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WILLIAM MACDONALD, who died
about fifty years ago, was a native of Glenmore, where the family had
resided for several generations. Like his father, he was a wright or
cooper, and was commonly called Ullleam Saor, William the
Carpenter. William was strongly built, with good features, and dark eyes
that glowed like coals under shaggy brows, and shocks of dark snaky hair.
He had an irritable temper, and when badly teased, as he sometimes was by
boys, he would break out into violent rages. At Christmas he used to make
a round among his friends, selling cogs and tubs. On such occasions he was
a welcome guest at the fireside, especially with the young, from his store
of Gaelic songs and legends. William had one strange custom. There was a
little grassy mound near his workshop, and to this he used to resort in
the morning for his devotions. The first thing he did was to bow towards
the sun, and then he said his prayers. He was once asked what he meant by
bowing to the sun. His answer was that he did as his fathers had done
before him. William Saor might therefore be called the last of our Sun
worshippers, though with him the worship was simply the survival of an old
custom which had lost its meaning. It may be mentioned that Sir Edwin
Landseer, who was a frequent visitor at the Doune of Rothiemurchus when it
was rented by the Duke and Duchess of Bedford, was much struck by William’s
figure, and that he has introduced him into his picture of "The
Bringing Home of the Deer."
Beltane, or
May-day, was one of the chief days of the year. It is generally explained
as Beil-teine, Belus, or Baal fire; but the word means, more
probably, bright-fire, or luck-fire. At Beltane the Gael
used to kindle two fires, and to drive their cattle between them for
purification and good luck. Hence the saying: Eadar dà theine
Bhealltuinn, between the two fires of Beltane. Some modern authorities
hold that Beltane, being the first day of May (Céitein, the first
of summer), was properly the beginning of the year, and that Earrach (eàrr,
end). Spring, was the end of the year, when the old was passing into
the new. Beltane was the day when young people used to roll bannocks, also
for luck. The sunny slopes of the Nethy, and the old mill-bank at
Balnagown were favourite places for the sport. The bannochs were made of
oatmeal, round as the moon, about an inch and a half thick, well baked,
and covered with a rich coating of cream and egg. Certain figures were cut
on the surface, generally a cross on the one side, and a cipher on the
other. Bannocks were baked for every member of the family. The absent were
remembered as well as those present. "No distance breaks the tie of
blood." The game was to roll the bannocks from a height, and when
they settled, to mark which side was uppermost. If it was the side with
the cross, this was a sign of good fortune; if it was the cipher that came
up, this indicated that the year would be unlucky. The bannocks were
rolled thrice, and when the play was over, they were broken and eaten, and
the fragments left were thrown up into the air, with the Gaelic words
SealI‘s do na h’ uile eun beag
th'anns an adhair
Ach Dobhrag an t-shleibh,
Ach gum b’ ann a bhriseas ise leth-cas
Dol stigh air dorus a Maighstir fein."
i.e., "Here’s
to every little bird of the air, save the snipe, but may she break her
one foot going in at the door of her master." Why the snipe should
have been thus singled out and put under ban is not known. One peculiar
thing about the snipe is the number of names it has in Gaelic. It is
called Naosga, Sgreuch-an-lòn, gvbhar-adhair, Croman-lòn,
eun-ghabhrag; rneannan-adhair and so on. These names are
descriptive, and refer to some peculiarity in the cry, mode of flight,
and habits of the animal, It is sometimes said in derision of a man with
many names, Tha uiread de ainmeanan air ris an naosg - " He
has as many names as the snipe." There are survivals, which seem
connected with Bull-worship. On New Year’s Eve the old people used
anxiously to scan the sky for the appearance of what was sometimes
called the Candlemas Bull. It was believed that from the size and aspect
of this cloud the weather for the year might be predicted. The first
night of the year was called oidche dàir na coille, the night of
the impregnating of the wood, when life was everywhere being renewed.
The Church seems to have taken up this notion, and to have connected it
with the birth of Christ. The old Latin legend bore that the bees woke
at Christmas from their winter sleep, and hummed a song of praise. The
birds, and other animals after their kind, joined in the concert. The
Cock crowed Christus naius est, Christ is born. The Raven croaked
Ouando? when? The Crow cawed Hac necte, this night. The Ox
asked Ubi? where? The Sheep replied, Bethlehem; and the
Ass cried Eamus, let us go.
