Highland Festive Amusements.
Yes, let the rich deride, the proud disdain,
The simple pleasures of the lowly train;
To me more dear, congenial to my heart,
One native charm, than all the gloss of art.
GOLDSMITH.
HALLOWE’EN.
Ye powers of darkness and of hell,
Propitious to the magic spell,
Who rule in silence o’er the night,
Be present now.
FRANCES.
Of the whole series of annual festivals, Hallowe’en forms the most
important occasion in the Highlands of Scotland. The fascinating round
of varied enjoyments the night presents to the young and juvenile--the
delightful peeps into futurity it affords to the enchanted lover--and
the fond recollections it revives in old age--all conspire to render
its approach more interesting, and its celebration more joyful,
than any other occasion within the compass of the year. Nor is the
happy influence diffused by Hallowe’en confined to the human class
of the inhabitants of the Highlands alone; most of the _supernatural
inhabitants_ are in some degree partakers in the general happiness.
With the fairy community, in particular, it is an occasion of peculiar
grandeur, as the great anniversary on which they are reviewed by _Auld
Nick_, their nominal chief potentate, in person; whilst many others of
the classes treated of in the foregoing pages regard it as a night of
no ordinary pomp and joviality.
On this occasion of universal hilarity, the natural coldness and
jealousy which generally subsist between the human species and
their supernatural neighbours are changed into perfect harmony and
benevolence. Like two belligerent armies, whose hostility towards each
other is more the offspring of public duty than private resentment, and
who, therefore, during the intervals of war, exhibit in their mutual
intercourse the marks of personal good will; so, in like manner, those
two classes forget for the night all animosity, in their more laudable
zeal to contribute to each other’s gratification. Nay, stern Satan
himself relaxes for this night his avarice; and, alive to no other
object than the promotion of universal enjoyments, dispatches showers
of his emissaries to the several kiln-pots, peat-stacks, and barn-yards
in the Highlands, to afford to those adventurers who desire it a peep
into the secrets of futurity.
Such a display of seeming benevolence, did it proceed from any other
individual than Satan, could not fail to meet with some share of
applause. But heads of families, whose opinions are entitled to some
respect, have been known to affirm, that Satan’s affected generosity
on this occasion is nothing but a mere stratagem for inveigling the
more effectually the young and unwary into his vile snares, and that
he gets more game by those specious artifices than he could realize by
any other means. Hence it is that the anxious parent this night,
instead of extolling Satan’s generosity, is so intent on magnifying
his perfidy; and in order the better to dissuade his offspring and
family from the dangerous practices of the night, details, without
qualification, his numerous treacheries on similar occasions.
But these ebullitions of the parent’s jealousy of Satan’s practices
are soon subdued. The big-bellied bottle and bumper-glass will have
a great effect in relaxing his heart of its illiberal suspicions.
Speedily animated by the conciliating qualities of the “_barley-bree_,”
and softened by the recollection of his own youthful frolics and manly
deeds on similar occasions, he no longer regards as a crime those
practices which he recently condemned; and the good-natured matron,
being happy at her husband’s felicity, and averse to chide, they both
tacitly connive at the family’s indulgence in the customary arts of
divination.
Generally the first spell they try is pulling the stock of kail.
Joining hand in hand they go forth to the kail-yard, previously
blind-folded, lads, lasses, and children, equally anxious to have their
fortunes told as their seniors. Pulling the first stock they meet with,
they immediately return to the light to have an examination of its
qualities; its being large or little, straight or crooked, is prophetic
of the size and shape of its puller’s conjugal companion. If any earth
adheres to the root, it indicates tocher or fortune; and the taste of
the custoc or stem, whether sour or sweet, shows the nature of his
disposition.
They go next to the barn-yard, and pull each a stalk of oats, and
according to the number of grains upon the stalk the puller will have
a corresponding number of children. It may be observed, that it is
essential to a female’s good fame that her stalk should have the
top-grain attached to it.
An individual goes to the barn, opens both its doors, then takes the
instrument used in winnowing corn, called a _wecht_, and goes through
all the gestures of letting down corn against the wind. This is
repeated three several times, and the third time an apparition will
pass through the barn, in at the one door and out at the other, having
a retinue emblematical of his or her station in life.
A person goes privately to _Tor-na-ha_, or the kiln-pot, throws into it
a clew of blue thread, which the person winds into a new clew. Towards
the latter end something will hold the thread, on which the person
demands, “Who holds?” An answer will be returned by the agent below, by
naming the Christian name and sirname of the person’s future spouse.
A person steals out unperceived to the peat-stack--sows a handful of
hemp-seed, calling out something to the following effect:--
“Hemp-seed, I saw thee,
Hemp-seed, I saw thee,
And he who is my true love,
Come after me and pu’ thee.”
And, on looking over his shoulder, he sees the apparition of the person
invoked in the attitude of pulling the hemp, which had immediately
grown at the magic command. Or, if hemp-seed is not at hand, let
the person take the floor-besom, which he will ride in the manner
of a witch three times round the peat-stack, and the last time the
apparition will appear to him.
They go one or more to what is called a _dead and living ford_, or, in
other words, a ford which has been crossed by a funeral, and observing
profound silence, dip the sleeve of their shirt in it. On returning
home they go to bed in sight of a fire, and, lying awake in bed, they
will observe an apparition, being an exact similitude of the grand
object in question, turn the shirt-sleeve, as if to dry the other side.
An individual goes to a public road, which branches in three several
directions, (_i. e._ the junction of three roads,) bearing with him
the cutty or three-legged stool, on which the person seats himself
just on the eve of twelve o’clock; and, as the hour strikes, he hears
proclaimed the names of the several persons who shall die in the parish
before the next anniversary. _Nota._--If the person carries along with
him articles of wearing-apparel, and throws an article away on the
proclamation of each person’s name, it will rescue the person from
his impending fate; and it will be wise to retain one article to the
last, in case his own name may be called, when he has not the means of
redemption at hand.
These and some other out-of-door spells having been tried, the parties
return to the dwelling-house to burn the nuts. Burning the nuts is a
very popular charm. They name a lad and a lass to each particular nut,
as they lay them in the fire, and, accordingly, as they burn quietly,
or start from beside one another, so the issue of the courtship will be.
A person takes a candle and goes unattended to a looking-glass--eats an
apple before it, combing his or her hair all the while, occasionally
holding over the shoulder a table-fork with a piece of the apple upon
it, and ultimately the adventurer’s conjugal partner will be seen in
the glass, in the attitude of taking the proffered piece of apple.
These and some other spells of less note, such as dipping for the
apple, groping for the clean dish, which are generally known, and,
therefore, need not be particularly described, joined to each
individual’s relation of the sights which he saw on the present
and former occasions, together with the reflections they draw from
“narrative old age,” bring the well-buttered sowans, or more favoured
_Banbrishd_[J] upon the table. The _sonsie_ kebbock is roasted at the
fire, and fangs cut down from end to end. Brandered bannocks, and
every other luxury that can be procured, load the hospitable board.
The welcome guests surround it; the silver head is bared with solemn
reverence, and the temperate feast, qualified with a few rounds of
the _Boghtle dhu_, is as much relished as if it consisted of the most
delicious luxuries that crown a monarch’s board. But the hours are too
happy to remain long;--they flee like a shadow, and call the guests to
their respective homes. Each swain and damsel now repose themselves
on their pillows, full of those tender emotions which the night’s
amusements excited, and in their midnight slumbers see those objects
whose image they so ardently wished to see in all their comeliness and
beauty.
CHRISTMAS.
