above year, by the "Commissioners in Criminal Cases to the people in
Scotland," Judge Mosley and Judge Lawrence; and that ten women, each
charged with divers acts of witchcraft, were brought before them for
trial. The proceedings appear to have lasted until the 5th. One of the
accused, Helen Tait, had a rather narrow escape--the jury finding by a
plurality of voices that the "dittay" in her case was "not cleirly
proven." Nevertheless, before being dismissed from the bar, she was
required to find security to the extent of £50 sterling for her good
behaviour, and that she would banish herself from the parish. The nine
other unfortunates were all convicted, as is shown by the subjoined
minute, giving the finding of the jury and the deliverance of the judge,
as pronounced by the official dempster, "F. Goyyen":--(38)
"_Drumfreis, the 5th of Apryle, 1659._--The Commissioners adjudges Agnes
Comenes, Janet M'Gowane, Jean Tomson, Margt. Clerk, Janet M'Kendrig, Agnes
Clerk, Janet Corsane, Helen Moorhead, and Janet Callon, as found guilty of
the severall articles of witchcraft mentioned in the dittayes, to be tane
upon Wednesday come eight days to the ordinar place of execution for the
burghe of Drumfreis, and ther, betuing 2 and 4 hours of the afternoon, to
be strangled at staikes till they be dead, and therefter ther bodyes to be
burned to ashes, and all ther moveable goods to be esheite. Further, it is
ordained that Helen Moorhead's moveables be intromitted with by the
Shereff of Nithsdaile, to seize upon and herrie the samin for the King's
use."(39)
[Illustration: THE BURNING OF THE NINE WOMEN ON THE SANDS OF DUMFRIES,
APRIL 13TH, 1659. (Sketch by J. Copland, Dundrennan.)]
_Resolution of the Dumfries Presbytery regarding the attendance of
clergymen before the carrying out of the sentence, and at the actual
"burning" of the women, on the Sands_:--
"5th April, 1659.
"The Presbytery have appoynted Mr Hugh Henrison, Mr Wm. M'Gore, Mr George
Campbell, Mr John Brown, Mr Jo. Welsh, Mr George Johnston, Mr Wm. Hay, and
Mr Gabriel Semple, to attend the nine witches, and that they tak thair own
convenient opportunity to confer with them; also that they be assisting to
the brethren of Dumfries and Galloway the day of the Execution."(40)
_Dumfries, 14th November, 1664._--An edict from the Town Council: "The
Counsall being informed that Janet Burnes, commonly reputed a witche, and
quho hath bein banished out of severall burghis, and put out of this burgh
in the month of August last, for cheating the people upon pretence of
knowledge of all things done by them in tym past, or that may fall out in
tym cuming, with certification to be scurgit if ever she was sein within
the burgh theireafter; and being well informed that she was sein within
the town on Saturday, they have ordaint that intimation be made by touk of
drum, that non of the inhabitants resset or give meit or drink unto the
said Janet Burnes."(41)
_Court of Justiciary, Tolbooth of Dumfries, May 18th, 1671._--Warrant for
the execution of two alleged witches: "Magistrates of Drumfreis, Forasmuch
as in ane Court of Justiciarie, holden be us within the Tolbuthe of
Drumfreis, upon the fyftein day of May instant, Janet Muldritche, and
Elspeth Thomsone, now found guiltie be ane assyze of the severall articles
of witchcraft specified in the verdict given against them thereanent, were
decerned and adjudged be us, The Lords Commissioners of Justiciary, to be
tane upon Thursday next, the eighteen day of May instant, betwixt two and
four houres in the afternoune, to (the) ordinare place of executione, for
the toune of Drumfreis, and there to be worried at ane stake till they be
dead; and theirafter their bodies to be burnt to ashes, and all their
moveable goods and geir to be escheit. You shall thairfoir cause put the
said sentence to due executione, whereanent their presents shall be your
warrand. Given at Drumfreis the sixteen day of May, 1671."(42)
_Court of Justiciary, Dumfries, 1709._--Last trial for witchcraft in
Scotland: The accused was named Elspeth Rule; the indictment against her
being that she was by habit and repute a witch, and had used threatening
expressions towards persons at enmity with her, who, in consequence of
such menace, suffered from the death of friends or the loss of cattle,
while one of them became mad.
The jury by a majority of votes found the charges proven; and the judge
condemned the prisoner to be burned upon the cheek with a hot iron and
banished for life. It is told how, when this brutal act of branding the
cheek was being carried out, smoke was seen issuing from the poor woman's
mouth.(43)
_Dumfries and Major Weir, the notorious Edinburgh warlock--a slight
connecting link with Dumfries._
In his more youthful days Major Weir led an active military life,
serving as an officer in the Puritan Army during the Civil War (1641).
In the Registers of the Estates under March 3rd, 1647, reference is
made to a supplication by Major Thomas Weir, asking "that the
Parliament wald ordain John Acheson, Keeper of the Magazine, to
re-deliver to the supplicant the band given by him to the said John
upon the receipt of are thousand weight of poulder, two thousand
weight of match, and an thousand weight of ball, sent with the
supplicant to Dumfries for furnishing that part of the country."
_Presbytery of Dumfries (Southern District), March, 1692._--Marion Dickson
in Blackshaw, Isobel Dickson in Locherwood, Agnes Dickson (daughter of
Isobel), and Marion Herbertson in Mouswaldbank, had for a long time been
"suspected of the abominable and horrid crime of witchcraft," and were
believed to have "committed many grievous malefices upon several persons
their neighbours and others." It was declared to be damnifying "to all
good men and women living in the country thereabouts, who cannot assure
themselves of safety of their lives by such frequent malefices as they
commit."
Under these circumstances, James Fraid, John Martin, William Nicolson, and
Thomas Jaffrey in Blackshaw, John Dickson in Slop of Locherwoods, John
Dickson in Locherwoods, and John Dickson in Overton of Locherwoods, took
it upon them to apprehend the women, and carried them to be imprisoned at
Dumfries by the sheriff, which, however, the sheriff did not consent to
till after the six men had granted a bond engaging to prosecute. Fortified
with a certificate from the Presbytery of Dumfries, who were "fully
convinced of the guilt (of the women), and of the many malefices committed
by them," the men applied to the Privy Council for a commission to try the
delinquents.
The Lords ordered the women to be transported to Edinburgh for trial.(44)
_Kirk-Session of Caerlaverock._--Charge of alleged divination brought at
their instance, before the Dumfries Presbytery, 22nd March, 1697:
"Compeared John Fergusson in Woodbarns, who acknowledged his scandalous
carriage in charming and turning the key at Bankend conform to the
accusation, but says he knew not there was any evil in it. The Presbytery
appoint him to stand on the pillar in the church of Caerlaverock, and be
sharply rebuked for his scandalous _practice_ and recommends him to the
magistrates to be secured till he give bail to answer and satisfy conform
to this act."
The actual circumstance connected with this charge of alleged divination
are briefly as follows:--About the middle of January, 1697, two men
returning from Dumfries entered the tavern of William Nairns at Bankend of
Caerlaverock. These were John Fergusson of Woodbarns, Cummertrees, and
William Richardson, Cummertreestown. On leaving the inn Richardson
discovered that a sack of provisions had been taken from the saddle of his
horse which had been tied to a ring at the door. Entering the house, he
made known his loss, declaiming loudly against the thief. In the utmost
sympathy with his friend's loss, Fergusson declared he could soon find out
who the thief was, and called out that two Bibles should be brought to him
at once, to which the landlord stoutly demurred; but Fergusson threatened
that unless he got his own way he "would make bloody work among them," and
two Bibles were accordingly brought to the said John Fergusson, "who
brought a key out of his pocket and put the one end of it within one Bible
and the bowl end out, clasping the Bible upon it, and two holding the bowl
of the key upon their fingers. The said John then read three verses of the
50th Psalm out of the second Bible, beginning always at the 18th verse,
always naming a person before he began to read, till they came to William
M'Kinnell in the same town; and when they named him, and were reading the
said Scripture, the key and the Bible turned about and fell on the table.
This was done three times, as attested by James Tait, mason, who is
quartered in Townhead; James Fergusson, servitor to George Maxwell of
Isle; George Fergusson in Bankend; and William Nairns, in whose house it
was done."(45)
_Extracts from Irongray Kirk-Session Records._
"September 24th, 1691.
"David Muirhead of Drumpark and his wife, being called before the Session
and examined anent ane strife betwixt them and Janet Sinklar, submitted
themselves to the will of the Session. Janet Sinklar also submitted to the
will of the Session for saying that she doubted Drumpark's wife of murder
and witchcraft, and is appointed to receive publick rebuke before the
congregation."
"August 30, 1691.
"William Anderson in Hall of Forest, being called before the Session for
bringing his child to a smith to be charmed with ane forge hammer,
confessed his sin and received a rebuke before the Session."
"November 13, 1692.
"John Charters in Barncleugh, being called before the Session as witness
nominat by James Wright to prove witchcraft against Janet Kirk, denied
that he knew anything of witchcraft in her. Margaret Smyth, wife of John
Jonston, being called before the Session, declared in her hearing that
Janet Kirk, being brought in to Elizabeth Jonston, being grievously
tormented with sickness like to distraction, pronounced these words, that
'if God had taken the health from her let Him given it again, and if the
devil had taken it from her to give it her again.' On which she was
rebuked."
"April 16th, 1693.
"Jean Stot (Ingleston) confessed before the Session that she blessed God
if Jean Grier's prayings had any pith that they lighted on a kow and not
on a person, and did say that Jean Kirkpatrick did gather root grown
briers on a Saboth day, and nominat Agnes Patton for a witness."
The Session found "wrath and malice among the inhabitants of Ingleston,"
and the minister was sent as peacemaker. "Jean Stot obeyed the minister
and forgave Jean Grier, and also required forgiveness of her, which she
refused till further advisement."(46)
_Parish of Irongray._--Traditional account of the sacrifice of a reputed
witch by enclosing her in a tar-barrel, setting it alight, and rolling it
into the Water of Cluden:--
"In the reign of James VI. of Scotland, or under the early Government of
his son Charles, tradition tells of a woman that was burnt as a witch in
the Parish of Irongray, about seven miles west from Dumfries. In a little
mud-walled cottage, in the lower end of the Bishop's Forest, and nigh the
banks of the Water of Cluden, resided a poor widow woman, who earned her
bread by spinning with a _pole_, and by weaving stockings from a clue of
yarn depending from her bead-strings. She lived alone, and was frequently
seen on a summer's eve, sitting upon a jagged rock, which overhung the
Routing burn, or gathering sticks, late in a November evening, among the
rowan-tree roots, nigh the dells which signalise the sides of that
romantic stream. She had also, sometimes, lying in her window a
black-letter Bible, whose boards are covered with the skin of a _fumart_,
and which had two very grotesque clasps of brass to close it with when she
chose. Her lips were sometimes seen to be moving when she went to church,
and she was observed to predict shower or sunshine at certain periods,
which predictions often came to be realised....
"The Bishop of Galloway was repeatedly urged to punish this witch; and
lest it should be reported to the king that he refused to punish witches,
he at last caused her to be brought before him, nigh to the spot. She was
rudely forced from her dwelling, and several neighbours of middle or of
old age were cited to declare all the wicked things she had done.
"She was sentenced to be drowned in the Routing burn, but the crowd
insisted that she should be shut up in a tar-barrel and hurled into the
Cluden. Almost against the Bishop's consent, this latter death was
consummated. The wretched woman was enclosed in a barrel, fire was set to
it, and it was rolled, in a blaze, into the waters of Cluden.
"Such, says the tradition of no very doubtful date, was the savage end of
one who was reputed a witch. The spot where, 'tis said, the prelate sat,
is yet called Bishop's Butt. The well from which she drew the water for
her domestic use, and where the young rustic belles washed their faces,
still retains the name of the Witch's Well; and a pool in the Cluden, nigh
to the well, often bears the name of the Witch's Pool. Even some rocks
nigh to the Routing Bridge are still pointed out, where she was wont to
sit; and a hollow into which, say some, she used to throw an elfin clue.
That wood yet feathering the hill side west from Drumpark, always bears
the name of the Bishop's Forest; and the sylvan ravine, furrowed by a
brawling brook, has been, by some now in their graves, named the Warlock's
Glen."(47)
_Parish of Closeburn._--Janet Fraser, called before the Presbytery of
Dumfries, 1691. Her remarkable revelations:--
"The person is a young woman, unmarried, of the age of about twenty years,
whose name is Jonet Fraser, or, as we in the south used to pronounce it,
Frissel, who then lived, and yet lives, with her father, Thomas Frissell,
a weaver to his trade, a man of unblamed conversation, in the sheriffdome
of Dumfries, in the countrey thereof called Nithisdale, and parochin of
Closeburn, six miles, or thereby, from the town of Dumfriece.
[Illustration: "PENANCE." (Sketch by J. Copland, Dundrennan.)]
"She is, and hath been for a long time, a person in the judgment of all
that know her a serious Christian; and was for a good time before this
befell her, more then ordinary exercised in private condition with God, as
the relation after-specified gives the reader a little touch.
"She can read print, but cannot write herself; but whatever she saw in
vision, was at times able to give ane exact account of it, after all was
over; and accordingly did give the relation following to some creditable
gentlemen, and some country people, her acquaintance:--
"The time of my exercise was eight years, and all this time was troubled
with the appearance of a thing like a _bee_, and other times like a black
man, and that also at severall times, and in severall places.
"Then at the end of the eight year, I being at prayer, the black man did
appear as at other times, he being upon the one side of me, and there
appearing upon the other side a bonny hand and a rod in it, and the rod
was budding; and I said, 'Is that Thy hand and Thy rod, O Lord?' And I was
content to embrace the one, and flee the other. Then, upon that night
eight nights, I was coming home near hand unto my dwelling, I grew very
drowsie, and fell asleep, and there was a voice said to me, 'Awake, why
sleepest thou?' And there was lightning round about me; and I looking up
to the top of a bush that was at my hand, there was the shape of a dove
that went alongst with me in company to the house.
