Skulferatu #156 - Cat Nick, Salisbury Crags, Holyrood Park, Edinburgh

My walk today took me through Holyrood Park and up Queens Drive with Salisbury Crags towering over me.  As I walked round, I passed a steep path up the hill that leads to the upper road, Radical Road, and to a split in the cliff face there.  This is known as the Cat Nick or Cat Nick Chasm.  The path and the gap in the cliff face used to be a favourite spot for people to walk and then climb up on to Salisbury Crags.  It was said that many of the leading lights in philosophy, poetry, and the Enlightenment, had climbed this, almost as a mark of passage into the intellectual elite.

 

 

A view of Salisbury Crags and the Cat Nick

 

 

A view of Salisbury Crags and the Cat Nick

 

In 1854 the path up to the Cat Nick saw a young man who would go on to be a leading light in world medicine almost come to a sticky end.  Joseph Lister had been persuaded by his friend John Beddoe to walk up this dangerous and steep path.  It would appear that Lister wasn’t too keen on the idea, but after being told by Beddoe how all the great thinkers of the day had done this, he decided to go along with his friend.  About halfway up Lister’s vertigo got the better of him and he told Beddoe that he could go no further and would have to go back down. Beddoe agreed that this may be the best course of action, but as he turned to go down, he slipped and knocked out a boulder that crashed down the hillside catching Lister on the thigh.  Lister was left in agony and Beddoe raced off to get help fearing that his friend’s leg was broken.  Luckily, after being taken down from the hill and carried to the Royal Infirmary, it was found that he had suffered nothing more than severe bruising.  Many years later when Lister had become world famous for his work in using antiseptics to prevent infection in wounds, Beddoe reflected on how close he had come to death that day and on the devastating effect this would have had on the millions of people who would be helped by his discoveries.

 

 

A view of Salisbury Crags and the Cat Nick

 

 

View from the Cat Nick

 

 

View from the Cat Nick

 

 

View from the Cat Nick

 

 

View from the Cat Nick

 

There is also a much darker tale connected to this spot and to tell it we will first have to travel back in time to Eighteenth Century Ayrshire and an Excise Officer called Mungo Campbell.  Mungo was a man of good education who had joined the Scots Greys, a cavalry regiment in the British Army.  During his time in the army, he saw much action and fought against the Jacobites during the rebellion of 1745.  After the Battle of Culloden and the crushing of the rebellion, Campbell’s relative, Lord Loudoun, arranged for him to be appointed as an Excise Officer.  Campbell took up this post in carried out his duties at various towns and villages around Ayrshire.  Towards the end of his career Campbell’s health was in decline due to lung disease and he was transferred to Saltcoats, which was considered to be one of the easiest areas in Scotland for an Excise Man.  There he married and settled down, leading a relatively quiet life.  In Saltcoats he appeared to be quite a popular figure and was considered to be generous and fair, though he did like a drink and was a bit of a potty mouth with a penchant for blue language.  He was also the sort of man who was very proud and would stand his ground on any point he believed in and would hold a grudge if anyone wronged him.

 

Campbell was a man who liked to fish and to hunt.  He had licences to do so on the lands around him, with one exception, the land owned by Alexander Montgomerie, the Earl of Eglinton.  The Earl was extremely strict about who could shoot or fish on his land and very rarely granted licences to anyone.  For many years this was not an issue to Campbell until one day in October 1769.  On that day he went out in with two of his colleagues to search the local coastline for any smuggled goods hidden in the sands awaiting collection.  Campbell, being the lead Excise man carried his gun with him in case they met with any violence when trying to seize illicit goods.  They found none and, on their way back to Saltcoats, they cut up from the beach and through Lord Eglinton’s land.  As they walked through his estate a hare suddenly ran out from a nearby bush and Campbell’s hunting instincts kicked in and without thinking, he took aim and shot it.  The shot was heard by Lord Eglinton who immediately demanded that one of his servants go to see what was going on.  The servant sent to investigate, Alexander Bartleymore, was someone who’d had a run in with Campbell, as he had been caught transporting kegs of smuggled rum.  The rum had been seized and destroyed by Campbell and his men.  Since then, Bartleymore had held a grudge against Campbell, so on seeing he had shot a hare on Lord Eglington’s land he demanded that Campbell come with him and explain himself to the Earl.  Campbell obliged and accompanied him back to Lord Eglinton’s house.  There, the Earl raged at Campbell for shooting on his land but eventually accepted Campbell’s explanation and apologies.  Campbell then assured him that it would not happen again.

