The Death of Leith Hall

A new tale for the Blood & Granite II Tour, which features the crimes and punishments of medieval and Victorian Aberdeen.

Leith Hall, Rhynie, the home of the Leith-Hays

The Laird of Leith-Hall near Rhynie, Aberdeenshire, John Leith was enjoying himself after been in town to pay his bills at the Martinmas term, but his journey home again would be his last.  The ballad featuring the murder of this landowner was collected by folklorist, Peter Buchan in 1829 for his collection of British folk song, "from a respectable tradesman's wife who recollects the circumstance".

Basically, the worthies from the shire were having a booze-up in the local tavern, the New Inn, which is now the Archibald Simpson bar, reconstructed from the Clydesdale Bank which Archie Simpson designed, and things got out of hand:

"but how the quarrel did begin/
there’s no-one there to know/
but a dowie quarrel for Leith-Hall/
It proved his overthrow!"

So what happened to Leith-Hall? Lairds, like farmers were often known by the name of their estate, as was the murderer, James Abernethy of Mayen who shot the fatal pistol ball into John Leith's head outside on the Plainstanes of Aberdeen's Castlegate. 21 December, 1763.

Our protagonists were men in their thirties with young families, you'd think they knew better? It was clearly a case of the good Scots phrase "Fan drink's in, wit's oot!"

John Leith, the third of that name was married to Harriet Stuart; his sons, John and Alexander were 6 and 5 at the time of their father's death, their brother James was still in his mother's pregnant belly.

Mayen, also a family man to James, Jane, Isobel, Helen and Anne was married to Jane Duff.  His mother was part of the Moirs of Stoneywood in Dyce, a venerable family.  His uncle was equally distinguished as the heir of the Byres of Coates family in Edinburgh.  Patrick Byres, though born in Ireland, had inherited his Scots cousins' estate in the early eighteenth century.  He was married to the sister of James Abernethy's mother, Jean.

It would seem that Patrick played a greater part in the drama than the balladier knew; that would come out at the abortive murder trial of May 1764.  Byres was a 50-year old Jacobite who had fought for Bonnie Prince Charlie at Culloden and escaped to France to avoid arrest.  He was able to return and avoid his estate being forfeited by taking advantage of the English authorities.  His friends said, no, no, this is Peter Byres, he's not a Jacobite, you've got him wrong.  Using the English form of his name, Patrick snuck back to Edinburgh and thence to Aberdeenshire to rejoin his wife and family.  On the night of the murder, he was one of the "four and twenty gentlemen" that the balladier tells us was "birling at the wine."

Archibald Campbell was the licencee of the New Inn at the time where the quarrel broke out between Leith-Hall and Mayen.  This tavern had been founded in 1755 by local freemasons who felt a replacement was needed for Skipper Scott's tavern which had stood in what was now Peacock's Close.  Patrick Byres was a boy of two back in Dublin, when this other old Jacobite, Alexander Scott had invited the exiled Prince James to dine with him during the Fifteen Rebellion.  But though the Leiths and Abernethys may have supported that cause, Mayen's loud mouth ensured that petty jealousy would destroy any future relationship between the families.

Joseph Robertson, author of the first Book of Bon Accord, a history of Aberdeen, states that the reason for the quarrel had been forgotten in the stir following, as does the ballad, but the folk of Leith Hall state that Mayen had accused Leith-Hall of adulterating the grain sold from his barns, providing a cheaper product for the same money.  Naturally John leapt to his own defence.  Mayen stormed outside, and one of the men left in the inn warned Leith-Hall he had better take care for his own safety that night.

In the Castlegate, the ballad tells us "Cruel Mayen followed him /And shot him through the brow/ He left him lying in his wounds/ the blood was gushing down".  John Leith was found bleeding from a wound in his forehead by his servants and friends; he was transported home to Rhynie to a sorrowful reception by his wife and children according to the ballad.  Mrs Leith would have been distraught knowing if John died, his six year old son would become a minority laird, causing uncertainty to the whole estate.  Sadly he did not recover and reputedly died on Christmas Day.

