The Start

By Cryssa Bazos

Following the execution of his father by Parliament in 1649, Charles Stuart was a king without a throne. He scanned the dance floor for likely partners to help him reclaim his crown, but France, Spain and the Netherlands were taking turns examining the potted plants. There were no takers until Scotland stepped forward and motioned to the orchestra.

Jean Le Pautre [Public Domain] via
Wikimedia Commons

It was a slow and hesitating waltz, broken by alternate periods of negotiation and stubbornness on both sides. Scotland was looking for a Covenanted king, one who would uphold Presbyterianism across the three kingdoms (Scotland, England and Ireland). Reluctantly Charles agreed, and around Midsummer's in 1650, he landed in Scotland to take up one crown and fight for another.

This partnership did not start off with the surest foot. Almost immediately, the Scottish government treated Charles with all the courtesy of a royal hostage. The decision to invite him to Scotland had not been without controversy. Many of the more hardline Covenanters objected, mistrusting his commitment to the Covenant. To them, Scotland was the New Jerusalem, and they looked upon Charles with his Anglican father and Catholic mother with stern disapproval. They were relentless in their determination to make a good Presbyterian out of him.

Over the next three months, the Scottish Parliament debated which of his companions and servants were to be purged from the royal household and/or banned from the country. Some, like the Duke of Buckingham and Lord Wilmot, were given clearance to stay, but on September 27th, the Commission of the Kirk and the Committee of Estates in Perth ruled in favour of an expulsion from the country of twenty-three of the King’s companions and two others to be removed from court.

Sir James Balfour, Lord Lyon King of Arms, brought the list to Charles who requested that Balfour not act against nine individuals until he had time to petition Lord Chancellor Loudoun on their behalf.

Sir James Balfour, by unknown artist
[Public domain] via Wikimedia Commons

The Chancellor refused Charles's petition and the day fixed for the removal of the courtiers was October 3, 1650.

This was when Charles decided to escape from his gilded cage and head north to the Highlands where loyalties were more firmly for King than Kirk.

Charles gathered a few companions to accompany him. The Duke of Buckingham was against the plan and tried to dissuade him, but when Charles remained resolute, he readily agreed to keep his whereabouts secret.

This plot to escape is known as the Start.

On October 3rd, the same day as the expulsion of his loyal companions, Charles and his companions rode out of Perth under the pretext of a hawking trip. They travelled northeast and rested at Dundee, then with their host, Viscount Dudhope, they continued north to Auchterhouse. There they stopped and repeated the process, only this time welcoming the Earl of Buchan into their company.

Dudhope and Buchan urged Charles to continue north to the mountains where they were confident that they would find an army of 7,000 pro-Royalist Highlanders. They continued to Cortachy (still no Highlander army) until they could go no further. With dark beating them down, they took their rest in a hamlet in Clova.

Meanwhile, back in Perth, the Duke of Buckingham was concerned. It may have been that he feared for Charles, wandering the countryside with little to no protection. More likely, he was concerned about his own precarious position in Scotland should Charles's expedition fail. Regardless, after having promised his discretion, Buckingham spilled the details of the Start to Balfour: the King was not hawking--he was on his way to the Highlands.

Balfour went into immediate damage control. He sent out an urgent message to Colonel Robert Montgomery, a trustworthy (and moderate) soldier with a regiment of 700 horse at his disposal, to fetch the King back. Not wanting to give away to the Committee that he had lost the King, Balfour arranged to send along one of Charles's hawks, "that the game might be played out with spirit."

Montgomery wasted no time and sent riders ahead. Just before daybreak, two of Montgomery's men found Charles "laying in a nasty room, on an old bolster above a mat of sedge and rushes." By seven that morning, Montgomery arrived in Clova in time to escort Charles back to Perth, with the King's hawk in hand.

When Charles returned to Perth, he was sent to his bedchamber and forced to hear sermons. But the Start was not a complete waste. Instead of increasing Charles's restrictions, the Committee of Estates was shocked into granting him concessions. They realized that they could not afford to lose him to the Highlanders and lose their advantage. The result was that Charles was invited to attend the Committee of Estates sessions.

And what of Buckingham and his loose tongue? Charles forgave Buckinghman for betraying his plans to Balfour, but did he forget?

Nearly a year after the Start, when Cromwell defeated the Royalist army at Worcester, Charles barely escaped the field and headed north with a company of his lords, including Buckingham. By the time they reached Staffordshire, it became apparent to Charles that if he were to escape, he would have to part from his lords and travel incognito. Buckingham was not invited to accompany him, nor was he told where Charles was headed.

