Part 12
Those who have an antiquarian turn of mind will, on visiting the top of Dundurn, where the original well is supposed to have been, find themselves expatiating upon other features of interest surrounding them. The hill itself, it will be remarked, is covered all round, with the exception of the precipitous front facing the east, with piles of loose water-worn stones. At first view they appear only an irregular mass, and seem to be there only to make the ascent more slippery and difficult. Mr Skene, in his _Celtic Scotland_; points out that here we have the remains of an ancient fort. It is only recently, however, that the subject has come in for thorough investigation by Dr. Christison, one of the Rhind lecturers on Archaeology, who, by careful measurements and by the extensive knowledge which he has brought to bear on the subject, has quite established the fact. One sees that from the east side of the hill the position is by nature impregnable against attack; while on the south, west, and north sides, it is the triumph of the antiquarian's research and skill to re-build for us in imagination a series of fortified lines and enclosures, the original sites of which time has not altogether obliterated. The fortress was known in early days as Dundurn, and must have been a stronghold of considerable importance.[2]
Looking down upon the plain below, the little chapel at our feet, called the Chapel of St. Fillan, also takes us back to antiquity, though to a less remote one than the fortifications. It takes us back to pre-Reformation times. There is no record of the century to which it belongs, and the only relic that has been preserved to us from the pre-Reformation period is a holy water font. It stood in a niche in the wall of the chapel. When, however, it was deemed advisable to remove the tottering roof and to preserve what of the building would make a picturesque ruin, the font was taken in charge by Colonel Stewart of Ardvoirlich, and handed over by him to the Trustees of the Dundurn Parish Church. Placed on a suitable stand, and with an appropriate inscription, this font will represent an interesting link between the past and the present.
This old chapel, doubtless at one time a place of worship, was abandoned at the Reformation, and was taken possession of by the Stewart clan as a burial vault about the year 1580. For a long time this interesting old burying-ground was allowed to remain in a state of shameful neglect. There seemed to be no direct responsibility on the part of any heritor for its upkeep, and what seemed everybody's business became nobody's. This condition of _laissez faire_ was confirmed by a sentimental though unreasonable objection to shifting into their right position a number of head-stones which time and weather had either displaced or Darwin's worms had covered up. It was only five or six years ago that a Committee was formed, which in a regular manner, and with the consent of all parties interested, took in charge the upkeep of the burial-ground, with the aid of public subscription. A head-stone of great interest to antiquarians is one with figures of Adam and Eve sculptured in relief, while above these figures an angel is represented. The tree carved on the other side of the stone is evidently the tree of good and evil, and the whole represents in a crude way the expulsion of Adam and Eve from Paradise. This Adam and Eve stone is considered very rare, there being very few known throughout the country. This one differs from the others in the absence of the serpent, which is usually represented on them. Another monument of considerable interest is to be seen within the chapel. It is a memorial tablet recently erected by the present Laird of Ardvoirlich upon the wall of the east gable and containing the following inscription:--"This chapel, dedicated in early times to St. Fillan, the leper, has been, since the year 1586, the burial-place of the sept or clan of Stewart of Ardvoirlich." Here follow the names of those buried beneath, with the dates of their decease. On glancing over the names there recorded, one will notice the name of Major James Stewart, and will remember that it is to the same memory that a stone still stands erected on the south side of the loch, about three miles up. We there read that this Major James Stewart was temporarily interred, and thereafter removed to his final resting-place at Dundurn. This member of the clan seems to have been of a fiery, irascible, and adventurous nature, and Sir Walter Scott, while in this neighbourhood, found sufficient material in connection with this personage to reproduce his likeness in his Allan M'Aulay of the _Legend of Montrose_. In his introduction to this romance the author gives an interesting account of his character, and sets before us two different versions of the part he acted in the death of Lord Kilpont; indeed, one will look upon the romantic scenery of this district with redoubled interest after a perusal of this work of the great novelist. With reference to this Major Stewart's tomb-stone on the side of the loch, which has just been referred to, the legend is that the Major died a natural death at Ardvoirlich, and his body was being carried to Dundurn for burial, but the Drummonds and Murrays, who were at enmity with the clan, threatened to intercept the funeral, and a snowstorm coming on, they interred the body on the loch side near the spot where the stone is, and subsequently took it to the chapel.
Another head-stone of considerable interest is to be seen hear the entrance to the grounds of Ardvoirlich itself. It marks the place where the remains of seven of the Macdonalds were interred, the legend being that that clan, on their way to or from a raid on Glenartney Forest, attacked Ardvoirlich House, and the men of the clan being absent with their cattle on the hills, the lady of the house kept them at bay until the men came down, and then they slaughtered all the Macdonalds, except one man, and their bodies were buried in a hole on the loch side. Years after, on excavating to make a pond for cattle to drink from, a number of human bones were found, and the stone was erected to mark the spot.
