THE burial vault of the great barons of Edzell, which was attached to the south side of the kirk, forming the old and important adjunct of an aisle, is still entire. It is a plain, unostentatious mausoleum, rather incompatible with the wealth and power of its noble founder; but in excellent keeping with his solemn and benign character. It was erected about the middle of the sixteenth century, by David Lindsay of Edzell, who became the ninth Earl of Crawford; and the kirk had, perhaps, been rebuilt and slated at the same time. The roof of the vault is covered with grey slates, and has recently been repaired, and the big window on the south is guarded by heavy staunchels of iron, which, alike with the fine grated door at Invermark castle, had probably been dug from native mines, and smelted in the locality. Earl David was buried here at his own request, as were his first spouse, Janet Gray (who pre-deceased him, in 1549), and the most of their successors. The aisle is entered by a small door on the north, and a flight of steps, hewn of the soft red sandstone of the locality, leads to the gloomy chamber. Internally, the vault is only about nine feet square, and so crowded with rubbish and bones, that no adequate idea can be had of its real height. The sides and roof are of solid ashler, constructed with great care, and the centre of the roof terminates in the mortuary semblance of four skulls, cut by a bold and vigorous chisel. An iron ring is fixed in the midst of these for suspending the lamp, which was believed to light the souls of the departed through the unknown maze to eternal bliss. But of all the powerful personages here interred, no memorial exists to perpetuate their individual characters, or even their names. It is true, that a large slab, having a goodly sculpture of the Lindsay and Abernethy arms, and a few stray words and letters, was thrown from the aisle at the destruction of the old kirk, and now lies broken in several pieces in the grave yard; and, so far as can be judged from the style of its carving-for it is very much mutilated and effaced-it may be supposed to belong to about the beginning of the seventeenth century. One tradition is only known regarding the family of Edzell and this vault; and, as a matter of course, it is fraught with much of the romance and improbability incident to the dreamings of a remote age. Divested, however, of its accustomed minuteness, tradition has failed to preserve the name of the heroine, but uniformly affirms that she was buried in a trance, and so loaded with rich and valuable jewellery, that the sexton's avariciousness became excited to the highest pitch, and, bent on obtaining the treasure at all hazards, he stole under night to her lonely sanctuary, and soon succeeded in putting himself in possession of the whole, except the massive rings which girded her swollen fingers. These he eyed with great admiration, and having failed to gain them by ordinary means, the idea of amputation flashed across his relentless heart, and instantly the fatal blade of his large knife made a deep unhallowed incision. A slight movement of the body, and the faint exclamation of "Alas!" soon staggered his valour-the knife dropped from his guilty hand-he trembled from head to foot, and fell senseless on the cold, damp floor, amidst crazy trestles and musty bones! Meanwhile, the lady disentangling herself from her shroud, snatched the glimmering taper in one hand, and, raising her unexpected deliverer with the other, led him forth of the vault. Restored to consciousness, he craved mercy on bended knees; and although the lady assured him of a handsome reward from her husband if he would accompany her to the castle, he anxiously prayed that he might be allowed to fly from his native land; and she, with a heart grateful for the restoration of life, kindly per Besides sculptures of the family arms, the A per ་ CHRISTVS stone bears the initials "A. L." on the sinister IN VITA ET. IN HORI mitted him to retain his sacrilegious spoil, and the wily sexton was never more heard of! This romantic story will remind the reader of the extraordinary case of the lady's kinsman, Sir William Lindsay of Covington, who, under like circumstances, was laid out for dead; and, but that his young great grand-daughter observed "his beard to wagg," he might, alike with the lady of Edzell, instead of personally greeting the large assembly of relatives and friends who had met to attend his funeral, undergone the sad ordeal of premature burial. Nor is it unworthy of notice, that cases of protracted slumber were not confined to the direct members of the great family of Lindsay, but were also common to some of them, who walked in humble life, it being scarcely twenty years since the grave closed on a poor female of the same celebrated name, called Euphemia, or, more familiarly, “Sleepin' Effie Lindsay." This singular creature belonged to the parish of Guthrie, but latterly resided in Cortachy, and, on various occasions, lay in a state of utter unconsciousness for a fortnight or more at a time. These soporific attacks were periodical in her case, and all attempts to arouse her from them were in vain ; and after lying in that morbid condition for the long, and almost incredible period of six weeks, she expired, unconscious, it is believed, of her approaching end. The ashes of a Major James Wood lie within the