Sunday, June 11, 2023

Ding Dong Bell - Patie's in the Well! - Part 2

A real-life disaster in Kirkliston, 6th September, 1823

The story so far . . .

Patie Stuart, a 78-year-old worker on Humbie Farm along with three of his colleagues had been clearing debris from a blocked water well. Unconvinced that the well walls were in a sound condition, Patie had descended into its depths for a closer inspection. However, as Patie was about to return to the surface there was a massive collapse of the well walls sending a cascade of masonry and earth tumbling down upon poor old Patie and burying him alive . . .

As the rumbling of falling masonry and earth gradually subsided, the three farm workers at the surface could only stare open-mouthed with shock at the calamity unfolding before their eyes. It was several seconds before wee Tam was the first to come to his senses.

“Ah think th' auld gowk mist be deid!”

“There’s na wey a'body cuid hae survived that!” said another.

“Patie!” screamed wee Tam. “Urr ye aye alive?”

It was several seconds more before a faint reply came from below.

“Na, I’m deid 'n' shimmyin' hauns wi' Saint Peter this gey minute ye idiots!”

With audible sighs of relief from the three men, they then tried to discover just how badly injured Patie was.

“Urr ye hurt?” shouted one.

“Na, I’m juist haein a pipe o' baccie afore ah settle doon fur a wee nap!”

This brought a smile to the lips of the others. Clearly, Patie was still feisty enough to be capable of a bit of craic and hopefully they could get him back to the surface fairly soon . . .

MIDDAY - and the three men had already been working an hour without any sign of Patie below.

“Howfur muckle mair o' this keech hae we git tae shift afore we kin see th' auldjin?” wondered one of the trio. “It's taking far tae lang!” a note of panic now rising in his voice.

“Listen.” explained wee Tam. “If we gang at it tae quickly we micht end up sending mair keech doon th' nook 'n' finish him aff fur guid this time!” 

“Bit we cop sae helpless 'ere as ainlie yin o' us kin reach doon intae th' nook at a time.”

“If ye pure wantae be o' some hulp, run alang tae th' doctor’s hoose 'n' fetch him. Patie’s bound tae hae mair than juist a few scrapes 'n' bruises whin we git him oot.”

ANOTHER HOUR HAD PASSED - still there was no sight of Patie, despite the growing pile of rubble recovered from the hole. Furthermore, there was no sign of the doctor and Jamie who had gone to fetch him. It was now over two hours since Patie’s interment and the men were becoming frantic with worry. Only the occasional faint caustic and ribald comments issuing from below kept their spirits up, sometimes difficult to make out over a persistent clanging of the Kirk bell in the distance – rather unusual for a Saturday afternoon. Surely, they must be getting close to the old man by now?

THREE O’CLOCK - and still no sign of Patie, or the doctor, or Jamie. By now wee Tam, who at 65 was no spring chicken himself was beginning to tire along with his workmate. This was a truly desperate situation. Would they be able to reach the old man in time?
    
[To be continued . . . ]

-ooo-

 

In Part One of this little saga, I questioned whether there were any pumps or wells still in existence here in Kirkliston.  The answer is yes! In fact, a good example stands against the wall next to the pool room in the Newliston Arms Hotel. (See opposite.) This particular pump is a ‘Lift & Force Pump’* designed to raise water to higher floors or draw water from greater depths than normal. The pump last drew water 20 or 30 years ago and it was found to be clear and potable after being tested. Although the pump is still connected to the water spring below, the rubber innards are somewhat perished and a major restoration would be needed to return it to working order. However, I don’t believe for a moment that this can be the only remaining relic within our historic village. This is where you, the residents of Kirkliston, can help to complete the picture. If you know of any other pumps or wells, functioning or redundant within the village, please drop me a line, with a photo if possible, to: apgeorge21@gmail.com Then I can update the rest of our readers with the news.

Watch out for Part 3 of ‘Ding Dong Bell – Patie’s in the Well’ to learn how the rescue operation is progressing and whether Patie will survive his ordeal. Also discover if your home in Kirkliston harbours the remains of a 19th century pump or well!

A P George
Kirkliston Heritage Society

apgeorge21@gmail.com

*  Thanks to Richard Williams at http://www.villagepumps.org.uk for correctly indentifying this particular type of pump.

