The Whole proceedings of Jockey and Maggy

Front matter

THE

Whole Proceedings

OF

II

NOW though all the ceremonies of Jockey and Maggy's wedding were ended, when they were fairly bedded, before a wheen rattling unruly witnesses, who dang down the bed aboon them; the battle still encreased, and John's works turn'd out to be very wonderfu', for he made Janet that was his mither's lass the last year, grow like an elshin haft, and got his ain Maggy wi' bairn forby.

The hamsheughs, were very great, until auld uncle Rabby came in to redd them, and a sturdy auld fellow he was, stood stively wi' a stiff rumple, and by strength of his arms rave them sindry, flingin the tane east and the tither west, until they stood a' round about like as mony breathless forfoughten cocks, and no ane durst steer anither for him, Jockey's mither was driven o'er a kist, and brogit a' her hips on a round heckle, up she gat rinning to fell Maggy's mither wi' the ladle, swearing she was the mither of a' the mischief that happened, uncle Rabby ran in between them, he having a great long nose like a trumpet, she recklessly came o'er his lobster neb a drire wi' the ladle till the blood sprang out an ran down his auld grey beard, and hang like snuffy bubbles at it: O! then he gaed wood, and looked as waefu' like, as he had been a tod lowrie come frae worrying the lambs wi' his bloody mouth. Wi' that he gets an auld flail, and rives awa' the supple, then drives them a' to the back o' the door, but yet nane wan out; then wi' chirten and chappen, down comes the clay hallen and the hen bawk wi' Rab Reid the fiddler, who had crept up aside the hens for the preservation of his fiddle.

Ben comes the bride when she got on her coat, clappet Rabby's shoulder, and bade him spare their lives, for there is blood enough shed in ae night, quoth she; and that my beard can witness. quoth he. So they all came in obedience to uncle Rabby, for his supple made their pows baith saft and fair that night; but daft Maggy Simpson sat by the fire and picked banes a' the time o' the battle; indeed, quoth she, I think you're a' fools but mysel; for I came here to get a good supper, and ither fouk has gotten their skin well pait.

By this time up got John the bridegroom, that was Jockey before he was married, but cou'dna get his breeks; yet wi' a horse-nail he tacked his sark tail between his legs, that nane might see what every body should hide, and rampingly he cries, Settle ye, or I'll gar my uncle settle ye, and fasten your heads wi' my auld supple.

Poor Rab Reid the fiddler took a sudden blast, some said he was maw-turn'd wi' the fa', for he bocked up a' the barley, and then gar'd the ale go like a rain-bow frae him, as brown as wort-brose.

The hurly-burly being ended, and naething but fair words an' shaking o' hands, which was a sure sign o' an agreement, they began to cow their cuttet lugs, an' wash their fairs, a' but Jockey's mither, who cries out, a black end on you a' and your wedding baith: for I hae gotten a hunder holes dung-in my arse wi' the round heckle teeth.

Jockey answers. A e'en had you wi' them than, mither, ye will e'en be the better fair'd.

Up gets uncle Rabby, an auld Sandy the sutor o' Seggyhole, to put every thing in order; they prapped up the bed wi' a rake and a rippling kame, the bearers being broken, they made a solid foundation o' peets, laid on the ca'f bed and bowsters, where Jockey and Maggy was bedded the second time.

Jockey no being used to lie wi' a naked woman, except heads and thraws wi' his mither, gets his twa hands about the bride's neck, and his hough out o'er her hurdies, saying, I ne'er kiss'd wife nor lass naked before, and for fainess I'll bite you, I'll bite you, &c. Naithing mair remarkable till about ha'f a year, and four oukes thereafter, in comes Marion Mushet runnin' bare foot and bare legit, wi' bleart cheeks, and a watery nose, cursing and banning, greeting and flyting.

Marion enters, crying, An whar's John.

His mither answers, Indeed his out in the yard powing kail runts.

Mar. A black end on a him an his runts baith, for he's ruin'd me an my bairn.

Mit. Ruin'd you! it canna be; he never did you ill, nor said you ill, be night nor be day, what gars you say that?

