John Barbour, poet or metrical historian, Archdeacon of Aberdeen and author of ‘The Bruce’, died on the 13th of March, 1395.
John Barbour gave the world the epic history of Robert the Bruce, but he did it the hard way – in metrical verse – all fourteen thousand octosyllabic lines of it. Not only did he write a long, narrative, poetical history of Scotland’s famous King, he gave his work a long title – “The Actes and Life of that most Victorious Conquerour, Robert Bruce, King of Scotland: wherein are contained the Martiall Deeds of those Valiant Princes, Edward Bruce, Syr James Douglas, Ere Thomas Randel, Walter Stewart, and sundrie others.” Now, over six hundred and thirty years later, nobody with an ounce of interest in medieval Scottish history would be without their Barbour. The Archdeacon of Aberdeen is considered to be – Thomas of Ercildoune (Thomas the Rhymer) and his ‘Romance of Sir Tristrem’ aside – the ‘father’ of Scottish vernacular poetry. He is to Scots as Chaucer to the English and Dante to the Italians, but his English wasnae bad for a’ that.
Barbour was indeed a contemporary of Geoffrey Chaucer and suffers not in comparison. Cassell and Howitt in an ‘Illustrated History of England’ claim that Barbour was “far more purely English in his language than Chaucer himself.” And, Thomas Warton (the Younger), an English poet and critic, and author of ‘The History of English Poetry’ of whom it has been said, there were few better judges of the comparative merits of such early poets as Barbour, wrote that “Barbour adorned the English language by a strain of versification, expression, and poetical images, far superior to the age.” James Bruce in his ‘Lives of eminent men of Aberdeen’ (a large book), whilst urging caution and impartiality, wrote then of Barbour that he was “a better describer of battles than Homer” and that ‘The Bruce’ is “as far superior to what is called the great Roman Epic, as the man whom it celebrates surpassed in every point of heroism the snivelling spouse deserting fugitive from Troy.” There should be no surprises at the classical references as Patrick Fraser Tytler noted in ‘Lives of Scottish Worthies’ that Barbour “appears to have been read in the classical as well as in the romantic literature of the day.”
Unlike most medieval historians, Barbour also benefitted from being close to the action, being (almost without question) born in Bruce’s lifetime and certainly able to get his information from contemporaries of the hero King; from people who knew him personally. Another poetical historian of note, Andrew of Wyntoun, omitted the life of Bruce from his ‘Orygynale Cronykil of Scotland’ simply because he considered Barbour’s work to be the definitive account of what actually happened. Of course, the fame of ‘The Bruce’ is largely tied up with several well known passages and in particular, the oft-quoted ‘Freedom’. Braveheart owes more to Barbour’s ‘Bruce’ than it does to Blind Harry’s ‘Wallace’ in that respect. As Tytler again notes, “[Barbour’s] Encomium upon Freedom is well known, and has become deservedly one of the most favourite and popular passages in his works.” If you don’t understand the vernacular, try my interpretation beneath:
A! Fredome is a nobill thing.
Fredome mayse man to haiff liking.
Fredome all solace to man giffis;
He levys at ese that frely levys.
A noble hart may haiff nane ese,
Na ellys nocht that may him plese,
Gyff fredome failythe: for fre liking
Is yearnyt ower all othir thing.
Ah! Freedom is a noble reason.
Freedom must man have as option.
Freedom all solace to man gives;
For he lives at ease that freely lives.
A noble heart may have no ease,
Nor aught else that may him please,
If freedom fails: for free choice
Is yearned for o’er all other joys.
All that we can say for certain about Barbour’s date of birth is that he was born before 1332 as he was an Archdeacon in 1357 and Canon Law meant he had to have been at least twenty-five to have attained such rank. And, unless he was the youngest ever Archdeacon, he was most probably born in the early 1320s or even earlier, perhaps as early as 1315, for he was reputed to have been sixty in 1375. There’s no evidence for his birthplace either, but it’s most likely he was born in Aberdeen or at least Aberdeenshire. He may well have received his education at the abbey of Aberbrothoc, where he took orders, and it is supposed that he availed of the facilities of the School of Divinity and Canon Law that had existed at Aberdeen since the reign of Alexander II.
In 1356, Barbour was appointed Archdeacon of ‘Abyrdene’ by his absent King, David II, son of ‘The Bruce’. In taking up the role, he flitted from the Cathedral at Dunkeld to St. Machar’s Cathedral in Aberdeen, with his prebend being the parish of Rayne in the Garioch. The following year, in August, he was one of the Commissioners nominated to attend Parliament and act for the Prelates concerning the liberation of the captive King. Between 1357 and 1369, and at the request of David II, whom he’d undoubtedly impressed, Edward III granted Barbour three separate safe conduct passes to travel through his Kingdom of England and other dominions, including to France, for the sake of study. Archdeacon that he was, Barbour wasn’t shy about using the facilities at Oxford and he travelled in style, always accompanied by up to half a dozen Knights and equerries.
Barbour’s great work was completed in 1375, four years after the death of David II, but it’s not at all clear that David Bruce requested he compose his metrical history. Maybe he did; he certainly appreciated Barbour’s talents. In any case, his successor, Robert II, was happy to bestow two pensions upon Barbour for his monumental effort. The first was a life pension of £10 Scots, from the customs of Aberdeen, and the other, 20/- from the rents or burrow-mails of the city. Barbour assigned his second pension to the Cathedral Church of Aberdeen, in exchange for celebrating yearly, an anniversary mass “for the soul of the said ‘umquhile’ (erstwhile) John.” That was duly done with nary a break until the Reformation. According to the Chartulary of Aberdeen, Barbour’s life pension of £10 was last paid in 1395. And if you calculate back the quoted “two years and a half” to the date of his death, from an August date in 1398 that’s referenced therein (see Lord Hailes’ Annals of Scotland, vol. ii p. 3.), you’ll find he died in 1395. But you’ll need to allow for the fact that, until 1600, Scotland’s New Year’s Day was on the 25th of March. The obit-book of St Machar’s Cathedral firmly records that John Barbour died on the 13th of March, 1395. He was buried in the grounds of his Cathedral, from where his marble memorial has since been moved to adorn an inner wall.
Wednesday, 16 March 2011
Saturday, 12 March 2011
Sir Alexander Mackenzie
Sir Alexander Mackenzie, fur trader and explorer, was born on the 12th of March, 1764.
The term ‘intrepid’ was coined for guys like Alexander Mackenzie. Having left his native Scotland when but a lad, Mackenzie was lured by a spirit of adventure to a life in the fur trade. He didn’t work for the Hudson’s Bay Company, which is probably the first such firm on people’s lips when the North American fur trade is mentioned, but in later life, he lobbied, albeit unsuccessfully, for a major realignment of the trade. He wasn’t short of ambition as his goal was a union of the big three clubs at the time; the other two being the North West Company, which had expanded as a result of its merger with Gregory, MacLeod and Company in 1787, and for whom Mackenzie did work, and the India Company. Interestingly, in 1821, the year after Mackenzie died, the North West Company and Hudson’s Bay Company did merge their operations, which then reached from the Arctic Ocean in the North to the Pacific Ocean in the West. In those days, nobody had ever heard of the monopolies commission and cartels were de rigueur. Perhaps it was understandable to seek to pool everyone’s resources in such an inhospitable and hitherto unexplored environment. In fact, exploration was to become Mackenzie’s forte and is that upon which his fame rests.
Mackenzie once declared that, “the practicability of penetrating across the continent” was the “favourite project of my own ambition.” He spent five years in pursuit of that ambition, which was manifest in the desire to find a route to the Pacific and achieve the first crossing of the full width of North America. Interest in such a passage was intense, but there was no ‘Wacky Races’ competition to see who would be first. Later, after the turn of 19th Century, there would be competition from the American Fur Company of John Jacob Astor and the Russian-American Company, but in 1789, those traders didn’t exist and the potentially highly lucrative new market was there for the taking. Mackenzie mounted two remarkable expeditions chasing his dream and, during the latter of those, he did indeed find his way to the Pacific Ocean and was able to go for a paddle at the beach.
Mackenzie’s first expedition was sidetracked by the inaccurate cartography of Peter Pond, with whom he’d set up Fort Chipewyan. The result of that trip was his ending up at the Arctic, rather than the Pacific, Ocean. However, Mackenzie simply tried again and that second expedition was more fundamentally successful. That excursion involved a round trip of approximately 3700 kilometres, during which he was able to map significant portions of the far northwest, the value of which cannot be questioned. Of course, those regions had not been documented before, but not only that, Mackenzie had succeeded where Pond had failed – in finding an accurate route to the Pacific. Was he intrepid or was he intrepid? Mackenzie was also noteworthy for the astonishing speed and efficiency with which he travelled. On both his famous trips, he brought his crews home safely and, in spite of numerous contacts with the indigenous peoples in North America, never fired a shot in anger.
