Читать книгу: «In Byways of Scottish History», страница 10
This loss of £100,000 roused the Government to action. Lord Viscount Melville, who was First Lord of the Admiralty at the time, applied to the Lighthouse Board to take over the light of May as one of the Northern Lights. In the negotiations that ensued, the Duke of Portland proposed a scheme, in accordance with which he was to carry out the suggested alterations, and the Commissioners were to become his lessees. This proposal did not, however, meet with the approval of the latter, their opinion being that the only position they could assume in the transaction was that of purchasers for the public. The ultimate result was the acquisition of the Isle of May, together with the light duties, for the sum of £60,000 – £3000 less than the Duke of Portland had originally demanded. This was in 1814. That same year an Act was passed reducing the light duty to one penny per ton for all British ships. Immediate measures were also taken for carrying out the necessary improvements. In the course of the following summer, a new lighthouse was erected, and a light from oil, with reflectors, was exhibited on the 1st of February, 1816. The following official description of the new light of May was published at the time: —
"The lighthouse on the Isle of May is situate at the entrance of the Firth of Forth, in North lat. 56° 12´, and long. 2° 36´ west of London. From the lighthouse Fifeness bears by compass N. by E. 1/2 E., distant five miles; and the Staples Rocks, lying off Dunbar, S. by W. 1/2 W., distant ten miles. The light, being formerly from coal, exposed to the weather in an open grate or choffer, was discontinued on the night of the 1st of February, 1816, when a light from oil, with reflectors, known to mariners as a Stationary Light, was exhibited. The new lighthouse tower upon the Isle of May is contiguous to the side of the old one, and is elevated 240 feet above the medium level of the sea, of which the masonry forms 57 feet, and is therefore similar to the old tower in point of height. The new light is defended from the weather in a glazed light-room, and has a uniform steady appearance, resembling a star of the first magnitude, and is seen from all points of the compass, at the distance of about 7 leagues, and intermediately, according to the state of the atmosphere."
In the summer of 1814, shortly after the May had been acquired by the Northern Lights Board, Sir Walter Scott accompanied the Commissioners on their visit of inspection. In the Diary which he kept during the cruise, the following entry occurs under date of the 29th of July, the day on which the lighthouse yacht sailed from Leith: – "Reached the Isle of May in the evening, went ashore, and saw the light – an old tower, and much in the form of a border-keep, with a beacon-grate on the top. It is to be abolished for an oil revolving-light, the grate-fire only being ignited upon the leeward side when the wind is very high… The isle had once a cell or two upon it. The vestiges of the chapel are still visible. Mr. Stevenson proposed demolishing the old tower, and I recommended 'ruining' it 'à la picturesque', i.e., demolishing it partially. The island might make a delightful residence for bathers."230 Scott's romantic suggestion was not, however, adopted. The old lighthouse tower on the Isle of May was reduced in height to about 20 feet, and by direction of the Board was converted into a guardroom for the convenience of pilots and fishermen. The square, battlemented, white building is still standing at the present day. Above the door there is a tablet with a figure of the rising sun over the date 1636. It is surmounted by a lion holding an escutcheon, on which the armorial bearings – probably those of the builder – are no longer decipherable. In the vaulted room within the tower there is an old iron grate with the initials A. C., which suit Alexander Cunningham, and are doubtless his.
The ruins mentioned by Sir Walter are also visible at the present day, though in an even more dilapidated state than when he saw them. They are situated in a hollow, towards the south-east end of the island, probably near the spot where the monastery stood. They are doubtless the remains of St. Adrian's Chapel, which continued to be visited by pilgrims long after the destruction of the monastery itself. The space within the walls measures about 32 feet in length and 15 feet in breadth. In the west wall are two windows, of which the semi-circular interior openings seem to indicate Norman work, and suggest the thirteenth century as the date of the building. There are also remnants of windows both in the south and in the north wall. A shapeless gap near the southern extremity shows the position of the door. Just within it there may still be seen what is perhaps a fragment of the holy-water stoup. From the fact that the ruins lie north and south, it has been thought that the chapel occupied only a part of the building, and duly lay east and west within it. If such were the case, it must have been of exceptionally small dimensions, and have contained a very diminutive altar. At the present time no attempt seems to be made to prevent the venerable relic from falling further into decay; and the rough enclosure within which it stands is used as a sheep-pen.
