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Scenes from an Artist's Life
Chapter 8
"Hanging's a dismal road to fame."
Peter Pindar
THE ODDITIES OF KILMARNOCK - A LEAF OF RURAL CHURCH
HISTORY- - THE FRUITS OF PATRONAGE - THE STORY OF
WITHERINGTON THE PACKMAN - THE NEWMILNS WIFE
POISONER - SCENES IN AYR JAIL - THE EXECUTION OF
WITHERINGTON - TAM YOUNG THE HANGMAN - THE JACKDAW
INSPECTS TEH GALLOWS - I TAKE A RIDE WITH THE DOOMED
MAN - THE BURIAL OF WITHERINGTON - EXECUTION OF THE DUKE'S
MANAGER AT TROON.
My knowledge of Kilmarnoc began early, as I had messgaes in
connection withthe trade, which was supplied there. An apprentice
with James Gault, in Dundonald,also a shoemaker, came from Kilmarnock;
and he talked up its beauties, particularly the Strand, that being the part
of teh town in which he was born, and in which his mother lived. He was
acquaint with all the oddities of the place, and loved to talk of them
at home. But when meeting with him in town, as he also was often sent
thither on messages, it was a thena treat to have his account of the various
gifts of his heroes. The first Friday in April, fifty-three years past, I stood
along with Johnny Tamson in the cross of Kilmarnock. They had that day begun
to pull down some old property at the foot of the Fore Street, to make way for
new building known as the Coffee-room Corner. Poultry, pigs, and furniture
were in motion, and the masons had already begun the work of demolition.
Johnny had the rare knack of knowing and explaining the qualities of men and
things. "That's Tailor Steen's furniture that's gaun awa'. There three men
standin' thegither, and ye'll no fin' three greater men in a day's gangin'.
That twisted, decrepit-like body is auld Woodrow the founder; it's him
that the swine belangs to. There's no a man in the known word that can mak' a
lance or a razor like him. He can gi'e them the real temper, and
he has learned Charlie Russell how to do it. That auld man wi' the
game cock in his oxter is Ringan Paisley. He's a real skilly body;
he mak's green saa' which can heal ony auld sair. And that ither
ane is a poet ! That's auld Cockey Hunter; he's maybe a frien' o'
yours."
The swine were making an obstinate resistance against leaving
the ground, and were squealing. Cockey Hunter said that swine
were like mony ither folk; they didna see the use o' dinging
down ae house to big anither. They had a deal o' use-an'-wont in
their dispositions, and seemed to ha'e a great aversion to
flitting.
Boys seem more the admirers of genius or oddities than bigger
folk. Thus it was, perhaps, I came to know many of the
Kilmarnock oddities, and by frequent visits enlarged my circle of
acquaintances
In the last chapter I said that a new minister was to be put into
the parish of Dumdonald. Religious discussions are generally
conducted with warmth and kirk affairs looked at through a spirit
of obstinacy such as might be avoided were reason to have a say
in the matter. After Dr Duncan's death much speculation arose as
to who would be given by the patron to preside as pastor of the
parish. Reports varied, and at last it became evident that Dr
M'Leod, who held the second charge in the Low Church of
Kilmarnock, was the man of the patron, though certainly not
of the people. He was sixty-two years of age, had a bad delivery,
had a Highland howl, and read his sermons. Mary Tait's review
of his capabilities was near the mark. After hearing him she
said-" I canna for the life o' me see what auld Cloud gets to
greet and laugh at. The body gi'es a gowl o' a greet and a gape o' a
laugh, and I can see nae sense in either o' them. I was hearin' that
he was writing a Hielan' dictionary. He micht do weel enough to
preach to Hielan' folk, but I'm sure he's no for this place."
The feeling of the whole parish was against his coming; heads
of families met and reasoned the matter-even petitioned the
patron, who lent a deaf ear to their voice. Dis-sent was strongly urged,
and a number for a time went to Kilmarnock; others went to the hills. The
country at that time was loose and wild, and some of the auld folk thought
that a sair stroke had been given to a parish which had been orderly under
the teaching of their late lamented pastor. It was like opening a breach in a dam dyke:
the rush of the water increased the rent, and an inundation of low-lying country was
a natural law. Decent heads of families, who were set at nought by the patron,
set the use-and-wont of their past lives at nought. They preferred taking a walk to the
hills or staying at home; but the kirk had become a place unworthy of their countenance.