"Then, about three quarters of a year thereafter, the rod appeared again
to be a double rod, or a rod that was springing and forthcoming, and after
that time I was never troubled with the black man any more."
Her first revelation was on the 4th of June, 1684, but it is very
difficult to make out what her visions portended:--"On the 5th day of
November, 1684, I being at prayer, there appeared unto me, in a bodily
shape, three persons (as to my sight all in white), and they goe round
about me the way the sun goeth; their coming was still after one manner,
when I was at my duty, only I discern he that spoke first at one time,
spoke first at all times, and so continued to speak by course, with
Scripture notes, naming books, chapter, and verse--sometimes all the
verse, sometimes a part."
She was greatly concerned about the _suffering remnant_, and had many
mysterious responses as to that. This intercourse with spirits continued
for some years, and is very circumstantially detailed in the MS., at the
conclusion of which is this additional miracle:--
"Besides what the reader has had formerly, he has likewise this following
account of a passage that befell this holy woman, the 1st May, 1687, which
was Sunday. This Jonet Frazer, and a young lass, a sister daughter of
hers, about 17 or 18 years of age, having gone out into the fields, and
both of them lying down on the grass near the water of Nith, which is but
a bow-draught from her father's house, and both of them reading their
Bibles, and lying about the distance of four yards the one from the other,
this Jonet Frazer is taken with a great drouth, and goes to the water of
Nith to take a drink, leaving her Bible open at the place where she was
reading, which was the 34th chap. of Esaiah, from verse 5 to 11,
inclusive, which begins--'For my sword shall be bathed in heaven; behold
it shall come down on the people of Idumea, and upon the people of my
curse, to judgment,' etc. And when she had returned immediately as shoon
as she could take a drink of water, she sees her Bible is coloured with
bloud, as she thought, though afterwards, upon inspection and tryall it
was not bloud, but red as bloud, and such as no person by the colour could
discern from bloud; upon which she asks the other lass, 'If any thing had
been near her Bible?' And she answered, 'Nothing that she saw.' She asks,
'How could it then be that her Bible was covered over with bloud?' Which
both of them going near, found to be the very same place where Jonet was
reading, viz., from verse 5 to 11, and some farther of the 34th chap., so
as the print was not at all legible. The other lass would have her wipe
off the blood, but she could not, but carried it as it was to her father,
and a brother of hers, a godly young man, who is dead since, and some
others, and did show it to them, who were curious to taste it, and it had
a welsh taste, as if it had been some metear; the hens and birds would not
pick it up.
"The very next Lord's day, 8th May, this Jonet being in her father's barn
about ane hour alone, some little time before sunset, she came to the door
of the barn to read, and while she was reading, about the 49th verse of
Jeremiah, the like bloud did cover all that place which she was reading,
viz., from the 46th verse to the 54th, as I remember, so thick as it
marred all the print and made it unintelligible, nor did she ever perceive
it fall down upon the book, or observe it till it did cover and spread
over all that place; and it is to be remarked, she was standing within the
door, the thatch of the barn being over her head and over the book that
she was reading on, and that the bloud covered the print in the very time
wherein she was reading, it spread over that part of it.
"The very next Sabbath thereafter, 15th of May, while she is again in that
same barn, reading the 14th chap. of Revelations, the like bloud fell on
the book, and covered all the chapter from the 9th verse to the end of the
chapter, in the very act of the reading it, and which, she said, that she
perceived it not, but about half ane inches distance from the book before
it fell down upon it.
"The relater heirof is Maister Henry Maxwell, of Dalswinton, who dwells
within two miles of the place where she dwells; saw the Bible, and the
bloud upon all the three places of that Bible, which is still extant.
"It is not bloud, for it is as tough as glew, and will not be scrapped off
by a knife as bloud will; but it is so like bloud as none can discern any
difference by the colour."
After this course of vision and bloody showers, Mrs Frazer, it would
appear, fell under the suspicion of dealing with evil, in the place of
good, spirits. For in the year 1691 she was called before the Presbytery
and confessed: "That she pretended to prophecying and seeing of visions,
and that she had sinned greatly in being deluded by Satin, causing her
prophecie and see things future. Her book was appointed to be examined by
two of the Presbytery; and on her second appearance she acknowledged that
she was possessed by some evil spirit, and humbly besought the prayer of
the ministers and of all others; upon which the further examination of
herself and the witnesses was delayed. Nothing more is heard of her."(48)
_Records of Penpont Presbytery, 1706._
From January to March in the year 1706 the Presbytery of Penpont was
occupied with the case of the Rev. Peter Rae, minister of Kirkbride. Mr
Rae was slandered by a woman who alleged that he called her a "witch," and
when sick said to her, "They say you have my health, so give it again if
you have it," and also called her to come near hand him, and when she came
he presently bled her on the "forrit" (forehead).
It was proved that Mr Rae did call her a witch, and did in his illness
endeavour to draw blood from her brow, for which he was rebuked.
In 1737 Mr Rae was translated from Kirkbride (an extinct parish in
Nithsdale now embraced in the parishes of Durisdeer and Sanquhar) and
became minister of Kirkconnel. He was also clerk to the Presbytery of
Penpont, before whom in earlier years he appeared. He is perhaps better
known as the author of _The History of the Late Rebellion_[15] (1715). A
man of outstanding ability, his memory is honoured by a mural tablet
placed in the south wall of Kirkconnel church.
_Glencairn Kirk-Session Records._
"Apryl nynth, 1694."--Case of Margret M'Kinch (not "_M'Onrick_," as given
by Monteith,[16] p. 44). In the evidence it is stated that:
"Robert Muir in Dunregon came in to James Rodgerson's hous, drew his knyf
and offered to blood her abov ye b----" [paper torn--breath (?)].
"On Apryl nynth, 1694, Margt. M'Kinch gave in an wrytten list of ye names
who had sclandered her by calling her an witch, earnestly desiring ye
Session to put the same to ---- [proof(?)] that she myght be free from ye
scandal."
[Gap in the records, 1694-1700.]
10th September, 1704.--"Appoints yt it be publickly intimate upon Sabbath
first that no Heritor, tennent, or Householder whatsomever within this
paroch resett our harbour Jaunet Harestanes, sometime in Keir paroch, with
certification."
24th September, 1704.--"Appointment obeyed in makeing intimation anent
Jaunet Harestanes, reputed to be under the _mala-fama_ of witchcraft."
14th November, 1707.--Case of Alexander Deuart (not "_Douart_" as given by
Monteith, p. 44):--
Alex. Deuart, gardener, at Maxwelton, is charged with having "brought back
some stolen goods by charm or enchantment or some other pretended ocult
quality in herbs, along with some mutterings and gestures, as makes him so
commonly reputed a charmer that he is sought unto by persons from divers
corners of the country to the great scandal of religion. The said Alex.
being interrogated primo--Did you bring back those things which was stolen
from Maxwelton--aiz., six pair sheets, ten ------ [undecipherable], three
aprons, at one time; a large silver tumbler at another time; and a book at
a third time?
_A._ Yes; I was the causer, but had no hand in it myself.
_Q._ Did you not take money for the bringing of them back?
_A._ I told them I could do such things if it was not injurious to any,
and told that he took money for the bringing of them back.
_Q._ How did you bring them back?
_A._ I cannot tell that, for I promised not to tell where I received my
art.
_Q._ Did you make use of herbs as it is reported of you in order to the
bringing of them back?
_A._ I did make use of herbs in part, but not for the bringing of them
back.
_Q._ How did you make use of the herbs that you might know where they
were?
_A._ I laid them under my head and dreamed of them.
_Q._ What are the herbs which had that effect upon your sleep?
_A._ I will not tell that to any living if they should saw me asunder.
_Q._ How came the cloaths back?
_A._ I must cause some brother of trade who dwells near hand them to tell
them who have them that they must be brought back and they should not be
wronged.
_Q._ Why did you not tell of the people who took away these cloaths,
seeing thieves ought to be discovered for the good of the country?
_A._ It doth not belong to me to put out any man, otherwise I should be in
eternity this day eight days.
_Q._ Did any person bring the things back, or how came they back?
_A._ I brought them not back, but the people who took them away brought
them back.
_Q._ But how could the silver tumbler be brought back and put in a
fast-locked room?
_A._ The person who took it flung it in at the window upon one of the
shelves.
(_Notandum_--Now it was told him that all the windows were fast-snecked,
as the servants who went in to take up the tumbler declared.)
_Q._ Did you not say when the tumbler was got, 'I must have the hair that
was in and about it, for it is the hair of a horse which belonged to a man
who is shortly to be hanged for stealing?'
_A._ Yes.
_Q._ Did you not say to Sir Walter Laurie, 'lock me ever so close in a
room and I will cause all the cloaths that were taken away hang down upon
the spouts of the tower upon the morrow morning?'
_A._ Yes.
_Q._ Did you not say before me, the Minister, 'lock the cloaths again in
as fast a room as you can, and I'll cause them, for a little money, go all
back in the place where they were?'
_A._ Yes.
_Q._ Why did you not bring back the silver spoon that was lost?
_A._ It was in Edinburgh, and the name was scraped out, and I could not
bring it back until I went to Edinburgh.
_Q._ Why did you not bring back the mattock and other things?
_A._ It had been on fire.
_Q._ Why did you not bring back all the aprons, for there is one of them
awanting yet?
_A._ I could not bring it back because it was burnt, and when a thing is
hid beneath the ground or the like I can't get wott of that.
_Q._ Did you not mutter some words when you used these charms?
_A._ Yes.
_Q._ What are they?
_A._ 'Cloaths, cloaths, cloaths, and other things lost.'
_Q._ Whether did you use such charms afore Hallow-een as throwing nuts in
the fire, sowing seeds up and down the house, and herbs to every corner,
going backwards from the fire to the door, round the close backwards, up
the stairs backward, and to your bed backward?
_A._ Yes.
_Q._ Being told by a Minister that from what he had heard there was either
devolrie in it, or he was the thief himself. To which he replied, 'I shall
make it out to be no devolrie; or if it be devolrie, it is unknown to
me.'
_Q._ Did you not bring back a book of Mrs Violet's?
_A._ Yes.
_Q._ Did you not say you could cause any woman in London come down to you
if but told her name?
_A._ I could do it, and I can.
_Q._ Did you not say in the presence of Sir Walter Laurie, Bailie Corbet
in Dumfries, James Gordoun, Wryter, Yr., and me, that you could cause any
of us dance naked?
_A._ I did, if you would take what I give you; and also added that he
could cause any woman follow him if she would take what he would give her.
_Q._ Alexander, where learned you that art?
_A._ I learned it from the gardener at Arnistoun, now dead, but was at my
brothering.
_Q._ But are there any alyve that was at your brothering?
_A._ No.
After all which, the Moderator said unto him: 'Saunders, did you not say
to me when I was poseing you privately about these things, and telling you
that from all I had heard from you that I was convinced that you were
either a thief or a devol?' and you replied, 'Pursue me, sir, before
either Session or Presbytery, and I shall show that I am neither.' And
now, Saunders, after all these interrogatories are considered, I rather
think you did take these things yourself, and therefore you can get no
testificat (certificate) until your business be further cognosed upon."
13th July, 21st Sept., and 26th Oct., 1712.--Complaint from Jean Howatson
in Nies that Margaret Nivison in Crichen had called her "a witch and a
resetter of witches."
Both rebuked for their "scandelous and offensive expressions," and
"Injoyned to abstain from any such offensive carriage in time comeing,
certifying withall that if they be found quarrolling with one another
unjustly this process shall be revived again upon them."
_Indirect references affecting Durisdeer and Torthorwald._
_Parish of Durisdeer._--In 1591 a member of the family of Douglas of
Drumlanrig, "Barbara Naipar, spous to Archibald Douglas," was accused of
witchcraft and condemned to be burned on the Castle Hill of Edinburgh.
Examination of the indictment shows that the charge was really implication
in the crime by countenancing and seeking help from "users and abusers of
witchcraft," which, as we have seen, carried with it the extreme penalty.
The following is the extract from Pitcairn's _Criminal Trials_:--
"May 8, 1591.--Barbara Naipar, spous to Archibald Douglas, burges of
Edinburgh (brother to the Laird of Carschogill), Dilaitit of sindrie
poyntis of witchcraft, contenit in Dittay gewin in against hir be Mr David
M'gill of Cranstoun--Rydell, advocat to our soverane lord.
"The Assyse, be the mouth of Robert Cuningham, chancillor, ffand,
pronunceit, and declarit the said Barbara Naipar to be fylit, culpabill
and convict of the seiking of consultation from Annie Sampsoune, ane wich,
for the help of Dame Jeane Lyonne, Lady Angus, to keip hir from vomiting
quhen sche was in breeding of barne. Item, for the consulting with the
said Annie Sampsoune, for causing of the said Dame Jeane Lyonne, Lady
Angus, to love hir, and to gif hir the geir awin hir agayne, and geiving
of ane ring for this purpois to the said Anny, quhill sche had send her
ane courchie (kerchief) of linning and swa for contravening of the Act of
Parliament, in consulting with hir and seiking of hir help, being ane
wich, &c."
"Dome was pronunceit against Barbara Naipar, the sister-in-law of the
Laird of Coshogle."[17]
_Torthorwald, 1596._--As Saul consulted the Witch of Endor, so in later
days was the powers of witchcraft invoked by the most exalted to find out
what fate or fortune the future held for them.
Of the wife of Captain James Stewart, Earl of Arran, it is told "that she
got a response from the witches that she would be the greatest woman in
Scotland, and that her husband should have the highest head in that
kingdom. Both which fell out; for she died, being all swelled out in an
extraordinary manner; and he, riding to the south, was pursued by the Lord
Torthoral (called Douglas[18]), whose whole family the said Captain James
intended to have extirpated, and was killed, and his head carried on the
point of a spear and placed upon the battlements of Torthorwald
Castle."(49)
[Illustration]
_CHAPTER IV._
FAIRIES AND BROWNIES.