Another object of considerable antiquarian interest in the possession of the Ardvoirlich family is the charm-stone. It is said by tradition to have been brought from the Holy Land at the time of the Crusades by the Fitz-Allans, who were progenitors of the Stewarts, and who were
## active Crusaders. It was considered a most holy stone, and had healing
properties of a high order. It is a very perfect specimen of rock crystal; the silver setting is Saracenic in character, and said to be very old. Up to 1840, and even later, people used to come to Ardvoirlich from long distances to have the stone immersed in water, while a Gaelic incantation was repeated by the laird or lady. Then the water was carried home, and one condition was that the possessor of the water must not enter any house until home was reached; then if given to cattle to drink, or sprinkled over them, it acted as a perfect cure for any murrain or disease.
On the death of the laird in 1854, the stone was sent into a bank for safe custody, and then all the healing properties were destroyed. It was said also that the last lady of Ardvoirlich who used it, and who was a Maxtone of Cultoquhey, had no Gaelic, and was too lowland by birth to believe in it, and she most irreverently (not knowing the Gaelic incantation) just repeated--"If it'll dae ye nae guid, it'll dae ye nae hairm," and that also destroyed the charm.
Another object which does not fail to attract the attention of the visitor to St. Fillans is the picturesque little island at the east end of the loch, called the Neish Island, for it has its romantic story to tell. "It is uncertain" (says John Brown in his description of the place) when or by whom "the island in Loch Earn rose into form or importance; but that it was entirely the work of man (and certainly it was no contemptible undertaking) is evident from its circular shape, the nature of the bed on which it is raised and surrounding it, and the purpose to which it might be made subservient in lawless times. The ancestors of the present family of Ardvoirlich made it their occasional residence, at the remote period when they held the eight-mark land on which St. Fillans is now built, an endowment which continued annexed to the Chapel or Priory of Strathfillan till its dissolution at the Reformation." On the island there are the remains of what appear to have been a number of dwellings. That it was used as a haunt or refuge by raiders is certain from the tradition which gives it its name of Neish Island. According to the tradition, it was the refuge of the remnant of the Clan Neish who had been defeated in a bloody battle with the MacNabs. There the former carried on a kind of predatory warfare with the MacNabs, and on one occasion so roused the wrath of the latter that a speedy and terrible revenge followed. The stalwart sons of the MacNab, urged by their wrathful sire, whose hint in the words--"The night is the night if lads were but lads," almost amounted to a command, equipped themselves with dirk, pistol, and claymore, raised a boat on their shoulders, and carrying it by night all the way from Loch Tay across the hills by Glentarken, launched it stealthily on Loch Earn, and taking the Neishes by surprise are said to have killed them all, except one boy, who made good his escape. The following lines by the Rev. John Hunter, Crieff, give very appropriate expression and colouring to this interesting tradition:--
Here sit we down on this fair sun-strewn bank, Beside this queen of lakes, whose loveliness From out of half-shut eyelids softly woos To sweet forgetfulness. Above, the wood, and interspersed knolls, Made greener by the pat of fairy feet And dancing moonbeams, fringe the rugged knees Of scarred and bronzéd heights whose wind-notched crests Look grandly down. Fair scene and home of peace Ineffable; and yet not ever so, For I have seen these scars run full and white, And heard their trumpetings as they rush'd madly Adown the spray-sown steep, past wood and knoll, To mingle with the waters of the lake Vexed with the storm and sounding loud in sympathy. What have we here? What human trace of times When hearts o'erflowed, and hand and steel were swift, And red in the flashing of a hasty thought? Ah me! these times, these woful times when word And blow were wed, and none could sunder them, And honour'd live! See yonder isle set single In the lake, near by where Earn darts swiftly 'neath The rustic bridge to bear the music of the place To broader Tay, who murmurs from afar In the rich harmony of his many streams--yon isle, The haunt of lovers now, where hearts that touch And thrill, cling closer in the eerie sense Of fear that lurks amid the tumbled stones Of robbers' lair. Here, once upon a time, When might was right, and men made wrongful Gain of Nature's fastnesses, a ruffian couched And preyed upon his kind. Long time he throve, But vengeance woke at length, and the heavy