Why Scotland Rocks, Part 3: Reenactors

On Thursday of last week, Charles and I toured Edinburgh Castle. You've already seen photos of the castle, sitting above the city in the mist. Although it attracts tourists, the castle is far, far easier to see than the Tower of London. Honestly, there are too many people in the Tower.

By contrast, the only place at Edinburgh Castle that gets too crowded is the 12th century chapel dedicated to St. Margaret. The reasons for the crowding are two-fold: first, it's got only one door, and second, it's about 20 x 10. Teensy! In there, claustrophobia takes hold. Otherwise, the castle is pleasantly open and easy to navigate.

Lots of historic places suffer from the ills of reconstruction. This is true for Edinburgh like everywhere else. One example is the great hall. It was built quite a long time ago (1511, to be exact), but during the English Civil War (that's mid-17th century to you), Cromwell's fellas used it for stabling their horses. Not very nice.

Then, in the late 19th century, the hall was restored to a Victorian fantasy of 16th century design. Naked nymphs frolic on the corners of the fireplace, if that gives you a sense. Of course, the walls are literally covered in pikes, swords, helmets, and other elements of warfare. So it's a nice balance.



In that room, Historic Scotland (which runs the Castle) provides an outstanding example of historical reenacting. It's not outstandingly intellectual, nor outstandingly 'authentic' (whatever that means this week). But it captures the attention of hundreds of people every hour, because it's true living history.

What I mean is that it uses artifacts and Scots history as if these things belonged to living people (which they did) and as if they were worth knowing about (which they are!). This is not an obsessive attempt to make things perfectly resemble the past; it's an attempt to get people interested in what happened and why.



So, for example, the reenactors (who are hilarious) vividly describe the many uses of the pike, how it could go in through your mouth, into your spinal column, and out your skull. Or, if you prefer, how it could enter your body through the gut, twirl your intestines like spaghetti, then pull them out with a jerk.

They also explain the uses of the scottish broadsword, and demonstrate the catch mechanism on the hilt that allowed them to either take the blade (thus preventing the other man from striking) or disarm the other fighter.



Like everyone else we met in Scotland, these 2 reenactors might have been standup comedians. They managed to capture the attention of two hundred people for 45 minutes while those folks sat on a cold stone floor. The teased, and complimented (notable, 'Ye're too pretty to stab in the throat, darlin' Awww...), and generally held us all in the leather-clad palms of their hands. It was great.

But what I liked best about it was the way that they treated history. None of the false earnestness you so often see. None of the pretense to haughty expertise, intended to make the audience feel reverential not so much toward the story as toward its teller. They loved the past, and they wanted everyone else to love it, too.

Normally, I hate tourist crap. Charles literally had to drag me out of the dungeons (!!) to see these two perform. And he was right, as usual. So if you go to Edinburgh Castle, don't run away when you see the sign for a 'historical performance.' Get a seat in front, but don't answer any questions.

You might end up with a pike in the mouth.