Supernatural legends
are but one genre that was (and to a certain extent still are) very popular
with Gaelic storytellers, especially, it would seem, those that focus upon a
well-known personality or protagonist such as a clan chief. For instance, the
following tale was recorded from the recitation of John MacDonald of Highbridge, Brae Lochaber, and was shortly afterwards transcribed by Calum
Maclean on the 2nd of February 1951, which involves MacDonald of Keppoch
(usually but not exclusively ascribed to Alasdair nan Cleas) as the main
character:
FEAR NA CEAPAICH AGUS AN
DONAS
Bha Fear na Ceapaich
agus caraide dha a’ cumail comann ris an Donas, mar tha an naidheachd a’ dol.
Agus ’s e ’n co-dhùnadh a bh’ ann gum faigheadh an Donas am fear mu dheireadh
dhiubh a’ dol a-mach air an dorast. Bha iad a’ faotainn air adhart leis na
cumhnantan a bha seo glè mhath. Agus bha am fear a bha seo [...] chaidh e
a-mach agus e a’ tarrainn uisge agus cha stadadh e. Smaointich e gun robh
cuideigin a’ gabhail beachd air agus choimhead e gu h-àrd. Bha Fear na Ceapaich
agus a cheann a-mach air an uinneig. Dh’fhalbh am fear a bha a’ tarraing uisge agus chuir e cròcan fèidh air an fhear a bha gu
h-àrd aig an uinneag is chan fhaigheadh e a cheann a-staigh. Bha iad mar sinn
ann an nàthan le chèile. Thuirt am fear a
bha gu h-ìosal ris an fhear eile:
“’S fheàrra dhut mise a
leigeal às an seo, feuch am faigh mi caoidhte ’s a bhith a’ dèanamh m’ uisge.”
“Cha leig gus an toir
thu dhìom na cròcan.”
“Is tu fhèi’ a thug
orm-sa tòiseachdainn an tòiseach air an ealaidh a tha seo agus thoir orm stad.
Agus bheir mise na cròcan dhìot.”
’S ann mar seo a bha.
Nuair a fhuair e cuidhte ’s bhith a’ dèanadh uisge, thug e na cròcan don fhear
a bha gu h-àrd. Nuair a bha iad cuidhte ’s an uair seo agus an sgoil dhubh aca
cho fad is a ghabhadh i cur, bha iad a’ fàgail na sgoil a bh’ aig an Donas.
Agus mar a thuirt mi riubh, ’s e na cumhnantan a bh’ ann: am fear a bhiodh air
deireadh gur h-e bhiodh aig an Donas.
“Theirig thusa air
thoiseach agus nì mise rudeigin deth,” thuirt Fear na Ceapaich.
Chuir e am fear eile air
thoiseach. Bha latha grianach ann agus iad a’ dol a-mach agus:
“Is tusa an duine mu
dheireadh,” thuirt an Donas, is e a’ dèanadh leum airson beireachd air.
“Chan e; shin agad e a’
tighinn na mo dheaghaidh.”
Is dè bha seo ach am
faileas aige. Agus leum an Donas agus rug e air an fhaileas aige. Agus chan
fhaca iad faileas aig Fear na Ceapaich riamh an deaghaidh sin. Theich an Donas
leis.
And
the translation may be given as follows:
MACDONALD OF KEPPOCH AND
THE DEVIL
MacDonald of Keppoch and
a boon companion were keeping communion with the Devil, or so the story goes. And the outcome was that the Devil
would get the last of them going out the door. They were getting on with this
compact very well. One of these men […] went out to draw water [to urinate] but
he was unable to stop. He thought that he noticed someone watching him and so
he looked up. MacDonald of Keppoch was there with his head sticking out of the
window. The man who was drawing water then put deer antlers on the man at the window and so he was unable to get his
head back inside. So there they were entangled together. The man below said to
the other man:
“It's better for you to
get me out of this, so that I’ll get relief from urinating.”
“I’ll do no such thing
until you take these antlers off.”