"There's als much virtue, sense, and pith,
In Annan or the Water of Nith,
Which quietly slips by Dumfries,
Als any water in all Greece;
For there, and several other places,
About mill-dams, and green brae faces,
Both eldrich elfs and brownies stayed,
And green-gowned fairies daunced and played."
--_Effigies Clericorum._
No part of the folk-lore of a district finds more favour than that
particular vestige which tells of the doings of "fairies and brownies,"
the mere expression "fairy" at once calling up and suggesting green-clad
dainty figures, dwelling amid picturesque sylvan surroundings; although
probably the memory of the "brownie," and the stories of his helpful
midnight task, strike the more human note.
It is the "fairy," however, outshining the humbler toiling "brownie," not
only in gallant bearing and romantic surroundings, but in the further
possession of greater supernatural power, that is the more fascinating
survival of superstitious tradition.
Popularly imagined, they were diminutive in form, elegant in appearance,
and richly attired. They dwelt in a land of their own, in woodland dells
where
"Underneath the sylvan shade
The fairies' spacious bower was made,"
or in beautiful palaces underneath the green conical mounds, so numerous,
particularly in Galloway and the south-west of Scotland. Their lives and
affairs were ruled by the utmost ceremony and grandeur. A King or Queen
presided over their destinies. Their pageants and tournaments were the
very reflection of Courtly gallantry. Processions were a frequent form of
display; and clothed in exquisite green raiment, and mounted on bravely
caparisoned milk-white steeds of the finest mettle, they passed with
haughty mien and lordly air, that impressed to the utmost the minds of the
mortals who might chance to meet them in all their pomp and bravery. The
banquet-board and feast also were daily in evidence, and through their
princely halls, to the most exquisite music, the stately dance went round.
The attitude of the fairies towards mankind was, generally speaking,
kindly and helpful, so much so that by the country people they were often
termed the "good neighbours" and the "wee fouk"; but underneath all their
display of nobility, an elfin craftiness and capriciousness of disposition
existed, malignant to a degree. They did not, for example, ride unarmed,
but had bows and arrows of peculiar power and potency slung at their sides
ready to assail the too curious human being or menacing beast. The bows
themselves were fashioned from the ribs of men buried "where three Lairds'
lands meet," and the arrows, which hung in quivers made from adders'
sloughs, were "tipped with deadly plagues." When mortals offended, it was
on their cattle the fairies usually wreaked their vengeance by shooting
them with their magic bows and arrows. Such elf-shot cattle exhibited all
the symptoms of malignant cramp. Animals quite as innocent, but who,
blunderingly unconscious, threatened to trample their diminutive bodies
under foot as they passed along, were as summarily treated--at least that
was a common explanation to account for puzzling forms of cattle-ill; for
the wound of the true elf arrow was so small that evidence of penetration
was almost impossible of vision, unless by the eye of those favoured and
deeply skilled in fairy-craft practice. A less vague and more material
description of the fairy arrows was, that "these fatal shafts were formed
of the bog reed, pointed with white field flint, and dipped in the dew of
hemlock." To this day the triangular flints of the Stone Age are
associated with the fairy superstition, being popularly known as "elf
bolts," and the occasional turning up of these flints on cultivated land,
finds a superstitious explanation in the belief that a shower of these
arrows discharged into a field was quite sufficient to blast and wither
the expected crop.
The special characteristic of the evil element in the disposition of the
fairies was however, a persistent practice of kidnapping unchristened
infants, substituting for them baby imps of their own, which in old-world
phraseology were known as "changelings." Such changelings could only be
detected and expelled by certain charms and mystic practice, which also
permitted the real babe to be restored. The explanation of such kidnapping
was that every seventh year "Kain," in the form of a living sacrifice from
the ranks of the fairies, was demanded by Satan, their master, as the
price of the supernatural privileges they enjoyed, but as a mortal infant
was as readily accepted, the fairies naturally acted in accordance, much
preferring to lay a human babe at the feet of the Evil One.
Very naturally the thought of such disastrous possibilities to the
domestic life and joy of the people created means and measures to render
this particular design of the fairies impotent and inefficient. The
cutting of a cross on the head of the cradle, or even over the doorway of
the cottage itself, was supposed to "kep skaith" by means of its sacred
significance; and immediately before the birth of a child it was a common
practice to surround the expectant mother with everything about the
household made of steel, such as scissors, wool-clippers, knives, needles,
and so forth, which it was firmly believed kept the evil disposition of
the fairy spirits at bay, and prevented any unhallowed tampering with the
child. It was also customary for the friends of the house when the child
was born, to form a guarding circle round it during the darkness of the
night, while one of their number was specially employed in waving about
the open leaves of a Bible. The risk of abduction immediately ceased after
the child was christened. It may here be mentioned that at all times the
sound of a church bell immediately broke the fairy power and spell.
The abduction of human beings was not altogether confined to babes, and it
will be remembered that James Hogg's fine ballad of "Kilmeny" is founded
on a young maiden being carried off to Fairyland, who in the course of
time is allowed to return to the world again when, as so beautifully
expressed in the ballad,
"Late, late in the gloamin'
Kilmeny cam' hame."
Young married women were more especially liable to be carried off, for the
utilitarian purpose of nursing the fairy children, and young men were also
occasionally supposed to be stolen away.
It may be noted that it was not considered good for mortals to meet with
fairies face to face, however much by accident. Death might even follow
such a meeting, although apparently quite natural in form.
Touching upon the very core of unreality of fairy semblance it would seem
to have been a general belief, that seen through eyes of those gifted with
supernatural power such as in olden days the "seers" were believed to
possess, the whole fairy fabric crumbled to its true appearance. Golden
treasure became ordinary stone, fairy palace changed to gloomy cavern, and
the beautiful beings themselves became ugly and repulsive goblins.
Before passing to gather up the remnants of this fairy-lore in Galloway
and Dumfriesshire, it may be of interest to refer to the theory which has
been advanced to account for the firm belief by our forefathers in the
existence of "fairies and brownies," which briefly is, that fairies and
brownies were none other than straggling and isolated survivors of the
race of the ancient Pictish Kingdom of Scotland, for like the fairy and
brownie of popular imagination, the Picts dwelt in underground abodes,
being what is termed "mound-dwellers." They were a small people, untiring
in their labours, and possessing great strength, or as it has been aptly
expressed, "they were 'unca wee' bodies, but terribly strong." As well as
being small in stature, they were hairy in body and fleet of foot. They
were clever builders, as their underground dwellings excavated at the
hands of antiquarians throughout Scotland yet affirm. Indeed there is a
tradition that the 12th century Cathedral of Glasgow was largely built by
industrious and skilful Picts, brought from Galloway for that purpose.
A strong point in the theory certainly is, that the localities known as
the prehistoric abiding places of the Picts are almost invariably
associated with fairy-lore and tradition, which has floated down to us on
the misty tides of time. At all events it may be in part at least
accepted, in so far as it is founded on a basis of fact, and if it does
not quite explain the splendour and high-born attributes of Fairyland, it
at least goes far to account for the unvarying popular description of
"Brownie"--his untiring energy, his shy disposition, and his not very
attractive appearance, all of which William Nicholson has painted with
strokes of genius in his matchless poem, "The Brownie of Blednoch."[19]
FAIRIES IN GALLOWAY.
The great distinctive headland of the Mull of Galloway is traditionally
described as the scene of the last stand made by the Picts, as they were
driven backwards and seawards to destruction by the overwhelming force of
the Scots.
"There rose a King in Scotland,
A fell man to his foes,
He smote the Picts in battle,
He hunted them like roes,
Over miles of red mountain
He hunted as they fled
And strewed the dwarfish bodies
Of the dying and the dead."
Not far from this classic spot, a favourite haunt of the fairies is
located. South of Portankill there is a small fortification called the
Dunnan. On this spot there came once upon a time to a man sitting there,
on a fine summer evening, an old-fashioned looking, diminutive woman
dressed in green, carrying a tiny ailing child on her back, and holding a
little wooden water stoup in her hand. She earnestly asked this man to go
to the far-famed and quite near "Well of the Co'" and bring her some of
the healing water for the decrepit little morsel she carried, as she was
tired and done. Churlishly enough the man refused, and roughly told her
she could go her own errands. The little woman bore his abuse patiently
enough, then, naming him, solemnly warned him "never again to sit down on
her hoose-riggin' or he might look to it"--and then somehow she seemed to
disappear. The man began to regret his ungracious conduct, all the more
that it was generally believed that beneath the "Dunnan" lived the
fairies, and if that was so, then at that very moment he was actually on
their "hoose-riggin'." Much disturbed in mind, he made for home; but
tradition affirms that from that day forward everything went wrong--cattle
died and crops failed, and eventually, going one night to the Dunnan to
watch a vessel that was likely to come ashore and so help his own evil
plight, he was stricken with illness at the hands of the fairies--so the
country-side said--and died.
There is yet another rather dramatic relic of fairy-lore concerning
Kirkmaiden, which tells of an attempt by the fairies to seize upon the
newly-born child of a herd and his wife, who were in the service of Sir
Godfrey M'Culloch, and who lived in a little cottage at Auchneight, which
was frustrated by a timely call for Divine aid. On the afternoon of the
day of his son's birth the herd received an urgent message to proceed at
once to his master's castle of Cardoness, in the Stewartry of
Kirkcudbright. There were many little domestic matters to attend to before
the poor man could leave his wife and child to set out on his long
journey, and the night was already well advanced before he left his home.
It was not without anxiety and misgiving he took his way north along the
western shore of Luce Bay, "down the path towards the Loup and the Co' of
the Grennan," a place with a very uncanny reputation, for it was the night
of the last day of October--of all times of the year the most dreaded by
mortals--the night
"When Fairies ... dance,
Or ower the lays, with splendid blaze,
On sprightly coursers prance."
[Illustration: "IN FAIRY GLADE." Sketch by J. Copland, Dundrennan.]
It was very dark, and his progress was slow. When he reached the "Loup" he
was rather startled to see a faint glimmering light seawards. To his
consternation this came steadily towards him, and gradually took the
form of a coach lighted with blue lamps, drawn by six horses, and coming
smartly on. It passed, and he could see it was crowded with elfish figures
and surrounded by a galloping body-guard. His terror was not abated when
he was made aware that a little blue torch, a sure forerunner of death,
was burning on the side of the track they had passed along. Meanwhile his
young wife and child were all alone in the cottage. About midnight the
mother, to whom the night seemed unending, was startled by hearing the
trample of horses, the jingle of bridles, the lumber of wheels, and a
buzzing sound of voices. Clasping the child close in her arms,
terror-stricken she waited. The door of the cottage flew open. The whole
kitchen was lit up with a strange unnatural light, and she saw her bed
surrounded by a throng of little excited green-clad people, who kept up a
constant chattering. Then one more richly clad and taller than the others
imperiously waved his hand for silence, and addressing the almost crazed
woman, said--
"This is Hallow-eve. We have come for your child, and him we must have."
"Oh, God forbid!" shrieked the poor woman in her agony, and almost
instantly there was darkness and silence as of the grave.
When the poor woman came to her senses, for she had fainted, she made bold
to leave her bed, and lighting her cruisie lamp, she was overjoyed to find
that her child was sleeping sweetly and soundly. Everything in the cottage
was evidently undisturbed.
As some slight corroboration of this legend, it is told how the tenant of
Barncorkerie, going to his door about midnight that same Hallow-eve, was
startled to see a group of tiny horsemen riding in hot haste through the
meadows a bowshot from his door.
The story of the Barncorkerie Fairy, in this same immediate neighbourhood,
illustrates how the good offices of the fairy aided an old helpless woman
in her day of necessity at the expense of an undutiful son.
On the road shorewards to Portencockerie Bay (Kirkmaiden) there is a
bypath by way of what is known as the Bishop's Castle. One day there came
by this road an old woman, weary of foot and sad of heart. Sitting down
she wept quietly to herself, bemoaning her poverty and the unkindness of
her son, and more particularly of his new-made wife, who scorned her and
refused to give her even the bare necessities of life. With her eyes fixed
on the ground, she almost unconsciously let her attention turn to a round
whorl-like stone, with a hole through it, lying at her feet. Not attaching
much importance to it she, almost absent-mindedly, picked it up, and as
she did so she thought she heard some one whispering to her, but turning
round and seeing no one she became a little frightened, and putting the
curious little stone in her pocket, she rose to make her way home, which,
by the way, bore the curious name of "Keekafar."
That same night, at the gloaming, as she was lighting her cruisie lamp,
the cottage door seemed to open of its own accord, and, looking down, she
saw a diminutive little woman clad in green, who, with a pleasant smile,
asked how she prospered?
The old woman was a proud old woman, so she answered that she was getting
along very comfortably.
But the little old woman laughed a kindly laugh and said, "Not much
comfort an' a toom meal-barrel in the hoose."
The Fairy, for it was a fairy, chatted away to her for a little, and
gradually won from her the whole story of her troubles; then, as she rose
to go, she said, "If ye've still got that queer little stone ye fand
to-day wi' the hole in it, just tie a little bit grey wurset thread
through it, and lay it on the meal-ark. It'll maybes be a help."
Next night, about the same time (as it afterwards appeared), the old
woman's son Godfrey, who lived with his wife on his own little croft at
Portencockerie, was startled to find when he came home a little tiny woman
perched on a high stool at his fireside.
"What want ye here?" he cried; and his wife, joining him, began to scold
also. "Tak' yer gait, we want nae beggars here," she shouted.
The Fairy looked at them steadily with her little grey piercing eyes, then
stepping from the stool on to the long wooden kitchen settle she turned to
the frightened man and woman, and in a tiny penetrating voice that made
them even more frightened, said--"The poor folk! much they get at your
hands! But thy old mother shall never want; she shall live at your cost.
Her meal-ark will be always full, and yours shall supply it!"
And so it came about. Godfrey and his wife, under the influence of fear,
tried hard to make amends, but the old woman received their advances with
the utmost indifference.