On the first day of the
year it was once customary to burn juniper in byres, stables, and house
fire-places. This was done sixty years ago at the Dell, by Donald Cameron,
grieve, a faithful old servant, who was indulged in his harmless ways. The
burning of juniper may have been originally for sanitary purposes, but it
had also to do with old Church beliefs. In manv parts of France and Italy
the juniper is used instead of the holly at Christmas (G. Nollaig, from
nova, nouvelles, noel), and is hung in stables and cattle sheds. There is
a legend that the Holy Family hid in a juniper bush from their pursuers
when on the way to Egypt. Hence it is called by some "The Madonna’s
Bush." In China it is said to be an emblem of immortality. Some other
plants were supposed to possess special virtues. The Stonecrop was
set in the thatch of houses, and the Rowan or Mountain Ash, was
planted round dwelling-houses as a protection against the fairies. The
Rowan is one of the commonest of our native trees. The fir woods teem with
myriads of little plants that have sprung up from seeds carried by birds,
but few of them survive. In the struggle for existence they have no chance
against the heather and the pine. But in more favourable circumstances
they thrive well. Sometimes single trees are found growing among the
rocks, or by the water-side, and in antumn they glow with beauty.
Wordsworth has painted such a scene with much felicity: —
"No eye can overlook,
when ‘mid a grove
Of yet unfaded trees,
she lifts her head
Decked with antumnal
berries, that outshine
Spring’s richest
blossoms ; and ye may have marked
By brookside or
solitary tarn,
How she her station
doth adorn; the pool
Glows at her feet, and
all the glowing rocks
Are brightened round
her."
Among wild animals some
were loved and some were hated; some were cherished, and others cursed.
The Wren, the Robin, the Cross-bill, and the Snow-bunting
were held sacred. The Wren was called by the Celts the King
of Birds. According to the old legend, the Birds, after consultation,
agreed to make King the one that should fly the highest. The Eagle, of
course, expected to win, but the Wren challenged it to the trial. Up, up,
far beyond the rest, the Eagle soared, till it was lost to sight in the
brilliance of the sun. Then it cried in scorn, Cait am bheil thu nis a
Dhreathan duinn? "Where are you now, little Wren?" But
the Wren had cunningly perched on the Eagle’s hack, and at this call
took a further flight, crying out in triumph, Fad,fad, os do cheann, "Far,
far above you." So the Wren won the crown. The Robin was
hallowed for its red breast, which had caught some of the blood from the
Cross and the Cross-bill for its bill, which had been maimed by
its loving endeavours to free our Lord from the accursed tree. The Snow-bunting
(G. Gealag ‘n t ‘sneachdaidh) was also regarded as sacred, perhaps
from its whiteness. The following legend is curious:— A certain man went
one day to a Saint’s Well (in Duthil) for water, when he
saw a strange sight. There was a fire with a brazen pot hanging over it.
The fire was made of dried horse-dung, like as is done in the East with
camel-dung to this day, and the pot was filled with snow-buntings.
Around the fire were seated a number of tacharans—spirits of
unbaptized children—-clothed in white. The pot took the man’s fancy,
and he asked for it, but was refused. He repeated his request thrice,
with certain forms, and then he was allowed to take the pot, but with a
curse attached that it would bring ill-fortune along with it— Nach
seasadh an coinneamh Shraspe, ach aon bhonaid, gu ruidh tre àl, dheih
na thigeadh na dheigh, "That there would not stand in the
Gathering of Strathspey but one bonnet, for three generations, of those
who should come after him." The man took the pot to Clury, and for
long Clury was believed to be an unlucky place. In recent times,
however, it is evident the ban has passed away. At Clury, as elsewhere,
"The hand of the diligent maketh rich." The little Black
Beetle used to be held in abhorrence. The legend was that when the
Holy Family were in flight to Egypt, the Virgin asked some people who
were busy in a field to say to the pursuers, if they asked questions,
that Joseph and his party had passed when the field was being sown.
During the night the corn sprang up, and next day was ready for the
sickle. When the pursuers came and put their question, they were
answered as the Virgin directed. Then said the Captain, "We need go
no further." Whereupon the Beetle rose and called out, An dé,
an dé, chaidh Mac Dhé seachad, "Yesterday, yesterday, the Son
of God passed this way." For this baseness— the many suffering
for the crime of the one— the Beetle is abhorred, and whenever he puts
forth his black head, he is at once crushed, with the words of doom, A
dhaolag, dhaolag, chan fhaic thu an là màireach, "Beetle,
beetle, you won’t see to-morrow." In this ancient legend we have
embodied the undying hatred of all true Highlanders to meanness and
treachery.