The children of years to come shall hear the fame of Carthon, when
they sit round the burning oak, and the night is spent in songs of
old.
OSSIAN.
Christmas Eve is chiefly spent in preparation for the succeeding
days. The housewife is busily engaged in the provision and cooking of
dainties. The flailman still chaps in the barn, desirous of providing
the necessary store of fodder for the Christmas. The herd-boy’s axe
resounds on the fir-stock, determined to prepare plenty of light, and
the gudeman, and others, are abroad on a not less important errand.
This errand, on which we suppose the gudeman and his assistants
employed, is the procuring of _Calluch Nollic_, or _Christmas Old
Wife_, an indispensable requisite for this occasion; and it will
perhaps puzzle some of our readers to guess the purpose for which
the good woman is wanted. If they suppose it is to contribute to the
hilarity of the time, or to assist in the festive preparations, the
idea is not very erroneous--the old woman does so in a very effectual
manner. But the return she meets with, however warm, will not be
admired by the reader, when he is told that it consists in being
stowed into a cartful of burning peats, with as little ceremony
and feeling as an old broom. This usage, so inconsistent with the
Highlander’s characteristic humanity, she does not, however, regard as
a great punishment, for her feelings are as fire-proof as those of a
Salamander. Indeed, it is no rare sight, though strange it must be, to
see an honest woman, who has undergone the unpleasant process of being
Christmas fire to a circle of unfeeling fellows, perhaps oftener than
once, heartily spinning at her wheel, and gratifying those, it may be,
who had a hand in the unfriendly act, with her marvellous tales. But to
avoid a certain imputation which some may be inclined to fix on us, it
will be proper to explain our meaning.
The reader will please understand, that this good woman only undergoes
this process by representation. Among those valuable discoveries which
distinguish former ages, that which gave rise to this custom deserves
notice. Some wise-acre, by some lucky chance, discovered, that at this
festive season, when the asperity of his character is probably much
softened, even relentless death himself can be compromised with on very
advantageous terms. By the sacrifice of an old woman, or any other body
whom he wished in a better world, and whom, by the following process,
he chose to send to it, death was debarred from any farther claim to
himself, or his friends, until the return of the next anniversary. He
went to the wood this night, fetched home the stump of some withered
tree, which he regularly constituted the representative of some person
of the description we have mentioned, and whose doom was inevitably
fixed by the process, without resort or appeal. Such a simple mode
of obtaining security from a foe whom every body fears, could not be
supposed to fall into desuetude; and the custom is therefore retained,
whatever faith may exist as to its utility, in some parts of the
country, even to this day.
But to return to the busy fireside whence we set out, we shall suppose
the goodman and the “_carling_” arrived, and the other members of the
family now relieved from their eager toil, with the old wife in the
centre. The question now is, how the remainder of the night is to be
disposed of? The nature of it requires that it should be spent with
gaiety; and a game at cards, the clod,[K] or the bag, is generally
fixed upon. At the ordinary hour, however, all retire to rest with
minds bent on the morrow’s gratifications, and the house is soon
changed from that scene of bustle and confusion it recently exhibited,
to that of peaceful tranquillity, where nothing is heard but the
slumbering of the inmates, and the growling bark of the faithful
_collie_ on the midden-head.
At length the brightening glow of the eastern sky warns the anxious
housemaid of the approach of
CHRISTMAS DAY.
She rises full of anxiety at the prospect of her morning labours. The
meal, which was steeped in the _sowans-bowie_ a fortnight ago, to make
the _Prechdachdan sour_, or _sour scones_, is the first object of her
attention. The gridiron is put on the fire, and the sour scones are
soon followed by hard cakes, soft cakes, buttered cakes, brandered
bannocks, and pannich perm. The baking being once over, the sowans pot
succeeds the gridiron, full of new sowans, which are to be given to the
family, agreeably to custom, this day in their beds. The sowans are
boiled into the consistence of molasses, when the _Lagan-le-vrich_,[L]
to distinguish it from boiled sowans, is ready. It is then poured
into as many bickers as there are individuals to partake of it, and
presently served to the whole, old and young. It would suit well the
pen of a Burns, or the pencil of a Cruikshank, to paint the scene which
follows. The ambrosial food is soon dispatched in aspiring draughts
by the family, who soon give evident proofs of the enlivening effects
of the _Lagan-le-vrich_. As soon as each dispatches his bicker, he
jumps out of bed--the elder branches to examine the ominous signs of
the day,[M] and the younger to enter on its amusements. Flocking to
the swing, a favourite amusement on this occasion, the youngest of
the family gets the first “_shouden_,” and the next oldest to him,
in regular succession. In order to add the more to the spirit of the
exercise, it is a common practice with the person in the _swing_,
and the person appointed to swing him, to enter into a very warm and
humorous altercation. As the swinged person approaches the swinger, he
exclaims, _Ei mi tu chal_, “I’ll eat your kail.” To this the swinger
replies, with a violent shove, _Cha ni u mu chal_, “You shan’t eat
my kail.” These threats and repulses are sometimes carried to such a
height as to break down or capsize the threatener, which generally puts
an end to the quarrel.
As the day advances, those minor amusements are terminated at the
report of the gun, or the rattle of the ball-clubs--the gun inviting
the marksman to the “_Kiavanuchd_,” or prize-shooting, and the latter
to “_Luchd-vouil_,” or the ball-combatants--both the principal sports
of the day. A description of either of these sports is unnecessary, as
nothing new distinguishes them from similar amusements in other places;
unless it be a consummate precision in the marksman, and a vigorous
intrepidity in the ball-combatants, that cannot perhaps be equalled by
the peasantry of any other country.
Tired at length of the active amusements of the field, they exchange
them for the substantial entertainments of the table. Groaning under
the “_sonsy haggis_,” and many other savoury dainties, unseen perhaps
for twelve months before, the relish communicated to the company, by
the appearance of the festive board, is more easily conceived than
described. The dinner once dispatched, the flowing bowl succeeds, and
the sparkling glass flies to and fro like a weaver’s shuttle. As it
continues its rounds, the spirits of the company become the more jovial
and happy. Animated by its cheering influence, even old decrepitude
no longer feels his habitual pains--the fire of youth is in his eye,
as he details to the company the exploits which distinguished him in
the days of “_auld langsyne_;” while the young, with hearts inflamed
with “_love and glory_,” long to mingle in the more lively scenes of
mirth, to display their prowess and agility. Leaving the patriarchs to
finish those professions of friendship for each other, in which they
are so devoutly engaged, the younger part of the company will shape
their course to the ball-room, or the card-table, as their individual
inclinations suggest; and the remainder of the evening is spent with
the greatest pleasure of which human nature is susceptible. Nor
will this happy evening terminate the festivities of this occasion.
Christmas mid-day awakes all but old age, to a renewal of former
hilarity. To age, however, there is no permanent enjoyment ordained
in this sublunary state. The transient gleam of happiness which
animated his feeble frame has given place, with the cause of it, to a
gloom proportionate to his former joys. Headaches, rheumatisms, and
other wonted infirmities, are this day returned with more than usual
virulence. He wakes only to recline his head on a pillow of sorrow, and
to think on the days that are gone.
NEW-YEAR’S EVE.
“A gude New Year I wish thee, Maggy.”
BURNS.
The Highlander’s native proneness to festive enjoyments, far from
being cloyed by recent series of feasts and diversions, only receives
from their speedy recurrence an additional excitement. Anxious by all
means to secure this occasion its accustomed share of hilarity, fresh
schemes of amusement are studied and promoted with unabated avidity.