It soon produced a new state of thought. Independence was respected, men walked,
talked, and reasoned together. The Government were preparing to insult the nation
with a Corn Law. Appeal was not listened to. There was a moral depravity in high places, with robbery and murder in the vicinity.
In the winter of 1814 a daring robbery was committed on the Ayr road, at the Braidtongue Planting, and on the same night another was committed on the road between Craigie and Tarbolton. Wha could be guilty of such immoral conduct became earnest matter of inquiry. Many were thought of. Report spoke of a band of hardy gangrels, whose number varied from three to thirteen, acting under the leadership of an ill-looking packman, who went through the country and inspected houses so that he might know how to enter them at night. Everybody seemed to dread this man, his ill looks were sair against him. He was blackaviced, and had a down look wi' him. So much did packmen or sorners come to be a nuisance at that time, that a licence had to be taken out for leave to travel, except in the case of a man making or manufacturing his own goods. He could travel, as a hawker of the same, a radius of twenty miles.
John Witherington was the packman's name who was said to be head of the gang at this time infesting the country. He was apprehended and put in Ayr auld jail. About this time a farmer near Newmilns, in Ayrshire, was also put in jail on suspicion of having abruptly conveyed his wife out of this world, or, to use his own language, "helped her awa'."
There was no outside ground for airing the prisoners in the Old Jail, but untried criminals had an hour or more a day to mix with the debtors-at least those two worthies had. John Orr was at this time in jail for the deforcement of the gaugers at Dundonald, and his son Hughie went down every Monday wi' a change of clothes to him. Hughie used to divert us boyswith the history of the tenants of the stronghold which once contained the carcase of Maggie Osborne the witch. There used to be much joking among the inmates. Witherington would torment the farmer, and point to the apparition of his dear departed wife, first at one side, then the other, and then he would turn him suddenly round-" There she is ! Lookher in the face, if you dare !" Witherington and Paterson the farmer were both served with indictments to go to Edinburgh, there to stand their trial. Witherington used to idealize on the issue. " I will be dismissed simpliciter from the bar, but you are sure to be hanged." Then he would repeat the sentence with great solemnity, never forgetting to put on his auld bonnet in personification of the black cap. The two went to Edinburgh, but Witherington's ideal had partaken of the same quality as dreams; was contrary in effect. After a queer trial, where circumstantial evidence had cornerned the farmer, as outsiders thought, the jury took different view of the matter, and the farmer had the pleasure of walking away from the bar to take his place once more in the outer world. The packman at starting had said-"Now we go a pleasure trip, but our home-coming will be different. I will offer my services to be your hangman, for most assuredly you will be hung up; and depend upon it, I will do you justice." Their home-coming was truly different.
John Witherington was found guilty of telling a lie ! He was tried on both the cases of robbery, but nobody could say, " Thou art the man." He was asked where he was on a certain night. He said that he was at Lochgilphead. Now, as Auld Ralston wad say, this was proven to be a manifest lie; for proof was led that, along with some other ill-looking men, he had been in public-houses in Prestwick, Monkton, Kilmarnock, and Fenwick, at times which left a space where he could have been an actor in the robberies had he chosen. Strange to say, they made as little ceremony about dooming him to death as Lucky Anderson did wi' her cat. A dismal daring did the law put on, and gave a holiday to a great breadth of Ayrshire.
On the Candlemas Friday of l815, according to the sentence of the law, John Witherington was brought through from Edinburgh. The Sheriff of Ayr received his body under strong escort on Mearns Moor, at the boundary of Ayr and Lanarkshire, and brought him on in a carriage like a gentleman to Kilmarnock, where he was well known, and where he had a boy about my age, who had an audience with his father in the Council Room. Andrew Baird's cart and horse, under the guidance of Will Wilson, a grandson of Hailie Will's, was the conveyance from Kilmarnock to Symington Toll, half way to Ayr. On the cart sat the prisoner, in company with a priest; and for a body-guard he had two troops of the Queen's Bays, who rode with drawn swords glittering in the sun. Many a false alarm was raised that day of " He's coming !" when he was not there. An audience large at least, if not respectable, had waited long, and every false alarm helped to take away the monotony of waiting. I was, with many more, on the ground four hours before the real arrival. A great many were sworn in as special constables, and the Ayrshire Militia, with a band of music, were early in possession of the field. The gallows formed the centre of attraction. It had a gruesome look. There it stood, by a' the world like an overgrown mason's tress: a heavy beam resting on two end spurs, a hole through the centre of the beam, a steeple at the corner, and a pin down the upright prop at the end on which to belay the rope. At the foot of the gallows was placed the coffin, in which the finished work of the law was to be packed after the breath had been stifled out of the body.
