The hanging of Scott and Adamson

David Scott and Hugh Adamson were executed at Glasgow Cross on the 5th of June, 1805.

According to the website Capital Punishment UK (.org), between 1800 and 1868, there were 273 people publicly hanged in Scotland. Of those puir souls, 259 were men and 14 were women. A further 207 were sentenced to death, but escaped that fate by being reprieved or 'respited'. At the time, Scotland had a system of Assize Courts that covered four  circuits; North, South, East and West, in case you hadn't guessed. There was a High Court of Justiciary, which sat in Edinburgh, but that was an independent court. In cases where the death sentence was pronounced, it had to be approved by the King and Privy Council, which meant that the condemned sometimes had a fair bit of time on their hands, between sentence and execution – or reprieve – during which to probe their conscience. Communications in Scotland weren't that quick, before the M8 was built, you'll understand.

Interestingly, less than

Alison Pearson, witch

Alison Pearson was tried for witchcraft and burnt at the stake, on the 28th of May, 1588.

The bewitching tale of Alison Pearson appears in several sources, notably in ''The Legend of the Bischop of St. Androis Lyfe' and the Survival of Scottish Poetry', by David J. Parkinson of the University of Saskatchewan, and Sir Walter Scott's 'Minstrelsy of the Scottish border', in his introduction to the tale of Tamlane; 'On the fairies of popular superstition'. Scott summed up Pearson's story very well, when he wrote, “For this idle story the poor woman actually suffered death.” What he meant, of course, was that stories of witches and suchlike are mere 'idle tales'. Nobody believes in fairies.

The trouble was that in post Reformation Scotland, plenty

David Octavius Hill

David Octavius Hill, painter and pioneer of photography, died on the 17th of May, 1870.

With a name like David Octavius Hill, he was surely destined to become famous, but his partner, Robert Adamson deserves equal credit for the pair's photographic achievements, despite the lack of an intriguing middle name. According to Malcolm Daniel, of the Department of Photographs at The Metropolitan Museum of Art (at least he was in 2000), Hill and Adamson “pioneered the aesthetic terrain of photography and created a body of work that still ranks among the highest achievements of photographic portraiture.”

Others have written that the complementary skills of Hill and Adamson achieved results with the primitive calotype process that have served as a standard and challenge to

The Rev. James Kirkwood

The Rev. James Kirkwood became the Minister at Minto on the 12th of May, 1679.

The Rev. James Kirkwood seems to have been a very single minded individual, clear in his thinking and not to be readily swayed from his opinion or chosen course of action. This anniversary is of his becoming the Minister at Minto, but on balance, that's was a minor event in his eventful life. Kirkwood didn't invent anything or discover a miracle cure or write stirring poetry about his fellow man, but he stood by his principles, for which he was prepared to endure some measure of persecution and he deserves a mention for that. In addition, Christian that he was, the Reverend Kirkwood did

The Battle of Auldearn

The Battle of Auldearn was fought on the 9th of May, 1645.

The Battle of Auldearn was the fifth in a series. Survive the lot and you'd have done pretty well. Prior to Auldearn, the Marquis of Montrose, Lieutenant-General of the forces of Charles I in Scotland, had helped himself to four victories, which meant that he topped the league table, without question, but tragically for him, he lost the cup final at Philliphaugh. That was in the future, however and not to spoil this story, which in some ways was a bit like

Sir George Mackenzie of Rosehaugh; 'Bluidy Mackenzie''

Sir George Mackenzie of Rosehaugh, better known as 'Bluidy Mackenzie', died on the 8th of May, 1691.

Sir George MacKenzie of Rosehaugh was seemingly a contradictory sort of a guy. On the one hand, he was praised by some for his “cultivated and learned” literary and legal skills. On the other hand, he was reviled – still is – by many for his persecution of the Covenanters. MacKenzie looms large in the history of the Covenanters and the years known in Scotland as 'the Killing Times'. If you're a Jacobite, without understanding why as in “I just love yon Bonnie Prince Charlie” you might want to think twice about Charlie's ancestors and the impact they had on Scotland in the 17th Century. Aye, he served well the heirs of Jamie Saxt; Charles II & II and his brother James VII & II, for both of whom MacKenzie's royalist disposition emerged; delivered with a vengeance.