“It was you who started
this ditty so you’d better make me stop and then I’ll take the antlers off
you.”
And so it was. When he
was relieved from urinating, he then took the antlers off the man above. They were both released then and as they had taken the
black art as far as they possibly could they were ready to leave the Devil’s
school. And, as I told you, they had this compact: the Devil would get the
hindmost man.
“You go first and I will
do something,” said MacDonald of Keppoch.
He sent the other man
out first. It was a sunny day and as they were going out:
“You’re the hindmost
man,” said the Devil as he leapt to catch hold of him.
“No, I’m not: there’s
one coming behind me.”
And what was this but his
shadow. The Devil leapt and caught hold of his shadow. After that MacDonald of Keppoch didn’t have a shadow. The Devil ran
off with it.
The very same story has a wide distribution not only in Scotland but in
Norway as well as Iceland where it is attributed to a certain Saemund Sigfusson,
who, was born around 1056 and is “credited with having written a Latin History of the Kings of Norway, which
has since been lost.” In Gaelic tradition it is attributed to Donald
Duival [Diabhal] MacKay, the Wizard of the Reay
Country. Miss Dempster presented the
Sutherland tradition as follows: “Donald-Duival learned the black art in Italy.
The devil sat in the professor’s chair of that school, and at the end of each
term he claimed as his own the last scholar. One day as they broke up there was
a regular scramble, for none wished to be last. Donald-Duival really was so;
but just as Satan snatched at him, Donald Duival, pointing to his shadow, which
fell behind him, cried, “Take the hindmost!” and his shadow being
seized, he himself escaped. When
he returned to Scotland he was never seen to have a shadow.”
Another version of this supernatural legend
makes its appearance in the Rev. Somerled MacMillan’s Bygone Lochaber (1971):
Alexander (Alasdair nan Cleas), 10th of Keppoch,
who was better known as “Alexander of the Tricks”, because, according to some,
while studying in Italy, he became a master at playing tricks with cards. He is
said to have studies the “Black Art”, of which he was reckoned to be the
greatest exponent ever known in the Highlands. Tradition has it that while in
Rome he studies the Black Art under Satan himself, and so proficient did he
become that he ultimately outwitted his teacher. At the story goes, Satan’s
reward was that at the end of the days’ teaching he carried off the last
student who remained in the room. Alasdair usually managed to be bout among the
foremost, but the other students being jealous of him formed a plot to block
his way and keep him back. In this they proved successful, and just as he was
going out last Satan caught hold of him and claimed him as his lawful fee.
Alexander of the Tricks was equal to the occasion however, and said in Gaelic―“Tha fear ’nam dhéidh” (“There is another
man after me”), at the same time pointing to his shadow, which the bright
sunshine threw on the wall. Satan instantly let him go and grabbed at the
shadow, so Alasdair escaped “that time” and at once returned to Lochaber, but
no matter how bright the sun, his shadow was not to be seen as Satan had gone
off with it.
As has already been hinted at this tale is identified as not only an
international tale (ATU 810, The Snares
of the Evil One) but also a migratory legend (ML 3000, Escape from the Black School). Such were their allure, that such
legends knew no boundaries and would seem to have spread in a similar type of
viral fashion as popular trends tend to do on the internet.
References:
Campbell, John G., Gaelic Otherworld, ed. by Ronald Black (Edinburgh: Birlinn, 2005) p. 157
Dempster, Miss, ‘The
Folk-lore of Sutherlandshire’, The
Folk-Lore Journal, vol. VI (1888), pp. 149–89
Hanford, Mark, ‘Demonic Magic in the Icelandic Wizard Legends’, Northern Studies: The Journal of the
Scottish Society of Northern Studies, vol. 29 (1992), pp. 24–31
MacMillan, Somerled, Bygone
Lochaber: Historical and Traditional (Glasgow: Privately printed, 1971), pp. 147–48
SSS NB 3, pp. 212–13
Image:
Shadow Man
