Friday meant a gorgeous trip to the Borders. Scott’s View, looking out towards the Eildon Hills is, without question, one of the most spectacular spots in the country. Dryburgh and Melrose Abbeys were as beautiful and peaceful as ever, the emerging sun creating classic plays of light and shadow about the ruins. A wander up to the Rhymer’s Stone, where legend has it Thomas Learmont of Ercildoune, whilst resting beneath the Eildon tree, met and was spirited away by the Fairy Queen – a reminder of an always a popular tale.
Cue stories of St Cuthbert; Sir Walter; Earl Haig; and, for sure, Thomas the Rhymer.
I was, however, curious about the question posed by Sara Sheridan in her important volume (if you haven’t got a copy yet, get to it!): Where are the Women?
Turning to Sheridan’s book for the answer, I discovered that, as across Scotland, there are many incredible ladies associated with this part of the country. I decided to take a deeper look into the story of one of these remarkable women.
The Borders are known for their myths and legends. The stories were, for centuries, generally passed as oral tradition through families, before finally being recorded in writing, normally in the nineteenth century. By which time presumably, each generation had added their own flourish. The stories are fascinating, with perhaps a kernel of truth in there somewhere, but even more as an indication of the values being instilled by the storytellers. From the recounting we can feel, almost viscerally, the strength of the bonds being forged in the young listeners, gripped by tales of their ancestors.
The story of Margaret Hardie aka Midside Maggie fits this description perfectly. And we can be sure that the original nugget of truth is in there somewhere, as we even possess a physical object as proof.
Margaret Lylestone, we are told, married Thomas Hardie of Tollishill Farm in 1643. Tollishill, or Midside, is within the estates of Lauderdale, situated between Fala Dam to the north and the town of Lauder to the south. Most travellers today would pass only as close as the A68, which these days runs just a little to the west of Maggie and Thomas’ home. The Borders climate can be harsh – as we made our way south at the end of April this year, at the higher slopes by Soutra Aisle, the thermometer recorded almost freezing and wisps of snow flew past on the wind. Back in the seventeenth century, the Hardies found this out to their cost. Six years of bad weather had left them struggling, and on the seventh their entire flock of sheep died. They faced starvation.
Maggie decided to take matters into her own hands. She hoiked up her skirts, trudged the 9 miles south to Lauder and made her way up to the gates of magnificent Thirlestane Castle. This was the home of the laird, John Maitland, who at this time held the title, Earl of Lauderdale. The Castle could not have been more of a contrast to Maggie’s own farming homestead, but if she was overawed by the magnificence she held her feelings in check, as she was invited in and given an audience with Lauderdale himself.
Her exact words are unknown to us, but somehow Maggie persuaded Maitland of their dire circumstances, and that there was no way they could pay the rent they were due that year. Impressed by her audacity, and clearly with an eye for a narrative, the Earl offered the Hardies an alternative. The rent was due on midsummer’s day. If they could present him instead, on that same date, with a snowball, he would forego the rent.
We can only imagine what Thomas made of Maggie’s arrangement when she recounted the tale on her return to Tollishill, but for once the cold temperatures would work in the family’s favour. They collected snow in a shady spot, until the named day arrived. Gathering up and carrying a large enough quantity, that there would be sufficient left un-melted from the journey back to Thirlestane, would have been some task. Maggie must have wondered all the long way if the Earl would really keep his side of the bargain, or if perhaps he had been playing a cruel joke all along.
On arrival – her clothes presumably soaked with the melting snow – she was ushered in once again and waited to be presented to the Earl. Any delay would have been unbearable, as the icy lump slowly disappeared in her arms. Once in the laird’s company she must have hoped against hope that the slushy mess she was handing over to him, really would take the place of the money they owed.
Lauderdale clearly had a soft spot for Maggie. He took the snowball and kept his word. When she arrived back home, late that evening, the relief she and Thomas must have felt was enormous. Indeed, their luck had turned. The weather improved, the money saved they ploughed back into the farm, and for the first time in their marriage the following year was a success. A great success. They prospered!
Lauderdale’s life however, was to take a different turn.