The Woodpecker (G.
snag: the tapper, from its light audible knock. The Creeper is called
Snàig, from its creeping habit) was,
in the memory of people still living, common in the pine-woods. Its brain
was believed to be a cure for epilepsy. Perhaps this may have been on the
principle of similia similibus. The brain of the bird that could
balance itself and keep its head at such great heights, and with so little
foothold, must have had some special virtue. The Woodpecker among the Romans
was the bird of Mars, and sacred to Romulus. The patch of crimson on its
head has been variously accounted for. Longfellow gives the legend current
among the North American Indians in the Song of Hiawatha, where the grateful
hero is said to have
"Called the Mama,
the Woodpecker,
From his perch among the branches
Of the melancholy pine-tree,
And in honour of his service,
Stained with blood the tuft of
feathers
Of the little head of Mama.
Even to this day he wears it,
Wears the tuft of crimson feathers
As a symbol of his
service."
Charms of
various kinds were in use till recently. Infants were passed through the
smoke, and had a scarlet thread with three knots tied round the left arm
for a protection (cf. Virgil, Eelogue, viii.). Little crosses of rowan,
and brooches in the form of a heart, were sewn into children’s clothes
for the same purpose. Certain persons had Charms, believed to have been
inherited, for the cure of ophthalmia, jaundice, ring-worm, and other
diseases. The Evil Eye was greatly dreaded. This malign power
descended in families. It was an inherited and not a voluntary possession.
An old lady of the Clan Allan Grants is well remembered who would never
enter a house or approach a child without first craving a benediction to
avert all bad results. Lord Bacon, in his essay on ‘‘ Envy "
(from Lat. invidia = in and video, to look upon), says:- There be
none of the aftections which have been known to fascinate or bewitch but
love and envy; they both have vehement wishes; they frame themselves
readily into imaginations and suggestions, and they come easily into the
eye, especially upon the presence of the objects which are the points that
conduce to fascination, if any such there be. We see, likewise, the
Scriptures calleth envy an Evil Eye." Perhaps Bacon refers to Mark
vii., 21, 22, " Out of the heart of men proceedeth deceit,
lasciviousness, an evil eye." But there are many other allusions to
the Evil Eye in the Bible. The following texts may be mentioned :—Deut.
xv., 9 xxviii., 54; I. Sam. xviii., 9; Prov. xxiii., 6 ; xxviii., 22 ;
also Gal. iii., 1, "Who hath bewitched you?" In this last text
the Vulgate has fascinavit for "bewitched," which may be
compared with the famous passage in Virgil (Ecc. iii., 103), Nescio
quis teneros oculus mihi fascinat agnos, "Some evil eye bewitches
my tender lambs." The Latins called the Evil Eye " Fascinum
" ; the Greeks, " Bascanion " ; the Celts, "Suil-ghonaidh."
It is referred to in Shakespeare. Biron says to Rosalind (" Love’s
Labour Lost," Act v., Sc. 2):-—
Write, Lord have mercy on
us, on those three:
They are infected, in their heart it lies;
They have the plague, and caught it of your eyes."
And again, "There’s an
eye wounds like a leaden sword." Portia says to Bassanio
("Merchant of Venice," Act iii., Sc. 2), "Beshrew your eyes,
they have overlooked me." In some parts of the country you may
still hear sayings and forms of speech which imply this old belief. If
praise be given, or if it be said, " I am glad to see you looking so
well," it is often added, "May I not forespeak you," as
a guard against evil consequences. There were many devices for defence
against the Evil Eye. The Gaelic proverb says, Fluich do skuil mu ‘n
gabh i air, "Wet your eye, lest it light on him.‘ The spittle was
supposed to have a counteracting virtue. When baiting a hook, it used to be
a common thing to spit on the worm for luck. We read in the Book of Judges
(viii. 21) that Zebah and Zalmunna had moon-like ornaments on their camels,
doubtless as amulets or charms ; and we have a survival of this custom in
the crescent or half-moon still commonly used in the decoration of horses
(cf. Isaiah iii, 18, " Round tires like the moon"; and Jer. xliv.,
17-20, where cakes, round like the moon, were offered to
the Queen of Heaven, similar to the minchah in the Mosaic ritual, the
Neideh in the Egyptian worship of the goddess Neith, and Artemis among
the Greeks). In Roman Catholic countries the sign of the cross is used as a
protection; and in Rome, where the belief in the Evil Eye is common, the
hand amulet, i.e., the index and little finger thrust out, with the
thumb clasping the others, is the constant defence. F. Marion Crawford says,
in his novel "Pietro Cherleri":- It is a strange fact that at the
present day such things should be believed, and well-nigh universally, by a