Mar. O woman! our Jenny is a rowing like a pack o' woo; indeed she's wi' quick bairn, and your John is the father o't.

Mit. Our John the father o't! had, there enough said, lying lown, I trow our John was ne'er guilty o' sic a sinfu' action: Daft woman, I true it'll be but wind that hoves up in the lassie's wame, she'll hae drunken some sour drink like raw sowens, or rotten milk that mak's her sae.

Mar. A wae be to him and his actions baith, he's the father o't, fornicator dog, that he's: he's ruin'd me an my bairn; I bore her and brought her up honestly, till she came to you; her father died and left me wi' four o' them, there wasna' ane o' them cou'd pit on anither's clease, or tak a louse aff ither.

Mit. I bid you haud your tongue, and no even your bystarts to my bairn, for he'll ne'er tak wi't: hc, poor silly lad, he wad ne'er look to a lass, be's to lay her down. Fy Maggy cry in o' John, and let's ratify't wi' the auld ruddoch: ay, ye're no blate for saying sae.

Mar. Be angry, or be well pleased, I'll say't in a' your faces, an I'll ca' you before your betters about it or lang gae.

John enters.) A what want ye now, is our brose ready yet?

Mit.. Ay brose, black brose indeed for thee, my bairn; here Marion Mushet saying ye hae gotten her dochter wi' bairn.

Jock. Me, mither! I ne'er lay in a bed wi' her dochter a' my days; it'll be the young laird's, for I saw him kiss her at the Lamass fair, and let glam at her nonsense.

Mit. Ay, ay, my man Johnny, that's the way she has gotten her belly fu' o' bairns; 'tis no you nor the like o' you, poor innocent lad, that gets bystart weans: a wheen filthy lowns, every ane loups on anither, and gie's you the wyte o' a'.

Mar. You may say what you like about it, 'tis easy to ca' a court whar there's nae body to say again, but I'll tell you a' I ken about it, and that is what she tell't me, and you guidwife tell't me some o't yoursel; an gin ye hadna brought in Maggy wi' her muckle tocher atween the twa, your Jockie and my Jenny had a been man an wife the day.

Jock. I wat well that's true.

Mar. Ye filthy dog that ye are, are ye gawn to confess wi' a bystart, an it no yours: dinna I ken as well as ye do wha's aught it?

Jock. Ay but mither, we may deny as we will about it, but I doubt it come to my ain door at last.

Mith. Ye silly sumph and senseless fallow, had ye been knuckle deep wi' the dirty drab, ye might a said sae, but ye tell't me lang syne that ye coudna lo'e her, she was so lazy an lown like; besides her crooked fit and bow'd legs.

Jock. Ay, but mither, do ye mind since ye sent me out to gie her the parting kiss at the black hole o' the peet stack; she rave the button frae my breeks, and wad gar me do't: and bade me do't, and cou'd flesh and blood refuse to do't: I'm sure, mither, I cou'd ne'er get her wi' bairn an my breeks on.

Mit. Na, na, poor simple silly lad, the wean's no yours, ilk ane loups on o' anither as you'll get the wite o' a' the bystarts round about.

Up get's Maggy wi' a roar, and rives her hair, cries her back, belly and baith her sides: the weed an gut gaes thro' my flesh like lang needles, nails or elshin irons. Wae be to the day that e'er I saw his face, I had better married a tinkler, or a followed the fogers, as mony a honest man's dochter has done, and liv'd a better life than I do.

Up gets Jockey an rins o'er the rigs for John Roger's wife, auld Kitty the howdy, but or he wan back she parted wi' Patrick thro' perfect spite an then lay twa fauld o'er a stool in a swoon.

Jock. A well, a well, sirs, since my first born is e'en dead without seeing the light o' the warld, ye's a' get bread an cheese to the blyth-meat, the thing we shou'd a war'd on the banket will fair the burial, an that will ay be some advantage; and Maggy should die, I maun een tak Jenny, the tane is as far a length as the tither; I'se be furnish't wi' a wife between the twa.