The peculiar character of the time pre-eminently entitles it to every
demonstration of satisfaction which mankind can evince; and it must be
no small stimulus to the Highlander’s laudable zeal, to see that in
this he is imitated by beings whose abilities are far inferior to his
own.
We presume it is a circumstance that is very little known in other
quarters of the kingdom, that, on this particular occasion, even the
_brute_ creation (if we may use the expression) have an instinctive
knowledge of its auspices. In particular, that admirable object
of Highland curiosity, the “_Candlemas[N] Bull_,” manifests no
small degree of respect for the occasion. This strange and curious
_animal_, which has so long escaped the observation of all the _Saxon_
naturalists and astronomers that ever lived, has been long since
discovered by our Highland philosophers. We say astronomers! because,
however strange it may appear, this bull forms an object of speculation
connected with their department of science. It must not, however, be
inferred from this circumstance, that it is of that celestial species
of bulls designated by astronomers to distinguish a particular division
of the zodiac; neither is it of that terrestrial species known to
naturalists and cattle-dealers--it is of a species distinct from both.
Partaking together of the aërial and terrestrial nature and qualities,
both the earth and the air are equally its elements. This bull makes
an annual excursion, in some latitude or other, about the twilight of
this night, no doubt in honour of the occasion. He has, it is said,
neither wings nor any other apparent buoyants; but he takes advantage
of the course of the wind, on which he glides along in fellowship with
the clouds, in a manner that would do credit to the best aeronaut
of the day. The particular place of his ascension or descent, which
varies with the direction of the wind, cannot be exactly ascertained.
Nor can we favour the curious with a minute description of its bodily
appearance, since we never had the good fortune to be present when it
was seen. All our informants, however, agree in representing it as of
a very large size, the colour of a dark cloud, and having all the limbs
of a common bull.[O]
As soon as night sets in, it is the signal for the suspension of
common employments; and the Highlander’s attention is directed to
more agreeable and important callings. Associating themselves into
bands, the men, with tethers and axes, shape their course towards the
juniper bushes, which are as much in request this night as kail is
on Hallowe’en. Returning home with Herculean loads, the juniper is
arranged around the fire to dry till the morning. Some careful person
is also dispatched to the _dead and living ford_, who draws a pitcher
of water, observing all the time the most profound silence. Great care
must be taken that the vessel containing the water does not touch the
ground, otherwise it would lose all its virtues. These and every other
necessary peculiar to the occasion being provided, the inmates retire
to rest for the night, full of the thoughts of the morrow.
The Highlander’s morning cheer this day is far less palatable than
that with which he is served so comfortably on Christmas-day. But if
it be not so agreeable to his temporal inclinations, it is far more
beneficial to his spiritual interests. The _Lagan-le-vrich_, though
very good in itself as a substantial dish, will do no more than satisfy
for a time the cravings of nature. But the treat of which he partakes
this day extends its effects to the good of both soul and body. This
treat, if we may so call it, is divided into two courses, which are
productive of the following good effects.
The first course, consisting of the _Usque-Cashrichd_, or water
from the _dead and living ford_, by its sacred virtues, preserves
the Highlander, until the next anniversary, from all those direful
calamities proceeding from the agency of all infernal spirits,
witchcraft, evil eyes, and the like. And the second course, consisting
of the fumes of juniper, not only removes whatever diseases may
affect the human frame at the time, but it likewise fortifies the
constitution against their future attacks. These courses of medicine
are administered in the following manner:--
Light and fire being kindled, and the necessary arrangements having
been effected, the high priest of the ceremonies for the day, and his
assistants, proceed with the hallowed water to the several beds in the
house, and, by means of a large brush, sprinkles upon their occupants a
profuse shower of the precious preservative, which, notwithstanding its
salutary properties, they sometimes receive with jarring ingratitude.
The first course being thus served, the second is about to be
administered, preliminary to which it is necessary to stuff all the
crevices and windows in the house, even to the key-hole. This done,
piles of juniper are kindled into a conflagration in the different
apartments of the house. Rising in fantastic curls, the fumes of
the blazing juniper spread along the roof, and gradually condense
themselves into an opaque cloud, filling the apartment with an
odoriferous fumigation altogether overpowering. Penetrating into the
inmost recesses of the patient’s system, (for _patients_ they may well
be called,) it brings on an incessant shower of hiccupping, sneezing,
wheezing, and coughing, highly demonstrative of its expectorating
qualities. But it not unfrequently happens, that young and thoughtless
urchins, not relishing such _physic_, and unmindful of the important
benefits they reap from it, diversify the scene by cries of suffocation
and the like, which never fail to call forth from the more reflecting
part of the family, if able to speak, a very severe reproof. Well
knowing, however, that the more intense the “_smuchdan_,” the more
propitious are its effects, the high priest, with dripping eyes and
distorted mouth, continues his operations, regardless of the feelings
of his flock, until he considers the dose fully sufficient--upon which
he opens the _vent_, and the other crevices, to admit the genial fluid,
to recover the spirits of the exhausted patients. He then proceeds to
gratify the horses, cattle, and other bestial stock in the town, with
the same entertainment in their turn.[P]
Meanwhile, the gudewife gets up, venting the most latent embryo of
disease in a copious expectoration; and clapping her hand upon the
bottle _dhu_, she administers a renovating cordial to the sufferers
around her. The painful ordeal is, therefore, soon forgotten, and
nothing is heard but the salutations of the season. All the family
now get up, to wash their besmeared faces and prepare themselves for
the festivities of the day, and for receiving the visits of their
neighbours. These last soon arrive in bodies, venting upon the family
broadsides of salutation peculiar to the day.[Q] Breakfast being served
up, consisting of all the luxuries that can be procured, those of the
neighbours not engaged are invited to partake of it; and the day is
terminated with balls, drinking, card parties, and other sports too
tedious to be mentioned.
FASTEN’S EVE.
“And oft I hear your dearest name
Whispered in my troubled dream.”
The most substantial entertainment peculiar to this night is the
matrimonial brose, which is a dish, we believe, well known throughout
the country at large. This savoury dish is generally made of the
bree of a good fat jigget of beef or mutton, which, being sometimes
a good while in _retentum_, renders the addition of salt to the meal
unnecessary. Before the bree is put in the bicker or plate, a ring is
mixed with the meal, which it will be the aim of every partaker to
get. The first bicker being discussed, the ring is put into two other
bickers successively; and should any of the candidates for matrimony
find the ring more than once, he may rest assured of his marrying
before the next anniversary.
The brose, and plenty of other good cheer, being dispatched, the
guests betake themselves to another part of the night’s entertainment.
Soon as the evening circle convenes, the “_Bannich Junit_,” or “sauty
bannocks,” are resorted to. The component ingredients of those
dainties are eggs and meal, and a sufficient quantity of salt, in order
to sustain their ancient and appropriate appellation of “sauty.” These
ingredients, well mixed together, are baked or toasted on the gridiron,
and are regarded by old and young as a most delicious treat; and, as
may be expected, they have a charm attached to them, which enables
the happy Highlander to discover the object of all his spells--his
connubial bed-fellow.
A sufficient number of those designed for the palate being prepared,
the great or matrimonial bannock is made, of which all the young people
in the house partake. Into the ingredients of it there is some particle
intermixed, which, in the distribution, will fall to the lot of some
happy person, who may be sure, if not already married, to be so before
the next anniversary.
Last of all are made the _Bannich Bruader_, or dreaming bannocks, to
the ingredients composing which is added a little of that substance
which chimney-sweeps call soot, and which contains some charm of which
we have not yet come to the knowledge. In baking these last bannocks,
the baker must be as mute as a stone--one word would destroy the charm
of the whole concern. One is given to each individual, who slips off
with it quietly to bed; and, reposing his head on his bannock, he will
be gratified by the sight of his beloved in the course of his midnight
slumbers.