The lighthouse now on the May is situated close to the old tower. It is a massive quadrangular stone building surmounted by a square tower which at a distance gives it the appearance of a church. It first came into use on the 1st of December, 1886. For fifteen years previously the Commissioners of the Northern Lights had been anxious to establish an electric light on the Scottish coast; but it was not till 1883 that the Board of Trade was able to sanction the expenditure, and suggested its introduction at the Isle of May, on the ground that "there was no more important station on the Scottish shores, whether considered as a landfall, as a light for the guidance of the extensive or important trade of the neighbouring coast, or as a light to lead into the refuge of the Forth". The new buildings, engines, electric machines and lamps cost £15,835; but, including old material which it was found possible to utilize, the total installation was estimated at £22,435. As to technical details, it may suffice to mention that the generators are two of De Meritens's alternate-current magneto-electric machines, weighing about four and a half tons each. The engines are a pair of horizontal surface-condensing steam engines, each with two cylinders 9 inches in diameter and 18 inches stroke, making 140 revolutions per minute. There are two steam boilers, of which only one is in use at a time. Each of them is 20 feet long and 5 feet 6 inches in diameter. Only one of the three electric lamps is used at a time, and is changed once an hour to allow it to cool. The light is about 25,000 candle-power, but when seen from the water gives a flash equal to 3,000,000 candles, which can be increased to 6,000,000. The May apparatus is so designed as to give a group of four flashes in quick succession, followed by an interval of darkness lasting thirty seconds. The highest recorded distance at which the reflection of the light has been observed is 61 nautical miles. The May is also provided with a powerful horn, of which the sound serves as a guide during the frequent "haars" or sea-fogs that rise from the North Sea. In addition to this, it has a smaller fixed light which serves as a leading light for ships coming down from Fifeness. It is visible on one side of the island only.
Owing to the increased cost of maintenance of the May light – it is estimated at more than £1000 a year – an Order in Council was issued in 1886, authorizing the collection of two-sixteenths of a penny per ton, as light dues, from vessels carrying cargo or passengers, which may pass or derive benefit from the light when on a coasting or home-trade voyage, and of one penny per ton when on an oversea voyage, subject to the usual deductions.
The May light is served by seven keepers, the chief of whom does not, however, share the watches. Their quarters, which are neat and commodious, and sufficiently large for the accommodation of such of them as have families, are situated at some distance from the lighthouse, between two hills that afford protection from the prevalent gales. Close to them is the engine-house, with its tall chimney-stalk. The necessary supply of water for it is drawn from the little lake, of which early descriptions of the island make mention, and which has now been turned into a reservoir.
EDINBURGH AND HER PATRON SAINT
Although Edinburgh does not appear to manifest any consciousness of the fact, the 1st of September is the feast of her patron saint. There was a time when solemn celebrations marked the event. But centuries have passed since then; and it would not be very rash to assume that, at the present day, for every thousand of its Presbyterian population, at any rate, the city does not contain one man, woman, or child who knows of any connection between St. Giles and any special day in the year.
