Tales of haunted houses and ghosts
are legion throughout the Highlands and Islands as well as throughout the world. A
storyteller worth his or her salt could by telling a ghost story or other
supernatural tales send shivers down an audience’s spine to such an extent that
they might have found it difficult to get any sleep at night. The following
supernatural anecdote was recorded by Calum Maclean from the recitation of John
MacDonald of Highbridge, Brae Lochaber, and transcribed shortly afterwards on
the 28th of March 1951:
Dòmhnall
Bàn a’ Bhòcain
Bha
fear ann am Bràigh Loch Abar ris an abradh iad Dòmhnall Bàn a’ Bhòcain. Agus bha
am bòcan seo timcheall air a h-uile latha. O, bha e ri meall de rudan droll. An
deaghaidh dhan bhòcan a bhith treis a’ tighinn far an robh e smaointich Dòmhnall
Bàn gan atharraicheadh e làrach an taighe agus gum faigheadh e cuidhte ’s am
bòcan. Ach O! nuair a thàinig an latha air seo na dhol dhan taigh ùr, cò bu
trainge na am bòcan. Bha na poitean a dol a-nunn agus meall de na gnothaichean
a bha san taigh a’ dol ann agus cha robh duine cho trang ris a’ bhòcan. A-nise
am bòcan a bha seo cha b’ e bòcan a bh’ ann airson aon latha, ach bha e ann airson
fada. Agus bhiodh e oidhcheannan ann nuair a bha sluagh a-staigh san taigh. Ach
cha robh iad ga fhaicinn, am bòcan. Bha iad an oidhche seo ann agus bha am bòcan
fada gun tighinn. Thuirt feareigin a bha san taigh, thuirt e:
“Dè
a dh’airich am bòcan a-nochd, nuair nach eil e an seo?”
Labhair
am bòcan:
“Tha
am bòcan ann an seo.”
“Dè
chum cho fada thu a-nochd?”
“O,
tha agam ri dhol treis mhath mun cuairt.”
Bha
bean an taighe, a’ bhean aig Dòmhnall Bàn a’ Bhòcain, ’s e NicGriogair a bh’
innte. Agus thuirt i ris an duine:
“Cùine
a bhios cogadh eile a-rithist ann?”
Cha
robh e uamhraidh fada an deaghaidh Cùil Lodair. Ach thuirt am bòcan rithe:
“O
nach eil thu sgìth de chogadh a NicGriogair?”
Is
bha am bòcan ri meall de ghnothaichean droll. Is thuirt e, Dòmhnall Bàn a’
Bhòcain ris:
“Cùine
a dh’fhaodas mi innseadh na rudan a bha thu ag ràdha rium?”
“Well,”
thuirt am bòcan ris, “innsidh mi dhut an ceann trì latha mus caochail thu. Agus
faoda’ tu innseadh an sin.”
Well
trì latha mus do chaochail Dòmhnall Bàn a’ Bhòcain chaill e a bhruidheann agus
cha b’ urrainn dà innseadh.
Ach
bha triop eile a bha siud a thainig dà shagart ’un an taighe. Agus chaidh a’
bhean, thòisich i ri dèanadh biadh dhaibh, agus chaidh i a thoirt ìm a-staigh
airson na chur air a’ bhòrd. Is O! cha robh a’ tighinn na tighinn na tighinn.
Ach dh’athnich an sagart dè rud a bh’ ann.
“Thoir
thusa a-staigh an rud a th’ agad. Chan eil nitheann air.
Bha
ise a’ faicinn stùr air an ìm. Ach bha pios aig na sagairt glè mhath nach robh
a leithid de rud ann.
Bha rud eile ann
cuideachd. Bha dìlleachdan a’ fuireach san taigh. Agus bha am bòcan a’ smaoineachadh
nach robh an dìlleachan a’ faighinn mar a bha a’ chuid eile den chloinn. Agus nuair
a rachadh am biadh a chur air a’ bhòrd, bheireadh am bòcan am biadh dar beul a’
chloinn eile agus chuireadh e air truinnsear an dìlleachdain e.
And the translation goes something like the following:
Donald Ban
of the Bogle
There
was a man in Brae Lochaber called Donald Ban of the Bogle. And a bogle haunted
him very single day. Oh, he was up to all sorts of bad things. After the bogle
had been haunting him for a while Donald Ban thought that he would change his
residence so that he could finally get rid of it. Oh but when it came to flit
to the new house no one was busier than the bogle. The pots and all manner of
items from the house were being shifted over but no one was as busy as the
bogle. Now this bogle was no overnight phenomenon but was there for the long
haul. He would be there night after night when folk were at home. But there
weren’t aware of the bogle. One night they were at home but the bogle was late.