But Maggy grew better the next day, and was able to muck the byre: yet there gaed sic a tittle tattling thro' the town, every auld wife tell'd anither o't, and a' the light hippit hissies that rins between towns at een, tugging at their tow rocks, spread it round the kintry; and every body's mouth was fill'd wi' Jockey and Jenny, and how Maggy had parted wi' bairn.

At last Mess John Hill hears of the horrid action, and sends the elder of that quarter and Clinkem Bell the grave-maker, to summon Jockey and Jenny to the session, and to see how the stool of repentance wad set them, no sooner had they entered the door but Maggy fa's a greeting, and wringing her hands; Jockey's mither fell a fliting, and he himſelf a rubbing his lugs, and riving his hair, saying, O gin I were but a half ell higher, I sud be a soger or it be lang: and gie me a good flail or a corn fork, I sud kill Frenchmen enew, before I gade to face yon flyting ministers, an be set up like a warld's wonder, on their cock-stool or black-stool, and wha can bide the shame, when every body looks to them, wi' their sacken sarks or gowns on them, like a piece of an auld canvas prickt about a body, for naething but what every body does amaist, or they be married as well as me.

Mit. My man Johnny, ye're no the firſt that has done it, an ye'll no be the last; een mony o' the ministers has done it themselves, hout ay, your father and I did it mony a time.

Mag.Mag. Ay, ay, and that gars your son be so good o't as he is, the thing that's bred in the flesh is ill to pit out o' the bane.

Mit. Daft woman, what way wad the warld stand if fouks wadna mak use o' ither? 'tis the thing that's natural, bairns getting; therefore its no to be scunner'd at.

Mag. Ay, ay, but an they be for the like o' that, they, should marry.

Mit. But I think there's little ill though they try it ance or twice or they be married? 'tis, an unco thing till a body to be bound to a business, if they dinna ken whether they be able for it or no.

Mag. Ay, ay, that's your way o' doing and, his, but it's no the way o' ither honest fouk: see what the miuister will say to it.

Mit. The minister is but a mortal man, an there's defections in his members as well as mine.

Mag. Ay, but fouk shou'd ay strive to mortify their members.

Mith. An is that your Whigry? Will you or ony body else, wi' your mortifying o' your members, prevent what's to come to pass? I wish I saw the minister an his elders, but I'se gae him scripture for a' he's done yet; tell na me about the mortifying o' members, gin he hae gotten a bystart, let her an him feed it between them, an they su'd gie't soup about: but she maun keep it the first quarter, au be that time muckle black lady 'ill be caust, we sall sell the cauf an foster the wean on the cow's milk: that's a better mense for a faut, than a' your mortifying o' members, an a' your repenting stools! a wheen Papish rites an rotten ceremonies, fashing fouks wi' sack-gowns an buttock-mails, an I dinna keu what, but bide you yet till I see the minister.

III

NOW Jockey an his mither went into the little byre, and held a private meeting, nane present but auld Bruckie, an the twa brutes the bits a couties.

Mit. Ye silly dog, an be drown'd to you, how cou'd ye confess sae meikle to maislie shanket Marion, altho' she be her mither.

Jock. O mither! mither! sae nae mair about it, my ain wand has dung me dourly: sadly have I suffer'd for that, and ye ken a' the misery's com'd o'er our Maggy, my mouth's the mither o't, sae had your tongue I tell ye now.

Mit. An tell ye me to ha'd my tongue, an ye had a handen your tongue and your tail, an a done as I bade you, ye hadna hane sae muckle ado the day, daft silly dog is thou is.

Jock. Mither, mither, gie's nane o' your moak; and malice, for tho' I got the wean, ye hae as muckle the wyte o't as I. Gae seek me out my three new sarks, and Sunday's shune, and I'se gae whar ne'er man saw my face before; neither wood, water nor wilderness, saul haud me again.

Mit. My braw man Johnny, ye manna do that, staying at hame wi' me, an set a stent heart to a stay brae I'se gae to the session wi' you, gang whau' ye like.

Jock. A well, mithur, I sall do your bidding for ance yet, but when the minister flytes on me, answer ye him, for I canna speak well again.