The mid-seventeenth century was a time of great conflict and fear throughout the British Isles. Lauderdale had been a Covenanter. Alongside thousands of other Scottish nobles, he signed the National Covenant, publically stating his dissatisfaction with King Charles I not allowing Scots to worship in the way they believed right. In 1649, Charles was beheaded and Oliver Cromwell took over as Lord Protector, in an act that, for over a decade, got rid of the monarchy entirely, in England at least. In Scotland, Charles’ son was crowned Charles II. Infuriated, Cromwell had his army attack Scotland.
Scots themselves were divided, even amongst those who had signed the Covenant. Some believed the monarchy as an institution was the problem. Others, such as Lauderdale, thought the issue had been purely with King Charles I.
As a royalist, in favour of Charles II, Lauderdale fought at the Battle of Worcester in 1651. After being decisively defeated, the Earl was captured by Cromwell’s men, taken to the Tower of London, and was to remain a prisoner for the next nine years. His prospects must have looked bleak. Charles, on the other hand, escaped to France.
Back in the Borders, Lauderdale's lands were forfeited. For his tenants this meant something of a windfall. They would live free of rent for as long as the laird was imprisoned.
Maggie, however, had not forgotten the Earl’s kindness. She and Thomas, now in a position to be able to pay, kept the rent they owed aside. Each year they saved the amount in the form of gold coins. After many years, Maggie must have understood that Lauderdale was in dire need. She hoiked up her skirts once again, and this time set out on the much more gruelling and dangerous journey south.
She took with her on this expedition a bannock – a traditional Scottish type of circular, flat bread, which she had baked on the griddle before setting off. This food was not, however, to give her sustenance on her long walk. Rather, on arrival in London, she astutely negotiated her way, once again, into the company of the Earl. This time, however, the circumstances were quite reversed, and she, for a change, held the balance of power. She handed over the loaf, with secret instructions that it was not to be consumed. After her departure for the return trudge home, Lauderdale broke open the bread, only to find baked into it, all the gold owed in rent by the Hardies, for the past 9 years. A substantial amount – substantial enough, indeed, that he was able to use it to buy his freedom.
On his release, Lauderdale fled to join Charles II in Holland. In 1660, with Cromwell safely dead, Charles and Lauderdale returned safely to Britain. Charles was crowned in England, and acknowledged as king in Scotland, whilst the Earl was finally able to return home to Thirlestane Castle.
In recognition of his loyalty Charles rewarded Lauderdale over the following years by returning his lands, raising his status from Earl to Duke, and later by making him a Knight of the Order of the Thistle – the highest order of chivalry in Scotland.
In turn, Lauderdale never forgot the loyalty, the dedication, courage, and kindness shown by Margaret Hardie. He ensured that neither she and her husband, nor any of their children would ever pay rent again for Tollishill Farm. He also gave Maggie a gift. An item of jewellery so fine it had probably been a wedding present to a bride of a previous generation of Maitlands.
Midside Maggie’s girdle – as the silver chain with disk and pendent, designed to be worn around the waist, was to become known – passed down through the Hardie family alongside the story of its recipient. A treasured heirloom, which, just like the story, for centuries did not leave the lands of Lauderdale.
It was finally gifted in the 1890s to the National Museum of Antiquities for Scotland – as the National Museum was then called. Just 70 years earlier the tale of Midside Maggie had first been published in a book of verse by James Miller.
The lesson generations of Hardies taught their children came in the form of a courageous woman, who showed intelligence, compassion and above all loyalty, to her family and to those who had shown them kindness. A tale that surely has evolved down the years.
And, admittedly I cannot claim that it has not been given another wee flourish in this latest retelling!
Bibliography:
Sheridan, Sara: Where are the Women? A Guide to an Imagined Scotland, Historic Environment Scotland, 2019
The New Biographical Dictionary of Scottish Women, Edinburgh University Press, 2018
Midside Maggie’s Girdle - National Museums of Scotland database
Letter accompanying the presentation of Maggie’s girdle to the Museum, 1898
Images are my own other than
Thirlestane Castle: https://www.thirlestanecastle.co.uk/
Midside Maggie's girdle: National Museums of Scotland database