An update for Tairis with added plagiarism (again...)

Là Fhèill Brìghde arrived, and our little household welcomed in Brigid, and the Spring with ceremony and feasting. Rosie did the honours with making our dealbh Brìde this year, which now takes pride of place on the shrine in the kitchen, and she also took charge of inviting her to come visit us. Brigid was welcomed with the words of a very shy, but excited, ten-year-old.

As I posted a while ago, last year, I bought a mould with the idea of making some small candles, and I finally got around to having a go at them. For a first effort they came out pretty good, I think, in spite of the bubbles (I need to regulate the temperature of the wax better, I'm guessing is the problem). I tried out a few colours and the kids are still debating which ones they like the best. I think Rosie did a fantastic job with our Brigid doll – she made several and then picked out the one she thought was most appropriate for the occasion, which she kept under wraps until the big reveal:

We also put out our brat for Brigid to bless, and Rosie chose to put out a necklace she got for Christmas this year, so she has something she can carry around with her.

I made a few crosses while the kids were at school, and then when Rosie got home she decided to join in. I helped her make a three-armed cross out of rushes, and then she had a go at some more out of pipe-cleaners. They really are easier for kids to work with, though I have some reservations about the metal in them. If it contains iron, it kind of defeats their purpose, you know? But still, they weren't the only ones we made, so it's OK. The different colours helped Rosie keep track of where she was, as she tried her hand at a four-armed cross for the first time:

I felt like mixing things up a little so decided to try my hand at something new this year. I've made three- and four-armed crosses most years, as well as the "diamond" type crosses I grew up with, so this time I figured I'd try making a style of cross I've never made before. I settled on the "interwoven" type, which is when, during some searching for images I could work from as a guide, I found a web page that's plagiarised my own page on making the cros Bríde (or crois Brìghde, if you want to Gaelic it up). So that's nice.

On the plus side, it helped me realise that the type of cross I was looking to make was wrongly described on my own page, which has followed through on the plagiarist's page and had a knock on effect in wrongly describing other crosses as well (the Bogha Bríde is a cross inside a circle; they've shown the interwoven type as a Bogha Bríde instead). So I've corrected my own page and I apologise for the confusion, folks. My bad – I think an older source I looked at used the same term to describe an "interwoven" cross (referring to multiple crosses woven together) as other sources did to describe something else (the type of cross I was actually looking to make).

On the negative side, I'm a tad bit annoyed that once again someone is using my words to sell their own religion... I mean, come on. If you want to write about something, use your words! Do your own research! I suppose they at least acknowledge the original source this time, and haven't gone so far as to prevent other people from copying text on their own web pages because they don't want people to do to them what they do to others themselves. Like my previous plagiarist did. Twice.

It's still frustrating, though. And fucking rude. I could report the page with a DMCA takedown notice, but that requires giving my personal details, including home address etc, which is then publicly available online, and that sucks. You can be sure that negative comments to the blogger herself are ignored.

Still. Besides updating the original page, I've also added a new page on Tairis with a guide for making the interlaced or interwoven cross. It's an easy cross to make, with a little bit of preparation, and Rosie had a go at making one, too. I tried a simple version with only three strands along the horizontal and vertical (as did Rosie – in the picture below), and then I tried a bigger one with five strands each – that was all I could fit in, based on the length of the rushes.

From what I've read, these are common to Co. Cork, where much of my nan's side of the family come from. The three-armed crosses are common to Co. Antrim, where most of my husband's family come from.

Vreeshey, Vreeshey, tar gys my thie...

A little bit of a late start to this year's blogging but better late than never, eh?

While I have a wee rest and – finally – a bit of a sit down before I go and welcome Brigid in, I just wanted to share this video (which I saw posted over on The Ever-Living Ones). It's beautifully sung, and timely too:


The lyrics are a traditional invitation to Brigid, which is sung (or recited) on the eve of Laa'l Breeshey (Imbolc) so that she might visit and bless the house and household at night. The original Manx, with translation are:

Vreeshey, Vreeshey, tar gys my thie, 
Tar gys y thie aym noght.  

Vreeshey, Vreeshey, tar, o tar,
Gys y thie aym noght.  

