New Year's Day in Scotland

By an act of his Privy Council on the 17th of December, 1599, James VI of Scotland decided that New Year's Day would henceforth fall on the 1st of January.

Most folks, if asked, will say that New Year's Day falls on the 1st of January each year. It was not always so, either in the United Kingdom in general or in Scotland, in particular. Come to think of it, it still isn't so in many parts of the world. New Year's Day is generally accepted as being the day that marks the beginning of a new calendar year and also the day on which the year count is incremented, but neither was that always so and  still isn't so in the Jewish calendar. The 1st of January is certainly the  first day of the year on the modern Gregorian calendar and it was also the  first day of the year on the ancient Julian calendar as used in Rome. Despite that apparent synchronisation, January the 1st on the Julian calendar currently corresponds to January the 14th on the Gregorian calendar.

In terms of other cultures, the Hijri or Islamic New Year begins on the first day of Muharram, the first month in the Islamic calendar. In 2011, it fell on the Gregorian 26th of November. However, the Islamic year is 11 to 12 days shorter than the Gregorian year, so there's also a  perennially shifting differential between the two calendars. The Hindu New Year falls according to the time and date the Sun enters Aries on the Hindu calendar, which normally means the 13th of 14th of April, depending on the Leap year. The Jewish New Year is celebrated on Rosh Hashanah, which takes place between sunset on the evening before the first day of Tishrei and nightfall on the second day of Tishrei. Strange to say, Tishrei is the seventh, rather than the first, month of the Hebrew calendar. In terms of the Gregorian calendar, Rosh Hashanah will fall between September the 5th and October the 5th. The Chinese, on the other hand, celebrate New Year's Day as the first day of the lunar calendar, corrected every three years, for solar deviations. The date normally falls between the 20th of January and the 20th of February.

Until 1599 in Scotland,  the New Year began on the 25th of March, which was in line with England. However, on the 17th of December, 1599, King James VI, via an act of his Privy Council, decided that Scotland should come into line with other “well governit commonwealths.” As a result of Jamie Saxt looking over his shoulder at the likes of 'well governed' France, the date for New Year's Day was changed from the 25th of March and imposed as the 1st of January. So the day after the 31st of December, 1599, became the 1st of January, 1600. Insular England didn't make the 1st of January the official start of the  year until 1752, the year it adopted the Gregorian calendar and way after James VI became James I of England, and six years after yon Bonnie Twat, Charlie Stuart, failed to make his Pa, James VIII & III.

According to the 'Register of the Privy Council', “The Kingis majestie and Lordis of his Secreit Counsall undirstanding that in all utheris weill governit commouns welthis and cuntreyis the first day of the yeir begynis yeirlie upoun the first day of Januare, commounlie callit new yeiris day, and that this realme onlie is different fra all utheris in the compt and reckning of the yeiris ...his Majestie with the advise of the Lordis of his Secreit Counsall statutis and ordanis that in all tyme cuming the first day of the yeir sal begin yeirlie upoun the first day of Januare...”

Jamie's Privy Council was a powerful legislative and administrative body, which was very useful to him. The King had much more influence over the Privy Council than he ever did over the more independently minded Scottish Parliament. The Privy Council act of the 17th December, 1599, went on to command royal officials, clerks, judges, notaries,  &c., “in all tyme heireftir” to date all “thair decreittis infeftmentis charteris seasings letteris and writtis quhatsumeuir according to this p[rese]nt ordinance.” They had a shortage of commas in those days.

The reason for January the 1st on the old style Julian calendar currently corresponding to January the 14th on the new style Gregorian calendar is that the latter is marginally shorter. The number of days in the year is the essence of a calendar year and the Gregorian calendar results in a year that is about 11 minutes shorter than the 365.25 days of the Julian year. So, if you have two calendars, one calculating the length of the year according to ancient Roman practice and one, more accurately, according to the solar equinoxes, then you get a discrepancy. In fact, the Julian calendar falls further behind every year as the deviation increases by about three days every four centuries.

New Year's Day in the Julian calendar was the 25th of March i.e., the 24th of March, 1598, was followed by the 25th of March, 1599. So, New Year's Day was the day on which the year count was incremented, but it didn't mark the beginning of the calendar year; that still being the 1st of January. So, back at the tail end of 1599, or on the 1st of January, 1600, as it was, Scotland began a new year, but it was a new year according to the Julian calendar. That meant that the 31st of December, 1600, occurred 365 days later (with 1599, the previous year, having had only nine months).

It wasn't until 1752, the same year England caught up with the New Year's Day celebrations, that Scotland adopted the Gregorian. Jamie Saxt's notions about what the French might think weren't fully developed in 1582, when the majority of European countries adopted the Gregorian and the 1st of January date for New Year's Day. Earlier, in England, Henry VIII was having nothing to do with anything named after a Pope, so he stuck to Julius Caesar's calendar, introduced in 45 BC, and so did his successors, from Edward VI all the way through to George II. The Gregorian calendar was introduced by a bull of Pope Gregory XIII; dated the 24th of February, 1582.