Alexander Mackenzie was born in Stornoway, on the Island of Lewis, on the 12th of March, 1764. In 1774, following the death of his mother, the ten year old Alexander and his father went to New York. Mackenzie senior served with Loyalists in the King’s Royal Regiment during the Revolutionary War of Independence (how’s that phraseology for appeasement?) and Alexander was sent to a school in Montréal. After that schooling, such as it was, he was lured away to his life in the fur trade, first joining the traders Finlay and Gregory and later, Gregory, MacLeod and Company. Initially, the young Mackenzie worked in the Montreal headquarters of Gregory, MacLeod and Co. He then became a trader, at which he worked at first in Michigan, and then at Île-à-la-Crosse, until the firm’s merger with the North West Company, in 1787. By the following year, Mackenzie had become a partner in the expanded company and, from the spring of 1788, he was a trader and explorer in Alberta’s Athabasca Country. And, it was from his base at Fort Chipewyan on Lake Athabasca that Alexander Mackenzie set out in pursuit of his goal of finding a route to the Pacific.
His first expedition began in June 1789 and was intended to complete the route to the Pacific from the Great Slave Lake, through what was later named the Mackenzie River system. When, on that jaunt, he reached the Arctic instead of his intended destination, he was nevertheless pacified by its being considered an achievement in itself. Mackenzie’s second attempt at the Pacific route began further southwest, on the Peace River. After wintering at Fort Fork, which he established near the confluence of the Peace and Smoky Rivers, his expedition departed in May, 1793. Loaded with trade goods and provisions, Mackenzie’s party of six, including two native guides, reached the Fraser River in June. Following the advice of the local inhabitants, the party avoided the Fraser’s wild rapids and returned to the West Road River to continue the expedition overland. Later, in June that same year, following some encounters with the Bella Coola people, the expedition finally reached the western ocean at the Bentinck Arm of the Pacific, off Dean Channel (near the Queen Charlotte Straight).
It was near that location that the intrepid Mackenzie cut his famous inscription, which has since been restored, on a large rock. Instead of writing, “We wos ’ere!”, Mackenzie wrote: “Alexander Mackenzie, from Canada, by land, the twenty-second of July, one thousand seven hundred and ninety three.” For posterity and in 1801, Alexander Mackenzie published his journals, which were later reprinted under the title, “Alexander Mackenzie’s Voyage to the Pacific Ocean in 1793”. That publication included an excellent history of the fur trade. Then, in 1802, in recognition of his achievements, Mackenzie was knighted and thereafter, he spent a brief, but unimaginative, period of time in Canadian politics as a member of the Legislative Assembly of Lower Canada. In 1805, Sir Alexander Mackenzie returned to Scotland, where he died, near Dunkeld, on his birthday, the 12th of March, in 1820.
The term ‘intrepid’ was coined for guys like Alexander Mackenzie. Having left his native Scotland when but a lad, Mackenzie was lured by a spirit of adventure to a life in the fur trade. He didn’t work for the Hudson’s Bay Company, which is probably the first such firm on people’s lips when the North American fur trade is mentioned, but in later life, he lobbied, albeit unsuccessfully, for a major realignment of the trade. He wasn’t short of ambition as his goal was a union of the big three clubs at the time; the other two being the North West Company, which had expanded as a result of its merger with Gregory, MacLeod and Company in 1787, and for whom Mackenzie did work, and the India Company. Interestingly, in 1821, the year after Mackenzie died, the North West Company and Hudson’s Bay Company did merge their operations, which then reached from the Arctic Ocean in the North to the Pacific Ocean in the West. In those days, nobody had ever heard of the monopolies commission and cartels were de rigueur. Perhaps it was understandable to seek to pool everyone’s resources in such an inhospitable and hitherto unexplored environment. In fact, exploration was to become Mackenzie’s forte and is that upon which his fame rests.
Mackenzie once declared that, “the practicability of penetrating across the continent” was the “favourite project of my own ambition.” He spent five years in pursuit of that ambition, which was manifest in the desire to find a route to the Pacific and achieve the first crossing of the full width of North America. Interest in such a passage was intense, but there was no ‘Wacky Races’ competition to see who would be first. Later, after the turn of 19th Century, there would be competition from the American Fur Company of John Jacob Astor and the Russian-American Company, but in 1789, those traders didn’t exist and the potentially highly lucrative new market was there for the taking. Mackenzie mounted two remarkable expeditions chasing his dream and, during the latter of those, he did indeed find his way to the Pacific Ocean and was able to go for a paddle at the beach.
Mackenzie’s first expedition was sidetracked by the inaccurate cartography of Peter Pond, with whom he’d set up Fort Chipewyan. The result of that trip was his ending up at the Arctic, rather than the Pacific, Ocean. However, Mackenzie simply tried again and that second expedition was more fundamentally successful. That excursion involved a round trip of approximately 3700 kilometres, during which he was able to map significant portions of the far northwest, the value of which cannot be questioned. Of course, those regions had not been documented before, but not only that, Mackenzie had succeeded where Pond had failed – in finding an accurate route to the Pacific. Was he intrepid or was he intrepid? Mackenzie was also noteworthy for the astonishing speed and efficiency with which he travelled. On both his famous trips, he brought his crews home safely and, in spite of numerous contacts with the indigenous peoples in North America, never fired a shot in anger.
Alexander Mackenzie was born in Stornoway, on the Island of Lewis, on the 12th of March, 1764. In 1774, following the death of his mother, the ten year old Alexander and his father went to New York. Mackenzie senior served with Loyalists in the King’s Royal Regiment during the Revolutionary War of Independence (how’s that phraseology for appeasement?) and Alexander was sent to a school in Montréal. After that schooling, such as it was, he was lured away to his life in the fur trade, first joining the traders Finlay and Gregory and later, Gregory, MacLeod and Company. Initially, the young Mackenzie worked in the Montreal headquarters of Gregory, MacLeod and Co. He then became a trader, at which he worked at first in Michigan, and then at Île-à-la-Crosse, until the firm’s merger with the North West Company, in 1787. By the following year, Mackenzie had become a partner in the expanded company and, from the spring of 1788, he was a trader and explorer in Alberta’s Athabasca Country. And, it was from his base at Fort Chipewyan on Lake Athabasca that Alexander Mackenzie set out in pursuit of his goal of finding a route to the Pacific.
His first expedition began in June 1789 and was intended to complete the route to the Pacific from the Great Slave Lake, through what was later named the Mackenzie River system. When, on that jaunt, he reached the Arctic instead of his intended destination, he was nevertheless pacified by its being considered an achievement in itself. Mackenzie’s second attempt at the Pacific route began further southwest, on the Peace River. After wintering at Fort Fork, which he established near the confluence of the Peace and Smoky Rivers, his expedition departed in May, 1793. Loaded with trade goods and provisions, Mackenzie’s party of six, including two native guides, reached the Fraser River in June. Following the advice of the local inhabitants, the party avoided the Fraser’s wild rapids and returned to the West Road River to continue the expedition overland. Later, in June that same year, following some encounters with the Bella Coola people, the expedition finally reached the western ocean at the Bentinck Arm of the Pacific, off Dean Channel (near the Queen Charlotte Straight).
It was near that location that the intrepid Mackenzie cut his famous inscription, which has since been restored, on a large rock. Instead of writing, “We wos ’ere!”, Mackenzie wrote: “Alexander Mackenzie, from Canada, by land, the twenty-second of July, one thousand seven hundred and ninety three.” For posterity and in 1801, Alexander Mackenzie published his journals, which were later reprinted under the title, “Alexander Mackenzie’s Voyage to the Pacific Ocean in 1793”. That publication included an excellent history of the fur trade. Then, in 1802, in recognition of his achievements, Mackenzie was knighted and thereafter, he spent a brief, but unimaginative, period of time in Canadian politics as a member of the Legislative Assembly of Lower Canada. In 1805, Sir Alexander Mackenzie returned to Scotland, where he died, near Dunkeld, on his birthday, the 12th of March, in 1820.
Sunday, 6 March 2011
Rob Roy MacGregor
Rob Roy MacGregor was baptised on the 7th of March, 1671. There are no records showing his birth date.
Rob Roy was of the Gregorach, the ‘Children of the Mist’, reputed to be one of the oldest clans in Scotland. The first Gregor in Scotland was said to have been a son of Alpin, a King of the Scotti; Irish immigrants settled on the west coast of Scotland. The clan motto, in English, means ‘My race is Royal’. Robert the Bruce granted a substantial part of the MacGregor lands to his close friend and supporter Neil Campbell. Henceforth, the expansionist Campbells and the MacGregors were in frequent conflict, but the MacGregors were often the losers and gradually lost title to their lands and became tenants of the more politically successful Campbells. In April, 1603, after the Clan Chief was hanged in Edinburgh, the name of MacGregor was proscribed and anyone continuing to use it could be sentenced to death.
That situation still prevailed in 1671, when Rob Roy MacGregor was born in a cottage at Glengyle, at the head of Loch Katrine in the Trossachs area of Stirlingshire. He was the third son of Donald Glas of Glengyle and Margaret Campbell and would later use his mother’s surname when the banning of the MacGregor name was reinforced. His baptism is recorded in the parish registers of Buchanan thus: “On the 7th day of March 1671, Donald M’Gregor in GlenGyle, ps. of Calendar, upon testificat from ye minister yrof. Margaret Campbell. Son baptised, called Robert. Witnesses, Mr. Wm. Anderson, Minister, and John Macgregor.”
