Sketch by J. Copland, Dundrennan.
The journey itself, or rather the mode of progression in passing to the “witch gathering,” was itself steeped in “diabolerie” of varying degree. The simple broomstick served the more ordinary witch for a steed. Another vehicle was the chariot of “rag-wort” or ragweed, “harnessed to the wind;” for sisters of higher rank, broomsticks specially shod with the bones of murdered men, became high mettled and most spirited steeds; but the possession of a bridle, the leather of which was made from the skin of an unbaptised infant, and the iron bits forged at the “smithy” of the Evil One himself, gave to its possessor the power of most potent spell. Only let a witch shake this instrument of Satan over any living thing, man or beast, and at once it was transformed into an active witch steed in the form generally of a gray horse, with the full knowledge and resentment that a spell had been wrought, to compass this ignoble use. This was familiarly known and described as being “ridden post by a witch.”
No better picture was ever drawn of the wild witch diabolerie and abandon than in “Tam o’ Shanter,” but it may be claimed for Galloway that in the possession of the powerful poem of “Maggie o’ the Moss,” Ayrshire is followed very closely, as the following quotation bearing upon this particular point brings out:—
“But Maggie had that nicht to gang
Through regions dreary, dark, and lang,
To hold her orgies.
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Then cross his haunches striding o’er,
She gave him the command to soar:
At first poor Simon, sweir to yield,
Held hard and fast the frosty field;
His body now earth’s surface spurn’d,
He seem’d like gravitation turned;
His heels went bickering in the air,
He held till he could haud nae mair,
Till first wi’ ae han’, syne the tither,
He lost his haud o’t a’ thegither;
And mounted up in gallant style,
Right perpendicular for a mile.
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For brawly ken’d she how to ride,
And stick richt close to Simon’s hide;
For aft had Maggie on a cat
Across the German Ocean sat;
And wi’ aul’ Nick and a’ his kennel,
Had often crossed the British Channel,
And mony a nicht wi’ them had gone
To Brussels, Paris, or Toulon;
And mony a stormy Hallowe’en
Had Maggie danced on Calais Green!”
Like a swarm of bees in full flight they passed, all astride of something, be it rag-wort, broomstick, kail-runt, hare, cat, or domestic fowl, or even as indicated riding post on a human steed.
Assembled at the Dumfriesshire or Galloway “Brocken,” tribute to Satan, who presided in person, had to be paid for the privilege of exercising their unholy licence over their several districts and neighbourhoods. This took the form of unchristened “Kain Bairns,” the witches’ own by preference, but failing this, the stolen offspring of women of their own particular neighbourhood.
The rite of baptismal entry, which all novitiates had to undergo, was also a regular part of the weird proceedings of this witches’ Sabbath.
A magic circle was drawn round the top of the meeting mound, across which none but the initiated and those about to be initiated, dare pass. In the centre of this circle a fire emitting a thick, dense, sulphurous smoke sprang up, round which the assembled company of witches and warlocks danced with joined hands and wild abandon. Into the charmed circle the converts, naked and terror-stricken, were brought and dragged to the fire, which now sent forth even thicker clouds as if in a measure to screen the secrecy of the rites even from those participating, and scream after scream arose as their naked bodies were stamped with the hellish sign-manual of the order. A powerful soothing ointment was, however, immediately poured on the raw wounds, giving instant relief and almost effacement to the ordinary eye, the well-concealed cicatrix becoming the “witch-mark.” The grim nature of the ordeal now gave place to proceedings more in keeping with a festival, and dancing of the “better the worse” order and general hilarity and high revelry followed, the Prince of Darkness joining in the dance, giving expert exhibitions with favoured partners.
Next in importance to Satan himself at these “Walpurgis” night festivals at Locharbriggs tryst, was the celebrated witch “Gyre Carline,” who possessed a wand of great creative and destructive power. It is told how in the days when Lochar Moss was an open arm of the Solway Firth, an extra large tide swept up and washed away several of the witch steeds from the Locharbrigg hill. This so enraged the “Gyre Carline” that over the unruly waters she waved her magic wand, and what was “once a moss and then a sea” became “again a moss and aye will be.” At other meetings of less consequence the more important carlines of different districts met together, when schemes of persecution and revenge were evolved, and where philtres and charms were brewed and concocted for distribution amongst their inferior sisters whose office it was to give them effect. A concoction of virulent power was in the form of a bannock or cake, better known as the “witch cake,” whose uncannie preparation and potency has been so quaintly described in verse by Allan Cunningham:—
The Witch Cake.