The next talk in the “Inspired by…” series at MUSA is this Thursday, 19 January 2012, at 1 pm. Join Richard Welander, Head of Collections at Historic Scotland, to find out more about the ancient carved stone on display in Gallery 1. The stone was excavated from the grounds of St Andrews Cathedral and bears the symbol of the cross. It dates from Scotland’s early Christian period.
A wire frame model of St Andrews Cathedral, c. 12th century, developed by the Open Virtual Worlds project and designed by Sarah Kennedy.
No, this headline isn’t the plot of some low-budget 90′s science fiction film, we’re serious! Special Collections has teamed up with the Open Virtual Worlds team at St Andrews to bring our presence into the 4th dimension. For the past few years, a team of computer scientists, art historians (including Professor Richard Fawcett, Dr Julian Luxford) and graphic designer Sarah Kennedy have been working on creating a virtual, to-scale model using an open source platform. This has resulted in the wonderful Virtual St Andrews Cathedral, which can be viewed, strolled through and interacted with using an OpenSim platform.
An early rendering of the exterior of the Cathedral, viewed from the south side, developed by the Open Virtual Worlds project and designed by Sarah Kennedy.
A behind-the-scenes shot at some of the software used to reconstruct the virtual Cathedral.
Earlier this year, the team’s co-ordinators, Alan Miller and Lisa Dow, sat down with members of Special Collections to see if and how we could get involved in this already very well developed resources. After a brief discussion, we realized that there was a great deal that we could do together, and so we developed some ideas for a short-term project: Flexible Access to Medieval Books (FAB). This project, designed for an MSc dissertation, will take a two pronged approach to integrating Special Collections into this new virtual environment: 1) we will identify what manuscripts and charters were known to have been in the Cathedral Priory in the 12th century (held both here at St Andrews and further afield), produce 3D object scans of each item, create a 3D representation of each book or charter and place them back in the Cathedral Priory’s book presses, and 2) a virtual exhibition space will be designed that will enable flexible access to Special Collections’ material, a space which will not be constrained by the same considerations of cost that a real world exhibition would.
A rendering of the cloisters of the Cathedral Priory, where it is known that the medieval book presses were located.
In order to get this new project off the ground, a collaborative project bid between Open Virtual Worlds in Computer Science, Special Collections and Art History was made to the SELF fund for technological support and guidance. We learned yesterday that the bid was successful, and so the project will be beginning very shortly! Watch this space for more information!
-DG
Woodcut of the martyrdom of St Andrew from a Sarum Missal printed in Paris in 1534.
We couldn’t resist celebrating St Andrews day with some ‘inspiring illustrations’ of our eponym himself. The cult of St Andrew was actively pursued in Scotland by the 12th century: it was in the interests of the 12th and 13th century Scottish kings to encourage a cult which emphasised the distinctiveness of Scotland’s church (and therefore state) from England’s. The dedication of the senior church and bishopric of medieval Scotland to Andrew, therefore, makes him a regular subject of graphic illustration – instantly recognisable due to the unusual ‘decussate’ cross, or saltire, which characterises his imagery. (check out this great animated video from About Scotland on St Andrew and his relationship to Scotland)
The seal of St Andrews Priory, c. 1190 (St Andrews Manuscript ms30276).
Fragment of a seal from a charter by Stephen, Prior of St Andrews, granting land in St Andrews to John of Lindsay, lord of Balcrody, dated 1381 (St Andrews Muniment UYSL110/PW/115).
The earliest image associating St Andrew with this place is on the seal attached to a charter of land granted by Walter, Prior of St Andrews, circa 1190. It shows the Cathedral of St Andrews and St Rule’s tower flanked on one side by a ‘normal’ Christian cross, and on the other by a clear impression of the saltire – surely a reference to the dedication of the church to St Andrew. This is one of the very earliest pictorial associations of St Andrew with the symbolic saltire cross. Later, the Prior’s personal seals were similar to this, but also bore a counter-seal impressed on the back, which took the form of an image of Andrew on his cross. Both the Bishop of St Andrews and the secular authority of the town also used Andrew as a symbol of their positions.
The medieval matrix (left, St Andrews Muniment UYUY103) and seal from the same matrix, on a 1626 graduation parchment (right, St Andrews Muniment UYUY348) from the University of St Andrews.
One of the more interesting depictions of St Andrew comes from the medieval seal of the University itself, on which Andrew on his cross stands over an academic scene. The seal symbolises the academic purpose of the institution, and over it watches Andrew, in a true sense its patron. This positioning of Andrew at the very heart of the University’s symbolism surely demonstrates the centrality of his position within the University and the nation in the early 15th century.
An 18th century armorial book stamp (top) based on the medieval seal of the University of St Andrews, and a reworked book stamp from the 19th century based on the same seal.
This seal was used as an institutional binding stamp used throughout the 18th century. It can be found on volumes throughout the Rare Book and Muniment Collections. The scene from this seal was reworked for a new 19th century institutional binding (above) which again can be found on books throughout our collections.
Decorated initial ‘U’, with St Andrew, from the Pittenweem Cartulary (St Andrews Manuscript ms37521).
In the Library’s manuscript collections we have two further very striking images. In the 16th-century cartulary of the Priory of Pittenweem, one undated charter begins with a decorative initial ‘U’ which takes the form of a beautifully drawn image of Andrew (to whom the Priory was dedicated). This image is quite different in style, and much finer than the other decorated initials in the book, and may have been executed by a different scribe. (The eagle-eyed may notice that some subsequent, less devoted reader of the book – perhaps as a piece of iconoclasm at the time of the reformation – has embellished the saint with some gratuitous anatomical detail.)