 

A few weeks later, on the 24 October 1769, Campbell set out with his colleague John Brown to inspect a few areas along the coastline where they suspected that smuggled goods were being hidden.  Again, they found nothing.  As they returned home, they walked along the beach that ran around the Earl of Eglinton’s land.  Bartleymore happened to see them and thinking he could cause some mischief, he immediately informed Lord Eglinton that Campbell was hunting on his land again.  The Earl, was in his carriage, having just left his home to travel to Fairlie when stopped by Bartleymore, he then left the carriage, took a horse and along with Bartleymore and four other servants, rode out to where Campbell and Brown were on the beach.  He called Campbell a scoundrel, demanded to know why he had been hunting on his land and ordered him to hand over his gun.  Campbell denied that he and Brown had been hunting, pointed out that they did not have a dog with them and that he had shot nothing that day.  He then told the Earl that he would hand his gun over to no man.  The Earl however demanded Campbell’s gun and began walking towards him as if he intended to take the gun by force.  Campbell began to back away from the Earl holding his loaded and cocked gun at his side in a defensive posture, much in the way that he would have been taught to do as a soldier during retreat.  The Earl then asked Campbell if he intended to shoot him and told him that he was just as good a shot as Campbell.  He then told one of his servants to go back to his carriage and fetch his gun.  At this Campbell’s colleague Brown, who was in great fear about what was going to take place, walked away and left the unfolding scene. 

 

Lord Eglinton then again walked towards Campbell and Campbell retreated, however, as he did so he stumbled on a stone and fell backwards.  According to Campbell, on falling he accidentally fired the gun and shot the Earl by mistake.  However, according to Lord Eglington’s servants, Campbell fell onto his back and the Earl, smiling at Campbell’s fall walked towards him.  Campbell then deliberately fired at close range into the Earl’s belly.  The Earl cried out that Campbell had murdered him, and Campbell threw away his gun.  He was then set on by the Earl’s servants but managed to break from them and tried to grab the Earl’s gun from the servant who had just arrived with it.  They fought briefly before Campbell was overpowered and struck to the ground by the other servants.   The Earl on seeing the beating Campbell was taking from his men cried out to them to not harm him.  They then tied Campbell up and he was transported to Irvine in a cart, while Lord Eglinton was taken in his carriage back to his house.   There, at around midnight the Earl died from his wounds.

 

Campbell was transported to Edinburgh to stand trial at the High Court for murder.  At his trial Campbell claimed that the shooting had been accidental, and several contemporary newspapers wrote that it seemed likely he would be acquitted as there was evidence his gun had gone off by accident.  However, all Lord Eglington’s servants who had been present at the incident, testified that it had been a deliberate act on Campbell’s part.  That he had aimed and fired the gun a short time after falling.  The doctor who had attended to the Earl also stated that the dying man had told him that Campbell had deliberately shot him.  There were then various arguments by Campbell’s Counsel that the shooting, if deliberate, could be seen as an act of self-defence, given the aggressive actions of the Earl, especially as Campbell was not on his land when confronted by him.  At the conclusion of the trial the jury found Campbell guilty by a majority of nine to six.  The judge then read out the sentence and this was that Campbell – ‘was to be carried back from the bar to the Tolbooth of Edinburgh, therein to remain, and be fed on bread and water only…until Wednesday the eleventh day of April next to come, and upon that day to be taken forth of the said Tolbooth, and carried to the common place of execution in the Grassmarket of Edinburgh; and then and there, betwixt the hours of two and four o’clock in the afternoon of the said day, to be hanged by the neck by the hands of the common executioner, upon a gibbet, until he be dead; and his body thereafter to be delivered to Doctor Alexander Monro…to be by him publicly dissected and anatomized…’

 

 

Edinburgh Tolbooth – from a sketch made in 1817

 

Campbell had other ideas though and told the friends who had attended the trial that he would not be hanged for murder.  During the night, after his return to the Tolbooth, he hanged himself.  The next morning his body was discovered along with the following note for his wife –

 

‘You will find, my long and faithful companion, I have kept my word with you – Since I must die because I would not surrender my arms to a tyrannic Lord, I am resolved to avoid being a public spectacle – ‘Ere you receive this I am no more.  May every happiness attend you on earth, and may we meet in eternity, is the earnest wish of your’s even in death.’

Tolbooth, Feb 24 Mungo Campbell

 

There was then a bit of a legal kerfuffle over Campbell’s body, as his friends argued that it should be returned to them for burial rather than be dissected, as the sentence had not been carried out.  This point was eventually agreed, and his body was handed over.  As Campbell had committed suicide, he could not be buried on consecrated ground, so his friends had him buried at the foot of Salisbury Crags in Holyrood Park.  However, the friends of Lord Eglinton and the citizens of Edinburgh were a bit annoyed that Campbell had managed to avoid being executed.  Feeling they had been deprived of a good hanging, an angry crowd made its way to Campbell’s burial place and dug up his body.  They then carried it up to the summit of Salisbury Crags and threw it off into the chasm at the Cat Nick.

 

Campbell’s broken body was later recovered by his friends.  Rather than reburying him at the foot of the crags again and running the risk of further indignities being carried out on his body, they had it transported to Leith.  There they hired a small boat and sailed out into the Forth where they weighed his body down and sunk it in the sea.

