"The Gaelic people," says Chalmers,[114] "did sometimes erect memorial stones; which as they were always without inscription, might as well have not been set up." But independently of the fact that these monuments of the remote past have long since accomplished the original purpose of their erection, it is obvious that some of them can still furnish an intelligible response to those who ask, "What mean these stones?" Many of them, however, it is true, have waxed dumb in the lapse of ages, and hold a more mysterious silence than that which surrounded the long-guarded secrets of Egypt's memorial stones. Some of these are perhaps the last solitary column which marks the site where once the "Druid circle" and its mystic avenue covered the plain. Remote and widely severed stones may thus be parts of the same systematic design, as is rendered sufficiently probable when we remember that that of Avebury numbered even in the days of Stukeley six hundred and fifty stones, though then by no means perfect, and that that of Carnac in Brittany extends over an area of eight miles in length. So common are they still in Scotland that Chalmers dispenses with his usual laborious accumulation of references, and contents himself with this very comprehensive one: "See the Statistical Accounts everywhere!"
Other monoliths are probably the Tanist Stones,[115] where the new chief or king was elected, and sworn to protect and lead his people. One at least, the most famous of Scottish Tanist Stones, still exists, and mingles with the gorgeous rites of coronation services in Westminster Abbey the primitive elements of our most ancient popular elective monarchy. The celebrated Lia Fail, or Stone of Destiny, is that which, according to Scottish chroniclers, Gathelus, the Spanish King, a contemporary of Romulus, sent with his son when he invaded Ireland; and on equally trustworthy authority it is affirmed to have been the veritable pillow of the patriarch Jacob, which he set up as a memorial stone, on the scene of his wondrous vision!
"A gret stane this Kyng than had,
That fore this Kyngis sete wes made,
And haldyne wes a gret Jowale
Wytht-in the Kynryk of Spayne hale.
This Kyng bad this Symon ta
That stane, and in-tyl Yrland ga,
And wyn that land and occupy,
And halde that stane perpetually.
Fergus Erc son fra hym syne
Down discendand ewyn be lyne
In to the fyve and fyfty gre,
As ewyne recknand men may se,
Broucht this Stane wytht-in Scotland,
Fyrst quhen he come and wane that land.
* * * * * * *
Now will I the werd rehers,
As I fynd of that Stane in wers;
Ni fallat fatum, Scoti, quocumque locatum
Invenient lapidem, regnare tenentur ibidem."[116]
The Lia Fail is believed to have served for many ages as the coronation throne of the monarchs of Ireland; and according to Irish bardic traditions, to have borne testimony to the divine right of sovereignty by roaring beneath the legitimate monarch when seated on it at his inauguration! It was removed to Scotland, and deposited at Icolmkil or Iona, for the coronation of Fergus Erc, or Mac Eark, a prince of the blood royal of Ireland;[117] from which it was finally translated to the Abbey of Scone, when the Scottic kings had extended their sovereignty over the ancient kingdom of the Picts. In Scotland it bore the name of the "King's Stone," and was regarded as the national palladium, until Edward I. in 1296, ordered it to be conveyed to Westminster as an evidence of his absolute conquest of Scotland.[118] But the evidence failed, and the older prophecy holds good that wherever that stone rests princes of Scottish blood shall rule the land, though the Lia Fail no longer gives audible testimony to the legitimate heir. It can hardly fail to impress the thoughtful mind, as a singular link between eras so widely severed, not by time only but by every social and political change, that the rude Tanist Stone belonging to a period dimly cognizable in the remotest past, still forms a part of the coronation chair of the British sovereign in Westminster Abbey. The use of the Tanist Stone is, like so many other primitive customs, of Eastern origin, and traceable to a very remote era. Thus when Abimelech was made king, it was by the pillar which was in Shechem;[119] and when Jehoash was anointed king by Jehoiada, the king stood by a pillar, as the manner was.[120] The standing stone appears indeed to have been the most sacred attestation of every solemn covenant between contracting parties, including that between the elected chief or king and his people; and hence the super-addition of those peculiar virtues supposed to attach to the ancient Scottic Lia Fail.
