The Obelisk

Among several monuments at Dryburgh Abbey, I give a special mention to one that visitors to Dryburgh's ruins should not overlook.  South of the abbey near the gatehouse and somewhat away from other monuments and gravestones is an obelisk which was also erected by David Steuart Ersking, 11th Earl of Buchan in 1794.  

April 5, 2023  King James Obelisk (Moreville relief)

Buchan's obelisk commemorates United Kingdom's Stewart kings James I, James II of Scotland, and it commemorates Hugh de Moreville (or Morville, founder of Dryburgh Abbey) ostensibly on November 10, 1150 AD.  The  obelisk features carvings which depict these distinguished luminaries.  

While it has been called a "somewhat eccentric" landmark, to be honest, we did not find the monument to be so.  "Eccentric" is often a band wagon convenience; boarded by far too many.  

The slender monument itself is a tall, almost needle-like stone obelisk.  Two sides have inset figurative carvings of James I and James II.  The third side is a relief of Hugh de Moreville.  

April 5, 2023  King James Obelisk (James I inset)

And the fourth side is inscribed, reading:  "Erected by the right Hon David Steuart Erskine the Earl of Buchan to the honour of his ancestors 1794.  The figures were cut by George Burnet in Newstead and the lettering by D Forson in Drybugh by order of Sir David Erskine."

The obelisk is listed (supposedly protected) as part of the wider historic Dryburgh site. 

A note on Hugh de Moreville:  Moreville was a Norman knight who had the fortune of being associated with David I of Scotland, through whom "he obtained land and lordships which placed him in the very first rank of the Anglo-Norman nobility in Scotland."  He became Lord High Constable of Scotland, second only to the King.  

Moreville died at Dryburgh in 1162.  An ancient memorial to him is said to exist in the south wall, and it is said to mark his burial-place.  We did not see it, either because we overlooked it or because the abbey (and practically all other Scottish historical sites we visited) was shut to visitors by chain anchor fence. 

April 5, 2023  Chain anchor fence closing off access

 

The Muses

April 5, 2023  Dryburgh; Haig and Scott burial site 

Dryburgh Abbey in the Borders is said to have been founded by St. Modan ~600 AD.  However, no evidence is known to exist to support that claim.  

Therefore, dating can only be done by the existing ruins at Dryburgh and the history it tells.  It was established in 1150 AD by Hugh de Morville, Lord of Lauderdale, hereditary constable of Scotland.

As previously mentioned, Dryburgh Abbey is a special place.  With the fresh aroma of damp forests evident when we visited, it is almost contemplative, or meditative in the zen sense, with the River Tweed's quiet rush slipping by.  Tranquil.  Or perhaps spiritual.  It is easy to see why White Abbot monks (Premonstratensian) chose this spot on a remote bend in the River Tweed. 

April 5, 2023 Dryburgh Abbey

Further posts regarding  Dryburgh Abbey are reserved for another day.  This particular post regards a nearby point of interest, specifically the Temple of the Muses which can (and definitely should) be added to any itinerary taking in the serene Dryburgh Abbey.

April 5, 2023 Dryburgh; ancient yew

Getting to the Temple of the Muses is an easy walk, only about 4/10ths of a mile from Dryburgh Abbey's car park.  The walk was actually enjoyable along the banks of River Tweed.  Being level with asphalted single track roads, it was an easy walk.  A word to the wise, though.  Water repellent gear is advised for springtime sojourners.  Being Scotland, spring weather can shift quickly.  When we walked the track, for example, it was misting an "almost rain"--which definitely added to a damp chill.  Eventually, the weather lifted, but still. 

April 5, 2023  The Four Seasons 

The temple currently contains four bronze statues which depict the "Four Seasons".  Sitting atop a cairn-like rise above River Tweed (known as Bass Hill), the temple has a domed roof supported by nine columns.  These nine columns represent the Muses of classical Greece, although their number and their names differed widely depending on the specific ancient classical region.