 

*           *           *

 

I don’t think I’ve seen anyone recently walking up this path to the Cat Nick.  I did it once many years ago with some friends, and all I can say about that experience is that I wouldn’t do it again.  Heights and me don’t mix, as I found out.  So, to get round there today, I took the easier route up the gentler slopes by St Margaret’s Well. 

 

On reaching the Cat Nick I took in the views over Edinburgh before leaving the Skulferatu that had accompanied me in a gap in some rocks nearby.

 

 

Skulferatu #156

 

 

Skulferatu #156 in a gap in rocks by the Cat Nick

 

 

Skulferatu #156 in a gap in rocks by the Cat Nick

 

 

Map showing the location of Skulferatu #156

 

The coordinates for the location of the Skulferatu are –

 

Latitude 55.946138

Longitude -3.174302

 

what3words: eagle.bother.keeps

 

I used the following sources for information on the Cat Nick -

 

The Butchering Art

Lindsey Fitzharris

Penguin Books 2017

 

Historical Tales and Legends of Ayrshire

William Robertson

Hamilton, Adams & Co 1889

 

The Trial of Mungo Campbell before the High Court of Justiciary in Scotland for the Murder of Alexander Earl of Eglintoun

Robinson and Roberts 1770

 

Information for Mungo Campbell, Late Officer of Excise at Saltcoats, in a Criminal Prosecution before the High Court of Justiciary in Scotland, for the alleged murder of the late Alexander Earl of Eglinton

Undated

 

The Newgate Calendar, Volume 4

Ex-classics Project 2009

 

Traditions of Edinburgh

Robert Chambers

1868

 

The Castellated and Domestic Architecture of Scotland from the Twelfth to the Eighteenth Century, Volume Five

David MacGibbon & Thomas Ross

1892

 

Article and photographs are copyright of © Kevin Nosferatu, unless otherwise specified.

Skulferatu #71 - St Leonard's Crag, Holyrood Park, Edinburgh

There are many stories around the hills and paths of Holyrood Park and of the hills and paths leading into the park.  Today, while out on a walk around Edinburgh I cut through the St Leonard’s area of town, onto St Leonard’s Hill and over to St Leonard’s Crag which runs alongside Holyrood Park.  On the flat area of the crag there stands the old James Clark School, which has now been converted into flats. Long before the building was there, this was the site of a rather notorious event in the history of old Edinburgh.

 

View down St Leonard’s Bank to the old James Clark School building

 

St Leonard’s Crag street sign

 

View of James Clark School from St Leonard’s Crag

 

View through trees from St Leonard’s Crag to Arthur’s Seat in Holyrood Park

 

The story goes that on a warm spring day many years ago, Sunday 2 April 1600 to be precise, St Leonard’s Crag was the site of a duel with tragic consequences for both parties.  The night before, Robert Auchmowtie, a barber surgeon from Edinburgh, had been drinking with friends in one of the local taverns.  Also out drinking that night with a group of friends, was James Wauchope, the son of a wealthy local merchant.  At some point during the night Auchmowtie and Wauchope got into an argument with each other.  The reason for the argument is not recorded, but I would guess that too much alcohol and surging testosterone played quite a big part in it.   The result of the argument and the harsh words they exchanged with each other was that Auchmowtie and Wauchope decided to settle things the next morning with a duel at St Leonard’s Crag.

 

At five the next morning Auchmowtie and Wauchope both met on St Leonard’s Crag, each arriving with two companions to ensure fair play.  The duel then commenced with swords being the weapon of choice.  The fight appears to have quickly gone Auchmowtie’s way and within minutes he had struck Wauchope several times to his face and head.  Bleeding heavily and mortally wounded Wauchope fell to the ground.  The duel over and honour restored, Auchmowtie and his companions left while Wauchope’s companions comforted him during his final moments.  They then carried his body home.

 

The matter did not end after the duel.  Wauchope’s father on hearing of his son’s death was understandably upset but was also enraged, and he informed the authorities that his son had been murdered by Auchmowtie and two accomplices.

 

After some hesitation on the part of the authorities, a warrant was issued for Auchmowtie’s arrest, and on the 23 April 1600 the City Guard arrested him for murder.  At first the court was favourable towards Auchmowtie and his version of events.  They accepted that Wauchope had been killed fairly in a duel that he had consented to take part in.  There were various postponements of proceedings and it looked very much like the matter would be dismissed with no trial taking place.  However, Wauchope’s relatives had friends in high places and after petitioning King James they submitted several letters to the court from him.  Firstly the king asked the court to look at the case again, but when they didn’t move on this he wrote and ordered that Auchmowtie be put on trial for murder and taking part in a duel without having been granted a licence to do so (odd as it may sound now, the King, or Queen, could grant a licence for a duel to take place, as it was seen as sometimes being a way to end a feud and avoid a lot of unnecessary bloodshed).  Auchmowtie was then tried for murder, and probably due to the king getting involved, was found guilty.  He was sentenced to death and sent to the Tolbooth Prison to await execution.