As Lord Advocate or King's Advocate in Scotland, MacKenzie was largely responsible for persecuting the inhuman policies of successive Stuart Kings against the Covenanters. Perhaps those policies should only and ever be seen in the light of the times, but certainly, by modern, western standards, MacKenzie must be held accountable for the deaths of something like 18,000 Covenanters. If around today, he'd be on trial at the International Court of Human Rights in The Hague for crimes against humanity, except, he had the law on his side.

Those crimes took place during the nine years that MacKenzie was Lord Advocate, when there was hardly a prosecution in which he was not involved. Under MacKenzie, torture was routinely employed, in attempts to extract confessions from the accused or, in the case of witnesses, to implicate 'conspirators'. MacKenzie also had a penchant for bending the rules and soliciting perjury in pursuit of his prejudice. According to 'Men of the Covenant' by A. Smellie, MacKenzie had a violent temper and a vicious tongue that cowed defendants and even some judges. However, MacKenzie didn't have it all his own way and there are many tales of fervently religious Covenanters, simple folk and gentry alike, who resisted his bullying, albeit many perished, despite their stoic forbearance.

Brian J. Orr, who has written about the Covenanters at length, suggests that it is probable that MacKenzie's epithet stemmed from the belief and legal tenet that a murdered person's body would bleed if touched by the murderer, because McKenzie had used that belief in a court case and secured a conviction. Orr might be right, but MacKenzie, like John Graham of Claverhouse (Bonnie Dundee to the Jacobites, mind) certainly earned his 'Bluidy' title for his persecution of the Covenanters.

George Mackenzie was born in Dundee, in 1636, and was educated at that city's grammar school, before entering King's College at the University of Aberdeen, in 1650. Afterward, Mackenzie went to St. Andrews, from where he graduated at the age of sixteen. He then spent three years studying civil law at the University of Bourges, in France. MacKenzie returned to Scotland and was called to the bar, being elected to the Faculty of Advocates as they say, in 1659. According to the on-line 1911 Encyclopedia, immediately after the Restoration, MacKenzie, who had by then become a distinguished lawyer, was appointed a 'justice-depute' and he and his colleagues were ordained by the parliament in 1661 “to repair, once in the week at least, to Musselburgh and Dalkeith, and to try and judge such persons as are there or thereabouts delate of witchcraft.”

Also in 1661, MacKenzie acted as counsel for Archibald Campbell, 1st Marquess (Marquis) of Argyle (Argyll). Now that affair only adds to the contradictory nature of the man as MacKenzie was then a defender of  the Presbyterians, hence his role on behalf of Campbell. At that time, according to Brian Orr, MacKenzie professed “to be a sanctuary to such as are afflicted and to pull the innocent from the claws of his accuser.” Later on, he might have said, “I am a persecutor of the afflicted and seek to draw the innocent into the claws of death.” He was knighted around that time, before he was elected the Member of Parliament for the County of Ross. One more thing for which you might want to give MacKenzie credit is that, in 1669, during his early years as an MP, he opposed Lauderdale's move for a Union of the Kingdoms. That momentous event was destined to happen thirty-eight years later.

MacKenzie was appointed Lord Advocate in 1677, when he also then became a member the Privy Council of Scotland, in the aftermath of the Pentland Rising. His predecessor was Sir John Nisbet of Dirleton, who set MacKenzie a good example in mistreating Covenanters. Nisbet was the man who proposed that delinquents from the Rising who had not yet been brought to justice, should be tried in their absence, with no defence and liable to the death sentence. MacKenzie took a bit of time to come round to that way of thinking, but when he did, he went for it in a big way.