By the time Robert had grown up, Highland Watches had been introduced as part of a scheme put forward by Lord Breadalbin. That scheme involved a payment of £12,000 to the Clan Chiefs, to form their restless fighting men into Watches. The Captain of a Highland Watch was responsible for the suppression of all robbery and violence within his district, and the practice of cattle-lifting in particular. Rob Roy was made captain of the Glengyle Watch, in his twenty-first year. These duties enabled him to swagger about the countryside with a band of armed men, whether on his own business or that of his clients, without question or interference. Many of the cattle rustling myths surrounding Rob Roy derive from this role of his. It certainly seems likely that there was more than a tendency to overlook the interests of the clients he professed to serve. It may have been a case of something like, “ten for you; one for me.” In any case, the Lowlanders depended upon the Highlanders’ mercenary skills in the specialised business of tracing vanished cattle. His escapades during that period provided his clansmen with a splendid semi-military training.
That training came in handy as Rob Roy fought on the Jacobite side on several occasions during his lifetime, in a conflict that was drawn out over half a century or more, until it petered out at Culloden. At the age of eighteen, he fought alongside his father under ‘Bonnie’ Dundee at the Battle of Killiecrankie, in July of 1689. However, on the morning of the Battle of Sheriffmuir in September, 1715, Rob Roy was elsewhere. Evidently, his fellow officers knew all about a ‘special mission’ he had been sent upon, but exactly what, has never been told. Nevertheless, later in the day, hastening back to join the Army, he arrived at the River Allan, where the remnants of the Jacobite left wing, under Young Lochiel, had been forced across the river. Lochiel recorded that, “I perceived Rob Roy MacGregor on his march towards me, coming from the Town of Doune, he not being at the engagement, with about two hundred and fifty, betwixt MacGregors and MacPhersons.” This statement was confirmed by Struan Robertson’s account stating, “…having met with a party of MacGregors going to join our army, they drew up, and the enemy thought it proper to leave them.”
Lochiel apparently wanted Rob Roy to cross the river to attack the King’s forces under Argyll, which request Rob initially refused. This incident has often been used to paint Rob Roy in a poor light, but there are sound military reasons for Rob’s declining to hurl his men across the river in Argyll’s teeth. The fact remains that Argyll’s dragoons were halted by the arrival of Rob’s reinforcements and it was Lochiel who “went off” leaving the MacGregors drawn up by the ford, where they served to cover his retreat. Later, Rob’s men did cross the Allan and proceeded to harry Argyll’s men. His calculated action may well have contributed to the Royal Army’s subsequent dispersal from the field. The eventual result of the Battle was effectively a score draw.
Rob Roy was also present at the Battle of Glen Shiel in 1719, which saw the defeat of a Spanish expedition aiming to restore the Stuart monarchy. He took part in an action against English and Dutch infantry established on the high ground on the side of SgurrOmran. The Earl Marischal flung the Highlanders at the redcoats, but could not dislodge them. MacKinnons, MacKenzies, MacGregors, MacDonalds, and Camerons in succession made the attempt, but all reeled back from the Dutchmen’s steady platoon firing. There is a story that, during the fighting, Rob Roy found himself thrust into the line next to some of the MacRaes, who recognised their old enemy and refused to fight beside him. Be that as it may, nobody has ever suggested that the MacGregors shrank from meeting the enemy this time.
After the Battle was over, Rob Roy and his men carried out another guerilla action, before vanishing southwards into the wilds of Glenelg. All the spare firearms and ammunition landed from the Spanish frigates still lay in the magazine at the Crow of Kintail and would have fallen into English hands. Rob Roy had other ideas, getting there before the soldiers and blowing the place sky high. Some of the enemy soldiers, coming over the hill while the cloud of black smoke still hung in the air, were in time to see them as they disappeared – into the mist.
Rob Roy died in his house at Inverlochlarig Beg, Balquhidder, in December, 1734.
Wordsworth’s description of him gives a fair if somewhat flattering portrait:
“Heaven gave Rob Roy a dauntless heart,
And wondrous length and strength of era,
Nor craved he more to quell his foes,
Or keep his friends from harm.”
Rob Roy was of the Gregorach, the ‘Children of the Mist’, reputed to be one of the oldest clans in Scotland. The first Gregor in Scotland was said to have been a son of Alpin, a King of the Scotti; Irish immigrants settled on the west coast of Scotland. The clan motto, in English, means ‘My race is Royal’. Robert the Bruce granted a substantial part of the MacGregor lands to his close friend and supporter Neil Campbell. Henceforth, the expansionist Campbells and the MacGregors were in frequent conflict, but the MacGregors were often the losers and gradually lost title to their lands and became tenants of the more politically successful Campbells. In April, 1603, after the Clan Chief was hanged in Edinburgh, the name of MacGregor was proscribed and anyone continuing to use it could be sentenced to death.
That situation still prevailed in 1671, when Rob Roy MacGregor was born in a cottage at Glengyle, at the head of Loch Katrine in the Trossachs area of Stirlingshire. He was the third son of Donald Glas of Glengyle and Margaret Campbell and would later use his mother’s surname when the banning of the MacGregor name was reinforced. His baptism is recorded in the parish registers of Buchanan thus: “On the 7th day of March 1671, Donald M’Gregor in GlenGyle, ps. of Calendar, upon testificat from ye minister yrof. Margaret Campbell. Son baptised, called Robert. Witnesses, Mr. Wm. Anderson, Minister, and John Macgregor.”
By the time Robert had grown up, Highland Watches had been introduced as part of a scheme put forward by Lord Breadalbin. That scheme involved a payment of £12,000 to the Clan Chiefs, to form their restless fighting men into Watches. The Captain of a Highland Watch was responsible for the suppression of all robbery and violence within his district, and the practice of cattle-lifting in particular. Rob Roy was made captain of the Glengyle Watch, in his twenty-first year. These duties enabled him to swagger about the countryside with a band of armed men, whether on his own business or that of his clients, without question or interference. Many of the cattle rustling myths surrounding Rob Roy derive from this role of his. It certainly seems likely that there was more than a tendency to overlook the interests of the clients he professed to serve. It may have been a case of something like, “ten for you; one for me.” In any case, the Lowlanders depended upon the Highlanders’ mercenary skills in the specialised business of tracing vanished cattle. His escapades during that period provided his clansmen with a splendid semi-military training.
That training came in handy as Rob Roy fought on the Jacobite side on several occasions during his lifetime, in a conflict that was drawn out over half a century or more, until it petered out at Culloden. At the age of eighteen, he fought alongside his father under ‘Bonnie’ Dundee at the Battle of Killiecrankie, in July of 1689. However, on the morning of the Battle of Sheriffmuir in September, 1715, Rob Roy was elsewhere. Evidently, his fellow officers knew all about a ‘special mission’ he had been sent upon, but exactly what, has never been told. Nevertheless, later in the day, hastening back to join the Army, he arrived at the River Allan, where the remnants of the Jacobite left wing, under Young Lochiel, had been forced across the river. Lochiel recorded that, “I perceived Rob Roy MacGregor on his march towards me, coming from the Town of Doune, he not being at the engagement, with about two hundred and fifty, betwixt MacGregors and MacPhersons.” This statement was confirmed by Struan Robertson’s account stating, “…having met with a party of MacGregors going to join our army, they drew up, and the enemy thought it proper to leave them.”
Lochiel apparently wanted Rob Roy to cross the river to attack the King’s forces under Argyll, which request Rob initially refused. This incident has often been used to paint Rob Roy in a poor light, but there are sound military reasons for Rob’s declining to hurl his men across the river in Argyll’s teeth. The fact remains that Argyll’s dragoons were halted by the arrival of Rob’s reinforcements and it was Lochiel who “went off” leaving the MacGregors drawn up by the ford, where they served to cover his retreat. Later, Rob’s men did cross the Allan and proceeded to harry Argyll’s men. His calculated action may well have contributed to the Royal Army’s subsequent dispersal from the field. The eventual result of the Battle was effectively a score draw.
Rob Roy was also present at the Battle of Glen Shiel in 1719, which saw the defeat of a Spanish expedition aiming to restore the Stuart monarchy. He took part in an action against English and Dutch infantry established on the high ground on the side of SgurrOmran. The Earl Marischal flung the Highlanders at the redcoats, but could not dislodge them. MacKinnons, MacKenzies, MacGregors, MacDonalds, and Camerons in succession made the attempt, but all reeled back from the Dutchmen’s steady platoon firing. There is a story that, during the fighting, Rob Roy found himself thrust into the line next to some of the MacRaes, who recognised their old enemy and refused to fight beside him. Be that as it may, nobody has ever suggested that the MacGregors shrank from meeting the enemy this time.
After the Battle was over, Rob Roy and his men carried out another guerilla action, before vanishing southwards into the wilds of Glenelg. All the spare firearms and ammunition landed from the Spanish frigates still lay in the magazine at the Crow of Kintail and would have fallen into English hands. Rob Roy had other ideas, getting there before the soldiers and blowing the place sky high. Some of the enemy soldiers, coming over the hill while the cloud of black smoke still hung in the air, were in time to see them as they disappeared – into the mist.
Rob Roy died in his house at Inverlochlarig Beg, Balquhidder, in December, 1734.
Wordsworth’s description of him gives a fair if somewhat flattering portrait:
“Heaven gave Rob Roy a dauntless heart,
And wondrous length and strength of era,
Nor craved he more to quell his foes,
Or keep his friends from harm.”
