The Two Brothers- Riddell pre-1858 Child A b.
[Campbell Riddell (1795-1858) moved to Sydney Austrailia in 1830 returning to England in 1857 the year before he died. Certainly the date for this should be pre-1830.
Margaret Warrender, 1890, gives this information in her book, Walks near Edinburgh (see excerpt at the bottom of the page). It's followed by the ballad, both are found in her footnotes: "It has been supposed by several good judges, including Charles Sharpe, that this melancholy accident gave rise to the ballad of "The Two Brothers." The names, William and John, certainly agree with those of the ballad, but there are several trifling dissimilarities. In all the different versions of "The Two Brothers," it is a knife that gives John the deadly wound, whereas the Somerville tragedy was caused by the accidental discharge of a pistol. Then, in the version I am about to quote, the scene of the story is laid in the north. This version differs slightly from all those hitherto published. In it the brothers are styled Lord William and Lord John. It was given to Lady John Scott many years ago by Campbell Riddell (Sir James Riddell of Ardnamurchan's brother), and it has a pretty old tune."
Warrender also details the murder of the brother, which was reported by Sharpe and Motherwell.
R. Matteson 2012]
The Two Brothers- Campbell Riddell pre-1858 Child A b.
From: Walks near Edinburgh, by Margaret Warrender, 1890, p. 60. Given to Lady John Scott many years ago by Campbell Riddell, brother of Sir James Riddell of Ardnamurchan.
1 There were two brothers in the north,
Lord William and Lord John,
And they would try a wrestling match,
So to the fields they've gone, gone, gone,
So to the fields they've gone.
2 They wrestled up, they wrestled down,
Till Lord John fell on the ground.
And a knife into Lord William's pocket
Gave him a deadly wound.
3 'Oh take me on your back, dear William,' he said,
'And carry me to the burnie clear,
And wash my wound sae deep and dark,
Maybe 't will bleed nae mair.'
4 He took him up upon his back,
An carried him to the burnie clear,
But aye the mair he washed his wound
It aye did bleed the mair.
5 'Oh take me On your back, dear William,' he said,
'And carry me to the kirkyard fair,
And dig a grave sae deep and dark,
And lay my body there.'
6 'But what shall I say to my father dear
When he says, Willie, what's become of John?'
'Oh tell him I am gone to Greenock town,
To buy him a puncheon of rum.'
7 'And what shall I say to my sister dear
When she says, Willie, what's become of John?'
'Oh tell her I've gone to London town
To buy her a marriage-gown.'
8 'But what shall I say to my grandmother dear
When she says, Willie, what's become of John?'
'Oh tell her I'm in the kirkyard dark,
And that I'm dead and gone.'
________________
[Excerpt from: Walks near Edinburgh, by Margaret Warrender, 1890, p. 58-61. Footnotes moved to the end.]
These events happened in 1375, and it was owing to them that the house of Somerville first acquired lands in Midlothian. For years afterwards Cowthally in Lanarkshire remained their principal residence; and it was not till 1584 that Hugh, the eighth Lord Somerville, began the house of the Drum [1] (the gate of which we pass on the right on our way northwards to Gilmerton), from the design of John Milne, the king's master-mason. It was finished the following year; but the pleasure of Lord Somerville in his new home was sadly marred by the melancholy event which took place there four years later, on a hot July morning in 1589, and which is related as follows in The Memorie of the Somervilles:—
"The Lord Somerville having come from Cowthally early in the morning, in regard the weather was hot, he had ridden hard to be at the Drum by ten o'clock, which having done, he laid him down to rest. The servant, with his two sons, William Master of Somerville, and John his brother, went with the horses to ane shot of land, called the Pretty Shot, directly opposite the front of the house, where there was some meadow grass for grazing the horses, and willows to shadow themselves from the heat. They had not long continued in this place, when the Master of Somerville, after some little rest, awaking from his sleep, and finding his pistols that lay hard by him, wet with dew, he began to rub and dry them, when unhappily one of them went off the ratch (lock), being lying on his knee and the muzzle turned sideways. The ball struck his brother John directly in the head, and killed him outright, so that his sorrowful brother never had one word from him, albeit he begged it with many tears. A lamentable case, and much to be pitied. Two brave young gentlemen so nearly related, and dearly loving one another; who, besides their being brethren by birth, were entirely so in affection, communicating all their affairs and designs to one another, wherein they were never known to differ in the least..." [2]
"The father, hearing the shot, leapt from his bed (being then in the chamber of dais), to the south light, and, seeing his son and servants all in a cluster, cried aloud to know the matter; but, receiving no answer, he suspected some mischief, and thereupon flew hastily down the stair, and went directly to the place where they were, which the gentlemen observing, they advised the Master to take him to a horse, until his father's passion and fury should be over; which, at length, upon their earnest entreaty he did, taking his direct way to Smeaton, where his lady-mother then lived, by Smeaton Ford. The father being come upon the place, first hears the lamentation of the servants, and then sees the sad spectacle of his son, all bloody and breathless, with his head laid upon a cloak, whereon he falls himself and cries aloud, 'My son, my son, dead or alive? dead or alive?' embracing him all the time, which he continued for some space, and thereby giving time for his eldest son to escape. At length, finding no motion in his dear son, all in a fury he arises and cries aloud, 'Where is that murderer? Who has done the deed?' Staring wildly about, and missing the Master, he cries out ' Oh heavens, and is it he? Must I be bereft of two sons in one day? Yes, it must be so; and he shall have no other judge or executioner but myself and these hands.' And with that immediately mounts his horse, commanding two of his servants to attend him, making protestation in the meantime that they should both go to the grave together. But God was more merciful, for by this time the Master was past Smeaton Ford, and before his father came that length, he was at Fallside House, out of all danger. . . .
