A View from Badenoch on Highland Superstitions

The following item was transcribed by Calum Maclean on the 7th of July 1952 from the recitation of John MacDonald, a retired carpenter, then aged 77, from Newtonmore, Badenoch. It is not too often that a tradition bearer gives an overview of what he or she thinks about a particular subject – Highland superstitions in this instance. It may be assumed that MacDonald had read a fair bit of material about the subject area, one which by all appearances seemed to have fascinated him:

 

Highlanders are addicted to superstition. Perhaps the rugged nature of the country, its dreary wastes and rapid torrents which thunder and lightning and the rains of heaven exhaust their terrific rage, wrought on their imaginative powers and so they ascribed everything to the superior powers. Be that as it may, I think so long as ignorance abounded superstition did much more abound. So the world has grown older: the people have grown wiser and the grosser. While saying this, it must be admitted that some of the milder forms still find acceptance such as freits and omens:

 

“Marry in May and you'll rue it for age,” is an old freit. And a dog howling at night it still believed to betoken a death (B733.2.). Then there is the practice of first footing at the New Year time and the throwing of an old boot after the bride. There is an old rhyme which embraces a number of omens:

 

West wind to the bairn;
When gang for its name;
Rain to the corpse
Carried to its long hame;
A bonnie blue sky

To welcome the bride,
As she gangs to the kirk
with the sun on her side.

 

The belief in ghosts, witches, fairies etc. was quite common at the beginning of this century. In fact the ghost stories of Scotland would fill a large volume. Witches were the object of dread. They were accused of having intercourse with Satan. It is said that the Black Officer of Baile Chròdhann made bargains with the Evil One (M211.). It was believed that the witch could cure diseases and inflict diseases (G265.4.), could draw away every drop of milk (D2083.3.) from, the cattle. Only a horse-shoe (D1561.1.3.) nailed to the byre door or a sprig of rowan tree tied with a red thread was a protection (D1385.2.5.). It is popularly believed that fairies inhabited mounds or eminences (F211.). One such eminence I am reminded of near my own home called the ‘Sìdhean’ – probably taken from the word ‘sìdhich’. It is believed that in Hallowe’en  (F211.1.1.1.) any person going round one of these hillocks nine times  (Z71.6.) contrary to the course of the sun  (D1791.2.), a door would open  (F211.1.1.) by which he would be admitted to the realms of fairyland  (F211.1.). The burning of witches (G200.) forms a black chapter in the history of Scotland based, no doubt, in the command given in the 22nd chapter of Exodus:  “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.” Some time ago I worked at Fortrose near the very spot where the Brahan Seer was burned in a barrel of tar (S112.1.). 

 

Closely related to superstition is the second sight (D1825.1.). People believe that Nature bestows on some individuals this gift called in Gaelic ‘taisiche’, a spectre or a vision – an impression made either by the eye on the mind or the mind upon the eye. Seers are said to see events before they happen such as funerals (D1825.7.1.), marriages etc. (D1825.7.). I can recall one or two individuals who were said to have this faculty. Dr. Johnson believed in the genuineness of this faculty. Highlanders are singularly attached to their birthplace and that fondness is not confined to the desire of living. It is extended even to the grave. The idea of dying at a distance and among strangers could not be endured. To be consigned to the grave among strangers was a great calamity. A story will illustrate. A few years ago an aged woman went to visit a friend – her daughter – in Perth. She was from Laggan. While there she took a slight chill and fever set in. One evening when a quantity of snow fell – it had fallen during the night and she expressed great anxiety when told that a fall was expected. Next morning her bed was found empty and no trace of her could be discovered till the second day, when she sent word that she had slipped out of the house about midnight, set off on foot through the snow and never stopped till she arrived home – a distance of more than twenty miles, her daughter went to see her. She said: “What if I grew worse and if I had died they could not get my remains through the deep snow. And if I had told my daughter she could have locked every door of the house. And God forbid that my bones should lie at a distance from my own home.” To be interred decently is a big consideration in the mind of the Highlander. In fact every article is secured to assure a respectable interment – to put it in Gaìdhlig “crìoch onarach.”

 

The narrator gives an overall view of some of the typical beliefs that used to held (and perhaps may yet be still held) by some Highlanders. Such superstitions are, however, by no means limited to a Gaelic wold view and can be found in many parts of the world.
 

Reference:

SSS NB 13, pp. 1118–22

 

Image:

Portrait of Captain John MacPherson, the ‘infamous’ Black Officer. Courtesy of the Clan MacPherson Museum, Newtonmore, Badenoch.