An illuminated initial ‘T’ with St Andrew holding a book and his cross excised from a French missal, circa 1500 (St Andrews Manuscript ms386670).
The jewel in our crown is a piece which we acquired in 2008. It is an illuminated initial letter, from a 15th century French missal. Stunningly drawn in rich colours, and laid with burnished gold, it depicts St Andrew, standing with his cross, holding a book.
The image of St Andrew as part of the Burgh coat of arms of St Andrews which adorns the town hall, in a photograph taken by Andrew G. Cowie in 1969. (St Andrews Photographic Collection AGC-32-22)
The head of the University mace acquired in 1958, taken by University Photographer Peter Adamson. (St Andrews Photographic Collection PGA-M46-013)
The use of Andrean imagery continues unabated – testimony, in modern terms, to the international strength of the ‘St Andrews brand’. We find it used on the Library’s 20th century bookstamps (right); it has been used recently within the Friends of the University Library logo (left); it takes its place as a ‘supporter’ within the University’s new Grant of Arms in 2006 (below); it appears embossed on the bindings of books; and of course it is ubiquitous within the town itself.
A copy of the Matriculation of Arms of the University of St Andrews, 2006 (University of St Andrews Muniment UYUY106).
Whether or not we still understand the centuries-old significance of the association of the saint with the town, the University and the nation, it is nonetheless clear that the imagery still maintains an important place in our modern sense of identity.
-NR
with image contributions from the Manuscript, Muniment, Photographic and Rare Books Collections
From the sketchbook of John N. Bonthron, possibly depicting his bedroom and a sketch of the coat of arms of St Andrews found in the City Council Chambers (ms38539)
The front cover of Bonthron’s sketchbook (ms38539)
This small sketchbook of around 100 watercolour sketches of St Andrews scenes represents just a tiny fraction of the artistic output of its creator, John Nicol Bonthron. He is thought to have produced around 10,000 miniature pictures of his home town in his 81 years. The sketchbook contains the originals, which he reproduced in miniature, as many as 50 or a 100 on a single sheet of paper, and sold or sent around the world to those with an interest in St Andrews.
‘St. Regulus’ Tower’ from John N. Bonthron’s sketchbook, with the artist’s copious notes (ms38539)
’65 South St’ depicted by Bonthron in the early 20th century (above) and photographed in 1972, when it was still a draper’s shop; it is now part of the Department of Mediaeval History.
John was born on 27 November 1854 at 65 South Street where his father Robert ran a successful draper’s business. The Bonthron family were originally fishermen in Wemyss and Buckhaven. We have a letter written in 1837 by the Commissioners of the Herring Industry to Thomas and Robert Bonthron of Buckhaven – probably his father and uncle. Robert moved to St Andrews in the 1840s, settling first in Baker’s Lane as a clothier, then opening the draper’s shop in South Street in 1849. He was elected a baillie of the town in 1858 and appears in town council minutes (B65/11/14) and in burgh court actions. He acted as trustee for fellow businessmen, including Benjamin Evans at the Cross Keys Hotel, and it may have been this generosity that forced him into bankruptcy in 1874. Thereafter he was a commercial traveller for other drapery businesses.
‘West Port’ from John N. Bonthron’s sketchbook, with the artist’s notes (ms38539)
‘The Upper Harbour’ from John N. Bonthron’s sketchbook (ms38539)
Robert had married Janet Nicol in 1853 and John was the eldest of a family of 6. He trained as a draughtsman by profession, and sketched as a hobby:
“I started it before penny postcards became popular. I went about the town for a bit, drawing and sketching, and in the end had a book with over a hundred drawings and paintings of various parts of the town”
(‘Painted 10,000 pictures of St Andrews’ from The Peoples Journal, 19 January 1935.)
‘Old University Library’ from John N. Bonthron’s sketchbook (ms38539)
‘St Andrews, from the top of St. Rule’s Tower’ from John N. Bonthron’s sketchbook (ms38539)
‘The Baths’ from John N. Bonthron’s sketchbook (ms38539)
The sketchbook includes views of St Andrews, the harbour, the cathedral, the castle, Pends, towers in the Abbey wall, Madras College, university buildings, churches, golf course, and the coastline. He added notes on the history of buildings in St Andrews opposite the sketches. There is an index of the paintings at back. Possibly the bedroom drawn inside the front cover may be John’s own room. His other talents were for engraving, particularly engraving The Lord’s Prayer onto a threepenny piece, and for meticulous drawings of Willow Pattern china, followed by a description of the story which was unfolding on each cup and saucer. The St Andrews Preservation Trust holds other works by Bonthron.
‘North Street’ from John N. Bonthron’s sketchbook (ms38539)
‘Cathedral, West Front’ from John N. Bonthron’s sketchbook (ms38539)
‘St Andrews from the West’ from John N. Bonthron’s sketchbook (ms38539)
He spent his last years in Gibson House, Argyle Street, and died on 12 December 1935.
-MS
Dr David Hay Fleming, 1905, in a photograph taken by John Fairweather (GMC-F-107).
Whilst undertaking research for my MSc dissertation on David Hay Fleming (1849-1931) as a book collector, I came across some intriguing correspondence (msdep113/2/4) regarding a bronze bowl. Known not only for his works on Scottish history, but also as an antiquary, these letters highlight Hay Fleming’s passion for keeping locally found antiquities local.
Sketch of the bronze bowl; the upper figure shows the ornament on the exterior of the bottom on the bowl. From the Proceedings of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland, v.33, p.77 (St Andrews copy at rper DA750.S7P8).