BELTANE EVE.
“Now the sun’s gone out o’ sight,
Beet the ingle, snuff the light;
In glens the fairies skip and dance,
And witches wallop o’er to France.”
RAMSAY.
Beltane Eve[R] is a night of considerable importance and of much
anxiety to the Highland farmer, as being the grand anniversary review
night, on which all the tribes of witches, warlocks, wizards, and
fairies, in the kingdom, are to be reviewed by Satan and his chief
generals in person, and new candidates admitted into infernal orders.
When such a troop, under such a commander, are let loose upon the
community, it is natural to suppose that much misery and devastation
will follow in their train; and when rewards are only conferred on
those most consummate in wickedness, and those most adept in cutting
diabolical cantrips, it is natural for every honest man to feel
anxious that they may not obtain promotion at his expense. In order,
therefore, to be perfectly secure from the machinations of so dangerous
a society, every prudent man will resort to those safeguards that will
keep them at the staff’s end. Messengers are therefore dispatched to
the woods for cargoes of the blessed rowan tree, the virtues of which
are well known. Being formed into the shape of a cross, by means of a
red thread, the virtues of which too are very eminent, those crosses
are, with all due solemnity, inserted in the different door-lintels
in the town, and protect those premises from the cantrips of the most
diabolical witch in the universe. Care should also be taken to insert
one of them in the midden, which has at all times been a favourite
site of _rendezvous_ with the black sisterhood. This cheaply purchased
precaution once observed, the people of those countries will now go to
bed as unconcernedly, and sleep as soundly, as on any other night.
While those necessary precautions are in preparation, the matron or
housekeeper is employed in a not less interesting avocation to the
juvenile generation, _i. e._ baking the Beltane bannocks. Next morning
the children are presented each with a bannock, with as much joy as an
heir to an estate his title-deeds; and having their pockets well lined
with cheese and eggs, to render the entertainment still more sumptuous,
they hasten to the place of assignation, to meet the little band
assembled on the brow of some sloping hill, to reel their bannocks,
and learn their future fate. With hearty greetings they meet, and with
their knives make the signs of life and death on their bannocks. These
signs are a cross, or the sign of life, on the one side; and a cypher,
or the sign of death, on the other. This being done, the bannocks are
all arranged in a line, and on their edges let down the hill. This
process is repeated three times, and if the cross most frequently
present itself, the owner will live to celebrate another Beltane day;
but if the cypher is oftenest uppermost, he is doomed to die of course.
This sure prophecy of short life, however, seldom spoils the appetites
of the unfortunate short-livers, who will handle their knives with as
little signs of death as their more fortunate companions. Assembling
around a rousing fire of collected heath and brushwood, the ill-fated
bannocks are soon demolished, amidst the cheering and jollity of the
youthful association.[S]
CHRISTENINGS.
“When we sit bowsing at the nappy,
And getting fu’ and unco happy,
We think not on the lang Scots miles,
The mosses, waters, slaps, an’ stiles.”
BURNS.
Having travelled over the prominent features which distinguish public
annual festivities in the Highlands of Scotland, we shall now briefly
direct the reader’s attention to those particular occasions which
only interest private circles of friends; and of all these it may be
said, that the birth and christening of a child forms one of the most
pleasant and important. The fond parent, filled with those visionary
hopes and expectations which the imagination is so apt to conceive as
the portion of those objects most dear to us, fancies he beholds in
his new offspring the future hero or statesman, whose fragile hand may
be destined to wield the sword of a general or the pen of a statesman.
Such is the impression of the Highland parent in particular--an
impression in which he is perhaps confirmed by superior authority. The
great utility and comfort derived from having the assistance of those
wise people, whose experience and judgment enable them to discover
those great destinies in an infant, is abundantly apparent; and of this
capacity most of the Highland matrons are possessed. It is no doubt
this weighty consideration that induces every honest woman to have her
own junto of matron counsellors, whose presence is as indispensable
on the occasion of an accouchement as that of the _accoucheur_. If
the offspring is a son, it is likely those sage physiognomists will
already trace in his infantile lineaments clear signs of that future
greatness which he is destined some happy day to display, as well
as the striking resemblance he bears to his father and mother. The
greatness of such a _blessing_ as this they never fail to impress upon
the overjoyed father, (though, by the bye, he may have had too many
of these blessings before,) who is thus induced cheerfully to devote
more of his little property than he can well afford, to give the
occasion its deserved _eclat_. Filled with pleasure, elated with hope,
Highland hospitality has no bounds--a score of lives are sacrificed at
the shrine of festivity, and all the neighbours and kinsmen invited
to the christening. The day arrived, the little great man destined to
grace some name is arrayed in his robes of state, and confided to the
care of the happy sponsors, who, (should the parson not attend the
feast,) together with the company present, will proceed with him to
the parsonage, to receive the ordinance of baptism. On their return,
the guests assembled will pledge the health of their host and the
_Benheen_, or the sick wife, in overflowing bumpers--not forgetting
young Donald, who, “_may he thrive_,” every body praises for a fine
child.
The seating and tables being next sorted in some snug place, the feast
commences with a course of savoury soup, which is pronounced good
by all. A succeeding course of broth is still better; and a third
still better than the second. Mutton and beef follow, each good in
its kind. Plenty of fowls, equally delicious, are next ushered in,
calling forth the unqualified praise of the guests, who, upon the
whole, pronounce the banquet the most luxurious which they have seen
for a long time before. The dessert once dispatched, the flowing bowl
succeeds, and the rafters are made again to resound to the healths of
the young hero and his parents. A long catalogue of those toasts and
sentiments most congenial to the feelings of the company are next drank
with the greatest glee; and bowl after bowl is speedily drained “to
_friendship’s growth_,” the effects of which bespeak themselves in the
aspect of the company.
Enveloped in a cloud of tobacco-smoke, in one corner a hamlet
politician is retailing to his half-attentive neighbour the various
news of the day. Another guest is as warmly engaged in the praise of
his wife, his horses, or his cattle; and another is eagerly soliciting
attention to his improved mode of ploughing his ground, sowing his
turnips, and planting his potatoes. At length, when the house begins to
revolve, each thinks it time to withdraw. The officious midwife then
comes to the door, full of kind inquiries, if each has got his own
plaid, bonnet, and staff; and being rewarded for her attention by the
customary _douceur_, she wishes them all a good night and a pleasant
journey.
WEDDINGS.
“Was ne’er in Scotland heard or seen
Sic dancing and deray;
Nouther at Falkland on the green,
Nor Peebles at the play.”
KING JAMES I.
Interesting as a christening undoubtedly is to the parents of the
child, it is, neither in a public nor private sense, so happy an
occasion as that which we are about to describe. If there is any thing
under the sun in which true happiness really consists, we are told it
is in the consummation of a marriage, where the parties, uninfluenced
by sordid motives, are entirely brought together by the magnetic power
of love. Of such a description the Highland marriages are in general.
The lower classes being pretty equal in their circumstances, policy and
interest have less influence in their marriages than is the case with
any other rank of people; and consequently the parties are left more to
the unbiassed dictates of their own voluntary choice.
