This sea-abiding community, which bulks so large
in the old popular belief, must, in my treatment of them, be divided into
three classes - namely, Fin Men, Fin Wives, and the Mermaids.
As to the origin of the name Fin, I shall
not attempt to undo the musty knot. I do believe the word Fin has no more
to do with Finland than with moonland. The Orcadian peasantry of the past
were not aware of the existence of Finland. And when I asked any of the old
people why Fin Men were so named, they would smile, at what they regarded
as my simple ignorance, and say, Why surely, because they wear fins; onybody
may ken that!" Luckily this question is beyond my sphere; I merely register
what were the popular beliefs half a century ago. I give the dry bones of
these myths; let the learned who list clothe them with flesh and blood.
The Fin Man is represented as a well-formed,
lithe, sinewy and active man, with a dark and gloomy visage. He is deeply
versed in, or rather is the very embodiment of, sorcery and magic. And it
is this connection with the supernatural that gives to his countenance an
austere and gloomy aspect. He wears fins; but they are so cunningly disposed
that when seen by mortal eye they look like the human dress. He is amphibious,
but his chosen element is the sea. His winter or rather permanent home is
called Finfolkaheem, at the bottom of the sea. His summer or occasional residence
is Hildaland. Both of these abodes may be spoken of when I give what may be
called the mythical geography of my subject. The Fin Man was often seen rowing
in a small boat, but never showed a sail. His powers of rowing were unequalled;
he could pass from Orkney to Norway. or from Orkney to Iceland, with seven
warts (strokes of the oar). The Fin Man's relationship with men is, as a rule,
unfriendly. One great cause of quarrel is, men daring to fish on the Fin Man's
preserves. He would often seize the end of the fisherman's line when at the
bottom, and hold on till the line broke; leaving the fisherman minus hook
and sinker. When the boat is at anchor he will sometimes slip off the anchor
stone. And, above all, will in the dead of night wreak his vengeance on the
fishermen's boats, making a concealed hole on some part of the boats, or breaking
the oars. There was, however, one all-powerful safeguard against the depredations
of the Fin Men. If the wary fisherman cut a cross on his sinker and marked
with chalk a cross on his boat, no Fin Man would come within half a mile of
either. For, if there was one thing in the universe of which the Fin Man stood
in dread, and on which he looked with the deepest abhorrence, it was the sign
of the cross. But, if the Fin Man feared and hated the cross, he dearly loved
white or silver money; and by means of white money the Fin Man often became
serviceable to man. There are numerous tales or anecdotes illustrating the
Fin Man's intercourse with man; but want of space forbids their insertion.
When the old people were asked why the Fin Men
are now never seen? they would answer, " The Fin Men cinno' live whar' the
true Gospel is preached on de land, and a sprole used for fishing on de sea."
The first of these reasons is always given to account for the disappearance
of supernatural beings in modern days. To understand the second reason, it
should be understood that the sprole in fishing is a modern invention here,
and enables the fisher to use two hooks on one line.
Each Fin Man had a boat which, at his pleasure,
he could render invisible. And when he chose to amuse himself at the expense
of men, he could by throwing on the sea a number of chips, each of which appeared
to the human eye a boat, thus surround himself with a whole crowd of phantom
boats. No sail was ever seen on a Fin Man's boat. When seen in his boat he
always appeared in the act of rowing. But his apparent rowing was mere pretence,
his boat being really propelled by the power of sorcery. The speed of his
boat so propelled was swifter than fowl in air, or fish in sea. Yet his boat
was by no means indispensable to him for locomotion either on sea or land.
In this Fin Man myth perhaps we have the dim
memorial of a race or party who, on the establishment of Christianity in the
North, held doggedly to the old pagan faith, and were, of course, anathematized
by the Church, and tabooed by society. in such a position, where was a Norseman
to find a home but on the sea?
The Fin Wives are classed separately, because
they were credited with a large amount of interest in, and a closer connection
with, human affairs than their male relatives.