One other stone is deserving of some note, from the vague records which tradition has preserved of its connexion with the rites of a long extinct creed. Mr. Wakeman remarks, in his Archæologia Hibernica,[121] "Perforated stones, very similar to the ordinary pillar stone, are found in many parts of Ireland, Scotland, and even, as appears from Mr. Wilford's Asiatic Researches, in India. Abroad as well as at home their origin is shrouded in the deepest obscurity, nor is it likely that the subject can ever be elucidated." They are by no means so common, however, as this would imply. At Applecross, in the west of Ross-shire, a perforated stone occupies the centre of a stone circle; and at Tormore, in the parish of Kilmorie, Buteshire, there is a celebrated monolithic circle, styled Siudhe choir Fhionn, or Fingal's cauldron seat, one of the columns of which is perforated, and is commemorated in old Highland traditions as the stone to which the Celtic hero was wont to tie his dog Bran. Immediately adjoining the circle are three huge unhewn columns, about fifteen feet in height above the surface of the moor. Along with these examples may be noted a curious group in the parish of Maddern, Cornwall, consisting of three stones, the centre one of which is pierced with a large circular hole, through which, Borlase informs us,[122] rheumatic patients were wont to crawl as a sovereign remedy for their disease. Perforated stones must once have been common in England, and probably in Scotland also, as the Anglo-Saxon laws repeatedly denounce similar superstitious practices; but they are now of the rarest occurrence. Tradition has preserved some curious associations with one of the most interesting Scottish examples, which may perhaps be thought to throw some doubtful light on the use to which such perforated pillars were devoted at a comparatively late period of our island history. The celebrated Stone of Odin, near the Loch of Stennis, in Orkney, which has had a new interest added to it by being interwoven with the romantic incidents of the "Pirate," was one of the remarkable monolithic group called The Stones of Stennis. It formed no part, however, either of the Great Ring of Brogar, or of the neighbouring circle of Stennis, but stood apart, to the north-east of the latter group; though it can scarcely be doubted that it bore some important relation to these ancient and mysterious structures. The Stone of Odin is described as standing about eight feet high, and perforated with an oval hole large enough to admit a man's head. A curious, though rudely executed bird's-eye view of the Stones of Stennis is given in the Archæologia Scotica,[123] from a drawing executed by the Rev. Dr. Henry, about the year 1780, and there a man and woman are seen interchanging vows, plighted by the promise of Odin, which Sir Walter Scott refers to as "the most sacred of northern rites yet practised among us." The vow was sworn while the engaging parties joined hands through the perforation in the stone; and though it is difficult to decide how much of the tradition may be ascribable to modern embellishment and the adaptation of a genuine heirloom of primitive superstition to the preconceived theories of local antiquaries, there cannot be a doubt of the popular sacredness attached to this sacramental stone in former times. An illustration of the practice from which this originated is supposed to be traceable in an ancient Norse custom, described in the Eyrbiggia Saga, by which, when an oath was imposed, he by whom it was pledged passed his hand, while pronouncing it, through a massive silver ring sacred to this ceremony.[124]
The solemnity attached to a vow ratified by so awful a pledge as this appeal to the Father of the Slain, the severe and terrible Odin, continued to maintain its influence on the mind till a comparatively recent date. Dr. Henry, writing in 1784, refers to the custom as having fallen into disuse within twenty or thirty years of the time he wrote, and adds, "this ceremony was held so very sacred in those times, that the person who dared to break the engagement was counted infamous, and excluded all society." Principal Gordon, of the Scots College, Paris, who visited Orkney in 1781, thus refers to a curious example, showing probably the latest traces of this venerable traditionary relic of Scandinavian superstition:[125]
"At some distance from the semicircle stands a stone by itself, eight feet high, three broad, nine inches thick, with a round hole on the side next the lake. The original design of this hole was unknown, till about twenty years ago it was discovered by the following circumstance: A young man had seduced a girl under promise of marriage, and she proving with child, was deserted by him. The young man was called before the Session; the elders were particularly severe. Being asked by the minister the cause of so much rigour, they answered, You do not know what a bad man this is; he has broke the promise of Odin. Being further asked what they meant by the promise of Odin, they put him in mind of the stone at Stenhouse, with the round hole in it, and added, that it was customary when promises were made, for the contracting parties to join hands through this hole; and promises so made were called the promises of Odin."[126]
It is possible that the awe which the vow of Odin so recently inspired may have originated in the use of the stone for more dreadful purposes than the most solemn contract, sealed with imprecations derived from a barbarous Pagan creed; though little value can be attached to another tradition, described by Dr. Henry as still existing in his time,—that human victims destined for sacrifice were bound to the perforated column, preparatory to their slaughter as an acceptable offering to the terrible god. Another stone, on the north side of the island of Shapinshay, bears the name of the Black Stone of Odin; but no definite associations are now attached to it, and its sole value is as the march stone between the grounds of two conterminous heritors.[127] A more trustworthy tradition ascribed peculiar virtues to the Stennis Stone, manifestly corresponding with those referred to by Borlase in connexion with one at Maddern, and denounced in ancient Anglo-Saxon laws. According to this a child passed through the hole would never shake with palsy in old age. The practice exhibits a sagacious anticipation of future ills, the hole being too small to admit of the remedy being made available when most required.
A view of this remarkable memorial of ancient manners and superstitious rites, is given in Lady Stafford's "Views in Orkney, and on the North-eastern Coast of Scotland," drawn in 1805, and has been copied as one of the illustrations for the Abbotsford edition of the Pirate. But the stone itself no longer exists. After having survived the waste of centuries, until it had nearly outlived the last traditionary remembrance of the strange rites with which it had once been associated, it was barbarously destroyed by a neighbouring farmer, in the year 1814, along with two stones of the adjacent semicircle. Had it not been for the interference of Mr. Malcolm Laing, the historian, the whole group of Stennis would have been broken down as building materials for the ignorant Goth's cow-sheds. The act was the less culpable, perhaps, as the perpetrator was a stranger who had only recently taken up his abode in Orkney. It affords proof, however, that the native reverence for the venerable memorial had not entirely disappeared, that its unfortunate destroyer's life was rendered miserable by the petty persecutions with which the natives sought to revenge the destruction of their sacramental stone. So far, indeed, was this manifestation of popular indignation carried, that various conspiracies are said to have been formed to injure him, and two different attempts were made to set fire to his dwelling and property;[128] a sufficiently manifest token that the old spirit of veneration for the stone of Odin was not unknown to the modern Orcadian.