The Devil Visits Wales

On 24th June 1815, the Lancaster Gazetteer reported a warning to those who might fancy the odd bit of sport on a Sunday...


A MONITORY NOTICE,

On a Stone, placed in the Church-yard of Llanfair, in Wales.

Who Ever hear on son day
Will practise playing At Ball.
it May Be be Fore munday
The devil Will Have you All.

Strange Pathways

It's my pleasure to welcome Linda Strattman to the salon today, with a fascinating look into spiritualism, by way of a Brighton detour...

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Research, even for a work of fiction, can lead one down some very strange paths. When I first thought of writing a series set in Victorian Brighton about a young woman who debunks fraudulent spirit mediums, I hadn’t expected to be exploring the history of conjuring, early treatments for scoliosis, medicated vapour baths, chess automata, and the wallpaper in the Royal Pavilion, but so it proved. 

It is essential for me when setting a novel in the past, to understand the thoughts and beliefs of the time, and I read as much contemporary material as possible; books, periodicals, letters, diaries, records of public meetings, trials and inquests. This is where I can hear the people of the past speak. Some reveal their inner thoughts and conflicts, their struggles and discontent; others accept with varying degrees of success, the role that society has given them, and portray themselves as conforming to that role.

A good place to start one’s research in any area, however, is with a general overview of the field. The most useful will list references to follow up and also provide the important names and themes. Any history of spiritualism, however, should be approached with caution, since it will be written with the particular viewpoint and bias of the author. It is a field which invokes powerful emotions and beliefs. I have read works by dedicated spiritualists and by determined opponents. Balance is vital. 

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s History of Spiritualism is as may be imagined, one of the more readable, and this led me to follow up the histories of the mystics and mediums in whom he believed so passionately. Many of the mediums were caught out in fraud or confessed it well before Doyle wrote his history, but despite this, he continued to champion them. To read Doyle’s writings on spiritualism is to gain an insight into the minds of devoted believers, how they described their experiences, and explained manifestations, failures, and the exposure of practitioners by skeptic.

The author with the statue of Captain Pechell

Closely tied in with the history of spiritualism is that of conjuring, since the techniques of stage magicians and fraudulent mediums are very similar. Only a few years ago, I would have had to spend many hours in the British Library making notes on the volumes I needed to read, but my first port of call is now the website archive.org, which provides scans of vast numbers of out of copyright works from reference libraries. In writing Mr Scarletti’s Ghost, a book which includes numerous seances, it was very important in every case for me to know exactly how the manifestations I described were produced. From time to time I do provide hints for the reader, rather than explicit explanations. 

Steam baths in Brighton

Creating a strong independent heroine in a historical context presents some challenges. As with Frances Doughty in my Bayswater series, I didn’t want to go down the easy route of making her rich, titled or beautiful. I like a woman who can battle against the odds! Mina Scarletti, the heroine of my Brighton series is a diminutive lady — even smaller than me, 4ft 8in to my 4ft 11in. She is disabled by scoliosis, but has enough spirit and determination for ten people. One reviewer described her as a ‘pocket rocket.’ Having been told that marriage and children are not advisable she decides to live her life to the fullest of her abilities, and finds ways of using what might be seen as a restriction to her advantage. Mina has survived being told that her condition is her own fault, survived being encased in plaster and metal, and has fortunately escaped dangerous surgery. She is her own woman, resolute and courageous.

Sake Dean Mahomed

Setting my series in Brighton was one of my better decisions. Here is a town with a rich history, it’s own unique character, and a reputation as a place for regaining one’s health, which led it to be regarded as in itself, a doctor. The character of Dr Hamid who runs a therapeutic bath-house was inspired by Sake Dean Mahomed the Anglo-Indian surgeon who opened the first ‘Indian Medicated Vapour Bath’ in Brighton in 1814. Born in Bengal, he came to London in 1810 where he opened the first curry house in Britain. It wasn’t successful but clearly he started a trend!

Ajeeb the chess automaton

For my second book in the Mina Scarletti series I delved into the history of the Royal Pavilion during its early development, its royal heyday and its use as a Victorian place of entertainment.  The Royal Ghost begins in 1871 with scandalous rumours of a sighting of the ghosts (dare one say the grey shades) of the Prince Regent and Mrs Fitzherbert enjoying each other’s company in a room where dragons and serpents writhe sensuously on red wallpaper. The vestibule is dominated by the sandstone statue of a deceased Crimean War hero, Captain Pechell; in another apartment, a chess automaton, the wondrous Ajeeb, towers over visitors like Frankenstein’s monster, while in the banqueting hall, an illusionist performs his famous Japanese butterfly trick. The scene is set for an invocation of the sprits. 

Linda Stratmann

www.lindastratmann.com 

Written content of this post copyright © Linda Stratmann, 2016.

The Kindness of Fairy Children

Today, we take our last visit to the pages of  The Edinburgh Magazine and Literary Miscellany, Volume 82 (1818). This time, the mysterious CTCS shares the tale of a sickening girl whose life was saved by the kindness of fairy children.

