Scotiana

The Scottish-French Auld Alliance Revives in the ‘Stuart City’ of Aubigny-sur-Nère

MAJA — Wed, 25 Aug 2010 22:42:17 +0000

In the heart of France, on the borders of romantic Sologne and Berry, the flowered little town of Aubigny-sur-Nère, with its old church and picturesque half-timbered houses, boasts a rich Scottish heritage on the ‘Route Jacques Coeur’.

So don’t be surprised if, on entering the town, as mentioned in my first post about Aubigny, you’re welcomed by a big wrought iron Scottish piper. Of course, people who come here for the first time, without knowing anything about local history and the Scottish-French Auld Alliance, have good reasons to be surprised.

And it’s only a beginning, for the piper, which must have been born out of the talented hands of one of the local wrought iron artists, is only the first sign of the Scottish omnipresence in the ‘City of the Stuarts’. Look for the funny Scottish wood dummies scattered all over the town… aren’t these two ones training for the game of ‘Tug of War’ which is a favourite in the Highlands games

If you want to know why and when our Scottish friends came and settled in this quiet little French town and in the neighbourhood, go straight to the Hotel de Ville which is situated in the ancient ‘Château des Stuarts’ and shelters the very interesting Auld Alliance Museum. There, in a most vivid way, you will learn a page of Scottish-French history which most of us – on the French side especially – have forgotten or, still more probably, have never been taught about. After visiting this little museum you will be unbeatable about the Auld Alliance and the local history, for everything seems to be done here to make the rich Scottish-French heritage and friendship revive and perdure. Indeed, Aubigny-sur-Nère is twinned with Haddington, a Scottish town situated not far from Edinburgh, and the French ‘comité de jumelage’, whose president is Michel Vannier, seems to be particularly active. If you want to improve your knowledge further, the Aubigny library, which is situated in front of the castle just behind the Auld Alliance Memorial, hosts “Un centre de recherche sur la vieille Alliance”. It must be quite interesting to browse through the local archives…

If you like walking, we advise you to go to the ‘Office du Tourisme’ and make a reservation to join one of the walking tours regularly organized around the town. There are even thematic guided tours focusing on subjects such as the half-timber architectural style which is particularly flourishing in Aubigny. These tours last about two hours. Ours began on the benches of St Martin’s Church. Our group was led by Delphine, a very interesting guide, and we won’t forget the many lively anecdotes she told us about St Martin’s Church, the castle, the market place, the bridge on the Nère, the street names (the ‘rue Pousse-Panier’!). We particularly loved the half-timbered houses: the Ironmonger’s shop with its emblematic sign and symbols, the so-called house of François 1er (he never came there) which hosts a very interesting iron wrought art exhibition…also the journeyman carpenter’s strange house with its unique spiral steeple. What a tour !

Aubigny-sur-Nère A Guided Walk Jacques Gaurant 1993

For those who don’t want or can’t follow the guide into the old streets of Aubigny, a very interesting little book, with beautiful illustrations, has been published.

And if you don’t like walking why not take your bike! Whatever the means of transport, all roads lead to Scotland here

I give you rendez-vous to the Auld Alliance Museum. You can’t miss it since it is situated in the Stuarts Castle, also known as the Hotel de Ville. On its façade there is a big and vividly coloured reproduction of the Stuarts of Aubigny’s coat-of-arms. That blazon would be worth a post in itself …

So, here we are, in front of the old château des Stuarts. A Scottish guard seems to be waiting for us, ready to open the door of history. At the entrance, after catching a glimpse at the Marriage Registry whose long table is covered with a piece of Stuart Tartan – the Council Chambers are situated on the floor above – we are equipped with headphones that seem to be connected with the invisible world for a Scottish ghost soon invites us to follow him… his name is Quentin and this makes me think of Quentin Durward

We’re immediately propelled back in time and down to the year 1295. Something very important seems to be happening there… let us approach !

We soon notice that the two protagonists of what appears to be a historical scene are wearing sumptuous clothes with the royal arms of Scotland (red lion rampant) and France (fleurs de lys) on them. Our ghostly friend, who seems to navigate quite easily in the corridors of time and history, introduces us to John Balliol and Philippe le Bel. The moment is solemn. We curtsey. Both Kings have just signed ‘The Auld Alliance Treaty’, a document often considered as the most ancient European Treaty, which seals the destinies of Scotland and France in a united effort to protect them against England, their common enemy. I’ve heard, but I’m not sure it is true, that Norway also signed the Treaty. The origins of the Auld Alliance may well date back to more ancient times but, as far as France is concerned, this pact gave momentum during ‘The Hundred Years War’, when the French realm was at its worst, after the defeat of Azincourt (1415). The French King, Charles VI, was in a perilous situation while his son, the ‘Dauphin’, had taken refuge in Bourges.

There is a popular French rhyme or ‘comptine’ entitled ‘Le carillon de Vendôme’, which is deploring the state of France at the time of the ”entil dauphin’… I don’t know the origins of the rhyme nor of its tune which the bells of the French churches and abbeys were supposed to be ringing then, three times a day, at the hour of the Angelus :

Mes amis
Que reste-t-il
À ce Dauphin si gentil ?
Orléans, Beaugency,
Notre-Dame de Cléry,
Vendôme, Vendôme !

‘Le petit roi de Bourges’ was in desperate need to find allies and he called to his Scottish friends for help. They soon arrived with a strong military contingent led by John Stuart, Earl of Buchan, son of the Duke of Albany (Scottish Regent). A major victory was won in Baugé, the 22nd March 1421. In 1422, Charles VI died and the Dauphin succeeded him.

Charles VII was eager to reward his Scottish allies. In March 1423, John Stuart who had already been made ‘Grand Connétable de France’ and given ‘La Seigneurie de Concressault’, in Berry, was now awarded ‘La Seigneurie d’Aubigny”. But the courageous knight would never enjoy life in his land of Aubigny for while fighting on other French battlefields, he lost an eye and was made prisoner before being killed in 1429, with his brother, while defending the city of Orléans. Charles VII was deeply grieved by the loss of his friends and he ordered that they be buried in the choir of the cathedral of Orléans. The Seigneury of Aubigny remained in the hands of the Scottish family for it passed to John Stuart’s heir.

Aubigny-sur-Nère Auld Alliance Museum scene of Charles VII coronation at Reims with Joan of Arc carrying the French flag and John Stuart's son the

With the help of their Scottish Allies the French troops, led by the charismatic Joan of Arc, finally managed to drive the English out of France and after so many bloody fights and losses, the Dauphin Charles VII was finally sacred King of France on 14 july 1429, in the cathedral of Reims. But the valorous John Stuart was no more and it is to his son that came the honour to carry the Scottish standard while the French heroin Joan of Arc held the French one.

The Auld Alliance didn’t begin and doesn’t end with this important page of history. It went on along centuries with more or less success but the friendship between the two countries never failed. Aubigny-sur-Nère, ‘lieu de mémoire’ is a good example of what can be done today not to forget our common history and to maintain close ties between our countries.

L’Auld Alliance n’a point été écrite sur un parchemin de peau de brebis
mais est gravée sur de la chair vive et de la peau d’homme,
tracée non par de l’encre mais par le sang.

(Alain Chartier XVème siècle)

The Auld Alliance was not written on a ewe skin parchment
but was engraved on the living flesh and skin of men,
traced not in ink but in blood.

Now, if you happen to go to Aubigny-sur-Nère, I’m sure you won’t be surprised to see a Scottish piper standing amidst a flowery roundabout, but stay tuned for my story does not end here. It is to be continued, this time in a very romantic castle, not far from Aubigny…

A bientôt, Mairiuna.

Greyfriars Bobby, Moobli and Rangi : On The Track of Three Unforgettable Dogs in Scotland with Ralph…

MAJA — Fri, 20 Aug 2010 13:01:05 +0000

To our dear Ralph, I dedicate this post.
I’m sure he’s waiting for us somewhere in greener lands…
But we miss him here …

I have sometimes thought of the final cause of dogs having such short lives, and I am quite satisfied it is in compassion to the human race; for if we suffer so much in losing a dog after an acquaintance of ten or twelve years, what would it be if they were to live double that time ? (Sir Walter Scott)

We were eager to open on Scotiana a new category which would be devoted to Scottish dogs, the famous and less famous ones, the shepherds, the rescue workers in the mountains or simply the familiar pets who put zest into people’s life. They are omnipresent, loved and protected, on the Scottish soil, together with animals of all sorts, be they wild or domestic, but I could not have found a more appropriate date to open our new category about dogs than on this August 20th 2010, since it is ten years today that Ralph passed away.

We had dreamt to take him with us into Scotland in 2000 but we soon discovered it was impossible because our poor friend should have had to spend six months in quarantine in some isolated British kennel, like a prisoner, before being accepted into the country. Fortunately enough, things have changed and foreign dogs can now be admitted into Great-Britain without so much trouble, provided their masters strictly follow the new British regulations…

Our four-paws friend would certainly have enjoyed as much as we do the beautiful Scottish countryside, especially the wildest parts of it. He didn’t like towns…

Ralph was a dignified representative of the noble breed of German shepherds, aka Alsatians. Provided they are well treated and educated, these very intelligent and sensitive dogs can prove to be the kindest and most faithful companions. But dogs are lovable, whatever their breeds, and there are many wonderful stories, all over the world, about their courage and faithfulness. One of the most famous of these stories took place in Edinburgh, at the end of the 19 th century. It is a true story about a disconsolate little Skye Terrier, called Bobby, who spent 14 years on the grave of his master, after his death in 1858. He soon became a local hero and then got a well-deserved international fame as many of his fellow-creatures: Lassie in Britain, Mabrouk and Junior in France, Hatchi in Japan to mention only a few of the most unforgettable dogs. A gravestone has been erected in Bobby’s memory at the entrance gate of Greyfriars’s Churchyard, in Edinburgh, not far from the place where his master rests but I’m not sure the little dog has been buried there. Everybody knows him as Greyfriars’ Bobby. A sign with his familiar effigy hangs on the bright-coloured façade of the crowded Greyfriars Bobby’ Bar, not far from the entry of the churchyard.

