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Sunday, 17 April 2016

Linlithgow, royal holiday home and birthplace of Mary Queen of Scots

Commuting between one's castle in Edinburgh and one's stronghold in Stirling could be a pretty uncomfortable experience in the sixteenth century. With no M9, one was faced with a long bumpy ride on horseback or by carriage. Who wouldn't want to spend their down time instead in the royal palace at Linlithgow, with its lovely lochside setting and convenient location between the two famous fortresses?

These days the pleasant commuter town of Linlithgow is about half an hour by car from both Stirling and Edinburgh and is served by the main Glasgow to Edinburgh railway line.  Even more reason for the modern-day traveller to stop off en route or spend a pleasant Sunday afternoon wandering through the square and up to the palace.You could even reach it by the Union Canal, if you so wished.

As soon as you arrive at Linlithgow, you are reminded of the fact that this isn't just any old town but a Royal Burgh which received its Charter in 1540. The main square is dominated by the Cross Well, a reconstruction in 1807 of a 1634 original. Behind it stands the old Town Hall, now the Burgh Hall, with its striking double stairway. It's a 1668 reconstruction of the original hall destroyed by Oliver Cromwell. In Linlithgow, even the reconstructions seem to be old! Indeed, you see all kinds of reminders of the past as you walk around, old doorways, old carvings, whatever has managed to survive.

Sadly, not all of Linlithgow's modern buildings are in tune with their ancient surroundings. There are some terrible characterless blocks. Still, a good bit remains - or, at least - has been allowed to survive in some form.







However, when you walk up the road to the palace, you forget the twentieth century infelicities. Here is the dramatic tower of the Parish Church of St Michael, founded in the twelfth century and rebuilt in the fourteenth.

The impressive modern 'crown of thorns', created in 1964, is a replacement for the mediaeval original which was removed in 1821. Towers topped by crowns are a traditional feature of Scottish churches. You can see one at the High Church of St Giles in Edinburgh, for example.

It is well worth taking time to look around the church. My own visit this time was sadly rather hurried.






Over the centuries, various kings contributed to the church building. It was here that Mary Queen of Scots was probably baptised and various other monarchs, their courtiers and families worshipped. This church is one of those in which the National Covenant was signed. Here on the right is the Hanoverian coat of arms which was placed over the royal pew in 1746, about which, in true Presbyterian spirit, there is nothing special!


On entering, you are immediately struck by the elegance of the nave, with its delicate pillars, arches and ceiling. However, it hasn't always looked like this. In 1559, the interior of the church was knocked about by a Reforming mob, who destroyed its statues and altars. The splendid wooden reredos (the screen behind the communion table) still stands, though only the central statue of St Michael survived. Unfortunately, I haven't got a proper close up of it.

Yet not all the beauties of this church are old. On the right below is the wonderful Pentecost Window in St Katherine's Aisle by Crear McCartney, which was installed in 1992 to mark the 750th anniversary of the church's consecration.






Like many churches dating from the Middle Ages, St Michael's has had a varied history and uses. In 1620, the Town Council used it to store timber and 25 years later, the nave was divided up into classrooms by Edinburgh University, which had decamped there following an outbreak of plague. In 1650, Oliver Cromwell's invading army stabled their horses in the nave after the Battle of Dunbar, when they took over the palace next door.

You approach the palace itself through the archway on the left of the church. It was built by James V in 1535 and it is his heraldry and symbols which surmount it.











Once you have passed through the plain external entrance, also built in 1535, you find yourself in a beautiful courtyard. At the centre is a magnificent fountain, constructed by James V in 1538.

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The top of the fountain is capped by a crown. Around its three levels are carved grotesque heads as well as symbols of kingship, such as the lion and unicorn.


Look over to the right of the courtyard, however, and you'll see even older carvings over the above the East Entrance. This building dates back to the 1420s when the Stewart King James I rebuilt the original palace, following a fire which devastated the whole of Linlithgow.

In fact, the palace goes back even earlier than that, having been founded by David I in the middle years of the twelfth century. One monarch after another left his mark on it over the centuries.




