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As the County of Kinross,
one of the smallest in area of the divisions of Scotland, contains within
its limited space variety of scenery and wealth of historic association
unequalled by larger counties, so Bute, one of the least considerable of
the islands of the west, appears to the intelligent observer as a miracle
of loveliness, teeming with facts and fancies of olden times. The River
Clyde, which here debouches into the Atlantic Ocean, surrounds the islands
of Bute, Arran, and the Cumbraes, each presenting a different type of
beauty from the others, and claiming diverse meads of praise. The scenery
of Arran, whose bold outline of rugged alpine peaks in barren grandeur is
thrown against the sky, contrasts with the commonplace elevation of the
Cumbraes, whose gentle, undulating eminences are too fruitful and
well-cultivated to become the home of romance. To Bute is reserved that
combination of wild, unsophisticated nature and extreme civilization which
holds the greatest charm for the tourist of modern times. From the
inconsiderable heights which this island affords, you may overlook the
broad expanse of water which lies betwixt Bute and the Ayrshire coast,
whose continuous outline becomes reduced shorewards, until it terminates
in the distant point of Port Crawford; or, looking northward, the grim
desolation of the Cowal shore presents a different scene. There the
o’ertopping Argyll mountains fade away into obscurity, filling in the
distant background with some far-remote Ben, which none save an expert
will venture to name. There are not many places in Scotland where, at one
moment, we may find ourselves—
"Far ‘lone amang the Hieland
hills
‘Mid Nature’s wildest grandeur;"
and at the next may turn to view—
"The cloud-capped towers,
the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples"
of a very advanced
civilization. Yet these are points in the
island of Bute from which the beholder may elect either to feast his eyes
upon—
"The hills embrowned with
bracken? rusty gold,
And the bell-heather,"
telling of the scanty
pasturage and waste lands which produce the men of war; or to turn his
gaze upon the—
"Deep waving fields and
pastures green,
With gentle slopes and groves
between,"
of a highly-civilized
land,
which exhibits the blessings of peace.
From a slight elevation the
eye may at one glance see the ancient town of Rothesay, stretching around
the shore of its crescent-shaped bay, and uplifting its multi-form spires
and towers above the din and tumult of constant traffic; and at the same
time it may rest upon the placid waters of Loch Ascog or Loch Fad,
embosomed amid the uplands of the island, and reposing as tranquilly as
though they were situated in the least-frequented hills of the Northern
Highlands.
The summit of the
heath-clad steep of Barone Hill permits a very wide expanse of country to
be seen; and topographers of an arithmetical turn may reckon up twelve
counties as being thus brought within the range of vision. The receding
coast of Ayrshire allows a broad sheet of water to extend southwards to
the horizon; and the Argyll shore, suddenly trending westward, and
terminating in the elongated peninsula of Cantyre, leaves Bute standing
alone amid the surrounding element—
"A priceless gem, set
in a silver sea."
The very minuteness of the
separate portions of the scene gives a kind of fairy charm to it. For it
seems as if one were looking upon some exquisite model of Scottish
landscape, wherein might be seen, upon a reduced scale, the loch, the
hillside, and the river, with every distinctive characteristic which
belongs to "the land of the mountain and the flood." And so this lovely
islet is but a microcosrn, a toy-model of Scottish scenery. One is not
astonished, therefore, to find that Bute has some pre-historic ruins of a
religious establishment, whose unwritten story must be of a remote date.
The remains of the ancient
Chapel of St Blane may still be seen nestling in a sequestered dell in the
southern part of the island; and here, if tradition may be believed, the
holy Blane has peacefully reposed for these last thirteen centuries. The
architecture of the Chapel certainly belongs to an era of comparative
antiquity, though the dates of some of the earlier chroniclers of the
Saints are no more reliable than the chronology of the Chinese historians.