Many, indeed, are the traditionary stories afloat in Clydesdale, which prove that the fairies are not to be looked upon as uniformly malignant, but rather that there are two orders, the members of the one distinguished for their goodness, generosity, and loving kindness towards man, while those of the other are no less remarkable for their irritableness, peevishness, and malignity. 

An old woman in the moors of Avondale, who lived with her only daughter, a lively lass of twenty-two, was entirely dependent upon the industry of her child for bread. A wasting seized the industrious girl, and, after consultations had been held with every medical gentleman in the neighbourhood, her case was given up as hopeless, and her aged and helpless parent was plunged into the utmost distress. In her extreme necessity she applied to the only never-failing source or consolation, and besought the Father of mercies “that he would not leave her when she was old and grey-headed, but that he would yet spare her beloved bairn to close her auld an’ feeble sen, whilk had lang sensyne been shut to all the vanities of this wearie world.” 

The prayers, says the story, of the waefu’ widow, are always accepted. A coagful of loaf and milk was placed at her door every morning, and a little phial, of a reddish liquid, and a small loaf, as white as snow, which she rightly conjectured were for her daughter. Upon this diet she lived sparely, but was contented and thankful, and her daughter recovered slowly, but surely. Anxious to behold the immediate hand that blessed her in so extraordinary a manner, the old woman watched one morning and saw two beautiful children, a boy and a girl, bring the food, and place it on the threshold, the girl carrying the medicine for the daughter, and the boy the provisions for the mother. Having carefully performed this operation, their eyes were thrown upwards for a moment, with an expression of great devotion. 

As they were turning to depart, the old woman, who, as the story goes, declared that “they war sae unco bonnie, an’ sweet-lukan, that she couldnae be fleyit,” could not help exclaiming, “fair fa’ ye, my bonnie bairns, may ye be as gude as ye’re bonnie, an’ as happy as ye’ve made me.” 

The boy looked on her with an evanescent frown, mixed with pity. “Was it not aneuch, wanweirdit woman, that ye sould hae been servit wi’ meat and drink, but ye boud alsae pry into things on whilk ye maun na turn your ee? Nevertheless, lest ye sould imagine an evil thocht agains the hand that feeds, I will tell you that we are Gude Fairies an’ live for ever mare in happiness an’ bliss.” The fairies instaritly vanished, and the old woman continued to receive her daily supply of provisions till her daughter recovered when it ceased. 

There are innumerable stories remaining in this country, illustrative of the peculiarities of the fairy mythology; but, as I have not Scott's Essay on that superstition by me, I am afraid to mention any more at present, lest I should perhaps transmit to you some which are already contained in that curious and valuable performance. 

I shall, therefore, in the meanwhile, conclude with saying, that, if this be deemed worthy of a place in your valuable Miscellany, I shall as soon as possible transmit you several more stories of the Scottish fairies hitherto unpublished, and likewise some account of the Clydesdale belief concerning Wraiths. 

I remain your obedient servant,

CTCS 

The Spirits of Auchenleck

Today, we return to The Edinburgh Magazine and Literary Miscellany, Volume 82 (1818). This time, the mysterious CTCS shares some tales of the spirits of Auchenleck and William Wallace.

Upper and Nether Auchenlecks are said to have been anciently the property of one of the relatives of Wallace, and to have been so denominated after the possessions of his family in Ayrshire. At Nether Auchenleck, or as it is usually called Nether Affleck, there is a very curious relic of antiquity called Wallace's Syles, which, as tradition reports, was made by that matchless man while he was staying with his kindred at Killbank and Nether Auchenleck. The Syles, which are of a very curious and complicated construction, and exceedingly strong, are made of oak, which, having stood for centuries in one of the smokiest hovels in Scotland, has long ago become quite saturated with soot, and rendered almost incombustible. The feet of the Syles are placed on the ground, with the sides built firmly into the wall; and though the house has been twice burned down to the ground, this venerable relic of Wallace has escaped unharmed. The people around, fond of the memory of their beloved chief, attribute this preservation to the interposition of some superior power; for they contend that Sir William Wallace was not only the greatest hero and most disinterested patriot that the world ever saw, but also an eminent Christian. 

Nether Auchenleck has always been a peculiar haunt of the fairies and other spiritual beings. The late tenant, Alexander Waddel, having, in the course of his improvements, grubbed up a broomy brae where the fairies were wont to hold their revels, incurred the displeasure of these irritable spirits.

“They rade his horses in the night till they were quite blawn, shot his ky, an; did na even haud aff him sell. 

For ae nicht as he was sharpan his saw by the fire-en’, ben cam an elfshot-stane wi’ unco birr frae the door, an’ dang a tuith out o’ the saw. But nae doubt it was ettlet to break his arm, gif no to do him war skaith.”

At another time as he was felling some trees, he perceived an arm strike at him several times with a hatchet; “but the shaft o’ his ain axe was made o’ rowan-tree, sae they could nae harm him.” 