The Compass Stone, on the hill above Port Logan towards the south, was
also a favourite place for the fairies holding their gatherings, and there
is a small field at Logan known as the Fairy Park. It is said that a
large company of fairies were observed by two individuals, who at the time
were not near each other, crossing the fields near Kenmure, in the parish
of Stoneykirk. One of the individuals said they seemed to be all talking
together, and there was a continual buzz of conversation as of a large
assemblage of people gathered together.
A hill between Ringuinea and the Float is associated with the fairies. Two
young women went from Ringuinea one summer morning to bring the cows home
to be milked, when they met what seemed to be a very beautiful child, whom
they unsuccessfully made every endeavour to catch hold of. Skilfully,
however, and with evident little exertion, the little figure eluded their
grasp, with the result that their futile chase led to their being
hopelessly behind time for the milking.
Another story tells that the farmer of Ringuinea was going down the Black
Brae, when he met a very small person handsomely dressed in green.
Thinking it was a strange child, he enquired where he was going so early
in the morning. The supposed child answered that there was an ox down
below that had annoyed him and his people for a long time by always
standing on the top of their dwelling-place, but that he would trouble
them no more. The farmer proceeded down the brae, and found one of his
best bullocks lying dead. He went for assistance, and proceeding to skin
the bullock, and knowing what to look for, they found an elf-shot right
through the heart.
Kirkmaiden seems to have been a much-favoured district of the "wee fouk."
The Nick of the Balloch, on the road from Barncorkerie to Castle Clanyard,
Curghie Glen, and the Grennan were notoriously fairy-occupied; and between
Kirkbride and Killumpha their imaginary tracks left on the stones and
rocks used to be pointed out and traced. There is a curious lingering
tradition in the Rhinns that the fairies of Kirkmaiden always wore red
caps instead of green.
Before passing from this district of the Rhinns, reference may be made to
what was firmly believed to be the kidnapping by fairies of a little boy
of two years of age. The child wandered out unperceived by its mother. On
being missed, an anxious search was made during the whole day by almost
every person in the neighbourhood, but no trace of the child could be
found. Late in the evening, however, from the top of the heugh, beside
Slock-an-a-gowre, he was discovered, by the merest accident, asleep on a
green plot on the cliff far below, fully two miles from his home. How he
got there to this day is a mystery. To assume that any person carried or
left him there seems highly improbable, and to suppose the child to have
of itself crossed dykes, drains, glens, and cornfields seems even more
improbable. It was therefore attributed to the fairies, all the more that
the little boy lisped that he had followed other little boys wearing green
clothes.[20]
Away midst the solitary grandeur of the high lands of Galloway, where the
Merrick lordly towers, and where the bleat of the sheep and the cry of the
whaup, the tumble and plash of burn and stream, are the only sounds that
greet the shepherd's ear as he pursues his long and lonely beat, a
beautiful fairy legend lingers, though human and homely enough in its
trend:--
"A shepherd's family had just taken possession of a newly-erected onstead,
in a very secluded spot among 'the hills o' Gallowa',' when the goodwife
was, one day, surprised by the entrance of a little woman, who hurriedly
asked for the loan of a 'pickle saut.' This, of course, was readily
granted; but the goodwife was so flurried by the appearance of 'a neibor'
in such a lonely place, and at such a very great distance from all known
habitations, that she did not observe when the little woman withdrew or
which way she went. Next day, however, the same little woman re-entered
the cottage, and duly paid the borrowed 'saut.' This time the goodwife was
more alert, and as she turned to replace 'the saut in the sautkit' she
observed 'wi' the tail o' her e'e' that the little woman moved off towards
the door, and then made a sudden 'bolt out.' Following quickly, the
goodwife saw her unceremonious visitor run down a small declivity towards
a tree which stood at 'the house en'.' She passed behind the tree, but did
not emerge on the other side, and the goodwife, seeing no place of
concealment, assumed she was a fairy.
In a few days her little 'neibor' again returned, and continued from time
to time to make similar visits--borrowing and lending small articles,
evidently with a view to produce an intimacy; and it was uniformly
remarked that, on retiring, she proceeded straight to the tree, and then
suddenly 'gaed out o' sight.'
One day, while the goodwife was at the door, emptying some dirty water
into the jaw-hole (sink or cesspool), her now familiar acquaintance came
to her and said:
'Goodwife, ye're really a very obliging bodie! Wad ye be sae good as turn
the lade o' your jaw-hole anither way, as a' your foul water rins directly
in at my door? It stands in the howe there, on the aff-side o' that tree,
at the corner o' your house en'.'
The mystery was now fully cleared up--the little woman was indeed a fairy;
and the door of her invisible habitation being situated 'on the aff-side
o' the tree at the house en',' it could easily be conceived how she must
there necessarily 'gae out o' sight' as she entered her sight-eluding
portal."(50)
Probably the most characteristic fairy story extant in the whole
south-western district of Scotland is that which centres round the green
mound on which the ruined Castle of Myrton, a stronghold of the M'Cullochs
in bygone days, stands. Within the policies of Monreith House, in the
parish of Mochrum, on the beautifully-wooded shore of the White Loch of
Myrton, this mound of Myrton is peculiarly interesting in the links its
story joins of prehistoric days, fairy tradition, and seventeenth century
family history.
The following account is drawn from _The Hereditary Sheriffs of
Galloway_:--
"Sir Godfrey M'Culloch, having squandered his patrimony and sold his
estates in Mochrum to the Maxwells of Monreith, took up house at
Cardoness. Here a neighbour, William Gordon, having poinded some cattle
straying on his lands, Sir Godfrey joined a party illegally convened to
release them. A fray was the result, in which M'Culloch, in the words of
his indictment, 'did shot at the said Gordon with a gun charged, and by
the shot broke his thigh-bone and leg, so that he immediately fell to the
ground, and within a few hours thereafter died of the same shot wound.'
Sir Godfrey fled the country, and some years after ventured on a Sunday to
attend a Church in Edinburgh. A Galloway man was among the congregation,
who, recognising him, jumped up and cried: 'Pit to the door; there's a
murderer in the kirk!' This was done, M'Culloch arrested, tried,
condemned, and his head 'stricken fra his body' the 5th of March, 1697."
So say the _Criminal Records_. There is a very different local version of
the story:--
Long before the fatal encounter, and before he had entered on the evil
courses which led to his ruin, Sir Godfrey, young and curly, sat at a
window in the Tower of Myrtoun watching the operations of a gang of
workmen forming a new sewer from his house to the White Loch below it.
Suddenly he was startled by the apparition close beside him of a very
little old man whose hair and beard were snowy white, whose strangely-cut
costume was green, and who seemed in a state of furious wrath. Sir Godfrey
received him, notwithstanding, with the greatest urbanity, and begged to
be told in what way he could serve him.
The answer was a startling one: "M'Culloch," said the visitor, "I am the
King of the Brownies![21] My palace has been for ages in the mound on
which your Tower stands, and you are driving your common sewer right
through my chalmer of dais."
Sir Godfrey, confounded, threw up the window and ordered the workmen to
stop at once, professing his perfect readiness to make the drain in any
such direction as might least incommode his Majesty, if he would
graciously indicate the same. His courtesy was accepted, and Sir Godfrey
received a promise in return from the now mollified potentate that he, the
said King, would stand by and help him in the time of his greatest need.
It was long after this that the Knight of Myrtoun disposed of his enemy in
the summary way we have already mentioned, and for which he was condemned
to die. The procession had started for the place of execution; a crowd
was collected to see the awful sight, when the spectators were surprised
by seeing a very little man with white hair and beard, dressed, too, in an
antique suit of green, and mounted on a white horse. He issued from the
castle rock, crossed the loch without a moment's hesitation, and rode
straight up to the cart on which Sir Godfrey, accompanied by the
executioner and a minister, was standing. They plainly saw Sir Godfrey get
on the horse behind the little man, who was no other than the King of the
Brownies (and thus fulfilled his promise by arriving in his hour of need):
the two recrossed the loch, and, mounting the castle rock, they
disappeared. When the astonished crowd again turned their eyes to the cart
a figure was still there, and wondrous like Sir Godfrey; it was,
therefore, generally believed that he had met a felon's doom, and most
people thought no more about it. A few only knew better, but these cared
little to speak about the matter. At rare intervals, however, one of the
initiated would impart the story to a friend, and tell how a head had
rolled upon the ground, leaving a bleeding trunk upon the scaffold; then
adding in a confidential whisper, "It was no' him ava; it was just a kin'
o' glamour."(51)
The presence of fairies was not unknown in the Whithorn district, and a
realistic account of the last appearance of the fairies there has been
preserved in _Droll Recollections of Whithorn_, by James F. Cannon:--
"A farmer's wife on the Glasserton estate was engaged in washing at a
stream near her house, when a trig little creature of her own sex, and
perfectly human in shape and general semblance, suddenly arrested her
attention. The mistress stared with amazement at the mite of a body that
stood by her side, and the astonishment of the former was not lessened
when, with an appealing look on her tiny features, the elf solicited the
favour of 'a wee sowp o' milk for an unweel wean.' They then entered
freely into conversation, and walked together to the byre, where the Fairy
was duly supplied with what she had asked for. She was very profuse with
her thanks, and foretold that her donor would never be without a pinch of
snuff (of all things) while she should require it. It was not a very
hazardous prediction, nor did it give promise of great remuneration for
the obligation conferred; but there was a note of gratitude in it which
was thoroughly appreciated by her to whom it was spoken. I believe,
however, there was an additional hint dropped that the milk pails of the
elf's patroness would always be well filled, and her husband's field
crops abundant."(52)
A poetical version of the above tradition has been elaborated by Mr
Cannon, and appears in the _Bards of Galloway_, under the title of "The
Langhill Fairy."[22]
"Riddling in the reek" was the common country-side expression for a
rough-and-ready method of treating a fairy changeling so that it might be
restored to its proper human constitution. A realistic account of such an
ordeal is preserved in _Galloway Gossip_ (Wigtownshire). It sets forth how
a child, whose parents lived in Sorbie village, behaved in such a fretful,
passionate, and vixenish way that the parents were at last forced to the
unwelcome conclusion that it was not their child at all, but a changeling.
Much distressed they sought the advice of a wise woman living at
Kirkinner, who plainly enough substantiated the suspicion. Beseeching her
help, the sybil pointed out the great risk they all ran with interference
with things uncanny, but on their consenting to place themselves entirely
in her hands and implicitly obey her in every detail, she promised to
make the attempt to restore their child on the following Aul' Hallowe'en
Nicht.
[Illustration: "RIDDLING IN THE REEK." Sketch by J. Copland, Dundrennan.]
"When Aul' Hallowe'en came, everything was ready and set in order, and
just a few minutes before nine, in came Lucky M'Robert, and without saying
a word steekit the door ahint her.
She then set two stools beside the fire, which, as usual at that time and
for long after, was made on a slightly raised place in the middle of the
floor, paved with water-stones. She motioned Peggy and Jamie to sit down
on them, and lighting the candle, with the ether-stane on it, put it on
the kerl, or long candlestick, and set it between them, and then took the
rowan-wood and biggit it on the fire.
The wean looked terrified, and ran under the bed, but she pulled it out
and tied his legs and arms together with some red clouts she had in her
pouch, and threw't into the riddle, and lifting it up went towards the
fire, the wean twining and kicking and swearing most viciously.
Mally had previously breeked her petticoats, and as soon as a thick reek
rose from the burning rowan-tree, she held the wean amang the thickest
o't, and riddled it in the riddle till ye wud hae thocht it wud hae been
chokit.
The wean cursed and yelled, and spat at her, and called her a' that was
bad, but she took nae notice; then it begged and fleech't with the father
and mother to save't, for it was chokin', and went on pitiful, and then it
begood and cursed them, and abused them terribly.
Then there came knockings to the door, and cries and noisings all over the
house; but she riddled away, and nobody ever heeded them, till at last the
wean gave a great scraich, and rase out of the riddle, and gaed whirling
up amang the reek like a corkscrew, and out at the lumhead, out of sight.
Everything was then quiet for a minute or two, and at last a gentle
knocking came to the door, and Mally asked who was there, and a voice
cried--
'Let me in, I'm wee Tammie M'K----.'"(53)
The district of Dalry seems to have been particularly favoured by the
beings of supernatural power. Witchcraft abounded, and now we shall see
that Fairyland was represented.
The place, above all, of fairy association was the Holm Glen, with which
is associated a legend of the abduction of a youth, and an abortive
attempt to win freedom after serving seven years. Round this vestige of
fairy-lore Dr Robert Trotter has woven a well-told mantle of narrative,
from which an extract is well worth quoting:--
"I rose early upon the morning of Hallowe'en, and having dressed myself, I
went out to the harvest field, just as the minute hand of my watch pointed
to half-past five. I began busily to arrange and set up the stooks, which
a storm of wind and rain the preceding evening had blown down. I had not
been long occupied in this manner when I heard the tramping of horses'
feet, the giggling and laughing of the riders, and the jingling of their
bridle bits. I instantly turned round to see what this troop of early
travellers could be; but my eye rested not then on the broad holm of
Dalarran and the grey turrets of Kenmure Castle, of which there was a
goodly prospect from the place where I stood--but it fell upon the tall
form of a young man standing close by my side, dressed in a riding-cloak
of the lightest Lincoln green ever worn by a Nottingham Archer. By his
side hung a hunting-horn of the purest silver, whilst his spurs and the
diamond chased scabbard of his sword glanced clear and bright in the rays
of the rising sun.
'I wish thee good speed, John Gordon,' said he in a well-known voice. 'I
am thy old friend William Hoatson, who, thou mayest remember, was found
drowned about seven years since in the Water of Taarfe, near Red Lyon. But
I am not dead, as is generally believed, but was carried away by the
fairies of Holm Glen, and a body resembling mine placed in the river ford.
