The Press Gang

  This article details some information about the naval press gangs which were a real and feared feature of coastal communities for many generations in our part of the world and elsewhere.  I may well return to this subject in the future, subject of course to what I unearth. Previous blog posts on similar naval themes are listed at the bottom of the article.

The impress officers who roamed the coastal communities of Britain periodically in the 18th and early 19th centuries, better known as the Press Gang, spread panic and fear among young men and their relatives as they sought to bolster the depleted ranks of the Royal Navy. There are actually relatively few references to the Press Gang operating in Angus, at least in popular printed literature that I have come across, but they undoubtedly operated here. For some time, the navy force on the look out for men was based at Arbroath. A Captain James Greig of the 'Southesk' narrowly escaped capture by them. He was learning navigation in Christison's school in Crawford Close when he heard navy men nearby. He and another man removed the lower sash of the window and made their escape. They headed north and did not stop until they reached Laurencekirk in the Mearns. Even then, Greig lived rough in the woods at Kinnaird in case the Press Gang still pursued him. 


   Some young men employed in various trades were still targeted by the impress officers even though they had been equipped with certificates advising of their exemption from forced naval service.  Some of the local men employed in the construction of the Bell Rock lighthouse were affected. The Northern Lighthouse Board issued medals of exemption to the 35 seamen who were employed on its 5 vessels. But at least one employed man was caught out. Arbroath man George Dall was detained in 1810 during a visit to friends in Dundee. He had been employed in the construction of the lighthouse, but had been laid off in the winter months of 1810 and was apprehended in Dundee in February. The Magistrates of Dundee declared that the regulating officer had no right to take him, but the latter insisted that he had, declaring that seamen only stood protected when they were onboard their own ships. The case went to the Court of Session and Dall was eventually released after languishing in prison for a period. Although the Press Gangs were less active after the second decade of the 19th century, there were sporadic instances of them operating later. There is a tradition of the Arbroath shipbuilder Alexander Stephen allowing his employees to hide in his yard's steam box while the impress men were out looking for prey, perhaps around the year 1830.

   During the wars against the French in the early 19th century the Press Gang seem to have been based mainly at Arbroath, though another favourite hunting ground for them was Montrose. On occasions a tender would sit off Montrose at the water mouth or in the actual harbour.  Even officers were in danger of impressment. There is a tale of Captain James Greig of the 'Southesk' who was notified of the presence of the Press Gang when he was studying navigation at Christison's school in Crawford's Close, Montrose. In order to escape he and another man had to remove the sash window and abscond. They fled north into the Mearns and did not stop until they reached Laurencekirk. Greig was forced to spend three weeks hiding in the woods of Kinnaird until the danger was passed.

  A happy ending of sorts was not guaranteed for all of those unhappy men who were forced into naval service. But one such was John Crawford, a native of Broughty Ferry, who was impressed into the Royal Navy early in the nineteenth century. Six months later he lost an arm and was dismissed with a small pension. Local sympathy ensured he entered gainful employment as stationmaster at Easthaven. It seemed that he thrived in his role and lived so long that the suspicious Admiralty sent an inspector to Angus years later to check that he was still alive. Ten years later, a further two inspectors came to check on him, then - years later again - three more inspectors came to Easthaven to check that John Crawford was still alive enough to claim his (well deserved pension)!

Some Sources

J. M. Mc Bain, Arbroath Past and Present (Arbroath, 1887).

Robert Chambers, The Domestic Annals of Scotland (Edinburgh & London, 1858).

David Mitchell, The History of Montrose (Montrose, 1866).

The Montrose Review, Friday 5th August 1927.

Some Previous Maritime Posts

Fisher Folk(lore)

Perils of The Sea

Angria The Pirate

Tales of The Whales, Part One

Tales of The Whales, Part Two

Tales of The Whales, Part Three

The Newmanswalls House Ghost, Montrose

 There is a forlorness to lost places which lingers long after they have vanished, though traditions can be left behind. Newmans Walls House, on the north side of Montrose, was near the grounds of the ancient hospitaal. The ancient owners of the estate were named Paniter or Panter, and they held the crown charter of Newmans Walls from 1410 until 1610, when it was sold to the Scotts. The house was rebuilt in 1790 and, in 1809, it became the property of a family named Tailyour.