There is a deep glen at Nether Auchinleck, called Hellsgili, wherein a spirit has frequently appeared in the very extraordinary shape of a cart-wheel, or rather of the ring of a cart-wheel, trundling down the brae. It appears always rolling right against the beholder, and often has the eirie night-traveller been terrified that he would be overturned by this whimsical apparition: but after coming bounding from brae to brae, thundering to his very feet, all of a sudden it vanishes, and a loud unearthly laugh, or, as it is expressed in our country dialect, “an eldritch nicheran gaffaw” is heard in the bottom of the ravine.

The Fairy, the Child and the Red Worm

Today, we return to The Edinburgh Magazine and Literary Miscellany, Volume 82 (1818). This time, the mysterious CTCS shares the tale of a woman whose daughter was stolen by fairies, and returned by fairy magic!

But let us return to Thomas the Rhymer, - who appears, from the most authentic accounts, to be a very beneficent prince, and to have still a very great regard for the inhabitants of his native land, to take delight in promoting their interest, and in doing all in his power to release them from the thraldom of superhuman malicious powers. A worthy old woman who lived in a small cottage, (the remains of which were lately discernible on the banks of the Taigillin burn, a small streamlet in the parish of Lesmahag,)o and who had no other means of support than what she earned by spinning, and what she drew from a cow which the neighbouring fanners very kindly allowed her to pasture on the uncultivated braes, and by the waj, sides and hedges, - was harassed almost to death by loud and unearthly noises; so that what with terror and want of sleep she was nearly driven distracted. Her cow, which lowed continually, either produced no milk, or what she gave was sour as vinegar: and let her spin ever so diligently, she could make no progress; she had just as much thread when she began as when she stopped. 

Tibbie knew not what to do; her neighbours judging her uncannie, deserted her; and she was in the utmost distress. 

One day exactly at noon, having passed a most fearful nigh,t and when after much consideration, she had just determined to flee from the house and all that was in it, a gentle tap came to the door, and a mild voice inquired if any were within. The good woman rose and opened the door, but saw nothing. Imagining that she had been mistaken. she went and sat down. when she again heard the same tap with the same inquiry. A second time she went to the door, and a second time she saw nothing.  She had no sooner returned again to her seat, than the tapping and inquiry were repeated. Tibbie’s patience was inexhaustible. She went a third time to the door, and again seeing nobody, she stepped round the corner of her hut to see if any boys had been playing her a trick. Nought was there, and, not a little agitated, she returned into her house, when, to her amazement she found the floor occupied by a tall young man, clad in green, attended by seven blooming boys dressed in the same habiliments. 

The youth told her not to be alarmed: that, being out a hunting he had taken the liberty of calling for a drink, to which, as he was somewhat hungry, he would be much obliged to her if she would add a little bread and cheese, for which he would most willingly pay. He apologized for their conduct at the door, by saying, that his young attendants wished to give her a little surprise, but he should be sorry if it had occasioned her any alarm. 

“I am vext I canna gie ye a drink of ocht but water, my bonnie bairn, but that ye’s hae clear as the bell; for though I hae tholit muckle wearie ill, He has nae luiten them scaithe the siller well.” 

She bustled about, and set before them excellent bread and cheese, the last indeed which she had in the house, and, taking a white bowl, she filled it with crystal water, and, according to the invariable practice of the Scottish peasantry, after having wished them good health, and God's blessing, she took one sip and placed it before them.

They ate very heartily, though still the good woman's bread and cheese appeared to be growing no less; which she perceiving, after looking for some time, she could no longer contain herself, but in great anxiety exclaimed, “I doubt, Sirs, ye binnae cannie!” The eldest smiled, and told her not to be alarmed, that he was indeed no longer a man, but Thomas the Rhymer, King of the Fairies, and that these were seven of his pages. He further told her, that he perfectly knew her situation, and what it was that had long haunted her abode, but that, if she would take his advice, she should get quit of all her misluck, as well as of her nocturnal, visitors for he was well aware of her great kindness in setting before unknown strangers her only provisions. 

“Ony thing, ony thing, that tramps nae on Him that is abune us a’, an if ye’ll but say the Lord is gude an’ gude till a’, whate’er ye bid I’ll do.” His Majesty smiling, satisfied the good woman's fears, and told her to watch till eight o’clock exactly, when she would perceive the outer door to open apparently of its own accord, and a gentle whirlwind to enter thereat. This would move slowly forwards, till, having arrived at the middle of the floor, it would stand there whirling a few moments, when a red worm would come up between the stones. The instant that appeared, she was to throw a few drops of the liquid contained in the phial, which he now put into her hands, upon it, and say, “

“Gin God made ye sae, 

   Remain as ye are,

But if ye be in wae,

   Beturn to what ye war.”

Whatever she might see she was not to be afraid, and if at any time she grew alarmed, she was to sprinkle a few more drops on the object of her apprehensions and repeat the above words. If she grew terrified and forgot this advice, it was a thousand chances to one but both she and her house would be destroyed. The fairies, having said this, immediately vanished, leaving a large purse of money behind them, which the good dame would not touch till she had sained it, when finding that it did not turn into withered leaves, nor bits of “sclate stands, but bade still gude white siller,” she adventured to put it into the press. 

