Chapter VI · THE CELTIC YEAR.

Bliadhna, a year, has been derived by writers on Celtic antiquities from Bel-ain, “the ring or circle of Baal,” but the derivation is at variance with etymological analogies, as well as inadmissible from there being no satisfactory evidence that Baalim worship ever extended to the Celtic tribes. It can only be regarded as part of that punning affectation with which Gaelic scholarship is disfigured. The initial bl occurs in many words which have in common the idea of separation, and bliadhna is likely connected with such words as bloigh, a fragment; ball, a spot, a limb, and denotes merely a division, or separate portion, of time.

The notations of the Celtic year belong to the Christian period, old style. If there are any traces of Pagan times they are only such as are to be gathered from a few names and ceremonies.

The four seasons are known as earrach, spring, samhradh, summer, fogharadh, harvest, and geamhradh, winter. The final syllable in each of these names is ràidh, a quarter or season of the year, a space of three months; and the student of Gaelic will note that the long and heavy vowel, of which it consists, is, contrary to the common rule affecting long vowels, shortened and made an apparently indifferent terminal syllable. It is still deemed, in many parts of the Highlands, unlucky to be proclaimed in one quarter of the year and married in the next, and the circumstance is called being “astride on the seasons” (gobhlach mu’n ràidh). It is an old saying, that the appearance of a season comes a month before its actual arrival; mìos roi gach ràidh choltas, i.e. a month before each season, is seen its appearance. The character of the seasons is described in an old riddle,

There can be no doubt the origin of the names given to them belongs to a period anterior to Christianity.

Earrach, spring, is derived from ear, the head, the front, the east. In naming the four quarters of the heavens, the face, as in the case of the Hebrew names, is supposed to be toward the east. The right hand (deas) is the name given to the south, and the adjective tuaitheal, from tuath, the north, means “wrong, to the left, against the sun.” Hence also, toirt fo’n ear, lit. to take a thing from the east, means to observe; earalas, foresight, i.e. the having a thing in view; earar, the day after to-morrow, i.e. the day in front of it. The Latin bos, and the Greek ἔας or ἦς would indicate that the ancient Celtic name of the season was fearrach, and if so it may be connected with fear, vir, a man, the first par excellence, for, before, furasda, easy, etc. Eàrr means the tail, and the long syllable shows it to be only another form of iar, west, behind, after, the opposite of ear. Frequently these names for east and west are known as sear and siar, as e.g. cha-n fhearr an gille shiar na’n gille shear, “the lad from the west is no better than the lad from the east,” that is, it is but six of the one and half a dozen of the other.

Samhradh, summer, according to old glossaries, is from obs. samh, the sun, and means the sun season or quarter. This corresponds with the English name, which is evidently a softened form of sun-mer. Samh is now used to denote “the suffocating smell produced by excessive heat.”[51] In Tiree, it is the name given to the hazy heavy appearance of the Western ocean, and few expressions are more common than samh chuain t-siar, the oppressive feeling of which the uneasy sea on the west side of the island is productive. In the North Hebrides samh means the ocean itself. A common description over the whole Highlands of an intolerable stench is mharbhadh e na samhanaich, i.e. it would kill the savage people living in caves near the ocean, as giants were fabled to do.

Fogharadh, autumn, is likely connected with fogh, said to mean ease, hospitality, and foghainn, to suffice, with the same root idea of abundance.

Geamhradh, winter; Lat. hiems, Gr. χεῖμα. No doubt geamh is of the same origin as the Greek and Latin words, but it does not find its explanation in the Greek χεω, to pour. From its being found in gèamhlag, a crow-bar, gèimheal, a chain, geamhtach, short, stiff, and thick, there seems to have been a Gaelic root implying to bind, to be stiff, which gives a suitable derivation for the name of the season of frost and ice.

Mios, a month, is supposed to be connected with mias, a round platter, from the moon’s round orb completing its circle within the month. Greek μήν, Eol. μεις, a month; Lat. mensis; Sanscr. mâsas, a month, mâs, the moon. These show that undoubtedly the origin of the word is connected with the moon. The names in the Greek, Latin, and Teutonic languages show that there was originally an n in the word, and the Gaelic, as well as Sanscrit, bears testimony to the same fact, by the long vowel. It is a common thing in Hebrew for n at the end of a syllable and in the middle of a word to be assimilated to an immediately succeeding consonant, and it is more likely it so disappeared in some languages than that it was assumed by others. Another Gaelic name for the moon, ré, is also used to denote a portion of time; ri mo ré, during my lifetime.

Computation of time, however, by months and days of the month, as at present, was entirely unknown to the Highlander of former days; and even yet, the native population do not say “on such a day of such a month,” but so many days before or after the beginning of summer or other season, or before and after certain well-known term days and festivals, as St Bride’s day, St Patrick’s day, Whitsunday (caingis), Hallowtide (Samhuinn), etc. The time is always reckoned by the old style, and this difference of notation is at first confusing to a stranger. For instance, when told that the ling fishing on the West Coast lasts from the middle of spring till five weeks of summer, it will take a little thought on his part to realise that this means from the beginning of April to about the 18th of June. Names for the months are to be found in dictionaries, but they are obviously manufactured from the Latin names, and confined to modern printed Gaelic.

A connected account of the festivals and days by which the year was marked, must begin with the festivities by which its advent was celebrated.

NOLLAIG.

The seven days from Christmas to the New Year were called Nollaig, and in the good easy-going olden times no work was done during them, but men gave themselves up to friendly festivities and expressions of goodwill. Hence the sayings, “The man whom Christmas does not make cheerful, Easter will leave sad and tearful,”[52] and “There is no Christmas without flesh.”[53] Christmas day was called “the day of big Nollaig” (Latha Nollaig mhór), and the night before it “the night of Cakes” (oidhche nam bannagan); while New-Year day was known as “the day of little Nollaig” (Latha Nollaig bhig), and the night before it “the night of blows” (oidhche nan Calluinnean).

The name Nollaig is from the Latin natalis, as is made certain by the Welsh word being Nadolig; and therefore corresponds to the English Christmas. Various explanations are given of the name of the night before it. Some say bannag means “a feast of women,” from bean, a wife, a feast of rejoicing, such as is customary when a child is born, being prepared by women this evening in memory of the birth of Christ. Others say the bannag is the cake presented by them to every one who entered the house that night. If the word means a cake, it is only applied to Christmas cakes or those used on this day. When there was a person of means, he took every one he met that week, especially the poor, to his house, and gave him his bannag, a large round cake (bonnach mòr cruinn).

New-Year’s night, or Hogmanay, was variously known as “the night of the candle” (oidhche Choinnle) and “the night of the blows or pelting” (oidhche nan Calluinnean, a Challuinn). The former name may have been derived from some religious ceremonies being performed by candle-light, as is suggested to be the origin of the English name Candlemas (2nd February), or from a candle being kept lighted till the New Year came in. The other name is said to be from the showers of rattling blows given to a dry cow’s hide used in the ceremonies of the evening, colluinn being also used to denote a thundering blow, or what is called in the Lowlands “a loundering lick” (stràic mhòr). Thus, thug e aon cholluinn air (he gave him one resounding blow); bi tu air do dheagh cholluinneachadh (you will be severely beaten). The word, however, as was long ago pointed out by Lhuyd (Archæologia Britannica, 1707) is from Calendae, the first day of every month, this being the beginning of the whole year, and the night being in the Highlands reckoned as preceding the day.

CALLUINN.

Towards evening men began to gather and boys ran about shouting and laughing, playing shinty, and rolling “pigs of snow” (mucan sneachda), i.e. large snowballs. The hide of the mart or winter cow (seiche a mhairt gheamhraidh) was wrapped round the head of one of the men, and he made off, followed by the rest, belabouring the hide, which made a noise like a drum, with switches. The disorderly procession went three times deiseal, according to the course of the sun (i.e. keeping the house on the right hand) round each house in the village, striking the walls and shouting on coming to a door:

Before this request was complied with, each of the revellers had to repeat a rhyme, called Rann Calluinn (i.e. a Christmas rhyme), though, as might be expected when the door opened for one, several pushed their way in, till it was ultimately left open for all. On entering each of the party was offered refreshments, oatmeal bread, cheese, flesh, and a dram of whisky. Their leader gave to the goodman of the house that indispensable adjunct of the evening’s mummeries, the Caisein-uchd, the breast-stripe of a sheep wrapped round the point of a shinty stick. This was then singed in the fire (teallach), put three times with the right-hand turn (deiseal) round the family, and held to the noses of all. Not a drop of drink was given till this ceremony was performed. The Caisein-uchd was also made of the breast-stripe or tail of a deer, sheep, or goat, and as many as choose had one with them.

The house was hung with holly to keep out the fairies, and a boy, whipped with a branch of it, may be assured he will live a year for every drop of blood he loses. This scratching and assurance were bestowed by boys on one another, and was considered a good joke.

