Tales of the Whales (Part One)

One of the most extraordinary recent news items featured the finding of a Dundee whaling vessel near Disko Island in Greenland.  The story in the Dundee Courier (written by Stefan Morkis) came under the rather poetic heading of 'A Historic Gem Has Come from the Blue' and the piece details how a scuttled 19th century Dundee whaling vessel, the 'Wildfire', was identified via an image on Google Earth.

   The wreck was at first thought to be a viking ship, but in August 2017 Eric Habich-Traut and two other divers inspected the wreck in Quequtarsuaq Harbour and found that it was a relatively modern vessel.  Their research revealed that it was the 'Wildfire', a Canadian built vessel from the Tay Whale Fishing Company of Dundee which had been deliberately scuttled after its propeller was damaged by ice. The ship had been damaged 500 miles away, but managed to limp towards Greenland before being sunk on 18 July 1868.  As an aside, wouldn't it be marvellous if Dundee's redeveloped waterfront could feature an example of its old whaling fleet.  Sadly, no such ship survives and unless some very eccentric billionaire with local connections fancies raising the 'Wildfire' we are unlikely to see such a scheme come to fruition.

   This blog has been scandalously light in past posts concerning the whaling heritage of Dundee and Angus, but I am willing to make amends in this, the first post in hopefully many, about that particular hazardous industry, now long vanished.  As a start, the story of the traditional ballad of the 'Balaena' is given below in several version, in all their sea-shanty glory.

Oh the wind is on her quarter, her engines working free
There's not another whaler that sails out of Dundee
Can beat the old Balaena, she needs no trial run
We challenge all, both great and small, from Dundee to St. John
The noble fleet of whalers went sailing from Dundee
Well-manned by British sailors to work upon the sea
On the Western Ocean Passage none with them can compare
But the smartest ship to make the trip is Balaena, I declare
It happened on a Tuesday, three days out of Dundee
The gale took off her quarter-boat and a couple of men, you see
It battered at her bulwarks and her stanchions and her rails
And left the old Balaena, boys, a-frothing in the gale
Bold Jackman cut his canvas and fairly raised his steam
And Captain Guy with Erin Boy was ploughing through the stream
And the noble Terra Nova her boilers nearly burst
And still at the old whaling grounds, Balaena got there first
And now the season's over and the ship half-full of oil
Our flying jib-boom points for home towards our native soil
And when that we have landed, boys, where the rum is very cheap
We'll drink success to the skipper's health for getting us over the deep.

   There are several different versions of this traditional shanty which purports to tell of the maritime daring of the Norwegian built steam whaler named the 'Balaena', which spearheaded Dundee's arctic industry. As well as prowling the far northern waters the 'Balaena' also took part in the unsuccessful Dundee Antarctic Expedition to find new southern hunting grounds in 1892.  The old ship outlived all competitors and survived World War I as the last Dundee whaler.

  The ballad itself may originally have featured the earlier Dundee whaler named the 'Polynia',a 472-ton vessel owned by the Dundee Seal and Whale Fishing Company. Its skipper, William Guy, commanded the ship from 1883 until it was decimated by ice in 1891.
.

The noble fleet of whalers went sailing from Dundee,
Well-manned by British sailors to work upon the sea.
On the Western Ocean passage none with them can compare,
But the smartest ship to make the trip is Balaena, I declare.

Oh, the wind is on her quarter, her engines working free,
There's not another whaler that sails out of Dundee.
Can beat the old Balaena, she needs no trial run,
And we challenged all, both great and small, from Dundee to St John.

It happened on a Tuesday, three days out of Dundee,
The gale took off her quarter-boat and a couple of men, you see.
It battered at her bulwarks, and her stanchions and her rails,
And left the old Balaena, boys, a-frothing in the gale.

Bold Jackman cut his canvas and he fairly raised his steam,
And Captain Guy with Erin Boy was ploughing through the stream,
And the noble Terra Nova, her boilers nearly burst,
And still at the old whaling grounds, Balaena got there first.