When a couple of young lovers propose to get married, the nearest
relations of both parties meet to take the case into consideration;
and, in general, it is no difficult matter for the lovers and their
advocates to get a decision consonant to their inclinations. This is
called the booking (“_leuruch_”) or contract, which is very often
ratified by no other covenant than a few bottles of whisky. If the
parties come to an understanding, the lovers are immediately declared
bride and bridegroom; and some Tuesday or Thursday in the growth of the
moon is fixed upon for the celebration of the nuptials. Meanwhile, to
sustain the dignity of the bridal pair, from motives of policy as well
as of state, they select from their kinsmen two trustworthy persons
each, who are delegated to the other--the male to protect the party
from being stolen, (a practice once common, and not yet extinct,) and
the female to act as maid of honour and lady of the bedchamber on the
bridal occasion.
A few days prior to the bridal day, the parties, with their attendants,
perambulate the country, inviting the guests, on which occasion they
meet with marked attention from old and young. The invitations are all
delivered to the parties _propria persona_ at their firesides; and if
the wedding is to be a cheap one, a small present is sometimes offered
to the bride, and accepted of.
On the morning of the wedding-day, some lady, who is above the ordinary
level, and who has been constituted mistress of the ceremonies for the
day, arrives to deck the bride in her splendid habiliments. She is
received by the clean white bride, previously prepared for her by a
ducking in the cold bath; and, retiring to the wardrobe chamber, she is
speedily metamorphosed from a “sonsy country lassie” into a downright
lady--at least, if muslins and ribbons are all that is requisite to
confer this distinction, she is entitled to it. The bridegroom, too,
at his apartments, has his own decorators, who deck him out most
splendidly with marriage favours and other ornaments suitable to the
occasion.
Meanwhile, repeated vollies of musketry summon the guests to the
wedding. Mounted on his palfry, each “crony” shapes his course to the
house to which he was invited; while droves of youngsters flock along
the road, whose hearts at every shot are bounding with joy. On their
arrival, they are ushered into the breakfasting apartment, to partake
of the forenoon’s entertainment, consisting of good milk porridge and
cream, on which they fare very sumptuously. After this mid-day repast,
they are led to the ball-room, or dancing apartment, to share in its
enjoyment. Here the bride or bridegroom is seated at the upper end of
the ball-room, and receives the company, as they successively arrive,
with great pomp and ceremony; and the dancing and mirth is prolonged
for some hours.
At the time appointed, the bridegroom selects a party of young men,
who are dispatched to summon the bride and her party to the marriage
ceremony. Their approach is announced by showers of musketry opened
upon them by some of the bride’s men, and returned, most of the guests
being furnished with pistols. The bride’s party accordingly prepare
themselves for the procession. The bride is mounted upon some _canny_
charger behind an expert rider; drams go round to her health and
prosperity; and, the company being all in readiness, she leaves her
native residence for another, amidst the cheers and _feu-de-joie_ of
the assembly. Marching to the sound of the inspiring bagpipes, and
the discharge of fire-arms, the bride’s party proceed to the place
appointed for the marriage. The bridegroom’s party follow at some
little distance; and both arrived at the appointed place of rendezvous,
the bridegroom’s party stand in the rear till the bride’s party enter
the meeting-house, agreeably to the rules of precedence, which on this
occasion are decidedly in favour of the bride in all the proceedings of
the day.
Soon as the hymeneal knot is tied, the candidates for the honour of
wonning the kail, as they call it, drive off _pell mell_ for the
bridegroom’s house, horsemen and footmen promiscuously. Both parties,
now mingled together, proceed with multitudinous jovialty towards the
bridegroom’s, the scene of the future festivities of the night. A
volley of fire-arms announces their arrival; and the company assembled
at the door, to welcome the bride, assail her with a basket of the
bridal bread and cheese, the properties of which are well known. The
bridal pair are then seated at the upper end of the banquet, and the
guests are arrayed, according to their quality, around the far-extended
tables, formed of doors, chests, and cart bottoms, sustained by sturdy
supporters of wood or stone; and wooden beams, and deals for chairs, in
common form. The more plebeian part of the guests, freely disposed of
in the stables or byres, make themselves very comfortable with their
cheer.
Shortly the waiters come round the circle, presenting each with a
spoon, which he must carefully return when done with it. The spoon
is followed with the hardly-contested kail. After this, a remove of
savoury broth is presently brought in; of which all having partaken,
the still more delicious “_hotch-potch_” succeeds. Then follow fowl of
every feather, and every beast and creeping thing--
“Hind and fore spalls of a sheep
Drew whittles frae ilk sheath;
Wi’ gravie a’ their beards did creep,
They kempit wi’ their teeth.”
The dinner being over, the “shemit reel” is the next object of
attention. All the company assemble on the lawn with flambeaux, and
form into a circle. The bridal pair and their retinue then dance a
_sixsome reel_, each putting a piece of silver into the musician’s
hand. Those desirous may then succeed, and dance with the bride and
the two maids of honour, and are gratified at the commencement and
termination of each reel by the usual salutes.
In the meantime, the stewards of the feast having removed the temporary
erections from the dancing apartments, the shemit reel being over,
the guests re-occupy their seats in the original order, and dancing
and mirth is again resumed. Tartan plaids, spreading in every corner,
invite the fair to take shelter in those most congenial to their
inclinations. The jovial smiling bowl, now reeking in a corner, allures
to its side its votaries--the circling glass adds additional stimulus
to the riotous spirit of the company. In short, pleasure presents
herself for courtship in all her luring forms.
As the night advances, the company grows still more happy. The numerous
ills of the human lot, which at other times so much afflict them, now
cause them no concern; on the contrary, they are entirely full of its
pleasures. Hence, all the corners of the house, instead of declamations
against the infirmities of age, or the badness of the times, are full
of the happiest communications. Opportunities long sought for declaring
secret friendship have now occurred, and the warmth with which they
are expressed forcibly bespeak their fervency. Two patriarchs “had
long indulged the hope of seeing an honourable alliance betwixt
_their_ families. Both honest and respectable, the union of their
children would be a highly suitable match; and should such a desirable
event ever occur, there was a black stocking in secret, which would
spew on the occasion of the wedding.” In another, you may see two
hearty grey-beards, whose locked hands and contacting noddles show
the closeness of their friendship, relating to each other, with much
complacency, those tales of “_auld langsyne_” in which they themselves
acted so prominent a part. In another corner, the fond lover, with his
dearly beloved locked in his affectionate embrace, melting her heart
with his wooing strains; and in another, the vocal choir, whose throats
of steel vociferate their harmonious ditties on the gratified ears of
the company; while, on the top of a bed, or at the back of the door,
the juvenile part of the guests, assembled in tumultuous rabble, will
also join their voices in the general uproar.
On the floor the dancers are beyond compare. Fixed with emulation
who shall _win the dance_, every nerve and muscle is put in active
exercise. The lads are gaining greater agility every successive reel;
while, in the language of the poet,
“The lasses bab’d about the reel,
Gart a’ their hurdies wallop,
And swat like ponies when they speel
Up braes, or when they gallop.”
This scene lasts for some hours, until the presence of day warns the
bride to prepare for the bedding. Wishing, if possible, to elude the
public gaze, she attempts to steal away privately, when, observed by
some vigilant eye, her departure is announced, and all push to the
bridal chamber.
The door is instantly forced open, and the devoted bride, divested of
all her braws, and stripped nearly to the state of nature, is placed in
bed in presence of the whole company. Her left stocking is then flung,
and falls upon some individual, whose turn to the hymeneal altar will
be the next. The bridegroom, next led in, is as rapidly demolished, and
cosily stowed along-side of his darling. A bottle and glass being then
handed to the bridegroom, he rewards the friendliness of those who come
forward to offer their congratulations, with a flowing bumper. When the
numerous levée have severally paid their court, they retire, and leave
the young couple to repose.