At the dethronement of James II and the 'Glorious Revolution', MacKenzie was, unsurprisingly, one of a minority of five against the forfeiture of the crown, but the new King, William of Orange, wasn't a vindictive kind of guy. MacKenzie was allowed to retire in peace to Oxford, where he was admitted as a student by a grace passed in 1690. MacKenzie was allowed to spend the rest of his days in Oxford, pursuing a prosecution of a different sort, that of his literary ambitions. One of his last acts before leaving Edinburgh in 1689, had been to pronounce, on the 15th of March, in his capacity as Dean of the Faculty of Advocates, the inaugural oration at the foundation of the Advocates' Library, which much later, in 1925, became the  National Library of Scotland.

As a final titbit in MacKenzie's favour, courtesy of Wikipedia, is that when he was asked, in 1692 to resume the post of Lord Advocate, he declined, because a condition attached was that he should not prosecute the persons implicated in the Glencoe Massacre. Mackenzie apparently refused to concur in such a partial application of the penal laws. He must've been well into his dotage by then, comparing that attitude with his previous behaviour.

Sir George Mackenzie of Rosehaugh died in Westminster on the 8th of May, 1691, and he was buried in Greyfriars Kirkyard in Edinburgh, not too far from many of the Covenanters whose execution he ordered.

The Battle of Arkinholm

The Battle of Erkinholme was fought on the 1st of May, 1455.

The Battle of Erkinholme is more commonly referred to as the Battle of Arkinholm, albeit it's known by some as the Battle of Langholm, primarily because it was fought where the town of Langholm now stands. More accurately, the battle was fought on the outskirts of present day Langholm, opposite the lower return of a distinctive Z-shaped bend in the river Esk, which flows through the town, at least according to The Royal Commission on the Ancient and Historical Monuments and Constructions of Scotland. The battle is noteworthy for having pitched two sides of the Douglas family at each other's throats, but then again, that sort of thing wasn't so unusual in mediaeval Scotland or elsewhere, for that matter.

The two sides of Douglas were known as

The world's first rugby sevens tournament

The world's first rugby sevens tournament was played at the Greenyards, on the 28th of April, 1883.

When it comes to 'firsts' as in the first occurrence of an event, why is it that people use the term first-ever? You'd be forgiven for thinking that the suffix is superfluous, but maybe it's used to avoid having to write “it was the first 'such and such' to take place on [insert date].” One such event, which took place on Saturday, the 28th of April, 1883, was the world's first rugby sevens competition. So there you go, the game at which the likes of Fiji and New Zealand now excel was invented, created, dreamt up, initiated – whatever you like – by a player from Melrose Football Club. Maybe the lack of player numbers, a contributory reason behind the nation's lack of rugby success in recent years, had also been a factor in the birth of seven-a-side rugby back in 1883? Had Melrose been unable to field a full team of fifteen on that Saturday afternoon? Nope, the incentive behind Ned Haig's innovative new game wasn't

The Battle of Dunbar

The Battle of Dunbar was fought on the 27th of April, 1296.

There have been two battles called 'The Battle of Dunbar' and to distinguish between them, they are referred to as 'Dunbar 1' and 'Dunbar 2'. The second is also referred to as “Cromwell's greatest victory” and could perhaps be called “Leslie's greatest defeat” and the first, which concerns this post, could also count amongst a list of someone's 'greatest defeats' – the Scots didnae win!

The history of battles is never impartial, with omissions and exaggerations being rife, especially in contemporary reports. The historic record often depends on whether the winners or the losers wrote the report. If the losers left anyone behind capable of writing up the events, that usually means some truth can be gleaned from studying both versions. However, a common misconception concerning Dunbar 1, namely that Robert the Bruce fought on the side of the Norman-English on the 27th of April, 1296, has nothing to do with partiality. The error derives from

James Craig and Edinburgh's New Town

James Craig's winning entry for the development of The New Town of Edinburgh was announced on the 17th of April, 1766.

It's hard to accept that the Edinburgh of the Enlightenment was a cesspit, but back in 1766, twenty years after Culloden, it stank. You might say, “It stank to high-heaven!” and you'd be right, after a manner of speaking, because the only way to avoid the stench was to live 'in the heavens' – that is on the upper floors of the tightly packed, high-rise tenements, where the air was a little less pungent.

