abandoned at the Reformation, and was taken possession of by the
Stewart clan as a burial vault about the year 1580. For a long time
this interesting old burying-ground was allowed to remain in a state of
shameful neglect. There seemed to be no direct responsibility on the
part of any heritor for its upkeep, and what seemed everybody's
business became nobody's. This condition of _laissez faire_ was
confirmed by a sentimental though unreasonable objection to shifting
into their right position a number of head-stones which time and
weather had either displaced or Darwin's worms had covered up. It was
only five or six years ago that a Committee was formed, which in a
regular manner, and with the consent of all parties interested, took in
charge the upkeep of the burial-ground, with the aid of public
subscription. A head-stone of great interest to antiquarians is one
with figures of Adam and Eve sculptured in relief, while above these
figures an angel is represented. The tree carved on the other side of
the stone is evidently the tree of good and evil, and the whole
represents in a crude way the expulsion of Adam and Eve from Paradise.
This Adam and Eve stone is considered very rare, there being very few
known throughout the country. This one differs from the others in the
absence of the serpent, which is usually represented on them. Another
monument of considerable interest is to be seen within the chapel. It
is a memorial tablet recently erected by the present Laird of
Ardvoirlich upon the wall of the east gable and containing the
following inscription:--"This chapel, dedicated in early times to St.
Fillan, the leper, has been, since the year 1586, the burial-place of
the sept or clan of Stewart of Ardvoirlich." Here follow the names of
those buried beneath, with the dates of their decease. On glancing
over the names there recorded, one will notice the name of Major James
Stewart, and will remember that it is to the same memory that a stone
still stands erected on the south side of the loch, about three miles
up. We there read that this Major James Stewart was temporarily
interred, and thereafter removed to his final resting-place at Dundurn.
This member of the clan seems to have been of a fiery, irascible, and
adventurous nature, and Sir Walter Scott, while in this neighbourhood,
found sufficient material in connection with this personage to
reproduce his likeness in his Allan M'Aulay of the _Legend of
Montrose_. In his introduction to this romance the author gives an
interesting account of his character, and sets before us two different
versions of the part he acted in the death of Lord Kilpont; indeed, one
will look upon the romantic scenery of this district with redoubled
interest after a perusal of this work of the great novelist. With
reference to this Major Stewart's tomb-stone on the side of the loch,
which has just been referred to, the legend is that the Major died a
natural death at Ardvoirlich, and his body was being carried to Dundurn
for burial, but the Drummonds and Murrays, who were at enmity with the
clan, threatened to intercept the funeral, and a snowstorm coming on,
they interred the body on the loch side near the spot where the stone
is, and subsequently took it to the chapel.
Another head-stone of considerable interest is to be seen hear the
entrance to the grounds of Ardvoirlich itself. It marks the place
where the remains of seven of the Macdonalds were interred, the legend
being that that clan, on their way to or from a raid on Glenartney
Forest, attacked Ardvoirlich House, and the men of the clan being
absent with their cattle on the hills, the lady of the house kept them
at bay until the men came down, and then they slaughtered all the
Macdonalds, except one man, and their bodies were buried in a hole on
the loch side. Years after, on excavating to make a pond for cattle to
drink from, a number of human bones were found, and the stone was
erected to mark the spot.
Another object of considerable antiquarian interest in the possession
of the Ardvoirlich family is the charm-stone. It is said by tradition
to have been brought from the Holy Land at the time of the Crusades by
the Fitz-Allans, who were progenitors of the Stewarts, and who were
active Crusaders. It was considered a most holy stone, and had healing
properties of a high order. It is a very perfect specimen of rock
crystal; the silver setting is Saracenic in character, and said to be
very old. Up to 1840, and even later, people used to come to
Ardvoirlich from long distances to have the stone immersed in water,
while a Gaelic incantation was repeated by the laird or lady. Then the
water was carried home, and one condition was that the possessor of the
water must not enter any house until home was reached; then if given to
cattle to drink, or sprinkled over them, it acted as a perfect cure for
any murrain or disease.
