Newsletter No.25 October 2008

Notes from the Chair and Archive News p2 The Railway Battle for Scotland p4 Abernyte: the quiet revolution p10 Drummond Castle and Gardens p12 Crossword p16

One episode in fifty years of railway warfare: the Tay Bridge collapse of 1879

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Notes from the Chair Since our last Newsletter we have enjoyed (or perhaps endured?) the summer, during which the

Friends participated in a variety of activities, notably our outing to the Gardens and Keep at Drum-

mond Castle on 21 July. It was great fun, enhanced by sunny, warm weather and Alan Kinnaird has

written a most interesting and detailed account on pages 12-15.

The Voice of Alyth kindly described our presentation of A Mosaic

of Wartime Alyth on Thursday 5 June as "fascinating and very

well-received". Certainly, those who attended were responsive

and we were given some intriguing information about events in

Alyth during the Second World War. A couple of the townsfolk

have volunteered to let us record their memories on tape for an

oral history project. On our side, this will involve talking to the

volunteers concerned, recording the conversation and - arguably

the hardest part! - transcribing it. In accordance with the maxim

that many hands make light work, we shall be asking Friends to volunteer to participate in this pro-

ject.

Other summer activities, all most enjoyable, included the Family History Day in the AK Bell Li-

brary on 23 August, and the Rait Highland Games on the 30th, where Hilary Wright made a hit

teaching children how to write with quill pens.

We have already had the first general meeting of the 2008-2009 session, with an interesting talk on

the Sandemans of Springland by Dr Charles Waterston, himself a distinguished scientist and great-

great- great- great- grandson of the notable furniture maker, George Sandeman of Springland. To

those who have not yet purchased a copy of Perth Entrepreneurs: the Sandemans of Springland, I

can warmly recommend this readable and well-illustrated book, the proceeds of which are going to

Capability Scotland, the organisation for people who have disabilities.

We have another superb programme of talks still to look forward to, and I look forward to seeing

lots of Friends at these meetings.

Margaret Borland-Stroyan

Archive News We’ve always thought of ourselves as a Community Archive as well as a Council Ar-

chive. We hold P&KC records but we also welcome collections from local individuals,

businesses and groups, we go out and give talks about the collections, and we arrange

tours, workshops and activities in the Archive searchroom.

But now we’re planning to take things a wee step further

and get more actively involved with local communities. So

we’ll be supporting the Friends’ Alyth Wartime Oral His-

tory Project, helping to establish a historical society for Rait

and District, and we’re looking at ways to help create col-

lections by minority and younger communities with the help

of Rainbow Lives (their website at

www.rainbowlives.org.uk is well worth a look).

And as we’ve always done, we’re happy to give advice to

people who have their own collections: on how best to store your documents, where to get

conservation treatment and suggest how best you can arrange and list your collection to

aid understanding of it. If you’re interested in creating your own virtual archive, log on to

www.communityarchives.org.uk to see what other groups have done.

Meanwhile though, work inside the Archive continues, accepting accessions from a wide

variety of sources, including ACC08/42 bound ms sermons preached by Rev Thomas

Shaw who was minister of Scone, c1709-1745 and ACC08/29 the cashbook of John

Forrest, miller at St Martin's Mill, Guildtown, which lists payments from customers for

supplies of oatmeal, thirds, bran etc., 1916-1920. We’ve been rather slow fully catalogu-

ing our accessions over the summer, but a couple of handlists have been compiled thanks

to our Friends’ volunteers, including the records of MS287 League of Friends of Perth

Royal Infirmary. For more details about our new accessions and listed collections, why

don’t you log on to the Archive web pages at www.pkc.gov.uk/archives?

