The Diocese of Dunkeld

“How many years can a mountain exist, before it is washed to the sea?” wrote Bob Dylan; and sometimes institutions can be like mountains: a permanent feature in the landscape. Yet, time is a grinder and eventually all things must change – and one such behemoth that seemed firmly anchored in the lives of the people of Perthshire, but would eventually vanish, was the Diocese of Dunkeld. For centuries, bishops in their grand palace and preaching from the alter of their impressive cathedral, ruled both as priests and secular lords – but, with the Reformation of 1560 they would be wiped off the map and today little remains to remind us of this once omnipotent institution.

Dunkeld may have been an early religious settlement but there is no hard evidence for this; it seems to have been the product of regime change. In 717 King Nechtan of the Picts expelled missionary monks from Iona Abbey from his lands as part of a move to align his emerging church with Rome. New bishoprics and abbeys emerged loyal both to the king and the papacy. However, a hundred years later King Caustantin revived many of the old practices and established a new monastery on the Tay at the gateway to the Highlands, and dedicated it to St Columba. The Viking raid on Iona itself in 806 probably played a part in this decision: the king may have looked to a less vulnerable location to site his church. That said, Dunkeld would also be raided, in 903: incredibly the Norsemen rowed up the Tay.

The abbey was given to the control of the Culdee monks, a sect of the old Columbian Church; but the abbot was more often than not a layman – indeed, by the 950s the Abbot of Dunkeld and the Earl of Atholl were usually one and the same. The earldom and the Bishopric would co-exist in an uneasy peace for the next 600 years – each sharing authority, wielding arbitrary power and often stepping on each others toes. The last lay abbot was Ethelred, son of Malcolm III, and on his death around 1097 the lands and wealth of the abbacy reverted to the crown directly. This gave his successors the provision to establish a formal bishopric.

Around 1127, David I formalised the transition of Dunkeld from abbey to Cathedral, with Cormac as its first Bishop; and ecclesiastical matters were transferred from the Culdees to Roman Catholic Canons. David had been brought up as a ‘hostage’ in the court of the Norman-English king, William II and had learned what these feudal masters had to teach, and learned well. On returning north, he revolutionised society and introduced the feudal system to Scotland. This meant a total shake-up of the old order; and across the Lowlands lordships were erected next to new Royal Burghs (towns with favoured trading rights), and the Church played a significant role in this new world.

In the Highlands things weren’t so black and white. Powerful Celtic warlords such as the Earl of Ross and the Lord of the Isles were laws unto themselves, and there were precious few royal burghs north of the Tay. However, in Perthshire, a kind of borderland, the two worlds collided. The Earl of Atholl was the feudal nobleman for the lands of Highland Perthshire; on the surface. He was also warlord and chief to the clansmen that followed him: the cross between a mafia don and samurai warrior. The Bishop of Dunkeld administered to the spiritual needs of his flock, but just as often they got dragged into the murky world of petty violence and clan vendetta. It was quite the party.

The Bishopric of Dunkeld was huge, covering a fair swathe of Central Scotland and its administration was just about as complex as the rest of the feudal set up. The Bishop was subordinate to the Archbishop of St Andrews, the king and of course the Pope; and below him was a whole myriad of offices clerical and secular. There were lands that belonged directly to the diocese – mainly in lower Strathtay, Dunkeld and east towards Blairgowrie; but, their authority was canonical, and at times I’m sure a little puritanical. Perhaps a little too puritanical, as the impetuous earls often unleashed their wild Cateran warriors against the very alter itself.

The diocese was divided into parishes and chapels, although this wasn’t that straightforward either. Some of the chapels actually existed in brick and mortar, while others existed only in the abstract – like Inver, where the chapel was ‘inside’ the cathedral, while the stipend was drawn from the lands. This provided the diocese and its mandarins with a steady income, and helped to promote their influence far and wide. The bishopric was of course far more than a religious outfit, it was a business: and a hugely wealthy one. Chapels and churches acted both as places of worship, and as branches of the firm – and a very visible expression of their authority and place in society. As lots of money was involved, both laird and bishop had their fingers in many pies, which meant a close association between the various strands when it came to the administration of the wider church.  

Many of the parishes, such as Killin, Kirkmichael and Logierait were ‘contracted’ out to various abbeys to provide the parochial administration and stipends to pay for the priest. Killin would be seconded to Inchaffray Abbey in Strathearn; Kirkmichael came under the auspices of Dunfermline; and Logierait, Scone. Some parishes had local lairds or baronies like Dull, to provide for them – Struan kirk for example was originally under the patronage of the Robertson chiefs, but due to debt issues the responsibility fell upon the Earl of Atholl to maintain the church. As the largest landowner, and principal feudal lord, the earl had a number of parishes and stipends under his remit. This, he felt gave him the right to dabble in church politics. Some parishes were annexed directly to the Cathedral itself (Kilmaveonaig is an example); which, the bishop felt gave him the right to dabble in local, secular, politics.

There were also a number of detached parishes, which meant working with lordships far from Dunkeld – hence, the diocese had town houses in both Edinburgh and Perth. Occasionally also, the Crown was involved – for example, the parish of Rannoch was apparently held directly by the king; and here they would have tread a little more carefully in their dealings. All these parishes however, and their administration came under the ultimate responsibility of the Bishop, watching that all was being properly provided for.