Being the children of Fin Folk, they were, while
young and unmarried, Mermaids. But married life told most unfavourably on
their features and form. Seven years of married life made the beautiful Mermaid
like the common run of women among the human race; fourteen years made them
ugly, and twenty-one years of the married yoke made them ungainly in form,
and in features disgustingly ugly. Indeed, it was one effect of the dread
curse under which Fin Folk lay, that the most beautiful of earthly creatures,
the Mermaid, should by marriage become in time an old woman, wrinkled, wizened,
faded in face, and repulsive in form. The Fin Wife, when she became old and
ugly, was often sent on shore to collect white money by the practice of witchcraft
among men. And in this art her power was accounted superlative. When settling
on shore, she passed herself off as a woman of the human race. if she settled
in Orkney, she said she came from Caithness or Shetland; if settling in Shetland,
she came from Orkney or Caithness. Sometimes she went about as a strolling
beggar; but most frequently pretended to earn a living by spinning and knitting.
And no one could match her at knitting-needles and spinning-wheel. Skilful
in curing diseases in man and cattle, she soon ingratiated herself with her
neighbours; and gradually began her infernal art. She generally kept a black
cat, which, transformed into a fish, became the messenger between its mistress
and her relatives in Finfolkland. If the supplies of white money came sparingly
or were long delayed, she would be visited by her Fin husband, who often administered
a conjugal thrashing, which confined the old witch to bed for some days. Her
powers in witchcraft were enormous; let one example suffice as proof.
The goodman of Feracleat, in Rousay (one of the
Orkneys), was a great trader to Norway. He was sailing home from his third
voyage one year, late in autumn, when, overtaken by a violent storm, his boat
was driven on shore in Shetland, and he and his crew with difficulty saved
their lives. Winter set in rough, and there was no hope of getting to Orkney
till spring; so the goodman of Feracleat took lodgings with a canty old wife,
who treated him well. Now it happened on Christmas Eve, at supper-time, that
the goodman of Feracleat was very dull and downhearted; he ate little and
said nothing. The old wife rallied him on his gloomy mood, and urged him to
eat; but to little purpose. At length, he began to bemoan himself to her "
Alack-a-day How can I be merry this night? The morn is Yule day. Oh, dear
It will be the first Yule day that I have been away from my am fireside, and
from my wife and bairns since I married. Alas well may I be sad and dour !''
'' Well,'' says the wife, '' I warrant ye would fain be aside your am folk
at sic a time. And I'm well sure ye would give the best cow in your byre if
ye could he aside your wife by cock-craw on Yule morning." "Ay, that I would
with all my heart, Lord knows," said he. ', Well, well It's all well that
ends well;" said the wife. " But take ye a drop of gin, and go to bed, goodman;
and, if ye tell me your dreams in the morning, I'll give you a silver merk
for hansel on Yuleday," so the man went to bed, and never awoke till morning.
The goodwife of Feracleat lay that night lonely
and sad; for she did not know whether her husband was dead or alive. And she
thought, as she went to bed, it would be a dreary Yule to her. On Christmas
morning, when she awoke, she was aware of some one lying under the blankets
beside her. And she knew by his deep snoring that a man lay at her side. She
struck at the intruder, crying out : " Ye ill-bred, ill-descended villain
! How dare ye come into an honest woman's bed. Get out, ye muckle beast, or,
by the Lord that made thee, I'll tear thee tae clouts!"
"Is that thy voice, my ain Maggie," said the
man, as she attempted to seize him by the throat. When she heard his voice,
she cried out, "Bless me ! Art thou my own goodman?" And sure enough, so it
was. And he had been transported from Shetland to his home in Rousay by the
power of the woman with whom he lodged, for she was a Fin Wife witch.
And as the goodwife of Feracleat was rejoicing
over her husband's homecoming, he said, "Goodwife, I doubt thou wilt not he
so blythe when thou comes to know what it cost to bring me home !" And they
both went into the byre, and found their best cow gone. And the goodwife cried,
oh, it's Brenda She's taen the best cow, and the best milker in the byre!"
And this is a true tale; for Johnnie Flett, a
Rousay man, was in Shetland the summer after, and he saw the cow tethered
near the auld wife's house. And he knew the cow quite well.
I may add that the old man who related this adventure
to me had not the slightest doubt of its veracity How often have I had to
feign belief in the wildest stories in order to secure the confidence of my
sensitive narrators!