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Rhona Johnstone It is my sad duty to report the recent death of one of our longstanding members, Mrs Rhona Johnstone. Rhona had been one of our volunteers, working on a number of projects until ill-health intervened. She had long been a user of the archives, back to the days when we were in the Sandeman Library. She had worked in the Sandeman Library herself in her younger days and although this was before my service be-gan it gave us a common bond. All the staff in the archives will miss her and our sympathies go to her sis-ter and the rest of her family. Steve Connelly

The Railway Battle for Scotland Prof Charles McKean, the eminent Scottish historian, is a well-kent figure in the P&KC Archive and last year, his engrossing talk to the Friends, based on his book ‘The Battle for the North’ was well-received. In this exclusive article (to be concluded in our January issue) Prof McKean con-denses the often unedifying results of his research on the half-century of ruinous warfare between the east and west coast railways, and the enormous estuarial bridging projects this conflict brought into being. In the early 19th century, myriad small railway lines had emerged in Scotland, usually for local purposes like transporting coal from mines to harbours, and it was not until the 1820s that their stra-tegic potential was properly perceived. Among the first were the Dundonians, who appreciated that if the logical railway route from central Scotland to Aberdeen lay up Strathmore, it would leave their burgh isolated on a peninsula. Thus in 1825, its Council promoted a railway from Dundee to New-tyle in Strathmore, followed by the Dundee to Arbroath in 1838, and Dundee to Perth in 1847. Nonetheless, the success of the Edinburgh to Glasgow railway of 1836 revealed the potential of trunk railways, and Scotland was seen as a tasty morsel by railway companies forging north from London. Whereas France predetermined the principal national routes and controlled how they were constructed, Parliament refused to follow French example, believing that faith in the market was su-perior. Parliament claimed the power to licence railways, ostensibly in order to protect the public interest against monopoly, but then refused to police either its decisions or railway companies’ op-erations. The Parliamentary procedures for licensing new companies and new lines were both so ex-traordinarily amateur and so enormously expensive, that the great gentleman railway contractor Thomas Brassey observed that he had been able to build the Turin railway at less cost than the ex-pense of steering the London to York railway through Parliament. By 1839, fifteen proposed trunk lines between Scotland and England were being touted, the princi-pal ones being from Carlisle north to Castle Cary on the way to Aberdeen, and the east coast route from Newcastle north up the east coast to Edinburgh. The Liberal MP for Berwick, Richard Hodg-son, a key mover in the latter, met the railway entrepreneur George Hudson to discuss how the east coast route between Edinburgh and London might be achieved. There was doubt, however, that the volume of Scottish trade could take both lines. In a rare (and short-lived) example of dirigisme, Par-

4 Dundee to Newtyle Railway, 1825; a sketch by the railway’s engineer, Charles Londale

(image reproduced courtesy of ARMMS, University of Dundee) (but surely a 60 ton train would require more than 1 horse power?)

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liament appointed a commission in 1839 to select the best route between the two countries. It opted for the West Coast route coming up from Carlisle. However, a minor slump followed, so the West Coast proposal lay dormant. In 1844, the East Coast promoters seized the initiative to pass a bill through parliament, ostensibly for a line from Edinburgh to Dunbar (to do what? Bring fish to the capital?) but was actually a conniving deal negotiated with Hudson to extend the line down to Berwick on the understanding he would bring his line north from Newcastle and bridge the Tweed. The following year, the West Coast promoters applied to Parliament, and Parliament, ignoring the Commission’s conclusion that there was only sufficient traffic for a single route, let it through as well. The Government had changed and the new one would not interfere. The East Coast line boasted of uni-fying Britain through linking Edinburgh to London and styled itself the North British Railway Com-pany. The West Coast line, believing that the 1839 parliamentary commission had given it droit de sei-gneur over the whole of Scotland, took the name of the Caledonian Railway Company, chose St An-drews blue for its livery and adopted the national motto -nemo me impune lacessit- as its own. It envi-sioned itself as a great national railway river to which minor tributaries may feed; but any obdurate company that stood in its way would be summarily dealt with. While it was too late to stop the North British reaching Edinburgh, it was determined to prevent the North British getting north of the Forth to share in the lucrative trade with Aberdeen. Between 1845 and 1850, the two companies consolidated, purchasing minor railway companies and completing their first lines so as to generate desperately needed revenue. Nonetheless, they were over-spending. In 1849, the Caledonian nearly went bankrupt as the consequence of over-expansive plans on which it had wasted all its capital – deceiving its shareholders in the process. The North British was less dishonest, but its tracks much worse built and its construction workforce given to rioting. In 1854, when Richard Hodgson became chairman of the NBR, he was alarmed at what he found. He had inherited a bundle of poorly coordinated and badly constructed lines whereas the Caledonian trunk route joining London to Aberdeen was indeed working. Any NBR traffic going north had either to use Caledonian track (which required Parliamentary running rights) or had to cross two ferries over the Forth and Tay run by a different company, the Edinburgh & Northern. London passengers particularly disliked the ferries.

