Excerpted from History of Kilmarnock, 1864, Archibald M'Kay Panic in the Church On Sabbath, the 18th of October, 1801, an occurence which will long form a principal feature in the annals of Kilmarnock, took place in the Low Church. This building, which stood nearly on the site of the present Low Church, was erected when the population of the town and parish was very inconsiderable, and at the time of the accident, was greatly deficient in point of accommodation. The plan on which it was constructed was far from being judicious. The passages were few in number and limited in breadth; the stairs leading to the galleries were within the church, and were steep and narrow. Their outlets, too, were by the same doors that led to the area; and much inconvenience was thereby occasioned, both at the entry and dismissal of the congregation. The poorer portion of the hearers usually sat on temporary seats in the passages, which added not a little to the general disorder. The substantiality of the building as a whole was likewise doubted by some individuals; and a prophecy had been long prevalent in the locality that it was destined to fall upon the congregation. This prediction, with the supposed insecurity of the house, tended, in no small degree, when crowded, to create alarm in such minds as were not fortified by reason and reflection. On the day of the calamity, the Chapel, or High Church, as it is now called, and some of the churches in neighbouring parishes, were page 105 vacant; and many persons belonging to these flocked to the Low Church, attracted by the popularity of Dr Mackinlay, who was then in his zenith of his fame as a preacher. The house was, therefore, crowded to excess; but nothing occured during the forenoon service to disturb the tranquillity of the audience; and when the bell announced the hour of meeting in the after part of the day, they again as- sembled, unconscious of any casualty being about to happen; but nothing is more uncertain than the term of human life. As the poet beautifully says, "The spider's most attenuated thread Is cord, is cable, to man's hold of life." The last sound of the bell had scarcely ceased to vibrate on the ear, and the minister was just about to enter the church, when a small piece of plaster fell from the ceiling, or when, as some said, a seat cracked in one of the galleries. A cry was instantly raised that the building was falling;1 and the alarm, spreading with the rapidity of lightning, created a scene of confusion and death almost incredible, and such as no language can accurately delineate. A number who were seated in the lower part of the house immediately made their escape to the outside; those in the galleries were not so fortunate; they rushed to the staircases with a view of flying from the supposed danger; but in their wild precipitation they became so jammed together that one of the railings gave way, and many fell into the area, suffocating those on whom they descended, and dreadfully crushing and maiming each other. The doors at the foot of the stairs folded inward, and were unfortunately closed by the sudden rush that was made towards them; and all egress, at these places, being thereby prevented, despair was added to dread; the strong, unconscious of their own recklessness, trampled on the weak; body lay piled upon body; and the house resounded with the shriek of despondency, the wail of wo, and the moan of death. Never, perhaps, was exhibited a more singular instance of the direful effects of fear and credulity. Some, believing that the prophecy was about to be fulfilled, and that the galleries were falling, threw themselves into the body of the church; some leapt from the windows into the graveyard; and others, conceiving that death was inevitable, stood riveted to the spot. Two or three individuals, whose minds were more collected, ascended the pulpit to exhort the congregation to order and quiet; but such was the bewildering feeling which the scene before them inspired, that, like the others, they soon became victims to the general terror, and hastily abandoned their position. So great indeed, was the delusion, that many, after rushing to the street, durst not pause for a moment to look behind, lest they should be crushed to death by the walls, which their disordered senses led them to believe were falling to pieces; and it may be mentioned, as a striking instance of the force of the imagination, that one individual declared to the minister, whom he met near the church, that the steeple itself was tumbling to the ground, though it was 1. According to the Session Records a similar panic arose in the parish church in 1735, but no mention is made of any person having been injured. Page 106 then and still is, entire and substantial. The reverand gentlemen, struck with surprise at the tumultuous scene before him, and dreading that the consequences would prove fatal to many, clasped his hands in an attitude of devotion, and ejaculated with a pitying voice-- "My people! oh, my people!" In the meantime, intelligence of the catastrophe spread into every corner of the town. All were overwhelmed with consternation. For the preservation of order the Royal Kilmarnock Volunteers were summoned to the spot, already thronged by hundreds of the inhabitants inquiring anxiously for their friends, their relatives, or their neighbours. In consequence of the number who, stood pressed together or lay prostate on the stairs, many were still confined to the galleries; and it was suggested that their release might be affected from the windows by ladders, which were instantly procured; but so general was the panic that few could be found with sufficient resolution to place them against the walls. At length some indiviuals actuated by feelings of humanity, ventured into the interior to alleviate, if possible, the