TRADITIONS AND STORIES OF
SCOTTISH CASTLES
[Illustration: FERNIEHIRST CASTLE _Valentine & Sons, Ltd._]
Traditions and Stories
of
Scottish Castles
BY
A. H. MILLAR, LL.D.
AUTHOR OF
“GREGARACH” “MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS,” ETC.
SANDS & CO.
37 GEORGE STREET, EDINBURGH
AND LONDON
1927
_Made in Great Britain._
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. CROOKSTON CASTLE AND CATHCART CASTLE 9
II. LOCHLEVEN AND BURLEIGH 19
III. DUMBARTON CASTLE 32
IV. NEIDPATH CASTLE 46
V. DUNNOTTAR CASTLE 57
VI. CASTLE CAMPBELL 68
VII. ROTHSAY CASTLE 80
VIII. CASTLE FRAOCH-EILEAN, LOCH AWE 100
IX. MEGGERNIE CASTLE--GLEN LYON 112
X. FERNIEHIRST CASTLE 120
XI. THREAVE CASTLE 134
XII. DUNOON CASTLE 142
XIII. ERCHLESS CASTLE 162
XIV. DUART CASTLE 171
XV. TANTALLON CASTLE 178
XVI. HERMITAGE CASTLE 185
XVII. STIRLING CASTLE 191
XVIII. ST ANDREWS CASTLE 205
XIX. DUNBAR CASTLE 230
XX. INVERARAY CASTLE 257
XXI. FOWLIS CASTLE--CARSE OF GOWRIE 280
XXII. MAINS CASTLE--FORFARSHIRE 295
XXIII. BOTHWELL CASTLE 310
INDEX 329
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
FERNIEHIRST CASTLE _Frontispiece_
CATHCART CASTLE _Facing page_ 12
LOCHLEVEN CASTLE ” 20
BURLEIGH CASTLE ” 26
DUMBARTON CASTLE ” 32
NEIDPATH CASTLE ” 48
DUNNOTTAR CASTLE ” 64
CASTLE CAMPBELL ” 72
ROTHESAY CASTLE ” 80
FRAOCH-EILEAN CASTLE ” 104
MEGGERNIE CASTLE ” 112
THREAVE CASTLE ” 136
DUNOON CASTLE ” 144
ERCHLESS CASTLE ” 164
DUART CASTLE ” 172
TANTALLON CASTLE ” 180
HERMITAGE CASTLE ” 188
STIRLING CASTLE ” 200
ST ANDREWS CASTLE ” 208
DUNBAR CASTLE ” 232
INVERARAY CASTLE ” 272
FOWLIS CASTLE ” 288
MAINS CASTLE ” 296
BOTHWELL CASTLE ” 320
Traditions and Stories of Scottish Castles
I
CROOKSTON CASTLE AND CATHCART CASTLE
One of the chief peculiarities of the Celtic nations is their fondness
for local traditions. Every ruined Keep or dismantled Tower throughout
the Highlands has some marvellous tale or romantic incident connected
with it, which is lovingly preserved and handed down from generation to
generation with undoubting faith and pious care, worthy sometimes of a
better cause. The poetical cast of the Celtic mind throws around the
most ordinary events a halo of romance which renders attractive many
localities that would be otherwise uninteresting; and even the shrewdly
practical Lowland mind, when brought under the influence of the spell,
cannot entirely resist the glamour of the times that are gone, or
remain indifferent to the tales of love and war, which are sanctified
by their removal for several centuries.
Yet it needs not that the Lowlander should fly to the fastnesses
of the Highland chieftains to feed upon romance, since there is an
inexhaustible fund of interest to be found in the Castles within his
own territories. Traditions, less mendacious but quite as romantic
as the northern stories, are in existence with reference to all
the Castles of note in the Lowlands, and require but the collector
to rescue them from oblivion in this possibly too practical age. A
romantic tale is not less interesting though its date be not that of a
far-distant past; and it should be some recommendation if the story be
a veritable fact, rather than a notion “all carved from the carver’s
brain.” It is with the purpose of gathering up some of the traditions
still preserved in local narratives of some of the historic Castles in
all parts of Scotland that this work is written, being sure that these
are not without interest to every lover of our country.
There is perhaps no character throughout the whole range of Scottish
history that so completely awakens the enthusiasm of Scotsmen as Mary,
Queen of Scots. The tale of her gay youth, her happy early years,
the heavy clouds of misfortune which encompassed her middle life and
deepened into the darkest misery, until finally completed by the
thrilling horror of her tragic end--all form a life-drama which cannot
fail to move the most stolid hearer to pity. This is not the place to
narrate the oft-told tale; but as marking some of the great epochs in
her eventful life, attention may be directed to some of the Castles
which are inseparably associated with her name. The first of these
is Crookston Castle, where she spent her honeymoon with Henry, Lord
Darnley.
CROOKSTON CASTLE.