And I have been permitted to appear unto thee at this time, knowing that
thou art a fearless man, and one that seeketh after the Kingdom of Heaven;
and I request thee, in the name of Heaven, that this night thou wilt win
me back to my family and to the world!'
I expressed the happiness which I felt in meeting so unexpectedly with one
whom I had so long considered to be dead. I shook him heartily by the
hand, and offered him my friendship and assistance.
'Oh, John!' said he, 'this night will I be offered up a sacrifice in hell,
and thou alone can save me from destruction.'
He spoke this so mournfully that the tears trickled down my cheek, and I
sobbed aloud.
'Wilt thou promise,' continued he, 'to come this night at twelve o'clock,
unarmed and alone, and stand by this ancient thorn-bush, where thou wilt
see forty-one horsemen riding past, everyone dressed as I am at present?
Pull me down from the chestnut-brown steed upon which I ride, for I will
be the last man of that gay troop. They will turn me into a variety of
frightful shapes in thy arms, and lastly into the appearance of a red-hot
coulter; but thou must hold me fast in the name of Heaven, for if thou
let me slip from thy hands they will take thee soul and body, and I also
will be lost for ever!'"(54)
The conclusion of the story is not very happy, for John's courage entirely
failed him. Through fear he refused his aid, but ever afterwards was
haunted and crossed by the evil influence of the night-riding of the
fairies of Holm Glen.
Other places in Kirkcudbrightshire which have the lingering touch of fairy
romance hovering around them are Hazelfield, Auchencairn, the Nick of
Lochenkit, "where the fairies have been seen dancing in thousands by the
pale light o' the new moon on her third nicht," and on the "rugged height
of Bengairn."
The last Galloway fairy reminiscence we shall quote before passing into
Dumfriesshire illustrates the malignant side of their nature, and tells of
the drowning of the Morrisons in Edingham Loch, near the present town of
Dalbeattie:--
"A' the hale o' braid Gallowa' has heard the story of the drownin' o' hale
ane-an'-twenty o' the Morrisons o' Orr, in the Loch of Edingham, nae
farder gane than Yule was a seven year. Ye mind that year the frost held
on frae Hallowe'en till Februar, and at Yule the ice was mair than thretty
inches in thickness, and wad hae carried a' the fouk in sax parishes
roun' wi' perfect safety. On that day mony a weel-fared, sturdy chiel had
been busy plying the channelstane, wi' a' their skill an' might, frae
early morn, and it was not till the last blinks of the sun had lang
disappeared off Brownie Fells that the contest was putten aff till the
following day, and ilka ane turned his face homewards. But they hadna
ha'en their feet three minutes on the side when the moon glowered o'er the
tappin o' Lotus, and showed the ice they had so lately left, clad wi' unco
players frae side to side; and muckle mirth, din, and deray was there,
bumpers o' the red wine were flowin' roun', and there tripped maidens,
jimp and tall as yon rowan-trees by the burnie side and fairer than the
snow on Logan braes. Swiftly the weary players returned to the margin of
the loch, but nane durst venture on the ice for a considerable time. But
there were three neibor lairds, in the three Mailins of Culloch, Cocklick,
and Drumlane. A' the three were surnamed Morrison, and ilka ane had seven
strapping sons, wha never feared skaith frae man nor deil, and sae they a'
quickly joined the thrang. Bit strange to tell, the very moment the last
o' the ane-an'-twenty was aboon deep water, the ice rent from en' to en'
wi' a crack a thousan' times louder than thunner, and dancers, players,
and Morrisons a' disappeared in the twinkling of an eye, and the ice
again resumed its former solidity, without crack or flaw. And mony a time
sinsyne has the midnight wanderer observed the loch covered o'er with
light-footed dancers, blithely footing it on the limpid wave, and among
them the three-times-seven youths, gaily clad in elfin weeds of sylvan
green, and mounted on gallant steeds of the milk-white foam. Their spears
are of the green bulrashes with targets of the braidest flutterbaus; they
ha'e braid swords o' the segg, and cockades of the water-lily; but they ay
tak' the gate lang or the first peep o' day, and the place they left
retains no the sma'est prent o' their airie feet, nor nane can tell the
gate they fled."(55)
On the sharp descent of the Dalbeattie Road towards Dumfries there yet
lingers the tradition of fairy song and music being heard 'mid the leafy
surroundings of the Long Wood.
FAIRIES IN DUMFRIESSHIRE.
To Allan Cunningham we are indebted for several examples of fairy-lore
gathered together in his own particular district of Nithsdale.
The three following illustrate the expression of gratitude on the part of
the fairies when a good turn was served, or a request complied with:--
"Two lads were opening with the plow a fairy-haunted field, and one of
them had described a circle around a fairy-thorn, which was not to be
plowed. They were surprised when, on ending the furrow, a green table was
placed there, heaped with the choicest cheese, bread, and wine. He who
marked out the thorn sat down without hesitation, eating and drinking
heartily, saying, 'Fair fa' the hands whilk gie.' His fellow-servant
lashed his steeds, refusing to partake. The courteous plowman 'thrave,'
said my informer, 'like a breckan, and was a proverb for wisdom and an
oracle of local rural knowledge ever after!'
A woman of Auchencreath, in Nithsdale, was one day sifting meal warm from
the mill; a little, cleanly arrayed, beautiful woman came to her, holding
out a basin of antique workmanship, requesting her courteously to fill it
with her new meal. Her demand was cheerfully complied with. In a week the
comely little dame returned with the borrowed meal. She breathed over it,
setting it down basin and all, saying aloud, 'Be never toom.' The guidwife
lived to a goodly age, without ever seeing the bottom of her blessed
basin.
A woman, who lived in the ancient Burgh of Lochmaben, was returning late
one evening to her home from a gossiping. A little, lovely boy, dressed
in green, came to her, saying, 'Coupe yere dish-water farther frae yere
doorstep; it pits out our fire!' This request was complied with, and
plenty abode in the good woman's house all her days."(56)
The advent of summer was an occasion of special rejoicing on the part of
the fairies, and was celebrated by a triumphal march or ride known as the
"Fairy Rade," which was accompanied by much, and brave, display.
The ceremony usually took place on the eve of Roodmas (May 3rd), and the
following account is supposed to have been narrated by an old Nithsdale
woman to Allan Cunningham:--
"I' the nicht afore Roodsmass,[23] I had trysted wi' a neebor lass, a
Scots mile frae hame, to tak anent buying braws i' the Fair. We hadnae
sutten lang aneath the haw-buss till we heard the loud laugh o' fowk
riding, wi' the jingling o' bridles an' the clanking o' hoofs. We banged
up, thinking they wad ryde owre us--we kent nae but it was drunken fowk
riding to the Fair i' the fore-nicht. We glowr'd roun' and roun', an' sune
saw it was the Fairie Fowks' Rade. We cowered down till they passed by. A
leam o' light was dancing owre them, mair bonnie than moon-shine; they
were a' wee, wee fowk, wi' green scarfs on, but ane that rade foremost,
and that ane was a guid deal langer than the lave, wi' bonnie lang hair
bun' about wi' a strap, whilk glented lyke stars. They rade on braw wee
whyte naigs, wi' unco lang swoaping tails an' manes hung wi' whustles that
the win' played on. This, an' their tongues whan they sang, was like the
soun' of a far-awa' Psalm. Marion and me was in a brade lea fiel' whare
they cam' by us; a high hedge o' haw-trees keepit them frae gaun through
Johnnie Corrie's corn, but they lap a' owre't like sparrows an' gallop'd
into a green knowe beyont it. We gaed i' the morning to look at the
tredded corn, but the fient a hoof-mark was there, nor a blade
broken."(57)
The accompanying almost idealistic fairy-tale accentuates the idea of the
instinct of natural affection with which the fairies were always credited,
and their preference for a human mother to nurse their offspring:--
"A fine young woman of Nithsdale was sitting singing and rocking her
child, when a pretty lady came into her cottage, covered with a fairy
mantle. She carried a beautiful child in her arms, swaddled in green
silk.
'Nurse my child,' said the Fairy.
The young woman, conscious to whom the child belonged, took it kindly in
her arms and laid it to her breast.
The lady instantly disappeared, saying, 'Nurse kin', an' ne'er want!'
The young mother nurtured the two babes, and was astonished whenever she
awoke at finding the richest suits of apparel for both children, with meat
of most delicious flavour. This food tasted, says tradition, like loaf
mixed with wine and honey. It possessed more miraculous properties than
the wilderness manna, preserving its relish even over the seventh day.
On the approach of summer the Fairy lady came to see her child. It bounded
with joy when it beheld her. She was much delighted with its freshness and
activity, and taking it in her arms, she bade the nurse follow. Passing
through some scroggy woods, skirting the side of a beautiful green hill,
they walked midway up. On its sunward slope a door opened, disclosing a
beauteous porch, which they entered, and the turf closed behind them. The
Fairy dropped three drops of a precious dew on the nurse's left eye-lid,
and they entered a land of most pleasant and abundant promise. It was
watered with fine looping rivulets, and yellow with corn; the fairest
trees enclosed its fields, laden with fruit, which dropped honey.
The nurse was rewarded with finest webs of cloth and food of ever-during
substance. Boxes of salves, for restoring mortal health and curing mortal
wounds and infirmities, were bestowed on her, with a promise of never
needing.
The Fairy dropped a green dew over her right eye, and bade her look. She
beheld many of her lost friends and acquaintances doing menial drudgery,
reaping the corn and gathering the fruits.
'This,' said she, 'is the punishment of evil deeds!'
The Fairy passed her hand over her eye, and restored its mortal faculties.
She was conducted to the porch, but had the address to secure the heavenly
salve.
She lived, and enjoyed the gift of discerning the earth-visiting spirits,
till she was the mother of many children; but happening to meet the Fairy
lady who gave her the child, she attempted to shake hands with her.
'What e'e d'ye see me wi'?' whispered she.
'Wi' them baith,' said the dame.
She breathed on her eyes, and even the power of the box failed to restore
their gifts again!"(58)
The element of romantic imagery is also manifest in the following
tradition:--
"A young man of Nithsdale, being on a love intrigue, was enchanted with
wild and delightful music and the sound of mingled voices, more charming
than aught that mortal breath could utter. With a romantic daring peculiar
to a Scottish lover he followed the sound, and discovered the fairy
banquet. A green table, with feet of gold, was placed across a small
rivulet, and richly furnished with pure bread and wines of sweetest
flavour. Their minstrelsy was raised from small reeds and stalks of corn.
He was invited to partake in the dance, and presented with a cup of wine.
He was allowed to depart, and was ever after endowed with the second
sight."(59)
A vivid example of the method of restoring a "changeling" to its own
natural and innocent form has already been described in connection with
Sorbie village, in Wigtownshire. The following, quite as realistic,
describes a similar uncanny ceremony in Dumfriesshire:--
"A beautiful child, of Caerlaverock, in Nithsdale, on the second day of
its birth, and before its baptism, was changed, none knew how, for an
antiquated elf of hideous aspect. It kept the family awake with its
nightly yells; biting the mother's breasts; and would neither be cradled
or nursed. The mother, obliged to be from home, left it in charge of the
servant girl.
The poor lass was sitting bemoaning herself. 'Wer't nae for thy girning
face I would knock the big, winnow the corn, and grun the meal!'
'Lowse the cradle band,' quoth the elf, 'and tent the neighbours, an' I'll
work yer wark.'
Up started the elf, the wind arose, the corn was chafed, the outlyers were
foddered, the hand-mill moved around, as by instinct, and the knocking
mell did its work with amazing rapidity.
The lass and her elfin servant rested and diverted themselves, till, on
the mistress's approach, it was restored to the cradle, and began to yell
anew. The girl took the first opportunity of slyly telling her mistress
the adventure.
'What'll we do wi' the wee diel?' said she.
'I'll work it a pirn,' replied the lass.
At the middle hour of night, the chimney-top was covered up, and every
inlet barred and closed. The embers were blown up until glowing hot, and
the maid, undressing the elf, tossed it on the fire. It uttered the
wildest and most piercing yells, and, in a moment, the fairies were heard
moaning at every wonted avenue, and rattling at the window boards, at the
chimney head, and at the door.
'In the name o' God, bring back the bairn!' cried the lass.
The window flew up; the earthly child was laid unharmed on the mother's
lap, while its grisly substitute flew up the chimney with a loud
laugh."[24](60)
A further narrative, bringing out the idea of gratitude for a favour, and
resentment at insult, has been gleaned from the parish of Closeburn:--
"Two men were ploughing down, in Closeburn parish, when they both felt a
strong smell of burning cake. One of them said in an off-hand kind o'
way--
'Yer cake's burnin'.'
'Make us a spurtle tae burn it wi', then,' said a voice apparently close
at hand.
The man, good-naturedly, did as directed, and laid the article down on the
ground. On returning to the spot he found the spurtle taken away, and
bread and cheese left in its place. He partook of both, and likewise gave
some to his horses, but his companion would neither taste himself nor
allow his horses to taste. An affront of this kind could not be
overlooked, and he had not gone many steps until he dropped down dead in
the furrow."(61)
A noted fairy tryste in this Nithsdale district was the Ward-Law Hill,
Dalswinton. It came to pass, however, that the green ring where the
fairies had danced and gambolled became in the times of the Persecution a
place of worship. On this account no longer could the fairy revelry and
dance continue, and it was firmly believed in the district that sounds of
lamentation and regret, proceeding from no earthly voices, were heard in
the neighbourhood of this favourite fairy-haunt for many years afterwards.
The gardens of Drumlanrig Palace (Thornhill) were also a reputed
gathering-place of the fairies, who were often seen dancing in the
gloaming in the glade opposite to Jock o' the Horn.[25]
There is a "Fairy Knowe" at Sanquhar, described by Simpson[26] as "a
beautiful little green knoll which overlooks what is called the Waird, ...
formerly covered with the waving broom, with green spaces here and there,
the dancing-places of the sportive fairies."