A bronze statue designed in 1872, by William Brodie has also been erected , in the 1960s, by Baroness Burdett-Coutts in memory of the faithful little Skye Terrier, at the junction of Candlemaker Row and George IV Bridge in Edinburgh.

There is a commemorative plaque on the pillared monument and a drinking fountain at its foot which is good for dogs when it is hot… a bar for dogs

Greyfriars’ churchyard with Bobby’s and Old Jock’s stones, Greyfriars Bobby’s Bar and his monument are pilgrimage places for dog lovers and landmarks for tourists in Edinburgh! We went there several times and, in 2007, after waiting our turn for a long long time, we finally ate a delicious meal in the crowded pub which contains a number of moving memorabilia of Bobby, of his master and of his friends…

On learning about this very moving story, in 2000, we promised to call at the little dog’s grave next time we would go to Edinburgh. I took the above paper picture in 2001, with the blackbird, the light on the name, and the roses…

In 2003, while I was walking along the dark and solitary alleys of the churchyard, looking at the graves and taking pictures of the place, an old man suddenly emerged from I know not where and began to tell me Bobby’s whole story in a very lively style and all sorts of anecdotes about Greyfriars’ churchyard. Indeed, this churchyard is well worth the visit in itself for it is a highly historical place.

My old storyteller looked rather wretched and I wondered if, like Bobby in his time, he lived in the neighbourhood in some makeshift and weatherbeaten shed. Maybe the old man was working there. Anyway, he seemed to know the place quite well and I thought he must also be a regular at the nearby Greyfriars’ pub I would lie if I told you that I understood all things he said to me that day but I took to the old man and promised him I would come back soon. We came back in 2006 but the old man was no longer there. I would have been pleased to see him hobbling along the path…but maybe it was his turn to peacefully rest there, in his dear churchyard…

Rangi Ernest Dudley 1970 Harvill Press, London

Moobli Mike Tomkies Jonathan Cape edition 1988

Now, if you are a fan of Scotland and if you do love dogs, let me advise you to read the marvellous stories of Moobli and Rangi. I am very grateful to Margaret and Iain to have offered me these very interesting and moving books. It touched me deeply! In reading them I’ve laughed and wept quite a lot but I’ve also learned many things about Scotland and Scottish people.

Photo of Moobli taken at Glencoe by Mike Tomkies - Source Moobli Jonathan Cape edition 1988 © Mike Tomkies

Moobli and Rangi are fascinating books which describe the harsh life and adventures of two German shepherds always ready to help their masters, sometimes in the peril of their life, one in the wild and solitary island of Shona, and the other in the beautiful and dangerous mountains of Glencoe. The story of Moobli is particularly moving since it is told with a lot of humour and tenderness by his master, Mike Tomkies, a well-known naturalist with whom the dog shared the life in the wilderness, from puppy age to death.

The story of Rangi inadequately began in a small flat of Greenock and after hardly escaping the fatal injection, at the local surgeon veterinary, which would have permitted his first masters to get rid of him. He was rescued by Hamish MacInnes and Dr Catherine MacInnes, a very nice and locally well-known couple of mountain rescuers who intended to create, with their first dog Tikki, a dog rescue team in the more and more frequented and dangerous mountains of Glencoe. German Shepherds, like the big and friendly St Bernards, are very good avalanche dogs.

I will tell you more later about Bobby, Moobli and Rangi for it would be definitely too long here to tell the detailed stories of these dogs and their masters. Each story is well-worth a page and a long one.
I would like to end this post on giving you some extracts of my favourite pages about dogs and, of course, I will focus mainly on Sir Walter Scott who is not only one of the greatest Scottish writers but also one of the best dog lovers I’ve ever learned about. I’m always discovering new and quite touching anecdotes about him.

Sir Walter Scott with Camp engraved by James Heath after James Saxon (1810) This engraving was first published as the frontispiece to the second impression of Scott's The Lady of the Lake (Edinburgh: John Ballantyne and Co., 1810). Source : Edinburgh University Library

[Camp] died about January 1809 and was buried in a fine moon-light night, in the little garden behind the house in Castle Street, immediately opposite to the window at which Scott usually sat writing. My wife [Scott's daughter Sophia] tells me that she remembers the whole family standing in tears about the grave, as her father himself smoothed down the turf above Camp with the saddest expression of face she had ever seen in him. He had been engaged to dine abroad that day, but apologized on account of ‘the death of a dear old friend;’ and Mr Macdonald Buchanan was not at all surprised that he should have done so, when it came out next morning that Camp was no more. (II, 248)
Lockhart, J. G., Memoirs of the Life of Sir Walter Scott, Bart. (Edinburgh: R. Cadell, 1837-38)

Sir Walter Scott with Hinse by Sir John Watson Gordon (Scottish National Portrait Gallery)Sir Walter Scott with Hinse engraved by Robert Charles Bell after Sir John Watson Gordon (Scottish National Portrait Gallery) Frontispiece to: Portrait of Sir Walter Scott: And Five Engravings in Illustration of 'The Pirate' ([Edinburgh: Royal Association for the Promotion of the Fine Arts in Scotland

Sir Walter Scott was a genuine lover of animals. At one time his household included not only many dogs and a cat, but a talking raven known as Ralph;-), which was said to have died from immoderate imbibing of alcohol. Scott’s family and friends used the word tail – the same word used for the followers of a Highland chief – to talk about the immense posse of animals, not only dogs but also a pig which thought it was a dog, as well as a hen and a donkey, which followed their master around on his perambulations. In 1830 a visitor witnessed Scott taking one of his dogs (which had a cough) into his carriage rather than let it ford swollen streams, and wrote:

His tenderness to his brute dependants was a striking point in the general benignity of his character. He seemed to consult not only their bodily welfare, but their feelings, in the human sense. He was a gentleman, even to his dogs. (‘He was a Gentleman, even to his Dogs’: Portraits of Scott and his Canine Companions – Jeanne Cannizzo – In Abbotsford and Sir Walter Scott – The Image and the Influence – Edited by Iain G. Brown 2003)

This reminds me of a very moving anecdote which took place some years ago in Bordeaux, rue Sainte-Catherine, at the end of a very cold winter day. My daughter and I were shopping for Christmas. The wind was blowing and we were hastening into the shops for it was freezing cold outside. We suddenly fell upon a very young woman, under twenty it seemed, and of a very frail constitution. She was sitting in the street in company of her two dogs. Her clothes were far from being sufficient to protect her against the cold weather and she looked wretched and destitute. So pale was she that we feared she was going to faint. We approached her. The woman had covered one of her dogs, a german shepherd, with her only blanket. He was sleeping. When we asked her why she had put the blanket on the dog while she was herself freezing, she simply answered : “He is ill”… No need to say we gave her the whole contents of our purse, which was not much alas…

I really can’t help to largely quote Washington Irving, a famous American writer who was a fervent admirer of Sir Walter Scott, and came to visit him at Abbotsford, at the time when Sir Walter and his family still lived in a small ivy-covered cottage, near the place where the big house was about to be built. Washington Irving was cheerfully welcomed by the master of the place and he has left of his visit a very enjoyable essay. Indeed, John Lockhart makes large use of it in his fascinating Life of Sir Walter Scott.

Portrait of Washington Irving (1783-1859) by John Wesley Jarvis in 1809 Source Wikipedia

After my return from Melrose Abbey, Scott proposed a ramble to show me something of the surrounding country. As we sallied forth, every dog in the establishment turned out to attend us. There was the old stag-hound Maida, that I have already mentioned, a noble animal, and a great favorite of Scott’s, and Hamlet, the black greyhound, a wild, thoughtless youngster, not yet arrived to the years of discretion; and Finette, a beautiful setter, with soft, silken hair, long pendent ears, and a mild eye, the parlor favorite. When in front of the house, we were joined by a superannuated greyhound, who came from the kitchen wagging his tail, and was cheered by Scott as an old friend and comrade.

In our walks, Scott would frequently pause in conversation to notice his dogs and speak to them, as if rational companions; and indeed there appears to be a vast deal of rationality in these faithful attendants on man, derived from their close intimacy with him. Maida deported himself with a gravity becoming his age and size, and seemed to consider himself called upon to preserve a great degree of dignity and decorum in our society. As he jogged along a little distance ahead of us, the young dogs would gambol about him, leap on his neck, worry at his ears, and endeavor to tease him into a frolic. The old dog would keep on for a long time with imperturbable solemnity, now and then seeming to rebuke the wantonness of his young companions. At length he would make a sudden turn, seize one of them, and tumble him in the dust; then giving a glance at us, as much as to say, “You see, gentlemen, I can’t help giving way to this nonsense,” would resume his gravity and jog on as before.

Scott amused himself with these peculiarities. “I make no doubt,” said he, “when Maida is alone with these young dogs, he throws gravity aside, and plays the boy as much as any of them; but he is ashamed to do so in our company, and seems to say, ‘Ha’ done with your nonsense, youngsters: what will the laird and that other gentleman think of me if I give way to such foolery?’”
Maida reminded him, he said, of a scene on board an armed yacht in which he made an excursion with his friend Adam Ferguson. They had taken much notice of the boatswain, who was a fine sturdy seaman, and evidently felt flattered by their attention. On one occasion the crew were “piped to fun,” and the sailors were dancing and cutting all kinds of capers to the music of the ship’s band. The boatswain looked on with a wistful eye, as if he would like to join in; but a glance at Scott and Ferguson showed that there was a struggle with his dignity, fearing to lessen himself in their eyes. At length one of his messmates came up, and seizing him by the arm, challenged him to a jig. The boatswain, continued Scott, after a little hesitation complied, made an awkward gambol or two, like our friend Maida, but soon gave it up. “It’s of no use,” said he, jerking up his waistband and giving a side glance at us, “one can’t dance always nouther.”
Scott amused himself with the peculiarities of another of his dogs, a little shamefaced terrier, with large glassy eyes, one of the most sensitive little bodies to insult and indignity in the world. If ever he whipped him, he said, the little fellow would sneak off and hide himself from the light of day, in a lumber garret, whence there was no drawing him forth but by the sound of the chopping-knife, as if chopping up his victuals, when he would steal forth with humble and downcast look, but would skulk away again if any one regarded him.
While we were discussing the humors and peculiarities of our canine companions, some object provoked their spleen, and produced a sharp and petulant barking from the smaller fry, but it was some time before Maida was sufficiently aroused to ramp forward two or three bounds and join in the chorus, with a deep-mouthed bow-wow!
It was but a transient outbreak, and he returned instantly, wagging his tail, and looking up dubiously in his master’s face; uncertain whether he would censure or applaud.