The bronze bowl in question was unearthed in St Andrews Cathedral burying ground (below) in February 1898 by the grave digger, Mr Mackie. In a letter to his friend W.A. Craigie, Hay Fleming described the bowl as having “a geometrical pattern in the bottom, and a very prettily incised cross on the cover” (ms36712/1-2). Wanting to know more about it he took the bowl to Dr Joseph Anderson at the National Museum, Edinburgh. Anderson was clearly intrigued by the bowl, and wrote to Alexander Hutcheson, an amateur antiquary in Broughty Ferry, asking him to purchase it for the National Museum from the grave digger. As Hutcheson was unable to get over to St Andrews, he in turn wrote to his friend Hay Fleming, asking him to carry out the commission, not realising that Hay Fleming had been the one to show the bowl to Dr Anderson.
The east front of St Andrews Cathedral and St Rule’s Tower, with the burying ground in the foreground; photograph attributed to Thomas Rodger (ALB-55-52).
Hay Fleming indignantly declined to hand the bowl over, having strong feelings “against the carrying off of local antiquities” (msdep113/2/4/3). But fortune was not on his side, for whilst he was away Dr Anderson claimed the bowl as Treasure Trove. Thus began a series of letters to the Exchequer Chambers by Hay Fleming, in an attempt to reclaim the bowl for St Andrews. Hay Fleming was keen to stress that St Andrews had “a large & valuable Museum (the joint property of the University & of the Lit. & Phil. Society) with as many elements of permanence & stability as the National Museum.” (msdep113/2/4/5). In response Hay Fleming was assured that if the Council of the Society of Antiquaries did not press for the bowl, it would be returned for the museum in St Andrews. Fortunately, the Council did not press to keep the bowl, and on 26th May Hay Fleming was informed that it would be returned to Mackie, on condition that he deposited it in the local museum (msdep113/4/2/8). This was an unusual request for the Crown to make, who was not normally concerned with how the finder disposed of the item, but “this case is so far exceptional that rights of the Crown are waived and the bowl is returned only in deference to representations advanced by you on behalf of St. Andrew’s Museum” (msdep113/2/4/9).
Draft of a letter by Hay Fleming to Mr Robertson, of the Exchequer Chambers, Edinburgh, 9 April 1898, protesting at the removal of the bronze bowl from St Andrews (msdep113/2/4/3).
The bowl was not returned immediately, but was retained at the National Museum in Edinburgh to be exhibited at one of the meetings of the Society of Antiquaries, and to be described and illustrated in the Society’s Proceedings (v.33, pp.76-78). Afterwards, Dr Anderson wanted to show the bowl to Lord Balfour, and so it was not until 2nd March, over one year after the bowl’s discovery, that Hay Fleming triumphantly wrote to Craigie: “The little Bronze Bowl has at last come back to St. Andrews” (ms36718/1-2).
Upper College Hall, in United College Quadrangle, where the bronze bowl was housed before going to the Cathedral Museum in 1909. Photograph by J. Valentine & Co. (JV-D-495).
Hay Fleming’s hard work had paid off, and the bowl was duly exhibited in the museum of the Literary and Philosophical Society, which was housed in Upper College Hall in the United College Quadrangle (above). Upon the handing over of this museum to St Andrews University in 1904, the bowl was amongst the 280 items of local interest listed in Schedule II of the Agreement between the Literary and Philosophical Society and the University Court (below). This Schedule listed items which might be handed over if a town museum were to be established. In 1909 the St Andrews Cathedral Museum opened, which Hay Fleming was instrumental in setting up, and those items from Schedule II were duly handed over.
Extract from the Agreement between the Literary and Philosophical Society and the University Court, Schedule II, showing the entry for the bronze bowl (UYUY852).
In the past 100 years, though, trace of this bronze bowl has disappeared, and its current whereabouts is now unknown. It would be a fitting end to this story to locate the bowl, so if anybody has any clues, please do get in touch!
-Briony Aitchison
Reading Room Administrator
T’was a dark and stormy night…..
T’was a dark and stormy night….no, honestly, it really was….when a gallant band of Special Collections and friends set out in full costume, accompanied by an even more gallant, because they didn’t have to be there, band of followers including Malfi the dog. The aim was to re-create a ghost tour of St Andrews given by W.T. Linksill in the 1920s, as our first offering for this year’s theme of Historical How-To’s.
Excavations at the Cathedral (W.T. Linskill in centre with pipe), from St Andrews ms38076.
Front cover of W.T. Linskill’s St Andrews Ghost Stories (StA PR6023.I7G4)
Linskill was a town councillor in St Andrews, Dean of Guild, president of the St Andrews Antiquarian Society, and ghost hunter. His book ‘St Andrews Ghost Stories’ was the inspiration for this tour. Despite many years of researching and writing about the ghostly legends of the town, he claimed he had never had the ‘good fortune’ to see a ghost himself. However he had a very close shave with death on the night of the Tay Bridge Disaster on 28th December 1879. A packed passenger train was crossing the Tay Bridge in a terrible storm when the bridge gave way, hurling the carriages and all the passengers to their deaths. Linskill had been on that train, and was due to get off at Leuchars, but when the train arrived there, there was no cab to meet him so he resolved to carry on to Dundee. Just as the train re-started the stationmaster saw the cab coming through the snow, and Linskill jumped from the moving train, saving his life.
Cartoon of W.T. Linskill from St Andrews ms38076
As Linskill himself says:
“St Andrews is possessed of a prodigious number of supernatural appearances of different kinds, sizes and shapes – most of them awe-inspiring and blood-curdling. So many are there that there is no room for modern aspirants who want a quiet place to appear and turn people’s hair white … there are spectres wailing in the Castle dungeons, murdered Cardinal Beaton stalking around the Castle; the phantom coach of Archbishop Sharp which if heard coming through the Pends …”
The Ghost Tour with Donald the narrator in front of the Principal’s House on The Scores.