Three miles south-east from Paisley, on the Glasgow Road, there stands
the ancient Castle of Crookston, which, though seldom mentioned in
connection with Queen Mary, has still a most pathetic relation to her
history. The green lane, flanked with hawthorn hedges, which strikes
off the main road at Hillington Bar, leads up a gentle ascent for about
half a mile, bringing the traveller, somewhat unexpectedly, at once
upon the Castle. Ere reaching this altitude, however, he must cross
the course of the extinct Glasgow and Ardrossan Canal (now a railway
line), and pass the entrance to Hawkhead, one of the seats of the Earl
of Glasgow. Though thus reached by an easy slope, and quite free from
the appearance of any precipitous elevation, the position of the Castle
is most commanding. Upon three sides--south, east and west--the fertile
fields of Renfrewshire are stretched at the base of the hill; while
towards the north the Bowling Braes stand forth in a bold outline,
their base being laved by the waters of the Clyde. Southwards no
eminence is visible, save the dim figure of Neilston Pad in the hazy
distance; while the intervening space is filled with “gentle slopes
and groves between,” giving evidence of a richly fertile soil, and an
industrious agricultural population. The gleaming silver line which
meanders through the plain marks the course of the White Cart as it
“rins rowin’ to the sea”; and near the spot where the Castle stands it
receives the tributary water of the little rivulet, called the Levern.
Though never of great extent the Castle seems to have been compactly
built, and designed in a lawless age to withstand a powerful enemy.
Its position as a look-out station has been admirably chosen; and
so commanding is the site that a few retainers might have held a
considerable force at bay with comparative ease. The first Castle
was probably built by Robert de Croc, apparently a scion of a Norman
family, who was proprietor of the estate about 1190, and whose name
survives in a corrupted form as “Crookstoun.” In 1330 the estate was
purchased by Sir Alan Stewart, a kinsman of the Stuarts, Seigneurs of
D’Aubigny, famous in the history of France and Scotland. Sir Alan, in
1361, granted the Castle and estate to Sir J. Stewart of Darnley; and
thus they ultimately came into the possession of Henry, Lord Darnley
(1546-67), centuries afterwards, with whom we have to deal.
[Illustration: CATHCART CASTLE _Valentine & Sons, Ltd._]
The remains of the present Castle probably belong to the 13th century
(1290-1390), though the exterior arrangements plainly indicate that
there was a Keep of some kind here long before that date, though the
ruthless hand of Time has cleared all the relics away. But in 1488,
when James IV. was fighting for the Crown after his father, James III.,
had been killed at Sauchieburn, he attacked his opponent, the Earl
of Lennox, grandfather of Darnley, at Duchal, and besieged Crookston
Castle, bringing “Mons Meg” from Edinburgh for the purpose. Surely this
shows that even at that time the Castle was of considerable importance.
The main interest in Crookston of the present day, this “grey and
antique tower,” is more nearly connected with love than war. Here it
was, according to tradition, that the youthful Henry Darnley, then its
lord, led his beauteous but unfortunate Queen to spend their honeymoon.
And those battered and time-worn walls, through whose “looped and
windowed raggedness” the mystic moonlight strays, have resounded to the
voice and harp of a Chastelard or a Rizzio, whilst yet the fortunes of
the martyred Queen were unclouded.
Could one gleam of prophetic foresight have been given to bride and
bridegroom to display the future of either, how incredulous and
horror-stricken would they have been at that festal hour! And yet,
within a few years, the gay gallant had descended into the wretched,
brutal, jealous husband, whose insatiable fury was not restrained from
murder, even by the presence of his Queen. And the loved and lovely
bride, whose day-dreams in Crookston Castle were of love, romance and
song, might have shrunk in terror from the fearful doom which awaited
her newly-wedded lord; or quailed before the shadow of the scaffold
upon which she must ultimately meet her own. Yet, as Horace sang of
old:--
“The Deity, prudent and careful,
Encloses the future in night,”
and so Crookston witnessed nothing save dance and song; whilst joy
was unconfined during the few happy days which Mary spent within its
bounds. And when her hard fate was upon her, not without sad regret
must she have thought, amid the gloom of Fotheringay, upon the pageants
and revelries of Crookston, which had formed for her a sunny memory of
other days. After a visit to Crookston Castle the Glasgow poet, William
Motherwell, wrote thus:--
“Beneath yon tree--
Now bare and blasted--so our annals tell
The martyr Queen, ere that her fortunes knew
A darker shade than cast her favourite yew,
Loved Darnley passing well--
Loved him with tender woman’s generous love,
And bade farewell awhile to courtly state
And pageantry for yon o’ershadowing grove--
For the lone river’s banks whose small birds sing,
Their little hearts with summer joys elate--
Where tall broom blossoms, flowers profusely spring;
There he, the most exalted of the land,
Pressed with the grace of youth a Sovereign’s peerless hand.”
CATHCART CASTLE.
It is worthy of note that, whilst Crookston Castle witnessed the
earlier and happier portion of Mary’s variegated life, Cathcart Castle,
which is all but visible from it, was the scene of her final downfall.
The latter stands about seven miles from Crookston, and nearly two
miles south-east of Glasgow, upon the Mearns Road. An inconsiderable
pathway which leaves the main road a short space beyond the bridge over
the Cart, leads past the Castle gate, which is not surrounded now by
any vestige of garden ground. Unlike Crookston, it must have afforded
little advantage to its inmates in the matter of defence. It is easily
approached on all sides, and is more like a pleasure-palace than a
stronghold. There are arrow-slits in the walls, and the appearance of
an attempt at fortification; but the surrounding locality affords too
easy access for this to have been of much avail. Yet the outlook from
one of the windows in the upper chamber, still called Queen Mary’s
Window, is very lovely. The ground upon which the Castle stands slopes
gently down to the river’s brink, whose silver sheen glimmers faintly
here and there amid the overhanging boughs of birch and ash and nodding
beech. Due north from this point of view lies the field of Langside,
where was fought the final and decisive conflict which terminated Queen
Mary’s career in Scotland.