The braes of Polveoch, at the west end of the Bank Wood, between
Kirkconnel and Sanquhar, was also a favourite trysting-place of the
fairies. "Here the good little folks assembled on May Day to celebrate the
advent of summer; contingents came in from Kello Water, Glen Aylmer, and
Glen Wharry, and when all had gathered together they rode merrily over the
knowes towards the Bale Hill, in whose sunward slope a beauteous doorway
was said to open for them, which they entered two at a time, the green
turf closing over the last pair to get in."(62)
In Annandale the great fairy strength and palace lay in the heart of
Burnswark Hill. The reputation of these Annandale fairies seems to have
been rather disposed towards evil than good. Young men as well as young
women were carried off, the former to act as very slaves and beasts of
burden. The following is the account of the abduction of a young woman
belonging to Corrie:--
"One fair Corrie damsel, who was supposed to have died, appeared to her
brother, and informed him that she was not dead, but kept in bondage among
the fairies, who, when they carried her off, had left in the bed an image
of her, which had been buried in her stead. She entreated him to repair
alone to the barn on the following night, set open the doors, and watch
there till the hour of midnight, when he would see three forms pass before
him, of which she would be the last. She told him he was then to seize
fast hold of her, to repeat certain words which she instructed him to use,
and that he might thus effect her rescue. Unfortunately, the brother's
courage failed him when the hour of trial came, so that the captive sister
was never released from elfin thraldom and restored to her family."(63)
It may be noted in passing that all the place-names in this district
ending in "sheen" refer to fairy occupation of the land. _Sidh_
(pronounced shee) is a fairy, with the diminutive _sidhean_ (sheen), which
more especially carries the meaning of Fairy Hill. Examples of these may
be cited in Auchensheen, Colvend; Brishie, Minnigaff; Knocknishy,
Whithorn; and Shawn, Stoneykirk.
THE BROWNIE.
The "Brownie,"[27] as already indicated, was a domestic spirit of a
familiar and useful kind. Grotesque in figure, small in stature, but very
strong, his presence and help were cheerfully accepted in the
farm-steading or household he elected to serve. His self-imposed and often
heavy task was always performed in the dark hours of the night. No work
came amiss to Brownie--reaping, threshing, sheep-shearing, and gathering,
churning, and even meaner kitchen drudgery--and all in the most
disinterested fashion, a bowl of cream, or as Nicholson phrases it, "a
cogfu' o' brose" being all that he would accept at their hands. The offer,
indeed, of other than this simple food, or the leaving out for him of
clothing, was fatal, and compelled Brownie, in obedience to some condition
of his existence not understood, to forsake the abode of the gift-givers
and depart, generally reluctantly, to seek other quarters.
However arduous the efforts of the night it would seem that he was always
finished in sufficient good time to drink his cream at leasure and blow up
the smouldering embers of the fire to bask his full length in its warmth,
for at heart Brownie was, when not actually working, much disposed to take
his ease. At first cock-crow, however, he disappeared.
Endowed with a life of many years, he seems to have been attached in some
instances to the same family for generations, but his service was only
given to good and worthy people, although isolated instances of help to
the unfortunate poor were common enough experiences.
He would also seem to have had the moral welfare of young folks at heart,
and would seat himself at the kitchen fireside and listen to their
chatter. He was singularly alive to unworthy intentions, particularly in
connection with love affairs, which he took means of opposing in his own
way.
The prosperity of the family with whom he had attached himself was
affected by their disposition and actions towards him, of which the
following is an example:--
"A place called Liethin Hall, in Dumfriesshire, was the hereditary
dwelling of a noted brownie. He had lived there, as he once communicated
in confidence to an old woman, for three hundred years. He appeared only
once to every new master, and indeed seldom shewed more than his hand to
anyone. On the decease of a beloved master he was heard to make moan, and
would not partake of his wonted delicacy for many days. The heir of the
land arrived from foreign parts and took possession of his father's
inheritance. The faithful Brownie shewed himself, and profered homage. The
spruce Laird was offended to see such a famine-faced, wrinkled domestic,
and ordered him meat and drink, with a new suit of clean livery. The
brownie departed, repeating loud and frequently these ruin-boding lines--
'Ca, cuttie, ca!
A' the luck o' Liethin Ha'
Gangs wi' me to Bodsbeck Ha.'
Liethin Ha' was, in a few years, in ruins, and 'bonnie Bodsbeck'
flourished under the luck-bringing patronage of the brownie."(64)
In the olden days there was a brownie attached to the family of Maxwell of
Dalswinton said to be so energetic as to easily perform the work of ten
men, and threshing with such vigour as to keep the servants awake at
nights with the dirling of its elfin flail.
He seems to have been passionately devoted to the service of the Laird's
daughter, a strikingly comely dame. A lover naturally appeared, and their
meetings were made all the easier through Brownie's help, and eventually
he saw his beloved lady married to a husband he heartily approved of.
"In course of time the hour of need came nigh, and a servant was sent away
to bring the 'canny wife.' The night was dark as a December night could
be, and the wind was heavy among the groves of oak. The brownie, enraged
at the loitering serving-man, wrapped himself in his lady's fur cloak; and
though the Nith was foaming high flood, his steed, impelled by
supernatural spur and whip, passed it like an arrow. Mounting the dame
behind him, he took the deep water back again to the amazement of the
worthy woman, who beheld the red waves tumbling around her, yet the
steed's foot-locks were dry.
'Ride nae by the auld pool,' quo' she, 'lest we should meet wi' Brownie.'
He replied--'Fear nae, dame, ye've met a' the brownies ye will meet.'
Placing her down at the hall gate, he hastened to the stable, where the
servant lad was just pulling on his boots; he unbuckled the bridle from
his steed, and gave him a most afflicting drubbing."
There is a sequel to this story which does not end happily: "It was the
time of the Reformation; and a priest, more zealous than wise, exhorted
the Laird to have this Imp of Heathenism baptised, to which he in an evil
hour consented, and the worthy reforming saint concealed himself in the
barn to surprise the brownie at his work. He appeared like a little,
wrinkled, ancient man, and began his nightly moil. The priest leapt from
his ambush, and dashed the baptismal water in his face, solemnly repeating
the set form of Christian rite. The poor brownie set up a frightful and
agonising yell, and instantly vanished never to return."(65)
Allan Cunningham further tells of a brownie of a humorous turn of mind who
held sway about Newabbey:--"The Abbey lands in the parish of Newabbey,
were the residence of a very sportive one. He loved to be, betimes,
somewhat mischievous. Two lasses, having made a fine bowlful of buttered
brose, had taken it into the byre to sup while it was yet dark. In the
haste of concealment they had brought but one spoon; so they placed the
bowl between them, and took a spoonful by turns.
'I hae got but three sups,' cried the one, 'an' it's a' done!'
'It's a' done, indeed,' cried the other.
'Ha, ha!' laughed a third voice, 'Brownie has gotten the maist o't.'"(66)
As indicating the great skill in gathering the sheep together, the
following tradition lingers in Galloway of a brownie who had spent the
night long at this task. In the morning not only had he the sheep
together, but amongst them was half a dozen hares. "Deil tak' thae wee
grey beasties," he muttered, when this was pointed out to him, "they cost
me mair fash than a' the lave o' them."
In Scottish literature the brownie has a distinctive place, his unique and
wonder-creating personality being used with rare effect. It is, however,
the particular part of Scotland we are dealing with--the south-west--that
has produced the most typical examples, in prose as well as in poetry, for
Dumfriesshire claims that fine Covenanting story, "The Brownie of
Bodsbeck," while Galloway has yielded that inimitable poetical gem, "The
Brownie of Blednoch," the quotation of which in full may fittingly close
the chapter:--
THE BROWNIE OF BLEDNOCH.
There cam a strange wight to our town-en'
And the fient a body did him ken';
He tirled na lang, but he glided ben
Wi' a dreary, dreary hum.
His face did glare like the glow o' the west,
When the drumlie cloud has it half o'ercast;
Or the struggling moon when she's sair distrest--
O sirs! 'twas Aiken-drum.
I trow the bauldest stood aback,
Wi' a gape and a glower till their lugs did crack,
As the shapeless phantom mum'ling spak--
"Hae ye wark for Aiken-drum?"
O had ye seen the bairns' fright,
As they stared at this wild and unyirthly wight,
As he stauket in 'tween the dark and the light,
And graned out, "Aiken-drum!"
"Sauf us!" quoth Jock, "d'ye see sic een;"
Cries Kate, "There's a hole where a nose should hae been;
And the mouth's like a gash which a horn had ri'en;
Wow! keep's frae Aiken-drum!"
The black dog, growling, cowered his tail,
The lassie swarfed, loot fa' the pail,
Rob's lingle brack as he men't the flail,
At the sight o' Aiken-drum.
His matted head on his breast did rest,
A lang blue beard wan'ered down like a vest;
But the glare o' his e'e nae Bard hath exprest,
Nor the skimes o' Aiken-drum.
Roun' his hairy form there was naething seen
But a philibeg o' the rashes green,
And his knotted knees played ay knoit between;
What a sight was Aiken-drum!
On his wauchie arms three claws did meet,
As they trailed on the grun' by his taeless feet;
E'en the auld guidman himsel' did sweat,
To look at Aiken-drum.
But he drew a score, himsel' did sain,
The auld wife tried, but her tongue was gane;
While the young ane closer clasped her wean,
And turned frae Aiken-drum.
But the canny auld wife cam' till her breath,
And she deemed the Bible might ward aff scaith,
Be it benshee, bogle, ghaist, or wraith--
But it fear'dna Aiken-drum.
"His presence protect us!" quoth the auld guidman;
"What wad ye, whare won ye--by sea or by lan'?
I conjure ye speak--by the Beuk in my haun!"
What a grane gae Aiken-drum.
"I lived in a lan' whar we saw nae sky,
I dwalt in a spot whare a burn rins na by;
But I'se dwall now wi' you, if ye like to try--
Hae ye wark for Aiken-drum?
"I'll shiel' a' your sheep i' the mornin' sune,
I'll berry your crap by the light o' the moon,
And baa the bairns wi' an unken'd tune,
If ye'll keep puir Aiken-drum.
"I'll loup the linn when ye canna wade,
I'll kirn the kirn, and I'll turn the bread;
And the wildest fillie that ever ran rede
I'se tame't," quoth Aiken-drum!
"To wear the tod frae the flock on the fell--
To gather the dew frae the heather-bell--
And to look at my face in your clear crystal well,
Might gie pleasure to Aiken-drum.
"I'se seek nae guids, gear, bond, nor mark;
I use nae beddin', shoon, nor sark;
But a cogfu' o' brose 'tween the light and dark,
Is the wage o' Aiken-drum."
Quoth the wylie auld wife, "The thing speaks weel;
Our workers are scant--we hae routh o' meal;
Gif he'll do as he says--be he man, be he de'il,
Wow! we'll try this Aiken-drum."
But the wenches skirled "He's no' be here!
His eldritch look gars us swarf wi' fear,
And the fient a ane will the house come near,
If they think but o' Aiken-drum.
"For a foul and a stalwart ghaist is he,
Despair sits brooding aboon his e'e bree,
And unchancie to light o' a maiden's e'e,
Is the grim glower o' Aiken-drum."
"Puir slipmalabors! ye hae little wit;
Is'tna Hallowmas now, and the crap out yet?"
Sae she silenced them a' wi' a stamp o' her fit;
"Sit yer wa's down, Aiken-drum."
Roun' a' that side what wark was dune,
By the streamer's gleam, or the glance o' the moon;
A word or a wish--and the Brownie cam' sune,
Sae helpfu' was Aiken-drum.
But he slade ay awa' or the sun was up,
He ne'er could look straught on Macmillan's cup;[28]
They watched--but nane saw him his brose ever sup,
Nor a spune sought Aiken-drum.
On Blednoch banks, and on crystal Cree,
For mony a day a toiled wight was he;
While the bairns played harmless roun' his knee,
Sae social was Aiken-drum.
But a new-made wife, fu' o' rippish freaks,
Fond o' a things feat for the first five weeks,
Laid a mouldy pair o' her ain man's breeks;
By the brose o' Aiken-drum.
Let the learned decide, when they convene,
What spell was him and the breeks between;
For frae that day forth he was nae mair seen,
And sair missed was Aiken-drum.
He was heard by a herd gaun by the _Thrieve_,
Crying "Lang, lang now may I greet and grieve;
For alas! I hae gotten baith fee and leave,
O, luckless Aiken-drum."
Awa'! ye wrangling sceptic tribe,
Wi' your _pros_ and your _cons_ wad ye decide
'Gain the 'sponsible voice o' a hale country-side
On the facts 'bout Aiken-drum?
Though the "Brownie o' Blednoch" lang be gane,
The mark o' his feet's left on mony a stane;
And mony a wife and mony a wean
Tell the feats o' Aiken-drum.
E'en now, light loons that jibe and sneer
At spiritual guests and a' sic gear,
At the Glashnoch Mill hae swat wi' fear,
And looked roun' for Aiken-drum.
And guidly fo'ks hae gotten a fright,
When the moon was set, and the stars gied nae light,
At the roaring linn in the howe o' the night,
Wi' sughs like Aiken-drum.
[Illustration]
_CHAPTER V._
WRAITHS AND WARNINGS.
"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in our philosophy."
--_Hamlet._
In the bygone days of a more primitive and simple life, widespread belief
existed in the outward and physical manifestation of the call of Death,
which took the form of what were commonly known as "wraiths" and
"warnings."
The "wraith" was the natural-looking semblance of one about to die, or
just immediately dead, appearing life-like, usually at some distance from
the body, but so realistic as to be unvaryingly mistaken for the actual
person. A further point is, that such appearances gave rise to no fear or
apprehension unless seen at some considerable distance from their usual
surroundings.
The "warning," on the other hand, refers to noises and sounds heard within
the immediate precincts of the sick-chamber, but without any physical
explanation or evidence of the cause, although the nature of the sound or
other phenomenon might be simple enough in character. Such unusual
occurrences happening under usual circumstances carried with them the
superstitious significance of the near presence of death.
