould at Corstopitum, Corbridge, Northumberland. After A. Ross 1967 and 1992, fig 129
The numbers and varieties of cures for various ills and the means of averting bad luck are incalculable. A great deal of superstition attended the birth of a child, a time when both the mother and the new-born infant were particularly vulnerable to all the forces of evil, witchcraft, and fairy power. Once the child had been born, the mother must on no account leave the house until she had been kirked; unbaptised infants, like suicides, could not be buried in sanctified ground. Often, when one is walking in a Highland township with a native of the area, a small stone is pointed out which marks the pathetic grave of some unfortunate babe who did not survive long enough to find a place within the protective walls of the churchyard. It was unlucky to rock an empty cradle if one did not desire an increase in the family — to do so ensured that a new baby would soon occupy it.
Ill omens were of many kinds,
and could cause deep unease in people. It was considered unlucky if a stray swarm of bees were to settle on someone’s property without being claimed by their owner. It was, and still is, particularly unfortunate to catch sight of the new moon through glass; it should be seen out of doors, and various rites must be performed according to differing local tradition; it must be bowed to three times, or one must turn one’s money over three times in one’s pocket, and so on. To see the old moon in the arms of the new was a sign of good weather; the horns of the new moon must also be turned up — if they were turned down the water they retained would fall and flood the earth. McGregor records that in Soay, a small island off the south of Skye, when the head of the family died, a large lock of his hair was cut off and nailed firmly to the lintel of the door in order to keep away the fairies. There were various ways in which it was believed a snakebite could be cured; the head of a serpent was preserved for years and rubbed onto the wound. This was believed to be an infallible cure. The dried head was placed in water and then the wound washed with it. It was also widely believed that only a charmer or white witch must set broken or otherwise damaged bones; qualified doctors were believed to know nothing of such matters. Another widespread belief was that it was unlucky to enter a house by the back door; the prospective occupier must always go in by the front entrance. There were many other strange cures for miscellaneous ills which were absolutely infallible in the eyes of the people; warts were common, but could be removed by washing them in rainwater or in the blood of a pig. By putting gold rings in the ears, sore eyes could be healed; or the eye itself could be rubbed with some gold object while an incantation for healing was repeated. Other very general cures were the use of fried mice as a remedy for smallpox; a spider, sealed into a goose quill, could relieve a child of the troublesome disease of thrush.
Much superstition and tabu was observed by sailors: certain things must not be given their correct name at sea — even places came into this custom. For example, Martin records that the natives of Canna called the island Tarsin when they were at sea. Certain birds were much feared at sea, as well as on land. The stormy petrel was regarded as a bad omen when it fluttered about the boats; a raven landing on the mast was a sure indication of witchcraft. In order to protect the vessel and those who sailed in her from the evil powers of fairies, witches, petrels, the Evil Eye and so on, a horseshoe was nailed onto the mast — always a highly apotropaic object. Tabu then, both positive and negative, was widespread in the Highlands, and much lingers on, just as it does in other parts of the British Isles. It was considered to be highly unlucky if a stranger were to count one’s children, cattle or sheep. And, if one were questioned as to numbers of any of these, one must always end by saying ‘bless them’. An odd number should not sit at table, and especially not 13. It was believed that the first person of such a number who rose from the table would die within the year. A stranger must never walk across a pile of fishing rods lying on the beach, or over ropes, oars or any other item of marine equipment. If he inadvertently did so, he must be made to retrace his steps so as to undo the potential ill-luck he had caused. People must only be served at table from left to right. This is another example of deiseal; it was likewise considered to be unlucky in beginning to row a boat, or start a funeral or wedding procession except towards the right hand. To see a foal or a snail or to hear a cuckoo before having broken one’s fast in the morning were also omens that the day would not go well:
With its back to me turn’d I beheld the young foal,
And the snail on the bare flag in motion so slow;
Without tasting of food, lo, the cuckoo I heard,
Then judged the year would not prosperously go.
A peculiar superstition was that it was unlucky to stand between an epileptic man and fire or water. Water should not be thrown out of a house after sunset and before sunrise. One must never dig a grave on Sunday as another would be sure to have to be dug during the week for another member of the family. It was important that a corpse should stiffen up after death, otherwise another member of the same family would die before the year was out. Other widespread and common beliefs include the tradition that the howling of a dog at night presaged death, as did the alighting on the roof of a house of a magpie or a crow. It was also regarded as being extremely unlucky to weigh new-born infants; This would certainly bring about their death. No cat must be allowed to sleep beside an infant as it would suck its breath and so kill it.