The coffin was a point of attraction for a time. The lid was loose, and the very inquisitive looked in and sighed. Some said that this coffin was finely seasoned, as it had been made a lang while before for some one who had got a reprieve.
About eleven o'clock the under Sheriff, Fiscal, and law officials were upon the ground, and among them the man with the rope, who was for the first time in his life to officiate as hangman. Tam Young was the hero who had stood forth a candidate for this Government situation. He brought excellent certificates of character from the colonel and officers of his regiment, which, I think, was the Berwickshire Militia. Tam was looked on ever after by those who had recommended him as a fit and proper person to fill a place of trust as " a dirty dog, and no soldier." About eleven o'clock that day Tam set up a ladder against the centre of that fatal beam, and with fear and trembling he rose in the world amid the groans and hisses of assembled thousands, whose morbid appetite was to be regaled at every step taken for the grand crash. Tam had the end of the rope in his hand- not the noose end, it lay on the ground. While he took the opposite point to thread the hole in the beam, it seemed as difficult a task as a blin' body trying to thread a sma' needle. He trembled much, and was like one about to fall. The Sheriff-Substitute gave a fine military-like shout, " Steady, sir. If you tremble that way already, sir, how will you behave when the culprit comes ?" At the word "Steady, sir !" Tam threaded the beam with a precision most astonishing. He seemed a new man, or, as Nicol Jarvie wad say, "like a dead man restored to life." The rope being now in readiness, the noose end dangled in the air above the treacherous standing-plaee, which was so planned as to forsake the feet of the coming man, and leave him at the mercy of the rope. A framework like a big kitchen table, the top of which folded down, was
hinged at the one side, and a prop at the opposite such as boys use for trapping birds. The prop was shapet like a common hay rake, a cross-head and a shank. A plank was laid on the ground, on which the foot of the shank rested, and a rope was tied to the lower end of this vile trigger. Oftentimes that day did Tam draw the pin, practising for the coming struggle, the boys never failing to salute him with a cheer.
Tam Brown, the shoemaker in Symington, had a tame jackdaw, and, like ither folk, it was early on the ground. After Tam Young had finished the rope trick the jackdaw, who had been sitting on a big saugh tree at the toll, took a flight, and circling round the crowd, alighted on the gallows. Walking along the beam it looked down at the noose, and dropping down swung for a time, every now and again giving out its monotonous " Caw." Some thought that this was a curious omen. Whether did it bode guilt or innocence ? whereas it was only jackdaw inquisitiveness. As the hour drew near, every two or three minutes the shout was raised, " Yonner he's noo." At last he did come. The sun shone bright, and, glancing on the brass helmets and drawn swords of the military, gave them at a distance an imposing effect.
A long black motley crew of followers, apart from the advance guard, came along the road from Kilmarnock with the unfortunate man. The thousands who had waited so long in the park to give him a welcome could not now stand still, but ran to meet him, crushing hedges and every obstacle so that a sight might be had of the man, just to satisfy themselves as to whether he had ever been in their house wi' his pack, for it was novv evident that he would never be back. I among the rest ran; and as boys occupy less space than big folk, and also can, when willing, squeeze their way to the front, I succeeded in this at a place on the road where some water was lying. Here the horse of the escort stepped aside to avoid the water, and when the space was opened for a moment I bolted through between a pair of horse and in to the hinder end of the cart, on which I seized by the end of the tram; and while looking up into the face of Witherington, who was pale and wan-like, one of the soldiers brought down his sabre, at the same time saying, " You d-d young scoundrel, come out of that." I was still holding by the cart. An officer sharply reproved the soldier. "Hold your peace, sir; you do not know but it is his own boy." My ear and eye caught the man of mercy, and I liked his look. It was full of humanity. Seeing that I was set down as a friend, I breasted into the cart, where sat the priest and packman We were thus guarded into the centre of a circle where the inner lining consisted of special constables, the next layer the Royal Ayrshire Militia, the outer layer or rim the Queen's Bays, next " the people, the only true source of legitimate power." When we were brought to a "stand and deliver," Tam Young put up a gangway to the cart, down which he meant to walk the man whom the law was about to elevate. When Tam came up into the cart I felt a sort of shiver, in case he might take me. There was a repulsive feeling suchas I had never felt at a man before. The priest prayed and went through his other comforting rites. A son-in-law of Witherington's, named Ewing Scott, who was a prisoner in Ayr Jail at the time, was brought up in a carriage to be allowed to take a last farewell. They shook hands. When the Sheriff asked one or other, " Have you ever seen that man before ? " I heard no answer. Scott shrunk back in the carriage, and never looked out till the man was dead. He took one peep, and withdrew his head. Witherington, after coming down from the cart, was convoyed up to the platform by the priest, followed by the 'prentice hangman, who trembled more than the culprit. After having made the rope secure about the neck of him who was to test its power, he seemed to forget that the far end was not properly adjusted. He hurried to belay at a proper length, and while so doing the signal was given that Witherington was ready to step from time to eternity. The Sheriff shouted to Tam to look sharp, which only served to confuse him. He ran to the rope and made an effort to take away the standing of his patient, whose weight, now added, made it a very different affair to bring away the pin. At one shout from the Sheriff, to pull, he laid his weight to his work. Awa' came the pin, down came the platform like a shot. Witherington hung with his toes within ten inches of the ground, and Tam Young went heels ower head with his own velocity. The scene was laughable, pitiful, and disgusting.