On the death of the laird in 1854, the stone was sent into a bank for
safe custody, and then all the healing properties were destroyed. It
was said also that the last lady of Ardvoirlich who used it, and who
was a Maxtone of Cultoquhey, had no Gaelic, and was too lowland by
birth to believe in it, and she most irreverently (not knowing the
Gaelic incantation) just repeated--"If it'll dae ye nae guid, it'll dae
ye nae hairm," and that also destroyed the charm.
Another object which does not fail to attract the attention of the
visitor to St. Fillans is the picturesque little island at the east end
of the loch, called the Neish Island, for it has its romantic story to
tell. "It is uncertain" (says John Brown in his description of the
place) when or by whom "the island in Loch Earn rose into form or
importance; but that it was entirely the work of man (and certainly it
was no contemptible undertaking) is evident from its circular shape,
the nature of the bed on which it is raised and surrounding it, and the
purpose to which it might be made subservient in lawless times. The
ancestors of the present family of Ardvoirlich made it their occasional
residence, at the remote period when they held the eight-mark land on
which St. Fillans is now built, an endowment which continued annexed to
the Chapel or Priory of Strathfillan till its dissolution at the
Reformation." On the island there are the remains of what appear to
have been a number of dwellings. That it was used as a haunt or refuge
by raiders is certain from the tradition which gives it its name of
Neish Island. According to the tradition, it was the refuge of the
remnant of the Clan Neish who had been defeated in a bloody battle with
the MacNabs. There the former carried on a kind of predatory warfare
with the MacNabs, and on one occasion so roused the wrath of the latter
that a speedy and terrible revenge followed. The stalwart sons of the
MacNab, urged by their wrathful sire, whose hint in the words--"The
night is the night if lads were but lads," almost amounted to a
command, equipped themselves with dirk, pistol, and claymore, raised a
boat on their shoulders, and carrying it by night all the way from Loch
Tay across the hills by Glentarken, launched it stealthily on Loch
Earn, and taking the Neishes by surprise are said to have killed them
all, except one boy, who made good his escape. The following lines by
the Rev. John Hunter, Crieff, give very appropriate expression and
colouring to this interesting tradition:--
Here sit we down on this fair sun-strewn bank,
Beside this queen of lakes, whose loveliness
From out of half-shut eyelids softly woos
To sweet forgetfulness.
Above, the wood, and interspersed knolls,
Made greener by the pat of fairy feet
And dancing moonbeams, fringe the rugged knees
Of scarred and bronzéd heights whose wind-notched crests
Look grandly down. Fair scene and home of peace
Ineffable; and yet not ever so,
For I have seen these scars run full and white,
And heard their trumpetings as they rush'd madly
Adown the spray-sown steep, past wood and knoll,
To mingle with the waters of the lake
Vexed with the storm and sounding loud in sympathy.
What have we here? What human trace of times
When hearts o'erflowed, and hand and steel were swift,
And red in the flashing of a hasty thought?
Ah me! these times, these woful times when word
And blow were wed, and none could sunder them,
And honour'd live! See yonder isle set single
In the lake, near by where Earn darts swiftly 'neath
The rustic bridge to bear the music of the place
To broader Tay, who murmurs from afar
In the rich harmony of his many streams--yon isle,
The haunt of lovers now, where hearts that touch
And thrill, cling closer in the eerie sense
Of fear that lurks amid the tumbled stones
Of robbers' lair. Here, once upon a time,
When might was right, and men made wrongful
Gain of Nature's fastnesses, a ruffian couched
And preyed upon his kind. Long time he throve,
But vengeance woke at length, and the heavy tread
Of frowning men from far Loch Tay--skiff-laden.
Adown the glen they came one moonless night,
Goaded by tingling sneer of white-hair'd sire.
They rest where Tarken pours his scanty tide,
Then silently--nor moon nor star appearing--
Launch forth upon the lake, and softly steal
Towards the caitiff's fire gleaming through the dark
Like blood-shot eye. All saving one, and he
Was left to skirt the shore and give the foe
Rough welcome should he 'scape to land. Who then
Fair-hair'd and young stood there in melting mood,
With all his mother in his swimming eyes,
Of abbot's line--with dirk half drawn, fearing,
Hoping, praying, as his gentler nature bade
That life and light would not go out together.