The lands of Cathcart belonged in the 12th century to a family bearing
that name, and so continued till 1546, when the Sempill family acquired
them through marriage. The original Cathcart family was represented in
1740 by the eighth Baron, who repurchased the ancestral property. The
Castle, which had been built in the 15th century, was partly demolished
by this Baron Cathcart, and has not since been occupied. In 1814 the
tenth Baron was created Earl Cathcart, and the members of the family
have long been distinguished in military history. Cathcart House,
which took the place of the old Castle, was built by Mr James Hill,
Solicitor, Glasgow, who acquired part of the estate in 1788, and from
him it passed, in 1801, to Earl Cathcart, when the rest of the estate
was purchased by him.
The undulating lea, now called “Battlefield,” is completely commanded
from “Queen Mary’s Window,” and it was doubtless from here that the
hapless Queen watched with breathless interest the contest upon which
her own future depended. After her daring and romantic escape from
Lochleven, she made her way to the east coast so as to mislead her
pursuers; then doubling back, she sought to reach Dumbarton Castle,
which was then held by her partizans. Taking the road by Hamilton, she
was soon joined by many of the Lowland gentry, with their retainers,
and found herself at the head of a small but well-appointed army.
Fearful of risking a conflict with her half-brother, the Regent Moray,
who then lay with his troops at Glasgow, she took the south bank of
the Clyde, intending to cross to the Dumbarton side when safe from
interruption. But the intelligence which Moray had received of her
movements enabled him to checkmate her plans. Detaching a strong body
of his troops he occupied the field at Langside, which lay directly on
her line of march, thus leaving her no option save either to dare the
battle or fall helplessly into an ambuscade betwixt the two portions
of his army. The confidence of the Queen in her cause decided her to
adopt the former course, and in a fatal hour for her the armies engaged
in deadly conflict. The position of Cathcart Castle, which overlooked
the field of battle, afforded the most favourable spot from which to
observe the course of the strife, although, from its proximity to the
combatants, perhaps not the safest place for so precious a prize.
That she occupied Crookston Castle for this purpose is not a reasonable
supposition, since its distance from Langside and its situation would
effectually prevent her from obtaining early intelligence of the course
of the battle. And her flight to Dundrennan Abbey after the disastrous
issue of the conflict was much more easily accomplished from Cathcart
than from Crookston. Yet one must remember that so weighty an authority
as Sir Walter Scott mentions the latter place as the position which
she held, though perhaps the romantic and poetical contrast between
her earlier and later days at Crookston might influence the poet to
adopt this theory even though not supported by facts. One thing is
certain, that local tradition ascribes this melancholy interest to
Cathcart, and even points out the particular spot where the ill-fated
Queen beheld the overthrow of all her hopes. And thus, by a curious
combination of circumstances, two Castles standing upon the banks
of the same river, Cart, and separated by but a few miles from each
other, serve as landmarks, tear-fraught and sad, recording the joys and
sorrows of Scotland’s fairest Queen--her time of love and her time of
war.
II
LOCHLEVEN AND BURLEIGH
The shores of Lochleven, in Kinross-shire, afford a rich feast to the
lover of the picturesque and romantic. Apart from the interesting
associations which arise from historical events connected with the
locality, there is a peculiar charm to be found in the combination of
mountain, lake, and stream which make up the scenery presented. And
though the grandeur of the hills and the gloom of the passes which are
to be met with in the Highlands are alike awanting, there are more
attractive elements of beauty to be seen in the serenely peaceful
villages which are scattered around the lochside. The quaint old town
of Kinross is itself no uninteresting study. For it can claim a very
respectable antiquity, and has been frequently the scene of stirring
events in the history of the country. Standing upon the main highway to
the north, and affording a convenient resting-place between Queensferry
and Perth, it has been often chosen as a rendezvous for troops on the
march, or as a place of ambuscade for purposes of interception. From
very early times the town has been famous for its cutlery, and its
artificers were held in such high esteem that the name of “Kinrosse”
was borne upon the shield of the Cutlers of Sheffield as being most
worthy of renown.
LOCHLEVEN CASTLE.
But the chief point of interest in the neighbourhood is undoubtedly
the Castle of Lochleven. No situation could be more romantic than
that which it occupies. The loch is dotted here and there with little
islands which rise abruptly from the water, bearing scant foliage and
displaying no rugged or precipitous rocks. Upon one of these stand
the ruins of the Monastery of St Serf or Servanus, whose somewhat
unveracious history was recounted by Andrew Wyntoun in his _Orygynale
Cronickles of Scotland_, written many centuries ago. One of the
largest islands is situated about the centre of the loch, and upon it
is erected the Castle of Lochleven, which name has become familiar to
every Scottish ear from the historical events of which it has been the
witness. Founded in pre-historic times by one of the Scottish chiefs,
of whom we have no record save its name, it has stood the brunt of
many an angry storm through unnumbered ages; and though now somewhat
battered and decayed, there are still unimpeachable tokens remaining of
the strength and durability of masonry erected before the 19th century
estimate-work.