And now the season's over and the ship half-full of oil,
Our flying jib boom points for home towards our native soil.
And when that we have landed, boys, where the rum is very cheap,
We'll drink success to the skipper’s health for getting us over the deep.

Oh, the noble fleet of whalers out sailing from Dundee,
Well-manned by Scottish sailors to work them on the sea;
On the Western Ocean passage none with them can compare,
For there's not a ship could make the trip as the Balaena, I declare.

Oh, the wind is on her quarter and her engine working free,
And there's not another whaler a-sailing from Dundee.
Can beat the aul' Balaena and you needna try her on,
For we challenged all, both large and small, from Dundee to St John's.

And it happened on a Tuesday, four days after we left Dundee,
Was carried off the quarter-boats all in a raging sea,
That took away our bulwark, our stanchions and our rails,
And left the whole concern, boys, a-floating in the gales.

 There's the new built Terra Nova, she's a model of no doubt,

 There's the Arctic and the Aurora, you've heard so much about,

 There's Jacklin's model mail boat, the terror of the sea

 Couldn't beat the aul' Baleana, boys, on the passage from Dundee.

Bold Jackman carries canvas and  fairly raises steam,
And Captain Guy's a daring boy, ploughing through the stream,
But Mallan says the Eskimo could beat the blooming lot,
But to beat the aul' Baleana, boys, they'd find it rather hot.

And now that we have landed, boys, where the rum is mighty cheap,
We'll drink success to Captain Burnett, lads, for getting us ower the deep,
And a health to all our sweethearts, an' to our wives so fair,
Not another ship could make that trip but the Balaena, I declare.

 

Lost Music of Ancient Times

The Harp of Pictland?

 To say that the past is largely an unknown territory is a cliche and also terribly true.  Beyond several generations the broad, recoverable richness of the past - beyond the mere record of facts - is irrecoverable. In nothing is this more true than music.  Several Pictish stones in Angus show evidence of the harp as a musical instrument:  stones from Brechin, Aldbar, Monifieth and Aberlemno.  Of these, the depictions on the monuments at Aldbar and Monifieth are more clear. Yet the three harps on the different stones are all different shapes, which begs the question about whether there was a wide variation in the instrument as used in Pictland.  The most contentious representation must be the Aberlemno stone. (For classification purposes the stone is sometimes called Aberlemno 3 or simply Aberlemno roadside.)  At the bottom right of the monument there is, what seems to be, a figure with a c shaped object which might be a harp.  Simon Chadwick on his website about early Gaelic harps thinks that this is a harp akin to modern Burmese or ancient Egyptian instruments and points out that the scene depicted above this may be the story of St David.  If this is so and the figure has a middle-eastern harp, how did the creator of the scene in Angus know what it looked like?

(Several stones from outside Angus portray harps, including one from Nigg where the harp stands by itself, without a player.)

   The stone at Monifieth more clearly shows a harp, the figure again at the bottom of the stone.  Monifieth being a noted early ecclesiastic site, the figures represented above may well be clerical functionaries, but we have no idea (if that is the case) how harp music may have been integrated into early church ritual.

Monifieth Pictish stone, with harpist at the bottom.

   At Aldbar, the represented harp stands alone midway up the stone and the human figure may well show both clerics (the two at the top) and laymen (the figure with the animal and the mounted man). It may well still portray a biblical story or scene.  

Aldbar Pictish stone.

A Whisper of Lost Melodies

   Even at a relatively early date, music was a well travelled commodity and musicians and story-tellers could even travel between countries if they were exceptionally gifted.  The Treasurer's Accounts of Scotland contain numerous entries detailing payments to many musicians, including - on Friday 23rd July 1490 - the payment of a large sum 'to the King [James IV] to gif the Fransche men that playt' for him' while he was staying in Dundee. Travelling east from Perth in 1497 James IV gave a payment of 14 shillings 'in Fowlis in Angus, to the harpar thare, at the Kingis command'.  The royal lodging is likely to be the mansion or castle of the Gray family there (predecessor of the current 17th century Fowlis Castle).  Whether the harpist was a resident family musician is of course unknown, as is the music he is likely to have played to the king of Scotland.  Going back further, the early Celtic mormaers and succeeding earls in Angus would have had poets and musicians to entertain them, magnify their deeds and commemorate their ancestry, but all trace of these locally has long gone.  

