Floods, Droughts and Drownings - Nature and Supernature

Water is a strange medium.  We have noted before, in previous posts, that certain flowing waters in our region  have had an uncanny reputation, including the 'Dowie' Dean which flows through Glamis and the life demanding River Ericht, in Gowrie, to the west of Angus. (The story of the rivers which lure people to death can be read here: Waters of Death and Tales of Bridges). Other, still waters, deep, mysterious wells were said to heal the sick, and details can be found here.  Floods are, unfortunately, a fact of life though not all that common of course in Angus.  Brechin has an inundation in 1914 when the South Esk burst following heavy rain on Wednesday 5th May.  The aptly named River Street was the first to feel the effects, with houses being under 4 to 5 feet of floodwater.  The Almshouse, Public Hall and other places had to used to decant victims, but thankfully the waters had largely subsided by Friday that week.

The Brothock Burn flooding old Arbroath

Mysterious River Droughts

      Mysterious droughts of rivers are naturally more uncommon that spates and floods.  But there have been examples.  The first recorded example which I know about is stated to have happened to the South Esk around 1633.  The following quote is taken from an earlier source by Violet Jacob in her book The Lairds of Dun:

About this time a pot of the water of Brechin called Southesk became suddenly dry and for a short space continued so, and bolts up again and turns to its own course; which was thought to be an ominous token for Scotland, as it so fell out.
    About the month of January there was seen in Scotland a great blazing star representing the shape of a crab or cancer having long spaings spreading from it . . .it was thought by some that this star and the drying up of the pot of Brechin . . . were prodigious signs of great trouble in Scotland, which over truly came to pass.  

The drought in the river may be the same one which Brechin historian  David Black describes:

In 1634 the South Esk suddenly subsided, from what cause was not known, at least is not reported; but the fact is recorded and imputed as a sign of the troubles which then hung over the kingdom.  Tradition has it, that the bed of the river was wholly dry for twenty-four hours, except at the Ee-o'-the-Weil, and Stannachee, and that the water gradually subsided, and as gradually returned.  Most probably the circumstance had arisen from a great drought.

   Again, in the following century, according to James Mitchell:

The North Water, near Brechin, was suddenly dried up, in the beginning of 1763, from  6 o'clock in the morning to 12 o'clock at noon, when the water began to flow again as usual. 

This being observed at the start of the year, in winter, drought is an implausible explanation.

Tragic Deaths by Water

Tragic Deaths by Water

In memory of David Whyte, aged 27, and of
bis younger brother, Archibald Whyte, aged 18.
As the two brothers were proceeding to leap across
at a spot where the Mark, contracted by craggy
rocks on either side into a narrow and rapid torrent,
anon pours headlong over a high precipice into a
deep eddying abyss, when the elder, having already
crossed with facility, perceived that his brother
had fallen into the impetuous stream, urged by the
impulse of holy affection and by the vain hope of
saving his life, rushed in heedlessly after him, and
both lamentably perished together, on the 27th of
October, 1820, in the glen (or valley) of Mark,
parish of Lochlee, and county of Forfar. To commemorate
the premature death, as well as the
illustrious example of mutual affection, the talents,
the piety, and other excellent endowments which
adorned the hapless brothers—alas ! so suddenly
snatched away from their weeping relatives— this
monument was erected by their bereaved and disconsolate
father, James Whyte.

   The above epitaph is the translation of a Latin epitaph of the Whyte brothers who died at the precipice known as Gripdyke in Glenmark.  They perished while they were collecting their father's sheep.  The words were written by their brother Rev John Whyte, minister of Lethnot.  His brothers were taking a flock of sheep from their home at Glenbervie  to Cullow Market at Cortachy.  The place Gripdyke was named after a barrier erected to stop sheep straying to lower ground.  It is said that Archibald, in an act of bravado leapt over the precipice with his hands in his pockets and therefore could not save himself when he began to plummet.