   Several of the Paniter family were notable ecclesiastics. Patrick Panter was born at Newmans walls, near Montrose, in 1470, and became abbot of Cambuskenneth in 1510. In 1516 he created the hospital at Montrose. Carved wooden panels which come from the long-vanished hospital are now in the National Museum of Scotland. (They are the subject of a previous post: Lost Treasures of Angus - Patrick Paniter's Panels from Montrose)

The Paniter Panels from Montrose Hospital

   Despite the occasional prominent cleric, there was little of any consequence recorded in the old house of Newmanswells, and there are few records of what it actually looked like, which makes the following story all the more intriguing.

The Montrose Standard reported on Friday 30 September 1938 that the house had almost completely been destroyed by fire on the previous weekend. There had never been a tradition of the mansion being haunted in former times, but three weeks before the blaze a blind man and his wife had come to stay in one of the upper bedrooms where there was a four-poster bed. In the middle of the night he woke his wife to say that he heard someone moving about by the dressing table. The lady jumped out of bed but discovered nobody there. Worse was to come. Three days before the fire the same unfortunate gentleman was shaving himself when he was grabbed by two spectral hands which turned him completely around. He groped around to find who had laid hands on him, but nobody at all was there. He and his wife left the property shortly thereafter. And the house then mysteriously went up in flames. It was completely demolished in the 1960s and modern housing now stands on the site. 

   No-one has, to my knowledge, identified the very transitory ghost that occupied Newmanswalls in its dying days.

For an interesting article (sadly, ghost-less) about the house see Montrose Basin Heritage Society

Fairs and Markets (and Festivals), Part Three: Brechin

   As is the way with this blog, continuations of previous posts often take an extremely long time since the previous parts. Fairs and Markets Part 2 was published as long ago as September 2017. (Fairs and Markets Part 1 was written the previous year.) This post concentrates on the famous Trinity Market of Brechin, famed throughout Angus and beyond. Quite of lot of the previous post concentrated on Brechin and this article adds some more information to that. Further posts about other markets will doubtless transpire in the indeterminate future. Other markets were held in Brechin, as elsewhere, but this post concentrates on the most famous Brechin gathering. 

   As stated in previous pieces, the Trinity Tryst (or Taranty) has ancient roots and was held on Trinity Muir for three days, starting in the second Wednesday in June, but in modern times shrunk to two days. The burgh magistrates held a daily court during the fair and were led there with much pomp by an armed bodyguard and officials of the town and respresentatives of all the crafts. A sumptuous luncheon was held for all in Justice Hall.

 While more sober decriptions of the market and its activities have been described previously, this article concentrates on press coverage, mainly the social side of the event. Hats off to the witty reporters of past generations in the local press, who are anonymous. If they concentrated on the more bawdy side of the occassion, let us not doubt that the majority of the traders and attendies were abstemious, serious and wise. 

   To start with here's an article which appeared in the Montrose Standard, 30th June 1890:

The weekly auction marts are telling upon the fortunes of the ancient Trinity Tryst. few fat cattle were shown on Thursday, and the market may soon only become a field day for Irish stores. With the horse market on Friday it was different. The Auction Companies have not yet made any striking impression on the horse market. Consequently in Friday a thoroughly representative gathering of horses was seen, and as with the horses so with the people. Aristocrates elbowed drovers, and the bob-tail of humanity mixed with the "nobs" of the district. It takes a deal of swearing to sufficiently impress the worth of an animal on an intending purchaser. This leaves both throats dry, and they adjourn to the nearest tent to restore the parched conduit pipe. When once there good fellowship sometimes overcomes moderation, and neither leave, but are trailed out. About five o'clock the muir resembles a battlefield in more than one respect. It has fights and tents, where the wounded lie where they have fallen. Policemen are busy restoring the equlibrium in the moral and material world. Beside the tents which they have so gallantly assaulted all day numbers lie, rendered incapably of further action that day at least. And so the battle rages on, and the respectable edge off homeward. By and by the ark of the occasion - the beer barrel - is borne off the field by the Philistines. A forward moved to Brechin and neighbouring "pubs" is made by the remaining active service men, and Trinity market is left silent with the debris and wreck of the engagement strewn thickly around.