Cheese was an important part of the refreshments, and was known as the Christmas cheese (Càise Calluinn). A slice, cut off at this feast, or a piece of the rind (cùl na mulchaig), if preserved and with a hole made through it, has strange virtues. It was called laomachan, and a person losing his way during the ensuing year, in a mist or otherwise, has only to look through the hole and he will see his way clearly. By scrambling to the top of the house, and looking through it down the fàr-lus (the hole in the roof that served in olden times for chimney and window), a person can ascertain the name of his or her future husband or wife. It will prove to be the same as that of the first person seen, or heard named. A piece of laomachan is also valuable for putting under one’s pillow to sleep over.

In this style the villagers, men and boys, went from house to house, preceded in many cases by a piper, and drowning the animosities of the past year in hilarity and merriment.

CHRISTMAS RHYMES (Rann Calluinn).

In general the rhymes used, when seeking admittance, varied but little in different districts. Sometimes an ingenious person made a rhyme suitable to the place and people, and containing allusions to incidents and character that increased the prevailing fun. The following is one of the most common of the class:

The following New-Year’s rhyme must have tried the breath of the speaker and the patience of his listeners considerably. It consists probably of several separate rhymes tagged together, and the allusions it contains to the “big clerk of the street,” etc., make it highly probable the ceremonies of the evening were remains of the Festival of Fools, and had their origin in the streets of Rome. The rhyme is given as it came to hand.

The following rhyme was appointed for all who had nothing else to say:

NEW-YEAR NIGHT.

It was a practice not to be neglected to keep the fire alive in the house all night. No one was to come near it but a friend, and, as an additional security against its going out, candles were kept burning. Hence, the other name given to the night, Oidhche Choinnle, i.e. candle night. There was a rhyme (which the writer has not been able to recover) to be said when feeding the fire. By this means evil was kept away from the house for the subsequent year. If the fire went out no kindling could be got next day from any of the neighbours. The first day of the year was a quarter-day, on which it was unlucky to give fire out of the house. It gave the means to witches and evilly-disposed people to do irreparable mischief to the cattle and their produce. The dying out of the fire was, therefore, a serious inconvenience in days when lucifer matches were unknown. The women made use of the occasion to bake bread for next day.

Old men, provident of the future, watched with interest the wind the old year left (ghaoth dh’fhàgas a Choluinn). That would prove the prevailing wind during the ensuing year, and indicated its chief characteristics, as the rhyme says:

NEW-YEAR’S DAY

(Latha na Bliadhn’ ùr); also called the Day of Little Christmas (Latha nollaige bige).

On getting up in the morning the head of the family treated all the household to a dram. After that a spoonful of half-boiled sowens (cabhruich leth-bhruich), the poorest food imaginable, was given for luck. Sometimes the sowens were whole boiled, and in some places the well-to-do farmer’s wife left a little over night at the house of every poor man on the farm. The custom of having this dish of sowens was known in the central Highlands, and in Lorn, but does not seem to have extended to Mull, Morven, or the Western Islands. The salutations of the season were duly given by the household to one another, and to every person they met: “A good New Year to you” (Bliadhna mhath ùr dhuit), “The same to you, and many of them” (Mar sin duit fhein is mòran diu). The boys rushed away out, to play at their everlasting game of shinty, and a more sumptuous breakfast than ordinary was prepared.

Nothing was allowed to be put out of the house this day, neither the ashes of the fire nor the sweepings of the house, nor dirty water, nor anything else, however useless, or however much in the way. It was a very serious matter to give fire out of the house to a neighbour whose hearth had become cold, as the doing so, as already said, gave power to the evil-minded to take away the produce from the cattle. Indeed it was ominous that death would occur in the household within the year. Hospinian tells that at Rome, on New-Year’s Day, no one would allow a neighbour to take fire out of his house, or anything composed of iron (Ellis’s Brand’s Antiquities, i. 13).

It was unlucky for a woman to be the first to enter the house, or if the person were empty-handed. A young man entering with an armful of corn was an excellent sign of the year’s prosperity; but a decrepit old woman asking kindling for her fire was a most deplorable omen. The same belief that some people are lucky as first-foots led to the “curious custom” in the Isle of Man known as the Quaaltagh (Ellis’s Brand, i. 538). That word differs only in spelling from the Gaelic còmhalaich, or còmhaltaich, a person, the meeting of whom is ominous of good or bad fortune. To ensure a good omen, a party of young men went in every parish in Man from house to house on New-Year’s Day singing luck to the inmates. It was deemed an omen of good to see the sun this day.

Towards mid-day the men gathered in some suitable place, the largest and most level field in the neighbourhood, for the great Shinty Match (Iomain mhòr). A match was formed between adjoining districts and villages, or, if the village itself was populous, by two leaders, appointed for the purpose, choosing one alternately from those present till the whole gathering was gone through. It was decided who was to choose first by the one leader holding his shinty stick (caman) vertically, or up and down, and throwing it to the other, who caught somewhere about the middle. The two then grasped the stick alternately, the hand of the one being close above that of the other, and the one who grasped the end, so that he could swing the stick three times round his head, had the first choice. Sometimes, to decide the point quickly, one asked the other which he would have, “foot or palm” (chas no bhas), meaning which end of the shinty stick he made choice of, the “foot” being that by which the stick is held, the “palm,” that with which the ball is struck. On a choice being made the club was thrown into the air, and the matter was decided by the point of it that pointed southwardly more summarily than by the “heads and tails” of a copper coin.

In the game a wooden ball (ball) was used in the daytime, when men could guard themselves against being struck by it; but when the game was played at night, in the dusk or by moonlight, a ball of hair or thread called crìod was used. The object of the game was to drive this ball “hail” (thaghal), that is between and beyond certain marks at the two ends of the field. Of course the two parties had opposite “hails.” The play commenced by setting the ball in a suitable place, and giving the first blow, called Buille Bhàraich, to the chief, proprietor, priest, minister or other principal person present. A player stood opposite to him, and if the ball was missed at the first blow, as sometimes happened from excessive deliberation, want of skill and practice, etc., whipped it away in the other direction, and, without further ceremony, every person ran after it as he chose, and hit it as he got opportunity. Two or three of the best players on each side were kept behind their party, “behind hail” (air chùl taghail), as in the game of football, to act as a guard when their adversaries too nearly sent the ball “home.” Sometimes the company was so fairly matched that nightfall put an end to the sport without either party winning “a hail.” Every player got as much exercise as he felt inclined for. Some did little more than walk about the field, others could hardly drag themselves home at night with fatigue. Much can be said in behalf of the game as the best of out-door sports, combining healthy, and, when the player chooses, strong exercise with freedom from horse-play.

A piper played before and after the game. The women, dressed in their best, stood looking on. At the end the chief, or laird, gave a dinner, or, failing him, a number were entertained in the house of a mutual friend. In the evening a ball was given, open to all.

New-Year’s Day, like the first of every quarter of the year (h-uile latha ceann ràidhe), was a great saining day, i.e. a day for taking precautions for keeping away evil from the cattle and houses. Certain ceremonies were carefully observed by the superstitious; juniper was burnt in the byre, the animals were marked with tar, the houses were decked with mountain ash, and the door-posts and walls, and even the cattle, were sprinkled with wine.

By New-Year’s Day the nights have begun to shorten considerably. It is a Gaelic saying that there is “an hour of greater length to the day of little Christmas” (uair ri latha Nollaige bige), and this is explained to be “the hour of the fuel lad” (uair a ghille chonnaidh). The word uair means “a time” as well as an hour; and the meaning perhaps is, that owing to the lengthening of the day the person bringing in firewood has to go one trip less frequently for fuel to make a light.

Christmas Day (La Nollaige mòire) was said to lengthen fad coisichean coilich, a cock’s stride or walk, and the expression was explained to mean that the bird had time to walk to a neighbour’s dunghill, crow three times, and come back again.

The same sayings are current in the Highlands as in the south. “A green Yule makes a fat kirkyard” has its literal counterpart in ’S i Nollaig uaine ni an cladh miagh (i.e. reamhar) and in ’S blianach Nollaig gun sneachda (i.e. Lean is Yule without snow).

There is no reason to suppose that any Pagan rites connected with the period of the winter solstice were incorporated with the Yule or Nollaig ceremonies. The various names connected with the season are of Christian origin; the superstitions, as that of refusing fire and allowing nothing out of the house, can be traced to Rome; the custom of a man dressing himself in a cow’s hide, as suggested by Brand (i. 8), with every probability, is a vestige of the Festival of Fools, long held in Paris on New-Year’s Day, and of which it was part that men clothed themselves in cow-hide (vestiuntur pellibus pecudum). The holding of a singed piece of skin to the noses of the wassailers is more likely to have originated in the frolics of the same festival than in any Pagan observance. The meaning of the custom is obscure, but its character is too whimsical to be associated with any Pagan rite.

THE TWELVE DAYS OF CHRISTMAS.

(Da latha dheug na Nollaig.)

