David Hume, philosopher, atheist, historian, economist, author, sociologist and perennial sceptic, was born on the 7th of May, 1711.
David Hume wasn’t exactly a cause célèbre in his day, but his brand of philosophy still resonates, nearly three hundred years later. You can pick holes in his theories on causation, but since the uncovering of quantum physics it’s quite probable that his theories make more sense that you’d care to believe. Hume was an opponent of the ‘common sense’ school led by his Scottish contemporary, Thomas Reid, compared to whom, for some years into the 19th Century, he was regarded as less important. In terms of labelling, Hume is often grouped with John Locke, George Berkeley, and a handful of others as a British empiricist, but he stands head and shoulders above any of those. You could say he was the founder of his own ‘uncommon sense’ school of philosophy.
In fact, David Hume is one of the most significant figures in the history of Western philosophy and of the Scottish Enlightenment, and is still considered among the greatest philosophers of all time. He wrote about human nature and politics, and introduced social history. He is the author of such seminal works as ‘A Treatise of Human Nature’ and ‘An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding’. In ‘The Natural History of Religion’ and his brilliant ‘Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion’, Hume also wrote scathingly about the vulgar superstition of religion and produced compelling criticisms of the absurdity of ‘intelligent design’. For the simple truth that theological systems spread absurdity and intolerance, we should sing the praises of David Hume – amen.
David Home was born on the 7th of May, 1711, in Edinburgh, the second son of a lawyer. Wee Davie spent his childhood at Ninewells, his family’s modest estate on the Whiteadder River, in the borders near Berwick. When Davie’s elder brother went ‘up’ to Edinburgh University, the precocious David, not yet twelve, joined him. In Scotland’s capital, the nerve centre of 19th Century enlightenment, young David studied law, but he also read widely in history and literature as well as ancient and modern philosophy, and for good measure, he studied mathematics and contemporary science.
Pursuing the goal of becoming “a Scholar & Philosopher”, Hume followed a rigorous program of reading and reflection for three years until “there seem’d to be open’d up to me a New Scene of Thought.” He left the University in 1729 and, during a period marred by illness, depression, and mental breakdown, he dedicated himself to the construction of his formidable thesis. During that time, he moved to France. There, where Descartes and Mersenne had studied a century before, between 1734 and 1737, Hume drafted ‘A Treatise of Human Nature’.
The ‘Treatise’ was no literary sensation, but it didn’t “fall dead-born from the press,” as Hume disappointedly described its reception. Despite the surgical deletions, needed to ensure publication at all, it attracted enough of a “murmour among the zealots” to fuel his life-long reputation as an atheist and a sceptic. With the ‘Treatise’, Hume sought to introduce the scientific methods of the Enlightenment, of Newton and Bacon, to bear on five human subjects. These subjects were to be laid out in five volumes: ‘Of the Understanding’; ‘Of the Passions’; ‘Of Morals’; ‘Of Politics’; and ‘Of Criticism’. The first three appeared in 1739-40, but the next two volumes never saw the light of day, although much of what he sought to write on those topics ended up in his later ‘Essays’.
In 1751, Hume published an ‘Enquiry into the Principles of Morals’, clarifying his theory of ethics from volume three of the ‘Treatise’. He considered that work “incomparably the best” of all the works he had written. Later, in 1757, Hume published his ‘Dissertations’, which included the famous volume on ‘The Natural History of Religion’, lambasting the then popular idea that religion can be based on reason and not revelation, arguing instead that religious belief was very much a child of vulgar “superstition and enthusiasm.” He also wrote the highly atheistic ‘Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion’. These two volumes were suppressed from publication until after his death. A fitting conclusion to a philosophical life, the posthumously published ‘Dialogues’ alone assured the philosophical and literary immortality of its author. In this magnificent work, Hume demonstrates his mastery of the dialogue form, while producing what many regard as the preeminent work in the philosophy of religion.
Hume offered compelling criticisms against the common belief that God’s existence could be proven through a design or causal argument. In ‘The Natural History of Religion’, he gives an account of the origins and development of religious beliefs. He maintained that religion began in the postulation, by primitive peoples, of “invisible intelligences” to account for frightening, uncontrollable natural phenomena, such as disease and earthquakes. He went on to state that, when polytheism eventually gives way to monotheism, which is dogmatic and intolerant, what results are theological systems which spread absurdity and intolerance. Since religion is not universal in the way that our non-rational beliefs in causation or physical objects are, perhaps it can eventually be dislodged from human thinking altogether.
Hume created an earthquake in western philosophy, whose aftershocks are still being felt today, over two centuries later. Charles Darwin counted Hume as a central influence, as did ‘Darwin’s bulldog’, Thomas Henry Huxley. Hume’s friend and fellow Scot, Adam Smith, described him thus, “I have always considered him, both in lifetime and since his death, as approaching as nearly to the idea of a perfectly wise and virtuous man, as perhaps the nature of human frailty will admit.”
In 1769, Hume returned to Edinburgh and philosophical semi-retirement. Shortly before he died, he completed a short autobiographical notice, ‘My Own Life’, in which he acknowledged, for the first time, his authorship of the ‘Treatise’. After a prolonged, painful illness from intestinal cancer, David Hume died on the 26th of April, 1776. He died a happy and confirmed atheist.
By the way, Hume changed his name, in 1731, because Englishmen had difficulty in pronouncing the Scottish ‘Home’. He was, of course, also noted for his drinking ability, as immortalised in Monty Python’s ‘Philosoper’s Song’; “…David Hume could out-consume Schopenhauer and Hegel…”.
Saturday, 7 May 2011
Friday, 6 May 2011
Sir James Young Simpson
Sir James Young Simpson, pioneer in anaesthetics, died on the 6th of May, 1870.
Sir James Young Simpson is famous for his discovery of the anaesthetic qualities of chloroform and his championship of obstetric anaesthesia. He was a sensitive soul, with a lot of empathy for the patients he was cutting open and became very concerned about the pain they suffered. You can just imagine him saying, “Now ma’am, this will hurt me as much as yersel’, ye ken.” He was very successful in his quest to reduce the pain of surgery, for which we should all be extremely grateful. Less appreciative at the time was the Church, who accused him of interfering in the ‘Divine Plan’, but he had a ready answer for those soporific fools. Being not quite the seventh son of a seventh son, Simpson wasn’t at all the superstitious type. He had the Queen on his side tae.
Simpson’s many other valuable medical contributions included the use of uterine sound, dilatation of the cervix uteri in diagnosis, and ‘Simpson’s Pains’ in uterine cancer. In addition, Simpson introduced iron wire sutures and acupressure, a method of arresting haemorrhage, and developed the long obstetrics forceps that are named for him. He also wrote important documents on fetal pathology and hermaphroditism, introduced the terms ovariotomy and occydynia, and made contributions to the fields of archeology and medical history, particularly on leprosy. Not satisfied with all that, Simpson went on to conduct statistical investigations into the results of major operations. The result was ‘Hospitalism’, published in 1869. He pointed out that “The man laid on the operating table in one of our hospitals, is exposed to more chances of death than the English soldier on the field of Waterloo.” Simpson’s article led to major improvements in administration and contributed to the tearing down of many of the most offending European hospitals.
James Young Simpson began his life in humble circumstances. This seventh son of a baker was born on the seventh day of June, in 1811, in Bathgate Village, Linlithgow. Young James Young excelled in his studies and in athletics, although you wouldn’t credit that, had you seen him in later life. His parents could ill-afford it, but they sent him off to Edinburgh University, at the age of fourteen, where he studied under Robert Liston. Later, in 1830, Simpson became Licentiate of the Royal College of Surgeons of Edinburgh. Then, after working for some time as a village physician at Inverkop on Clyde, he returned to Edinburgh, where he received his medical doctorate, in 1832. Immediately after, on the basis of his brilliant thesis, ‘Death from Inflammation’, he was offered a post under Dr. John Thomson, the Professor of Pathology at the University.
In 1835, Simpson was made Senior President of the Royal Medical Society of Edinburgh and, by 1839, he was able to apply for the Chair of Obstetrics. The University was quite prepared to accept him, but there was one wee problemo – he wisnae married and the post was only supposed to go to a married man. Luckily for Simpson and many another married man since, he already had someone in mind (for a wife, that was) and so he got the post within a month. Lecturing in obstetrics had been somewhat neglected, but Simpson’s lectures soon attracted large numbers of students and his popularity reached such proportions, that he could soon count women from all over the world among his patients. As a teacher, he captivated his listeners with his performance, his knowledge, richness of details and his extraordinary memory.
Searching for some means of alleviating his patients’ suffering, Simpson came to hear of the American dentist, Morton, and his success with ether. Afterwards, he personally saw the value of ether, as used by the famous Scottish surgeon, Robert Liston. Simpson enthusiastically tried ether in obstetrics, but soon after, he began searching for an anaesthetic that was less of an irritant. The idea of using chloroform came from his chemist, David Waldie, another Scot, who had been a fellow student. Before Simpson’s pioneering use of chloroform, it was an ingredient of a number of remedies, but was contaminated to varying degrees by alcohol. Waldie developed a method of producing a purer preparation. Simpson made preliminary experiments, inhaling chloroform himself and trying it on his assistants, Matthew Duncan and George Keith. Then, on the 15th of November, 1847, Simpson gave the first public demonstration.
