of the Isles. But he gave my gudesire a nudge as he offered them; and
looking secretly and closely, Steenie saw that the chanter was of steel,
and heated to a white heat; so he had fair warning not to trust his
fingers with it. So he excused himself again, and said, he was faint and
frightened, and had not wind aneugh to fill the bag.
"Then ye maun eat and drink, Steenie," said the figure; "for we do
little else here; and it's ill speaking between a fou man and a
fasting."
Now these were the very words that the bloody Earl of Douglas said to
keep the King's messenger in hand, while he cut the head off MacLellan
of Bombie, at the Threave Castle;[9] and that put Steenie mair and mair
on his guard. So he spoke up like a man, and said he came neither to
eat, or drink, or make minstrelsy; but simply for his ain--to ken what
was come o' the money he had paid, and to get a discharge for it; and he
was so stout-hearted by this time, that he charged Sir Robert for
conscience-sake--(he had no power to say the holy name)--and as he hoped
for peace and rest, to spread no snares for him, but just to give him
his ain.
The appearance gnashed its teeth and laughed, but it took from a large
pocket-book the receipt, and handed it to Steenie. "There is your
receipt, ye pitiful cur; and for the money, my dog-whelp of a son may go
look for it in the Cat's Cradle."
My gudesire uttered mony thanks, and was about to retire, when Sir
Robert roared aloud, "Stop, though, thou sack-doudling son of a whore! I
am not done with thee. HERE we do nothing for nothing; and you
must return on this very day twelvemonth, to pay your master the homage
that you owe me for my protection."
My father's tongue was loosed of a suddenty, and he said aloud, "I refer
mysell to God's pleasure, and not to yours."
He had no sooner uttered the word than all was dark around him; and he
sunk on the earth with such a sudden shock, that he lost both breath and
sense.
How lang Steenie lay there, he could not tell; but when he came to
himsell, he was lying in the auld kirkyard of Redgauntlet parochine,
just at the door of the family aisle, and the scutcheon of the auld
knight, Sir Robert, hanging over his head. There was a deep morning fog
on grass and gravestane around him, and his horse was feeding quietly
beside the minister's twa cows. Steenie would have thought the whole was
a dream, but he had the receipt in his hand, fairly written and signed
by the auld Laird; only the last letters of his name were a little
disorderly, written like one seized with sudden pain.
Sorely troubled in his mind, he left that dreary place, rode through the
mist to Redgauntlet Castle, and with much ado he got speech of the
Laird.
"Well, you dyvour bankrupt," was the first word, "have you brought me my
rent?"
"No," answered my gudesire, "I have not; but I have brought your honour
Sir Robert's receipt for it."
"How, sirrah?--Sir Robert's receipt!--You told me he had not given you
one."
"Will your honour please to see if that bit line is right?"
Sir John looked at every line, and at every letter, with much attention;
and at last, at the date, which my gudesire had not observed,--"_From
my appointed place_," he read, "_this twenty-fifth of
November_."--"What!--That is yesterday!--Villain, thou must have gone to
hell for this!"
"I got it from your honour's father--whether he be in heaven or hell, I
know not," said Steenie.
"I will delate you for a warlock to the Privy Council!" said Sir John.
"I will send you to your master, the devil, with the help of a
tar-barrel and a torch!"
"I intend to delate mysell to the Presbytery," said Steenie, "and tell
them all I have seen last night, whilk are things fitter for them to
judge of than a borrel man like me."
Sir John paused, composed himsell, and desired to hear the full history;
and my gudesire told it him from point to point, as I have told it
you--word for word, neither more nor less.
Sir John was silent again for a long time, and at last he said, very
composedly, "Steenie, this story of yours concerns the honour of many a
noble family besides mine; and if it be a leasing-making, to keep
yourself out of my danger, the least you can expect is to have a red-hot
iron driven through your tongue, and that will be as bad as scaulding
your fingers with a redhot chanter. But yet it may be true, Steenie; and
if the money cast up, I shall not know what to think of it.--But where
shall we find the Cat's Cradle? There are cats enough about the old
house, but I think they kitten without the ceremony of bed or cradle."
