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continued standing till a storm in 1760 finally levelled it with the ground. The legend would not be complete without adding, that the ghost of the gillie has ever since constantly walked between Finhaven 'and Careston, under the designation of “ Jock Barefoot,” getting credit for all the tricks and rogueries commonly attributed in England to Robin Goodfellow.
The Barony of the Forest of Platane, a primeval forest chiefly of oak, extended westward of the castle for several miles, in which the Earls of Crawford had a lodge, or residence in the greenwood, the vestiges of which are still pointed out under the name of Lindsay's Hall. The forest has long since disappeared but the tradition of the county bears that the wild cat could leap from tree to tree from the castle of Finhaven to the hill of Kirriemuir.
Alexander de Lindsay, Lord of that ilk, Earl of Crawford, Knight,—as the Master of Crawford, and Victor of Arbroath is designed in a charter of 1449—is still remembered traditionally in Scotland, as “The Tiger," or " Earl Beardie.”
“ These nicknames he acquired from the ferocity of his character, and the exuberance of his beard, although a more modern authority derives the latter epithet from the little reverence in which he held the King's courtiers, and his readiness to 6 beard the best of them.”
In consequence of his defeat at the battle of Brechin, already alluded to, the superstition long prevailed, that green was unlucky to the Lindsays, the prevailing colour of their dress having on this occasion been of that colour :—that
" A Lindsay with green
Although after his reconciliation with the king, Earl Beardie's whole character changed, and from being the wildest of the wild chiefs of the north, he became “ ane faithful subject and sicker target, (sure shield) to the king and his subjects, tradition has forgotten his repentance, and the
tiger earl is believed to be still playing at “the deil's buiks,” in the Castle of Glamis, doomed by the Evil One to play there till the end of time !
This legend receives in this neighbourhood a somewhat different interpretation from that given to it by the writer in the tradition of the “Secret Chamber,” inasmuch as it is averred that Beardie, who was constantly losing, having been advised by one of his companions to give up the game“Never," he exclaimed—“till the day of judgment !' The Evil One, it is further said, instantly appeared, and both chamber and company vanished. No one has since discovered them, but in the stormy nights when the winds howl drearily around the old castle, the stamps and curses of the doomed gamesters may still, it is said, be heard mingling with the blast. Both versions are terrible enough, and I leave my readers to judge which is the more awful of the two.
Earl Beardie, left by his wife Elizabeth Dunbar, who survived him for nearly half a century, two sons, minors, David fifth Earl of Crawford, created Duke of Montrose by James III., and Sir Alexander of Auchtermonzie, who inherited that barony from his mother, and who latterly became seventh Earl of Crawford.
Earl Beardie left a daughter also, Lady Elizabeth Lindsay, wife of John the first Lord Drummond, and ancestress of the unhappy Darnley, father by Mary Queen of Scots, of James I. of Great Britain.
Cardinal Beaton, the ruins of whose once splendid residence at Melgund we have just seen and described, resided for a short time at Finhaven Castle in 1545, and there publicly, and in a style of the most ostentatious magnificence, married one of his natural daughters to the Master of Crawford. He had six natural daughters, and if he had bestowed upon each of them the same dowry of 4000 merks, they must have been
among the best tochered brides in Scotland. On that beautiful point of land, a little below the castle at the junction of the Esk and the Lemno, are still visible the
foundations of an old church called the Church of Aikenhauld, and this would appear to have been the original parish church.
The celebrated “Vitrified Fort," on the hill of Finhaven, is one of the earliest and most conspicuous of those ancient monuments, which must in early times have been the residence of some very powerful tribes. This hill rises to the height of about 1500 feet above the level of the surrounding country; and commands a very rich and extensive prospect of hill and dale in all their panoramic beauty.