[Illustration: LOCHLEVEN CASTLE _Valentine & Sons, Ltd._]
The first appearance of Lochleven Castle in credible history is made
during the period of the Balliol dispute in 1333. Throughout
Scotland only four Castles supported the claims of Bruce against
Balliol and Edward of England, and of these Lochleven was one. To
reduce this stronghold to subjection, a body of English, under Sir
John de Strivelin, was sent to besiege it; but as the position of the
Castle in the centre of the loch prevented any stealthy approach or
surprise, the besiegers had to adopt other measures. Finding that the
main outlet of the loch was by the little stream of the Leven, the
English hit upon the expedient of damming up this outflow with dykes,
so that the accumulating waters of the loch might rise above the level
of the island, drown the inmates of the Castle, and suffocate Scottish
Independence out of existence. But the theory was too correct to be
justified by fact, and finally proved the destruction of the attacking
forces. The loyal Captain of Lochleven, Alan Vipont by name, sent
out at midnight a few of his faithful retainers, who approached the
barricade, erected by Strivelin, in a small boat, and, demolishing a
portion of the embankment, they caused the pent-up waters of the loch
to overwhelm and destroy many of the enemy. Grave doubts have been
entertained of the accuracy of this story; but there are not wanting
many local antiquaries who can yet indicate the remains of the English
dyke, and who cannot tolerate the honest scepticism of any Edie
Ochiltree who may “mind the biggin’ o’t.”
It was fitting that so loyal a stronghold should become a Royal
Castle. Robert III. occupied it for some time as a Court residence,
and the difficulty of access to it in so rude an age may have been
found rather an advantage than otherwise. But as civilization advanced
the regal taste became more fastidious, and Lochleven soon descended
into the position of a state-prison. Whilst in the care of a branch
of the Douglas family, it degenerated from its former greatness, and
was unhallowed by the presence of Royalty, save under compulsion, and
in “durance vile.” Every one knows the melancholy story of Mary’s
incarceration here, and the romantic incident of her escape to still
more relentless imprisonment in England. This episode in the history
of Lochleven it is needless to relate; but it may be interesting to
note that, with a refinement of cruelty, the dominant party, after her
defeat, sent the Earl of Northumberland, who had risen to support her
cause in the north of England, to occupy the chambers which the Royal
fugitive had tenanted, and to leave them only, like her, that he might
die upon the scaffold.
History has not recorded what catastrophe, either in nature or
politics, rendered this ancient Keep unfit for habitation. Now there
remains little save the square tower and a portion of the outer wall
to tell of its former greatness, and to preach to coming generations
the mutability of all things. The great hall has now no carpet save the
greensward, no roof save the blue vault of heaven; and the winds sough
eerily through the tenantless chambers once resonant with song a and
revelry. Yet it would be difficult to imagine a spot more calculated to
revive the memories of the past; and here we might look to find some
“Lady of the Mere
Lone sitting by the shores of old Romance,”
did we live in other times than the present. But time, the devourer of
all things, has laid his destroying hand upon the Castle, and though:--
“Gothic the pile and high the solid walls,
With warlike ramparts, and the strong defence
Of jutting battlements--an age’s toil!
No more its arches echo to the noise
Of joy and festive mirth. No more the glance
Of blazing taper through its windows beams
And quivers on the undulating wave.
But naked stand the melancholy walls
Lashed by the wintry tempests, cold and bleak,
That whistle mournful through the empty halls
And piecemeal crumble down the tow’rs to dust.”
THE NEW HOUSE OF KINROSS.
Directly betwixt the town of Kinross and the shore of Lochleven stands
the mansion-house of the locality, commonly called the New House of
Kinross. Erected as a residence for the Duke of York (afterwards
James II.), it presents all the characteristics of the mansion of the
period, though its chambers were long deserted, and the exquisite
prospect which it commands of hill and lake was unenjoyed for years
by the lawful possessors. A little further around the shores of the
loch is situated the old Kirkyard, which contains not a few headstones
telling of the virtues of “the rude forefathers of the hamlet.” And
here, as a memento of semi-barbarous times, there is the house still
standing in which the watchers kept ward over the dead to preserve
their bodies from the sacrilegious resurrectionists. Close by the
kirkyard is pointed out the spot where Mary landed when she made her
escape from Lochleven Castle, though the reclamations recently made by
drainage of the loch render it difficult to indicate the place with any
degree of accuracy.
THE BURGHER BRIG.
Following the pathway by the shore of the loch one soon arrives at the
Burgher Brig, a relic of more recent times, but of a period rapidly
passing away. Tradition relates that at one time there was no ford over
the river North Queich, which runs into Loch Leven, save the precarious
passage afforded by stepping stones, which in times of spate were quite
impassable. But when the advancing civilization of the district had
erected a Burgher Kirk in the neighbourhood, the Lord of the Manor
graciously became a Pontifex in his own country, and built a wooden
stair-bridge similar to those now seen in Japan, which was ultimately
replaced by a stone structure.
BURLEIGH CASTLE.
A little way from this spot stands the ancient Castle of Burleigh. The
road which leads from Milnathort around the loch to Scotland-Well,
passes this ancient pile, which is placed immediately upon the pathway.