It took Jamie's pride and joy, the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, nearly two hundred years to deal with the combined change. The Gregorian was adopted in the United Kingdom under what is known as 'Chesterfield's Act' or the 'Calendar Act of 1752', which revised the way that leap years were calculated and dropped the necessary 11 days in order to synchronise with the newly adopted, solar-based Gregorian calendar year. Wednesday, the 2nd of September, 1752, was followed by Thursday, the 14th of September, 1752. Scotland lost zero days in 1600 after changing the date of New Year's Day, but it lost the same 11 days as England, Wales and Ireland in 1752, when the Gregorian was adopted. If they'd changed back in 1582, they'd have lost only 10 days.

Incidentally, the reason the UK tax year starts on the 6th of April is that, back in 1752, the authorities didn't want to lose 11 days' tax revenue in that year, so they moved the start of the tax year forward from the 25th of March and it's been that way ever since.

The Scottish Friends of the People

The first National Convention of the Scottish Friends of the People, formed to demand parliamentary reform, met in Edinburgh on the 11th of December, 1792.

The most famous of the 18th Century 'Friends of the People' in Scotland was Thomas Muir of Huntershill who has since been eulogised in a terrific 20th Century folk song by Dick Gaughan of Leith. Puir Thomas Muir was arrested for sedition, tried, sentenced and transported to Australia, all for his involvement in being too much of a ‘Friend’ to the ‘wrong’ kind of people. That he was right is borne out by history and by the fact that today we can all vote – at least in civilised, democratic societies around the world. As Gaughan wrote in his lyrics,

“When you’re called for jury service,
When your name is drawn by lot
When you vote in an election
When you freely voice your thought
Don’t take these things for granted,
For dearly were they bought.”

Thomas Muir was a “champion of democracy” and a key player in the organisation of the first National Convention of the Scottish Friends of the People. The ‘Friends of the People’ or, to give its full title, 'The Society of the Friends of the People, Associated for the Purpose of Obtaining a Parliamentary Reform' was an 18th Century, political activist group, formed in London, in 1792, by Whig MPs and Lords. Although short lived, many of its members were heavily influenced by the French Revolution of 1789, the writings of Thomas Paine, and resultant Irish republican ideals.

Against that global backdrop, the 'Friends' was formed at a time when only the landed gentry had a vote in Parliament. The 'Society' sought to redress that skewed political imbalance, which depended on the aristocracy and patronage, to gain electoral enfranchisement for all, throughout the land. Patronage extended to being able to buy seats, which were consequently controlled by the wealthy, but the system was even more rotten than that. Whigs and Tories alike, tended to vote in favour of their mutual interests. In addition, many major cities, which had become flourishing centres of manufacturing, following the incipient industrial revolution, had no representation in Parliament.

Throughout 1792, 'Friends' branches were organised in many communities, the length and breadth of Great Britain. The 'Friends' in Scotland were a cosmopolitan bunch, drawn from all aspects of society. They consisted of lawyers, such as Muir, artisans and guilds-men – the likes of butchers; bakers; candlestick makers; clergymen; cobblers; farmers; tailors; tanners; and weavers. However, generally speaking, it didn't include agricultural labourers and other manual trades, such as colliers and masons, nor even spinners.

The most influential of the 'Friends' were of the Whig tendency, more open to liberal concepts of fairness than any Tory in those days. The objective of the 'Friends' was never a revolution after the manner of the French. The 'Society' didn't wish to overthrow the monarchical regime, such as was occurring in France, nor rebel after the manner of the American Colonies; it merely wanted political enfranchisement. That was in contrast to the many secret societies, like the United Irishmen and the United Scotsmen organisations, that grew up after the demise of the 'Friends'.

The 'Friends' in Scotland peaceably demonstrated their sympathies by planting Liberty Trees at market crosses. However, in June, 1792, thousands of protesters took to the streets in Edinburgh, in what became known as the King’s Birthday Riots. The mob spent three days rioting, during which it burned effigies of the much disliked Home Secretary, Robert Dundas, and tried to burn down the Lord Advocate's house. A lot of the propaganda leading to those riots was written by James Tytler, whom Muir defended on a charge of sedition, a case that led to Muir himself being so charged. 

It was disturbances of that nature that caused the Government concern, believing as it did that revolution was a real possibility. Consequently, as a result of the seemingly popular support for radical reform, the Government began to restrict freedom of speech and made it a crime, for example, to distribute copies Paine's 'The Rights of Man'. Throughout the riots, however, the 'Friends' officially condemned the disturbances and threatened to expel anyone joining the rioters.