"Coming now a little to himself, he (Lord Somerville) began much to condemn this unwarrantable attempt of his upon second thoughts. Before he came back, the sad object of his sorrow was removed to the place of Drum, and the corpse decently handled by the ladies of Edmonston, Woolmet, and Sheriffhall, near neighbours, for in less than one hour the report went over all the country. Yea, before the king rose from dinner, he had notice of it, being then in Holyrood house, with the circumstance of the father's following the other son with intention to kill him; for which the king within three days thereafter (tho Lord Somerville coming to wait upon his majesty), reproved him by saying, 'he was a madman, that having lost one son by so sudden an accident, should needs wilfully destroy another himself, in whom, as he was certainly informed, there was neither malice nor design, but a great misfortune, occasioned by unwary handling of the pistol, which should have rather been a matter of regret and sorrow to him, that the like had happened in his family, than that he should have sought after revenge. Therefore he commanded him to send for his eldest son, and be reconciled to him, for he knew he was a sober youth, and the very thought of his misfortune would afflict him enough, albeit he were not discountenanced by him.'" [3]
The Master never held up his head again, "and now, as formerly, by his affable and obliging carriage, he had procured the epithet of the Good Master of Somerville, so from henceforth he might have been called the Sad and Sorrowful Brother; for it was observed from the very moment of that unhappy accident, until his death, which fell out about three years thereafter, he never enjoyed a comfortable hour, but was still sad and melancholy."
In January 1592, the Master died from the effects of a fever, acting on a low and broken spirit; and with him perished all the hope and expectation of the house of Cowthally. Well might their ancient retainer, as the corpse passed the outer gate, smite on his breast and cry aloud, "This day the head is clean taken off the house of. Cowthally, as you would strike off the head of a sybba!" [4]
Footnotes:
1. The name Drum signifies a rising ground, the back or ridge of a hill. Here the forest of Drumselch—i.e. Druim walche, the hill of the huutiug—began and reached almost to Holyrood House.
2. It has been supposed by several good judges, including Charles Sharpe, that this melancholy accident gave rise to the ballad of "The Two Brothers." The names, William and John, certainly agree with those of the ballad, but there are several trifling dissimilarities. In all the different versions of "The Two Brothers," it is a knife that gives John the deadly wound, whereas the Somerville tragedy was caused by the accidental discharge of a pistol. Then, in the version I am about to quote, the scene of the story is laid in the north. This version differs slightly from all those hitherto published. In it the brothers are styled Lord William and Lord John. It was given to Lady John Scott many years ago by Campbell Riddell (Sir James Riddell of Ardnamurchan's brother), and it has a pretty old tune.
THE TWO BROTHERS
There were two brothers in the north,
Lord William and Lord John,
And they would try a wrestling match,
So to the fields they've gone, gone, gone;
So to the fields they've gone.
They wrestled up, they wrestled down,
Till Lord John fell on the ground,
And a knife into Lord William's pocket
Gave him a deadly wound, wound, wound;
Gave him a deadly wound.
"Oh take me on your back, dear William," he said,
"And carry me to the bumic clear,
And wash my wound sae deep and dark,
Maybe 'twill bleed nae mair, mair, mair;
Maybe 'twill bleed nae mair."
He took him up upon his back,
An' carried him to the burnie clear,
But aye the mair he washed his wound
It aye did bleed the mair, mair, mair;
It aye did bleed the mair.
"Oh take me on your back, dear William," he said,
''And carry me to the kirkyard fair,
And dig a grave sae deep and dark,
And lay my body there, there, there;
And lay my body there."
"But what shall I say to my father dear,
When he says, 'Willie, what's become of John?' "
"Oh, tell him I am gone to Greenock town
To buy him a puncheon of ruin, rum, rum;
To buy him a puncheon of ruin."
"And what shall I say to my sister dear,
When she says, 'Willie, what's become of John?' "
"Oh, tell her I've gone to London town,
To buy her a marriage-gown, gown, gown;
To buy her a marriage-gown."
"But what shall I say to my grandmother dear,
When she says, 'Willie, what's become of John?' "
Oh, tell her I'm in the kirkyard dark,
And that I'm dead and gone, gone, gone;
And that I'm dead and gone."
3. Memorie of the Somervilles, vol. i. p. 466.
4. Cibolle, a leek