Walks near Edinburgh 17

Walks near Edinburgh 17

To you it is but a rude, shapeless block of stone, too stunted and

lumpy to have any appearance of dignity, and not more venerable or

ancient-looking than any other time-worn, moss-grown fragment. But

to us who know, it is eloquent with a thousand voices! This is the

Cat-Stane, the most northerly monument of that intruding race by

which Pict and Gael alike were driven back to their native hills.

Beneath this massive stone has slept for centuries the grandfather

of Hengist and Horsa. "In oc tumulo jacit Vetta f. Victi." So its

mutilated inscription was read years ago by the learned Edward

Lhwyd,--and so does its latest interpreter, Sir James Simpson, read

it also.

 

[Illustration: _The Cat-stane_.]

 

The Venerable Bede, in describing the invasion of England by the

German tribes in the time of Vortigern, states that their "leaders

were two brothers, Hengist and Horsa, who were the sons of Victgils,

whose father was Vetta, whose father was Victa, whose father was

Woden." So the genealogy runs, and in this all the old chroniclers

are agreed; and here undoubtedly lies a Vetta, the son of Victa,

neither of them common names among the Saxons. We may ask ourselves

what brought the Saxon chief so far from his native shores, and to

a land where his race did not take root? But we have the authority

of Nennius for saying that the Saxons occupied for a short period

various regions beyond the _Mare Frisicum_ (the Firth of Forth),

and Ammianus Marcellinus tells us that, two generations before the

invasion of Hengist and Horsa, a Saxon host was leagued with the

other races of Scotland, the Picts, Scots, and Attacots, against

their common enemy, the Romans, and fought with a Roman army under

Theodosius. The battle probably took place near this spot, for it

must have been fought somewhere between the two Roman walls, and this

place is included in that tract of country. The vulgar name of the

monument, the Cat-Stane, points to this hypothesis, the name being

clearly derived from the British _Cad_, the Scoto-Irish _Cath_, the

Welsh _Cat_, all meaning "battle."[58] When Mr. Lhwyd visited the

spot in 1688, the sculptured stone was surrounded by large stones

laid lengthways, this one only being set on end.

 

[58] Should any one wish to pursue this subject further, he will find

it most exhaustively treated in vol. I. of _Archæological Essays_, by

the late Sir James Young Simpson, Baronet. May not possibly Torphin,

who gave his name to the neighbouring village of Corstorphine, have

been a leader in the same Saxon host?

 

Beside this venerable monument, how modern appears everything else

that we have looked at! What changes it has seen! And yet here it

stands, little altered by the centuries that have passed over it. One

deed of violence it was a witness of, which we must not forget to

mention. On this very spot, in April 1567, Queen Mary was seized, on

her way from Stirling to Edinburgh, by a troop consisting of eight

hundred spears, commanded by Lord Bothwell. They surrounded her

attendants, and, taking possession by force of the Queen's person,

hurried her off on the fatal journey to Dunbar.

 

Returning now to the point where we left the Glasgow road, we pursue

it for a mile, and then see on our right some beautiful hammered-iron

gates. These are the lost gates of Caroline Park, whose forsaken

gate pillars we shall see to-morrow. They now defend the entrance

to Gogar House, a curious old mansion with winding stairs, which

stands in a sheltered position near the Gogar Burn. It was once a

much more important place. It possessed two villages, Nether Gogar

and Gogar Stone. One has disappeared, the other dwindled down to a

few houses. It had a church whose priest was one of the prebendaries

of Corstorphine. Only a small portion is still extant, and that is

used as a burial ground. In the 14th century Gogar was given by

King Robert Bruce to his faithful companion, Sir Alexander Seton. He

was one of those who signed the famous letter to the Pope in 1330,

asserting the independence of their country, and vowing that, so

long as a hundred of them remained alive, they would never submit to

the king of England.[59] After him Gogar belonged to many different

families, including the Logans of Restalrig, and the Erskines, a

younger branch of Mar. At the end of the last century it was bought

by the Ramsays of Barnton.

 

[59] The original document, with signatures and seals attached, is

preserved in the Register House, Edinburgh.

 