By November, 1792, there were eighty-seven branches of the 'Friends' in Britain. Some southern societies were similar in composition to those in Scotland, particularly the 'London Correspondence Club' formed as early as January, 1792. In Scotland, there were many 'Friends' branches, such as the 'Associated Friends of the Constitution of the People' (Glasgow), the 'Sons of Liberty and Friends of Man' (Partick), the 'Perth Society for Parliamentary Reform', and the 'Friends of the People Society of Edinburgh'. In July, 1792, Muir and farmer, William Skirving, established the 'Scottish Association of the Friends of the People', bringing the branches under one umbrella organisation.

The first national general convention of the 'Friends' in Scotland was held on the 11th of December, 1792; its effective leader being Thomas Muir. A total of 160 delegates, including some government spies, from thirty-five branches of the 'Friends' in Scotland, met in Edinburgh. The convention was well attended by some prominent Advocates and the nobility was represented by Lord Daer. Also in attendance were the MP for Inverness, Colonel Macleod, and  Lieutenant Colonel William Dalrymple of Fordell.

Two more general or national conventions were held by the 'Friends', the second of those, in October, 1793, being open to delegates from English branches and societies. That third convention, called 'British', wasn't attended by the Lords and lawyers, and was publicly renounced by Macleod. It was broken up by the authorities and more men were arrested and tried for sedition by a panicky Government. They were sentenced to transportation, along with Muir and Dundee's Thomas Fyshe Palmer.

That sort of persecution spelled the end for the 'Friends' societies. Hopes of  peace with France gave way to the Napoleonic Wars and an ever more frightened Government continued its unprecedented increase in crackdowns on freedom of speech and persecution of radicals. In Tranent, in 1797, the army crushed an anti-conscription protest, indiscriminately killing eleven miners and wounding twelve others. The 'Friends of the People' was wound down and reform was left to the Whigs in Parliament. It wasn’t until the working class rebellions of 1819-20 that organised radicalism reappeared.

The establishment of parish schools in Scotland

By an Act of the Scottish Privy Council, on the 10th of December, 1616, ordinance was published for the establishment of parish schools in Scotland.

Whatever might be said about the quality of education in general throughout Great Britain in the 21st Century, it has always been considered very important in Scotland. In fact, Scots still have their own educational system, distinct, perhaps superior, from that of the other constituent parts of the United Kingdom. There have been schools in Scotland from as far back as early medieval times and very likely earlier. Aberdeen’s earliest school, for example, dates from 1124. Although there is no surviving evidence of any schools before the 12th Century, it's also true that early Christian monasteries functioned as centres of learning. Later, until the Reformation took hold, it was the Roman Catholic Church that organised schooling.

Apart from Aberdeen, the first schools included the High School of Glasgow, dating also from 1124, and the High School of Dundee, established in 1239. Such schools were grammar schools and, largely speaking, only available to boys, and the sons of the wealthy elite at that. From the 15th Century, education advanced exponentially in Scotland with the founding of several universities: St Andrews in 1413; Glasgow in 1450; and Aberdeen in 1495. The year after Aberdeen's university was established, James IV brought in Scotland's first Education Act. That act decreed that the eldest sons of barons and freeholders of substance should attend grammar schools to study Latin, arts and law, in order to ensure that all local government in James' kingdom lay in knowledgeable hands. The resulting  increase in literacy no doubt contributed to the flowering of Scottish culture, under the influence of the European Renaissance, during the reign of the enlightened one – James IV.

Come the Reformation and Scotland saw a change in the delivery of formal education. John Knox gets a lot of the credit and no doubt he felt he deserved it. In 1560, Knox's 'First Book of Discipline' outlined a national system for providing a “virtuous education and godly upbringing of the youth of this Realm”. The mechanism was the establishment of parish primary schools, burgh grammar schools, high schools, and new universities; Edinburgh, which was established in 1582 and Marischal College, Aberdeen, in 1593.

The Kirk wanted to ensure that everyone could read the Bible, but its heart was in the right place when it added, “For the poor, if need be, education may be given free.” The result was the setting up of schools in various towns and parishes, but it was no means widespread. Subjects taught were as proposed by Knox and his cronies, namely the Catechism, grammar, classical literature, French, and Latin “if the town be of any reputation.” In the high schools, such as were provided, was taught in addition “the Arts, at least Logic and Rhetoric.”

Fifty-six years after Knox's book and one hundred and twenty years after James IV's act, James VI's Privy Council passed the School Establishment Act of 1616, which mandated that a school be established in every parish. According to the section on the 'Acts of the Parliament and of the Privy Council of Scotland, relative to the establishing and maintaining of Schools' published in 1840, in the 'Miscellany of the Maitland Club', “Thairfoir the Kingis Majestie with advise of the Lordis of his secreit Counsall hes thocht it necessar and expedient that in everie parroche of this Kingdome whair convenient meanes may be had for interteyning a scoole That a scoole salbe establisheit and a fitt persone appointit to teach the same upoun the expensis of the parrochinneris.”