Running rights were authorised by Parliament, but it was up to railway companies to agree fees and operating procedures. Given that the Caledonian intended to keep the NBR south of the Forth, it charged extortionate fees for any traffic seeking to use its track to reach Aberdeen and resorted to a range of dirty tricks, such as prohibiting NBR carriages on its lines for alleged technical defects, creat-ing unconscionable delays in signals, or even leaving stationary wagons in the way of an express! With the aim of reducing the enormous cost of spending time in London opposing each other’s railway proposals with phalanxes of expert witnesses, and to bring an end to the dirty tricks, Hudson initiated a

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First Peace agreement in 1857. It was broken within weeks. So the NBR decided on grander strategy: either the Caledonian would come to agreement, or the NBR would overwhelm it. It became, as Hodgson was later to observe, ‘war to the knife’. First, the NBR bought the Edinburgh & Northern with its lines through Fife and its two roll-on/roll-off rail ferries designed by its general manager, the engineer Thomas Bouch. The Edinburgh & Northern had already contemplated three proposals to bridge the Tay near Dundee – at Mugdrum, Stannergate and a chain bridge at Broughty Ferry. All had been abortive. The Caledonian’s response was to match the NBR’s drive to purchase other railway companies, and in a furi-ous spending spree between 1860 and 1866, the Caledo-nian ended with the jewels of the Scottish Midland and Scottish North East Railways (which effectively gave them control of Perth to Aberdeen) while the NBR ob-tained the lucrative Edinburgh to Glasgow line. Unsus-tainable guarantees had had to be given to their share-holders, and quite extraordinary sums were spent in Lon-don on parliamentary committees and expert witnesses. In 1866, the NBR spent more than the entire cost of the first Tay Bridge in this manner. However, once the NBR obtained the Edinburgh & Glasgow, it proposed to bridge the Forth at Charleston, for which Thomas Bouch de-signed a two-mile long spindly structure with inadequate foundation assessment (a recurring theme in his projects ) Ru-mours of foundation problems damaged the NBR share price. Farther north, Dundonian entrepreneurs realised that Dundee was not a high priority in the NBR strategy, and that the town was in danger of being left behind as they had so long feared. So, in 1864, they established a railway company to bridge the Tay (engineer Thomas Bouch) and was duly op-posed by the Caledonian. The project failed, however, because it would have wreaked unacceptable damage to the town, obliterating its mediaeval maritime quarter. Indeed, it was so bad that even the Town Council, the company’s strongest supporter, was driven to oppose a scheme of such unexam-pled ineptitude. The NBR, however, had been rattled. It disliked other companies poaching in its territory, and the proposed bridge was part of its long term strategy. So, by agreement, it took over the Dundee Com-pany and proposed a new but similar scheme (the fifth scheme to bridge the Tay – also by Bouch). Farther south, Bouch had tried with a second design over the Forth, with a new type of experimental foundation, but the project was aborted. Hodgson had overextended the NBR and had lied to the shareholders; and now the company had run out of money. Desperate, he offered the Caledonian a peace deal, - which was rejected. He was de-

Sir Thomas Bouch (image reproduced courtesy of ARMMS, University of Dundee)