  

   While the nineteenth century is sometimes cited as the heyday of the Trinity, its fortunes waxed and waned from year to year in accordance with the agricultural economy and other factors. The Caledonian Mercury (Midlothian, 22nd July 1815) reported that the Trinity Market that year went off very well and though cattle did not make as much money as previously, few remained unsold. Prices for horses were high but sales were very dull and prices fell considerably towards the end of the market.The reporter then stated: 'Not withstanding the very depressed state of agriculture, the rage for farms does not appear to be altogther abated. There is some considerable ones let in this county of late, at rather high rents for the present value of produce...'

   The Montrose Review gave the following summary of the market a generation later (21st June, 1850):

Trinity Market. —This large fair has got in some measure a new phase. Now that railway facilities are so great, a very large number of the frequenters of the market from a distance find it more convenient to come by rail on the morning of the principal market, instead of as formerly, from the limited means of conveyance, on the evening previous, so that, generally speaking, our town, on the evening preceding the fair, has very quiet appearance, and lodgings are not difficult to be had. On the other hand, with a large portion of the lower class of citizens, matters seem to be retrograding. Giving themselves up to indiscriminate drinking, scenes of a heartrending description are too frequently exhibited. The Muir being the general rendezvous for these Bacchanals, any restraint felt in the town is cast aside, and vice, in all its deformity, reigns supreme.

   In 1871, the autumn market was recorded as a shadow of its former self (Brechin Advertiser, 3rd October 1871): 

 

The Convener’s Market was held in the Trinity Moir Stance on Tuesday last. The day was tine, but, notwithstanding, there was meagre attendance dealers and farmers, well a poor show of cattle, the whole , number on the ground not exceeding 250, the whole of which were Irish. Dealers were asking very high prices, and the whole the market was stiff one, about the half not being sold, and sent Forfar to stand the market.

    On the social side of things, the Brechin markets still attracted large numbers of the local populace. The Dundee Courier (12th June 1874) wrote:

On Thursday forenoon, large numbers of the workers at the East Mills paraded the streets, behaving themselves in a very excited manner. The mills were to have been kept going this year till two o'clock, instead of stopping at twelve formerly, and this not being in accordance with their tastes, they refused to in at ten o'clock. It would seem there something very attractive about a " Trinity" market, least to the workers at the East Mills.

   There was some degree of misbehaviour at fairs and markets, wherever they were held, and many minor acts of criminality were down to overindulgence. The Montrose Review on 7th August 1863 reported a case of drunken criminality associated with the market:

John Hosea, broker dealer, from Brechin, was charged with having, the night the 12th June last, stolen from the person or custody of George Duncan, farmer, West Pittendriech, Brechin, £4l in bank notes, his property. Panel pled not guilty, and jury was empanneled. From the evidence, it appeared that the complainer had attended Trinity Market the day in question, and had there partaken freely of "mountain dew." He, however, was apparently up to a thing or two, he forthwith deposited the aforesaid sura in the leg of one of his boots. He appeals then to have visited a house of questionable character the Gallowhill Road of Brechin; and after remaining there a short time with a female, and forgetting where he had deposited his money, on searching his pockets, he freely alleged he had been robbed, and kicked most uncomfortable row for want his cash. This state of matters not being relished by his "lady love," she must needs have the police clear the matter up. Duncan's obfuscation of his senses, however, wore off, and reaching the door the said domicile be commenced taking the money furth from the boot to see if it was all right; when the prisoner, who had followed him from the bouse and appeared somewhat familiar with him, suddenly struck Duncan on the wrist, knocking the notes out of his hand, and speedily lifting up his booty, decamped with it— Duncan in hot pursuit. The money was traced to the possession of Hosea, who accounted for having such sum by saying had made excellent profit in dealing amongst "sheep” (?), and had won  a £5 note a wager with a tinker. At the conclusion the evidence, and after a lucid and unbiased summing up of the evidence the Sheriff, the jury, retiring for a short time, returned a verdict unanimously finding the pannel guilty as libelled. The learned Sheriff, in passing sentence, impressed upon the prisoner the necessity of improving the period of his imprisonment by endeavouring to reform his character; and remarked that he was fortunate in having his case tried before the present court, as, approaching si closely as it did to the crime of robbery, if he had been tried before the Circuit Court, his punishment would have been more severe. He was then sentenced to twelve months' imprisonment in the General Prison at Perth.