The hope seem'd vain. From out the gloom there came
The grinding keel--the tread of hurrying feet--
Clashing of words, of steel, and all was dark--
And all was still. But hark! a sound--the faint
Breathing of one who swims with pain, the plash
Of nerveless hands nearer and nearer comes,
Yet ever fainter. What boots it now to have
Escaped the vengeful swords that smote his kin?
The waves engulf him and his bubbling cry.
But unhoped help is near--a friendly word--
A plunge, then stroke on stroke, and timeously
A hand to save. Say not, ye thoughtless ones,
That yon grim head, clean sever'd from the trunk,
Was the chief trophy of that night. Nay;
For kindly thoughts endure, and the High Will
That holds all things within the ever-opening fold
Of His eternal purpose--that High Will
Look'd down with loving eyes that pierce the dark,
And bless'd the deeds that glorified MacNab,
The abbot's son--half-savage and half-saint.
Time sped; the deed was not forgot, and still
The tale is told when nights are long and the lone
Owl hoots upon the hill. And now there stands
Within bowshot of the isle--a house of God
That calls to prayer--a parish church--the fruit
Of kindly thoughts that stirr'd the watcher's heart,
And clomb to Heaven in mute appeal, that night
When vengeance smote and light and life went out together.
So much, then, for the prospect which an antiquarian standing by the
Well of St. Fillan would embrace within the programme of his research.
If we try to form a picture of the social condition of the people who
lived in the midst of this fair vale of Earn in those early days, it is
a scene of continual strife we conjure up--clan fighting with clan, and
one feud succeeding another. These were the days of superstitious
pilgrimages, days of rooted custom and unchanging faith. So much the
better for the Saint. The halo of his sanctity shines out all the more
against the background of ignorance and strife. If he were to re-visit
those scenes now, how much would he have to deplore! No more
pilgrimages, no more belief in miracles. What a downcome from his
dignity to be the patron of a golf course or the chaplain of a curling
club, instead of enjoying the fame and name of the holy well.
_Requiescat in pace_.
The past was not all strife, however. Traces of agriculture lead us to
picture this fine strath as at one time throng with peaceful and busy
life. There were, no doubt, in those warlike times intervals of peace,
when the inhabitants of the glen could tend their cattle and cultivate
their potatoes and corn at leisure; and whether we look back upon this
land of the "mountain and the flood" as having been the nursery of our
best soldiers, or as having been peopled by a race rendered strong and
manly by a simple mode of life, the present prospect of our Highland
glens cannot but fill us with sad reflection when we behold the process
of emigration and depopulation still going on, and when we see that ere
long the only links with the past of a once strong and hardy race of
people will be the mere traces of their cultivation, the ruins of their
once populous hamlets, and the grave-stones in their old
burying-grounds.
It is true there is a compensating process going on. For while one
regrets the disappearance of the old thatched houses of the primitive
village of St. Fillans and the migration of their youthful life to the
city, the rise of the modern villa along the loch side speaks of the
growth of a temporary population known as the "summer visitors." It
is not likely that their peaceful pursuits--their climbing and pic-nic
expeditions, their regattas and loch illuminations, will be considered
to be as worthy to be recorded in a future "Book of Chronicles" as the
feuds and raids of the past. Still, it is to be hoped that this land
of "brown heath and shaggy wood" may even in this innocent way minister
to the rearing of a healthy manhood and womanhood, and continue to be
the nursery of that muscular body and brave spirit which in the past
have made the name of Caledonia great.
[1] _Proceedings of the Antiquarian Society_, 1882-83.
[2] Fortrenn seems to have been the ancient name of a large district of
Strathearn, of which Dundurn, or the fort of the Earn, was the capital.