The Sang Schools

   Both Brechin and Dundee had educational establishments in the early historic period linked to churches.  Song Schoolds were founded in the Middle Ages in many countries to foster the training of priests and choristers who could fulfil musical functions within the mass.  In 1522 Elizabeth Masoun or Scrymgeour granted an annual rent from a tenement in St Margaret’s Close, Dundee, to assist the chaplain of St Thomas.  Part of the revenue from this altar was assigned in 1553 to support the master of the Sang Sckule in Dundee.  Such activities were discouraged by the reformed religion, but Dundee's school survived for many decades, as payments in the burgh records show:

1602.  Item to the Maister of the Song Scule – lxxx lib.1621, 1622.  Item to Mr John Mow, Maister of the Music Schoole for his fie and house mail (rent) – ij^c  lib.1628.  Item to Mr John Mow, Masiter of the Music Scule for his fie and house mail – ij^c lxvj li xiijs.  Iiijd.1634. The same as in 1628.

   Dundee later had three burgh schools, including the English School which had been established by the Town Council in 1702, although it had possibly derived from the Sang School, founded long before the reformation. The bishop of Brechin from 1426 to 1454 was John Crannoch, apparently an ambitious man, who sought to elevate the prestige of Brechin Cathedral by instituting a college in 1433.  His sang schule was enriched by the Earl of Atholl with a yearly endowment of £40 for four priests and six boys to sing masses for his kindred.  The boys were clothed in purple and white, shorn of hair and admonished to strictly behave.  Their welfare was entrusted to two resident chaplains, one of whom had to accompany them everywhere in public, presumably to enforce good behaviour.  Again, the school survived the reformation and morphed into a public school in later centuries.  The College Yards in Brechin's retains a memory of the school.

Do Shining Streams Dream of Radiant Ladies?

   The Paphrie Burn in the north of Angus is no-one's idea of a roaring river or an awesome body of water, but someone once  thought it was amazing, because its name comes from a Pictish root cognate with the Welsh pefr, which means 'radiant' or 'beautiful' (Inverpeffer near Arbroath derives from the same word).  The valley of the burn is in an area packed with ancient associations.  To the south is the Mansworn Rig, scene of a bloody encounter* and to the east are the hill-forts, the Brown and White Caterthun.

   A ghost goes here, about its solitary business in this small glen of the radiant stream, or at least it did until the land was changed in the late 19th century.  There is nothing so resonant as a dead ghost.  But at least the tale remains, and here it is, as told by the Rev. Frederick Cruickshank in Navar and Lethnot, The Story of A Glen Parish in the North-East of Forfarshire (Brechin, 1899):

In a hollow part of the road betwixt Menmore [Menmuir] and Lethnot is, or rather was, for recent improvements have done away with it, a place called the Leuchat Pool.  The burn running down from it to the Paphrie is still the Leuchat burn.  There is a well known tradition that close by this Pool a Tailor, once on a time, killed his sweetheart.  She has ever since haunted the place, and is recognised by her dress of light grey, which has given her the name of "the white wife."  Many persons passing by on dull evenings have seen her.  One of the Leightons of Drumcairn told me that he was riding across the Tullo hill on a moon-light night, when the spectral figure presented itself to his view.  He knew at once what it was, but to make sure he struck at it with his whip which went through the seeming woman without meeting any obstruction. His courage then gave way, and he set off up the brae as fast as his horse could go.  The figure kept an even pace with him for a little way, and then all at once disappeared.  I remain to this day under the impression that I once saw her myself.  I had been at the Manse of Menmore dining with my kind and hospitable friend, Mr Cron, and was walking home.  The time might be past eleven, but the night was not dark.  On reaching the Leuchat Pool, i saw a woman, clothed as above described, seated on the bank at the right hand side of the road.  I spoke to her in the usual manner, but to my surprise she made no answer, and got up, taking her way towards Menmore.  I did not think of the "white wife" at the time, and am not sure if up till then I had heard the story.  I took it for granted that it was some poor benighted traveller like myself, who was taking a rest by the road-side, and recognising me she was afraid to speak lest her voice should betray her.  But since that time I have come to the conclusion that if such a spectre haunts the place, it was certainly visible to me that night. [Navar and Lethnot, 299-300.]