The act, inspired by the preamble to Knox's book, set out the responsibilities of the local heritors (the landed proprietors of the parish) to provide and fund a schoolhouse, with a Dominie (schoolmaster) on a small, fixed salary. Also, as per the system outlined by Knox, the act declared that “ all his Majesties subjectis especailly the youth be exercised and trayned up in civilitie and godlines knawledge and leirning.” Unable to escape the clutches of the Kirk, the act further declared that “the trew religion be advanceit and establisheit in all the places of this kingdome,” however, the Episcopalian Bishops were to supervise the schools, rather than Ministers as the Presbyterians would have wished. There was always a rift between the Kirk and the Monarch in Scotland.

Not satisfied with its involvement in education and religion, the 1616 Privy Council act commanded a social change. Religion notwithstanding, the objectionable objective of the act was the obliteration of Gaelic, which James VI and I spoke himself by the way; one of his several and varied talents. The  promoting of universally available education was praiseworthy, but the intended elimination of Gaelic and its attendant assault on highland culture was a dastardly deed. The Maitland Club's 'Miscellany' records the crime as follows: “That the vulgar Inglish toung be universallie plantit and the Irische language which is one of the cheif and principall causis of the continewance of barbaritie and incivilitie amangis the inhabitantis of the Ilis and heylandis may be abolisheit and removit.” This Privy Council act was neither the first nor the last attempt to sort out the descendants of the Picts, and the Gaels.

It took three more acts of Parliament, in 1633, 1646 and 1696, before a solid foundation was established and schools became sufficiently widespread to be classed as nationwide. At first, success proved elusive, because of Scotland’s relative poverty and the prevailing political and religious circumstances. The 1633 act was introduced to levy a tax on local landowners; to ensure that money was available. The 1696 Scottish Parliament act for 'Setting Schools’ ensured that every parish not already equipped with a school was required to establish a schoolhouse and to provide for a Dominie. By the end of the 18th Century, most parishes in Scotland had at least one school. No accident then, that from the 18th Century onwards, Scotland had one of the highest standards of literacy of any nation in Europe.

The 'Quitclaim Of Canterbury'

The 'Quitclaim Of Canterbury' was agreed on the 5th of December, 1189.

Here's a treaty that was good for Scotland! The treaty known as the 'Quitclaim Of Canterbury' (Cantuariam) annulled the provisions of the 'Treaty Of Falaise' and restored to Scotland it's rights as previously enjoyed. Those rights had been enjoyed by Scotland's King, William I, known as Uilliam Garbh (William ‘the Rough’), and before him by his brother, Malcolm IV (Malcolm 'the Maiden'), whom he succeeded. Before that, it was enjoyed by the chronological procession of Kings of Scots, interrupted only by frequent interventions from the south, most notably by Edward I of England.

William I also came to be known as William 'the Lion' and he is credited with adopting the red Lion Rampant on a yellow background as the Royal Emblem of Scotland, under the ‘laws of heraldry’; from whence the nickname. The complimentary sobriquet was first coined by the chronicler Fordun, when he wrote of him as ‘William the Lion of Justice’. The fact that William lost Scotland's right for a while wasn't because he tint them, it was because he had them taken away by yet another English King with megalomaniac tendencies.

For all his lion-like roughness, William suffered from the same problem that afflicted most all Scottish Kings – he was always outnumbered when it came to a fight. The fight he got himself into, which led to the Treaty of Falaise being forced upon him, wasn't one he started. That stushie was began in 1173 by the wife and sons of England's King, Henry II. Eleanor of Aquitaine and three of her sons led a revolt agianst her husband and William pitched in on the side of the rebels in return for the promise of having his title to the Earldom of Northumberland reinstated. 

Northumberland had been given to David I in 1149, by King Stephen of England, and William succeeded his father as Earl in 1152. However, in 1157, the avaricious Plantagenet King Henry II succeeded in getting back Northumberland by threat of force. Malcolm IV put up no opposition and William had his Earldom surrendered on his behalf by his brother. Following Malcolm’s death on the 9th of December, 1165, William was crowned King of Scots at Scone on the 24th of December. Although Henry II then recognised William's succession to the English Earldom of Huntingdon, he refused to grant William that of Northumberland.

After an halfhearted attempt in 1173, in the following year, William launched a grand invasion of Northumberland, with a large army that included a contingent of Flemish mercenaries. William was cute enough to invade when Henry II was awa' in France, but with his army divided into three columns, he came unstuck. In the dawn mist of the 12th of July, 1174, William was surprised in his encampment by a party of about four hundred mounted knights, led by Ranulf de Glanvill. Outnumbered, with a bodyguard of perhaps just sixty fighting men, William rushed from his tent, shouting fearlessly, “Now we shall see which of us are good Knights!”