James IV built Royal Apartments on the south and west sides in the 1500s (left).While in 1620, James VI/1 rebuilt the north side with its elegant windows surmounted by national symbols of his royal lineage and the Union of the Crowns: the rose (England), the thistle (Scotland), the harp (Ireland) and the fleur-de-lys (France).














The Great Hall was built by James I and then extended by James IV, who also added a magnificent carved fireplace.











The palace still retains some of its original carvings such as in the chapel (right) where there are angels playing musical instruments. In James IV's bedchamber, the ceiling bosses, like this one depicting a unicorn, are still quite well preserved.
Of course, seeing an ancient palace like Linlithgow in its ruined state, doesn't really give you much of an idea of what it was like to live there. We have to remember that it was a 'pleasure palace'. From the upper rooms, the royal family would have had wonderful views of the loch and their park. Here they would have played games like tennis and held archery competitions and jousting.

The royal apartments would have been furnished to the highest standards of comfort of the day. Walls would have been hung with tapestries to reduce the draughts. Fireplaces, like the one on the right which James V added for his new wife Marie de Guise, would have been gathering places for courtiers and family members.


James V himself had been born in Linlithgow. He became king  when just a toddler, after his father, James IV was killed on Flodden Field. It was in Linlithgow Palace that his mother, Queen Margaret, herself a Tudor, waited for news of her husband's death. Below right is the staircase to Queen Margaret's 'bower'.


James V's daughter, Mary Queen of Scots, also born in Linlithgow, inherited the throne when only six days old. Her mother, Mary of Guise, took her to Stirling Castle for safety when she was just a few months old. She later sent young Mary to France during the Rough Wooing, fearing that she might be abducted by the English and forcibly married to Edward, son of Henry VIII. Mary Queen of Scots visited the Palace twenty years later, after her return from France. However, by then she had already made some terrible personal and political miscalculations, including her unfortunate marriages. It was not long after she left Linlithgow that Mary was abducted by and, possibly forcibly, married to the Earl of Bothwell, who was also implicated in the murder of her first husband, Darnley.

As everyone now knows, Mary paid for her misguided decisions with imprisonment in Lochleven Castle by her fellow countrymen, incarceration by her cousin Elizabeth when she fled to England and, ultimately, her life. Her son, James VI, who had been removed from her as a baby and who later became James I of England, brought his new bride, Anne of Denmark, to Linlithgow. However, the palace's days as a royal court were soon more or less over, particularly once the court moved down to London.

What the visitor sees in Linlithgow, then, is principally a sixteenth century holiday home, small by royal standards, but valued and cherished. Here the royal family came to relax away from affairs of state, though here sadness and trouble sometimes also followed them.


Looking out over the quiet loch and parkland, it can be difficult to imagine the noise, bustle and colour of the royal court. However, look down across the courtyard and there, out of the corner of one's eye one can almost catch a glimpse of the servants carrying the chests of clothing and unloading the supplies required to keep the household over the coming weeks.


The end of Linlithgow Palace is a sad one. Bonnie Prince Charlie, the Young Pretender, made a brief visit in 1745, in his attempt to regain the throne for the Stewarts. Crowds gathered to greet him and the fountain ran with red wine in his honour. A year later, however, and the prince's fortunes had turned. The opposing army, led by his cousin, the notorious Duke of Cumberland, arrived at Linlithgow, some of them occupying parts of the palace. By the next morning, the building was on fire.The Town Council shrugged off any responsibility for saving it. Its furnishings disappeared into local houses, 'for safety'. It was never lived in again.






The information in this post was taken from the guide to Linlithgow Palace published by Historic Scotland and from the guide to St Michael's Parish Church.

If you found this post interesting, you may also like to read the following:

Following Mary Queen of Scots to Craigmillar Castle

From one royal stronghold to another: a visit to Stirling Castle

Peterborough Cathedral and an unexpected encounter with two sad queens


Sunday, 10 April 2016

From Cramond to Cammo along the River Almond

Cramond wasn't always a desirable place to live. In our previous post, Cramond Kirk: building on what the Romans left behind, we sympathised with the shivering Roman soldiers watching out for rebellious tribes living on the other side of the Firth of Forth. Over the following centuries, generations of farming and fisher families crowded into pokey little cottages, most without sanitation. By the eighteenth century, they had been joined by millworkers from the village's ironworks, maltings and breweries, for the River Almond, like the Water of Leith, was an ideal location for such industries. Cramond village was part of the Cramond Estate and by the end of the eighteenth century the Estate had decided to move the village to its current location, where the River Almond flows into the Firth of Forth.