After hanging near to an hour, the body was lowered into the coffin, packed, and returned to Kilmarnock, to be deposited in the Low Churchyard. The grave was only two feet deep, and when the bellman was insisted on to make it deeper, he said that it was according to order. James Rowat was in Kilmarnock that day, and being acquaint with Alexander Macfie, with whom the son of Witherington was apprenticed as a shoemaker, Rowat was at the interment. A few friends performed the solemn service of making the body of non-avail for dissection. They had surmised, owing to the shallowness of the grave, that it was meant for less trouble to those who contemplated a robbery. One friend had a large bottle of vitriol, and another a bucket of quicklime. The coffin lid, which was slenderly nailed down, was lifted by the edge of a spade being inserted, and lever power applied. Each friend took a farewell look of him who was soon to be dissolved. The vitriol was applied from the face down to the toe on one leg, then up the other. This done, the lime was applied and the lid hurried on, and in this shallow grave was left the now fast decomposing body. Rowat's remark as to their leaving the kirkyard to attend the dredgy ran thus:-" When I took the last look as we were coming awa', the grave was reekin' like a lime kiln."
On the forenoon of that day on which poor Witherington's end gratified a gaping crowd, I saw a gentleman well known at Troon coming on horseback toward the toll. I ran forward and caught him by the foot when he was paying toll. He having given auld George Elphiston a shilling, had to wait a wee for the change. He looked down to me, and asked in a sharp voice what I was doing here ? I said lightsomely, "I cam' to see the man hanged." "Your master had surely very little for you to do at home." Be it known, many pennies, twopenees, and one sixpenee I had got from him when he visited our garret, or when I visited Troon. While he chid me for being present at the hanging, the auld tollman, with the shilling between his teeth, handed up the change, and as he did so, in a very bland manner inquired, "Are ye no gaun to stay and see the hangin', Mr Evans?" " I attend no such gatherings, sir," was the rapid answer; and whipping the foot which I still held out of my hand, he sent his spur into the horse's side till the blood sprung in my face. The horse made the stones fly from his feet at the start, and in a full gallop soon took my friend out of sight. Why I used to get money from him was, that my master taught a starling bird for Mr Evans, and I was requested by by him to see that the bird, being a prisoner, wanted for nothing. "See that its brose are never sour, and fresh water daily." He seemed to me a large-hearted man on all occasions. During the mild reign of George the Third, with whom and his beloved Queen life was of little value-in the subject, forgery in any shape was death without mercy. William Evans, although he had charge of the Duke of Portland's works at Troon, could not write. He went into a bank, as he had done many times before, with a bill. It was said to be a forged bill. He said no; that he came by it in a proper manner, having received it from the Howies in Irvine. They said no. The law had to be honoured, no matter who told the lie. Evans could not write; the law said that he had offered a bill, knowing it to be forged; and for so doing he came to the front of the Auld Jail in Ayr, fifteen months after I spoke to him last. Tam Young fitted the halter round his neek. Evans threw the signal from him in disgust, saying, as he left the world, " I'm a murdered man, as God's my saviour."
Such specimens may serve to show the mild atmosphere of legislative enactments at the very time when the detestable Corn Law came into being, to keep up gilded paupers at the expense of honest poverty.