THE PLAIN OF THE BARDS
By Rev. ARTHUR GORDON, M.A., Monzievaird
To supply even in brief outline a sketch of the united parishes of
Monzievaird and Strowan is to cover many centuries and to recall some
extraordinary events and remarkable persons. These parishes comprise
an area of about eight miles long by six miles broad, and on the map
somewhat resemble a pear. The scenery varies from the bare summit of
Benchonzie, the limit on the north, where the highest elevation is
reached at 3048 feet, and the wood-crowned Turleum, 1291 feet high,
where "wind and water sheers," the southern boundary, down to the
well-cultivated and nearly level carse, which lies all the way between
Crieff and Comrie at about two hundred feet above the sea. The little
hills abound with coigns of vantage, rewarding the pedestrian; while
even the driving tourist finds a rich harvest for the eye in the
wonderfully diversified landscape presented on all sides. The River
Earn, if it lacks the majesty of the Tay and the impetuosity of the
Garry, makes itself recognised as the dominating feature, whether in
its quiet meandering moods or in the flooded temper, overflowing its
banks and spreading its deposit of alluvial soil. Its tributaries--the
Lednock, with its "Deil's Cauldron," and the Turret and Barvick, oft
visited for their pleasing cascades, along with many another rivulet
and spring--call up the Promised Land of old--"a land of hills and
valleys which drinketh water of the rain of heaven." In climate, also,
this part of Strathearn is singularly favoured, sheltered as it is from
the biting east wind and fortified from the northern blasts by its
mountain barriers. Its rainfall, also, is far from excessive; for many
sky-piercing hill-tops tap the rain clouds from the Atlantic long
before they reach Central Perthshire.
The name of the parish, now called Monzievaird, but formerly Monivaird,
and anciently Moivaird, is believed to be Gaelic, and to signify, not
the hill, but rather the "mossy plain" of the bards. It is difficult
to say how far this carries us back. The Bards are not to be
confounded with the Druids, a religious class from which they were
quite distinct. The bards seem to have been the seanachies,
antiquaries, poets, and genealogists. It was their special function to
compose and to chant verses or rhymes in praise of their heroes or
benefactors, and in the absence, so far as we know, of any method of
recording past transactions or histories, we may believe that our
ancestors transmitted orally, in lines composed by the bards, the
memorable sayings and deeds which they wished to hand down to
generations after them. How far they were worthy of credit, and how
far they were subject to the vices of flattery or detraction we cannot
tell, but we may be sure that those who were accounted great in these
ancient times were anxious to have their doughty deeds immortalised,
and perhaps were as sensitive to the tone of public criticism thus
represented as is the statesman or warrior of to-day. What would we
not give to hear from the living voice of one of those bards, were it
only possible, the stores of traditionary lore of which they were the
sole depositories! As it is, we can but lament the almost total
absence of reliable information regarding their genius, perhaps also
the jealous competition for the laureate's place in these pre-historic
times.
Remains at the western end of the parish are supposed to represent two
Druidical temples. Cairns and barrows have been numerous, and in one
of these, on Ochtertyre, there was discovered, near the close of last
century, a stone coffin, containing two coarse earthenware urns. One
of these held burnt bones, and the other the bones of a head, having
the lower jaw-bone and teeth in marvellous preservation. In the stone
coffin was also found a stone hatchet about four inches long, bluish
coloured, and of triangular shape, which evidently belonged to an age
before iron was in use here. It is well known that the Romans had
camps at Ardoch, Strageath, and Dalginross. Evidences of their
presence in Monzievaird might, therefore, be expected, and they are not
awanting. A Roman burial-ground of some extent, full of large slabs of
stone, lies northeast of Clathick (hence perhaps the name), and is in a
line between the camp at Dalginross--a circular burial-place near
Victoria--and the Roman station on the Brae of Callander. In 1783
there was found in the plain of Monzievaird a bronze vessel resembling
a coffee-pot, and in 1805 the bronze head of a spear was found in
Ochtertyre Loch. In 1808 similar spear heads were found near the
church, erected in 1804, which now serves the united parishes. These
relics are pronounced by the best antiquarians to be undoubtedly Roman.