To be fair, Charles only took Lord Wilmot in his confidence, but I suspect that Buckingham’s earlier betrayal still rankled. When Charles finally reached France, after six weeks of dodging Cromwell’s men, his initial account soon took on the flavour of tall tales that Mark Twain would have cherished. If you’ve ever been asked the same question over and over again, you can appreciate why Charles threw in a bit of spice.

The Ambassador of Venice for Paris wrote this to the Doge in Venice about Charles’s adventures, dated November 19, 1651:

“I went yesterday evening to welcome the Grand Duke and the Princes back from the country. In the course of conversation the Grand Duke told me of the clever means adopted by the king of England to escape from Cromwell. In the army, when it was seen that all was lost, he took counsel with the duke of Buckingham, who was in the same plight as himself. The duke decided to disguise himself as a falconer, with the goshawks on his arm.”

The Start may have ended in disappointment for Charles, but it did shift the focus to him as a sitting monarch and not a royal hostage. As well, it served as a practice run before his next, and more desperate, escape when capture would have cost him his life.


References:

The Historical Works of Sir James Balfour

Cromwell's Scotch Campaigns: 1650-51, by William Scott Douglas

British History Online: 'Venice: November 1651', in Calendar of State Papers Relating To English Affairs in the Archives of Venice, Volume 28, 1647-1652, ed. Allen B Hinds (London, 1927), pp. 202-206 http://www.british-history

[This is an Editor's Choice archive post, originally published on EHFA 5th March 2016

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Cryssa Bazos is an award-winning historical fiction author and 17th-century enthusiast with a particular interest in the English Civil War. Her debut novel, Traitor's Knot, was the Medalist winner of the 2017 New Apple Award (historical fiction), a finalist for the 2018 EPIC eBook Awards (historical romance) and the RNA Joan Hessayon Award. Her second novel, Severed Knot, was longlisted for the Historical Novel Society 2018 New Novel Award and tells the story of a Scottish PoW transported down to Barbados as an indentured servant.

Connect with Cryssa through her Website, Facebook, and Twitter (@CryssaBazos). Traitor's Knot is available through Amazon, and Severed Knot is available through Amazon and other Online Retailers. 

Falkland - Royal Palace & A Town Stopped in Time

By Annie Whitehead

Last time, I blogged about Culross in the ancient kingdom of Fife, which boasts a 'palace'. This time, I'm looking at a Fife town which is equally 'stopped in time' but which boasts a real palace, and a royal one at that.

Like Culross, Falkland is a town which seems stuck in another time period, and, like Culross, it was used for a location in the series Outlander. Unlike Culross, though, it has not been renovated, or rebuilt, but simply it has survived, because of the royal palace situated in the heart of the town. It was not, as Culross was, dependent on industry and the local lord, but on the large community which came with the palace, and the trade which developed from it, and continued long after the kings had left.

Falkland was created a royal burgh in 1458, but the palace reached its apogee with the reign of James V, (1512-1542) who brought it to its full Renaissance glory. Usually, stately homes and royal palaces are set at the end of long sweeping driveways, well away from other buildings. In Falkland, one merely steps from the main street into the gateway.

James V kept a permanent staff of foresters, falconers, dog handlers and stablemen. In the 1530s the household accounts recorded nearly 350 named staff, including stewards, carvers, cupbearers, ushers of the outer and inner chamber doors, yeomen, grooms and a barber. Instructions to the master of the royal household, signed by James, included the edict that no one should enter or leave the court without proper authority, especially 'lads or vile boys'.

It was at Falkland that James V died, in December of 1542. He had been visiting his mistress at Tantallon, and then spent a few days with his pregnant wife Marie at Linlithgow, before travelling to Falkland. He took to his bed, suffering possibly from either dysentery or typhoid. News reached him of the birth of his daughter, but he was disappointed that the baby was not a boy, having lost his sons the previous year. He died on 14th December and never saw his daughter.

James V's body lay in state in the chapel inside the palace. He had lost interest in the building after the death of his baby sons in 1541, but his daughter, the future Mary Queen of Scots, had some of her happiest days here, and it's said that she frequently went hunting in the nearby hunting grounds. There is a unique feature in the chapel which is a window depicting her husband, Lord Darnley, as King Henry - the only place where Darnley is recognised as having been king.

Falkland also has another boast - that of having the oldest Real Tennis court in Britain. It was built in 1539 for James V, and unlike other examples, it was designed and built without a roof.

Walking round the inside of the palace, I discovered a nugget of information. In one of the bedrooms there was a great wooden dresser, and I learned the origin of the phrase 'bottom drawer'. It's common parlance, certainly in the UK, to talk about the bride's 'bottom drawer', the place where she will collect linens and suchlike prior to her wedding. I had never thought about what this meant in practice though, until at Falkland I was shown the 'top' part of the cabinet. The groom's job was to collect bulkier items, such as crockery, and then after the marriage, the two portions of the cabinet/dresser were put together in the marital home.