On returning to the grand scene of festivity, we shall find that the
aspect of the company there has suffered no small alteration during
our absence. Overpowered by the peculiar influence of the ardent
friendship which fills the elder branches of the company, those
boisterous expressions of esteem which recently occupied them so much,
have declined into the calmest complacency. Overcome by the most
unspeakable sensations, the tongue, which was lately so voluble, has
totally failed. Those legs, which but a few hours ago displayed the
greatest agility, have now refused their office; and the whole machine
is become perfectly unwieldy and unmanageable:
“In their mawes there was na mank;
Upon the firms some snor’d;
Ithers frae aff the bunkers sank,
Wi’ een like collops scor’d.”
Seated by the victorious bowl, the _Far Cuil_ is still engaged in his
musical vocation. With bow alternately above and below the strings,
he is earnestly employed at _Tullochgorum_, while cries for the same
spring, proceeding from the dancers on the floor, incessantly ring on
his ears. Insensible to time or measure, some of the young people still
wallop on the floor, and unabated clamour reigns throughout the house.
Meanwhile, all the avenues leading from the town are thronged with
retiring guests “_careering_” on their way home; and the company is
ultimately reduced to the immediate friends and relations of the
young couple, who wait to offer their morning congratulations. When
the bridal pair are supposed to have reposed themselves sufficiently
long, they are warned to get up, to prepare for the breakfast and the
morning levée. On entering the grand breakfasting parlour, the whole
concourse of friends receive them with showers of compliments and
congratulations, accompanied by such gifts as may be convenient; and
yesterday’s scene of festivity is again renewed, and prolonged for the
day.
WAKES.
“But turn to yonder cloister’d gloom,
Where pallid Sorrow leads the way,
To muse upon some hallow’d tomb,
Where Friendship’s dearest relics lie.”
W. S.
Short and unstable are the joys of man!--How often does it happen that
such ardent scenes of pleasure as we have been just endeavouring to
describe are but like the gleam which precedes the storm--a prelude
to direful woe! Oft has the tender parent or loving child, who but
yesterday animated such a scene of festivity, to-day exhibited the most
desponding spectacle which human nature can witness. Those eyes, which
then sparkled at the _pibroch’s_ harmonious sounds, are now sealed for
ever; and his relations and friends are involved in grief more vehement
than their former joys.
Prone to partake in his neighbour’s joys, the Highlander, on such
occasions as this, is equally ready to share in his sorrows, and will
not grudge to contribute his exertions, by night as well as by day, to
add to his comfort or consolation. On the last offices of friendship
being performed, the body is laid on a bed in that apartment of the
house most commodious and suitable for the company; and the neighbours
immediately collect in bands, to watch over the remains of departed
friendship. During the silent hours of midnight, the solemnity of the
occasion is heightened by the sound of sacred praise, and reading
of the blessed Gospel. Such are now the laudable employments which
have assumed the place of that revelry which formerly disgraced the
Highland wakes, when immoderate drinking, dancing, wanton levity, and
profane amusements, were the prominent features of such an assembly.
It is true, the moderate use of liquor and singing of songs are still
tolerated, but excess on these occasions is now unknown. On the
departure of every group, one of the friends in attendance conducts
them to the melancholy bier, when each generally testifies the ardour
of his friendship by shaking the hand, which now cannot feel his
proffered kindness, and retires full of those solemn reflections which
the scene is calculated to produce.
FUNERALS.
“In some fond breast still lives the face,
Its wonted smile, the darling form,
Which awful death cannot efface,
However much it may deform.”
W. S.
On the third day after the defunct’s decease, if the person occupied
no station above the ordinary level, the body will be led to its
destined abode. This sorrowful day is early distinguished by melancholy
arrangements. Verbal warnings having been previously circulated to the
male inhabitants of the district, large and timeous preparations are
necessary for their accommodation and entertainment. While the seating
of the apartments destined to receive the company occupies the men,
the arrangement of the entertainment occupies no less the attention of
the women. In the meanwhile, the relations and family of the deceased
attire themselves in the best mournings their circumstances can afford,
and prepare themselves for going through the duties of the day with
all possible fortitude and decency. The arrival of the wooden house
of death, and the deposition of its inhabitant, early call forth many
a sigh and tear at the parting which is about to take place. But the
closing of the coffin is deferred till the eve of removal.
About twelve o’clock, the company, or, to speak more properly, the
guests, successively arrive in scattered groups, dressed in all the
variegated colours of the rainbow; and are received by some near
connection of the deceased, who conducts them to the place appointed
for their station.
With becoming gravity they take their seats, condoling very feelingly
with the present friends on their lamentable loss, and carry on for a
while a conversation very suitable to the business which brought them
together. They are each served, on their arrival, with what is called
a dram of “_dry whisky_,” and some fit person is appointed to keep the
glass in active circulation. To him is also delegated a discretionary
power of imposing extra penalties on late comers, who must compensate
for their absence by drinking a double quantity on their arrival.
Thus, all equally well plied with the enlivening glass, the solemn
aspect of the company is soon changed into a mixture of sorrow and joy.
The moralist, who so recently uttered such sage reflections upon the
shortness of life and its uncertainty, is transformed by some secret
influence into the sprightly wit, whose humorous jokes and repartees
continually agitate the risible powers of his audience. In short, the
house of mourning is rapidly changing into a house of mirth; and such
would be the opinion of any stranger who might visit the scene.
As soon as he approaches the door of the _meeting-house_, his ears are
assailed with a confusion of sounds, which conveys to him the idea of
entering a house full of bees. Seated in double rows, extending from
one end of the house to the other, he finds it literally crammed, not
with bees, but Highlandmen of every age and condition. In each end of
the house he sees overflowing bowls, and walking to and fro, a host of
waiters, bearing the full and empty glasses of the company, followed by
others with bread and cheese, which are liberally distributed amongst
the guests. Being seated in the place befitting his rank or station, if
curiosity leads him to a closer examination of the complexion of his
company, he will not be a little amused at the diversity of feelings
and conversation distinguishing the individuals composing it. If the
visitor or stranger whom we have supposed is of a serious cast of
mind, and if he addresses himself to his elbow neighbour on the solemn
character of the occasion, and laments the pitiful state of the family
that may be thus deprived of their parent or provider--perhaps, if he
listens for a moment with counterfeited seriousness, the sprightly
sally of a rustic wit rings upon his ear, and a horse-laugh immediately
shows the spectator he has no great relish for his subject. If, again,
he addresses himself to one of a less jovial temperament, who has not
yet been so much affected by the general _infection_ upon the same
subject, he will perhaps acknowledge the justness of his observations
with a significant shake of the head, declaring at the same time the
poignancy of his sorrow for the deceased, who, “new peace to him, was
the best of souls.” But, at the same time, and in the same breath, he
will make a digression to the alarming depreciation of agricultural
produce, and the consequent inevitable ruin of poor farmers, if they
do not immediately get a reduction of the one-half of their rents; and
the concern he evinces for both matters makes it difficult to determine
which loss he considers the greater calamity. Listening to the various
topics of conversation discussed by the company in general, he will
find _seriousness_ form no part of it. Having already sufficiently
moralized on the _evils_ of life, they are now resolved to confine
themselves entirely to its _goods_. Death, low prices, and high rents,
have now given place to balls, feasts, and diversions. One group is
warmly engaged in scheming a “_dry or wet ball_;” another group is
warmly expatiating upon the good signs of the year, corroborated as
they are by the “_annual prognostic_;” and others are as warmly engaged
in recriminating each other for their notorious gallantries, and the
like; while a good spring, a good harvest, and ready sale to sheep and
cattle, are drunk by all with the greatest enthusiasm. All are become
suddenly acquainted with the proverb, “A pound of care will not pay
an ounce of debt;” and therefore they are determined to spend life in
friendship and good hopes. In obedience to this wholesome resolution,
each crony, as he gives his neighbour the hand, will also give him
the pipe or the “sneeshan mill,” and would be very sorry to see him
ill-used in a “_pley_,” or any such cause, without rendering him a
helping hand.