The 'Battle of Alnwick' didnae last long as William was unhorsed and captured. Scotland's Lion King was then taken to Newcastle, with his feet tied beneath his horse, before being brought to Falaise, in Normandy, around five months later, to face his nemesis, Henry II. The ‘Treaty of Falaise’ then, was signed on the 8th of December, 1174. Its humiliating terms meant that William was forced to accept Henry II as his feudal overlord, meaning Scotland was made a feudal possession of its southron neighbour. In addition, William lost possession of Huntingdon and had to surrender Stirling and Edinburgh Castles to the English. Not only that, Scots had to pay taxes to cover the cost of the English army’s occupation. And just to rub in the ignominious loss of rights, the Scottish Church was placed under the jurisdiction of the English Primate at York.

The ‘Treaty of Falaise’ remained in force for three days short of fifteen years until, in 1189, Richard Coeur de Lion (Richard ‘the Lionheart’), who was broke and in dire need of money to finance the Third Crusade to relieve Jerusalem, agreed to an annulment. The treaty confirming the deal included the restoration of the towns of Berwick and Roxburgh, and confirmation of Williams's rights over Huntingdon. William and Scotland’s release from subjection and allegiance cost his coffers 10,000 silver Marks (or Merks) and the transaction was called the ‘Quitclaim of Canterbury’. It was so called, because the essence of the treaty was Richard I (styled “duke of Normans and Acquitaines and count of Angevins” in the treaty) agreeing to give up any claim he had for feudal superiority over William.

The document states, “...we have freed him [William] from all compacts which our good father Henry, king of the English, extorted from him by new charters and by his capture.” It is perhaps essential to note that the 'Quitclaim' in itself is a long way from being a recognition of Scottish independence. The document (witnessed by thirteen notables, including Richard's infamous brother John; Hamelin de Warenne, Earl of Surrey; and Baldwin, Archbishop of Canterbury) merely records a return to the status quo that had existed before the Treaty of Falaise. As the 'Quitclaim' further states, “And the oft-named King William has become our liegeman for all the lands for which his predecessors were liegeman of our predecessors; and he has sworn fealty to us and to our heirs.”

Andrew D. M. Barrell confirmed that view in writing 'Medieval Scotland', in which he suggests, “[the Quitclaim] left undefined the earlier ambiguities in the nature of the relationship, including William's claim to Northumbria. He may have been prepared to accept a vague English suzerainty as an inevitable consequence of the imbalance of power between the two realms.”

Three years later, in 1192, the Pope granted a Bull to William, recognising the separate identity of the Scottish Church and its independence of all ecclesiastical authorities apart from Rome. Twenty-two years after that, William 'the Lion', called “Willelmo” in the 'Quitclaim', died at Stirling, on the 4th of December, 1214. William was buried at Arbroath, the Abbey he had founded. Incidentally, the ‘Quitclaim of Canterbury’ is the earliest surviving Scottish public record. It is held in the National Archives of Scotland.

The Treaty of London

The Anglo-Scottish agreement known as the Treaty of London was supposedly signed on the  4th of December, 1423.

There have been many Anglo-Scottish treaties over the centuries; some good, some bad, some indifferent. Many of those treaties favoured the southern side, whether it was the Saxons, the Normans, the Tudors or the descendants of the anglicised Stuarts, such as happened in 1707. Way back in 1423, there is supposed to have been a treaty signed in London; hence the name – the Treaty of London. There have been also several London Treaties by the way. On the face of it, the 1423 event was an important occasion. It is said to have been the official recognition of an agreement finalising the terms of the release from English custody of Scotland's King, James I, after his eighteen-year captivity.

A release treaty then, between Henry VI of England and James I of Scotland. The problem is, there was no such treaty – at least in London. The real treaty that secured James' release was the Treaty of Durham, signed, guess where, on the 28th of March, 1424. What happened in London, up to and including the  4th of December, 1423, was merely the negotiation of the marriage of James I, King of Scots, to Miss Jane Beaufort, daughter of the Earl of Somerset.

Back in 1406, soon after he had been born, James' father, Robert III, decided to send wee Jamesie to France – for his own protection. That was largely down to the disturbing fact that earlier, in 1402, the same King’s elder son, David, Duke of Rothesay, had been starved to death in Falkland, after being imprisoned on the orders of his uncle, Robert, Duke of Albany. With Robert III being an invalid, his very capable brother, Albany, was effectively the ruler of Scotland; as Regent. After the murder of his brother, wee Jamesie was the only surviving heir and vulnerable to a similar fate. Whether Albany was really as dangerous as he has been portrayed, the King wisnae taking any chances and, in March, 1406, James set sail for France. He never made it.

Ok, James did get to France, but not until 1415, when he was used as a pawn in the campaign of Henry V. In that year, James' presence provided Henry with a justification for treating the Scottish auxiliaries, who made up the backbone of French resistance to the English, as rebels. James went back to France, again, in 1421, with the same idea of embarrassing France’s Scottish allies. That move led to James being pitted against 6000 of his own subjects in open warfare. Similar things are still going on in the 21st Century, which only goes to prove Hegel's adage; “We learn from history that we do not learn from history.”