By the early twentieth century, the village had become a popular destination for daytrippers from nearby Edinburgh and even holidaymakers from further afield. Even as late as the middle years of the last century, there were photos of crowded beaches. donkey rides and people ambling along the promenade. Don't think of Blackpool when you imagine this promenade. It's basically a broad path with woodland on one side and grassy open space and sea on the other side.


These days, the promenade caters for a rather different clientele: scores of joggers at any time during the week and mass groups on 'park runs' at the weekend. Here on the right is the promenade on a particularly wet day. And where do all these runners and walkers come from? Well, some come from elsewhere in Edinburgh but quite a few come from Cramond itself, for the village has become a very desirable place to live. Sailing boats tack to and fro. People are even talking of the famous Cramond ferry being reinstated.

However, we are going to leave the promenade and the sea behind us and turn to the left, along by the river. The old village houses and pubs are on the left. On the other side of the River, the thick trees come right down to the water. Looking behind us, we can seen the mouth of the river, with the low dark line of Fife beyond, on the other bank of the Forth. Looking ahead we can see the trees closing in on both sides and the weir ahead.


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Every so often, you come across old mill buildings, some converted in homes and tea rooms, some left derelict. I think the building on the left below is Cockle Mill, once an iron mill, while in the photo on the right you may be able to make out the dark ruins of the Fairafar mill, which probably started work in the late seventeenth or early eighteenth century. Once it was used to grind grain. It also seems to have been used for waulking cloth, that is, soaking and felting it so that it shrinks and becomes thicker. Later on, it became a forge, making tools and the ironwork for traditional farming implements such as ploughs.











The riverside path runs right through Fairafar mill. The water thunders over over the weir.











Beyond the weir, the water quietens down.











We pass along Dowie's Mill Lane. Like all the mills, Dowie's Mill used to use the water to power its machinery. It existed some time before 1697, the date its name appears in a charter. Like all the mills, Dowie's Mill manufactured different products at different times in its existence. It once ground grain, then became a sawmill making shafts and heads for spades and nails. Later still, it made upholstered furniture. In the photos below, you can see the workers' cottages.  Further along, you can still see the manager's house, now a private dwelling. (Sadly, no photo.)











You  understand something of the force of this river, particularly when in spate, when you see the size of some of the tree trunks washed downstream.











Ahead you can see the Auld Brig. built about 1500.











But we cross the main Queensferry Road and enter the Cammo Estate. It was originally owned by Sir John Clerk of Penicuik (to the south of Edinburgh), who lived from 1676 to 1755. He was a well known figure during the Scottish Enlightenment: Vice President of the Philosophical Society and friend and patron of the poet Allan Ramsay. Sir John was a man of many talents and, indeed, was the composer of several songs. He was a Whig politician as well as a lawyer, and supported the 1707 Act of Union with England. Sir John laid out the estate using his salary as Baron of the Exchequer for Scotland in the first Parliament of Great Britain, a post he held for the best part of 50 years.


Cammo Estate once had a lovely Georgian House which was still in existence in the 1970s. However, by then the estate had been much neglected and when the last owner died, the house burnt down. The City Council, which runs the estate as one of Edinburgh's parks on behalf of the National Trust, then sadly had to demolish it. You can still see the ruins of the house, however, on a raised mound surrounded by glorious woodland.




















The house was designed to look out towards the Firth of Forth, though the views are somewhat obscured now.











You can still make out some of the features of the original parkland, the stagnant pond, ruined piggery and stables. There is also a disused walled garden.









However, our walk has now come to an end. We have seen ruins of mills and houses and buildings which have been given another life in our own century. However, I would imagine that the River Almond itself looks little different from the way it appeared two or three centuries ago. Next time you're down in Cramond, take a walk along the river. It's worth it.








John Dods and William Scholes have produced a very interesting book of photographs comparing Cramond past and present: 'Cramond through Time', published by Amberley Publishing in 2012. I drew on it when writing this post.