A few days later, Simpson published his classic ‘Account of a New Anaesthetic Agent’, which proved the superiority of chloroform over ether, beyond any reasonable doubt. Within weeks, it had almost universally displaced ether as a general anaesthetic. Not so astonishingly as some people might think, given the nature of religious fervour and male dominated society from as far back as the ‘birth of mankind’, Simpson was severely castigated by the Scottish Church for interfering in the ‘Divine Plan’. Instead of crediting him with saving countless women from avoidable pain, the Church said that putting women to sleep artificially was making it easier for the ‘Dark Powers’ to overwhelm them. Get this folks; the interpretation of the male dominated Christian Church was that, in the case of women, it was particularly heinous and insensitive to try to save them from feeling pain. After all, went the ‘Divine Absurdity’, wasn’t it said in Genesis, “In Sorrow shalt thou bring forth children”?
It didnae matter to the Church, of course, that throughout history, many other doctors had previously used hypnotism and narcotics to relieve pain, without censure. Simpson wisnae above quoting a wee bit scripture himsel’ and retaliated by cleverly firing back another bit of Genesis, “And the Lord God caused a deep sleep to fall upon Adam and he slept; and he took one of his ribs, and closed up the flesh instead thereof.” One of Simpson’s fiercest opponents was the American surgeon, Henry Jacob Bigelow. Nevertheless, as you may know, Queen Victoria came to the rescue, sweeping away most of the criticism when she decided to use chloroform during the birth of Prince Leopold. What was good for the Queen was taken as, “That’ll dae fer me tae” and its use became the accepted fashion by Victoria’s adoring public.
After a productive life, during which he received many accolades, awards and honours, including a Knighthood and the freedom of the City of Edinburgh, Sir James Young Simpson died in that very city on the 6th of May, 1870. He was buried in Warriston Cemetery. As a measure of his popularity, around 1700 medical colleagues and public figures joined his funeral procession, and more than 100,000 people lined the route to the cemetery. He is remembered by the Simpson Memorial Maternity Pavilion in Edinburgh, together with a statue in Princes Street Gardens and a bust in Westminster Abbey, London.
Sir James Young Simpson is famous for his discovery of the anaesthetic qualities of chloroform and his championship of obstetric anaesthesia. He was a sensitive soul, with a lot of empathy for the patients he was cutting open and became very concerned about the pain they suffered. You can just imagine him saying, “Now ma’am, this will hurt me as much as yersel’, ye ken.” He was very successful in his quest to reduce the pain of surgery, for which we should all be extremely grateful. Less appreciative at the time was the Church, who accused him of interfering in the ‘Divine Plan’, but he had a ready answer for those soporific fools. Being not quite the seventh son of a seventh son, Simpson wasn’t at all the superstitious type. He had the Queen on his side tae.
Simpson’s many other valuable medical contributions included the use of uterine sound, dilatation of the cervix uteri in diagnosis, and ‘Simpson’s Pains’ in uterine cancer. In addition, Simpson introduced iron wire sutures and acupressure, a method of arresting haemorrhage, and developed the long obstetrics forceps that are named for him. He also wrote important documents on fetal pathology and hermaphroditism, introduced the terms ovariotomy and occydynia, and made contributions to the fields of archeology and medical history, particularly on leprosy. Not satisfied with all that, Simpson went on to conduct statistical investigations into the results of major operations. The result was ‘Hospitalism’, published in 1869. He pointed out that “The man laid on the operating table in one of our hospitals, is exposed to more chances of death than the English soldier on the field of Waterloo.” Simpson’s article led to major improvements in administration and contributed to the tearing down of many of the most offending European hospitals.
James Young Simpson began his life in humble circumstances. This seventh son of a baker was born on the seventh day of June, in 1811, in Bathgate Village, Linlithgow. Young James Young excelled in his studies and in athletics, although you wouldn’t credit that, had you seen him in later life. His parents could ill-afford it, but they sent him off to Edinburgh University, at the age of fourteen, where he studied under Robert Liston. Later, in 1830, Simpson became Licentiate of the Royal College of Surgeons of Edinburgh. Then, after working for some time as a village physician at Inverkop on Clyde, he returned to Edinburgh, where he received his medical doctorate, in 1832. Immediately after, on the basis of his brilliant thesis, ‘Death from Inflammation’, he was offered a post under Dr. John Thomson, the Professor of Pathology at the University.
In 1835, Simpson was made Senior President of the Royal Medical Society of Edinburgh and, by 1839, he was able to apply for the Chair of Obstetrics. The University was quite prepared to accept him, but there was one wee problemo – he wisnae married and the post was only supposed to go to a married man. Luckily for Simpson and many another married man since, he already had someone in mind (for a wife, that was) and so he got the post within a month. Lecturing in obstetrics had been somewhat neglected, but Simpson’s lectures soon attracted large numbers of students and his popularity reached such proportions, that he could soon count women from all over the world among his patients. As a teacher, he captivated his listeners with his performance, his knowledge, richness of details and his extraordinary memory.
Searching for some means of alleviating his patients’ suffering, Simpson came to hear of the American dentist, Morton, and his success with ether. Afterwards, he personally saw the value of ether, as used by the famous Scottish surgeon, Robert Liston. Simpson enthusiastically tried ether in obstetrics, but soon after, he began searching for an anaesthetic that was less of an irritant. The idea of using chloroform came from his chemist, David Waldie, another Scot, who had been a fellow student. Before Simpson’s pioneering use of chloroform, it was an ingredient of a number of remedies, but was contaminated to varying degrees by alcohol. Waldie developed a method of producing a purer preparation. Simpson made preliminary experiments, inhaling chloroform himself and trying it on his assistants, Matthew Duncan and George Keith. Then, on the 15th of November, 1847, Simpson gave the first public demonstration.
A few days later, Simpson published his classic ‘Account of a New Anaesthetic Agent’, which proved the superiority of chloroform over ether, beyond any reasonable doubt. Within weeks, it had almost universally displaced ether as a general anaesthetic. Not so astonishingly as some people might think, given the nature of religious fervour and male dominated society from as far back as the ‘birth of mankind’, Simpson was severely castigated by the Scottish Church for interfering in the ‘Divine Plan’. Instead of crediting him with saving countless women from avoidable pain, the Church said that putting women to sleep artificially was making it easier for the ‘Dark Powers’ to overwhelm them. Get this folks; the interpretation of the male dominated Christian Church was that, in the case of women, it was particularly heinous and insensitive to try to save them from feeling pain. After all, went the ‘Divine Absurdity’, wasn’t it said in Genesis, “In Sorrow shalt thou bring forth children”?
It didnae matter to the Church, of course, that throughout history, many other doctors had previously used hypnotism and narcotics to relieve pain, without censure. Simpson wisnae above quoting a wee bit scripture himsel’ and retaliated by cleverly firing back another bit of Genesis, “And the Lord God caused a deep sleep to fall upon Adam and he slept; and he took one of his ribs, and closed up the flesh instead thereof.” One of Simpson’s fiercest opponents was the American surgeon, Henry Jacob Bigelow. Nevertheless, as you may know, Queen Victoria came to the rescue, sweeping away most of the criticism when she decided to use chloroform during the birth of Prince Leopold. What was good for the Queen was taken as, “That’ll dae fer me tae” and its use became the accepted fashion by Victoria’s adoring public.
After a productive life, during which he received many accolades, awards and honours, including a Knighthood and the freedom of the City of Edinburgh, Sir James Young Simpson died in that very city on the 6th of May, 1870. He was buried in Warriston Cemetery. As a measure of his popularity, around 1700 medical colleagues and public figures joined his funeral procession, and more than 100,000 people lined the route to the cemetery. He is remembered by the Simpson Memorial Maternity Pavilion in Edinburgh, together with a statue in Princes Street Gardens and a bust in Westminster Abbey, London.
Thursday, 5 May 2011
King Charles I
Charles I surrendered to the Scottish Covenanters on the 5th of May, 1646.
Charles I & I was the last King of Scots to be born in Scotland, although he lived most of his life in England, where his subjects ultimately grew tired of his tyranny and decided to terminate his career. In fact, they terminated him, period. He wasn’t the only King of Scots to have been killed by Englishmen, but he was the only one to be tried, found guilty and executed by Englishmen. Of course, those Englishmen who were happy to be associated with regicide weren’t in the least bit concerned that Charlie was also King of Scots. Whatever the manner of his living, the manner of King Charles’ death was befitting of a King – at least that’s what they thought in those days – his big heid was chappit aff.