Some member of the household said:
“What’s
happened to the bogle tonight since he’s not here?”
The
bogle replied:
“The
bogle is here.”
“What
kept you so long tonight?”
“Oh,
I took a good while going around.”
The
guidwife, Donald Ban of the Bogle’s wife, was a MacGregor. She asked her
husband:
“When
will there be another war?”
It
was not long after Culloden. And the bogle said to her:
“Aren’t
you tired of war, MacGregor?”
And
the bogle was up to no good in many other affairs. Donald Ban of the Bogle said to
him:
“When
may I be allowed to tell of those things that you told me?”
“Well,”
the bogle said to him, “I’ll tell you that three days before you die and then
you may relate those things.”
Well
three days before Donald Ban of the Bogle died he lost his power of speech and
was unable to relate those things.
Another
time a couple of priests visited the house. And the guidwife began to prepare
food for them and she went to take butter in to put on the table. And it didn’t
appear for ages and ages. One of the priests knew what had happened.
“You
take in what you have. There’s nothing on it.
She
saw that the butter was sullied but the priest’s bit was fine and there was
nothing wrong with it.
There
was one other thing. An orphan lodged in the house. And the bogle thought that
the orphan was not getting his fare share as the rest of the children. When the
food was placed on the table, the bogle used to take the food from the other
children’s mouths and would put it on the orphan’s plate.
As
can readily be seen, Donald Ban’s attempts to escape the bogle were on in vain.
But rather than a ghost or bogle the story is perhaps best interpreted as a malicious
spirit or poltergeist. It fits rather well with a noisy ghost or supernatural
being which is responsible for physical disturbances such as loud noise or
throwing objects. Many accounts of poltergeists describe movement or levitation
of objects, such as furniture and cutlery (and in even ploughs), or noises such
as knocking on doors or widows. It is also claimed that they are capable of
physical interactions such as pinching, hitting or biting people. Poltergeists seem to be a world-wide
phenomenon and occupy a particular niche in folk culture, and have
traditionally been described as troublesome or evil spirits who haunt a
particular person rather than a specific location. Nevertheless, such a
definition does not take into account all the aspects of Donald Ban’s bogle for
it allegedly had the ability to speak and also was capable of charitable acts
as may be seen in other versions of the above story.
THE
following interesting Lochaber story is an abstract of two printed Gaelic
versions, the first of which appeared in the Gael, vol. vi. p. 142 (1877), to which it was communicated by D. C.
Macpherson, and the second in the Glenbard
Collection of Gaelic Poetry, by the Rev. A. Maclean Sinclair, p. 297 ff.
(1890). The latter was got from an Old Lochaber tailor, whose grandfather had
personal experience of the supernatural being which figures in it.
Rather
more than a century ago there died in Lochaber a man named Donald Bán, son of
Angus (Domhnall Bán mac Aonghais), but better known as Donald Bán of the Goblin
(Domhnall Bán a’ Bhócain), from his experiences with a Bócan, or goblin, which
were well known to all the district. Donald was the last of the hunters of
Mac-mhic-Raonuill, and belonged to the house of Keppoch, being according to
some the son of Angus Odhar, son of Gilleasbuig of Keppoch. He lived at
Mounessie and Inverlaire in Glenspean, and his wife was of the MacGregors of
Rannoch.
“It
was on the hill that Donald first met with the Bócan,” but who the Bócan was no
one ever knew, and Donald never told it, if he knew it himself. Of course there
were good guesses at it. Some believed it to be a “gille” of Donald’s, who was
killed at Culloden. Donald himself was present at that battle, and in making
his escape was wounded in the leg, and so captured, but released after trial.
One incident of his prison-time is mentioned which contains a curious touch:
“While he was in prison he had a dream; he saw himself, Alastair Mac Cholla,
and Domhnall Mac Raonuill Mhóir drinking together. This Donald was the man of
whom it was said that he had two hearts.
He was taken prisoner at Falkirk, and executed at Carlisle.” The reason for
identifying the “gille” with the Bócan was that on one occasion he had given to
a “thigger” (fear faighe) more than
pleased his master, and in the quarrel that followed, the gille said, “I will
be avenged for this, alive or dead.”