Mit. Say nae mair, I hae a pockfu' o' perfect petitions to louse an put to him an his elders, and if thou maun gae to their black-stool, it's no be thy lane sall sit upon't.

Jock. But, mither, whether sall I deny the doing o't; or confess the game was at the getting o't.

Mit. Ay, ay, confess ye did it, but say but ance, an that was on the terms o' marriage, the way that a' our kintry bystarts is gotten.

Now Jockey being three times summon'd to the session and did not appear, the session insisted for a warrant from the justice of the peace, which was readily granted, more for diversion than justice sake; the warrant being given to John King, the constable, who went away with Clinkem Bell, on Saturday's morning, and catched John just at his brose, hauls him awa, ane at ilka oxter like twa butcher dogs hinging at a bill's beard, his mither followed, driving him up with good counsel, my bra' man Johnny, haud up your head, an dinna think shame, for a' your fauts is but perfect honesty, you're neither a thief, whore, nor horse-stealer.

Then Maggy ran for uncle Rabby, an uncle Rabby sent for Sandy the Souter of Seggyhole, the Souter saddled his mare, an uncle Rabby got aff at the gallop on his gray powney, west the hags, an o'er by Whitehill shugh, the nearest, and was at Sir James the justice lang or Jahn was brought into judgement.

John enters before the justice with a red, red face like a well paid arse, faus down on his knees, saying, Guide'en Mr Justice, Sir James, an' please your honour, ye mauna put me in prison, for I'm no a malefactor, but a poor honest kintryman, that was born in an ill planet, my mither says't, I had the ill luck of a misfortune to fa' foul wi fornication, an got my mither's lass wi' bairn the last year, an they're gaun to father't on me the year again.

The justice smiling, answered, Indeed John, I think it is but very just and reasonable, that ye be accountable this year, for your last year's labours.

Jock. Ay, ay, sir, I have laboured very fair since my father died, but our plough canna get gane for frost this four days.

Just. Ay, but, John, that's no what I mean, the child you got last year, ye must be anſwerable for this.

Jock. A deed, sir, there was twa o' them, but there is ane o' them dead.

Just. A well then, John, you'll have the more to give the one that's alive.

Jock. O! but, stir, it's my ain wain that's dead, the ane I got wi' my wife; I dinna ken whither the tither be mine or no.

Just. Your's or no, Sir, when ye told me ye got it; if ye should get it wi' a beggar wife at the back o' a dyke, what's that to the purpose, when it is of your getting, you must maintain it.

Jock. O! yes, stir, am no refusing to gie meat an meal to maintain't; but my mither winna let me to the black-stool.

Just.. Why not go to the black-stool, when guilty of such a sinful action as deserves it, if you have any reason why you should not go, argument it in the session, and clear yourself if you can.

John's mither enters, and addresses herself to the servant lass, thinking she was the justice's lady.

Indeed, mistress madam, If ye were a kintry goodwife, like mysel, I cou'd tell ye a' about it, but you that's gentles, I canna use freedom wi' ye, cause I hae na Latin. But waes me, we that's poor fouk is born to mony faelins an backwart faus, this lad is my son, an am his mither, he has had the foul fortune to get a bystart bairn, nae doubt but we hae a' been guilty o' as muckle, an ne'er a word about it, a what say ye madam?

Off goes the lass, saying, foul fa' the wife, for I was ne'er guilty o't.

Just. Well, goodwife, what is the reason but ye let your son give satisfaction to the kirk?

Mith. Deed, stir, he's no denying the bairn, but he'll no hae the black-stool.

Just. Ay, but I'll tell you, them that gets a bastart, gets the black-stool to the bargain, and as he is in my hands now, he must find caution that he will answer the session, an be subject to the law.

Mith. Ony thing ye like, stir, but that shamefu' stance, the black-stool; here's uncle Rabby, an auld Sandy the Soutor, will be caution that we's face the session on Sunday, the rad's wae enough he did it, but he canna help it now, the wean's born and by hand: Sae guidnight wi' your honour's ladyship 'tis the first time e'er I saw you.

