The Battle of Otterburn, 5th August 1388

by Annie Whitehead

It fell about the Lammas tide,
When the muir-men win their hay,
The doughty Earl of Douglas rode
Into England, to catch a prey.*

On this day, in 1388 (according to the Scots) the Battle of Otterburn took place, between the forces of the English, led by Harry Hotspur and his brother Sir Ralph Percy, and the Scots, led by James, 2nd Earl of Douglas.

 

The battle was a famous victory for the Scots in an ongoing series of border disputes and skirmishes. But it had wider implications for Scotland, causing long-lasting political ripples.

The king of Scotland at the time of the battle was Robert II. He was fifty-five when he unexpectedly became king, and his rule was undermined by the fact that, like John Balliol before him, he was considered by the Scottish nobles to be only their equal, not their superior.

Robert, though, was courageous and ambitious. The expectation was that he would take up the honorary title of High Steward of Scotland, but in 1326 a parliamentary act of succession named him as heir behind prince David and thus the most important magnate in Scotland.

When Edward III of England threatened war, Robert, aged just sixteen in 1333, led an army against him at the Battle of Halidon Hill. Then in 1334 he narrowly escaped capture when his lands were overrun by Anglo-Balliol enemies. David was taken into exile, but Robert stayed to fight, and gained many followers. Thus, when David returned to rule, he could never completely shake off the powerful Robert. When David died unexpectedly in 1371 he was succeeded, as per the arrangement, by Robert.

England still controlled a large area of Lothian and the border country, so it made sense for Robert to allow his southern earls to agitate to regain their lost territories. He also halted trade with England and renewed treaties with France. By 1384, the Scots had retaken most of occupied lands, but when the English and French began to talk of peace, Robert was reluctant to commit to all-out war and obtained Scottish inclusion in the peace treaty. This peace strategy was a factor in a virtual coup in 1384, when Robert lost control, first to his eldest son, John, earl of Carrick, and then from 1388 onwards, John’s younger brother, Robert, earl of Fife.

In a council at Holyrood in November 1384 is was recorded that “because our lord the king, for certain causes, is not able to attend himself personally to the execution of justice and the law of the kingdom, he has willed…that his first-born son and heir…is to administer the common-law everywhere throughout the kingdom."

Carrick’s rule brought control of foreign policy to a coalition of powerful magnates headed by James, 2nd earl of Douglas. Robert’s refusal to initiate war led to his removal from power altogether. Carrick, Douglas, and the king’s third son, Robert Stewart, earl of Fife, joined the French on campaign in 1385. The Scots and French quarrelled, the English burned Lothian, including Edinburgh, and the Scots had no choice but to accept truce until 1388. For Robert II, back in his lands in the west, this had little import, but Carrick began to struggle with lawlessness in the north, particularly with the ambition of Alexander Stewart.

What has this to do with the battle of Otterburn?

The 'modern' Otterburn Castle

On 5th August, or the 19th, depending on which sources you opt to believe, Douglas decided to lead a raid into England. The earl of Northumberland sent his two sons to engage with Douglas while he himself stayed at Alnwick

According to the chronicler Froissart,** the first fighting included a meeting of the earl of Douglas and Henry Percy in hand-to-hand combat, in which Percy's pennon was captured.

Froissart ~  There were many proper feats of arms done and achieved: there was fighting hand to hand : among other there fought hand to hand the earl Douglas and sir Henry Percy, and by force of arms the earl Douglas won the pennon of sir Henry Percy's, wherewith he was sore displeased and so were all the Englishmen. And the earl Douglas said to sir Henry Percy: ‘Sir, I shall bear this token of your prowess into Scotland and shall set it on high on my castle of Dalkeith, that it may be seen far off.'

Douglas then destroyed the castle at Ponteland and besieged Otterburn Castle (now Otterburn Tower).

Froissart ~ from thence the Scots went to the town and castle of Otterburn, an eight English mile from Newcastle*** and there lodged. That day they made none assault, but the next morning they blew their horns and made ready to assail the castle, which was strong, for it stood in the marish. 

