A Miscarriage of Historical Understanding

With an imperfect record of our past, when we seek to understand it through investigation, it is important all the material to which we have access is gathered and objectively appraised. It is vital we judge that gathered information—material, circumstantial, and opinion—with a critical eye and empathy for those who produced it within the constraints of their time, from the information they had at their disposal, which is perhaps now lost.

However, the ‘accepted’ understanding of the Holywood church bells, and the site to which they are affiliated, is an illustration where, despite information being available, if not a surfeit of surviving contemporary record, it appears it is only the opinion of 'approved' narrators satisfying the vanity of academic historians, that is allowed to prevail—which in turn has resulted in one of the greatest miscarriages of historical understanding the authors can perceive—the failure to recognise the Templar bells of Holy Wood, and their sponsor, the son of the first Templar of Scotland—William le Riche.

Following, is illustration of how the understanding of the past has, and is, being corrupted by the ‘appointed’ academic caretakers of our history, and how past understanding is swept away by the conceit of the institutional historian. After you read this article, the authors invite you to read the evidence presented in their investigative report and journal, and within the interactions between the authors and those so-called ‘appointed caretakers of heritage’ and come to your own opinion of these 'paragons' of heritage safekeeping.

Scottish Chroniclers

In the mid part of the nineteenth century, a Dumfriesshire chronicler, John McCormick, undertook a tour of the area in and around Dumfries, recording the memories of historic buildings demolished or in a ruinous state. He captured the stories and recollections of those who were alive when the buildings existed and studiously recreated them in The Antiquities of Dumfries and its Neighbourhood, a collection of drawings and memories from previous generations and his own. McCormick was a commendable local historian, following in the much larger footsteps of many admirable Scottish chroniclers, such as John of Fordun, a fourteenth century secular priest, stirred by the removal, loss and destruction of many national records by Edward III of England, to collect material, recollection and understanding. His record preserves the roots of a nation, and as such is much valued, forming understanding of Scottish heritage.

John McCormick, in his own chronicle, drafted in 1843, formed from existing documents and over a hundred years of recollections of local people from the Georgian period (1714-1837), claimed the former Holywood church was part of a twelfth century-built Templar preceptory/infirmary. His drawing, attached to his narrative appears to be a recreation constructed from an eighteenth century water colour created while the old church still stood in dereliction. He enhanced the source material beyond its depicted ruined state by the inclusion of windows, a tomb attached to the gable wall, the remains of the demolished section of church, and illustration of the two bells in its open Norman-style belfry—bells that were subsequently transferred to the later eighteenth century-built Presbyterian church.

Regrettably we do not have John McCormick’s notes or his references; information that illustrated the understanding of the site by those, who in his day had sight of history existing in unpublished document or artefact—since lost, or in stories recalled and shared. All we can draw on, to determine the veracity of McCormick’s testimony, is the information that remains recorded against the site by those who lived, worked and visited the church in the hundred or so years up to John McCormick’s chronicle.

Sir John Sinclair, another Scottish chronicler, coordinating the first Statistical Account of Scotland, surveyed the geography, history, economy, and agriculture within parishes throughout Scotland, in order to reveal the ‘quantum of happiness’ of its people. Of Holywood Church, the entry compiled by the then parish minister, the Reverend Bryce Johnston, sometime between 1791 and 1799, included his reference to two bells removed from the former abbey church and placed into his new church, built 1779. One bell, he confirmed was consecrated in 1154 by an ecclesiastic named ‘Wrich’. His reference was informed by both the name inscribed on the bell and a corresponding second engraving in his sight, with the same name presentation and a date, 1154. We can only speculate on what this second engraving was on, but as the Reverend Johnston used it to confirm a consecration date for the bell, we can assume it existed on an engraving that would substantiate the date he proposes, eg., a wax seal or master’s seal matrix, implying the commencement of the bell sponsor’s tenure and so potential commission date for the bell. What perhaps may be viewed as anomalous, is that if it was understanding that Holywood was a Templar preceptory in the 12th century, why Reverend Bryce Johnston did not attribute the 1154 bell to a Templar sponsor, instead citing, ‘...by an inscription and date on it, appears to have been consecrated by the abbot John Wrich...’. But there again, Johnston misinterpreted 'Abbas' (father) as 'Abbot', and his report could not be regarded as a treatise on the bell or bells, just a statement of fact as he viewed it (but with a degree of conjecture).