Dunkeld Cathedral

The parish of Dunkeld of St Columba (the city) was very small, and completely surrounded on all sides by the much larger parish of Little Dunkeld, whose church lay on the south side of the Tay. In 1500 as plague ravaged the countryside, Bishop George Brown split Little Dunkeld up – to the north of the river he raised two new parishes: Caputh and Dowally, building each a church. He was concerned that plague victims would have to be carried through Dunkeld to get the ferry over the river to the church. Little Dunkeld was also a thriving village itself, and reports show that on more than one occasion the men of Clan Donnachaidh descended and wreaked havoc; with the bishop complaining to the king about the attentions of the wild Highlanders.

Both the Earls of Atholl and the Bishops of Dunkeld were deeply involved in the real politick of the day, and were important men at court. Robert II, who himself had been the earl before becoming king, was patron of one of the most influential of bishops – Robert de Cardney. His sister, Mariota of Cardney, was the king’s favourite mistress, and throughout his career the royal assistance came in very handy. Unlike many other incumbents, Bishop Cardney would enjoy a long stay in office – nearly 40 years, living until 1437. During that time he elevated the position of the diocese and set about rebuilding much of the cathedral, including the new nave. In 1431 he received the obedience of the Abbot of Iona to Dunkeld – the final chapter in the move east of Columba’s old church.

Robert de Cardney is buried in his beloved cathedral, and his tomb is emblazoned with the coats of arms of four Stewart Earldoms – a lasting reminder of the close relationship between the two families; and the number of important children his sister would give the dynasty. Other notable bishops included: William Sinclair, Gavin Douglas and George Brown – who we saw reorganising the parishes. He was also the ‘building bishop’: extending the palace, erecting a castle (a sign of troubled times perhaps) and building a fancy tower house on Clunie Loch near Blairgowrie, which would be their country estate right up to the Reformation.

Without going into the how’s and why’s of the Reformation, Martin Luther’s Protest and Jean Calvin’s doctrine changed forever the face of Western Europe; and led by the firebrand fanatic, John Knox, Scotland went through a true revolution. In 1560 the Lords of Congregation enacted (against the will of the Catholic Mary Queen of Scots), the law that swept away the old regime replacing it with a new Church of Scotland. Initially, the new church was Episcopalian (as in England); but, it would emerge from the fires with a strong Calvinist voice and a Presbyterian constitution. Not only did this brand of Protestantism sweep away the institution of the old order, but destroyed its symbols in what is now called the ‘Iconoclasm’. Statues were torn down and smashed; art bundled onto bonfires and anything that hinted at the superstitious blasphemy of the Catholic faith as they saw it was obliterated. This went for the abbeys, churches and cathedrals as well; and Dunkeld would not escape the flames (the choir was re-roofed as now serves as the local parish church).

The Ruined Nave of the Cathedral

As well as the almost euphoric frenzy of the Iconoclasm, the many lands that the diocese once owned were taken and then parcelled out amongst the supporters of the new regime; and those willing to fight over the scraps of the alter table. In Highland Perthshire, the biggest winners were the Campbells of Glenorchy, the Menzieses, the Murrays of Atholl and the Stewarts of Grandtully – each adding a considerable number of acres to their burgeoning estates. And with the demise of the diocese it would be these estates that would come to dominate and govern the lives of the people of Atholl, Breadalbane and Rannoch. The Earl of Atholl, and his descendants would become the feudal superiors without equal: and the power and memory of the Bishops of Dunkeld soon faded into obscurity.

The Unseen Hand

By the middle of the 19^th century Glasgow had become one of the largest and most productive industrial cities in Europe and its population had swollen to nearly 500,000; but beyond the sandstone palaces of the Merchant City it was a filth ridden slum. In places like the Gorbals people were often forced to sleep 14 to a room; sanitation was all but non-existent and clean water was a luxury. Diseases like dysentery and typhoid were rife; but worse was coming.

In 1832 a new and genuinely frightening disease arrived into the city: Cholera. Originating in India, the disease spread quickly through the Middle East to Egypt, and then by ship to most of the industrial cities of northern Europe. Not since the days of the plague was there such a trail of death and panic. This first epidemic took over 3100 lives; and when it visited Glasgow again in 1848 another 3800 succumbed. It is a horrible illness, comes out of nowhere and often kills within hours. Yet, in 1865 when cholera came to Britain once more the death toll in Glasgow had dropped to a mere 53 – and the reason was a marvel of the Victorian age.

In the 1850s the City of Glasgow Corporation constructed an aqueduct system from Loch Katrine in the Trossachs. Queen Victoria herself switched the system on and from 1859 the clean, fresh water of the Southern Highlands flowed through 35 miles of pipeline to the masses. It was an incredible achievement, and once again modern ingenuity and science tackled a deadly disease and reduced it to insignificant. The unseen hand of disease and our reaction to it is an underlying part of the Scottish story.

The City of Glasgow - The Broomielaw Bridge

Disease, whether endemic or epidemic has always been part of the human condition: it affects population growth, debilities the labour force, causes widespread misery and fear, and alters the course of history. We know little about the epidemiological history of early Scotland, except to say that there would have been disease: although few big killers due to the climate. The same could not be said for the Mediterranean.