SOURCES AND ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

British Library

David Gray, Licensee, Newliston Arms

Google Earth

National Library of Scotland

Wikipedia


Wednesday, June 7, 2023

Unsolved Mysterious Death

From a recent BBC Scotland TV series - David Wilson's Crime Files, Kirkliston is featured in the tragic and unsolved mystery of Robert Higgins Death. We post a link to this documentary below, both as a historical reference to the case and more importantly for those who may not have watched it, to give it a view with hope that you may be able to shed some light on the event and perhaps help resolve the case.

David Wilson's Crime Files 

Mysterious Deaths 

Series 3 – Cold Cases 

Contains some upsetting scenes. 

Criminologist David Wilson explores mysterious deaths and what happens when murders are clouded in mystery. David visits Boarhills in Fife to investigate the death of former soldier Sandy Drummond. Sandy was thought to have died of natural causes because of the absence of visible injuries, but following a post-mortem, it was determined he was murdered by a martial arts move to his neck. Crime writer Douglas Skelton talks to David about the unusual behaviour displayed by Sandy in the days leading up to his death and how his mother, Effie, died without ever finding out the answers she was searching for. 


David is joined in studio by our resident forensic scientist Helen Meadows, who dissects the evidence surrounding Sandy Drummond’s case and also discusses the curious death of Robert Higgins from Kirkliston. David travels to Kirkliston to examine the last weekend of Robert Higgins, who was murdered in 1995. Robert spent his last days away from family and friends and in the presence of a mystery couple. Crime reporter Jane Hamilton covered the case at the time, and she speaks to David about the unusual location where Robert's body was discovered, as well as the questions still left behind by the mysterious murder. 


Watch on the BBC I-player HERE.

Thursday, June 1, 2023

Ding Dong Bell, Patie's in the Well! Part 1

A real-life disaster in Kirkliston, 6th September, 1823

“Ah dinnae care whit ye think,” said Patie Stuart. “Ah'ament convinced th' sides ur aff tae haud noo we've raked that midden o' keech.”

“Auch! Ye dunderheided auld gowk! That well's bin thare sin Jock Tamson's bairns were breached – it'll be braw.”

“'N' a've bin aroond even langer than that,” said Patie, ignoring the lack of respect accorded by wee Tam, his junior at a mere 65 years of age. “A'm fur taking a closer keek.” 

“Auch – hae it yer ain wey ye auld fusspot.” 

Patie, wee Tam and a couple of other hands from Humbie Farm had been working since the cock crowed to clear one of the farm wells that had been out of action for several months. Now that the harvest was more or less safely gathered in, a few hours could be spared clearing the mud and other debris that was choking the well pump and preventing it from drawing water from the depths. The well was one of the many scattered throughout the Parish of Kirkliston and its failure had caused more than a minor inconvenience for those farm workers and their families living nearby, with the women having to carry heavy pails from the next nearest well, several hundred yards away. 

“'Ere, gimme a haun ower th' lip 'n' hulp me scramble doon if ye'v hee haw better tae dae.” 

“If ye mist then,” grumbled wee Tam. “Bit juist tak' care auld yin 'n' dinnae break yer scraggy neck!” 

“Dinna fash yersel' ye gallus gowk! A've dane this afore mony times 'n' ah ken weel whit a'm daein'!” 

With much banter and mutual insults, the other men carefully supported Patie as he began to ease his body down into the depths, bracing his back against the sides while holding on to the pump pipe for extra grip. 

“Kin ye see yer pal Auld Nick doon thare?” cried one of the workers. “Mynd ye dinnae sit oan th' tips o' his pitchfork!” 

“Aye!” shouted another. “'N' keep edgy fur th' fiery furnace!” 

As he descended further into the murky depths, the men at the surface grew quiet when Patie disappeared from view and failed to respond to their jibes. None of them had the courage to attempt what Patie was doing and in truth, were beginning to feel a little sheepish at letting such an elderly man take the initiative. 