To have been tried and sentenced, Charles had to have been apprehended in the first instance, but he was a slippery character. After the writing was on the wall, so to speak, he tried his damndest to avoid being detained by his English subjects, but ultimately his luck ran out. The beginning of the end came on the 5th of May, 1646, when King Charles Stuart surrendered to the Scottish Covenanters engaged in the siege of Newark on Trent. The Scots then escorted him to Newcastle; intent on bargaining with the English for their own advantage. The English Parliamentary Army countered that manoeuvre by threatening to take the King by force. Eventually, in settlement of an indemnity agreed earlier, through the Treaty of Ripon, in 1641, the Scots agreed to hand over the King. But the story doesn’t end there; the crafty Charlie wasn’t yet ready to give up.
The second son of James VI of Scotland and Anne of Denmark, Charles was born at Fife in Scotland, on the 19th of November, 1600. When his father succeeded Elizabeth I and became James I of England, in 1603, Charles became heir to the throne of the Three Kingdoms after the untimely death of his elder brother Prince Henry. Created Prince of Wales in 1616, Charles was instructed by his father in every aspect of ruling a kingdom. With that background and a profound belief that Kings were appointed by God to rule by ‘Divine Right’, Charles succeeded as the second Stuart King, in 1625.
In 1628, critics in Parliament turned their attention to Charles’ religious policy. He angrily dismissed his third Parliament, in 1629, and declared his intention of ruling alone, starting what became described as the ‘Eleven Year Tyranny’. Funnily enough, during the turmoil of the Civil Wars, many people looked back on that period as a golden age of peace and prosperity. By 1630, Charles had made peace with Spain and France, and trade and commerce grew. However, without Parliament to grant legal taxes, Charles was obliged to raise income by reviving a series of highly unpopular methods. Those included tonnage and poundage, forced loans, the sale of commercial monopolies and, notoriously, ‘Ship Money’. Charles’ measures alienated many natural supporters of the Crown.
Parliament was Calvinist and Charles’ controversial religious policies were deeply divisive, turning Puritans like Pym and Cromwell against him. He favoured the elaborate and ritualistic High Anglican form of worship and, in 1633, appointed William Laud as Archbishop of Canterbury. Laud was a follower of the anti-Calvinist theologian, Jacobus Arminius, and vigorously supported the King’s Divine Right, suppressing all opposition from Puritans. The King’s marriage to the French Catholic Princess, Henrietta Maria, didn’t help matters either; causing consternation amongst English Protestants.
The result of forcing the Anglican liturgy and ‘Laudian’ Prayer Book on the Scottish Kirk was the creation of the Scottish National Covenant and the First Bishops’ War. Charles invaded Scotland in 1639, but he ran out of money and, after signing the Treaty of Berwick, was obliged to recall Parliament, which he did in 1640, bringing his eleven-year ‘Personal Rule’ to an end. The ‘Short Parliament’ resulted, only to be dissolved after two months, hence the label. Then the Scots began the Second Bishop’s War by invading, capturing Newcastle and Durham, and forcing Charles to summon Parliament once more.
The ‘Long Parliament’ was just as hostile as the ‘Short’ had been, and a series of blunders by Charles led to the First Civil War, which began officially when Charles raised his standard at Nottingham Castle, in 1642. By early 1646, the combination of Parliament’s alliance with the Scottish Covenanters and the formation of Cromwell’s ‘New Model Army’ meant that even Charles could now see that up is what that game was. Nevertheless, Charles made a desperate gamble and, in late April, he fled Oxford in disguise, to surrender to the Scots, by then besieging Newark.
The King arrived at the Scottish headquarters at Southwell, on the 5th of May, 1646, and surrendered himself to Lieutenant General David Leslie, who was acting commander of the Covenanter army as his namesake, Alexander Leslie, the Earl of Leven, had withdrawn to Newcastle. Charles’ surrender seems to have been negotiated secretly between the Scots and Cardinal Mazarin’s envoy, Jean de Montereul. The Frenchman conveyed Charles’ offer to go to the Scots Army on receiving assurances that he would be secure, and that the Scots would assist in procuring peace. On Charles’ orders, Lord Belasyse surrendered Newark on the 8th of May, 1646, and on that very same day, the Scots broke camp and marched north to Newcastle, with the King in semi-captivity.
Charles’s hopes of turning the Scots into his allies were dashed because he couldn’t accept their demands – the ‘Newcastle Propositions’ – for Presbyterianism to be imposed on England. When the Scots Army received a third of its back pay, they handed Charles over to Parliament. That occurred in January, 1647, and three months later, in April, the ‘New Model Army’, which was itself in disagreement with the Presbyterian faction in Parliament, secured the person of the King. However, good ol’ Charlie wasn’t done yet. He escaped and after refusing to compromise over a settlement with the Army or with Parliament, Charles signed the ‘Engagement’ with the Scots. The ensuing Scottish invasion, and simultaneous Royalist uprisings in England and Wales, resulted in the short, but bitterly fought Second Civil War.
The Second Civil War culminated in Cromwell’s victory over the Scots at the Battle of Preston, in August, 1648. By then, the writing was truly on the wall for Charles. In January, 1649, Parliament appointed a High Court of Justice and the King was charged with high treason against the people of England. Charles I was found guilty and sentenced to death on the 27th of January, 1649. The King lost his heid on a scaffold outside the Banqueting House at Whitehall on the 30th of January.
Charles I & I was the last King of Scots to be born in Scotland, although he lived most of his life in England, where his subjects ultimately grew tired of his tyranny and decided to terminate his career. In fact, they terminated him, period. He wasn’t the only King of Scots to have been killed by Englishmen, but he was the only one to be tried, found guilty and executed by Englishmen. Of course, those Englishmen who were happy to be associated with regicide weren’t in the least bit concerned that Charlie was also King of Scots. Whatever the manner of his living, the manner of King Charles’ death was befitting of a King – at least that’s what they thought in those days – his big heid was chappit aff.
To have been tried and sentenced, Charles had to have been apprehended in the first instance, but he was a slippery character. After the writing was on the wall, so to speak, he tried his damndest to avoid being detained by his English subjects, but ultimately his luck ran out. The beginning of the end came on the 5th of May, 1646, when King Charles Stuart surrendered to the Scottish Covenanters engaged in the siege of Newark on Trent. The Scots then escorted him to Newcastle; intent on bargaining with the English for their own advantage. The English Parliamentary Army countered that manoeuvre by threatening to take the King by force. Eventually, in settlement of an indemnity agreed earlier, through the Treaty of Ripon, in 1641, the Scots agreed to hand over the King. But the story doesn’t end there; the crafty Charlie wasn’t yet ready to give up.
The second son of James VI of Scotland and Anne of Denmark, Charles was born at Fife in Scotland, on the 19th of November, 1600. When his father succeeded Elizabeth I and became James I of England, in 1603, Charles became heir to the throne of the Three Kingdoms after the untimely death of his elder brother Prince Henry. Created Prince of Wales in 1616, Charles was instructed by his father in every aspect of ruling a kingdom. With that background and a profound belief that Kings were appointed by God to rule by ‘Divine Right’, Charles succeeded as the second Stuart King, in 1625.
In 1628, critics in Parliament turned their attention to Charles’ religious policy. He angrily dismissed his third Parliament, in 1629, and declared his intention of ruling alone, starting what became described as the ‘Eleven Year Tyranny’. Funnily enough, during the turmoil of the Civil Wars, many people looked back on that period as a golden age of peace and prosperity. By 1630, Charles had made peace with Spain and France, and trade and commerce grew. However, without Parliament to grant legal taxes, Charles was obliged to raise income by reviving a series of highly unpopular methods. Those included tonnage and poundage, forced loans, the sale of commercial monopolies and, notoriously, ‘Ship Money’. Charles’ measures alienated many natural supporters of the Crown.
Parliament was Calvinist and Charles’ controversial religious policies were deeply divisive, turning Puritans like Pym and Cromwell against him. He favoured the elaborate and ritualistic High Anglican form of worship and, in 1633, appointed William Laud as Archbishop of Canterbury. Laud was a follower of the anti-Calvinist theologian, Jacobus Arminius, and vigorously supported the King’s Divine Right, suppressing all opposition from Puritans. The King’s marriage to the French Catholic Princess, Henrietta Maria, didn’t help matters either; causing consternation amongst English Protestants.
The result of forcing the Anglican liturgy and ‘Laudian’ Prayer Book on the Scottish Kirk was the creation of the Scottish National Covenant and the First Bishops’ War. Charles invaded Scotland in 1639, but he ran out of money and, after signing the Treaty of Berwick, was obliged to recall Parliament, which he did in 1640, bringing his eleven-year ‘Personal Rule’ to an end. The ‘Short Parliament’ resulted, only to be dissolved after two months, hence the label. Then the Scots began the Second Bishop’s War by invading, capturing Newcastle and Durham, and forcing Charles to summon Parliament once more.
The ‘Long Parliament’ was just as hostile as the ‘Short’ had been, and a series of blunders by Charles led to the First Civil War, which began officially when Charles raised his standard at Nottingham Castle, in 1642. By early 1646, the combination of Parliament’s alliance with the Scottish Covenanters and the formation of Cromwell’s ‘New Model Army’ meant that even Charles could now see that up is what that game was. Nevertheless, Charles made a desperate gamble and, in late April, he fled Oxford in disguise, to surrender to the Scots, by then besieging Newark.