   Seven years later there was a less dramatic incident of criminality which again highlighted the prevalence of alcoholic overindulgence at the market. The Dundee Courier stated (on 17th June 1870) that James Smith admitted stealing a watch from a man and was sentenced to ten days' imprisonment. Smith, a labourer, had promised a town constable that he would see another man, a smith, safely home to his door. However, after taking him 400 or 500 yards on his way he decided to relieve him of his watch and left him lying on the roadside in a drunken stupor. In 1878, meanwhile, a Mearns man named Richard Emslie claimed that he had been duped out of £20 by some Irishmen following the sale of a horse (Arbroath Guide, 22nd June, 1878). It seems to have been a perennial risk during market times. In July 1886, a local man named William Nicoll was robbed of a substantial sum by three associates he went drinking with during market time (Forfar Herald, 9th July 1886). Two years later an 'obsterporous merchant' was charged with drunk and disorderliness at the North British railway station, where he kicked a porter 'in a dangerous part of the body'. He was given the option of either paying 20 shillings or going to prison for 14 days (The Dundee Courier, 19th June 1888). Instances of similar robbery occur sporadically in  newspaper reports for several decades afterwards.

   The markets and fairs were also represented as attracting unsavoury characters such as vagrants and tramps. The Dundee Advertiser reported on 25th June 1889 that, in Kirriemuir:

James Johnstone, umbrella maker, of no fixed place of abode, was charged with rioutous, drunken, and disorderly conduct on the public street. He pled guilty. The Public Prosecutor explained that although this was Johnstone's first appearance in Court here it was not the first time he had locked him up, and that he only constituted one of a band of tramps or vagrants that have infested the burgh ever since Trinity Market, to the annoyance of the general community. Johnstone pleaded hard to be allowed to go; but the Magistrate imposed a fine of 5s, or two days' imprisonment. He went to prison.

   The homeless were perceived as being a perennial problem at Trinity. In 1910, it was reported that 'the usual shoal' of tramps arrived in Brechin at market time, whose conduct was 'not altogether above reproach'. Among the influx were Forfarians Francis Morrell and his wife Mary Ann, who drunkenly used abusive and disgusting language towards each other in public. They were fined 10 shillings each, with the default of 7 days in prison.

Further Reading

F. Marian MacNeill, The Silver Bough, Volume 4, Local Festivals (Glasgow, 1968). 

Fiona Scharlau, Old Brechin (Mauchline, 2001).

More Angus Rhymes

 Like many other posts, this is a hotch-potch of information very loosely tied by a single theme (more often than not tied up with a shoogly knot). But, while many posts have been lovingly mined from a selection of sources, this one derives mostly from one ancient article: 'Popular Rhymes of Forfarshire,' published in the Aberdeen Journal Notes & Queries, 1912, written by David Grewar, except where otherwise noted.

   Much of Grewar's material was sourced from Robert Chambers' venerable Popular Rhymes of Scotland (3rd edition published 1870), a wonderful compendium of nationwide folklore. Other bits have evidently come from our local Victorian historians Alexander Warden and Andrew Jervise. Links to my two previous posts on local rhymes can be found at the end of this article. 

   Unlike many other pieces of folklore, many rhymes which have survived have only done that by accident and are passed down or recorded in fragmentary form, and we can only guess at their original context. At best, they provide a fleeting glimpse into long-vanished places, events or practices. Even when they stir up more questions than answers, these short snippets, like mosaic pieces, can be very evocative. The benison or standing toast given by the deacon of the craft of weavers of Arbroath at their meetings warmly extended good fortune to other occupations which were important to the burgh:

The life o' man, the death o' fish,

the shuttle, soil and ploo;

corn, horn, linen, yarn,

lint an' tarry oo!

   To the west of Arbroath are East Haven and West Haven in Panbride parish, and the following rhyme extols the virtues of a particular ale-house, whose staple tipple bestowed upon its drinker a particular keeness of thought (not usually the case with alcohol):

East Ha'en's ale's gude,

West Hae'en's ale's strang,

But Eppie Ramsay's ale

Maks me think lang

   The following dittay would have fitted nicely into my previous article about children's games - 'Bairn Sangs' (link below), had I known about it at the time. 

I set my foot on Airlie's green,

An' Airlie daurna tak me;

I canna get time to steer my brose,

For Airlie's trying to catch me.

