by William Howitt.
Originally published in Howitt's Journal (William Lovett) vol.2 #34 (21 Aug 1847).
Glammis Castle.
1st Witch —All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane of Glamis!
2d Witch.—All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane of Cawdor!
3d Witch.—All hail, Macbeth! that shalt be king hereafter.
* * * * *
Macbeth.—Glamis, and thane of Cawdor!
The greatest is behind!—
Macbeth, Act I., Scene II.
The words of Shakspere start into the mind in many a place in the British Isles like the voice of some spirit reminding you that you are on historic or romantic ground. It was thus, as wandering some time ago in the North, I came near the town of Forfar, "Glamis and Thane of Cawdor!" I was not more than six miles from the ancient castle of Macbeth, a castle which came into his hands, only to lose it, by treason to his monarch. Glamis, or Glammis Castle, as it is now spelt, and Glamms as it is pronounced, lies in the beautiful vale of Strathmore, which gives its title to the family of Lyon, to whom Glammis belongs. The Lyon family is very ancient; it was allied in blood to the throne, and still ranks high in the Scottish peerage. The castle of Glammis stands in one of the finest parts of the vale, is a noble object, and is greatly visited, not only on account of its antiquity and its once commanding character, but as the scene of a royal murder, which time has invested with the interest of an old mystery.
I walked from Forfar through a very pleasant country to Glammis, and as I lay under a tree by the road-side, leaning on my knapsack, a party of gay ladies passed me in a light cart, whom I judged to be travellers bound to see the castle: and it proved so. I caught glimpses of this old house amid its woods as I went on again, standing in a stately solitude well according with its age, and traditionary fame. It is surrounded by a park of one hundred and sixty acres. It is one of the most ancient in Scotland, and one of the finest of its extent, though a part of it has been pulled down. It is still, however, a fine object as you approach it, being lofty, and built in a noble baronial style, with projecting lantern-towers at the top, and the front emblazoned with various coats of arms in stone. It stands rather low, amid a great extent of woods, and must formerly have been a desperate solitude. The woods have within the last generation or two been a good deal thinned out to pay the enormous debts of its possessors, the Earls of Strathmore, the present earl being a descendant of the countess who married the notorious Stoney Bowes, whose history, and strange treatment of his lady, may be found in the second volume of my Visits to Remarkable Places. I believe he is her grandson.
After passing from Macbeth, Glammis castle returned to the crown, and was granted to another party, and afterwards, by Robert II., to John Lyon, who married the king's second daughter by Elizabeth More, and became the founder of the family of Strathmore. But the estate did not descend undisturbed in the family to the present time. It was forfeited, in 1537, by the young and beautiful Lady Glammis, who was accused of witcheraft, condemned, and burnt on the Castle-hill of Edinburgh, in the midst of a vast crowd, a victim to the only witchcraft of youth and beauty. The great popular fame of the castle, however, is derived from the murder of king Malcolm Canmore, or Malcolm II., of which anon.
The approach to the castle, after passing the lodge gates, is through the spacious park, which gives a fine effect to the old fabric which stands at the end of a straight avenue of half a mile in length. This avenue appears to have been of lime-trees, but you see, as you advance, how much the park has been robbed of its old wood to pay the enormous debts incurred by a late lord. The fine old limes are gone, and their place is supplied by younger ones, till you get within a few hundred yards of the end. Here the full-grown, noble limes were not only remaining, but in full flower. Imagine the difference of date from their flowering-time in the south. A month before, when I left London, their blossoms were over in that neighbourhood—here, on the 20th of August, they were in full efflorescence, and diffusing their odour far and wide.
Here the castle, standing on its open lawn, presented itself to the eye in all its ancient dignity, very lofty, grey, and impressive. The old courts and gardens, by which it was surrounded, have been removed,—a thousand pities,—and there are now only two low, grey turrets, and a fence of palisades, stretching from one to the other, to separate the lawn in front of the castle from the park, Within this enclosure, the only object is a singular sort of stone ornament, consisting of four sitting lions, holding lyres in their paws, and on their heads other stone work, terminating in a point, and forming a strange sort of a pillar. The low door of the castle stands open, and as you approach, your eye wanders over the lofty front with all its sculptured escutcheons, its round projecting towers aloft, and its antique spires which surmount some of these.
The low door admitted me to the interior, where all seemed to be of solid stone, and all was plainly, but cleanly whitewashed. Here you at once become aware of the immense strength and loftiness of the place. The walls are in some parts fifteen feet thick, and the height of the building is such, that there are 143 steps in the spiral staircase, which leads to the very top of the house. The steps of this staircase are laid regularly round a hollow pillar, and occupy a large tower which was built on purpose to receive them. It is said that a boy, once playing at the top of the pillar, fell down feet foremost, through the whole profound cylinder to the bottom, and was not in the least hurt.
I found the party which had passed me in the cart about to make the tour of the house, and a lady came up to me, and in a very friendly manner, accosted me as Mr. —, the member for the city of London! I assured her that I had not the honour to be that gentleman, but she did not seem to credit me, for she was confident that she saw me write my name —, and recollected me quite well. She was a Londoner, going with some young ladies to every place in Scotland that their guide-book recommended, and I believe I passed with her for a very shrewd fellow, who would not be known, but still,—the representative of London!