The Smothered Piper of West Cliff.
And there were yet more ghostly apparitions waiting to greet us that autumn night. Donald MacEwan (Chaplain of the University), narrator of Linskill’s stories, led us into the gloaming, past the ghostly face of martyr Patrick Hamilton forever emblazoned on the front of St Salvator’s chapel tower, and down Butts Wynd to meet the Smothered Piper of West Cliff, who haunts the cave under the Principal’s House. Legend has it that one night he marched into the mysterious cliff cave where no one dared to go. His piping faded away into the distance and he was never seen again. But now on moonlight nights his ghost is said to walk up and down the cliff where no path exists, and to hear the ghostly pipes is an ill omen.
The Spectre of the Castle
Briony as the ghost of Archbishop John Hamilton.
Next we walked to St Andrews Castle for the story of The Spectre of the Castle, haunted by richly dressed Archbishop John Hamilton (Briony Aitchison, Lead Cataloguer, Phase 1) complete with hangman’s noose, hanged on the gibbet in Stirling by his enemies in 1371.
Kirsty as The White Lady of the Haunted Tower
The White Lady of the Haunted Tower (Kirsty Lee, Archives Assistant) appears all around St Andrews, but especially on the path from the Castle to the Haunted Tower in the abbey wall. This square tower looking out to sea was said to contain the remains of 12 people, one of whom was a beautiful young girl dressed all in white who looked as if she were merely sleeping, although her body had lain there for centuries. A possible explanation for the association of a pure young woman with this tower is in the lilies carved on the front – a symbol of the Virgin Mary and it was known in pre-Reformation times as Mary’s Tower or the Virgin Tower. Our ghostly lady led us along the wind and rain swept ridge and then coquettishly appeared and disappeared at will.
Christian as The Monk of St Rules Tower
The Monk of St Rules Tower (Christian Harding, Library Attendant) was Prior Robert of Montrose, murdered by a jealous monk in the Cathedral, and is often seen falling from the top of the tower.
Mary as The Veiled Nun of St Leonards
The Veiled Nun of St Leonards in St Leonards’ Pends
The Veiled Nun of St Leonards (Mary Stevens, PhD candidate in Theology) is a terrifying story of a woman who refused to marry her betrothed, joined an order of nuns and so mutilated her face that her horrified fiancé fled and killed himself. She is said to wander the Pends by the old abbey wall at night with a lantern, which she lifts to her face to show her disfigurement.
The Screaming Skull of Greyfriars
The Screaming Skull of Greyfriars features Neville de Beauchamp’s severed head which haunts his descendants, and won’t leave until they are dead. Neville was played by a replica skull borrowed from a box of bones used by medical students, who appeared in the organ loft of St Leonards Chapel to terrify those in the dark below; the atmosphere made tense by a mysterious low growling in the background – Malfi the dog really didn’t like Neville!
Maia and Briony prepare costumes for the Ghost Tour.
Working with archives can be fun!
We had a great deal of fun doing this, dressing up in silly costumes and acting out the parts. Briony showed great ingenuity in making her own Archbishop’s hat complete with bling jewel and gold glitter. Mary made her entire nun costume, the other costumes coming from my dressing-up box gathered during misspent years directing mystery plays. Kirsty threw herself into the role of winsome white lady and Christian willingly threw himself (in the virtual world at least) off the tower. Eddie Martin (Photographic Collections Digitisation Officer) took fabulous photographs which made us look even more ghostly.
An account of Linksill’s own Ghost Walk from the 25 September 1926 issue of the St Andrews Citizen
Scrapbooks of W T Linskill and St Andrews Antiquarian Society
But most spooky of all, and you will find this hard to believe but it really is true, although we had the stories we didn’t know the route of the ghost tours which Linskill took. I was in one of our strong rooms looking at another collection, when my eye was drawn to the shelf below. There were some volumes labelled ‘newspaper cuttings’, which I had never looked at before. I don’t usually have time to explore curious looking archives but this time felt I had to look in them – they turned out to be 5 scrapbooks of the St Andrews Antiquarian Society, compiled by Linskill himself! And the very first article I read, which wasn’t even in the first book I opened, was the one featured here of Linskill’s moonlight walk though haunted St Andrews, giving us the perfect ghost tour route to follow in his footsteps. Was Linskill in there with me guiding me to the right place? Who knows. But out of 13km of material housed in Special Collections, it’s quite a coincidence to randomly open a volume at exactly the right page. I like to believe I had a little help in finding those scrapbooks.
Perhaps Linskill did find some ghosts after all. Look at these photographs of the Pends from one of his scrapbooks – do those figures not look a little pale and ghostly to you?
Ghosts in the Pends (?!) from St Andrews ms38076
Ghosts in the Pends (?!) from St Andrews ms38076
-Maia Sheridan
Manuscripts Archivist
Photographs by Eddie Martin
University Library Special Collections staff walking for the Step Count Challenge
Do you remember last week? The week before spring sprung? I do. It was cold, windy and wet. Naturally such a dismal Monday evening was ideal for the Special Collections step count challenge teams to traverse St Andrews with the Mediaeval St Andrews App – download from Google Play, apple place etc.
The app is good – let’s get that straight from the outset, we had no problem with the app. Except that our fingers were so cold, our screens so wet and our enthusiasm so abundantly dampened by the vile weather that hanging around places of interest and discovering its meaning and place in history seemed somewhat foolish.
It was cold, look at our pinched faces.