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posed in November 1866, and the company was virtually bankrupt by Christmas. It could not pay its bills and there was talk of repossessing its carriages. A new chairman, John Stirling of Kippen-davie, was brought in as ‘company doctor’. For a moment, it appeared that the Caledonian had won. But the following month, in January 1867, the Caledonian was revealed to be in an identical condi-tion for identical reasons. The two companies had been bleeding each other to death – particularly in excessive parliamentary expenses which both had concealed. A second Peace Agreement was swiftly promulgated. It lasted barely a year. The NBR had to cancel both Forth and Tay bridge projects. Local industrialists in Alloa attempted a new small swing bridge over the Forth at Alloa (the fourth proposal to cross the Forth), but that was rejected at Inquiry. Secretly, Bouch instructed design work to begin on a new Forth Bridge at the Queensferry Narrows. Given that John Stirling of Kippendavie simply could not go back to his own shareholders for capital to build any bridge whatsoever, Dundee entrepreneurs decided to revive the Tay Bridge through a ‘separate undertaking’ - set up by the NBR but run by Dundonian industrial-ists and financed by them. Bouch prepared another design; but contrary to the Peace Agreement, the Caledonian opposed it and then racked up the payment for running rights of three miles of track be-tween Broughty Ferry and Dundee to a ransom of £10,000 per annum. But by doing so, they made a new bridge inevitable and thus cut their own throats, because the NBR could build their bridge across the Tay for only 15 years rental at this level, never mind the saving to be made on the ferries. Bouch refined the Tay Bridge design, and shifted its location marginally upstream (design 7) and then down again (design 8). For one of these designs, he obtained a survey of the river bed. The scheme went out to tender in 1869/70. Bouch's design was based upon a presumed solid foundation all the way across the Tay, upon which he planned to place a structure of twin brick columns. By the time construction had reached the deeper channel at pier 15 from the south, it was clear that the survey had been badly wrong. There was no solid foundation just 30 feet below: just more than100 feet of silt. Redesign had to be under-taken on the hoof whilst the contract was still running. To halve the weight, Bouch moved from twin brick columns to single cast-iron columns. The new lightweight design required a new Tayport foundry, foundrymen and casting crew. It also involved a delay of just under a year for the redesign, generating increasing urgency on the part of the railway company. Whilst the disaster was unfolding on the Tay, Bouch unveiled his new design for a Forth Bridge. It was to be the largest bridge in the world – with the longest spans and, at c.620 feet, the tallest piers. The Caledonian opposed the bridge on the grounds that it would block commercial traffic on the Forth from reaching Grangemouth. It also opposed the proposed funding of the Forth Bridge Under-taking on grounds that the three English rail companies who planned to guarantee bridge traffic across the Forth would do so to the Caledonian’s disadvantage. The Forth Bridge proposal, how-ever, was put on temporary hold anyway because of the uncertainty now surrounding the Tay Bridge.

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The Caledonian was naturally ebullient at the NBR’s problems. The latter retaliated by going to Par-liament to argue that with the Tay Bridge under construction, it would be monopolistic to leave the Caledonian with sole ownership of the Perth-Arbroath railway. Parliament agreed, the railway com-pany became jointly owned, and thus the Caledonian had lost its monopoly north of the Forth. The

NBR set about a line north from Arbroath to Aberdeen, and began the construction of bridges across into Montrose. The Caledonian retaliated by ratcheting up the misery with more dirty tricks and even fisticuffs on Perth platforms. Casting the Tay Bridge’s new columns began in the same month that the original bridge should have been opened. The new date for opening was now early 1877, and the pressure to accelerate grew. In-ducements were offered to complete on time. Practice in the foundry was sloppy and working condi-tions appalling. Holes in the cast columns were filled with beaumontage (Beaumont’s egg – lamp black, beeswax and iron filings). The foundrymen were well aware of how to circumvent the inspect-ing engineers. Short cuts were also made in the erection of the High Girders. It was believed that it would be quicker to leave the tilted ‘raking’ columns off and add them later. However, in February 1877, the first two High Girders, lacking that support, were blown into the sea by a storm. High Girder Two was so damaged that it was blown up and replaced. High Girder One was shipped to Middlesbrough to be patched up and knocked back into shape. However, it had been fundamentally weakened, and once erected, it showed it. The ninth design to cross the Tay was opened for goods traffic in September 1877 and to passengers in May 1878. It immediately won the lion’s share of Edinburgh-north traffic. The following month, Bouch was back in parliament arguing for changes to the design of his Forth Bridge. Ostensibly, he was arguing for reducing the track height from 500’ down to 350’ to lessen the gradient of the ap-proach lines; but in reality, he was simply seeking to lengthen the spans. The long-span Brooklyn