On Sabbath after sermon the session met, John and his mother is called upon, he enters courageously, saying, Goodeen to you Master Minister, bellman, an elders a', my mither an me is baith here.

Mess John. Then let her in, come awa', goodwife, What's the reason you kept your son so long back from answering the session? you see it is the thing you are obliged to do at last.

Mit. Deed, stir, I think there needs na be nae mair wark about it, I think when he's gien the lazy hulk the mither o't, baith meal an groats to maintain't, ye needna fash him, he's a dutifu' father in , weel I wat, when he feeds his bystart sae weel.

Mess John. Woman, are you a hearer of the gospel? that ye reject the dictates of it, how come you to despise the discipline of the church; Is not offenders to be rebuked and chastised?

Mit. Yes, stir, a' that is very true, but I hae been three or four times through the Bible, and the New Testament, an I never saw a repenting-stool in't a'; then whar cou'd the first o' them come frae, the Apostles had nane o' them. But a daft history book tells me, that the first o' them was used about Rome amang the Papists, an ay when ony o' them turn'd Whigs, they were put' on a four neuked thing, like a yarn-winnle blades, an rave a' their gouls sindry till they turn'd Papists again; an then for anger they put them on a black stane or stool, in the middle o' the kirk, an the seck gown about them, wi' the picture o' the de'il an Satan on't, a sweet be wi' us, we sudna speak o' the ill thief in the kirk, but it is a mercy the minister's here an he come, but that was the original o' your repenting tools, an whan the Whigs chas'd awa' the Papist fouk out o' this kintry, they left a wheen o' their religious pictures, an the stool o' repentance was amangst the spoil, but ye's no get my bairn to set upon a thing as high as a hen-bawk, an ilka body to be glowring at him.

Mess John. Woman, I told you formerly that any who refuses submission to the government of the church, is liable to excommunication: an that we are to put the law in execution against adultery and fornication, or the sin thereof lies partly on our head.

Mith. As for your sin of adultery, I have naething ado wi't: I ken my son is a fornicator, an ye can neither mak him better nor war nor he is, there's nae man can keep a standing in their ain hand, fortune I mean, if it be a sin let him confes't, an forsake it and we's pay the buttock-mail and mak nae mair about it.

Mess John. Goodwife, you need not think your son will pass so, more than others that have been before him, he must actually come before the congregation three Sabbaths before he be absolved from the scandal, and get the benefit of any church privileges like any other honest man.

Mit. Indeed, Mess John, my son shall never set his hips upon't; if he maun come before you, I'se gar him stand a bit back frae't an hear what ye hae to say about fornication, twa harmless free bodies, passing their trial to see what they can do, ye that's Whigs may mak enough o't, but I think na muckle about it.

Meſs John. Woman ye may go home and see what ye have to do; ye have a very bad tongue; 'tis no you we have to tak an account of,

Mit. Ay, ay, ye that's ministers and model fouk, may say sae, but if my son had tane as good tent o' his tail, as I can do o' my tongue, there had na been sae muckle about it, a wheen silly lowns kens na what they were made for, or how to guide a thing when they get it.

Mess John. Put her out, she's going to speak bady.

Mit. O ay, stir, I'se gang out, but I'll hae my bairn wi' me.

Mess John. We must first ask some questions at him, there is no harm can come on him here.

Mit. For as good company as you think yourselves, I wad rather hae him in anither place.

(John's kept in and his mother put out.)

Mess John. Well, John, yon must tell us whether this child was gotten before you was married, or since, for I suppose by the time of the birth it is much about the same time?

Jock. Hout ay, stir, it was gotten lang or I was married, I needna forget the getting, it was na sae easy to me.

Mess John. How long is it since yc was first acquaint?

Jock. Just when she came to be my mither's lass, I never saw her but ance before, an gin I had never seen her, I had never kend her after sic a fashious fashion.

Mess John. How long was the serving with your mother?

Jock. Just twa hailyerts: an I got her wi' bairn about a year after she came, and its no a year yet since I was married.

Mess John. Dear John, there is a contradiction indeed, a woman cannot go two years with child.