Martin records many tabus and cures current in his time. He says that the inhabitants of the Flannan Islands must never call St Kilda by its proper name, Hirt, but only ‘the High Country’. Moreover, if they were fowling in the Flannan Islands, a common pursuit, they must not use the name Flannan, but ‘the Country’. Other things must not be called by their proper name; uisge, Gaelic for water, must be called ‘bùrn’. A rock, creag, must be referred to as cruaidh, ‘hard’. The Gaelic word for shore is cladach but the Flannan islanders must refer to it as uamh, ‘cave’. ‘Sour’ in Gaelic is gort, but they had to use the word gàire. There are countless examples of such tabu words, sometimes the tabu being permanent, sometimes applying only to some particular situation or occasion. They must not kill a fowl after evening prayers had been said. No one might take away to his home any sheep-suet, no matter how many sheep were killed in the Islands. Martin, in his invaluable work, records an interesting superstition which he got, not only from natives of Lewis, but also from two people who had been in the Flannan Isles the previous year. Martin asked one of them if he prayed at home as fervently and as often as he did in the Flannan Isles and he confessed that he did not. He said that these remote islands were places of inherent sanctity; anyone landing there would find himself much more given to devotion there than anywhere else. The ancient classical writers refer to certain islands off the coast of Britain that were held in deep superstitious awe by the natives, and even today the Flannan Isles connote something mysterious and savouring of the Otherworld — the island home of the departed spirits, far in the western ocean. The Highlanders have always regarded certain days and certain seasons of the year as being particularly lucky or unlucky; this superstition likewise goes right back to the ancient Celtic world, when omens were read in order to determine whether a day was likely to be favourable or unfavourable to some activity or decision. The 14 May was widely held to be an unlucky day, and indeed the whole week in which 14 May fell was looked upon as being inauspicious. May and January were not favoured months; Friday was always an unlucky day for a wedding. Alexander Carmichael collected many incantations connected with calendar superstitions. Some of these are given in sections connected with other, specific traditions.
Fire was, as always, an essential element in evil-averting rites; as we have seen, to carry a burning brand deiseal (sunwise) round a house was believed to purify and protect it. This was performed in connection with women before they were kirked after childbirth; fire was also carried sunwise about children before they were baptised; the ritual was performed both in the morning and the evening. It persisted at least into Martin’s time, but he remarks that it was only performed by old midwives; as he deeply disapproved of this pagan custom, people may have been unwilling to be quite frank about its continuing practice. When he showed his scorn of it, and asked why it was performed, the people were seemingly much annoyed by his attitude and refused to answer him. One or two, however, told him that the fire-round was a powerful means of preserving the mother and child from the ever-present forces of evil sprites, always seeking to do harm to mankind, and to snatch away the unguarded infant. The fairies were notoriously dangerous in this respect; once they could steal a healthy human babe, they would replace it by a puny, skeletal child which did not thrive, but had a voracious appetite; it would eat up everything that came its way and yet remain gaunt and under-nourished. It was customary for people in Martin’s day, who believed that their babies had been abducted by the fairies, to dig a grave in the fields on Quarter-day (an important
calendar day) and to put the changeling there overnight. In the morning they expected to go and find their own healthy child lying there in place of the fairy baby. There are many versions of the changeling legend. In Martin’s time, some people used to perform these rounds sunwise about welcome strangers or people who had done them some good turn; they went round them three times, blessed them, and wished them success in all their affairs. This custom was likewise by no means kindly looked upon by the ministers of the Church.
Another ancient and widely-used antidote for plague or murrain in cattle and people was the process known as making tein-eigin, ‘need-fire’. It was performed as follows: all the fires in the parish must be extinguished and then, according to Martin’s account, it was necessary for 81 married men to participate in order to make the ritual successful. Two great planks of wood were taken and nine men were employed in turn to rub the two planks together until the great heat generated eventually produced fire. From this ‘need’ or ‘forced’ fire, every family must make a new fire in their homes; as soon as this was blazing well, a cauldron of water (28) was placed on it, and this sacred liquid was then sprinkled over people or beasts infected with the plague. The people swore to the efficacy of this practice, and, like so many Highland customs, its origins clearly belong to the distant past, with profound pagan associations connected with the magic of fire ritual in general. Martin records that it was practised on the mainland, opposite the south of Skye, within 30 years of his writing — and when such deeply-rooted customs finally ceased to be carried out in remote glens and islands is still open to question.