Percy attacked Douglas's encampment with a surprise attack in the late afternoon:

Froissart ~ It was shewed to sir Henry Percy and to his brother and to the other knights and squires that were there, by such as had followed the Scots from Newcastle and had well advised their doing, who said to sir Henry and to sir Ralph : ' Sirs, we have followed the Scots privily and have dis- covered all the country. The Scots be at Pontland and have taken sir Edmund Alphel in his own castle, and from thence they be gone to Otterburn and there they lay this night. What they will do to- morrow we know not : they are ordained to abide there : and, sirs, surely their great host is not with them, for in all they pass not there a three thousand men.' When sir Henry heard that, he was joyful and said : ‘Sirs, let us leap on our horses, for by the faith I owe to God and to my lord my father I will go seek for my pennon and dislodge them this same night.'

During the battle, Douglas led the left wing, while John Dunbar, earl of Moray, commanded the right. Hotspur’s men, having ridden up from Newcastle, were tired and disorganised as they made their way onto the field. Hotspur was so overly confident that he attacked the Scots while the rest of his force was still marching up through Otterburn.

The banner of Douglas

Despite Percy's force being around three times the size of the Scottish force, Froissart said that 1040 English were captured and 1860 killed, against the Scottish losses of  200 Scots captured and 100 killed. The Westminster Chronicle estimated the Scottish casualties at around 500. When the bishop of Durham advanced from Newcastle with 10,000 men, he was apparently so impressed by the ordered appearance of the Scottish force, the 'din they set up with their horns', and their seemingly unassailable position, that he declined to attack.

Froissart ~ The same evening the bishop of Durham came thither with a good company, for he heard at Durham how the Scots were before Newcastle and how that the lord Percy's sons with other lords and knights should fight with the Scots : therefore the bishop of Durham to come to the rescue had assembled up all the country and so was coming to Newcastle. But sir Henry Percy would not abide his coming, for he had with him six hundred spears, knights and squires, and an eight thousand foot- men. They thought that sufficient number to fight with the Scots, if they were not but three hundred spears and three thousand of other.

( the battle site)

During the battle on a 'moonlit night', Douglas was killed. His death made no difference to the outcome of the battle and was not noticed until much later. It was a victory for the Scots; the Percys were both captured, with the remaining English force retreating to Newcastle.

 (the monument at the battle site - made from a lintel taken from the kitchens at Otterburn Castle (the second picture shows the iron hooks where cooking pots were hung)

The death of James caused the Douglas inheritance to fall into dispute, Carrick became isolated, and another coup was inevitable. On 1 December Carrick was forced to sign the lieutenancy over to his brother Robert, earl of Fife. Fife vowed to deal harshly with Alexander Stewart in the north, and Robert II was once more under the control of one of his own sons, called upon to appear at council only to confirm grants to Fife and his followers. Robert died in 1387.

His reputation has been sullied, by chroniclers who either support David before 1371 or who favoured Carrick and Fife in the later years of the reign. In 1521 John Mair wrote that he could not hold Robert ‘to have been a skilful warrior or wise in counsel.'


* From the Ballad of Otterburn 

** Froissart claimed to have spoken to eye-witnesses:

It was shewed me by such as had been at the same battle, as well by knights and squires of England as of Scotland, at the house of the earl of Foix, — for anon after this battle was done I met at Orthez two squires of England called John of Chateau- neuf and John of Cantiron 