O foshil jee y dorrys da Vreeshey,
Lhig da Vreeshey çheet stiagh. 

Vreeshey, Vreeshey, tar oo
Gys y thie aym noght.

Bridget, Bridget, come to my house,
come to my house tonight. 

Bridget, Bridget, come, oh come,
To my house this night. 

Open the door to Bridget,
and let Bridget come in. 

Bridget, Bridget, come to my house,
come to my house tonight.

As Manx As the Hills posted a version of this a couple of days ago, and included the sheet music and a sound file to help with pronunciation if you'd like to learn it yourself.

Whatever you're doing, and whenever you're celebrating, I hope you have a good one!

Kildare

Ever since our celebrations for Là Fhèill Brìghde, Rosie's been desperate to visit Brigid's Well at Kildare, so while a few of our plans had to get put aside, Kildare was going to happen come hell or high water.

So on Wednesday (I'm skipping the museum for now because there's so much to get through...) we set off to Kildare. We headed to the town centre first and stopped to stretch our legs and have a spot of lunch. There's quite a lot to see in the centre, though given the kids we didn't do everything. I nipped in to the heritage centre and picked up a map of all the sites, and then we let the kids have a run around in a play park for a while. Our first stop after that was to the round tower, which is in the cathedral grounds:

It's originally sixth century, but was majorly rebuilt in the twelfth and I think the detail above the doorway there is a flame. The tower itself is the second-highest in Ireland, and the tallest one that you can still climb up (it was closed when we got there, though).

Also in the cathedral grounds is the remains of Brigid's Fire Temple, which is still used to light a fire on Lá Fhéile Bríde. When it's not home to a giant fire, it seems it acts as a shrine:

The kids decided they needed to add some offerings of their own, so they went to pick some flowers - buttercups and dandelions:

And I made some, too. Mr Seren wandered off around the graveyard, quietly being an atheist.

The cathedral itself pretty small, and full of Brigid's crosses up on the window ledges and hanging off the pews:

You can buy them from there for a good price, but at that point I didn't have any cash on me. I didn't feel comfortable taking too many photos because my camera beeps and the cathedral began to fill up with people as we were looking around, so it seemed a little intrusive. Back outside, near the entrance to the cathedral building, there's something called "Brigid's Kitchen," which was actually some sort of tomb. Built in the 14th century, it's empty now and you can go down and take a look. There's also some amazing gargoyles on the cathedral, although they don't beat the xenomorph at Paisley Abbey. Still, you can't bitch about gargoyles with cows:

There's a castle lurking in the town, and a fair few abbeys about the place, but we didn't venture that far. After lunch we went to the well (and thanks to my excellent map-reading skills from the leaflet I got from the heritage centre, we got a little lost along the way...). But we got there in the end, and the trip is so worth it. From what I understand, it's not the original well - that's on the roadside, but because the road is pretty narrow and there's no parking, it was eventually moved to the current site to prevent accidents and road blockages (the newer well gets its water from the same spring as the original, though). The guy at the heritage centre marked down the vague location of the original well on the map I took, but it's not very obvious and we didn't spot it - not that we really made much effort to find it.

But the current site is beautiful - it's set away from the road and it's all fenced off and lined with trees, so it's like going into a quiet garden. Once you've parked up you go alongside a shallow stream and then walk through an archway into the site itself, and there's a notice telling you what to do (if you're Catholic, I suppose...) just before you go through the arch:

The corn's very nearly ready in that field there...

After you've passed through the arch there's a small shrine to the left, with a polite notice asking for donations to help with the upkeep:

Further along and over to the right is the statue and larger shrine, which is separated off from the rest of the place by a shallow stream that you have to step or jump over to get across to the statue:

Off to one side there's a little archway where water from the well itself trickles along to join the stream, and then behind the archway there are several stations that lead up to the well, which is right at the end of the site:

In the left-hand corner, right at the back, there's a wishing tree that's covered in rags, socks, gloves, crosses, pieces of jewellery, and all other kinds of offerings:

We didn't leave anything at the tree ourselves, and I have to say it was looking a little worse for wear - if you're going to tie a clootie, leave some room for it to grow, mm'kay? And make sure it's easily biodegradable - some of these look like they're tied on a little too tightly, at that's not going to be good for the tree. There's a large cluster of baby socks on a couple of the branches, though, and you just know why they're there. It's heartbreaking to see, but at the same time it's almost comforting as well, because it's a way for people to express their grief, and maybe to hope and to heal. Just before we left a man and his son (I'd say about nine years old) came in, and they went straight to the tree. They obviously had some business to attend to.