On the way to France in 1406, James’ ship, the Maryenknecht out of Danzig, was captured by English sailors and he was promptly taken into the custody of Henry IV. The English King refused a ransom and, just a month later, when James' father died and at the age of twelve, he became the first of the Jameses – the first of six such Kings of Scots. However, James I wasn't the first Scots King to be held captive by the English. James wasn't the last King be held captive either, albeit his successors were so done to by their own subjects.

So James was a King in name only whilst he remained a captive in England, with his rule and government being carried on by the Regent, Albany. That wily old fox showed no signs of anxiety in trying to procure his nephew's release. When Albany died in 1420, to be succeeded as Regent by his son, Murdac (Murdoch), things didn't change much at all, despite Murdoch having been also a captive in England, until his release in 1415. You'd think Murdoch might've had a bit of sympathy for James' plight from having shared some of his experience – no chance! James had increasing freedoms in England, but there was no sign of any significant desire from north of the Border for his release. After all, neither of the Albanys had any incentive to give up their rule of Scotland, in favour of nephew or cousin. As it happens, Murdoch's son, Walter, with more influence than his father, who wasn't nearly as effective as the previous Albany, was instrumental in the stalling and obstruction that occurred.

It wasn't until after the death of Henry VI, in 1422, that any serious negotiations for James’ release took place. The first of those, with  representatives of the infant Henry VI, took place in Pomfret, in the summer of 1423. After consulting with James himself, the English sent  a priest, Dougal Drummond, with a safe conduct for several notables to meet “with their master the captive king and there to treat of their common interests.”

The Scots party included William Lauder, the Bishop of Glasgow and Chancellor of Scotland; the Dunbar Earl of March; John Montgomery of Androssan; Sir Patrick Dunbar of Bele; Sir Robert Lauder of Edrington; and others unmentioned. At that meeting,  James acted as a kind of a mediator between England and his own subjects and a list of items upon which to treat was fleshed out. A follow-up meeting was held at York, during which the terms of the eventual Durham Treaty were laid out in more detail. The chief articles, agreed between the English Commissioners and the Scottish representatives on the 10th of September, 1423, numbered five.

The principle article required the King of Scots and his heirs to pay to the King of England the sum of 60,000 Merks as “an equivalent for his entertainment in England.” That sum was to be paid in six equal instalments, beginning with the first, which was due six months after the King of Scotland had entered his own kingdom. There was a provision for the last payment to be remitted and that was linked to the fifth article. That last article effectively declared that “to cement and perpetuate the amity of the two kingdoms the governors of Scotland should send ambassadors to London with power to conclude a contract of marriage between the King of Scotland and some lady of the first quality in England.

That lady was Jane Beaufort, with whom James had already fallen in love. Indeed, during his captivity in England, James the Poet had written the ‘Kingis Quair’ celebrating his courtship of the Lady Jane. James and Jane were wed in London on the 12th of February, 1424. Ten thousand Merks of the release payment was remitted as the new Queen's dowry.

Dr. Elsie Inglis

Elsie Inglis, doctor, surgeon and suffragette, died on the 26th of November, 1917.

Elise Inglis was a truly remarkable woman who, along with Sophia Jex-Blake and Elizabeth Garrett Anderson, was responsible for paving the way for female doctors and surgeons in the late 19th and early 20th Centuries. Those pioneering women had to fight the prejudice of male-dominated Victorian society, where women were expected to become wives and mothers and leave doctoring to the menfolk. Inglis was having none of that. She appears to have been a formidable woman and no doubt she needed such an asset. One look at a photo will suggest she took no prisoners and her biography on the 'Rampant Scotland' website reinforces the idea referring to letters and diary extracts that show she was “a stern disciplinarian who struck fear into patients and medical staff.”

However, Elsie Inglis was also a compassionate heroine and it is for that she shall be remembered. In fact, Elsie Inglis has been described as Scotland's Florence Nightingale, but that's near enough an outrageous comparison. Professionally, as a qualified doctor and surgeon, Inglis was superior to the brave little night nurse of the Crimea. There are obvious similarities, but Inglis' career was on a different plane.

Elsie Inglis is more often than not mentioned in relation to her heroic role in the First World War, but she was also involved in the Suffragette Movement and founded revolutionary women's hospitals in Edinburgh. Her contribution to female emancipation started when Elsie joined the Central Society for Women's Suffrage, began in 1866, while still a student in Edinburgh. Inglis later joined the National Union of Suffrage Societies and made speeches about women's medical education. In 1906, Inglis also played a principle role in the establishment of the Federation of Scottish Suffrage Societies, for which she was Secretary, and took part in the Princes Street Suffrage March.

Elizabeth Crawford, in 'The Suffragette Movement', tells of Elsie's campaign activities in Scotland, where Inglis spoke “at up to four meetings a week, travelling the length and breadth of the country.” For all her efforts, Elsie Inglis was never able to exercise voting rights – women (only those over the age of thirty, mind you) were first able to vote only after Elsie Inglis had died.