About eight o’clock she watched with great anxiety, and no sooner had the church clock of Abbey Green struck, than the door slowly opened. The whirlwind moved to the middle of the floor, where, according as “True Thomas: predicted, a red worm came crawling up from between two stones. Tibbie immediately threw some of the liquid upon it, repeating the incantation. A large black boar in a moment stood before her, gnashing its tusks, and apparently just going to fly at her. Some more of the phial was bestowed upon the boar, which was instantaneously changed into a most enormous serpent coiled around the room, and crawling towards her with glaring eyes and open mouth. Tibbie dashed some more of the liquid in its face, when suddenly a corpse was extended at her feet, with its cold and glassy eyes fixed sternly upon her. 

In great terror she dropped the phial at her feet, when the stiffened corpse began to relax, an; extended its arm to seize the bottle. Suddenly recollecting herself, she snatched up the phial, and dashed it, liquid and all, with her whole force, upon the corpse, roaring out, “His presence be about us! what will come neest!” 

The room grew dark as midnight,- a loud peal of thunder shook the house, and, by the momentary glare of the lightning, the goodwife could perceive a little ugly thing, somewhat resembling a man, but exceedingly hideous, come out of the mouth of the corpse, and fly away on the firefiaucht. All was light, and a young woman, whom Tibbie recognized to be her daughter, who had been lost when an infant, was lying on the floor in the manner of one recovering from a swoon. The child told her mother that one day when she had “gane out to blade some kail for the pat, a little man, no that doons braw,” came to her, and asked if she would go with him. “He shew me a wheen rings an’ braw flegairies. I replied, scorninwise, ‘Tweel I may gang wi’ you, for wow but ye are a bonnie strappan body!’ - ‘Chapse ye at your word! quo he; an’ wi’ that the grun’ claveaneth us, and we sank down till a frichtsome den, whar naething was to be seen but the cauld clattie sides o’ the cove, shawn by a blae wanyoch glare. Because I wadnae submit to be his sin, he dumit me to torment an’ fley my kind auld mither, an’ this I bude to do, whill I was winfreeit by a mare powerfu’ being nor himsell. Ilka nicht I was turnit intil a laithsome worm, an’ the ilkleetlie fuirie entered the house by a whirlwind, an’ forcit me, sair agains my will,  to talc an active han; in a; the trouble an; mischief whilk has happcnit to you sen ye war trystit wi’ this sare visitation.”

The old woman was also informed, by this communicative daughter, that she had lived fourteen years in the fairy's dungeon, during which time she had resolutely withstood all the dishonourable attempts of the elf who, by anointing the crown of her head, and the palms of both hands, with a very fragrant oil, “gart her grow woman-muckle in twathree days.” 

She also informed her mother that the real reason why the Fairy King did not enter her dwelling at the first, was because she had only opened her door a-jar, at which the dignity of the gude fairies would not permit them to enter, it being only evil spirits who come in at doors in this situation. 

Curing Witchcraft: The Torments of Anne Thorn

I am so delighted to welcome my wonderful friend and co-writer of fiction, Willow Winsham, to the salon today to celebrate the release of her new book, Accused: British Witches Throughout History. Read on for a tale of dastardly deeds...

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Curing Witchcraft: The Torments of Anne Thorn

In 1712 in the Hertfordshire village of Walkern, a sixteen year old maid named Anne Thorn fell ill. This was no ordinary sickness however; suffering terrible fits during which she could not speak, the girl writhed and thrashed about until those watching were in tears at the pitiful sight she presented, at a loss for how to help or cure her. Not only that, during her torments Anne Thorn found herself compelled to run to various locations across Walkern and beyond; when on these mysterious missions she was told by an old woman to gather sticks before pinning them into a bundle. With this done, she was to return home to burn them on the fire, and only then could the young woman speak and tell of what had happened. 

Poor Anne was tormented in this manner for several weeks, her sufferings increasing until there was great fear for her life. The cause? The witchcraft of Jane Wenham, a local widow who had been suspected for several years now of being a witch. Although the worst excesses of the witch trial period were long passed in England, the belief in witchcraft and the power a witch held were still strong. Just how did the people of Walkern go about attempting to free Anne Thorn from  her bewitchment by Jane Wehnham?

Prayer:

This was often the first port of call when trying to cure a suspected bewitchment, with varying degrees of success.  In Anne's case, prayers had a short term favourable result, and the girl would be free from her fits for a few hours at least. Anne always fell ill again however, sometimes worse than she had been before,  and prayer was not considered enough to cure her entirely or break Jane Wenham's spell. Despite the dubious efficacy of this method, the spectacle of a victim being prayed over and 'cured' was a popular one to reinforce the guilt of the suspect, and many were gathered to see Anne Thorn prayed over in the court room during Jane Wenham's trial. 

Prayer was also believed to be a telling tool in proving the identity of a witch, and it was Jane Wenham's inability to say The Lord's Prayer through without a mistake that further convinced the people of Walkern that she was to blame for Anne's suffering. 