 

While imprisoned Auchmowtie, feeling hard done by and not particularly relishing the prospect of being put to death, came up with a plan to escape.  He hung a cloak outside the window of his cell and a cloak on the inside.  He told the prison guards that he was ill and could not bear daylight.  The guards accepted this without question, though unbeknownst to them Auchmowtie had acquired some aqua fortis (nitric acid) and was applying this to the iron bars of his cell window.  Within a few days the acid had done its work and eaten through the bars.

 

Auchmowtie then put his plan to escape into action.  He summoned his apprentice and showed him the dissolved and broken bars at the window and asked if he would go out and signal to him when the guard stationed outside the prison had left.  The boy then willingly agreed to help him and went to wait outside and keep watch, while Auchmowtie pulled the cloaks back slightly from the window and peered down at him…waiting…waiting…

 

The guard eventually wandered off and on seeing this the boy pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket and waved it up to Auchmowtie, as the agreed signal.  Auchmowtie pulled the cloaks back and lowered out a rope he had crudely constructed from his bedsheets.  He then clambered through the window and began to scramble down to freedom.  However, the guard had noticed the boy earlier and having become suspicious had actually hidden himself so he could observe what he was up to.  On seeing Auchmowtie come out through the prison window the guard ran back and grabbed him as he lowered himself to the ground.  He then struck him on the head with his cudgel to subdue him and summoned other guards from inside the prison.  Auchmowtie was bound and placed in another cell where a watch was kept over him.

 

Auchmowtie languished there in despair until the day of execution arrived, when he was taken from his cell and marched through the streets by the Town Guard to the Market Cross (the current Mercat Cross, near to St Giles’ Cathedral, stands close to the location of the original Market Cross).  There a platform had been constructed on which stood the Maiden (an early form of the guillotine).  In front of a huge crowd of excited spectators, Auchmowtie was led up onto the platform where he prayed briefly with a local minister.  He was made to kneel in front of the Maiden and place his head on the block.  An iron bar was then pulled down over the back of his neck to stop him from pulling away or lifting his head.  Seconds later the executioner was given a signal, the blade of the Maiden was released and RUMBLE, THUD, SPLAT, Auchmowtie was beheaded, and the crowd let out a cheer.

 

Illustration of the Maiden from Cassells Old and New Edinburgh, Volume 1

 

And so, my dear friends, that is the end of Auchmowtie and his story. No last minute escapes and no happy Hollywood endings here I’m afraid. 

 

Today, on my walk I left a Skulferatu in the bark of an old tree at St Leonard’s Crag, where it can watch over any more drunken duellers who stumble there to sort their differences out with a bit of violence.

 

Old, gnarly tree at St Leonard’s Crag

 

Skulferatu #71

 

Skulferatu #71 in bark of old tree at St Leonard’s Crag

 

Skulferatu #71 in bark of old tree at St Leonard’s Crag

 

Map showing location of Skulferatu #71

 

The coordinates for the location of the Skulferatu are:

 

Latitude 55.943685

Longitude -3.1772880

 

I used the following sources for the tale of Robert Auchmowtie –

 

Cassels Old and New Edinburgh – Volume 1

(pages 383-384)

By James Grant

 

Criminal Trials in Scotland – Volume Second

(pages 112 to 124)

By Robert Pitcairn

1833

Digital version available from National Library of Scotland

 

History of Scottish Medicine to 1860 – Volume 1

(pages 190 to 191)

By John D Comrie

1927

Available at https://electricscotland.com

 

The National Museums of Scotland Website

The Maiden (nms.ac.uk)

Article and photographs are copyright of © Kevin Nosferatu, unless otherwise specified.

Skulferatu #40 - Muschet's Cairn, Holyrood Park, Edinburgh

 

If you enter Holyrood Park from Meadowbank Terrace and walk a short way along Duke’s Walk, you may notice a pile of rocks that appear to have been abandoned.  However, on closer examination you will find that this is a low cairn, roughly cemented together.  Like me, on first seeing it you may think ‘What the **** is that about?’  Well, it turns out that it is a cairn laid in the memory of a victim of a horrible murder that took place in the park in 1720.  

 

Muschet’s Cairn, on the gentle slope of a grassy mound in Holyrood Park

 

Muschet’s Cairn in Holyrood Park

 

Muschet’s Cairn by Duke’s Walk, Holyrood Park

 

One of the main characters in the story behind the cairn is a rather pathetic individual called Nicol Muschet.  Nicol was the eldest of several children and was brought up in an extremely religious and God fearing, Presbyterian household, at the family estate in Boghall.  His father died when he was young and after this Nicol became a bit of a mollycoddled mummy’s boy, who made a show of being pious and holy to please his mother. 