The first step Inglis made towards becoming a heroine of the Great War was to suggest that women's medical units be allowed to serve on the Western Front. Odd as it may sound, Louisa Garrett Anderson had enough volunteers in the Women's Hospital Corps, but even stranger was the response of the War Office. The bowler hatted, pin striped numpties spurned the idea, telling Inglis, as Leah Leneman records in her biography, “My good lady, go home and sit still.” Well Elsie Inglis wasn't the kind of woman to sit still for long. Back home in Edinburgh, she  promptly established the Scottish Women's Hospitals for Foreign Service and in November, 1914, the first unit left for France. By the following year, the 200-bed Abbaye de Royaumont Hospital was in place and that was followed by a second hospital, at Villers Cotterets, which was set up in 1917.

A second unit was sent to Serbia in January 1915, financed by the London Suffrage Society. Then, in mid-April, after the Chief Medical Officer of that unit fell ill, Inglis herself took the opportunity to replace her. During the summer, Inglis set up two further hospital units and directed her efforts to reducing typhus and other epidemics, and improving hygiene. Thanks in no small part to Elsie Inglis and her discipline, over the course of the war, the Scottish Women's Hospitals had much lower levels of death from disease than the more traditional military hospitals then in operation.

Adding more incident and bravery to her tale, during an Austrian offensive in the summer of 1915, Elsie Inglis and her team were captured and imprisoned. Eventually, with the help of the United States diplomats, which had yet to enter the war and was still neutral, the British authorities were able to negotiate her release from the Austrians. That experience can't have been pleasant, but that was war.

All told, the Scottish Women's Hospitals Committee sent over a thousand women to help save the lives of servicemen in war zones across Europe. Those doctors, nurses, orderlies and drivers helped to set up and run four hospitals and fourteen medical units in France, Belgium, Serbia, Corsica, Salonika, Romania, Greece, Malta and Russia, where Inglis herself went, in 1916, in support of Serbian troops fighting the advancing Germans.

Elsie Maud Inglis was born of Scots parents in a hill station at Naini Tal in the Himalayas, on the 16th of August, 1864. In 1878, after a brief sojourn in Tasmania following her father's retirement, wee Elsie found herself in Edinburgh for the first time. Elsie began her medical studies in 1886, at the Edinburgh University School of Medicine for Women, run by Jex-Blake. Those two didn't see eye-to-eye (too alike perhaps) and Inglis left in 1889 to establish the rival Scottish Association for the Medical Education for Women, funded by her father and friends. Later, from 1891, Inglis studied for eighteen months, under Sir William McEwen, at the Glasgow Royal Infirmary. Inglis qualified as a doctor in 1892, becoming a licentiate of both the Royal College of Physicians and Surgeons, Edinburgh, and the Faculty of Physicians and Surgeons of Glasgow.

Dr. Inglis then worked in London as a house surgeon in a hospital for women, run by Elizabeth Garrett Anderson, and for a period at the Rotunda, a leading maternity hospital in Dublin. In 1894, Inglis returned to Edinburgh, where she established a medical practice with Dr. Jessie MacGregor and, in 1899, she was appointed lecturer in gynaecology at the Medical College for Women. In November 1899, Inglis opened a seven bed hospital called the George Square Nursing Home, at number 11. Then, in 1904, it moved to 219 High Street, where it was renamed the Hospice, staffed entirely by women. In 1925, after having amalgamated with the Brunstfield Hospital in 1910, that became the Elsie Inglis Memorial Hospital.

Elsie Maud Inglis died in Newcastle Upon Tyne on the 26th of November, 1917. Commenting on her death, the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, Arthur Balfour, said, “In the history of this [First] World War, alike by what she did and by the heroism, driving power and the simplicity by which she did it, Elsie Inglis has earned an everlasting place of honour.” Elsie Inglis was buried in Dean Cemetery, Edinburgh, after a memorial service in St. Giles' Cathedral, on the 29th of November. Her pallbearers were Serbian officers and her coffin was bedecked with the flags of Britain and Serbia.

The Earl of Douglas and the Black Dinner

The murder of William, the 6th Earl of Douglas, took place on the 24th of November, 1440

In Scotland, we've had the Black Parliament, several outbreaks of the Black Death, our own Black Knight (who hasn't), and two Black Douglas days. The events of the first of those Douglas days became known as the Black Dinner, except it surely wasn't a Black-tie Dinner, although there must've been a Douglas contingent sporting the medieval equivalent of black ties at the subsequent funeral. Eh, what's that; a funeral? What kind of a dinner was the Black Dinner? Was food poisoning involved, maybe some Black Pudding that'd gone a bit rancid perhaps? You might well ask.