The Treaty of Union
On the 6th March, 1707, Queen Anne attended the House of Lords to give her Royal assent to the English bill ratifying the Treaty of Union between Scotland and England.
Queen Anne Stuart, younger daughter of James VII & II, sister to the previous Queen, Mary II & II, sister-in-law to yon Orangeman called Wullie, and last of the Stuarts (or Stewarts if you like) ordered an official copy of the English Act of Union to be sent to Scotland, whose Queen she was. The document stated that “the two kingdoms of England and Scotland shall upon the first day of May in the year one thousand seven hundred and seven and forever after be united into one Kingdom by the name of the United Kingdom of Great Britain.” That was to be a significant day in the history of the western world. However, the Union of the Parliaments, when viewed from the perspective of Scotland’s history, is shaded in many colours; all of them driech. We are where we are today because of that Treaty and whether or not you believe it’s been good or bad, that it should be maintained or abolished as the Scottish Nationalists would have it, the fact is, it came into being in a shameful manner. Robert Burns sums it up rather well in these two verses from the song ‘A Parcel of Rogues in a Nation’.
What force or guile could not subdue
Thro’ many warlike ages
Is wrought now by a coward few
For hireling traitor’s wages.
The English steel we could disdain,
Secure in valour’s station;
But English gold has been our bane –
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation!
O, would, or I had seen the day
That Treason thus could sell us,
My auld grey head had lien in clay
Wi’ Bruce and loyal Wallace!
But pith and power, till my last hour
I'll mak this declaration: –
‘We’re bought and sold for English gold’ –
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation!
The gist of the story is that, on the one hand, the English were afraid that the Protestant succession after Queen Anne would be scuppered by the Scots, who were shaping up to invite ‘the man who would be King’ James VIII & III to Stirling for a wee bit coronation. James VII & II had attempted to establish absolutist rule and a Catholic monarchy in his two kingdoms, but with him out of the way after the inglorious Revolution, which had put his Protestant daughter on the throne as joint Sovereign with her Dutchman, the English didn’t want his Catholic son and heir assuming the throne via the Scottish back door. The English had decided that the succession would pass to the Protestant heirs of King James VI & I’s granddaughter Sophia, which meant George I becoming the first Hanoverian King. Their sole incentive for the union seems to have been to preserve the Protestant succession. It shouldn’t be so important now, but the rule stating that no Catholic shall sit on the throne still exists.
On the other hand, the Scots were broke. After the disaster of Darien, in which the country had invested near a quarter of its liquid assets, except for the whisky, and with England refusing to drop trade barriers to the West Indies and the Americas, Scotland was on its uppers. Maybe an overindulgence in whisky was responsible for the daft decision to establish the Darien expedition. In any case, by the time Robert Burns was able to hold down a job enforcing customs and excise duties imposed upon Scotland as a result of the Union and pen a few lines about yon parcel of rogues, the whisky wasn’t so cheap. Rationally then, with Scotland’s fortunes in dire straits, a deal with England and the opening up of trade routes would surely be welcome. Ah yes, but not in the manner it was exacted. Certainly, Scotland had a more reasonable, logical and fundamental incentive for the Union than the mere preservation of religious continuity, but it remains a fact that the “parcel of rogues” charged with negotiating the Treaty sold their country for “a handfu’ o’ siller.”
One of the chief rogues who received a parcel from England was the Earl of Seafield. He was Lord Chancellor of Scotland, a title instigated by Alexander I, but he was quite happy to vote for the extinction of Parliament and his ancient role. In his glee at the sell out, he said with grim humour, “There is the end of an auld sang.” But in a stinging rebuke, his own brother told him, “Take your own tale hame. I only sell nowt (cattle), but you sell nations.” The leading anti-unionists were known as the Country Party, which included the likes of the Duke of Hamilton, Lord Belhaven and Andrew Fletcher of Saltoun. But despite Saltoun’s forceful and passionate oratory, they weren’t organised enough to make their votes count and the lure of filthy lucre proved too strong for their contemptible compatriots in the Court Party.
Article XV is the key to the Treaty. It provided a fund from which the likes of Seafield might be bribed to consent to all its provisions, either directly or indirectly. But for this article, the document would never have become law. The ‘Equivalence Fund’ was essentially designed to repay Scottish public debts, provide compensation for the Darien losses and to compensate for financial loss due to the transition from English to Scottish currency. However, those laudable purposes have become lost in its notoriety as a means of engineering a handout to a total of twenty-three Scottish ‘nobles’. Sums ranged from the £1104 paid to the Earl of Marchmont, the Earl of Seafield’s meagre £490, and the paltry £11 given to Lord Banff. Well may we exclaim “Such a parcel of rogues in a nation.” That a peer should sell his country for £11 may be regarded as just about the most contemptible transaction on record. Even the Provost of Ayr got £100.
When the story of that wholesale bribery broke, the people were furious. They regarded the gold as the price paid in exchange for the delivery of the liberty of Scotland into the hands of the English. But look on the bright side; it inspired Burns to pen such a song.
Queen Anne Stuart, younger daughter of James VII & II, sister to the previous Queen, Mary II & II, sister-in-law to yon Orangeman called Wullie, and last of the Stuarts (or Stewarts if you like) ordered an official copy of the English Act of Union to be sent to Scotland, whose Queen she was. The document stated that “the two kingdoms of England and Scotland shall upon the first day of May in the year one thousand seven hundred and seven and forever after be united into one Kingdom by the name of the United Kingdom of Great Britain.” That was to be a significant day in the history of the western world. However, the Union of the Parliaments, when viewed from the perspective of Scotland’s history, is shaded in many colours; all of them driech. We are where we are today because of that Treaty and whether or not you believe it’s been good or bad, that it should be maintained or abolished as the Scottish Nationalists would have it, the fact is, it came into being in a shameful manner. Robert Burns sums it up rather well in these two verses from the song ‘A Parcel of Rogues in a Nation’.
What force or guile could not subdue
Thro’ many warlike ages
Is wrought now by a coward few
For hireling traitor’s wages.
The English steel we could disdain,
Secure in valour’s station;
But English gold has been our bane –
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation!
O, would, or I had seen the day
That Treason thus could sell us,
My auld grey head had lien in clay
Wi’ Bruce and loyal Wallace!
But pith and power, till my last hour
I'll mak this declaration: –
‘We’re bought and sold for English gold’ –
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation!
The gist of the story is that, on the one hand, the English were afraid that the Protestant succession after Queen Anne would be scuppered by the Scots, who were shaping up to invite ‘the man who would be King’ James VIII & III to Stirling for a wee bit coronation. James VII & II had attempted to establish absolutist rule and a Catholic monarchy in his two kingdoms, but with him out of the way after the inglorious Revolution, which had put his Protestant daughter on the throne as joint Sovereign with her Dutchman, the English didn’t want his Catholic son and heir assuming the throne via the Scottish back door. The English had decided that the succession would pass to the Protestant heirs of King James VI & I’s granddaughter Sophia, which meant George I becoming the first Hanoverian King. Their sole incentive for the union seems to have been to preserve the Protestant succession. It shouldn’t be so important now, but the rule stating that no Catholic shall sit on the throne still exists.
On the other hand, the Scots were broke. After the disaster of Darien, in which the country had invested near a quarter of its liquid assets, except for the whisky, and with England refusing to drop trade barriers to the West Indies and the Americas, Scotland was on its uppers. Maybe an overindulgence in whisky was responsible for the daft decision to establish the Darien expedition. In any case, by the time Robert Burns was able to hold down a job enforcing customs and excise duties imposed upon Scotland as a result of the Union and pen a few lines about yon parcel of rogues, the whisky wasn’t so cheap. Rationally then, with Scotland’s fortunes in dire straits, a deal with England and the opening up of trade routes would surely be welcome. Ah yes, but not in the manner it was exacted. Certainly, Scotland had a more reasonable, logical and fundamental incentive for the Union than the mere preservation of religious continuity, but it remains a fact that the “parcel of rogues” charged with negotiating the Treaty sold their country for “a handfu’ o’ siller.”
One of the chief rogues who received a parcel from England was the Earl of Seafield. He was Lord Chancellor of Scotland, a title instigated by Alexander I, but he was quite happy to vote for the extinction of Parliament and his ancient role. In his glee at the sell out, he said with grim humour, “There is the end of an auld sang.” But in a stinging rebuke, his own brother told him, “Take your own tale hame. I only sell nowt (cattle), but you sell nations.” The leading anti-unionists were known as the Country Party, which included the likes of the Duke of Hamilton, Lord Belhaven and Andrew Fletcher of Saltoun. But despite Saltoun’s forceful and passionate oratory, they weren’t organised enough to make their votes count and the lure of filthy lucre proved too strong for their contemptible compatriots in the Court Party.
Article XV is the key to the Treaty. It provided a fund from which the likes of Seafield might be bribed to consent to all its provisions, either directly or indirectly. But for this article, the document would never have become law. The ‘Equivalence Fund’ was essentially designed to repay Scottish public debts, provide compensation for the Darien losses and to compensate for financial loss due to the transition from English to Scottish currency. However, those laudable purposes have become lost in its notoriety as a means of engineering a handout to a total of twenty-three Scottish ‘nobles’. Sums ranged from the £1104 paid to the Earl of Marchmont, the Earl of Seafield’s meagre £490, and the paltry £11 given to Lord Banff. Well may we exclaim “Such a parcel of rogues in a nation.” That a peer should sell his country for £11 may be regarded as just about the most contemptible transaction on record. Even the Provost of Ayr got £100.