The power of fire:

Fire and witchcraft have always been strongly associated with each other, no more so than in the erroneous assumption that English witches were sent to the flames rather than the gallows. Anne's employer, Mrs Gardiner the vicar's wife, was adamant that the bundle of sticks Anne had gathered should be thrown onto the fire; this served a two-fold purpose, as the intent was to break the spell of the witch but also to reveal her identity. In this case it seemed to work, as Jane Wenham appeared at the doorway not long after. When later in the story a suspicious bundle of feathers were found in Anne's pillow, Mr Bragge, who wanted to keep them for evidence, was over ruled by the majority of those present who insisted that this dangerous artefact must be burned immediately to avoid any further harm to the girl. 

Drawing blood:

The tried and tested method of 'scratching' a witch was threatened and carried out several times in an attempt to break the hold Jane was believed to have over Anne. On one occasion, Anne felt so compelled to do so that, despite recovering from a recently dislocated knee, she dragged herself from her bed all the way to Jane's house.  Despite being unsuccessful in drawing blood from Jane, the following day the old woman was brought before Anne: the girl attacked her, scratching her forehead violently. Despite the ferocity of the attack however, there was very little in the way of blood that appeared, a sure sign that Jane was the guilty party, as witches were known not to bleed. This scratching did little to help Anne and her symptoms continued as before, and the girl made several further attempts to scratch the old woman. At a later point, a pin or needle was also inserted into Jane Wenham's arm: it was reported that instead of blood, only a watery serum appeared, yet another proof that she was a witch. 

Boiling Urine:

One way of protecting yourself from witchcraft was to make a 'witch bottle'; urine from the purported victim, along with other items such as hair and nail clippings and iron nails were placed in a stoneware vessel that was then concealed. A variation on this practice was used by those attempting to cure Anne Thorn and prove Jane Wenham's guilt; Anne's urine was placed in corked stone bottle and heated over the fire. As the bottle was heated, Jane was observed to be in great pain and distress, only for her to be fine once more once the bottle exploded. 

Water:

When all else failed, a white witch or cunning man/woman was finally consulted regarding Anne Thorn's pitiful state. The suggested remedy was a simple one: the girl was to wash her hands and face each day in water that was specially prepared for the purpose. Perhaps most tellingly, Anne was also to be attended by 'a young lusty man' during this time. Whether the water or the companion were to thank is unclear, but Anne went on to make a full recovery at last from her sickness and  and was married – very likely to that same lusty young fellow – not long after. 

Read more about Jane Wenham and more accused witches from across the British Isles in Accused: British Witches Throughout History by Willow Winsham. 

About the Author

Willow Winsham brings readers regular tales of witches and witchcraft at her blog, The Witch, the Weird and the Wonderful. 

Combining a passion for research and history with a love of storytelling, she dedicates her time to investigating some of the most intriguing stories from the history of the British Isles.  She is a Twitter co-host for #FolkloreThursday and her work has featured in All About History.

When she isn't digging out tantalising historical titbits or tracing elusive family members, she is busy home educating her two children.

Written content of this post copyright © Willow Winsham, 2016.

The Fairy Hunters Ride Out

Today, we return to The Edinburgh Magazine and Literary Miscellany, Volume 82 (1818). This time, the mysterious CTCS tells the tale of the Fairy Court’s hunt. In rich dialect, he relate stye story of an elderly man who encountered the Wild Hunt when he was naught but a lad!

Hunting appears all along to have been a favourite amusement of the Seelie Court, and innumerable are the stories which are told concerning the magnificence and splendour of the royal retinue. Amidst all the numerous and gorgeous train, the sovereign was easily distinguished by his stature and majestic demeanour. Upon his right hand rode Her Majesty, and upon the left Kilmoulie, a personage of rather a suspicious character, being, according to some accounts, the resident envoy from the Court of Hell, while, according to others, he was a prime noble among the fairies themselves, of rather a mischievous disposition, and the principal instigator of all their roguish tricks. Be his character or office what it may, he was readily known from his riding a large and powerful black charger, while all the rest of the company in which he ranked were mounted upon very little milk-white horses. 

The Fairy Court always rode out in three bands, - the first mounted upon brown horses, the second upon grey, and the last, which contained the king and queen, with the chief nobles, mounted upon horses white as the driftit snaw. It was in this last company that Kilmoulie cut so great a figure, and I forgot to mention, in its proper place, that this high dignitary and his charger, contrary to all rules of optics, appeared to be full as big at a distance as near at hand. 

Just before my window, and within two or three minutes walk of the door, lies a beautiful sloping field, called Auchreoch, where a peasant who died not many years ago had the fortune to witness the magnificence of a fairy raid. I knew the man when I was a boy, a steady and sincere Christian, at the venerable age of ninety -two; whose mind was deeply imbued with the superstitions and freitty observances of his native land. With supreme interest have I often listened to the excellent man, while he, seated on an old high-backed chair, with his palsied head, which he supported by leaning his brow on a short staff, almost bowed down between his knees with age, narrated, with strong feeling, and in the picturesque language of former days, many a striking relation of the malignant kelpie, the boding wraith, the spiteful witch, and the mischievous but elegant fairy.

In one or two of the following little stories, I shall preserve as much as possible of the original language, in order to give your Scottish readers a specimen of the Clydesdale dialect. 