In this respect, it is true, Edinburgh is not more indifferent than Glasgow. Every year the 13th of January passes by without the slightest official recognition on the part of the commercial metropolis. In spite of that, however, St. Mungo and St. Giles stand on a very different footing in their respective cities. All Glaswegians know something of their saint. Indeed, their municipal coat of arms makes it impossible for them to be wholly ignorant of his story. The very children amongst them are familiar with the incidents which the bird, the tree, and the ring commemorate; and reference to the capital of the West as the city of St. Mungo is by no means uncommon. But whoever heard Edinburgh call herself the city of St. Giles? Nor is this difference in the esteem in which the two patrons are held unnatural or unaccountable. For, whilst Glasgow's tutelar saint was a true Scot, he under whose special protection the capital chose to put itself was simply an alien. Not but what he was a well-born and eminently venerable person. We are told that St. Giles, or, to give him his Latin name, Egidius, was born in Greece in the seventh century. According to the Roman Breviary, he was of royal lineage. The same authority states that from his youth he showed a great love for sacred learning and for works of charity, and that, at the death of his parents, he bestowed his whole inheritance on the poor. The miracles which he was reported to have wrought brought him a fame which was distasteful to him. To escape from it he retired to Arles, in France. He remained there but a short time, however, having determined to lead the life of a hermit. For this purpose he betook himself to a forest near Gards, in the diocese of Nîmes. There he lived for a long time upon the roots and herbs and the milk of a hind which came to him at regular hours – an act of kindness for which the charitable and faithful animal was not to go unrewarded, and to which, indeed, she owes the honour of figuring in the arms of the city of Edinburgh, of which she is the sinister supporter. One day the hind was chased by the King's hounds, and took refuge in Giles's cave. "Thereby," says the Breviary, "the King of France was moved earnestly to entreat that Giles would allow a monastery to be built in the place where the cave was. Yielding to the pressing solicitations of the King, he took the rule of this monastery, although himself unwilling, and discharged this duty in a wise and godly manner for some years, until he passed away to heaven."231
The biographical sketch supplied by the Breviary suggests no connection between Giles and any part of Britain – north or south; neither does there seem to be anything extant to account for his being chosen as the tutelar saint of Edinburgh. There are, however, documents which prove that, as far back as the thirteenth century, the parish church was dedicated to him. Arnot states, on the authority of a charter in the Advocates' Library, that, in the reign of James II, Preston of Gortoun, having got possession of a relic which was alleged to be an arm-bone of St. Giles, bequeathed it to the mother kirk.232 In gratitude for this gift, the magistrates of the city granted a charter in favour of the heirs of Preston, entitling the nearest heir of the donor, being of the name of Preston, to carry this sacred relic in all processions. The magistrates, at the same time, obliged themselves to found in this church an altar, and to appoint a chaplain, for celebrating an annual mass of requiem for the soul of the donor. They also ordered that a tablet, displaying his arms and describing his pious donation, should be put in the chapel. The relic, enshrined in silver, was kept amongst the treasures of the church till the Reformation.233
The outburst of iconoclasm which is chronicled by John Knox as one of the marks of progress of the Reformation in Scotland proved fatal to St. Giles. "The images were stolen away in all parts of the country," says the historian, "and in Edinburgh was that great idol called St. Giles first drowned in the North Loch, and after burned, which raised no small trouble in the town." This was in 1557. But twelve months later there occurred what may be looked upon as the public and formal denial by Edinburgh of her patron saint, and his violent and shameful deposition by his whilom devotees. This "tragedy of St. Giles" is recorded by Knox with that grim humour which is characteristic of him. He relates that, on the approach of St. Giles's day, the bishops gave charge to the Provost, Bailies, and Council of Edinburgh, either to get the old St. Giles again, or else to provide a new image at their expense. To this the Council answered, in words that breathe the very spirit of the reformer himself, "That to them the charge appeared very unjust. They understood that God, in some places, had commanded idols and images to be destroyed, but where He had commanded images to be set up, they had not read; and they desired the Archbishop of St. Andrews to find a warrant for his commandment."
In spite of this refusal, the priests and friars determined to have "that great solemnity and manifest abomination which they accustomably had upon St. Giles's day", or, in other words, to hold the annual procession. To replace the statue that had come to grief the year before, "a marmoset idol" was borrowed from the Grey Friars; who, as security for its safe return, required the deposit of "a silver piece". It was made fast with iron nails to a feretory, or portable shrine. "There assembled priests, friars, canons, and rotten Papists, with tabours and trumpets, banners and bagpipes. And who was there to lead the ring but the Queen Regent herself, with all her shavelings, for honour of that feast?" For all her unpopularity, Mary exercised a restraining influence on the mob. But that day she was to dine "in Sandie Carpetyne's house, betwixt the Bows" – that is to say, between the West Bow and the Nether Bow; and so when, after going down the High Street and as far as the foot of the Canongate, "the idol returned back again, she left it and passed in to her dinner".