As the drinking continues, the company become still more noisy.
Repetitions of toasts, the vacant laugh, and incoherent exclamation,
mingled with a few little oaths, are what perpetually burst upon the
ear; and the sequel of such unhallowed carousals exhibit but too
frequently a scene of the most improper levity.[T]
Far different, however, are the feelings and conduct of those mournful
individuals who occupy another apartment, where the affectionate widow
or fatherless orphans are now assembled, to take the last and long
farewell of the relics of love. In deep dismay, behold the sorrowing
group bending over the dear remains, absorbed in frantic woe, bathing
with their tears unfeeling death, insensible to all their sorrows.
When the weeping relatives have severally bade the corpse the last
adieu, by imparting the farewell kiss to the cold and pallid lip of
death, (which, nevertheless, is perhaps the sweetest we ever impart,)
the dearest form is for ever concealed from their view.
“Long on the lip the kiss will dwell,
And on the ear the mournful sigh,
Which seal’d the last and fond farewell,
And forg’d a bond time can’t untie.”
The necessary arrangements being effected, the coffin is brought forth,
surrounded by the bereaved friends, and bound on the _hanspecks_ on
some convenient supports at the door; and when time will no longer
permit the guests to indulge in their hilarity, an unwelcome summons
invites them to their duty. Issuing forth tumultuously, they surround
their charge; and all the riders being provided with their horses, the
signal for setting off is given. The female relations, according to the
custom of some countries, get the first lift; and the supports on which
the body was bound being carefully overturned, for some reason best
known to the wise men of the day, the multitudinous procession takes
the road.
At this moment a scene presents itself to the cool spectator, wholly
without a parallel. The various habiliments of the company--riders and
pedestrians mingled together--the sound of the horses--and the united
clamour of the multitude--are altogether striking. At one time, the
expressions of mirth predominate; while, at others, the heart-rending
lamentations of the female relations of the defunct prevail, and in
their turn vibrate upon the ear. The women, at length unwillingly
disentangled from the body, return home with mournful wailing, and the
procession continues its course to its destination. Too many of the
company are sometimes more intent upon their own pleasures than mindful
of their business, roving about in scattered parties; while others
exhibit, in their attention, a pattern of correctness and decorum;
and, warmly enumerating the good qualities of the deceased, descant on
the happy change he has made--at the same time walking with a careful
step, lest an unfortunate fall beneath the body should doom themselves
to share his enviable lot.[U]
At length, arrived at the mansions of the dead, the body is
lowered into its drear abode, amidst the sorrowing of some and the
insensibility of others. The slate planted on the grave terminates its
earthly career, and consigns it for ever to the land of forgetfulness.
“Yet, though consign’d to death’s dark shade,
And ever hid from mortal view,
Still constant Love, by Fancy led,
The dreary scene will oft review.”
The End.
J. S. WITHERDEN, Lithographic and Letterpress Printer,
Clifford’s Inn Passage, Fleet Street.
FOOTNOTES:
[A] Nothing can appear more surprising to the refined reader, than that
any human being, possessing the rational faculties of human nature,
could for a moment entertain a notion so preposterous as that a ghost,
which conveys the idea of an immortal spirit, could be killed, or
rather annihilated, by an arrow, dirk, or sixpence. It was, however,
the opinion of the darker ages, that such an exploit as killing a ghost
was perfectly practicable. A spirit was supposed to be material in
its nature, quite susceptible of mortal pain, and liable to death or
annihilation from the weapons of man. Such an opinion is repeatedly
expressed in several passages of the Poems of Ossian, and in the
doctrine of the _Seanachy_, down to the present day.
[B] John-o’-Groat’s House, Caithness.
[C] We are informed that there is a woman still living in the parish
of Abernethy, on whom this experiment was tried. She was found one
night, rather unaccountably, as it appeared to her wise parents, on
the outside of a window. No doubt, therefore, remained, but that she
had been stolen by the fairies, and a stock left as her substitute. It
was, therefore, unanimously resolved to carry the stock to the junction
of the shires of Inverness, Moray, and Banff, where the poor child was
left for a night to enjoy the pleasures of solitude. Being well rolled
up in a comfortable blanket, she sustained no material injury from
this monstrous exposure, and, accordingly, the result proved highly
satisfactory to her enlightened guardians.
[D] Mine is yours, and yours is mine.
[E] The goats are supposed to be upon a very good understanding with
the fairies, and possessed of more cunning and knowledge than their
appearance bespeaks.
[F] Witchcraft.
[G] A Witch.
[H] The present Lord Murray is supposed to have been the gentleman who
discovered to Mr. Willox this convenient piece of information regarding
the original nature and use of the _stone_.
[I] North.
Since the first publication of this book, the renowned Mr. Mac Grigor
Willox has been laid with his fathers, leaving the stone and bridle
to his son and daughter, as heirlooms for the benefit of posterity.
The goodman died full of years, if not full of any thing else which is
coveted by the people of this world. But by his death it is believed
that the spell which so long bound the northern community to his stone
and bridle has been broken; and it is thought that those precious
relics, which were scarcely “honestly come by,” may be returned to the
kelpie and the mermaid, their original owners, should they or their
representatives be disposed to claim restitution of them.
The highly curious and interesting collection of Criminal Trials,
recently published by Robert Pitcairn, Esq., affords ample particulars
of the _modus operandi_ by which the workers of Satan in human shape
accomplished their nefarious ends. The reader is particularly referred
to the cases of those witches of quality, Lady Glammis and Lady Munro
of Fowlis, and to the assistant hags of the latter, consisting of
Laskie Loncart, Christy Ross, and others, all highly deserving of
_record_. But Isobel Gowdie, the head witch of Auldearn, who, on her
own confession, was condemned to be “worried and burned at a stake”
in 1662, is the standard authority to refer to on these subjects. It
appears that in those days Auldearn, near Nairn, now the locality of
a virtuous community, was the great nursery that supplied Satan with
_cadets_ for his “Black Watch;” for so numerous were the members of
the craft at that place, according to Isobel Gowdie, that on occasions
of public inspection by the sovereign of the order, they were counted
or told off in _squads_ or “_covines_” (as Isobel called them), to
each of which were appointed two _adjutants_ or _drill-sergeants_,
the brigade-major being a “_well-favoured_” wench of the name of
“_Nannie_,” who occupied the seat of honour at Satan’s _carousals_. On
such occasions of assembly, they dug up graves, possessed themselves
of unchristened infants, using their joints and members in their
incantations. They metamorphosed themselves into the forms of crows,
cats, hares, &c., and played all manners of cantrips on live stock and
farm produce. But it not unfrequently happened that those _amusements_
turned out but indifferent _sport_ to some of the _probationers_
concerned,--several worthies, and Isobel Gowdie among the rest, having
had unwittingly become the subjects of the _chase_, at the feet and
mouths of the greyhounds of the day, who have “no respect of persons,”
or the characters in which they enacted their parts. And it would also
appear that the cadets in this Royal Military College formed any thing
but an harmonious society--the Master General, and his _Sappers_ and
_Miners_, often quarrelling about very minor matters, such as titles of
distinction; in the course of which the _master_ often received many
_black names_, and the apprentices many _stripes_. But it would appear
that “one Margaret Wilson in Auldearn” was nearly match for him; for
Isobel Gowdie declares she used to “_bell the cat_” with him stoutly;
“defending herself finely” from the _wool-cards_ and such other sharp
instruments of punishment as he made use of on those occasions. “It was
no doubt one of those ancient _covines_ that encountered Macbeth (not
far from the College) on his way to Forres.”