The effect of being taken for a live member of parliament was to me very inconvenient, for the young ladies, and one in particular, were most assiduous in pointing out everything to me, much to my distraction, for I was obliged, out of politeness, to go frequently away from what I was noting down, to observe what they thought most worthy of attention; nay, I was led away by the arm repeatedly, or gently pushed forward to see things that they feared I might miss.
Well, in such very amusing company did I traverse the ancient Castle of Glammis, first up the winding stone stair, to the very top of the building, and noticed the rude old mode of ringing the bell at the top of the castle, by a rope which descended the hollow central cylinder of the staircase to the bottom.
The house is but thinly furnished, and what is particularly interesting, entirely with the antique furniture. "The room into which the visitor is first ushered," says Robert Chambers in his picture of Scotland, "contains a large trunk filled with the state dresses of the former lords and ladies of Strathmore. These consist chiefly of coats, vests, breeches, and ladies' high-heeled shoes, all richly adorned with gold and silver lace, and in a state of perfect preservation. Among those of other earls, may be seen the clothes of the amiable and unfortunate Earl Charles, who was stabbed accidentally by Carneggie, of Finhaven, in a drunken broil at Forfar, in 1728. Along with those of his betters, there are also shown the habiliments of the Fool of Glammis, who was the last of his class in Scotland, and living only about seventy years ago."
In the room called Lord Glammis' room, is a pretty good picture of Christ replying to the question regarding Ceesar's Tribute, the artist unknown.
In the room in which Malcolm was murdered, or at least died, the ceiling is of stucco in compartments, with the crown, the lion, and the initials of King Malcolm; and on the fireplace, the escutcheon of the royal arms. The bed is of crimson velvet emblazoned with the royal arms. The walls here are fifteen feet thick.
The tradition of the murder is, that Malcolm was attacked by assassins on the Hunter's Hill, which overlooks Glammis, and making his escape there, was again encountered in the park at a spot included now in the minister's garden. At both of these places there are antique obelisks, carved with hieroglyphical figures of animals, etc., supposed to commemorate the event. But he still escaped into his castle alive, where he lived three days, and died in the chamber now shown. It would appear that the assassins followed him into the very castle, which they plundered, and in the armoury they still show you a sword said to be the king's, and various brazen dishes, and a Roman camp-kettle, which were found in clearing the neighbouring lake, into which they had been thrown by the assassins in their flight, or had fallen out of their hands there, and had lain in the water above 700 years.
They used to show you the stains of blood on the floor in the good old way, though the floor has been three times renewed since the event; but the present housekeeper is too modernized for that, and says, "these were old ghost-stories," and that the original floor was of stone. There is also a tradition that the famous "Earl Beardie," of whom there is a portrait at Abbotsford, the Earl of Crawford, famous for his rebellion against James II., of Scotland, and popularly known as "the wicked laird," was playing at cards in the castle, and being warned to give over, as he was losing dreadfully, swore an oath that he would play till the day of judgment; whereupon the devil suddenly made his appearance, and as sudden disappearance with old Beardie and all his company, The room has never been found again, but the people believe firmly that old Beardie and his company are playing on, and will play till the day of judgment; and on stormy nights they are heard stamping and swearing in their rage over their play.
In the armoury, amongst various old arms, they show you a sword called that of Macbeth, and the shirt of mail which he wore after his criminal ascension of the throne, as well as the armour of the Earl of Strathmore, who fell fighting for the Chevalier at Sheriff-Muir.
The main room of the house, however, is the dining-hall. This has a vaulted roof, also stuccoed, and divided into compartments, filled with the heads of kings, the thistles, fleur-de-lis, lions, ete. The mantel-piece is one of those old stuccoed affairs of the date of the older Hardwick-hall, but not half so old as this castle itself, with a huge figure on each side, naked to the waist, and then cased in a square pilaster. In this room are many valuable paintings, as well as some very curious ones. There is at the head of the room a large family piece consisting of a gentleman in a close antique dress sitting; a young man standing behind him, and two boys of different ages before him, each with a dog, the younger one's a lovely Italian greyhound. Behind the group appears the view of the castle in its full and ancient extent, in the midst of its courts. This is a very curious old painting, and no doubt contains a curious family history; but we could learn nothing of it.