In dealing, firstly, with the wraith, it may at once be noted that a great
many accounts of such appearances are still existent in the south-west of
Scotland.
The following is a hitherto unrecorded instance which happened in the
early twenties of last century in the neighbourhood of Dalbeattie:--
"In the late autumn of the year 182--, an old man, a cottar on a farm in
the parish of Buittle, was raising a basketful of potatoes in his 'yaird,'
on the rise of the hill slope that lifts itself into rugged prominence as
it stretches towards Palnackie past Kirkennan Woods. His son William was
away at Glencaple Quay (a distance of twelve miles as the crow flies) with
a Water of Urr sloop unloading timber, and was not expected home before
the end of the week. The old man had just finished his task when he very
distinctly saw the figure of his son passing from the roadway and turn
round the end of the house as if to go inside. Somewhat surprised, the old
man lifted his basket and walked down the garden path into the kitchen,
where his daughter Margaret was preparing the mid-day meal.
'What brings Wullie hame 'ee noo, and whaur's he gaun?' was the double
query he put to his daughter.
'Guidsake, faither! what are ye talkin' aboot? There's nae Wullie here,'
answered Margaret, startled out of her usual composure.
'But I saw him come roon' the house-en', and he had a queer drawn look
aboot his face that fairly fleyed me! I houp there's naething happened
him!'
The old man, almost absently, looked at the brass-faced clock ticking in
the corner between the fireplace and the white-scoured dresser, and saw
that it was ten minutes to twelve. In the evening twilight a messenger
rode up to the little homestead and broke the sad news of the death by
drowning of 'Wullie,' a few minutes before twelve that day, when the tide
was at its full, and almost at the very time that his father had seen his
semblance, with drawn face, pass the house-en'. He had fallen between the
side of the sloop and the quay wall, to almost immediately disappear,
very probably having received serious injury as he fell."
Another typical example may be cited from the Glencairn district, the
folk-lore of which has been so exhaustively collected by Mr John Corrie:--
"One afternoon a well-known lady, Mrs G----, was setting out to call upon
a neighbour who lived about half-a-mile distant across the moor, when she
saw her friend, evidently bent upon the same errand, coming towards
herself. Retracing her steps, she entered the house again to wait her
friend's arrival. Her expected visitor not appearing, Mrs G---- went to
the door to see what detained her, but although she looked in every
direction there was no one to be seen. As the afternoon was now well
advanced, Mrs G---- decided to defer her visit until the following day.
Walking across on the morrow, she remarked in the course of conversation:
'I saw you on the way to see me yesterday! What made you turn half-road?'
'Me coming to see you!' exclaimed her friend, 'I can assure you I wasna
that, for I was scarce frae my ain fireside the hale day.'
A week later Mrs G----'s friend and neighbour died, and her corpse was
carried to the churchyard, over the very track her wraith had appeared on
the afternoon of her intended call."(67)
At Dunreggan, Moniaive, as curious an instance happened some fifty years
ago, when the father of a schoolboy, sitting at the fireside with his
wife, saw the semblance of his son enter the cottage and pass "doon the
hoose." Not greatly surprised, but still wondering, he called his wife's
attention to the early return of the boy from school. Very sceptical, and
assuring him that he must be mistaken, the good woman went herself into
the room, to find nothing there, although she looked behind the door and
elsewhere to make sure that no boyish prank was being played. Despite her
assurances the husband was not convinced, and remained in a very uneasy
state of mind, when soon afterwards his worst fears were realised, and the
body of the boy was brought home, to pass through the kitchen to be laid
upon the bed--"doon the hoose."
MacTaggart, in his _Gallovidian Encyclopedia_, gives several examples, of
which the following instance which happened to a very intimate friend, of
whose intelligence and probity he had the highest regard, may be given:--
"Last vacans" (quoth he), "I gaed awa' to my uncle's, or rather my
grandfather's, to stap a week or twa, and play mysel' amang the
Moorhills, neive trouts, and learn twa or three tunes on the flute. Weel,
I hadna been there ony time aworth till I saw as queer a thing as ought
ever I saw, or may see. A'm out at the house-en' ae morning, about aught
o'clock, and a bonny harrest morning it was: Weel, ye see, a'm making a
bit grinwan to mysel' to tak' down wi' me to a deep pool that was i' the
burn fu' o' trouts, and this I was gaun to do after breakfast time, for as
yet I hadna gat my sowens. Weel, ye see, I'm tying on my grin wi' a bit o'
wax'd thread, whan by the house-en' comes my auld grandfather wi' his
clicked staff, that he ay had wi' him, in ae han', and in the tither his
auld loofie o' a mitten, which he hadna as yet drawn on. He cam' close by
me, and gaed a kinn o' a luik at what I was doing, then wised himsel' awa'
alang the hip o' o'e hill, to look how the nowt did, and twa young foals,
as was his usual wont. Weel, awa' he gaed; I was sae thrang when he gaed
by that I never spake to him, neither did he to me, and I began to think
about this when I was mair at leisure, and gaed a glent the road he tuik,
just to see like how the auld body was coming on, for he was on the
borders o' four score, yet a fearie fell auld carle, and as kine a body as
ever I saw; sae I gaed a glent, as I was saying, alang by the scarrow o'e
hill, and did see him winglan awa' by the back side o' the auld saugh
Lochan. And in course o' time, maybe no' ten minutes after, I stepped my
waes in to see gin I could get a cap or twa o' sowens and get off to the
trouts; whan wha think ye's just sitting on the sattle-stane at the
ingle-cheek taking a blaw o' the pipe--but auld granfaither.
'Lord, preserve me,' said I, and said na mair; I glowr'd about me awsomly.
'What's wrang wi' the boy?' (quoth my auntie).
'Come out' (quo' I) 'and I'll tell ye,' which she did.
We gaed up the hill a bit, to be sure, as she said, o' the thing I had
seen; we saw nought ava, and came back again in an unco way. That vera
night granfaither grew ill, which was on a Saturday teen, and he was dead,
puir body, or sax o'clock on Monday morning."
From the Farm of Killumpha, in Kirkmaiden, comes another kindred
episode:--
"The farmer's wife, Mrs Anderson, had gone to Ayrshire on a visit to her
father. One night during her absence John M'Gurl, the cotman, was gaun
through the close after dark to take a look at the horses and see that
everything was right; for the outhouses were a good way from the
dwelling-house, maybe three hundred yards. When he was crossing ower from
the byres to go to the stable he saw a white-clad woman coming towards
him, which he thought was very like the figure of Mrs Anderson, and he
wondered if she had come back unexpectedly. She came quite close to him,
and he saw plainly it was her, and stopped to speak to her, but she
suddenly disappeared. Next night news came that Mrs Anderson was dead, and
had died suddenly."(68)
At Balgreggan House, in the same district, a young woman in the service of
the house was much startled to meet, as she passed along a passage with a
lighted lamp in her hand, the semblance of a gentleman of the house,
attired in military dress, and whom she knew perfectly well was far from
his home at the time. The local confirmation of the uncanny nature of the
appearance bears that about the same time the gentleman had actually died
abroad.
The last example to be quoted has a personal interest, being an incident
in the family history of the writer:--
One clear moonlight Sunday night, also in the early twenties of the last
century, a young girl, who afterwards became my paternal grandmother, was
returning home from a neighbouring farm in the near district of
Dalbeattie. She was walking along, with never a thought in her head of
anything approaching the supernatural, when to her dismay and
consternation she was noiselessly joined by a figure in white, who passed
through, be it noticed, and did not leap or jump over, a rough larch fence
running along the roadside. The figure accompanied her along a short
straight part of the road, then left her as noiselessly as it had
approached. Taking to her heels, and with only the spur that terror can
give, she reached her own door, to tumble into the farm kitchen and
collapse on the floor.
[Illustration: "AN EERIE COMPANION." Sketch by J. Copland, Dundrennan.]
The sequel of the episode is, that three days later, a coasting schooner,
in which her brother was a sailor, was caught in a strong gale of wind
whilst on the passage from Liverpool to the Water of Urr, and was never
more heard tell of. My grandfather, or rather the lad who was to be my
grandfather, scoured the Solway shore from point to point on horseback for
several days, but all that the sea gave up was a small wooden chisel
technically known as a "fid," used for splicing large ropes, and which
bore the initials of the young girl's brother, and which is now in the
writer's possession.[29]
The "warning," at all events what is accepted as such, has many forms and
varieties. Some of the more commonly accepted forms are the switch-like
strokes, usually three in number, across the window of the sick-chamber,
or even other windows in the house; the falling of pictures without
apparent cause; the baying of dogs in the watches of the night; the
footfall and apparent sound of footsteps in the house, heard overhead or
coming along passages, or ascending or descending stairs, and so realistic
that the door is expectantly opened, only to find nothing there; the
stopping of clocks at the time of the passing of the spirit; and the noise
as of approaching wheels and crunching gravel at the doors of country
houses when death hovers near.
Many examples and accounts of such things taking place are extant and
seriously believed in; indeed, there is not a parish in the whole district
we are treating of but on enquiry gives ample proof of the generality of
belief in such portents.
Belief in the switch-like strokes across the window is in this district,
perhaps, the commonest of all.
Of the footfall type an example may be quoted from Moniaive. It is told
how an old lady, in her younger days in the service of a medical man in
Moniaive, for a time heard persistent strange footfalls in an upper room
of the house. The doctor afterwards was seized with sudden illness, lay
down on a sofa and died over the very spot where the strange noises had
been heard.
Only the other day an account of the mysterious stopping of a clock
associated with death appeared in the local newspapers, which may in part
be given:--
"Mrs Stoba, who lived alone in a cottage at Greenmill, Caerlaverock, died
suddenly during the night of Thursday last, from heart failure. Her blind
not being drawn up on Friday morning, some neighbours forced the door
about half-past ten, and found that she had passed away. It is a singular
coincidence that an eight-day clock which had been her property, and is
now in the house of her son, the burgh officer of Dumfries, stopped at
five minutes before midnight on Thursday, although it was wound up, and
there was no apparent reason for the stoppage."(69)
A special form of warning is the "Licht before Death." In the parish of
Tynron it is recounted how this mysterious light illumined up, on one
occasion, the whole interior of a byre where a woman was engaged milking
cows, and how afterwards she learned that her mother had died the same
evening.
Mr John Corrie (Moniaive) gives a good example of this form from the
parish of Glencairn:--
"An old Glencairn lady, on looking out of the door one dark night, saw a
strange light shining in the vicinity of a house where an acquaintance
lived. Entering the house she commented on what she had seen, and
expressed the hope that 'it wasna the deid licht.' Her fears were
ridiculed, but next morning it transpired that a member of the family over
whose dwelling the light was seen had committed suicide."
There is another illustration from Glencairn, and perhaps a more valuable
one, on account of the precision of its details:--
"Peggy D----, when going to lock her door one night, saw a light go past,
carried, as she supposed, by a neighbour. There was nothing unusual in
this, but there was a high stone dyke with a flight of steps in it close
to the foot of the garden, and she was surprised to see the light and
supposed light-bearer pass right through the obstructing fence as if
nothing of the kind had been there, and although the ground below the
house was very uneven, the light itself was never lost sight of for a
moment. Peggy, rooted to the spot, watched the light go down through the
fields, then along the public road until the churchyard was reached.
When turning in that direction it passed through the locked gate with the
same apparent ease that the other obstacles had been surmounted, and,
entering the graveyard, became lost to sight among the tombstones. A week
later Peggy D----'s daughter was carried a corpse to the same
churchyard."(70)
[Illustration: "DEID LICHTS." Sketch by J. Copland, Dundrennan.]
Other old and significant terms associated with the premonition of death
are the "dead-watch," or "dede-chack," really the peculiar clicking noise
made by wood-worms; and the "dede-drap," which was the rather eerie sound
made by the intermittent falling of a drop of water from the eaves; and
"dead-bell," a tingling in the ears, believed to announce a friend's
death.
Other expressions of a similar nature are the "dede-spall," which is the
semi-molten part of the grease of a candle (so called from its resemblance
to wood-shaving) when it falls over the edge in semi-circular form, and
which, if pronounced, and turning with an appearance of persistence toward
some person in particular, was supposed to indicate the approaching hand
of death.
Another curious term is the "dede-nip," whose origin is a little more
puzzling. It is described as a blue mark which appears on the body of a
person about to die and without the physical explanation of a blow. It is
also associated with the "blew-spot" of witchcraft already described.[30]
The following selected verses from "The Death of Dear-meal Johnny," by the
Bard of Corrie (Dumfriesshire), are quoted on account of their reference
to several of these old-world superstitious terms:--
"Oft his wraith had been seen gliding
'Mang the meal sacks i' the spence,
Till the house, folks scarce could bide in,
Terrified maist out o' sense.
'Neath his head the death-watch tinkled,
Constant as the lapse of time;
Frae his bed the dead licht twinkled,
Wi' its blue and sulphurous flame.
'Neath the bed auld Bawty[31] scrapit,
A' day, thrang as thrang could be;
Made a hole, sae grave-like shapit,
Folk glowered quaking in to see.
On the dreary kirkyaird road, aye
By night he raised sic eldritch howls;
Weel he kenned his maister's body
Soon must mix amang the mools.
Frae the wattles dead-draps spatter'd;
At the can'les dead-speals hang;
Pyets rave the thack, and chatter'd;
In folk's lugs the dead-bell rang."
The last class of warnings to be noticed are special appearances and
portents occurring before death in well-known local families.
In the family of Kirkpatrick of Closeburn the tradition was, that when a
death was about to take place in the family a swan invariably made its
appearance on the loch that surrounded the castle. "The last omen of this
nature on record saddened the nuptials of Sir Thomas, the first baronet,
when marrying for the third time. On the wedding-day his son, Roger, went
out of the castle, and, happening to turn his eyes towards the loch,
descried the fatal bird. Returning, overwhelmed with melancholy, his
father rallied him on his desponding appearance, alleging a stepmother to
be the cause of his sadness, when the young man only answered 'Perhaps ere
long you may also be sorrowful,' expiring suddenly that very night."(71)
The death of a member of the family of Craigdarroch is believed to be
heralded by a sudden and simultaneous peal of household bells.