April 5, 2023 Temple of the Muses 

According to Hesiod (c. 700 BC), the Muses were the nine daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne.  Generally speaking, they were the personifications (or deities) of knowledge and the arts, especially poetry, literature, dance and music.  Their names and their patronages were as follows:  

• Calliope (epic poetry)
• Clio (history)
• Polyhymnia (hymn and mime)
• Euterpe (song)
• Terpsichore (chorus and dance)
• Erato (lyric poetry)
• Melpomene (tragedy)
• Thalia (comedy)
• Urania (astronomy and astrology) 

April 5, 2023  Dryburgh Abbey

I mentioned "currently contains" four bronze statues.  That is because the current bronzes are replacements of a sort.  Commissioned to artist Siobhan O'Hehir and installed in 2002, they are hardly historic.  O'Hehir (b. 1966), a fairly well-known semi-abstract landscape artist, resides in the Borders village of Ancrum (through which we toured in 2023).  O'Hehir's Muses depicted the Four Seasons and are somewhat unusual given O'Hehir is known more for works in oil on canvas.  

O'Hehir's Four Seasons is a celebration of nature and the landscaping established at Dryburgh Abbey by David Steuart Erskine, 11th Earl of Buchan (June 1, 1742 - April 19, 1829), who bought the abbey estate in 1786 after it had passed through several hands in the intervening hundreds of years following the Reformation. The Earl of Buchan was considered somewhat eccentric in his day.  By modern standards though, he was visionary.  And the grounds at Dryburgh attest to this.  

April 5, 2023 Temple of the Muses

In 1817, the Earl of Buchan is said to have completed the construction of his temple, which originally housed a bronze statue of Apollo with the nine Muses.  A small discrepancy on dates exists.  

In the original temple, on the capital of each Doric column, was the name of one of the nine muses, inscribed in metallic characters that was the work of John Ruthven of Edinburgh.  He likely was also the sculptor of the original Apollo bronze.  

No architect is mentioned in connection with the ‘fanciful erection’ of the temple, but apparently it was the work of Buchan himself, working with his favored mason John Smith of Darnick.  (Smith also worked for Sir Walter Scott at Abbotsford, and also created the large statue commemorating William Wallace nearby.)  

As to discrepancies, it is recorded in August 1812 that "a grand fete took place at Dryburgh" wherein the new temple was the centerpiece of the revelry.  This was five years before most say the temple was completed.  The 1812 record mentions the columns as bearing the names of the nine Muses, although it does not directly mention the Apollo bronze.  Perhaps the Apollo bronze was commissioned and finally placed in 1817 completing the structure.

Regardless, by the second half of the century, Buchan's temple was dismissed as ‘a very commonplace building’.  Its Georgian appeal was lost to the Victorian age.  The temple's Apollo bronze, as well as the lettering at the top of the columns, went missing at some point in the latter half of the 1800s.  The temple itself survived only because it became engulfed in foliage and largely forgotten. 

April 5, 2023 Gauging station at Dryburgh on the Tweed

The Earl of Buchan, incidentally, was a correspondent with US President George Washington, and gifted Washington in 1791 a now missing snuff box, crafted by the Goldsmith's Company of Edinburgh.  The box, according to Buchan, is constructed of silver and the oak which was supposed to have sheltered Sir William Wallace after he was betrayed to the English and forced to fight at the Battle of Falkirk on 22 July 1298.  Braveheart and all that.  

Upon his death, Washington's final will recommited the box to Buchan, who insisted on bequeathing it back to Washington's University of Columbia in August 1800.  In the midst of these transfers, the box was stolen at some unknown point in the 1800s.  A reward was offered--to no avail.  It has been claimed that in 1958 the snuffbox was in the possession of an Ian Keith Mackintosh of Wadhurst, Sussex County, England (Country Life, 123 [9 Jan. 1958], 74).  But it's location remains unknown.

April 5, 2023  Dryburgh grounds

Buchan admired Scotland’s most revered poet, Robert Burns.  But he was particularly enthralled by James Thomson (1700 - 1748), ‘the Bard of Ednam’.  (Ednam is a nearby village where the poet was born.)  Thus, Buchan dedicated his Temple of the Muses at Dryburgh to Thomson, and even sought to have Thomson further commemorated by monuments in Scotland and London.  As said, he was somewhat eccentric.

April 5, 2023  Dryburgh Suspension Bridge

The poet Thomson's most famous work, The Four Seasons, is a series of four poems.  The first published was Winter in 1726, followed by Summer in 1727, Spring in 1728, and Autumn in 1730, when the completed series was published.  Thomson also wrote the famous Rule Britannia! in 1740, an anthem now revered by the Royal Navy. 

