Folklore of the Scottish Highlands (11 page)

On this particular occasion, the storm became extremely violent and he had to make for shelter in his little hut or bothy. He kindled a fire and sat down beside it with his two dogs to wait for the wind to abate. As he sat there, a miserable-looking cat entered the hut — another version has it that it was a hen rather than a cat that came in. The two dogs bristled with terror, their hair stood on end, and then they leapt savagely on the cat. It cried out for mercy, in Gaelic, begging the hunter to call off his dogs and saying that it had need of his protection because it was a poor, wretched witch who had renounced her ungodly habits and, as a result, had been viciously attacked by her companion witches. She had fled to the renowned hunter for protection, knowing his hatred of witchcraft. The man believed her. He called off his frenzied dogs and told the cat to come near the fire and warm itself. Before she would do so, however, she took a long hair and told him to tie the dogs to the beam of the little house with it, or else they would molest her. The hunter pretended to do as she asked, but he only tied the hair round the beam, leaving the dogs free. The cat then approached the fire, sat down, and began to swell. The hunter remarked to it, ‘You are getting very large’. ‘Oh, yes’, said the cat, ‘my fur gets fluffy as it dries in the heat.’ But the cat went on steadily increasing in size until it was as big as a big dog and then, in the blink of an eye, there stood a woman. And to the amazed hunter’s utter horror he recognised her as a close neighbour of his, a woman of excellent reputation, known locally as the ‘Good Wife of Laggan’. ‘Hunter of the Hills’, said she, ‘your hour has come; you have been the devoted enemy of my persecuted sisterhood for too long. The chief opponent of our order is now dead — this morning I saw him drowned. And now, Hunter of the Hills, it is your turn.’

She then flew at his throat in a fury of hatred; but the dogs, which she supposed to be tied by the magical hair, leapt on her breast and throat. She screamed out to the hair, ‘Fasten, fasten’, and it tightened its hold on the beam so violently that it snapped the wood into two pieces; but the two dogs remained free. She then tried to escape, but the dogs fastened onto her and tore off one of her breasts and badly mutilated her. At last, with terrible shrieks the witch took on the form of a raven and flew in the direction of her home. The poor dogs were mortally wounded and died at their heartbroken master’s feet; he buried them with as much grief as he would his children and then made his way back home. His wife was out, but soon after his return she came in; she was very agitated and distressed and told him the Good Wife of Laggan had suddenly taken ill that day while out getting peats, and that she was near to death. ‘Dear, dear’, said her husband, ‘I must come and see her then.’ When he reached her house he found all the neighbours gathered round her. Striding over to the bed he stripped the clothes from her, revealing her terrible wounds and cried, ‘See the object of your grief. This morning she assisted in the drowning of
Iain Garbh
(Rugged John) of Raasay’ — an island between Skye and the Mainland — ‘and today she tried to make me share his fate. But Providence has overtaken the servant of Satan and she is now about to die and suffer due punishment in the world to come.’ It could not be denied from the state of the ‘Good Wife’s’ injuries that the hunter was telling the truth; she offered no defence of herself. Instead, she told those gathered round her how she had become involved in witchcraft and confessed to her many crimes, including helping to drown the Raasay man that day. She then died a violent and painful death.

Pennant, writing in the eighteenth century about Banffshire, says that ‘some superstitions still lurk even in this cultivated country. The farmers carefully preserve their cattle against witchcraft by placing boughs of the mountain ash (rowan) and honeysuckle in their cow houses on 2 May. They hope to preserve the milk of their cows and their wives from miscarriage by tying red threads about them’; the supposed witch was bled in order to make her confess to her evil practices. One of the great powers of witches was allegedly that of depriving people’s cows of their milk by magic means. This was a widespread belief, and the spell could be performed in a number of different ways. The witch could put the Evil Eye on a beast; and cattle, rather than sheep, were believed to be more vulnerable in this respect. Pennant once more records some interesting information on this aspect of witchcraft:

If any good housewife perceives the effect of the malicious on any of her kine, she takes as much milk as she can drain from the enchanted herd, for the witch commonly leaves very little. She then boils it with certain herbs, and adds to them flints and untempered steel; after that she secures the door and invokes the three sacred persons. This puts the witch into such an agony, that she comes nilling-willing to the house, begs to be admitted to obtain relief by touching the powerful pot; the good woman then makes her terms: the witch restores the milk to the cattle, and in return is freed from her pains.