We now proceed to notice the first written account which history gives
of Monzievaird. If there be any truth in the old chroniclers, a battle
was fought here, and, after a long civil war, a contested succession to
the Crown was settled by the slaughter of the reigning sovereign of
Alban, a usurper who passes over the stage of history under the various
names of "Gryme," "Girgh Mackinat Macduff," and reigned eight years.
It may be worth while to give several references. John of Fordun's
chronicle tells how Malcolm, son of Kenneth, strengthened by the favour
of the people, and at the instigation of some of his chiefs, sent a
message to the King, giving him the alternatives of either vacating the
throne, or that they two should submit their cause to the just verdict
of God by fighting, either man to man or accompanied by their warrior
hosts. Gryme was very indignant at this defiance, while Malcolm, on
the other hand, boldly advanced to meet him with a small but picked
band, and reached a field called Auchnabard (the field of the bards),
styled "a meet place for a battle." Here the two armies fought out a
cruel engagement, till at length the King was mortally wounded, and,
being led out of the battle by his men, died the same night. Thus
Malcolm gained the victory and the kingdom. The register of St.
Andrews calls the slain monarch "Kenneth (Grim)," and makes his death
to be "at Moieghvard" in 1001. _The Chronykil of Scotland_ calls this
same place "Bardory," and in Latin "Campus Bardorum," which corresponds
to Auchnabard. A cairn on a neighbouring height commemorates this
conflict which made history; but the slain King was not buried here, but
"Carried to Colme-Kill;
The sacred storehouse of his predecessors,
And guardian of their bones."
The Church of Monzievaird was in all probability founded, by Saint
Serf, and he was certainly its patron saint. If we are not compelled
to postulate two saints of this name from the number of years covered
by traditions which cannot all relate to the same person, we would
incline to quit hold of the earlier and less definite tradition, and to
consider Saint Serf as contemporary with Adamnan, the celebrated Abbot
of Iona, and distinguished biographer of Saint Columba. St. Serf
founded many churches, and his reputation in the Middle Ages for the
neat and appropriate miracles attributed to him may be reckoned the
measure of his eminence among Scotland's early evangelists. Wyntoun
gives a quaint dialogue between St. Serf and the enemy of mankind, in
which the Devil, plying the Saint with many knotty theological
questions, wholly fails to overcome him, and suddenly departs. Another
of these monkish miracles makes St. Serf discover the theft of a sheep
by ordering it to bleat forth the story of its wrongs from the guilty
stomach of the thief, and to redden his face with shame for having
denied his crime! St. Serf's memory survives here in the well called
after him, with its plentiful supply of water. As lately as 1760 the
parishioners were wont to be drawn by a lurking superstition to drink
of it on Lammas Day, leaving in it white stones, spoons, or rags, which
they brought as remembrancers, just as devout Mohammedans still leave
their prayer rags attached to the grating of the Mosque El-Aksa, at
Jerusalem, or the lower branches of the giant oak that marks the site
of the grove at Dan. St. Serf's festival and fair day long continued,
and was kept on the 1st of July while the market lasted. The church
itself was impropriated to the Abbey of Inchaffray, founded by the Earl
of Strathearn about the beginning of the twelfth century, and was
served by a vicar, to whom that monastery delegated the clerical duty,
doubtless on the usual pittance of stipend.
The Tosachs, from the Gaelic word meaning "first" or "chief," were the
old proprietors of Monzievaird. Their first residence was not at the
old castle at Greenend, but at Balmuick, on the estate of Lawers, then
called Fordie, and the foundation of the house was traceable at the
close of last century. The chief of Monzievaird was accustomed to
execute a man on the first day of every month, and this celebration of
the almanac at Tom-an-Tosach was apparently designed to prevent the
feudal rights of pit and gallows from falling into desuetude. The
story runs that the last chief held nightly interviews with a fairy, a
proceeding which aroused his wife's jealousy. She tracked him by a
ball of worsted attached to his button, and, discovering him in
conclave with the fairy, demanded her immediate destruction. Thereupon
the fairy fled, and the power of the Tosach departed also. The
inhabitants rose against him, and he had to seek refuge abroad.