Although Scotland was not really part of the Roman Empire, it was still strongly affected by it, and its collapse would have severe implications for the political development of the British Isles. In 165AD a new and devastating disease, probably Smallpox, hit the Mediterranean ports and spread quickly through the provinces. Mortality was high, and it cut a swathe through the main administrative centres. The epidemic lasted for 15 years and was a severe blow; then in 251 another serious outbreak hit the Roman world. This time the culprit was Measles, and with its arrival into Europe the consequences were truly horrific.

Between the two outbreaks the death toll exceeded five million, and it almost certainly led to a breakdown in order; one that was never fully recovered and with Malaria rampant it proved too much and in the 5^th century the house of cards came tumbling down. The Romans were forced to import Germanic peoples to provide manpower for farming and military service. It wasn’t enough and the Empire failed; the inheritors would be these same tribes and peoples, and they would shape the Europe to come.

Smallpox and Measles probably entered the Scottish population as well, and wreaked havoc among the countryside; but, it was the influx of the Anglo-Saxons into Britain on the back of the collapse of Roman authority, and the formation of England that would shape Scotland’s future for centuries to come. It also meant that Scotland’s principal market disappeared and this seems to have initiated a more aggressive, warlike age among the various tribes and kingdoms north of Hadrian’s Wall.

Across Europe these two diseases would erupt over 40 times from 600 to 1000AD and more than certainly contributed to the poor productivity, high mortality and increase in brutality associated with the so called Dark Ages. It would also appear that Malaria gained a stronghold across Europe at this time. The mosquito that carried the disease can only thrive in warm climates, and there is enough reason to suggest that southern Scotland was affected as well – a staggering thought today. Things though were about to get a whole lot worse.

The Plague of Justinian (542-43) all but annihilated the populations of the Mediterranean, and is the first identifiable outbreak of the Bubonic Plague in Europe. With a death toll of over 25 million it was the beginning of the end of the Byzantine Empire of Constantinople and the true harbinger of the Dark Ages. Its devastation however was confined to the Mediterranean and Danube: northern Europe was left unscathed. The reason being that the black rat, which carries the flea, which hosts the disease, Yersinia Pestis, being a native of India had not made it that far. This saw the balance of power in Europe shift irrevocably to the north. Rome, once a city of over a million was reduced to a town of 25,000.

Scotland, like all European countries went through a baptism of constant warfare to be born; and much of this was a direct result of the lack of a ‘super-power’: it was every man, chief, king and country for themselves. It is hard to imagine, far less explain how grim the years from 500 to 1000 really were for people and how precarious life was. Despite the genuine harshness of life, the populations of northern Europe, Britain included, continued to grow over this time; and by 1300 the population of Scotland was around a million: but the Grim Reaper, as ever, was waiting in the wings.

The Bubonic and Pneumonic (airborne version) plagues are extremely contagious and extremely deadly. The disease originates in the southern Himalayas, and was spread by increases in trade and inter-continental warfare. The Black Death which hit Europe certainly came from Asia, and arrived into the Mediterranean ports in 1346. This time however, with the black rat firmly established it would hit an entire continent. By the time it had run its course, over a third, and probably nearer a half of Europe was dead; and Scotland, which had just gone through a series of bloody wars with England wasn’t spared. The population was scythed to around 600,000 by 1360.

That said, pre-plague populations were high and initially the social implications weren’t too severe. However, it came back again, and again, with monotonous regularity throughout the 14^th and 15^th centuries and this did lead to a severe and lasting reduction in population (the low point is estimated around 1450). This in turn led to a shortage of labour, which means the economy becomes a sellers’ market. Serfdom vanishes, some peasants have opportunities to become land owners or merchants and a middle class begins to emerge; central government takes the opportunity to eliminate rivals; and religious unrest ultimately leads to the Reformation. It was a gloomy time, and both art and gravestone decoration often depict the so called ‘Dance of Death’. And death was an ever contestant part of life, on a scale and prevalence we’d find hard to fathom today.

 The Dance of Death Artwork

While Scotland was dealing with one epidemic after another, the population was acclimatising to other diseases such as mumps, whooping cough and measles; and this in itself allowed the population to rebound. Leprosy also vanished – probably due to the arrival of Tuberculosis (a bacteria similar to leprosy, but much more contagious and lethal). TB would prove particularly stubborn to combat; even today.

As the country began to recover from recurrent visitations of the plague, and disease like smallpox developed into childhood illnesses, the likes of typhoid and dysentery took hold in the very unsanitary cities that were emerging. Plague too found a home in these rat infested warrens. However, following the infamous outbreak of 1665 it simply vanishes from Britain and most of Europe north of the Alps – never to return: a true epidemiological mystery. In all probability the disease mutated to cope better with the increased cooling associated with the ‘Little Ice Age’ and that this new version happened to be non-lethal (it isn’t in the bacteria’s interest to kill off 100% of a population anyway, so this may have accelerated the mutated form’s success). Also, improvements in house building, including the move away from timber and thatch to stone and slate widened the ‘distance’ between rat and man; thus, breaking the chain of contagion.

By around 1700 Scottish society was beginning to emerge from the shadow of the great killers; fear was replaced by optimism and it would have a profound affect. Across Britain, including Scotland, money was invested in emerging industries and innovative techniques. As the population began to rise, more food was required to feed the masses and this led to a revolution in the countryside. There were numerous improvements to machinery and a huge programme of walled enclosures for cattle and sheep was instigated by landlords which improved the health of the livestock. With better knowledge on how to rotate crops, fodder production, such as turnips went through the roof.

