The Thrumpin: Faery Reapers of the Scottish Borderlands
One creature that I find particularly interesting, and which I thought would be worth talking about a little bit here, is an obscure faery spoken of in the folklore of the Scottish Borderlands; the Thrumpin. Very little is understood about this spirit, as there are only a couple known historical references to the creature, but it could be simplistically described as a dark inversion of the Guardian Angel. Indeed, the name of this faery likely originates from the Scots word Thrump, meaning ‘to push or jostle,’ which is possibly a reference to the fact that the Thrumpin is an otherworldly force responsible for pushing mortals forward along the path to their ultimate fate.
Thrumpins were said to act as attendant spirits of human fate, with one Thrumpin assigned to every person upon their birth. As such, each of them possesses the power to end the life of the individual they oversee. The reason these faeries were said to act in this capacity remains a mystery, as does the ultimate power behind their assignment in this world, but I do have a theory on the nature of the circumstances that lend themselves to a Thrumpin successfully stealing away the life of its charge. Most of what can be gleaned about the matter comes from a single set of rhyming verses, the origins of which aren’t entirely clear, but seem to represent a gathering of oral folk traditions documented within folklorist Thomas Wilkie’s (1789-1838) essay ‘Old Rites, Ceremonies, and Customs of the Inhabitants of the Southern Counties of Scotland’ which was posthumously published in ‘History of the Berwickshire Naturalist Club, VOL. XXIII’ (1916.) The verses are transcribed as follows:
“When the hullers o’ night are loorin’,
When the quakens are crimplin’ eerie,
When the moon is in the latter fa’,
When the oolets are scraughan’ drearie,
When the ellere’ed are clumperin’
And the toweries hard are thumpin’,
When the bauckie-bird he kisses the yird,
Then, then’s the time for thrumpin’.
And gif ye miss the mistic hour,
When spirits have been raised by invokerie,
To thrump ilk faithless wight;
The heavens will gloom like a wizard’s smile,
And the foumart will dern his carcase vile,
From all uncannie sight.
For man and beast, by the three sterns’ light,
Have little chance to shrive;
Till the sixty are past, and not till the last,
Can man and beast survive.”
To the best of my knowledge, there is no known analyzation of the folk-rhyme cited by Wilkie, and so, though I am far from being an authority on 18th century Scots, or on Scottish folklore in general, I managed to construct my own rendering of the verses into modern English using various Scots dictionaries and preexisting contextual clues. It seems to check out, after plenty of looking over, but I encourage anyone who may know more than me about these subjects to come forward with corrections or additional information. Based on my translations, it can be rendered as:
‘When the mists of night are ominously looming,
When the quaking grass is eerily rustling,
When the moon is below the horizon,
When owlets are screeching drearily,
When those gifted with the Sight are staggering about¹,
When the Powries² are loudly thumping,
When the bat swoops low to the earth³,
Then, it’s the hour of the Thrumpin.
And even if you escape that mystic hour
When risen spirits have been empowered,
To jostle any unfaithful person,
The skies will darken like a Wizard’s Smile,
And the pole-cat will hide his foul carcass,
Away from all uncanny watchers.
For men and beasts, beneath the light of Orion’s Belt,
Have little hope for penance;
Until the hour is up, but not a minute sooner,
Will a man or beast go on living.’
[¹ This most likely describes a Seer—or Elleree—so thoroughly stricken by an episode of preternatural vision that they are reduced to stumbling around as if drunk on the Sight.]
[² This is likely a reference to the creature known as the Redcap—which has also been called the Powry—or more specifically, the Dunter—a Redcap-like goblin which haunts old castles, towers, dungeons, and forts making ominous sounds.]
[³ A European folk belief states that seeing a Bat swoop low to the Earth before flying upwards again means that the Witching Hour has come.]
Another variant of this rhyme cited in Wilkie’s essay can be found in William Henderson’s 1866 book ‘Notes on the Folk-lore of the Northern Counties of England and the Borders’. Though it contained several slight linguistic differences from Willie’s version, it appears to translate in virtually identical ways. As put in Henderson’s account:
“… in the South of Scotland every person was supposed to be attended by a sprite, who had the power of taking away his life — a strange perversion of the doctrine of Guardian Angels. This is called by the old name of “Thrumpin”…“
While it’s entirely plausible that the poetic lines above constitute a generalized construction of eerie presages, in order to serve as a spooky backdrop for discussion of the Thrumpin, frankly seems improbable to me. Based on the content of these verses, one could posit that the occurrence and conjunction of omens, such as those sorts listed in the rhyme, portend the death-by-Thrumpin of whomever should bear witness to them. And based on the context of the declarations in Wilkie’s essay, I further postulate that the these verses may describe a ‘countdown,’ of sorts, that begins upon the convergence of the aforementioned omens, and which marks the last hour of life afforded to a person by their Thrumpin, before the reaping.
With such scant evidence of the Thrumpin’s role in history and folklore left for us to scrutinize, these claims obviously represent conjecture. However, whatever the case may be, the memory of the Thrumpin and its station as Guardian Reaper lives on, in Scotland, and beyond. In fact, the 1994 play ‘The Skriker,’ by Caryl Curchill, even makes mention of them. In the play—which tells the story of an ancient faery who transforms into numerous forms throughout the story, as it pursues a pair of teenage mothers whom it aims to befriend, seduce and entrap—there is a scene that features a group of businessmen discussing their affairs in a meeting while, unbeknownst to them, their Thrumpins carry on a conversation of their own—presumably about the ways they intend to kill their mortal assignments.
It’s fascinating to think of all the spirits we’ve forgotten—at least in part—over the ages. It’s also why I love working to piece together historical accounts of obscure beings, such as the Thrumpin.
Sources:
‘Old Rites, Ceremonies, and Customs of the Inhabitants of the Southern Counties of Scotland’ by Thomas Wilkie (1789-1838)
‘History of the Berwickshire Naturalist Club, VOL. XXIII’ (1916)
‘Encyclopedia of Fairies: Hobgoblins, Brownies, Bogies, & Other Supernatural Creatures’ by Katharine M. Briggs (1976)
‘William Henderson’s Folk-Lore and Thomas Wilkie’s “Old Rites”: A comparative approach’ by J.B. Smith (2011)
‘Notes on the Folk-Lore of the Northern Counties of England and the Borders’ by William Henderson (1866)
‘The Skriker’ by Caryl Churchill (1994)
The Wending Wayfarer 