***The distance is much greater – about 30 miles.

[all illustrations - public domain images. Photographs by and copyright of the author]

~~~~~~~~~~

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, is scheduled for release later this year, and she is currently working on a history of Mercia for Amberley Publishing, to be released in 2018.
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The Long-term Consequences of a Failed Scottish Marriage

by Anna Belfrage

These days we’ve grown quite accustomed to the fact that if a marriage doesn't work, we can simply get a divorce. No big deal, in this modern world of ours, and unhappy couples separate legally and are free to find happiness elsewhere. Happiness, of course, is just as elusive now as it always has been, but at least the modern man and woman can attempt to try anew.

Not so the people of the past – or so we believe. Once married, they were permanently tied to each other, their union impossible to break. But in reality, things weren't all that different in the past to how they are now: people with money and clout could always wiggle themselves out of uncomfortable situations – such as an unhappy marriage.

Back then, most of the people with money and clout were men, so it follows it was the wife who was put aside, either because her spouse discovered they were more closely related than he had known, thereby falling within the forbidden circle that required Papal dispensation (how convenient), or through assorted creative methods, one of which was forcing the wife to take the veil.
However, divorce before the 20th century was rare. Very rare. Consanguinity, pre-contract or lack of consent were essentially the only acceptable grounds. So most married couples did, in fact, live together until parted by death. Once again, quite often the wife was the one who did the departing, mainly due to the strains of childbirth.

A marriage that worked?
James V and Marie de Guise

From our advantage of hindsight, we can shake our heads and shudder at the barbarity of arranged marriages, and there is no doubt that now and then these marriages were horribly unhappy, but just as often they were not. One must remember that the men and women of the previous centuries (except for the latest one) did not necessarily expect to be happy. They aimed for content and safe, settled for someone who would help them raise their children, someone who somehow added to their families’ overall standing and fortune.

In England, acquiring a divorce remained a messy thing well into the 20th century. The accepted grounds for divorce were essentially adultery, but further to that, a spouse had to prove cruelty and abuse of some kind or another to be free of the philandering partner. In Scotland, however, things had been much, much easier since back in the 16th century. Personally, I think John Knox deserves a pat on the back for this – but then I am quite ambivalent to this fascinating man, on the one hand vilifying female rulers in his tract “First Blast of the Trumpet”, on the other a man who clearly enjoyed the company of women – and respected them.

So what did Scotland do back in the 16th century? Well, they decided to allow divorce, that’s what those savvy Scots did. Furthermore, the issue of divorce was transferred out of the ecclesiastic courts to be handled by lawmen rather than priests – which makes a lot of sense when one considers that most marriages at the time were contractual arrangements that involved property moving hands. (This is not to say the powerful Scottish Kirk did not keep a beady eye on proceedings – it most certainly did!) However, divorce was still a last remedy, and was essentially only granted for two reasons, one of which was adultery.

These Scots were progressive types, very much into gender equality (well…) How else to explain their decision that both men and women could demand a divorce on account of adultery – quite unheard of in a world where a man’s indiscretions were just that – indiscretions – while a woman’s adventures with another man than her husband were a sin, a grievous, grievous sin, very much in keeping with the female lack of morality and propensity for uncontrolled lust.

Interestingly enough, no law was ever passed confirming the right to divorce due to adultery. Instead, it was assumed that the prohibition against divorce on account of adultery went out of the window together with the allegiance to the Pope, and a decade or so later, divorce due to adultery was an established common law practise.

A rousing Reformation sermon with John Knox

Had the Scots left it at that – divorce on account of adultery – it would have been an improvement, but maybe not a major improvement. However, due to the antics of two people with that intoxicating combination of money and clout, Scottish divorce legislation came to recognise another reason for divorce, namely desertion by either party. This had the benefit of being much easier to arrange – and prove – plus it did not tar one of the parties as being an unfaithful git. But let me introduce you to the main protagonists in all this, namely the Earl of Argyll – Archibald Campbell – and Lady Jean Stewart, one of James V’s many by-blows.