Back in the mid-18th Century, Edinburgh consisted of what we call the Old Town, the area well favoured by tourists today, which sprawled along the spine of volcanic rock between Holyrood House and the Castle. At that time, Edinburgh was

Captain Sir James Clark Ross

Captain Sir James Clark Ross, Antartic explorer, was born on the 15th of April, 1800.

James Clark Ross shouldn't be confused with his equally famous uncle, John Ross, both of whom gained the honour of a knighthood and both of whom are famous Arctic / Antarctic explorers. There was a connection, though, as the former was the latter's nephew, being the son of John's brother, George. Albeit James Clark (not James Clerk; that was Maxwell) was born in London, his father and his uncle, of course, were of good Scottish stock, being the sons of the Rev. Andrew Ross, Minister of Inch, near Stranraer. Apart from exploring the polar regions and being prefixed Sir, James and his uncle shared another attribute, which was that they both joined the navy at a tender age, at least by modern standards. Uncle John Ross joined up in 1786, when he was nine, for goodness sake and James Ross, the nephew, entered the Royal Navy in 1812, when he was

Blackwood's Magazine

The Edinburgh Monthly Magazine was first published on the 1st of April, 1817.

If you've heard of Blackwood's Magazine or 'Maga' as it came to be called, you may not know that it began its literary life as the Edinburgh Monthly Magazine. It did, indeed. The Edinburgh Monthly Magazine was published by Scottish publisher and editor, William Blackwood, but, within a year, it took the name of its eponymous publisher.

On the 1st of April, 1817, the very first number of the Edinburgh Monthly Magazine appeared. The editors of the first six issues were James Cleghorn and Thomas Pringle, however, those two lasted a mere six months before Blackwood chucked 'em out. Blackwood brought in a chappie called John Wilson (who wrote under the pseudonym of Christopher North), and John Gibson Lockhart and in October 1817, re-launched under the title

The 'Wembley Wizards' of 1928

On the 31st of March, 1928, Scotland beat England by five goals to one, at Wembley.

Scotland doesn't have much to celebrate in the way of sporting success, particularly of late, which means the early years of the 21st Century. Indeed, it hasn't had much to cheer about that amounts to a track record, ever. Oh yes, there have been many stirring individual successes, but on the national, representative team front, there's been very little to gloat about, in any sport. From Eric Liddell to Alan Wells; Ian Stewart to Liz McColgan; Ecurie Ecosse to Jim Clark; Aberdeen FC winning the Cup Winners' Cup, against the odds, in '83; from Graham Obree and the benighted man of Hoy to [add your own, here... ___ ], we have had our fair share of stellar moments.

Sadly, against that pantheon of achievement, there are

William Hunter, pioneering obstetrician and anatomist

William Hunter, pioneering obstetrician and anatomist, died on the 30th of March, 1783.

William Hunter was a Scottish anatomist and physician who became one of the leaders in obstetric medicine in 18th Century London. He is recognised as one of the giants of medicine, a pioneer of the care that women receive during childbirth and as such, one of the 'founding fathers' of obstetrics, which, before Hunter, had been the domain of the midwife. Hunter's learned skill and methods helped elevate the discipline to a respected practice in medicine. Of course, in the 18th Century, the idea of a woman being involved in anything more complicated than mere nursing would've been scandalous, so only gentlemen had the opportunity, inclination and standing to practice such things. And practice is the key word, because

Ewen MacLachlan, poet and scholar

Ewen MacLachlan, the noted Gaelic poet, scholar and translator, died on the 29th of March, 1822.

Ewen MacLachlan was a Gaelic poet and a classical philologist of distinction, who was one of the most important figures in the preservation of Gaelic literature. MacLachlan was, undoubtedly, the foremost Gaelic scholar of his day and achieved renown for his translations of ancient classical literature into that language, particularly his translation of Homer, for his own Gaelic verse, and for his contribution to Gaelic dictionaries.