These were the twelve days commencing from the Nativity or Big Nollaig, and were deemed to represent, in respect of weather, the twelve months of the year. Some say the days should be calculated from New-Year’s Day. “Whatever weather there is on the twelve days beginning with the last of December, the same will agree with the weather in the corresponding month” (Pennant). In Ireland the twelve days were held to stand for the twelve Apostles, and “on Twelve Eve in Christmas they used to set up as high as they can a sieve of oats, and in it a dozen of candles all round, and in the centre one larger, all lighted. This in memory of our Saviour and his Apostles, lights of the world” (Brand, i. 25). The same, no doubt, was the origin of the Highland notation. They are also looked upon as the twelve days between old and new style. There is evidence in the saying, that “an hour and a half is added to Candle Day” (uair gu leth ri Latha Coinnle), that some such custom was known of old in Scotland as in Ireland; and though Candle Night (Oidhche Choinnle) is now a name given to Christmas night, there is a probability it originally denoted Twelve Eve, or the Feast of the Epiphany.

WINTER SEASON.

The period during which the above festivities occurred, and sometime before and after Nollaig, was popularly known as “The Black cuttings of Christmas” (Gearra dubha na Nollaig), from its liability to tempestuous weather. The sky is then lowering and dark, the “level” sun gives little warmth, and high winds prevail.

The Dùlachd of winter extended over the six weeks preceding the middle of spring (gu meadhon an Earraich). Some (e.g. Highland Society’s Dict., sub voce) call it Dùbhlachd, and translate it simply “wintry weather.” Others call it Dùdlachd, and denote by it “the depth of winter.” The word is a contraction of duaithealachd, from duaitheil, extremely coarse and rough, an epithet applied to stormy weather. Thus, nach duaitheil an t-sìd? is it not desperately coarse weather? Ceann reamhar an duaithealais, “the thick end of coarseness,” denotes extremely rough usage.

Handsel Monday (Di-luain an t-sainnseil) was the first Monday after New-Year’s Day, and was the principal day in the whole year for deachainn, i.e. for making trials and forecasts of the future. It derives its name from sainnseal, Scot. handsel, a present or gift in his hand given this day to every visitor to a house. Sainnseal sona is “a happy or fortunate present.” In some districts cock-fighting was practised in the schools, and children brought a gratuity (in money) to the schoolmaster. In other districts this was not the case till Shrovetide (Di-màirt Inid).

In Skye the day is called Di-luain Traosda; and it is from it the 12 days, corresponding in weather to the 12 months of the year, are computed.

FEBRUARY (Faoilleach).

The name Faoilleach is said to mean “Wolf-month,” from faol, wild, whence also faol-chu, a wolf, lit. a wild dog. It embraces the last 14 days of winter and the first 14 days of spring, the former being called the winter Faoilleach (am Faoilleach geamhraidh), the latter the spring (am Faoilleach Earraich). It is also known as “the Dead Month” (a’ marbh mhiòs). Winter is still ruling the inverted year, and all nature seems to be dead. The trees have long lost their foliage, the grass gives no sign as yet of returning growth, and fields and fallows are bare. When over all there is a coating of snow the name of “Dead Month” appears peculiarly appropriate. The time, being reckoned by old style, corresponds almost exactly to the present month of February, and the saying that “every month in the year curses a fair February.” is amply corroborated by the Gaelic sayings regarding it. Old men liked it to commence with a heavy storm and end with a calm, or (to use their own words) “to come in with the head of a serpent and go out with a peacock’s tail” (tighinn a stigh le ceann na nathrach, ’s dol amach le earball peucaig). There are to be three days of calm during it, according to the saying, “Three days of August in February, and three days of February in August” (trì la Faoilleach san Iuchar, ’s trì la Iuchar san Fhaoilleach). Both the February calm and the August storm, however, have become proverbial for their uncertainty and short duration. “February calm and August wind” (Fia’ Faoilleach is gaoth Iuchar) are the most fickle things in the world. In the north it was said mist in February means snow next day (Ceò san Fhaoilleach, sneachda maireach). Old people said, “Better the land be plundered than a calm morning in February.”[56] The most unreasonable of expectations is to expect black “brambles in February” (smeuran dubha san Fhaoilleach).

It is unfortunate if the heat of this season is such, as old men say they have seen it, that the cattle run with the heat; but it is a healthy sign of the season if men go about with their hands wrinkled with the cold till they resemble an animal’s hoof, and kept in their pockets (anciently belts) for warmth.

It was said to be as unnatural to hear thunder at this time as to hear a calf lowing in its mother’s womb (laogh a geumraich am broinn a mhàthiar).

Earrach beag nam Faochag.

“The little Spring of Whelks” is the period from Christmas (Nollaig) to St Bride’s day, or beginning of February. That species of shellfish is then at its best, and the soup made from it, called siabh or brochan fhaochag, was deemed as good as flesh.

ST. BRIDE’S DAY.

St. Bridget’s, or St. Bride’s day (Feill Brìde, Brithid) is the first day of spring, consequently the middle of the Faoilleach, the 1st of February, O.S., but the 13th New Style. It is frequently confounded with Candlemas, but that day is the 2nd February, whereas St. Bride’s Day is the 1st—this mistake is made by Martin (West. Isl., 1716, p. 119). He says that on the 2nd of February “the mistress and servants of each family take a sheaf of oats, and dress it up in woman’s apparel, put it in a large basket, and lay a wooden club by it, and this they call Briid’s Bed; and then the mistress and servants cry three times, Briid is come, Briid is welcome” (Brand, i. 56). The custom is long extinct in the parts of the Highlands with which the writer is acquainted and the only particulars connected with it he has heard are, that on St. Bride’s Day a bed of birch twigs (leaba bharraich) was made by the women, and that they then cried at the door, “Bride, Bride, come in, your bed is ready” (Brìde, Brìde, thig astigh, tha do leaba dean-te).

As in the case of many Gaelic festivals, ceremonies, and other antiquities, the origin of St. Bride’s Day is to be traced directly to Ireland. St. Bridget, we are told, was the first nun in Ireland, and founded her first cell where the city of Kildare now stands, in 585. She was a native of Ulster, and, after building monasteries and performing miracles, became Patroness of Ireland. In 1185 her body was found in the same vault with those of St. Patrick and St. Columba. A well near her church in Fleet Street, London, gave its name, Bridewell, to a palace given by Edward VI. to the city, for a workhouse and a house of correction. The honoured name of St. Bride, who during many ages was celebrated for her sanctity and piety, has thus by accident become associated with the criminal population.

It is a sign of the approaching spring that on this day the raven begins to build, and larks sing with a clearer voice. It has been explained in another part of this work, that there was a belief, the serpent had to come out of its hole seven days previous. The rhyme regarding the raven ran:

The corrections of the observations which it embodies is confirmed by White (Nat. Hist. of Selborne), who gives Feb. 14-17 as the period at which the raven builds.

In Tiree this was the day on which cock-fighting was practised, and gratuities were given to the schoolmaster. In the evening it was customary to have a ball.

The period from Nollaig to Feill Brìde, was reckoned at one month and three days.

SPRING.

The Faoilleach introduces a series of names, peculiarly Celtic, and (so far as the writer is aware), having no equivalents in any other language. The divisions of time denoted by them extend to the beginning of summer, each name, in accordance with the genius of the Gaelic language, as shown in names of places, nicknames, etc., is descriptive. Almanacs have long superseded the ancient notations, and it is not now an easy matter to arrange them in their proper order, or to reconcile the accounts retained by tradition with Almanac notation. The length of time ascribed to each seems to have varied in different districts.

Feadag, THE WHISTLE,

succeeds immediately to the Wolf-month (Faoilleach), though some place it before Cailleach, and about St. Patrick’s day. In M’Leod and Dewar’s Dictionary it is said to be the third week in February, which reckoned by O.S. is from 1st to 8th March, N.S. It is thus made to succeed the Faoilleach, and the same seems the opinion of Hugh M’Lachlan, of Aberdeen, a most learned and accomplished man. In a poem on spring, he says:

It extends to three days, and its boisterous character is shewn in the rhyme:

Gobag, THE SHARP-BILLED ONE,

lasts for a week, others say three, four, and nine days.

Sguabag, THE SWEEPER,

seems the same as the three days called “The Eddy winds of the Storm Month” (Ioma-sguaba na Faoilleach). The appearance of spring is now to be seen, but the bad weather is not yet past. The worst weather comes back occasionally, and there are fewer gusts of wind, uncertain in their coming and duration, that well deserve the name of “Eddy winds from February.”

Gearran, A GELDING, OR PERHAPS Gearan, COMPLAINT.

It is quite possible the latter may have been the original name, as there is always associated with it a period called Caoile, Leanness. It extends over a month, and in Skye is made to succeed to the Faoilleach. There was a rule known to old men, that “the first Tuesday of March (O.S.) is the last Tuesday of Gearran” (a chiad Di-mairt de’n mhàrt an Di-mairt mu dheire de ’n Ghearran). In Tiree, from which the lofty hills of Rum form a conspicuous sight, and to the green appearance of which in frosty weather, their snow-covered summits form a striking contrast, it is said, that at the season “the big mare of Rum turns three times to her colt,” i.e. from cold and hunger. The expression refers to times when a little hardy breed of horses was found in the Western Islands, like Shetland ponies, and left to shift for themselves during winter. It was also said:

The beast will pull through if it can “lift its ear higher than its horn,” which at that age (one year), it ought to do.