Bouch’s final Forth crossing design –an enormous chain suspension bridge

Bridge had now opened and Bouch, wanting to be known for the longest spans in the world, needed to make his longer. The Caledonian, naturally, opposed. Bouch won his longer spans but was unable to reduce the height by reason of feared interruption to shipping through snagging their topgallants. He made a very unimpressive witness at the hearing – hesitant, unbriefed and forgetful. He was clearly unwell. Bouch’s final design for the Forth Bridge over the Queensferry Narrows (his fifth) began on site later in 1878 to general acclaim - particularly from the engineering profession. One of the contractors was a young Glaswegian, William Arrol. The Times of 26 December 1879 celebrated Bouch and his design. The north-east trunk line was now in prospect, for which Bouch had designed the largest, longest and tallest railway bridges in the world. About 7.15pm the following night, the Tay Bridge collapsed. It took with it a train of rented carriages travelling over a bridge the NBR had not built and whose maintenance had mostly been divested to an outside contractor. Somewhere between 63 and 75 people drowned.

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The story continues in our next issue; Prof McKean exposes the ‘choreographed’ enquiry into the disaster, Bouch’s downfall, and the continuation of the railway wars. But we gained an iconic bridge and competing hotels in Edinburgh - ‘two gargantuan baroque bookends of unexampled vulgarity at each end of Princes Street…’.

Aftermath of the Tay Bridge Disaster of 1879 © St Andrews University Library. Licensor www.scran.ac.uk

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Abernyte — The Quiet Revolution ‘It was pouring with rain and we went in an open lorry…We had the dead pig in the barrel and a

new baby pig in a poke.’

With these words the late Mary Myles recalled one of the many ‘flittings’ of her family between

farms, at the Martinmas ‘term’ in the years before World War II. Her story, and many others, is cap-

tured in a book which is to be launched on Monday, 3rd of November in the Local Studies section

of AK Bell Library at 6.30 pm.

Abernyte – the Quiet Revolution is a story of population loss, economic depression, two World Wars

and a social revolution - all met with resilience and positive spirit that is epitomised in the quote

above . The book is the result of extensive research by members of Abernyte Heritage Group (much

of it with the help of Perth & Kinross Council Archive) and is inspired by the personal testimonies of

people who lived and worked in the parish in the first half of the twentieth century.

The experiences of one small rural community are captured and explored as Scotland changed from a

rural-based to an urban industrial society. Agricultural depression, the draw of the fast growing

towns and increasing mechanisation on farms, resulted in a dramatic fall in population that left many

rural trades unviable. The traditional system under which farmworkers had been employed, and

which had meant that almost half the population of the parish was liable to up and move every year,

also came to an end. The responsibilities of landowners – who, as parish heritors, had the duty of

Lousing time, Lochton, c.1932 Photograph courtesy of the Tosh family

providing and maintaining both the church and the school, and shared with the kirk session

the relief of the poor - were piece by piece removed. The abolition of parish councils saw

local authority become increasingly centralised and urbanised.

Abernyte nestles quietly among the Braes of the Carse in east Perthshire, but generates a

sense of place and character much larger than the small parish which bears its name. The

rich testimonies of those interviewed (these include farm and estate workers, domestic ser-

vants, local tradesmen and women, a schoolteacher, a butler, farmers, smallholders, a Ger-

man P.O.W., a Land Army girl, estate owners and a miller) offer a vivid and intimate insight

into a period of profound change. They reveal a vital and independent-minded community

with a very active social life and where having fun was a serious business. All aspects of life

are covered – work, leisure, home, school and church – in this book (illustrated with over

one hundred contemporary photographs) that marks the twentieth year of the Abernyte Heri-

tage Group. It has relevance for anyone who has an interest in the history of Scotland’s rural

communities or, indeed, with a concern for their future.