“Aye, aye, old boy!” cried Scott, “you have done wonders. You have shaken the Eildon hills with your roaring; you may now lay by your artillery for the rest of the day. Maida is like the great gun at Constantinople,” continued he; “it takes so long to get it ready, that the small guns can fire off a dozen times first, but when it does go off it plays the very d—-l.”

I’ve learned a lot of things about old Reekie and the Scottish wildlife in reading the lives of Bobby, Moobli and Rangi and what I can add to conclude this post is that I do love dogs more than ever.
For the readers who are not discouraged by the reading of some French lines – my book is in French;-) – I will add a very intriguing extract from a book by Dino Buzzati, an Italian author whom I like very much. The drawing on the bookcover has been made by him.

Dino Buzzati Bestiaire magique Robert Laffont 1994

Anita put entendre, derrière elle, une sorte d’énorme marmottement, comme provenant d’une foule en train de prier à voix basse. Elle se retourna et vit que les lieux s’étaient soudain peuplés. Le long de la route qui longeait le terrain vague avançait un interminable cortège. Y regardant mieux, Anita s’aperçut qu’il s’agissait d’un enterrement. Sinon qu’il n’y avait pas de corbillard mais un immense convoi de véhicules à roues, attachés les uns aux autres comme des wagons de chemin de fer. Mais, en tête, y avait-il des chevaux ou une machine à moteur ? C’était impossible à discerner car le convoi se perdait à l’horizon. Sur ces véhicules, de hautes masses recouvertes de toile noire, et dont on ne pouvait comprendre ce qu’elles représentaient. Le spectacle était lugubre et redoutable.
Anita s’approcha. De cette procession s’échappait un sourd murmure parfois percé de quelque douloureuse lamentation, quelque sanglot, quelque pleur.
- Que se passe-t-il ? demanda Anita à un vieux monsieur qui marchait, tête basse.
Le monsieur lui répondit aimablement mais avec des accents désespérés :
- Madame, ce sont les chiens.
- Et qu’est-ce à dire exactement ?
-Ils sont tous morts aujourd’hui.
- Quels chiens ?
- Tous les chiens du monde.
- Tous ?
- Tous, y compris le mien.
-Mais comment est-ce possible ?
Le vieillard secoua la tête.
- C’est la vie, très chère madame. Les belles choses nous abandonnent, l’une après l’autre. Plus nous allons, plus nous nous retrouvons seuls. Il y a deux ans, ce sont les papillons qui ont disparu mais personne n’y a prêté attention. L’année dernière, les moineaux, vous vous souvenez ? Maintenant, et c’est bien plus triste encore, les chiens.
(Dino Buzzati – Bestiaire magique – Les vieux amis s’en vont )

Bonne lecture et à bientôt. Mairiuna

Fear no more the heat o’ the sun,
Nor the furious winter’s rages;

(William Shakespeare Cymbeline 1609)

.
.

Aubigny-sur-Nère : a French Little Town in Berry Proudly Hoists its Scottish Colours

MAJA — Sun, 15 Aug 2010 21:31:23 +0000

A Scottish piper welcomes the visitor at the entry of the town…

Pieces of tartan stretched like sails within bamboo frames flap in the wind … hunting and royal Stuart tartans…

On a charming little square, a yellow-harled house, which would not look out of place in Culross, proudly stands across the street, while a Stuart tartan sign invites us to enter the picturesque half-timbered ‘Mary Cottage’ …an emblematic red phone booth and a British-style bench, set on a manicured lawn, still add to the feeling that we are arriving in a Scottish town but it’s only a beginning !

The tartan touch is omnipresent all over the very flourished French little town of Aubigny-sur Nère: in the shops, from the butcher’s to the insurance company, in the bars, hotels and restaurants and we’ve even found a Scottish pub…

A little further we fall upon an old castle bearing the Stuarts Arms. Across the street, a big sword in a rock seems to be waiting for William Wallace…

In front of the castle a Scottish archer is bending his bow, ready to shoot an arrow… the place seems to be well-guarded …

… no wonder, at the entry of the castle, which bears the Stuart arms, there seems to be an intruder. Two knights are figthing, one is wearing the Scottish Stuart Tartan and we guess that the other, with the St George’s Cross on his clothes, is English…

That day, a chilly wind was blowing and the sky was grey and rainy in Aubigny but nobody seemed to care, strolling along the streets, in summer clothes and bare arms, as if we were in Scotland but it took us a long time to get a satisfactory photo of the fluttering Saltire…

Our tour of Aubigny would not have been complete without a dram of the Scottish mythical malted breuvage but, yes, Aubigny-sur-Nère is proud to be able to offer its visitors an authentic whisky …Chin Chin !

Aubigny-sur-Nère Fêtes franco-écossaises Programme juillet 2010

But we’ve missed “le clou du spectacle” this year, for if we had celebrated our “Fête Nationale” in Aubigny on July 14, it would certainly have been an extraordinary Scottish-French celebration !

The French ‘Stuarts City’ is very rich in history and if you want to know more about this picturesque and enigmatic Scottish-French town, then don’t miss my next post about Aubigny… I will tell you much more about its fascinating story.

A bientôt.

Mairiuna

Scottish Painting ‘The Vanguard’ by John A MacWhirter Becomes ‘Western Cattle in The Storm’ on US Postage Stamp

MAJA — Tue, 10 Aug 2010 18:13:06 +0000

Mairiuna! upon watching a You Tube video about United States postage stamps, I discovered that one of the featured stamps, the $1 value of the 1898 Trans-Mississipi Exposition Issue, internationally known as the “Cattle in the Storm” stamp, was designed from a 19th century painting of Scottish painter, John A. MacWhirter.

Imagine…this stamp was considered for many years the most beautiful US stamp! It was designed at the time by the Bureau of Engraving and Printing.

'Cattle In the Storm' - From USA 1898 Trans-Mississipi Exposition Serie

Wow!..I’m so happy to have found an addition to my Scotland on Stamps topical collection checklist. Not that I could acquire the stamp outright, as it fetches around $500 to $2,000 depending on the condition!

I was so excited about my finding that I wrote a post about it on Discover Topical Stamp Collecting‘s blog and you are kindly invited to hop over to watch the video revealing the available ‘Cattle in a Storm’ pane of 50 stamps. The video was taped during the AM Northwest TV Show, hosted by Helen Raptis and Dave Anderson.

So today, on Scotiana, I would like to introduce you to John A MacWhirter, a very talented artist whose paintings and etchings are truly a beautiful expression of nature’s beauty.

Let’s start with ‘The Vanguard’ painting from which was designed the ’Cattle in the Storm’ stamp. They had seen the original painting at the 1890 Exhibition in New York where the artist’s work was featured and selected same for an engraving by the U.S. Postal Authority for one of the stamps inside the seriecommemorating the Trans-Mississipi Exhibition.

'The Vanguard' - Painting by John A MacWhirter

His painting is a depiction of Scottish cattle in a storm in Scotland. It was actually painted in a small farmhouse near the Scottish highland town of Calendar. The scene did not depict an event west of the Mississippi, but it might have been, and few really cared about this detail, for cattle were an important part of the western U.S. economy, and the design was certainly pleasing enough. Source : Chicago Stamps

John A. MacWhirter was born in 1839 in Slateford, Water of Leigh, which is the main river flowing through Edinburgh, to the port of Leith where it flows into the sea,via the Firth of Forth. In 1851, he enrolls at the Trustees Academy managed by Robert Scott Lauder and John Ballantyne where he spent much time sketching nature outdoors. He was only 14 years of age when he first exhibited a painting at the Royal Scottish Academy titled: ‘Old Cottage at Braid’.

John MacWrither, Scottish Painter (1839-1911)

MacWhirter specialised in romantic landscapes with a great fondness for trees, spending much time in the hilly countryside of Perthshire. Initially, under the influence of John Everett Millais, he experimented with the detailed images of the Pre-Raphaelites, but later adopted a more sweeping style. With John Pettie he illustrated The Postman’s Bag (Strahan, 1862), and Wordsworth’s Poetry for the Young (Strahan, 1863). Wikipedia

Here’s a short video created with Animoto compiling some of his most beautiful art work and showcasing the famous “Vanguard” painting which became the “Western Cattle In The Storm” on USPS commemorative stamp.

'The Track of the Hurricane' by John MacWhirter - Scottish Painter

MacWhirter’s belief that a young artist should ‘study the moods of Nature’ and that his picture must be ‘a moment of the day, and should suggest peace or unrest, quiet or storm, joy or sadness, glory or gloom’ shows that he pursued the transitory effects in which McTaggart also was interested, not as ends in themselves, but as a symbolic language reflecting human states of mind.

His trees, which Spielmann with some justice accused him of humanising as Landseer had humanised dogs, do indeed seem to represent in The Track of the Hurricane victims of an almost human carnage. They become the objects in the landscape with which the observer can most easily identify himself, whereas water, in its various states, running or at rest, expresses the forces or emotions to which humanity is subjected, ranging from the destructive fury of a river in spate to the elegiac sadness and alienation characteristic of Millais’ Chill October.

(The Discovery of Scotland – Chapter 12 ‘Change and Decay’)

'The Discovery of Scotland' - The Appreciation of Scottish Scenery through Two Centuries of Painting - James Holloway - Lindsay Errington- National Gallery of Scotland 1978 - COVER: Horatio McCulloch (1805-1867) 'Glencoe' (detail) Glasgow City Art Gallery

In 1880, John A MacWhirter was made an Honorary Member of the Royal Scottish Academy. He died at 1 Abbey Road, St. John’s Wood on 28 Jan. 1911, and was buried at Golder’s Green, London, England.