When the story of that wholesale bribery broke, the people were furious. They regarded the gold as the price paid in exchange for the delivery of the liberty of Scotland into the hands of the English. But look on the bright side; it inspired Burns to pen such a song.
Saturday, 5 March 2011
Flora MacDonald
Flora Macdonald, Jacobite heroine, died on the 4th March, 1790.
Flora MacDonald’s voyage “over the sea to Skye” with the fugitive Bonnie Prince Charlie dressed as her maid, has made her into a legendary heroine. She has been portrayed in poem and song, on stage and the big screen, and admired the world over, for her courage and daring. Her loyalty gained her general admiration and sympathy in her day, but there was more to Flora MacDonald than the romantic, shortbread tin images portray. Dr. Samuel Johnson, the English essayist, who met her in 1773, described her as “a woman of middle stature, soft features, elegant manners and gentle presence.” He also said that her name “will be mentioned in history, and if courage and fidelity be virtues, mentioned with honour.” She was a resolute woman of twenty-four when she enacted her part in the adventures of the handsome ‘Young Pretender’ and, when arrested, she displayed her maturity in doing all she could to protect those others who had helped the Prince to escape. Nevertheless, she was no romantic, loyal Jacobite. Indeed, her husband, four of her sons and a son-in-law all fought, at one time or another, albeit abroad of Scotland, for the Hannoverian King Geordie.
Flora MacDonald was born in 1722 at Milton on South Uist, where her father was a tenant farmer. When her father died and her mother was abducted and married by Hugh MacDonald of Armadale, Flora was brought up on Skye under the care of the Chief of her Clan, the MacDonald of Sleat. She attended school in Sleat and, by all accounts, in Edinburgh. In June, 1746, she was living in Benbecula, sandwiched between North and South Uist, when Prince Charles Edward Stuart, Bonnie Prince Charlie, pitched up after the defeat of the Jacobite Uprising at the Battle of Culloden. The Prince's companion, Captain O’Neill, sought her help, telling here the plan; that the Prince was to be disguised in a frock as ‘Betty Burke’. She thought the scheme “fantastical,” but after some hesitation Flora promised to help. If you look at pictures of Charlie, you’ll see that the idea of him masquerading as a woman wasn’t all that preposterous.
The island was held for the government by the local militia, but the local commander, also a MacDonald, was probably admitted into the secret. He gave her a pass to the mainland for herself, a manservant, an Irish spinning maid called ‘Betty Burke’, and a boat’s crew of six men. They sailed it is said, but it’s more than likely they rowed, from Benbecula to Skye on the 27th of June, 1746. They hid overnight in a cottage and, over the next few days, they travelled overland to Portree, at one point avoiding some Government troops. When Charlie left to travel to the island of Raasay and a ship to take him back to France, he gave Flora a locket with his portrait, saying, “I hope, madam, that we may meet in St James’s yet,” but she never saw him again. Neither did he give her the recipe for Drambuie.
The careless talk of the boatmen brought suspicion on Flora and she was arrested. Stories suggest that she was either imprisoned on a ship for five months or imprisoned in Dunstaffnage Castle, take your pick, before being brought to London. It’s fairly unlikely that she was imprisoned on a ship, unlike like the remnants of the Jacobite Army, for the simple reason that those ships were stinking, death traps, full of desperate and dying men. There is no mention of Flora suffering any such discomfort and had she, there surely would’ve been. After a short imprisonment in the Tower of London, she was allowed to live outside of it, under parole. Flora was never brought to trial and, when she was released, following the Act of Indemnity, in 1747, her admirers subscribed over £1500 on her behalf. After she was freed, she went to Edinburgh, travelled widely throughout Scotland, and returned twice to London, before settling once more on Skye.
On the 6th of November, 1750, Flora married her kinsman, Allan MacDonald of Kingsburgh. Initially, they lived at Flodigarry, before moving to Kingsburgh in 1772, which is where, on Sunday, the 12th of September, 1773, Flora received the visit of Samuel Johnson and James Boswell. Boswell was to write of that rainy day, “To see Dr. Samuel Johnson, the great champion of the English Tories, salute Miss Flora MacDonald in the Isle of Sky, was a striking sight.” In 1774, Flora and Allan emigrated to Anson (now Montgomery) County, in North Carolina. It’s suggested that Alan MacDonald was a Captain in the Army during his time on Skye, but there doesn’t seem to be any evidence for that. There is more evidence for his having been a farmer and, in any case, it’s highly unlikely that an Army Captain would have been allowed to emigrate independently of his Regiment, let alone become a farmer in the Thirteen Colonies.
Flora’s husband served in a Regiment of Loyalist Highlanders; the 1st Battalion of the 84th Regiment of Foot (Royal Highland Emigrants). The Battalion was raised, predominantly, from Scottish soldiers who had served in the Seven Years’ War in North America. Farmer MacDonald enlisted along with many another, regardless of whether or not Flora actively participated in recruiting the men, exhorting them in Gaelic as it is said. It’s far more likely that the only exhorting she did was to wave off the Battalion as it proudly marched out of Cross Creek (present day Fayetteville). Soon after, on the 27th of February, 1776, Allan MacDonald was involved in the Battle of Moore’s Creek Bridge. Half of the Battalion was captured and thirty were killed, with ninety-six officers and men taken prisoner; one of whom was Flora MacDonald’s husband.
Flora was left to fend for herself, spending the best part of two miserable years alone on a farm/plantation “that had been ravaged by the Patriots.” Her husband was exchanged in 1777 and the two were reunited in New York, from where they were posted to Fort Edward in Windsor, Nova Scotia, in 1778. Allan served there as a Captain with the 2nd Battalion of the Royal Highland Emigrants and, for a time, they lived in a block house, which can still be seen today. It is well known as the last remaining building of its type in the province. Two of Flora’s sons, Ranald and Charles, also served in the Battalion.
The following year, 1779, Flora, who had been weakened by sickness and couldn’t bear the cold winters, returned alone to Skye to live with her daughter at Dunvegan Castle. During the voyage to Scotland in a merchant ship, it was attacked by a privateer, but Flora refused to leave the deck during the action and was wounded in the arm. In 1784, after the war in America, Allan reported for duty with Flora back on Skye. Flora MacDonald died at Peinduin (or Kingsburgh) on ‘An t-Eilean Sgitheanach’ on the 4th of March, 1790, in the same bed in which Bonnie Prince Charlie, and Samuel Johnson in his turn, had slept. She was buried in the graveyard at Kilmuir in Trotternish and it is said that over 3000 mourners attended her funeral at which 300 gallons of whisky were drunk.
Flora MacDonald’s voyage “over the sea to Skye” with the fugitive Bonnie Prince Charlie dressed as her maid, has made her into a legendary heroine. She has been portrayed in poem and song, on stage and the big screen, and admired the world over, for her courage and daring. Her loyalty gained her general admiration and sympathy in her day, but there was more to Flora MacDonald than the romantic, shortbread tin images portray. Dr. Samuel Johnson, the English essayist, who met her in 1773, described her as “a woman of middle stature, soft features, elegant manners and gentle presence.” He also said that her name “will be mentioned in history, and if courage and fidelity be virtues, mentioned with honour.” She was a resolute woman of twenty-four when she enacted her part in the adventures of the handsome ‘Young Pretender’ and, when arrested, she displayed her maturity in doing all she could to protect those others who had helped the Prince to escape. Nevertheless, she was no romantic, loyal Jacobite. Indeed, her husband, four of her sons and a son-in-law all fought, at one time or another, albeit abroad of Scotland, for the Hannoverian King Geordie.
Flora MacDonald was born in 1722 at Milton on South Uist, where her father was a tenant farmer. When her father died and her mother was abducted and married by Hugh MacDonald of Armadale, Flora was brought up on Skye under the care of the Chief of her Clan, the MacDonald of Sleat. She attended school in Sleat and, by all accounts, in Edinburgh. In June, 1746, she was living in Benbecula, sandwiched between North and South Uist, when Prince Charles Edward Stuart, Bonnie Prince Charlie, pitched up after the defeat of the Jacobite Uprising at the Battle of Culloden. The Prince's companion, Captain O’Neill, sought her help, telling here the plan; that the Prince was to be disguised in a frock as ‘Betty Burke’. She thought the scheme “fantastical,” but after some hesitation Flora promised to help. If you look at pictures of Charlie, you’ll see that the idea of him masquerading as a woman wasn’t all that preposterous.
The island was held for the government by the local militia, but the local commander, also a MacDonald, was probably admitted into the secret. He gave her a pass to the mainland for herself, a manservant, an Irish spinning maid called ‘Betty Burke’, and a boat’s crew of six men. They sailed it is said, but it’s more than likely they rowed, from Benbecula to Skye on the 27th of June, 1746. They hid overnight in a cottage and, over the next few days, they travelled overland to Portree, at one point avoiding some Government troops. When Charlie left to travel to the island of Raasay and a ship to take him back to France, he gave Flora a locket with his portrait, saying, “I hope, madam, that we may meet in St James’s yet,” but she never saw him again. Neither did he give her the recipe for Drambuie.