It seems that the troubles of the Douglases stemmed from their having become too powerful. Certainly, by the early 15th Century, they were seen by some as a threat to the stability of the nation. However, that view was very subjective, with the composition of the 'some' including rival Lords and Earls, and scurrilous relatives as well. On the Noble's side, the main problem arose due to the youthfulness of King James II, the sole surviving son of James I and his Queen, Joan Beaufort. James was ten in 1440, having succeeded to the Throne at the age of seven, after his father had been brutally murdered at St. John’s Toune of Perth. Brutal murders seem to have been the order of the day – and a side order at dinnertime. During James’ minority, his guardians began well, by rounding up and executing his dad's murderers. However, after the Governor of Scotland, Archibald, 5th Earl of Douglas, who was co-Regent, with Queen Joan, for the child King, died, in 1439, the situation degenerated and a savage and bloody struggle for power ensued.

That ignoble feud involved three key protagonists, a Guardian, Sir William Crichton, Sir Alexander Livingstone, also a Guardian, and William, the 6th Earl of Douglas. To some extent, things became a bit like ‘pass the parcel’ as Crichton initially had custody of the young James, but he was then kidnapped and carried off to Stirling by Livingstone who also abducted Queen Joan. When Parliament demanded that Livingstone release James and his mother, Livingstone and Crichton formed an alliance against the young and perhaps naive Douglas Earl. The story of these events is told extremely well by Nigel Tranter in his novels 'The Lion's Whelp' and 'The Black Douglas' (read chronologically, in that order). Also compelling is Michael Brown's history, 'The Black Douglases'.

On the relative side, the troubles of the 6th Earl of Douglas came from his great-uncle, James 'the Gross', the younger son of Archibald 'the Grim'. That rather large James Douglas was also the nephew of the newly deceased 5th Earl and had a certain influence as the near relation of a Regent. In addition, he had well-established links with Livingstone and Crichton. However, James' power was likely to wane with the succession of wee Wullie who was most likely going to succeed to his father's Lieutenancy as well as the Earl-ship. Neither the gross James, the ageing Livingston, nor the in-admirable Crichton were too keen on the idea of the new 6th Earl of Douglas rising, inevitably as the Black Douglas must, to political dominance. Furthermore, all things being equal, the 7th Earl was going to be William's son, when he got round to having one.

So James, with one eye on the Earl's belt, seems to have become involved in what ensued, although there's no proof he took a personal hand. James' problems were resolved by the actions of his allies, undoubtedly with his knowledge and cooperation, whether or not he was in any way directly involved. After the brutal slaying that was to take place, James 'the Gross', being the heir by male entail, became the 7th Earl of Douglas.

The notorious story of the Black Dinner begins with the 6th Earl of Douglas, his younger brother David, and Sir Malcolm Fleming of Cumbernauld being invited to dine with the boy King in Edinburgh Castle. Earl William was as secure as could be on his own lands, safe from arrest on any trumped up charges of treason or suchlike, which might've been used to curb his activities. Maybe he felt too secure, young and headstrong as he reputedly was. In any case, the Douglas seems to have feared nothing in allowing himself to be lured to the Castle, where he appeared on the 24th of November, 1440. As Crichton, Chancellor of Scotland at the time, was also Keeper of the Castle, he is said to have organised the dinner and issued the invites. Also reputedly present were Livingston, who had custody of the King, and the wee Royal himself, down from Stirling for the day.

The legendary banquet was held in the Great Hall of Edinburgh Castle, with King James and Earl Douglas getting on famously. Then, at the end of the feast, somebody brought in the head of a black bull and thumped it on the table, silencing the hubbub and causing several jaws to drop open. That symbolic act was supposed to be a portent for the death of the principal guest – the Black Douglas. The story concludes with the King's pleas being ignored and Douglas heads joining that of the bull on the table. A perfidious murder and worthy of its epitaph and, according to the Douglas Archive, Sir Walter Scott's lines:

“Edinburgh castle, toune, and towre,
God grant thou sink for sin;
And that e'en for the Black Dinner,
Earl Douglas gat therein.”

Other versions suggest that after the dinner, the Douglases were dragged out to Castle Hill, given a mock trial and then beheaded. You may prefer something more credible, such as appears in 'The Livingstons of Callendar' by E. B. Livingston (Edinburgh University Press, 1920), where the following is categorically stated: “...what we do know for certain is that on the arrival of the Earl of Douglas at the castle, he was at once arrested, together with his only brother David, and ...Sir Malcolm Fleming ...the three of them were hastily tried for high treason, found guilty, and promptly beheaded on the Castle Hill.” The extra detail that the Earl and his brother were executed there and then on the 24th , with Fleming being 'turned off' four days later, is added. There's no mention of any dinner or bull's head, all of which seems to have been a bit of fable.

The second of those Black Douglas days didn't get its own Black Label, but in an amazing echo of the terrible events of 1440, twelve years later, on the 22nd of  February, 1452, the same King James who had ostensibly watched in anguish as the 6th Earl was treacherously murdered took the life of the 8th Earl, the son of James 'the Gross', by his own Royal hand. The second murderous incident is more deserving of the title 'Black Dinner' and it's probably the case that the chroniclers, writing decades, often centuries, later, simply mixed up the two incidents.