Talk soon,

Janice

Melrose Abbey : a King, a Wizard and Sir Walter Scott’s Faithful Servant Buried There?

MAJA — Mon, 02 Aug 2010 22:23:30 +0000

Ardvreck Castle Loch Assynt Sutherland Scotland Source : Wikipedia

While travelling all over Scotland we’ve discovered a great number of ruins and visited some of them, from the grandiose remains of castles, abbeys and churches, often set in dramatic landscapes, to the more modest and heartbreaking crofts and villages burnt during the infamous period of the Highlands evictions in the 18th and 19th centuries…

We’ve also visited a number of churchyards. Not that we feel particularly attracted to the macabre but we do love the peaceful atmosphere of these solitary places, the beautiful pages written on the stones, some in a most melancholy and pathetic tone, others in the epitaph’s irresistible style, and we also like very much the funeral art which is particularly interesting in Scotland. Last but not least, as Janice happens to have Scottish roots, and as she is trying to find clues on the graves about her family history, we’ve been haunting the Scottish graveyards in 2006 and 2007, to find stones bearing the name of ‘Mitchelson’, even extending our field of investigations to that of ‘Mitchell’…

‘The pillared arches were over their head,

And beneath their feet were the bones of the dead.’

(Sir Walter Scott – The Lay of the Last Minstrel II – 7)

In Melrose churchyard we’ve lingered some time, puzzling, as usual, over the cryptic nature of some grave symbols but if a Scottish king and a wizard are actually buried on the site we may well have walked on their grave without knowing they were there. We did not know either that Sir Walter Scott had had a stone erected there in memory of Tom Purdie, his much loved servant. Sure, we’ll have to put our Sherlock Holmes suit when we go back there, for it doesn’t seem obvious to find these tombs. Legend or reality? Let us try to know more …

The Lay of the Last Minstrel - Sir Walter Scott - Edinburgh and Charles Black 1869

We first learned about the king and the wizard tombs on reading Sir Walter Scott’s The Lay of the Last Minstrel. Strange as it may appear today, in a world of hi-tech cinematography, our interest aroused from the first lines of this long narrative poem dating back to the 1860s and which tells us about a still more ancient story taking place on the Scottish Borders at a time of feudal wars, in the 16th century.

Quite appropriately, Sir Walter Scott has been called the “magician of the north” and his magic is still working today for those who make the effort to read him. Line after line, like a magic wand, his pen conjures up images: Melrose Abbey in the moonlight, the old monk bent with age and penance (‘A hundred years had flung their snows/On his thin locks and floating beard.’), the strong armoured knight bursting noisily in the silent place in the middle of the night (‘The arched cloister, far and wide,/Rang to the warrior’s stride’), a warrior not much inclined to go to church nor even pray, except for an ave maria in case of great danger, both contrasting characters sitting side by side on the royal grave and waiting for the hour when the luminous red cross is due to fall on the tomb (‘Lo, Warrior! now the Cross of Red/Points to the grave of the mighty dead; /Within it burns a wondrous light,/To chase the spirits that love the night’), and finally the climax of action with the opening of the tomb by the frightened warrior and the terrific figure of the magician in his tomb holding the magical book in his cold hands… these are pages full of suspense and mystery which would not have been out of place in a novel by JK Rowling orTolkien…

Steel engraving and enhancement of the Great Seal of Alexander II, King of Alba (Scotland) Wikipedia

‘They sate them down on a marble stone,
(A Scottish monarch slept below;)’

(Walter Scott – The Lay of the Last Minstrel – Canto II 12)

In these two verses from The Lay of the Last Minstrel we learn about the existence of a king’s tomb but no indication is given in the poem about its location in the Abbey nor even about the name of the king. There is a foot note, however, which must have been written by Sir Walter Scott and which reads : “A large marble stone, in the chancel of Melrose, is pointed out as the monument of Alexander II, one of the greatest of our early kings; others say, it is the resting-place of Waldeve, one of the early abbots, who died in the odour of sanctity.”

Alexander II was the 28th Scottish king and a great king too. He fell ill and died in 1249 on the Isle of Kerrera, near Oban, while fighting the Norwegians. Is he actually resting at Melrose? Who knows, many kings have been buried on the isle of Iona, not far from Oban.

I have found more clues about the tomb and its royal occupant in Magnus Magnusson’s The Story of a Nation, a very interesting book I’m glad to have in my library. As it can be seen on the back cover of this hardback edition, Magnus Magnusson who was a very popular Scottish author (he died in 2007), was also a great admirer of Sir Walter Scott.

Scotland Magnus Magnusson Harper Collins 2000 back cover

Scotland Magnus Magnusson Harper Collins 2000

Alexander II fell ill in Kerrera Sound. He died there, either on his ship or on land, on 8 July 1249; no cairn commemorates the spot, but a grassy field beside the shore is known to this days as ‘Dalrigh’ – Gaelic for ‘the field of the king’. He was buried in Melrose Abbey, in accordance with his last wishes; his unmarked tomb is in a recess in the wall of the presbytery to the south of the High Altar, but there is no plaque to identify it for visitors, as yet. (Scotland: The Story of a Nation – The Thirteenth century; Alexander II and III – Magnus Magnusson HarpersCollinsPublishers 2000)

In my old edition of The Life of Sir Walter by John Lockhart, I’ve also fallen on a very interesting and funny text about this tomb :

John Gibson Lockhart (1794-1854)

[Footnote 73: [From the journal of three English ladies, travellers in Scotland in the summer of 1817, we get another glimpse of Johnnie Bower, and a pleasant sketch of Sophia Scott:--
"In the chancel Miss Scott, a very charming, lively girl of seventeen, pointed out to us 'The Wizard's Grave,' and then the black stone in the form of a coffin, to which the allusion is made in the poem, 'A Scottish monarch sleeps below,'--said to be the tomb of Alexander II. 'But I will tell you a secret,' she half whispered; 'only don't you tell Johnnie Bower. There is no Scottish monarch there at all, nor anybody else, for papa had the stone taken up, not long ago, and no coffin nor anything was to be found. And then Johnnie came and begged me not to tell people so. "For what wull I do, Miss Scott, when I show the ruins, if I canna point to this bit, and say, 'A Scottish monarch sleeps below'?"' As, however, he had the pleasure of saying this to us the evening before, Miss Scott thought we might fairly have her secret....

Now, if it may appear quite irreverent to walk on a royal tomb (as on any tomb indeed!), how more perilous it would be to awaken a wizard, so we’d better try to solve the mystery of his grave before going back there!

Sir Walter Scott The Lay of the Last Minstrel Edinburgh Adam and Charles Black 1869

“In these far climes it was my lot
To meet the wondrous Michael Scott,
A wizard, of such dreaded fame,
Than when, in Salmanca’s cave,
Him listed his magic wand to wave,
The bells would ring in Notre Dame!
Some of his skill he taught to me;
And Warrior, I could say to thee
The words that cleft Eildon hills in three,
And bridled the Tweed with a curb of stone:
But to speak them were a deadly sin;
And for having but thought them my heart within,
A treble penance must be done.

(Sir Walter Scott – The Lay of the Last Minstrel – XIII)

Here’s another extract, picturing the climax of this fantastic scene :

Before their eyes the Wizard lay,
As if he had not been dead a day;
His hoary beard in silver roll’d,
He seem’d some seventy winters old ;
A palmer’s amice wrapp’d him round,
With a wrought Spanish baldric bound,
Like a pilgrim from beyond the sea :
His left hand held his Book of Might ;
A silver cross was in his right ;
The lamp was placed beside his knee ;
High and majestic was his look,
At which the fellest fiends had shook,
And all unruffled was his face ;
They trusted his soul had gotten grace.

(The Lay of the Last Minstrel – Canto 22 19)

Quite impressive is the character described in The Lay of the Last Minstrel. But it’s poetry and how far legend and reality mingle here, as well as in the collective imaginary, we don’t know exactly. The character of Michael Scott seems to have been in life as impressive as in fiction. He left his mark all over the world as a scientist but he is also said to have tried his hand in more occult matters such as astronomy, alchemy and even sorcery…

I’ve found a lot of very interesting information in the Appendix added by Sir Walter Scott, at the end of his Lay of the Last Minstrel (Note 2 C. entitled “The wondrous Michael Scott” ). I’ve typed the whole of this text for those who want to know more about the character of Michael Scott and also to show how important it is not to take literally what is described in fiction or poetry, be it historical or not. Sorry too for the Latin, Italian and old English passages. We can try to guess what they mean since I’ve found no note translating these passages and I only have a French version of Dante’s book in my library Anyway I wanted to transcribe the whole passage for readers who can be interested. Here again, I will need my magnifying glass to decipher the text in my old book! People must have had an extremely good vision at the time of Sir Walter!

Sir Walter Scott Portrait J. Graham Gilbert 1829

Sir Michael Scott of Balwearie flourished during the 13th century, and was one of the ambassadors sent to bring the Maid of Norway to Scotland upon the death of Alexander III. By a poetical anachronism, he is here placed in a later era. He was a man of much learning, chiefly acquired in foreign countries. He wrote a commentary upon Aristotle, printed at Venice in 1496; and several treatises upon natural philosophy, from which he appears to have been addicted to the abstruse studies of judicial astrology, alchymy, physiognomy, and chiromancy. Hence he passed among his contemporaries for a skilful magician. Dempster informs us, that he remembers to have heard in his youth, that the magic books of Michael Scott were still in existence, but could not be opened without danger, on account of the malignant fiends who were thereby invoked. Dempsteri Historia Ecclesiastica, 1627, lib. xii. p. 495. Lesly characterises Michael Scott as “singularie philosophiae, astronomiae, ac medicae laude prestans ; dicebatur penitissimos magiae recessu indagâsse.” Dante also mentions him as a renowed wizard ; -)

“Quell altro che ne’ fianchi è cosi poco,
Michele Scotto fu, che veramente
Delle magiche frodè seppe il guioco.”
Inferno, Canto xxmo.