However I tried, I truly tried, to impart some of my (meagre) knowledge of Mediaeval St Andrews to my fellow perambulators. As I gleefully pointed out the crest of David I on the Westport, my friends had gone: shoulders hunched against the drizzle and hands rammed into pockets against the cold. I scurried afterwards, eager to point out the civic growth and early town planning – learning that was drummed into me during ME3309 here in the University just a couple of years ago. But the soil was barren and my seeds of knowledge fell, unloved and ignored. Crestfallen and tearful I consoled myself with the knowledge that precious steps were being stepped and that my daily target was already surpassed.
As we passed the mediaeval rigs on the back of the South Street residences I tried again, the mediaeval good life being explained and expounded. But, again, my words fell on deaf (and above all damp) ears. Even the modern allure of technology in the shape of the excellent app was not enough to rekindle any interest in the breath-taking history all around us.
See how interested they all are, see how sulky I am.
But then, by the Cathedral, salvation was seemingly at hand. The pioneering spirit of Canada – in the shape of Rachel Nordstrom – arrived from a trip to Edinburgh and said “Tell me, tell me everything!” But it was too late, I was sulking. Sulking and cold. A few muttered and desultory remarks about the pilgrims arriving in the harbour area, potential leper hospitals and the Culdees (Ceili De) were about all I could muster.
Until that is, the realisation that we were about to enter the Whey Pat Tavern en masse. A late burst of enthusiasm allowed me to give a potted history of the religion that had so shaped the town; emanated outwards from the Cathedral and culminated in the friaries on the western edges of the town. But then it was gone, as swiftly as it had arrived. The Whey Pat beckoned, Dark Island was available and haggis nachos were forthcoming.
We bonded, we apped, we were weathered, we (I) sulked, we drank: but above all, we walked.
-Trevor Ledger
Lawrence Levy Collection Cataloguer
University Library Special Collections staff walking for the Step Count Challenge
Do you remember last week? The week before spring sprung? I do. It was cold, windy and wet. Naturally such a dismal Monday evening was ideal for the Special Collections step count challenge teams to traverse St Andrews with the Mediaeval St Andrews App – download from Google Play, apple place etc.
The app is good – let’s get that straight from the outset, we had no problem with the app. Except that our fingers were so cold, our screens so wet and our enthusiasm so abundantly dampened by the vile weather that hanging around places of interest and discovering its meaning and place in history seemed somewhat foolish.
It was cold, look at our pinched faces.
However I tried, I truly tried, to impart some of my (meagre) knowledge of Mediaeval St Andrews to my fellow perambulators. As I gleefully pointed out the crest of David I on the Westport, my friends had gone: shoulders hunched against the drizzle and hands rammed into pockets against the cold. I scurried afterwards, eager to point out the civic growth and early town planning – learning that was drummed into me during ME3309 here in the University just a couple of years ago. But the soil was barren and my seeds of knowledge fell, unloved and ignored. Crestfallen and tearful I consoled myself with the knowledge that precious steps were being stepped and that my daily target was already surpassed.
As we passed the mediaeval rigs on the back of the South Street residences I tried again, the mediaeval good life being explained and expounded. But, again, my words fell on deaf (and above all damp) ears. Even the modern allure of technology in the shape of the excellent app was not enough to rekindle any interest in the breath-taking history all around us.
See how interested they all are, see how sulky I am.
But then, by the Cathedral, salvation was seemingly at hand. The pioneering spirit of Canada – in the shape of Rachel Nordstrom – arrived from a trip to Edinburgh and said “Tell me, tell me everything!” But it was too late, I was sulking. Sulking and cold. A few muttered and desultory remarks about the pilgrims arriving in the harbour area, potential leper hospitals and the Culdees (Ceili De) were about all I could muster.
Until that is, the realisation that we were about to enter the Whey Pat Tavern en masse. A late burst of enthusiasm allowed me to give a potted history of the religion that had so shaped the town; emanated outwards from the Cathedral and culminated in the friaries on the western edges of the town. But then it was gone, as swiftly as it had arrived. The Whey Pat beckoned, Dark Island was available and haggis nachos were forthcoming.
We bonded, we apped, we were weathered, we (I) sulked, we drank: but above all, we walked.
-Trevor Ledger
Lawrence Levy Collection Cataloguer
University Library Special Collections staff walking for the Step Count Challenge
Do you remember last week? The week before spring sprung? I do. It was cold, windy and wet. Naturally such a dismal Monday evening was ideal for the Special Collections step count challenge teams to traverse St Andrews with the Mediaeval St Andrews App – download from Google Play, apple place etc.
The app is good – let’s get that straight from the outset, we had no problem with the app. Except that our fingers were so cold, our screens so wet and our enthusiasm so abundantly dampened by the vile weather that hanging around places of interest and discovering its meaning and place in history seemed somewhat foolish.
It was cold, look at our pinched faces.
However I tried, I truly tried, to impart some of my (meagre) knowledge of Mediaeval St Andrews to my fellow perambulators. As I gleefully pointed out the crest of David I on the Westport, my friends had gone: shoulders hunched against the drizzle and hands rammed into pockets against the cold. I scurried afterwards, eager to point out the civic growth and early town planning – learning that was drummed into me during ME3309 here in the University just a couple of years ago. But the soil was barren and my seeds of knowledge fell, unloved and ignored. Crestfallen and tearful I consoled myself with the knowledge that precious steps were being stepped and that my daily target was already surpassed.
As we passed the mediaeval rigs on the back of the South Street residences I tried again, the mediaeval good life being explained and expounded. But, again, my words fell on deaf (and above all damp) ears. Even the modern allure of technology in the shape of the excellent app was not enough to rekindle any interest in the breath-taking history all around us.
See how interested they all are, see how sulky I am.