The high winds coming at this time, and well known in the south as the winds of March, were said in their violence to “send seven bolls of driving snow through one augur hole” (Chuireadh an Gearran seachd bola catha, stigh air aon toll tora, leis co gailbheach’s a bha ’n t-sìd).

The Gearran is deemed the best time for sowing seeds. The high winds dry the ground, and all agricultural seeds are the better of being put in “a dry bed” (leaba thioram do’ n t-sìol). It is a disputed point what precise date.

The Perthshire rhyme also testifies to the still stormy character of the weather. The calling the Gearran short supports the opinion of many, that it was properly only seven days:

Some say the Gearran is the month before St. Patrick’s day O.S., others fourteen days before it and fourteen days after, i.e. before and after 29th March.

A Chailleach, the old wife.

This old wife is the same as the hag of whom people were afraid in harvest, the last done with the shearing had to feed her till next harvest, and to whom boys bid defiance in their New-Year day rhyme, viz.: “The Famine, or Scarcity of the Farm.” In spring she was engaged with a hammer in keeping the grass under.

but the grass grows too fast for her, and in despair she throws the hammer from her, and where it lighted no grass grows.

Trì làithean nan ōisgean, THREE HOG DAYS.

In the rural lore of the south of Scotland, the three hog days are held to be the last three days of March, and to have been borrowed by that month from April (Brand, ii. 42). Dr. Jamieson (Etym. Dict. of Scot. Lang.) says, “Some of the vulgar imagine, that these days receive their designation from the conduct of the Israelites in borrowing the property of the Egyptians.”

There is a Highland explanation also connecting them with the departure from Egypt. They were days borrowed by the Israelites for the killing of the Paschal lamb. “Some went on this side of the hillock, some on that” (Chàidh cuid an taobh so ’n Chnoc, etc.).

They are perhaps the days called in Tiree “trì latha na bo ruaidhe” i.e. “the red cow’s three days.”

Mhàrt, SEED-TIME.

This name is doubtlessly derived from the Latin Mars, in which case it ought to correspond to the month of March, O.S. It does not commence till the 24th of that month. The word has come to signify a busy time of the year, whether seed-time or harvest, usually, however, the former. Saothair a Mhàrt is the “busiest time of spring”; a ghaoth luath luimeineach Mhàrt means “the bare swift March wind,” frequently mentioned in Winter Evening Tales to denote great speed, and a Mhàrt tioram blath means “dry genial March.” It is a favourable sign of the season when the ground is saturated with wet at its beginning. Old men wished,

and deemed it a good sign if the violence of the wind stripped three layers of thatch (trì breathan de thugha) from the houses. The advice for sowing seed now is:

Others say, “though you cannot send a pebble against the north wind” (ged nach cuireadh tu dòirneag an aghaidh na gaoth tuath) you are to sow.

“A night in March is swifter than two in harvest” (Is luaithe oidhche sa Mhàrt na dhà san fhogharadh).

Inid, SHROVETIDE.

The Gaelic name is from Lat. Initium, this being the beginning of Lent. It was always reckoned as “The first Tuesday of the Spring Light” (chiad Di-màirt de’n t-solus Earraich), i.e. of the new moon in spring. It is a moveable feast, and this is a simple way of calculating it. The plan adopted by the English Church is more complicated—Shrovetide is always the seventh Tuesday before Easter, and Easter is “the first Sunday after the first full moon, which happens on or after the 21st March; but if the full moon is on a Sunday, Easter day is the Sunday following.”

Shrovetide was called “an Inid bheadaidh” (shameless Shrovetide), because the day of the festival was held to precede the night, while, in the case of all the other festivals, the night or vigil was held to precede the day. A good reason for this will be found in a natural aversion to begin the austerities of Lent.

It has been already told[65] (art. Diabolus) how Michael Scott, or, according to Skye tradition, Parson Sir Andro of Rigg, near Storr in that island, went to Rome, riding on the devil, and first ascertained from the Pope the rule for calculating the day.

In schools it was the day for cock-fighting, and giving gratuities to the schoolmaster. The latter custom was observed with more correctness on the first Monday of the year, being the day allotted for presents. The practice of cock-fighting is extinct in the Highlands, but presents to the schoolmaster are universally practised. The boy and girl who give the largest donation (and it seldom exceeds a shilling) are declared King and Queen of the school, and have the privilege of asking “a play” (i.e. a holiday) for the school.

The names connected with cock-fighting, still to be found in the Highlands, being Latin, shew the practice is not of native growth. Each boy came to the school with a dunghill cock under his arm. The head of the bird was covered and its tail taken out, to make it more ready to fight, and fight better when let loose opposite another bird.

Runaway cocks were called fuge, and the name is still given to boys who shirk fighting. Shouts followed the defeated bird of “run, run, cock with one eye” (fuge, fuge, coileach cam), and its owner had to pay a penalty of some pence.

Shrovetide was one of the great days for saining cattle, juniper being burned before them, and other superstitious precautions were taken to keep them free from harm.

Those curious or anxious about their future husbands or wives made a cake of soot (Bonnach sùith, B. Inid), of which they partook, putting the rest below their pillows to dream over.

It was believed that if there was fair weather at Inid it would be foul weather at Easter, and vice versâ, as the rhyme has it:

Carghas, LENT,

is the period from Shrovetide to Easter. It extends to 40 days, and refers to the miraculous fasts of Moses, Elias, and our Lord. The Gaelic mode of calculation was, “Seven short weeks from Shrovetide till Easter” (seachd seachdainean gearr goirid Eadar Inid is Càisg). The name Carghas is a corruption Quadragesima, Ital. Quaresimo, 40, just as Inid is from Initium. Inid a charghuis is just “the beginning of the forty days.”[67]

ST. KESSOCK’S DAY (Féill mo Cheasaig)

was March 10/22. It is said, “On the Feast of St. Kessock every eel is pregnant” (Latha Feill mo Cheasaig bithidh gach easgann torrach).

The Saint was Bishop in Scotland in 560, and has given a name to Kessock Ferry (Port a Cheasaig), near Inverness, and to a market held at Callander, Perthshire, for hiring, on the 22nd March, or 10th old style. The fair is known as “Tenth-day,” but among the Gaelic-speaking population as “Féill mo Cheasaig.” A rock at the west end of the village is known as “Tom a Cheasaig.”

ST. PATRICK’S DAY (Feill Pàruig)

is the middle day of spring and that on which the night and day are of equal length, March 17/29. A certain sign of the day is held in the Hebrides to be a south wind in the morning and a north wind at night.

The saint comes from Ireland to see his parishioners in Barra and other places on the west of Scotland, and has a favourable wind coming and returning. He is in Highland lore described as “Patrick who blessed Ireland” (Pàdruig a bheannaich Eirinn), and is said to have been married to the daughter of Ossian, bard, and last, of the Feinne. He was born A.D. 373, but it is disputed whether his native place was Scotland, or Wales, or England, or France. There can be no question that in Ireland and the Highlands of Scotland the more lively and kindly recollections of him have been retained. Numerous places called after him are found scattered over Scotland, Wales, and Ireland.

After this day (seach gun leum an Fhéill Pàruig) (lit. once Patrick’s Festival has jumped) the limpet is better than the whelk, and is said in consequence to treat it with great indignity.

Another piece of shore information connected with this season is that with the advance of spring “as horses grow lean, crabs grow fat” (mar is caoile ’n t-each, ’s ann is reamhrad am partan). Others have it, “When the horse is lean, the whelk is fat” (Nuair bhios an t-each caol bi ’n fhaochag reamhar.)

The reviving influences of the spring are now making themselves visible, according to the saying, “There is not an herb in the ground, but the length of a mouse’s ear of it is out on St. Patrick’s Day” (Chaneil luibh san talamh, nach’ eil fad cluas luch dhi mach, latha Féil Pàruig).

Old men liked the days immediately preceding it to be stormy, and to see, as they said, “the furrows full of snow, of rain, and the thatch of houses” (a chlaisich làn sneachda, làn uisge, ’s tugha nan tighean).

There are particularly high tides on St. Patrick’s Day, and the annunciation of the Virgin Mary, according to the saying,

Marbhladh na Feill Pàruig, the deadening of St. Patrick’s Day, means the quiet calm waters that sometimes occur at this season; others say Bogmharbhlainn, and say it means the swelling (tòcadh) observable at the time in the sea (from the increasing heat).

LADY DAY (Féill Moire).

This was known as Féill Moire an t-sanais (St. Mary’s Vigil of annunciation) to distinguish it from Féill Moire Mòr (the Big St. Mary’s-day), the assumption of the Virgin, which was the middle day of autumn. It is March 25/April 6.