At time of his death, MacLachlan was engaged in two monumental tasks, one of which was, as an obvious consequence of his early death, never finished. That unfinished work was the translation of Homer’s Iliad into Gaelic heroic verse, of which he had by that time committed eight books to manuscript, experimenting with the metres of Gaelic ballads in the process. MacLachlan's other task was his significant contribution to the compiling of the Highland Society’s Dictionarium Scoto-Celticum, which was ultimately published in 1828. In that latter mammoth task, MacLachlan collaborated with the Revd. Dr. John MacLeod.

We know MacLachlan worked heroically on eight books of the Iliad, because a book, edited by John MacDonald, M.A., Reader in Celtic at the University of Aberdeen, was printed for the University of Aberdeen by R. Carruthers & Sons, Inverness, in 1937. That book was entitled: Ewen MacLachlan’s Gaelic verse, comprising a translation of Homer’s Iliad, Books I-VIII, and original compositions. Never mind it was only eight books, the effort and achievement were immense and the result astounding.

As a Gaelic scholar, in addition to the aforementioned dictionary, MacLachlan also undertook a study of the manuscripts of the Highland Society of Scotland and transcribed the fascinating anthology of Scottish and Irish poetry, the ‘Book of the Dean of Lismore’. His contribution to the Gaelic language cannot be underestimated, for not only did he produce some enormous translation efforts, he contributed a decent amount of his own, original work, in addition.

In 1798, when Alan (Dall) Macdougall’s Gaelic poems were printed in Edinburgh, some of MacLachlan's own were published along with them. Those included poems such as ‘Dáin nan Aimsirean’ (‘Songs of the Seasons’) and some translations. MacLachlan also composed and published his own Gaelic ‘in Verse’, in 1807. MacLachlan's Gaelic verse reveals classical influences, unsurprisingly, but there are also strains of some 18th Century Gaelic poets in there, too, most notably Alasdair Mac Mhaighstir, and Alasdair and Donnchadh Bán Mac an T-Saoir.

In 1816, a full volume of MacLachlan's own work appeared, entitled ‘Metrical Effusions’. That consisted of a number of Latin and English poems, several Gaelic poems, and one in Greek. MacLachlan is remembered as the last of that series of 18th Century poets whose writings are “among the chief ornaments” of the Scottish Gaelic tongue.

Without doubt, any account of the love-poetry of the Gael cannot be complete without reference to the ‘Ealaidh Ghaoil’ of Ewen MacLachlan. That was written, similarly to many of Burn’s songs, to expand upon a few lines and a chorus which, along with their air, he got “from some of the north country students in Aberdeen.” MacLachlan's poetry is also replete with the love of nature and some would say, equal to that of the likes of Wordsworth. See what you think; here is a verse (in English, mind, which is not the language in which it was written) from the ‘Ealaidh Ghaoil’...

“Not the swan on the lake, or the foam on the shore,
Can compare with the charms of the maid I adore;
Not so white is the new milk that flows o’er the pail,
Or the snow that is shower’d from the boughs of the vale.”

Ewen MacLachlan (Eòghan MacLachlainn) was born on the farm of Coiruanan (Torraculltuinn or Coruanan, near Onich) in Lochaber, in 1775. Soon after his birth, his parents flitted to Fort William, where Ewen was to receive his early education. At first, for several years after he'd left school, Ewen acted as tutor to the bairns of upper class families, locally. However, he continued to study during that period and, scholar that he was, studiously devoted his time to learning Greek and Latin. Ultimately, his efforts paid off as he won a scholarship to King’s College, at Aberdeen University, in 1796.

At King’s College, MacLachlan distinguished himself in the classics, and graduated with a Master of Arts, in 1800. Originally, Ewen had intended to become a minister and actually took a full course at the Divinity Hall. However, he was diverted from that course by the advice of friends of his, notably Professor Beattie, author of ‘The Minstrel’. Those friends, recognising his exceptional linguistic gifts, encouraged him to seek a Professorship, but Ewen MacLachlan never succeeded in rising to such exalted office.

MacLachlan did, however, become assistant librarian of King’s College, from 1800, whilst he was also the parish schoolmaster in Old Machar. MacLachlan became rector (headmaster) of the Old Aberdeen Grammar School in 1810 and held that position, along with the librarian’s post, until he died at the age of forty-seven, on the 29th of March, 1822. Ewen MacLachlan is commemorated by an obelisk at Fort William, Inverness-shire; you can find it just beyond the railway station.

