Folklore of Scottish Lochs and Springs

by James M. Mackinlay

Burghead, in Elginshire, is still the scene of an annual fire-festival, celebrated on the last day of the year (O.S.). It is locally known as the burning of the clavie. On the afternoon of the day in question, careful preparations are made for the ceremony. A tar barrel is sawn across, and of it the clavie is made. A pole of firwood is stuck through the barrel, and held in its place by a large nail driven in by a stone, no hammer being used. The clavie is then filled with tar and pieces of wood. After dark these combustibles are kindled, according to ancient practice, by a burning peat from a neighbouring cottage. The clavie is then lifted by one of the men and carried through the village amid the applause of the inhabitants. Notwithstanding the risk from the burning tar, the possession of the clavie, while on its pilgrimage, is eagerly coveted. In former times, a stumble on the part of the bearer was counted unlucky for himself personally, and for the village as a whole. After being borne about for some time, the still blazing clavie is placed on an adjacent mound called the Doorie, where a stone column was built some years ago for its accommodation. A hole in the top of the column receives the pole. There the clavie is allowed to burn for about half-an-hour, when it is thrown down the slope of the mound. The burning fragments are eagerly snatched up and carried away by the spectators. These fragments were formerly kept as charms to ensure good fortune to their possessors. In the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries the Church discountenanced the burning of the clavie as idolatrous and sinful, and certain penalties were threatened against all who took part in it. The antiquity of the custom may be inferred from the fact, that two hundred years ago it was called old. At that time lights were carried round the boats in the harbour, and certain other ceremonies were performed, all pointing to a pagan origin. Formerly the custom was in vogue, not only at Burghead, but at most of the fishing villages along the Morayshire coast. The object in every case was the same, viz., the blessing of the boats to ensure a good fishing season.

A singular survival of sun-worship is to be found in the use of a fiery circle as a curative agent. In the volume of the “Proceedings of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland” for 1889–90, the Rev. Dr. Stewart of Nether Lochaber recounts a recent instance of its use in the Highlands. A dwining child, a year and a half old, was pronounced by a “wise woman” of the district to be suffering from the effects of an “evil eye.” The rite, called in Gaelic, Beannachd-na-Cuairte, i.e., “Blessing of the Circle,” was accordingly resorted to. A straw rope was wound round the greater part of an iron hoop, and, oil being applied, the whole was set on fire. The hoop was then held vertically, and through the blazing circle the child was passed and repassed eighteen times to correspond to the months of its life. The blazing hoop was then extinguished in a neighbouring burn. The result was in every way to the satisfaction of the child’s relatives. In the same article Dr. Stewart gives an account, sent to him by a friend, of a similar superstition common in Wigtownshire till about half-a-century ago. In this case, the healing influence came through the channel of the iron tire of a new cart wheel. After fire had been applied to it to make it fit the wheel, the tire was passed over the head of the patient, who was thus placed in the middle of a glowing circle.

So much for the traces of sun-worship in rites connected with fire. There are traces of it also in certain folk-customs, at one time common, and not yet extinct. Highlanders were formerly in the habit of taking off their bonnets to the rising sun. Akin to this is the feeling underlying the Venetian expedition to the Lido, annually repeated in July, when thousands cross to that island at dawn, and utter a loud shout when the sun rises above the horizon. In cases where sun-worship is a national cult we naturally expect it to have a marked influence on the sacred customs and architecture of its votaries. One example will suffice. In his “Pre-historic Man,” Sir Daniel Wilson thus describes the great annual festival of the Peruvians, held at the summer solstice:—“For three days previous, a general fast prevailed; the fire on the great altar of the sun went out, and in all the dwellings of the land no hearth was kindled. As the dawn of the fourth day approached, the Inca, surrounded by his nobles, who came from all parts of the country to join in the solemn celebration, assembled in the great square of the capital to greet the rising sun. The temple of the national deity presented its eastern portal to the earliest rays, emblazoned with his golden image, thickly set with precious stones, and as the first beams of the morning were reflected back from this magnificent emblem of the god of day, songs of triumph mingled with the jubilant shout of his worshippers. Then, after various rites of adoration, preparations were made for rekindling the sacred fire. The rays of the sun, collected into a focus by a concave mirror of polished metal, were made to inflame a heap of dried cotton; and a llama was sacrificed as a burnt offering to the sun.” Even after sun-worship has ceased to be a national cult, we find it continuing to regulate the position of buildings, devoted to a totally different worship. In this way what is commonly styled the “orientation” of Christian churches can be accounted for. Indeed, so much had the sun to do with churches, that when one was built in honour of a particular saint, it was made to face the point of the horizon, where the sun rose on the festival of the saint in question.