In treating of these imaginary beings, it will
be found that my account of them differs from descriptions of the mermaid
which have often appeared. Karl Blind, in the Contemporary for September
1881, speaks of the mermaid as assuming the form and wearing the skins of
seals. Now, this view would have been regarded as utterly heterodox by the
old Orkney peasantry whom I knew forty years ago. To them the idea of a mermaid
wearing a sealskin would have seemed as ridiculous as if some blundering newspaper
should state that, " Yesterday Her Majesty the Queen held a Drawing-Room,
dressed in a coat of chain armour." In the same article, a Shetland correspondent
of the author is quoted, who says : 'Such an idea as a Mermaid I never heard
of till I saw it in some English work of fiction." My experience in Orkney
is exactly the reverse of that of the Shetlander. And I have heard a hundred
times more about mermaids from the lips of Orkney peasants than I ever saw
in books. I do not mention this in any spirit of controversy. Folk-tales may
vary in different localities; and I only profess to give, as far as I can,
a correct rendering of the beliefs in my own locality.
The mermaids were believed to be the daughters
of Fin Men; they married in their own race, as women do in the human race.
But, by a dire fatality, the marriage of a mermaid to a Fin Man doomed her
to a progressive loss of beauty. During the first seven years of married life
she gradually lost her exquisite loveliness; during the second seven years
she was no fairer than women on earth; and in the third seven years of married
life the mermaid became ugly and repulsive. The only way by which the mermaid
could escape this loss of her charms was by marrying a man of human race.
And this union could only be consummated by sexual intercourse, Hence her
frequent attempts, by displaying her beauty on the seashore and by her enchanting
music, to lure a man into wedlock. The offspring of such unions was sure to
possess all mental and manly good qualities, and rose to eminence, either
on earth as men, or as Fin Folk in the sea. The mermaid was always described
to me as the beau-ideal of matchless beauty. One of my old female gossips
used to say' " The mermaid is the loveliest creature on a' Geud's earth, or
in a' the wide sea." Her face was most lovely, and her form perfect in shape
and proportion, while her golden hair, descending below her waist, was her
matchless crown of beauty, adorning her head, and falling over her snow-white
skin in wreaths of golden tissues. With regard to her posterior all my informants
agreed that, when in the water, she had a tail; the men holding that her tail
was an integral part of her body, while the old woman declared this tail to
be a skirt, fastened at the mermaid's waist, and forming, when its wearer
was on land, a beautiful petticoat embroidered with silver and gold; when
the mermaid \vas in the sea her petticoat was gathered together and shut up
at its lower end, at once concealing the mermaid's feet and forming what foolish
men called a tail. I have often heard stiff arguments among the old folk,
as to whether the tail was a part of her dress, or was a part of the mermaid's
body. The origin of the tail is accounted for in this way. The mermaid was
first created the most beautiful of all creatures, perfect in form and lovely
in face. She had no more tail on her fair body than has the daintiest lady
in the land. Now, it chanced, one time long, long ago, that a great queen-some
say it was mother Eve herself was bathing in the sea, and as she came out
of the water, she saw sitting on a rock near by the most beautiful creature
that ever she clapped eyes on. It was the mermaid combing her golden hair.
The queen was greatly amazed at the mermaid's beauty, and being shocked to
see her sitting naked, she sent one of her maids with a gown to the mermaid.
Then the mermaid said -
I am queen of the sea, and the Mermaid's my neem,
Nae shaw my fair body I denno tink sheem,
Nae claiths file me skin, nae dress will I wear,
Bit the braw taets 0' me bonnie, bonnie hair.
The queen was filled with mad jealousy; and she,
with all the women of the land, raised a great hubbub. They said it was a
sin and a shame to allow one in the form of a woman to be seen naked on the
seashores. They said, moreover, that this sea maid was so fair, and her voice
so sweet, that no man seeing and hearing her could ever care for women. And
they said all her beauty comes by sorcery, and her music by enchantment. So
the women took no rest till they got it doomed that the mermaid should wear
a tail. But the men of the land added a caveat to this doom, that if ever
a man fell in love with a mermaid, she should have the power of laying aside
her tail.
The fact that the mermaid is represented in a
nude state, should not be looked at in the light of our present-day feelings.
The old Norsemen often luxuriated in a state of undress, thoughtless of shame,
and without the slightest idea of violating the rules of decency. The Norse
warrior would stretch himself naked before the fire, while young women rubbed
tlie backs of basking heroes. What a picture for Homer! The old love of undress
still lingers to our day in the North. Witness the vapour bath among the Swedish
peasantry, as described in the book entitled, Land of the Midnight Sun. And
it is said that German ladies bathing at Heligoland were fond of transgressing
the Governor's rule, that no female should bathe without a bathing-gown.