Sometime in the eighteenth century, Francis Grose visited the original church, before its demolition. He recorded the church in his 1789 work, Antiquities of Scotland,

‘Across the middle of the building was a fine Gothic arch that supported the oak roof. Under the floor were a number of sepulchral vaults. The entrance was through a handsome semi-circular arch.’

Regrettably, Grose did not illuminate the church’s history, so we do not know how much the original church developed over its four-hundred-year history before the Reformation, or how large the original church was, or if the seven-foot-wide wall excavated in 1906, was part of the original church build, possibly supporting a tower. Regardless, the original church could not be considered built as a small chapel.

In 1811, the venerable archivist, George Henry Hutton, a professional soldier and amateur antiquary, who enthusiastically compiled a collection of over five hundred drawings, maps, plans, and prints, dating from 1781 to 1820, relating mainly to Scottish churches and other ecclesiastical buildings, produced images: accurate representations of the Holywood bells. Reverend Johnston had passed on six years earlier, but at the time of Hutton’s visit, even before he viewed the bells, he would have the parish minister’s assertion and the record of a 1154 consecration date. The report was probably reason enough for him to visit the site and record the bells. Regardless what Hutton observed from the bell’s inscription, he obviously thought the bell and its mate worthy subjects to record in detail, implying he did not question nor denigrate their antiquity, nor the inscription. Hutton will have encountered many church bells in his thirty years’ experience, and he judged the Holywood bells singularly important enough for him to record for his collection. At the time of his visit, he recorded a seven by two-foot medieval gravestone, depicting a stepped or calvary cross, lying outside the main church door. Hutton also commented on the inequalities of the ground at the south east corner of the ‘new; church where part of the abbey is reported to have stood.  At the time, it was reported the gravestone was one of around thirty ‘crusader’ grave markers that lay around the cemetery. All have been lost, and so we cannot confirm the nature of the markers.

It was the Reverend Robert Kirkwood who was the minister of Holywood at the time of John McCormick’s visit to the site. At fifty-nine years old, he had already confirmed his predecessor’s attestation regarding the ‘inscribed’ bell’s provenance in his official return for the Second Statistical Account of Scotland of 1837. Kirkwood also confirmed he had ‘a bull of Pope Innocent III [1198-1216], addressed, Abbate de Sacro Nemore, to the abbot of the Sacred Grove, in the diocese of Glasgow', implying Holywood was certainly not in the possession of the Templars after the beginning of the thirteenth century, confirmed by audit in the wake of the Templars’ dissolution at the beginning of the fourteenth century.  We can only assume if McCormick interviewed Reverend Kirkwood, to confirm his own testimony, but it is highly probable McCormick’s interactions will have included Holywood parishioners and wardens of the church.

Fanciful Conjecture?

Was the understanding of Templar origins of the demolished Holywood church simply fanciful conjecture recorded as fact by John McCormick?  Was his testimony his singular idea or purely speculative rumour—sensationalist attribute of the site to the Templar legend?

Professor Helen Nicholson, in her consideration of the original version of the authors’ report on the bells of Holywood proposed that although McCormick’s sketch of the church states that it was Templar, his statement should not be taken seriously without evidence from the pre-Reformation period. The professor confirmed it was regrettably common for eighteenth and nineteenth century antiquarians to declare a ruined property of uncertain background must have been Templar. There certainly is evidence elsewhere to support the professor’s opinion.

The problem with the professor’s argument is, although the original Holywood Church building may have been removed by the time of McCormick’s chronicle, the understanding and memories of the original church were not. There is evidence that documents and artefacts existing in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries concerning the history of the church and abbey had been lost or intentionally removed, thus it follows there was material at McCormick’s disposal, that is no longer available for us to test McCormick’s attestation. Therefore, we cannot assume his ‘Templar’ attribution as invention through a lack of uncertainty or dismiss it as such.

In determining McCormick’s ‘Templar’ provenance, further questions are raised. Why would McCormick attribute a purely speculative history to a property that had been in continuous operation since before the first millennium? How could he substantiate his claims in his own chronicle, and why would he invent such a legend, if it was not already the contemporaneous understanding of those that would read and critique his work? Why should we not give credence to John McCormick’s understanding of the former church being founded on the understanding of those he interviewed, and document or artefact he observed, rather than his own singular imaginative creation? Did he have reason enough to judge the source of the information he gathered sound enough to declare a positive Templar attribution?

