DRAWN BY R. WESTALL, R.A. · ENGRAVED BY W. FINDEN ·
PUBLISHED BY JOHN SHARPE, DUKE STREET, PICCADILLY,
AUG. 1, 1824.
This engraving by depicts one of the most memorable moments from Halloween, where a young villager, brimming with nerves and superstition, ventures out at night to perform one of the traditional charms. Lantern-light catches the edges of the trees and the trembling figure, who stops dead in his tracks at the sound of a mysterious squeak and “a grane an’ grunstle.”
Burns’ poem is a rich catalogue of old Ayrshire Halloween customs, charms for divination, rustic superstitions, courtship tricks, and ghost-season mischief. This illustration captures the perfect mixture of humor and fright at the heart of the poem: a country lad’s determination to read his future, and the dark pressures of the night making every sound feel like an omen.
Westall’s engraving emphasizes the poem’s blend of folklore, celebration, and eerie rural tradition, showing how Halloween was less about terror and more about the lively, communal magic of Scottish country life.
From Poems, Chiefly in the Scottish Dialect
HALLOWEEN.
Yes! let the rich deride, the proud disdain,
The simple pleasures of the lowly train;
To me more dear, congenial to my heart,
One native charm, than all the gloss of art.
Goldsmith.
The following poem will, by many readers, be well enough understood; but for the sake of those who are unacquainted with the manners and traditions of the country where the scene is cast, notes are added, to give some account of the principal charms and spells of that night, so big with prophecy to the peasantry in the west of Scotland. The passion of prying into futurity makes a striking part of the history of human nature in its rude state, in all ages and nations; and it may be some entertainment to a philosophic mind (if any such should honor the author with a perusal), to see the remains of it, among the more unenlightened in our own.
I.
Upon that night, when fairies light
On Cassilis Downans2 dance,
Or owre the lays, in splendid blaze,
On sprightly coursers prance;
Or for Colean the route is ta'en,
Beneath the moon's pale beams;
There, up the cove3, to stray an' rove
Amang the rocks and streams
To sport that night.
II.
Amang the bonnie winding banks
Where Doon rins, wimplin, clear,
Where Bruce4 ance rul'd the martial ranks,
An' shook his Carrick spear,
Some merry, friendly, countra folks,
Together did convene,
To burn their nits, an' pou their stocks,
An' haud their Halloween
Fu' blythe that night.
III.
The lasses feat, an' cleanly neat,
Mair braw than when they're fine;
Their faces blythe, fu' sweetly kythe,
Hearts leal, an' warm, an' kin':
The lads sae trig, wi' wooer-babs,
Weel knotted on their garten,
Some unco blate, an' some wi' gabs,
Gar lasses' hearts gang startin
Whiles fast at night.
IV.
Then first and foremost, thro' the kail,
Their stocks5 maun a' be sought ance;
They steek their een, an' graip an' wale,
For muckle anes an' straught anes.
Poor hav'rel Will fell aff the drift,
An' wander'd through the bow-kail,
An' pow't, for want o' better shift,
A runt was like a sow-tail,
Sae bow't that night.
V.
Then, straught or crooked, yird or nane,
They roar an' cry a' thro'ither;
The vera wee things, todlin, rin
Wi' stocks out-owre their shouther;
An' gif the custoc's sweet or sour,
Wi' jocktelegs they taste them;
Syne coziley, aboon the door,
Wi' cannie care, they place them
To lie that night.
VI.
The lasses staw frae' mang them a'
To pou their stalks o' corn6;
But Rab slips out, an' jinks about,
Behint the muckle thorn:
He grippet Nelly hard an' fast;
Loud skirl'd a' the lasses;
But her tap-pickle maist was lost,
When kuittlin in the fause-house7
Wi' him that night.
VII.
The auld guidwife's weel-hoordet nits8
Are round an' round divided,
An' monie lads' and lasses' fates
Are there that night decided:
Some kindle, couthie, side by side,
An' burn thegither trimly;
Some start awa wi' saucy pride,
And jump out-owre the chimlie
Fu' high that night.
VIII.
Jean slips in twa, wi' tentie ee;
Wha 'twas, she wadna tell;
But this is Jock, and this is me,
She says in to hersel:
He bleez'd owre her, an' she owre him,
As they would never mair part;
Till fuff! he started up the lum,
An' Jean had e'en a sair heart
To see't that night.
IX.
Poor Willie, wi' his bow-kail runt,
Was brunt wi' primsie Mallie,
An' Mallie, nae doubt, took the drunt,
To be compar'd to Willie:
Mall's nit lap out wi' pridefu' fling,
An' her aim fit it brunt it;
While Willie lap, an' swoor by jing,
'Twas just the way he wanted
To be that night.
X.