But since the days of Isobel Gowdie, Maggy Wilson, Bessy Hay, and Co,
the _union_ has been repealed, without the aid of any great agitator;
for ever since their day, the people in this parish have died a natural
death. But it is still mooted, “_sotto voce_,” that there are still
some roots of the old tree scattered over neighbouring territories
not far from the capital of the Highlands, who have been allowed to
live quite as long as they deserved. And one Isabella Hay, probably
a descendant of her namesake of Auldearn, has for many years levied
_blackmail_ on the inhabitants of Inverness, until having, by her imps,
in autumn 1839, laid her enchantments on the goods and chattels of some
people in Inverness (the author among the number), she was sentenced
in September, 1839, by the Circuit Court of Justiciary--not to the
_stake_, but to a punishment which, however, has served to put an end
to her sorceries.
Among recent discoveries of the author as charms, or rather
counter-charms against witchcraft, it deserves to be noticed, that if
a knot tied against the sun be made on the tail of a quadruped, it
is secure against the spells of necromancy. It is, or had been till
recently, also a common practice to put a portion of the medicinal
herb or plant called “_saffron_” under the churn while the process
of churning the cream is undergoing, which will prevent the _craft_
from taking the substance by means of their magical _rope_, by the
operations of which they were wont to extract from a piece of wood
in their own dwellings the soul and substance of what might belong
to parties afar off, and who, without such precaution, might churn
away till doomsday without the appearance of the yellow treasure. And
moistening the mouth of a calf with the extract of the said vegetable,
and setting it to suck a cow whose milk might go to the said _rope_,
will instantly restore it to the proper owner.
It need scarcely be added, in conclusion, that _scoring_ a witch
crosswise on the forehead, or above her breath, divests her of
all supernatural power. But the laws are now so strong, even at
John-o’-Groat’s house, that the processes of trial by _swimming_ and
_scoring_ cannot now be resorted to, except in _extreme_ cases where
the _subjects_ have not the benefit of _law_ or _clergy_. On a very
recent occasion, however, in Ross-shire, a worthy fisher, whose nets
suffered no small prejudice from the machinations of a neighbour, but
no friend, performed on her, much against her consent, the operation
of _scoring_ on the forehead, for which the sheriff of Ross, in August
1845, sentenced him to undergo a short imprisonment in the gaol of Tain.
[J] Switched cream.
[K] The game called “_Clodhan_,” or Clod, is a favourite amusement
with the youth in the Highlands. One of the company goes round the
circle with a clod, or some other article, putting his hand into each
person’s lap or hand, and leaves the clod with one of the number. The
whole circle are then desired to guess the person who possesses the
clod, (he guessing like the rest to prevent suspicion,) when all those
who err are subjected to a small penalty, which shall be afterwards
determined by an appointed judge; and in the meantime, he must deliver
some pledge to enforce his compliance with the arbiter’s decision. When
a sufficient number of pledges are obtained, judgment is pronounced
against their owners, who must redeem them, by doing various little
penances, some of which are sufficiently ludicrous.
The bag is another popular juvenile amusement. One pops his head into a
bag, holding his hand spread on his back, and the palm uppermost. One
of the company, in rotation, strikes his hand, not unfrequently with
all his might, upon that of the person in the bag, who is desired to
guess who struck him last. If his guessing proves correct, the last
striker then puts his head in the bag in his turn.
[L] Half-boiled sowans.
[M] “A black Christmas makes a fat kirk-yard.” A windy Christmas and a
calm Candlemas, or new year, are signs of a good year.
[N] The term _Candlemas_ is applied to the _New Year_ in the Highlands.
The origin of the term arose from some old religious ceremonies
performed on this occasion by candle-light.
[O] We are totally unable to account for the origin of this strange
piece of superstition. It is unnecessary to remark, that the object
of this delusion is nothing but a passing cloud, which the perverted
imagination of the original Highlander shapes into the form of a bull.
There is something very ominous as to the art or direction in which the
bull rises or falls--we believe it to be prognostic of its being a good
or bad year.
[P] It is believed that this extraordinary entertainment is now
administered in no part of the Highlands, except in Strathdown and its
immediate neighbourhood. In that district, however, the inhabitants
generally attend to it, merely, it is believed, from the influence
of inveterate custom, and the author in his day had his share of the
antidote, though it is doubtful whether those rites are now observed in
his native district.
[Q] The literal expressions used in the salutation applicable to this
day in the Gaelic language the writer could never perfectly comprehend.
The literal translation of the words are, (_Mu nasc choil orst_,) “My
Candlemas bond upon you.” The real meaning of the words, however, is,
“You owe me a New-Year’s gift;” and it is a point of great emulation
who will salute the other first--the one who does so being considered
entitled to a gift from the person so saluted.
[R] Beltane is derived from two Gaelic words conjoined: “_Paletein_,”
signifying Pale’s fire, and not _Baal’s fire_, as some suppose. The
strange relic of Pagan idolatry which gave rise to this feast was no
doubt introduced into these countries, like many others of our more
prominent superstitions, by the Druids. Pales (of whom we read in the
heathenish mythologies) was the goddess of shepherds, and protectress
of flocks. Her feast was always celebrated in the month of April, on
which occasion no victim was killed, and nothing was offered but the
fruits of the earth. The shepherds purified their flocks with the
smoke of sulphur, juniper, boxwood, rosemary, &c. They then made a
large fire, round which they danced, and offered to the goddess milk,
cheese, eggs, &c., holding their faces towards the east, and uttering
ejaculations peculiar to the occasion. Those interesting relics of the
religious opinions of our ancestors, until of late, remained pretty
entire in some parts of the Highlands. But they have now, however,
declined into those childish ceremonies above described.
[S] Mr. Pennant, in his Tour, vol. i. p. 111, notices the ceremony of
the Bolteen or Beltane--the cakes baken with scrupulous attention to
rites and forms, and dedicated to birds of prey, &c., or the being
whose agents they were, to propitiate them to spare the lives of
themselves and flocks. Within the last twenty or thirty years these
observances have almost wholly disappeared. But the author himself is
old enough to have reeled his bannock, and dived, by the foregoing
spells, into the secrets of futurity.
[T] Let not the Highland reader be led to view this description of a
Highland funeral as casting any reflection on his moral or religious
character. Whatever ill-timed levity he may manifest on such an
occasion, the blame must be ascribed, not to him, but to that _evil
spirit_, the usquebaugh, the real cause of it. We cannot, however, help
regretting, that either the ill-judged hospitality of the entertainer,
or his own social habits, should expose him on this particular occasion
to the unruly influence of his demoralising countryman; and we are glad
to add, that of late years much improvement has been effected in the
conduct of Highland funerals--sobriety and decorum being much more the
order of the day.
[U] A fall sustained by a person, while supporting the body, is ominous
of the person’s speedy death. It may also be remarked, that it is
considered very imprudent to look at a passing funeral from the door of
a house, or from the window having a _stone lintel_.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.
Superscripted text is preceded by a carat character: M^cGLASHAN.
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.
Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.