When we arrived at the well there were a couple of families already there, and there were five or six kids running around splashing in the water. Tom and Rosie joined in and I went up to the well to make my prayers and offerings to Brigid. Just as I did at Newgrange, I made prayers for some people who asked me to, and I prayed for myself and my family, as well as Gaol Naofa. I gave my thanks and collected some of the water to take home with me, too, and just before I did I caught sight of a tiny wee fish darting about. It disappeared not long after that, but I took it as a good sign.

The kids were having a whale of a time and eventually, after doing my own thing, I wandered about taking photos and joined in. The kids came to have a look at the well and wanted to make offerings there, so I helped them do that. They went a little shy and tongue-tied, so I made a little prayer of thanks for them. Rosie in particular liked the well, and spent a fair amount of time contemplating life, the universe, and pretty much everything. Also probably trying to spot the wee fish:

Eventually the other families left - they seemed nice and the kids got on well with them, but I was glad when they went because it was nice to have a chance to just be there by ourselves. But even with the kids running riot the place still has that inherently peaceful and sacred feel to it. The kids splashing around seemed to be welcomed, rather than disrespectful; they were enjoying the place and it just seemed right and as it should be.

Rosie was mesmerised by the statue, and once the other folks had left she made some offerings there as well, then poured out a libation, and poured some more at the wishing tree and a hawthorn tree right by the stream inlet. She was determined not to leave anyone out, and then she set about righting some of the smaller statues that had been left, which had fallen over. She and Tom eventually began to get restless, so we made our farewells and went back to the car. We decided to take a little detour before heading back to the hotel, and ended up taking a drive through Glendalough, which is a beautiful place but it's difficult to stop and take photos when you're sandwiched between a logging lorry and a tiny car hellbent on tailgating you all the way along. Right at the top we found somewhere to park up safely, so we could take in some of the scenery:

This is an old pilgrimage route, apparently.

Then we headed into Dublin to get some dinner, and after we parked up I spotted a mural of the Táin:

Which is really long and I couldn't fit the whole thing in one go, unfortunately. But over dinner I ended up telling the kids about the Táin, and all about the scenes that are depicted in the mural, much to Tom's amusement and horror when it got to the part about Ferdiad's demise.

The next day we took the kids to a water park as a surprise, but before that Rosie begged to go back to the well. I promised her we'd definitely go back one day...

Brìde and her menagerie

Usually this day sneaks up on me somehow, but for once I managed to keep track of time long enough to be prepared. Hurrah! I'd make a terrible Brownie or Girl Guide. Whichever one is supposed to Be Prepared.

Aside from Samhainn, this is the festival that the kids love the most and are keen to get involved in, mainly because there are lots of things for them to do and make. Also, Rosie in particular thinks of Brìde coming around with her cow as being akin to Father Christmas dropping round, except this time we have to leave presents for her. I assured Rosie that we'd leave out some food (just like we do for Father Christmas, after all), but she insisted on something more:

She drew a picture before it was time to go to school on Friday morning and was going to colour it in later, but then decided she didn't want to ruin it. I've no idea why the cow is saying "oom," so I can only conclude that bovines, like gods, work in mysterious ways. Or else six-year-olds do.

I wanted to get hold of a kit to make our dealbh Brìde but the local garden centre didn't have anything that was particularly appropriate for the kids to join in with. The next best thing was a book with a set of pipe cleaners and some ideas for things to make, which were simple enough for the kids to make themselves. Tom wasn't sure he was keen on the idea of making a doll, so it seemed more inclusive, too, which was a plus. In the end, the day before we were going to celebrate, I made the dealbh Brìde and the kids made some of the things from the book. We ended up with quite the menagerie:

Tom made a snake all by himself, which seemed quite apt. Accompanied by a very authentic lizard, penguin, grape, and banana, I'm sure you'll agree. The grape ended up being repurposed as a lantern for Brìde, at Rosie's insistence. She's taken the festivities to heart this year.

