Evil eye in the Western Highlands E-Book

Robert Craig Maclagan

• Herausgeber: Librorium Editions
• Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

The Evil Eye is a superstition arising not from local circumstances, or peculiarity of a great or small division of the human family, but is a result of an original tendency of the human mind. The natural irritation felt at the hostile look of a neighbour, still more of an enemy, is implanted in the breast of all, however much they may be influenced by moral teaching. When we add to this the feeling that some valued possession has attracted the coveteous desire of another, the fear of loss is added to the irritation of mere anger. To some such natural feeling we must ascribe the belief in an Evil Eye.

Leseprobe

EVIL EYEIN THEWESTERN HIGHLANDS

BY R. C. MACLAGAN, M.D.AUTHOR OF “THE GAMES AND DIVERSIONS OF ARGYLESHIRE”

1902

© 2023 Librorium Editions

ISBN : 9782385740399

CONTENTS

PAGE

Introduction

1

Evil Eye

10

Locality of Belief

20

Social Position of Believers

22

Description of Possessors of Evil Eye

24

Objection to Meeting an Evil Eye

28

Avoiding Suspicion of Evil Eye

32

Action of Evil Eye independent of Possessor

35

Evil Eye takes Effect even on Things not Seen

37

Moral Source of the Evil Eye

40

Things that specially Attract

43

Strangers specially liable to be Accused of the Possession of the Evil Eye

46

People should Give when Asked

48

Symptoms in Animals ascribed to Effect of Evil Eye

51

Benefit to the Owner of an Evil Eye

68

Disadvantage to the Owner of an Evil Eye

70

Consequence of Direct Praise

76

A Look does it

80

Avoiding the Look

84

Conversion to Belief in Evil Eye

88

Giving away Milk Dangerous

89

Science versus Eolas

91

Hurter and Healer

98

Transmission of Eolas

101

Forms of Incantation

104

Form of Payment

108

The Necessity of Faith

112

Preventing Evil by Blessing

114

Preventing by Dispraising

117

Preventing by Rowan and Juniper

119

Preventing by Horse Nails and Shoes

121

Preventing by a Small Gift

122

A Preventative by Burning Clothing

125

Prevention by Spitting

126

Preventing by Churning

129

Prevention by Peculiarity in Clothes

131

Tar as Preventative

132

Nicking the Ear

134

Urine as Preventative

135

A Burnt Offering

140

Charms. (String)

141

Uisge a’ Chronachaidh (Water of Injury)

151

Stones and Water

167

Iron and Water

172

Wood and Water

175

Salt as Cure and Preventative

176

Most Suitable Water

181

Taboo when in Possession of Water

184

Water, where Applied

192

Odd Cures

195

Honeysuckle Cure

195

Cat Cure

196

Rubbing Hair the Wrong Way

196

Changing the Fireplace

197

The Power of a Child’s Mutch

197

Whisky Cure

198

Lead Dropping

198

An Eye for an Eye

200

Showing who is the Mischief Maker

205

Putting Elsewhere

214

APPENDIX

219

INDEX

225

EVIL EYE

INTRODUCTION

The Evil Eye is a superstition arising not from local circumstances, or peculiarity of a great or small division of the human family, but is a result of an original tendency of the human mind. The natural irritation felt at the hostile look of a neighbour, still more of an enemy, is implanted in the breast of all, however much they may be influenced by moral teaching. When we add to this the feeling that some valued possession has attracted the coveteous desire of another, the fear of loss is added to the irritation of mere anger. To some such natural feeling we must ascribe the belief in an Evil Eye.

Theories of an origin more restricted, founded on the fear of loss or damage to particular possessions of individuals guaranteed them by the custom of law, developed in the community of which they form part, scarcely satisfy after inquiry. Where a subsistence can be easily procured the Evil Eye would be little regarded in connection with food, but might naturally develop itself in connection with the relations of the sexes. No doubt the latter, the most interesting to individuals of all passions, causes feelings of hostility between rivals universally, but where the food supply is difficult to procure one would naturally expect that damage from the covetous desires of others, where they seemed to affect the life-preserving store, would become equally important.