At 78 years of age and straining to stop himself plunging to the well bottom, Patie was too out of puff to tell his workmates what he thought of their suggestions, having to concentrate hard to prevent his head and knuckles from scraping against the well walls. He’d been right though. The brickwork was in a sorry state, especially near the well head. Decades of damp and decay had softened the brick mortar and several of the bricks were already missing, probably lying at the bottom, 23 musty feet below. Still, the gaps in the wall provided useful footholds for Patie to rest upon from time to time. With the light beginning to fade the deeper he went, Patie decided he’d seen enough and shouted for wee Tam and his mates that he was coming back up. Whether it was Patie’s heavy boots digging into the brickwork or the removal of the rubbish being the cause we will never know, but at that moment a fearful crashing of masonry bouncing against the well walls heralded a catastrophic collapse of the structure. Cries of alarm from the surface only confirmed what Patie already knew; he was in mortal danger and his worst nightmare of being buried alive was happening as the debris closed over him. At the surface, wee Tam and his mates could only look on with impotent horror, fearing the worst for Patie as the shower of rubble and earth tumbled down, burying him in the depths below! 

[To be continued …] 

-ooo-

It’s unlikely that many of us have ever had cause to use a well for our water, being well provided (no pun intended!) with a reliable mains supply. Perhaps our mental image of a well is something like the one illustrated here on the left. With a cover to lessen the risk of debris falling down the shaft and a basic mechanism for raising and lowering a bucket, this is what we might think of as a typical village well. It’s a popular rural image and often imitated by keen gardeners who have installed faux water wells as an attractive feature.

However, in 19th century Kirkliston, a well was more likely to have been topped with a pump - like the one shown below - to make the drawing of water a less onerous task. Whilst there were numerous manufacturers of water pumps, most of them were of the same basic design; a mechanism that was attached to a pipe which was sunk into the ground until the water table was reached. By pumping the mechanism’s lever up and down, water would be drawn up from the depths and gush forth from the pump spout. Although there is no outward sign of a well shaft in the photograph, there is one there nevertheless. (Incidentally, this pump is situated not a million miles away in Blackness.) Numerous water pumps are still peppered across Scotland and the rest of the UK, some with most unusual and exotic designs. For those readers who wish to explore further, there is a wonderful web site to be found at http://www.villagepumps.org.uk which is undoubtedly the last word on the subject. I’m indebted to the kind cooperation of its creator Richard Williams for allowing me to use various photographs for this article and for his help and advice on the subject.



Are there still any wells or pumps in Kirkliston? Was there a well or pump near your home? Did Patie survive his ordeal? Look out for the next instalment on our blogspot!

A P George
Kirkliston Heritage Society 

SOURCES AND ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
British Library
David Gray, Licensee, Newliston Arms
Google Earth
National Library of Scotland
Richard Williams, http://www.villagepumps.org.uk
Wikipedia


Wednesday, May 31, 2023

Craigiehall House - The Crown and the Nazis

Hidden from view to the general public, Craigiehall House is probably unfamiliar to many residents of Kirkliston and the surrounding area, despite a history dating back to the 12th century. Situated within the campus of the former Scottish Army Headquarters just off the Burnshot Road between Kirkliston and Cramond, the house and grounds were requisitioned by the military at the outbreak of war in 1939. It was there in 1941, during the darkest days of World War Two that the house became the venue of a top-secret meeting between a prominent Nazi figure and a member of the British Royal Family. How this came to pass is a tale of intrigue, duplicity, subterfuge and treachery.

 One-Way Ticket

At around 11 pm on Saturday, 10th May 1941, a German Messerschmitt Me 110 fighter-bomber was nearing the end of its clandestine journey from Nazi Germany to Scotland. It was now time for the pilot – the aircraft’s only occupant - to bail out with his parachute, having failed to find a suitable landing site near his intended destination. Swinging back the cockpit cover, he began to lever himself upwards, only to be pushed back into his seat by the ferocious wind pressure. Suddenly remembering that the best way to escape was to turn the aircraft on its back and let gravity do its work, he pulled back the control column, inadvertently putting the plane into a nose dive and causing him to black out as the blood drained from his head. Fortunately, the aircraft then began to loop upwards until it reached stalling speed, affording the pilot an opportunity to regain consciousness. This time he was able to fall away from the aircraft and deploy his parachute, but not before striking his right foot hard on the tailplane of his aircraft as he fell to earth.

The pilot’s desperate attempts to escape from his aircraft had been under observation by one of the many Royal Observer Corps posts that kept a constant vigil against enemy attacks throughout the war. As the pilot floated safely earthwards under his parachute, a bright flash of flames lit the sky as his aircraft crashed to the ground. Despite blacking out once again on landing, the pilot was conscious by the time the first person to reach him arrived. David McLean, head ploughman at Floors Farm, Eaglesham helped the shaken man out of his parachute harness and asked him his nationality.