The King arrived at the Scottish headquarters at Southwell, on the 5th of May, 1646, and surrendered himself to Lieutenant General David Leslie, who was acting commander of the Covenanter army as his namesake, Alexander Leslie, the Earl of Leven, had withdrawn to Newcastle. Charles’ surrender seems to have been negotiated secretly between the Scots and Cardinal Mazarin’s envoy, Jean de Montereul. The Frenchman conveyed Charles’ offer to go to the Scots Army on receiving assurances that he would be secure, and that the Scots would assist in procuring peace. On Charles’ orders, Lord Belasyse surrendered Newark on the 8th of May, 1646, and on that very same day, the Scots broke camp and marched north to Newcastle, with the King in semi-captivity.
Charles’s hopes of turning the Scots into his allies were dashed because he couldn’t accept their demands – the ‘Newcastle Propositions’ – for Presbyterianism to be imposed on England. When the Scots Army received a third of its back pay, they handed Charles over to Parliament. That occurred in January, 1647, and three months later, in April, the ‘New Model Army’, which was itself in disagreement with the Presbyterian faction in Parliament, secured the person of the King. However, good ol’ Charlie wasn’t done yet. He escaped and after refusing to compromise over a settlement with the Army or with Parliament, Charles signed the ‘Engagement’ with the Scots. The ensuing Scottish invasion, and simultaneous Royalist uprisings in England and Wales, resulted in the short, but bitterly fought Second Civil War.
The Second Civil War culminated in Cromwell’s victory over the Scots at the Battle of Preston, in August, 1648. By then, the writing was truly on the wall for Charles. In January, 1649, Parliament appointed a High Court of Justice and the King was charged with high treason against the people of England. Charles I was found guilty and sentenced to death on the 27th of January, 1649. The King lost his heid on a scaffold outside the Banqueting House at Whitehall on the 30th of January.
Wednesday, 4 May 2011
The Treaty of Northampton
The Treaty of Northampton was signed and ratified on the 4th of May, 1328.
The Treaty of Northampton was the formal document that concluded the First Scottish War of Independence. However, one thing we can conclude about the Treaty of Northampton is that it’s easy to get confused about the Treaty of Northampton. On the one hand, it is sometimes referred to as the Treaty of Edinburgh, which unhelpfully risks confusion with another Treaty of Edinburgh; that of 1560. For another thing, it was concluded in one month, endorsed in a later month and then backdated to an even earlier date, just to add another level of confusion. To add one final confusing ingredient, it was made between the English and Scottish Kings, neither of whom were actively present at its ratification.
The Treaty of Northampton is sometimes referred to as the Treaty of Edinburgh, because it was concluded in Edinburgh, on the 17th of March, 1328. However, it wasn’t until later, in Northampton, that it was endorsed on behalf of Edward III, King of England, and his Council in Parliament. At its ratification in Northampton on the 4th of May, 1328, the treaty was formally backdated to the 1st of March, “in the Year of our Lord 1328.” The Treaty of Northampton was a treaty between Robert the Bruce, King of Scots and Edward III, the grandson of Edward I of England – the Longshanks of Braveheart infamy. Although the treaty was ostensibly made by England’s Edward III, it was ratified by Edward’s mother, Isabella of France, and her lover, Roger Mortimer, acting on behalf of the child King.
The Treaty takes the form of a proclamation by Edward III, which after an admission that the “dire conflicts of wars waged have afflicted for a long time the Kingdoms of England and Scotland”, contains two important provisions. Firstly, it formally recognises the independence of Scotland and, secondly, it renounces any claim by England for dominion over Scotland. The Treaty also recognised Robert I as King of Scots and put an end to demands for homage from him. This was a volte-face from the line that successive Edwards had adopted since Longshanks’ meddling in Scottish affairs, which began with the death of Alexander III, in 1286. It also signalled an end to similar claims of suzerainty, which had been made throughout past centuries, during the reigns of Malcolm Canmore, Alexander I, William the Lion and Malcolm the Maiden.
Of course, the Treaty revealed the weak position of the English in the wake of the deposition of Edward II. The ascendancy of the Scots at that time is illustrated by Edward II having narrowly avoided capture just a few years earlier, after the Battle of Scawton Moor, in 1322. The intensity of raids in succeeding campaigns by an invading Scottish Army forced the English into negotiation. Talks started in the autumn of 1327, after Edward II had been deposed and murdered. That was a dastardly deed, in which his mother and Mortimer were implicated.
The Scots were undoubtedly in a strong bargaining position and made six conditions for the Treaty. Those were: King Robert should possess the Kingdom of Scotland “free, quit and entire” for himself and his heirs for ever, without the render of any homage; Robert’s son and heir David should marry Edward’s younger sister, Joan of the Tower; that no subject of the King of Scots should claim lands in England and no subject of the King of England should claim lands in Scotland; that the King of Scots and his heirs would give military aid to England and his heirs, saving the alliance with France and that the King of England would give military aid to Scotland “as good allies”; that Robert the Bruce would pay twenty thousand pounds to the English, within three years of peace being concluded; and, finally, that King Edward would use his good offices to influence the Pope to release the King of Scots and his subjects from excommunication and interdict.
On the 12th of July, 1328, the seven year old Joan was married to the four year old David and, on the 15th of October, the Pope revoked the excommunication of King Robert and his subjects. Less than a year later, Robert the Bruce died. Peace and freedom had been hard fought for, but it would be short lived. Edward III subsequently determined to overturn this ‘turpis pax’, as the Meaux chronicler called it. Five years later, encouraged by the success of Edward Balliol against David II, he invaded Scotland, thus beginning the Second Scottish War of Independence.
The original Treaty of Northampton is kept by the National Archives of Scotland. The exchequer rolls of Scotland, also held by the National Archives of Scotland, record the contributions for the special peace levy paid from all over Scotland, in 1328, to cover the ‘war indemnity’ – for the destruction of northern England. Here is an extract from the Treaty, translated from the original French:
“Whereas, we and some of our predecessors, Kings of England, have endeavoured to establish rights of rule or dominion or superiority over the realm of Scotland, whence dire conflicts of wars waged have afflicted for a long time the Kingdoms of England and Scotland: we, having regard to the slaughter, disasters, crimes, destruction of churches and evils innumerable which, in the course of such wars, have repeatedly befallen the subjects of both realms, and to the wealth with which each realm, if united by the assurance of perpetual peace, might abound to their mutual advantage, thereby rendering them more secure against the hurtful efforts of those conspiring to rebel or to attack, whether from within or without:
We will and grant by these presents, for us, our heirs and successors whatsoever, with the common advice, assent and consent of the prelates, princes, earls, barons and the commons of our realm in our Parliament, that the Kingdom of Scotland, within its own proper marches as they were held and maintained in the time of King Alexander of Scotland, last deceased, of good memory, shall belong to our dearest ally and friend, the magnificent prince, Lord Robert, by God’s grace illustrious King of Scotland, and to his heirs and successors, separate in all things from the Kingdom of England, whole, free and undisturbed in perpetuity, without any kind of subjection, service claim or demand. And by these presents we denounce and demit to the King of Scotland, his heirs and successors, whatsoever right we or our predecessors have put forward in any way in bygone times to the aforesaid Kingdom of Scotland.”
The Treaty of Northampton was the formal document that concluded the First Scottish War of Independence. However, one thing we can conclude about the Treaty of Northampton is that it’s easy to get confused about the Treaty of Northampton. On the one hand, it is sometimes referred to as the Treaty of Edinburgh, which unhelpfully risks confusion with another Treaty of Edinburgh; that of 1560. For another thing, it was concluded in one month, endorsed in a later month and then backdated to an even earlier date, just to add another level of confusion. To add one final confusing ingredient, it was made between the English and Scottish Kings, neither of whom were actively present at its ratification.
The Treaty of Northampton is sometimes referred to as the Treaty of Edinburgh, because it was concluded in Edinburgh, on the 17th of March, 1328. However, it wasn’t until later, in Northampton, that it was endorsed on behalf of Edward III, King of England, and his Council in Parliament. At its ratification in Northampton on the 4th of May, 1328, the treaty was formally backdated to the 1st of March, “in the Year of our Lord 1328.” The Treaty of Northampton was a treaty between Robert the Bruce, King of Scots and Edward III, the grandson of Edward I of England – the Longshanks of Braveheart infamy. Although the treaty was ostensibly made by England’s Edward III, it was ratified by Edward’s mother, Isabella of France, and her lover, Roger Mortimer, acting on behalf of the child King.
The Treaty takes the form of a proclamation by Edward III, which after an admission that the “dire conflicts of wars waged have afflicted for a long time the Kingdoms of England and Scotland”, contains two important provisions. Firstly, it formally recognises the independence of Scotland and, secondly, it renounces any claim by England for dominion over Scotland. The Treaty also recognised Robert I as King of Scots and put an end to demands for homage from him. This was a volte-face from the line that successive Edwards had adopted since Longshanks’ meddling in Scottish affairs, which began with the death of Alexander III, in 1286. It also signalled an end to similar claims of suzerainty, which had been made throughout past centuries, during the reigns of Malcolm Canmore, Alexander I, William the Lion and Malcolm the Maiden.