The situation is most picturesque. The gable of the Castle towards
the road is quite covered with ivy, and the rent and broken portions
of the edifice are enlivened and beautified by the subdued tone of
the evergreen leaves. By moonlight the scene is romantic in the
extreme. The heavy sombre shadows which are thrown across the roadway,
and the pale silvery glory which lights up each prominent tower and
battlement, give a weird and old-world aspect to the whole place. From
time immemorial the Castle of Burleigh has been in the family of the
Balfours. Many are the stories related of them, but perhaps none is so
sadly romantic as that which is now to be told. In the unsettled times
betwixt the abdication of Queen Mary and the settlement of her son,
James VI., upon the throne, the young Lord of Burleigh fell under the
power of the arch-conqueror Love. The charms of the daughter of the
gardener at the Castle had overpowered and captivated him, and reckless
of consequences (as lovers ever are) he sought to elevate her to an
equality with himself by honourable marriage. Her beauty was the theme
of every tongue:--
“Who had not heard
Of Rose, the gardener’s daughter? Where was he
So blunt in memory, so old at heart,
At such a distance from his youth in grief,
That having seen forgot? The common mouth
So gross to express delight, in praise of her
Grew oratory. Such a lord is love,
And beauty such a mistress of the world.”
But Balfour’s affection was not reciprocated by the maiden, whose
heart was already engaged to another. Deaf alike to his threats and
entreaties, she remained steadfast to the lover to whom she had
plighted her troth, and refused to be swayed from her resolution to
live for him alone. The Lord of Burleigh, finding all his endeavours
to win her hand fruitless, quitted the paternal roof in the hope
that foreign travel might obliterate her image from his heart, and
hoping that absence, in his case, would prove the bane of love. But
his hopes were doomed to disappointment, and he returned to his home
with intensified love and increased affection for the object of his
devotion. She, however, had profited by his absence and was now married
to the man of her choice, who held the position of schoolmaster at
Inverkeithing.
[Illustration: BURLEIGH CASTLE _Valentine & Sons, Ltd._]
And so, one evening, little dreaming of the danger which was near
them, as the husband and wife sat at their own fireside, planning
perchance some elaborate scheme for securing the happiness in
perpetuity which they then enjoyed, their threshold was darkened by the
person of young Balfour of Burleigh. No phantom from the “undiscovered
country” could have exercised more power upon the young wife, or
paralysed her more completely. Reproach was upon his lips, vengeance
was in his eye. The haughty disposition which he had inherited from a
remote ancestry was unsoftened even by the influence of love, and now
jealousy inflamed him. Drawing a pistol from his bosom, he shot his
defenceless rival through the heart, in the presence of his wife, and
within his own house. No more dastardly act than this has been recorded
in the history of the British nobility. It was only to be expected
that so complete a poltroon would seek refuge from the consequence of
his guilt in flight and ignominious self-exile. Yet so powerful was
the feudal influence of the family that the affair was hushed up and
secured from publicity; and its story now only exists in the traditions
of the country, which have been repeated for generations in the field
or by the ingle-side.
POW-MILL.
A short distance from Burleigh Castle stands Pow-mill, whose untiring
water-wheel has revolved for over three centuries. The Pow Burn, which
forms the motive power of the mill, is one of the _eleven_ streams
which flow into Loch Leven, from which tradition states (somewhat
apocryphally) that the name of _Leven_ was derived. The ancient mill,
until lately, was in a wonderful state of preservation. The quaint
old-fashioned gables and open courtyard remind one forcibly of the
mills of Holland and the Low Countries; and the moss-covered dyke and
green-speckled wall still further add to its venerable aspect. As the
mill of the district, and therefore a centre of local intelligence,
many stories are related of it, one of which is as follows:--
The farm of Pittendreich, in the immediate neighbourhood, was for
many generations until lately in possession of a family of the
name of White; and the requirements of their agricultural pursuits
naturally made them intimate with the occupants of the mill. During the
persecuting times it so happened that Crawford, the miller, took the
side of Episcopacy, whilst White, the farmer, was known to be one of
the “hill-folk.” The characters of the two men gave an index to their
religious beliefs; for White was an upright, God-fearing man, whom
even his enemies respected; but Crawford was rude in speech, loose in
morals, and reckless in conduct. In those sad times to be “saintly”
in any degree was to provoke the vengeance of one’s ill-wishers; and
though long preserved from molestation, White’s day of trial at length
arrived. A band of troopers, scouring the countryside in search of
“conventicle-men,” had been directed by some “good-natured friend”
towards Pittendreich; and White had barely time to escape by a backway
and fly for his life ere they entered his dwelling.
Whilst Crawford the miller stood in his doorway dreamily contemplating
the deepening twilight, he beheld a man stealthily creeping along by
the hedge-side, as if fearful of being seen, yet driven, nevertheless,
to compulsory flight. As the figure came nearer he recognized with some
surprise in the excited and anxious face before him, his old neighbour
White, of Pittendreich. Hailing him as he sought to pass, the miller
inquired whither he was bound, and despite their opposition in religion
and the risk he thereby ran, the fugitive declared the cause of his
unwilling journey. Nor was his confidence in the neighbourly feeling
misplaced. Touched by the circumstances of the case, the miller gladly
extended his aid to him. “Come in bye,” said he, “for here ye may be
safe. They’ll never look for a saint in Hell.”