But then, by the Cathedral, salvation was seemingly at hand. The pioneering spirit of Canada – in the shape of Rachel Nordstrom – arrived from a trip to Edinburgh and said “Tell me, tell me everything!” But it was too late, I was sulking. Sulking and cold. A few muttered and desultory remarks about the pilgrims arriving in the harbour area, potential leper hospitals and the Culdees (Ceili De) were about all I could muster.
Until that is, the realisation that we were about to enter the Whey Pat Tavern en masse. A late burst of enthusiasm allowed me to give a potted history of the religion that had so shaped the town; emanated outwards from the Cathedral and culminated in the friaries on the western edges of the town. But then it was gone, as swiftly as it had arrived. The Whey Pat beckoned, Dark Island was available and haggis nachos were forthcoming.
We bonded, we apped, we were weathered, we (I) sulked, we drank: but above all, we walked.
-Trevor Ledger
Lawrence Levy Collection Cataloguer
Today, the east end of St Andrews is dominated by the ruins of its former Cathedral. Once the largest building in Scotland, St Andrews Cathedral held the shrine of the nation’s patron saint, was the base for the kingdom’s senior bishopric (from the 1470s onwards the country’s first archbishopric), and was served by Scotland’s most important monastic community. Indeed, in the early fifteenth century, the chronicler Walter Bower described St Andrews Cathedral as ‘the lady and mistress of the whole kingdom’, and emphasised that its clerics took precedence over all other Scottish churchmen. Yet, for more than 450 years this remarkable building has been open to the elements.
Image of the St Andrews Cathedral (with permission of Smart History, CC-BY-NC-ND 2.0)
In the summer of 1559 St Andrews Cathedral, traditionally the hub of Catholicism in Scotland, was attacked by committed Protestants. According to Sir James Croft, in a contemporary report sent to the English government, the Reformers ‘put down the [Cathedral] priory of St Andrews in this sort: altering the habit, burning of images and mass books and breaking of altars’. Not long afterwards, the Cathedral’s lead roof was stripped off, and local residents began to remove masonry, causing the glories of the medieval church to descend rapidly into ruins. As early as the 1590s, the Scottish Parliament noted regretfully that St Andrews Cathedral
‘is for the most part already decayed, and daily decays and becomes ruinous in such sort that the same, by process of time, will utterly decay’.
Sketchbook with watercolour drawing of the ruined Cathedral by John Nicol Bonthron, c.1907-1909 (ms38539)
However, this summer marks a happier moment in the Cathedral’s story – 5 July marks 700 years since the main Cathedral church was consecrated by Bishop William Lamberton in the presence of King Robert the Bruce. The late medieval chronicler Andrew Wyntoun (lived c.1350 to 1422) later celebrated the occasion in verse, recording that:
A thousande thre hundir yhere and auchteyne
Fra Crist was borne of the Maydyn cleyne,
Off the monethe of Iuly
The fift day, ful solempnely
The bischope Wilyame of Lambertone
Mad the dedicacion
Off the new kirk cathedrall
Off Sanctandrois conuentuall.
The king Robert the Bruss honorably
Wes thare in persoune bodely;
And vii. bischopis thare wes sene,
And abbotis als were thare fiftene…
On such an anniversary, rather than regretting what has been lost, it is perhaps worthwhile considering what has survived from the Cathedral – including a varied (and now geographically scattered) selection of manuscripts from the Cathedral Priory.
St Andrews Cathedral had a tradition of book collection and creation that stretched back long before 1318. There had been a religious site at the east end of St Andrews since at least the eighth century A.D. Although none of the early religious community’s books survive, there is reason to believe they did own them. Walter Bower claimed that he had seen at St Andrews ‘the silver cover of a gospel book’ engraved with the words:
‘Fothad, who is the leading bishop among the Scots,
Made this cover for an ancestral gospel-book.’
Details of Fothad’s life and career are sketchy, but he is thought to have died around 963. Sadly these early medieval books did not survive the ravages of time. Instead, the surviving manuscripts from St Andrews Cathedral date from the twelfth century or later.
The twelfth century was a time of change in St Andrews. The Culdees or ‘Celi De’, holy men from a Celtic tradition who had formerly guarded the shrine of St Andrew, were driven out from the Cathedral and replaced by ‘regular’ Augustinian canons, influenced by English and Continental customs. With the backing of successive bishops, the Augustinian canons embarked on a series of major building projects, including, in the 1160s, starting work on the new Cathedral church which was eventually completed in 1318. Like other great monastic communities, the canons at St Andrews Cathedral created and preserved a variety of texts including liturgical and musical works, theological writings, histories, and a vast body of administrative documentation – a number of which exist to this day.
Page from the twelfth-century manuscript collection of works by St Augustine of Hippo (msBR65.A9) which still remains in St Andrews today
Perhaps the most remarkable extant manuscript from the Cathedral Priory is a twelfth-century collection of works by St Augustine of Hippo (now in the University of St Andrews Library’s Special Collections as msBR65.A9). The vast volume, bound between oak boards, is thought to date from around 1190, and was probably copied by hand in St Andrews. The book seems to have been preserved at the time of the Reformation by John Winram, the sub-prior at the Cathedral, who, despite participating in the prosecution of heretics as late as 1558, subsequently became a leading figure in the Protestant Church of Scotland.
Other extraordinary survivals include a collection of manuscripts which were removed from St Andrews Cathedral by a German named Marcus Wagner in 1553, and are now kept in the Herzog August Bibliothek in Wolfenbüttel. Marcus Wagner originally came from Friemar, and was a keen and rather unscrupulous acquirer of old manuscripts, on behalf of the eminent historian and theologian Flacius Illyricus. In the spring of 1553 Wagner came to St Andrews where he was invited for a meal at the Cathedral Priory by Lord James Stewart, the illegitimate son of King James V who was commendator of the priory. While Lord James was preoccupied with entertaining another aristocratic guest, and a woman described as ‘Lady Venus’, Wagner slipped away to visit the Cathedral library to identify books of potential interest to Flacius Illyricus. Wagner found several volumes, which he subsequently, with assistance of Lord James, removed to Germany – after having claimed to at least one suspicious member of the St Andrews community that they were nothing more than out-dated academic works on science and philosophy which were commonly to be found around universities.