April 5, 2023  Dryburgh foot bridge

 

As an added bonus to the walk to the Temple of the Muses there is, at the bottom of the temple mound, the Dryburgh Suspension Bridge over River Tweed.  We walked across it, just to say we did.  This suspension footbridge was erected in 1872 to connect villagers to worship at the churches in St. Boswell.  The bridge was a replacement of the cable-stayed bridge which the Earl of Buchan commissioned and opened August 1, 1817.  Less than six months later, Buchan's bridge collapsed in hurricane force winds in January 1818.

 

 

Taxed out of existence

Unquestionably, the closure of international travel (2020-2022) in response to the COVID pandemic had a devastating affect on tourism worldwide.  Repercussions still reverberate several years after the fact.  Nothing better exemplifies the economic aftershocks than the hospitality industry.

April 7, 2023, Black Bull Brew Pub, Etal, UK

Ever and always intrusive, politics compound the problem(s).  For example, in response to the imposition of tariffs in 2025 by the current Administration, Canadian tourism to the US has declined a cool 22% to 30%, resulting in a net $4.5 to $5.7 billion dollars of lost revenue.  The tourist boycott is acute in border states like Montana, New England, and of course the snowbird haven of Florida.  It continues unabated--with closures of hotels, restaurants, retail and even breweries as the net result.  

In the UK, hospitality measures are just as dire.  Perhaps more so.  The quintessential feature of British society--patronizing the local pub--is being hollowed out.  The Society of Independent Brewers and Associates (SIBA UK) found 1,086 pubs closed in 2025 nation wide, with 137 fewer breweries at the start of 2026 compared to January 2025 (dropping from 1,715 to 1,578).  Closures are accelerating, and it looks like 2026 will be a make or break year.  The survival of British independent brewing is at stake.   

2025 saw the highest annual closure rate of breweries since 1974, with Britain losing nearly three independent breweries each week.  Rising raw materials (malt and hops) along with increasing energy costs and reduced consumer spending are squeezing margins.  Worse, corporate consolidations are ongoing of successful independent brewers. They are being gobbled up by large multi-national beverage firms, further reducing competition.  A last man standing approach.

Meanwhile, having a pint is getting more difficult.  Increased employment pressures and rising taxes weigh upon those independents that remain.  Hospitality businesses in the UK are being taxed out of existence.  Point in case, according to UKHospitality, the average hotel expects its business rates to increase £28,900 next year, with an increase to £205,200 over the next three years.  That reflects a 115% increase in business rates.  

Who can sustain that kind of governmental brigandry?  As for the average pub, it is projected to face only a 15% increase in business rates next year, an extra £1,400.  But it will also sustain a 76% increase up to £12,900 over the next three years.  Who?  The answer is: no one.

Labor-wise, 2025 has been challenging with an historic severe labor shortage of about 170,000 vacancies.  Over all, hospitality accounts for roughly 7% of all UK jobs (~2.6 million).  But operational costs are rising.  Curiously, employment dipped in December 2025 by 20,000 positions, when it typically would be rising in time for the holidays.  Likely, it reflects the ongoing business closure rates...a vicious Catch-22.  

March 31, 2023 Berwick, Northumberland

Pressure is mounting as increased living wages and Employer National Insurance contributions take yet another bite out of business margins.  UKHospitality cautions that 2,076 venues are at risk of closure without tax relief in 2026.  Without intervention, an average of six hospitality venues could close each day in 2026.  The inflection point has been reached.  Trying to wring blood from a turnip is no longer useful.  Neither is beating a dead horse.  If it is to have a pint at all at the end of the day, Britain must have relief.      

The Tartan

I have an update of sorts, albeit a bit overdue to a follow-up on a March 7, 2024 post regarding our visit to Elliot Mill in Selkirk in the Borders.  

The Whitley Tartan--Elliot Mill

After perhaps three or four months of an on-again off-again email exchange, we placed a custom order with Robin Elliot about the turn of last year. In July this year, we finally received back yardage of...the Whitley Family tartan.  

Of course it's fine wool.  And, if I may be permitted to say, it is beautiful.  (I might say stunning, but descriptively that might be a bit too far.)  The weaving, and especially the finish, on the piece is simply spectacular.  Rich.  Robin Elliott has outdone himself.

I would encourage readers to go back to the article which covered our extensive review of Elliot Mill.  https://whitleyworldtravel.blogspot.com/2024/03/spinning-tales.html  It contains information about the difficulty and many challenges of owning such a business.