 Dry Stane Dyke - Field Enclosure Revolution

All of this led to a huge rise in cattle numbers, which had the unexpected effect of eradicating malaria from the British Isles – our mosquito (found in the south east of Scotland) prefers cattle to humans, but the malaria plasmodium doesn’t. It was the end of the road for a chronic disease which was known as ague. More cattle also meant more meat and milk on the menu, which in turn meant a higher protein diet. This allows the body to manufacture more antibodies, and so become more resistant to infection and illness. Better storage also meant that any meat or produce could be transported further. It was a striking transformation and led to a population boom.

This dramatic rise in agricultural output meant that cities like Glasgow, Edinburgh and Dundee could feed and clothe its rapidly growing population. Greater efficiency in the countryside also meant less labour was required, which provided these cities with much needed manpower. Disease in the industrial slums kept mortality rates high, and death rates far exceeded birth rates – thus migration from the surrounding countryside was vital. By 1801 Scotland’s population had risen to 1,600,000, within 50 years it had nearly doubled to 2,900,000. The phenomena wasn’t restricted to the industrial heartlands – the population of the Isle of Skye rose from 14,470 in 1794 to over 23,000 by 1841: a rise of nearly 60%. It was however unsustainable in the Highlands and led to large-scale, voluntary emigration.

One disease still haunted the imagination of the country at large – Smallpox. It is a scary looking illness, mostly contracted in childhood and while it has a relatively high mortality most people lived. It did leave people scarred for life though, with at least a third left blinded. There is no doubt that had an impact on society. An English doctor, Edward Jenner observed that milkmaids bore none of the scarring, and were essentially immune; the result of contracting the far less lethal cowpox. This would lead first to inoculations and ultimately vaccinations. The fight against the infectious and often mortal illnesses had begun.

Without the agricultural revolution there could have been no industrial revolution and certainly not enough people to make it happen. Death control was winning in the age-old battle. Other European countries were slow to implement vaccination programmes, improve their sanitation and failed to enclose the pastureland. Only in Britain was the advancement possible; and thus British, and by that, Scottish wealth and influence grew. And with this advancement, the population continued to soar, reaching 4,500,000 by 1900. A rise of nearly three million in less than a century must by its very nature alter society and politics; it also fuelled the huge emigrations to America, Canada and Australia, and provided people for the ever growing British Empire.

How disease was actually transmitted, and indeed what they were, was one of the great leaps forward of the late 18^th century; allowing science to create vaccinations, and governments to improve living conditions. Cholera, diphtheria and many others could now be battled on several fronts. It would have been impossible to have so many men entrenched in such confined and poor conditions as was experienced in the First World War had it not been for such advances – typhoid would simply have wiped them out, as it had done Napoleon’s Grand Army a hundred years early.

By this time, with improved sanitation, vaccinations, cures and ultimately the arrival of penicillin for the first time in Scotland’s history the birth rate exceeded the death rate in her cities. The growing industrial base meant that there was still work for both migrant and city born; and when industrial decline set in, families had significantly reduced the number of children they were having.

From this distance in time we are really oblivious to the danger that disease posed to our ancestors: it could come out of nowhere, and no-one was safe. Life expectancy rates were in the mid 30s, and death was commonplace. It debilitated the labour force, affected political decision-making and held the people in a thrall. It plays a huge part in the story of the Scottish people, and the changes that occurred from 1700 to 1900 altered the landscape, created our cities and built modern Scotland. The role of disease and our battle against it is an often overlooked part of our history, but is very important; both from a national, and a personal point of view.

The Lords of Time

Our modern world is so ordered by time, our lives parcelled out by the ticking of the clock, that we forget that it wasn’t always so. We take it so much for granted: all of us humbly subservient to deadlines, timetables, alarms and schedules that it barely registers. Like the rabbit in Alice in Wonderland we are betrothed to the ceaseless demands of time; foot-soldiers, as it marches towards an unknown conclusion. Yet, within scholarly minds a debate rages as to whether time even exists: is it a force majeure, or a construct of the human mind, a way to register and order the world around us? We may never know.

To us, time is linear and can only head in one direction – it has a past, a present and a future. This is our sense of it, and it may be built into us from an evolutionary point of view. We all have an internal body clock – we slowly age towards our inevitable demise, and we have the ability to contemplate that mortality and so ‘feel’ that passage of time. On a day to day basis, we understand instinctively when it’s time to wake up, when to eat and when to retire once more to bed. Over longer periods, we as hunter gatherers appreciated the changes in the seasons, something that becomes increasingly apparent the further north you go; and cyclical natural events like floods and famine were remembered from one generation to the next. However, it wasn’t until the arrival of farming into Scotland around 6000 years ago, and all the social re-arranging it brought did time begin to order and dominate people’s lives. And, consequently those who could command time, could command that new society.