 

As a young man, Nicol left the clutches of his mother and went to Edinburgh where he studied at the university there to become a surgeon.  Like many young students leaving home for the first time, Nicol soon discovered the joys of bad company, drunkenness, and sex.  After graduating as a surgeon in 1716, Nicol moved to Alloa and became an apprentice to the surgeon John Napier.  However, he found that Napier had little work for him and his life in Alloa was very dull compared to the life he had lived in Edinburgh. So, after a year or so Nicol left Alloa and returned back home to his mother, thinking that living the life of a country Laird could be to his liking.  There though, he soon found that he had no aptitude for managing the estate and his mother’s piety and the way she expected him to live his life irritated him greatly.  It was not long before he was looking for something else to do.

 

In August 1719 Nicol took a trip to Edinburgh to watch a dissection take place at the university.  He took some temporary lodgings with a view to maybe staying on and finding work in the town as a surgeon.  A few days after arriving he was out walking when he passed the house belonging to Adam Hall, a merchant of the town.  Standing outside was the maid of the house and Nicol recognised her as an acquaintance from his days as a student.  He stopped to chat with her, and she invited him into the house for a drop of ale.  They had a drink together and caught up with what was happening in each other’s lives.  While they were sitting talking, they were joined by Margaret Hall, the daughter of the house.  Nicol’s friend then left to carry out her chores, leaving Nicol and Margaret in each other’s company.  As they talked, Nicol found that not only was Margaret attractive, but she was easy company to keep, young, impressionable, and already bit infatuated with him.  He decided that it may be fun to try and seduce her.  This little plan was helped along by Margaret finding him more permanent lodgings with a friend of her family.  She then became a regular visitor and spent much time with him.

 

On the 5 September 1719, after knowing each other for just three weeks, Nicol and Margaret were married.  Nicol’s plan to seduce Margaret had worked, but unfortunately for him her father had found out and demanded for the sake of his daughter’s honour that they marry.  So, marry they did.  Now, Nicol could have been happy with his lot, as not only did he now have a young and attractive wife, he had also married the daughter of a wealthy merchant.  And maybe for the first few weeks Nicol was happy, but he soon grew bored of Margaret and with his boredom grew a resentment of her.  He began to blame her for trapping him in a marriage he did not want and saw her as some floozy who had seduced him.  He was one of those weak men who always blames others for their misfortunes, rather than admitting to any mistakes they may have made.  Who convince themselves that they have been wronged rather than seeing the faults in any of their own actions.  So, after being married for a couple of months Nicol decided to leave his wife and travel out of Scotland to seek work as a surgeon.

 

Nicol left Margaret at her father’s house on Castle Hill, where they had been living together, and made his way back to his mother’s.  There he gave her a story about wanting to travel abroad to better his career as a surgeon and asked her for the money to do so.  It would appear that Nicol did not let his mother know anything of his marriage to Margaret when discussing his plans for a life abroad.  Indeed, his mother seems to have known nothing of his marriage until many months later.  Nicol’s plans for his future did not go down well with his mother, who was worried that it exposed her son to a dangerous life in foreign lands.  Given this she persuaded him not to pursue this idea any further.

 

Disillusioned and angry and feeling that his mother had thwarted his plans, Nicol returned to Edinburgh a few days later.  He did not, however, inform Margaret of his return and rather than returning to her father’s house, he lodged in the rooms of a friend.  While back in Edinburgh Nicol met up with James Campbell of Burnbank, or Bankie to his friends, an acquaintance with whom he had some business transactions.  Bankie was the Storekeeper at Edinburgh Castle and was by all accounts a devious and cunning individual and as corrupt as they come.  Nicol told Bankie of his woes and after listening to him, Bankie said that he could help…for a sum of money of course.  He told Nicol that for the sum of £50, he would arrange for Margaret’s name to be so besmirched that Nicol would have no problem in being granted a divorce from her.  Over a few ales at a nearby tavern they then drew up an agreement in which it was stated that Nicol would pay Bankie the money on him producing ‘…two legal depositions, or affidavits of two witnesses, of the whorish practices of Margaret Hall…’ 

 

Over the next few days in taverns around Edinburgh, Nicol and Bankie met up to discuss their plot against Margaret.  Bankie then came up with the idea that Nicol would take up rooms in a nearby tavern and they would both meet up with Margaret for a drink there.  They would then drug her by lacing her drink with liquid laudanum so that she would fall asleep.  Once asleep they would undress her and put her to bed, then a friend of Bankie’s, John McGregory, would lie naked in the bed with her.  Two other friends of Bankie, James Muschet (a distant relative of Nicol’s) and his wife Grissel Bell would be called from a nearby tavern to witness this.  They would then provide the evidence for the claims of adultery against Margaret.