The story of Saint Blane as now preserved in the traditions of the island
must be taken with "a pinch of salt," as the Romans used to say. A certain
bishop from Ireland (these Irish people early found the way to Caledonia),
called St Chattan, had selected this part of Bute as his residence, and
here he settled with his sister Erca, resolved to effect the conversion of
the pagans of Scotland to the true and universal faith. Whatever effect
the ministrations of the holy man may have had upon the natives is now
unknown; but it is recorded that whilst he was powerless to win over the
King of Scots to his religion, the beauty of his sister enticed that
sovereign from the path of rectitude. The unhappy Erca, when her crime
could no longer be hid, was visited with the punishment then deemed the
best corrective for errors of judgment. She was placed in a coracle, or
boat of skins, and set adrift upon the bosom of the Clyde, a living Elaine
in search of her faithless Lancelot. The wind and the tide bore her far
away southwards, and cast her, with her helpless babe, upon the hospitable
shore of Ireland.
Here she was rescued by two
generous Hiberthan monks, who baptized the little stranger by the name of
"Blaan," and tended and cared for him for some time. At length he was sent
to his uncle, Chattan, in Bute, who adopted and educated him for the
priesthood, and shortly after his ordination he journeyed to Rome, and was
consecrated Bishop by the occupant of St Peter’s Chair. Returning to
Scotland he settled in Perthshire, founding the sacred house of Dunblane,
of which See he was the first bishop; and after his demise his remains
were conveyed to Kilchattan Bay, in Bute, the scene of his early life, to
rest near the relics of his uncle and
benefactor.
Not far from St Blane’s
Chapel there stands a vitrified Roman fort, showing that these ubiquitous
conquerors had penetrated even here, and left the traces of their
civilizing influences behind them. Indeed, the name "Bute" is said by some
philologists to be a corruption of the Latin "buda," the name applied by
the Roman historians to the western isles of Scotland. The defective
geography of the time probably led them to imagine that the whole of the
west coast was protected by a continuous chain of islands, extending from
Orkney ("Ultima Thule") to Arran, inhabited by a savage and irreclaimable
people, upon whom the arts of Italy could exercise no humanizing power.
Bute, therefore, seems to have been the spot chosen by them as the extreme
limit of the civilization of western Scotland, and here they terminated
their line of defence.
All theories upon the
origin of the fort of Dunna-Goil, regarding which no authentic records
exist, are but founded upon conjecture, and set solely upon circumstantial
evidence. The antiquity of Rothesay Castle, though wrapt in some
obscurity, is not so far removed from written history; and as the interest
attached to it arises from its connection with known events in the annals
of Scotland, the influence of inventive romance is not so apparent.
The ancient Castle of
Rothesay is peculiarly situated. The bay takes a gigantic sweep inland
from the point of Bogany to that of Ardbeg; and at the very centre of this
hemisphere, only a few yards from the shore, this venerable pile has been
erected. Unlike most of the ancient Castles, it is built upon low ground,
and might be easily commanded from the heights. Its position, however, has
doubtless been chosen as affording an extensive view of the Firth of
Clyde, though the clustering dwellings which now surround it effectually
interrupt the prospect. The building is considerable in extent, though the
various styles of architecture and the methods of masonry employed show
that the original structure has been very much enlarged. Possibly the
nucleus around which these additions have been made was the circular tower
on the east side, which bears the greatest resemblance to the antique
forts of remote times. And the derivation of the name of Rothesay, which
authorities say is compounded from the Gaelic Roth, a circle, and
Suidh a seat, give some countenance to the theory that the circular
donjon was the earliest part of the building. The crow-stepped Flemish
gables and circle-top windows of other portions belong to a period much
nearer our own time.
The Castle has been of
sufficient compass to contain within its walls an extensive courtyard and
a private chapel. Though now entirely roofless, there are many traces left
of foundations and razed walls which sufficiently indicate the importance
and extent of the Castle. In many parts of the buildings the walls are
over seven feet in thickness, and are composed mostly of square-hewn
stones with rough rubble-work. The edifice is surrounded by a moat fifteen
feet deep by about nine feet wide, which is supplied with water from Loch
Fad, though probably in the earlier days of the Castle the waters of the
bay have laved its walls.
