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Dunnotar Castle ©Scottish
Panormamic
IN ancient times; when
lance and spear, claymore and dirk were the favourite weapons of war, few
Castles could lay claim to greater strength than Dunnottar, in
Kincardineshire, not far from Stonehaven. The peninsula on which it stands
rises to a considerable height above the sea-level, and the stormy waves
of the North Sea break into foam upon three sides of its base. The deep
chasm which intervenes betwixt the Castle and the mainland, like some
Californian canon, plainly exhibits its volcanic origin. And a very
tyro in military affairs may perceive that the only approach to the Castle
which is possible from the land might be defended at close quarters, as
Thermopylć was of old, by a mere handful of resolute patriots. But against
the heavy ordinance of modem times the most elaborate fortifications which
are on a lower level than the surrounding country are practically
powerless. The long-range guns and rifles of these latter days have done
more to demolish chivalrous bravery and hardihood than may be at first
supposed. And the magnificent game of war, which once gave scope to the
most daring and courageous of heroes, is now reduced to a mere
mathematical problem, founded upon distances, paraboles expansive forces,
and impenetrability. All these achievements in mechanical warfare put to
flight the great deeds of our ancestors, and thus earthly glory passeth
away. As students of humanity, then, it is to older times that we must
turn if we wish to see the truest examples of personal prowess and
endurance, and Dunnottar Castle has preserved for us not a few of these.
The Keiths, Earls Marischal
of Scotland, the feudal proprietors of this fortress, have afforded some
renowned names to grace the annals of Scottish history. From a very early
date they were entrusted with the hereditary office of Marischal at the
Court, and were thus the custodians of the regal honours of the kingdom—
the Crown, the Sceptre, and the Sword of State, which once bore sway in
Scotland. The first name among the Keiths which is brought prominently
into notice is immediately connected with Dunnottar. Despite its
inaccessible position, it appears that the site of the Castle was at one
time occupied by the Parish Church of the district. But about 1292 Sir
William Keith, then Earl Marischal, knowing the disturbed state of the
country, and appreciating the importance of the ground on which the church
stood for the purposes of defence, built an edifice more easy of access
near Stonehaven, and persuaded many of the parishioners to perform their
devotions there.
Taking possession of the
cliff, he transformed the church into a private chapel, and surrounded it
by those buildings necessary to render it at once habitable and
defensible. Judging from the ruins which now exist, the erections must
have been considerable, for the appearance of the Castle and outworks,
even in their present demolished condition, is rather that of a ruined
hamlet than a single fortress. The necessity for extensive buildings, even
for stores, may be understood when we remember that the only communication
by land could be easily cut off, and the Castle placed in a state of close
siege by a very small opposing force.
An unlooked for adversary
arose to this scheme in the person of the Bishop of the diocese. This
ecclesiastic, jealous of any encroachment by the temporal on the spiritual
power, took action against Sir William, and solemnly excommunicated him by
bell, book and candle for trespassing upon consecrated ground. The Earl,
usually brave enough in secular matters, was timorous with those who
wielded the power over the soul. Fearful of the doom fulminated against
him, he sought the protection and absolution of Pope Benedict XIII.,
explaining that ere he touched the ancient church he had provided for the
spiritual wants of the parish, and insisting that the times demanded that
there should be some such fortress as he had erected in that quarter for
the preservation of the lives of the parishioners. Benedict XIII., in the
spirit of a wily Italian Pope, made capital out of both the blunders of
Bishop and warrior Earl, for he decreed that the sentence of
excommunication should be taken off the latter, and that upon the payment
of a fine to the Church the Earl should be allowed to enjoy the Castle
unmolested. And thus Sir William’s yearly ransom enabled him to preserve
his body from his foes in this world, and his soul from the Enemy in the
next.
This chapel was the scene
of a very tragic occurrence a few years later. In 1297 the English had
gained possession of Dunnottar, and placed a strong garrison there. But
the dauntless Wallace had made his way even into this strong fortress, and
spread dismay among the southern soldiers. The greater portion of them
sought refuge near the altar, trusting that the superstition of the time
would prevent the Scottish hero from violating the sanctity of that holy
place. This intrepid leader, however, had advanced too far thus to retire,
and he braved the terrors of the spiritual powers by enclosing these
fugitives within the church, and setting fire to it. From their dreadful
fate no escape was possible. The sacred structure overhung the raging
waves of the North Sea, and the only exit by land was guarded by the
relentless Wallace and his followers, and thus, by fire, by water, and by
the sword, perished four thousand of the English invaders. Ere blaming
Wallace too severely for this deed, we should remember the critical period
in which he lived, and the great stake of home and fatherland for which he
played.