In our own land much stress used to be laid on the necessity of turning according to the course of the sun, i.e., from left to right. To do so tended to bring prosperity to whatever was being undertaken at the time. Martin often refers to such a turn under the title of Dessil, a word of Gaelic origin, in connection with which, it is interesting to note that in Gaelic Deas signifies both south and to the right. Martin mentions certain stones, round which the inhabitants of the Western Isles made what he calls “a religious turn.” In the island of Eigg, he tells us:—“There is a heap of stones called Martin Dessil, i.e., a place consecrated to the saint of that name, about which the natives oblige themselves to make a tour round sunways.” It was also customary when anyone wished well to another to walk round him thrice sunways. The following are some of Martin’s own experiences in the matter of the Dessil:—“Some are very careful, when they set out to sea, that the boat be first rowed about sunways; and if this be neglected they are afraid their voyage may prove unfortunate. I had this ceremony paid me (when in the island of Ila) by a poor woman after I had given her an alms. I desired her to let alone that compliment, for I did not care for it; but she insisted to make these three ordinary turns, and pray’d that God and MacCharmaig, the patron saint of that island, might bless and prosper me in all my designs and affairs. I attempted twice to go from Ila to Collonsay, and at both times they row’d about the boat sunways, tho’ I forbid them to do it; and by a contrary wind the boat and those in it were forced back. I took boat again a third time from Jura to Collonsay, and at the same time forbid them to row about their boat, which they obey’d, and then we landed safely at Collonsay without any ill adventure, which some of the crew did not believe possible for want of the round.” This superstition lingered long after Martin’s time, and probably still directs the course of many a fishing-boat when being put to sea. In connection with events of moment—such as baptisms, bridals, and burials—the necessity for turning sunways was felt to be specially binding; but even in matters of no particular importance the rule was held to apply. If movement sunways was lucky, movement in a contrary direction was the reverse. Such a movement was, and still is, known as Widdershins or Withershins, the Shetland form being Witherwise. To go Widdershins was to go against the sun, and was hence regarded as a violation of the established order of things. In his “Darker Superstitions” Dalyell remarks:—“The moving widderschynnes, as if withdrawing from the deified orb of day, inferred a guilty retreat, and was associated with the premeditated evil of sorcery.”