 

Nicol and Bankie looked around for a suitable place in which to carry out their plot and soon found rooms in one of the many taverns in Edinburgh.  A few days later they invited Margaret around for a drink.  By this time Nicol had told another of his friends, Alexander Pennecuik, about the plot and had persuaded him to help.  So, Margaret came round to the tavern and Nicol made his excuses to her for his previous behaviour and entertained her while Bankie and Pennecuik provided her with drinks they had spiked.  Margaret became sleepy after a while but did not pass out.  Getting bored of waiting, Nicol took her up to bed and lay with her for a while until she fell asleep. He then jumped out of bed and left the room while McGregory, who had been waiting in the wings, stripped naked and jumped in.  The witnesses were then called in to view the scene and McGregory got out of the bed and left.

 

While Margaret slept, Nicol and his co-conspirators left the tavern.  Nicol went to his friend Pennecuik’s rooms in the Canongate.  There he wrote a letter to Margaret telling her that he had left her because of her adulterous behaviour, was on his way to London and she would never see him again.  He had the letter delivered to her and stayed hidden with Pennecuik for the next two weeks.  Nicol appears to have believed that his letter would put Margaret into such a state of despair that she would jump into bed with the first man going and he would then have plenty of evidence of her adultery.  However, on receiving the letter Margaret’s first thoughts were that she must go to see Nicol’s mother to plead her case and let her know that she was innocent of the accusations made against her.  Before leaving Edinburgh for the journey to Boghall, Margaret bumped into Bankie and told him of her plans.  He tried to persuade her not to go and told her he would trace Nicol for her, but she left later that day anyway.  Worried that she would scupper his plans and win an ally in Nicol’s mother, Bankie gave false evidence to a Justice that Margaret was suspected of theft and obtained a warrant for her arrest.  He and an associate then set of in pursuit of her and caught up with her in Linlithgow.  There they arranged for her to be arrested by a local Constable.  After she was arrested Bankie turned up and pretended to be a concerned friend who had heard of her trouble.  He told her that he had arranged for her to be bailed, but she would have to come back to Edinburgh with him for this to be done.  In Edinburgh Bankie arranged and paid for accommodation for her under the pretence of looking after her while he sorted out her bail.  In reality though it was to keep her away from friends and family, who may become suspicious of him if she told them what had happened.  After a couple of days in Edinburgh, Margaret decided once again to leave.  She hired a horse and discreetly left, travelling down to Boghall before Bankie was aware she had gone.  Bankie, still plotting away as ever, then wrote her a long letter promising her that if she returned to Edinburgh, he would plead her case with Nicol and let him know that everything had been a misunderstanding.  Margaret, still in love with Nicol and believing that her marriage to him could still be salvaged, returned.

 

Realising that Margaret was not going to do them the favour of finding herself another man, Nicol and Bankie took the evidence they had manufactured against her to a lawyer they were friendly with.  He looked through what they had and advised them that unless they could show that McGregory and Margaret knew each other and had been seen several times in each other’s company, they had no case.  Disappointed with this outcome they made their way to a nearby tavern to plot what to do next.  There they came up with the great idea that Bankie would invite James Muschet, his wife Grissel Bell, Margaret and McGregory to his rooms for drinks.  If this were done for several days, Margaret would have then been seen in McGregory’s company enough times for them to proceed with their case against her.   Nicol would, of course, pay McGregory, Muschet and Bell to attend and would also pay for their drinks.   The plot was put into action, but very quickly Nicol grew disillusioned with it, as it seemed he was just paying out a lot of money for Bankie and his associates to get drunk.  So, he called it all off and gave up on the idea of divorce.

 

Shortly after this Bankie and Nicol came up with another idea.  Murder.  They would poison Margaret.  She had happily taken the drinks spiked with Laudanum, so why not put poison in her drink and be done with her for good?  They decided that James Muschet would be the man to do it and that Nicol would pay him for poisoning her and would also provide the poison required.  So, James Muschet was provided with a paper of sugar and poison and some brandy.  He took this to Margaret and drank with her, adding the poisoned sugar to her drink.  However, rather than killing her, the poison made Margaret violently ill and vomit for several days, but then she recovered. 