The original oral history project and the research that gives context to the book were aided

by grants from the Heritage section of Awards for All. With a foreword by Professor Chris-

topher A Whatley, FRSE, the book will be published by Perth & Kinross Libraries & Life-

long Learning. Remember the date - Monday, 3rd of November - all Friends of Perth &

Kinross Council Archive are warmly invited.

11 Competitors at Abernyte Highland Games, c.1910 Photograph courtesy of the Carr family

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Drummond Castle & Gardens

The Friend’s visit to Drummond Castle near Crieff on the 21st July was nothing short of amazing, occurring as it did on the most perfect of summer days, revealing one of Scotland’s best gardens in its utmost splendour. And there was a bonus: we were allowed to visit the ancient keep which is not normally open to the public except on the ‘Heritage Open Days’. Nick Haynes’ de-scription in his Architectural Guide to Perth & Kinross certainly captures the atmosphere here in one line - ‘a fantastic wonderland of towers, turrets and topiary’ - and I couldn’t agree more.

Our party was warmly welcomed by Mr Goodwin, the Castle’s Custodian, who led us up to the castle forecourt via a tree-lined walk. The impressive view of the tower on the left, with an equally impressive early 17th century three-storey gatehouse extension on the right, quickly loomed into view. The Gatehouse, as its name suggests, was built to provide a secure entrance to the castle yard beyond, defended by a stout iron yett and guard room, with servants’ quarters above. The dormers bear the Drummond arms, the initials of the first Earl of Perth, and the date 1630, which can be seen high up on the left crowstep. Above the arched pend with the yett could be seen a finely carved panel, again displaying the Drummond Arms. This is the first sign of the extensive works that were carried out for the earl by John Miln III, the royal architect. Enticed, we passed through the pend into the castle yard (notable for its unusual spiral-cobbled paving) giving us a splendid view of the private mansion beyond, with the tower on the left and the gardens below to the right. We then ascended the stone fore-stair to the tower, which Mr Goodwin especially opened for us.

View of the Castle from the gardens (photograph courtesy of the author)

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The estate was acquired by the Drummonds in 1487, and within three years a licence to build the castle was granted to Sir John Drummond by King James V in 1490. Sir John was the ‘Steward of Strathearn’ and ‘Justice-General’ to the king. The oldest part of his five-storey square keep is now over 500 years old, but was partially destroyed by a Cromwellian siege, after which it was restored. The room on en-try is vaulted, as is the basement below. In contrast to today’s focus for eco-friendly buildings, in those times the emphasis was on strength. Of its strength there is no doubt, but here in this dark basement is an intriguing feature which contributed to its capacity for endurance in a siege: the castle had been de-signed to capture rainwater off the roof and store it in this basement-cum-cistern. Ascending the tight turnpike stair, we arrived in a most impressive hall, from which we got our first view of the castle’s amazing gardens. The hall itself was under renovation, but its Victorian character was clearly identifiable, with its pine panelled walls and window seats, stags heads, and massive fire-place. The castle was last restored circa 1822 prior to a visit by Queen Victoria, having previously been partially destroyed (the upper third) to stop English troops being garrisoned in it after the ‘45, as had occurred after the Rising of 1715. Among notable events, Bonnie Prince Charlie was given shelter here after the ‘45. The group briefly discussed the family of Drummond - from their Norman origins, through to its two Scottish Queens (Margaret and Annabella), .and their accession to the Earldom of Perth. I was particularly interested in the castle, as it figures in Nigel Tranter’s acclaimed books on The Forti-fied House in Scotland, in which he suggests that the square stair tower at Drummond is similar to that at Kinnaird in the Carse of Gowrie. But I found Drummond to be quite different. Here the stair tower is exactly what its name suggests, unusually positioned in the centre of an elevation, whereas that at Kinnaird is positioned at a corner, and is essentially a watch tower containing small internal rooms which hide both the straight and turnpike stairs. The proportions of the halls are different too, Drum-mond is square and carved out of a cube, in comparison to Kinnaird which has a rectangular plan and lower ceiling. These castles are the product of different minds, built in slightly different eras. Kinnaird, like Drummond, has been sensitively restored but possibly dates up to a hundred years earlier. But I digress; returning to Drummond Castle...we ascended further and reached the parapet walk, high above the ridge on which the castle is set. From here the true splendour of the garden became apparent, and as we marvelled at it, we learned that there had been a garden here since the 1630’s, that it was on three different levels, and that elements of its design related uniquely to the Drummond family, inter-woven with others relating to Perthshire (such as the three paths representing the county’s main rivers) and the Saltire or St Andrew’s Cross. On leaving the castle, we were then introduced on the terrace to Mr Randlo, the Head Gardener, who gave us a most interesting talk on the garden before we descended with him down the grand staircase, passing a grotto on our way down into the garden, through which we were expertly conducted. An eas-ily missed detail is that the white dog at the bottom of the stairs is a ‘Sleuth-hound’, one of the badges of the Drummonds; the other, better-known, badge is the ‘Caltrop’, a rather nasty little four-pointed spike, that the Drummonds successfully spread before the English cavalry at Bannockburn. Similarly, the presence of Holly in the garden is no accident, as it is the family’s plant badge.