And having seen the farmer safely bestowed, he resumed his position
in the doorway, certain that his reputation with the troopers would
preserve him from molestation. And thus the “touch of nature” had made
even these diverse characters “Kin,” and overcame for the time their
religious animosity. And the record of this neighbourly action survives
to the present day, though both have long mingled with mother earth.
The shore of Lochleven from Pow-mill to Scotland-Well is dotted with
picturesque little villages which cannot fail to interest the wayfarer.
Little Balgedie, Meikle Balgedie, and Kinnesswood form a continuous
link, the last-named being ever memorable as the birthplace of Michael
Bruce, the poet, whose Scripture Paraphrases are known throughout
the world. The last of the Leven villages is Scotland-Well, the name
of which may have been bestowed by the Roman invaders, since Tacitus
refers to _Fons-Scotiæ_ in his “Annals.” The pathway around the eastern
end of the loch leads by the base of Bennarty to Paran-Well.
This ancient locality of Paran-Well (erroneously called “Parrot Well”
by Sir Walter Scott) was selected for an ambuscade at a very stirring
time. The marriage of Mary, Queen of Scots, to Darnley was distasteful
to many of her powerful subjects. Amongst these the Earl of Moray,
her illegitimate brother, and throughout her life her most implacable
enemy, was principally offended by this union. Apart from the fact
that Darnley and he were sworn foes, there was the old cry of “the
Kirk in danger” to call to his side many wavering vassals. Supported
by the Lords of the Congregation, who resented Mary’s marriage as
endangering the Protestant succession, Moray stationed a body of horse
at Paran-Well, under the shadow of Bennarty, to intercept Darnley and
his bride whilst on their way from Perth. But accurate intelligence and
an early turn out enabled them to defeat the purpose of their enemies,
and to escape for a time from their menaces. And thus it appears
that every portion of Lochleven is consecrated by some memory of the
unfortunate Queen, whose own reminiscences of the locality must have
been of the most mournful description.
III
DUMBARTON CASTLE
Among the natural phenomena in Scotland the peak of Dumbarton Rock
holds no inconsiderable place. Rising abruptly from the banks of the
Clyde, and rearing its rugged front erect in solitary state from a
comparatively level country, its effect is striking and peculiar.
Geologists maintain that they can trace the range of mountains of which
Dumbarton is the termination, far away north, through the Kilpatrick
and Campsie Hills up to the Grampians.
[Illustration: DUMBARTON CASTLE _Valentine & Sons, Ltd._]
This uncouth rock is full of memories that carry us far back in the
annals of our country, and it forms a connecting link betwixt the
chivalrous times that have long vanished and our present utilitarian
days. Long before the period of written history Dumbarton existed as
a tower of strength for the primitive natives. The misty period of
Scottish story, in which Fingal and Ossian with their warlike band
appear, is connected with our own times by the hill of Balclutha,
the scene of their exploits, the home of their triumph and victory.
If corroborative proof were required that this Castle steep was the
seat of Fingal, the recent discoveries of canoes and other relics in
the district might readily afford it. But the songs of Ossian are
sufficiently precise to indicate the locality with certainty. And even
in those remote times Balclutha was regarded as having existed from
far-distant ages, and exhibiting the reverses and vicissitudes common
to all earthly things. For thus sings Ossian:--
“I have seen the walls of Balclutha, but they are desolate. The fire
had resounded in the halls, and the voice of the people is heard no
more. The stream of Clutha was removed from its place by the fall of
the walls. The thistle shook there its lonely head; the moss whistled
in the wind. Why dost thou build the wall, son of the winged days?
Thou lookest from thy towers to-day; yet a few years and the blast of
the desert comes. It howls in thy empty courts, and whistles round thy
half-worn shield.”
A long controversy, began in 1762 and still continued in 1926, arose
regarding the authenticity of James Macpherson’s translation of the
Ossian poems; but experts in the language maintain that Macpherson
founded many of his versions upon Gaelic originals, and in some of them
introduced episodes from Irish history. The question will probably
never be decided absolutely either way. It is certain, however, that
the Ossian poems published by Macpherson were translated into all the
European languages, and attained great popularity.
Balclutha formed a stronghold of the aborigines at a very early period,
and came under the notice of the Romans when they invaded Caledonia. A
military nation by profession, such as the Romans were, could not but
perceive its importance as a fortress. Its commanding site from which
the road and the river could be controlled, would at once point it out
as a most desirable outpost from which the invaders might menace the
inhabitants, and the difficulty of access which it presented naturally
rendered it almost impregnable. When Antoninus, therefore, began his
great undertaking of the Roman Wall from the Clyde to the Forth, he
selected Dumbarton as the starting-point, since he there could control
all ingress to Scotland from the Western Sea by the way of the Clyde.
And here was founded the ancient burgh of Dumbarton, at the base of
the rock, which appears in Roman annals under the name of “Theodosia,”
after one of the most eminent generals commanding the invasion.
And thus, with a continuity which is easily traced, we find that the
Balclutha of Ossian becomes the Alcluith of the Britons of Strathclyde,
the Theodosia of the Romans, the Dunbrittain of the Scots, and the
Dunbartane or Dumbarton of more recent times. Yet, though its antiquity
is thus established, one hesitates to accept the statements of Geoffrey
of Monmouth, who gravely records the name of the contemporary of King
David of Israel who ruled in his ancestral halls on the banks of Clyde.