A personage, thus spoken of by biographers and historians, loses little of his mystical fame in vulgar tradition. Accordingly, the memory of Sir Michael Scott survives in many a legend ; and in the south of Scotland, any work of great labour and antiquity, is ascribed, either to the agency of Auld Michael, of Sir William Wallace, or of the devil. Tradition varies concerning the place of his burial ; some contend for Home Coltrame, in Cumberland ; others for Melrose Abbey. But all agree, that his books of magic were interred in the grave, or preserved in the convent where he died. Satchells, wishing to give some authority for his account of the origin of the name of Scott, pretends, that, in 1629, he chanced to be at Burgh under Bowness, in Cumberland, where a person, named Lancelot Scott, showed him an extract from Michael Scott’s works, containing that story ; -)

“He said the book which he gave me
Was of Sir Michael Scott’s historie ;
Which history was never yet read through,
Nor never will, for no man dare it do.
The ryche and pure him menyde bath,
For of his dede was mekil skath.”

Some years ago, a person digging for stones, about the old castle of Hermitage, broke into a vault, containing a quantity of chaff, some bones, and pieces of iron ; amongst others, the curb of an ancient bridle which the author has since given to the Earl of Dalhousie, under the impression that it posssibly may be a relic of his brave ancestor. The worthy clergyman of the parish has mentioned this discovery in his Statistical Account of Castletown.

Young scholars have pick’d out something
From the contents, that dare not read within.
He carried me along the castle then,
And shew’d his written book hanging on an iron pin.
His writing pen did seem to me to be
Of hardened metal, like steel, or accumie ;
The volume of it did seem so large to me,
As the Book of Martyrs and Turks historie.
Then in the church he let me see
A stone where Mr. Michael Scott did lie ;
I asked at him how that could appear,
Mr Michael had been dead above five hundred years ?
He shew’d me none dust bury under that stone,
More than he had been dead a few years agone ;
For Mr. Michael’s name does terrifie each one.”

(History of the Right Honourable Name of Scott)

In an old edition of John Lawson Stoddard’s Lectures, in the volume 9 dedicated by the great travelling writer to Scotland, England and London, there is a picture of a place in Melrose Abbey showing a stone supposed to be the wizard’s tomb as well as a very strange statue of a man wearing a turban:

Grave of the Wizard Michael Scott from John Lawson Stoddard's Lectures volume 9 Scotland England London

When we visited the Abbey, we didn’t see the stone supposed to be the wizard’s tomb nor the statue with its turban. However, in 2001, our son took a picture a part of which looks like Stoddard’s old black and white photo, featuring an ogival window, two niches in the wall and some bits of tombstones on the ground…

We’ll pay more attention next time we go there and will ask a guide, a descendant of Johnny Bower to tell us more about this mystery…

Melrose Abbey Church © 2001 Scotiana

Before leaving Melrose Abbey and its unsolved mysteries let us have a silent thought in front of the moving stone Sir Walter had had erected in memory of Tom Purdie, his faithful servant and much cherished friend. One of our readers happens to be one of his descendants. He may be pleased to read again Lockhart’s passage about the death of his relative and the beautiful elegy written by one of the greatest Scottish writers :

The close of the autumn was embittered by a sudden and most unexpected deprivation. Apparently in the fullest enjoyment of health and vigour, THOMAS PURDIE leaned his head one evening on the table, and dropped asleep. This was nothing uncommon in a hard-working man; and his family went and came about him for several hours, without taking any notice. When supper was ready, they tried to awaken him, and found that life had been for some time extinct. Far different from other years, Sir Walter seemed impatient to get away from Abbotsford to Edinburgh. ‘I have lost,’ he writes (4th November) to Cadell, ‘my old and faithful servant—my factotum—and am so much shocked, that I really wish to be quit of the country and safe in town. I have this day laid him in the grave. This has prevented my answering your letters.’
The grave, close to the Abbey at Melrose, is surmounted by a modest monument, having on two sides these inscriptions—
_In grateful remembrance of the faithful and attached services of twenty-two years, and in sorrow for the loss of a humble but sincere friend; this stone was erected by Sir Walter Scott, Bart., of Abbotsford.
Here lies the body of THOMAS PURDIE, wood-forester at Abbotsford, who died 29th October 1829, aged sixty-two years.—’Thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things._’—St Matthew, chap. xxv. ver. 21st.”
The Life of Sir Walter Scott, CHAPTER XV, John Lockhart.

Now, I’m leaving for a short trip to visit a very picturesque Stuart town in France and also a witchcraft museum… YES ! and it will be the subject of my next “Scottish-French connection” post on Scotiana.

So, stay tuned!

A bientôt. Mairiuna

Scotland’s Storyteller Nigel Tranter Historical Epic: The Bruce Trilogy

MAJA — Sat, 31 Jul 2010 14:08:33 +0000

Since we are speaking of Robert the Bruce I would like to introduce today Nigel Tranter, a very popular Scottish author who has written, among many other books of historical fiction, a trilogy about the great Scottish king. He died in 2000, at the age of 90. He was a great admirer of Sir Walter Scott and indeed, we discovered this author in 2006, at Abbotsford where a very interesting exhibition was devoted to him in Sir Walter’s bedroom … but I will let Janice tell you more about this fascinating author…

Mairiuna in Robert the Bruce’s Heart Buried at Melrose Abbey

Hi Mairiuna. Thanks for the invite! I am pleased to write about Nigel Tranter, one of Scotland’s best-loved author and acclaimed storyteller. Indeed, we have both a number of his books.

Quite young he took interest in castles and delved into their history, which led him, at the age of 25 to publish his first book, The Fortalices and Early Mansions of Southern Scotland 1400-1650. (1935)

His wife then encouraged him to write his first novel. He wrote In our Arms our Fortune which was rejected by the publishers, but the following one, Trespass (1937) launched his career.

Trespass by Nigel G Tranter -Ward Lock - Ed 1941

Since those early days, he wrote more than 130 books, including some children books, during a passionate life-long interest of his own country’s history.

Furthermore, he accomplished this noble task without the help of a computer, as he relied solely on his elderly manual typewriter!

Nigel Tranter At Work At His Typewriter- Copyright The Scotsman Publications

Upon visiting in 2006 the Nigel Tranter Exhibition at Abbotsford, (which has since been relocated in one of the aisles of Athelstaneford Church, where he celebrated his marriage to May on July 11^th, 1933) we discovered a wealth of fascinating insights about his writings.

I remember how thrilled the three of us were to explore the different aspects of his life and literary career throughout the exhibits.

Let’s take a closer look today at one of his most popular novel: The Bruce Trilogy.

This trilogy ( 1. The Steps To the Empty Throne, 2. The Path To The Hero King and 3. The Price of The King’s Peace ) is all about the story of Robert the Bruce, along side of William Wallace, another great hero of Scotland, fighting for his most burning desire: an independent Scotland.

Born in Glasgow on 23 November 1909, on the same day that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was chairing a public meeting in Edinburgh on Congo, and in the same year Geronimo died, he grew up to work as an accountant in the Scottish National Insurance Company.

Married to May Jean Campbell Grieve in 1933, the loving couple had two children, Frances May and Philip.

(…) In the first couple of decades of their marriage, May’s retiring nature and the presence of young children in the house, combined with Nigel’s deliberate encouragement of his outside interest in public affairs, led to a situation in which he developed a full and busy life of committees and public meetings in which May did not share, or could only share vicariously, and which regularly took him away from the house in the evenings: she occasionally took him to task about it, complaining she never saw him, but it had no very noticeable effect.

She once counted up that he was chairman of eleven different organisations, a story he is fond of recounting, with a hint of pride in his achievement.

Nigel and May Tranter in the garden of Quarry House, Aberfeldy, Scotland

But it must have looked somewhat different to May, sitting at home by the fire, and she must have felt at times that she had to share him with half Scotland.

When great success came to him in the 1970s after the publication of the Bruce trilogy she of course rejoiced for him, but she had no taste for the public exposure and razzmatazz that went with it, nor did she enjoy the invasion of their private life.

She was a willing accomplice when it came to composing letters to the press, but she would have preferred not to have them about the house. And she fiercely protected Quarry House as his workplace as well as her home, barring the way to the importunate.

(…) He himself approached the writing of the Bruce trilogy with some trepidation, partly on grounds of its magnitude and partly because of the sheer importance of the subject, having thrust it from him for some years.

Once started, it quickly became all-absorbing. When it was over, he wrote to a correspondent, “For the past four years, I have practically been Robert Bruce. The job is finished now and to some extent I feel quite lost.” Tranter of course writes all his heroes largely out of his own experience, posing the question “What would I have done?” where the historical material fails him, but Bruce was a move up to a new dimension.

Source: Nigel Tranter Scotland’s Storyteller, Ray Bradfield, B& W Publishing Ltd, Edinburgh 1999

SYNOPSIS – BRUCE TRILOGY

‘In a world of treachery and violence, Scotland’s most famous hero unites his people in a deadly fight for national survival. In 1296 Edward Plantagenet, King of England, was determined to bludgeon the freedom-loving Scots into submission. Despite internal clashes and his fierce love for his antagonist’s goddaughter, Robert the Bruce, both Norman lord and Celtic earl, took up the challenge of leading his people against the invaders from the South.

After a desperate struggle, Bruce rose finally to face the English at the memorable battle of Bannockburn. But far from bringing peace, his mighty victory was to herald fourteen years of infighting, savagery, heroism and treachery before the English could be brought to sit at a peace-table and to acknowledge Bruce as a sovereign king.

In this bestselling trilogy, Nigel Tranter charts these turbulent years, revealing the flowering of Bruce’s character; how, tutored and encouraged by the heroic William Wallace, he determined to continue the fight for an independent Scotland, sustained by a passionate love for his land and devotion to his people.’

Bannockburn - Battle For Liberty by John Sadler

The battle of Bannockburn took place on June 24th, 1314. It was a decisive battle in the first war of Scottish Independence and the Scottish victory helped to lead to the independence of Scotland being fully recognised in 1328.

We will dig more into this subject in upcoming posts, but meanwhile, be sure to get your hands on a copy of The Bruce Trilogy if you have not done so yet!