Amongst the pictures, besides family ones, are those of several of the Scottish kings. There are also portraits of the Earl of Lauderdale, a grim-looking fellow, well cut out for a persecutor; Lords Ormond, Middleton, and Dundee, of the same era, that of Charles II. There is a very fine portrait of a Countess of Cassillis and Johnny Fan, both in gipsy habits, and referring to a common gipsy love story. The countess, whose portrait is said to be by Vandyke, must certainly have been a woman with a history. The expression of the countenance indicates great will and little conscience, but it is a master-piece of painting. There is a portrait shown as Claverhouse, a fine-looking fellow, with brown flowing locks, but still very different to the portrait at Abbotsford, and to Scott's description. I fancy that the housekeeper shows the wrong one, and that a smaller one, hanging below this, is the right one. In the drawing-room, she showed Charles II., with Nell Gwynne on the one side, and the Duchess of Cleveland, if I recollect right, on the other, as Bloody Mary, (poor Nell Gwynne,) and the Countess of Chesterfield. 1 was obliged to set her right, and she said they had been the subject of great dispute with many gentlemen, and that that very day, Sir James Dean Paull, a London banker, and trustee to the estate, had been questioning with some gentlemen about the identity of these ladies. There need be no question, they are pictures too well known. Neil Gwynne is fellow to the one at Abbotsford, and a very beautiful thing.
This drawing-room they were just fitting up with tapestry that has been in the house for centuries. Besides these things, there are old chairs, and cabinets, and the like, said to belong to King Malcolm, and such ancients, but probably many of these ascriptions are apocryphal. There is an old bed, said to have been occupied one night by Prince Charlie, and the following one by the Duke of Cumberland, in pursuit of him. But the house itself, its general air and associations, are the most impressive and curious.
The chapel is a curious relic of the papal times, so rare in Scotland. Except for the work of time, it remains much as it was left at the Reformation. It is divided into singularly strong old latticed seats, or pews. The apostles are painted on the walls, and around the ceiling are square compartments, each containing a painting from the life of Christ. But one of the most singular things to be seen anywhere, is a representation of the Divinity, consisting of a triangle having a circle in each corner, and another in the centre, inscribed with the word Deus, with lines communicating with each, and connecting the whole into one general mystery. This hung in one corner, over an altar. Besides these, there are various other attributes of a Catholic chapel, and the tatters of the chaplain's gown, which has never been removed from the chapel since he last took it off.
The view from the leads is vast and noble. On the north rear the wild Grampians; westward you are said to see as far as Stirling; and amongst other objects was pointed out the hill of Dunsinnane, which shows its green and flat top between other hills at seventeen miles distance. The blue hills of Athol mingle with the far sky, and only six miles off stands the castle of Airlie, where the Ladie of Airlie, as the ballad has it, was pulled out of the house by the Macgregors, in the absence of her husband, and the castle set fire to. This is the lady from whom, on the mother's side, claimed to be descended that old Jamie Stuart of Berwick,—the old man whom I found near there, at the age of 112, and who lived to be 115, having, meantime, in his last days, through my notice of him, I am glad to say, received a good deal of public attention, and various presents from different noblemen and gentlemen, including 5l. from the queen.
Such is Glammis Castle, Around it lie many places of interest, but none of greater than itself, and you may imagine that this old haunt of royal murder and other tradition is an awful place to the common people. Few of these that I conversed with in the neighbourhood had ever ventured to visit it, or even to enter its old park and embosoming woods.
Yet perhaps the most singular thing of all is the abrupt manner in which the active and unceremonious tide of modern progress has dashed itself up to the very park walls of this old place. Close behind this wall, at within less than a quarter of a mile from the castle itself, is a railway station. This is the Dundee and Newtyle railway, the oddest of all speculations, and of all railways, It runs from Dundee to this park-side, ten miles or so, and ends here, that is, nowhere, and in nothing. It sets out by mounting the highest hill above the town, to get to the level, they tell you, but you never find any level at all, for you are constantly reminded of the old nursery rhyme,—"here we go up, up, up; and here we go down, down, down, 0!" They drag you up the steep hill at Dundee, by means of a stationary engine. You go on, and find no place that it goes to, except a very small hamlet called Newtyle. In this short course it has four steep inclined planes, where you are dragged up or let down by ropes and stationary engines. From Newtyle to the park-side of Glammis, a horse conveys the train of one carriage—for, of course, the engine at the top of the Newtyle inclined plane cannot offer its services to Glammis.
So, in the wood at the back of Glammis park I found about half-a-dozen passengers wailing for this train, sitting in very Arcadian style on some green knolls under some fine larch trees. They were hoping for, rather than expecting the carriage, for they said it sometimes did not think it worth while to come! So here we sate, and I chatted with the country people, the hoping-to-be passengers, and we became very merry, We talked of the habits and food of the peasantry, and I told them of having once made my breakfast off their oatmeal porridge, and slept all day after it. This sent them into fits of laughter. They said they should be prettily off if that were the case with them, and they must then eat it only to supper. We also congratulated ourselves on-there being no danger of an explosion, our train having to be only drawn by a horse; and over this, too, they were very merry. Good, simple souls, sitting in a wood by way of station, waiting for the arrival of a horse train, that might possibly come, how easily were they diverted. But this pastoral scene came to an end. A horn, and not the whistle of the engine, announced the approach of the carriage, and presently a dark object discovered itself on the line, afar off, preceded by a white speck, which gradually grew, not into a column of steam, but into a white horse. On the carriage, when it arrived, stood emblazoned—so that no simple soul might be imposed on—1st Class, one shilling; 2d Class, eightpence, i.e. to Newtyle; and the Arcadians all merrily entered, and so adieu to Glammis!