Whatever
he was, or whatever may have been his reasons the Bócan nearly ruined Donald by
the mischief he did him. He destroyed all the food and injured the members of
the household. The butter in particular was always dirtied by him. One time
Ronald of Aberardair undertook to bring the butter clean to table, by holding his
bonnet over it, and carrying his dirk in his hand, but it was dirtied all the
same. At night they could get no sleep for stones and clods that came flying
about, “The Bócan was throwing things out of the walls, and they would hear
them rattling at the head of Donald’s bed.” Mr. John Mór MacDougall, the
clergyman, slept a night or two in the house, but the Bócan would not come
while he was there. The tailor’s grandfather, Angus mac Alister Bán, had a
different experience. “Something seized his two big toes, and he could not get
free any more than if he had been caught by the smith’s tongs. He could not get
moved. It was the Bócan, bugt he did nothing more to him.” High and low were
witnesses to the pranks which this spirit carried on, but not even Donald himself
ever saw him in any shape whatever.
So
much did Donald suffer from his attacks that he finally decided to remove to
another house, in hopes that the visitations would cease. He took everything
with him except a harrow (cliath chliata),
which he left at the side of the house, but before they had got far on the road
the harrow was seen coming after them. “Stop, stop,” said Donald, “if the
harrow is coming after us we may as well go back again.” So he returned, and
made no further attempt to escape from the visitations. What he harrow had to
with it is left unexplained.
The
Bócan had a particular spite against Donald’s wife the “Nic Ghriogair.: The
night he parted with Donald he went on the roof of the house, and cried, “Are
you asleep, Donald Bán?” “Not just now,” said Donald, “Put out that long grey
tether, the MacGregor wife,” said he. “I don’t think I’ll do that to-night,”
said Donald. “Come out yourself, then,” said the bocan, “and leave your
bonnet.” The good-wife, thinking that the bocan was outside and would not hear
her, whispered in Donald’s ear as he was rising, “Won’t you ask him when the
Prince will come?” The words, however, were hardly out of her mouth when the
bocan answered her with, “Didn’t you get enough of him before, you grey tether?”
The
Rev. Mr. Sinclair’s version gives a still more curious account of what took
place at the Bócan’s last visit. “The last night that the Bócan came he was
saying that such and such other spirits were along with him. Donald’s wife said
to her husband, ‘I should thing that if they were along with him they would
speak to us.’ The Bócan answered, “They are no more able to speak than the sole
of your foot.” ‘Come out here, Donald Bán,’ said the Bócan. ‘I will,’ said
Donald, ‘and thanks be to the Good Being that you have asked me.’ Donald was
going out, and taking his dirk with him. ‘Leave your dirk inside, Donald,’ said
the Bócan, ‘and your knife (sgian) as
well,’ Donald went out, and he and the Bócan went through Acha-nan-Comhachan by
night, and on through rivers a birch-wood for about three miles, till they came
to the river Fert. When they got to this the Bócan showed him the hole where
had hid plough-irons while he was alive. While Donald was taking the
plough-irons out of the hole of the two eyes of the Bócan were putting more
fear on him than anything else he ever heard or saw. When he got the irons,
they went home to Mounessie, himself and the Bócan, and parted that night at
the house of Donald Bán.”
Donald had more connections with the supernatural world than
this. A cousin of his mother was said to have been carried
away by the fairies, and one night Donald saw him among them, dancing as hard
as he could. He was also out hunting in the year of the great snow, and at
nightfall saw a man on the back of a deer ascending a great rock. He heard the
man saying, “Home, Donald Bàn,” and wisely took the advice, for that night
there fell eleven feet of snow in the very place where he had intended to stay.
While Donald was troubled with his strange visitant, he composed a hymn
which has been preserved by tradition. Though it gives but little information
on the main point, it goes to prove the fact of the hauntings so far as proof
can be asked for, and the following literal translation will show how Donald
himself regarded the affair.
The Hymn
of Donald Bán of the Bócan.
O God
that createdst me so helpless,
Strengthen
my belief and make it firm.
Command
an angel to come from Paradise
And take
up his abode in my dwelling,
To
protect me from every trouble
That
wicked folks are putting in my way;
Jesus
that didst suffer thy crucifixion,
Restrain
their doings, and be with me thyself.
Little wonder though I am thoughtful —
Always at the time when I go to bed
The stones and the clods will arise —
How could a saint get sleep there !
I am without peace or rest,
Without repose or sleep till the morning;
O thou that art in the throne of grace,
Behold my treatment and be a guard to me.
Little wonder though I am troubled,
So many stories about me in every place,
Some that are unjust will be saying
“It is all owing to himself, that affair.”
Judge not except as you know,
Though the Son of God were awaking you;
No one knows if I have deserved more
Than a rich man that is without care.
Although I am in trouble at this time,
Verily, I shall be doubly repaid,
When the call comes to me from my Saviour
I shall receive mercy and new grace;
I fear no more vexation
When I ascend to be with thy saints;
O thou that sittest on the throne
Assist my speaking and accept my prayer.