Little Jean might have been born out of wedlock, but her royal father was well-practised in handling such sensitive issues and in general took good care of his offspring. On her mother’s side, she was related to the Beatons – a powerful family which counts among its more (in)famous members Cardinal David Beaton. He was the Archbishop of St Andrews who instigated the trial and execution by burning of religious reformer George Wishart, and who some time afterwards was assassinated by William Kirkcaldy and a couple of aggravated Leslies. Beaton’s body was hanged from the window of his castle for everyone to see, and in many ways his handling of Wishart was the fuel that led to the roaring bonfire that was the Scottish reformation.

Enough about David Beaton (a man who deserves his own post, what with his relaxed attitude to celibacy, his constant focus on Number One – this being Davie, not Our Lord – and his strong Catholic and political convictions). Suffice it to say that little Jean was of good lineage on both sides, no matter what side of the blanket she was born on.

Archibald was no royal bastard, but his family was wealthy and among the most powerful in Scotland. Very early on, our Archie became an ardent Protestant. During the long regency that followed James V’s death, he, together with James Stewart – yet another of James V’s bastards, later to be Earl of Moray – became a vociferous opponent to Marie de Guise and her pro-French policies, fearing that the little Queen’s mother had every intention of keeping Scotland a loyal member of the Holy Roman Church. Probably a correct assumption, but Argyll’s decision to seek help and support from the English was not to endear him overmuch to his countrymen.

Jean was very fond of Marie de Guise. The Queen Mother treated her husband’s bastards with kindness, and she was very protective of Jean, the young queen’s only sister. Jean was raised at court and became one of Marie’s most trusted maids, living in close familiarity with the beleaguered regent.

Marie de Guise

Archie and Jean were married in 1553. Maybe they disliked each other on sight. Maybe their differing opinions on matters religious drove an immediate wedge between the young spouses, at the time still in their teens. Whatever the case, the marriage very quickly deteriorated, with Archie living openly with various mistresses, fathering a number of illegitimate children while Jean remained childless. And things were definitely not helped when Archie became a prominent member of the Lords of Congregation, the Protestant faction that led the rebellion that resulted in the Scottish reformation in 1560. Jean couldn’t forgive her husband for siding against her beloved Marie de Guise.

Jean decided to get her own back by taking a lover. The Campbell clan roared in anger at this dishonour to their chief, and Jean was effectively held prisoner. Through the efforts of her – and Archie’s – extended family, the couple achieved some sort of reconciliation in 1561, very much at the hands of John Knox, who seems to have had quite the vested interest in this couple’s marriage.

A very young Mary, Queen of Scots

In 1561, Mary Queen of Scots returned to Scotland from France, and Jean quickly became a favoured lady-in-waiting while her husband was one of the Queen’s chief political advisors. This didn’t help the marriage. Things went from bad to worse, one could say, with Jean complaining to the Queen, who was quite torn between her loyalties to her sister, and her dependency on the Earl of Argyll to maintain peace in her realm.

John Knox and Queen Mary -
not seeing eye to eye

In 1563 the Queen decided to rope in some help in attempting to heal the breach between Archie and Jean. She contacted John Knox. Picture this scene for a moment: The devout Catholic queen turns to her foremost adversary when it comes to matters of faith and asks for a tete-a-tete. In a low, concerned voice, she expresses that something must be done to save the fragile thing that is Jean’s marriage. John Knox agreed, and in 1563, the Queen and the Reformer had a number of sessions with Jean and Archie - you know, a very early version of present day marriage counsellors. Ultimately, it didn't help – but it was nice that they tried!

Archie was becoming desperate. He needed an heir, and whether it was because Jean refused him access to her bed (in itself no mean feat in the 16th century) or because she was barren, so far there had been no reconciling patter of little feet. Plus, the two spouses obviously hated each other’s guts. So Archie offered Jean a settlement if she would agree to a divorce on the grounds of adultery, with him taking the blame. She refused – as the so called injured party she could.

The Queen was deposed, the realm was in upheaval, and in all this chaos Jean took the opportunity of fleeing for ever from her husband’s tender care. In 1567 she ran away from him, and the couple’s very public separation forced the Scottish Kirk to attempt to deal with it. Archie needed a full divorce, not a separation. He wanted to be free to wed again and beget children. Jean had no intention of making anything easy for him, and so the Kirk’s leaders – such as John Knox – sucked in their lips and mulled this little conundrum over.

Earl of Moray

