fbpx
Stirling, Scotland

Stirling: All Heart

Atop of Abbey Craig, a 100-metre hill to the north of Stirling in the heart of Scotland, stands the 67-metre National Wallace Monument, a muscular, Victorian gothic structure befitting the rebel leader whom it commemorates.

The stunning sandstone tower marks the spot from which William Wallace – the real-life hero immortalised by the blue-painted-face of Mel Gibson in the movie Braveheart – watched the soon-to-be defeated English army approach before the Battle of Stirling Bridge.

Completed in 1869, the National Wallace Monument is climbed via 246 stone steps. En route to the top (or ‘Crown’), floors serve as mini museums dedicated to William Wallace and other Scottish heroes scanning centuries, with exhibits like busts and weaponry including what is claimed to be Wallace’s real sword (there is some debate about its authenticity, but aside from its symbolism you can’t but admire whoever had to go into battle brandishing a blade that stands as tall as the average woman). The narrow, winding (and occasionally windy) staircase emerges to jaw-dropping views of Scotland’s legendary autumnal landscape punctuated by the ghostly grey city, including the historic Stirling Castle perched atop another gnarly crag on the horizon. 

For good reason, Braveheart regularly features towards the top of ‘most historically inaccurate films ever’ lists, while in his book An Utterly Impartial History of Britain author John O’Farrell states that it couldn’t have been more off the mark if a plasticine dog was added to the cast and it was retitled William Wallace and Gromit.

Flaws and fallacies such as there being no bridge at the Battle of Stirling Bridge; kilts not yet having been invented (they arrived 300 years later); dodgy accents, and the film being almost entirely shot in Ireland, are relatively forgivable, but not so is the scandalous, slanderous treatment of Robert the Bruce – another bona fide real-life Scottish hero – who is depicted as betraying Gibson’s Braveheart. In the real world, not only did Robert the Bruce absolutely not turn traitor against Wallace, but the two men likely never even met, and, to add insult to injury, it was Robert the Bruce, not William Wallace, who was actually nicknamed Braveheart. 

That’s not to detract from William Wallace who really did lead a rebel army to an unlikely victory against a seemingly superior English force to become the Guardian of Scotland before going into exile and ultimately suffering betrayal and an excruciating execution (supposedly even more brutal than the movie portrays). But the factual exploits of this icon of Scottish independence and those who followed him are so fascinating, so inspirational, that it can be infuriating to discover just how much Hollywood twisted their tales. 

Not that the city complains. Last year, then-chief executive of the Scottish Tourist Board, Tom Buncle, told the BBC that “Braveheart did more for Scottish tourism than the Scottish Tourist Board could have done in 20 years”. It’s estimated that the multi-Oscar-winning movie is responsible for generating more than £35 million ($67 million) for Stirling alone, including increasing visitor numbers to the National Wallace Monument from 80,000 in 1995 to nearly 200,000 in 1996 while drawing more than one million additional visitors to the city. 

Building of the castle began in the early 1100s, though most of the current structures date from the 15th and 16th centuries. 

Stirling sits adjacent to the River Forth as the ‘gateway to the Highlands’, and history dictated that whoever held the realm of Scotland must first hold the river crossing and the castle. There have been at least eight sieges of Stirling Castle and three major battles within its vicinity, with most of the violence occurring during the Wars of Scottish Independence from the late-13th to mid-14th centuries. Building of the castle began in the early 1100s, though most of the current structures date from the 15th and 16th centuries. The North Gate, which dates from 1381, represents the oldest surviving section, part of the gatehouse built for King Robert II, the first Stewart monarch and grandson of Robert the Bruce. 

A towering 19th-century statue of Robert the Bruce welcomes guests into the castle grounds where awaits exhibits of medieval life, regal bed chambers, the Grand Hall, museum, chapel, and palace vaults. The fragrance and floral displays of the restful Queen Anne Gardens contrast against the epic tales of bloody battle and castle defence tactics involving boiling oil and human waste poured over would-be marauders. Visitors may also wander sections of the lofty defensive walls which repay the favour with views back across to the Wallace Monument, and beyond.

Still in the shadow of the castle, Stirling Distillery is the city’s oldest (legal) one, positioned in a romantic stone cottage on a site that served as stables for the horses of King James VI in the 1500s. It now serves handcrafted local gins, liqueurs, and Sons of Scotland malt whisky.

The Church of Holy Rude is considered one of the country’s best examples of medieval architecture and one that witnessed the coronation of James VI in 1567. Though it has occupied the same site since the early 12th century, a fire in 1405 led to it being rebuilt over the following decades. The spectacular kaleidoscopic stained-glass windows for which it is most famed were fitted in the 1800s. Further down the road awaits gruesome accounts of murderers, hangmen, and torturers via both exhibits and live performances in the brooding Victorian building that’s Stirling Old Town Jail.

Paradoxically, considering its history, Stirling is Scotland’s youngest city, granted city rights in 2002 to replace the royal burgh status declared upon it by King David I in the year 1130. The former royal stronghold is often likened to a miniature Edinburgh and it’s not hard to see why as your footsteps echo through the cobbled streets beneath an ancient guardian castle and architecture of ashen stone. 

Trip complete, I pour myself a wee dram (or two) of single malt and furiously rewatch Braveheart. But boy, it’s a rip-roaring film.