“In the afternune of a braw hairst day about sun-settin’, an’ as the mune was wadin’ up through an eastlan rowk, the haill bune saw a wee bit crynit lukin’ woman, nae heicher nor a waterstoup, and bussit in a gown o’ the auldest fasson, gang daunerin’ through amang the stouks. Sho cuist mont a lang look at the shearers, but we ne’er luit on that we saw her, though ony body wad, in a moment, hae seen that it was something wanearthlie. 

The shearers quat rather suner that nicht nor usual, my brither an’ I taiglit a while ahin’, ettlan to fetch hame a draucht o’ green com to the ky. The mune be this was shinan clearly abune a’ the ure, an’ ha’in buggen the draucht, my brither tuke the naig be the head, to lead him hame, whan, till our amazement, we perceived him to be a’ lashan wi’ sweat. Nowther fleechan nor whippan could mak him mudge a fit; but there he stude, quakan, lith an’ limb, like the leaf o’ the lin. While we war stannan upo’ stappan-stanes, switheran what to do, we war suprisit wi’ the soun’ of an onkennable numraer of sma’ bells a’ tinkle-tinkllan. 

In a doup, by cam thousan’so’ milk-white hunds, naebig ger nor whittrets, an’ souchan as gin they had been a flaucht o’ dows. Mony a wearie company o’ wee wee gerse green riders cam neest, stennan owcr the lea; their graith a’jinglan wi’ siller, an’ their clais skinklan i’ the wanyoch mune as though they had been just ae diamon’. 

Muckle din an’ loud gilraivitch was amang them, gaffawan an’ lauchan. They rade furth in three wheens; the first muntit on black ponies, the neest on grey, an’ syne the last on bonnie wee beasties white as the driftit snaw. 

I could brawlie observe the king amang the lave, wi’ the queen on his richt, an’ coal black Kilmoulie on his left. Be this the fore-en’ was tint frae view, amang the brurnie knows o’ Daiberdillie, an’ we war glowran at the sicht, whan he on the richt o’ the king wheelit roun’ his beast, an’ rade straucht to whar we war stannan. He held his richt han’ ower us, crunan out some fleyfu’ words as he gade souchan by like the wind. 

We baith sank to the grun’ wi fricht, an’ I am far mistune, gin I did nae hear the eldritch creature gaftawan an’ lauchan at the pliskie he had playit us. - 

Whan we cam till oursells a’ was gane thegither, an’ the cart was stannan cowpit up on its hin’ trams, but no ae bit o’ the graith was lowsit. Aff we set, gey an’ sare fleyit, to seek the beast; and as we war gaun by a sauchen buss in Glenaskie, we thocht we sawsoinetliing white in the buss, an’ heard it gurr gurran like a dog shoran to bite. 

We gade ncrrer to see what it was, thinkan it micht be a hown’ worryan a lamb, whan out cam sic a smytrie o’ wee white dogs as ee ne’er saw. The hale o’ Dumtersie was perfectly cu’rit, an’ the lift rang again wi’ their gowlan. 

My ain bonnie grey cam by what he could flee frae Daiberdillie-wart, an’ stintit nae whill he wan to Nether Auchenleck, whar we fan’ him i’ the lone, wi’ the sweat gaun hailan aff at his very huves. The jags o’ the spurs war visible in his sides; an’ the puir thing was never its ain wordie mare, but frae that dwynit awa an; deeit.”

Thomas the Rhymer: King of the Fairies

In The Edinburgh Magazine and Literary Miscellany, Volume 82 (1818), a correspondent shares the tale of how the Fairy King was born… 

POPULAR SUPERSTITIONS OF CLYDESDALE 

[The following communication, which is from the pen of a very respectable and worthy correspondent, will, we apprehend, be interesting to such of our readers as are gratified by the preservation of the fast-fading remains of the popular superstitions and peculiar dialect of our old Scottish peasantry. The author had prefixed a short introduction to his paper, in which he strenuously defends the almost exploded doctrine of “the visible interference of spirits” in human affairs, - professes himself a determined adherent to the ghostly creed of his venerable grandmother - and, moreover, gravely professes his actual belief in the “Fairy Mythology,” of which he has given such curious details; but as we are not quite sure that we rightly understand our author's meaning or real “mood of mind,” in this singular introduction, we have for the present withheld it from the public. We are happy, however, in the prospect of soon hearing from him again, in continuation. - Edit.]

MR EDITOR,

During my infancy, it was the custom, at rockings, to entertain each other with stories of apparitions and unearthly visitations; a numerous collection of fairy tales, also, formed part, and no inconsiderable part, of the general amusement; and he was esteemed the most acceptable rocker, whose memory was most plentifully stored with such thrilling narratives. But a very great change has taken place within these fifteen years, the date to which my recollection reaches. The inhabitants of Clydesdale, for I speak of that portion of Scotland only with which I am most intimately acquainted, in place of frequently meeting and entertaining each other with the romantic traditionary lore of former times, seldom have any merry meetings at all; and when one does happen to take place, the conversation even of the very youngest persons present is either about the shortest and surest way to riches, or else consists of puerile scandal concerning absent lads and lasses. With extreme interest and with delight, mingled with piercing terror, have I formerly listened, however, every night for weeks and months to these fearful tales; and as my memory is pretty deeply imbued with the mythology of at least my native county, if it be consistent with the plan of your Magazine, I shall tend you from time to time a short account of the Fairies, Brownies, Witches, Kelpies, &c. who still linger amongst our hills and glens, as loth to forsake that beloved land wherein they formerly reigned so long with unquestioned dominion.