The main doorway is the
least imposing portion of the structure, though the sculptured arms above
it, and the portcullis groove in the lintels still challenge the attention
of the antiquary. The clustering ivy which luxuriates in every portion of
the Castle, clothing its rugged front with vesture of perennial green,
serves to enhance the romantic effect of the whole scene, and to awaken
those memories of the past which are ever associated with this "dainty
plant that creepeth o’er ruins old." And the past of Rothesay Castle is
not uneventful.
It is supposed that the
original building was erected by Magnus Barefoot, King of Norway, some
time about the end of the 11th century. This redoubtable sea-king had
conquered the Hebridean Isles, and, descending as far south as Bute, he
there established a post from which he might menace the mainland of
Scotland. And if this tradition be correct, it is curious to note that
this Royal Castle of Rothesay was erected by an alien and an invader, and
must have stood for many years as a sign of the subjection of the natives
to a foreign yoke. Yet those jovial fair-haired Norwegians were no
ascetics, but bold, free-handed, and frank, as befitted the warriors whose
"march was o’er the mountain waves," whose "home was on the deep." And
these old walls, in their earliest days, must have witnessed many a scene
of "gamyn and glee," and resounded upon festive occasions with "mirth and
youthful jollity." For we know the method of the Norwegian rover’s life
from the Saga of King Olaf—
"The guests were loud, the
ale was strong,
King Olaf feasted late and
long;
The hoary Scalds together sang,
O’erhead the smoky rafters rang."
And with some such rites as
these was the baptism of Rothesay Castle accomplished in those distant
times.
Some romantic theorists
assert that the true meaning of Rothesay in Gaelic is "Wheel of Fortune,"
and state that this name was bestowed upon it in consequence of the rapid
changes which took place in the possession of this ancient fortalice. The
original appellation given to it by its Norwegian founders is now unknown;
but the study of its history sufficiently justifies this fanciful title,
as shall now be related.
The topographical position
of many of our Scottish Castles made them historical, even though they had
no intrinsic claim upon the historian. The names of many of them are
preserved, not so much in consequence of their importance as because they
occupied debatable land, upon which opposing armies continually met to
decide their contests. Such a position did Rothesay Castle occupy.
Situated at the entrance to the estuary of the Clyde, and possessing a
well-sheltered harbour and good post of observation, it was naturally one
of the coveted spots which attracted the attention of the northern
invaders. The Norwegians and Danes, who successively over-ran the coasts
of Scotland, were not ignorant of the advantages possessed by the hold of
this fort, and thus it happened that many a bloody fray took place beneath
its walls. And so, for a hundred and fifty years after its erection the
Castle changed hands frequently, until it came at length into the power of
the Norwegians after a protracted siege.
The native Scots had not
sufficient strength to dislodge them from this coign of vantage, and when
Hako, the Dane, led his great Armada into the Firth of Clyde, he found in
Rothesay a safe harbour for his fleet, and a strong fortress for his
protection. Warily extending his conquests, he took possession of Arran
and the Cumbraes, preparatory to making a descent upon the mainland; and
gathering together the combined forces of Norway and Denmark, he landed on
the Ayrshire coast immediately opposite Bute. But the young King,
Alexander III., had already aroused the Scottish peoples to resistance,
and, marching himself at the head of his army, he met the invaders at
Largs, but a short distance from their point of landing.
The fortunes of war were
not soon decided, as neither party gained palpable advantage over the
other; and so the battle was renewed upon three successive days. But,
Neptune and Æolus, the gods of the Sea and the Wind, came to the aid of
Britain, as they did three centuries later against the Spanish Armada of
Philip II. The wild nor’-east wind sweeping down the Firth, and lashing
the troubled waters into fury, drove the Danish ships from their
anchorage, and dashed them helplessly upon the unfriendly shore. The noble
barks, which had withstood the gales of many years, were powerless in the
narrow, unknown channels in which they were drifting; and the Danes found
in their melancholy experience that neither the winds nor the waves would
obey them.