The Treaty of Durham

James I, King of Scotland, sealed the Treaty of Durham, which saw his release from English captivity, on the 28th of March, 1423.

James I, King of Scots, and part time poet, was the first of the Jameses, but his real name was John. It was changed, because John was an unlucky name for a King, a notion harking back to John Balliol. James I was nominal King of Scots from April, 1406, when he was twelve. That was when his father, Robert III, also christened John and renamed for the same reason, had died. During his minority, his uncle Robert, the Duke of Albany ruled in his stead as he had done for James' ever weakening father. But that isn't the whole story, for James

Sir James Dewar

Sir James Dewar, chemist and physicist, died on the 27th of March, 1923.

When he was but a laddie, James Dewar built himself a violin, but that’s not what he’s famous for. Dewar never became a famous violin maker or luthier in the mould of a Stradivarius. However, Dewar became equally famous in his own field, physics, having turned his attention to more practical and pragmatic things. What Dewar is arguably most famous for, in Scotland and amongst chemists anyway, is the Dewar flask. Many Scots households would have owned a Dewar flask, known outside Scotland as a Thermos or vacuum flask. Dewar invented the Dewar flask in 1892, to aid him in his research work; primarily so that he could store liquified gases at extremely low temperatures.

Dewar's invention of the vacuum flask was not manufactured for commercial or home use until

Dr. James Braid

Dr. James Braid, surgeon and ‘father of hypnosis’, died on the 25th of March, 1860.

The story of James Braid is a mesmerising tale, involving quackery and animal magnetism, and it has a charming ending. Along the way, Dr. Braid became entranced by the performances of mesmerists or mesmerisers. Braid's spellbound interest led his coining the term 'hypnosis', but later on, after seeing the other side of the coin, he decided the phenomenon should've been called 'monoideism' (meaning ‘one idea’ or ‘one thought’ – effectively ‘a concentration of the mind’). As you've never heard of 'monoideism', you'll appreciate that by then, it was too late and James Braid's terms of ‘hypnosis’ and ‘hypnotism’ retained the upper hand. Thankfully, you will add no doubt, because 'monoideism' is difficult to spell, difficult to read and – this is the key – difficult to pronounce, even when hypnotised. Hence, 'monoideism' never saw much of the light of day. It was a singularly daft name, anyway.

James Braid was born on his birthday in 1795, in Rylaw house, in the Kingdom of Fife. James studied in Edinburgh, where at first, he concerned himself extensively with surgery, writing on orthopaedics, the treatment of club foot, squint, and other surgical topics. Braid also published articles in the Edinburgh Medical and Surgical Journal, like many of his contemporaries; such was the method of advance of medical science. After qualifying, Braid became the resident physician at the Leads-Hill mines in Lanarkshire. Later on, Braid moved to England, where he established a surgical practice of his own, in Manchester.

Braid's epiphany moment came in November, 1841, when he saw what was called a ‘conversazione’ by the Swiss chappie, M. Charles Lafontaine. Braid promptly developed a scientific interest in what Lafontaine had been practising, mesmerism or animal magnetism, as it was then called. Braid, a good solid, practical Scotsman, was sceptical at first, believing Lafontaine to have been some kind of charlatan, however, he later wrote, after observing more performances, “considered that to be a real phenomenon, and was anxious to discover the physiological cause of it.”

As a result of his professional curiosity, Braid began to experiment for himself and soon dismissed the erroneous and popular notions of the time that mesmeric trances were due to some form of magnetism. Instead, he adopted a practical and physiological view that hypnosis is a kind of sleep, induced by fatigue resulting from intense concentration. He practised on his wife and others, including friends and a servant, and he even indulged in self hypnosis.

In 1842, Braid published‘Neurypnology or The Rationale of Nervous Sleep Considered In Relation With Animal Magnetism’. He first named the phenomenon after Hypnos, the Greek god of sleep and master of dreams. Braid felt that the hypnotic subject was so focused on one single thought or idea, to the exclusion of all others, that a trance like condition ensued, which is, apparently, pretty much what all hypnotists believe today.