In reality the manuscripts Wagner removed from St Andrews Cathedral were more varied. Chief among them was a unique fourteenth-century music book created for St Andrews Cathedral, which provides extraordinary evidence of the international influences on medieval Scottish music (this can be viewed online at: http://diglib.hab.de/?db=mss&list=ms&id=628-helmst&lang=en). Other manuscripts included a fifteenth-century manuscript of John of Fordun and Walter Bower’s famous Scotichronicon, which traced Scotland’s story from mythical origins to the time of the Stewart kings, and a volume which (among other works) had an account of the legend of the relics of St Andrew and their arrival in Scotland. Wagner also removed the letter book of the early fifteenth-century prior of St Andrews Cathedral, James Haldenstone, which provides an invaluable insight into the administrative preooccupations of the late medieval priory, and was published in 1930 by James Houston Baxter, under the title Copiale Prioratus Sanctiandree (BR788.S1H2).
An agreement between John, the prior, and the canons of St Andrews [Fife], Master Laurence, archdeacon of St Andrews, and Sir William, archdeacon of Lothian, concerning an episcopal election, c.1238 (msDA890.S1W5 (ms588))
Charter granting alms to the Church of St Andrew the Apostle, 1215 (UYSL110/PW/3)
In St Andrews itself, the University Library’s Special Collections Division are fortunate in holding a large number of individual charters and pittance writs associated with the Cathedral – many of them preserved in the records of St Leonard’s College, which was founded by churchmen from St Andrews Cathedral, and which after the Reformation acquired a considerable portion of the Cathedral Priory’s estates. A large number of these documents were catalogued in detail by Special Collections near the start of this century, revealing the extraordinary content they contain on both the Cathedral and burgh of St Andrews. Despite seeming (to some eyes) to be dry legal documents, they are a unique insight onto the activities of the Cathedral, and the place it held in the local community, recording in many cases names, occupations, and residences of otherwise long-forgotten St Andreans. The potential of these documents has only begun to be unlocked thanks to cataloguing and recent work by scholars from the University of St Andrews. The ravages of time, and the tumults of St Andrews’s past mean much has been lost from St Andrews Cathedral. But, on the 700th anniversary of the consecration of the great Cathedral church, it is perhaps worthwhile remembering that the materials exist for much more research into this unique institution still to be done!
Dr Bess Rhodes
Smart History and School of History
This is the second instalment in a series of five blog posts featuring close juxtapositions of early photographs of St Andrews selected from Special Collections, with the same views today. Published during the 2019 Photography Festival, this project aims to bridge 180 years of photographic history by inscribing these comparisons both within the context of their creation, and within the broader history of St Andrews. To view the interactive juxtapositions, click on the illustrations.
The Cathedral
Our photographic stroll through Victorian St Andrews continues with early photographs of the cathedral, already in ruins when photographed in the nineteenth century.
Plan of St Andrews locating the vantage points used to make the photographs featured in this blog post. Original lithographic print published in Charles Roger, History of St. Andrews (Edinburgh: Adam & Charles Black, 1849).
Begun in the 1160s, St Andrews cathedral was consecrated in King Robert Bruce’s presence in 1318 and completed by the late fourteenth century. The largest building in medieval Scotland, its monumental proportions and magnificence were designed to host the remains of the Apostle Andrew, allegedly brought to east Fife in the fourth century by a Greek monk named Regulus (or Rule).
This formidable structure was also a sign of religious, political and economic power. Attracting increasingly high numbers of pilgrims from the 10th century onwards, the relics of Saint Andrew provided for a steady source of income. Their possession granted legitimacy to the priors and bishops of St Andrews, and made for a potent symbol of Scottish power and independence from England. So central was the influence of St Andrews in Scotland that the Apostle became the country’s patron saint and his symbol, the saltire cross, the national emblem.
In last week’s blog post, a photograph of Blackfriars chapel by Thomas Rodger called the troubled days of the Reformation to mind. In June 1559, a series of sermons on the theme of ‘Cleansing the Temple’ were pronounced by John Knox in Holy Trinity Church. This is said to have galvanised the local population, already stirred by recent persecutions, into raiding the seats of Catholic power in St Andrews and erasing all signs of ‘idolatry’.
The mob ransacked Blackfriars and Greyfriars monasteries as well as the cathedral, destroying its sculptures and the books of the Augustinian community. Not much of the building itself was actually torn down, but it was left to decay for more than two centuries.
Thomas Rodger, The Cathedral, St Andrews, albumen print, 1850. ID: ALB-10-82-2. Click to enlarge.
This composition by Thomas Rodger, St Andrews’ first professional photographer, shows the west front gateway and the east gable in one frame. Quite remarkably, apart from minor restorations and losses, the ruins have not changed much in the past 170 years.
To create this photograph, Rodger used the collodion process invented by Frederick Scott Archer in 1851. Involving a glass negative coated with a layer of collodion, it produces sharper images than the calotype process and allows for quicker exposure times. A good deal of care and precision are still needed to obtain a good negative, however, as it must be exposed and developed while the emulsion is still wet. The drier it gets, the less photosensitive it will be.
Rodger animated the scene by having three men pose in the middle ground. The higher position of the east gable in my reproduction shows that Rodger’s lens was actually placed lower than mine.
David O. Hill & Robert Adamson, St Andrews Cathedral, salted paper print, 1846. ID: ALB-23-7. Click to enlarge.