Doubtless the idea of the mermaid's beauty had
in some measure a refining effect on a rude peasantry. I have seen an old
withered woman, with grey hair and wizened face, her head in a sooty cap,
a sooty square of homespun over her shoulders, a torn, dirty petticoat of
homespun over her knees, her left foot stretched before her on the hearth-stone,
that foot in a stocking through which the big-toe protruded, her naked right
foot stretched over her left, while she was busy darning the stocking she
had pulled off for that purpose; while, in the midst of her poverty and squalor,
she was painting in the most glowing colours, to a group of youngsters, the
unequalled charms of the mermaid. The old woman seemed wholly absorbed by
the beauty of the being she described; her hands dropped on her knees, her
eyes glowed with the enthusiasm imparted by her description; and from the
manner in which she emphasised her laudatory words, you could not for the
moment but believe that she had seen with her own eyes the charming creature
she described, while we youngsters, with eyes wide open and gaping mouths,
sat around her spell-bound, believing every word she said.
If the mermaid's form and face were lovely, her
voice was still more attractive, and her music enchanting and dangerously
bewitching to the human ear. When she sought by her exquisite singing to allure
a man into her seductive embrace, the man who heard her had need of all his
powers of resistance to prevent his being drawn away by her captivating song.
To overcome the power of this siren song, the hearer had to repeat the following:
Geud tak a care o' me! Geud's neem,
I hear de mermaid sing;
Hid's bonnie, bonnie, bit no sae bonnie,
As Geud's bells I heeven ring.
All incantations against supernatural power must
contain the Supreme Being's name three times. As the crew of Ulysses were
saved bv wax in their ears, and as the Argonauts were delivered from the song
of the Sirens by the music of Orpheus, so was the reciter of this doggerel
freed from the magic power of the mermaid's notes.
The mermaid, when on land, was always seen combing
her yellow hair with a golden comb; but I never heard in Orcadian lore mention
made of a mirror. Her practice of doing her toilet out of doors may be regarded
by modern taste as vulgar; yet I suspect it was not so considered in olden
times. Froissart tells of a Welsh prince, commander of a French army, who,
while reviewing the fortress he besieged, sat combing his hair in the open
air.
There were many wild stories of men being carried
away by this sea-queen. One of them may be given when I treat of the Fin Man's
home. The following is given as an instance showing that the seamaid was at
first the vanquished party. I change the Doric into English, otherwise the
tale is given in the words of the old narrator. Any words in parenthesis are
explanatory interpolations.
Johnie Croy was the bravest, boldest and bonniest
man in all the broken isles of Orkney, and many a longing glance from many
a bonnie lass was cast at him; but fienty hair cared he for the lasses.
Well, it fell on a day, one time long since,
that Johnie went to the banks (seashore) to look for drift-wood. The tide
was out, and he walked under the crags on the west side of Sanday; and as
he was guiding himself through the big boulders there came to him the most
lovely sound that ever he heard in all his born days. He stood a little minute
fairly dumfoundered, his ears quaking with the beauty of that sound. There
was a point of the crag that jutted out before him, and Johnie thought the
lovely music came from the other side of that point, and peeped on the other
side; and, by my certie, he saw a sight that might have scared a fainter heart.
But I doubt Johnie was a chield that did not care much for good or ill. He
saw a mermaid sitting on a tang-covered rock combing her yellow hair, that
shone like the brightest gold. She had a silvery glistening petticoat hanging
down from her waist, and the lower ends of that skirt were folded together,
and lay behind her like a tail. From head to waist she was naked, but her
golden locks floated down over her white skin like sunshine playing about
a pillar of snow. Johnie went down on his knees and swore by the meur-steen
(generally a standing stone or boulder where district Things were held) that
he would court the beautiful creature though the wooing should cost him his
life. You see, he was fairly overcome with love of her. She sat with her back
to the sea, and he only got a glimpse of the side of her face, and that glimpse
set his heart beating like the clapper of a watermill. Though terribly in
love, he had all his wits about him. He crept down so as to get between her
and the sea, hiding under the big boulders. Sometimes he would ~ance over
the stones at her, and every glance made his heart burn with vehement love.