As for the amount of time involved, this was a custom order.  It should be expected.  After all, it's not like ordering from inventory.  First, the design has to be set on an old Victorian Age analog mill, involving many separate shunts.  The older the machinery gets, the more it can break down--which happened early this year.  So, tartan work was delayed.  

Then there's the specifications of the Scottish Registry of Tartans which names the tread counts, and colors on registered tartans.  Quite complicated. And if all that's not enough, there's the problem of international money exchange.  They use pounds.  We don't.  

Not really set up for a large number of international retail orders, Elliot Mill needed a wire transfer (in pounds) to their bank--and that is complicated.  Trust me.  Even after balancing the payment, more or less, there were still things to mutually take care--like additional shipping costs.  In any case, we received the tartan.

The Whitley Tartan--properly tagged

For readers inclined to be more adventurist, or those wanting to  inquire about tartans in general, I leave the website for Elliot Mill.  https://www.elliot-weave.co.uk/ Just be aware.  Now that President Trump has laid his trade tariffs on everyone, and has revoked de minimis threshold values for taxation, there might be another layer of complexity (or hassle) to the order--assuming it can be done at all.

I hope so.  For Robin Elliot's sake, and countless other worthy small businesses overseas.  They have a product, in this case the tartan, that cannot be gotten in any other market.  It would be a sad day should that ultimately be what breaks the machine irreparably.

That's the way the Clan Whitley sees it anyway.    

 

   

 

 

So many Johns

As might often be true, you may come across given names that have almost become family names in themselves--used and reused across generations.  Our ancestors must've run out of given names after one or two.  Perhaps it was on purpose...just to confound the rising generations.  We have our issues with given names.  

An extreme example would be George Foreman naming five of his sons George.  Cute.  But in another 200 years or so, it will be impossible to straighten out.  It is also fair to say that a countless number of Johns exist--many thousands upon thousands.  In our family there's John Whitley, an indentured weaver who arrived in Virginia in 1650 to become a tobacco farmer and landholder.  He is said (by some) to be a direct ancestor.  This John was followed by his son, John; who was followed by his son, John...and so on.  A confusion of generational contemporaries. 

Knocking around online in the British Archives, I came across yet another John Whitley; this one from 1415.  I mention him if only for history's sake, for rarely is a common man or woman ever afforded a voice in the chronicles.  John Whitley is one such voice.  He would have been entirely anonymous to history had his name not appeared in a retinue roll for the Battle of Agincourt, October 25, 1415.  St. Crispin's Day. 

John Whitley was an archer, apparently from Nottinghamshire.  Already mentioned as bearing the Whitley surname was the notorious tailor/turned-attorney Henry de Whitley, who fled to Nottingham's Whitefriars church on 19 October 1393 to claim sanctuary on the manslaughter of his wife, Alice.  These two contemporary Whitleys--the attorney/felon Henry and the archer John--are not far separated in time or place.  Could they be related?  Of course.  But absent evidence, it would be sheer speculation to suggest they were known to each other.  

Besides, neither Nottingham Whitley is "likely" to be related being somewhat removed from our family's heartland on the Borders.  But it does suggest the surname Whitley was not unheard of in or around Nottingham in the late medieval.  

As for the archer John Whitley, his service in the battle of Agincourt was notable in a general sense.  200 years after the fact, the playwright Shakespeare wrote:  "For he today that sheds his blood with me shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile, this day shall gentle his condition.  And gentlemen in England now a-bed shall think themselves accursed they were not here; and hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks that fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day."  In prose at least, John Whitley earned his gentleman status; or more likely his yeomanry.

At Agincourt, the French were very nearly annihilated by a smaller English army.  Leading up to the fateful battle, a newly minted monarch (March 21, 1413) English King Henry V was casting about raising money, men, gathering ships and supplies in the year before he invaded France.  Ostensibly, he sought to reclaim his Norman inheritance.  In reality, he sought the whole of France and it's crown.  And he was nearly successful.  Nearly. 

Henry V had taken practically the whole of Normandy by the time of his successful siege of Rouen (July 1418-January 1419).  Rouen, the capital of Normandy, was one of France's most important cities. Unfortunately, the English force was too small to storm the walls and take the city.  So Henry V besieged it and starved Rouen's defenders into submission.  Unable to break the siege, defenders were reduced to eating dogs, cats, horses, mice...the French capitulated after some 50,000 persons starved to death.