 

Bankie, not disheartened by this told Nicol that they should just keep on poisoning her, as it would weaken her and eventually kill her.  Nicol agreed with this, and they decided that they would change from the poison they had been using and instead use corrosive mercury.  To keep Margaret from becoming suspicious this was added to nutmeg in a nutmeg grater, as Margaret would grate this herself into her ale.  Again, this did not work and though it made Margaret ill she stubbornly didn’t die.  However, it was noticed that the poison had a devastating effect on the nutmeg grinder, which was discoloured and looked like it had been burnt.  It was discreetly removed and given to Alexander Pennecuik to dispose of.  Nicol, who had not seen Margaret since he had supposedly left for London, then decided to pay her a visit, and help things along.  He went to Margaret’s lodgings and on the pretence of making amends, spent time with her, drank with her and provided her with drinks.  The drinks were of course poisoned with corrosive mercury.  James Muschet, who was there too, poisoned a few of her drinks as well.  Apart from making her ill, the poison had no other effect.  Nicol decided that this plot was going nowhere, and it was dropped

 

In one of the many taverns in Edinburgh the plotters met again to discuss their plans on how to get rid of Margaret.  Bankie suggested that James Muschet could invite her to Leith, get her drunk and then drown her in a pond on the way home.  James did not like this idea, as he felt it would be too obviously a murder and that he would end up being hanged for it if they went ahead.  Grissel suggested that she and James ride out with Margaret and that the saddle on her horse could be loosened so that it would throw her.  If they arranged this near to Kirkliston Water, she would be drowned, and it would look like an accident.  It was decided that there were too many difficulties in arranging this.  The plan they eventually settled on was that Grissel would invite Margaret to her and James’ rooms in Dickson’s Close and she would entertain her and keep her there until late in the night.  James meanwhile would hide out in the close and strike Margaret over the head with a hammer when she left to make her way home.  He would then arrange her body, so it looked like she had fallen in the dark and struck her head.  Did this plot succeed?  Of course not.  Several attempts were made.  Margaret went to visit Grissel and stayed late, but every time she left there were people around in the street, so James was unable to strike her.  The plan then had to be put on hold for a week, as James had developed severe toothache from standing out in the cold waiting for Margaret to leave.  Then when he was better, their landlord grew annoyed by Margaret staying late all the time and told James and Grissel she was not welcome there anymore.

 

Nicol was now completely fed up with the plots and felt he had been duped by Bankie, James and Grissel.  He wondered if they had ever had any intention of carrying through with any of the plots or if they were just stringing him along to get money out of him.  He realised that if he wanted to be rid of Margaret, he would have to take matters into his own hands.

 

On the morning of Monday 17 October 1720 Nicol borrowed his landlady’s knife and then spent some time in the Canongate Kirk listening to sermons.  On leaving the kirk he made his way to Barnaby Lloyds, a nearby tavern.  There he met James Muschet and again they hatched a plot to kill Margaret.  This time it was agreed that James would hide in a nearby close, and that Nicol would leave the tavern with Margaret, lead her down the close and James would strike.  Margaret was then sent for, and she arrived and spent time drinking with the two men.  James then left to go and take his place in the close and wait for them.  Once he had left Nicol realised that it was unlikely that James would carry through with this latest plot and he was overtaken with a desire to kill Margaret himself, as that way he could get it over and done with.  He asked her to walk with him to Duddingston and she agreed to accompany him there.  As they walked, Margaret became increasingly aware of Nicol’s silence and his strange mood.  Tired and fed up with the way he treated her and never being quite sure of his feelings towards her, she asked if he would rather she just left him to his thoughts and went home.  Nicol grew angry with her, and he told her that if she left him and returned home, he would have nothing more to do with her.  Margaret then carried on walking with him.  They reached Duke’s Walk in Holyrood Park and there Margaret questioned the route they were taking.  Nicol told her they were taking a different route to Duddingston, then made as if he was going to embrace her and put his knife to her throat.  Margaret cried out to him – ‘And was that your design in bringing me here, to cut my throat?’  Nicol then accused her of being a whore and cheating on him.  Margaret, who was innocent of all the accusations he made, denied them saying she had done nothing wrong other than loving him.  He then made to cut her throat with the knife, but she moved her head defensively and he caught her on the chin.  She then fought with him and tried to grab the knife from him, but he cut through her hand with it.  She cried to him – ‘My love, my love, do not murder me.’  Nicol had no time for her cries for mercy and in his cold rage he grabbed her by the hair, pulled her to the ground and cut her throat several times with the knife.  As Margaret lay on the ground dying, she said to him - ‘Oh man!  It is done now, you need not give me more.’  Nicol then walked away from her, but suddenly fearing she that might recover from the wounds he had inflicted he walked back to where she lay and ‘cut her throat almost through, and so left her.’  He then fled the scene and went to James Muschet’s rooms where he told James and Grissel what he had done.

 

The next morning Margaret’s body was found and by her body was the sleeve of a man with the letter N embroidered in green silk on it.  The body was identified later that day as being that of Margaret Hall and it was quickly realised that the sleeve must belong to her husband Nicol.  Grissel, in the meantime, had come to the conclusion that it may be best for her and James to get their side of the story out before Nicol was arrested, so she went to the authorities and told them what she knew of the murder and of Nicol’s confession to her.  She and James then gave ‘King’s evidence’ against Nicol and in return were spared from any prosecution.  A few days later Nicol was arrested and confessed to the murder.  In prison as he awaited trial, Nicol received a letter from his mother, Jean Mushet.  In this she told him how ashamed she was of him and of the terrible acts he had committed.  She advised him to put aside any thoughts of escaping justice and that he should accept his guilt and the sentence handed to him by the court.  He should repent, as without evidence of true sorrow and repentance for his crimes, his soul was heading to a ‘burning lake of fire and brimstone’.

