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som PAGES TRO Al AIT SCRAP BOOK
ANNIE LAURIE’S STORY.
Visit to the Home of a Famous
Heroine.
She Jilted the Author of the Ballad,
But Her Will Showed No Regret
For Her Coquetry.
Most people suppose “Annie Laurie’’
to be a creation of the song writer’s
fancy, or perhaps some Scotch peas
ant girl, like Highland Mary and
most of the heroines of Robert Burns.
In either case they are mistaken.
Annie Laurie was “born in the pur
ple,” so to speak, Maxwelton House,
in the beautiful Glen of the Cairn —
Glencairn. Her home was in the heart
of the most pastorally lovely of Scot
tish shires —that of Dumfries. Her
birth is thus set down by her father
in what is called the Barjorg manu
script:
“At the pleasure of the Almighty
God, my daughter, Anna Laurie, was
born upon the 16th day of December,
1682 years, about 6 o’clock in the
morning, and was baptized by Mr.
George , minister of Glencairn.”
Her father was Sir Robert Laurie.,
first baronet, and her mother was
Jane Riddell.
Maxwelton house was partially burn
ed in the last century, but not all of
it. The great tower is incorporated
in the new house, and also a consid
erable portion of the old walls was
built in. The foundations are those
of the castle. In places its walls are
twelve feet thick. The lower room
is the “gunroom,” and the little room
above, that in the next story, is al
ways spoken of in the family as “An
nie Laurie’s room or boudoir.” This
room of Annie’s has been opened into
the drawing room by taking down the
wall on that side; it forms a charm
ing alcove, and its ground stone ceil
ing shows its age.
In the dining room, a fine large
apartment, we come again upon the
old walls, six feet thick, which give
very deep window recesses. In this
room hang the portraits of Annie
Laurie and her husband, Alexander
Ferguson. They are half length, life
size.
Annie’s hair is dark brown, and
she has full dark eyes; it is difficult
to say whether brown or deep hazel.
I incline to the latter, Whoever
doctored the second verse of the orig
inal song—l heard it credited to “Mrs.
Grundy” by a grand nephew of Burns
—whoever it was he had apparently
no knowledge of this portrait, for you
all know he has given Annie a “dark
blue e’e.”
The nose is long and straight. The
under lip full, as though “some bee
had stung it newly,” like that of Suck
ling’s bride. A true Scotch face of
a type to be met any day in Edin
burgh, or any other Scotch town. She
is in evening dress of white satin,
and she wears no jewels but the pearls
in her hair.
Annie looked down upon us, me
thought, with a roguish air, and be
hind the somewhat demure expres
sion I fancied there lurked the mis
chievous sprite who wrought such hav
oc with the heart of Douglas of Fin
land, and then jilted him two hundred
odd years ago. It was Douglas of Fin
land who wrote the song.
Alexander Ferguson, the husband of
Annie Laurie, has a handsome, youth
ful face, with dark eyes and curling
hair. His coat is brown, and his waist
coat blue embroidered with gold, and
WATSON'S WEEKLY JEFFERSONIAN.
he wears abundant lace in the charm
ing old fashion.
It was at Maxwelton house —Annie’s
birthplace—that I came across the
missing link in the chain of evidence
that fixes the authorship of the song
upon Douglas of Finland.
The present proprietor of Maxwel
ton house is Sir Emilius Laurie, for
merly rector of St. John’s, Paddington,
when he was known as Sir Emilius
Bayley. He took the name of Laurie
when he succeeded to the family es
tates. Sir Emilius is a descendant of
Sir Walter, third Baronet and brother
of Annie.
Sir Emilius placed in my hands a
letter of which he said I might make
what use 1 liked, and this letter con
tained the missing link.
It was written in 1889 by a friend
to Sir Emilius, and relates an incident
which took place in 1854. At thart time
the writer, whom we will call Mr.
8., was on a visit with his wife to
some friends in Yorkshire. Mrs. B.
was a somewhat famous singer of the
ballads, singing them with taste and
pathos. A few friends were invited
to meet them one evening, and after
the ladies had retired to the drawing
room, their hostess asked Mrs. B. to
sing. And she sang “Annie Laurie”
in the modern revision, just as we all
sing it.
Among the guests was an old lady in
her 97th year. She gave close atten
tion to the singing of the ballad, and
when Mrs. B. had finished she spoke
up: “Thank you, thank you very
much. But they’re na the words my
grand-father wrote.” Then she repeat
ed the first verse as she knew it.
The next day Mr. and Mrs. B. called
upon her, and in the meantime she
had the original first verse written
out, dictating it to a grand niece. She
signed it with her own shaky hand.
Not being satisfied with the signature,
she had signed it a second time.
She explained that her grandfath
er Douglas of Finland, was desperately
in love with Annie Laurie when he
wrote the song. ““But,” she added,
“he did na get her after a’.”
She was not quite sure as to An
nie’s fate, she said. Some folks had
said she died unmarried, while some
had said she married Ferguson of
Craigdarrock, and she rather thought
that was the truth.
Questioned as to the authenticity
of the verse she had given, she said:
“Oh, I mind it fine. I have remem
bered them a’ my life. My father of
ten repeated them to me.” And here
is the verse signed with his name:
Maxweltown’s banks are bonnle,
They’re a’ clad owre wi’ dew,
Where I an’ Annie Laurie
Made up the bargain true,
Made up the bargain true,
Which ne’er forgot s’all be,
An’ for bonnie Annie Laurie
I’d lay me down an’ dee.