The Scots were active in
taking advantage of this occasion; and they drove the too-confident
invaders ignominiously from their coasts. Hako retired with difficulty,
taking the remnant of his army to Orkney; and there, lamenting the flower
of his warriors and his own near kinsmen slain in this disastrous
conflict, he finally expired, the victim of grief and despair. Thus ended
the Battle of Largs, the last contest betwixt the Scots and Danes upon our
native soil. Nearly six centuries after, the descendants of those warriors
met in widely-diverse circumstances. Then "mighty Nelson" led his fleet
through the waters of the Baltic to the very walls of Copenhagen, and
proved to the successors of the Vikings of old that their rule over the
ocean was at an end. And if Hako mourned in defeat the brave army which he
left shattered and destroyed on the shores of the Clyde, not less, even
when crowned with victory, should we—
"Think of those who
sleep
Full many a fathom deep,
By thy wild and stormy steep,
Elsinore."
After the Battle of Largs,
the Castle of Rothesay was garrisoned by the troops of King Alexander, and
the Scots remained in possession of it until the faint-hearted John Baliol
surrendered it to Edward of England, as an atonement for his heinous crime
of independence. But the valour of King Robert the Bruce freed Scotland
from the presence of the English soldiers for a time, and he regained the
Castle. Scottish politics became confused after his death; and when
Randolph, the Regent, died, affairs reached a crisis. Edward Baliol,
collecting a scratch army in England, took advantage of the prevailing
confusion, and made a rapid descent upon Scotland. His attempts were
crowned with success, however undeserved; and as the young King, David
Bruce, had been hastily conveyed to Dumbarton Castle, as a place of
security, the invader followed him closely, and took the Castle of
Rothesay with ease. His army, however, was not of sufficient strength to
enable him to garrison this stronghold, and it soon submitted to the
partisans of the King. And when, some fifty years later, the troubled
state of Scotland had been somewhat allayed, the beauty of the surrounding
country and the salubrity of the climate, which had not been noticed in
warlike times, then attracted attention. Robert II., the first of the long
line of Stewart Kings, visited the Castle upon several occasions, and
latterly selected it as his residence.
After his death his son
John, who ascended the throne under the title of Robert III., continued to
hold Rothesay in favour; so much so that he conferred the title of Duke of
Rothesay upon his eldest son, making this an hereditary title for the
heir-apparent. Hence the Prince of Wales, who is Duke of Cornwall, and was
Earl of Dublin in Ireland, is Duke of Rothesay and Baron Renfrew in
Scotland. The fate of the first Duke of Rothesay could not be regarded as
a good augury by his contemporaries. The mild King Robert III., unfitted
by an accident in early youth from mingling in the warlike employments of
the time, was possessed of a mind more inclined to religious melancholy
and austerity than chivalrous bravery. It was, therefore, with deep regret
and pain that he heard of the wild and licentious character of his son,
the new Duke of Rothesay. The restraint imposed on this unhappy young man
by the influence of his mother had been withdrawn at her death; and he had
given loose rein to his passions, and would abide no rebuke. The King, his
father, was weak enough to allow his own brother, the wily Duke of Albany,
to poison his mind against Rothesay. So great an influence did Albany gain
over the King that he finally obtained permission to confine Rothesay in
close ward.