SHORE OR MAUNDY-THURSDAY.

This was the Thursday before Easter, and was known in the Hebrides as “La Brochain Mhòir,” the Day of the Big Porridge. It was now getting late in the spring, and if the winter had failed to cast a sufficient supply of seaweed on the shores, it was time to resort to extraordinary measures to secure the necessary manure for the land. A large pot of porridge was prepared, with butter and other good ingredients, and taken to the headlands near creeks where seaweed rested. A quantity was poured into the sea from each headland, with certain incantations or rhymes, and in consequence, it was believed, the harbours were full of sea-ware. The ceremony should only be performed in stormy weather. Its object no doubt was, by throwing the produce of the land into the sea, to make the sea throw its produce on the land.

GOOD FRIDAY (Di-haoine na Ceusa).

The Gaelic name means literally Crucifixion Friday. The day was the Friday before Easter, and was observed in memory of our Lord’s Passion. There was hardly any belief that had a stronger hold on the Highlander’s mind than that on no account whatever should iron be put in the ground on this day. So great was the aversion to doing so that the more superstitious extended the prohibition to every Friday. As a matter of course no ploughing was done, and if a burial was to take place, the grave was opened on the previous day, and the earth was settled over the coffin with a wooden shovel. The origin of the observance perhaps was that our Saviour’s sepulchre had been previously prepared, being a new tomb hewn out in the rock.

It was said that if the day be cold, it is colder than any other, in fact the coldest day of the whole year.

EASTER (Càsg).

The proper day for keeping this festival, the anniversary of our Lord’s resurrection, was at one time the cause of bitter controversies in the Christian world. It was first a subject of keen dispute between the Eastern and Western Churches, and again between the Church of Rome and the Irish and British Churches. The feast is moveable, and depends on the time of the first full moon after the vernal equinox. Owing to rectifications of the calendar introduced at Rome, but unknown to the British Churches, two different days had come to be observed, and by the seventh century the discussion as to which day was the correct one had become so warm and the difference so scandalous that the civil powers interfered and the question was settled in favour of the Church of Rome by Oswy, King of Northumbria, at Whitby in 664. The Celtic clergy were accused of being Quartodecimans (a very good word in a controversy), that is, of keeping the festival, according to the Jewish mode of calculation, on the fourteenth day of the month Nizan, whether that day fell on a Sunday or not. The accusation is now universally acknowledged to be ill-founded, but it is likely they followed the Alexandrian rule on the point, by which the Easter festival could not begin till the eighth of March, a rule which had been at one time observed by the Church of Rome itself. Neither the cycle followed during the controversy by the Celtic Church, nor that followed by the Romish Church, is that now prevailing, so that if one day was of more value than another for the festival, both parties were in the wrong.

The rule now observed in the Highlands is “seven short weeks from Shrovetide to Easter,” Shrovetide being “the first Tuesday of the New Moon in Spring,” or, Easter is “the first Sunday of the second wane of the moon in spring” (chiad Di-dòmhnaich de ’n dara earra-dhubh san Earrach).

The name “Càsg” is but the Gaelic form of the Hebrew Pascha. The change of P into C, K, or Q is well known in philology, and the most noticeable difference between the Welsh and Gaelic branches of the Celtic tongue is, that the latter has an aversion which the former has not to p as an initial consonant, preferring c instead. Lhuyd (Arch. Brit., p. 20) says, “It is very remarkable that there are scarce any words in the Irish (besides what are borrowed from the Latin or some other language) that begin with P, insomuch that in an ancient alphabetical vocabulary I have by me, that letter is omitted; and no less observable that a considerable number of those words whose initial letter it is in the British begin in that language with a K or (as they constantly write) C.” He then quotes as illustrations, W. Pask, Easter, Ir. Kasg; Corn. Peneas, Whitsuntide, Ir. Kinkis; W. pen, a head, Ir. keann, etc. He quotes from Vassius instances of a similar change in the interrogatives and relatives of the Greek Ionic dialect. A readily recognised instance is the change of the Greek ἱππος into the Latin equus.

On Càisg Sunday, the sun was believed in the Highlands of Scotland, as in Ireland, to dance soon after rising, and many respectable people are to be found who say they saw the phenomenon. The alternate glancing and darkening of the sun on a fitful spring morning was no doubt often so construed by those who stared too long at a brilliant object.

A liability to north wind has made “Gaoth tuath na Càisg” (the north wind of Easter) a proverbial expression. The most trying part of the spring is still to come, and it is an expression employed to moderate excessive joy, and to put people in mind that the cares of life are not all past yet, that there is “a long spring after Easter” (Earrach fada ’n déigh Càisg).

Another expression, reminding men that it is not too late to acquit themselves of their duties or hold rejoicings, is “a Feast can be kept after Easter” (Gleidhear cuirm an déigh Càisg).

Easter was a particular holiday with the young, and preparations were made for it long beforehand. Every egg that a boy could steal or lay his hands on unobserved, was hid by him in the thatch of an out-house, or in a hole in the ground, under a turf, or wherever else he thought his treasure would remain undiscovered. When the great day came, he and his companions, each with his collection of eggs, went away to some retired spot, at a distance from the houses, and beyond the probability of being disturbed by their seniors. Here they had a grand feast of pancakes, and enjoyed themselves uncontrolled. The eggs were deemed of no use unless they had been secreted or stolen, and this originated, perhaps, in a feeling that with honestly or openly got eggs the feast was not so entirely independent of the older people.

The reason why eggs were used at all is supposed to be from an egg being emblematic of the resurrection.

Two Sundays were held as Càisg. The second was distinguished only by a better feast than usual in the houses. The first Sunday was called “Big Easter” (Càisg mhòr), and the Sunday after it “Old Men’s Easter” (Càisg nam bodach), corresponding to the English Low Sunday.

ALL-FOOLS’ DAY

is variously known in the Highlands as “The Day of going on Fools’ errands” (Latha na Gogaireachd), “Cuckoo Day” (Latha na Cuthaig), and “The Day of Tricks” (Latha nan Car). Its observance is on the first of April, N.S., and this argues its very recent introduction into the Highlands. The tricks and practices of the day are the same as elsewhere, the sending of acquaintances on sleeveless errands. Sometimes, but only rarely, there is some ingenuity displayed in taking advantage of local and passing events to throw the most suspicious off their guard, and send them on fools’ messages. It is not difficult to impose on men with a serious face and a plausible story, when it entails but little trouble to see if so likely a story or so pressing a message is real.

Bailc na Bealltainn.

The fourteen days preceding May-day were known as Bailc na Bealltainn, “the balk or ridge of Beltane.” The sea is then as it were awakening, and is more obedient to the winds. Balc means a ridge, also swelling, strength, onfhadh, foghail. The weather threatens frequently without breaking.

Bealltainn, MAY-DAY.

The advent of summer is everywhere hailed with joy, and the day recognised as the first of the season is naturally one of the most important days in the calendar. Another day of equal importance in the Celtic year was the first of winter, and the names of the two days, Bealltainn and Samhainn, cannot be traced, like so many other notations of the year, to ecclesiastical sources. Like the names Faoilleach (the Storm month), and Iuchar (the Hot month), they are best referred to Pagan times.

Bealltainn is commonly derived from Bel teine, the fire of Baal or Belus, and is considered as sure evidence of the Phoenician origin of the sacred institutions of the Celts. It is a derivation, however, that wants all the elements of probability. There is a want of evidence that the Phoenician Baal, or any deity resembling him, was ever worshipped by the Celts, or that the fires kindled and observances practised on this day had any connection with the attributes ascribed to him; while the analogies of the Gaelic language prevent the supposition that “the fire of Baal” could be rendered “Beall-tein’.” Besides, the word is not Beall-teine, but Bealltainn, a difference in the final syllable sufficiently noticeable to a Gaelic ear. It is the difference between the single and double sound of n. Baal and Ashtoreth were the supreme male and female divinities of the Phoenician and Canaanitish nations, and are supposed to be personifications of the generative and receptive powers of nature, and to be identical with the sun and moon. In Hebrew and kindred languages, Baal is a mere title of honour, signifying “Lord or Possessor of,” and in Gaelic the Sun and Moon are both feminine nouns, merely descriptive of the appearance of these planets. There is nothing that indicates their ever having been looked on as divinities, or ascribing to them any attribute such as belonged to Baal. In Gaelic the noun limited or possessed always precedes the qualifying noun, and it would require strong evidence to show that “Baal’s fire” could be “Beltane” i.e. Baal-fire, and not “Tane-Bel” (Teine-Bhàil), i.e. fire of Baal. The contrast between English and Gaelic in this respect is often very striking, and a safe rule in etymology!