However, by 1847, Braid discovered that all the major phenomena of hypnotism such as catalepsy, anaesthesia and amnesia, could be induced without sleep. Realising his choice of hypnosis had been a mistake, he tried to rename it to the aforementioned 'monoideism'. But, as you've already read, it didn't catch on. As an alternative, the term ‘braidism’ was also coined, by one Durand de Gros, but that idea certainly never caught on either. With the introduction of his neurophysiologic theory, Braid formally consigned Franz Anton Mesmer's doctrine of animal magnetism to the dustbin of quackery and established hypnotic phenomena as something tangible and, importantly, scientific.

Subsequently, Braid detailed “a sophisticated psychophysiology, with emphasis on the psychology of suggestion and the phenomenon of double consciousness.” Working at at time that you could describe as “the eve of the anaesthetic revolution,” Dr. Braid was, not unnaturally, interested in the therapeutic possibilities of hypnosis and he explored the use of hypnotic techniques to offer his patients a degree of pain-relief during surgery. Using those methods, Braid reported successful treatment of diseased states such as paralysis, rheumatism, and aphasia. He also hoped that hypnosis could be used to cure various, seemingly incurable nervous diseases and to alleviate the pain and anxiety of patients in surgery. Braid's espousal of hypnotism as a tool of scientific investigation and his innovative use of hypnosis to cure hysterical paralysis profoundly influenced late 19th Century theories on suggestive therapeutics and the nature of hypnosis.

Braid once gave a startling, written account of self hypnosis, in which he described curing himself of the excruciating pain of severe rheumatism affecting his left side, from the neck to the chest and arm. He wrote, retrospectively, that he had been unable to either turn his head, lift his arm, or draw a breath, without suffering extreme pain and resolved to try the effects of hypnotism. He requested two friends to bring him round after he had passed sufficiently into the condition and then promptly hypnotised himself. After a period of nine minutes, his friends aroused him from his torpor, and lo and behold, Braid was able to move with perfect ease. Amazingly, at the time he wrote that account, Braid had been free from rheumatism for nearly six years. As he said, “My suffering was so exquisite that I could not imagine anyone else ever suffered so intensely as myself on that occasion; and, therefore, I merely expected a mitigation, so that I was truly agreeably surprised to find myself quite free from pain.”

James Braid may not be well known, but he’s a figure integral to the history of dynamic psychiatry and his writings paved the way for investigations into what was later called the unconscious mind. Dr. James Braid died suddenly of a heart attack, on the 25th of March, 1860.

James VI & I

King James VI of Scotland was proclaimed King James I of England on the 24^th of March, 1603.

Charles James Stewart was the only child of Mary, Queen of Scots, and her second husband, Lord Darnley. He was born on the 19^th of June, 1566, and brought up in Stirling Castle, which is where he last saw his mother, in April, 1567. She was abducted by James Hepburn, the 4^th Earl of Bothwell, on her way back to Edinburgh after paying a visit to see her wee Jamie. Not long after, in June, Mary was forced to abdicate in favour of her son, who then became James VI just after his first birthday. He was crowned

The founding of Dunedin

The settlement of Dunedin, in New Zealand, was founded on the 23rd of March, 1848.

The date of the arrival of the emigrant ship, ‘John Wickliffe’, is celebrated in Otago Province as the founding day of what was to be called New Edinburgh. Instead, the place was named Dunedin, after the ancient Welsh-Britonic name for Edinburgh – Dun-Edin; 'the fort on the steep face of a rock' as per the bard, Aneurin. Edinburgh was called Edwinesburch or Edenesburg by the Saxons and the earliest mention of its name as such, apart from the epic poem, occurs in the Annales Ultonienses, an MS in the British Museum, in which the following passage appears under the year A. D. 637, “Bellum Gline Muresan et Obsessio Edin.” The change of heart regarding the name came about after a letter appeared in the ‘New Zealand Journal’, in which the publisher, William Chambers, suggested that