cultured society of men and women. And yet it is a fact, and an undeniable
one. Let it once get abroad that a man or woman ‘projects’ (to translate
the Italian, jetta) the baneful influence which causes accidents of
every description, and he or she may as well bid farewell to society for
ever. Such a person is shunned as one contaminated at his approach every
hand is hidden to make the sign of defence; no one will speak to him who can
help it, and then always with concealed fingers kept rigidly bent in the
orthodox fashion, or clasped upon a charm of proved efficiency. Few indeed
are those brave enough to ask such an one to dinner, and they are esteemed
almost miraculously fortunate if no misfortune befalls them during the
succeeding twenty-four hours, if their houses do not burn, and their
children do not develop the measles. Incredible as it may appear to northern
people, a man or woman may be socially ruined by the imputation of
'projecting’ when it is sustained by the coinciding of the very smallest
accident with their presence, or with the mention of their names." The
late Pope, Pius IXth, was said to have inherited this gift, which caused him
much trouble. Of Omens, Fore-goes, Corpse-candles and such like, it is
unnecessary to say anything. The Corpcreadha has been practised in
the present century—in Inverness-shire thirty years ago, and in Ross-shire
later still. The belief in Changelings, once common all over Europe
(cf. Luther’s, "Table Talk "), existed till lately, and you may
still hear old people cite instances in proof of the practice. In the
"Chiefs of Grant," a curious custom as to Fire is
referred to as existing in Abernethy:- "When any disease broke out
among the cattle of a davoch, the fires in all the dwellings of that davoch
had to be extinguished. This was supposed to aid in stamping out the
disease. The fires were afterwards rekindled by the rubbing of sticks
against the cupples of the byres in which the diseased cattle were
kept." Shaw refers to this custom.
Certain legends and
sgeulachds are to be found, in some form or other, all over the Highlands.
The belief in the virtues of the White Serpent is not peculiar to
Sutherland. In Abernethy the serpent is said to have been found in the
Slochd of Bachdcharn. The legend of Fingal’s heroes asleep in the cave,
referred to by Sir Walter Scott and others, is still told amongst us, and it
is connected with Poll-na-h’ Inchrach, "The Pool of the
Key," on the Avon, into which the key was said to have been thrown by
the craven adventurer, who failed to draw the sword before he blew the horn,
and therefore left the Braves in a worse condition than that in which he
found them. Michael Scott figures in Gaelic tales, and the story of how he
rode to Rome (through the air) on his black mare and won the secret of the
proper way of counting Fastern’s E’en froni the Pope, was often told.
The story of the adventure with the Fairies, where the man who had entered
the sithan, and taken part in the dance, found when he was rescued that the
reel had lasted a twelvemonth, is also common. Another weird story—told
with much graphic power by Hugh Miller in his " Legends of Cromarty
"—" The Wild Wife," is one of the favourite stories on
Speyside. Miller connects it with Kirkmichael, in Ross-shire, but with us it
has a local habitation and a name as the "Legend of the Wife of Laggan,"
and the Kirkyard of Dalarossie, in Moy.
As showing the connection of
one part of the Highlands with another, the following incident may be
mentioned. Talking with an old man, the late Peter Smith, Rinuigh, some
thirty years ago, reference was made to flittings. Yes, he said,
flittings are expensive. Mar thuirl an Leanabh Ileach, as said the
Childe of Islay when he was eating his piece, and his stepmother made him
move from one side of the fireplace to the other. Chan eil an t-imrich is
lugha, gun chall, "The least flitting is not without loss." He
quoted also other sayings of the "Leanabh," whose fame is in all
the Highlands. Another saying savouring of the West, obtained from the late
John Stewart, Achgourish, commonly called "Gowrie," may he noted,
which is significant in more ways than one:— Seachd sgadain, sàth
bradain; seach bradain sàth ròin; seachd ròin sàth na lMuic Mara; seachd
Mhuc-Mhara sàth an Cinnlan-Crò; seach Cinnlan Cro, sàth an
Fhir-nach-Còir, "Seven herring a salmon’s feed or meal (sath:
sufficient; cf. Lat. sat, satis: enough); seven salmon a seal’s
feed; seven seal the feed of the sea-pig, or whale; seven whales the feed of
the Cinnlan Cro; seven Cinnlan Cros the feed of the Fhirnach Coir." The
last two names are untranslateable. Perhaps the first means, from the
reference to the head full of eyes, or folds, the cuttlefish or octopus. The
other may mean, "He that is not good," i.e., the Evil One ;
or, "He that ought not to be named." an euphemism for the Devil.