So on Friday the house was cleaned and tidied, ready for the evening of festivities, and then we feasted on roast chicken with sticky toffee pudding (at Tom's insistence, and which he made), we danced and sang, and we invited Brìde in and set the icon in her bed. The house was sained and devotions and offerings were made, and the kids took forever to get to sleep because it was all just so damn exciting. At bedtime they decided they wanted to leave a blanket out each, for blessing, so I promised I'd do that for them. I put some things out for me and Mr Seren as well.

We didn't have time to fit everything in so some of it spilled over into today. Rosie and I made a cros Bríde each:

And then Tom decided he'd like one for his room, so I said I make another one if he wanted. He wasn't keen on doing it himself, so he picked the colours and I set to it. The one I did is the largest, while Rosie picked red and yellow for hers. Tom wanted a mix of all three:

For dinner this evening we had beef and barley stew with another go at Skye bannocks for after, which I blessed as I made them:

They certainly looked better than the first go I had at Lùnastal, but the blackberries I put in then were a nice addition. The sultanas I added this time round were good too, but blackberries have the edge, I think.

While dinner was cooking I had to nip out to the shops to get some bread and Rosie took it upon herself to write a poem for Brìde as she entertained herself with Minecraft. It was completely her own idea, and she was very excited to show it off once I got back. I insisted on taking a photo for posterity:

Then when I went to dish up the dinner and the kids were waiting at the table, there was a miracle! The kitchen windows had steamed up and a heart had appeared on one of the panes of the back door where we'd invited Brìde in the night before. The kids insisted that neither of them had done it and Rosie was so giddy because that just had to mean Brìde had been to visit, she almost passed out. There was definite communication with dolphins...

All in all, things seemed to come together nicely. As much as I've been at this for a good while now (by today's standards, anyway), now that the kids are starting to become more involved with things it's like being able to see it through a different point of view at times. One thing that's becoming more clear than ever is that it's the simple things that can be the most meaningful, whether it's a heart in the window or the first crack of sunshine after weeks of cloud and rain and sleet.

Brìde has been. Spring is on its way. Brìde is welcome...

More notes: Brigid themed

Delving back into all of this stuff - the articles, the subject matter; it's like putting an old pair of shoes back on. My library membership lapsed in June of last year, so it's been a long while since I did some serious reading. It feels goooood...

Hopefully I'm not boring you all too much. The next couple of articles I thought I'd do some notes on are Brigid related, and content-wise, not quite what I'd hoped for, really, but a good read in their own way if only for challenging my own views. It's good to step outside of your comfort zone once in a while.

Body of a saint, story of a goddess: origins of the Brigidine tradition
Lisa Bitel 
Textual Practice 16(2), 2002

The main thrust of the article is examining Brigid's portrayal in the three hagiographies (biographies pertaining to a saint) that are still extant, and discussing her portrayal in each of them. Bitel argues that the earliest hagiography of Brigid, by Cogitosus - the earliest hagiography of any saint written in Ireland - does not hint at pagan origins for the saint at all.

The later hagiographies do, however, and Bitel argues that this is deliberate. Without any physical remains for the saint, the hagiographers essentially made a conscious decision to use native, mythological motifs to emphasise Brigid's strength and influence over the political and geographical landscape, just like an Irish goddess, all of which infused and intertwined with miracles and events modelled on the Bible, continental hagiographies, and eye witness accounts. This not only gave her a powerful presence, but also justified her political and ecclesiastical power as a woman:

"Brigit's hagiographers were also purposefully invoking 'pre-Christian' history in their allusions to territory and landscape. Once, they proposed, heroines, warrior-women and territorial goddesses from myths and king-tales had wielded feminine power in a land that denied women political authority. The writers of Vita Prima and Bethu Brigte used these traditional models to cast Brigit as protectress of the Leinster people in danger of invasion by their enemies, especially the invading Uí Néill." (222)

In theory the argument is compelling but I can't help but feel there are elements being glossed over here. It would have been nice to have seen more consideration of the merits of those who argue that there are genuine pre-Christian elements or influences at play here, rather than hammering home the argument that the later Lives made deliberate and conscious use of motifs that are entirely divorced from any possible pre-Christian Brigid.