In 1573, the Earl of Argyll succeeded in having the Scottish Parliament pass an Act that allowed divorce on the grounds of desertion. This time, when he pushed Jean for a divorce, she didn't protest. Her position was far too shaky at present with her sister imprisoned by the English and her brother, the powerful Earl of Moray, busy with other matters. And so, in August of 1573, Archibald Campbell became a free man again, hastening to re-marry. Unfortunately for him, six weeks later he was dead… Unfortunately for his hapless widow, Jean decided the time was ripe to protest the divorce, insisting she had been forced.

After endless squabbles, a final settlement was made some years later. Jean retained the title of Countess of Argyll (very important to her, apparently), received a generous lump sum and retired to live out the rest of her life at her Canongate residence in Edinburgh, busying herself with her famous button collection. I’m thinking she laughed all the way to the bank, our Jean – or maybe she didn't. Maybe now and then she felt genuine regret for what could have been a marriage and never rose above a constant bloody strife.

The legal outcome of all this was that in 1573, Scotland implemented an Act that allowed for spouses to be divorced, assuming they could prove desertion by the other. Suddenly, all those unhappy marriages had a “get out of jail” card. Not a bad thing, all in all, even if divorce continued to be rare in the following centuries. A failed marriage was a stigma – especially for the woman, who, as we all know, probably was to blame for its failure to begin with. After all, either she was a nag, or she was barren or, worst of all, she was a lewd and immoral creature, far too tempted by carnal sin, as demonstrated by Eve when she yanked that apple off the branch!

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This is an Editor's Choice and originally published on September 24, 2014

Had Anna Belfrage been allowed to choose, she’d have become a professional time-traveller. As such a profession does not exist, she became a financial professional with two absorbing interests, namely history and writing. 

Presently, Anna is hard at work with The King’s Greatest Enemy, a series set in the 1320s featuring Adam de Guirande, his wife Kit, and their adventures and misfortunes in connection with Roger Mortimer’s rise to power. And yes, Hugh Despenser plays a central role.The first book, In The Shadow of the Storm was published in 2015, the second, Days of Sun and Glory, was published in July 2016.

When Anna is not stuck in the 14th century, she's probably visiting in the 17th century, specifically with Alex and Matthew Graham, the protagonists of the acclaimed The Graham Saga. This is the story of two people who should never have met – not when she was born three centuries after him.

More about Anna on her website or on her blog!

The gallant turncoat - or how a Covenanter became a Royalist

by Anna Belfrage

James Graham, Marquis of Montrose

Chances are that if the subject of gallant soldiers during the English – British – Civil War comes up, Prince Rupert of the Rhine gets all the votes. Personally, I am not all that fond of Rupert, however brave and committed he was to Charles I’s cause. I dare say it may be a contrary streak in me – or, alternatively, it is because my heart fixed at a very early age on another of the royalist heroes, namely James Graham, Marquis of Montrose, who is often referred to as The Great Montrose.

Little James was the last – and only son – of the six children born to his parents. He lost his mother when he was still a small child, and in 1626 his father, John Graham, also died, leaving fourteen-year-old James as Earl of Montrose.

James was the chief of the Clan Graham, and he was destined to be an influential man in Scotland. By the mid-1630s, James was looking forward to an ordered life, enlivened by the odd heated debate in Scottish parliament. Plenty of time for his growing family and for his more romantic hobbies, such as writing poetry. Not to be – and all because of the mounting tension between Charles I, King of England, Ireland and Scotland, and his subjects.

There were various reasons for the strained relationship between Charles I and his people. First and foremost, Charles was a firm believer in Divine Right, as per which he ruled by the will of God, and was only accountable to God – definitely not to Parliament. Secondly, Charles perceived himself entrusted with the spiritual well-being of his subjects – which included a major say in how his people worshipped. Thirdly, Charles was a firm believer in hierarchical power constructions – at least within the church – so he advocated a church ruled by bishops (and himself, seeing as Charles was the Head of the Anglican Church).

In Scotland, none of this went down well. Specifically, the powerful Presbyterian Scottish Kirk growled in warning. In Scotland, the Kirk was ruled by the General Assembly, had no time for such fripperies as bishops, and as to the ridiculous notion of having the king as some sort of head of church…No: absolutely not.

Things might never have come to a head had not Charles I been advised by William Laud, Archbishop of Canterbury and deeply distrustful of Calvinism in all its forms – which included the Scottish Kirk. Laud recommended that Charles play hardball, insisting the Anglican Church had to take precedence.