   Equally tragic, but not so dramatic, was the drowning of three-year-old William Lanrence, son of a vintner at Usan, who drowned in a well there in October 1787.  

Doth infant's pain and death proclaim,

That Adam did Rebel?

His destiny proclaims the same, 

Being drowned in a Well.

Let all who mourn his early death,

Hate sin the fatal cause, 

And flee to Jesus Christ by faith

Who saves from Satan's jaws.

     Another poor child is recorded by have drowned in the same manner in the parish of Maryton.

Mysterious Drownings

The Rev Frederick Cruickshank wrote a history of his own cojoined Angus parishes of Navar and Lethnot.  He shows from his writings that he was aware of the unexplained side of the world and was quite prepared to admit the possibility of 'otherness'.  These are two of his stories, relating to drowning, the second one relating the fate of an unfortunate lad:

The farm of Corrie in the West Water has long since ceased to exist as a separate place, but the site is marked by the ruins of old houses betwixt Glascory and Hunthill. It was tenanted in 1726 by Alexander Gibb, and towards the end of the century by a person of the same surname, no doubt a descendant. The dwelling-house happened to be burned down, and a considerable sum of money was destroyed. Nothing whatever was saved. The only remnant of what the house contained that escaped the flames, was part of a leaf of the Family Bible, and the only words upon it that were legible was the verse from Revelation, 'One woe is past, and behold there come two more woes hereafter.' This so preyed upon the poor man’s mind as to drive him to fulfil the second woe in his own person, by throwing himself into a pool of the adjoining West Water. The house was rebuilt, and the last person that lived in it was called Smart.

A boy, staying with his aunt, the housekeeper at Waterhead, for the purposes of attending the West Water School, which was taught only during the winter, was on his way home in the dark of evening. The frost had been severe, and the river was covered with ice. The ice gave way when he was crossing, and he was carried down beneath it. His body was not got for some time, as no one could know where to look for it. Just at the very time when the accident must have happened, and the boy was expected to come in at the door, a loud knocking was heard at the window. When the door was opened no person was seen. The knocking was repeated, but though search was made round the place, nothing was seen or heard to account for it. Of course, when the truth was known respecting the fate of the boy, there could be only one interpretation of the mysterious noise. (Navar and Lethnot, pp. 297-8.)

Vanished Lochs

   Old Angus is likely to have been a more watery place as a hold in past times.  Edward's map of the county in 1678 shows large bodies of water near Dunnichen and Barry.  Both locks have now disappeared.  The lochs which survive in the are of Forfar Loch were once much larger and a lot of them were joined together.  A map of 1814 shows Loch Fithie joined to Rescobie.  The much reduced body of water at Restenneth once covered 200 acres.  Many of the lochs were reduced by being drained by landowners during the process of obtaining shell marl which was used as a valuable fertiliser.  The largest of the lochs here, Forfar, was lowered sixteen feet when the Drain to the Dean Water was cut.  

Some Works Consulted

Black, James, The History of Brechin to 1864 (Edinburgh, 1867).

Cruickshank, Rev. Frederick, Navar and Lethnot, the History of a Glen Parish in the North-east of Forfarshire (Brechin, 1899).

Hosgood, Blanch, 'Southern Forfarshire: A Regional Study,' Scottish Geographical Magazine, 35:1, pp. 15-29 (1919).

Jacob, Violet, The Lairds of Dun (London, 1931).

Jervise, Andrew, Epitaphs and Inscriptions from Burial Grounds and Old Buildings in the North East of Scotland, volume I (Edinburgh, 1875).

Jervise, Andrew, The Land of the Lindsays (Edinburgh, 1853).

Mitchell, James, The Scotsman's Library; Being a Collection of Anecdotes and Facts Illustrative of Scotland and Scotsmen (Edinburgh, 1825).