The Image of Brigit as a Saint: Reading the Latin Lives
Katja Ritari
Peritia 21 (2010)

This one made a good companion to Bitel's article and is apparently based in part on the author's own dissertation, Saints and sinners in early christian Ireland: moral theology in the Lives of saints Brigit and Columba (2009). One for the wish list, I think.

Anyway, here we have more consideration of the boundaries between the Christian and pre-Christian Brigid, but ultimately it's a consideration of the saint's portrayal in hagiography, which emphasises her Christian virtues and purity. There are lots of fiery miracles in the two later Lives in particular, which have been used to argue evidence of the pre-Christian Brigid, but Ritari ultimately argues that whatever the origins or influences of the events contained in the hagiographies may be, the portrayals of Brigid as they stand in the hagiographies are entirely Christian in purpose. She ultimately concludes:

"According to Proinsias Mac Cana, the historical element in the Lives of Brigit is slight while the mythological element is correspondingly extensive. I wish to modify this statement: while the so-called 'pagan elements' in the Latin Lives of Brigit are almost non-existent or at least very scant, and the historical tradition pertaining to her is slight, the christian elements are vital in the representation of Brigit as we have her. The authors of the Lives were not writing of a euhemerised goddess but of a christian saint, and as such Brigit conforms perfectly with the christian image of holiness."

I suppose the problem with articles that are necessarily not too long is that it's difficult to really nail an argument conclusively, but if anything there are some good pointers towards other sources here that will help the reader do further research and make their own minds up, and that's the main thing you hope for in an article. It's worth a read for the pointers alone.

Holy shades of matriarchy, Batman!

This documentary was posted on one of the boards I lurk on, from the Irish language channel TG4 about Brighid:

Part One - pre-Christian Brighid

Part Two - into Christianity and the modern era

It's in Irish, but there are subtitles, and some of the interviewees you might be familiar with already - Seán Ó Duinn, Muireann Ní Bhrolcháin, and Nuala Ní Dhomnaill. It's beautifully done, but there's a heavy emphasis on Brigid as The Mother Goddess, maiden-mother-crone-Trinity-before-there-was-the-Trinity, and all goddesses being one etc...not the sorts of things I agree with, but otherwise I enjoyed it. Nuala Ní Dhomnaill does some wonderful songs, and in part two you get to see some Imbolg traditions being performed.

Also, if you're struggling with pronunciations for festivals and such, it's quite handy...

It worked for me, here in Scotland, but I can't say for sure if it will be viewable across the Pond as well - worth a watch, though, if you can. Each part is just under half an hour long.

Birth and Baptism

First off, a quick note - my dear husband has (finally) fixed the header and the side bar on the site. I'd still like the font size to be bigger on each page but the last time I tried to do that, it's probably how the header broke in the first place...And a better side bar that isn't so unwieldy would be good, but I'm probably pushing my luck there...

Anyway, my I've been feeling in a writy mood lately, and following a discussion on Óenach I was inspired to re-write one of the articles that had been on the original site - mainly I wanted to flesh it out and reference it. So I've done that and it's up on the site now, called Birth and Baptism. There are some things I'd like to add at some point, when resources and time allows - especially on the subject of evidence for druid baptism and the practice of bestowing geasa (tabus) at birth or at important times of change in a person's life. But if I wait for that then like everything else I'll sit and tweak it here and there until it's perfect, and it never will be, so it will never get published.

But instead of wading through my waffle, I thought it might be a good idea to post some of the most pertinent excerpts that I've used to inform what I've written. So errr...why not wade through loads of other people's waffle, eh?