In 1420, Henry V forced the Treaty of Troyes upon France and took Catherine, daughter of the French king Charles VI, as his wife.  The Treaty of Troyes conferred succession to the French throne upon Henry V and his heirs in perpetuity. It disinherited the Dauphin (Charles VII), and partitioned France into thirds--part for the English, part for Burgundy...and the remainder for the Dauphin.

So close and yet so far.  Henry was "nearly successful"...until dysentery (so it is thought) cut Henry V down at the age of 35, leaving his only child, Henry VI, as an eight month old heir in regency in England...and in dispute of the throne in France.  

In the late medieval, who owed what fealty to whom was complicated.  Manors or lands were given, and taken, somewhat liberally amongst aristocrats.  In a sense, it was based on royal whim (of which we are daily reminded nowadays).  These manor lands had an attached fealty to provide, when the need arose, indentures for a certain number of knights, men-at-arms, and archers.  The system was loosely based on the old Anglo-Saxon Hundreds--100 hides of land.  In summoning the fyrd (the great citizens army of the Anglo-Saxons), a hide was enough land to support a peasant family.  For every five hides in the hundred, one man was elected to serve to protect his lord's estates, or the king's.  So, 20 men per hundred. 

As agricultural productivity increased, hides came to support perhaps as many as four families.  So adjustments were made, as hundreds became known as "wards"--with the original hundred boundaries long forgotten.  As and aside, the hundred also had its own court system as well, meeting monthly and typically outdoors, to settle private and criminal cases by customary law...giving rise to the great tradition of the English Common Law which still binds us here in America to this day.    

The archer John Whitley was a member of a company indented or raised by the knight, Sir Ralph Shirley in 1415.  Shirley's company was comprised of six men-at-arms and 18 archers.  So, 24 men in total.  It participated in the siege of Harfleur (Henry V's first conquest) from mid August to late September 1415.  It was a violent siege.  John Huse, one of Shirley's man-at-arms, was killed during the siege.  Worse, time was no favor to the British.  Winter was coming and the siege was taking longer than planned, and...dysentery was running rampant in the ranks.  

Dysentery, or "Bloody Flux," was a contagion that medieval armies knew all too well, even if they did not know the why of the disease.  Generally speaking, the source of the disease is fecally contaminated water.  Harfleur is a marshland at the Seine estuary's outlet near sea level.  As Petri dishes go, it was just about ideal for the spread of dysentery. 

In fact, on October 5th upon orders of King Henry V, Sir Shirley and several of his troop (two men-at-arms and six archers) were invalided back to England.  Those did not participate at Agincourt.  Of Shirley's remaining company, 12 archers and three men-at-arms were present at the Battle of Agincourt.  Presumably, the archer John Whitley was one of the 12.  They were in the midst of the fighting because one of Shirley's man-at-arms, Ralph Fowne, captured the Duke of Bourbon in the battle at Agincourt.  

John, the Duke of Bourbon, was taken back to England and held for ransom in the Tower of London...until he died.  His ransom not being fully met.  So many Henrys.  So many Johns.

A rose by any other name

1880--The Friary, Nottingham, England (T.W. Hammond)

What's in a name?  A rose is a rose, or so Shakespeare is said to have put it.   

Among other endeavors, I intend to embark on a family history.  It's time.  My ambition is to write down as much family history, including anecdotal evidence, and avoid a reinvention the wheel by those who may follow at whatever distant point in the future they may.  Roses notwithstanding, time rolls on.

As it happens, I stumbled upon a snippet of documentary material regarding the Whitley surname.  It is found in the Burgess Pleas documents (Nottingham, England) dating to the years 1392 - 1393.  More about that in a second.  But first, the University of Nottingham should be recognized as having done yeoman's work (in 2008) on translating (from Latin and Old English) these documents.  They have now been digitized, permitting public access to what can only be considered fairly obscure historical material.  Such is the haunt of historians.  Lonely work, but somebody's got to do it. 

Second, existing pleas records (dating 1378 - 1393) are not complete.  Or rather, some simply no longer existent.  Further, of what still exists, a significant portion is illegible having sustained decay and rodent as well as moisture damage (I know--England--go figure).  Thus, the digitized rolls contain many repetitive caveats--"Heavily stained and damaged roll throughout."  Or, "[Roll 2] Heavily stained on lh side and elsewhere. Most of roll missing."  "[Roll 5] Severely damaged roll. Most of it missing and most of it illegible through damp stains."  And so forth.