Can we apportion reliability to McCormick by his work alone, without knowing his integrity for the truth, the thoroughness of his research, and sight of the evidence and reference he uses to justify his narrative? Was Professor Nicholson correct to discount McCormick's testimony as unreliable? It is perhaps perverse that although Professor Nicholson was prepared to discount John McCormick’s testimony as unreliable, the academic absolutely supported a later 1898 testimony on the bells' provenance, demonstrated as pure invention. Why?

All we can assert from testimony presented in the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries is the church potentially had a connection with crusaders/pilgrims, one of the bells was testified to be of twelfth century origin, and McCormick believed the site to once belong to the Templars in the twelfth century. These ‘considerations’ were collected and referenced by the authors, but because they could not be substantiated by sight of Reverend Johnson’s engraving, nor the decoration upon the grave markers, nor the data that formed McCormick’s belief, the information was recorded but not regarded as material to forming any conclusion of the bells’ origins.

Confirmation

Following McCormick’s chronicle, nothing was subsequently presented to support or refute McCormick’s twelfth century Templar attribution (until the author’s report in 2021). However, Reverend Bryce Johnston’s and Kirkwood’s 1154 attribution for one of the bells, and consequently the existence of a master of Holywood named ‘Wrich’, was discarded by a 1898 report placed before the local Natural History and Antiquarian Society by a Fellow of the Society of Scottish Antiquarians, James Barbour. Barbour’s reputation and status within the historical society ensured his revision and opinion of the bells as both sixteenth century, attributed to ‘Welsh’ and not ‘Wrich’ and to ‘Kennedy’ was allowed to stand unchallenged, and subsequently cemented into the accepted academic and institutional understanding.

However, Barbour’s interpretation of the bells’ inscriptions was little than contrivance to meet his own hypothesis rather than a presentation of any demonstrable evidence, with his name hypothesis ‘Welch’ reported unsound by governmental audit in 1920. Further detailed analysis of the inscription by the authors, demonstrated Barbour made specious assumption, failing to apportion the correct armorial to his chosen bell sponsor, read letters on the inscription correctly, or correctly interpret medieval abbreviation, and added characters absent on the bell to make his hypothesis work; in fact Barbour misinterpreted over sixty percent of the bells' elements.

The conclusion of the authors’ investigation was the name on one of the bells was not ‘Wrich’ as claimed by Reverend Bryce Johnston, but W’(le)rich, who was indeed a twelfth century ecclesiastical connected to the Bishopric of Glasgow. The owners following the bells sponsor’s legend on contemporary charter led to the evidence of him existing as a knight/cleric, not as secular clergy, but within religious life; the master of a religious brotherhood, a member of a military religious order—most likely the Templars, thus the church his bells were created for, was most likely Templar property.

The authors of the investigative report had not employed John McCormick’s testimony in reaching conclusion, instead it was the authors’ forensic investigation that had confirmed John McCormick’s understanding of the former church as a twelfth century Templar property as being correct. Therefore, it was probable the understanding McCormick was fed in his own enquiry, was at some point evidence-based rather than speculation, from contemporary or prior attestation held in the possession of others but no longer existing, or published, and regrettably long lost.

Perhaps it should not be surprising, following the authors’ lengthy focused forensic enquiry, the authors consequently legitimise what was already the accepted view in the eighteenth century, before the popularisation of antiquarian pursuits engaged socially aspiring amateur Victorian historians, networking within their elite societies, to apply and impress with their own theories of ancient material objects, without the benefit, or in some cases, even care of a comprehensive access to wider understanding, research and challenge. Their thoughts were advanced within publication by their antiquarian societies, wiping away the previous accepted view without due consideration. Another Victorian antiquary, James Raine offered a similar untested hypothesis to the understanding of the bell sponsor’s title, ignoring the eighteenth century testimony of Harry Maule of Kelly and the entry within Robert Douglas’ eighteenth century Peerage of Scotland. Raine’s unresearched understanding, again perversely adopted as the foundation of the academic accepted understanding by the late nineteenth century-created university-trained professional historian, despite the truancy of discipline academia would seek to apply to new research and enquiry.