Mayen meanwhile had skipped the country with Patrick Byres' help.  The editor of the 1840 Black Kalendar of Aberdeen - the record of court cases in the city - noted that  “the quarrel between Leith-Hall and Mayen might have been settled but for the interference of Patrick Byres of Tonley who urged Mayen to the deed and even loaded his pistol, it is certain he left the country along with Mayen.”

Patrick had induced his nephew to stick to his guns, literally! However, many years later, Patrick's grandson, Dr James Moir of Stoneywood, defended Byres' part in the affair.  Yes he was there, Dr Moir agreed, but he had only secured horses for his wife's nephew to escape, and was not the real killer behind the hot-headed Mayen.

The trial was set for May 1764; many witnesses had seen the crime take place.  Presiding Judge, Lord Auchinleck came to Aberdeen as part of the court circuit of that quarter.  However, as the accused did not appear, we read in the Black Kalendar that “James Abernethy of Mayen was outlawed for not appearing to stand trial on an indictment for the murder of John Leith of Leith-Hall”

So, what happened?

• Mayen never returned to Scotland, his son who inherited died young with no family
• John Leith’s son, John died of TB in 1776, his brother Alexander succeeded, and inherited the estate of the Hay family, thus became the first laird of Leith Hall know as Sandy Leith-Hay, lived to the age of 75
• Patrick lived on and still caused trouble; years after the murder, he had a sword-duel with Alexander Leith of Freefield a cousin of John Leith’s, at the Bridge of Alford, they argued over a new road; their friends broke it up
• One of the pistol balls that Mayen fired was said to have stuck in a lamppost for many years after the incident  
• John’s spirit was seen right up into the mid-twentieth century wandering around Leith Hall, with his head covered in a dirty bandage, wearing green trousers and dark-blue shirt, his face contorted with pain

The murder was a great scandal which went down in Aberdeen's criminal annals.  Lord Auchinleck’s son, the famous biographer and friend of Dr Samuel Johnson, James Boswell visited the New Inn ten years later, and an old waiter remembered Alexander Boswell and regaled them with the tale.

The pain of this earth-bound spirit, cut down in his prime lasted the centuries, even in 1965, Author Elizabeth Byrd who rented Leith Hall along with her husband John Gaunt during the 1960s, saw John’s ghost standing at the end of her bed.

Poor old John Leith; the balladier ends by praying for his spirit, and cursing his killer:

Just vengeance fall from Heaven's high/ And light on Mayen's head.

The moral of the story is, don't go drinking with people who might actually wish you bodily harm!

Quite interesting... in print SOON

Yes folks, this blog contains many stories which will soon appear in PRINT.  I have for some time been working with Black & White Publishing of Edinburgh on the Hidden Aberdeen book - and I just saw the page proofs yesterday - amazing!  This will of course put paid to the thieving plagiarist who copies and pastes my work wholesale with no apology.  You have been warned, sir, so hands off my work or you will be dealt with.

The Mad Painter's nephew's friend...

Wallace Tower on Carnegie's Brae. Originally known as Benholm's Lodging after Robert Keith of Benholm, the owner.  Benholm was the brother of George Keith, the Earl Marischal. 

"Spanish" John Phillip

A little known fact - No.4 Wallace Nook - which would have been a flat in the tower once it was split up into separate dwellings - was home to John Phillip, an apprentice painter & glazier. He would go on to become a fellow of the Royal Academy of Art, and be painter famed for his scenes in Spain, earning him the name "Spanish" Phillip. 

One of his academy friends, Frank Dadd had a very strange uncle, Richard Dadd. 

Richard Dadd - the Mad Artist

The latter was insane, he murdered his own father and was thereafter locked up in an asylum - the doctors realised Richard would remain calm if allowed to paint - his works featured fairies, elves, dwarves and other strange mythical creatures.