But all in all, given these rolls are nearly 650 years old, their condition should be expected.  Not too bad considering.  Which leads me to a certain Henry de Whitley, alive during King Richard II's reign.  [The ambitious Richard II was King of England from 1377 until being deposed in 1399 by his cousin Henry Bolingbroke (Henry IV) due to Richard II's increasingly arbitrary and factional rule.  (Sounds familiar).

At any rate, Henry de Whitley apparently was originally a tailor.  Back in the day, the bar at law was definitely loosely defined.  For the most part, it hinged on one's ability to read.  At least it assumed literacy.  On November 6, 1392, Whitley prepared to argue a debt before the court that he claimed was owed to him by Stephen de la Hide, another tailor.  Both tailors represented themselves.  But the jury was in default as it did not show up for court for whatever reason--likely prevailing winter conditions.  

So the case was pushed to the following court date.  At the next court, Henry de Whitley was successful.  "Jury comes and says that Stephen [owes Henry] 3s.8d. Damages: 4d. Adjudged that Henry should recover 3s.8d. [from Stephen] and 4d. damages. Stephen in mercy."  From humble beginnings a career--albeit a brief career--as an attorney opened.  

Of the cases de Whitley argued, the outcome was not always evident.  First of all, the pleas court language is arcane.  That and court cases were often pushed to the next subsequent date which, given the condition of the pleas rolls (with parts missing), it is often not possible to determine a particular case's outcome.

Henry de Whitley served as attorney mostly in money matters, or in civil court--before "civil" became a four letter word.  By way of example, de Whitley was attorney to Joan Peyntour versus John Fysshe regarding Fysshe's unlawful retention of her rosary and various silver rings.  Unfortunately, the translators note:  "MS [manuscript] preceded by an indeterminate number of illegible entries."

In other cases the outcome was known.  de Whitley represented a losing case in Richard Shadwell versus John Shepard.  Here, "losing" might should be in quotes.  Apparently Shadwell was a doctor.  Sort of.  (And medical practitioners, like attorneys in the day, were also fairly loosely defined).  Anyhow, in the plea, "Richard comes in his own person and says that John [owes him] 2s. for the curing of John’s body."  For his part, Shepard (represented by de Whitley) came before the court and "acknowledges the debt. Damages assessed at 4d. Adjudged that Richard should recover 2s. from him and 4d. damages. John in mercy."

Of course, the reverse might also be true.  de Whitley successfully represented one John Strelley versus Thomas Shether regarding calf skins (calfskynnes).  Strelley alleged 14s in damages.  Shether came before the court and admitted the debt.  "Thomas in his own person comes and acknowledges the debt.  Damages assessed at 6d.  Adjudged that John should recover 14s from Thomas."

Anyhow, I mentioned a brief career.  So it was.  On to the salubrious details.  Mid-October 1393, the Burgess pleas court noted an "Appraisal of the goods and chattels of Henry de Whitley well and faithfully appraised on Mon after the feast of St. Luke 17 Richard II [20 Oct 1393]."  The appraisal was made under oath by six of Nottingham's citizens.  

 

Now normally, one should expect an appraisal of an individual's estate to be associated with a will, a divvying up of property.  Who gets what.  But not so with Henry de Whitley. "The goods and chattels were taken on Sun after the feast of St Luke [19 Oct 1393] by the bailiffs for a death on the body of Alice, Henry’s wife, by Henry’s manslaughter (per occisione predicti Henrici) on Sun at night."  

 Manslaughter is only a small step away from murder...a half step or less.  The motive or circumstance of the killing is unknown.  But "Henry, after the felony, fled to the church of the Carmelite Friars and could not be taken."  

The church was a friary belonging to the "Whitefriars".  A History of the County of Nottingham, Volume Two notes:  "Henry de Whitley of Nottingham in October 1393 killed his wife Alice in the night-time and fled to the church of the Friars Carmelite for sanctuary, and could not be taken as he kept to the church. Whereupon the town authorities seized his goods as those of a felon; they were valued at 11s. 2½d." 

No other record exists concerning Henry de Whitley--beyond that he "kept to the church".  Evidently, Henry grew devout, as they say.  It is unknown whether he faced justice, though it is hard to imagine that he stayed forever after in the friary's church building.  And, as no children were mentioned between him and his wife Alice, there's no way to know nearly 650 years later whether he was an ancestor...or not.  Probably not, since Henry de Whitley of Nottingham isn't from the Cumbria-Northumberland-Borders heartland from which our Whitley line is said to have originated.  But you never know.  