The Roman invasion gave place to the Danish, and still Dumbarton was
esteemed an enviable point of vantage. In 870 A.D. it endured a siege
of four months by the Danes under Olave, and was finally captured
by them. From this time onwards the Castle frequently changed its
masters, and upon its weather-beaten front was traced the passing
history of the country as it alternated betwixt freedom and slavery.
It was not, however, until the Earls of Lennox had risen into power
that the attention of the Scottish Kings was seriously attracted
towards Dumbarton. The title of this ancient house was derived from
Levenax or Lennox, the district through which the Leven river flows on
its way from Loch Lomond to join the Clyde at the base of the Castle
Rock. The Earls of Lennox seemed to have ruled the surrounding country
with a high hand, issuing their almost regal mandates from the Castle
of “Dunbretane.” And so intolerable had the yoke become that in 1238
Alexander II., whilst confirming a charter of land to them, expressly
excluded the Castle from it, and retained it as a royal possession. A
quarter of a century later it again formed the centre of attack during
the Norwegian invasion under Haco. That its importance as a stronghold
was thoroughly appreciated in those warlike times we may learn from the
fact that Edward I. of England, acting in his self-assumed character
of Lord Paramount, directed Nicholas de Segrave, the Castellan, to put
Balliol in possession of it.
A peculiar interest attaches to Dumbarton in connection with Sir
William Wallace. Sir John Menteith, his betrayer, or, at least, his
captor, was Castellan at the time, and carried the unfortunate patriot
to his fortress, under a pledge that he would suffer no harm. But no
sooner had he obtained full possession of his person than he handed
him over to the English soldiers, and defiled his hands by accepting
the bribe of perjury and unfaithfulness. It would be rash to conclude
from this transaction that Menteith was other than a brave man in
battle, for his later exploits at Bannockburn somewhat atoned for
his treachery. But it cannot be denied that the principles of this
execrated man were “unstable as water.” Indeed, he seems to have been
a prototype of the famous American politician, who summed up his creed
shortly: “I believe in _one_ party, and that is _myself_.”
He was untrue to Wallace, faithless to Bruce, treacherous to Edward,
and mistrusted alike by countryman and stranger. A curious story is
related in connection with King Robert. When that illustrious monarch
had made some way in the country south of the Clyde, he crossed to
Dumbarton, and, being joined by Malcolm, Earl of Lennox, he laid siege
to the Castle, then held by Menteith. Meantime, the Governor, deceived
by his past actions, Bruce attempted to bribe; but the ambitious
Castellan would hear of no less a reward than the Earldom of Lennox.
The King could not for a moment endure the thought of dispossessing one
of his most faithful followers even to gain so important a position,
and only the remonstrances of the good Earl Malcolm, who professed
himself ready to resign his honours for so desirable an object, at
length prevailed. A treaty was made, whereby Menteith undertook to
deliver up the Castle to Bruce for the lands and title of Earl of
Lennox. But a carpenter named Rolland, who had gained some knowledge of
Menteith’s designs, warned the King that he would be betrayed unless
most watchful.
Nothing daunted, but thoroughly on the alert, the brave Robert Bruce
pursued his way to the Castle. He was met at the gate by Menteith,
who delivered up the keys with all due pomp and solemnity. But ere
sitting down at meat with him the wary King desired to be shown over
the Castle. Closely followed by his own attendants, he inspected every
corner of the fortress, and noticed with rising doubt that Menteith
carefully avoided opening the door of one cellar in particular. His
suspicions were aroused, and, calling his guard to arms, he forced
the door and found within the chamber a body of English troops, who
were doubtless secreted there so as to take the citadel by surprise.
The unhappy Governor, who had thus over-reached himself, was at once
secured. But those were times in which strict justice might not be
done, and Bruce could ill afford to execute one valiant knight, however
grave his misdemeanour. Menteith was promised a full pardon for his
treason if he would join the Scottish Army on the eve of Bannockburn.
And so mightily did he wield his sword on that memorable occasion that
he was not only restored to liberty, but also loaded with honour.
A romantic story connected with Dumbarton is still preserved in the
traditions of the Castle. When David II. returned from England, there
followed in his train a Welshwoman named Catherine Mortimer, upon whom
he had bestowed tokens of favour. Jealous of her influence with the
King, the ambitious Earl of Angus hired two ruffians to accomplish
her assassination. Apprised by their employer of her movements, they
waylaid her upon a lonely moor near Melrose, and murdered her in cold
blood. A deed so abhorrent, even in that lawless age, called loudly
for vengeance, and as the complicity of Angus was an open secret, the
enraged King ordered him to be confined in Dumbarton Castle, whilst
the remains of his victim were interred with great solemnity at
Dunfermline. But the year 1361, which succeeded his incarceration, was
a fatal one for the Lennox country, as the plague broke out there with
great virulence, destroying nearly one-half of the inhabitants, and
numbering amongst its victims the unhappy Earl of Angus.