Charles was no fool – far from it – and recognised that imposing the Anglican Church in one fell swoop on the Scots would not go down well. Instead, he aimed for a compromise, an attempt to create a cohesive approach to religion, which is why he presented his subjects with a Common Book of Prayer, a little writ based on Anglican rites and prayers.

To the Scots belonging to the Kirk, Anglicans were borderline papists. To the Scottish Highlanders who clung to the Catholic faith, the Anglicans were as horribly Protestant as the Lowland Presbyterians – with the added disadvantage of being English. In brief, no one in Scotland wanted the Common Book of Prayer, and when Charles tried to enforce its use, hell broke loose.

(c) City of Edinburgh Council; Supplied by The Public Catalogue Foundation.
The Signing of the National Covenant

This, very briefly, is the background to the National Covenant, a document drawn up in 1638 by the Scots which subtly told Charles I to back off when it came to matters of religion – or face the consequences. (For more detail, see this post)  Charles was not good at compromising – comes with the territory when you believe you rule by God’s decree – and soon enough he had a war on his hands, as more or less every adult male in Lowland Scotland signed their name to the Covenant, including the majority of the Scottish nobility.

One of the signatories was Montrose, not because he was a fervent Presbyterian, but because he disliked the fact that Charles had decided to promote politically powerful bishops in Scotland. As far as Montrose was concerned, temporal power was best left in the hands of the Scottish Parliament and the king.

Another of the signatories was a certain Archibald Campbell, future Earl of Argyll. Just like Montrose, Argyll was far from being a rabid Presbyterian – but like Montrose he was a firm believer in Scotland being separate from England in all matters, including religion. Very little other than this conviction united these two men. Where Montrose was tall, dashing and charming, Argyll was neither dashing nor tall – or much inclined to ooze charm. But Argyll was rich – very rich – and as the chief of the Clan Campbell he was a force to be reckoned with – far more powerful than Montrose.

Archibald Campbell, 8th Earl of Argyll

Argyll had not had an easy start in life. His mother died young, his father remarried a Catholic lady and decided this new love of his life was far more important than his son and heir, so he converted to the papist faith and departed for Spain and the 17th century version of the Costa del Sol. (Not really: Archibald Campbell senior took service with Felipe III of Spain) Little Archie was left quite abandoned in Scotland, albeit with a guardian to keep an eye on him. His father made over the estates and titles to his son, but granted himself a hefty annual income, which caused considerable strain on the Argyll finances. Once little Archie came into his own (Papa died in 1638) he had his work cut out for him in repairing the damage done to his wealth – and to his family name, what with his father defecting to the papists.

Anyway: the whole debacle surrounding the Common Book of Prayer resulted in war, with Montrose capably leading the Covenanter armies against Charles I. At the time, things were pretty straightforward for Montrose: he was defending his country and its unassailable rights against a king who tried to impose foreign practices.

While Montrose was off fighting, Argyll was busy constructing a Presbyterian powerbase. Soon enough, the previously so united Covenanters were divided into a faction that demanded Scotland be ruled by the Kirk and the estates, and a more moderate faction who sought some sort of compromise with the king. As the Bishops’ War progressed, Montrose moved towards the Royalist party, torn between loyalty to his country and to his king. Truth be told, he was having second thoughts about the whole Covenanter thing, concerned that too much power was ending up in the hands of the Kirk and men of a most Puritanical bend. Men like Argyll. By now, the temperamental differences between the two men had hardened into personal dislike.

By Divine Right - Charles I

The First Bishops’ War was concluded by the Treaty of Berwick in 1639, at which Charles was obliged to grant major concessions to the Covenanters. Charles, however, had no intention to bide by the terms, and instead planned an invasion of Scotland. Montrose was caught between a rock and a hard place: betray his country or his king? In the event, his loyalty to Scotland won out, and accordingly he was instrumental in leading the troops that yet again defeated Charles.

In 1641, Charles decided to visit Scotland –  a belated attempt to smooth things over, perhaps? Montrose decided to take the opportunity of ridding Scotland of Argyll, whom he considered dangerously radical and far too powerful. Montrose planned to accuse Argyll of treason before Parliament, but Argyll found out and disarmed the plot by arresting Montrose. Obviously, the two men detested each other, and things weren’t exactly improved when Montrose was appointed Lord Lieutenant of Scotland by Charles in 1644.