O God, make me mindful
Night and day to be praying,
Seeking pardon richly
For what I have done, on my knees.
Stir with the Spirit of Truth
True repentance in my bosom,
That when thou dost send death to seek me,
Christ may take care of me.
Donald’s
troubles, although connected with a genuine Celtic goblin and presenting one or
two peculiar features, are evidently of much the same class as those described
in the narratives already mentioned in the foot-notes, and which have been
heard of even down to our own day. Had there been any one at the time to write
down all that was heard and seen, the story might have been much fuller, but all
the characteristic details of such occurrences are there. The apparent want of
sufficient reason for the persecution. the manner of carrying it out by
destroying property, injuring persons, and throwing things about, the
impertinent answers given by the spirit, and its displaying its tricks to all
and sundry in broad day-light, are an exact parallel to the troubles of Gilbert
Campbell in the story of the “Devil of Glenluce.” How far self-deception or
human mischief entered into these occurrences is a problem for the investigator
of ghosts. In the case of a similar Icelandic story, narrated in 1750 by the
Sheriff Hans Wium, who was an eye-witness to the reality of the events, there
was a suspicion that they were brought about by a young man who was said to
have learned ventriloquism abroad. This might explain the conversations which
the invisible one kept up with the sheriff and others, but can scarcely account
for some of his other feats, such as throwing the door off its hinges into the
room.
It
is possible that such tales may be the historical descendants of the more
impressive ghosts of antiquity. A figure like Glám in Grettis Saga is not after
all far removed from the Bócan; their origin and behaviour are much the same,
and a good many points of resemblance might be made out. In that case the later
ones are very degenerate specimens; but there is something of mystery about
Donald Bàn's persecutor that makes him a rather superior member of his class.
For
the sake of completeness (and comparison), the following rendition of the tale was given by
Alexander Stewart in his A Highland
Parish or The History of Fortingall (1928):
Rannoch
and Lochaber have given us many strange ghost stories, one of the best known of
which is that of Domhnul Ban a Bhocain, or Fair Donald of the Spectre. Domhnul
Ban was a Macdonald of Lochaber, and had fought at Culloden on the side of the
Prince. From that time onwards he was subjected to some mysterious influence.
Stones and mud were thrown at him by an unseen agency, and on occasion an
apparition was seen by him. The persistence of these ghostly attentions almost
distracted him, and at last, in order to escape him, he emigrated to America.
For a time the change of scene brought him relief, but after he had been in
America some time, one day, while he was walking through an American town, the
apparition met him in broad daylight. Much depressed that his pursuer had found
him again, and thinking there was no escape from his unwelcome attentions, he
returned to this country, but he was still followed by his adversary.
At
last, so goes the story, Donald summoned up sufficient courage to address the riochd or wraith, and to enquire why he
thus insisted on following him everywhere. To this came the reply that the sole
purpose of this persistent pursuit was to get an opportunity to speak to him
and tell him something on which depended his own peace in the abode of shades.
“I belonged to Rannoch,” continued the wraith. “I fought by your side at
Culloden and I fell, but you escaped. I fixed on you as the right man to convey
a message from me to person still living, whose interest it is to hear it.
Hence my constant pursuit of you. Before joining the Prince’s army, I got the
loan of a plough from a neighbour. Uncertain as to the result of the Rising, I
hid the plough beside the Innerchadden Burn. If you will tell this man where he
will get his plough, I will not trouble you again.” He gave the man’s name, and
Donald conveyed the message and enjoyed a peaceful life for the remainder of
his days. Donald, a pious, prayerful man, composed a Gaelic hymn, which appears
in Macdonald’s Gaelic Bards. In it,
after giving praise to God for having hitherto preserved him, despite the fact
that he had been threatened with sticks and stones, he implores the protection
of angels. “I am at this time under much anxiety.” Some say that I must have
done wrong, and that therefore I am pursued everywhere.”
References:
W. A. Craigie,
‘Donald Bán and the Bócan’, Folk-lore,
vol. VI, no. 4 (1895), pp. 353–58
John G. MacKay,
‘Domhnull Mor a’ Bhocain/Big Donald of the Bogle’, An Deò-Gréine, leabh.
XVII, earr. 10 (1922), pp. 152–56
Abrach [Donald C. Macpherson],
‘Donull Bàn a’ Bhòcain’, An Gàidheal
(May, 1877), pp. 142–43
Alexander Stewart, A Highland Parish, or, The History of
Fortingall (Glasgow: Alex. MacLaren & Sons, 1928), pp. 336–38
SSS NB 7, pp. 655–57
Image:
Plough Iron