 

On 5 December 1720 Nicol appeared at court in Edinburgh, where he acknowledged that he had murdered his wife and was then found guilty of her murder.  He appeared again at court on 8 December 1720 for sentencing and was sentenced to death.  The Judge ordered that he be taken to the Grassmarket on 6 January 1721 and there, between the hours of two and four in the afternoon, be hanged until dead.  Given the heinous nature of his crime and the innocence of the victim, his body was then to be hung in chains on the Gallow Lee, between Edinburgh and Leith.

 

While in prison awaiting execution, Nicol wrote an account of his life and the events leading up to the murder of Margaret.  He tried to excuse many of his actions and stated he had been led astray by Bankie, James Muschet and Grissel Bell.  He also denied rumours that he was a drunk, had attempted suicide on various occasions and had been having an affair with his landlady, Mrs Macadam.  Rumours that we can imagine were all probably true.  The day before he was to be executed Nicol received a letter from Alexander Pennecuik.  In this letter Pennecuik asked that his name be cleared, and that Nicol should admit to the lies he had told about his, Pennecuik’s, involvement in the plot against Margaret.  Nicol replied that everything he had said to the authorities about Pennecuik was true and that he knew this.

 

On the afternoon of 6 January 1721 Nicol was taken from his cell at the Tolbooth by the City Guard and travelled the short distance down to the Grassmarket, where he no doubt drank a few ales and brandies before being led to the gallows.  There, in front of the crowd gathered to see the monster who had so cruelly and brutally murdered his young wife, he was hanged.  His body was then cut down and wrapped in chains and taken to the Gallow Lee.  There it was hung up for all to see, to be pecked by birds and to decay and crumble.  And that was the fate of Nicol Muschet, a drunk, a fool and a cruel, violent man who married in haste and then, regretting the marriage, brutally murdered his wife.

 

There is a rather macabre tale about Nicol Muschet’s body as it was rotting in its chains.  A butcher called Nicol Brown was drinking in a tavern one night with a group of his fellow butchers.  As the drink flowed, they got into a dispute about how long meat could be kept before it was cooked and eaten.  As more drink flowed, they began to place bets and Brown bet them a guinea that he could eat a pound of the oldest, most rotten meat they could find.  The bet was taken and some of the group went off to find the most disgusting hunk of meat they could.  As they walked through the town discussing where to get this foul flesh from, one of them remembered that Nicol Muschet was hanging in chains at Gallow Lee.  So, they procured a ladder and some other implements and went down to the gallows.  There they cut a hunk of flesh from his rotting corpse and took it back to present to Brown.  Brown, who was not one to lose a bet, cooked the flesh like he was cooking a beefsteak and then with the aid of much ale and whisky he ate it all and won his guinea. 

 

So, what of Bankie’s fate?  Well, Bankie, unlike James Muschet and Grissel Bell, did not escape justice.  He appeared in court in March 1721 charged with the various attempts made on Margaret Hall’s life.  He was found guilty and was banished for life to ‘His Majesty’s Plantations in America.

 

The local populace of the Abbeyhill area of Edinburgh, where the murder of Margaret had taken place, were so shocked by what had happened that they built a cairn to mark their horror and to remember her.  The original Muschet’s Cairn stood a short distance to the west of where the present cairn now stands.  It was moved in 1823 when a footpath was constructed through the park.

 

I left a Skulferatu at the cairn.

 

Skulferatu #40

 

Skulferatu #40 amongst rocks of Muschet’s Cairn

 

Map showing location of Skulferatu #40

 

The coordinates for the location of the Skulferatu are –

 

Latitude 55.954470

Longitude -3.158299

 

I used the following sources for the tale of Muschet’s Cairn –

 

The Confession, & c. of Nicol Muschet, of Boghall, who was executed in the Grassmarket, January 1721 for the Murder of his Wife, in the Duke’s Walk, near Edinburgh.

Printed for Oliver and Boyd; Wm. Turnbull, Glasgow; and Law & Whittaker, London. 

1818

 

Criminal Trials illustrative of the tale entitled The Heart of Midlothian, Published from the Original Record

Edited by Charles Kirkpatrick Sharp

Edinburgh

1818

 

Nothing but Murder

By William Roughead

Sheridan House

New York

1946

 

Book of Scottish Story

Traditions of the Old Tolbooth of Edinburgh

By Robert Chambers

1896

Available at –

Book of Scottish Story - Historical, Humorous, Legendary, Imaginative (electricscotland.com)

Article and photographs are copyright of © Kevin Nosferatu, unless otherwise specified.