"We were best ask Hutcheon," said my gudesire; "he kens a' the odd
corners about as weel as--another serving-man that is now gane, and that
I wad not like to name."
Aweel, Hutcheon, when he was asked, told them, that a ruinous turret,
lang disused, next to the clock-house, only accessible by a ladder, for
the opening was on the outside, and far above the battlements, was
called of old the Cat's Cradle.
"There will I go immediately," said Sir John; and he took (with what
purpose, Heaven kens) one of his father's pistols from the hall-table,
where they had lain since the night he died, and hastened to the
battlements.
It was a dangerous place to climb, for the ladder was auld and frail,
and wanted ane or twa rounds. However, up got Sir John, and entered at
the turret door, where his body stopped the only little light that was
in the bit turret. Something flees at him wi' a vengeance, maist dang
him back ower--bang gaed the knight's pistol, and Hutcheon, that held
the ladder, and my gudesire that stood beside him, hears a loud
skelloch. A minute after, Sir John flings the body of the jackanape down
to them, and cries that the siller is fund, and that they should come up
and help him. And there was the bag of siller sure aneugh, and mony orra
things besides, that had been missing for mony a day. And Sir John, when
he had riped the turret weel, led my gudesire into the dining-parlour,
and took him by the hand, and spoke kindly to him, and said he was sorry
he should have doubted his word, and that he would hereafter be a good
master to him, to make amends.
"And now, Steenie," said Sir John, "although this vision of yours tends,
on the whole, to my father's credit, as an honest man, that he should,
even after his death, desire to see justice done to a poor man like you,
yet you are sensible that ill-dispositioned men might make bad
constructions upon it, concerning his soul's health. So, I think, we had
better lay the haill dirdum on that ill-deedie creature, Major Weir, and
say naething about your dream in the wood of Pitmurkie. You had taken
ower muckle brandy to be very certain about onything; and, Steenie, this
receipt," (his hand shook while he held it out,)--"it's but a queer kind
of document, and we will do best, I think, to put it quietly in the
fire."
"Od, but for as queer as it is, it's a' the voucher I have for my rent,"
said my gudesire, who was afraid, it may be, of losing the benefit of
Sir Robert's discharge.
"I will bear the contents to your credit in the rental-book, and give
you a discharge under my own hand," said Sir John, "and that on the
spot. And, Steenie, if you can hold your tongue about this matter, you
shall sit, from this term downward, at an easier rent."
"Mony thanks to your honour," said Steenie, who saw easily in what
corner the wind was; "doubtless I will be conformable to all your
honour's commands; only I would willingly speak wi' some powerful
minister on the subject, for I do not like the sort of soumons of
appointment whilk your honour's father----"
"Do not call the phantom my father!" said Sir John, interrupting him.
"Weel, then, the thing that was so like him,"--said my gudesire; "he
spoke of my coming back to him this time twelvemonth, and it's a weight
on my conscience."
"Aweel, then," said Sir John, "if you be so much distressed in mind, you
may speak to our minister of the parish; he is a douce man, regards the
honour of our family, and the mair that he may look for some patronage
from me."
Wi' that, my gudesire readily agreed that the receipt should be burnt,
and the Laird threw it into the chimney with his ain hand. Burn it would
not for them, though; but away it flew up the lum, wi' a lang train of
sparks at its tail, and a hissing noise like a squib.
My gudesire gaed down to the manse, and the minister, when he had heard
the story, said, it was his real opinion, that though my gudesire had
gaen very far in tampering with dangerous matters, yet, as he had
refused the devil's arles (for such was the offer of meat and drink),
and had refused to do homage by piping at his bidding, he hoped, that if
he held a circumspect walk hereafter, Satan could take little advantage
by what was come and gane. And, indeed, my gudesire, of his ain accord,
long forswore baith the pipes and the brandy--it was not even till the
year was out, and the fatal day passed, that he would so much as take
the fiddle, or drink usquebaugh or tippenny.