Another stretch of the North Esk

Auld, Auld Men and Auld, Auld Wifies

Some time ago I wrote about a man named Auld Dubrach, a native of Aberdeenshire and supposed last living participant at the Battle of Culloden who was 'discovered', living in extreme age, living in Glen Lethnot in Angus.  He died, allegedly aged 110, back in his native land.  I expressed some reservations about the truth of this man's self-promoted story as there are certain inconsistencies about his related adventures, and I still think there is room to doubt him.

 

   What does this say about the subject of this piece - long lived people?  Possibly, when it comes to claims of venerable age, there should always be a modicum of doubt.  That said, let us look at a random scattering of very old Angus people from ages past. For some reason, this (admittedly random) selection of patriarchs focuses very much on the largest urban centre in the country, whose industrial lifestyle might seem to mitigate against long life, but hey-ho.

    So, starting in Dundee, there is David Watson, who died aged 102 in his house in Hawkhill, in the West End of Dundee, on Friday, 12th February, 1819.  Like many honourable ancients he was described as being in excellent health nearly up to the point of his demise.  According to David Norrie, in Dundee Celebrities of the Nineteenth Century (1870), 'He retained the use of his faculties to his latest hour. He was the father of no fewer than twenty-three children.'

  Another remarkable long-liver who, even more remarkably, also lived in the Hawkhill was Janet Findlay.  She died there on Thursday, April 19th, 1827, aged 104.  According to David Norrie:

She at one time earned her subsistence by hawking the country with small wares; but during the last twelve or fourteen years of her life she was supported by the hand of charity. At the ripe age of 88, she gave her hand in wedlock to a youth of 25, with whom she occasionally resided till the day of her death; but his productive industry was not sufficient to shield his aged partner from the gripe of poverty. Her faculties were little impaired, and her death was occasioned by a fall which she had on the previous Saturday.

   It is a pity that more information is not readily available about this extraordinary life.  As an aside, I wonder if there's any family connection as my mother's name was Findlay!  Moving to the north-west in the same burgh, we find Robert Bain, who died in Lochee in April 1867 (some sources say September), at the age of 108.  (Charles Craig, a Dundee weaver who died in 1817, attained the same honourable age).  In fact, Mr Bain was only resident locally for a mere 18 month, residing with his daughter, Mrs Butchart, in Gray Street.  Born in Alves, Moray, he had spent 55 years working in the Carse of Gowrie in the employment of Lord Kinnaird and retired at the age of 100.  The entire village of Baledgarno turned out to see his departure to Lochee and there was a crowd to watch his arrival at his daughter's house.  He was dressed like a figure from the past - and such he was, with his tartan breeks and hose.

   In his final months Robert regaled the local press with tales of bygone days.  Several of his tales featured an evil local in the north named Kenneth Leal, who was eventually sentenced to the gibbet and chains until the birds piked the flesh from his bones. He once brought Satan in disguise to a card school one Saturday night at a farm , which ruse was only discovered when the farmer's daughter saw the cloven foot of the Dark One poking out beneath the kitchen table!

The old Hawkhill ('The Hackie'), breeding ground of ancients.

   Moving down the age range slightly, there have of course been many people who have nearly reached that magical three figures over the centuries. One such was Alexander Don, who was the father of the famous Forfar botanist George Don.  Alexander was born in Blackhall in 1717 and died in 1813.  At random, we may mention Andrew Duncan of Montrose, who died on 30th June, 1667, aged 99 years 8 months. Close, but no cigar.

The Murder of William Terriss and the Tangental Angus Connection

This post, in all honesty, has very little to do with Angus.  Rather it concerns a late Victorian murder whose victim, William Terriss, was one of the most famous actors of his day. The man who killed him was an Angus man, known as Richard Archer Prince, though this was not his real name. 