By this point, England had for some years been embroiled in the Civil War, which spilled over into Scotland. Montrose led the Royalist forces, David Leslie and Argyll headed the Covenanters, now allied with the Parliamentarian and Puritan factions in England.  Montrose called out the Highlanders who had little love for the Covenanters and augmented his forces with 2 000 well-trained Irish infantrymen. Over the coming year, he led his men to one victory after the other.

Mind you, not everything Montrose did was brilliant and honourable, as demonstrated by the atrocities unleashed on Aberdeen in the autumn of 1644. The little town had refused to yield when Montrose asked them to, and when one of the drummer boys accompanying the heralds was shot by a member of the Covenanter garrison, Montrose swore revenge. So when Aberdeen fell, Montrose allowed his soldiers to go on a murderous spree through the town, doing nothing to contain his men as they ravaged and raped, pillaged and killed.

Montrose

At Inverlochy, Montrose destroyed Argyll’s beloved Campbell clansmen and went on to defeat the Covenanter army on several occasions before crowning his efforts by the victory at Kilsyth in August of 1645. Montrose was now effectively in control of all of Scotland, Argyll and his companions forced to flee before his victorious army. It was time, in Montrose’s opinion, to proclaim Charles I as the true ruler of Scotland.

Unfortunately for Montrose, the Royalist faction in England suffered a decisive defeat at the Battle of Naseby earlier in 1645. So instead of basking in the glory of his victories, Montrose was obliged to hasten to Charles’ aid, with David Leslie and the Covenanter Army in hot pursuit. The Highlanders deserted en masse, so it was with a substantially reduced force that Montrose faced Leslie at the battle of Philiphaug in September of 1645. What followed was a rout and a massacre, with the grim Covenanters exacting revenge on the defeated Irishmen for Aberdeen. A distraught Montrose escaped, riding for the protective wilderness of the Highlands.

In 1646, Montrose was ordered to lay down arms by the captured Charles I. He did so reluctantly and went into exile, but being a restless sort, he could not stay away – especially not after hearing Charles I had been executed. He offered his services to the young Charles II, was restored to the post of Lord Lieutenant of Scotland, and began to plan his return. In 1650 Montrose landed in Scotland to raise an army on behalf of Charles II, but the clans did not rally, and at the battle of Carbisdale Montrose was yet again defeated and forced to flee. He sought protection from a certain Neal MacLeod, who happily turned him over to the Covenanter regime and claimed the promised reward, which was why Montrose found himself transported towards Edinburgh as a prisoner.

Charles II was quick to wash his hands of Montrose, eager to comply with the terms dictated by Argyll to recognise him as king, and so a gleeful Argyll was in a position to accuse the valiant and loyal Montrose of treason. The sentence, of course, was a foregone conclusion. It is said that as Montrose was paraded through the streets of Edinburgh, the crowds stood in respectful silence. Likewise, it is said that at some point the cart on which Montrose was seated passed beneath Argyll’s window. For an instant, their eyes met, after which Montrose went on to pass his last night on earth at the Tolbooth.

On 21 May of 1650, Montrose met his end with style. Dressed in scarlet and lace, with beribboned shoes, white gloves and stockings, he was taken to the thirty-foot high gallows. He had been forbidden the right to address the crowd, and instead he was bundled up the ladder, had the noose placed round his neck and was shoved off by the weeping hangman.  Once hanged, he was quartered, his head affixed on a spike and his torso buried in unconsecrated ground.

Montrose's tomb (photo Kim Traynor)

Over a decade later, a restored Charles II attempted to make amends for his betrayal by arranging for a magnificent state burial, at which Montrose’s various body parts were brought together and interred in St Giles. Too little, too late, in my opinion, but today, Montrose’s remains rest in the northern aisle of the cathedral. Ironically, more or less opposite, along the southern aisle, is a monument to Montrose’s nemesis, Argyll, who was to follow Montrose onto the gallows a decade or so later. Fittingly, Montrose himself has written the verse that adorns his grave:

Scatter my ashes, strow them in the air
Lord, since thou knowest where all these atoms are,
I’m hopeful Thou’lt recover once my dust
And confident Thou’lt raise me with the just

(All images from Wikimedia Commons, Public Domain unless otherwise indicated)

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Had Anna been allowed to choose, she’d have become a professional time-traveller. As such a profession does not exist, she became a financial professional with two absorbing interests, namely history and writing. 

Presently, Anna is hard at work with The King’s Greatest Enemy, a series set in the 1320s featuring Adam de Guirande, his wife Kit, and their adventures and misfortunes in connection with Roger Mortimer’s rise to power. And yes, Hugh Despenser plays a central role.The first book, In The Shadow of the Storm was published in 2015, the second, Days of Sun and Glory, will be published in July 2016.