"The Fairy-Feller's Master Stoke"
one of Dadd's oddest fairy painting

He thus he became one of the many Victorian "Fairy Painters" who popularised the subject at the very time the interest in the supernatural was growing - which led to the ultimate hoax, "The Cottingley Fairies", when two cousins tricked the intelligentsia of the day with photographs of these supposed winged sprites. 

Thus we have three degrees of separation from the Wallace Tower to the Cottingley Fairies. History is always under your feet and on your doorstep!!

"Fake" Fairy photo with Elsie, one of the tricky cousins and her fairy friend

Let folk say what they please!

That was the gist of the motto of the Earls Marischal, the Keith family, the full version being Ne'er ye mind fit folk say, dee ye weel and lat them say.  Only, that is a variant of the motto displayed in Marischal College's Mitchell Hall.  George Keith, the Protestant 5th earl, founded the college in 1593 as a rival to Catholic noble, Alexander Fraser's university college in Fraserburgh, founded but a year before.  George and his uncle, William Keith, the 4th earl, had basically stitched up a whole list of monastic properties between them, including the Earl's Hall in Castlegate which had been the Abbot of Deer's house.  Greyfriars was where Marischal was built; the Blackfriars/Dominicans' old estate was also claimed by the Keiths.

The family appear to have Anglo-Norman origins as many of the 13th century nobles did.  One Harvey de Keth saved the life of William the Lion, King of Scots and was awarded the title of "Great Marischal", the duties of which included being the royal bodyguard at court, and keeper of the royal regalia.  Their earldom was awarded in 1458.  They married into another settled Anglo-Norman family, the Cheynes of Inverugie, which allowed them to own both Ravenscraig and Inverugie castles situated on the river which flowed into Peterhead, one of the Keiths' major seats of power.  That allied them to Bishop Henry Cheyne of St Machar - the priest whose support for the usurped John Balliol and the Comyns brought him into conflict with Robert the Bruce.  Henry's brother, Reginald, was the one who invited the Carmelites to come to Aberdeen in 1270.  So they were well-connected even then!

After the Reformation church lands were fair game for any noble of the old or new religions; William Keith was smart, he, with royal favour, had his son Robert created "Commendator of Deer" - this meant that he was the postulant bishop - a trainee - even though he probably had no intention of following a religious life when his Dad was a Protestant!  By the time poor Mary, Queen of Scots had lost her life and her son James, VI of Scotland was on the throne, being a Catholic was very unwise.  The Keiths ingratiated themselves to the new king, and in a smart deal, resigned the lands of Deer to the crown in exchange for two things - for Robert, the Lordship of Altrie, and for his cousin George, who would be William's heir, a burgh of barony which included all the lands which belonged to the Abbey of Deer and the town of Peterhead.

Talk about sticking two fingers up at everyone else! No wonder they had such a motto!

Now the oddity in today's blog post is the fact that the version of the motto I quoted earlier is etched into a block on a wall in Jackson Terrace.  There is no earthly reason why it should be there! The land where these Victorian tenements stand was empty waste ground until at least the 1800s.  King Street wasn't started until 1808!  Where did this block come from? And why did it end up in a tenement building which backed onto the old King Street school?  If anyone has any ideas, let me know!!

Plagiarists - the plague of true authors!

It has come to my attention again that someone is copying my work and claiming it's theirs.  This person has created a whole website of COPYRIGHT material to which he has no title.  If you see ANY of the text of the articles on this blog ELSEWHERE - let me know; also report the website to the service provider; Since I am about to publish a book containing some of this material I will be entitled to take anyone to court and sue them if they steal my work.

So, be warned, I know who you are, and where you live.  Stop stealing my work.

The Spirits of Art Deco

Looming out from the top of South Mount Street is the tenement complex of Rosemount Square.  Built after World War II, not only as an answer to the shortage of accommodation due to bomb damage, but also part of the pre-war plan to improve the frankly miserable Victorian housing stock Britain-wide, Rosemount Square was the modern face of social housing.

In 1937, City Architect, A. B. Gardner was tasked with providing a solution which would fulfil the requirements of the 1935 Housing Act.