Nor should we forget the
long arrears of crime and oppression which the English had incurred, and
which only the most stringent measures could repress. Harshness was not
habitual with him, and there are times when leniency is the worst form of
mercy. And we may believe that he had to steel his heart against
compassion and discard all thoughts of tenderness when he remembered his
murdered wife, his slain father and brethren, and his desolate and
bleeding country.
"Not few nor slight his burdens are
Who gives himself to stand
Steadfast and sleepless as a star
Watching his fatherland.
Strong must his will be, and serene,
His spirit pure and bright;
His conscience vigilant and keen,
His arm an arm of might."
The Castle,
though frequently employed as an asylum for
the neighbouring inhabitants during the raids of lawless Highland
chieftains, does not appear conspicuously in history until the time of the
Civil Wars. The rapid changes in political faith which then took place
amongst the nobility rendered their Castles the frequent scenes of
retribution for crimes committed within their walls. And thus the dungeons
of Dunnottar Castle were tenanted alternately by Covenanters and
Episcopalians as either of these parties gained the ascendancy. The
traditional policy of the Keith family was distinctly Tory
in its tendency, and even when the
existing holder of the title in 1645 had declared for the Covenant, it was
but a half- hearted support which he gave to the Lords of the
Congregation. When, therefore, the Marquess of Montrose, who had been won
over to the King was on his way from the North and called upon Dunnottar
to surrender in the name of King Charles, it was with much difficulty that
the possessor of that fortress was prevented from declaring himself the
vassal of His Majesty. The persuasive eloquence of the Presbyterian
clergymen, his companions in the Castle, at length overcame his scruples,
and he fortified the place against the great Marquess, and put him to
defiance. Finding that he had no time to spend upon a formal siege of
Dunnottar, and doubting its importance in the guerrilla warfare which he
then pursued, Montrose avenged himself by devastating the surrounding
country, and supplied the necessities of his army from the produce of the
inhabitants.
But "the whirligig of Time brings in
his revenges," and so it happened shortly after that the Castle changed
hands and found a new master, who was as vigorous a persecutor as its
former one had been a saint. Even yet among the ruins is shown the "Whig’s
Vault," in which, according to tradition, a number of the hill-folk were
confined, and subjected to extreme trials of fortitude and endurance.
Torture was freely resorted to, and boots, thumbkins, and racks were
called into requisition to provoke an abjuration of Presbyterianism. The
rings are yet shown to which prisoners were chained, and the "Martyrs’
Monument," in the ancient churchyard, serves to localise the tradition.
The historical incident, however,
which is most distinctly associated with the name of Dunnottar is the
preservation of the regalia during the invasion of Cromwell. When the Lord
Protector had "crossed the Rubicon" and openly broken with the
Presbyterian party in the north, he found that it was necessary for the
establishment of his prestige to strike a vigorous and decisive blow at
the strength of the Scottish Independents. The English leader was
essentially a man of war, so he buckled on his armour, and ere the Lords
of the Congregation had finished their stormy deliberations he had entered
the country with fire and sword. Here he found himself opposed by both the
Tory and Whig parties; yet, as these two would not coalesce against the
common foe, the strength of the country was divided, and he marched
triumphantly through Scotland, as he did through Ireland, making his name
a terror to the people. To General Monck he entrusted the reduction of the
Castles of Scotland which still held out against the Parliament, and this
victorious leader subdued them, one after the other, meeting with little
resistance from the people. Dunnottar was the last of the Castles to be
attacked, in 1652, and to its siege a particular interest was attached.
Since the Union of the Crowns in the
person of James VI., half a century before this time, the Scottish nation
had watched over the regalia of the kingdom with peculiar jealousy. They
had not succeeded in retaining the ancient "Stone of Destiny" at Scone
Palace, upon which the Kings of Scots from time immemorial had been
crowed, and the superstition of the age led them to imagine that the luck
of the kingdom would depart if the Crown Jewels and Insignia were removed.