The lighter tone and more graphical texture of this print by Hill & Adamson tells us that it is a salted paper print made from a calotype negative. It is quite faded, but this does not take away the balance of the composition, framed from the burial ground surrounding the cathedral. In comparison with my reproduction, the scene seems almost entirely unchanged. The greater number of gravestones, the tree that grew over Hill & Adamson’s viewpoint and the Fairmont Hotel in the distance are the only obvious differences.
To the left of the composition stands the east gable of the cathedral, completed in the late twelfth century along with the choir. It was partially rebuilt in the fifteenth century after a fire that significantly damaged the cathedral in 1378. To the right of the east gable is St Rule’s Tower, along with the remains of this church’s choir. Erected during the first half of the twelfth century, it was possibly designed to host the relics of Saint Andrew before it was superseded by the cathedral.
David O. Hill & Robert Adamson, East Gable of the Cathedral, salted paper print, 1846. ID: ALB-66-11. Click to enlarge.
In this composition, a man is sitting on the remaining base of the choir’s outer wall. His presence provides a scale for the monument, but also anchors the scene in time, giving it a meditative quality that echoes the melancholy surroundings and their tragic history.
Considering that the camera was probably operated by Robert Adamson, the sitter may well have been David Octavius Hill. He looks to the southeast, where a few yards away, just outside the frame, Adamson would be buried less than two years later. Little did Adamson know, when he took this photograph, that he would die of illness on 14 January 1848, at only twenty-seven years of age.
David O. Hill & Robert Adamson, Cathedral from the Northeast, salted paper print, 1846. ID: ALB-66-13. Click to enlarge.
The passing of time is more apparent in this juxtaposition, the number of gravestones having dramatically risen since 1846. Once again, the cathedral’s ruins appear almost unchanged, as does the building in the background. Formerly known as the Archdeacon’s Inns or Manse, it is now called Dean’s Court.
Originating in the twelfth century and remodelled in the late sixteenth century, Dean’s Court is considered the oldest residential building in St Andrews. Formerly privately owned, it was bought for the university in 1930 and converted into a residence for postgraduate students in 1951.
The main subject of this photograph – the west front of the cathedral – was rebuilt in the 1270s after the previous structure had collapsed during a storm, and was again remodelled after the fire of 1378. It seems to have stood in rather good shape until the early seventeenth century, when, as recounted by Charles Roger in 1849, the north tower fell right after a group of people attending a funeral had passed under it.
David O. Hill & Robert Adamson, Cathedral and Precinct Wall, salted paper print, 1846. ID: ALB-66-12. Click to enlarge.
In this picture, Hill & Adamson depicted the east gable from the northeast, beyond the precinct wall. Although the gable looms in the background, the centre of the composition is occupied by one of the thirteen turrets adjoined to the wall.
This square structure is known as the Haunted Tower, as the ghost of a lady wearing a white dress is said to appear nearby. Whether one believes in such stories is irrelevant – it is an interesting element to consider when looking at Hill & Adamson’s photograph, in which the figure of a man is looking up at the tower. Wearing a light frock coat, he seems to be examining it and pondering over the stories associated with it.
In order to reconstitute the view, it was crucial that the photograph be taken in the morning. In the afternoon, both the gable and wall are engulfed in shadow.
This instalment in our rephotography series comes to an end. Next week, our journey through time will go on with photographs of the Pends and the Harbour.
Édouard de Saint-Ours
PhD candidate, University of St Andrews,
Université Le Havre-Normandie
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank Rachel Nordstrom for her continued support and advice throughout this project. My gratitude also goes to Alex Cohen, who generously gave some of his own time to proofread these posts.
Bibliography
Brown, Michael and Katie Stevenson, eds. Medieval St Andrews: Church, Cult, City. Woodridge: Boydell & Brewer, 2017.
Crawford, Robert. The Beginning and the End of the World: St Andrews, Scandal, and the Birth of Photography. Edinburgh: Birlinn, 2011.
Grierson, James. Delineations of St Andrews. Edinburgh: Peter Hill; St Andrews: P. Bowler; London: Vernor, Hood, and Sharpe, 1807.
Johnstone, Karen A. ‘Thomas Rodger, 1832-1883: A Biography and Catalogue of Selected Works’. MPhil dissertation, University of St Andrews, 1997.
Lyon, Charles Jobson. The History of St Andrews, Ancient and Modern. Edinburgh: The Edinburgh Printing and Publishing Co.; St Andrews: M. Wilson; Cupar: G. S. Tullis, and Gardiner and Anderson; Kirkcaldy: J. Cumming, and J. Birrell; Dundee: F. Shaw, and J. Chalmers; Perth: J. Dewar; Arbroath: P. Wilson; Montrose: J. and D. Nichol, and Smith and Co.; Aberdeen: Brown and Co.; London: Smith, Elder, and Co., 1838.
Morrison-Low, A. D. ‘Dr John Adamson and Thomas Rodger: Amateur and Professional Photography in Nineteenth-Century St Andrews’. In Photography 1900: the Edinburgh Symposium, edited by Julie Lawson, Ray McKenzie and A. D. Morrison-Low, 19-37. Edinburgh: National Museums of Scotland, 1994.
Morrison-Low, A. D. ‘Brewster, Talbot and the Adamsons: The Arrival of Photography in St Andrews’. History of Photography 25, no. 2 (2001): 130-41.
Roger, Charles. History of St. Andrews. Edinburgh: Adam & Charles Black, 1849.
Stevenson, Sara and A. D. Morrison-Low. Scottish Photography: The First Thirty Years. Edinburgh: NMS Enterprises Limited-Publishing, 2015.