Of course, the Treaty revealed the weak position of the English in the wake of the deposition of Edward II. The ascendancy of the Scots at that time is illustrated by Edward II having narrowly avoided capture just a few years earlier, after the Battle of Scawton Moor, in 1322. The intensity of raids in succeeding campaigns by an invading Scottish Army forced the English into negotiation. Talks started in the autumn of 1327, after Edward II had been deposed and murdered. That was a dastardly deed, in which his mother and Mortimer were implicated.
The Scots were undoubtedly in a strong bargaining position and made six conditions for the Treaty. Those were: King Robert should possess the Kingdom of Scotland “free, quit and entire” for himself and his heirs for ever, without the render of any homage; Robert’s son and heir David should marry Edward’s younger sister, Joan of the Tower; that no subject of the King of Scots should claim lands in England and no subject of the King of England should claim lands in Scotland; that the King of Scots and his heirs would give military aid to England and his heirs, saving the alliance with France and that the King of England would give military aid to Scotland “as good allies”; that Robert the Bruce would pay twenty thousand pounds to the English, within three years of peace being concluded; and, finally, that King Edward would use his good offices to influence the Pope to release the King of Scots and his subjects from excommunication and interdict.
On the 12th of July, 1328, the seven year old Joan was married to the four year old David and, on the 15th of October, the Pope revoked the excommunication of King Robert and his subjects. Less than a year later, Robert the Bruce died. Peace and freedom had been hard fought for, but it would be short lived. Edward III subsequently determined to overturn this ‘turpis pax’, as the Meaux chronicler called it. Five years later, encouraged by the success of Edward Balliol against David II, he invaded Scotland, thus beginning the Second Scottish War of Independence.
The original Treaty of Northampton is kept by the National Archives of Scotland. The exchequer rolls of Scotland, also held by the National Archives of Scotland, record the contributions for the special peace levy paid from all over Scotland, in 1328, to cover the ‘war indemnity’ – for the destruction of northern England. Here is an extract from the Treaty, translated from the original French:
“Whereas, we and some of our predecessors, Kings of England, have endeavoured to establish rights of rule or dominion or superiority over the realm of Scotland, whence dire conflicts of wars waged have afflicted for a long time the Kingdoms of England and Scotland: we, having regard to the slaughter, disasters, crimes, destruction of churches and evils innumerable which, in the course of such wars, have repeatedly befallen the subjects of both realms, and to the wealth with which each realm, if united by the assurance of perpetual peace, might abound to their mutual advantage, thereby rendering them more secure against the hurtful efforts of those conspiring to rebel or to attack, whether from within or without:
We will and grant by these presents, for us, our heirs and successors whatsoever, with the common advice, assent and consent of the prelates, princes, earls, barons and the commons of our realm in our Parliament, that the Kingdom of Scotland, within its own proper marches as they were held and maintained in the time of King Alexander of Scotland, last deceased, of good memory, shall belong to our dearest ally and friend, the magnificent prince, Lord Robert, by God’s grace illustrious King of Scotland, and to his heirs and successors, separate in all things from the Kingdom of England, whole, free and undisturbed in perpetuity, without any kind of subjection, service claim or demand. And by these presents we denounce and demit to the King of Scotland, his heirs and successors, whatsoever right we or our predecessors have put forward in any way in bygone times to the aforesaid Kingdom of Scotland.”
Tuesday, 3 May 2011
Archbishop James Sharp
Archbishop James Sharp, Primate of Scotland, was attacked and murdered on the 3rd of May, 1679.
Originally, James Sharp was a Covenanting Resolutioner, but after many events and political intrigues, he turned his back on Presbyterianism to promote Episcopalianism and, as a reward for his ambition, was consecrated as Archbishop of St. Andrews. In consequence, he is generally reviled and portrayed as a self-seeking defector who betrayed both his colleagues and beliefs. Sharp’s brutality in persecuting his former allies ultimately led to his murder on Magus Muir, three miles outside St. Andrews. James Dodds, in ‘The Fifty Years’ Struggle of the Scottish Covenanters 1638-88’, commented thus on our man Sharp, “For well concocted, cold blooded, systematic dissimulation, he stands almost without a match in History.” Yes indeed, Sharp was one of the bad guys, but he wisnae quick enough to avoid his assassins.
James Sharp was born on the 4th of May, 1618, in Banff Castle. Later, in 1633, James went to Aberdeen University, where he read divinity for two years; at Kings College. Sharp graduated Master of Arts, in 1637, the same year that Charles I imposed religious changes on Scotland. Those included the use of the unpopular ‘Book of Common Prayer’, which led directly to the creation of the National Covenant, in February, 1638.
The Covenanters were a group of Scottish Presbyterians who were bound by oath to protect and defend their religion from prelacy, the introduction of Bishops, and other Episcopalian features. By 1650, this group had been split into two factions, the Resolutioners and Protesters; the groups differing over how much power should be given to the King. Of course, the Stuart monarchs maintained their belief in the ‘Divine Right’ and the King’s complete authority in the Church. Signatories to the Covenant declared themselves against all the King’s innovations, but loyal to His Majesty. To Charles I and his cronies, those two sentiments were incompatible; trouble was inevitable.
Rather than sign the Covenant, Sharp sloped off to Oxford. James Sharp returned to Scotland, in 1642, as Regent of Philosophy at St Leonard’s College, St Andrews. Six years later, in January, 1648, Sharp was appointed Minister of the Parish of Crail. By the time Cromwell invaded Scotland, in 1651, James Sharp had signed the Covenant. Not long after, he became a leader in the moderate, conservative wing of the Presbyterian Church of Scotland, the Covenanting faction known as the Resolutioners.
Sharp’s political side was evident early on when, in 1657, he led discussions with Cromwell. The negotiations failed to achieve anything, but Cromwell, who despised all Presbyterians, called him “Sharp of that Ilk” and recognised his “supple intelligence.” Later, following Cromwell’s death, James Sharp was back in London representing the Resolutioners in dealings with General George Monck. Sharp was undoubtedly at the heart of intrigue and involved in Monck’s political machinations.
Monck was planning the restoration of Charles II and, significantly, chose Sharp to discuss Scottish affairs with the exiled King. It was during that time, 1659-60, that Sharp effectively shifted his loyalties. He was complicit in plotting with Monck and the King to restore Episcopacy and, by so doing, betrayed his Scottish Presbyterian comrades. All the time, whilst reassuring the Presbyterians that Charles would accept the Covenant, he secretly intended the opposite.
The payback for Sharp came soon after when, in 1660, Charles was restored to the throne. The lowly Rev. James Sharp, Minister of Crail, was appointed Royal Chaplain in Scotland and Professor of Divinity at the University of St. Andrews. Then, early the next year, he was made Archbishop of St Andrews, when the Privy Council announced the restoration of Episcopacy (Bishops) by decree, at the Mercat Cross, in Edinburgh, on the 6th of September, 1661. Within three years, Sharp was Primate of Scotland.
Sharp then set about implementing an almost savage policy of repression against his former fellows, becoming a very effective oppressor of those he had betrayed. The list of infamous policies he was involved in enforcing includes: the ‘Act of Supremacy’; the act known as ‘The Bishop’s Drag Net’; the ‘Scots Mile Act’ of 1663; and the national extension to the 1669 act anent conventicles, which was proclaimed in Edinburgh on the 26th of April, 1676 as an ‘Act concerning keeping of conventicles’. The ‘Scots Mile Act’ marked the beginning of the field meetings known as ‘Conventicles’ and the several acts against such gatherings effectively engendered a Scottish Inquisition. That was formed in the guise of the Committee for Public Affairs, which was styled the ‘Secret Committee’. It was headed by Sharp, of whom Dodds writes, “[he] was ever to be seen perched upon his eyrie, when there was the prospect of carnage, spoil and destruction.”
Ministers and entire congregations of Covenanters were banned from churches, mercilessly hunted and executed out of hand for attending those outdoor services. With almost limitless power, Sharp’s Presidency of the reinstated Court of High Commission dealt out summary ‘justice’. That was the powder keg that led to The Pentland Rising and the Battle of Rullion Green. In the subsequent ‘trial’, Sharp showed his true malice. To eleven prisoners who had surrendered on promise of mercy he said, “You were pardoned as soldiers, but you are not acquitted as subjects.” Those eleven were sentenced to death and dismemberment. And, early in 1679, Sharp introduced possibly his most heinous piece of legislation, which heralded what was called the ‘Killing Time’. That permitted, without so much as a trial, the ‘on the spot’ killing of anybody who had anything to do a Conventicle.
Finally, on the afternoon of the 3rd of May, 1679, as Sharp was returning to St Andrews with his daughter Isabella via Magus Muir, his carriage was surrounded by a band of Covenanters. Led by John Balfour of Kinloch, they dragged the Archbishop from his carriage and stabbed him to death. Balfour told Sharp that they were not slaying him from personal malice, but for causing the death of Covenanters. Nobody genuinely mourned the death of Sharp who had, in the name of serving his King and country, generously served himself.