In the following study of the belief of an Evil Eye among the Gaelic-speaking peoples of Scotland at the present day, an attempt is made neither to disguise nor to improve upon what those in contact with believers have learned from their mouths. The writer is a believer in the Evil Eye only in so far as it may be a term for the natural selfishness of the human being, as a “tender heart” is a recognised way of speaking of a nature apt to sympathy. Selfishness, natural to all of us, is apt to find expression in our habits, however much we may disguise it by religious or charitable profession. Were it a part of our nature to have for our neighbour the same affection that we have for ourselves, no such superstition as that of the Evil Eye could have arisen. But we are not made that way, and so reformers, in endeavouring to cure this sin, as they consider it, have preached and tried to practise such ordinances as “Thou shalt not covet,” and “Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.” Truly hard sayings, and in nine hundred and ninety-nine cases out of a thousand with difficulty getting beyond the status of a pious opinion.

Not that that teaching has been without effect; and we may hope that with the extension of communications and the progress gradually being made to that condition of things where

“Man to man the world o’er

Shall brithers be for a’ that,”

the bad e’e may some day in these isles be merely a study for folklorists as Totemism is, and as difficult to find as an auk’s egg.

Right or wrong, the theory here advanced accounts, satisfactorily, as far as the writer can judge, for the present-day widespread belief in Scotland of the power for evil of the glance of the human eye.

As will be seen afterwards, there are those who theorise on the bad heart influencing the eye, the ill effect of the Evil Eye only arising from the glance of the covetous; but this is probably the result of preconceived religious ideas, and of the moral teaching to which its believers have been accustomed. It is not to be wondered at; it would be impossible indeed, but that the teaching of Christianity should have affected and given a direction to this ancient superstition. Thus we find it Christianised to a marked degree, its origin is conceived of as a breaking of the commandment “Thou shalt not covet,” and its cures are mostly connected with a reference to the Deity, and to the Trinity of the Christian. The magic thread with the three knots on it, though heathen in its origin, has surely some connection with the rosary, the aspersion with water, with baptism, and the holy water of the Roman Church. But it is not a superstition introduced with Christianity, it is as native as the heather of our hills, or the sandstone rock of the Coronation Stone.

This statement might be safely enough advanced upon general principles, but we are not without satisfactory literary evidence of what we advance. In the Ossianic “Acallam na Senorach” (The Colloquy with the Ancient Men), the second longest prose composition of the mediæval Irish, a collection (probably made in the late twelfth or thirteenth century) of separate stories united together in one framework, we find the following as related in MSS. of the fifteenth century and later.

The Fiann are on a visit to the King of Munster. The son of the King of Ulster marries the daughter of the King of Munster.

“The damsel bore him a famous and beautiful son named Fer Oc (‘young man’), and in all Ireland there were scarcely one whose shape and vigour and spear-casting were as good as his.”

On a subsequent visit, the three battalions of the Fiann are lost in admiration of the activity and skill of a young man who turns out to be this Fer Oc. “Then was a hunt and a battue held by the three battalions of the Fiann. Howbeit, on that day, owing to Fer Oc (and his superior skill) to none of the Fiann it fell to get first blood of pig or deer. Now when they came home, after finishing the hunt, a sore lung-disease attacked Fer Oc, through the (evil) eyes of the multitude and the envy of the great host, and it killed him, soulless, at the end of nine days.” “He was buried on yonder green-grassed hill,” says Cailte, “and the shining stone that he held when he was at games and diversion is that yonder rising out of his head.”[1] The Gaelic here simply says “tre tsuilib na sochaide” (through the eyes of the multitude), and it will be seen that modern reciters sometimes speak in exactly the same way of the “eye” unqualified, but meaning the Evil Eye. But there is more than this in the story; it is a young man who suffers, and the young are most easily affected. It is a remarkable and handsome youth that suffers, and what attracts the eye, especially beauty, is peculiarly liable to injury, and the statement is made that it was the envious glance which affected the victim. Cormac’s Glossary (an Irish compilation begun in the tenth century, and added to throughout the Middle Ages), preserved in MSS. of the commencement of the fifteenth century, mentions the Evil Eye:—

Milled (spoiling, hurting, (b) i.e.mi shilledh, a mislook, i.e. an evil eye).

Millead i mi shillead i silled olc. [Or as in another MS.]

Milliud quasi mishilliud i drochshilliud.

To this O’Clery adds “no droch amharc,” while O’Donovan’s note at (b) is “the evil eye,” “the injury done by the evil eye.”[2]

[1]Irische Texte. Stokes and Windisch, fourth series, vol i. pp. 232, 234, 161.

[2]Cormac’s Glossary, translated by O’Donovan, edited by Whitley Stokes, p. 107; and Three Irish Glossaries, by W. S., p. 28.

Our business is with the so-called facts of the Evil Eye, and whether or not in this case the philology of the compiler of the Glossary is right, there can be no sort of doubt of the allusion being to the present living belief in the Evil Eye.

