TDGNHAS Series III, Volume 91

This paper re-explores the relationship between the cults of Monenna and Ninian in the wake of the significant developments in the study of Ninian over the past two decades. It examines the overlap of their cults, with a focus on Stirling, Edinburgh and Galloway. It is argued that the Scottish journey of Monenna may indeed reflect the cult of a female saint in southern Scotland, rather than that of Ninian as has previously been suggested. Medieval and early modern writers were aware of a potential for confusion between the names. This may have led to the saints becoming associated with one another and, in some locations, resulted in the eventual replacement of an original cult with that of Ninian.

The issues considered in this paper arise from an ongoing study of place-names in and around the Fleet Valley in the south-west Stewartry, brought into focus by the recent excavations on Trusty’s Hill and the timely publication of the very thorough and thoughtprovoking report on the findings (Toolis and Bowles 2017). I shall address in particular some questions concerning what can and cannot reasonably be inferred from the evidence of names regarding the linguistic, and by implication ethnic and political, history of this corner of Galloway during the second half of the first millennium AD, as well as drawing attention to some intriguing possibilities which may add some complexity to the picture.

A rock-cut footprint linked in tradition to St Patrick was recorded and destroyed during harbour works at Portpatrick (Wigtownshire) in the early nineteenth century. This paper argues it was an early Medieval royal inauguration site, based on wider Scottish and Irish parallels. The footprint’s setting, on a rock in a harbour, created a natural amphitheatre with a backdrop of the Irish coast which may well have been a key element of the tradition. James Fraser’s analysis of early Medieval sources for Portpatrick and the wider context of such stones suggests a ninth–tenth century Hiberno-Norse (Gall-Gaidhel) context is plausible.

The Scots’ Dike (hereafter the Dike) is unique in Scotland: not only is it one of the earliest man-made national borders but, being the only one that is still legally recognised, it has great significance for the identity and history of the nation. Crossing the Debateable Land (hereafter the Land) lying in the parishes of Canonbie and Half Morton in Dumfriesshire and Kirk Andrews in Cumbria, it forms the westernmost end of the Scottish–English land border. Surveys of the Dike carried out in the early and late twentieth century included details of boundary stones along its length but not their precise locations or, in most cases, their number. This paper reports a survey carried out in June, July and November 2016 which sought to make good these omissions as well as to update the findings of the earlier surveys. A full account of the long and complex history of the Debateable Land is beyond the scope of this paper but, in order to set the survey in context, an outline is given.

The existence of corrupt ‘rotten boroughs’ in England is a well-documented phenomenon before the ‘Great’ Reform Act of 1832. Similarly, many Scottish constituencies possessed characteristics which made them particularly closed, even by the limited standards of the pre-Reform political system. The Wigtown District of Burghs, (hereafter the Wigtown Burghs), which was almost entirely controlled by a number of prominent local families, was one of these. By using its politics after 1832 as a case-study, it is possible to question how far the Scottish Reform Act went in creating a more open and democratic political culture. Moreover, it raises the possibility that the political culture of non-contiguous Burgh Districts, which were unique to Scotland and Wales, possessed characteristics which set them apart from other types of constituency.
 

Dumfries and Galloway was caught up in the struggle for political reform that became focused on the ‘People’s Charter’ in the 1830s and 1840s. The most significant mobilisation of working people in the nineteenth century attracted skilled craftsmen whose earnings and status were being diminished by industrial change. They saw it not simply as a campaign for political rights, but as a means of transforming social as well as economic relationships largely through their own combined efforts. Although none of the Dumfries leaders came to national prominence, the town was a regular venue for Chartist lecturers. Almost all commented that they found a stable and committed group of activists there, who established a very successful reading room and co-operative society and who continued the struggle for the cause despite internal divisions and external hostility.

For a short period in the second month of the Great War, the attention of the people of Dumfries and Galloway was focused on the seemingly tragic plight of the family of Andrew Hume, a local music teacher. In a journalistic scoop the Dumfries Standard reported that Hume’s 23-year-old daughter Grace, a nurse with the Red Cross in Belgium, had been brutally butchered by advancing German troops. It appeared to be one episode among many proving the depravity of Britain’s enemy. But granted that, less than three years earlier, Hume had lost his son Jack on the ill-fated maiden voyage of the liner Titanic, it also seemed that lightning had for once struck twice in the same place. In practice, the story proved to be something of a nine-day wonder, quickly exposed as a cruel fabrication. Yet, in highlighting the broader issue of enemy atrocities and wartime propaganda, the Hume case is illustrative of key historical themes whose importance transcends even the First World War itself.