Macphie’s Black Dog

West Highland Tale
with Introduction and Translation by Rev. J. G. Campbell, Tiree

To the student of folk-lore, the value and interest of the following tale are much enhanced by its having been taken down word for word from the dictation of the narrator. There is a sentence near the beginning not quite grammatically constructed, but as no doubt is thereby thrown upon the meaning, it has been thought better to retain the written words, than interfere with the ipsissima verba.

The narrator was a native of the island of Tiree, in the lower rank of life; he had been at one time a crofter or small farmer, but was made a cotter, i.e. one without any land, not through any fault of his own, but from an idea that land would be better in larger holdings.

The association of the fairies with deer is one of the most prominent features of that superstition. Deer were looked upon in the Highlands as fairy cattle; and the common form into which a fairy woman transformed herself was that of a red-deer, and sometimes, though not so frequently, into that of a white filly.

There are many Highland tales that represent fairy women as having herds of deer, which they milked as human beings milk cows. "The Carline Wife of the Spotted Hill" (Caitteach Beinne - brie ho-ro), " the old wife big, broad, and tall" ( Cailleach mhbr, leathann, ard), " who had a fountain high in the hill" (Cailleach mhbr an fhuarain dird), possessed a herd of deer which she would not allow " to go with the neighbouring chief," or " to seek shell-fish on the shore." The refrain about her was at one time in almost every youngster's mouth. This connection was also the cause of the enmity of fairy women to deer hunters. It is illustrated by the first incident in the story, and in a remarkable way in the version which the writer heard from a different source of "The Healing of Keyne's Leg" (1) (Cas Ctin), a tale which at one time stood very high among the winter evening recitations of the Celts, and was known both in Ireland and in Scotland. A lap dog which O'Cronicert had got from the King of Ireland gave chase to a deer that was seen in the wood. When hard pressed, the deer jumped up behind O'Cronicert who was on horseback, and took the shape of a woman of marvellous beauty. She was taken home by him, and the black hut, which he had left behind when going for aid to the king, was by enchantment changed into a golden palace on silver wheels. When he invited the king to this palace and hospitably entertained him, one of the foster-brothers of the king's son, Murdoch, having fallen desperately in love with the fairy, took to his bed and remained behind the rest. He tried to seize hold of her, when she transformed herself into a white filly and gave him a kick which broke his leg. It is upon the healing of the leg that a series of twenty-four tales were grafted.

An old man of nearly eighty years of age, a native of the island of Mull, examined by the writer ten years ago upon the subject of Highland superstitions, said, " I have always heard that deer were fairy cattle, and I have never heard that the fairies had any other." The wonderful agility, grace of form, the mysterious knowledge of the presence of any of the human race, and the sudden vanishing of these animals, make the attributing of their being fairy cattle not inappropriate. A very popular " milking song " all over the Highlands is that of "Crochallan" (2) (Crodh Chailein) Colin's Cows, and this song was universally looked upon as a fairy song (Oran Sldh), sung by a fairy woman when milking a hind. It is perhaps referred to by Sir David Lindsay in his "Satyre of the Three Estatis," (3) written about the year 1535, in the words—

"Of Collin's cow heir is ane home
For eating of Makconnal's come
        Was slane into Balquhidder."

The slaying of deer for incursions into cultivated land, during severe weather, is common in the Highlands at the present day.

The main incident of the tale is that of fairy women visiting the hunters after their day's toil, and bringing destruction upon them—the same incident as that on which Scott's "Glenfinlas" or "Lord Ronald's Coronach" (4) (Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, vol. 3)is founded, and such tales are to be met with all over the Highlands. It is known in the Western Islands as the " One Night's Watch " (Aire nit h-aon oidhche).

The reader will recollect as illustrative of the connection between fairy women and deer, the account of Thomas the Rhymer's disappearance as related by Scott in the "Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border." (5) He says, "When he was making merry with his friends in the tower of Ercildoun, a person came running in, and told, with marks of fear and astonishment, that a hart and hind had left the neighbouring forest, and were composedly and slowly parading the street of the village. The prophet instantly rose, left his habitation, and followed the wonderful animals to the forest, whence he was never seen to return." Of course the animals are understood to have been sent by his fairy mistress, the Elfin Queen, who had met him " by the Eildon Tree."

The incident which forms the latter part of the tale, that of a hand appearing mysteriously through the roof—as pointed out in a former number of this Review, page 140—is widely spread, not merely among the Celts in the Highlands of Scotland, but also among those of Wales, Ireland, and France, if not also among other Aryan races.

There are several versions of "Macphee's Black Dog" to be met with in the Highlands. The expression, " the Black Dog's day will come yet" (Thig latha chain duibh fhathast) is common, and denotes that, though a person is at present despised, he will yet be esteemed and found of use. In one of these versions, the black dog is represented as killing a mermaid that was following after Macphee. It was this version which Leyden must have heard during his visit to the Highlands in 1801, and dressed up into that most beautiful of ballads "The Maid of Colonsay." (6) The common rendering of the version is, that the chieftain was detained against his will by a mermaid in a cave near the sea and supplied with whatever he needed or desired. One day he took advantage of the mermaid's absence, and endeavoured to escape; she soon returned, and finding this out, made after him. He had with him a large black dog, which he had kept in spite of everyone's remonstrance. When the mermaid was about to overtake him he threw out the dog, and a terific fight ensued, in which both combatants were killed. In Leyden's version Macphee's name is changed to Macphail, the dog—which is in all the Highland versions the principal character in the tale—is left out, and a magic ring—not mentioned in popular lore—is introduced.