bounds of the same cemetery as those of the great lords of Edzell, and his history being intimately associated with the traditions of the locality, some notice of him may not be inaptly classed under this head. This well-known veteran (a cadet of the old house of Balbegno), resided at Invereskandy, and is popularly said to have been factor to the penultimate laird of Edzell. His old dwelling still stands, though now converted into a barn, and the thick walls and small windows, with cut lintels of rather superior workmanship, certainly bear some trace of the consequence of the place, and the status of its old occupant. The Major is represented as a tall, robust, gruff person, equally hard of heart as of feature, and, were tradition to receive implicit credit, was destitute of all those qualities which ren * Lives of the Lindsays, by Lord Lindsay, vol. ii. p. 287. In all subsequent reference to this delightful work, it will be merely noticed as "Lives." der one fellow-creature the cherished friend of another. Indeed, the factorship has been emphatically characterised as being more his pleasure, and the horrid vices of debauchery and seduction, the business of his every day life. It is needless to say that he was famed in the district, and looked upon as nothing short of a demon in human form, and the fine ford in the immediate neighbourhood of his house was only taken advantage of during his absence, or the hours of his repose. One sweet and guileless maiden, who unwarily crossed here when inviting some friends to her approaching marriage, was pounced upon by him in a lone dreary part of the muir, and after a severe struggle, succeeded in extricating herself from his grasp. Running towards the river, she sprung in her confusion from the high banks into a deep pool, and falling a victim to the rolling waters, was swept for ever from the earthly presence of her betrothed, and her sorrowing relatives. Such are some of the current stories relative to the Major, who, like other mortals, came to his end; but not rashly. Had he done so, romance and popular story would have been deprived of a favourite and fertile subject of sympathy and hatred, and the reputed awfulness of his deathbed, which is now proverbial, would not have been witnessed, the common belief, in the sad nature of which, may be gathered from the following, and only remembered stanza of a large poem composed on the occasion, by an almost unlettered local bard, who lived towards the close of last century :— "An' when the Major was a-deein', The de'il cam like a corbie fleein' ; In fact, it is popularly believed that the Major did not die, as implied by the common sense of the term, but was literally suffocated by having a quantity of daich, or dough, stuffed in his mouth to check his blasphemous ravings! He was buried close to the north-west corner of the Lindsay vault, under a huge flag stone, on which a blank shield, and the illegible remains of an inscription still exist. An incident equally characteristic of the credulity of the period is related concerning the translation of his body to the grave, which, while the company rested on their way to the churchyard, became suddenly so very heavy, that it could not be carried further. In this singular dilemma, the minister had courage to crave the aid of Omnipotence, and fervently exclaimed:"Lord! whoever was at the beginning of this, let him be at the end of it," when the corpse turned as marvellously light as it was before heavy! Still, though the Major and his evil deeds were hid from mortal eyes, the parishoners were so prejudiced against the spot where he lay, and the very spokes which bore him thither, that none of them would allow their relations to be buried in the former, or carried on the latter. Mr. Bonnyman, the old eccentric schoolmaster already mentioned, is said to have been the first to break down this barrier of superstition and credulity, by giving strict orders, on his approaching dissolution, that his body should be carried on the rejected bearers, and laid in the same grave with the Major; and, excited by curiosity, when Mr. Bonnyman's grave was made, many persons went to view the huge bones of the dreaded veteran, and even believed, that amidst the clammy ashes of his once gigantic frame, they discovered remains of the very dough with which he is said to have been hurried out of existence ! Such are a few of the traditions regarding this dreaded son of Mars, which, if but half as true as reported, are quite revolting enough. Doubting the existence of so heartless a monster, except in the excitable minds of the superstitious, and desirous to find all positive trace of his life and transactions, we have made considerable enquiry, but have failed to learn anything of him until within the last ten years of his life. Happily for his reputation, however, we have fallen upon so direct and opposite proofs of the engagements and doings of his life during that period, as compels us to believe that the demoniacal actions imputed to him are purely imaginary, and have probably been confounded with the well-known deeds of another, and certainly justly notorious Major, the celebrated Weir (who was contemporaneous with Wood), the account of whose "Damnable Historie" has been a source of considerable remuneration to unprincipled printers and flying stationers, ever since its first publication. |