The miscarriage of Historical Understanding

A deliberate miscarriage of historical understanding became evident, when the understanding the authors had researched and confirmed, in proven counter to the ‘traditional’ or ‘accepted academic view’ was presented to the appointed caretakers of heritage—‘specialist’ medieval academics, National Museums Scotland, and Historic Environment Scotland.

The authors had gathered all the information made available in publication, archive, database, expert witness and the internet, and presented an understanding by way of comprehensive and collaborative consideration of all that information. The presentation of the investigation and its evidence adhered to the best practices of enquiry, and was tested in discussion and elimination, employing critical and logical reasoning, and challenged until only one conclusion remained. The merit of the work, presented in document and an accompanying journal—over two hundred thousand words, copious illustration, referencing and photographic evidence—demonstrated competencies far beyond certificated qualification. In addition to degrees in archaeology and forensic archaeology, the authors exhibited the skills and knowledge acquired in professional working lives as analysts and the associated disciplines competent enquiry requires.

The authors had, in fact, carried out an investigation that neither James Barbour nor the auditor from the Royal Commission on the Ancient and Historical Monuments of Scotland (RCAHMS) could not—a protracted, detailed collaborative examination of the bells’ inscriptions, considering every element and challenging every assumption made by former inspection and consideration, with the benefit of expert consultation and far more reference material available today than was accessible to previous examiners. The owners of Holywood Church tested their investigation with recognised specialists and found neither dismantlement of their conclusions nor any verifiable counterargument.

Yet despite all this, the authors’ understanding, formed over years of focused research, along with John McCormick’s and Bryce Johnston’s testimonies, were dismissed—not taken seriously, indeed an absolute refusal to even read the report in some cases, on the premise the authors could not possibly have anything to offer if working outside academia. Considering the huge significance of the find, the reception to it was judged perverse, not only by the owners of the church and bells, but the dozens of professionals who reviewed the investigation—individuals not employed as appointed caretakers of Scottish heritage, but proficient intelligent individuals with an understanding of history and objective enquiry.

No assistance was offered by the appointed caretakers of heritage, nor did they even declare a crumb of plausibility in the authors’ research, nothing to provoke further enquiry or deliberation. In amongst all this denial and indifference, not a single piece of verifiable scholarly or logical counterargument was offered in defence of a demonstrably errant and indolent Victorian theory. In view of the importance of the discovery, with an exposure of a significant piece of ‘missing’ Scottish medieval history, it was inexcusable that research which restored the original understanding of the bells and their connection to a site was dismissed and ignored, without any sound reason. Worse still, dismissal was made in the understanding the bells, constrained by planning statute, and the church, unsuitable for development under proscribed permissions and understanding, would be consigned, undeveloped, to the rot that pervaded south west Scotland.

Vanity Over Substance

The establishment of the professional historian, created at the end of the nineteenth century in universities, has devalued the good historian existing outside their kind—the storyteller—the chronicler, whom the professional academic historian deems ‘amateur’ in deliberate deprecation. It is these storytellers who have chronicled our past for thousands of years. The record these storytellers left is not perfect nor complete, but it appears many modern academic historians have decided to ignore any understanding offered by the chronicler, to ‘cherry pick’ their immediate forebears bias to inform their own narrative (often the published Victorian, historical-society-based antiquarian).

Illustrating this partial application of historical understanding, is the response and appraisal of the authors’ investigation by the two most referred professional academic ‘specialist’ historians. In each case the academics dismissed John McCormick’s, Bryce Johnston’s and the authors’ understanding as invalid to the understanding of the bells, citing a lack of academic understanding that the site was Templar, despite the fact there was no contemporary evidence to confirm that understanding, and the many academic references which confirm significant Templar presence in Dumfriesshire, notably surrounding Holywood, in the place titles, and audit of Templar holdings in the fourteenth century.

Instead, the ‘specialist’ academics supported and confirmed James Barbour’s singular-made understanding, despite it having little merit in terms of observation or interpretation. Barbour’s interpretation of the bell’s sponsor was so deviant to the evidence presented, it was challenged the very next time the bells were appraised and audited in 1911, by the Scottish government.

Yet, despite Barbour’s indefensible opinion in lieu of actual evidence, Barbour’s view was chosen as the academics accepted understanding of the bells. To support their understanding, they offered their own opinion without any supportable fact. So aberrant was their view that even those who supported the credibility of the two academics could not support their views, citing they presented opinion, not fact.

