Caithness Folk-Tales and Historical Incidents.
Edited by John Mowat, F.S.A. Scot.
1 Folk-Tales on Clod-Throwing.
At the beginning of the eighteenth century* there were stories of strange and mysterious happenings in Caithness, concerning which some believed and others doubted. One of these mysterious and uncanny manifestations was what was described as “Clod-throwing.” There were at least three instances of these happenings which created extraordinary sensations. One was in the Braemore district of Latheron, another in the Spittal district of Halkirk, and a third at Frewick in Canisbay. Each of the cases had this similarity that the afflicted parties were assailed with broken pieces of peat or clods within certain houses and thrown by unseen hands.
The first instance comes from the inland parish where the inmates of a certain dwelling were tormented by clods coming from the burn, and visitors to the house were assailed in the same way. In these days, in many of the country houses, the fire was in the centre and set against a wall known as the “brace,” and in the roof above, was the “lum” which permitted the smoke to leisurely find its way out. This was a very natural way for mischievous boys to find an opportunity to molest the inmates. One night, a doubting neighbour, thinking to waylay the perpetrators and to suppress the scandal, climbed on to the thatched roof and watched the lum. Nothing happened outside, but the missiles continued to fly about the fireside. Then it was the custom for a quantity of peats to be taken into the fire-room during the day and put into a corner known as the “peat-neuk.” It was from here the clods came. Some neighbours came to make light of the whole affair, and for the peat clods substituted potatoes. Next evening the watchers were welcomed by a shower of potatoes. They were now persuaded that it was not the work of human hands. All made for the door, and the owner of the house was left with the supernatural company. It was now decided that something must be done. A consultation was held and it was agreed that a cock should be taken from a neighbouring district and put among the fowls at the haunted house, and a Bible placed above the door. This was done and at night-fall the cock began to crow and continued until dawn. From that night there was no more clod-throwing. Such was the story told by one of the watchers to the narrator many years ago.
The second story, known as “The haunted girl of Braemore,” received considerable publicity and even press notice. The girl, whose name was Murray, was about 14 years of age when the molestations began. Whatever house she happened to be in after dark, unaccountable things would happen. Peats would suddenly spring from the fire on to the floor. Potatoes would leap from the table, and chairs would make attempts to dance. Bits of turf and peats would come flying in at the open door or windows. As no one was hurt by the flying missiles, it would appear the mission assigned to them was more to annoy than to damage, and although these annoyances followed the girl for a number of years, she did not seem to be frightened and accepted the perplexing business with considerable coolness.
There was some attempt at explanation. One was that the girl had removed the broken part of a coffin from the churchyard. Another was that the girl and a chum disputed and were belabouring each other with broken peats, when the mother of her other girl, known as uncanny, appeared and said to the girl Murray, “you are fond of clods, but will get plenty of them by and by.” However it might be explained, at the time there was a firm belief in a supernatural power at work.
The third illustration was popularly known as “Sanny Gray’s Clods,” and at the time created quite a sensation in the county. Sanny was a cobbler, and lived on the Heather of Freswick. For a period he was subject to a curious affliction, never fully explained. It was the general report in the district that “clods or broken pieces of peat would rise from the hearth and strike him in the face. Or as he sat at his work on his cobbler’s stool similar missiles would come down the lum and over the bed, directed at his person. Even the sharp tools on the stool would rise and wound him.” His case achieved considerable notoriety and people came from all parts to enquire into the mystery. The Rev. Robert Caldwell, Independent Minister, was one of the visitors, and it is said that, while he was engaged in devotional exercises, a clod struck him in “‘e sma o’ ‘e back.” Capt. Sutherland was another who decided to call and show his unbelief. He, it is said, was assailed by a fiery peat. A neighbour, an elder of the kirk, also went to sit with the cobbler for a night and during the evening a missile, heavier than usual, landed on the cobbler’s stool, and sent an awl flying, which struck the thumb of the elder and left a mark. For some generations the name of the cobbler was whispered with awe.
Associated with the story was this explanation. Sanny had a servant lassie whom he had cause to dismiss, and did so using an oath. From that time the plague of clods began and continued until the servant left. This was sufficient, and, by the superstitiously inclined, it was believed that the divine wrath had been vented on the house for the rough language that had been used to a young and innocent girl. Such are the tales as they were told.
In ‘Old-Lore Miscellany of Orkney, Shetland, Caithness and Sutherland’ Vol. X. Viking Society for Northern Research. 1935-46.