The careless talk of the boatmen brought suspicion on Flora and she was arrested. Stories suggest that she was either imprisoned on a ship for five months or imprisoned in Dunstaffnage Castle, take your pick, before being brought to London. It’s fairly unlikely that she was imprisoned on a ship, unlike like the remnants of the Jacobite Army, for the simple reason that those ships were stinking, death traps, full of desperate and dying men. There is no mention of Flora suffering any such discomfort and had she, there surely would’ve been. After a short imprisonment in the Tower of London, she was allowed to live outside of it, under parole. Flora was never brought to trial and, when she was released, following the Act of Indemnity, in 1747, her admirers subscribed over £1500 on her behalf. After she was freed, she went to Edinburgh, travelled widely throughout Scotland, and returned twice to London, before settling once more on Skye.
On the 6th of November, 1750, Flora married her kinsman, Allan MacDonald of Kingsburgh. Initially, they lived at Flodigarry, before moving to Kingsburgh in 1772, which is where, on Sunday, the 12th of September, 1773, Flora received the visit of Samuel Johnson and James Boswell. Boswell was to write of that rainy day, “To see Dr. Samuel Johnson, the great champion of the English Tories, salute Miss Flora MacDonald in the Isle of Sky, was a striking sight.” In 1774, Flora and Allan emigrated to Anson (now Montgomery) County, in North Carolina. It’s suggested that Alan MacDonald was a Captain in the Army during his time on Skye, but there doesn’t seem to be any evidence for that. There is more evidence for his having been a farmer and, in any case, it’s highly unlikely that an Army Captain would have been allowed to emigrate independently of his Regiment, let alone become a farmer in the Thirteen Colonies.
Flora’s husband served in a Regiment of Loyalist Highlanders; the 1st Battalion of the 84th Regiment of Foot (Royal Highland Emigrants). The Battalion was raised, predominantly, from Scottish soldiers who had served in the Seven Years’ War in North America. Farmer MacDonald enlisted along with many another, regardless of whether or not Flora actively participated in recruiting the men, exhorting them in Gaelic as it is said. It’s far more likely that the only exhorting she did was to wave off the Battalion as it proudly marched out of Cross Creek (present day Fayetteville). Soon after, on the 27th of February, 1776, Allan MacDonald was involved in the Battle of Moore’s Creek Bridge. Half of the Battalion was captured and thirty were killed, with ninety-six officers and men taken prisoner; one of whom was Flora MacDonald’s husband.
Flora was left to fend for herself, spending the best part of two miserable years alone on a farm/plantation “that had been ravaged by the Patriots.” Her husband was exchanged in 1777 and the two were reunited in New York, from where they were posted to Fort Edward in Windsor, Nova Scotia, in 1778. Allan served there as a Captain with the 2nd Battalion of the Royal Highland Emigrants and, for a time, they lived in a block house, which can still be seen today. It is well known as the last remaining building of its type in the province. Two of Flora’s sons, Ranald and Charles, also served in the Battalion.
The following year, 1779, Flora, who had been weakened by sickness and couldn’t bear the cold winters, returned alone to Skye to live with her daughter at Dunvegan Castle. During the voyage to Scotland in a merchant ship, it was attacked by a privateer, but Flora refused to leave the deck during the action and was wounded in the arm. In 1784, after the war in America, Allan reported for duty with Flora back on Skye. Flora MacDonald died at Peinduin (or Kingsburgh) on ‘An t-Eilean Sgitheanach’ on the 4th of March, 1790, in the same bed in which Bonnie Prince Charlie, and Samuel Johnson in his turn, had slept. She was buried in the graveyard at Kilmuir in Trotternish and it is said that over 3000 mourners attended her funeral at which 300 gallons of whisky were drunk.
The execution of Mary I, Queen of Scots
Mary I, Queen of Scots, was executed on the 8th of February, 1587.
Mary I, Queen of Scots, remains one of the most fascinating characters in Scotland’s history. Along with Cleopatra and Helen of Troy, she continues to share a certain notoriety. At the time of her death, she was just forty-four, but she’d crammed more into her life than most folks could’ve had they been granted twice as long. She was the daughter of the fifth of Scotland’s Jameses. James V bemoaned the news of her arrival whilst he lay dying in Falkland Palace, reputedly with the words, “It cam’ wi’ a lass and it’ll gang wi’ a lass.” Mary Stewart was born on the 8th of December, 1542, at Linlithgow Palace, a feast day in honour of the Virgin Mary, which many saw as a good omen. James didn’t see it that way and, if his fatalistic words were indeed his last, you might wonder at the news having taken the best part of seven days to get across the Forth to Falkland.
John Knox, who wasn’t a fan, when later writing about her father’s death, commented thus on her birth, “the Quein… was deliverit the aucht Day of December, in the Yeir of God 1542 Yeiris, of Marie that then wes borne, and now dois reigne for a Plague to this Realme, as the Progres of hir haill Lyif had to this Day declars.” Nine months after her dad’s death, on the ninth day of the ninth month of 1543, before she was even a year old and nothing to do with the gestation period for a new Monarch, Mary was crowned Queen of Scots at Stirling Castle. Mary Stewart wasn’t crowned Mary I, but years later, in 1689, when William (of Orange) and his wife, another Mary Stuart (Stewart), became joint Sovereigns of both England and Scotland, the earlier Mary became Mary I of Scotland, whilst the latter became, by default, Mary II of both England and Scotland.
Mary I had a tempestuous reign as Queen of Scots and if her father’s presentiment had any bearing, it was on her life and tragic death, rather than the fate of his dynasty. Mary’s fate was closely tied up with her lineage as her claims to the throne of England were pretty strong. As the great-granddaughter of Henry VII, Mary was next in line to the throne of ‘Gloriana’, the ‘Virgin Queen’. Earlier, Mary had been betrothed to the future Edward VI by the Treaty of Greenwich; signed on the 1st of July, 1543, when she was a mere six months old. However, the Catholics opposed the plan, thus kicking off the ‘Rough Wooing’. Mary fled to France, where she ended up marrying the Dauphin, on the 24th of April, 1558. She became Queen of both France and Scotland in 1559.
To suit French convention, Mary gallicised her surname to Stuart, but that didn’t prevent the death, on the 5th of December, 1560, of her first husband, King Francis II, who died of an unconventional ear infection, which led to “an absence of the brain” – nah; it was an abscess. Mary’s absence from Scotland didn’t last as, in 1561, she landed back in Scotland at Leith, on the 19th of August, despite the Protestants having gained the ascendancy. Later, on the 29th of July, 1565, after a “whirlwind courtship,” she married her first cousin, Henry Stuart, Lord Darnley. On the 26th of August, 1565, Mary, dressed in a helmet and carrying pistols, led an army out of Edinburgh to pursue the rebel Earl of Moray in what became known as the ‘Chaseabout Raid’ and which resulted in Moray begin chased across the border. When Mary became pregnant, Darnley said, “I’ll be darned!” He then morphed into ‘Dastardly Darnley’ on the 9th of March, 1566, when he participated in the very murder, in front of his pregnant wife, of her secretary, ‘Fiddling Davie’ Riccio. He then became ‘Dead Darnley’ on the 10th of February, 1567, when he was murdered at Kirk o' Field.
In the meantime, on the 19th of June, 1566, Mary had given birth to the future James VI & I whom many suspected was Riccio’s child. Many also suspected that Mary was implicated in Darnley’s murder and her marriage, a few months later, to the Earl of Bothwell, who was accused, but acquitted, of the crime, didn’t help her case. Her Protestant Nobles were suitably scandalised and, after her defeat at the Battle of Carberry Hill on the 15th of June, 1567, Mary was scandalously imprisoned in Loch Leven Castle. Mary was forced to abdicate in favour of her son, but she famously escaped, only to be defeated at the Battle of Langside, on the 13th of May, 1568. Bothwell fled to Scandinavia and Mary escaped to England and the mercy of her Protestant cousin, who was merciful enough at first to merely imprison she whom her Lords saw as rival.
Subsequently, Mary became a focus for Catholic plots, including the ‘Ridolfi plot’ and the ‘Babington Plot’, which were, allegedly, aimed at making her Queen through the assassination of Elizabeth. In addition, there had been the ‘evidence’ of the ‘Casket Letters’ and what the Catholic Encyclopaedia calls “a thousand filthy charges …embodied in Buchanan’s ‘Detectio’”. Elizabeth’s Ministers demanded Mary’s execution, with provocative words; “so long as there is life in her, there is hope; so as they live in hope, we live in fear.” Nineteen years after she was brought into captivity, “Mary Stuart, commonly called Queen of Scotland” was beheaded at Fotheringay Castle, in Northamptonshire, on the 8th of February, 1587.
In her last ever letter, written at two o’clock in the morning, six hours before her execution, Mary wrote to her brother-in-law, Henry III of France. She wrote, “I scorn death and vow that I meet it innocent of any crime… The Catholic faith and the assertion of my God-given right to the English crown are the two issues on which I am condemned, and yet I am not allowed to say that it is for the Catholic religion that I die, but for fear of interference with theirs.” Robert Wynkfielde’s first-hand account of her execution describes Mary groping for the block, over which she placed her chin “with both her hands, which, holding there still, had been cut off had they not been espied.” It took two strokes of the executioner’s ace to administer the sentence, but even then “one little gristle” had to be sawn through before Mary’s head was fully severed from her body. It was then held up to view and, to the astonishment of the assembly, it was apparent that the former raven haired beauty had been entirely grey.
