Bonnie Scotland and what we owe her

by William Elliot Griffis

If there be one place north of the Tweed, where, at a single glance, one may view and comprehend the chief river system of Scotland, Stirling is that place. From this point one notes the main streams, the affluents, and the gathering of the waters, which make the Clyde, the Forth, and the Tay. He can then realize how great and how important in the political and economic history of Scotland has been that great central valley, which stretches from the North Sea to the waters of the Atlantic Ocean.

Stirling touches Scottish history very early. It was so strong, in 1304, that at its most famous siege, by Edward I, pretty much all the besieging implements and heavy siege machinery had to be brought from the Tower of London. At last, one engine, called “the Wolf,” was so terribly destructive that, by filling up the ditch with stones and rubbish, the English rushed over and fought their way into the keep. The castle was taken and for ten years it remained in the possession of the Southrons. In fact, it was to maintain the English grip upon this stronghold that Edward II assembled that mighty army for invasion, which was so signally defeated by the Bruce at Bannockburn.

STIRLING CASTLE, FROM THE KING’S KNOT

When one thinks of that decisive battle, which turned the face of Scotland for hundreds of years to France, for her art and culture, instead of to her nearer southern neighbor, England, he is apt to muse upon the different results had Edward succeeded. Possibly an early union of Scotland and England and fusion of the two peoples might have been the result and the ensuing story have been best for civilization and humanity; but certainly Scotland’s history would not have been either so interesting or so inspiring.

After the death of the Bruce, Stirling Castle was captured, in succession, by Edward Balliol and for King David. When the House of Stuart had evolved from a family of Norman barons, emigrants from Shropshire to improve their fortunes, and, acting as stewards in the new land, had reached royalty, Stirling Castle became the king’s dwelling-place. For centuries afterward, it was their favorite residence and the place of coronation of the Scottish kings. Here James II and James V were born and here James VI of Scotland and I of England was baptized.

It was James III who added so largely to its architecture and built the Parliament House. It is in an inventory of the effects of this slaughtered king that the first mention of the thistle as the national emblem of Scotland occurs. Later this device appears on the coins of the realm, but not until James VI is found the motto, “Nemo me impune lacessit.”

As we entered through the gateway and walked up through the battlemented Inner Way, we almost imagined we heard the din of clashing swords echoing the past. The palace, built by James V, in the form of a quadrangle, is in the southwestern part and is profusely decorated. Yet when ornamentation and structure are compared, two opposing systems appear to be at work. One seems to swear at the other. The critic had better not look too closely when near, if he wishes to enjoy harmony, for in this case, most decidedly, does distance lend enchantment to the view. Seen from afar, the ornaments appear rich and graceful, but when close at hand they become grotesque. Corbels and brackets are especially suggestive of agonizing exertion and the general effect is that of a nightmare. At a distance, these melt into harmonious proportions, but they lose their charm when we are close at hand. Here are hideous mixtures of human and brute life. Many of the leering faces are simply idiotic and the contortions of the bodies clustered together are horrible. As has been well said, “the wildest and least becoming of the classic legends are here embodied, without any attempts to realize beauty of form.”

What terrible paradox, or love of the ugly, must have dominated the taste of the sculptor, in the same age that reared some of the glorious abbeys of Scotland! The King’s Room, which had an oaken ceiling, with richly decorated beams, and in each partition a magnificently carved head,—the fame of which had gone all over Europe,—was abolished in 1777, when the roof, from its weight, threatened to fall in.

The Douglas Room recalls, to the student of Scottish history, some of the bloody episodes of feudalism, when, for example, a powerful baron like William, Earl of Douglas, set at defiance the authority of both king and law. James II, in 1452, invited the insurgent to meet him in Stirling Castle. The earl came only after receiving under the royal protection a safe-conduct,—which proved that there was a lack of loyalty and much bad blood. The king first used words of persuasion, but failing in this, he drew the dagger to break the bonds of the confederate nobles.