I was also told the story which I'd first heard at Dunfermline Abbey about James VI, son of Mary Queen of Scots, and his journey to collect his bride, Anne, or Anna, of Denmark. His ship was blown off course on more than one occasion. Denmark was a country which had already conducted witch-hunts and James became deeply interested in witchcraft and its evils, convinced that it was this diabolical practice which had summoned up the storms against his ship.

In 1589 James VI, had conferred the palace on his wife, Anna of Denmark, and in 1595 he renewed the town's status as a royal burgh. But once he became James I of England, he only returned to Scotland once thereafter, and to Fife, in 1617.

The hand-loom linen weaving industry in Falkland grew out of the weaving trade which supplied the palace. Many weavers' cottages can still be seen in the town. The industrial revolution brought power looms to Falkland, and of the three factories established, one still survives today, producing paper and plastic bags, instead of linen.

Many of the buildings display 'marriage lintels' - the two sets of initials and the dates may record a marriage, when the house was built, or the date the couple moved in.

The centre of Falkland was used, as mentioned earlier, as a location for Outlander. The hotel which can be seen beyond the fountain was used as the B&B. But its name suggests a rather different history...

This building is the Covenanter Hotel, with its sign above the door declaring "Down with tyranny - we are and we will make free 1638-1688" This refers to the Covenanters, a Scottish Presbyterian movement, whose members were opposed to the notion of the Divine Right of Kings, one of the Catholic principles upheld by the Stuart monarchs. Richard Cameron was a famous Covenanter who was born in Falkland, although not, it seems, in this building. Incongruous indeed, to have a symbol like this so nearby to a Stuart royal palace.

Charles II, before landing in Scotland in June 1650, declared by solemn oath his agreement of both covenants, having signed the Treaty of Breda with the Covenanters, and this was renewed on the occasion of his coronation at Scone in the following January, in 1651. Charles spent some time at Falkland palace following his coronation, but this was the last time a monarch stayed at the palace. 

Thereafter, the palace park timber was felled on the orders of Oliver Cromwell, and in 1654, Cromwellian soldiers, occupying the palace, started a fire by leaving a cooking pot unattended. Falkland palace was never again used as a royal residence, but its decline was halted by a restoration programme begun in the early nineteenth century, so that visitors can still enjoy its grandeur to this day.

[all photographs by and copyright of the author]

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Annie Whitehead is an author and historian, and a member of the Royal Historical Society. Her first two novels are set in tenth-century Mercia, chronicling the lives of Æthelflæd, Lady of the Mercians, who ruled a country in all but name, and Earl Alvar who served King Edgar and his son Æthelred the Unready who were both embroiled in murderous scandals. Her third novel, also set in Mercia, tells the story of seventh-century King Penda and his feud with the Northumbrian kings. She is currently working on a history of Mercia for Amberley Publishing, to be released in 2018.

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They seek him here, they seek him there - the life of a religious rebel

by Anna Belfrage

Recently – well, for the last three years or so – much of my time has been spent with a slight man with sparse hair, beautiful grey eyes and a voice that can reduce a congregation to tears – or have his followers on their feet, roaring like lions. Not that I have any idea if Alexander Peden matches the above description, but that is how I see this charismatic 17th century minister – a man who became a legend during his lifetime.

“Legend?” you might ask, scratching your head in an attempt to bring forth some sort of information about this Alexander person. Yes, legend – but not far beyond the borders of his native Ayrshire, which might explain why the majority of us have never heard of Prophet Peden. You may, however, have seen his mask, a little thing on display at the National Museum of Scotland. In this disguise, Alexander Peden flitted over the Scottish moors like some sort of religious Zorro, even if he never showed any inclination to mark his victims/foes with a flamboyant Z.

A Peden's mask (D. Monniaux)

Alexander Peden was a stubborn, brave man of God – a man of God as per the Scottish Kirk, not as per the Anglican Church, even if Peden couldn’t care less what the Anglican worthies might have thought of him.  Had not Charles II been restored, Alexander Peden would probably have lived out his life as a capable minister in his small living in New Luce, Galloway. As it was, with the restoration came a number of changes that would drive Alexander – or Sandy, as those of us close to him prefer to call him – into rebellion.

Some background: Charles II seems to have been a reasonable man in matters of faith – I suppose he learnt the hard way that religious contention could lead to nasty repercussions and death. I’d hazard he lived in constant awareness of the fact that his father – an anointed king – had been executed, and while Charles I’s faith was never cited as a reason for his execution, it must have struck his son that had only Charles I handled the religious conflicts that sparked the Civil War better, things might have ended very differently.