“German,” was his reply. He then introduced himself as Hauptmann (Captain) Alfred Horn and stated he wished to be taken to Dungavel House, the home of the Duke of Hamilton. However, his lengthy struggle to escape from the aircraft had carried him some considerable distance from where he meant to be. Instead, he had landed on Eaglesham Moor, 12 miles from Dungavel House where he had hoped to put down his aircraft on the nearby airstrip.

McLean helped the limping German to his cottage close by where members of the local Home Guard Unit and other military personnel soon arrived. After a rather fruitless interrogation of the pilot – now a prisoner, of course – he was shunted between various locations until someone with the necessary seniority could be found to take custody of the prisoner. Throughout, ‘Captain Horn’ persisted in his request to be taken to the Duke of Hamilton for whom he claimed, he had ‘a vital secret message’. By chance, one of the officers interrogating ‘Captain Horn’ had spent some time in Munich before the outbreak of war and thought he recognised the prisoner. “You look exactly like Rudolf Hess,” said the officer.

Rudolf Hess

Rudolf Hess loved Adolf Hitler; platonically. Hitler inspired Hess. They shared the same bitter resentment over the Treaty of Versailles which imposed crippling economic and military punishment on Germany after the Great War. Both ardently believed in the creation of an all-powerful Germanic Empire spanning the continent of Europe and for more than 20 years they worked together in creating what was to become the monstrous Third Reich.

As Deputy Führer, Hess was one of the most senior figures in Nazi Germany, which made his flight to Scotland in 1941 seem all the more preposterous and incomprehensible. However, Hess was convinced that the continuation of war between Britain and Germany was unnecessarily ruinous for both nations, although he was utterly convinced that Germany would be victorious sooner rather than later. Hess also believed there existed a powerful appeasement and anti-war lobby within Britain that was ready to oust Prime Minister Winston Churchill and replace his government with politicians that would sue for peace. There was another good reason for Hess wanting to make an early peace with Britain; Hitler was about to launch a massive attack on the Soviet Union. Having to fight Britain in the West and the Soviet Union in the East would place a heavy burden on Germany’s resources, one which should be avoided if at all possible. Hess’s mission was to bring peace proposals to the Duke of Hamilton and gain an audience with King George VI in the hope of persuading him to remove Churchill from office and replace him with a figurehead amenable to a cessation in hostilities and more sympathetic to Nazi Germany.

APPEASERS, TRAITORS OR PATRIOTS?

Lord Halifax

Who were the most likely candidates in Britain willing to oust Churchill and sue for peace? The previous Prime Minister, Neville Chamberlain had done everything he could to avert war, and his failed policy of appeasement had brought disgrace upon the nation in allowing Hitler to gobble up Czechoslovakia and Austria before finally declaring war on Germany after the invasion of Poland, (although it can also be argued that it bought precious time to enable Britain to build up the strength of its armed forces in order to better resist Nazi Germany in the future). However, Chamberlain’s early death from cancer in 1940 put him out of the equation as far as Hess’s plans were concerned, so it was to other figures that Hess hoped to appeal. In 1940, it seemed that the most likely successor to Chamberlain as Prime Minister was Foreign Secretary Lord Halifax, another notorious appeaser. As history records, it was Churchill who succeeded Chamberlain as Prime Minister and we know only too well that Churchill had every intention of pursuing the war until victory was achieved. Churchill got wind of clandestine attempts by Halifax to communicate with the Nazi regime in order to broker a peace agreement and therefore shunted him across the Atlantic as Ambassador to the United States. This kept Halifax at arms-length and well out of the immediate sphere of influence within the British Government. However, there were other eminent individuals and politicians within the British Government and society who were variously appeasers, anti-Semites and those who regarded Bolshevism in the Soviet Union as a much greater threat to peace in Europe than Nazi Germany and saw Hitler as a possible ally against the ‘Red Menace’.