tread Of frowning men from far Loch Tay--skiff-laden. Adown the glen they came one moonless night, Goaded by tingling sneer of white-hair'd sire. They rest where Tarken pours his scanty tide, Then silently--nor moon nor star appearing-- Launch forth upon the lake, and softly steal Towards the caitiff's fire gleaming through the dark Like blood-shot eye. All saving one, and he Was left to skirt the shore and give the foe Rough welcome should he 'scape to land. Who then Fair-hair'd and young stood there in melting mood, With all his mother in his swimming eyes, Of abbot's line--with dirk half drawn, fearing, Hoping, praying, as his gentler nature bade That life and light would not go out together. The hope seem'd vain. From out the gloom there came The grinding keel--the tread of hurrying feet-- Clashing of words, of steel, and all was dark-- And all was still. But hark! a sound--the faint Breathing of one who swims with pain, the plash Of nerveless hands nearer and nearer comes, Yet ever fainter. What boots it now to have Escaped the vengeful swords that smote his kin? The waves engulf him and his bubbling cry. But unhoped help is near--a friendly word-- A plunge, then stroke on stroke, and timeously A hand to save. Say not, ye thoughtless ones, That yon grim head, clean sever'd from the trunk, Was the chief trophy of that night. Nay; For kindly thoughts endure, and the High Will That holds all things within the ever-opening fold Of His eternal purpose--that High Will Look'd down with loving eyes that pierce the dark, And bless'd the deeds that glorified MacNab, The abbot's son--half-savage and half-saint. Time sped; the deed was not forgot, and still The tale is told when nights are long and the lone Owl hoots upon the hill. And now there stands Within bowshot of the isle--a house of God That calls to prayer--a parish church--the fruit Of kindly thoughts that stirr'd the watcher's heart, And clomb to Heaven in mute appeal, that night When vengeance smote and light and life went out together.
So much, then, for the prospect which an antiquarian standing by the Well of St. Fillan would embrace within the programme of his research. If we try to form a picture of the social condition of the people who lived in the midst of this fair vale of Earn in those early days, it is a scene of continual strife we conjure up--clan fighting with clan, and one feud succeeding another. These were the days of superstitious pilgrimages, days of rooted custom and unchanging faith. So much the better for the Saint. The halo of his sanctity shines out all the more against the background of ignorance and strife. If he were to re-visit those scenes now, how much would he have to deplore! No more pilgrimages, no more belief in miracles. What a downcome from his dignity to be the patron of a golf course or the chaplain of a curling club, instead of enjoying the fame and name of the holy well. _Requiescat in pace_.
The past was not all strife, however. Traces of agriculture lead us to picture this fine strath as at one time throng with peaceful and busy life. There were, no doubt, in those warlike times intervals of peace, when the inhabitants of the glen could tend their cattle and cultivate their potatoes and corn at leisure; and whether we look back upon this land of the "mountain and the flood" as having been the nursery of our best soldiers, or as having been peopled by a race rendered strong and manly by a simple mode of life, the present prospect of our Highland glens cannot but fill us with sad reflection when we behold the process of emigration and depopulation still going on, and when we see that ere long the only links with the past of a once strong and hardy race of people will be the mere traces of their cultivation, the ruins of their once populous hamlets, and the grave-stones in their old burying-grounds.
It is true there is a compensating process going on. For while one regrets the disappearance of the old thatched houses of the primitive village of St. Fillans and the migration of their youthful life to the city, the rise of the modern villa along the loch side speaks of the growth of a temporary population known as the "summer visitors." It is not likely that their peaceful pursuits--their climbing and pic-nic expeditions, their regattas and loch illuminations, will be considered to be as worthy to be recorded in a future "Book of Chronicles" as the feuds and raids of the past. Still, it is to be hoped that this land of "brown heath and shaggy wood" may even in this innocent way minister to the rearing of a healthy manhood and womanhood, and continue to be the nursery of that muscular body and brave spirit which in the past have made the name of Caledonia great.
[1] _Proceedings of the Antiquarian Society_, 1882-83.
[2] Fortrenn seems to have been the ancient name of a large district of Strathearn, of which Dundurn, or the fort of the Earn, was the capital.