The Duke of Albany lost no
time in putting this power into practice; with the assistance of an
unprincipled retainer he seized his nephew and conveyed him to his own
Castle of Falkland, where Rothesay was enclosed in one of the darkest
dungeons, and refused the ordinary necessaries of life. Many strange
stories are told regarding this inhuman treatment. It is said that one of
the female servants assisted to keep him in life by dropping meal into his
prison-chamber through the crevices of the floor above; whilst another
bestowed upon him a portion of the provision which Nature had made for the
support of her own children. Rothesay’s unnatural uncle, having discovered
the sources of this succour, ruthlessly put both of these ministering
angels to death. When life became insupportable, the unhappy youth was
relieved from his misery by welcome death, after enduring the most fearful
torture of which the human frame is capable. His body was quietly conveyed
to Lindores Abbey and buried there, and his ambitious uncle found himself,
by his machinations, one step nearer to the throne. The title of Duke of
Rothesay was transferred to his brother James, who afterwards ascended the
throne as first of that name, and closed an unhappy life by a violent
death.
After the murder of the
first Duke of Rothesay, his father, King Robert, fearful that a similar
fate might befall his only remaining son, resolved to send him to France
for safety. But the ship in which the Duke sailed was captured by an
English vessel, and the Prince was sent into captivity in London. The news
of this fresh calamity fell with crushing weight upon the old King, and
brought him, heart-broken, to his grave; for, like Israel of old, he may
have said, "If I am bereaved of my children, I am bereaved." And as
the night of sorrow closed around him in his Castle of Rothesay, and he
thought of one son murdered and another in hopeless captivity, whilst the
brother, to whom he had trusted all, had proved faithless and untrue,
death must have seemed a glad release to him from the life-long trouble he
had endured.
It must not be imagined
that there are no pleasant episodes connected with Rothesay Castle. There
is a story told of an unwilling visit paid to it by James V., which is not
a little amusing. That merry monarch, whilst still "the Guidman of
Ballengeich," had often gone in quest of amorous adventures, but at length
he resolved to settle down to serious matrimony, and set forth, like
Cœlebs, in search of a wife. An intimate connection had ever been
maintained betwixt Scotland and France, and as a union with that country
was most desirable, James naturally turned his thoughts in that direction.
But the reformed doctrines had made many converts in Scotland, and the
nobles looked with disfavour upon a project which might place them at the
mercy of the ultra-Roman Court of France. James was self-willed, however,
and would not be diverted from his purpose. He sailed from Leith,
therefore, with the avowed intention of wedding a French Princess, despite
remonstrances of his advisers.
The weather was propitious,
and with "youth at the prow and pleasure at the helm," his noble bark
sailed onwards. But the grim Scottish Barons performed the journey most
unwillingly, and at length laying their heads together, they resolved to
trick the King out of his purpose.
One night whilst he was
asleep they persuaded the captain to put about ship and to run back to
Scotland. Whilst their unconscious victim was peacefully dreaming of love
and joy in France, his ship was speeding fast homewards and placing the
rolling sea betwixt him and his hopes. Judge then of his surprise and
indignation when he awoke to find that the distance between him and love
was increasing rather than lessening, and that the power over his actions
had been usurped by his officious advisers. He raged and stormed, and
swore most likely (for at that time to "swear like a Scot" was a saying on
the Continent), and vowed to punish the whole body of traitors who had
dared to coerce him. Against the captain especially was his wrath turned,
for the historian of the incident relates that "had not beine the earnest
solisitatioun of monie in his favours he had hanged the skipper
incontinent."
To vindicate his power he
ordered them again to change their course, and selecting Bute as his
resting-place, he remained for some time in the Castle of Rothesay, until
preparation had been made to convey him to Stirling. Like all his race,
this headstrong Prince became violent under opposition; and as though
influenced irresistibly by the magnet of love, he rested not until he had
set out again to wed a damsel whom he had never seen. The unhappy Queen
Magdalene, daughter of the King of France, whom he brought back to
Scotland, survived her nuptials only forty days; and shortly afterwards
James journeyed again to France upon a similar errand, returning with Mary
of Guise as his bride, the mother of the un-fortunate Mary, Queen of
Scots.