agonies of the sufferers. The scene that presented itself to their view was peculiarly distressing. At the foot of each of the stairs was a mass of persons of both sexes lay wedged together, maimed, dead, or dying. With considerable diff- iculty one layer of bodies was removed from above another, and the appalling announcement was ultimately made, that twenty-nine had breathed their last. Some of them were so disfigured that their friends could only recognise them by their apparel. The bodies of two of the females were shockingly injured, their breasts being deeply marked by the heavy shoes of an individual, whose "brutal hurry," during the calamity, is not yet forgotten.1 The bodies of the dead were carried into the burial-ground, and also such persons as were severely injured; and here another scene was exhibited, not less dismal than that which had been witnessed in the church. In one place might be seen some poor sufferers, writhing in convulsions; in another, individuals sunk in a state of utter in- sensibility. Some were weeping over the corpse of a beloved father or mother--some were mourning in all the bitterness of wo over the lifeless form of a son or daughter---others poured forth their 1. In an account of the accident, published at the time by the authority of the magistrates, the names of those killed are thus mentioned: "Kilmarnock Parish.---Townhead quarter--William Muir, glover; Jean Paterson; John Logan, shoemaker; Mary Reid, dau. of William Reid; Thomas Abraham; James Gilchrist, shoemaker; Janet Dickie, dau. of Joseph Dickie; Andrew Aitken, staymaker; Margaret Wilson, dau. of David Wilson; Widow Howat; a dau. of Robert Kechan; Widow Mary Taylor; Janet dau. of widow M'Intosh; John Deal, weaver from Ireland; Charles Wilson, servant; William Smith, weaver; Margaret Stevenson, widow of James Smith; William Tannahill, wright; Willian Baird, weaver; dau. of James Wilson, plasterer; George Guthry, son of John Guthry, at Mount; a son of widow Bell. From Kilmaurs Parish: Mary, a dau. of Walter Smith; Jean Stewart; Jean dau. of William Anderson; James Fairlie, farmer; Janet, dau. of James Muir; Janet, dau. of David Brown, collier; and a dau. of John Stevenson. page 107 sorrows by the remains of a brother or a sister. In short, the corpse-strewed ground---the blood-stained garments of the victims--- and the rueful countenances of the multitude---rendered the scene awfully impressive; and, as we have heard a spectator remark, gave to it the sad characteristics of a battlefield, covered with the wounded, the dying, and the dead. It was also affecting to behold the removal of the bodies to the homes they had so lately left in all the cheerfulness of health. Some were attended by groups of sorrowing relatives and acquaintances; others, by only two or three mourners; and, in one instance, an individual was observed, unaccompanied, carrying the corpse of a brother, and weeping like a child as he went along. But the picture, sad as it is, assumes a more gloomy and touching appearance, when the distressful cases of individuals are considered. One man, when humanely endeavouring to rescue others from danger, was overwhelmed by the dreadful pressure, and smothered on the spot. A young lady, whose father had caught her in his arms, despairingly exclaimed, "We are gone!" and was instantly suffocated. Another female, when a young man was attempting to save her, cried in the same desponding tone, "You can do me no good!" and was immediately crushed to death; and so great was the breach made of one little circle of six acquaintances who had met together in the morning, that only two escaped with their lives. It is rather remarkable that no infant, though several were in the church, sustained the smallest injury; on the contrary, after the tumult had subsided, a little child, whose mother had left it in despair, or had been driven from it during the commotion, was found safely and calmly sleeping in one of the pews. As formerly observed, an unusual sensation was created in the com- munity; and the gloom of sorrow appeared to deepen as the evening approached, and as the names of the departed, most of whom were amiable persons, became generally known. Night came on---serene and beautifully arrayed by the beams of the silver moon; but no heart was at ease; and small parties might still be seen hurrying from street to street, to administer relief or consolation to the surviving sufferers. Here and there, groups of individuals, with countenances shaded by sadness, stood earnestly conversing together. In fine, death and distress were the all-engrossing themes; and the voice of mourning was heard, not only in the abodes of the widow and the orphan, but in the dwellings of many others, whose grief had been awakened by the heart-rending occurence. One of the injured (Mrs Milroy). who survived the disaster, died soon after; the others, amounting to about eighty, were by proper care and medical assistance, somewhat restored; though many of them carried to the grave the marks or scars they had received on that melancholy occasion. As was to be expected, the causes and consequences of the calamity gave rise to many vague and visionary stories; one of which was to the effect, that on that day several persons had seen a coach, decorated with the sable emblems of mourning, and drawn by six horses, pass through the centre of the burying-ground, and that no less a personage than the devil was seated within it. An individual, on hearing the statement, is said to have remarked, that his satanic majesty was surely improving in his circumstances, when he could afford to ride about in his carriage of six! And we are in no way surprised at the observation of the wag; for such a story as the above was better fitted to excite contempuous merriment than to produce serious reflection.