First off, Henderson has some good bits to say on it - a bit scattered, but that can be read around:

"The mother never sets about any work till she has been kirked. In the Church of Scotland there is no ceremony on the occasion; but the woman, attended by some of her neighbours, goes into the church, sometimes in service time, but oftener when it is empty; goes out again, surrounds it, refreshes herself at some public-house, and then returns home. Before this ceremony she is looked on as unclean, never is permitted to eat with the family; nor will any one eat of the victuals she has dressed" (Pennant's Tour). Within my own recollection the idea of 'uncleanness' before the 'kirking' was retained...

...In the Proceedings of the Synod of Cashel, A. D. 1172, Benedict of Peterborough mentions for Ireland the following curious facts, which show that the father, in accordance with old custom, could immerse the child thrice in water immediately after birth, or, in the case of a rich man's child, thrice in milk. Thus we could perhaps speak of a rite of milk-baptism: "In illo autem concilio statuerunt, et auctoritate summi pontificis praeceperunt, pueros in ecclesia baptizari, In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti, et hoc a sacerdotibus fieri praeceperunt. Mos enim prius erat per diversa loca Hiberniae, quod statim cum puer nasceretur, pater ipsius vel quilibet alius eum ter mergeret in aqua. Et si divitis filius esset, ter mergeret in lacte."

The mention of the milk reminds of the rite after Christian baptism at Rome on Easter eve in the ninth century: "For the newly-baptised the chalice is filled, not with wine but with milk and honey, that they may understand . . . that they have entered already upon the promised land. And there was one more symbolical rite in that early Easter Sacrament, the mention of which is often suppressed,—a lamb was offered on the altar, afterwards cakes in the shape of a lamb. It was simply the ritual which we have seen in the mysteries." "

See more at: Henderson, Survivals in Belief Amongst the Celts - chapter 3, The Earthly Journey in particular.


Then there's Napier, who gives a wealth of information in his chapter about Birth, with plenty of personal anecdotes, too. Here's a good chunk, but really, it's good to read the whole thing:

"When writing of fairies I noticed,—but as it is connected with birth, I may here mention it again,—a practice common in some localities of placing in the bed where lay an expectant mother, a piece of cold iron to scare the fairies, and prevent them from spiriting away mother and child to elfland. An instance of this spiriting away at the time of child-bearing is said to have occurred in Arran within these fifty years. It is given by a correspondent in Long Ago:—"There was a woman near Pladda, newly delivered, who was carried away, and on a certain night her wraith stood before her husband telling him that the yearly riding was at hand, and that she, with all the rout, should ride by his house at such an hour, on such a night; that he must await her coming, and throw over her her wedding gown, and so she should be rescued from her tyrants. With that she vanished. And the time came, with the jingling of bridles and the tramping of horses outside the cottage; but this man, feeble-hearted, had summoned his neighbours to bear him company, who held him, and would not suffer him to go out. So there arose a bitter cry and a great clamour, and then all was still; but in the morning, roof and wall were dashed with blood, and the sorrowful wife was no more seen upon earth. This," says the writer, "is not a tale from an old ballad, it is the narrative of what was told not fifty years ago."

Immediately after birth, the newly-born child was bathed in salted water, and made to taste of it three times. This, by some, was considered a specific against the influence of the evil eye; but doctors differ, and so among other people and in other localities different specifics were employed. I quote the following from Ross' Helenore:—

"Gryte was the care and tut'ry that was ha'en,
Baith night and day about the bonny weeane:
The jizzen-bed, wi' rantry leaves was sain'd,
And sic like things as the auld grannies kend;
Jean's paps wi' saut and water washen clean,
Reed that her milk gat wrang, fan it was green;
Neist the first hippen to the green was flung,
And there at seelfu' words, baith said and sung:
A clear brunt coal wi' the het tangs was ta'en,
Frae out the ingle-mids fu' clear and clean,
And throu' the cosey-belly letten fa',
For fear the weeane should be ta'en awa'."

Before baptism the child was more liable to be influenced by the evil eye than after that ceremony had been performed, consequently before that rite had been administered the greatest precautions were taken, the baby during this time being kept as much as possible in the room in which it was born, and only when absolutely necessary, carried out of it, and then under the careful guardianship of a relative, or of the mid-wife, who was professionally skilled in all the requisites of safety. Baptism was therefore administered as early as possible after birth.