    This snippet of verse is explained as part of a game played by children in Brechin. The Ogilvy family of Airlie Castle apparently owned a small plot of land in Brechin. In the game, a chosen child stood in a marked off piece of land, Airlie's Acre, and tried to grab the other children who darted in and out of this plot. When a child was caught, he or she took the place of the first child and tried to catch the others. 

Forter Castle, Glenisla

    Another children's rhyme from Brechin is below. Prior to 1845, licensed beggars paraded the city's streets each Thursday, loudly asking for alms. The reference to Friday is because it was a popular day for weddings.

Fuirsday's the puir's day,

Friday's the bride's day,

And Saturday we get to play.

   The following verse appeared in The Montrose Review (Friday 20 April, 1928) and was used as a nursery rhyme for the amusement of young children. It would not be allowed these days, needless to say. 'The reciter's thumb was pointed at the child while the rhyme was repeated,' says the anonymous contributor, 'and at the words "durkit" or "dirkit" was made to dirk the baby's bosom:

                                                         
                                                            I met a man i' Muir o' Skeen,
                                                            He had dirks and I had nane;
                                                            But I fell till him wi' my thooms
                                                            And dirkit him, and dirkit him.
                                                            Dirk, dirk, dirkit him.
                                                            But I fell till him wi' my thooms
                                                            And dirk, dirk, dirkit him.

      In the Arbroath district the following rhyme was recited to amuse small children, referring to various parts of the anatomy (Children's Rhymes, Children's Games, Children's Songs, Children's Stories, Robert Ford, Paisley, 1904, p. 20):

                                                            Brow o' knowledge

                                                            Eye o'life,

                                                            Scent bottle,

                                                            Penknife,

                                                            Cheek cherry,

                                                            Neck o' grace,

                                                            Chin o' pluck -

                                                            That's your face.

                                                            Shoulder o' mutton,

                                                            Breast o' fat,

                                                            Vinegar-bottle,

                                                            Mustard-pot,

                                                            That's my laddie.

   A simple rhyme from Kirriemuir was also a one-time favourite among the young people there (The Barrie Inspiration, Patrick Chalmers, 1938, 87:

                                                            I see something an' sanna tell

                                                            A' the dogs o' Kirriemuir canna ring the bell.

            

   The children of Dundee in the early nineteenth century used to taunt a poor carter in the burgh who was a target because of his strange appearance. He was called Harrow because of his ling and strange looking teeth. His horses were always poor looking specimens. A surviving anecdote syas he was suprised when a horse he bought in the country was able to distinguish between oats and sawdust.

Will Harrow,

Deil a marrow.

   The following verse is said to have been composed by an eccentric man named William Candow, who collected and sold eggs in the Kilry district of Glenisla:

       I gaed aboot frae toon tae toon

       An' ca'd the Derrys up an' doon,

       The Cotton too an' Mailnacraig,

       I got my ca' but fient an egg.

   Unfortunately William perished in a tragic accident. The following article is from The Glasgow Herald, 31st December, 1855, summarising a report from a Dundee newspaper:

    Another rhyme from Glenisla which has survived, albeit without the context which would explain the full meaning is below. It seems to be part of a longer poem detailing some long ago tragedy

I'll be lost in Isla water,

I'll be found in Isla stream;

Bonnie Bawbie's me forgotten,

Man an' horse she's sent me nane.

   I note that the name Bonnie Bawbie occurs in an unrelated ballad set in Garioch, Aberdeenshire, titled 'The Skranky Black Farmer.'

   The following geographical rhyme makes limited sense (to me at least). Grewar states that it reflects the humourous view of an inhabitant of west Angus regarding the prospects or the principal characteristics of those who live in the four compass points from where he lives. (I believe the word 'fidgin' may relate to the word 'fidgity'):

East for brose,

Wast for religion,

Sooth for sair wark,

An' north for fidgin'.

   Why the different areas should be characterised in the rhyme is unknown. I can only guess that the 'sair work' in the south refers to the labour in the mills and factories of Dundee.

   There were probably once a large number of local rhymes relating to the weather, as being foretold from the local landscape, but most of these have now vanished. The following comes from Lundie near the mouth of the Tay:

       When the sands o' Barrie cry - it's rain,

       The Hard o' Keiller - it's frost again.