The climax is very suggestive. There is an air of mystery about the subject,
a shrinking from the actual name, as if it were too horrible to be
mentioned.
Aubrey, in his book on "
Hermetick Philosophy," 1696, gives a letter from a student in divinity
in Strathspey concerning the second- sight, which contains some curious
stories. The following are extracts:-
"The most remarkable of
this Sort, that I hear of now, is one Archibald Mackeanyers, alias
Mackdonald, living in Ardinmurch within Ten or Twenty Miles, or thereby, of
Glencoe, and I was present my self, where he fore-told something, which
accordingly fell out in 1683 ; this Man being in Strathspey, in John
Mackdonald of Glencoe his Company, told in Balachastell before the Laird of
Grant, his Lady, and several others, amid also in my Father’s House ; that
Argyle, of whom few or none knew then where he was, at least there was no
Word of him then here; should within two Twelve Mouths thereafter, come to
the West-Highlands, and raise a Rebellious Faction, which would be divided
among themselves, and disperse, and he unfortunately be taken and beheaded
at Edinburgh, and his Head set upon the Talbooth, where his Father’s Head
was before him; which proved as true, as he foretold it, in 1685,
thereafter. Likewise in the Beginning of May next after the late Revolution,
as my Lord Dundee return’d up Speyside, after he had followed General
Major MacKay in his Reer down the Length of Edinglassie, at the Milatown of
Gartinbeg the Machleans joined him, and after he had received them, he
marched forward, but they remained behind, and fell a Plundering: Upon
which, Glencoe and some others, among whom was this Archibald, being in my
Father’s House, and hearing that MacLeans and others were Pillaging some
of his Lands, went to restrain them, and commanded them to march after the
Army; after he had cleared the first Town, next my Father’s House of them,
and was come to the second, there standing on a Hill, this Archibald said,
Glencoe, If you take my Advice, then make off with your self with all
possible Haste, e’re an Hour come and go, you’ll be put to it as hard as
ever you was : Some of the Company began to droll and say, what shall become
of me? Whether Glencoe believed him, or no, I cannot tell but this I am sure
of, that whereas before he was of Intention to return to my Father’s House
and stay all Night, now we took leave, and immediately parted: And
indeed, within an Hour thereafter MacKay, amid his whole Forces, appeared at
Culnakyle in Abernethie, Two Miles below the Place where we parted, and
hearing that Cleaverhouse had marched up the Water-side a little before, but
that MacLeans, and several other Straglers, had stayed behind, commanded
Major Aeneas MacKay, with Two Troops of Horse after them ; who finding the
said MacLeans at Kinchardie, in the Parish of Luthil, chased them up the
Morskaith; In which Chase Glencoe happened to be, and was hard put to it, as
was foretold. What came of Archibald himself, I am not sure I have not seen
him since, nor can I get a true Account of him, only I know he is yet alive,
and at that Time one of my Father’s Men whom the Red-coats meeting,
compell’d to guide them, within Sight of the MacLeans, found the said
Archibald’s Horse within a Mile of the Place where I left him. I am also
inform’d, this Archibald said to Glencoe, that he would be murthered in
the Night-time in his own House three Months before it happen’d."
"There was one James
Mack Coil-vicalaster alias Grant, in Glenbeum near Kirk-Michael in
Strathawin, who had this Sight, who I hear of several that were well
acquainted with, was a very honest Man, and of right blameless Conversation.
He used ordinarily by looking to the Fire, to fore-tell what Strangers would
come to his House the next Day, or shortly thereafter, by their Habit and
Arms, and sometimes also by their Names; and if any of his Goods or Cattle
were missing, he would direct his Servants to the very place where to find
them, whether in a Mire or upon dry Ground; he would also tell, if the Beast
were already Dead, or if it would Die e’re they could come to it; and in
Winter, if they were thick about the Fire-side, he would desire them to make
room for some others that stood by, tho’ they did not see them, else some
of them, would be quickly thrown into the midst of it. But whether this Man
saw any more than Brownie and Meg Mullach, I am not very sure; Some say. he
saw more continually, and would often be very angry-like, and something
troubled, nothing visibly moving him: Others affirm he saw these two
continually, and sometimes many more."
"Meg Mullack, and
Brownie mentioned in the end of it, are two Ghosts, which (as it is
constantly reported) of old, haunted a Family in Strathspey of the Name of
Grant. They appeared at first in the likeness of a young Lass; the second of
a young Lad."
The words "of
old" are very significant. Meg Mollach and Brownie were still
hidden in the dim and distant past two hundred years ago. |