Sir John made up his story about the jackanape as he liked himsell; and
some believe till this day there was no more in the matter than the
filching nature of the brute. Indeed, ye'll no hinder some to threap,
that it was nane o' the Auld Enemy that Dougal and my gudesire saw in
the Laird's room, but only that wanchancy creature, the Major, capering
on the coffin; and that, as to the blawing on the Laird's whistle that
was heard after he was dead, the filthy brute could do that as weel as
the Laird himsell, if no better. But Heaven kens the truth, whilk first
came out by the minister's wife, after Sir John and her ain gudeman were
baith in the moulds. And then my gudesire, wha was failed in his limbs,
but not in his judgment or memory--at least nothing to speak of--was
obliged to tell the real narrative to his freends, for the credit of his
good name. He might else have been charged for a warlock.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 6: A precipitous side of a mountain in Moffatdale.]
[Footnote 7: The caution and moderation of King William III., and his
principles of unlimited toleration, deprived the Cameronians of the
opportunity they ardently desired, to retaliate the injuries which they
had received during the reign of prelacy, and purify the land, as they
called it, from the pollution of blood. They esteemed the Revolution,
therefore, only a half measure, which neither comprehended the
rebuilding the Kirk in its full splendour, nor the revenge of the death
of the Saints on their persecutors.]
[Footnote 8: A celebrated wizard, executed at Edinburgh for sorcery and
other crimes.]
[Footnote 9: The reader is referred for particulars to Pitscottie's
_History of Scotland_.]
II
GHOST STORIES FROM LOCAL RECORDS, FOLK LORE AND LEGEND
XVIII
GLAMIS CASTLE
Local Records
"The Castle of Glamis, a venerable and majestic pile of buildings," says
an old Scots Gazetteer, "is situate about one mile north from the
village, on the flat grounds at the confluence of the Glamis Burn and
the Dean. There is a print of it given by Slezer in Charles II.'s
reign--by which it appears to have been anciently much more extensive,
being a large quadrangular mass of buildings, having two courts in
front, with a tower in each, and gateway through below them; and on the
northern side was the principal tower, which now constitutes the central
portion of the present castle upwards of 100 feet in height. The
building received the addition of a tower, in one of its angles, for a
spiral staircase from bottom to top, with conical roofs. The wings were
added, at the same time, by Patrick Earl of Strathmore, who repaired and
modernised the structure, under the directions of Inigo Jones. One of
the wings has been renovated within the last forty years, and other
additions made, but not in harmony with Earl Patrick's repairs.
"_There is also a secret room in it, only known to two or at most three
individuals, at the same time, who are bound not to reveal it, unless to
their successors in the secret._ It has been frequently the object of
search with the inquisitive, but the search has been in vain. There are
no records of the castle prior to the tenth century, when it is first
noticed in connection with the death of Malcolm II. in 1034. Tradition
says that he was murdered in this castle, and in a room which is still
pointed out, in the centre of the principal tower; and that the
murderers lost their way in the darkness of the night, and by the
breaking of the ice, were drowned in the loch of Forfar. Fordun's
account is, however, somewhat different and more probable. He states
that the King was mortally wounded in a skirmish, in the neighbourhood,
by some of the adherents of Kenneth V."
* * * * *
Let us turn now to the ghosts of Glamis Castle.
A lady, well known in London society, an artistic and social celebrity,
wealthy beyond all doubts of the future, a cultivated, clear-headed, and
indeed slightly matter-of-fact woman, went to stay at Glamis Castle for
the first time. She was allotted very handsome apartments, just on the
point of junction between the new buildings--perhaps a hundred or two
hundred years old--and the very ancient part of the castle. The rooms
were handsomely furnished; no gaunt carvings grinned from the walls; no
grim tapestry swung to and fro, making strange figures look still
stranger by the flickering fire-light; all was smooth, cosy, and modern,
and the guest retired to bed without a thought of the mysteries of
Glamis.
In the morning she appeared at the breakfast table quite cheerful and
self-possessed. To the inquiry how she had slept, she replied: "Well,
thanks, very well, up to four o'clock in the morning. But your Scottish
carpenters seem to come to work very early. I suppose they put up their
scaffolding quickly, though, for they are quiet now." This speech
produced a dead silence, and the speaker saw with astonishment that the
faces of members of the family were very pale.