The fort is in the form of a parallelogram, extending from east to west by recent accurate measurement, about 476 feet. At the east end the breadth is about 83 feet, and towards the west end which is somewhat lower down the hill, the breadth is about 125 feet. The exact height and thickness of the walls cannot now be ascertained, although, in their present state, they are in many places upwards of ten feet from the ground. The masonry of the walls must have been subjected to the action of a very powerful fire. The most fusible stones are placed indiscriminately on the walls with others, in order to bind them together. It is evident that this work had been raised at a great amount and expense of labour and skill, and constructed upon military principles, for the holding of a numerous garrison, with walls and outworks for their defence, and capable of resisting not only a sudden attack, but a lengthened siege. It is undoubted that this fort was one of the strongholds of those early tribes, who inhabited the country about the time of the invasion of the Romans.
About two miles and a half to the north-west of this fort is the Roman camp of Battledykes. This camp is of very considerable magnitude, the mean length of it being about 2970 feet, and its mean breadth about 1850 feet. It encloses a space of about 80 acres, and is now the site of a well-cultivated farm called the farm of Battledykes.
"Of brownyis and of bogillis full this buke.”
Gawin Douglas. LEAVING Finhaven Castle with all its mystical associations, we cross the beautiful Esk, at a most interesting point on the great north road to Brechin ; where, to the left, you observe the miller's cozy cottage, with the old-fashioned meal mill, and trimly kept garden, snugly reposing on the verdant banks of the musical river; while on our right, the luxuriant woods of Finhaven, in all their summer beauty, stretch away in ever-varying lines of light and shade, far away into the shadowy distance.
As we leisurely wend our way along the now almost deserted road, let us admire with a passionate delight, the long and beautiful array of lofty mountain pines which line our woodland path, and listen to the soft yet sad and weirdlike music which issues from their waving boughs, like the sweet angelic notes of a thousand Æolian harps attuned in harmony with the “
new song," which ever reverberates along the golden valleys, and over the radiant mountain-tops of the empyreal heavens. What charms had these scenes, and that music to me in early youth, and what day-dreams of prospective fame would then flash before my dazzled eyes, as I lay beneath the friendly shadow of these stately mountain
I pines, which so lavishly adorn this ancient highway, and the banks of that beautiful river !
We are now approaching Fearn, a parish also connected with the Lindsays, full of legendary lore, and remarkable as the birth-place of men of genius.
Fearn, or Fern, in Gaelic means the alder tree. No record of any proprietor of the barony of Fearn occurs, until the reign of David I., when Robert de Montealto is mentioned as lord of the manor.
When the family became extinct, the lordship of Ferne was acquired by the Earls of Crawford, some time before 1450. The Lindsays were succeeded in the barony of Ferne by the Carnegies towards the close of the sixteenth century.
The family of Lindsay were “of Vayne," till nearly the middle of last century. Tradition ascribes the erection of the castle to Cardinal Beaton, and appropriated by him for the residence of Lady Vane, a corruption, probably, of Bane, or Bain, signifying white or fair. In proof of this, a deep, black pool in a dark cavern of the Noran is pointed out as the place where one of his sons by Lady Vane, was drowned, having fallen over the overhanging precipice. The pool is called Tammys Hole, or Cradle, to this day.
Such is the tradition, but it has been satisfactorily proved that Beaton never had any proprietory interest in the parish, and so the legend in reference to him is valueless. It shews, however, the unrelenting and uncharitable spirit of the people in thus loading his memory with gratuitous infamy, and in ascribing to him everything that was bad and disreputable. But as is shewn in Tytler's History of Scotland, and the Spalding Club Miscellany, it is to him we are chiefly indebted for the preservation of some of the most valuable remains of our monastic literature. It may be, therefore, that when the present investigations by impartial antiquarians are completed, posterity will yet be enabled to pronounce a more favourable verdict on his life and character, as it already has done in the no less famous, and equally notoriously execrated Claverhouse.
Among the eminent men connected with the parish may be mentioned, James and Dr Henry William Tytler, both of whom were men of learning and genius, and distinguished in literature, whose father, Mr George Tytler, was minister of