The Regent's withdrawal from the procession was the signal for the outbreak of the riot which Knox dignifies with the title of "the enterprise". They that were of it at once approached to the statue, and pretended they were anxious to help in bearing it. Having got the feretory upon their shoulders, they began to shake it roughly, thinking that this would bring down the "idol". But the iron nails resisted such slight efforts, and, casting aside all pretence, they pulled it down violently to the cry of "Down with the idol! down with it!" "Some brag made the priests' patrons at the first," records Knox; "but they soon saw the feebleness of their god, for one took him by the heels, and dadding his head to the causeway, left Dagon without head or hands, and said, 'Fie upon thee, thou young St. Giles, thy father would have tarried for such!' This considered, the priests and friars fled faster than they did at Pinkie Cleuch! Down go the crosses, off go the surplices, and the round caps corner with the crowns. The Grey Friars gaped, the Black Friars blew, the priests panted and fled, and happy was he that first go into the house; for such a sudden fray came never among the generation of Antichrist within this realm before."234
These riotous proceedings chanced to be witnessed by a "merry Englishman", who, seeing that there was more noise and confusion than hurt or injury, and that the discomfiture was bloodless, thought he would add some merriment to the matter. And the gibes in which he indulged so tickled Knox's sense of humour that he duly records them: "Fie upon you, why have ye broken order? Down the street ye passed in great array and with great mirth. Why fly ye, villains, now without order? Turn and strike every man a stroke, for the honour of his god! Fie, cowards, fie, ye shall never be judged worthy of your wages again!" "But," adds the chronicler, "exhortations were then unprofitable; for after Baal had broken his neck there was no comfort to his confused army."
From that memorable fall of his, on September 1, 1558, St. Giles has never recovered. His name, indeed, is not wholly forgotten, and cannot be, so long as Edinburgh's venerable cathedral bears it; but if he be in honour anywhere, it is not in the city which once chose him for its patron, even in preference to any in the respectable company of home-bred saints that lay ready at hand in the calendar.
THE ROCK OF DUMBARTON
Some Incidents in its History
The Castle of Dumbarton is one of the Scottish fortresses for the maintenance of which special provision was made in the Treaty of Union. In its case, however, little more than the mere letter of the law has been observed. For years past its sole garrison has consisted of a caretaker; and, in so far as any practical purpose is concerned, it has ceased to be a stronghold at all. But, though no longer possessing any military importance, the old "Fort of the Britons" is still interesting and noteworthy for the part that it played, through so many centuries, in the national history.
There is no evidence to prove that the wall built across the country by the Roman invaders extended quite as far as Dumbarton. It cannot be supposed, however, that they ignored the strategic importance of the Rock, and failed to occupy a position which was practically the key to the West of Scotland. As to the existence of a fort during the period that followed the evacuation of Britain by the Romans, there can be no doubt. The Welsh chronicles refer to it under the name of Alclud, or Alcluid, that is, "the Rock of the Clyde". Further, it is recorded in the Historia Britonum "that, as the result of a battle fought between the Britons and the sons of Ida, in 573, the greater part of the North Country fell into the hands of a king called Ryderchen, who chose as his seat the stronghold known to the Gaels by the name of Dunbraton," or the fort of the Britons – the original form of the modern Dumbarton. In confirmation of this sixth-century occupation of the Rock, there is a passage in the life of Columba where Adamnan states that the saint was consulted by King Rodorcus, son of Totail, who reigned on the Rock of the Clyde.235 Under the date of 870, the Annals of Ulster and other Irish chronicles record that the Norse leaders Amlaiph and Imhar laid siege to Strathclyde, in Britain. Besides cutting off all provisions, they were able to draw off, "in a wonderful manner", the water of the well within the fortress. By reducing the defenders to such a state of weakness that they could not repulse their assailants, hunger and thirst gave the Norsemen possession of the fortress.236
At the time of the dispute between Bruce and Baliol, the Castle of Dumbarton was in the keeping of Nicholas de Segrave. By virtue of the right that he claimed as feudal superior, Edward I commanded the fortress to be handed over to the competitor in whose favour he had pronounced. It was not till 1296, however, that the English King was able to enforce his order, and to appoint a Governor of his own choosing. This was Alexander de Ledes, whom he also made Sheriff of the County. De Ledes was succeeded by Sir John Menteith, who earned an unenviable notoriety by the betrayal and capture of Wallace, and to whose keeping the illustrious prisoner was entrusted prior to his being removed to London. The Scottish hero's sword was long preserved as an historical relic in the Castle. An entry in the Accounts of the Lord Treasurer shows that it was there at the time of James IV's visit, in 1505, and that the King paid for "binding of Wallass sword with cordis of silk, and new hilt, and plomet, new skabbard, and new belt to the said sword".237 It was not till 1888 that this interesting memorial of the patriot was transferred to Stirling.