Incidentally, Nottingham's Whitefriars was founded at some point before 1271.  Nothing remains of their friary today, unfortunately.  It long ago was removed and the site developed.  It should also be noted that regulations on sanctuary varied in different places, even though the privilege was granted from the very earliest of times.  It continued, with certain modifications made during the reign of Henry VIII.  In 1623, sanctuary was finally abolished by King James VI/I.  

White Friar's plan, Nottingham, England

 

2026--new excursion in the planning stage

This post pertains to genealogy, a somewhat out-of-the-ordinary subject for this blog.  Genealogy is prickly; mostly of interest to a limited few close (more or less) relatives.  What brings me to broach the subject is that we are again considering a trip this Easter.  This time to Ireland and an overnight or two to Scotland...if only as a matter of principle.

Kilwaughter Castle, Antrim, Ireland

While in Ireland, among other things, we'd like to take in the ruins of Kilwaughter Castle.  Located in County Antrim, North Ireland about three miles from the end of the rail line in Larne, Kilwaughter is allegedly the starting place (prior to immigration to America) of some of Darla's line.  Specifically, the Gingles family (under various spellings) who are said to have worked there.  It's a matter of family stories being chipped away by realities, in a sense.  It's made its way from the halcyon days of "Our family had a castle." to "Well, they worked at one."  Is what it is.

Kilwaughter Castle, Antrim, Ireland

The castle, incidentally, is not quite so old as it seems.  Kilwaughter's ruin (okay, almost the whole of it) was built by architect John Nash for the Agnew family from 1803 to 1807.  So, not so old.  It was, however, constructed on the site of an older 17th century tower, said to date to 1622 and which was partially incorporated into the new design.  So, it's age is perhaps a matter of how one looks at it.  

Nash, an English architect of the Georgian and Regency eras, had a rather significant role in changing Britain's landscape.  He also had some curious domestic troubles...inexplicable.  First of all, his wife Jane was living beyond their means.  Not the first time in mankind's history.  The Garden of Eden comes to mind.  And ultimately Nash would be driven into bankruptcy; again not the first time that's happened either.  But Jane had certain issues worth mentioning, if only because they seem so fantastical.  Apparently, she faked two pregnancies with Mr. Nash and imposed two "spurious" children upon him as being their own.  Assuming they were doing so, how you could cohabitate and not know is a valid question.  We'll just say it was a different age. 

Kilwaughter Castle room, Antrim, Ireland

Nash sent wife Jane away for reformation, first to Aberavon, Wales to stay with a cousin, Ann Morgan.  Jane then came back to London, continued to live luxuriously and...her affairs led to an illegitimate child with a Mr. Charles Charles.  In a subsequent lawsuit, Charles admitted the child, but alas.  He died in prison unable to pay the damages.  A divorce from Jane upon adultery was finalized in January 1787, after some 12-years of fooling with her.  After that, Nash came into his own as an British architect.         

Kilwaughter Castle room, Antrim, Ireland

Anyhow, Kilwaughter now stands in ruin (since 1951).  It's ignominious fate resulted from the passage of time and various inheritances and marriages to ever more distant relatives.  By the time World War Two broke out, the property was in the hands of an Italian noble family.  Since Italians were (temporarily) enemies, the UK government requisitioned (seized) the property as enemy assets.  Eventually Kilwaughter castle saw the stationing of the US 644th Tank Destroyer Battalion in the build up prior to D-Day.  After the war, Kilwaughter was put at auction.  A scrap dealer won the bid, and set about stripping the property bare--staircases, chandeliers, furniture, windows, paneling...but he did leave the husk which remains in precarious condition. 

Kilwaughter Castle staircase, Antrim, Ireland

Today, the Kilwaughter ruin is privately owned, only recently changing hands.  Unfortunately unlike Scotland's right-to-roam, one cannot simply traipse over fences in Ireland.  Wish it were otherwise, but landowners frown on that we are told.  So, we'll see if we can brush up permission to visit Kilwaughter.  I took some liberty in snipping a few photos from Archiseek.com.  Archiseek, by the by, is dedicated to chronicling "lost" buildings in Antrim.  Here's their site:  https://www.archiseek.com/kilwaughter-castle-co-antrim

Kilwaughter Castle, Antrim, Ireland