He crept up behind her as quiet as a mouse. He came to about two ells behind
her, while she sat unaware of his approach, combing her bonnie hair and humming
her lovely tune. Johnie rose, sprang forward, flung his arms around her neck,
and kissed her sweet mouth, I do not know how often. Bewitched fool he thought
;himself in Paradise. She sat a little minute fairly stunned. Then she sprang
to her feet, flung Johnie on the rock, and gave him a wallop with her tail
that made his rigging (spine) smart. Then opening the tails of her petticoat,
she ran to the sea as if Satan had been after her. Johnie gathered himself
up, swearing as he rose it was the first time that any one had laid his back
to the ground. When he stood up he saw the maid in the sea staring at him
with flaming eyes, burming both with love and anger. She was angry at being
so rudely kissed; yet the kisses had left a mark, not on her lips, but on
her heart, and the warm embrace of humankind filled her breast with love to
Johnie. As Johnie happened to look down he saw shining at his feet the mermaid's
gold comb. She had dropped it in her haste. Johnie held up the comb and cried,
" Thanks to thee, bonnie lass, since thou hast left me a love-token." When
she saw the comb she gave a bitter cry, saying, " Aloor, aloor! (alas, alas
!). Oh give me back my golden comb! To lose it is the sorest shame that could
ever befall me Aloor, aloor! Wherever I go the Fin Folk will call me the lass
that lost her golden comb. Oh give me back my comb!" Says, Johnie, " Nay,
my sweet bonnie buddo (probably bird). Thou'll come and bide on land with
me, for I can never love another creature but thine own lovely self.'' Nay,
nay," quoth she, I could not live in your cold land. I could not bide your
black rain and white snow. And your bright sun and reekv fires would wizen
me up in a week. Come thou with me, my bonnie, bonnie lad, and I'll make thee
a chief among the Fin Folk. I'll set thee in a crystal palace, where sunbeams
never blind, where winds never blow, and raindrops never fall. Oh come away
with me, bonnie man, and be my own loving marrow, and we shall both be happy
as the day is long." Nay, nay," quoth Johnie, " thou needest not entice me.
I was not born yesterday. But O my darling doe (dove), come thou with me!
I have a stately house at Volyar, with plenty of gear, plenty of cows and
sheep, and thou shalt be mistress of all. Thou shalt never want for anything.
Just come away and bide with me, " darling Gem-de-lovely '' (used as the superlative
of everything lovely, and often used in our old lore as the proper name of
a lovely woman).
How long they stood, what more they said, I cannot
tell. Only, the longer they stood the more they admired each other. At last
she saw folk coming far away; for mermaids see far. So she bade him farewell,
and swam out to sea, singing "Aloor, aloor my golden comb." And he saw her
yellow locks shining over her fair body, like sunbeams (lancing over white
sea foam. Johnie went home with a sore heart and heavy, carrying the gold
comb in his bosom. His mother was a wise woman; may be she was a spaewife.
Johnie told her all the tale as I tell it you, and asked her advice as to
what he should do. "Thou art a big fool," quoth his mother, "to tall in love
with a sea lass, when there are plenty of thy own kind that would be glad
to have thee. But men will be tools all the world over. So if thou wantest
to have doings with her, thou must needs keep her comb as the dearest treasure.
While thou hast her comb thou wilt have power over her. Now, if thou wilt
be wise and take my advice, thou wilt cast her comb in the sea, and think
no more on the limmer, for I can tell thee, though she may make thy summer
bright and bonnie, it will end in a woesome winter. But I see thou'll ride
thy own road, and sink in the quagmire at its end."
Well, Johnie went about his work like one bewitched,
and could think on nothing but his sea-doll. Yet he did not forget to lock
up the comb in a sure place.
Now, it fell out one night that Johnie could
not get to sleep; he lay tossing about, wearying for a sight of his Gem-de-lovely.
In the lightening of the morning he fell into a slumber, and in the glimmering
of the day he was awakened by a most beautiful sound of music in his chamber.