The Duke of Hamilton

Among the dignitaries present at the 1936 Berlin Olympic Games was the Marquis of Clydesdale, MP, heir to the dukedoms of Hamilton and Brandon. Clydesdale was a renowned sportsman and aviator and had in fact been the first person to overfly Mount Everest back in 1933, a notable achievement in those early days of aviation. At the time, Clydesdale also belonged to the Anglo-German Fellowship, one of a number of British societies aimed at promoting trade and good relations with Germany. Although it is likely that Clydesdale (later to succeed as the 14th Duke of Hamilton upon his father’s death in 1940) had face-to-face conversations with Hess during the Olympic Games, it was through meetings and contacts later that decade with one of Hess’s staff that he may have been perceived as a useful conduit for Hess’s peace plans. Whilst having put out secret peace feelers to various British politicians, there was one other compelling reason why Hess wanted to meet with the Duke of Hamilton that day in 1941. As Lord Steward in the Royal Household the duke had direct access to King George VI – someone with the constitutional power to remove a Prime Minister from office!

The Duke of Windsor (formerly King Edward VIII)



Apart from the establishment and constitutional abohorrence at a British monarch wishing to marry a twice-divorced American citizen (bearing in mind that a reigning British monarch is the head of the Church of England and Defender of the Faith), the Duke of Windsor’s openly pro-Fascist views and his desire for an Anglo-German alliance were of great concern to the British Government. In 1937 he had visited Germany and was warmly received by Hitler and other prominent Nazis who saw him as a likely pawn in gaining Britain’s future acquiesence to Hitler’s plans for European expansion and domination.

In the early days of the war, approaches were made to the duke by German intermediaries regarding his desire for peace and willingness to be reinstated as King of Great Britain should circumstances change in the future. Again, news of these attempts to broker peace became known to Churchill. Again, it was deemed expedient to remove the troublesome individual to somewhere out of harm’s way; hence the duke’s appointment as Governor of the Bahamas on the other side of the Atlantic!

Prince George, The Duke of Kent

Before the war he worked closely with his brother David* (King Edward VIII) and shared openly, similar pro-German sympathies. At various times he served in all three branches of the Armed Forces and even worked as a Civil Servant in the Foreign Office and later the Home Office, the first member of the Royal Family to do so. Although married, he had a somewhat tarnished reputation as a playboy and cad and was reputed to have had affairs with various individuals ranging from Noël Coward and Anthony Blunt (later to be exposed as a Soviet spy) to the musical star Jessie Matthews. It was also rumoured he was addicted to drugs, especially morphine and cocaine which was not such a commonplace vice then, as it is today.

The Interrogation of Hess

Even if Hess has landed successfully on the airstrip at Dungavel House at the end of his solo flight, he would have been hugely disappointed to discover that the Duke of Hamilton was not at home. In fact, he was at RAF Turnhouse in Edinburgh where he was station commander! Hamilton received a call in the middle of the night that a German airman had crash landed and was probably Rudolf Hess and that he urgently requested a meeting with him. It was evident that Hess’s arrival and demand to meet the duke was as much of a surprise and mystery to Hamilton as it was to most people. 

At this time, Hess was being held at Maryhill Barracks, Glasgow where a somewhat chaotic preliminary interrogation had gleaned little from a generally uncooperative Hess. On hearing his constant demands to meet with the Duke of Hamilton on matters of great importance, Hamilton was instructed by his superiors to drive the 50 miles from RAF Turnhouse to Maryhill Barracks where he arrived at 10 am that morning. At first, Hamilton did not recognise Hess, but was eventually persuaded of his identity when Hess reminded him that they had lunched together at Hess’s house in 1936 during the Olympics. Hess told Hamilton that he was ‘on a mission of humanity’ and that Hitler did not wish to defeat England [sic] and wished to stop fighting. Hess went to outline Hitler’s terms for peace and asked that the King give him ‘parole’ as he had come unarmed and of his own free will. 

Hamilton was soon to be called down to London to report in person to senior government figures including Churchill himself while Hess was transferred for safety to Drymen Military Hospital on the shores of Loch Lomond, as Maryhill was deemed too vulnerable to German air raids. However, it was not long before Hess was to be shifted again to yet another location …

-ooo-

On Tuesday,13th May, a pilot officer named Frank Day and 5 other young pilots were ordered to report to RAF Turnhouse where they were rather mysteriously told to stand guard duty. Soon afterwards they were driven a short distance – about 5 miles - to a large Victorian house. Later, a tall German officer in Luftwaffe uniform arrived escorted by two soldiers and was shown into one of the rooms outside which Frank Day was standing guard. Five minutes later a senior RAF officer arrived wearing a gold-braided cap and several medal ribbons. Day was later told that the RAF officer was ‘the duke’ who he assumed was the Duke of Hamilton. However, the gold braid and chest full of medals sported by the new arrival meant he could not possibly have been the Duke of Hamilton who was a Wing Commander and did not wear a cap with gold braid. Sensationally, the description certainly DID match that of another ‘duke’ with the rank of Air Vice-Marshal. The ‘large Victorian house’ in question was, of course, Craigiehall House and the ‘duke’ was none other than Prince George, Duke of Kent, the younger brother of King George VI.