She was asked, as she valued the friendship of all there, never to speak
to them on that subject again; there had been no carpenters at Glamis
Castle for months past. This fact, whatever it may be worth, is
absolutely established, so far as the testimony of a single witness can
establish anything. The lady was awakened by a loud knocking and
hammering, as if somebody were putting up a scaffold, and the noise did
not alarm her in the least. On the contrary, she took it for an
accident, due to the presumed matutinal habits of the people. She knew,
of course, that there were stories about Glamis, but had not the
remotest idea that the hammering she had heard was connected with any
story. She had regarded it simply as an annoyance, and was glad to get
to sleep after an unrestful time; but had no notion of the noise being
supernatural until informed of it at the breakfast-table.
With what particular event in the stormy annals of the Lyon family the
hammering is connected is quite unknown, except to members of the
family, but there is no lack of legends, possible and impossible, to
account for any sights or sounds in the magnificent old feudal edifice.
It is said that once a visitor stayed at Glamis Castle for a few days,
and, sitting up late one moonlight night, saw a face appear at the
window opposite to him. The owner of the face--it was very pale, with
great sorrowful eyes--appeared to wish to attract attention; but
vanished suddenly from the window, as if plucked suddenly away by
superior strength. For a long while the horror-stricken guest gazed at
the window, in the hope that the pale face and great sad eyes would
appear again. Nothing was seen at the window, but presently horrible
shrieks penetrated even the thick walls of the castle, and rent the
night air. An hour later, a dark huddled figure, like that of an old
decrepit woman, carrying something in a bundle, came into the waning
moonlight, and presently vanished.
There is a modern story of a stonemason, who was engaged at Glamis
Castle last century, and who, having discovered more than he should have
done, was supplied with a handsome competency, upon the conditions that
he emigrated and kept inviolable the secret he had learned.
The employment of a stonemason is explained by the conditions under
which the mystery is revealed to successive heirs and factors. The abode
of the dread secret is in a part of the castle, also haunted by the
apparition of a bearded man, who flits about at night, but without
committing any other objectionable action. What connection, if any, the
bearded spectre may have with the mystery is not even guessed. He hovers
at night over the couches of children for an instant, and then vanishes.
The secret itself abides in a room--a secret chamber--the very situation
of which, beyond a general idea that it is in the most ancient part of
the castle, is unknown. Where walls are fifteen feet thick, it is not
impossible to have a chamber so concealed, that none but the initiated
can guess its position. It was once attempted by a madcap party of
guests to discover the locality of the secret chamber, by hanging their
towels out of the window, and thus deciding in favour of any window from
which no spotless banner waved; but this escapade, which is said to have
been ill-received by the owners, ended in nothing but a vague conclusion
that the old square tower must be the spot sought.
XIX
POWYS CASTLE
Local Records
It had been for some time reported in the neighbourhood that a poor
unmarried woman, who was a member of the Methodist society; and had
become serious under their ministry, had seen and conversed with the
apparition of a gentleman, who had made a strange discovery to her. Mr
Hampson, being desirous to ascertain if there was any truth in the
story, sent for the woman, and desired her to give an exact relation of
the whole affair from her own mouth, and as near the truth as she
possibly could. She said she was a poor woman who got her living by
spinning hemp and line; that it was customary for the farmers and
gentlemen of that neighbourhood to grow a little hemp or line in the
corner of their fields, for their own home consumption, and as she had a
good hand at spinning the materials she used to go from house to house
to inquire for work; that her method was, where they employed her,
during her stay to have meat and lodging (if she had occasion to sleep
with them) for her work, and what they pleased to give her besides.
That, among other places, she happened to call in one day at the Welsh
Earl Powis's country seat, called Redcastle, to inquire for work, as she
usually had done before. The quality were at this time in London, and
had left the steward and his wife, with other servants, as usual, to
take care of their country residence in their absence. The steward's
wife set her to work, and in the evening told her that she must stay
all night with them, as they had more work for her to do next day. When
bed-time arrived, two or three of the servants in company, with each a
lighted candle in her hand, conducted her to her lodging. They led her
to a grand room, with a boarded floor and two sash windows. The room was
grandly furnished, and had a genteel bed in one corner of it. They had
made her a good fire, and had placed her a chair and a table before it,
and a large lighted candle upon the table. They told her that was her
bedroom, and she might go to sleep when she pleased, they then wished a
good night and withdrew all together, pulling the door quickly after
them, so as to hasp the springsneck in the brass lock that was upon it.