During the disturbed reign
of Charles I., the Castle of Rothesay was garrisoned in the interests of
the King by its hereditary custodian, Sir James Stewart of Bute; but no
serious engagement took place there, and the troops were despatched to aid
the royal cause in other parts of the kingdom. When Cromwell entered
Scotland he caused the soldiers of the Commonwealth to take possession of
Rothesay Castle, probably anticipating that the resistance of the Highland
Clans would be focussed there; and as he did not care to leave a garrison
so far from his main army, he instructed his men to destroy the strongest
parts of the edifice. The command was faithfully obeyed by the
Independents, to whom the demolition of Cathedral or Castle seems to have
been alike palatable. And Rothesay, which had been a tower of strength for
nearly six centuries, never again held its head aloft in proud defiance.
The old saying that "Time
tries all," applies to Rothesay Castle, which was now drawing to the end
of its existence as a royal residence. The Stewart line, the members of
which had been its first patrons, had fallen upon evil days. Charles I.
was beheaded; Charles II. died without legitimate heir; and the turbulent
reign of the Duke of York (James VII.) had spread dismay amongst the
majority of the Scottish nation. Many of the Covenanting nobles had found
refuge at the Court of William of Orange, and chief among them was the
unfortunate Earl of Argyll, who, by a most iniquitous sentence, had been
attainted and outlawed. The plots of William of Orange against his
father-in-law, then styled "James II. and VII.," afforded opportunity for
the malcontents. The growing feeling of dissatisfaction encouraged the
expatriated noblemen to attempt a rising against the Government; and the
joint-expeditions of the Duke of Monmouth and the Earl of Argyll were
organised. It was proposed that the former should land on the southern
shores of England while the latter made a diversion by invading the
northern part of the kingdom. In June 1685, Monmouth landed in Dorset, and
speedily drew a formidable following to his standard; but the rash
encounter which he dared at Sedgemoor finally overthrew him, and awoke the
vengeance of a ruthless government.
Argyll’s expedition had no
more fortunate issue. The leaders had disputed as to the proper point of
attack; and in the multitude of counsellors there is danger. Argyll
insisted upon landing in his own country, while some of the Lowland nobles
more reasonably proposed to win over the landed proprietors in the south
of Scotland by force or persuasion. A compromise was finally adopted
whereby the first landing was arranged to take place m Argyll, but the
attack to be directed against the rich counties bordering upon the Clyde.
Landing in Cantyre, the little army was soon increased by the Campbell
Clan; and, taking possession of Rothesay Castle, they fortified it,
storing the ammunition upon one of the small islands in the Kyles of Bute.
But the irresolution of the Earl proved the destruction of the army. Urged
by the confederated leaders to advance and give battle, he at last
consented to move the troops into the Lennox country, but here, when in
the presence of the enemy, his courage forsook him, and he declined to
risk an encounter. There is often as much skill in avoiding a contest as
in daring it; but Argyll could neither lead an assault nor conduct a
retreat, and his army was soon dispersed without having endured an
engagement. He was himself taken as a fugitive, and as he had been
sentenced to death in 1681, he was executed in 1685 without another trial,
though he had again been a rebel— an instance of the vindictive rigour of
the time.
Meanwhile the stores which
Argyll had laid up near Rothesay were taken by the King’s soldiers, and
his brother, Lord Niel Campbell, whom he had left at the Castle, made his
escape from the island of Bute, destroying the fortress ere he fled, and
leaving little to the conquerors save the blackened and charred ruins
which now remain. And thus, after a long and honourable career, this noble
pile closed its history in no memorable conflict, nor amid the din of
contending hosts, but during the tumult of a sham revolt the torch of the
incendiary was applied to the structure in wanton malice by the hand of a
Scottish nobleman. The third Marquess of Bute (1847-1900) did much to
restore the outer portion of the Castle, the changes made by him being
shown by the use of red sandstone, so that they may be easily
distinguished. |