Alex Hunter's Store, South Mount Street - Former C&E Morton's factory

The site at Rosemount was conveniently empty after a fire which destroyed the former C & E Morton’s preserves factory.  Morton’s was a local firm which had been set up in 1849 by John Thomas Morton.

One of Gardner’s most talented designers was local lad, Leo Durnin, born in 1902.  Having already created the classic design for the Uptown Baths, Durnin was inspired by the communist architecture of Germany and Austria for Rosemount Square.  The arches and circular design echo both Karl Marx-hof in Vienna and Hufeisenseidlung in Berlin.  The horseshoe-shaped complex would be an airy, modern set of dwellings with inside toilets! What a change from the crowded, smelly closeys and stairwells of the Victorian tenements nearby.  Durnin even considered the advent of mass public car ownership as he made the arches wide enough to accommodate modern vehicles.

War prevented the design being executed until 1945.  Alexander B. Gardner, who apparently did not suffer fools gladly, especially at council meetings, was finally able to go ahead and include two of sculptor, T.B. Huxley-Jones’ planned designs for decoration above the arches.  The latter was most famous for his statue of Helios, Greek god of the sun, at BBC White City, but the elements of wind and rain seemed far more appropriate for the Granite City!


“Aeolos”, Spirit of the Winds, complete with “flapper” girl hairdo, rides her slick mount across the arch in Leadside Road.


The Spirit of Rain, sporting a Marcel wave and a diaphanous gown, unceremoniously dumps a bucket of water onto the heads of those entering from South Mount Street.

The third design ‘Spirit of the Cold’ was never completed due to tight finances.  Would Huxley-Jones have designed her with a fur-collared 1930s coat and cloche hat?

Certainly Rosemount Square remains a touch of pre-war glamour in an area now surrounded by uninspired 1980s blocks, reminding us of our once brilliant architectural heritage.  Long may it stay!

The Quaker's Grave

Dead Man's Walk - Newgate

I have an over-active imagination.  I know this after having jumped to the most ridiculous conclusion last week.  London’s Newgate Jail, now demolished, had a corridor linking to the courts called Dead Man’s Walk.  The grisly name indicated the dumping of executed criminals between the cavity walls, rather than a pauper’s burial.

Only initials carved into the walls indicated the locus of individual remains in this hidden burial site.

So, seeing two sets of incised letters on the wall of St Nicholas Kirkyard, near the Back Wynd gate, this week, I thought I had stumbled on a murderer’s grave!

I established from the city archivist that the wall of the Mither Kirk on what was first called ‘Westerkirkgate’ was built in the late 16th century, so would have almost been the edge of the city as it existed then.  It added up, a criminal, a despised person, buried just out of the kirkyard.  But no!

When I returned to take a closer look, I found a graveslab on the ground below the letters which informed me this was the resting place of Margaret Smith, who died in 1669 and her husband, Gilbert Mollison, Bailie of Aberdeen, who died 20 years later.  The letters were GM and MS.  Duh!  So, it was an ordinary grave after all.

Grave slab of Gilbert and Margaret Mollison - St Nick's Kirkyard

Yet on further research I discovered not only was Bailie Mollison a magistrate, and thus well-respected, but his wife Margaret was a known member of the Society of Friends; a Quaker.  Sadly the Friends were persecuted in the city, despite many prominent members including Provost Alexander Jaffray.  Quakers did not believe in the need for memorial markers, much to the annoyance of others.  Mrs Mollison was at the time facetiously described as ‘wearing thin her knees’ due to the frequency of her devotions.  Gilbert remembered her as she wished with only her initials carved in the wall of the kirkyard.  Their family added the father’s later.  

But the children of George Mollison, hosier, decided they deserved better.  In 1834, when George died, the lost grave of Margaret and Gilbert was reinstated with a large headstone.  The family’s affection was clear in the motto “the memory of the just is blessed, they rest from their labours and their works follow them.”  Now far from despised non-conformists, the Mollisons were celebrated by their descendants.