The first of my little essays shall be upon the Fairies; but I must be permitted to observe, that after the detailed and extremely interesting memoir on the fairy superstition introduced into the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, it would be a presumptuous work of supererogation in your humble correspondent, as well as a thankless labour, were he to attempt to give a fuller or more explicit account of this most elegant branch of our national mythology. But notwithstanding all the multifarious anecdotes which the indefatigable industry of Mr Scott has collected, several curious traditions have escaped his search, which tend in some degree to shew, that the opinions of the “people of the west” concerning the Fairy Folk, though in general agreeing with those of the romantic borderers, yet differ from them in various particulars.

 According to popular belief in most parts of Scotland, the fairies are under the dominion of a Queen, but in Clydesdale, at least in the Upper Ward, they have a King to rule over them, who is no less a personage than Thomas the Rhymer, who now for many centuries has swayed the Elfin sceptre with great splendour. He obtained the monarchy neither by conquest nor election, but by a transference of the queenly power, to which their ancient and legitimate sovereign was compelled by the great love which she bore for “True Thomas”. According to an old traditionary ballad, an indisputable authority in these matters, but which I cannot at present completely recover, Thomas, while a young man,

“-gade doun to the cashie wud 

   To pu; the roses braw,

An’ the blossoms that hing frar the rowan tree 

   As white as the driftit snaw.

The ouzel an’ the mavis grey 

   Rejoicit in their sang,

An’ the lustie cushat scoup’t through the shaw,

   An’ currooit the trees amang.

The eerie scaddows o’ the aiks,

   Fell black ower the skinklan grun’ 

As frae a heap o’ blude-reid cluds 

   Brast furth the mornin’ sun.

He faadnae call’d on the Halie Name 

   That scugs in the evil hour,

An; thraws a bield roun’ sinfu’ man, 

   Frae the blasts o’ fairy power, 

Whan he was aware of a lady fair 

   Come out of a birken bower.

Her rude was redder than rose on rice 

   On Caimie-castle lea 

Her teeth was the dew on the heather-bell,

   The diamon’ stane her ee; 

Her mantle greener nor the gerse 

   Soup’t doun alang the grun’. 

At the turn o’ her ee the branches swirl’t

   As muv’t by a whirlwin’.

To Thamas sho cam ridin’ up 

   Wi’ mickle state an’ pride,

An’ ye maun gang wi’ me. luve Thamas,

   I’ll be your winsome bride;

An’ we will lig in the brumie braes,

   Or daff in the birken shaw, 

An’ tak our till o’ drouerie,

   An’ nae man can it knaw.”

 Thomas rather ungallantly persists in refusing to comply with the request of the queen, though her Elfin Majesty presses her suit in terms which I beg leave not to be compelled to repeat. The virtue of Thomas is inflexible, till at last the princess offers him her hand, and along with it her crown, with perpetual sovereignty over Fairy Land.

“An’ I will gie to thee luve Thamas,

   My han’ but an’ my crown,

An’ thou shalt ring ower Fairy Lan’

   In joy an’ grit renown. 

An’ I will gie to thee, luve Thamas,

   To live for evermare,

Thine arm sail never feckless grow,

   Nor hoary wax thy hair:

Nae chaneran grief we ever thole,

   Nae wastan pine we dree, 

An endless life’s afore thee placed 

   O’ constant luve an; lee.”

These were no doubt alluring offers, and the temptation, as was to have been expected, proved too powerful for the virtue of the poor Rhymer, who from thenceforward became King of the Fairies.

Next week, we return to Clysedale for more tales of the fairies!

A Headless Saint at Mount Martyr

Today we journey to Mount Martyr to meet a headless saint who made an appearance in the newspapers of 1720!


"I shall conclude the Catalogue with this short Remark upon St. Dennis himself, from whom the Town has his Name. History tells us, he was a Judge of Areopagns in Greece, who embraced Christianity upon reading the Account of St. Paul's Conversion. The French who claim for the Tutular Saint and Patron of their Nation, say he was sent over by Pope Clement to convert the Gauls, and that he was the Apostle and first Bp. of Paris. Their Legend adds, that being beheaded at Mount Martyr, in the times of persecution, he walk'd with his Head in his Hand till he came to this place where he dropped it, and several Crosses and Chappels are erected in the Road from Paris hither, which they pretend were the Places at which he rested. They allege that here he was bury'd, tho the monks of St Emeran's near Ratisbon, pretend to have his Body, and that the French have only one of his Fingers; And tis not believed after all, they they have ever had him either Dead or Alive; for Dr. Cave in his Lives of the Fathers, with Lanoy, Sirmond and Du Pin, all 3 French Authors, prove that he never was in France at all.