Apart from the doing of evil, and causing sickness and death without immediate increase to the possessions of the witch, the effect of the Evil Eye centres round the natural covetousness of the greedy person. Where the owner of an evil eye gets no benefit himself, the effect ascribed is always to diminish what he might envy in the possession of another. It is always the young and toradh of cattle (milk and butter), or the fruits of the labour of the owner that is lessened or destroyed. Whatever the philological root of this word toradh, it must surely be allied with the irregular verb thoir (give); and though there seems at first sight no close relationship between personal beauty and a good churning, yet both of them are highly prized gifts. Toradh means fruit produce; thus Cain’s offering was the toradh of the earth.

The expression used in Kintyre for the power of taking away produce is pisreag. In Arran the word applied to the curative measures is pisearachd. Piseach means increase; thus in Proverbs xviii. 20, where it is said that a man shall be filled with the “increase of his lips,” the Gaelic word used is piseach, and so it comes to mean progeny and good fortune. Piseach ort (Good fortune be yours). Irish Gaelic gives piseog (witchcraft). Surely this is a secondary meaning from the idea of increase and good fortune being in certain cases brought about by charms and witchery. And thus we have found pisearachd explained as the Arran and Kintyre equivalent for geasarachd, of which all the evidence seems to favour its primary signification being connected with spells and charms.

Another word which has been used to collectors for eolas (science of its own magical sort) is fiosachd, which the dictionaries give as meaning “foretelling,” “augury.” This seems to be a secondary and limited application of a term meaning possession of fios (knowledge, information).

The popular mixing up of legitimate curative measures, such as come from the administration of drugs, with what undoubtedly is considered illegitimate, namely, the use of charms and sorcery in general, is of course as common as can be in the experience of those in contact with genuine savagery, but it occurs also nearer home. A native of Arran tells how she remembers an old woman, of whom the people were afraid because she was supposed to be a witch. The groundwork of this accusation was that she was to be often seen gathering herbs, and the reciter remembers when she herself was a girl, that, to use her own words, it was “the fright of her life” to meet her in a lonely place, or in the dark.

An inquiry such as this has to be conducted with care. The believer is sensitive to ridicule, and would take as a mortal offence being publicly gibbeted, so as to cause animadversion from others, even when he himself is convinced of the truth of his beliefs and sayings. For this reason we must be excused giving the name and residence of the various reciters. The information has to be drawn in general conversation and incidentally, but every care has been taken to avoid recounting anything in which mala fides is suspected. We consider in many cases things told by a daughter of her mother, or a son of his father, as equally reliable as if detailed by himself when we know they have been recited originally for information of the juniors. Undoubtedly the younger generation are in many cases more critical than their forefathers; but we have no hesitation in maintaining that what will hereafter be set down allows of a fairly perfect appreciation of the belief of the great majority of the less educated class, and of many much above that in the West Highlands, up to the introduction of the School Board as a universal institution. Of course there always were doubters, and the tricks played to take a rise out of a believer by an unbeliever may sometimes figure as accepted evidence of the bad effects of the Evil Eye, when it was a trick played off merely for fun, though in other cases deliberately intended to mislead. Tricks, however, will not carry us back to an original cause, however much they may have helped the maintenance of the belief in superstitious minds. These fail entirely in power of appreciation of the jocular, when what is done is dangerous according to their ideas. A strong believer in the Evil Eye, and of course much afraid of it, in the island of Skye, was one day out among the cows. Two of his neighbours passing, one of them, a bit of a wag, said to his companion: “Bheir mi da sgillinn duit ma theid thu agus do cheann a chuir fodh’n mhart sin agus glaodh ’nach mor an t-uth tha aig a bho” (“I will give you twopence if you will go and put your head under that cow and cry, Hasn’t the cow the big udder?”)

The fellow agreed, and went and bent his head under the cow and shouted out at the top of his voice, calling Rory’s attention to his supposititious admiration of the remarkable development of the cow in question. The man tempted to make the remark was “a little soft.” Rory at once thinking of the Evil Eye, seized his stick and rushed at him, threatening to break his head if he would not at once bless the cow. The suborned perpetrator of the joke, it need scarcely be said, at once took the method demanded to counteract his injudicious praise. How many of us are, not in the belief of the Evil Eye, but in other beliefs, just as touchy as our friend Rory.

The stick may be good enough for a defence of superstition, but ridicule is the proper method of attack.

