Traditional Witchcraft Described.
“When out the hellish legion sallied.”
—Tam o’ Shanter.
n the far-off days, when Superstition, in close association with the “evil sister” of Ignorance, walked abroad in the land, the south-western district of Scotland shared very largely in the beliefs and terrors embraced under the general descriptive term of witchcraft. Active interference in the routine of daily life on the part of the Prince of Darkness and his agencies was fully believed in. The midnight ride, the power of conversion into animal semblance and form, mystic rite and incantation, spells and cantrips, as well as the presence on earth of the Devil himself, who generally appeared in some alluring form—all had a firmly-established place in the superstitious and impressionable minds of the people who dwelt in the land of those darker days.
In approaching the whole matter for descriptive purposes, the traditional, or as it may perhaps be fittingly termed, the “ideal” form of witchcraft, falls naturally first to be considered, and here the existence of a secret society or unholy order of witches and warlocks meeting together at certain appointed times, figures as an outstanding feature, qualification to belong to which, confessed rare powers of affinity with the powers of evil and darkness. The more these witches and warlocks were feared in their ordinary guise as human mortals by the country-side or district to which they belonged, the higher the rank accorded to them in secret conclave, and the special notoriety of having been branded or “scored,” at the hands of an angry populace, with the sign of the cross on the forehead, carried with it special recognition of itself. Reputed gatherings or witch-festivals were celebrated periodically, the most important and outstanding taking place at Hallowmass, and such eerie places of meeting as the lonely ruins of Sweetheart Abbey and Caerlaverock Castle, were the appropriate scenes of their midnight rites and revels; but most of all in this south-western district was it to the rising slope of Locharbriggs Hill, not many miles from Dumfries, that the “hellish legion” repaired.
There is a remnant extant of an old song called the “Witches’ Gathering,” that with quaint and mystic indication tells of the preliminary signals and signs, announcing that a midnight re-union or “Hallowmass rade” as it was aptly termed, had been arranged and appointed:—
“When the gray howlet has three times hoo’d,
When the grimy cat has three times mewed,
When the tod has yowled three times i’ the wode,
At the red moon cowering ahin the cl’ud;
When the stars ha’e cruppen’ deep i’ the drift,
Lest cantrips had pyked them out o’ the lift,
Up horsies a’ but mair adowe,
Ryde, ryde for Locher-briggs-knowe!”
On such a night the very elements themselves seemed in sympathy. The wind rose, gust following gust, in angry and ever-increasing intensity, till it hurled itself in angry blasts that levelled hay-rick and grain-stack, and tore the thatched roof from homestead and cot, where the frightened dwellers huddled and crept together in terror. Over and with higher note than the blast itself, high-pitched eldritch laughter, fleeting and mocking, skirled and shrieked through the air. Then a lull, with a stillness more terrifying than even the wild force of the angry blast, only to be almost immediately broken with a crash of ear-splitting thunder, and the flash and the glare of forked and jagged flame, lighting up the unhallowed pathway of the “witches’ ride.”
“The Witches’ Ride.”