In order to convince Hess that his peace proposals were being taken seriously Churchill thought a meeting with the king’s brother might cause Hess to reveal more information than he had thus far. With the duke being so closely related to the king, Hess might be convinced that the next step would be a meeting with the king himself and the culmination of his ambitions for the removal of the Churchill Government. Conveniently, at that time the Duke of Kent was residing at Pitliver House near Rosyth just across the Forth. It may have been possible that the duke would be recognised at Drymen Military Hospital whilst a short hop across the Forth to a secure military base like Craigiehall House would reduce the chances of this happening.

To this day, what took place at that meeting in Craigiehall House remains buried along with other sensitive state secrets. It seems possible that Hess may have been the victim of a ‘sting’ engineered by British Intelligence and lured to Scotland under false pretences. To keep Hitler thinking that a peace agreement was still on the table would let him concentrate on his forthcoming assault on the Soviet Union. It is uncertain whether Hitler’s denials that he knew of Hess’s planned peace mission were true or not. In any event, to be seen trying to negotiate peace might be perceived as a weakness, so Hitler could not publicly admit prior knowledge of Hess’s mission. Significantly, German air raids on London tailed off dramatically after Hess’s mission which may suggest that Hitler was still being given the impression that Britain would sue for peace.

Hess was eventually relocated to Aldershot (after a brief spell in the Tower of London) for the duration of the war and was spared the hangman’s noose at the Nuremberg War Crimes Trials. Sentenced to life imprisonment, he spent the rest of his days in Spandau jail in Berlin where, ironically, he hanged himself at the age of 93 on 17th August 1987. By this time, he was the sole remaining inmate of Spandau; a pawn in the Cold War as his incarceration gave the Soviet Union access to democratic West Berlin as part of a shared guard duty roster between the victorious nations.

As for Prince George, the Duke of Kent, he met an untimely death on 25th August 1942 when the Sunderland flying boat in which he was a passenger crashed into a hillside near Dunbeath, Caithness.

Was Prince George a traitor? Probably not. His meeting with Hess was engineered by the British Government and he did not seem to harbour any lasting empathy with Nazi Germany. Was the Duke of Hamilton a traitor? Highly unlikely. His bewilderment upon Hess’s unexpected arrival did not speak of someone who was plotting against the State and his war record was quite distinguished. Was the Duke of Windsor a traitor? There is persistent evidence that his sympathies remained heavily with the Third Reich and that he would have acquiesced to a resumption as monarch in the event of the fall of the Churchill Government and the deposal of King George VI, thence becoming a puppet king with Hitler pulling the strings.

  • David was indeed the first baptismal name of King Edward VIII. The adoption of the name Edward was an example of a regnal name, often used by popes and monarchs during their reigns. It has occurred a number of times in the UK. Queen Victoria’s first name was Alexandrina and her son Albert became Edward VII (against his mother’s wishes) as he regarded Edward as an honoured name borne by six of his predecessors and did not want to diminish the status of his father, Prince Albert. After Edward VIII’s abdication, Prince Albert, Duke of York also chose one of his other Christian names and was crowned George VI. It had been speculated that King Charles III would choose to be King George VII in honour of his grandfather, although it would have been be more to do with the fact that the name ‘Charles’ has a chequered history as far as British monarchs are concerned. Charles I lost his head on the block and Charles II was reviled for his Catholic sympathies at a time when there was great animosity between Catholics and Protestants.