Nell had the fause-house in her min',
She pits hersel an' Rob in;
In loving bleeze they sweetly join,
Till white in ase they're sobbin':
Nell's heart was dancin at the view,
She whisper'd Rob to leuk for't:
Rob, stowlins, prie'd her bonnie mou,
Fu' cozie in the neuk for't,
Unseen that night.
XI.
But Merran sat behind their backs,
Her thoughts on Andrew Bell;
She lea'es them gashin at their cracks,
And slips out by hersel:
She through the yard the nearest taks,
An' to the kiln she goes then,
An' darklins grapit for the bauks,
And in the blue-clue8 throws them,
Right fear't that night.
XII.
An' aye she win't, an' aye she swat,
I wat she made nae jaukin;
Till something held within the pat,
Guid L—d! but she was quakin'!
But whether 'twas the deil himsel,
Or whether 'twas a bauk-en',
Or whether it was Andrew Bell,
She didna wait on talkin
To spier that night.
XIII.
Wee Jennie to her Grannie says,
“Will ye go wi' me, grannie?
I’ll eat the apple9 at the glass,
I gat frae uncle Johnie:”
She fuff't her pipe wi' sic a lunt,
In wrath she was sae vap'rin,
She notic't na, an aizle brunt
Her braw new worset apron
Out-thro' that night.
XIV.
“Ye little skelpie-limmer's face!
How daur you try sic sportin,
As seek the foul Thief ony place,
For him to spae your fortune?
Nae doubt but ye may get a sight!
Great cause ye hae to fear it;
For monie ane has gotten a fright,
An' liv'd an' di'd deleeret
On sic a night.
XV.
“Ae hairst afore the Sherra-moor,
I mindt as weel's yestreen,
I was a gilpey then, I'm sure
I wasna past fifteen:
The simmer had been cauld an' wat,
An' stuff was unco green;
An' aye a rantin kirn we gat,
An' just on Halloween
It fell that night.
XVI.
“Our stibble-rig was Rab M'Graen,
A clever, sturdy fallow;
His sin gat Eppie Sim wi' wean,
That liv'd in Achmacalla:
He gat hemp-seed11, I mind it weel,
An' he made unco light o't;
But monie a day was by himsel,
He was sae sairly frighted
That vera night.”
XVII.
Then up gat fechtin Jamie Fleck,
An’ he swoor by his conscience,
That he could saw hemp-seed a peck;
For it was a’ but nonsense:
The auld guidman raucht down the pock,
An’ out a handfu’ gied him;
Syne bad him slip frae ’mang the folk,
Sometime when nae ane see’d him,
An’ try’t that night.
XVIII.
He marches thro’ amang the stacks,
Tho’ he was something sturtin;
The grap he for a harrow taks,
An’ haurls at his curpin:
An’ ev’ry now an’ then he says,
“Hemp-seed I saw thee,
An’ her that is to be my lass,
Come after me, and draw thee,
As fast this night.”
XIX.
He whistl’d up Lord Lenox’ march
To keep his courage cheery;
Altho’ his hair began to arch,
He was sae fley’d an’ eerie:
Till presently he hears a squeak,
An’ then a grane an’ gruntle;
He by his shouther gae a keek,
An’ tumbl’d wi’ a wintle
Out-owre that night.
XXIII.
They hoy’t out Will, wi’ sair advice;
They hetcht him some fine braw ane;
It chanc’d the stack he faddom’d thrice13
Was timmer-propt for thrawin:
He taks a swirlie auld moss-oak
For some black, grousome carlin;
An’ loot a winze, an’ drew a stroke,
Till skin in blypes came haurlin
Aff’s nieves that night.
XXIV.
A wanton widow Leezie was,
As canty as a kittlen;
But och! that night, amang the shaws,
She got a fearfu’ settlin’!
She thro’ the whins, an’ by the cairn,
An’ owre the hill gaed scrievin,
Whare three lairds’ lands met at a burn14,
To dip her left sark-sleeve in,
Was bent that night.
XXV.
Whyles owre a linn the burnie plays,
As thro’ the glen it wimpl’t;
Whyles round a rocky scar it strays;
Whyles in a wiel it dimpl’t;
Whyles glitter’d to the nightly rays,
Wi’ bickering, dancing dazzle;
Whyles cookit underneath the braes,
Below the spreading hazel,
Unseen that night.
CHIEFLY SCOTTISH.
XXVI.
Amang the brachens, on the brae,
Between her an’ the moon,
The deil, or else an outler quey,
Gat up an’ gae a croon:
Poor Leezie’s heart maist lap the hool;
Near lav’rock height she jumpit,
But mist a fit, an’ in the pool
Out-owre the lugs she plumpit,
Wi’ a plunge that night.
XXVII.
In order, on the clean hearth-stane,
The luggies three15 are ranged,
And ev’ry time great care is ta’en,
To see them duly changed:
Auld uncle John, wha wedlock’s joys
Sin Mar’s year did desire,
Because he gat the toom dish thrice,
He heav’d them on the fire
In wrath that night.