In Western Galloway there lingers a tradition concerning the old church of
Kirkmaiden (in Fernes), the ancient burying-place of the M'Cullochs of
Myrton, whose lands, in 1682, passed to the Maxwells of Monreith. When the
parish ceased to exist as a separate parish and was joined to that of
Glasserton, the pulpit and bell were removed to be taken across Luce Bay,
there to be placed in the new church of the same name of Kirkmaiden.
Although the day was fine and the wind fair, a storm sprang up, and down
went boat and bell to the bottom, for, as true believers knew, the bell
had been consecrated, and on no account could it ring 'neath the rafters
of a Presbyterian building. Yet, ring it did not cease to do, for on the
approaching death of any of the representatives of the old family of
Myrton a solemn knell comes up from the watery depths to record the
passing of the soul to the vast unknown.
"An' certes, there are nane, I trow,
That by Kirkmaiden bide,
Will, when they hear the wraith-bell jow,
Gae oot at Lammastide."
[Illustration: A MIDNIGHT REVEL.]
_CHAPTER VI._
DEATH CUSTOMS AND FUNERAL CEREMONY.
"Or ever the silver cord be loosed."
--_Ecclesiastes xii. 6._
When that sure hand called Death knocked at the cottar's or laird's door,
or stalked with unhalting step into moorland farm or upland home to beckon
away some weary inmate, the actual decease, or passing, was of itself
associated with significant observance.
The nearest relative bent down to the dying face to receive the last
breath. The door was kept ajar,[32] although not too wide, that the spirit
might be untrammelled in its flight.[33]
The spirit fled the poor dead eyes were closed, also by the nearest
relative, and generally kept so by means of copper coins placed upon them.
The looking-glass in the death-chamber was covered with a white cloth. The
clock was stopped, or at least the striking-weight removed. The daily
routine of work was discontinued, such days of enforced idleness being
known as the "dead days." On the farm, for example, no matter the season,
the appropriate labour of ploughing, seed sowing, or even harvest, at once
ceased. The household companions of dog and cat were rigidly excluded from
the stricken house; indeed, it was not uncommon for the cat to be
imprisoned beneath an inverted tub, for it was believed that if either of
these animals should jump or cross over the dead body, the welfare of the
spirit of the deceased would certainly be affected.
The body was then washed, and dressed in its last garments, the hands of
females being crossed over the breast, those of the other sex being
extended by the sides. Last of all a plate of salt was placed upon the
breast, either from the higher idea of future life being signified by the
salt, which is the emblem of perpetuity, or from a more practical notion,
however unlikely, that by this means the body would be prevented from
swelling.
Of the curious custom of "sin-eating"--that is, the placing of a piece of
bread upon the salt by a recognised individual known as the sin-eater,
who, for money reward, at the same time partook of it, thereby, as it was
believed, absorbing to himself all the sins of the deceased--there is
little to be gleaned in this district. The term "dishaloof" still exists,
however, as a vestige of the custom in lowland Scotland.(72)
There falls to be mentioned here a quaint superstition associated with
"bee folklore," as described by the late Patrick Dudgeon, Esq. of Cargen,
Kirkcudbrightshire, who specially studied this matter. The custom was,
when a death took place, to at once go to the bee-hives, or skeps, and
whisper the tidings of the sad event to the bees. This was followed by
"putting the bees in mourning"--that is, attaching black ribbons to each
of the skeps.[34]
Mr Dudgeon, in a paper on the subject,(73) observes that "the custom was
very general some time ago, and several of my correspondents mention
instances of old people having seen it observed. It is not altogether
extinct yet."
The last toilet completed, it was the usual custom for friends and
neighbours to manifest their sympathy by watching, or "waulking," the
dead. Through the long hours of night, by the glimmering candle-light at
the silent bedside, this was really a service that called for some
resolution, as tales of dead bodies coming back to life were fully
believed in these superstitious days. Occasionally special candles were
used for "the watching," known as Yule candles. These were the remains of
specially large candles burned at Yule, and extinguished at the close of
the day, what was left of the candle being carefully preserved and locked
away, to be burned at the owners' own "waulking."
Visiting the house of the dead for the sake of seeing the corpse was a
regular practice, and, it may be added, that to touch the corpse was
considered a sure safeguard against all eerie dreams of death and ghostly
trappings, as well as a counter-influence to illness and disease.
With the encoffining, or "kistin'" of the dead, a further, stage was
reached. The ceremony was apparently religious, and one of deep solemnity,
the minister, or one of his elders or deacons, attending to see the
remains of the deceased placed in the coffin, to offer up prayer, and
generally to console and sympathise with the bereaved. In reality, the
official presence of the minister, elder or deacon, was directly due to an
Act of Parliament,[35] actually framed and passed, incongruous as it may
appear, for the "improvement of Linen manufacture within the Kingdom."
The clerical representative was present in the house of mourning, to be
fully satisfied that "the corpse was shrouded in home made linen, and that
not exceeding in value twenty shillings per ell."
This curious Act had as curious a sequel, for, prompted by an evident
spirit of fair dealing, the Linen Act was rescinded in the first
Parliament of Queen Anne in favour of a "Woollen Act," insisting upon the
exclusive use of "wool" as a material for shrouds, under exactly the same
pains and penalties as the previous Act laid down to compel the use of
linen. In course of time such rigid intrusive conditions, despite the law,
came to be disregarded, and people shrouded their dead as they thought
best, and in material of their own choice. It was, however, usual for the
undertaker to safeguard those concerned in any such infringement by
charging half the statutory fine in his account, taking credit to himself
for the other half as being the informer against himself. This was usually
entered as the first item of his undertaking expenses, being expressed in
his bill against the relatives as: "To paying the penalty under the Act
for burying in Scots Linen."
The custom of relatives and intimate friends being at the encoffining or
"kistin'" is to some extent associated with the "lykewake," or
"latewake," of Roman Catholic usage. Although now quite unknown among
adherents of the Scottish Presbyterian Church, such wakes were at one time
common enough, even after the Reformation. They were, however, attended by
such unseemly behaviour that in 1645 the General Assembly passed an edict
to suppress them.
[Illustration: FUNERAL HOSPITALITY. Sketch by J. Copland, Dundrennan.]
That the custom still continued is brought out by the knowledge that in
1701 it was found necessary to revive and enforce the statute against the
practice.
The culminating feature of the rites of bereavement, the funeral ceremony,
was in these old days (particularly between the years 1700 and 1800) an
occasion altogether outstanding in social importance. It was an occasion,
however, very often marred by the profuse liberality and use of
stimulants, lavish hospitality in the house of mourning being too
frequently followed by ludicrous and extraordinary results as the body was
being conveyed to its last resting-place. "A funeral party," for example,
"had wended their way for miles through deep snow over Eskdale Moor, bound
for Moffat Churchyard. On arriving at the burial-ground it was actually
discovered that they had dropped the coffin by the way, the back having
fallen from the cart on which it was being conveyed."(74)
Ten o'clock in the morning saw the commencement of the funeral ceremonies,
this being so generally understood that no special hour was mentioned in
"the bidding to the buriall." The setting-out for the churchyard, however,
or the "liftin'," as it was termed, did not, as a rule, take place for
several hours later, and in many instances not until well on in the
afternoon. This delay, as well as giving ample time to partake of
refreshment, was really meant to enable all the guests to gather together,
many of them travelling long distances, which were not made shorter by bad
roads or inclement weather. A precaution sometimes taken before the
company moved off was to send someone to the top of the nearest height to
signal when the horizon was clear and no more guests in sight.
The place of entertainment was usually the barn. Planks laid along the
tops of wooden trestles formed a large table, on which were piled up a
superabundance of food and drink, while a constant feature of the
entertainment was an imposing array of tobacco pipes already filled by the
women who had sat beside, or watched, the dead body. It was not considered
seemly for the women of the house to mingle with the male guests. The
usual custom in Galloway and Nithsdale was for the women folk to sit
together in a room apart.
As the company gathered they formed themselves into relays--for the number
of guests as a rule exceeded the accommodation of even the largest
barn--and entered the place set aside for refreshment. This took the form
of what were known as "services," and these in their usual order were,
after each guest had been proffered a pipe of tobacco:--
(a) Bread and cheese, with ale and porter.
(b) A glass of whisky, with again bread and cheese.
(c) A glass of rum and biscuits.
(d) A glass of brandy and currant bun.
(e) Wine and shortbread (or burial bread).
It was not, be it mentioned in passing, a very unusual thing for some of
the company to enter the barn again, and undertake the "services" a second
time.
The natural consequence of all this is obvious, but to a certain extent
the situation could be saved by the use of a private receptacle called the
"droddy bottle," into which the liquor could be poured to be taken home,
or at least carried outside. Before partaking of each individual "service"
it was solemnised by the minister offering up an appropriate prayer, a
clerical task which must have been trying in the extreme.
As instancing the prodigality of preparation in the way of food, notice
may be taken of a funeral in the parish of Mochrum, where two bushels (160
lbs.) of shortbread were provided, and it is quite unnecessary to suggest
that the supply of spirits would be in proportion.
The following account of funeral expenses, drawn from a Wigtownshire
farmer's book of expenses in 1794, may here be included, as it affords an
excellent illustration of how the expenses of an ordinary funeral were
swelled by the amounts paid for alcoholic liquor:--
Mrs G.--One gallon brandy £0 18 0
15 gills gin 0 7 6
Six bottles of wine 0 17 0
One gallon rum 0 16 0
To the coffin 1 5 0
To the mort-cloath and grave digging 0 2 0
To bread 0 5 9
J. C. for biding and walking and other attendance 0 4 0
J. S. for whiskie and ale at sitting up 0 3 1
Of the expenses of funerals in a higher rank of life those incurred on the
deaths of Grierson of Lag and his third son, John Grierson, afford full
and interesting information. Mr John Grierson, third son of the Laird of
Lag, died early in 1730, and to one Jean Scott the purveying of the meat
and drink considered requisite for the friends attending the funeral was
entrusted. The bill came to about £160 Scots.[36] When the Laird himself
died, on the last day of the year 1733, there was a repetition of the
feasting and drinking at the house of the deceased, at the kirkyard, and
at an adjoining house, which had evidently been requisitioned for the
accommodation of several of the gentlemen, among whom were Lord Stormonth,
Sir Thomas Kirkpatrick, Maxwell of Carriel, and others who had come from a
distance to assist. The account begins two days before the death of the
Laird, and ends on January 14. In round figures the cost of the meat and
drink consumed at the Laird's funeral came to £240 Scots.
The following are the detailed accounts:--(75)
ACCOTT. OF THE FFUNERALS OF MR JOHN GRIERSONE.
1730. _To Jean Scott._
Feb. 23rd. 2 bottels clarit to these as set up all night wt
ye corps £0 3 0
do. 1 bottel of brandy for do. 0 1 6
Feb. 24th. 1 bottel of clarit when the sear-cloath[37] was
put on 0 1 6
do. 1 bottel clarit when the grave-cloaths was put on 0 1 6
do. At the in-coffining where the ladys was, 1 bottel
clarit, 2 bottels white wine, and 1 bottel
Cannary 0 6 2
do. In the beg room wt the Gentelmen before the corps
was transported--2 bottels white wine 0 3 0
do. When the company returned--10 bottels clarit 0 15 0
do. 2 bottels brandy for Gentelmen's Servts. 0 3 0
do. 2 bottels clarit to Sir Robert's Servts. 0 3 0
Feb. 26th. 1 bottel clarit to Sir Robert's Servts. 0 1 6
March 2nd. 1 bottel clarit to Sir Robert's Servts. 0 1 6
March 4th. 1 bottel clarit to Sir Robert's Servts. 0 1 6
March 5th. In the two rooms when at meat 22 bottels clarit 1 13 0
do. ffor the Servts. and Gentelmen's Servts., 4
bottels of brandy 0 6 0
do. at night when the Gentelmen returned--25
bottels of clarit 1 17 6
do. 2 bottels brandy to Rockhall wt bottels 0 3 0
March 6th. 2 bottels clarit at dinr wt Sr Walter Laurie and
Cariel 0 3 0
do. Ale from the 23rd of ffebr., till this day 1 19 6
do. To 1 baccon ham 0 9 0
do. To a rosting piece of beef 0 6 6
do. To a rost pigg 0 2 6
do. To 2 rost gease 0 3 0
do. To 1 rost turkey 0 4 0
do. To a calf's head stwed wt wine and oysstars 0 3 6
do. To 2 dish of neats' tongues 0 8 0
do. To 2 dish of capons and fowls 0 6 0
do. To a passtie 0 7 0
March 6th. To a dozn. of tearts 0 6 0
do. To 2 dozn. of mincht pys 0 8 0
do. To 1 quarter of rost mutton 0 3 6
do. To rost veal 0 3 6
do. To 1 barrel of oysters, 6 limmons, and other
pickels 0 4 0
do. To eating for Tennents and Servants 1 0 0
The following is a note of some of the items of expenditure at the funeral
of the notorious Sir Robert Grierson of Lag himself:--
1733.
Decr. 29th. 2 bottles small clarit £0 3 0
do. 2 flint glasses 0 1 4
Decr. 30th. 4 bottles small clarit 0 6 0
1734.
Janr. 1st. 12 bottles strong clarit 1 4 0
do. 3 bottles ffrantinak 1 6 0
do. 3 bottles shirry 0 5 6
do. 1 bottle more brandy 0 1 6
Janr. 7th. 18 double flint glasses
do. 1 £ double refined shugar
Janr. 8th. 4 dozn. strong clarit to the lodgeing 4 16 0
do. 6 bottles ffrantinak do. 0 12 0
do. 6 bottles shirry do. 0 11 0
do. 6 more double flint glasses to ye lodgeing
do. 12 bottles strong clarit sent out to the burying
place 1 4 0