Farming, or at least the farming revolution that would affect Scotland, began around 10,000 years ago in the Fertile Crescent of Egypt and the Middle East. The innovations, plants and animals slowly spread up the Danube Valley into Central Europe, and eventually to the British Isles. Switching from hunter-gathering to farming, requires a substantial re-ordering of the way peoples live and how they live. There are swings and roundabouts, but one of the results is the stratification of society, and the creating of niche roles. Farming increases the population of a community significantly, but requires specialisation – blacksmiths, leather-makers, a mercantile class to facilitate trade and above all a ruling class to organise, govern and protect all the diverse elements of this new set up. There is one other powerful element that draws its strength from this arrangement – a clerical class of priests that establishes, enhances and propagates the community’s religious beliefs.

To our ancestors the gods were everywhere. There were river gods, fertility gods, gods of the forest and the seas, gods that brought pestilence and flood, and other that commanded the heavens and provided the harvest. They all had to be appeased and worshiped through a complex set of rituals, feasts, festivals and daily observance. Failure to comply could only result in disaster – so ran the dogma. Belief in these unseen forces was huge, both from a survival point of view, but also from a social conditioning point of view – and at the heart of the process, then as now was power. Knowledge was everything, and the more you had in comparison to the layman in the fields and villages, the more influential, powerful and ultimately wealthy you became. Time was the most valuable of all that knowledge.

The source of the priestly power resided in their ability to commune with the myriad of gods controlling the lives of the majority of the population. Farmers, their families and the symbiotic traders that relied on farming were governed by the ebb and flow of the seasons and on the predictability of events, such as harvest. By incorporating this need to know into the overall religious settlement allowed the priests to punctuate the calendar with festivals and feasts. Ritual and ceremony was the way by which the ruling and clerical classes could demonstrate to the lay folk their covenant with the gods, and how best to appease them in order to guarantee good harvest, benign winters, fertility of spring and so on. This of course was the smoke and mirrors part of the trick, but the real genius lay with their ability to read the heavens.

Orion's Belt - One of the most obvious features in the night sky

The landscape of Scotland is littered with standing stones, ancient burial chambers and henge features; constructed and laid out with uncanny precision between approximately 6000 and 4500 years ago. Many sites were used virtually continuously throughout the period, others abandoned or reclaimed from time to time. Either way, they marked a significant presence in the landscape and took a hell of a lot of community effort to erect and maintain. What we see today in places like Kilmartin Glen or on the Orkney Islands is surely the tip of an iceberg – the remnant fragments of what would have been far larger sites. Perhaps less than 10% now survives from our Neolithic past. At first glance we can wonder from this distance in time at the ingenuity and effort of our ancestors to construct these incredible monuments; but, on closer inspection the true wonder reveals itself.

Most, if not all of the megalithic sites in Scotland are in some way aligned to major astronomical events – equinoxes, solstices, lunar stand-stills and eclipses. Some, such as the Maes Howe burial chamber built over 5000 years ago are perfectly aligned with these celestial moments that it beggars belief. We are but touching the surface in our understanding of their understanding – there are hints that some of the sites, like Calanais may have been built to predict solar eclipses, the transit of Venus and perhaps recurrence of comets. Many more seem to track various stars, like those on Orion’s Belt, or Sirius across the night sky. This is complex astronomical stuff – and this ability allowed the priests to calculate time.

From here, it is a case of pick your calendar. It takes approximately 365 days for the earth to go around the sun and return to the same point against the fixed stars, this equates to 12 to 13 moon cycles, giving us months. The symmetry however doesn’t quite work, and in order celebrate festivals consistently at the right times it is important first to understand the motion of the heavenly bodies, and then insert man-made adjustments (like leap years for example). That not only requires knowledge of astronomy, but phenomenal insight into mathematics and the ability to cater for things like procession, that can only be measured in hundreds of years. We can have no idea what sort of calendar ordered the lives of our distant ancestors, but it can be assured that there was one – and that the stones were aligned to help keep that calendar accurate.

How this wisdom reached Scotland is a mystery – but, both the early Egyptians and Babylonians were adept at astronomy and time measurement. It is likely that this knowledge was carried north by a select few, almost by osmosis until it crossed the North Sea. The nature of the sites seems to suggest that the knowledge came, but a home-grown way to interpret was devised. It would appear, for example that the setting of the sun on one particular day ended a ‘season’, and the rising on the next the rebirth of the new. This was a feature that may have been adapted to that greatest of mysteries – death. Various annual events were not only observed, but possibly coincided with funereal ritual – this may account for the lack of remains in so-called ‘burial chambers’. It is also possible that these communal chambers were holding units where the dead waited in limbo for the appointed moment in the year to ascend to the next stage. Again, this was a powerful hold on the people as a whole.

The great stones and henges thus had a dual purpose – one functional, the other ceremonial – after all, where better to keep the locals in awe than in the very place where the commune was happening (for commune read astronomical observation)? Similarly, medieval cathedrals were not only places of worship and thus built for maximum effect, but also the local headquarters of the biggest business in Europe – the Catholic Church: an institution propped up by power and wealth as well as faith. This was nothing new, and our ancestors were duped just the same – Stonehenge for example took 18 million man hours to build: that’s quite a commitment, that’s a lot of faith. The return on the deal must have been as equally impressive.

 The Stones of Stenness - Orkney

However, something went wrong – horribly wrong, around 2500BC. For millennia, the celestial clock had revolved with determined precision, and with each turn of the wheel events on earth reflected both the ability to read that clock and in turn to deliver on the promise that by being able to please the gods all would be right. When this part of the deal failed, the house of cards came tumbling down. It would appear that climate deterioration brought a sequence of failed harvests and extreme winters across northern Europe and that social cohesion broke down, paving the way for the advance new innovations from the Mediterranean. It is pure conjecture of course, but the evidence of the move from communal burial and cremations to more private interment, and to seemingly more defensive settlement enclosures would suggest a greater degree of self-reliance.