A young intelligent lady was lately in a house in the village of Golspie, the occupant of which, mourning over the dying of her fowls, said she suspected it was the result of the Evil Eye of Mrs. X., a neighbour. The next day, being in the same house, another neighbour came in carrying a growing plant, which she presented to the complainer, saying: “Mrs. X. told me that you had your eye on this, and ever since it has done no good; the leaves have been withering and falling off. Now!—there it is to you! keep it.”

The person superstitious enough to believe in the force of the Evil Eye may well be expected to have his superstitious faculty developed in other directions. A child took ill, and its parents believed it was the Evil Eye of a certain woman which had done the harm. With the view of bringing her to confess her doings, or in any case to punish her, they procured a square of turf, and having stuck a lot of pins in it, they placed it on the fire. This action, one of the forms of the so-called corp creadha, was intended to do personal injury to the suspected party. There was no evidence of it having had any effect whatever.

EVIL EYE

After the long existence in this country of Christianity, while we talk composedly of the superstitions of the heathen and of other Christian nations, we are apt to forget our own, or if we speak of them, we look on them pityingly as peculiar to some individuals of whose opinion we reckon little. In towns, and among those who read many books, the constant friction of man against man hinders the survival of a belief in such a thing as the Evil Eye, now that a certain quantity of education is common property. Where the incidents of life are less crowded, and individual experiences are rarer and at longer intervals, that is, in country districts and especially in the more mountainous and less closely populated, the Evil Eye has yet in Scotland many believers, and consequently considerable influence. Such a remark as the following, made to a minister, is not so rare as one might suppose: “Nae doot whatever Mac had the Evil Eye, that’s certain. I have known many cases when a calf, or even a cow, died the day after he looked at her.” Another said of the same: “I was once in the dairy when he came in. ‘You should not have let that bad man in,’ said Nancy MacIntyre to me. ‘Why?’ said I. ‘Because he has an Evil Eye,’ said she. Now, I will not say that this was true, but this I know, that on that very day one of the cows bursted, and died from eating clover. What do ye say to that?”

Another sample is the following: A farmer’s son, whose father had lost a horse, was thus addressed by a neighbour, “You had a horse that was ill, is it better?” “Oh no, it is dead.” “You are unfortunate this year. Isn’t that four that have died on you?” “Yes, but we know now what was wrong with them.” “Weel, that’s well; ye’ll know what to do should any more take ill. What was wrong with them?” “They were air-an-cronachadh” (harmed). “Such nonsense! there is nothing of that now.” The lad did not agree with this, said they knew who did it, and the lad’s interrogator’s mother-in-law joined in the conversation, agreeing as to the correctness of the diagnosis; and the doubter rejoined, “Well, if you are all against me, I may stop.”

An Argyllshire islander says:—

“Tha buideachas uile air falbh anis agus is math gu bheil, oir be ni olc a bha ann. Ach, ma dh’fhalbh sin, tha rud eile nach d’fhalbh fathast, agus ‘se sin cronachadh. Chunnaic m’i ann mo thigh fein mucuircean, agus thainig ban-choimhearsnach a steach latha, agus thubhairt i gum bu mhuc ciatach a bha’n sin. ‘Tha i gle mhath,’ fhreagair mi fhein. Well, chaidh am boireannach a mach, agus cha robh i tiota air falbh, nur a thug a mhuc an aon sgreach aisde agus air dol mun cuairt dith, thuit i air an urlar. Le so, thainig D. ‘ac A. a stigh, agus fheoraich e ‘Co an t-aon mu dheireadh a chunnaic a mhuc?’ Dh’ innis mi fhein dha, gum be a leithid so ‘a bhean. ‘Mata’ ars esan, ‘s ise rinn an t-olc. Ach ma tha uillidh sam bi lar ruit, cha chreid mi gum bi mise fada ga cuir ceirt. Fhuair mi dha uillidh nam piocach, agus ghabh e a mhuc eadar a dha chois, agus thaom e lan copa dheth na beul. Thug a mhuc reibhig, agus shaoil mi fhein gu robh i air chuthach ach ann a’ mionaid a dh’uine, bha i ceirt gu leoir; Nis, nach be sud an droch bhean?”