The Macduffies or Macphees were lairds of Colousay till about the middle of the seventeenth century. One of them lies buried in lona with the inscription on his tomb, " Hie jacet Malcolumbus Macduffie de Colonsay." In 1623, Colkitto was delated for the murder of the umquhile Malcolm Macphee. Tradition says that Colkitto searched the island of Colonsay in pursuit of Macphee, who had concealed himself in a lake with nothing but his nose and mouth above water. The pursuers were about to leave when their attention was drawn to a gull hovering in an unusual manner near this spot. On looking, they discovered poor Macphee and slew him. This Malcolm is probably the one referred to in the Mull saying, " Macphee would take it as a warning " (Ghabh- adh Mac-a-Phi 'na rabhadh e). It is said that Macphee was about to enter Duart Castle, where a plot was laid to assassinate him; but, when entering, he was asked by the door-keeper, a MacGilvray, what road he had come. He replied that he had come down Glen Cannel. MacGilvray then inquired, " Have you seen my horses and your own horses " (Am facadh tu m'eich-sa, agus t' eich fhein)? By a very slight change in the pronunciation of the last t, the words meant, " Have you seen my horses, and escape yourself ?" Macphee, who seems to have been a man of unusual quickness, took the hint, and making some excuse, turned back and escaped.

(This tale was taken down in Gaelic from the dictation of Donald Cameron, Ruaig, Tiree, in 1863, and is given in his words as closely as a translation will allow. It is a very good specimen of a class of tales found in the Highlands, and illustrates many remarkable traits of the belief regarding the Fairy women, their enmity to the hunter, their beauty and powers of enchanting men at first, their changing their shape to that of deer, and the aversion dogs have to them; also the size and character of the Fairy hound.)

~ ~ ~

Macphie’s Black Dog

Mac-vic-Allan of Arasaig, lord of Moidart, went out hunting in his own forest when young and unmarried. He saw a royal stag before him, as beautiful an animal as he had ever seen. He levelled his gun at it, and it became a woman as beautiful as he had ever seen at all. He lowered his gun, and it became a royal stag as before. Every time he raised the gun to his eye, the figure was that of a woman, and every time he let it down to the ground, it was a royal stag. Upon this he raised the gun to his eye and walked up till he was close to the woman’s breast. He then sprang and caught her in his arms. “You will not be separated from me at all,” he said. “I will never marry any but you.” “Do not do that, Mac-vic-Allan,” she said, “you have no business with me, I will not suit you. There will never be a day, while you have me with you, but you will need to kill a cow for me.” “You will get that,” said the lord of Moidart, “though you should ask without a day.”

But Mac-vic-Allan’s herd began to grow thin. He tried to send her away, but he could not. He then went to an old man, who lived in the townland , and was his counsellor. He said he would be a broken man, and he did not know what plan to take to get rid of her. The honest old man told him, that unless Macphie of Colonsay could send her away, there was not another living who could. A letter was instantly sent off to Macphie. He answered the letter, and came to Arasaig.

“What business is this you have with me,” said Macphie, “Mac-vic-Allan?”

Mac-vic-Allan told him how the woman had come upon him, and how he could not send her away.

“Go you,” said Macphie, “and kill a cow for her to-day as usual; send her dinner to the room as usual; and give me my dinner on the other side of the room.”

Mac-vic-Allan did as he was asked. She commenced her dinner, and Macphie commenced his. When Macphie got his dinner past, he looked over at her.

“What is your news, Elle-maid?” said he.
“What is that to you, Brian Brugh,” said she.
“I saw you, Elle-maid,” said he, “When you consorted with the Fingalians, When you went with Diarmid o Duibhne And accompanied him from covert to covert.”
“I saw you, Brian Brugh,” she said, When you rode on an old black horse, The lover of the slim Fairy woman, Every chasing he from brugh to brugh.”
“Dogs and men after the wretch,” cried Macphie, “long have I known her.”

Every dog and man in Arasaig was called and sent after her. She fled away out to the point of Arasaig, and they did not get a second sight of her.

Upon this Macphie went home to his own Colonsay. One day he was out hunting, and night came on before he got home. He saw a light and made straight for it. He saw a number of men sitting in there, and an old grey-headed man in the midst. The old man spoke and said, “Macphie, come forward.” Macphie went forward and what should come in his way but a bitch as beautiful an animal as he had ever seen, and a litter of pups with it. He saw one pup in particular, black in colour , and he had never seen a pup so black or so beautiful as it.