[Author Adam Watson, incidentally, derives the name Leuchat from An Fhliuchad, 'the wet place', Place Names in Much of North- East Scotland, p. 107.]

   The Rev. Cruickshank, the son of a weaver from Kirriemuir, was born in 1826.  He became the incumbent of Navar and Lethnot in 1854 and resigned as minister in 1905, dying three years later.  Apart from the parish history quoted from, he also wrote Historic Footmarks in Stracathro (Brechin, 1891).

   As a footnote, it should be noted that White Ladies are particularly prone to haunt burns and other water features, though the Angus variant, in Dundee, Claypotts, House of Dun and Balnabreich generally dispenses with this rule of nature (apart from Benvie, possibly).

*  Tale of the Mansworn Rig. 

 On the eastern side of Tullo Hill, Menmuir is the Mansworn (i.e. Perjured) Rig.  It received its name after a dispute between two landowners.  Both men brought witnesses to the place to swear that the land belonged to their respective masters.  One servant swore to God that he was standing on his employer's ground, which so enraged the Laird of Balhall that he pulled a pistol from his belt and shot the man dead.  When the body was examined it was found that he had filled his shoes with soil taken  from his master's land so that he could truthfully swear his oath.

Church Bells (Joy and Music or Death and Darkness?)

The Folklore of Bells

Who would have thought there were things so dark and mysterious in the history of church bells?  If folklore generally bells are sometimes the means of banishing Satan and all dark powers, transmitting the power of goodness as well as pure sound. Slightly more supernaturally, in some places bells are heard under the sea, having been sunk in a shipwreck, forever tolling for their own  loss.

   Bells were sometimes given human names and attributed with powers to scare malevolent forces away.  It was said of the great bell in the church of Nuremberg in Germany:

By name I Mary called, with sound I put to flight,
The thunder crackes and hurtfull stormes and every wicked sprite.

The ropes at rest - for ringing the bells or hanging some unfortunate?

Hell's Bells?:  Stealing the Peals.  Continental Bells. Death at Navar

   In 'real life' there is a surprising association of criminality and dark acts sometimes associated with church bells.  Never as numerous in Scotland as in England, it seems that certain sacrilegious individuals viewed them only for their net worth as metal to be melted down and sold on.  So we have a record in the burgh archives of Dundee in 1560 when the Baillies ordered 'James Young to exhibit and produce before them the bell of Kynspindie, whilk was arrestit in his house to the effect they may do justice thereanent.'  Young was evidently a shady opportunist taking advantage of the redistribution of Church belongings at the Reformation and had misappropriated the church bell from Kilspindie in the Carse of Gowrie.  He did not respond to the demands of the Dundee authorities, so he was required 'to deliver to Archibald Dowglass of Kynspindie his bell or pay him the sum of twentie pounds.'  There is a tale untold about how he transported the conspicuous object from the village to Dundee and how he was caught.

   There was another bell theft a few months later when it was recorded:  'William Carmichell to deliver to the parochiners of Lyff their bell, taken by him frae certain persons wha wrangously intromittit therewith.'  Whether or not Liff ever got its original bell back is a mystery.  The current kirk bell  was cast in the Netherlands by the Burgherhuis foundry at Middleburg (which later also provided the bells for Liff's neighbours Benvie and Lundie, the latter dating to 1617.).  This foundry also cast bells for the Angus kirks of Farnell (1662) and Panbride (1664).  Lundie's bell was specifically made under the instruction of Michael Burgerhuys, His son Jan made the bell for neighbouring Liff Kirk.