After the disastrous battle of Dunbar the Scottish leaders cast about for
a suitable place of safety for these precious relics, and the Castle of
Dunnottar was selected as the strongest fortress in their possession. The
emblems were conveyed thither in secrecy and dispatch, and handed over to
Lord Keith.
The place of their seclusion,
however, was soon discovered, and, as the cupidity of the English had been
excited by extravagant accounts of the value of the jewels, these became a
special object of interest to them. They laid close siege to the Castle,
and prepared for a long campaign. Sir George Ogilvy of Barras, then
Governor, at once put Dunnottar in a state of defence, and endeavoured to
establish communications with the land by the seaward side of the Castle.
In this attempt he was foiled, and the English Army, trusting to conquer
by protracting their blockade, resolutely encamped before the fortress.
Even so extensive a storehouse as Dunnottar must ultimately fail if
sufficient time be spent upon it, and when the stores at length gave token
of reaching a speedy termination, it became necessary to provide for the
safe keeping of the national honours. A very bold and daring scheme was
conceived and executed by the Governor, with the assistance of the Rev.
Mr. Grainger, minister of Kinneff, and his wife, then confined to the
Castle. For the purpose of putting the besiegers off their guard, a report
was circulated that the regalia had been sent to the Continent in the
charge of Sir John Keith, a brother of the Earl’s. So industriously was
this report spread that the vigour of the siege was relaxed, and a fuller
communication with the land permitted.
In these circumstances the
courageous Mrs. Grainger applied to General Mouck for permission to remove
some bundles of lint from the Castle, to which she made claim, and, as he
was more noted for gallantry than any other of the Parliamentary generals,
her request was readily granted. With the sword and the sceptre enclosed
in the bundles which her servant carried, and with the crown secreted
about her own person, she boldly made her way through the English camp,
receiving, it is said, special attention from the general himself, and,
taking the road to Kinneff Church, where her husband awaited her, she
finally deposited her charge there. Mr. Grainger removed some of the
flagstones in the floor of the church, and, wrapping the precious articles
in fine linen, he deposited them there, where they lay unmolested until
after the Restoration of Charles II.
Meanwhile the Castle of Dunnottar,
after a brave defence, was compelled to surrender, and great was the
disappointment of the English when they found themselves checkmated. The
unfortunate Governor was subjected to close examination, and even, it is
alleged, to the torture, but he held his secret unflinchingly. The
minister and his wife were likewise ill-treated, but they steadfastly
refused to betray the hiding-place wherein they had disposed the valuable
honours. And thus the siege of Dunnottar, from which the Parliamentarian
Army had expected to reap such glorious spoils, became nothing but a
barren victory, and the sagacious leaders had to confess themselves
outwitted by a woman.
The end of the history of Dunnottar
Castle came in the year 1715, a date ever memorable in Scottish annals.
The tenth Earl Marischal, who then held sway there, was sufficiently
ill-advised to join the rash noblemen who took the field at that time in
support of the Chevalier de St George (James VIII.). Ever noted for their
devotion to the House of Stuart, the Keiths were easily led into the
Jacobite Rising, and George, Earl Marischal, remained faithful to his
troth until the end. After the collapse of that unfortunate expedition the
Earl was attainted of treason, tried, and condemned, and as he was then
upon the Continent, and could not conveniently suffer beheading, it was
decided that Dunnottar Castle should be dismantled. And thus this ancient
fortress, which had for more than four hundred years maintained a bold
front against invasion and rebellion, was taken when defence-less by the
soldiers of the new dynasty, the fortifications razed to the dust, and its
halls left roofless and uninhabitable. The ruthless spirit of oppression
stimulated by fear, which characterized the government of that time, could
not suller so venerable a stronghold of the Stuart family to remain
unmolested. And it was the consideration of such revengeful demolitions of
ancient landmarks which prompted the old Jacobite ballad which runs thus:-
"Our ancient Crown’s fa’en in the
dust;
De’il blin’ them in the stour o’t,
An’ write their names in his black book.
Wha ga’e the Whigs the pow’r o’t.
Our sad decay in Kirk and State
Surpasses my descrivin’;
The Whigs cam’ ower us for a curse,
An’ we ha’e dune wi’ thrivin’."
See Burke's Peerage & Gentry for additional information |