There is a suggestion through changes in artefactual remains, that the British Isles experienced a wave of new-comers known as the Beaker People around 2500BC; but the genetic evidence doesn’t bear this out. A change in technology and culture with the coming of metal work certainly occurred, but how much was local adaption and how much was via immigration is still unknown. Some settlements seem to be on the fringes of older habitations: that might reflect newcomers; while a dramatic change in burial technique and the total collapse of mega-structure building by the community seems to suggest a re-ordering of the native hierarchy. The likely scenario is that the native population growing ever more cynical of the old order adopted the new ideas and religions, and in doing so ushered in the Bronze Age.

The Bronze Age wasn’t just about the use of bronze, but the cataclysmic change from stone to metal use, from bone and antler for jewellery to gold and silver and all the social implications. We may never know how the change affected those who once read the skies, but the evidence would seem to point to more terrestrial answers, and perhaps the detailed knowledge of celestial movement was lost – the abandonment of the megalithic sites would seem to bear that out. The vast majority of people remained farmers, and relied on time as they had always done – you can’t farm without it. Perhaps now it was a universal wisdom: simplified, with religious implications removed; making it just another tool in the farming year. Religion still played a part in people’s lives of course, and the gods still existed: but, the Lords of Time were dead.

From Whisky to Bourbon

From the very start of European settlement in North America, the new arrivals brought their various alcohol making skills with them. The most profitable early colonies were in the Caribbean; where sugar and tobacco were making the merchants back in Glasgow, Liverpool and London very, very rich. One of the key markets for the sugar were the emerging towns and cities in England’s thirteen Colonies, such as Philadelphia and Boston. So, with the colonies awash with sugar it was natural that rum became the principal spirit produced, and the poison of choice. Whiskey, produced from grain, was also being made in the Americas, but on a miniscule scale by comparison; and usually by Scottish or Irish emigrants.

In 1603 James VI of Scotland inherited the English throne, and headed off to London. During his reign he oversaw the ‘plantation’ of tens of thousands of Lowland Scots into the Irish province of Ulster, essentially as an experiment of social restructuring. The Protestant Scots were granted lands across Ulster, which meant the forcible eviction of the native Catholic Irish population – the root of much of Northern Ireland’s problems today. The incomers, filled with the work ethic of Calvinism transformed the bog and heathland of the province into a rose-garden – a breadbasket of grain production. Whisky making was a big part of the economy, but the divide between those who had and those who had not in Ulster was widening. Due to various economic reasons, droughts and subsidised opportunities in the New World many of these Ulster Scots sailed across the Atlantic to a new home: perhaps as many as 100,000 in first half of the 18^th century alone. There was also a constant dribble of migration from Scotland at the same time, which would increase dramatically in the decades following the Battle of Culloden in 1746, and the ravages of the Highland Clearances that came after.

Islay and Jura - One of Scotland's Whisky Homelands

Many of the Scots and Ulster Scots (now generally referred to as Scotch-Irish) settled in the familiar-looking farmland of Pennsylvania or New York, where they raised their crops, which in the main was rye. The traditions and work practices of the old country came with these new arrivals, and whisky making was a mainstay of many of these farming communities. Production was relatively high, but the markets generally local – and although some would get through to the bigger populations along the coast, it was no match for king rum. That was all about to change.

During the American Revolution the Royal Navy blockaded the main ports, such as New York and Boston; which at a stroke all but cut the supply of sugar and molasses, the key ingredient in rum production. Thirsty revolutionaries and loyalists alike turned to a spirit being made inland, and with home-grown raw materials. Whiskey, as it was now spelt, took over from rum as the mainstay liquor of the soon to be United States. It was sought over enough that it became a substitute currency in many regards. Congressional leaders and senior army officials, including George Washington himself, took to making their own whiskey – with which they could either supply the soldiers at a lower cost, or trade to purchase other essentials and provisions.

After the war, the United States of America found itself saddled with significant debt, accrued in the cost of operating a war machine. Washington looked again to the value of whiskey production to help. Congress levied a tax on whiskey making, but this incensed the Scottish/Irish settlers of western Pennsylvania to such a degree that they refused point blank to pay. Being stubborn Celts, they really dug their heels in and wouldn’t budge an inch – even after the government sent in the troops during what became known as the ‘Whiskey Rebellion’. Faced with such an immovable object; and one holding plenty of cards, Washington had to offer a deal.

The Whiskey Rebellion

The Governor of Virginia was the great statesman Thomas Jefferson, and at the president’s invitation he devised a re-settlement plan for the pesky Scotch-Irish settlers. In the 1790s Kentucky was a large frontier county in western Virginia, and Jefferson saw this as the perfect solution. Clear out the natives and shoehorn in the wild moonshiners. Kentucky is a verdant, fertile corner of the world, and the settlers were offered sixty acres each to carve out as their own, as long as they built a permanent dwelling and planted corn. It was a fair deal, and thousands took the Federal Government’s offer. With the move from rye to corn, whiskey making in the States headed off down a new path.