A P George

Kirkliston Heritage Society

SOURCES AND ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Military History Matters
Padfield, Peter, Hess, Hitler and Churchill, Icon Books Ltd, 2014
The Rake, The Modern Voice of Classic Elegance
Wikipedia

Sunday, May 28, 2023

Pistols at Dawn - the Kirkliston Duel

Minutes earlier, the sun had risen above the Eastern horizon in a cloudless blue sky. The March hoar frost lay thick upon the meadow and crunched beneath the feet of the two army officers and their Seconds as they walked purposefully to the centre of the field. Their mounts, tethered to the wooden five-barred gate wickered nervously, as if they sensed the tension and foreboding their masters were feeling. The Principals stood looking grimly on as their Seconds conferred briefly before removing the loaded duelling pistols from the silk-lined wooden case offered up to them. Having confirmed that neither party was prepared to make apology or withdraw their challenge, each officer was handed an uncocked pistol and directed to move ten paces distance apart to await further instructions from the challenger’s Second.

“You may now cock your pistols gentlemen,” cried the Second in a firm voice lest there be any doubt or confusion.

Neither officer was unused to the ritual of the duel and dutifully pulled back the hammer of their respective weapons before pointing them to the ground with a straight arm down by their sides, awaiting the next command.

“When I drop my handkerchief you will bring your weapons to bear and fire,” cried the Second, his voice now trembling with emotion at the heart-breaking prospect of his best friend about to meet his Maker.

At the edge of the meadow, a few sheep grazed disinterestedly on the sparse grass, while in the distance the early rising farm workers could be seen making their way down Path Brae towards the allotted tasks which awaited them that day, unaware of the drama about to unfold on their doorstep. The Kirk bell was still, this day being a Wednesday and far too early for any worshippers to be abroad. The chill and absolute silence that pervaded the scene was about to be shattered by the loud report of deadly weapons.

The handkerchief fell, the officers raised their guns and blazed away – the crash of their volleys so close together that they merged into a single reverberating roar, sending startled crows croaking and flapping from the nearby trees. A dense cloud of powder smoke briefly obscured the combatants from the view of the Seconds who peered anxiously to determine the outcome of this bitter encounter, each hoping against hope that their man had survived …



The year was 1805. Nelson’s emphatic naval victory at Trafalgar was only a few months away and ‘mad’ King George III sat on the British throne. The war with Napoleonic France and her allies had been raging for many years, yet two officers garrisoned in the King’s service at Edinburgh Castle had somehow contrived to quarrel and were now about to settle a matter of ‘honour’ in a way that might reduce His Majesty’s forces by two in number. They had chosen Kirkliston for their encounter, possibly for its easy access along the Stirling road and being a reasonable distance from disapproving superiors, while dawn was a better time to ensure that there were as few witnesses as possible, for duelling in Britain was illegal and had been so for hundreds of years. In fact, causing someone’s death in that way was regarded as murder and punishable as such. Even so, among the upper classes, a man’s honour was sacrosanct and any perceived slight would invariably lead to a challenge which had to be accepted if one’s standing in polite society was to be maintained. Ironically, even the Duke of Wellington, who had forbidden his troops from duelling, famously was to fight a duel himself after challenging the Earl of Winchelsea in later years. Fortunately, on that occasion neither party was injured in the meeting and profound apologies were later expressed by the earl to the duke’s satisfaction.

Prior to the 19th century, duels had largely been fought with swords, but pistols gradually displaced them as the weapons of choice. Over the years, etiquette and a clear set of rules for pistol duels began to develop. Some of these rules were:

no duels to be fought on a Sunday or near a place of worship;

surgical assistance should be conveniently at hand plus means of transporting the wounded with ease from the place of meeting;

the parties were to salute each other upon meeting “offering this evidence of civilisation”;

the combatants were to present and fire together without resting on their aim;

after firing one shot each, if neither combatant was hit but the challenger satisfied, the duel was declared over;

if the duel continued after one shot each, no more than three exchanges of fire were allowed, as to exchange more shots was considered ‘barbaric’;

the offended party determined what conclusion was acceptable and there were three possible outcomes: (1) first blood when one combatant was wounded; (2) if one combatant was unable physically to proceed; (3) the death of one of the combatants.

As the penalty for murder was death, it was agreed beforehand that should either party be killed, the witnesses at the scene would claim it was the result of a shooting accident to thwart the possibility of prosecution.