   David Grewer adds this explanation: 'When country people some distance inland from this part of the coast hear the sound of the breakers in the direction of Barry - that is to gthe southward - they expect a freshet, or rain in the winter season. On the contrary, if the sound comes from the direction of the mouth of the KeillerBurn, to the northward, hard weather is to be expected. In other inland parts of the county a somewhat similar belief prevails. If on a winter evening, the sound of a southerly running stream comes from the north, the common remark is, "The soon o' the water's up; it's to be frost." If on the contrary the sound emanates from the south, "The soond o' the water's doon; it's to be fresh" is the remark, if frost then revails.' 

   Many rhymes particularly in the east and north-east Scotland are attributed to the rather gloomy predictions of Thomas the Rhymer and the following was found in the area of Carmoustie:

        The braes o' Fettermore,

        Hae been a guid ship-shore.

An alternative version ran:

        The braes o' Fettermore,

        Again shall be a guid ship-shore.

   This rhyme about the great hero William Wallace, who is supposed to have campaigned in the region north of Dundee, was included in an earlier article:

                                                       Wallace pitched his camp on Clatto Hill,
                                                       and ground his corn at Philaw's Mill.

   An alternative verse runs:

                                           
                                                      Wallace encamped at Tothil Hill,
                                                      And ground his corn at Falla Mill.

   

   Never mind the fact that Wallace, in all likelihood, never did any such thing!

   The following rhyme was included in one of Colin Gibson's 'Nature Diary' entries in The Courier (30 January 1993). The rhyme belongs to the district north of Lintrathen and there is a background story. There was once a battle here between two great chieftains and each was slain. Once was buried in the place now named Cairn Motherie and the other at Cairn Plew. A tradition grew up that there is buried treasure in these places, though neither has been excavated. The rhyme runs as follows:

 

Gin ye howk Cairn Motherie

As he howked Cairn Plew,

Ye'll win a kist o' gold

That will a' Lintrathen rue.

   Also from upland Angus comes the following snippet, which refers to the excessive inaccessibility of a farm in Glenesk:

                                                            

                                                            There's a road tae heaven
                                                            and a road tae hell.
                                                            But nae road tae Keenie!

    Perhaps the simplest rhymes of long ago are those which take pleasure merely in the pleasant sounds of local place-names, many of which have vanished. An example of this is the following rhyme from the vicinity of Tannadice:

                                                          

                                                            The Feerich and the Fogil,
                                                            The Burn root of Ogil,
                                                            Deuks-Dubs, Tirliewhangie,
                                                            Water o' Saughs, an' Drumly Harry.

Previous Related Posts

A Mixed Bag of Rhymes

A Mixed Bag of Rhymes (Part Two)

Bairn Sangs - Children's Rhymes and Games 

                                                Rhymes and Rivalries: Water, Place Prejudice, Death

                                                William Wallace Was a Dundee Schoolboy 

 

The 'Murder' of Margaret Warden

 The case of Mary Elder, tried for murder of her servant Margaret Warren, has been summerised in many places in the nearly two centuries since the event. The case attracted authors like William Roughead in Twelve Scottish Trials (1913) and Haunted Dundee by A. H. Millar (1923). Even before that, there was a popular ballad floating around Dundee and south Angus entitled 'The Wife o' Denside', which had no doubt about the guilt of Mary Elder. (The version from Haunted Dundee is copied below.) The case also gained wider notoriety by a broadside pamphlet printed in Edinburgh soon after the trial there in 1828. Among the spectators in the court room was a certain Sir Walter Scott.

   The basic facts in the case is that Margaret Warden, a twenty-five year old servant to Mary Elder and David Smith of West Denside, Monikie, near Dundee, had died suspiciously after being adminsitered some drinks by elder. The poison was supposed to have been administered on 5th September, 1826, with Margaret dying three days later. The details were summarised in the contemporary broadside:

the deceased turned unwell on Tuesday, and that the prisoner
gave her something to drink of a whitish colour, in a
large dram glass, with a peace of sugar to take after it, about nine
o'clock at night, which she swallowed, and went to bed. That she
turned ill before morning, complaining much of her inside, and suf-
fering from thirst; and, on drinking water, which she always cried
for, saying her inside was burning, she immediately threw it up:
That the prisoner, on Thursday night, a witness observed, came and
asked the deceased if she thought a drap whisky would be good
for her, to which the witness, Jean Norrie, a fellow servant,who
slept with the deceased, replied, that she had got enough of that,
or something else, she could not tell what, for such purging and
vomiting she never before had seen. That Margaret Warden's
mother was sent for and came to see her on Friday forenoon, the
day she died, and said to this witness, in presence of her mother and. I
Ann Gruar, another witness, 'you ken wha has been the occasion
of my lying here, but dinna say nathing; they will get their re-
wards, but I forgive them.' That she died that night at 9 o'clock,
and her body appeared of a blackish colour.