The final syllable is the same as in Samhainn, the end of summer, which is thought by Lhuyd, to be from fuinn (connected with the Latin finis), an end. In this case t is simply accresive. L has an attraction for t after it, as m has for b, and n for d. Beall is likely connected with the other words that have bl in their initial syllable, with a root idea of separating, parting, opening; and claims kindred with blàth, a blossom, bial, the mouth, bealach, a pass, more than with the title of a Semitic deity. It is the opening day of the year, when the rigours of winter are parted with, and the seasons, as it were, separate. Behind lay winter, cold, and unfruitfulness of the earth, but before was warmth and fertility and beauty. The final syllable has no more to do with fire than it has in gamhainn, a stirk, calltainn, a hazel tree.

It was said, with truth, that whatever day New Year day fell upon, Beltane fell on the day following. “New Year’s day to-day, Beltane to-morrow” (Nollaig an diugh, Bealltainn a màireach).

There is sometimes very cold weather at this time, and this was denoted by the expression “The mournful linnet of Beltane” (Glaisein cumhach na Bealltainn). Snow at the time was known as “Snow about the mouth of May-day” (Sneachda mu bhial na Bealltainn).

On the night preceding it, i.e. Beltane eve, witches were awake, and went about as hares, to take their produce (toradh), milk, butter, and cheese, from the cows. People who believed in their existence were as earnest to counteract their machinations. Tar was put behind the ears of the cattle, and at the root of the tail; the animals were sprinkled with urine to keep them from fighting; the house was hung with rowan-tree, etc., etc. By having a churning past and a cheese made (muidhe ’s mulchag) before sunrise, the Fairies were kept away from the farm for the rest of the year. If any came to ask for rennet (deasgainn), it should not on any account be given to them. It would be used for taking the substance out of the giver’s own dairy produce.

When the day arrived, it was necessary, whatever the state of the weather, though people sank ankle deep in snow, or (as the Gaelic idiom has it), though snow came over the shoes, to get the cattle away to the summer pastures among the hills (àiridh).

No fire on this, or any other first day of a quarter of the year (latha ceann raidhe), was given out of the house. It gave the borrower the power of taking the milk from the lender’s cows.

People had a feast in their houses with better food than ordinary. The arrival of the cuckoo was looked for, and boys shouted “Cuckoo! cried the ‘gowk’ on yellow Beltane day” (Gug-ùg ars’ a Chuthag latha buidhe Bealltainn).

In the Statistical Account of Scotland, 1794, XI. 620, there is a custom described, as existing at Callander in Perthshire, of boys going on this day to the moors, and kneading a cake of oatmeal, one part of which was daubed black. The bread was then put in a bonnet, from which each drew a piece. The boy, to whose share the black piece falls, is obliged to leap three times through the flames, at which the repast was prepared. The minister of Logierait (V. 84), says the festivities of the day were chiefly observed by herdsmen, and Pennant (Tour, p. 90), describes a similar feast of herdsmen, in which pieces of the cake were offered to the fox, hoodie-crow, eagle, etc., with a request that they would avoid the cattle during the year. In the south of Ireland, we are told (vide Brand on May-day customs), cows were made to leap over lighted straw. All this has been referred to Baal and human sacrifices, and the going through the fire and other observances, have been assumed to be the remains of Syrian rites. They seem to be nothing but parts of the numerous superstitious observances for the saining of cattle.

A Sop seilbhe, or “Possession Wisp,” was burned on land, of which possession was to be taken at Whitsunday. The wisp was of fodder or heather. The burning of it on the land, as already explained, insured possession (bha e ceangailte aige tuille).

Céitein, MONTH OF MAY.

This is the month of which Beltane day, O.S., forms the centre, and consists of the last fourteen days of spring, and the first fourteen days of summer. Its derivation is from ceud, first, it being the beginning of the summer season. It is identical with the present month of May. “Better is snow in May, than to be without rain” (’S fhearr sneachda sa Céitein na bhi gun uisge).

The month preceding Beltane was called Céitein na h-òinsich, “the May-days of the silly one,” the word òinseach denoting both a silly woman and a cuckoo. The habits of the bird, which has no nest of its own, and goes about all day aimlessly uttering its peculiar note, has earned for it the reputation of being silly, as is witnessed also by the Scotch word gowk, and premature glimpses of fine weather are supposed to mislead it as to the advent of May.

WHISTLING WEEK.

Seachdain na feadaireachd, the whistling week, is the first week of summer, and the name is in allusion to the loud, whistling winds, that are apt to occur at the time. It is unlucky during it to proceed with field operations.

Màigh, MAY.

The name Màigh, for the first month of summer, is quite common in the Highlands, and is to be found in songs and proverbs. This is mentioned as shewing incontestably that Roman (or rather ecclesiastical) notations of time were adopted into the ancient Celtic calendar.

THE AVOIDING DAY OF THE YEAR.

(Latha seachnach na Bliadhna.)

This is the third day of summer, and its name is almost the only part of the beliefs concerning it, that now survives. The writer searched far and wide for an explanation of the name, and only once heard one that was satisfactory. It was on this day that the fallen angels were expelled from Paradise, and on it people should avoid doing any kind of evil. If caught in the act, they will be similarly expelled from the regions of forgiveness, and be visited with “judgement without mercy.” If it falls on a Friday, it is unlucky to go on a journey.

Pennant says about it, “The fourteenth May is unlucky, and the day on which it falls.”

Caingis, WHITSUNTIDE, PENTECOST.

This and Martinmas are the two principal term days in Scotland, at which half-yearly servants enter on their duties, and at which removals take place. At Whitsunday term (old style) especially, the 25th of May, the towns of Scotland present an animated appearance from the number of removals, or changes of residences. The streets are crowded with household goods being removed from one house to another. Tenants at will are removed and leases expire at this term.

In Lorn, and the districts to the south of it, along by Lochfyneside, the term is called Feill Breunain. St. Brendan the Elder, from whom the name is derived, was abbot of Clonfest in Ireland A.D. 578. His day is May 16-28. Kilbrandon parish (in Gaelic Sgìreachd a Chuain, the parish of the ocean) in the west of Argyllshire, derives its name from him, and there is a farm in the island of Mull of the same name. History records that the saint with 14 companions once made a voyage in search of Paradise, and in stormy weather, when the sea is rough and the sky inclement, and the earth is hid with driving showers [it excites a smile], that he came north in the hope of finding it. There are days indeed in summer in the Hebrides, when a glory covers the sea and sky and the hills “that encircle the sea,” when he might think that he was on the way.[70]

In Sutherlandshire, people reckon by the Feill Chelzie, a market held on Tuesday of the term, deriving its name from a wool manufactory, now discontinued, called New Kelso, near Loch Carron.

The names Caingis, Whitsuntide, and Pentecost, are modifications of one and the same word. Pentecost became pencas in Cornish, in Gaelic (which represents p of the Welsh dialects by c) caingis (Kinkis), as pascha became W. pâsk, Gael. Càisg (Kasg). The Gaelic c or k sound is represented in the Saxon tongue by wh. Thus we have cuibhle (cuile), wheel; cuip, whip; ciod, what?; cuilein, whelp; co, who?; cuist, wheesht! be quiet!; caoin, whine; etc. So cencas has become Whitsun. The feast has no name in the languages of Western Europe, but such as are derivations of the Greek word. The English name has been thought to be an exception, and to be, therefore, of modern origin. From the light thrown upon it by the Celtic languages, we infer that it is of the same origin as the rest.

Caingis is reckoned to be “at the end of a fortnight of summer.”

Feill-Sheathain, ST. JOHN’S OR MID-SUMMER’S EVE, 24TH JUNE-6TH JULY.

On this day, the cuckoo was said to enter its winter house (theid a chuthag na tigh geamhraidh). It is not natural for its song to be heard after this. The bird may be seen, but it is not heard. It is, like the landrail, stonechat, or other birds that disappear in winter, one of the seven sleepers, who were believed to pass the winter underground.

Seathan, Swithin, is the old form of the name John, the common form being Iain, Eòin, and in Islay Eathin. It still survives in the name of the Clan Maclean, Mac-ill’-sheathain, also written MacGhilleòin. A former minister of Kilmore in Mull is still remembered as Maighsthir Seathain, and an exceedingly plaintive song, composed to her husband, who had been betrayed and executed for piracy, by his widow, begins “Swithin is to-night a dead one.”

the names being those now denoted by John.

Mios crochadh nan Con, DOG-DAYS.

(Lit. month for hanging dogs.)

This is but a boyish and sportive name given to the month preceding Lùnasdal, or first of August, the time of greatest scarcity with the poor. The stores of last harvest are exhausted, and the new supplies are not yet come in. If there is a scarcity of food for the dogs, it is recommended as the best thing that can be done, to hang them. Besides, the excessive heat makes it advisable to get rid of all superfluous dogs.

Latha Martainn Builg, TRANSLATION OF MARTIN.

(Lit. Martin of the Bag’s Day.)

July 4-16 received its title of the Translation of Martin from being the day on which the remains of St. Martin, Bishop of Tours, 397, “the apostle of the Gauls” (who also gives his name to the Martinmas term) were transferred to the Cathedral of Tours. In Scotland the day is called St. Martin of Bullions Day, and it was a proverb that if the deer rise dry and lie down dry on it, that is if the morning and evening be dry, it will be a dry season till harvest; and it was a general belief over Europe that rain on this day betokened wet weather for the next twenty days.