Exactly how many duels actually took place in Britain is impossible to quantify due to the veil of secrecy thrown over many of them. Even so, there were about 1,000 recorded between 1785 and 1845, although the last to be fought in England was between two Frenchmen in 1852 with both protagonists being fatally wounded. However, it was normal for strenuous efforts to be made by the representatives and Seconds of both parties beforehand to seek a non-violent remedy to the perceived slight and avoid a ‘meeting’ in the first place. For whatever reason, our two British Army officers were not to be placated, hence their journey in the early hours of that fateful Wednesday morning to meet at the appointed place.

As the powder smoke cleared agonisingly slowly in the still morning air, it seemed as if time itself stood still with both combatants standing rigidly, their pistol arms still outstretched.

“You were ever an indifferent marksman sir – for which I am much gladdened!” cried the challenger.

“No more so than you sir!” was the reply. “But I averted my aim with clear purpose at that sturdy oak which stands behind you.”

“Indeed? In which case we are both blessed with good fortune as my aim too was at an arboreal target some several paces athwart yourself. Your presence here today is suffice to satisfy the requirements of my honour without the need for blood-letting.”

“In which case,” said the other, “pray let us adjourn to our quarters at the castle before the colonel gets wind of our absence.”

Whilst this account of events is somewhat embroidered, it is a matter of record that a duel took place in Kirkliston on Wednesday, 20th March 1805. Here is the report from the Aberdeen Journal dated 23th March 1805:

Early on Wednesday morning, a duel took place at Kirkliston, between two military gentlemen previously quartered at the Castle. After exchanging shots, the matter was amicably adjusted, by the interference of the seconds, in a manner honourable to both parties.

In an age when duelling was fairly commonplace, it is not altogether surprising that such an event took place. Maybe ‘Kirky’ was not quite the sleepy little village people thought it was after all.

A P George
Kirkliston Heritage Society

SOURCES AND ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
National Library of Scotland

[Picture: Duel between USA Vice President Aaron Burr and Alexander Hamilton, the former Secretary of the Treasury, 1804. Hamilton was mortally wounded and died the following day.  The musical Hamilton is based on the life of Alexander Hamilton.]

Saturday, May 27, 2023

Dreadful Gig Accident

Kylie Minogue at the Castle Esplanade or Foo Fighters at Murrayfield Stadium are perhaps what first spring to mind when the word ‘Gig’ is mentioned today. Indeed, it is slang for the word ‘engagement’ and has been in use to describe live musical performances since the 1920’s. However, this story relates to another meaning of a word which dates back as far as the 18th century and is the focus of a tragic local event which occurred in 1855.

The gig to which this newspaper article refers was a light, two-wheeled vehicle pulled by one horse. (See photograph below.) The driver (and passenger in some versions) were seated high up above the wheels and being sprung, a gig was more comfortable than a simple cart. As a fast and highly manoeuvrable vehicle – the light sports car of its day - gigs were often driven recklessly causing frequent spills and narrow escapes. Was this the cause of our gig tragedy? Was George Kynoch the 19th century equivalent of a boy racer? We may never know, but it is not difficult to imagine the inherent dangers of driving a horse-drawn vehicle down the steep hill which still exists on the approach to Queensferry. 

Quite apart from the actual accident, the newspaper article also gives us some interesting insights into life during the mid-19th century. Motor vehicles were still some way off and the railway had not yet come to Kirkliston or Queensferry at the time of the accident. Horse-drawn travel was the main alternative to Shanks’s Pony for those who could afford it. The article also tells us something about the mobility of the population, for William Gilfillan was from Glasgow whilst George Kynoch hailed from Aberdeen. These cities were rather more than a 40 minute or 2-hour car journey away yet people were clearly prepared to travel quite far from their homes in search of employment.

The distillery in Kirkliston to which the article refers was established in 1795 and was located at the bottom of Path Brae. It ceased to be a distillery in 1920 but continued life as a malster (the preparation of malt for brewing purposes) until closure in 1988. The sprawling complex was finally demolished in September 2006, apart from a single kiln tower preserved for posterity in Pikes Pool Drive (see below) and now converted into a desirable residence. Much to the disgust of local residents, the site remained an ugly eyesore for several years until the homes that stand there now were built.

One final point of interest regarding gigs – older readers may be familiar with the slang word ‘giglamps’ applied to ‘spectacles’. This came about as - at night - gigs carried two oil lamps with thick glass, known as gig-lamps, hence the word coming into popular use.



A P George
Kirkliston Heritage Society

SOURCES AND ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Google Earth
Wikipedia
National Library of Scotland