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Like the castle, the garden has also seen change during its life, being re-laid out in the 18th century, and with old plants being renewed, the outcome is an utterly stunning, immaculate garden clipped and weeded to perfection. This formal parterre is to many a Scottish Versailles, a formal garden of vistas with virginal white marble statues and urns. A most impressive obelisk sundial by Milne dates the origi-nal garden to 1630, and is at the heart of the current one. Amazingly, it tells the time in numerous capi-tals of the world, and is well worth a look. There are notable sculptures of Queen Victoria, and of the Old Pretender in front of an arbour of Yews. Beyond this is the lake, which has in the last four years been drained, cleared, the earth dam repacked with boulder clay, and the lake refilled by its natural stream. On its bank sits the latest piece of sculpture – a green Chinese crocodile carved out of a single piece of stone. Koi Carp, from Cherry Bank house in Perth, now inhabit the waters, as do thousands of toads in the spring, and dragonflies in summer, all contributing to a picturesque, tranquil scene. Next we came upon an arbour of tall trees, containing Sequoias and Firs. The oldest tree is now 175 feet tall, and was grown from one of the first seeds brought back by Douglas in the 19th century. Originally the approach to the castle was along a tree-lined avenue, but a new drive was built and enhanced prior to Queen Victoria’s visit in the 19th century. She was one of the castle’s most important visitors, and came with two hundred attendants! Having admired these stately trees we moved on to the main garden, and discussed Lady Willoughby’s roses, which included the pink variety ‘Sexy Rexy’ named after the famously amorous actor Rex Harri-son. To get the best out of the roses, the ground is double-dug on planting and again after twenty years, roughly half way through their life. The garden is so extensive and kept to such a high standard that maintaining it is like spinning plates; once one job is done, another is in waiting. Even with eight sum-mer gardeners it takes three months to cut the box hedges and clip the trees. Roses were still on our minds as we passed large rose-beds filled with resplendent white blooms on our way to the south-facing

Hall in the Keep (photograph courtesy of the author)