He lay awhile as if entranced, the music was so sweet. And then he remembered
that it was the same music he had heard at the shore and he knew it was Gem-de-lovely's
voice. He sat up and saw sitting before his bed the most lovely creature that
ever mortal eye looked on. Her face so bonnie, her yellow hair shining like
gold, and her dress so wondrous braw, Johnie took it for a vision, and tried
to say an eerisin (a short prayer, probably a corruption of orison). But never
an eerisin could he mind on. It was the mermaid. And quoth she, "My bonnie
man, I'm come back to ask if thou'll give me back my golden comb; I'm come
to see if thou'll come with me and be my loving marrow." "Nay," quoth Johnie,
"my sweet, bonnie buddo! Thou knowest I cannot do that. But, my own bonnie
darling, thou wilt bide with me and be my own dear wife. O Gem-de-lovely,
if thou leaves me again my heart will break for love of thee." Says she, "I'll
make thee a fair offer. I'll be thy marrow. I'll live with thee here for seven
years, if thou wilt swear to come with me, and all that's mine, to see my
own folk at the end of the seven years." Johnie jumped out of bed, fell on
his knees before her, and swore by the meur-steen to keep her bargain. And
with that they jumped into each other's arms, and there they cuddled and kissed
and clapped, till I wonder they were not sick of it.
Well, they were married, and as the priest prayed
Gem-de-lovely stuffed her hair in her ears. And folk all said a bonnier bride
was never seen; the gold and the silver shone on her dress, a string of pearls
was round her neck, and every pearl was as big as a cockle-shell.
Gem-de-lovely made a frugal, loving wife to Johnie.
She baked the best bread and brewed the strongest ale in all the island. And
she kept all things in good boonie (order). She was the best spinner in all
the countryside. Indeed, Gem-de-lovely made the best wife and the best mother
that was ever known. And at Volyar all things went merry as a Yuletide. Howbeit,
it is a long day that has no ending, and as the seven years drew nigh to end,
there was much stir in making ready for a long sea-voyage. Johnie said little,
may be thought much. Gem-de-lovely was very brisk and busy, yet often wore
a far-away look on her face. By this time Johnie and his wife had seven stately
bairns, as bonnie and well-favoured bairns as ever set foot on a floor. Each
of the bairns was weaned in Grannie's bosom, and now she had the youngest
bairn sleeping with her in her own little house. And on the night before the
day on which the seven years were ended, what think ye did Johnie's mother
do? It was in the heuld (midnight) when she made a cross of wire; she heated
it in the fire, and she laid the cross red-hot on the bare seat of the bairn,
he screaming like a demon.
Well, the morning came, and when they were boon
(fully equipped) Gem-de-lovely walked down to the boat. And oh she was a sight.
Stately and grand as a queen. When she came to the beach she saw her goodman
and six of her bairns in the beat. So she sent up the servants for the youngest
bairn. They soon caine back, telling her that four men had tried to lift the
cradle wherein the bairn lay, and deil an inch could they budge it. Then there
came a cloud over Gem-de-lovely's bonnie face. She ran up to the house and
tried to lift the cradle, but could not move it. She flung back the blanket
and made for lifting the naked bairn out of its cradle. The moment she touched
him she felt a dreadful burning go through her arms that made her draw back,
and she gave a wild scream. She went to the beach and into the boat with her
head hanging down, and the salt tears running from her bonnie eyes. All the
time Grannie sat on a stone with tears in her eyes, and a laugh hanging about
her mouth. As the boat sailed away the folk on the shore heard Gem-de-lovely
lamenting sore, " Aloor, aloor! for my bonnie bairn Aloor! for my bonnie boy.
Aloor, to think I must leave him to live and die on dry land !" Away, far
away, sailed the boat, nobody knows where. Johnie Croy, his braw wife, and
six eldest bairns were never more seen by mortal eye.
Grannie nursed the little boy that was left,
and she named him Corsa Croy (Croy of the Cross). He grew to be a terribly
strong and well-favoured man. When his grandmother died Corsa Croy took to
the sword, and he went far away to fight the Pagan loons in Guthaland (God's
land, that is, the Holy Land). And they said he hewed down the Pagans just
as I, with a shearing-hook, would cut down thistles. Corsa Croy gathered great
store of wealth from the chiefs he slew. He married a yarl's daughter and
settled in the south country (the island of Britain), and he and his wife
had many bairns and plenty of worldly gear. They lived happy, and if not dead,
they are living yet.
Source : Walter Traill Dennison; Originally published in
"Scottish Antiquary" - early 18th century.