   The background to the household was the key to what transpired. David Smith was a great deal older than his forty-two year old wife and does not seem to have been involved in what transpired. Margaret Warden was one of several servants who stayed there. She was also pregnant, allegedly by a son of the household, George Smith. There was another son and two daughters in the family. One daughter lived with her parents; the other was the farm foreman's wife. Apart from Margaret Warden, there was another female servant under the same room, Jean Norrie, though there were other servants and employees who did not sleep in. 

   In the year previous to her death, Margaret had her first pregnancy and went back home to her mother in Baldovie. Mary Elder visited her several times, and, following some harsh words and discussion, had her back at Denside after the child was born. Whether the father of this bairn was Margaret's son is not known. In 1826, Margaret and George Smith became romantically involved, and Mary was outraged and put the servant out of the house. After a fraught meeting at her mother's house, full of anger and accusation, Mary stated she would go to Dundee and 'would get something for Margaret' there. Margaret went back to Denside that night. It was inferred that Mary was bringing something which would terminate the pregnancy. 

Modern building at West Denside

   On the evening of Tuesday 5th September, 1826, Mary Elder came to Margaret in the presence of Jean Norrie, around 10 o'clock, and gave her a drink in a dram glass. It was a thick white mixture. Margaret drank it and also took a small lump of sugar to dispell its bitter taste. She was seriously ill during the night and next morning she was too sick to work. Jean asked that night if their mistress had been attending to her. 'Rather too weel,' Margaret said. When Jean said she feared her friend was dying, Margaret replied, 'Some folks would be glad o' that.' On Elder suggesting that Margaret take some whisky, Jean voiced her suspicions and said that Margaret 'had got eneuch o' that or some ither thing, she could not tell what, for sik a purgin' an' vomitin' she never saw'. Margaret said the goodwife had already given her whisky, which was burning her insides. In private, Jean advised Margaret to take nothing further from their mistress. 

When it was clear that Margaret's condition was life-threatening, her mother was sent for a doctor was summoned from Broughty Ferry. When he arrived, Dr Taylor asked if she had been given any medicine and was told she had only been administered castor oil. He asked why no doctor had been summoned earlier and was told that the patient was 'a light-headed cutty' whose complaints were not taken seriously. When it seemed clear there was no hope or treatment for her, the doctor left, believing his patient was dying with cholera. In her final hours, Margaret informed her friend Jean that the person responsible for her condition would 'get their reward'. At nine in the evening she died, just as she was trying to tell her mother what 'medicine' Mary Elder had administered to her.

   Margaret Warden was buried on Sunday 10th September. Rumours began circulating in the area that Margaret's death was connected with the fact that she was pregant by George Smith. Several weeks later she was disinterred and the body disected in the kirk-yard. Some particles of poison were taken from her stomach. Dr Taylor said that the accused had repeatedly enquired if Margaret's violent vomiting would cause an abortion, adding, 'I dinna care though such a thing [a miscarriage] should happen, for the gude man would tear down the house if he ken'd it.' Mary Elder was questioned by the sheriff in Dundee and, despite denying poisoning her servant, was placed in jail there. 