Jock. Deed stir, it was then the child was first gotten.

Mess John. A John, John, I find you out to be a sinful liver, you and that woman has had carnal dealings for some time; it is ill keeping the cow out of the corn, if she once get a way of going to it, ye should actually have married the poor woman, when ye cohabited so long together.

Jock. No, stir, we didna cow-habit together, tho' she kist me, an I kist her, sometimes in the barn, an sometimes in the byre: nane ken't o't but my mither, an she wadna let me tak her, but sent me awa to court our Maggy.

His mither cries thro' the hole o' the door: A ye senseless sumph, is that a' the thanks I get for counselling you to do weel, war nae me ye wad a been married on a lown like, leepet, lazzy lump; who had neither wit nor wyles, no sae muckle judgement as wyse the wind frae her tail but lute it gang afore fouks.

Up gets the elders crying, Fy, fy, Duncan, the bellman drive that wicked wife frae the door, she disturbs us all.

Duncan runs to the door whispering, shame fa' you for a wife, haud out o' that: but I wad rather hear you, as hear them yet.

Mess John. Now, John, will ye be so plain as tell me whether ye promised to marry the woman or no, when ye lay with her.

Jock. Na, stir, I didna lie wi' her, for the herd an me lay in the byre bed, an she lay in the little langsadle at the hallen-end.

Mess John. 'Tis all one whether ye lay with her or not, when ye have got her with child, that's what ye confess.

Jock. I kenna whether I got her wi' bairn or no: but I did wi' her as I did wi' our Maggy, when she fell wi' bairn.

Mess John. But the question is, whether or no, did you promise to marry her when that child was gotten.

Jock. Hut, tut, stir, ye wad fash fouk splering a' thing, it was her that promist to marry me for the getting o't.

Mess John. And did not you do the like to her?

Jock. A what needed I do the like when she an my mither did it a' but the wean getting, she cou'dna do that.

Mess John. Indeed John you seem to have been a parcel of loose livers altogether.

Jock. A looſe, stir, I wish I were loose yet, better be loose than bun to an ill stake.

Mess John. I see it is needless for me to enquire any further into the matter, I find you out guilty, therefore, you must appear publicly on the stool of repentance on Sabbath next, and the two following thereafter, or ye be absolved from the scandal.

Jock. Indeed master minister, am very easy about repentance, an for your stool, 'tis a seat am very indifferent about, for am but bashful, an as I was never guilty o' getting bystarts, either before or sinsyne, except in thoughts, words, deeds, an actions, I think ye may e'n let me pass, I suffered enough wi' the clash of the kintry, an loss of my ain wain, it was nae bystart, ye canna gar me stand for that.

Mess John. You appear to be such a stupid fellow, the like of you should neither have lawful child nor bastard, and I admire that such an ideot as you was allowed to be married to any woman: and you James who is elder of that proportion, should have given information of this man's capacity, before he was joined to a wife.

Elder. Indeed, sir, ye ken very well, he answered the questions at the examine, better nor any other fouks, and I think he is best married, for he might a gotten mae bystarts and a fasht us.

Jock. Indeed, stir, 'tis very true, for when ance I got the gate o' woman, I cou'd na bide aff them, but our Maggy was unco cunnen, she wadna let me do naething but kiss her an kittle her, till ance we was married.

Mess John. I'll ask no more questions at him: call on his mother, (in she comes) Goodwife, we have ordered your son to appear three Sabbaths on the stool, and there to be reproved before the congregation publicly and be absolved from the scandal.

Mith. Then the ill thief be in his arse Mess John gin e'er he set his hip upon't, my bairn on your black-stool! an wadna't be a great blunder on the auld black face o't, to my son to gang on't before the young laird, who has had twa bystarts an ne'er set a hip on't yet, an he's continually riding on the hissies to this day, an them that wadna let him, he rives their duds, an kicks their doups. A dear Mess John, an ye gie gentle fouk a toleration to whore, to fornicate, kiss an cuddle a wee wi' ilka body they like, I'll gie you ten marks an gie't to me an my son too.