Back during the revolution the French had been such a help to the Americans, that in the years following the war new settlements and counties that popped up adopted French names. So, as the population of Kentucky County increased, the State split it into several smaller entities: and one of these was called ‘Bourbon County’, named after the French royal family. With a rich soil and fair climate combined with its limestone filtered water, the county was ideal for whiskey making

The distillate is produced as a clear liquid, and like all other spirits in the whisky family it requires time in an oak barrel to mature; and there was plenty of virgin forest to go around. Wood was also a substitute for the peat used back in Scotland and Ireland to heat the grain during malting, and this of course meant that the American stuff would be smoke-free: a further differentiation from most Scotches.

According to a story, which is in all probability untrue the Reverend Elija Craig, a famed whiskey maker, was a bit on the thrifty side – so, instead of using new barrels for each batch he would reuse the ones he already had. In order however, to impart flavour and colour to the spirit he would char the inside of the cask. A process which is today used in the Scotch industry, as virgin oak is too full of tannin for the gentler spirit produced in Scotland’s distilleries, was then revolutionary. It helped with the mellowing of the spirit, especially on the long-haul trips to far away markets like New Orleans. He, coming from the county named this more mature spirit Bourbon. Whether this is true or not is really neither here nor there; the county was producing large quantities of spirit and the name stuck.

By 1810 there was an estimated 2000 distilleries, and then as now the majority were in Kentucky and neighbouring Tennessee – and in the years that followed, as new markets opened up with the ever-westwards advance of the United States and the industrial growth of the eastern cities, Bourbon was the drink of choice across the nation. The 1820s saw one last Scottish input into the process: in the person of Dr James Crow, an immigrant from Inverness. Crow refined the art of adding spent mash – that is an unfermented grain-soup, with yeast still active, into the new batch. This gave the brew a bitter edge, and so was coined the term ‘sour mash’, which is so associated with Bourbon. With this, the evolution from single malt Scotch was complete. Within twenty years the Federal Government officially classified ‘Bourbon Whiskey’, and adopted it as the ‘Native Spirit of America’.

The 18^th amendment, enacted into law in 1920 all but destroyed the Bourbon industry. Better known as Prohibition, the amendment forbade the production and selling of alcoholic liquor and beverages throughout the United States for nearly 13 years. It was a crippling blow, and virtually every distillery was closed and broken up (a meagre handful were legally kept open to produce alcohol for medical purposes). The stories of bootleg booze, gangsters like Al Capone and speakeasies are legion and legend; but with the Kentucky distilleries in bits, the drink had to be smuggled in from abroad – and the only producers able to meet the demand were the big Scotch companies. The Whisky Barons, like Johnny Walker and Tommy Dewar had revolutionised the whisky industry with their blended brands, and were distilling on an industrial scale. As virtually the only gig in town, Scotch became the default hard liquor of choice in the States. Prohibition was the greatest market opportunity ever gifted the Scotch industry; and all at the detriment of America’s home grown labels.

Enjoying a few drinks at a Prohibition Speakeasy

Only now is Bourbon recovering from the hammer-blow dealt by the 18^th amendment; for less is still produced and sold today than in 1919. Once the restrictions were lifted, people in America had become not only accustomed to Scotch whisky, but loved it. Furthermore, as the law was swept away demand for alcohol went through the roof, and once again Scotch was the only industry big enough to meet that demand. Both Bourbon, which had to rebuild completely, and Irish whiskey were outmuscled to such an extent that they nearly went extinct. Thankfully, in the last twenty to thirty years Bourbon whisky has seen a rebirth – ironically part of this is on the back of the fashionable growth in Scotch malt whisky, which is so individualistic. Americans are now looking to explore their own spirit heritage, and brands: the Bourbon trail, established in 2004, is part of that; new micro-distilleries are popping up all over the place; and old names are being resurrected as once again a fiery phoenix rises from the ashes.

Gateway London

Next year promises to be a big year for travel to the United Kingdom, with the London Olympics the Queen's Diamond Jubilee, and other major events going on. It is a wonderful opportunity to encourage people who will obviously honey-potting around London to come to Scotland. Starting this month I've begun working on a campaign to promote Scotland as an add-on destination: through social media, articles, blogging and so on - it is also something to build upon as London still remains a key hub, Olympics or no Olympics.

The Olympics will be on from the 27th of July to the 12th of August, and visitors will be coming and going over that fortnight period rather than staying for the whole time - so, many will be interested in seeing and doing other things while over here. London itself will be a big draw, as will some of the top attractions in the south, such as Bath, Stonehenge and Oxford; but, it is a huge pie and there will be some who want to go to Scotland, while there are many who will be undecided. The Games finish slap bang in the middle of the Edinburgh Festival, which in itself is one of the top things to come to the UK to do, so we have that to help push the idea as well.

I would like to work with attractions, tour companies and hotels in London to create something of an Olympics/Scotland vacation package (I know that some of the hotels will be less than keen to see potential bed-nights zipping up the M1, but, I think there will be a struggle for beds during that time - this in itself could help encourage visitors to seek alternative arrangements (i.e. Scotland)). I'm not sure how many of those travelling to the Big Smoke will realise how far out of the city the Games are - I'm sure plenty of them will stay in Central London; and promoting rail to Edinburgh or Glasgow will be a good option I feel (I will be working with the BritRail team over here). For those staying away out at Docklands and closer to the 'village', flights from London City would be an alternative.