Mary’s wee dog that had accompanied her to her death hidden under her skirts, was then espied and had to be separated from his mistress by force. He had lain “between her head and her shoulders” and as they were “imbrued with her blood” the dog had to be taken away and washed. Mary’s body was taken away and buried in Peterborough Cathedral. Much later, in 1612, no doubt suffering from a wee bit of remorse at not having done anything to save his mother’s life, her son, James VI & I, had her body exhumed and placed in the vault of the Chapel of King Henry VII, in Westminster Abbey.
Mary I, Queen of Scots, remains one of the most fascinating characters in Scotland’s history. Along with Cleopatra and Helen of Troy, she continues to share a certain notoriety. At the time of her death, she was just forty-four, but she’d crammed more into her life than most folks could’ve had they been granted twice as long. She was the daughter of the fifth of Scotland’s Jameses. James V bemoaned the news of her arrival whilst he lay dying in Falkland Palace, reputedly with the words, “It cam’ wi’ a lass and it’ll gang wi’ a lass.” Mary Stewart was born on the 8th of December, 1542, at Linlithgow Palace, a feast day in honour of the Virgin Mary, which many saw as a good omen. James didn’t see it that way and, if his fatalistic words were indeed his last, you might wonder at the news having taken the best part of seven days to get across the Forth to Falkland.
John Knox, who wasn’t a fan, when later writing about her father’s death, commented thus on her birth, “the Quein… was deliverit the aucht Day of December, in the Yeir of God 1542 Yeiris, of Marie that then wes borne, and now dois reigne for a Plague to this Realme, as the Progres of hir haill Lyif had to this Day declars.” Nine months after her dad’s death, on the ninth day of the ninth month of 1543, before she was even a year old and nothing to do with the gestation period for a new Monarch, Mary was crowned Queen of Scots at Stirling Castle. Mary Stewart wasn’t crowned Mary I, but years later, in 1689, when William (of Orange) and his wife, another Mary Stuart (Stewart), became joint Sovereigns of both England and Scotland, the earlier Mary became Mary I of Scotland, whilst the latter became, by default, Mary II of both England and Scotland.
Mary I had a tempestuous reign as Queen of Scots and if her father’s presentiment had any bearing, it was on her life and tragic death, rather than the fate of his dynasty. Mary’s fate was closely tied up with her lineage as her claims to the throne of England were pretty strong. As the great-granddaughter of Henry VII, Mary was next in line to the throne of ‘Gloriana’, the ‘Virgin Queen’. Earlier, Mary had been betrothed to the future Edward VI by the Treaty of Greenwich; signed on the 1st of July, 1543, when she was a mere six months old. However, the Catholics opposed the plan, thus kicking off the ‘Rough Wooing’. Mary fled to France, where she ended up marrying the Dauphin, on the 24th of April, 1558. She became Queen of both France and Scotland in 1559.
To suit French convention, Mary gallicised her surname to Stuart, but that didn’t prevent the death, on the 5th of December, 1560, of her first husband, King Francis II, who died of an unconventional ear infection, which led to “an absence of the brain” – nah; it was an abscess. Mary’s absence from Scotland didn’t last as, in 1561, she landed back in Scotland at Leith, on the 19th of August, despite the Protestants having gained the ascendancy. Later, on the 29th of July, 1565, after a “whirlwind courtship,” she married her first cousin, Henry Stuart, Lord Darnley. On the 26th of August, 1565, Mary, dressed in a helmet and carrying pistols, led an army out of Edinburgh to pursue the rebel Earl of Moray in what became known as the ‘Chaseabout Raid’ and which resulted in Moray begin chased across the border. When Mary became pregnant, Darnley said, “I’ll be darned!” He then morphed into ‘Dastardly Darnley’ on the 9th of March, 1566, when he participated in the very murder, in front of his pregnant wife, of her secretary, ‘Fiddling Davie’ Riccio. He then became ‘Dead Darnley’ on the 10th of February, 1567, when he was murdered at Kirk o' Field.
In the meantime, on the 19th of June, 1566, Mary had given birth to the future James VI & I whom many suspected was Riccio’s child. Many also suspected that Mary was implicated in Darnley’s murder and her marriage, a few months later, to the Earl of Bothwell, who was accused, but acquitted, of the crime, didn’t help her case. Her Protestant Nobles were suitably scandalised and, after her defeat at the Battle of Carberry Hill on the 15th of June, 1567, Mary was scandalously imprisoned in Loch Leven Castle. Mary was forced to abdicate in favour of her son, but she famously escaped, only to be defeated at the Battle of Langside, on the 13th of May, 1568. Bothwell fled to Scandinavia and Mary escaped to England and the mercy of her Protestant cousin, who was merciful enough at first to merely imprison she whom her Lords saw as rival.
Subsequently, Mary became a focus for Catholic plots, including the ‘Ridolfi plot’ and the ‘Babington Plot’, which were, allegedly, aimed at making her Queen through the assassination of Elizabeth. In addition, there had been the ‘evidence’ of the ‘Casket Letters’ and what the Catholic Encyclopaedia calls “a thousand filthy charges …embodied in Buchanan’s ‘Detectio’”. Elizabeth’s Ministers demanded Mary’s execution, with provocative words; “so long as there is life in her, there is hope; so as they live in hope, we live in fear.” Nineteen years after she was brought into captivity, “Mary Stuart, commonly called Queen of Scotland” was beheaded at Fotheringay Castle, in Northamptonshire, on the 8th of February, 1587.
In her last ever letter, written at two o’clock in the morning, six hours before her execution, Mary wrote to her brother-in-law, Henry III of France. She wrote, “I scorn death and vow that I meet it innocent of any crime… The Catholic faith and the assertion of my God-given right to the English crown are the two issues on which I am condemned, and yet I am not allowed to say that it is for the Catholic religion that I die, but for fear of interference with theirs.” Robert Wynkfielde’s first-hand account of her execution describes Mary groping for the block, over which she placed her chin “with both her hands, which, holding there still, had been cut off had they not been espied.” It took two strokes of the executioner’s ace to administer the sentence, but even then “one little gristle” had to be sawn through before Mary’s head was fully severed from her body. It was then held up to view and, to the astonishment of the assembly, it was apparent that the former raven haired beauty had been entirely grey.
Mary’s wee dog that had accompanied her to her death hidden under her skirts, was then espied and had to be separated from his mistress by force. He had lain “between her head and her shoulders” and as they were “imbrued with her blood” the dog had to be taken away and washed. Mary’s body was taken away and buried in Peterborough Cathedral. Much later, in 1612, no doubt suffering from a wee bit of remorse at not having done anything to save his mother’s life, her son, James VI & I, had her body exhumed and placed in the vault of the Chapel of King Henry VII, in Westminster Abbey.
Tuesday, 1 March 2011
Lachlan McIntosh
Lachlan McIntosh, Scottish-American revolutionary, died on the 20th of February, 1806.
There were many Scotsmen who played a significant part in the American War of Independence. In fact, thirty-three of George Washington’s senior Generals were of Scots descent or, at very least, of Scottish blood. One of those was Brigadier-General Lachlan McIntosh, from Badenoch. Unlike Hugh Mercer, McIntosh left Scotland when he was still a boy and was firmly ensconced in Georgia by the time of the Jacobite Rising. However, the eleven years Lachlan spent in his native land provided sufficient influence. At the age of twenty and whilst serving as a military cadet, McIntosh, together with his brother William, had planned to travel to Scotland to join the Young Pretender. However, they were persuaded otherwise by the Governor, General James Oglethorpe, who had become a mentor to our Young Protagonist. Oglethorpe convinced them to remain in Georgia, but it was only a matter of time before they joined the Colonial Rebellion.
It was fairly natural for a Highlander to have joined the Jacobite Rebellion, but by no means a given. On the other hand, the nature of the conflict involving the American Colonies meant that, for an aspirational, immigrant colonist like Lachlan McIntosh, who was involved in native poltics as well as being a trained soldier, there was no decision to be made. In fact, Lachlan McIntosh was perhaps the most famous Georgian of the Revolution. However, he was born innocent of any revolutionary thoughts near Raits in Badenoch on the 17th of March, 1725. His family flitted to the North American continent in 1736, where he resumed his somewhat interrupted education in Georgia. Lachlan progressed well, through his own determined efforts, and got his first job in Charleston, South Carolina, in the counting-house of Henry Laurens, another mentor, who nurtured the seeds of rebellion in Lachlan.
Some time after 1756, he returned to Georgia and studied surveying. He then acquired some land in the Altamaha River delta and became a prosperous rice planter. By 1770, McIntosh had become a leader in the independence movement in Georgia and, in the January of 1775, had helped organise the delegates from New Inverness (now Darien, in McIntosh County) to the Provincial Congress, for which he was selected. Then, on the 7th of January, 1776, Lachlan McIntosh got the opportunity to put his military studies to good use when he was commissioned as a Colonel in the Georgia Militia. Later that year, he was elected Brigadier-General.