Yours, Oliver Macdonnald"

Weekly Journal or British Gazetteer (London, England), Saturday, December 24, 1720

The Kraken Returns

Last week the salon was visited by the legendary Kraken, and what a popular visitor he was! Today we welcome another tale of this legendary sea creature, from the news of 1776.

TO THE EDITOR

SIR,

AS there are still some people who doubt the existence of the Kraken, notwithstanding the testimony of the ingenious Bishop Pontoppidan, in his Natural History of Norway, I inclose you an authentic Description  upon the subject, which I doubt not will convince the most incredulous. If any one will enquire after Robert Jamieson, he will be found to be a man of unblemished reputation; and every one who is acquainted with the customs of the Western Isles must know that the Officers, before whom it was sworn, are of such weight there, as to preclude all idea of their having been wilfully deceived.

I am your obedient servant,

PHILALETHES

At Rothesay, in the island of Bute, the 22nd day of April, 1775 years:

Which day, in the presence of Mr John Blain, Commissary of the Isles, three of the Isles compeared Robert Jamieson, this island, a person of good fame and reputation, who being solemnly sworn and examined upon oath, deposes That he was Commander of the buss called the Janet, of Port Glasgow, while she was employed in the British White Herring Fishery last season; that the vessel being under sail at noon, on or about the 9th or 10th of August, 1774, ten or twelve leagues westward from that part of Rossshire, which lies between Row-Stoir of Assynt and Loch-Ninver, and the deponent being then in the cabin, one of his men called him up, to look at an island which had just made its appearance in the sea; that the deponent came upon deck accordingly, and saw the object distant from the vessel about three miles, or little more, in the east north-east direction from him, and between the vessel and the Continent; that he joined In opinion with his crew, which consisted of nine men besides himself, that it was an island, which he computed to be about a mile and a half in length, rising in the middle to the height of thirty feet or thereby above the surface of the water, and, as he imagined, it tapered considerably towards each end, but that he could not possibly form any estimate of its breadth across; that it remained in view, and apparent without motion, during the space of about five or six minutes, after which it sank down slowly, until it was entirely hid from view; that afterwards it rose and sunk alternately two different times, and, on every view the deponent had of it, the like inactive form was presented as at first, and its continuance on the surface was about five or six minutes each time; that its rising and sinking was always slow and gradual and occasional no whirpool, or other extraordinary commotion in the sea, so far as the deponent could perceive: and further deposes, That the space which intervened from the first time he saw it until its last disappearance, might be about twenty four minutes, it having remained below the service about three minutes between the first and second appearance, and pretty much the same space between the second and third; that the day was clear, and the wind blew moderately from west north-west; that immediately after it disappeared from his view for the last time, he saw on the surface of the water and number of objects representing a regiment or considerable assemblage of men, all in white, nearer to him by a mile and a half, as he thought, than where the supposed island appeared to have been; and in a little time they went off to the south-east in a confused fighting-like manner, resembling the quick motions of streamers or Aurora-Borealis; that there was not any island in the neighbourhood, nor any land nearer than the Row-Stoir abovementioned; and deposes, That the herrings and sundry other sorts of white fish, were remarkably plentiful, and of the best quality, in Loch Ninver, soon after the period before deposed to; and he, the deponent, made up a considerable part of his cargo in that Loch; that when he was a boy, he saw from the south-end of Bute, an appearance between that and Arran, resembling an island newly cast up in the sea, which, according to the idea he has of it, was longer than the one he saw last August; and he has heard different people affirm, that they have seen such an object between Bute and Arran. 

The Carta Marina, 1544

Being interrogated, if he had ever heard of a fish called the Kraken, and whether he thinks those new islands might not have been fish of that kind, deposes, That he had never heard of the Kraken till lately, and cannot take upon him determine whether it was Kraken he saw; that the appearances excited the idea and belief at the time they were really Islands; that when the deponent and his crew saw the supposed Islands first before mentioned, there was a vessel could the Peggy, of Port Glasgow, William Hunter, master, in company, and about a mile distant from them; that he understood from Mr. Hunter, and his crew, that he had not observed the island, though, in order to direct their attention towards it, the deponent caused his colours to be hoisted, and even sent out a boat, manned with five people, to enquire of Capt. Hunter what he and his crew, which consisted of six men, thought that the appearance, but it had sunk down for the last time before the boat reached the Peggy. 

All which is truth, as shall Answer to God.

Signed

ROBERT JAMIESON

JOHN BLAIN, Commissary

JOHN BRCE, Clerk

[…]

Note: I lately met with one of the men who was on board the Janet with Robert Jamieson, in August 1774, and, upon my questioning him, he concurred with the said Jamieson in every particular, as to the several appearances of the supposed island.

Signed,

JOHN BLAIN, Commissary.

Rothesay, August 10, 1775.

[Query, Whether the above appearance might not be a sinking island of ice from the North?]

From the General Evening Post (London, England), January 6, 1776 - January 9, 1776; Issue 6560. 17th-18th Century Burney Collection Newspapers.

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