(“Witchcraft is all gone now, and it is well it is, for it was a bad thing. But if that is gone, there is another thing that has not gone yet, and that is Cronachadh. I saw a breeding sow in my own house, and one day a neighbour came in, and she said that that was a splendid sow. I answered that she was very good. Well, the woman went out, and she was no time away when the sow gave such a scream, and going round about she fell on the floor. With this D. Mac A. came in, and he asked who was the last person that had seen the sow. I told him it was such and such a woman. ‘Well,’ said he, ‘it was she that did the harm, but if you have any oil beside you, I believe I shall not be long putting her right.’ I got saithe oil for him, and he took the sow between his two legs, and poured a cupful into her mouth. She screamed, and I thought she was mad, but in a minute’s time she was all right. Now, wasn’t that the bad woman?”)

A young fellow who had received a liberal education, in fact, a probationer of the Church, the son of a self-made man, fairly well-to-do, avowed his own belief in the Evil Eye. He said in effect: “As sure as you and I are sitting here there is an Evil Eye in it. I know that when I was in Harris, and our M. an infant, there was a certain woman who used to come in pretty often, the sister-in-law of H., you know, and my wife, who you know is not one to tell a lie or speak about these things, told me that every time that woman came in she would be praising the child, and the child was always unwell after it.”

We thus see, though we know that ministers of the Church are by their profession kept in the dark on matters of which they would express unbelief, yet that where a superstition is ingrained in a parishioner it is not concealed from the minister. Ministers may be misled by putting their own interpretation on the form in which the information comes to them. A clergyman in one of the Western Islands said: “I have observed that there is still a strong belief in blighting from the Evil Eye among the people in the parish of K. A respectable and intelligent man whom I visited often during a season of sickness, once and again, when talking about his illness, made the remark ‘fhuair mi cronachadh.’ I always misunderstood what the man meant by cronachadh, taking it in the sense of reproof, and therefore thinking that what was meant was that the sufferer was placed under chastisement by a dispensation of Providence. At last, however, I learned from a third person that the sick man was strongly impressed with the belief that his illness was caused by some evil-intentioned person who had wished him ill.” This suggests witchcraft as much as or even more than the Evil Eye; but the two things run into each other more or less. We have already seen one Gaelic reciter maintaining that witchcraft, buidseachas, did not now exist, but the Evil Eye did. Compare that with this from a native of Uist:—

“Ma ta bha buidseashas ann. Chaidh mi fhein aon latha gu tigh coimhearsnaich airson coileach oig, agus bha laogh aca ceangailte aig cul an doruis. Cha robh mi fada san tigh gus an d’thainig nighean a steach. ’Nuair a fhuair mise an t-eun, dh’fhalbh mi, agus cha robh mi ach beagan uine air falbh ’nuair a dh’fhas an laogh tinn. Chuir muinntir an tighe fios thun boireannach a bha ’n sin, aig an robh sgil mu bhuidseachas, mar bhiodh daoine ’g radh, ga h-iarruidh a thighinn a dh’-amhairc an laogh. Thainig am boireannach, ach ma thainig, bha an laogh marbh mus d’thainig i. Co luath ’s a dh’amhairc i air thubhairt i riutha air an spot gum b’e ’n “suill” a dh’aobhraich am bas. Agus air bharrachd air sin, dh’innis i dhoibh co rinn an gonadh. So mar thubhairt i. “Nach robh dithist bhoireannaich agaibh an so am eigin an diugh?” Agus ’nuair a fhreagair iad gun robh, thubhairt ise. “Bha h-aon diubh soilleir, agus an te eile dorcha. Bha shawl glas air an te shoilleir, agus b’bise a dh’oibrich am buidseachas.”

“Nis bha sin gle fhior, oir bha an nighean a thainig a steach nur bha mise san tigh soilleir, agus bha shawl glas oirre cuideachd.”

“Indeed, witchery was in it. I myself went one day to a neighbour’s house for a young cock, and they had a calf tied behind the door. I was not long in the house till a girl came in. When I got the bird I went away, and I was only a short time away when the calf became unwell. The people of the house sent word to a woman that was there, who had skill of witchery, as people would be saying, asking her to come to look at the calf. The woman came, but if (she) came, the calf was dead before she came. As soon as she looked on it, she said to them on the spot, that it was the ‘Eye’ that caused the death. And more than that, she told them who had done the mischief (wounding). Here is how she said: ‘Have you not had two women here sometime to-day?’ and when they answered that there had been, she said: ‘One of them was fair and the other dark. There was a grey shawl on the fair one, and it was she that wrought the witchery.’ Now that was quite true, for the girl that came in when I was in the house was fair, and there was a grey shawl on her.”