Another reason for the speedy administration of this rite was that, should the baby die before being baptised, its future was not doubtful. Often on calm nights, those who had ears to hear heard the wailing of the spirits of unchristened bairns among the trees and dells. I have known of an instance in which the baby was born on a Saturday, and carried two miles to church next day, rather than risk a week's delay.

...I have quite a vivid remembrance of being myself believed to be the unhappy victim of an evil eye. I had taken what was called a dwining which baffled all ordinary experience; and, therefore, it was surmised that I had got "a blink of an ill e'e." To remove this evil influence, I was subjected to the following operation, which was prescribed and superintended by a neighbour "skilly" in such matters:—A sixpence was borrowed from a neighbour, a good fire was kept burning in the grate, the door was locked, and I was placed upon a chair in front of the fire. The operator, an old woman, took a tablespoon and filled it with water. With the sixpence she then lifted as much salt as it could carry, and both were put into the water in the spoon. The water was then stirred with the forefinger till the salt was dissolved. Then the soles of my feet and the palms of my hands were bathed with this solution thrice, and after these bathings I was made to taste the solution three times. The operator then drew her wet forefinger across my brow,—called scoring aboon the breath. The remaining contents of the spoon she then cast right over the fire, into the hinder part of the fire, saying as she did so, "Guid preserve frae a' skaith." These were the first words permitted to be spoken during the operation. I was then put in bed, and, in attestation of the efficacy of the charm, recovered. To my knowledge this operation has been performed within these 40 years, and probably in many outlying country places it is still practised.

The origin of this superstition is probably to be found in ancient fire worship. The great blazing fire was evidently an important element in the transaction; nor was this a solitary instance in which regard was paid to fire. I remember being taught that it was unlucky to spit into the fire, some evil being likely shortly after to befall those who did so. Crumbs left upon the table after a meal were carefully gathered and put into the fire. The cuttings from the nails and hair were also put into the fire. These freaks certainly look like survivals of fire worship.

We must not, however, pursue this digression further, but return to our proper subject. It was not necessary that the person possessed of the evil eye, and desirous of inflicting evil upon a child, should see the child. All that was necessary was that the person with the evil eye should get possession of something which had belonged to the child, such as a fragment of clothing, a toy, hair, or nail parings. I may note here that it was not considered lucky to pare the nails of a child under one year old, and when the operation was performed the mother was careful to collect every scrap of the cutting, and burn them.

It was considered a great offence for any person, other than the mother or near relation, in whom every confidence could be placed, to cut a baby's nails; if some forward officious person should do this, and baby afterwards be taken ill, this would give rise to grave suspicions of evil influence being at work. The same remarks apply to the cutting of a baby's hair. I have seen the door locked during hair-cutting, and the floor swept afterwards, and the sweepings burned, lest perchance any hairs might remain, and be picked up by an enemy."

See: Napier, Folk Lore, Or Superstitious Beliefs in the West of Scotland Within This Century.


Or, concerning Bride in her role as midwife (traditionally, she was said to have helped Mary):

"When a woman is in labour, the midwife or the woman next her in importance goes to the door of the house, and standing on the 'fad-buinn,' sole-sod, doorstep, with her hands on the jambs, softly beseeches Bride to come:

'Bhride! Bhride! thig a steach,
Tha do bheatha deanta,
Tabhair cobhair dha na bhean,
’S tabh an gein dh’an Triana.'

Bride! Bride! come in,
Thy welcome is truly made,
Give thou relief to the woman,
And give the conception to the Trinity.

When things go well, it indicates that Bride is present and is friendly to the family; and when they go ill, that she is absent and offended. Following the action of Bride at the birth of Christ, the aid-woman dedicates the child to the Trinity by letting three drops of clear cold water fall on the tablet of his forehead.

(See page 114.)"

See: Carmina Gadelica Volume 1.