It would be tedious to relate all the sieges which this venerable
Castle has endured; but the story of the connection of James IV. with
it must not be omitted. At the Court of this unfortunate monarch no
nobleman was more beloved and respected than Lord Darnley, afterwards
Earl of Lennox. His youth, his talents, and the promise of success
which they afforded, pointed him out as one of the men whom the
King delighteth to honour. And thus, among other munificent gifts,
we find that in 1479 “the Castell of Dunbretane,” with all the
revenues pertaining to it, was bestowed upon him by his too generous
sovereign. For nine years did Darnley bask in the sunshine of the royal
countenance; but
“Vaulting ambition that o’erleaps itself
And fails on t’other side”
at length overcame him. In 1488 his plots against the King were
discovered, and he was degraded from his rank. Fortune played
shuttlecock with him in the following year. In February all the Acts of
Parliament against him were rescinded, and he was restored to favour;
but in July of the same year orders were given to besiege the Castle
of Crookston, Dumbarton and Duchall, which belonged to himself and his
sons, and to execute the extreme penalties for treason against them. So
great was the feeling adverse to Darnley that King James himself took
horse to lead the attack. Assembling his troops at Glasgow, he marched
first against Duchall, which he reduced in seven days. Directing his
army against Crookston, he soon forced a capitulation, and, with the
laurels from these victories fresh upon him, he joined with the Earl
of Argyll against Dumbarton. But here, though ultimately successful,
he found victory not so easy as he had anticipated. Despite the
assistance which the King had of all the Scottish artillery, including
Mons Meg from Edinburgh Castle, it took a considerable time to reduce
the garrison. In despair the King was at last compelled to raise the
siege and confess himself foiled by his powerful subject. Returning,
however, in the month of September, he again opened his battery against
Dumbarton, and succeeded in obtaining possession of it, though only
upon the conditions of a full pardon for Darnley, now Earl of Lennox.
Whether the difficulty of conquering it had endeared the Castle to him
or not it is not possible to tell, but certainly Dumbarton became one
of the most cherished residences of King James IV. after this time.
It is interesting to notice how frequently Dumbarton appears in the
Records of the Chancellor of the Exchequer, whose debit and credit
accounts afford much information to the historian. For instance, there
is this curious entry:--
“1494-5, Mars. 19. Item, To the Pyper of Dumbartane, be the King’s
command, xiiij sh’.”
Whether this piper was the famous Rory Murphy, whose name still exists
in local song and story, is not recorded.
After the lamentable death of King James at Flodden the country was
rent by the several factions of the Queen-Mother and the Earl of Arran,
who both strove for the Regency. The latter nobleman, assisted by the
Earls of Lennox and Glencairn, attacked Dumbarton successfully. In the
quaint words of the chronicler of that time:--“In ane mirk, wyndy
nicht, the xij of Januar (1514), they under-myndit the nedder-pole of
the yett of Dunbartane, and enterit thairat, and tuik the Castell, and
put furth the Lord Erskine, then Capitane thereof.” But their triumph
was of short duration, as the arrival of Albany caused the overthrow
of the Earl of Arran, and Lennox was imprisoned in Edinburgh until he
delivered up Dumbarton.
For thirty years after, the possession of this Castle indicated the
supremacy of the one or the other party. The political principles
of the nobility of those days were very slip-shod indeed, and Earl
Lennox was a type of his peers. In 1526 he again took and fortified
the Castle, holding it for the young Queen of Scots. But shortly after
he listened to the charming voice of Henry of England, who sought to
conquer Scotland by marrying Queen Mary to his son Edward. Meanwhile
the Chevalier de Brosse had been despatched from France to Dumbarton
with stores and treasures to assist the cause of the Queen; and,
unaware of the change in the political opinions of Lennox, he was
induced by that wily nobleman to place his precious load in the Castle
for safety. No sooner had this been done than the Earl quietly took
possession of the treasure in the name of Henry VIII., and turned the
duped and bewildered Chevalier out of Dumbarton.
In 1547 the unfortunate young Queen was conveyed to Dumbarton, as
affording the most secure shelter for her from English force and
fraud, and it was here that she suffered from an attack of smallpox,
which was then the scourge of Scotland. And in a melancholy hour did
she embark for France from Dumbarton, taking leave of the Queen-Mother
on the greensward at the base of the Rock, and bidding a gay farewell
to Scotland as her barque floated swiftly down the Clyde. To this regal
residence she returned no more, for her next attempt to reach it was
foiled at Langside, and she never again beheld the rugged rock, and her
hospitable refuge, from which she had first set out in all the bloom of
youth and hope.
For two years after her flight to England Lord Fleming held the Castle
in her name, and defeated the besiegers under the Regent Moray, who
strove for its possession. But it was wrested from him by one of the
boldest assaults recorded in history. In 1571, whilst Lennox lay ill
at Glasgow, having been injured by a fall from his horse, this forlorn
hope was planned, and entrusted for its execution to Captain Crawford
of Jordanhill. It was proposed to attempt the Castle by escalade. One
of the soldiers of the Castle, whose wife had been whipped by the
Governor for some trifling offence, deserted, and joined the proposed
assaulting party, acting as their guide. Late in the evening, while the
mist hung over the hill-top, the band set forth upon their perilous
expedition, marching in single file, the foremost of the party carrying
the ladders, and all keeping together in the darkness by holding a rope
which passed from man to man. Stealthily approaching the base of the
rock, they began to tie their ladders together, and to place them in
position at the most precipitous portion of the mountain. The reason
for thus multiplying the difficulty of the adventure was a sound one,
as the event proved, and Crawford’s own words show that the scheme had
been deeply pondered: “Because thai suspectit nocht the heighest pairt
o’ the craig, thair was not ane watche in that pairt of the wall above,
within sex scoir of futes to the pairt that we entered.”