Originally, James Sharp was a Covenanting Resolutioner, but after many events and political intrigues, he turned his back on Presbyterianism to promote Episcopalianism and, as a reward for his ambition, was consecrated as Archbishop of St. Andrews. In consequence, he is generally reviled and portrayed as a self-seeking defector who betrayed both his colleagues and beliefs. Sharp’s brutality in persecuting his former allies ultimately led to his murder on Magus Muir, three miles outside St. Andrews. James Dodds, in ‘The Fifty Years’ Struggle of the Scottish Covenanters 1638-88’, commented thus on our man Sharp, “For well concocted, cold blooded, systematic dissimulation, he stands almost without a match in History.” Yes indeed, Sharp was one of the bad guys, but he wisnae quick enough to avoid his assassins.
James Sharp was born on the 4th of May, 1618, in Banff Castle. Later, in 1633, James went to Aberdeen University, where he read divinity for two years; at Kings College. Sharp graduated Master of Arts, in 1637, the same year that Charles I imposed religious changes on Scotland. Those included the use of the unpopular ‘Book of Common Prayer’, which led directly to the creation of the National Covenant, in February, 1638.
The Covenanters were a group of Scottish Presbyterians who were bound by oath to protect and defend their religion from prelacy, the introduction of Bishops, and other Episcopalian features. By 1650, this group had been split into two factions, the Resolutioners and Protesters; the groups differing over how much power should be given to the King. Of course, the Stuart monarchs maintained their belief in the ‘Divine Right’ and the King’s complete authority in the Church. Signatories to the Covenant declared themselves against all the King’s innovations, but loyal to His Majesty. To Charles I and his cronies, those two sentiments were incompatible; trouble was inevitable.
Rather than sign the Covenant, Sharp sloped off to Oxford. James Sharp returned to Scotland, in 1642, as Regent of Philosophy at St Leonard’s College, St Andrews. Six years later, in January, 1648, Sharp was appointed Minister of the Parish of Crail. By the time Cromwell invaded Scotland, in 1651, James Sharp had signed the Covenant. Not long after, he became a leader in the moderate, conservative wing of the Presbyterian Church of Scotland, the Covenanting faction known as the Resolutioners.
Sharp’s political side was evident early on when, in 1657, he led discussions with Cromwell. The negotiations failed to achieve anything, but Cromwell, who despised all Presbyterians, called him “Sharp of that Ilk” and recognised his “supple intelligence.” Later, following Cromwell’s death, James Sharp was back in London representing the Resolutioners in dealings with General George Monck. Sharp was undoubtedly at the heart of intrigue and involved in Monck’s political machinations.
Monck was planning the restoration of Charles II and, significantly, chose Sharp to discuss Scottish affairs with the exiled King. It was during that time, 1659-60, that Sharp effectively shifted his loyalties. He was complicit in plotting with Monck and the King to restore Episcopacy and, by so doing, betrayed his Scottish Presbyterian comrades. All the time, whilst reassuring the Presbyterians that Charles would accept the Covenant, he secretly intended the opposite.
The payback for Sharp came soon after when, in 1660, Charles was restored to the throne. The lowly Rev. James Sharp, Minister of Crail, was appointed Royal Chaplain in Scotland and Professor of Divinity at the University of St. Andrews. Then, early the next year, he was made Archbishop of St Andrews, when the Privy Council announced the restoration of Episcopacy (Bishops) by decree, at the Mercat Cross, in Edinburgh, on the 6th of September, 1661. Within three years, Sharp was Primate of Scotland.
Sharp then set about implementing an almost savage policy of repression against his former fellows, becoming a very effective oppressor of those he had betrayed. The list of infamous policies he was involved in enforcing includes: the ‘Act of Supremacy’; the act known as ‘The Bishop’s Drag Net’; the ‘Scots Mile Act’ of 1663; and the national extension to the 1669 act anent conventicles, which was proclaimed in Edinburgh on the 26th of April, 1676 as an ‘Act concerning keeping of conventicles’. The ‘Scots Mile Act’ marked the beginning of the field meetings known as ‘Conventicles’ and the several acts against such gatherings effectively engendered a Scottish Inquisition. That was formed in the guise of the Committee for Public Affairs, which was styled the ‘Secret Committee’. It was headed by Sharp, of whom Dodds writes, “[he] was ever to be seen perched upon his eyrie, when there was the prospect of carnage, spoil and destruction.”
Ministers and entire congregations of Covenanters were banned from churches, mercilessly hunted and executed out of hand for attending those outdoor services. With almost limitless power, Sharp’s Presidency of the reinstated Court of High Commission dealt out summary ‘justice’. That was the powder keg that led to The Pentland Rising and the Battle of Rullion Green. In the subsequent ‘trial’, Sharp showed his true malice. To eleven prisoners who had surrendered on promise of mercy he said, “You were pardoned as soldiers, but you are not acquitted as subjects.” Those eleven were sentenced to death and dismemberment. And, early in 1679, Sharp introduced possibly his most heinous piece of legislation, which heralded what was called the ‘Killing Time’. That permitted, without so much as a trial, the ‘on the spot’ killing of anybody who had anything to do a Conventicle.
Finally, on the afternoon of the 3rd of May, 1679, as Sharp was returning to St Andrews with his daughter Isabella via Magus Muir, his carriage was surrounded by a band of Covenanters. Led by John Balfour of Kinloch, they dragged the Archbishop from his carriage and stabbed him to death. Balfour told Sharp that they were not slaying him from personal malice, but for causing the death of Covenanters. Nobody genuinely mourned the death of Sharp who had, in the name of serving his King and country, generously served himself.
Monday, 2 May 2011
Mary I, Queen of Scots, escapes from Loch Leven castle
Mary I, Queen of Scots, escaped from Loch Leven castle on the 2nd of May, 1568.
Mary I, Queen of Scots, first visited Loch Leven castle, standing on its island in the picturesque loch, in 1565, as a guest of Sir William Douglas. From then on, during her short reign, Mary Stuart was a frequent visitor to the castle of Loch Leven and at times used it as a base for her favourite pastime of hawking. Mary last visited Loch Leven castle on the 17th of June, 1567, but on that occasion, she wasn’t really a visitor. Instead, she arrived as a prisoner and her forced visit lasted almost a whole year. With the help of various sympathisers and relatives of her gaolers, Mary eventually managed an escape on the 2nd of May, 1568. Thereafter, she revoked her recent forced abdication and gathered an army to move on Dumbarton castle.
This adventure began after the murder of Mary’s second husband, Henry, Lord Darnley. Many of Mary’s Nobles opposed her marriage to Bothwell, rising against her and her recently created Duke. A Protestant Army of three thousand men, led by the Earl of Morton and the Confederate Lords, met Mary’s Army at Carberry Hill, not far from Edinburgh, on the 15th of June, 1567. After six hours of fighting, Mary persuaded Bothwell to leave the field. Abandoned by her Duke, Mary surrendered to an Earl.
Shortly after her defeat at Carberry Hill and after a brief pit stop in Edinburgh, Mary was taken to Loch Leven castle by her Lords Lindsay and Ruthven, under the instructions of her half brother, the Earl of Moray. She was given into the custody of Sir William Douglas of Lochleven and spent most of her captivity living in the early 16th century Glassin Tower, at the south east corner of the castle. At one time, foiling an earlier escape plan, she was moved to the Solar Storey of the Main Tower, above the Great Hall. Throughout her time in the castle, she was accompanied by her own cook, her physician and Jane Kennedy, Marie Courcelles and the faithful Mary Seton; ladies in waiting.
Aside from Sir William, the household included his mother, Lady Margaret Douglas, also mother of the aforementioned Earl of Moray, and his brother George Douglas, as well as a young, orphaned relative, who was possibly an illegitimate son of Sir William. Before her marriage, Lady Douglas had been the mistress of Mary’s father, James V, and six children were born out of that relationship, including the Earl of Moray. Morals were quite different in those days and it wasn’t uncommon for Kings, in especial, to beget several illegitimate offspring. The present day censure over Mary’s morals should, instead, be considered in the context of her own times. In reality, Mary Stuart wisnae muckle different from any other royal and she shouldna’ be criticised for her affairs; no more so than any of her male peers or even her ain faither. It’s said that Lady Douglas resented Mary’s presence on the throne, believing that her son, Moray, should’ve been King. However, as Moray was illegitimate, he could never have ascended the throne. But Moray did become Regent, in August, 1567; King in all but name.
Famously, Mary fell ill soon after her arrival at Loch Leven castle and, sometime before the 24th of July, she gave birth, prematurely, to stillborn twins that she may well have ‘scandalously’ conceived with Bothwell before Darnley’s murder. Her secretary, Claude Nau, who wrote under her authority, stated that the twins were buried on the island. There is another, less probable version, which suggests that Mary gave birth to a daughter who was smuggled out of Lochleven and sent to France. Whatever the truth of that matter of the bairns, Mary was certainly in a very weakened and vulnerable state when, under Moray’s instructions, the Lords Ruthven, Melville and Lindsay presented her with abdication papers. Under considerable duress and threat from Lindsay in particular, Mary was forced to sign the papers, which she did on the 24th of July, 1567. She abdicated in favour of her infant son James, who was at that time just over a year old. James VI (& I) would be a mere ten months old when his mother later saw him for the last time.