On the doubtful authority of a passage to be found in some of the manuscript versions of Bower's continuation of Fordun, Dumbarton is made the scene of one of Bruce's many narrow escapes from falling into the hands of his enemies. The account given is to the effect that the Scottish King, wishing to obtain possession of the Castle, entered into negotiations with Menteith, by whom it was still held for the English, and that the treacherous Governor, on the understanding that he should receive the Earldom of Lennox as his reward, consented to deliver the fortress. As Bruce, with a number of followers, was on his way to enter into possession, in accordance with the agreement, he was met by a carpenter whom Bower calls Roland, who warned him that Menteith meant to capture or kill him. Being thus forewarned, the King was able to turn the tables on his intending captor, who was himself confined in the Castle till shortly before Bannockburn, when he was released on condition that he should fight against the English.238
Another romantic episode, to which no date can be assigned, is related by Sir William Fraser, on the authority of "tradition". The sovereign that occupied the throne of Scotland at the time, he says, had lost Dumbarton Castle, and was anxious to recover it. Having applied to one of the Colquhouns for assistance, the answer he got from the Laird of Luss was, "If I can". "Colquhoun let a stag loose on the level ground within sight of the Castle, and got up a mock hunt after it, with great blowing of horns, and other noises, to attract the attention of the garrison, hoping that they might be induced to join in the sport and leave the fortress undefended. Everything happened as Colquhoun had wished. Nearly the whole of the garrison went forth to take part in the pastime. During their absence, Colquhoun and the men that he had selected hastened into the Castle, overpowered the feeble remainder of its defenders, and made themselves its masters."239 This incident of "early times" may possibly be authentic; but it looks rather suspiciously like an ingenious attempt to find a plausible and picturesque origin for the Colquhoun motto, "Si je puis".
At the beginning of the fifteenth century, the Castle of Dumbarton was made to serve a very singular purpose. In circumstances of which no explanation is given, an individual whom Wyntoun describes as
took possession of the fortress, and, as Fordun adds, held it "with a large military force, to the great annoyance of the King and the kingdom". The Government being unable to drive him out, was obliged to accept the condition on which he offered to surrender his capture. It was nothing less than his appointment to the See of St. Andrews; and he had his way, being elected Bishop in 1402. He did not, however, long enjoy the dignity with which he had got himself clothed,
"Agane conscience of mony men,"
for
The latter years of the same century witnessed one of the most important events in the history of Dumbarton Castle. In 1488, it was entrusted to the keeping of the Earl of Lennox and his eldest son, Matthew Stuart, who, in the course of the following year, engaged, with Lord Lyle and others, in a conspiracy for the overthrow of the Government, and fortified the stronghold accordingly. Repeated summons to surrender having been disregarded, messengers were dispatched through the whole county to convoke the militia; and it was arranged that, whilst James proceeded in person to Crookston and Duchal, Colin, first Earl of Argyle, should lay siege to Dumbarton Castle; and elaborate preparation was made for the transport of the most powerful artillery of the day, including the famous Mons Meg, into the rebellious West. The smaller strongholds were soon reduced, but the Rock held out, and the defenders, making a vigorous sally, dislodged their assailants by burning the town, and so raised the siege. The Royal forces, on being thus driven off, fell back upon Dunglas, where new materials were quickly collected, another great gun, "callit Duchal", being brought from Arkil, near Paisley, the boats conveyed overland from Daldres – the present Grangemouth – and from Blackness. With all this, it was not till the second week in December, fully seven months after the commencement of operations, that the stronghold was obliged to surrender. A formal sentence of forfeiture and death was passed on Lennox and his son, but annulled on their appeal by reason of some technical flaw.