We now turn to the left and pass Millburn Tower and Gogar Station,

and then, crossing the Union Canal, we finally emerge on the other

great west road that leaves Edinburgh and runs past Dalmahoy to

Midcalder. Dalmahoy, and even Riccarton (of which we see the woods

to the west of us), are too far out of the range of our walks to

explore; but, though Hatton is even farther off, we must make a

passing allusion to that curious old place. It is almost the only

house left in this part of Scotland which preserves untouched the

characteristics of the time when it was built, the latter half of

the 17th century. Part of the house is the original tower of the

Lauders of Haltoun,[60] and dates from the 14th century, but it was

completely altered and remodelled, when Charles Maitland, afterwards

fourth Earl of Lauderdale (who married the heiress) built the

present house. It stands back in a flagged court, closed by iron

gates. On the garden side the ground falls rapidly away, so that a

terraced wall bounds the courtyard on this side, and is supported

at the corners by curious old-fashioned pavilions with steep roofs,

and doors opening into the garden below. Everywhere may be seen

the coronets and crossed L's of the Lauderdales, who made this one

of their principal seats, till it was sold in 1792 by the eighth

earl. He was my great-grandfather; and a curious story is handed

down of his father's residence at Hatton. That Lord Lauderdale kept

a pack of harriers with which he was very fond of hunting. Time

after time these hounds put up a very large hare in the park, which,

after a good run, invariably succeeded in eluding them, and always

disappeared near a cottage, inhabited by a solitary old woman,

popularly believed to be a witch. His huntsman told him that hare

would never be caught, as he was sure it was the witch herself, but

Lord Lauderdale would not believe him. At last, one day, just as the

hare was making off as usual, the leading hound got near enough, and

seized it by the leg; but, not having sufficient hold, the hare got

away and disappeared in the cottage. Lord Lauderdale, who was close

up, jumped off his horse and went into the cottage, where he found

no hare, but only the old woman sitting by the fire, groaning and

rubbing her leg. She had been quite well that morning, but made some

excuse to Lord Lauderdale about having hurt herself. He knew better,

and so did every one else.

 

[60] The arms of Lauder of Haltoun were--argent, a griffon salient

sable, beaked and membered gules.

 

When Lord Lauderdale sold Hatton, it was bought by the Davidsons of

Muirhouse, who cut down the beautiful lime avenue of great length,

which formerly led up to the house. In their turn, they sold it to

the present Lord Morton, then Lord Aberdour, in 1872.

 

After this digression, we return to our walk, and continue our way

towards Edinburgh. It is a flat, uninteresting, highly cultivated

country through which we are passing. Away to our right, but quite

out of sight, is the deep valley of the Water of Leith, which runs

past Currie and Colinton. Near it stands the curious old house of

Baberton, where Charles X. resided for a short time, when, after

the Revolution of 1830, he found a refuge in Scotland. Just before

reaching Saughton, we cross the Water of Leith, which is permanently

spoilt and discoloured by the mills farther up. The beautiful old

bridge lies a hundred yards to the left, and to reach Saughton

Hall we have to cross it. It has three arches supported by massive

piers, and on a square panel is the date 1670, when it was probably

repaired. It is of great age.

 

Saughton Hall is the old seat of the Bairds of Saughton, now

represented by Sir James Gardiner Baird, whose grandfather let it,

early in this century, to the proprietors of a private lunatic

asylum. To fit it for their use, it has been so added to, and the

place so altered, that little of its original form remains.

 

We next pass the little village of Gorgie, with its tan works, and

find ourselves in the outskirts of Edinburgh. The suburb by which we

enter the town is called Dalry, a name of Celtic origin, from _dal_,

a vale, and _righ_, the king. The earliest mention of this property

is in the time of Robert I., who granted a charter of the lands of

Dalry to William Bisset. The Bissets were a powerful and important

family in those days. In the 16th century, Dalry became the property

of the Chiesly family, wealthy burgesses of Edinburgh.

 

[Illustration: _Saughton Bridge_.]

 

On Easter Sunday, March 31, 1689, the Lord President, Sir George

Lockhart of Carnwath, was shot dead by John Chiesly of Dalry. The

motives for this dreadful deed were those of private ill-feeling.

Chiesly, who was on bad terms with his wife, swore to be revenged on

the Lord President for assigning to her a small aliment (only £93 a

year) out of his estates. He was a man of violent and ungovernable

passions. Six months before the murder, he told Sir James Stewart in

London that he was "determined to go to Scotland before Candlemas,

and kill the President." "The very imagination of such a thing," said

Sir James, "is a sin before God." "Leave God and me alone," was the

fierce answer; "we have many things to reckon betwixt us, and we will

reckon this too!" The Lord President was warned of these threats,

but took no notice. Chiesly dogged him home from church that Easter

Sunday, and shot him in the back as he went into his own house,

in the Old Bank Close. Lady Lockhart was confined to her bed with

illness, but, on hearing the pistol-shot, she sprang up and rushed

forward in her night-dress, just in time to see her husband carried

in, and laid on two chairs, where he instantly expired. Chiesly,

being caught red-handed, was sentenced to death next day by the Lord

Provost. He was dragged on a hurdle to the Cross, where his right

hand was struck off while still alive. Then he was hanged in chains

at the Gallowlee, and his right hand was nailed on the West Port.

It was said that his relations and servants came at dead of night

and carried off his body, and buried it near his house of Dalry,

which for long after was alleged to be haunted. It is a curious fact

"that on repairing the garden-wall at a later period," says Wilson,

"an old stone seat, which stood in a recess of the wall, had to be

removed, and underneath was found a skeleton entire, except the bones

of the right hand--without doubt the remains of the assassin, that

had secretly been brought hither from the Gallowlee."

 

His daughter Rachel married the Honourable James Erskine, Lord

Grange, and was the unhappy Lady Grange, whose story is well known.

After twenty years of quarrels and unhappiness, her husband had her

secretly conveyed to the Hebrides, where, first in one island, then

in another, she lingered out in captivity and solitude the remaining

seventeen years of her most wretched life. Lord Grange was involved

in Jacobite plots, and it is believed that his wife's threat of

betraying him to the Government was what finally decided him in shutting her up where she could not hurt him.