The young and handsome George Douglas reputedly fell in love with Mary from the moment he met her, and the ‘young, orphaned relative’, a youth of between fourteen and sixteen years of age, was also bewitched by the beautiful Queen. The latter has been consigned to history as ‘Wee Willie Douglas’. Perhaps that was a moniker given him by his ally – and rival for Mary’s affections – Geordie Douglas. Unsurprisingly, those two dopey, love struck characters played an important part in Mary’s escape. Aided by the starry-eyed Douglases acting undercover ‘on the inside’, various plans were made to help Mary escape. Those were either too fantastic to attempt or failed in their construction or, in the one case when an actual attempt was made, foiled by the attention of a boatman.
Finally, however, on the 2nd of May, 1568, Mary succeeded in escaping, primarily with the help of Wee Willie Douglas. The little hero managed to steal the keys to the Postern Gate from the table beside Sir William Douglas, when said gentleman was a wee bit the worse for wear after a banquet in the Great Hall. Mary, dressed as a servant girl, and Jane Kennedy made their way downstairs, across the courtyard and through the gates. Together, the three slipped away in one of the boats and rowed ashore, where George Douglas was waiting to welcome them and guide Mary to Niddry Castle, in Lothian. Legend has it that Wee Willie locked the castle gates behind him and, when half way to the shore, threw the keys into the water. Interestingly, when the Loch was being lowered, in 1831, a set of eight keys was found in the mud.
Immediately after her daring escape, Mary tried to have her abdication declared invalid and, with many Nobles readily declaring for her, was able to gather an army. However, that army was soundly defeated, in the space of an hour, by an opposing army, led by her half brother, the Earl of Moray. That was the Battle of Longside, that was, which took place just outside of Glasgow. Against the advice of her loyal Nobles, Mary fled south to England, in the hope that Queen Elizabeth I would help her. However, that wee plan wisnae as successful as her escape plan from Loch Leven. Mary was held in captivity for a further seventeen years and, in 1587, found guilty of being associated with various conspiracies, including the ‘Babington Plot’ and ultimately beheaded at Fotheringhay Castle, in Northamptonshire.
Mary I, Queen of Scots, first visited Loch Leven castle, standing on its island in the picturesque loch, in 1565, as a guest of Sir William Douglas. From then on, during her short reign, Mary Stuart was a frequent visitor to the castle of Loch Leven and at times used it as a base for her favourite pastime of hawking. Mary last visited Loch Leven castle on the 17th of June, 1567, but on that occasion, she wasn’t really a visitor. Instead, she arrived as a prisoner and her forced visit lasted almost a whole year. With the help of various sympathisers and relatives of her gaolers, Mary eventually managed an escape on the 2nd of May, 1568. Thereafter, she revoked her recent forced abdication and gathered an army to move on Dumbarton castle.
This adventure began after the murder of Mary’s second husband, Henry, Lord Darnley. Many of Mary’s Nobles opposed her marriage to Bothwell, rising against her and her recently created Duke. A Protestant Army of three thousand men, led by the Earl of Morton and the Confederate Lords, met Mary’s Army at Carberry Hill, not far from Edinburgh, on the 15th of June, 1567. After six hours of fighting, Mary persuaded Bothwell to leave the field. Abandoned by her Duke, Mary surrendered to an Earl.
Shortly after her defeat at Carberry Hill and after a brief pit stop in Edinburgh, Mary was taken to Loch Leven castle by her Lords Lindsay and Ruthven, under the instructions of her half brother, the Earl of Moray. She was given into the custody of Sir William Douglas of Lochleven and spent most of her captivity living in the early 16th century Glassin Tower, at the south east corner of the castle. At one time, foiling an earlier escape plan, she was moved to the Solar Storey of the Main Tower, above the Great Hall. Throughout her time in the castle, she was accompanied by her own cook, her physician and Jane Kennedy, Marie Courcelles and the faithful Mary Seton; ladies in waiting.
Aside from Sir William, the household included his mother, Lady Margaret Douglas, also mother of the aforementioned Earl of Moray, and his brother George Douglas, as well as a young, orphaned relative, who was possibly an illegitimate son of Sir William. Before her marriage, Lady Douglas had been the mistress of Mary’s father, James V, and six children were born out of that relationship, including the Earl of Moray. Morals were quite different in those days and it wasn’t uncommon for Kings, in especial, to beget several illegitimate offspring. The present day censure over Mary’s morals should, instead, be considered in the context of her own times. In reality, Mary Stuart wisnae muckle different from any other royal and she shouldna’ be criticised for her affairs; no more so than any of her male peers or even her ain faither. It’s said that Lady Douglas resented Mary’s presence on the throne, believing that her son, Moray, should’ve been King. However, as Moray was illegitimate, he could never have ascended the throne. But Moray did become Regent, in August, 1567; King in all but name.
Famously, Mary fell ill soon after her arrival at Loch Leven castle and, sometime before the 24th of July, she gave birth, prematurely, to stillborn twins that she may well have ‘scandalously’ conceived with Bothwell before Darnley’s murder. Her secretary, Claude Nau, who wrote under her authority, stated that the twins were buried on the island. There is another, less probable version, which suggests that Mary gave birth to a daughter who was smuggled out of Lochleven and sent to France. Whatever the truth of that matter of the bairns, Mary was certainly in a very weakened and vulnerable state when, under Moray’s instructions, the Lords Ruthven, Melville and Lindsay presented her with abdication papers. Under considerable duress and threat from Lindsay in particular, Mary was forced to sign the papers, which she did on the 24th of July, 1567. She abdicated in favour of her infant son James, who was at that time just over a year old. James VI (& I) would be a mere ten months old when his mother later saw him for the last time.
The young and handsome George Douglas reputedly fell in love with Mary from the moment he met her, and the ‘young, orphaned relative’, a youth of between fourteen and sixteen years of age, was also bewitched by the beautiful Queen. The latter has been consigned to history as ‘Wee Willie Douglas’. Perhaps that was a moniker given him by his ally – and rival for Mary’s affections – Geordie Douglas. Unsurprisingly, those two dopey, love struck characters played an important part in Mary’s escape. Aided by the starry-eyed Douglases acting undercover ‘on the inside’, various plans were made to help Mary escape. Those were either too fantastic to attempt or failed in their construction or, in the one case when an actual attempt was made, foiled by the attention of a boatman.
Finally, however, on the 2nd of May, 1568, Mary succeeded in escaping, primarily with the help of Wee Willie Douglas. The little hero managed to steal the keys to the Postern Gate from the table beside Sir William Douglas, when said gentleman was a wee bit the worse for wear after a banquet in the Great Hall. Mary, dressed as a servant girl, and Jane Kennedy made their way downstairs, across the courtyard and through the gates. Together, the three slipped away in one of the boats and rowed ashore, where George Douglas was waiting to welcome them and guide Mary to Niddry Castle, in Lothian. Legend has it that Wee Willie locked the castle gates behind him and, when half way to the shore, threw the keys into the water. Interestingly, when the Loch was being lowered, in 1831, a set of eight keys was found in the mud.
Immediately after her daring escape, Mary tried to have her abdication declared invalid and, with many Nobles readily declaring for her, was able to gather an army. However, that army was soundly defeated, in the space of an hour, by an opposing army, led by her half brother, the Earl of Moray. That was the Battle of Longside, that was, which took place just outside of Glasgow. Against the advice of her loyal Nobles, Mary fled south to England, in the hope that Queen Elizabeth I would help her. However, that wee plan wisnae as successful as her escape plan from Loch Leven. Mary was held in captivity for a further seventeen years and, in 1587, found guilty of being associated with various conspiracies, including the ‘Babington Plot’ and ultimately beheaded at Fotheringhay Castle, in Northamptonshire.
Sunday, 1 May 2011
The Battle of Cromdale
The Battle of Cromdale was fought on the 1st of May, 1690.
The Battle of Cromdale or the Battle of the Haughs of Cromdale took place in 1690, but it has long been confused with an earlier victory of Montrose’s; that at Auldearn, in 1645, when he earned a decisive victory over the Covenanters. Sad to say, Montrose was lang syne deid afore the Haughs of Cromdale on the 1st of May, 1690. Cromdale was the occasion when the last organised Jacobite forces of the Rising of 1689-90 in Scotland were beaten by Government troops. The Battle took place on Speyside, near what is now Grantown-on-Spey. In reality, the engagement was more of a rout than a true battle, and as a consequence of this relatively minor encounter, the Jacobite clansmen lost interest in the Cause and remained in their glens, ending the brief and bloody war in Scotland.