   Oathlaw's bell (1618) was also made in Europe, as was that of Rescobie (1620, from the foundry of Andreas Ahem).   The first known bell at Kettins was cast by George (Jooris) Waghevens and was made in 1519. Monikie's bell, unusually, is of Scottish manufacture, made at Aberdeen in 1718.  There do not seem to be any outrageously ancient bells surviving in the churches of Angus.  The name of Thomas Tulloch, Bishop of Ross, is evident on the bell of Tealing, with the inscription saying it was dedicated to St Mary and the patron of the parish, St Boniface, in the year 1460.

   Cornelis Ouderogge of Rotterdam made Navar's bell in 1655, which was later given to Arbroath Museum.  It had remained in the kirk of Navar until that building became ruinous after the union of the parish with Lethnot in 1719.  It was then hung upon a tree in the churchyard.  While the bell was being tolled for a funeral the clapper later fell out and struck a young lad from the family of Wyllie of Tillyarblet and killed him on the spot.  In 1773 the locals erected a tower for the bell and here it remained until 1827 when it disappeared for a time.

   Knelling of the Passing Bell.  Dundee and Brechin Chime In

  There was a widespread superstitious connected with the Passing Bell, though tolling still happened at funerals under the sway of Presbyterianism.  Dundee's authorities at one time decreed 'that ony person [who] cause the gret bells to be rung for either saul mass or dirige, he sall pay forty pence to the Kirk werk'.  But, at another time, 'The bell is decernit till ring friely for all neighbours and comburgesses at ony neighbours decease without any contribution, except twelve pence to the sacristan ringer alanerly.'  This latter fee was also sometimes dispensed with as a matter of respect.

   In medieval times, the ringing of church bells occurred at different times.  Prior to the Reformation the kirk of Dundee possessed 5 bells, on which 'six score and nine straiks' were given three times a day, to call to 'matins, mess, and evensang'.  It was no easy matter for those people who actually swung the heavy bells.  On 10th November 1590 the burgh of Dundee recognised these concerns:

The Council, understanding the grite and continual travels and lawbours quhilk Charles Michelson hes in ringing the bells and attending on the Kirk at all occasions, and the exignitie [insufficiency]of the duty quhilk wes appointit of before for that service, quhairupon ane person can not lieve honestly, now appointit to him yearly aucht pennies to be upliftit of ilk neighbour having ane fire-house within the burgh, at sic time and season of the year as he sail think expedient... [The History of Old Dundee, Alexander Maxwell, 1884, 292-3]

   Three years later a new bell was bought on behalf of the burgh, probably from the Netherlands.  Apart from the instances above, the bell or bells were also chimed to mark the curfew.  Dundee's curfew was rung at 9, but later changed to 10 in the evening.  Brechin's bells began ringing at 4 in the morning and the last was rung at 8 in the evening.  The Beadle rang the 'little bells' on Sunday morning to announce the time for prayers and the 'great bell' in the steeple at the start of preaching.  The last bell rung at 8 marked the beginning of curfew.

The tower of St Mary's Dundee, the 'Old Steeple'.

Forfar's 'Lang Strang' and the Jealousy of Dundee

   Forfar's 'Lang Strang' bell has a special place in the affections of Forfar people and dates from the mid-17th century.  Two brothers, Robert and William Strang emigrated to Sweden and made a good living for themselves there. (They are generally supposed to be sons of Provost Alexander Strang of Forfar, but may have been his brothers.)  The Forfar brothers donated two small bells to their hometown, which were called 'six o' clock' and 'eight o' clock', and in 1657 donated a massive new bell to the burgh.  The elder Strang in Stockholm, Robert, commissioned Gerhard Meyer to cast a great bell to give to Forfar.  Before it was completed he died and his brother William took over the project. Robert also bequeathed 10,000 merks to the poor of Forfar.