One may say, such deliberate subjective views on what should constitute vital historical understanding, makes the modern authorised safekeepers of our history, little more than indolent, conceited caretakers of our heritage.

The authors, the owners of Holywood Church and its attending archaeology, are also caretakers of history—custodians of the past for successive generations. Custodians only, as we are not at liberty to do with our owned heritage as we please. However, perhaps the owners’ motivation for its care and understanding is a little more focused, vital, and vastly more dynamic than those purely salaried to consider and protect heritage, within the vanity of their own understanding. As you see, their understanding is not formed through the same degree of time, thought, and research the authors have dedicated to understand their mis-bought heritage, but instead to adherence to swiftly formed, isolated, unevidenced ‘ideas’ published over one-hundred years ago.

An Exclusive Understanding of History

The research into the understating of the bells of Holywood, and the reception by the official safekeepers of heritage, illustrated it was not evidence or merit that formed understanding of our heritage, but the status of those that made it. Vanity was allowed over substance and an exclusive understanding allowed to prevail over any inclusive understanding.

But were the Holywood bells an aberrant circumstance in an otherwise meritorious management of the historical record? Apparently not, as the Scottish government recognises this fundamental flaw in historical understanding, within their own heritage policy,

‘Decisions affecting any part of the historic environment should be informed by an inclusive understanding of its breadth and cultural significance… knowledge and information about the historic environment is critical to our understanding of our past, present and future… Research, discussion and exchange of ideas can all contribute to our understanding of the historic environment. Understanding will improve when information is made widely available, and everyone has the opportunity to contribute to knowledge of the historic environment.’ (Historic Environment Policy, Scotland)

Regrettably the intent of governmental policy is often compromised by those charged to deliver it. Either a lack of capacity, leadership, integrity, or the presence of prejudice leads to the manipulation of their employer’s policy to suit undisclosed agenda of those tasked to serve the people and their government’s goals. A further article, Historic Environment Scotland, 'a malevolent caretaker' illustrates it is this unmerited ‘exclusive’ understanding of history and prejudice against those outside academia that results in the loss of understanding, deprivation of the public enjoyment, sustainability of discarded heritage, and ultimately leads to sustainment of an incorrect historic record.

The Importance of an Inclusive Understanding

Is it important to have an inclusive understanding of heritage? Is history important at all—events and ancient artefact that have little impact on current lives and society, beyond a point of interest? What does it matter to anyone, except to the historian and those with an interest in history? What vital benefit does a specific understanding of heritage, and its artefact provide?

Perhaps the debate should be directed to what material benefit to current and future lives such an understanding provides. In the case of the appreciation of the Holywood bells and the attribution to a Templar preceptory, it presents significant financial benefit, not only to the owners, but to the Scottish and local economy. It is this material consideration that dictates any understanding, even if its sceptically received, should be seriously considered and not ‘swept under the carpet’ by those safekeepers—keyholders of the past—the appointed caretakers of heritage. The understanding the bells provide opens new lines of enquiry that will lead to further illumination of a period of medieval history sparse on detail. Therefore, understanding is important and makes the dismissal of the authors’ research into the comprehensive understanding of the bells all the more heinous.

It is the individual’s right to disagree with the discovery the authors present, as it is to have an opinion. The challenge is to put evidence and fact behind that counter-opinion to dismantle any understanding the authors present. Academic understanding of the bells of Holywood and the origins of the site are sadly not founded on veracity, but duplicity, as are the behaviours of those appointed caretakers of history. If the authors of the investigation were equally duplicitous, then it should be easy to offer verifiable counterargument. Dissenters have not and without evidence they cannot. To date, the authors have dismantled every counterargument placed before them, and if dissenters stay on the ‘other side of the fence’, it is simply that those dissenters lack humility enough to agree. And whereas the amateur historian can be excused their ill-informed dissent and opinions, the professional historian has a duty to present an evidenced understanding, not partial ill-informed judgement.

‘Any fool can know. The point is to understand.’ Albert Einstein speaks volumes about the importance of understanding. He implies knowledge without understanding is useless, and so it is important to truly comprehend something before you can make use of it. Understanding requires more effort than simply blindly accepting what others believe, it involves a deeper insight into the matter. This means taking time to ask questions, logically analyse data, and draw argued conclusions. The authors can see none of this in the behaviours of those professional academic historians, and the appointed caretakers of heritage judging the bells of Holywood.