The Corn Maiden

Here are some details about an age-old custom of keeping the Corn Maiden or Dolly, sometimes referred to in Gaelic as A’ Mhaighdeann Bhuana. The following anecdote was taken down by Calum Maclean in Newtonmore on 18 July, 1952, from a Mrs Ferguson, aged ninety, then residing in Laggan in Badenoch: 

 

When they cut the corn they always kept the lost sheaf, always. It was called the Maighdeann, Maiden. In the early times, in the times that Cluny was in his briskness you know they had a dance at the Maighdeann, as it was called, the Maiden, when the Maiden was taken in. It was taken in to the burn and the burn was cleared out of course and they had a dance. When the last of the corn was taken in, the Maiden was taken in. They had a dance. The Maiden was hanging on the wall. It was just a pretty sheaf. It wasn’t a sheaf but a small sheaf crossed And it used to hang on an nail on the wall. And then they danced till morning. It was called the Deireadh Bhuain (V70.4.). Well, they always had that in Cluny. Well it was going on for years and it was understood that the granary was to be used for the dance after the Harvest Home (V70.4.). But then they took to drink and that finished the old lady. She wouldn’t have any drunkenness about, if she could at all. But it would be there in spite of her. So we always had great pleasure, when the Harvest Home would be there and other times too.  I remember quite clearly having the sheaf and hanging it up. It was fastened like a cross and I think it would be a ribbon that would be fastening it, coming down. And then it was put on the wall for the rest of the winter. It was left on the wall. We had it on our own wall many a time. The one that cut the last corn, whoever was gathering it with him got the Maiden. It wasn't the man that got it. It was the gleaner who got it. It may have been different in other places. But I know that in Cluny, when Cluny was in his day, they always had it. And there were such a lot of men. There were six ploughmen in those days. There were six pair of horses and Oh! there was plenty fun for them, you know, and then there was plenty would go to finish off the harvest for the sake of the dance and all that came after it. They called the sheaf “Maighdeann Bhuain.” Well that’s that anyway. 

Such a custom held a particular fascination for Calum Maclean as he would later go on to write an article, posthumously published in Scottish Studies, about the various traditions that he had collected himself and other historical sources besides about the Corn Maiden. With regard to the custom in Badenoch, Maclean wrote as follows:

Even despite the introduction of modern agricultural machinery and the almost complete disappearance of sickle and scythe, the Harvest Maiden or Clyack Sheaf is still cut and brought home. Several informants in different parts of the country stated that they hung it on their walls; some said they did so until recently, others declared that they still did it. As recently as 1954 I saw a Clyack Sheaf on the wall of a house in Laggan, Badenoch. I should venture to say that the practice is more widespread than is generally thought. It is pleasant to notice that the practice of giving an extra sheaf of corn to horses and cattle on Christmas or New Year’s Day has not stopped either.

References:

Calum I. Maclean, The Highlands (Inbhir Nis: Club Leabhar, 1975)
———. ‘The Last Sheaf’, Scottish Studies, vol. 8 (1964), pp. 193–207
SSS NB 13, pp. 1210–12

Image:

The Corn Maiden or Dolly / A’ Mhaighdeann Bhuana, lit. The Harvest Maiden, an example photographed in Mull (Courtesty of the School of Scottish Studies Archives)

Catty-Batty: A Children’s Game

During a visit to Newtonmore, Badenoch, Calum Maclean met an informant on 27th July 1952 called Hamish Guthrie, a gamekeeper then aged fifty-one, who told him of a childhood game that he used to play:

There was another game called Catty-batty. I don’t know: there’s a Gaelic name for that but I don’t know it. That was just a stick square-sided six inches long, pointed at both ends. And on the four sides with a red hot poker you put 1, 2, 3, 4. And then you tapped the points. It was pointed at both ends. To get the first throw you had it across two stones end with a stick you poked it away. When it came down whatever fall was up, you got so many strokes, 1, 2, 3, 4. If it came down 4, you took fair strokes at it you hit the point and batted it as far as it would go and then followed it and took another stroke always hitting the point. And then you measured back with the stick how many times you were away from the Station. Whichever pointed end of the stick is to your best advantage you strike that end and put it in the opposite direction. You see when you strike with one end of it, it comes in the opposite direction – left end struck it goes left. The opponents try to catch it like a cricket ball, and if they catch it, you are out.

Guthrie also gave Maclean further details about other games – including a shinty game in South Uist between Howmore and Stoneybridge – that were popular with children and adults:

That was the only games we played and, of course, shinty. But I never see Catty-batty nowadays or Purl-a-heck or Bull in the Barn. They never seem to play them now. The Catty-batty stick took a bit of making. You had to square it with points. If it wasn’t flat, it wouldn’t land on the numbered sides. In South Uist they used thorn roots as shinty clubs. I remember the first game of shinty. I ever saw in South Uist. Only the two Laings had clubs and my father had a golf club in the goals. He was captain of Howmore and the priest was captain of Stoneybridge. And the funny bit about it – what my father was so wild about – his team, the Howmore team, they wouldn’t go near the priest. When the priest had the ball, they wouldn’t take it from him. So my father, he didn’t care. My father would charge out at him with the golf club. He was so wild because they wouldn’t tackle the priest.
 

References:

Calum I. Maclean, The Highlands (Inbhir Nis: Club Leabhar, 1975)
SSS NB 14, pp. 1227–28; 1229–30

Image:

Wooden stick