   A popular story says that the bell was shipped from Stockholm to Dundee, but the people of Dundee were so jealous of Forfar's bell that they tore out the clapper and threw this 'silver tongue' into the River Tay.  Undaunted the Forfar folk collected their bell and improvised a new clapper which served for many years until local craftsman David Falconer produced a new one, which serves to this day.  This is the version of the story given by the Rev. J. G. McPherson in Strathmore, Past and Present (1885, p. 249):

When the principal bell arrived in Dundee from Stockholm, it was thought by the magistrates of that town too good for a small place like Forfar. A struggle ensued for possession of the bell, during which the tongue of it made of silver was wrenched out and thrown into the Tay. After a time, Forfar got possession of the Strangs' gift; but only on condition that Forfar would buy all the ground to be passed over in conveying it from the quay to the northern boundary of Dundee parish. This was done at great cost; and the place in Dundee goes still by the name of Forfar Loan. The bell was without a tongue for a century and the one now in it has not power enough to bring out its rich tone.

  Lang Strang is fulsomely praised by Alan Reid in The Royal Burgh of Forfar (Paisley, 1902), p. 136:

Swung 'high in the belfry' of the parish church, the large and graceful object is not to be seen without some trouble and exertion, but it repays seeing quite as much as it does listening.  Its great size - some three feet by four - as also its massive brazen build, commands attention; but the ornamentation and inscribing are equally interesting.  The Strang quarterings appear on one side, with these words:  'This bell is Perfected and Augmented by William Strang and his Wyfe Margaret Pattillo in Stockholm, Anno 1656.'  On the opposite side may be read:  'For the glory of God and the Love he did bear to his Native Toune Hath Umql. Robert Strang Friely Gifted this Bell to the Churche of the Burghe of Forfar, who Deceased in the Lord in Stockholm on the 21 daye of Aprill, Anno 1651.'  The words 'Me fecit Gerat Meyer, Anno 1656,' appear among the quotations from Scripture which occupy the upper and lower circumferences of the bell.  To bring forth the full volume of tone which 'Lang Strang' is famous requires a considerable exercise of strength and skill. Many an ambitious young Forfarian has had his mettle tried by the 'tow-rope' of the giant.

   However, a not of criticism is voiced by J. G. McPherson in Strathmore Past and Present (Perth, 1885), p. 250, who remarked, 'The bell was without a tongue for a century; and the one now in it has not power enough to bring out its rich tone.'

   The traffic of bells with Sweden was not entirely one way.  The Courier newspaper reported on 27th November 2013 that  a pair of Swedish Lutherans turned up in Carmyllie and announced they had found a bell inscribed with the village name just outside of Stockholm.  The theory runs that the bell found its way to Sweden soon after the  first Jacobite rising in 1715.  The Earl of Panmure had ordered the bell to be rung so enthusiastically that it was reported to have cracked and so a new bell was installed in the kirk in 1716.  So the bell marked with Carmyllie's name in Sweden may be that original bell, but no one knows how or why it ended up there.

Lang Strang

The Kettins Bell:  The Mystery of Marie Troon - Mercenaries, Monasteries, Bogs, and Theft?

   Another bell with continental associations and an even stranger tale stands in the kirkyard of Kettins.  The bell has the inscription:  'My name is Marie Troon and Mr Hans Popenuyder  [Popen Reider] made me in 1519.'  This Hans is possibly to be identified with the cannon-maker who supplied the cannons for Henry VIII's warship the Mary Rose. There is no proven connection between this foreigner with Kettins (or the Flemish monastery mentioned below).

Since the church was redesigned in 1893, the bell has been houses in a small separate turret, but was incorporated into the main building before that date. The first strand of mystery revolves around how a 16th century bell with an apparently blatant European origin can to belong to an 18th century church.