Take care and talk soon,

Janice

Robert the Bruce’s Heart Buried at Melrose Abbey

MAJA — Fri, 23 Jul 2010 22:04:31 +0000

In 2000, when we first visited Melrose Abbey, we did not know that the heart of Robert the Bruce, the famous Scottish King who defeated the English army at Bannockburn, on 24 June 1314, was buried there.

Indeed, we didn’t know much about Scotland and its history for it was our first journey there, only seven days in June which left their mark on us forever. Our first impressions of Scottish people, culture, landscapes, cities, monuments and history date back from these days and, since then, our quest for Scotland has never ceased to go on. Each new travel there, be it virtual or physical, brings its lot of marvels and adds new pieces to our great and beautiful Scottish puzzle…

Melrose Abbey is one of the Scottish marvels, not only because it is an architectural gem but also because it is rich in history and full of mystery. Its red-tinted ruins include the dilapidated remains of a 12th century old Cistercian monastery, the magnificent and well-preserved gothic-style Abbey Church and a graveyard with the usual lot of mossy weathered stones.

Charles S. Olcott The Country of Sir Walter Scott Cassell edition 1913

Spreading herbs and flowerets bright
Glistened with the dew of night;
Nor herb nor floweret glistened there
But was carved in the cloister arches as fair.

Seven graceful arches, forming stalls or seats once used by the dignitaries of the church, make a continuous line along the eastern wall. Above the arches, and joining one to another, are stone carvings of rare delicacy and beauty. Of the more than a hundred separate figures in this frieze no two are alike. There are roses, lilacs, thistles, ferns, oak leaves, and scores of other representations of the forms of nature, all exquisitely carved with inimitable accuracy. Scott admired these arches so greatly that he copied one of them for the fireplace of the entrance hall at Abbotsford.

The ‘steel-clenched postern door,’ through which the monk and the knight now entered the chancel, stands nearly intact. Its three arches rest on graceful pilasters surmounted by capitals, with carved foliage so delicate that a straw can be passed behind the stalks of the leaves. We found it interesting upon entering this door to note the accuracy of the poet’s descriptions, which the guide quoted with great fluency. The pillars supporting the lofty roof spread out to form the great arches, seeming to be ‘bundles of lances which garlands had bound.’

We stood beneath this arched roof for a long time to admire the beautiful East Window, and the guide quoted; -
The moon on the East Oriel shone
Through slender shafts of shapely stone
By foliaged tracery combined.

(The Country of Sir Walter Scott – Charles S. Olcott 1913)

A lot of people, religious or not, have been buried there but most of them have been forgotten since a long time. A few legendary figures still survive however and they can still trigger the visitor’s imagination. Among them, two Scottish kings and a very mysterious wizard …

There are many intriguing tales and legends attached to this old abbey and Sir Walter Scott, who lived nearby and was a recurrent visitor of the place, much contributed to popularize them. The reading of Sir Walter’s books is allowing us to venture in territories which would be quite difficult for us to tread otherwise, I mean, local and national feud and history. But we’ve fallen under the spell of the Magician of the North and, to say the truth, we can more easily follow the steps of Sir Walter in the fields – the battlefields - of historical fiction, than the more arduous paths of archaelogists, historians and scholars …

Sir Walter received many people at Abbotsford. He was reputed for his hospitality, his cheerfulness, his kindness and, of course, his visitors could not have found better guide to make them visit the neighbourhood. A number of Sir Walter’s visitors were themselves writers and they have left very lively memories of their meetings with the master of Abbotsford. Irving Washington, a well-known American writer, has been one of the most famous visitors. John Lockhart quotes him largely in his Life of Sir Walter Scott. I can’t help to share with you a very interesting extract.

My edition of John Lockhart’s book is rather ancient (1865) , the text is divided into two columns and the letters are so small that I must use my cross-stich magnifying-glass to read it… but it’s worth the effort! This text is one more example of Sir Walter’s entertaining character and we also get acquainted with Johnny Bower, Melrose Abbey’s sexton then and a passionate guide of the place. Such a colourful man must have left his mark in the history of Melrose!

So, let us follow Washington Irving in his visit to Abbotsford and Melrose Abbey…

Memoirs of the Life of Sir Walter Scott John Lockhart 1865 Cadell edition titlepage

Memoirs of the Life of Sir Walter Scott John Lockhart 1865 Cadell edition frontispiece

“Before Scott reached the gate, he called out in a hearty tone, welcoming me to Abbotsford, and asking news of Campbell. Arrived at the door of the chaise, he grasped me warmly by the hand: ‘Come, drive down, drive down to the house,’ said he; ‘ye’re just in time for breakfast, and afterwards ye shall see all the wonders of the Abbey.’
“I should have excused myself on the plea of having already made my breakfast. ‘Hut, man,’ cried he, ‘ a ride in the morning in the keen air of the Scotch hills is warrant enough for a second breakfast.’
“I was accordingly whirled to the portal of the cottage, and in a few moments found myself seated at the breakfast-table. There was no one present but the family, which consisted of Mrs Scott; her eldest daughter, Sophia, then a fine girl about seventeen; Miss Ann Scott, two or three years younger; Walter, a well-grown stripling; and Charles, a lively boy, eleven or twelve years of age.
“ I soon felt myself quite at home, and my heart in a glow, with the cordial welcome I experienced. I had thought to make a mere morning visit, but found I was not to be let off so lightly.’You must not think our neighbourhood is to be read in a morning like a newspaper,’ said Scott; ‘it takes several days of study for an observant traveller, that has a relish for auld-world trumpery. After breakfast you shall make your visit to Melrose Abbey; I shall not be able to accompany you, as I have some household affairs to attend to; but I will put you in charge of my son Charles, who is very learned in all things touching the old ruin and the neighbourhood it stands in; and he and my friend Johnnie Bower, will tell you the whole truth to believe, unless you be a true and nothing-doubting antiquary. When you come back, I’ll take you out on a ramble about the neighbourhood. To-morrow we will take a look at the Yarrow, and the next day we will drive over to Dryburgh Abbey, which is a fine old ruin, well worth the seeing.’ – In a word, before Scott had got through with his plan, I found myself committed for a visit of several days, and it seemed as if a little realm of romance was suddenly open before me.”

After breakfast, while Scott, no doubt, wrote a chapter of Rob Roy, Mr Irving, under young Charles’s guidance, saw Melrose Abbey and Johnnie Bower the elder, whose son long since inherited his office as showman of the ruins, and all his enthusiasm about them and their poet. The senior on this occasion was loud in his praises of the affability of Scott. “He’ll come here sometimes,” said he, “with great folks in his company, and the first I’ll know of it is hearing his voice calling out Johnny! – Johnny Bower! – and when I go out I’m sure to be greeted with a joke or a pleasant word. He’ll stand and crack, an’ laugh wi’ me just like an auld wife, – and to think that of a man that has such an awfu’ knowledge of history!”
On his return from the Abbey, Irving found Scott ready for a ramble.”
(John Lockhart Memoirs of the Life of Sir Walter Scott – ‘Washington Irving – 1817′ - Edinburgh : Robert Cadell, St. Andrew Square 1865)

Narrative of the Life of Sir Walter Scott, Bart 2010

Hum, Janice ! I think I’m going to invest soon in a new book ! This new edition of John Lockhart’s book does look good and I must preserve my rare edition of it… as well as my vision too

It’s only during our last trip to Scotland, in July 2007, that we’ve had the opportunity to see the emblematic carved stone which marks the place where the leaden casket supposed to be containing Robert the Bruce’s heart has been reburied in 1997.
This round stone, carved with the symbolic design of a heart intertwined with St Andrew’s cross, is the result of a competition launched by Historic Scotland and won by Victoria Oswald, a BBC sound engineer. The golden words engraved in early Scots around the plain circular stone read “A noble hart may have no ease, gif freedom failye” which means in modern language, “A noble heart can know no ease without freedom.” These words come from John Barbour’s long narrative poem The Brus, a historical and patriotic text which celebrates Robert the Bruce and James Douglas, and also focuses on the Scottish victory at Bannockburn.
How can we be sure, you may ask, that it is Robert the Bruce’s heart which is enclosed in the Melrose casket? Many people think it is and that could certainly be proved, or refuted, with DNA tests but is it necessary to lift the veil?
An exhumation of the king’s body at Dunfermline, in 1818, has already showed that the heart had effectively been taken from it, probably to be embalmed and placed in a casket as it was the custom then. Of course, like most venerated relics, it is surrounded by an aura of mystery.

Robert the Bruce portrait Source : Wikipedia

A lot of ink has been spilled over the long story of Robert Bruce’s heart… let us content to say that, in 1329, while he lay dying, Robert the Bruce asked Sir James Douglas to take his heart to the Holy Land. In 1330, while trying to do so, Sir James was killed in Spain, with a number of Scottish knights, in a heroic battle against the Moors. Before dying, however, and in a desperate effort to prevent the royal casket from falling into the hands of the enemy, Sir James threw it to his fellow knights, shouting. ‘Now pass thou onward before us, as thou wast wont, and I will follow thee or die.’One of the surviving knights was Sir William Keith. He took with him Bruce’s heart casket and the remains of his unlucky companions and went back to Scotland. Some time later, Robert the Bruce’s heart was buried in Melrose Abbey.

The Country of Sir Walter Scott photo Melrose Charles S. Olscott Cassell 1913

Beneath the window lies the heart of Robert Bruce. It had been the desire of the monarch that his heart be interred in the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem. After his death the body was buried beneath the high altar of the church at Dunfermline, but the heart was taken out and committed to the keeping of James, Lord Douglas, who undertook to carry it to the Holy Land. But James was defeated and killed by the Saracens, and the heart of his royal master was taken to Melrose and buried there. This was as it should be, for the heart of Bruce, figuratively speaking, was always in Melrose. After the destruction of the abbey in 1322 by Edward II on his retreat from Scotland, Bruce made a grant of £2000 sterling, a sum equivalent to about £ 50,000 in the money of to-day. Because of this munificence the abbey was rebuilt in all the beauty and perfection which Gothic architecture could suggest, so that even in ruins it is still a structure of graceful magnificence. In 1384, the abbey was again destroyed, but later restored. In 1544, 1545, and finally a century later under the Reformation, the abbey suffered serious damage from which it never recovered. (The Country of Sir Walter Scott – Charles S. Olcott 1913)

Clan Douglas coat of arms Source:Wikipedia

It is interesting to note that following the times of this heroic battle in Spain, in the 1330s, the arms of the Douglas changed, now bearing on their shield the heart as an emblem…
A long long time after these events, in 1921, excavations took place beneath the Chapter House of the Abbey and a leaden casket supposed to contain Robert the Bruce’s heart was discovered then. It was soon reburied in due place but in 1996 it was removed again to be re-examined before being reburied a second time, on 22 June 1998. A commemorative plaque has been put on the site on 24 June, the anniversary date of Bruce’s victory at Bannockburn.