We have thus glanced at the relations of springs to fairs, of fairs to Church festivals, of Church festivals to nature festivals, and of these to sun-worship. We shall now gather together the threads of the argument, and indicate some of the chief points of connection between well-worship and sun-worship. To do this, we must inquire when springs were mainly visited. When a well was under the patronage of a saint, the festival day of that saint was in some cases the day selected. It would be natural to regard this as the rule. But, as a matter of fact, pilgrimages were commonly made on days other than the festival of the patron saint. As may be remembered, the Holy Pool in Strathfillan was mainly resorted to on the first day of the quarter (O.S.); and St. Fillan’s Spring at Comrie on 1st May and 1st August. As may be also remembered, the waters of Loch Manaar, in Sutherland, were thought to possess special virtue on the first Monday of February, May, August, and November (O.S.), the second and third of these dates being specially popular. What the practice was at Mochrum Loch, in Wigtownshire, is clear from Symson’s account in his “Description of Galloway.” “This loch,” he says, “is very famous in many writers, who report that it never freezeth in the greatest frosts …. “Whether it had any virtue of old I know not, but sure I am it hath it not now. However, I deny not but the water thereof may be medicinal, having received several credible informations that several persons, both old and young, have been cured of continued diseases by washing therein. Yet still I cannot approve of their washing three times therein, which they say they must do, neither the frequenting there of the first Sunday of February, May, August, and November, although many foolish people affirm that, not only the water of this loch, but also many other springs and wells, have more virtue on those days than any other.” Close to the Welltrees meadow in Sanquhar parish, once flowed a spring dedicated to St. Bridget. In his history of the parish, Mr. James Brown tells us that, according to the testimony of the old people, it was customary for the maidens of Sanquhar to resort on May Day to St. Bride’s Well, where each presented nine smooth white stones as an offering to the saint. Till about the beginning of the present century, a well at Sigget, in Aberdeenshire, was regularly visited on Pasch Sunday, and the usual offerings were left by the pilgrims. There is, or was a belief at Chapel-en-le-Frith, in Derbyshire, that on Easter Eve a mermaid appears in a certain pool; and at Rostherne, in Cheshire, that another mermaid comes out of the lake there on Easter Day and rings a bell. Mr. Moore mentions that in the Isle of Man Ascension Day and the first Sunday of August were the principal days for visiting consecrated springs. As previously stated, part of the May Day rites at Tullie-Beltane, in Perthshire, consisted in drinking water from a spring, and in walking nine times round it. St. Anthony’s Well, near Edinburgh, is not yet forgotten on May Day by people who like to keep up old customs. There is no doubt that of all the months of the year May was the one, when Scottish springs were most visited. The same rule held elsewhere. In his “Romances of the West of England,” Mr. Hunt has the following:—“The practice of bathing rickety children on the first three Wednesdays in May is still far from uncommon in the outlying districts of Cornwall. The parents will walk many miles for the purpose of dipping the little sufferers in some well from which the healing virtue has not entirely departed. Among these holy wells, Cubert is far famed. To this well the peasantry still resort, firm in the faith that there, at this special season, some mysterious virtue is communicated to its waters. On these occasions, only a few years since, the crowd assembled was so large that it assumed the character of a fair.” A spring at Glastonbury, in Somerset, on account of a miraculous cure, believed to have been wrought by its water, became specially popular about the middle of last century. In 1751, as many as ten thousand persons are said to have visited it during the month of May.

The popularity of May did not depend on the better weather following the bleakness of winter and spring. At least, if it did so, it was only in a subordinate degree. To find the main reason, we have to look to the continued influence of ancient pagan rites. As we have seen, May in Scotland was ushered in by the Beltane Festival. We have also seen that its manifestly heathen customs survived till a late period in the midst of a Christian civilisation. On the hypothesis of a pagan origin alone, can certain May Day customs and beliefs be satisfactorily explained. Some Beltane rites still survive in the Highlands, though fires are no longer kindled. In the neighbourhood of Kingussie, Inverness-shire, bannocks and hard-boiled eggs continue to be rolled down the hills on the first of May (O.S.). Till quite lately, these bannocks were used for purposes of divination. They were marked on one side with a cross—the sign of life; and on the other with a circle—the sign of death. Each bannock was rolled down thrice, and its owner’s fate was decided by the sign that was on the upper surface oftenest when the bannock rested at the foot of the hill. The time was counted specially suited for love-charms. On May Day, in the north of England, a gold ring was dropped into a syllabub composed of various ingredients. Whoever got hold of the ring with a ladle would be the first among the company to be married. The prophetic powers of May Day are still believed in, in some parts of the north of Ireland. If a maiden places a certain plant below her pillow overnight, she will have a vision of her coming husband.

On May Day, the supernatural world was revealed, and witches and other uncanny creatures were abroad. In connection with his visit to Scotland, Pennant says:—“In some parts of the country is a rural sacrifice, different from that before mentioned. A cross is cut on some sticks, which is dipped in pottage, and the Thursday before Easter one of each placed over the sheep-cot, the stable, or the cow-house. On the first of May they are carried to the hill, where the rites are celebrated, all decked with wild flowers, and after the feast is over, replaced over the spots they were taken from.” The cross in this case, was, doubtless, made from the wood of the rowan or mountain ash. In the Isle of Man, it was customary, at one time, to gather primroses on May Eve, and strew them before the door of every house to keep away witches. Aubrey tells us:—” ’Tis commonly said in Germany that the witches do meet in the night before the first day of May upon an high mountain called the Blocksberg, where they, together with the devils, do dance and feast, and the common people do, the night before the said day, fetch a certain thorn and stick it at their house door, believing the witches can then do them no harm.” In our own country, too, hawthorn branches were formerly used on May Day as a charm against witches. The hawthorn had likewise another mystic property attributed to it. The dew on its branches on the first of May had the power of giving beauty to the maiden who washed her face with it. May-dew from the grass was equally efficacious, except when gathered from within a fairy ring, as the fairies would in that case counteract the influence of the charm. A curative power was also ascribed to May-dew. Till quite lately there was a belief in some parts of England that a weakly child would be made strong by being drawn over dewy grass on the morning in question. To effect a complete cure, the treatment had to be repeated on the two following mornings. Dew from the grave of the last person buried in the parish churchyard was counted specially remedial if applied to the affected part before sunrise on May-morning.