XXVIII.
Wi’ merry sangs, an’ friendly cracks,
I wat they didna weary;
An’ unco tales, an’ funnie jokes,
Their sports were cheap an’ cheery;
Till butter’d so’ns16, wi’ fragrant lunt,
Set a’ their gabs a steerin;
Syne, wi’ a social glass o’ strunt,
They parted aff careerin
Fu’ blythe that night.
NOTES.
1 Halloween is thought to be a night when witches, devils, and other mischief-making beings, are all abroad on their baneful, midnight errands; particularly those aerial people, the fairies, are said on that night to hold a grand anniversary.
2 Certain little, romantic, rocky, green hills, in the neighbourhood of the ancient seat of the Earls of Cassilis.
3 A noted cavern near Colean-house, called the Cove of Colean; which, as Cassilis Downans, is famed in country story for being a favourite haunt of fairies.
4 The famous family of that name, the ancestors of Robert, the great deliverer of his country, were Earls of Carrick.
5 The first ceremony of Halloween is pulling each a stock, or plant of kail. They must go out, hand in hand, with eyes shut, and pull the first they meet with: Its being big or little, straight or crooked, is prophetic of the size and shape of the grand object of all their spells—tochter, or fortune; and the taste of the custoc, that is, the heart of the stem, is indicative of the natural temper and disposition. Lastly, the stems, or, to give them their ordinary appellation, the runts, are placed somewhere above the head of the door; and the christian names of the people whom chance brings into the house, are, according to the priority of placing the runts, the names in question.
6 They go to the barn-yard, and pull each, at three several times, a stalk of oats. If the third stalk wants the top-pickle, that is, the grain at the top of the stalk, the party in question will come to the marriage-bed any thing but a maid.
7 When the corn is in a doubtful state, by being too green, or wet, the stack-builder, by means of old timber, &c., makes a large apartment in his stack, with an opening in the side which is fairest exposed to the wind: this he calls a fause-house.
8 Burning the nuts is a famous charm. They name the lad and lass to each particular nut, as they lay them in the fire, and accordingly as they burn quietly together, or start from beside one another, the course and issue of the courtship will be.
9 Whoever would, with success, try this spell, must strictly observe these directions: Steal out, all alone, to the kiln, and darkling, throw into the pot a clue of blue yarn; wind it in a new clue off the old one; and, towards the latter end, something will hold the thread; demand, wha hauds i’? i.e. who holds? an answer will be returned from the kiln-pot, by naming the christian and surname of your future spouse.
10 Take a candle, and go alone to a looking-glass; eat an apple before it, and some traditions say, you should comb your hair all the time; the face of your conjugal companion, to be, will be seen in the glass, as if peeping over your shoulder.
11 Steal out unperceived, and sow a handful of hemp-seed; harrowing it with any thing you can conveniently draw after you. Repeat now and then, “Hemp-seed, I saw thee, hemp-seed, I saw thee; and him (or her) that is to be my true-love, come after me and pou thee.” Look over your left shoulder, and you will see the appearance of the person invoked, in the attitude of pulling hemp. Some traditions say, “come after me, and shaw thee,” that is, show thyself: in which case it simply appears. Others omit the harrowing, and say, “come after me, and harrow thee.”
12 This charm must likewise be performed unperceived, and alone. You go to the barn, and open both doors, taking them off the hinges, if possible; for there is danger that the being, about to appear, may shut the doors, and do you some mischief. Then take that instrument used in winnowing the corn, which, in our country dialect, we call a wecht; and go through all the attitudes of letting down corn against the wind. Repeat it three times; and the third time an apparition will pass thro’ the barn, in at the windy door, and out at the other, having the exact figure, in question, the appearance or retinue, marking the employment or station in life.
13 Take an opportunity of going, unnoticed, to a Bearstack, and fathom it three times round. The last fathom of the last time, you will catch in your arms the appearance of your future conjugal yokefellow.
14 You go out, one or more (for this is a social spell), to a south running spring or rivulet, where “three lairds’ lands meet,” and dip your left shirt sleeve. Go to bed in sight of a fire, and hang your wet sleeve before it to dry. Lie awake; and some time near midnight, an apparition, having the exact figure of the grand object in question, will come and turn the sleeve, as if to dry the other side of it.
15 Take three dishes; put clean water in one, foul water in another, leave the third empty; blindfold a person, and lead him to the hearth where the dishes are ranged; he (or she) dips the left hand: if by chance in the clean water, the future husband or wife will come to the bar of matrimony a maid: if in the foul, a widow: if in the empty dish, it foretells, with equal certainty, no marriage at all. It is repeated three times, and every time the arrangement of the dishes is altered.
16 Sowens, with butter instead of milk to them, is always the Halloween Supper.