If anyone out there has ideas, thoughts or comments - or would like to discuss with me working together or collaboration on these packages, it would be great to hear from you.

All the best guys,

David

The Land of the Leal

The ‘Land of the Leal’ is a very old fashioned and somewhat romantic term for heaven and the notion of the Promised Land. I’ve seen it applied to Scotland before in poem and legend and it does have a certain ring about it, akin to the Gaelic: Tir nan Og – the land of forever young.  We Scots know that there is a magic about our own country and that is runs much deeper than breathtaking scenery or a rich and colourful history. It’s about the people and the nature of our deep cultural psyche which acts as the tread weaving the tartan of our nation together. It is the emotive as well as the scenic that mesmerises those who first visit, or draws countless thousands more back each year.

Living in the States, one of the things I hear most often when people figure out that the lilt in my accent isn’t Irish, is: “I’d love to go to Scotland – it’s a dream of mine”. To some it’s a land of castles, tartan, and handsome, blue-faced warriors (generally the ladies); to others it’s the home of golf and whisky (generally the men); but this is the trick. There are many ‘Scotlands’, and from the temporal to the abstract it means a thousand different things to each and every visitor to our shores – and we must be on hand to live up to those expectations and prove them right.

The one part of the recipe that doesn’t need much in the way of a hard-sell is Scotland’s natural beauty. From the rugged, almost lunar landscapes of Sutherland, to the soft dunes of Aberdeenshire; the great forests of Speyside and Perthshire to the endless beaches of Islay and Harris – Scotland is not only a land of great scenery, but a wealth of different scenery: all of it world class. For a small country of 30,000 miles², the diversity of Scotland’s countryside is staggering, her geological complexity brain-hurting and the nature of her biodiversity utterly fascinating.  This is what we should be shouting from the rooftops. To me there are five top areas and themes that deserve special mention in our quest to explain and promote Scotland as a unique destination:

1) The Caledonian Pine Forest (including Glen Affric and the Forest of Mar)

2) The Isle of Skye

3) Wester Ross and Assynt

4) The Hebridean coastline (e.g. the beaches of Islay, Harris and Colonsay)

5) Highland Perthshire

Add to this the drama of St Kilda, the cliffs of Orkney, the rolling hills of Galloway and Tweedale and the bleak plateau of the Cairngorms and there is something for everyone. These are my picks, but there are many more – please add to the list. Of course it’s not just the scenery – but access to it that makes for the perfect travel destination. Also, amenities and activities further enhance the experience – Skye is stunning, but a boat trip into Loch Coruisk past seals and perhaps even whales turns amazing into world beating.

There is a tendency to think only of the Highlands and Islands when we talk of Scottish scenery; but the range is so complex and varied that there are hidden gems everywhere – I love the walk out to St Abb’s Head in Berwickshire; Scott’s View over the Tweed near Melrose; the Ayrshire coast looking over to Arran and Ailsa Craig and even the full sweep of the Lothians from the standing stones of Cairnpapple Hill all command a majestic vision of our beautiful country.

This blog is very much an introduction to the notion of scenery as one of the five pillars* that makes Scotland one of the best places on earth to visit; with the next blog I’ll look at a specific area and the businesses offering a high quality of service, helping to make the place even more attractive to visitors. Any suggestions or recommendations are very welcome.

* My Five Pillars of Scottish Travel are –

1) Scenic

2) Cultural Heritage

3) Historical

4) Delivery of Service

5) Iconic Totems

Scotland for the Holidays

Scotland is one of the top destinations in Europe to visit: a small place with a lot to offer - whether you're tracing your ancestors, looking to hike in the remote mountains or want to enjoy a few whiskies on an Islay beach, there is something for everyone. For the last 12 years I've worked in Scottish tourism, planning trips and itineraries and showcasing the very best my county has to offer the visitor; and now I want to throw open that knowledge and experience to promote Scottish Travel, Culture and Heritage to the benefit of everyone. This is what McIpedia, is all about.

Through these blogs, social media and other avenues I'll take you on a journey through the country, its history and the types of travel and planning that can be done in making the perfect Scottish vacation. There will be stories, facts, tips and a whole raft of information and chances to ask questions. What does Scotland mean to you? How does it fit into the wider world, and why should we choose Scotland as a destination at all? All this and  more will be explored. I want this resource to be the catalyst in driving forward ideas on how to promote and showcase the best that Scotland has to offer, from activities and attractions to events and hidden gems.

What I would like is for this to be an online forum for discussing new ideas for driving forward tourism, a chance to promote your services and be part of the revolution. I'll be looking for guest bloggers, service providers to showcase and for your help in making this a key online service for the private sector. Please sign up on Linkedin to my group - Scottish Travel Group, where you have the chance to discuss all things travel with other business owners and like-minded folk.

My Name David McNicoll, and although I come from the Perthshire Highlands I now live in New York when I run a travel company specialising in Scottish Vacation Packages; and through this I can work with groups, individuals, businesses and agencies to create some fantastic trips and itineraries. The company is called Highland Experience USA, and the link is - www.highlandexperience-usa.com

Also, I have a facebook page - under highland experience usa - give us a look and 'like'

Ok, that's the introductions over with - now it will be time to get this show on the road and light a fire under Scottish Tourism.

David