William Terriss

The Killer

There is relatively little known about the murderer of Terriss.  He was born in 1858 as Richard Millar Archer, son of a ploughman at Baldoran, just north east of Dundee (in Strathmartine and Mains parish, by my reckoning?).  One of nine children of his father, he was a product of his second marriage to Margaret Archer.  There was something backward about the boy and he did not flourish at school.  He had the reputation for being soft in the head.  Years later, with hindsight, his mother Margaret blamed his deficiency on a time when she left him out in the sun when he was an infact while she worked in the field.  he was never the same afterwards mentally.  Richard left school at 14 and went to work at a shipbuilders, but found his true vocation by getting small parts as an extra in the local theatres in Dundee.  After his parents migrated to London in 1875, the boy joined them soon afterwards, and by the latter part of the next decade he was getting various small acting parts in London theatres.  In the following decade he made the acquaintance of one of the luminaries of the West End, William Terriss.

   Terriss took pity on the young Scotsman, getting him minor roles and other work in the theatres.  As Prince had little real talent for acting, he was frequently unemployed and his situation was exacerbated by alcohol dependency, which in turn made underlying mental problems worse. He was known by the unkindly nickname of 'Mad Archer' among his associates. In between the sparse acting jobs, between May 1895 and July, 1897, Prince retruned to Dundee to work at any labouring job he could manage to get.  Inevitably, perhaps, there was disagreement between the young man and his benefactor.  In 1897, Terriss had helped Prince get a small part in 'Harbour Lights', a play he was starring in, which must have been a relief as Prince was close to desitiution.  But there was a falling out and Terriss's patience snapped.  The young Scot said something about him and was sacked.  Yet, to his credit, the great actor continued to send him small sums of money via the Actors' Benevolent Fund and still tried to suggest him for small acting parts.  By late 1897 Prince was in desperate trouble.  All of his clothes were in the pawn shop, save those he wore.  He was living only on bread and milk and he was behind on his rent at his lodgings at Buckingham Palace Road.

The Victim

   Like many bucaneering Victorians, William Terriss was a restless adventurer who could turn his hand to many things.  At birth, in 1847, he was William Charles James Lewin.  Among his formative, character building occupations was silver mining in America and (of couse) sheep farming in the Falkland Islands. He took up acting in his twenties and soon became a phenomenally successful stage star.  It is hard, of course, to judge the ingredients which made bygone actors successful if they existed before their talents could be captured by film or sound recording.  According to the biographer of Terriss:

He was cheery, he was electric, he was sympathetic; when he came upon the scene he brightened everything. If the audience had lapsed into lethargy, he was the one to arouse it, and to stir his colleagues to impulse. He felt what  he did, and meant what he said. He was held in good faith by the public; he never took a liberty with them, and never let his interest flag the last night as well as the first, to good houses or to bad, he never lost the grip of his part. [The Life of William Terriss, Arthur J. Smythe, 1898, p.152.]

The Murder, the Aftermath

    There was an ugly scene at the Vaudeville theatre on 13th December 1897, when Prince attempted to gain access with an invalid pass and was ejected. The very next night he gained access to the dressing room of Terriss and the men had an arguement. Prince was convinced that the famous actor was the root cause of all his miseries and was actively blocking him from progressing in the acting profession. 'That man's becoming a nuisance,' Terriss remarked, with understatement, afterwards. Two days later Prince was denied funds from the Actors' Benevolent Fund. That same afternoon William Terriss occupied himself by playing cards with some friends.  He took a cab to the Adelphi around seven and was looking for the key to the side-door in his coat when he was stabbed three times.  A friend of the actor caught the assailant, who was unresisting.  William Terriss died after a few minutes.  A few weeks before his death he had discussed a play where a character was attacked with a knife and remarked to a friend: 'Ah, no! horrible ! I could not bear that scene with the knife ; to be stabbed like that seems terrible. I should not like to take that part.'

   His murderer told the police, 'I did it for revenge. He had kept me out of employment for ten years, and I had either to die in the street or kill him.'  Prince appeared before the courts on 13th January 1898.  He was found, after trial, to be guilty,, but not responsible for his actions because of his mental condition.  He was confined to Broadmoor Criminal Lunatic Asylum. There he busied himself with organising entertainment for fellow inmates and conducting the prison orchestra.  He died, aged 79, in January 1937.