  Architect Alexander tried to unravel the story late in the 19th century and gave the traditional origin of the bell as relayed by antiquarian Andrew Jervise:

The traditional origin of the bell, as given by Jervise, is that it originally belonged to the Abbey of Cupar-Angus, had been removed from there, and lost or hid in a bog or myre at Baldinnie, a short distance south of Kettins, whence the bell was rescued by one Ramsay, and by him presented to the Kirk of Kettins, and he, in respect of the gift, acquired for his family a right of burial within the church. In proof of this story, Rev. Mr Fleming states that the burial-place of the Ramsays was immediately underneath the belfry. ['Notice of the Bell and Other Antiquities at the Church of Kettins, Forfarshire,'  Proceedings of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland, Volume 28 (1893-4), 90-100.]

   From that point, however, the story gets impossibly entangled.  One theory states that the monks at nearby Coupar Angus had possession of the bell and buried it purposefully before it was taken to Kettins church for safe-keeping.  However, there was a considerable time lapse before the closure of the abbey in the mid 16th century and the appearance of the bell and gift of it to the kirk in the very last years of the 17th century.  If Marie Troon is equated with 'Mary Enthroned', some argue that this connects the bell directly to the Abbey of Coupar, dedicated to St Mary.


   By the end of the 20th century it was widely theorised that the bell had been cast in Belgium and there was a small trickle of visitors from that nation who came from that nation to see the bell.  Flemish historians believed that the bell came from the monastery of Our Lady of Troon in Grobbendonk, near Antwerp, and was looted by soldiers. This connection had already been made in the late Victorian era by David MacRitchie, as told by Alexander Hutcheson:

half an hour's walk from Grobbendonck, there is a small hill which gives its name to the surrounding farm, viz., 'De Troon' or 'The Throne.' The farm-steading is part of an old monastery known as 'Maria Troon.' The Priory of Canons-Regular of Maria Troon was foiinded in the year 1414 near the village of Ouwen, now Grobbendonck, on the river Nethe, one hour's journey from Herenthals . . . But in the year 1578 it was attacked by the Dutch soldiers of the province of Herenthals, and burned to the ground. The monks were dispersed, and ultimately, in 1587, united themselves with the monks of St Martin's Priory at Louvain.

   How the Marie Troon actually made its way from the Low Countries to Strathmore, however, is far from apparent.  Some people say the Marie Troon was first used on board a ship and was possibly stole while the vessel lay in Scottish waters; others believe it fell into the hands of traders who sold it on to the Hallyburton family who had connections with Dundee and Kettins. Hutcheson however points out that the bell is too large to have practically served that purpose.

 


   Things took another turn when a well-manner delegation from Grobbendonk came to Kettins in the early 21st century and asked if they could have their bell back.  Among those pressing for the repatriation were Paul van Rompaye, a local councillor, and Martine Paelmon, a member of the Belgian parliament.  However, a compromise was hammered out whereby the Belgians indicated they were prepared to accept a bell made from a cast of the original.  Crisis and diplomatic incident averted.

Colin Sievwright the Weaver Poet and Queen Scota, Ancestress of the Scots

  A post of two halves, this one, and only loosely connected, I'm afraid.  Let's first look at the Brechin-born 'weaver poet' Colin Sievwright.  Born in Brechin in 1819, son of a hand-loom weaver, he was the eldest of a large family.  His parents were Solomon Sievwright and Martha Burnett.  He started work in the East Mill Company at the age of eight and was paid a shilling per week for seventy-two hours' work.  He married Annie Mackenzie in 1842 and they had four sons and one daughter.  The year before his marriage he was recorded in the census as being a resident in Kirriemuir, working as a weaver.  By the time of the census in 1871 he was living at 21 Dundee Loan, Forfar, and he was employed in a factory as a starchmaker, though he pertinently - and proudly - listed his subsidiary occupation as 'poet'.