I mind na’ mair.
Signed, CLARK DOUGLAS.
August 30, 1854.
In the original song there were but
two verses and the following is the
second:
She’s backit like the peacock,
She’s breatit like the swan,
She’s jimp about the middle,
Her waist ye weel mich span.
An’ she has a rolling e’e,
An’ for bonnie Annie Laurie
I’d lay me down an* dee.
As I have said, the “rolling e’e” has
been changed and wrongfully into one
of “dark blue.”
Who added the third verse is not
known but no lover of the song would
willingly dispense with it:
Like dew on the gow r ans lying
Is the fa’ o’ her fairy set;
Like summer breezes sighing
Her voice is low an’ sweet,
Hej voice is low an’ sweet,
An’ she’s a’ the world to me,
An’ for bonnie Annie Laurie
l‘d lay me down an’ dee.
This verse was touch of the. true
lyric fire ,and she’s a’ the world to
me” is worthy of Robbie Burns him
self. And as to the “gowans,” I, for one,
shall always cling to them, since
I picked them on the lawns of Craig
darrock.
The gowan, by the way, is the “moon
daisy” of England, and the “white
weed” or field daisy of New Eng
land, now genteelly called “Marguer
ite.”
lhe music of the song is modern,
and was composed by Lady John
Scott, aunt by marriage of the present
Duke of Buccleuch. The composer
was only gussed at for many years,
but somewhat recently she has ac
knowledged the authorship.
The present proprietor of the Craig
darrock is Captain Robert Ferguson
of the fourth generation in direct de
scent from Annie Laurie.
Against the east gable of the nearby
kirk is the burial ground of the Lau
ries, and against the west that of the
Fergusons. A ponderous monument
marks the grave of Annie’s grand
father, cut with those hideous em
blems which former generations seem
ed to delight in. But the burial place
of the Fergusons is singularly lacking
early monuments, and no stone marks
the place of Annie’s rest.
At Craigdarrock house is kept An
nie’s will, a copy of which I give. As
a will simply, it is of no special value.
As Annie Laurie's it will be read with
interest:
I, Anna Laurie, spouse to Alexr.
Fergusone of Craigdarrock. Foras
much as I considering it a dewtie
upon everie persone whyle they are
in health and sound judgment so to
settle yer wordly affairs that yrby
all animosities betwixt friends and
relatives may obviat and also for the
singular love and respect I have for
the said Alex. Fergusone, in case he
survive me 1 do heir by make my
letter will as follows: First —I rec
ommend my soule to God, hoping by
the meritorious righteousness of Jesus
Christ to be saved; secondly, I recom
mend my body to be decently and
orderly interred; and in the thirif
place nominate and appoynt
the said Alexr. Fergusone to
be my sole and only executor, lega
tor and universall intromettor with
my hail goods, gear, debts and soums
off money that shall pertain and be
long to me the tyme of my decease,
or shall be dew to me by bill, bond
or oyrway; with power to him to ob
tain himself confirmed and decreed
exr. to me and to everiething for fix
ing and establishing the right of my
spouse in his person as law requires;
in witness whereof their putts (writ
ten by John Wilsone off Chapel in
Dumfries are subd. by me at Craig
darrock the twenty-eighth day of Apryle
Jajvij and eleven (1711) years, before
the witnesses the sd. John Wilsone
and John Nicholsone his servitor.
ANN. LAURIE,
JO. WILSON, Witness,
JOHN HOAT, Witness.
If our dates are correct, this will
was written the year after her mar
riage. And it is pleasant to see that
she had such entire trust in Aexander
Ferguson. Evidently she cherished no
lingering regrets for Douglas of Fin
land.
THE POET IN THE CLOUD.
O! it is pleasant, with a heart at ease,
Just after sunset, or by moonlight
skies,
To make the shifting clouds be what
you please,
Or let the easily persuaded eyes
Own each quaint likeness issuing from
the mold
Os a friend’s fancy; or with head
bent low
And cheek aslant see rivers flow with
gold
’Twixt crimson banks; and then, a
traveler go
From mount to mount through Cloud
land, gorgeous land!
Or listening to the tide, with closed
sight,
Be that blind bard that on the Chian
strand
By those deep sounds possessed with
inward sight,
Beheld the Iliad and the Odyssey
Rise to the swelling of the voiceful
sea.
—Samuel Taylor Coleridge.
THE CALL OF TALENT.
God has given all,
Pleasant work to do,
Talent’s silent call,
Comes to me and you.
Woe to them that hail,
Not the call aright,
Doomed are they to fail,
In a joyless fight.
Some are bid to toil,
With the saw and plane,
Some to till the soil,
Some to reap the grain.
Skilled are some with hand,
Using cunning tool,
Others train the mind,
Deep in wisdom’s school.
Some are sent away,
Into scented fields,
There to pluck the gay
Flowers nature yields.
They who soon obey,
Inclination’s voice,
Whatsoe’er it say,
Shall fore’er rejoice.
Though the course may run,
Through the darkened night,
Talent, like a sun,
Makes the pathway bright.
—Robert Haygood McConnell.
UNWITTING JESTS.
Here are some gem answers to
questions put in a recent history ex
amination at a large private school:
“Simon de Montfort formed what
was known as the Mad Parliament;
it was something the same as it is
at the present day.”
“Cromwell raised a famous body of
soldiers known to history as ‘the Iron
clads.’ ”
“Mortmain tried to stop dead men
from leaving their land to churches.”
—London Tatler.
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