The May-sun also got the credit of working cures. In his “Nether Lochaber” the Rev. Dr. Stewart tells us that “it was an article of belief in the hygiene code of the old highlanders that the invalid suffering under any form of internal ailment, upon whom the sun of May once fairly shed its light, was pretty sure of a renewed lease of life until at least the next autumnal equinox.” The old English custom, known as “going a-Maying,” when old and young flocked into the woods early on May-morning to gather flowers and green boughs, was handed on from a time when the worship of trees was an article of religious faith.

Another old custom in England, viz., the blowing of horns at an early hour on the first of May, had probably its origin in pre-Christian times. It still survives in Oxfordshire and Cornwall. From Hone’s “Every-Day Book” we learn that till the third decade of the present century, and doubtless later, the poorer classes in Edinburgh poured forth at daybreak from street and lane to assemble on Arthur’s Seat to see the sun rise on May-morning. Bagpipes and other musical instruments enlivened the scene, nor were refreshments forgotten. About six o’clock a crowd of citizens of the wealthier class made their appearance, while the majority of the first-comers returned to the town. At nine o’clock the hill was practically deserted. Two centuries earlier an attempt was made by the kirk-session of Perth to put a stop to an annual gathering on May Day at a cave in the face of Kinnoul hill adjoining the town. This cave was called the Dragon Hole, and was the scene of ancient rites of a superstitious nature. Other illustrations might be selected from the Folklore of May Day, but those given above show that the season was held in much superstitious regard. Accordingly, we need not be surprised that well-worship took its place among the rites of May Day, and of May Month also, since the whole of May was deemed a charmed time.

The Sundays of May—particularly the first—were very frequently chosen for visits to consecrated springs. The Chapel Wells in Kirkmaiden parish have already been referred to in connection with Co’ Sunday. The White Loch of Merton, and St. Anthony’s Spring at Maybole, and others that might be named were principally resorted to on the first Sunday of May. Indeed, wells occasionally got their name from the fact of their being visited on Sundays. Thus Tobordmony, near Cushendall, in County Antrim, signifies in Irish the Sunday Well. There is a farm in Athole called Pit-alt-donich or Balandonich. The name is derived by Mr. J. Mackintosh Gow from the Gaelic Pit-alt-didon-ich, and is interpreted by him as meaning “the hamlet of the Sunday burn.” There is a spring on the farm, formerly much frequented on the first Sunday of May (O.S.). In the Isle of Man is a spring called Chibber Lansh, consisting of three pools. In former times it had a considerable reputation for the cure of sore eyes; but it was thought to exert its power on Sundays alone. Pilgrims frequently spent Saturday night beside springs in order to begin the required ritual on the following morning. The question why Sunday was specially selected is one of interest. Its choice may have been due in part to the fact, mentioned by Dalyell, that, in ruder society, the precise course of time requires some specific mark, and in part, to the notion underlying the popular saying, “the better the day, the better the deed.” But there was undoubtedly another factor in the selection of the day. We have seen that the chief Church festivals borrowed certain rites from other festivals earlier in the field. In like manner, Sunday was the heir of usages quite unconnected with it in origin; or, to change the metaphor, it was a magnet attracting to itself various stray particles of paganism that remained after the break up of the old Nature-worship. Students of English history in the seventeenth century cannot fail to remember, how strenuously the Puritans sought to put down Sunday amusements, and how even the edicts of James the First and Charles the First permitted only certain games to be played on Sunday, certain others being declared inconsistent with the aim of that Christian festival.