“This dog will be my own,” said Macphie.
“No,” said the man, “you will get your choice of the pups, but you will not get that one.”
“I will not take one,” said Macphie, “but this one.”
“Since you are resolved to have it,” said the old man, “it will not do you but one day’s service, and it will do that well. Come back on such a night and you will get it.”

Macphie reached the placed on the night he promised to come. They gave him the dog, “and take care of it well,” said the old man, “for it will never do service for you but the one day.”

The Black Dog began to turn out so handsome a whelp that no one every saw a dog so large or so beautiful as it. When Macphie went out hunting, he called the Black Dog, and the Black Dog came to the door and then turned back and lay where it was before. The gentleman who visited at Macphie’s house used to tell him to kill the Black Dog, it was not worth its food. Macphie would tell them to let the dog alone, that the Black Dog’s day would come yet.

At one time a number of gentleman came across from Islay to visit Macphie and ask him to go with them to Jura to hunt. At that time Jura was a desert, without anyone staying on it, and without its equal anywhere as hunting ground for deer and roe. There was a place there where those who went for sport used to stay, called the Big Cave. A boat was made ready to cross the sound that same day. Macphie rose to go, and sixteen young gentleman along with him. Each of them called the Black Dog, and it reached the door, then turned and lay down where it was before.

“Shoot it,” cried the young gentleman.
“No,” said he, “the Black Dog’s day is not come yet.”

They reached the shore, but the wind rose and they did not get across that day.

Next day they made ready to go; the Black Dog was called and reached the door, but returned where it was before.

“Kill it,” said the gentleman, “and don’t be feeding it much longer.”
“I will not kill it,” said Macphie, “the Black Dog’s day will come yet.”

They failed to get across this day also from the violence of the weather and returned.

“The dog has foreknowledge,” said the gentleman.
“It has the foreknowledge,” said Macphie, “that its own day will come yet.”

On the third day the weather was beautiful. They took their way to the harbour, and did not say a syllable this day to the Black Dog. They launched the boat to go away. One of the gentleman looked and said the Black Dog was coming, and he never saw a creature like it, because of its fierce look. It sprang, and was the first creature in the boat.

“The Black Dog’s day is drawing near us,” said Macphie.

They took with them meat, and provisions, and bedclothes, and went ashore in Jura. They passed that night in the Big Cave, and next day went to hunt the deer. Late in the evening they came home. They prepared supper. They had a fine fire in the cave and light. There was a big hole in the very roof of the cave through which a man could pass. When they had taken their supper the young gentleman lay down, Macphie rose, and stood warming the back of his legs to the fir. Each of the young men said he wished his own sweetheart was there that night.

“Well,” said Macphie, “I prefer that my wife should be in her own house; it is enough for me to be here myself to-night.”

Macphie gave a look from him and saw sixteen women entering the door of the cave. The light went out and there was no light except what the fire gave. The women went over to where the gentleman were. Macphie could see nothing from the darkness tat came over the cave. He was not hearing a sound from the men. The women stood up and one of them looked at Macphie. She stood opposite to him as though she were going to attack him. the Black Dog rose and put on a fierce bristling look and made a spring at her. The women took to the door, and the Black Dog followed them to the mouth of the cave. When they went away the Black Dog returned and lay at Macphie’s feet.

In a little while Macphie heard a horrid noise and overhead in the top of the cave, so that he thought the cave would fall in about his head. He looked up and saw a man’s hand coming down through the hole, and making as if to catch himself and take him out through the hole in the roof of the cave. The Black Dog gave one spring, and between the shoulder and the elbow caught the Hand, and lay upon it with all its might. Now began the play between the Hand and the lack Dog. Before the Black Dog let go its hold, it chewed the arm through till it fell on the floor. The Thing that was on the top of the cave went away, and Macphie thought the cave would fall in about his head. The Black Dog rushed out after the Thing that was outside. This was not the time when Macphie felt himself most at ease, when the Black Dog left him. when the day dawned, behold the Black Dog had returned. It lay down at Macphie’s feet, and in a few minutes was dead.

When the light of day approximated Macphie looked, and he had not a single man alive of those who were with him in the cave. He took with him the Hand, and went to the sore to the boat. He went on board and went home to Colonsay, unaccompanied by dog or man. He took the Hand up with him that men might see the horror he had met with, the night he was in the cave. No man in Islay or Colonsay ever at all saw such a hand, nor did they imagine that such existed.

There only remained to send a boat to Jura and take home the bodies that were in the cave. That was the end of the Black Dog’s day.

The expression “The Black Dog’s day will come yet” (Thig latha choindui fhathast), has passed into a proverb to denote that a time will yet come when one now despised will prove of service.

The English proverb, “Every dog has its day,” means that everyone has his own time of enjoyment.

The Scottish Celtic Review, vol. 4, p. 262.

Also in - Superstitions of the Highlands and Islands of Scotland, John Gregorson Campbell, 1900

1. The Healing of Keyne's Leg
2. Colin's Cows Poem
3. Satyre of the Three Estatis
4. Glenfinlas, Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border
5. Thomas the Rhymer, Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border
6. "The Maid of Colonsay."

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