A well documented incident in McIntosh’s life occurred in 1777, when he fought a duel with Button Gwinnett, one of the signatories of the Declaration of Independence. Their bitter personal rivalry began when McIntosh succeeded Gwinnett as Commander of Georgia’s Continental Battalion and it wasn’t helped by Gwinnett’s having George McIntosh, another brother, charged with treason. The feud was nicely brought to the boil during the Second Florida Expedition, with the two men being recalled by the Council of Safety, because of their constant bickering. In point of fact, Gwinnett was singularly unqualified to lead any military campaign, but that ambitious worthy was blissfully unaware of any such concerns. Things came to a head at the General Assembly on the 1st of May, 1777, when Gwinnett tried to blame the expedition’s problems on McIntosh.
Using strong words at the time, McIntosh rose in response and called Gwinnett a “scoundrel” and a “liar”. Gwinnett didn’t have much option in face of such insult and on the 15th of May, he challenged McIntosh to a duel. The following day, the two men met in Governor James Wright’s meadow in Thunderbolt, southeast of Savannah. Gwinnett, supported by George Wells, and McIntosh, with his second, Colonel Joseph Habersham, squared off at twelve paces (about thirty feet). At that distance it would have been hard for either to miss as both men levelled their weapons and fired virtually simultaneously. McIntosh sustained a wound in his leg and Gwinnett received a ball to the hip. Unaware of the severity of Gwinnett’s wound, McIntosh asked if Gwinnett wanted to duel again. Gwinnett declined and they parted, ne’er to meet again. McIntosh recovered from his wound, but Gwinnett was in fact mortally wounded and died three days later.
To get him ‘out of the way’, General George Washington ordered McIntosh to report to his army headquarters on the 10th of October, just as Gwinnett’s political buddies were preparing to arrest him on a murder charge. McIntosh spent the winter of 1777-1778 with the Continental Army at Valley Forge, where he was given command of the North Carolina Brigade. Then in May, 1778, Washington appointed McIntosh Officer in Command of the western frontier against the Indians. In a letter to the President of Congress, dated the 12th of May, Washington wrote, “I part with this gentleman with much reluctance, as I esteem him an officer of great merit and worth. His firm disposition and equal justice, his assiduity and good understanding, point him out as a proper person to go, but I know his services here are and will be materially wanted.” McIntosh marched with a force of five hundred men to Fort Pitt (now Pittsburg), where he remained in command until May, 1779, when he was ordered south to help recapture Savannah.
General Lincoln was in command of the American forces, with the French Count D’Estaing and, in an early attack, McIntosh was sent in with his forces in advance of the main army. The Continentals were hopeful of a British surrender. However, under the ruse of demanding a truce, the British sneaked in some reinforcements and prepared their defences. There had no intention of surrendering. After a particularly heavy bombardment and under cover of fog, the Continentals attacked, but were unsuccessful. The Frenchman decided he’d had enough and went away, leaving Lincoln and McIntosh to pick up the pieces. They headed for Charleston, but Lincoln’s army was substantially reduced by expiry of the militia’s term of enlistment. Nevertheless, McIntosh persevered and was able to build up a sizable force as he and Lincoln determined to resist. In April of 1780, a forty day struggle ensued, which finally, due to the shortage of provisions and lack of reinforcements, led to surrender.
McIntosh was taken prisoner and held until February, 1782. Eventually, he returned to his plantation, only to find it ruined by the occupying British. In 1783, he was made a Major-General and in 1784, he became a member of the Society of Cincinnati and was elected to Congress, although he never attended. In 1875, he was appointed to help organise a treaty with the Indians to the west of Georgia. He died in Savannah on the 20th of February, 1806 and he was buried there, in the Colonial Cemetery.
There were many Scotsmen who played a significant part in the American War of Independence. In fact, thirty-three of George Washington’s senior Generals were of Scots descent or, at very least, of Scottish blood. One of those was Brigadier-General Lachlan McIntosh, from Badenoch. Unlike Hugh Mercer, McIntosh left Scotland when he was still a boy and was firmly ensconced in Georgia by the time of the Jacobite Rising. However, the eleven years Lachlan spent in his native land provided sufficient influence. At the age of twenty and whilst serving as a military cadet, McIntosh, together with his brother William, had planned to travel to Scotland to join the Young Pretender. However, they were persuaded otherwise by the Governor, General James Oglethorpe, who had become a mentor to our Young Protagonist. Oglethorpe convinced them to remain in Georgia, but it was only a matter of time before they joined the Colonial Rebellion.
It was fairly natural for a Highlander to have joined the Jacobite Rebellion, but by no means a given. On the other hand, the nature of the conflict involving the American Colonies meant that, for an aspirational, immigrant colonist like Lachlan McIntosh, who was involved in native poltics as well as being a trained soldier, there was no decision to be made. In fact, Lachlan McIntosh was perhaps the most famous Georgian of the Revolution. However, he was born innocent of any revolutionary thoughts near Raits in Badenoch on the 17th of March, 1725. His family flitted to the North American continent in 1736, where he resumed his somewhat interrupted education in Georgia. Lachlan progressed well, through his own determined efforts, and got his first job in Charleston, South Carolina, in the counting-house of Henry Laurens, another mentor, who nurtured the seeds of rebellion in Lachlan.
Some time after 1756, he returned to Georgia and studied surveying. He then acquired some land in the Altamaha River delta and became a prosperous rice planter. By 1770, McIntosh had become a leader in the independence movement in Georgia and, in the January of 1775, had helped organise the delegates from New Inverness (now Darien, in McIntosh County) to the Provincial Congress, for which he was selected. Then, on the 7th of January, 1776, Lachlan McIntosh got the opportunity to put his military studies to good use when he was commissioned as a Colonel in the Georgia Militia. Later that year, he was elected Brigadier-General.
A well documented incident in McIntosh’s life occurred in 1777, when he fought a duel with Button Gwinnett, one of the signatories of the Declaration of Independence. Their bitter personal rivalry began when McIntosh succeeded Gwinnett as Commander of Georgia’s Continental Battalion and it wasn’t helped by Gwinnett’s having George McIntosh, another brother, charged with treason. The feud was nicely brought to the boil during the Second Florida Expedition, with the two men being recalled by the Council of Safety, because of their constant bickering. In point of fact, Gwinnett was singularly unqualified to lead any military campaign, but that ambitious worthy was blissfully unaware of any such concerns. Things came to a head at the General Assembly on the 1st of May, 1777, when Gwinnett tried to blame the expedition’s problems on McIntosh.
Using strong words at the time, McIntosh rose in response and called Gwinnett a “scoundrel” and a “liar”. Gwinnett didn’t have much option in face of such insult and on the 15th of May, he challenged McIntosh to a duel. The following day, the two men met in Governor James Wright’s meadow in Thunderbolt, southeast of Savannah. Gwinnett, supported by George Wells, and McIntosh, with his second, Colonel Joseph Habersham, squared off at twelve paces (about thirty feet). At that distance it would have been hard for either to miss as both men levelled their weapons and fired virtually simultaneously. McIntosh sustained a wound in his leg and Gwinnett received a ball to the hip. Unaware of the severity of Gwinnett’s wound, McIntosh asked if Gwinnett wanted to duel again. Gwinnett declined and they parted, ne’er to meet again. McIntosh recovered from his wound, but Gwinnett was in fact mortally wounded and died three days later.
To get him ‘out of the way’, General George Washington ordered McIntosh to report to his army headquarters on the 10th of October, just as Gwinnett’s political buddies were preparing to arrest him on a murder charge. McIntosh spent the winter of 1777-1778 with the Continental Army at Valley Forge, where he was given command of the North Carolina Brigade. Then in May, 1778, Washington appointed McIntosh Officer in Command of the western frontier against the Indians. In a letter to the President of Congress, dated the 12th of May, Washington wrote, “I part with this gentleman with much reluctance, as I esteem him an officer of great merit and worth. His firm disposition and equal justice, his assiduity and good understanding, point him out as a proper person to go, but I know his services here are and will be materially wanted.” McIntosh marched with a force of five hundred men to Fort Pitt (now Pittsburg), where he remained in command until May, 1779, when he was ordered south to help recapture Savannah.
General Lincoln was in command of the American forces, with the French Count D’Estaing and, in an early attack, McIntosh was sent in with his forces in advance of the main army. The Continentals were hopeful of a British surrender. However, under the ruse of demanding a truce, the British sneaked in some reinforcements and prepared their defences. There had no intention of surrendering. After a particularly heavy bombardment and under cover of fog, the Continentals attacked, but were unsuccessful. The Frenchman decided he’d had enough and went away, leaving Lincoln and McIntosh to pick up the pieces. They headed for Charleston, but Lincoln’s army was substantially reduced by expiry of the militia’s term of enlistment. Nevertheless, McIntosh persevered and was able to build up a sizable force as he and Lincoln determined to resist. In April of 1780, a forty day struggle ensued, which finally, due to the shortage of provisions and lack of reinforcements, led to surrender.
McIntosh was taken prisoner and held until February, 1782. Eventually, he returned to his plantation, only to find it ruined by the occupying British. In 1783, he was made a Major-General and in 1784, he became a member of the Society of Cincinnati and was elected to Congress, although he never attended. In 1875, he was appointed to help organise a treaty with the Indians to the west of Georgia. He died in Savannah on the 20th of February, 1806 and he was buried there, in the Colonial Cemetery.
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