Barnbougle Castle is located on the shore of the River Forth just North-east of the nineteenth-century Dalmeny House, West of Eagle Rock and East of Abercorn Kirk.
Barnbougle Castle
The property is currently residential and is not open to the public. Click here for a location map provided by StreetMap.
According to Rev. James Scott, writing in the Statistical Account of Scotland in 1845 Volume 2:
Barnbougle, the ancient name of the castle and barony, was probably the scene of an hostile engagement, "Bar-na-buai-gall," in the Celtic signifying "the point of the victory of strangers," although no tradition now remains of any event of that nature to which it can be traced.[1]
Here, Scott proposes a Gàidhlig derivation of the name on the common but mistaken assumption that the Celtic origins of Lothian are Goidelic.
Barnbougle Castle from the East
However, W.J. Watson, derives the placename from earlier forms such as Prenbowgall, Pronbogalle and Pronbugele, suggesting an original Brythonic form, Pren Bugail, meaning "herds-man's tree".[2]
Barnbougle seems to have originally been a thirteenth century tower house, possibly constructed for the Norman noble, Philip Mowbray. By 1615 it had passed into Hamilton of Haddington hands, but in 1662 it was bought by the current family, the Primroses of Rosebery.
Barnbougle Castle from the East
Most of the the current structure dates mainly from the seventeenth century, and although it was still inhabited in the eighteenth century, it was in a state of ruin by the mid-nineteenth century. Indeed, the Roseberys had abandoned it in 1817 in favour of the newly built Dalmeny House, which is still the seat of the earldom.
Dalmeny House
During this period, Barnbougle was used to store explosives, and following its near-demolition by an explosion, was rebuilt in 1880.
According to local legend, one of the early medieval Mowbrays, Sir Roger, went to the Holy Land with the Crusades and died horribly in battle against the Moslem army. At that very moment, his faithful hound, still at home in Barnbougle, howled uncontrollably throughout the night, and finally, it too died of grief for its master.
And today, it is said that, on dark, windy nights, the howls of Sir Roger's dog can still be heard at Hound Point, half a mile to the West of the castle...
An alternative version of this legend is given by William Wallace Fyfe in 1851 as follows:[3]
Through the gloom of the wood, beneath the stately trees, an avenue such as Rembrandt alone could have pictured, emerges on the platform curving towards the Hound Point—a promontory projecting into the water, having its extreme point insulated at full tide. Connected with this remarkable spot, an old legend of the house of Barn or Baron-bugle, represents that whenever the death of any of its lords is about to occur, the apparition of a black man, accompanied by a hound, appears upon the point, and winds from his bugle the death-note of the baron. Hence the origin of the ancient name of Bar'n-Bugle. Adjacent, but unseen, behind the next projecting headland to the eastwards, stands the old square keep of Barnbougle Castle, on a basement of masonry within the flood-mark; and it is not difficult to imagine the time when the Mowbrays, the Templars, were fighting in Paynim Land the battles of the Cross, and the dread sound of that dark Saracen's trumpet was thought to be heard from the Hound Point, pealing the fate of the fallen, whilst fancy would summon up the memory of the past in something like the following strain:—
Legend of the Hound Point of Barnbougle
Sir Roger is gone to the wars I trow,
To fight for the Holy Tree—
A Red-Cross Knight in a garb of white,
And mail of the metal free.
And he has sworn by the Temple Arch,
And the mystic fingers five,
To whet his blade on the Soldan's head,
Or ne'er return alive.
He left no loving dame behind,
When he sailed for the Paynim strand:
And he built his keep by the waters deep,
But not for lack of land.
And he kissed his crosier-hilted sword,
As he kneeled in Dalmeny fane,
And prayed for the good of the brotherhood,
Till he came back again.
Sir Roger, he thought, no loving eye
Would drop him a parting tear;
To the point he strode where his shallop rode,
And his wistful hound stood near.
The dog looked up in his master's face,
And utter'd a dismal howl—
A piteous cry that rent the sky,
But softened the Templar's soul.
My faithful brach! quoth the Red-Cross Knight,
We never shall part I swear,
While the Mowbray's hand can lift a brand,
It boots not when or where.
The twain leapt lightly to the deck—
The Templar and the hound;
The cord was cast, and the shallop pass'd
The welkin's farthest bound.
Long, long, had the mail-clad Templar fought,
Beneath the blood-red cross,
Where many a knight was slain in fight,
With none to mourn his loss.
At length through the keep, by the waters deep,
There thrilled a bugle sound—
A death-wail pass'd on the midnight blast,
Where Sir Roger met the hound.
And a darksome Paynim form appear'd,
Winding that solemn wail—
In the ebbing tide, a hound by his side,
But neither shallop nor sail.
And ever when Barnbougle's Lords
Are parting this scene below,
Come hound and ghost to that haunted coast,
And death-notes winding slow.
footnotes
[1] Rev. James Scott, "Parish of Dalmeny", in The New Statistical Account of Scotland (Edinburgh: Blackwood, 1834-45), Vol.2, p.96.
[2] W.J. Watson, The History of the Celtic Placenames of Scotland (Edinburgh: 1926), p.351.
[3] William Wallace Fyfe, Summer Life on Land and Water at South Queensferry (Edinburgh: Oliver & Boyd: 1851), pp.156-158.