‘Small Tree Nursery’, which has been cultivated for 200 years. Here the estate’s ten varieties of apples are trained against the wall – Bramleys, Bramley Seedlings, Sunset, Cox’s Orange Pippin, Lane’s Prince Albert, Charles Ross, Fortune, Ellison’s Orange, James Grieve, and Howgate Wonder. We moved on through impressive old greenhouses, and round the exten-sive vegetable gardens. The keen gardeners amongst us were noting all the potatoes, leeks, onions, spring onions, lettuces, cabbages, and fruit being grown. We had a short debate on the potato varieties present: Kerrs Pinks, Foremost, Home Guard, Golden Wonder, and Ca-triona (with blue eyes) were all noted. We talked about historical events in this setting. There was once a cherry orchard here, from which King James IV picked and ate cherries whilst hunting, as commemorated in a Burns poem. The king was a frequent visitor here and was deeply in love with the fair Margaret Drummond, the daughter of Sir John who had built the castle, and desired to marry her, but was under political pressure to marry Henry VIII’s sister, Margaret Tudor, for the sake of the realm. So much so, that in 1502, Margaret and her two sisters were poisoned to eliminate the threat of Margaret marrying the king. The ladies have been entombed in Dunblane Cathedral for the last five centuries. Our tour ended on a more modern note, reflecting on the fact that the garden and castle fore-court were locations for scenes in the movie Rob Roy, Legends of the Mist, in which the cas-tle and gardens were used to represent the palatial residence of Montrose. We then returned to the car park for a picnic, which gave the Friends time to make new friends, and to briefly discuss each others’ research projects. All in all, it was a most excellent and memorable day, for which I thank our guides, Mr Goodwin and Mr Randlo. For those who missed seeing the gardens, they are open daily from 1 pm to 6 pm (last en-trance 5 pm) through to the 31st October for a modest fee, after which the gardens are shut.

Alan Kinnaird

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Friends of Perth & Kinross Council Archive

Honorary Presidents: The Provost of Perth & Kinross Council Sir William Macpherson of Cluny and Blairgowrie Mr Donald Abbott

Scottish Charity No. SCO31537 AK Bell Library York Place PERTH PH2 8EP

Tel: (01738) 477012 Email: archives@pkc.gov.uk Editor: David Wilson

PRIZE CROSSWORD

Congratulations to Mr. Stan Keay, winner of the competition in our Summer issue, who gets the £10 book token. The same prize is on offer again; the winner drawn from all correct entries received by December 10 2008.

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ACROSS 1,1 down: Trust that big noise in a crisis (6,6) 5. Western Isle (also in E. Glasgow, they say) (5) 8. Wrecked car in a heap of stones (5) 10. After church, look around for maintenance (6) 11. No initial worries, not us! (6) 12. Old 18 down opens a branch a/c. (9) 15, 23 across: Dundee's old supporters crush Dan-ish invader (3, 4) 17. Indians produce a yam in Yutacan (4) 18. Sad? be set right with jewellery (5) 21. Great radical's smart in taking the point (5) 23. See 15 across 25. The proverbial idiot's out of his class (3) 26. Car intact out in the circle (9) 27. See 9 down 30. Advance on left and right of road, says leader (6) 32. Pound recovered from flame (5) 33. Fury when fisher loses money (5) 34. Penniless ceramicists retrained as skilled fish-ers (6)

DOWN 1. See 1 across. 2. Big Deer in Colonel Knight's trophy room (3) 3. What's this country's capital?...currently about forty quid, they say! (7) 4. Broach the faucet (3) 5. Rob's mistaken for a brother in the USA (3) 6. Grotesque caper (5) 7. Every enclosure holds grain (3) 9, 27 across. Noted competitors in coma—a scam gone wrong? (5,6) 13. A twisted beast eggs on the evildoer (5) 14. Pinch back the pin (3) 15. Famously, she threw a stool in St. Giles' (5) 16. It's forever Scottish (3) 17. Note - it’s the beginning of miserable times (2) 18. Underwater craft turns back for carrier (3) 19. '…fond kiss' (2) 20. Old Philippino cardinal's transgression (3) 22. Song and wine in the terminal (7) 23. Mucky, lucky (5) 24. Girdle cakes - from the palace, perhaps? (6) 26. In years, forty-nine, but physically sprightly (5) 28. Against fraud (3) 29. Not even in the endless North (3) 30. Ex-President, shortly (3) 31. Runner revealed in rude escapade (3)