The Day of St. Martin of the Bag is commonly translated St. Swithin’s day, which is the 15th. St. Swithin was Bishop of Winchester, and no name of an English Bishop is found in the Gaelic calendar.

Lùnasdal, LAMMAS, AUGUST 1-12TH.

This, being a quarter day, formed a great day with old women for saining cattle, and performing those ceremonies by which evil was to be kept away from them for the next three months. Tar was put on their tails and ears, charms (òradh) were said at their udders, red and blue threads were put on their tails, and various observances were gone through with balls of hair (rolag), plants, fire about the earthenware pipkins (crogain) in which milk or butter was to be put, etc. Curds and butter were specially prepared for a great feast held this day, at which it was highly important that everyone got as much as he cared for.

On Lammas day, the gad-fly “loses one of its eyes” (Latha Lùnasdal caillidh chreithleag an leth shùil). The creature is not so vicious after this date.

Lùnasdal is not a word of Gaelic origin, at least no satisfactory Gaelic etymology can be given for it. It is perhaps a contraction of the Latin, luna augustalis, the August moon. The Roman month was lunar, and was reckoned from the first appearance of the moon’s slender crescent in the sky. The moon in the harvest months is of more consequence to the husbandman than at any other season, and has always been taken notice of for its splendour. The temperature of the night air has much to do with this. The Gaelic bears its own testimony to it, in giving distinctive names to the autumn moon.

The corresponding English name, Lammas, had very likely the same origin, and it is a contraction of Lunamas. The derivation of it from Lamb-mas is an “affectation of punning,” and that suggested by Gen. Vallancey from La-ith-mas, “a day of eating fruit,” is extremely fanciful. The omission of n in the middle of a word, for the sake of brevity or from inadvertence, frequently occurs. So g has been elided in Lùnasdal. Augustus, which was adopted as the name of the sixth month B.C. 6, became east in Cornish and eost in Armoric.

Iuchar, THE HOT MONTH (i.e. AUGUST).

The Iuchar consists of 14 days of summer and 14 days of autumn, and Lammas Day, O.S., being the first of autumn, corresponds to the present month of August. It is regarded, in point of weather, as the opposite of Faoilleach, the “storm month” of February.

The name is derived from an obsolete verb fiuchadh to be hot. Lhuyd (Archæolog. Brit.) renders fiuchaeh, boiling, and fiuchadh, a spring, scatebra. In another place he gives fiuchadh as an equivalent of the Latin æstus. In some districts of the north, the name of the season is still called Fiuchar. Linlithgow, celebrated for its wells, is known in the Highlands as Gleann Iuch, and the Linlithgow measures are called tomhaís Ghlinn Iuch. The dropping of f initial, as in the case of the Greek digamma, is too common to need illustration.

Fèill Moire, ASSUMPTION DAY.

This is the middle day of autumn (latha meadhon an fhogharaidh), August 15-27. It was counted a greater day than St. Mary’s Day (Féill Moire) in spring, and was called “the Big St. Mary’s Day.” Harvest operations were now vigorously pushed forward, and hence the saying, “Big St Mary’s Feast in harvest, sheaf and binding and men with their coats off” (an Fhéill Mhoire mòr a’s t-fhogharadh sguab ’us ceangal ’s daoin’ as an léintean).

Féill Ròid, ROODMAS, SEPTEMBER 14-26.

This day is the first of the rutting season among deer, and it was held that if the night before it (oidhche na Féill Ròid), be wet, or (as it was expressed), “if the deer took his head wet into the rutting season” (ma bheir e cheann fliuch san dàmhair), there will be a month after it of dry weather, and the farmer need be under no apprehension as to securing his crops. The belling of red deer among the hills on this night is magnificent.

The night succeeding Roodmas was called “the night of the nut,” “the night of the Holy Nut” (oidhche na cnò, na cnò Naomh), a name, the reason of which is doubtful. Some say it arises from this night dividing harvest in unequal halves, as the kernel is divided in the nut. Brand (i. 353) mentions a custom of going a nutting upon Rood Day, and it seems to have been a popular belief that on this day the devil goes a nutting. This does not explain why the nut is called the Holy Nut.

The Holy Rood is the same as the Cross.

MICHAELMAS (Feill Mìcheil)

is also known in the Roman Catholic districts of the Highlands, as “the Riding Day” (latha na marcachd). On the level green of Borg (machaire Bhorg), in Barra, a great race is held, the women bringing the horses, and sitting behind the men on horseback. In the scamper that ensues, it is a lucky sign if the woman tumbles off. All the expenses of the festivity are borne by the women, each of whom takes with her to the racecourse a large thick bannock of oatmeal, made with treacle, butter, etc.

Samhain, HALLOWMAS,

is the first day of winter, and is also known as All-Saints’ Day (Latha nan uile Naomh), Nov. 1-13. It was a sign of a bad winter if it fell upon a Wednesday, according to the saying: “When Hallowmas is on Wednesday, it is afflictive after it” (Nuair is Di-ciadaìn an t-samhainn is iargaineach na déigh).

The coming of winter was hailed with more fun and merriment than any other season of the year. The cold was now fairly set in, the fruits of the summer, down to the very nuts, were gathered, and the young became desirous of learning their fate with regard to that subject of anxiety in every age, their future husbands and wives. This natural welcoming of winter explains the ceremonies of the day, and the games of the evening. Hardly any of them have reference to the practices or deities of the nations of antiquity or to Scripture, and this explanation must be sought for in Pagan times.

On the last day of autumn children gathered ferns, tar-barrels, the long thin stalks called gàinisg, and everything suitable for a bonfire. These were placed in a heap on some eminence near the house, and in the evening set fire to. The fires were called Samhnagan. There was one for each house, and it was an object of ambition who should have the biggest. Whole districts were brilliant with bonfires, and their glare across a Highland loch, and from many eminences, formed an exceedingly picturesque scene. Some find in them traces of the worship of the invariable Baal, but there is no reason to look upon them otherwise than as the natural and defiant welcome of the season, in which fires are most required, when the heat of the year is departed, and cold and frost and rushing winds cover all things with gloom. Bonfires are kindled on all occasions of public rejoicing, or excitement, and Hallowmas fires are a natural expression of the change of season. It is possible a deity was originally associated with the practice, but there is now no trace of him in name or practices of this day.

As the evening wore on, the young people gathered to one house, and an almost endless variety of games (cleasan) were resorted to, with the object in every case of divining the future lot of the company. Were they to marry or not, was it to be that year or never, who was to be married first, what like the future husband or wife was to be, their names, trade, colour of hair, size, property, etc.? were questions of great importance, and their answer was a source of never-failing entertainment. The modes of divination are of interest, from the light they throw on the character of the people among whom they prevailed, and from an antiquarian point of view, as remains of Pagan times.

A shoe caught by the tip and thrown over the house, fore-indicates the future by its position on the ground on the other side. In whatever direction the toe points, the thrower will go before long, and it is very unlucky if the shoe be found with the sole uppermost, misfortune is “making for” him. A thin, fine shoe, used in this manner, led the man, fished up from the Green Island, to remark, after some years of silence:

He might well say so, for the owner of the shoe died in a few days.

The white of eggs, dropped in a glass of pure water, indicates by certain marks how many children a person is to have. The impatience and clamour of the children often made the housewife perform this ceremony for them by daylight, and the kindly mother, standing with her face to the window, dropping the white of an egg into a crystal glass of clean water, and surrounded by a group of children, eagerly watching her proceedings, formed a pretty picture.

When the fun of the evening had fairly commenced, the names of eligible, or likely as possible matches, were written on the chimney place, and the young man, who wished to essay his fortune, was blindfolded and led up to the list. Whatever name he put his finger on would prove to be that of his future wife.

Two nuts were put on the fire beside each other, representing two individuals, whose names were made known to the company. As they burned together, or flared up alone, or leaped away from each other, the future marriage of the pair, or haughty rejection of each other, was inferred.

A dish of milk and meal (fuarag, Scot. crowdie), or of beat potatoes, was made, and a ring was concealed in it. Spoons were given to the company, and a vigorous attack was made on the dish. Whoever got the ring would prove to be the first married. This was an excellent way of making the taking of food part of the evening’s merriment.

Apples and a silver sixpence were put in a tub of water. The apples floated on the top, but the coin lay close to the bottom. Whoever was able to lift either in his mouth, and without using his teeth, was counted very lucky, and got the prize to himself.

By taking an apple and going to a room alone, dividing it there into nine pieces against the name of the Father and the Son, eating eight pieces with the back to a looking glass and the face looking over the left shoulder, and then throwing the ninth piece over the same shoulder, the future husband or wife was seen in the glass coming and taking the piece of apple away.

A person, going in the devil’s name to winnow in a barn alone, will see his future partner entering the door.