A woman of about sixty-five, a reader of history and Gaelic publications, remembers when the belief in the Evil Eye was so common in Islay, that when any disease came among a person’s cattle, it gave rise at once to a strong suspicion that they had been air an cronachadh. The disease was called “dosgach.” When one would come with the news of disease or death among a neighbour’s cattle, the person to whom it was told would say, “Mach an dosgach a so”; or, “Mach a so an droch sgeul” (“Away the plague from here;” or, “Away the evil news from here.”) At the same time, suiting the action to the words, he would tear some piece off the clothes he had on at the time and throw it into the fire. This was supposed to prevent the evil from coming his way.

Indeed there are very many who still act on the belief expressed in the following, by an old distillery workman, uneducated, but naturally shrewd, though we would say credulous: “They will be saying to me that we have no mention of cronachadh in the Bible, and they will be putting it down my throat, but I tell them that it is there. Both the Evil Eye and Witchcraft were in it from the beginning, and they will be in it till the end.”

We may mention here that there is a very strong belief among many of the influence of the “wish” for good or evil. “B. McL. affirms that if she wishes ill to any person ill is sure to follow, and if she wishes well good will come of it. She maintained that a person, lately dangerously ill, owed her recovery to her good wishes.” A person has only to maintain this view, and the superstitious will probably find reasons for believing that it is true. This, however, opens the question of the guidhe (imprecation or intercession, as the case may be), and there are not a few who are applied to to make guidhes of both sorts.

We must consider the meaning of the terms used.

In South Argyllshire the common expression regarding a person or thing affected is that it is air a chronachadh, or, as another in Northern Argyll expressed it, air a chronachen. Cron means a fault or defect, and the verb used seems to be an expression of the opinion that something is wrong with the object, the usual meaning of the word being best translated “reproved,” or “rebuked”; the speaker, as it were, finding some fault in the person or thing spoken to, he sees that it is faulty, and says so. In the case of a person with an Evil Eye, he actually causes defect to the object. Now the same would be true of black magic; thus, air a chronachadh is as apposite to a person affected by witchcraft as by the Evil Eye. It is necessary therefore to distinguish, when one hears of a case of cronachadh, whether it is by mischievous intention or not; and this is done sometimes by the reciter. Thus, a person consulted to cure an animal affected, when telling who it was that was to blame for the evil, said: “Well, ’se duine le ceann dubh a chronaich do bho leis an droch shuil” (“Well, it is a man with a black head that has injured your cow, with the Evil Eye”).

In many districts this expression would merely convey the idea of rebuke (Tyree, Lewis, Dornoch, Kiltearn). In these places the expression usually is Luidh droch shuil air (An evil eye rested on him). In Easter Ross, a person desirous of avoiding reflections would say: “Cha’n eil mi cuir mo shuil ann” (“I am not putting my eye in it”). Even in Arisaig in Southern Inverness-shire, marching with Argyllshire, they use this expression only.

We have already given above, from Uist, an instance in which the speaker simply called it “the Eye,” neither qualifying it as good or bad.

The rapidity of the action is sometimes expressed thus:—A healer called in, said in one case: “Teum do bho, a bhean,” equivalent to saying, “Your cow is bitten or stung,” the word teum being also applied to something snatched. The operation of the Evil Eye in Uist is described by a parallel phrase, air a ghonadh (stabbed), an expression which has been used in Kintyre as synonymous with cronachadh, though there it generally expresses pain felt either bodily or mentally.

An elderly woman, a native of Duthill, Inverness-shire, while stating that there were “plenty of people round about us here who have got the Evil Eye and hurt both cattle and people with it,” gave the following as the expressions used when mentioning it:—

Thuit droch shuil air (An evil eye fell on him).

Ghabh an droch shuil e (The evil eye took him).

Laidh droch shuil air (An evil eye settled on him).

Bhuail droch shuil e (An evil eye struck him).

In the part of Ireland nearest to Scotland at any rate, and so far as the writer knows also in other places, the expression used in English is “blinked.” The readiest conclusion come to as to what is wrong with a sick cow is that “she has been blinked.” Blinked milk, therefore, is milk which yields no butter. Blinked beer, beer which has become sour.

All these expressions, then, of the action of an suil dona, the common expression in part of Inverness-shire, which, seeing “Donas” is the Devil, we might translate the “diabolical eye,” evidently point to the fact that a mere look will do the damage; so the remark of the Islay man, “Ni an fheadhainn aig am bheil an t-suil so cron air beathach neo duine ged nach dean iad ach amhairc orra” (“Those who have this eye will do injury to beast or person, though they do nothing but look on them”), expresses clearly what seems to have been the original notion conveyed in the expressions used.