When they were gone she gazed a while at the fine furniture, under no
small astonishment that they should put such a poor person as her in so
grand a room and bed, with all the apparatus of fire, chair, table, and
candle. She was also surprised at the circumstance of the servants
coming so many together, with each of them a candle; however, after
gazing about her some little time, she sat down and took out of her
pocket a small Welsh Bible which she always carried about with her, and
in which she usually read a chapter--chiefly in the New
Testament--before she said her prayers and went to bed. While she was
reading she heard the room door open, and, turning her head, saw a
gentleman enter in a gold-laced hat and waistcoat, and the rest of his
dress corresponding therewith. (I think she was very particular in
describing the rest of his dress to Mr Hampson, and he to me at the
time, but I have now forgot the other particulars.) He walked down by
the sash window to the corner of the room, and then returned. When he
came at the first window in his return (the bottom of which was nearly
breast-high) he rested his elbow on the bottom of the window, and the
side of his face upon the palm of his hand, and stood in that leaning
posture for some time, with his side partly towards her. She looked at
him earnestly to see if she knew him, but though, from her frequent
intercourse with them, she had a personal knowledge of all the present
family, he appeared a stranger to her. She supposed afterwards that he
stood in this manner to encourage her to speak; but as she did not,
after some little time he walked off, pulling the door after him as the
servants had done before. She began now to be much alarmed, concluding
it to be an apparition and that they had put her there on purpose. This
was really the case. The room, it seems, had been disturbed for a long
time, so that nobody could sleep peaceably in it; and as she passed for
a very serious woman, the servants took it in their heads to put the
Methodist and spirit together, to see what they would make out of it.
Startled at this thought, she rose from her chair, and kneeled down by
the bedside to say her prayers. While she was praying he came in again,
walked round the room and came close behind her. She had it on her mind
to speak, but when she attempted it she was so very much agitated that
she could not utter a word. He walked out of the room again, pulling the
door shut as before. She begged that God would strengthen her, and not
suffer her to be tried beyond what she was able to bear; she recovered
her surprise and thought she felt more confidence and resolution, and
determined if he came in again she would speak to him if possible. He
presently came in again, walked round, and came behind her as before;
she turned her head and said, "Pray, sir, who are you, and what do you
want?" He put up his finger and said, "Take up the candle and follow me,
and I will tell you." She got up, took up the candle and followed him
out of the room. He led her through a long boarded passage, till they
came to the door of another room which he opened and went in; it was a
small room, or what might be called a large closet. "As the room was
small, and I believed him to be a spirit," said she, "I stopped at the
door; he turned and said, 'Walk in, I will not hurt you'; so I walked
in. He said, 'Observe what I do'; I said, 'I will.' He stooped and tore
up one of the boards of the floor, and there appeared under it a box
with an iron handle in the lid. He said, 'Do you see that box?' I said,
'Yes, I do.' He then stepped to one side of the room and showed me a
crevice in the wall, where he said a key was hid that would open it. He
said, 'This box and key must be taken out, and sent to the Earl in
London' (naming the Earl and his residence in the city). He said, 'Will
you see it done?' I said, 'I will do my best to get it done'; and he
said, 'Do, and I will trouble the house no longer!' He then walked out
of the room and left me. (He seems to have been a very civil spirit, and
to have been very careful to affright her as little as possible.) I
stepped to the room door, and set up a shout. The steward and his wife,
with the other servants, came to me immediately; all clinging together,
with a number of lights in their hands. It seems they had all been
waiting to see the issue of the interview betwixt me and the apparition.
They asked me what was the matter. I told them the foregoing
circumstances, and showed them the box. The steward durst not meddle
with it, but his wife had more courage, and, with the help of the other
servants, tugged it out, and found the key. She said by their lifting it
appeared to be pretty heavy, but that she did not see it opened, and
therefore did not know what it contained--perhaps money, or writings of
consequence to the family, or both." They took it away with them, and
she then went to bed and slept peaceably till morning.