Nigel Tranter Robert the Bruce Trilogy Volume 1 The Steps to the Empty Throne 1st edition Hodder and Stoughton 1969

Since we are speaking of Robert the Bruce I would like to introduce today Nigel Tranter, a very popular Scottish author who has written, among many other books of historical fiction, a trilogy about the great Scottish king. He died in 2000, at the age of 90. He was a great admirer of Sir Walter Scott and indeed, we discovered this author in 2006, at Abbotsford where a very interesting exhibition was devoted to him in Sir Walter’s bedroom … but I will let Janice tell you more about this fascinating author…

Bonne lecture !

A bientôt.

Mairiuna.

Magnificent Melrose Abbey …

MAJA — Mon, 19 Jul 2010 14:04:37 +0000

Hi Mairiuna! Delighted to read your last post

As we have not had the chance to visit this architectural gem by night, as suggested by Sir Walter Scott in his marvelous poem ” The Lay of the Last Minstrel”, this little video created with the photos we took while visiting the site will inspire a certain “sense of place”…

From: Scott's Poetical Works -Edinburgh Edition -1869

The Lay of the Last Minstrel (1805)

By Sir Walter Scott

Canto I

If thou would’st view fair Melrose aright,

Go visit it by the pale moonlight;

For the gay beams of lightsome day

Gild, but to flout, the ruins grey.

When the broken arches are black in night,

And each shafted oriel glimmers white;

When the cold light’s uncertain shower

Streams on the ruin’d central tower;

When buttress and buttress, alternately,

Seem framed of ebon and ivory;

When silver edges the imagery,

And the scrolls that teach thee to live and die;

When distant Tweed is heard to rave,

And the owlet to hoot o’er the dead man’s grave,

Then go–but go alone the while–

Then view St. David’s ruin’d pile;

And, home returning, soothly swear,

Was never scene so sad and fair!

Canto II (…)

Click here => to read the poem’s six cantos in its entirety (French & English Version)

Melrose Abbey By Night, Scotland - Source: In Search of Ancient Scotland, by G.M & D.A. Ruzicki

Melrose Abbey was a Cistercian abbey built by David in 1136 making it the oldest Cistercian monastery in Scotland. All told, it was destroyed and rebuilt about nine times. Although the English nearly finished it off in 1545, monks lived in the abbey for a long time after that. They were only able to stay because they renounced monasticism and joined the Reformed Church.

Up until 1590, when the last monk died off, the records document complaints by the monks about people stealing rock and other materials from the abbey.

Melrose Abbey once must have looked similar to English abbeys and cathedrals like Durham. In its heyday, this huge structure could porbably be seen far away. The stone work is graceful but imposing.

Even on a gray, cold, misty morning in March, we immediately noticed the dramatic flying buttresses and elegant windows. Many stone carvings adorn the walls, a few of them whimsical, like a pig playing the bagpipe. We’d seen a picture of this pig in a book but couldn’t find it on two different visits.

Melrose Abbey roof "pig playing bagpipes" carving © 2007 Scotiana

Parts of abbeys were frequently used for parish churches. Sadly, an ugly stone wall stands in the monk’s choir. Made of rubble taken from the abbey structure, this wall is a remnant of the post-Reformation parish kirk tornd down in 1810.

Very little remains of other abbey structures. Only foundation walls demarcate the monk’s range and cloister. The chapter house featured tiled floors, one of only two abbeys in Scotland. The other, Glenluce Abbey in Galloway, still contains some floor tiles.

The heart of Robert the Bruce is believed buried at Melrose Abbey. Prior to his death, he asked his trusted friend, James Douglas, to take his heart on a crusade to the Holy Land. After Douglas was killed in Spain, Bruce’s heart was returned to Scotland and presumed buried at Melrose. In 1921, archaelogists discovered a mummified human heart beneath the ground of the Chapter House. They reburied it.

In 1996, archaeologists surveying the Chapter House rediscovered the heart in its lead container. This momentous event made headline news in British papers and on TV. We chanced to visit Melrose the day of the discovery and experienced some of the excitement.

Another famous person, Michael Scot the wizard, is believed buried in the south transept in a grave set into the floor with a cross on it. Michael Scot lived in the 13th century. He denounced magic but loved science and astrology. His exploits fostered a large body of Scottish legend.

Historic Scotland manages Melrose Abbey with a gift shop on premises. Signs mark the various abbey structures. At night, floodlights produce dramatic scenes and provide good photo opportunities.

In Search of Ancient Scotland by Gerald M. and Dorothy A. Ruzicki , Aspen Grove Publishing 2000

In Search of Ancient Scotland

To get there : Melrose is located off the A6091 close to Galashiels between the A7 and the A68. The area is richly associated with Sir Walter Scott. His museum-like home, Abbotsford, occupies a pastoral spot on the nearby Tweed River.

Enjoy the read and talk soon,

Janice

Melrose Abbey: an Architectural Gem in the Scottish Borders

MAJA — Fri, 09 Jul 2010 22:15:47 +0000

Melrose Abbey is a religious, historical and architectural landmark in Scotland, one you must not miss when you visit the Scottish Borders, together with the three other very beautiful Border abbeys : Dryburgh, Jedburgh and Kelso. They are in ruins but we love them all, especially Melrose and Dryburgh where Sir Walter Scott is buried with other members of his family. The town of Melrose is situated at the foot of the Eildon Hills, in the heart of Sir Walter Scott’s country, not far from Abbotsford, Selkirk and of course the famous Scott’s View from where you can get a splendid panoramic view of the local landscape, with the Eildon Hills in the background. ‘Melrose’ means ‘the bare peninsula’ and it refers to the original site of a former monastery founded, as recorded by the Venerable Bede, by Saint Aidan in the 7th century, about two miles of Melrose Abbey, in a bend of the river Tweed.

Turner Melrose Abbey: Moonlight water-colour commissioned c 1822 by Walter Fawkes to illustrate poems by Walter Scott

If thou would’st view fair Melrose aright,
Go visit it by the pale moonlight;
For the gay beams of lightsome day
Gild, but to flout, the ruins grey.
When the broken arches are black in night,
And each shafted oriel glimmers white;
When the cold light’s uncertain shower
Streams on the ruin’d central tower;
When buttress and buttress, alternately,
Seem framed of ebon and ivory;
When silver edges the imagery,
And the scrolls that teach thee to live and die;
When distant Tweed is heard to rave,
And the owlet to hoot o’er the dead man’s grave,
Then go–but go alone the while–
Then view St. David’s ruin’d pile;
And, home returning, soothly swear,
Was never scene so sad and fair!

(Walter Scott - The Lay of the Last Minstrel – Canto II – I)

No wonder Walter Scott loved Melrose Abbey so much. Here, amidst its beautiful ruins, he used to come and sit meditating, drawing inspiration from the romantic atmosphere of the place. We visited the Abbey several times, which gave us the opportunity to know it better and to feel how its atmosphere can change dramatically under different skies.

They sate them down on a marble stone,
(A Scottish monarch slept below;)

(Walter Scott – The Lay of the Last Minstrel – Canto II 12)

Under a blue skye, as a moving testimony to its past splendour, the old Abbey proudly stand with its pinky tones, amidst very ancient graves scattered all over a thick carpet of green grass. Light and shade create effects like in a theatre. Here, a ray of sunlight suddenly falls on a name, there it reveals a carving, a statue, or the delicacy of the stone tracery.

The view will be quite different if you find yourself on the north side of the Abbey walking among the ruins of the two cloisters or on the south side where, while wandering among the graves, you can admire what remains of the magnificent south transept, with its gothic window ornamented with very fine stone tracery.

If you don’t fear heights, you can climb up to the top of the abbey, not only to see things from above and have a panoramic view of the whole area but also to have a closer look at the many statues, gargoyles and carvings which can hardly be seen from the ground.

Some of them are very intriguing like that of a green man which reminded us of those seen at the Rosslyn Chapel or quite incongruous and comical like that of a pig playing… bagpipes! We’ve been said it was playing bagpipes, for with only what is left of the instrument we would not have guessed!

When the weather is bad it is very chilly here and you quicken your pace through the dark and empty buildings of the abbey, looking for improbable shelters and losing yourself in the gloomy stone labyrinth while the wind, like a malicious spirit, roams about the place, blowing from empty gothic windows to dilapidated arcades and round massive pillars, while its lamenting voice seems to be carrying echoes of the past and the rain is gurgling down through the gaping mouths of grimacing gargoyles.

As you can’t expect to find any comfort in the gloomy churchyard you’d better hurry to the nearby Abbey’s shop where you can enjoy a hot cup of tea or coffee while looking at the books and souvenirs displayed there or, still better, to the Commendator’s House which serves as a museum. You’ll probably be drenched to the skin before reaching it for you’ll have to walk across the soaked grass carpet of the great cloister, the foundations of the monks’ ruined kitchen and refectory and another big field where you can admire, under the rain the monastery ingenious drain system.