A most remarkable story of witchcraft — which was frequently connected with the milking process and the milk obtained — was recorded by Otta F. Swire in the Island of Lewis in the twentieth century. It illustrates the hardships which frequently befell the Island of Lewis, the most northerly part of the Outer Hebrides, often known as ‘the Long Island’. There is a folklore story told about how this name was applied to the Outer Hebrides. The Island of Lewis has always been regarded in a superstitious light with its legends concerning the origin of the remarkable standing stones of Callanish (
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) and many other tales of a supernatural nature. It was inevitably a focal point for marauders, a sort of stepping stone to other northern regions. On this particular occasion, raiders had left the natives of Lewis on the point of starvation, having consumed most of their edible supplies. One woman, driven to despair, walked down to the seashore with the intention of drowning herself. This was in order that her share of the meagre stores of food would then augment the pitiful rations of her husband and children. She began to wade out into the sea when a beautiful white cow emerged from the water and began to ascend the shore. It was clearly an Otherworld animal and the woman had never seen such a magnificent beast. Upon reaching her it gazed at her with sorrowful brown eyes; seen against the setting sun, its ears appeared to be blood-red in colour. In Celtic mythology, Otherworld animals are regularly described as being white with red ears. The cow addressed the woman in Gaelic — most supernatural animals were capable of human speech. It spoke in a soft, tuneful voice, telling her to return home, fetch her milk-pail and tell her neighbours to come with their own pails to the Stones of Callanish and there to milk it. The woman did as she was told, but her neighbours were sceptical: ‘How could one cow give enough milk to fill all our pails?’ they asked. No matter, they still went to meet the wonder cow, and each pail was filled to the brim, until all were full. The cow spoke again, and told the women to come to her there every evening, each bringing her pail. This miraculous happening saved the lives of the children and kept starvation at bay. Word got round other townships and people came from them to request milk from the magic cow. This they got. One night a woman came with two pails and incurred the wrath of the other women but the kindly cow said that one pail was for the woman herself and the other for a pregnant woman who was her neighbour. So things went on until a wicked woman in the community, who was in fact a witch, brought two pails for herself. The cow would have none of this, and she was unable to obtain any milk from it. She repented and the next night came with only one pail, but she had removed the bottom of the vessel and put a sieve there, and she continued to milk until the cow was completely dry. After that, the wonder cow was never seen again amongst the Callanish Stones (
18
).

17
Callanish, Isle of Lewis — the chambered cairn is situated immediately beyond the great central pillar stone. After R. Feachem 1992, 48

While on the subject of witchcraft and magic practices to do harm to others, it may be apposite to note another tradition in the same vein recorded by Pennant. He states that milk may be taken from cattle by means other than the Evil Eye and in order to determine this the following test is recommended: ‘The tryal is made by immersing in milk a certain herb, and if the cows are supernaturally affected it instantly distills blood’. He then goes on to note magical revenge which an unsuccessful lover can work on his happy rival. The rejected lover ‘. . . takes three threads of different hues, and ties three knots on each, three times imprecating the most cruel disappointments on the nuptial bed: but the bridegroom to avert the harm, stands at the altar with an untied shoe and puts a sixpence beneath his foot’. The use of coloured threads in both black and white witchcraft was widespread in the Highlands, even until comparatively recent times, and much-believed in.

Shaw, writing in the late eighteenth century of customs in his part of the Highlands, records that witches and belief in their powers were commonplace and caused the church much alarm. Practices of this evil and pagan nature were in fact so prevalent in his day that every person over 12 years of age had to swear each year never to perform spells, enchantments or witchcraft of any kind. Witches were there, as elsewhere, believed to hold their meetings in churches and churchyards; they could turn themselves at will into mares (
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), cats or hares. Their delight was to cause sickness and disease of every kind, raise storms at sea and drown their enemies, and turn the Evil Eye on whomsoever they envied or disliked. Martin Martin notes certain things about witches and others imbued with evil or anti-social powers. In the Islands in his day people believed that not only could the milk be taken from the cows by magic, but also from nursing mothers or wet-nurses. He himself saw four women whose milk was tested so that one might be chosen to act as nurse to a certain child. The woman with the best milk was selected but after three days her milk disappeared. As a result, she was dismissed from service and another woman chosen. The third day after that, the first nurse recovered her milk. It was locally concluded that the initial loss was brought about by the powers of witchcraft.

Other people were accredited with the ability to take away the substance of malt so that the drink made of malt so enchanted had no strength and no taste. The charmer, however, who was responsible, then brewed particularly good and potent ale. Martin himself knew a man who was without a single drop of good ale in his house for a whole year; he was always complaining about this and finally a local wise man told him to obtain some yeast from every alehouse in the parish. He got some from one particular man which he put amongst his wort and was able to make as good ale as could be found, and so the charm was defeated. Ale was, of course, the ancient drink of the Celts everywhere, and there are many stories told in the ancient and more recent tradition about it; according to the early Irish tradition it was the drink of the gods, the elixir dispensed to god and man alike at the Otherworld feast.

18
Callanish, Isle of Lewis — oblique view of the circle, the lines of stones and the chambered cairn. After RCAHMS 1927, 25