Whatever the case, Charles II was prepared to be conciliatory in most matters – but he held no great love for the powerful Scottish Kirk. Charles II’s closest advisors were Anglicans and after years of penurious exile they saw an opportunity to get their own back.

In 1662 a set of laws commonly known as the Clarendon Code were passed through Parliament. As per these laws, it became illegal to hold religious meetings outside the Anglican Church, it was mandatory to recognise the king as the head of the Church, and all able-bodied men were called to take the Oath of Abjuration, whereby they were required to disavow themselves from any previous oaths in conflict with the new laws. With this legislation in place the time was ripe to grind the Scottish Kirk into submission.

Someone seems to have forgotten about the Scots and their independent – and stubborn – streak. The Scottish Kirk was not an institution to be brushed aside as inconsequential and so the recently restored king had a new religious conflict on his hands – this time mercifully contained to parts of his northern kingdom, but still.

The ministers of the Scottish Kirk who refused to recognise the king as the head of their church were evicted from their livings in 1663. This more or less meant all ministers, Alexander Peden being one of them. Their congregations were urged to attend the Anglican services instead, but rather than flocking to hear the word of God from the king’s chosen representatives, the people of Ayrshire – and elsewhere – chose to follow their ministers out into the wilderness, breaking the law by attending unlawful Conventicle meetings, further breaking the law by having the evicted ministers christen their babies and bless their marriages.

Sandy Peden already had a reputation as a gifted preacher. In the present circumstances, his fame grew exponentially and wherever he preached, Sandy told his flock to never turn their back on the true Kirk, to never kowtow to the Anglican Church, papist whore that it was.

For doing this, and for further heinous acts such as baptising children (many children -- on one occasion he baptised close to thirty babies) and wedding young couples, Sandy was formally outlawed in 1667, with a hefty price set on his head. Over the coming years, an intricate manhunt played out over the Ayrshire moors and beyond. The English soldiers chased; Sandy ran, aided and abetted by his countrymen and women.

Scottish Moor by E Morison Wimpersey

I imagine Sandy Peden dashing off over the moor, his threadbare cloak standing like a billowing sail around him. In my head, the moor is an orgy of flowering heather, here and there dotted with stands of bright yellow gorse, the air permeated by its nutty scent. In reality, poor Sandy squelched through mud and freezing water, ducked down to hide behind a stand of stunted trees, his forearm pressed to his mouth to muffle his constant cough – a consequence of far too many nights sleeping under the bare skies.

For over a decade, Alexander Peden led the English soldiers in a merry dance over the rugged landscapes of his native Ayrshire. In his wake sprung stories of divine intervention, describing how God would help his favourite minister by creating timely fogs into which he could disappear (Given that this is Scotland, it would seem God was doing a lot of fogging well before Sandy and long after him as well).

And then there were all of Sandy’s prophesies, the most well-known of these being when he officiated at the wedding of John Brown to Isabel Weir in 1682. According to legend, Sandy took the bride aside after the ceremony and told her she should keep linen by her side to make her new husband a winding sheet, as John was to die shortly. I’m not quite sure this shows much sense for timing, but Sandy was sadly proved right; in 1685, James Brown was shot dead at his home by John Graham of Claverhouse (Bluidy Clavers as he was known in Ayrshire) this for refusing to take the Oath of Abjuration – and for having a number of illegal weapons in his house.

In 1673 Alexander Peden was arrested – betrayed, some say – and after several years on Bass Rock he was set aboard a ship in 1678 to be deported to the colonies. When the boatload of deportees landed in London, there to be transferred to another vessel, Sandy Peden succeeded in convincing the captain of this new ship that to deport him and his companions would not please God, and so they were left behind on the docks. Sandy and his Merry Ministers walked all the way back to Scotland, receiving a lot of help along the way.

The remaining years of his life, Sandy spent in Scotland and in Ireland, always running, always hiding. And he continued to baptise children and officiate at weddings (as demonstrated above when he wed John Brown and Isabel). In 1686 he was staying on his brother’s farm when he died – in bed, as he had prophesised.

Upon hearing Alexander Peden was dead, English troops chose to disinter him, having the intention of hanging the dead man from the Cumnock gallows. The local powers that were interceded, worried that this might cause an uproar among the people of Ayrshire. Instead, Sandy Peden was reburied by the gallows – in itself an insult.

Many years later, a monument was erected over Sandy’s final resting place. Personally, I think he wouldn’t be all that impressed; Sandy never wanted a monument – all he wanted was the freedom to praise God according to his beliefs.

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Alexander Peden plays a central role in my recently released third instalment of The Graham Saga, The Prodigal Son. Previous titles in the series are A Rip in the Veil and Like Chaff in the Wind. Set in the 17th century, the books tell the story of Matthew and Alex, two people who should never have met – not when she was born three hundred years after him.