The museum is well worth a visit for it is full of very interesting objects found on the site of the old abbey. Thanks to the genial work of Historic Scotland* they are given a second life here. Each object displayed is very well documented and replaced in its original context. Thanks to a number of lively figurines we learn how the monks lived here. Quite fascinating! Melrose Abbey is full of history and mystery…

In one of my favourite old books, The Glory of Scotland by J.J. Bell, a Scottish author and journalist, I’ve found a very interesting page about Melrose Abbey history. So, let us read it :

Sir Walter Scott, as plain ‘Mister,’ was a sheriff of the Shire [Selkirkshire] – a monument to his memory stands in front of the Court House – but his heart was over at Melrose, and we are going there now, a short run through lovely country. The name suggests a fragrance, though it probably means ‘blunt’ or ‘bare promontory.’ Centuries before the noble Abbey was even a thought, there was a little monastery two miles east of the site. Founded by St Aidan, it stood on a peninsula in the Tweed, and was called Melrose. So fair is this situation that when the Wordsworths were there, in 1803, Dorothy wished the famous ruins might have been transported thither. When in 1136 David I founded a new abbey at Little Fordell, he transferred to it the old name from the peninsular monastery, then extinct, and so Little Fordell became Melrose. Yet the ruins we see to-day are not those of David’s abbey, which, thanks to invaders from the South, was in fragments by 1300; they are those of a reconstructed abbey begun in 1326, under the practical encouragement of King Robert the Bruce. One must admire the spirit of the old monks, as well as that of the fighting men. Like people living in an earthquake area, while yet they wept over the wreckage of their homes they were planning to raise new and finer ones in the same perilous places. But earthquakes could hardly have done more damage than, for example, the Earl of Hertford in 1545. Within a fortnight his armies in the Borders destroyed four abbeys, sixteen castles and towers, five market towns, and 243 villages. It was then that Melrose suffered for the last time. Generals Evers and Layton burned it. There is an ironic end to their story. The day after the burning, their army was badly beaten on Ancrum Moor, a few miles away, and both were slain. And, a little later, their bodies found Christian burial at the Abbey, under its still warm walls.
Constructed in the decorated and perpendicular styles of Gothic, the Abbey in its good days must have been a glorious spectacle. Even its remnant gives the impression not only of rich magnificence, but of delicate grace. We can still form pictures of its pristine splendour from an inspection of the nave, choir, transepts, cloisters, and chapter house; of its infinite beauty from the sculptured figures, canopies, and pinnacles of the buttresses, and the exquisite traceries of the windows. It is no wonder that every year thousands of people come to look at Melrose Abbey, the most precious jewel of the Borders; no wonder that Scott, who loved its every gleam and gloom, was inspired to tell the world about it. I have doubt as to whether ‘poetical quotations’ are welcome in a book like this, but so illuminating are these lines of Scott’s that I am asking you to read them – slowly :

Through slender shafts of shapely stone,
By foliaged tracery combined;
Thou wouldst have thought some fairy’s hand
‘Twixt poplars straight the ozier wand,
In many a freakish know, had twined;
Then framed a spell, when the work was done,
And changed the willow-wreaths to stone.

That is the wonder of Melrose Abbey in a thought.

(The Glory of Scotland – J.J. Bell – 1932)

Melrose Abbey Historic Scotland Museum French Mason John Morrow figurine © 2006 Scotiana

As I’m always eager to discover new links between Scotland and France, I was particularly happy to discover that a French mason had contributed to the building of Melrose Abbey and that he had even designed one of the most beautiful parts of the Abbey, the magnificent south transept. His name is John Morrow and I’ve learned that he had also contributed to much building work throughout southern Scotland at the turn of the 14th and 15th centuries. In the museum, a stone carved head of a bearded man is supposed to be a self-portrait of the mason. By way of signature, John Morrow also left a quotation engraved on a stone in gothic letters. The original stone, which is displayed in the museum, has badly weathered and is hardly readable but there is a beautiful facsimile of it in the abbey church. It reads : ‘John Morrow sometimes called was I and born in Paris certainly and had in keeping all the mason work of St Andrews, the High Kirk of Glasgow, Melrose and Paisley, of Nithsdale and Galloway. I pray to God and Mary both and sweet St John to keep this holy church from harm’ – has he prayed loud enough, I wonder ! - the quotation ends beautifully on these words: ‘As the compass goes evenly about, so truth and loyalty shall do without doubt.’

Melrose Abbey Historic Scotland Museum French mason John Morrow's quotation © 2006 Scotiana

We could not leave Melrose Abbey without a little pilgrimage to a most sacred place … the place where a leaden casket supposed to be containing King Robert the Bruce’s heart has been interred in 1997, or I should say ‘re-interred’ for it had already been here for a long time.

The King’s body is buried (without his heart) at Dumfermline Abbey. The abbey is grandiose and the tomb sumptuous there but here, at Melrose, there is only a simple carved stone to commemorate Robert I with, on it, a motto (from the Bruce) which reads: “A noble hart may have nane ease gif freedom failye”.

In 2000 and 2001, when we visited Melrose Abbey the weather was very fine and in 2006 it was rainy and wintry. How we’d like to visit Melrose in winter now, just to experience such feelings as described by H. V. Morton at the very end of his second book In Scotland Again (1933) : ‘Never shall I forget those frosty morning walks, the red sunrise over Melrose, the headstones rising from white grass, the sharp morning air into which man and beast breathed a little mist of steam, and all day long from dawn until dusk the world alight, as with a million little stars, with the robin’s plaintive song.’

Looking forward to hearing the robin’s winter song at Melrose, I wish you ‘une bonne lecture’.

A bientôt. Mairiuna

*Historic Scotland was created as an agency in 1991 and was attached to the Scottish Executive Education Department, which embraces all aspects of the cultural heritage, in May 1999. As part of the Scottish Government, Historic Scotland is directly accountable to the Scottish Ministers for safeguarding the nation’s built heritage, and promoting its understanding and enjoyment.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Historic_Scotland

Hunting Down Scottish Greenknowe Tower’s Ghosts…

MAJA — Fri, 02 Jul 2010 21:49:43 +0000

Mairiuna, as a continuity to your post on Greenknowe Tower, let’s put together a video, mixing the recording that Jean-Claude did of the sound produced when opening the iron gate (the yett) and the pictures we took while investigating this beautiful ruined tower in Berwickshire.

.

Although local folk tales, as you mentioned, said this place is the most haunted place in the area, we could not find in our respective libraries and archives, nor on the Internet, any further documentation relating to this fact. If anyone has some information to that effect, we would be very grateful to know about it, as it does intrigue us much.

Being both fascinated by Scottish ghost stories and other mysterious legends of the Highlands and Islands, we despair in not finding more facts and feats relating to the haunting tales of Greenknowe Tower.

While researching the web, we did stumble upon Lucy M. Boston’s novels: The Children of Green Knowe, but they don’t seem to relate to the Scottish Greenknowe Tower.

Green Knowe means “green hill”, so it could be anywhere in the world!

Still took time to learn more about this attractive children’s classic series and can tell you they will soon find a place on our bookshelves. As an insight, here’s a reader comment:

The Children of Green Knowe by Lucy M. Boston 2006

A ghost story for children, the novel revolves around Toseland (Tolly) Oldknow who goes to live with his great-Grandmother in the ancestral family home, Green Knowe, that has been known as Green Noah for centuries. Tolly and his Grandmother see ghosts of their ancestors, primarily three siblings -an earlier Toseland (Toby), Andrew, and Linette- who lived during the reign of Charles II and died in the Great Plague. There was a curse placed upon a large (green) topiary of Noah in the garden by a witch, the resulting tree demon affecting the Oldknow males and the topiary is left to become overgrown ever since, and another supernatural element in the protective stone St Christopher who becomes animated.

The novel is supernaturally evocative; the reader is caught up in the magic and its charm was not lost on me as an adult. The more ominous, frightening, tension was less effective now but that is only to be expected. The writing is beautifully depictive, the descriptions poetic, and I found this line wonderfully expressive:

He heard no thunder. It was even unnaturally quiet. Perhaps it only seemed unnatural because he himself was brimming with excitement. He heard the weir pounding at the end of the garden. It only made the quietness quieter. It was rather like a heart that is only heard when it beats too loud.”

Read more => http://paperbackreader2.blogspot.com/2009/06/children-of-green-knowe.html

In another search engine result, a descriptive text on the Manor of Hemingford Grey indicates it became famous with Lucy M. Boston’s series of children’s books, so we guess that answers our question about which residence influenced the author!

“The house was recreated and made famous as the house of Green Knowe by Lucy Boston in her series of children’s books, now regarded as classics. Her son Peter’s illustrations depict many of the things in the house and garden. The attic contains toys used by the fictional children of the past; thus visitors get the feeling of ‘walking into the books’.

She wrote about family belongings in the house and her son Peter Boston illustrated the books, drawing many of these as well as the house and garden.

In the winter, as well as writing, Lucy Boston made many exquisite patchworks, most of which are on display. Rarely can such an important collection be seen in the house in which the exhibits were made.

This moated house is surrounded by four acres of garden renowned for its collection of over 200 old roses and a collection of irises containing many famous Dykes medal winners, most of them dating from the 1950s. There are hidden corners in the garden so visitors find themselves coming to unexpected parts which are unanticipated from the first impression gained by looking down into it from the public footpath along the towpath beside the river Great Ouse. With its large herbaceous borders of mainly scented plants the garden gives the feeling of being a cottage garden full of favourite plants in a rather formal setting of lawns with topiary coronation shapes and chess pieces in their black and white planted squares.

Read more => http://www.greenknowe.co.uk/history.html

Lucy M Boston - The Green Knowe Children's Book Series

Product Description

(….) L.M. Boston’s thrilling and chilling tales of Green Knowe, a haunted manor deep in an overgrown garden in the English countryside, have been entertaining readers for half a century. There are three children: Toby, who rides the majestic horse Feste; his mischievous little sister, Linnet; and their brother, Alexander, who plays the flute. The children warmly welcome Tolly to Green Knowe… even though they’ve been dead for centuries. But that’s how everything is at Green Knowe. The ancient manor hides as many stories as it does dusty old rooms. And the master of the house is great-grandmother Oldknow, whose storytelling mizes present and past with the oldest magic in the world.

About the Author

Lucy Maria Boston (1892-1990) purchased a ramshackle manor house near Cambridge, England, in 1935, which over a period of two years she lovingly restored. It is the house that inspired her, at the age of sixty-two, to take pen in hand and create the beloved Green Knowe chronicles. L.M. Boston said she wrote her books to please herself–but the pleasure of her stories extends to all who read them.

Ref: Amazon.com

Talk soon,

Janice