I Belong to Glasgow??? St Mungo and His Galloway Connections Talk to Kirkcudbright History Society, 13Th January 2021 Good Eveni
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I belong to Glasgow??? St Mungo and his Galloway connections Talk to Kirkcudbright History Society, 13th January 2021 Good evening. This is the third time I’ve spoken to KHS, the first was about stained glass in late 19th and early 20th century Scotland, the second was about the late 18th century radical, Thomas Muir. If qualifications are needed to talk to the History Society, mine were pretty threadbare for those talks so I thought it would be no bad thing to move to a subject that was a bit closer to those areas of history that I actually spent some time studying! My arts degree is in Mediaeval History and my divinity degree is in Church History so St Mungo ticks both these boxes quite nicely. But the main thing that led me to this topic is that today is the 1400 and somethingth anniversary of the death of St Mungo. On 13th January 614 or possibly 603 or 604, he either died in his bath, or possibly in the middle of administering the sacrament of baptism. So welcome to the sixth and seventh centuries in Scotland where dates are vague, names are fluid, the political geography is unfamiliar and established facts are as rare as unicorn eggs. There’s actually quite a lot of information about St Mungo in the song ‘Dear Green Place’ by the Battlefield Band and as far as I can tell, it’s reasonably accurate. It tells us Mungo’s given name, Kentigern (Big Chief!) and that before he arrived in Glasgow, he was based in Fife. It also establishes the location around which the city of Glasgow grew up as the point at which the Molendinar Burn joins with the Clyde. The Molendinar Burn runs from Hogganfield Loch, through Alexandra Park, down Wishart Street between the Cathedral and the Necropolis, crosses Duke Street, goes under Glasgow Green (where it merges with the Camlachie Burn) and flows into the Clyde just south of the High Court buildings. It’s culverted for most of its length. So, our song marks the beginnings of Glasgow and its link with its patron saint, but not the beginnings of Mungo. And we won’t find his origins in Fife either, although that is where he was born and spent most of his early life. We start with Mungo’s mother. She has a bewildering number of variations of her name, I’m going to call her Thenew. She was the daughter of Loth, King of the Gododdin who inhabited North East England and South East Scotland. Lothian gets its name from King Loth. Thenew became pregnant, much to her father’s anger and no effort of his could establish who the father of the child was. At this point, I need to introduce you to Mungo’s biographer. This is Jocelyn of Furness. Which Jocelyn of Furness we can’t be sure, Jocelyn of Pennington was abbot of Furness, Jocelyn of Rushen was abbot of a daughter house of Furness on the Isle of Man. Whichever one it was, it was active around the late 12th and early 13th century and produced biographies not just of St Mungo but also of St Patrick, St Helena of Constantinople and St Waltheof of Melrose. As if two Jocelyns were not confusing enough, the biography of St Mungo was commissioned by a third, Jocelyn, bishop of Glasgow who was born around 1130 and died in 1199. He was responsible for rebuilding Glasgow Cathedral after a major fire and it may be that his commissioning of the life of St Mungo was not unconnected with his plans for the new building Now there’s obviously an issue here. First of all, Bishop Jocelyn is wanting a story that is going to enhance the prestige of Glasgow and make Mungo as major a figure as possible. And the second thing is that I’ve already told you that Mungo died early in the seventh century, his birthdate is thought to have been 528 or possibly 518. Jocelyn’s biography is thought to have been produced around 1185 so it’s 600 years on, not exactly an eye-witness account! And Jocelyn tells us in his prologue that although he used older sources, he had little respect for them: Seeing therefore the life of so esteemed a bishop, who was glorious with signs and portents and most famous in virtue and doctrine, perversely recited and turned away from the pure faith, or very much obscured by a barbarian speech, I confess I suffered greatly. So, by his own admission, he is trying to clean up the earlier record and he has a very vivid way of putting it. He describes his work as an attempt to season with Roman salt what had been ploughed by barbarians Part of this tidying up may relate to the vexed question of Mungo’s father. He speaks of Thenew’s conversion to Christianity from a pagan family and about her longing that she might have a virgin birth like Mary. Now Jocelyn acknowledges that there were those in Glasgow who believed that St Mungo’s birth was a kind of repetition of the immaculate conception but he does not. This is what he says: With the unfolding of some time, she discovered herself to be with child, and her soul magnified the Lord, trusting purely that her desire had been fulfilled. However, that which was born in her womb she received from a human embrace, but as she asserted by many oaths binding her, from who or when or rather in what manner she conceived, she did not have in her conscious mind. Not very satisfactory! Jocelyn gives us no more clue about the identity of the father than Thenew gave to Loth. But other sources are more informative and it’s here that the first connection with our area occurs. Owain of Rheged or Owain mab Urien is the chief suspect. There are two versions of what happened, one is that Thenew had an affair with him although he was already married, and you can see why Jocelyn wouldn’t want to include a story like that. The other is that Owain raped her, possibly disguising himself as a woman in order to achieve his wicked way. Given that he is often described as a giant of a man, I’m kind of suspicious of that bit of the story. Thenew has been described as "Scotland's first recorded rape victim, battered woman and unmarried mother" The kingdom of Rheged is often described as mysterious and having scoured all my old text books and found a single reference on one page, I can vouch for that. I first came across the name when I visited the northbound motorway services at Tebay in Cumbria and saw notices advertising the Rheged discovery centre. An early map offers an idea of the extent of Rheged and might make you feel that a site round about Penrith would be a reasonable place for its political centre. But some research done over the last few years suggests that the royal centre of the kingdom of Rheged was much closer to here than was previously thought. Excavations done at Trusty’s Hill by Ronan Toolis and Christopher Bowles suggest that the site was a hill fort occupied by people who did not engage in agriculture themselves but managed the agriculture that was being done around the Fleet valley and estuary as well as profiting from the area’s minerals and timber. They would exercise control by gifts, promises of protection and sharing the bounties of raiding and warfare. According to Ronan Toolis, 'The royal household here included a king and his extended family and retainers, including warriors, bards, skilled craftsmen and servants. 'We found plentiful evidence of the wealth of this household including jewellery, evidence of gold, silver and bronze working on site, and pottery imported from continental Europe.' So, it may be from here that Owain, king of Rheged set off to father St Mungo, without the consent of his mother. And there is also a story that Thenew later married Owain, in which case she may have lived on this site, just a quarter of an hour’s drive away. Owain is also linked with some of the Arthurian legends but I’m not getting into that! In fact, I’m getting way ahead of myself! It’s time we got Mungo born! King Loth ordered his pregnant daughter to be thrown from the top of Traprain Law as a punishment for becoming pregnant out of wedlock. According to Jocelyn, she miraculously survived the fall but it did her little good; she was then accused of being a witch and taken out into the Firth of Forth and cast adrift in a coracle with no oars. She came to land at Culross in Fife and was taken in by the monks there and it was at Culross that she gave birth. It was there too that her son was given the nickname Mungo, which means dear one. Jocelyn’s account of Mungo’s time at Culross is a succession of stories of how the other pupils were jealous of him and constantly tried to get him into trouble, and how Mungo miraculously thwarted their schemes. Eventually, in his early to mid-twenties, he chose to leave in order to exercise a ministry in the wider world. He was present at the death of Fregus (probably Fergus) a devout old man and loaded his body onto a cart pulled by two bullocks, promising to travel where the bullocks led, to bury the old man there and to begin his work there.