And for Scottish charms to aid childbirth:

The earliest reference I have been able to find of the use of these seeds as amulets in the West Highlands is in Johne Morisone’s "Deseription of Lewis," supposed to have been written between 1678 and 1688. His words are:-"The sea casteth on shore sometimes a sort of nutts growing upon tangles, round and flat, sad broun or black coullered, of the breadth of a doller, some more, some less; the kernal of it being taken out of the shell is an excellent remedie for the bloodie flux. They ordinarlie make use of the shell for keeping their snuff. Ane other sort of nutt is found in the same maner, of less syze, of a broun colour, flat and round, with a black circle, quhilk in old times women wore about their necks both for ornament and holding that it had the virtue to make fortunate in cattle, and upon this account they were at the pains to bind them in silver, brass, or tinn, according to their abilities. There are other lesser yet, of a whitish coulour and round, which they call Sant Marie’s Nutt, quhilk they did wear in the same maner, holding it to have the virtue to preserve women in childbearing."

In the Life of Sir Robert Christison there is an extract from his Journal of May 30th, 1866, in which Sir Robert records that Dr Macdonald of Lochmaddy had not been able to get him a specimen of because it is "so rare and is so prized as a charm during childbirth that the midwives wear the seeds set in silver for the women to hold in their hands while in labour; and a husband, who had two, refused twenty shillings for one of them, saying he would not part with it for love or money till his spouse be past childbearing."

See: Geo F Black, Scottish Charms and Amulets.


The main portion of information about baptism practises from the Carmina Gadelica is in Book Three, which is now available from the Internet Archive site (I'm linking to the main page for it so you can choose which version you want to look at or download). This excerpt I quote in full in the article, but aside from the fact I think it's beautiful, I think the symbolism and imagery it invokes of the nine waves is very in keeping with pre-Christian ideals:

“When a child was born the midwife would put three small drops of water upon the forehead of the little on in the name of the Father, in the name of the Son, in the name of the Spirit, and she would say:

The little drop of the Father
On thy little forehead, beloved one.

The little drop of the Son
On thy little forehead, beloved one.

The little drop of the Spirit
On thy little forehead, beloved one.

To aid thee from the fays,
To guard thee from the host;

To aid thee from the gnome,
To shield thee from the spectre;

To keep thee for the Three,
To fill thee with the graces;

The little drop of the Three,
To lave thee with the graces.

Then the midwife would give the child to a nurse to wash it, and the nurse would put a small palmful of water on the poor little infant, and she would sing the sweetest music that ever ear heard on the earth, and she say in this wise:

A wavelet for thy form,
A wavelet for thy voice,
A wavelet for they sweet speech;

A wavelet for thy luck,
A wavelet for thy good,
A wavelet for thy health;

A wavelet for thy throat,
A wavelet for thy pluck,
A wavelet for thy graciousness;
Nine waves for thy graciousness.

The rune would be on the nurse's tongue till she was finished of bathing the little infant.”

Is that enough? Maybe not. How about some good stuff from Walter Gregor before I finish:

"On the birth of the child, the mother and offspring were sained, a ceremony which was done in the following manner:--A fir-candle was lighted and carried three times round the bed, if it was in a position to allow of this being done, and, if this could not be done, it was whirled three times round their heads; a Bible and bread and cheese, or a Bible and a biscuit, were placed under the pillow, and the words were repeated, "May the Almichty debar a’ ill fae this umman, an be aboot ir, an bliss ir an ir bairn." When the biscuit or the bread and cheese had served their purpose, they were distributed among the unmarried friends and acquaintances, to be placed under their pillows to evoke dreams.

Among some of the fishing population a fir-candle or a basket containing bread and cheese was placed on the bed to keep the fairies at a distance. A pair of trowsers hung at the foot of the bed had the same effect.

Strict watch was kept over both mother and child till the mother was churched and the child was baptised, and in the doing of both all convenient speed was used. For, besides exposure to the danger of being carried off by the fairies, the mother was under great restrictions till churched. She was not allowed to do any kind of work, at least any kind of work more than the most simple and necessary. Neither was she permitted to enter a neighbour's house, and, had she attempted to do so, some would have gone the length of offering a stout resistance, and for the reason that, if there chanced to be in the house a woman great with child, travail would prove difficult with her."

See: Folk-lore of the North-East of Scotland (chapters 1-3).