   And a poet Colin Sievwright certainly was, a member of that peculiarly Victorian breed of artisan bards who flourished all over Great Britain.  The merits of this brand of poetry are hard to judge as a whole, and I admit that 19th century poetry in its entirety is not something which I love.  Colin published four books of poetry:  The Sough O' The Shuttle (1866), A Garland for the Ancient City:  Or, Love Songs of Brechin and its Neighbourhood (1873), New Lilts O' The Braes O' Angus (1874), Rhymes for the Children of the Church (1879). Sievwright's work covered subjects such as the beauties of natures and the characters of rural life.  He wrote in both Scots and English and the following (from his 1866 book) gives a flavour of his work, describing the (then) ruined castle of Inverquharity:

Auld Kirrie, Cradle of the Nation?

Scota - First of the Scots?  Dream Queen?

   In his introduction to his poem 'View from the Hill of Kirriemuir' (again from his first collection), Colin Sievwright provides some surprising information about Kirrie Den which seems to take us to a very remote place in Scotland's past:

At the entrance of this delightful arbour [where the Gairie Burn issues from a ravine at the west of the town], on your right hand as you ascend the banks of the stream, there is to be seen a little cave in the rock beautifully overhung with 'the ivy evergreen,' and known to the people in the neighbourhood as the Queen's Chamber, where it is believed that Scota Eta, a daughter of Pharoah king of Egypt, and the first who swayed the royal sceptre over Caledonia's hills and glens, found a shelter, when in the course of one of her Royal perambulations she was overtaken by the double calamity of darkness and drift.  In this little chamber we are told she passed the night in perfect safety, while her bodyguard lay encamped on the holm on the opposite side of the stream.

   The tale of this mythical queen goes back very distantly indeed into the murky past of both Irish and Scottish origin myths.  In one version of these confusing tales, Feinius Farsaidh and his son Nel were intrepid heroes and linguists who took the sacred Gaelic language from the Tower of Babel.  Nel made a good career move by journeying into Egypt and hooking up with the Pharoh's daughter, Scota:

He went into Egypt through valour
Till he reached powerful Pharoh,
Till he bestowed Scota, of no scant beauty,
The modest, nimble daughter of Pharoh.

  Following the drowning of the Egyptial leader in the Red Sea, Nel and Scota's son Gaidel Glas led their tribe west, into western Europe, and they were named Gaels in honour of him.  But how the Queen of Egypt happened to be encamped in Kirrie Den is anyone's guess.

Scota:  Any resemblance to any character, actual or fictional, is purely co-incidental.

More Classical Connections in Kirriemuir, the Graeco-Pictish Conspiracy

   Caddam Wood is the name of a noted Scottish country dance tune, and it is an actual case near Kirrie where - possibly - a Greek nymph once sported itself. (The wood features in The Little Minister, Sentimental Tommy and Tommy and Grizel by J. M. Barrie).  But there is a more elusive mention of the place (elusive to me anyway) in The Barrie Inspiration by Patrick Chalmers (1938), which states:

There is a legend of Caddam, borrowed from the Greek mythology, which tells how a god pursued a Greek nymph there, which was an unco' thing to happen in an Auld Licht Parish.      

 Further details of this Doric tall-tale are sadly unknown to me.  But I have a theory which may revolutionise the ethnicity of the entire Scottish race.  We know that Lallans was a name for the Scots language, and before that it was known as Doric, signifying a metaphorical connection with the wild, rural country of uncultured highland Greece.  But what if there was an actual, real DNA connection?  We know that Usan on the Angus coast was supposed in a so-called tall story to have been founded by the mighty Ulysses.  It all fits together.  It is too coincidental that we also have this story, however slight, of the minions of Pan cavorting in the Kirrie glades.  The Picts were neither Celts nor Scythians, but actually a lost tribe of noble Greeks, lost in time.  Case proved; enough said, except to state that less knowledgeable commentators may blame the transference of classical culture on a misinterpretation of local lads and lassies to the noble efforts of local dominies back in Victorian times, but that is quite simply not the case.

Sievwright himself.