   There was an immediate reaction to the death of the famous actor.  The Prince of Wales contributed to a wreath, one of over a thousand floral tributes which honoured Terriss.  Queen Victoria herself wrote a letter of condolence: '...She deeply feels the loss which robbed the English stage of one of its brighest ornaments'.  And yet, his own profession felt bitter at the fact, as they saw it, that his murderer essentially escaped proper punishment because of the status of his profession. Sir Henry Irving bluntly said, 'Terriss was an actor, so his murderer will not be executed.'

   Legend has it that Terriss's last words were, 'I shall come back.'  And he did.  He is alleged to haunt Covent Garden tube station which, although it is near the Adelphi, has no direct connection with the incidents surrounding his death.  His shade is also supposed to have been seen, emerging from a geenish light, on the Strand.  It seems that the ghost mostlyfaded away by the 1930s, though it shad a notable last burst of activity in 1928, being seen in Maiden Lane outside the theatre in that years and also inside the Adelphi itself, where it garbbed and bruised the arm of a young actress in a dressing room.  There were several encores in the late 1950s and early 1960s, but subsequently Terriss - known for his geniality as 'Breezy Bill'- seems to have achieved eternal rest. Hopefully. 

Collie Cam, the Glen Isla Giant

Collie Cam, are you within?

Will you come oot and try to rin? 

I'm licking my pots an cleaning my pans, 

I'll no be oot for many's a lang!

  On the borders of what is now Angus and Perthshire, in the somewhat wild upland country, there was a prevalent race of giants.  One of them was called Collie Cam (or Colly Cam).  He and his wife constantly disagreed and their fights often involved throwing huge boulders at each other (as well as innocent bystanders).  Solid proof of this ancient, bitter dispute can be found in the form of Collie Cam's Stane, near the Blackwater Inn on the A 93 road.  Actually, this stone is only one half of a story, so to speak.  It happened that one day the giant was particularly enraged with his wife and picked up a missive boulder with the intention of extinguishing her forever. He hurled the mammoth missile, but it broke apart in mid air.  Neither half reached its intended target. One half is Collie Cam's Stane, while the other landed at Clachnockater in Glen Isla and became known as the Warrior's Stone.



   Collie and his wife lived in a cave on Mount Blair.  Local children chanted the rhyme at the head of this piece when they were in the locality, daring the giant and his spouse to show themselves.  It was said a low, rumbling noise often heard in this area was actually the sound of underground disputed between the two giants, which had been rumbling on for centuries.

   There is some evident confusion between the Warrior's Stone and the Gled Stane (or Glade Stone) at West Mill, Glen Isla, also reckoned  to have been chucked by Collie.  It seems too that Collie was profligate with his missile hurling, for there is another local boulder, the Sow Stone, which was thrown by him towards the hapless local inhabitants.  A variant tale states that the giant and his wife actually lived apart - and perhaps this was wise, given their combative natures.  While he lived in a hollow on the south side of Mount Blair, his wife - who sometimes went by the wonderful name of Smoutachanty - inhabited a cave at Auchintaple.  It is said by some that Collie met his end, appropriately, by being stoned to death by locals enraged of his constant harassment and theft.  Years later, two men explored his former cave.  They went out, but never emerged to daylight again, though it is said their voices were faintly discerned near the Alrick Burn, several miles away.

   There was once a man who was once in the employ of the minister of Glen Isla who constantly annoyed his master by asking him what he had to do next, instead of simply using his common sense to go about his daily tasks.  Finally, the minister one day instructed him to go to Mr Ferguson at West Mill and ask him for a loan of the Gled Stane.  When the servant went there and was shown the massive stone by the bemused farmer, he knew he had been played for a fool.  But whether he learnt his lesson from then onward is not known.

The Giant Country.  Blacklunans, now in Perth & Kinross, but historically part of Angus