An unmarried woman, taking a ball of thread and crossing a wall on her way, went to a kiln or other out-house. Here, holding one end of the thread, she threw the ball in the dark into the eye of the kiln (sùil àth), or over one of the rafters or a partition wall, in the name of a sweetheart whom she had before fixed on in her mind, and calling out “who is down there at the end of my little rope?” (co so shìos air ceann mo ròpain?), at the same time she gave the thread a gentle pull. In reply, some one or something pulled the thread at the other end, and a voice called out the name of her future husband. There is a story of a tailor having hid himself in anticipation of this mode of divination being resorted to, and when the ball was thrown he caught it and gave the thread a tug. In answer to the question “who is this at the end of my little rope?” he said, “I am the devil” (Tha mise, ’n deamhan), and the woman to whom this frightful answer was given never tried divination again.

Young women sowed hemp seed (fras lìn) over nine ridges of plough land, saying “I sow hemp seed, and he who is to be my husband, let him come and harrow it” (Tha mi cur fras lìn, ’s am fear bhios na fhear ’dhomh, thigeadh e ’s cliathadh e). On looking back they saw the figure of their future husband. Hallowe’en being the night preceding the first day of a lunar month was always dark, and this ceremony was rendered more awful by a story that a woman once saw herself coming after her, and never recovered from the effects of the vision.

By dipping his shirt sleeve in a well to the south (tobar mu dheas), and then pulling off the shirt and placing it to dry before the fire, the anxious youth, if he does not oversleep himself, will see his sweetheart entering through the night and turning the shirt.

On putting an odd number of keys in a sieve, going to a barn alone, and there riddling them well “with the wrong hand turn” (car tuaitheal), the destined one will come and put the odd key right.

By holding a mouthful of water in the mouth, and going to listen (farcluais) at a neighbour’s window, the first name overheard will prove to be that of one’s intended.

The same knowledge was obtained by biting a piece of the last cart that sent in the corn, and with it in the mouth going, without speaking, to listen (farcluais) under a neighbour’s window.

A common practice was to go and steal kail stocks. Unless the plants are pulled surreptitiously, without the knowledge or consent of their owner, they are of no use for the purpose of divination. A number of young people go together, and having cautiously and with difficulty made their way into a kailyard, pull each one the first stock that comes to hand after bending down. It must be the first that the hand meets. The plant is then taken home and examined by the light, and according to its height, straightness, colour, etc., will be the future husband or wife. A quantity of soil adhering to it signifies money and property. When put for the night above the lintel of the door, it affords indications by the first person entering below it in the morning; and, put below the pillow, it is excellent to dream over.

A straw, drawn at random from a stack, indicates by the number of grains upon it what family a person is to have.

Three ears of corn similarly pulled and placed below the pillow for the night, will cause dreams of the future husband reaping them.

A plate of clean water, one of dirty water, and one empty being placed on the floor, and a napkin thrown over the eyes, the dish in which the person blindfolded puts his forefinger, indicated a maid, or widow, or none at all.

A piece of flesh being buried this night, if any living creature was found in it in the morning, the person burying it would be married; but if not, he never would.

If water, in which the feet had been washed, were kept in the house this night,[72] (and the Fairies were apt to enter the house when that was the case), a person putting a burning peat in it will see the colour of his sweetheart’s hair in it.

If a mouthful of the top sod of the house wall (fòid fàil na h-anainn), or a mouthful from the clod above the lintel of the door (àrd-dorus) be taken into the house in one’s teeth and any hair be found in it, it is of the same colour as that of the future wife of the person who performs the rite.

One of the chief performances of the evening was for young women to go to a Boundary Stream (allt crìche), (if between two neighbouring proprietors so much the better,) and with closed eyes to lift from it three stones between the middle finger and thumb, saying these words:

The stones were for putting below the head when going to sleep.

Many other modes of divination were practised too tedious to mention, by slices from the plough, different metals, eating a stolen raw salt herring, sprinkling corn in front of the bed, etc., etc. These observances can hardly be characterised as superstitions; they proceeded from a spirit of fun more than from any belief in their efficacy. There are in every community many weak and simple people who are easily imposed on, and made to believe almost anything; but the divinations of Hallowe’en left an abiding impression on few minds.

Feill Fionnain.

St. Finan’s Eve is the longest night in the year, and hence it is said of a very stupid person, “he is as dark as the night of St. Finan, and that night is pretty dark” (Tha e co dorcha ri oidhche Feill Fionnain, ’s tha ’n oidhche sin glè dhorcha). The shortest day is called, in the Mackay country, the extreme north of Sutherlandshire, “The Day of the Three Suppers” (Latha nan trì suipeirean).

On this night it was said “the rain is wine and the stones are cheese” (Tha ’n t-uisge na fhìon ’s na clachan nan càise), and it was considered a joke to persuade boys to go out and see. “I remember,” says one who is a shrewd intelligent man, “about fifty years ago, when I was a little boy, sitting quite contentedly on the Eve of St. Finan’s Day sipping with a spoon from a big tub of water, in the full hope that the next spoonful would prove to be wine.”

The name is derived from St. Finan, confessor, Bp. of Clonard, in Ireland, in the sixth century. This day is now fixed as the 12th December, but in the Highlands it is the shortest in the year, whatever day of the calendar that may fall upon. In olden times it was much esteemed, as the rhyme shows:

Besides giving a name to the days of the calendar the saints were employed to designate local markets, St. Kessock’s Day (Fèill mo Cheasaig) at Callander has been already mentioned. St. Connan’s Day (Feill Connain) is the autumn market in Glenorchy; Feill Fhaolain is held at Killin; Feill Ceit at Kenmore; and in other places we have Feill Peadair, F. Aindreis, etc. Old men spoke of Feill an Diomhanais, the festival of St. Idleness, a holiday frequently observed by a great many people. Latha na Sluasaid, Shovel Day, means the day of one’s burial. Bliadhna na Braoisge, Grinning Year, and La Luain, Moon-day (i.e. Monday come-never), mean the same thing, the Greek Kalends. Bliadhna nam Brisgeinean, the Year of Silverweed roots, was shortly after Culloden, and is remembered in Tiree as a year of great scarcity. The land had been neglected in previous years from the disturbed state of the country, and in spring the furrows were white with roots (brisgeinean), and people made meal of them.

DAYS OF THE WEEK.

These play a more important part in Highland superstition than even the seasons of the year. The names by which they are known are not Celtic; two, Wednesday and Thursday, are of Scandinavian or Teutonic origin, and the rest are from the Latin. The superstitions, as might be expected, can in most cases be traced directly to incidents in Scripture history. The division of time into weeks was introduced with the Christian religion from Ireland, and the Irish must be held responsible for the names adopted. Neither in the names nor in the superstitions is there any trace of an age anterior to Christianity.

Dĭ, which is prefixed to each name, in the sense of day, is kindred with the Latin dies, and occurs in slightly modified forms in all the Celtic dialects. It is curious that in Gaelic it occurs in no other form or combination in the sense of “day,” and a suspicion is thereby created that it is merely an adaptation of the Latin word, an easier adaptation, because there are words of similar sound and kindred meaning in Gaelic.

Di-dòmhnaich, SUNDAY (dies Domini).

The name Dòmhnach for our Lord is not common. It is evidently derived from the Latin Dominus. It occurs in the proper name Maol-Dòmhnaich Ludovic, lit. the bald one (i.e. the shaven priest) of our Lord, a name still to be found in Skye, and formed like Maol-Mhoire, Miles (lit. the priest of St. Mary), Maol-Ciaran, Maol-Ruainidh, etc. There is a streamlet near Strowan, in Blair Athole, called allt Dòmhnach, the streamlet of our Lord; and a Tobar an Dòmhnach, the well of our Lord, in Balmeanach, in the west of Tiree. In a charm for fulling cloth the expression occurs, “if he (the wearer of the cloth) enter field or fight, the full succour of our Lord be his” (Slàn chomraich an Dòmhnach da).

The day is also known as “an Dòmhnach” without the prefix of di. Other names are those occurring in Scripture, Sabbath, etc.

The plant pulled on Sunday is, according to a proverbial expression, without good or harm (luibh an Dòmhnach gun mhath gun chron).

Di-luain, MONDAY.

Luain is said in dictionaries to be a Gaelic name for the moon, agreeing in origin with the Latin luna. It is used only in the name of this day, and in the expression la luain, a poetic phrase for Monday come-never, i.e. “never more.” The adjective luaineach, restless, is supposed to be derived from it, but is a word never applied to the moon. It applies to whatever moves restlessly by fits and starts, from place to place, without staying long in one place, and never to anything on account of change of shape or form. Its derivation from la uaine, green day, is absurd, and there are grounds for suspicion, that luain is a word manufactured by ancient Gaelic grammarians from the Latin.

It was deemed unlucky to commence ploughing (stretching the team, as it was called, sìneadh na seisrich), or any kind of work on Monday. It will be proceeded with too quickly or too slowly, according to the adage,

It was deemed, however, a good day for removing or “flitting” upon, just as Saturday was the reverse.