THE PLAIN OF THE BARDS
By Rev. ARTHUR GORDON, M.A., Monzievaird
To supply even in brief outline a sketch of the united parishes of Monzievaird and Strowan is to cover many centuries and to recall some extraordinary events and remarkable persons. These parishes comprise an area of about eight miles long by six miles broad, and on the map somewhat resemble a pear. The scenery varies from the bare summit of Benchonzie, the limit on the north, where the highest elevation is reached at 3048 feet, and the wood-crowned Turleum, 1291 feet high, where "wind and water sheers," the southern boundary, down to the well-cultivated and nearly level carse, which lies all the way between Crieff and Comrie at about two hundred feet above the sea. The little hills abound with coigns of vantage, rewarding the pedestrian; while even the driving tourist finds a rich harvest for the eye in the wonderfully diversified landscape presented on all sides. The River Earn, if it lacks the majesty of the Tay and the impetuosity of the Garry, makes itself recognised as the dominating feature, whether in its quiet meandering moods or in the flooded temper, overflowing its banks and spreading its deposit of alluvial soil. Its tributaries--the Lednock, with its "Deil's Cauldron," and the Turret and Barvick, oft visited for their pleasing cascades, along with many another rivulet and spring--call up the Promised Land of old--"a land of hills and valleys which drinketh water of the rain of heaven." In climate, also, this part of Strathearn is singularly favoured, sheltered as it is from the biting east wind and fortified from the northern blasts by its mountain barriers. Its rainfall, also, is far from excessive; for many sky-piercing hill-tops tap the rain clouds from the Atlantic long before they reach Central Perthshire.
The name of the parish, now called Monzievaird, but formerly Monivaird, and anciently Moivaird, is believed to be Gaelic, and to signify, not the hill, but rather the "mossy plain" of the bards. It is difficult to say how far this carries us back. The Bards are not to be confounded with the Druids, a religious class from which they were quite distinct. The bards seem to have been the seanachies, antiquaries, poets, and genealogists. It was their special function to compose and to chant verses or rhymes in praise of their heroes or benefactors, and in the absence, so far as we know, of any method of recording past transactions or histories, we may believe that our ancestors transmitted orally, in lines composed by the bards, the memorable sayings and deeds which they wished to hand down to generations after them. How far they were worthy of credit, and how far they were subject to the vices of flattery or detraction we cannot tell, but we may be sure that those who were accounted great in these ancient times were anxious to have their doughty deeds immortalised, and perhaps were as sensitive to the tone of public criticism thus represented as is the statesman or warrior of to-day. What would we not give to hear from the living voice of one of those bards, were it only possible, the stores of traditionary lore of which they were the sole depositories! As it is, we can but lament the almost total absence of reliable information regarding their genius, perhaps also the jealous competition for the laureate's place in these pre-historic times.
Remains at the western end of the parish are supposed to represent two Druidical temples. Cairns and barrows have been numerous, and in one of these, on Ochtertyre, there was discovered, near the close of last century, a stone coffin, containing two coarse earthenware urns. One of these held burnt bones, and the other the bones of a head, having the lower jaw-bone and teeth in marvellous preservation. In the stone coffin was also found a stone hatchet about four inches long, bluish coloured, and of triangular shape, which evidently belonged to an age before iron was in use here. It is well known that the Romans had camps at Ardoch, Strageath, and Dalginross. Evidences of their presence in Monzievaird might, therefore, be expected, and they are not awanting. A Roman burial-ground of some extent, full of large slabs of stone, lies northeast of Clathick (hence perhaps the name), and is in a line between the camp at Dalginross--a circular burial-place near Victoria--and the Roman station on the Brae of Callander. In 1783 there was found in the plain of Monzievaird a bronze vessel resembling a coffee-pot, and in 1805 the bronze head of a spear was found in Ochtertyre Loch. In 1808 similar spear heads were found near the church, erected in 1804, which now serves the united parishes. These relics are pronounced by the best antiquarians to be undoubtedly Roman.
We now proceed to notice the first written account which history gives of Monzievaird. If there be any truth in the old chroniclers, a battle was fought here, and, after a long civil war, a contested succession to the Crown was settled by the slaughter of the reigning sovereign of Alban, a usurper who passes over the stage of history under the various names of "Gryme," "Girgh Mackinat Macduff," and reigned eight years. It may be worth while to give several references. John of Fordun's chronicle tells how Malcolm, son of Kenneth, strengthened by the favour of the people, and at the instigation of some of his chiefs, sent a message to the King, giving him the alternatives of either vacating the throne, or that they two should submit their cause to the just verdict of God by fighting, either man to man or accompanied by their warrior hosts. Gryme was very indignant at this defiance, while Malcolm, on the other hand, boldly advanced to meet him with a small but picked band, and reached a field called Auchnabard (the field of the bards), styled "a meet place for a battle." Here the two armies fought out a cruel engagement, till at length the King was mortally wounded, and, being led out of the battle by his men, died the same night. Thus Malcolm gained the victory and the kingdom. The register of St. Andrews calls the slain monarch "Kenneth (Grim)," and makes his death to be "at Moieghvard" in 1001. _The Chronykil of Scotland_ calls this same place "Bardory," and in Latin "Campus Bardorum," which corresponds to Auchnabard. A cairn on a neighbouring height commemorates this conflict which made history; but the slain King was not buried here, but
"Carried to Colme-Kill; The sacred storehouse of his predecessors, And guardian of their bones."