In such a manner, the battle eliminated any immediate Jacobite threat to William of Orange in Scotland, and enabled him to concentrate his forces in Ireland, for a decisive victory over King James VII, at the Battle of the Boyne, two months later. It would be another nineteen years before Highlanders were once again called upon to defend the Jacobite Cause (that brings you to 1709, in case you cannae count; there were several Jacobite uprisings between the war of 1690 and the final conflict in 1745-6 – in 1709, 1715, and 1719).
After the Battle of Dunkeld, in 1689, the Highland clansmen had returned to their homes in defeat. Unfortunately, for the effective continuation of the campaign in Scotland, King James VII was distracted by the threat of an invasion of Ireland by William of Orange. Despite his lack of attention, James did send clothing, arms, ammunition and provisions to aid his supporters in Scotland. King James also sent Major General Buchan, an Irish officer, to Lochaber, to take over as Commander-in-Chief of the Jacobite forces.
On Buchan's arrival, a Council of War unanimously resolved to continue hostilities, but also agreed to postpone the large scale muster of the Clans until after the spring season planting. In the meantime, to avoid total inactivity, Buchan determined to send out a large force of Highland infantrymen in a series of raids, designed to weaken the enemy’s flank. This guerrilla strength, numbering up to fifteen hundred on a good day, was commanded by Colonel Alexander Cannon of Galloway and consisted largely of MacDonalds, MacLeans, Camerons, MacPhersons and the clansmen of Grant of Invermoriston.
The Highlanders made several forays on Strathspey from their strongholds in Lochaber and the West. Then, late in April, Cannon advanced through Badenoch and, by the 30th, he had reached as far as Cromdale. Here, he encamped near Lethendry, not on the usual, defendable broken ground, but on open ground under the shadow of Creagan a’Chaise, by the banks of the Spey.
Next day at dawn, a large Government Army, under Sir Thomas Livingston, made a surprise appearance. This Army, garrisoned at Inverness, was given the task of intercepting Cannon’s insurrectionists and had descended to the Spey, through a narrow pass, from Dava Moor. It was led by around eight hundred Grants of Strathspey, in addition to six troops of mounted Dragoons and three regiments of foot. You might ask why they weren’t spotted and ambushed, but Colonel Cannon was not the most experienced or able commander and wisnae best prepared.
Despite their attempts at stealth, Livingston’s troops were spotted crossing the Spey and the alarm raised, but this only prompted Sir Thomas to order his horsed Dragoons to charge the Jacobite camp. In spite of the warning, the attack was so sudden that numerous clansmen had no time to reach for their belted plaids or weapons. Many fled naked, some of them up the northern slopes of the Cromdales, and descended into Avonside.
Being significantly outnumbered and caught unawares in such a manner, those Jacobites who turned to face the enemy made a brief and bloody stand. Fortunately for these Highlanders, a thick fog came down the side of the mountain and enveloped them, compelling Livingston to break off from fighting and enabling the remnants of Cannon’s clansmen to make an escape. Such fighting as there was, took a heavy toll of Jacobites. Many of the clansmen fled eastwards over the hills, only to perish later from their wounds, making a true tally of casualties, at best an estimate.
According to General Mackay, Army Commander in Scotland at the time, about four hundred Jacobites were killed or captured, some being rounded up near Lethendry Castle and its Mill, by the afternoon. An unfortunate party of Camerons and MacLeans, who had separated from their comrades in the flight, were also pursued across the Spey. Some of them were subsequently caught and killed, on the Moor of Granish, near Aviemore, just short of the safety of the Crags of Craigellachie. The Government’s forces reputedly lost no soldiers and only seven or eight horses, however, this may not be accurate.
James Hogg, the Ettrick shepherd, later wrote a song about the defeat, which became very popular. Sometime later, an unknown bard added an exaggerated description of Montrose’s earlier victory over the Covenanters, at Auldearn, in 1645. This was despite the fact that Montrose had been dead for forty years before Cromdale. Who said that history is always written by the victor? Here’s a wee bit verse from the song:
“The loyal Stewarts, with Montrose,
So boldly set upon their foes,
And brought them down with Highland blows
Upon the Haughs of Cromdale.
Of twenty-thousand Cromwell’s men,
Five-hundred fled to Aberdeen,
The rest of them lie on the plain,
Upon the Haughs of Cromdale.”
The Battle of Cromdale or the Battle of the Haughs of Cromdale took place in 1690, but it has long been confused with an earlier victory of Montrose’s; that at Auldearn, in 1645, when he earned a decisive victory over the Covenanters. Sad to say, Montrose was lang syne deid afore the Haughs of Cromdale on the 1st of May, 1690. Cromdale was the occasion when the last organised Jacobite forces of the Rising of 1689-90 in Scotland were beaten by Government troops. The Battle took place on Speyside, near what is now Grantown-on-Spey. In reality, the engagement was more of a rout than a true battle, and as a consequence of this relatively minor encounter, the Jacobite clansmen lost interest in the Cause and remained in their glens, ending the brief and bloody war in Scotland.
In such a manner, the battle eliminated any immediate Jacobite threat to William of Orange in Scotland, and enabled him to concentrate his forces in Ireland, for a decisive victory over King James VII, at the Battle of the Boyne, two months later. It would be another nineteen years before Highlanders were once again called upon to defend the Jacobite Cause (that brings you to 1709, in case you cannae count; there were several Jacobite uprisings between the war of 1690 and the final conflict in 1745-6 – in 1709, 1715, and 1719).
After the Battle of Dunkeld, in 1689, the Highland clansmen had returned to their homes in defeat. Unfortunately, for the effective continuation of the campaign in Scotland, King James VII was distracted by the threat of an invasion of Ireland by William of Orange. Despite his lack of attention, James did send clothing, arms, ammunition and provisions to aid his supporters in Scotland. King James also sent Major General Buchan, an Irish officer, to Lochaber, to take over as Commander-in-Chief of the Jacobite forces.
On Buchan's arrival, a Council of War unanimously resolved to continue hostilities, but also agreed to postpone the large scale muster of the Clans until after the spring season planting. In the meantime, to avoid total inactivity, Buchan determined to send out a large force of Highland infantrymen in a series of raids, designed to weaken the enemy’s flank. This guerrilla strength, numbering up to fifteen hundred on a good day, was commanded by Colonel Alexander Cannon of Galloway and consisted largely of MacDonalds, MacLeans, Camerons, MacPhersons and the clansmen of Grant of Invermoriston.
The Highlanders made several forays on Strathspey from their strongholds in Lochaber and the West. Then, late in April, Cannon advanced through Badenoch and, by the 30th, he had reached as far as Cromdale. Here, he encamped near Lethendry, not on the usual, defendable broken ground, but on open ground under the shadow of Creagan a’Chaise, by the banks of the Spey.
Next day at dawn, a large Government Army, under Sir Thomas Livingston, made a surprise appearance. This Army, garrisoned at Inverness, was given the task of intercepting Cannon’s insurrectionists and had descended to the Spey, through a narrow pass, from Dava Moor. It was led by around eight hundred Grants of Strathspey, in addition to six troops of mounted Dragoons and three regiments of foot. You might ask why they weren’t spotted and ambushed, but Colonel Cannon was not the most experienced or able commander and wisnae best prepared.
Despite their attempts at stealth, Livingston’s troops were spotted crossing the Spey and the alarm raised, but this only prompted Sir Thomas to order his horsed Dragoons to charge the Jacobite camp. In spite of the warning, the attack was so sudden that numerous clansmen had no time to reach for their belted plaids or weapons. Many fled naked, some of them up the northern slopes of the Cromdales, and descended into Avonside.
Being significantly outnumbered and caught unawares in such a manner, those Jacobites who turned to face the enemy made a brief and bloody stand. Fortunately for these Highlanders, a thick fog came down the side of the mountain and enveloped them, compelling Livingston to break off from fighting and enabling the remnants of Cannon’s clansmen to make an escape. Such fighting as there was, took a heavy toll of Jacobites. Many of the clansmen fled eastwards over the hills, only to perish later from their wounds, making a true tally of casualties, at best an estimate.
According to General Mackay, Army Commander in Scotland at the time, about four hundred Jacobites were killed or captured, some being rounded up near Lethendry Castle and its Mill, by the afternoon. An unfortunate party of Camerons and MacLeans, who had separated from their comrades in the flight, were also pursued across the Spey. Some of them were subsequently caught and killed, on the Moor of Granish, near Aviemore, just short of the safety of the Crags of Craigellachie. The Government’s forces reputedly lost no soldiers and only seven or eight horses, however, this may not be accurate.
James Hogg, the Ettrick shepherd, later wrote a song about the defeat, which became very popular. Sometime later, an unknown bard added an exaggerated description of Montrose’s earlier victory over the Covenanters, at Auldearn, in 1645. This was despite the fact that Montrose had been dead for forty years before Cromdale. Who said that history is always written by the victor? Here’s a wee bit verse from the song:
“The loyal Stewarts, with Montrose,
So boldly set upon their foes,
And brought them down with Highland blows
Upon the Haughs of Cromdale.
Of twenty-thousand Cromwell’s men,
Five-hundred fled to Aberdeen,
The rest of them lie on the plain,
Upon the Haughs of Cromdale.”
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