Passing over the lesser siege of 1513-14, the occupation of 1543 in the interest of Henry VIII, the departure of the child-queen Mary, in 1548, and other events of slighter importance, we come to the most sensational episode of all. It was after Langside. Lord Fleming had returned from accompanying Queen Mary to England, and had resumed his governorship of the fortress which he held for her. The Regent Murray was desirous of obtaining possession of so important a position, and, negotiations having failed, went down in person to open the siege. So strict was the blockade that Fleming was on the point of surrendering when the assassination of Murray brought him some respite. Lennox, who succeeded as Regent, was equally bent on the capture of the Castle, and endeavoured to obtain help from England. But Elizabeth was opposed to hostile measures, and sent Drury to reopen negotiations with Lord Fleming and John Hamilton, Bishop of St. Andrews, who was with him. The mission nearly proved fatal to the English ambassador. He was enticed within gunshot and deliberately, though unsuccessfully, fired upon.242 This dastardly attempt is the subject of a contemporary poem entitled The Tressoun of Dunbartane.
The siege continued to drag on slowly, when about the end of March, 1571, a man named Robertson, who had formerly belonged to the garrison, but who wished to be revenged for some punishment inflicted on his wife, suggested a plan for taking the Castle by surprise. It was adopted, and Captain Thomas Crawfurd of Jordanhill was entrusted with the desperate enterprise. On the evening of the 31st, Crawfurd sent forward some horsemen to intercept all communication with Dumbarton, he himself following about midnight with a body of resolute men. After a short halt at Dumbuck, the party, provided with ropes and ladders, proceeded to the foot of the Rock, which was to be scaled at the "Beik", for although this was the highest point, it offered the advantage of being unguarded, by reason of its supposed inaccessibility. At the first attempt the ladder slipped back with the weight of the climbers. On the second it was found that it did not reach within twenty feet of a tree to which it was intended to make it fast. The difficulty was overcome by Crawfurd, who, crawling up to the tree, threw a rope around it, and thus enabled his party to reach this first stage. The operation was being repeated for a further ascent when an accident nearly brought disaster on the whole undertaking. One of the men fell into a kind of fit whilst on the ladder, and remained clinging desperately to the rungs and blocking the way. But, even for this, Crawfurd's readiness devised a remedy. Lashing the man to the ladder, he turned it round, so that the remainder of the party could mount over their comrade's upturned body. Owing to the delay caused by these untoward occurrences, it was nearly daylight when the first of the assailants reached the top. They were seen by the sentries through the fog, which had so far favoured them, and the alarm was given. The resistance offered was, however, but feeble. Three men of the garrison were killed. Many of the others, including Fleming himself, succeeded in escaping. Amongst those that were taken prisoners was the Bishop of St. Andrews. He was subsequently hanged for complicity in the murders of Darnley and of Murray.243
Another noteworthy capture of Dumbarton Castle occurred in 1639. At that time the fortress was held for the king by Sir William Stewart. On the last Sunday in March, having gone to the Communion service in Dumbarton, he was invited to dinner by Provost Sempill, a zealous Covenanter. To his refusal Sempill replied, "I require you to go with me." Thereupon the Governor and his party were surrounded by forty armed men and hurried off to the Provost's house, where, under threats of death, Stewart was obliged to send for the keys and to hand them over to his captor. The sequel is told by Spalding. "Stewart," he says, "was compelled to cast off his clothes, which were shortly put upon another gentleman of his shape and quantity, and he put on his clothes upon him again. Thus, apparel interchanged, they commanded the Captain, under pain of death, to tell the watchword, which, for fear of his life, he truly told. Then they go in the night quietly, unseen by the Castilians, and had this counterfeit captain with them, who cried and called by the watchword, which heard, yetts are cast open, in go these Covenanters with greater power than was within to defend it, take in this strong strength, man and fortify the same to their mind."244