  The trial took place on Monday 19th February, 1827, and it attracted wide attention from people in Edinburgh, among them Walter Scott, who wrote in his journal:

Dined at Sir John Hay's, where met the Advocate
and a pleasant party. There had been a Justiciary trial
yesterday, in which something curious had occurred. A
woman of rather the better class, a farmer's wife, had been
tried on the 5th for poisoning her maid-servant. There seems
to have been little doubt of her guilt, but the motive was
peculiar. The unfortunate girl had an intrigue with her son,
which this Mrs. Smith was desirous to conceal, from some
ill-advised puritanic notions, and also for fear of her husband.
She could find no better way of hiding the shame than giving
the girl (with her own knowledge and consent, I believe)
potions to cause abortion, which she afterwards changed for
arsenic, as the more effectual silencing medicine. In the
course of the trial one of the jury fell down in an epileptic
fit, and on his recovery was far too much disordered to permit
the trial to proceed. With only fourteen jurymen it was
impossible to go on. But the advocate, Sir William Eae,
says she shall be tried anew, since she has not tholed an
assize. Sic Paulus ait—et rede quidcm. But, having been
half-tried, I think she should have some benefit of it, as far
as saving her life, if convicted on the second indictment.
The advocate declares, however, she shall be hanged, as
certainly she deserves. But it looks something like hanging
up a man who has been recovered by the surgeons, which
has always been accounted harsh justice.

   

Defence lawyer Francis Jeffrey in 1825

   The defence at the trial contended that the young woman had committed suicide. Despite plenty of witnesses piling up corrobarative circumstantial evidence, and the widespread belief that Mary Elder had the motivation, means and opportunity to get rid of her awkwardly pregnant servant, the jury did not wholehertedly agree. Witnesses included Dr Dick, an old friend of the accused who said that Mary had asked him to procure arsenic for rats which were plaguing the farm. The lads who slept in the bothy at Denside vehemently denied there was any rodent problem there. The eloquent closing defence given by Francis Jeffrey was delivered to jurors at one in the morning.

  Next day the jury delivered the verdict 'not proven'. Some culpability was suspected, but guilt could not be established. Or it may be that they mostly believed she was trying to end the life of the unborn child rather than its mother, and for this she did not deserve death. For one, Walter Scott was outraged by this:

At Court, and waited to see the poisoning woman. She is clearly guilty,
but as one or two witnesses said the poor wench hinted an
intention to poison herself, the jury gave that bastard verdict,
Not Proven. I hate that Caledonian medium quid. One who is
not proven guilty is innocent in the eye of the law. It was a face
to do or die, or perhaps to do to die. Thin features, which had
been handsome, a flashing eye, an acute and aquiline nose, lips
much marked, as arguing decision and, I think, bad temper
— they were thin and habitually compressed, rather turned down
at the corners, as one of a rather melancholy disposition.
There was an awful crowd; but sitting within the bar, I had
the pleasure of seeing much at my ease ; the constables
knocking the other folks about, which was of course very
entertaining.

   Scott also remarked, more pithily, after the trial, 'Well, sirs! All I can say is, if that woman was my wife, I should take care to be my own cook.'

  A. H. Millar transcribed the ballad about the supposed murderer in 1884 from an old bed-ridden lady named Barbara Hodge, living at Downfield in Dunee, who was one of the witnesses at the trial. She had formerly been a servant alongside lamented Margaret Warden at Denside. And she had no doubt about her former employer's guilt.

THE WIFE O’ DENSIDE.

Ye'll a’ ha’e heard tell o’ the Wife o’ Denside,
Ye’ve surely heard word o’ the Wife o’ Denside,
Wha pushioned her maid to keep up her pride,
An’ the Deevil is sure o’ the Wife o’ Denside.

The Wife o’ Denside, the little wee buddie,
She tried to tak’ up the trade o’ the howdie,
But ah! ha, ha! her skill was but sma’,
For she pushioned baith lassie an’ bairn an’ a’.



Her tippet was brown and her veil it was black,
An’ three lang feathers hung ower her back,
Wi’ her purse by her side fu’ o’ guineas sae free
That saved her frae death at the Cross o’ Dundee.



Oh! Jeffrey, oh! Jeffrey, ye hinna dune fair,
For ye’ve robbed the gallows o’ its ain lawfu’ heir.
An’ it hadna been you an’ your great muckle fee
She’d hae hung like a trout at the Cross o’ Dundee!

Further Reading

Nigel Gatherer, Songs and Ballads of Dundee, John Donald, Edinburgh, 2000.

Forbes Inglis, Murders and Misdeeds: Angus and Dundee, 1765-1900, The Pinkfoot Press, Balgavies, 2013.

A. H. Millar, Haunted Dundee, Malcolm C. McLeod, Dundee, 1923.

William Roughead, Twelve Scottish Trials, William Green & Sons, Edinburgh & London, 1913.