When Anna is not stuck in the 14th century, she's probably visiting in the 17th century, specifically with Alex and Matthew Graham, the protagonists of the acclaimed The Graham Saga. This is the story of two people who should never have met – not when she was born three centuries after him.

More about Anna on her website or on her blog! 

Margaret of Scotland: Saintly Queen, Queenly Saint

by Margaret Porter

National Trust Images/John Hammond

The sixteenth day of November, the date on which Saint Margaret died in 1093, is her feast day.

A princess of the House of Wessex, Margaret was the daughter of Edward the Exile and Agatha of Hungary, and probably left England in infancy in the time of King Canute. First exiled in Sweden, then Kiev, Edward and his wife eventually settled in her native Hungary, where Margaret and her siblings were born. The Hungarian court was highly religious, and from an early age Margaret became devoted to the church.

According to Turgot, her confessor and biographer:

Whilst Margaret was yet in the flower of youth, she began to lead a very strict life, to love God above all things, to employ herself in the study of the Divine writings, and therein with joy to exercise her mind. Her understanding was keen to comprehend any matter, whatever it might be; to this was joined a great tenacity of memory, enabling her to store it up, along with a graceful flow of language to express it.

In 1057 she returned with her family to England. Her father, summoned as a potential heir to Edward the Confessor's throne, did not long survive the journey. After the Norman invasion and Harold's defeat at the Battle of Hastings, her brother Edgar was proclaimed king, but the Conqueror prevailed and England became unsafe for the returned royal exiles. Edgar, his mother Agatha, Margaret, and other family members fled to Northumbria. It is believed they were sailing back to the continent when a storm drove their ship onto the coast of Scotland. They chose to remain. This second exile resulted in Margaret's marriage to King Malcolm III, who supported her brother's claim to the English throne.

Medieval image of Queen Margaret

Margaret's influence on the church in Scotland was profound, and she imported continental Catholic practices to a realm where religion was somewhat less sophisticated. She brought other refinements, introducing arts and culture to her husband's court. She was also a proponent of royal rule that was 'just' and 'holy'.

Turgot describes the Malcom's admiration of his queen, and her role in the expansion of his faith:

. . . he could not but perceive from her conduct that Christ dwelt within her; nay, more, he readily obeyed her wishes and prudent counsels in all things. Whatever she refused, he refused also, whatever pleased her, he also loved for the love of her. Hence it was that, although he could not read, he would turn over and examine books which she used either for her devotions or her study; and whenever he heard her express especial liking for a particular book, he also would look at it with special interest, kissing it, and often taking it into his hands. Sometimes he sent for a worker in precious metals, whom he commanded to ornament that volume with gold and gems, and when the work was finished, the king himself used to carry the book to the queen as a loving proof of his devotion.

Malcolm had sons at the time of their marriage, but Margaret bore him six more and two daughters. Three of those sons succeeded Malcolm in turn--Edgar, Alexander, and eventually David. Their daughter Matilda married Henry I of England, and another daughter married a French count. Not surprisingly, one son became an abbot.

She was a great giver of alms and reportedly never sat down to dine without first feeding the poor and the orphaned--she founded or encouraged the creation of schools, orphanages, and hospitals. The chief recipient of her support was Dunfermline Abbey.

Says Turgot, in his account of her, "When [she] spoke, her conversation was with the salt of wisdom. When she was silent, her silence was filled with good thoughts. So thoroughly did her outward bearing correspond with the staidness of her character that it seemed as if she has been born the pattern of a virtuous life."

Not only was Margaret's piety expressed through many good works, she strongly believed that Holy Communion should be received frequently rather than rarely or periodically, as was customary in her time.

Margaret's husband and eldest son were away during what proved to be her final illness at Edinburgh Castle. Turgot received a firsthand account of her last days from a witness:

Her face was already covered with a deadly pallor, when she directed that I, and the other ministers of the sacred Altar along with me, should stand near her and commend her soul to Christ by our psalms. Moreover, she asked that a cross, called the Black Cross, which she always held in the greatest veneration, should be brought to her...she received it with reverence, and did her best to embrace it and kiss it . . . .

She was already preparing for death when her son Edgar arrived at Edinburgh Castle in the aftermath of the Battle of Alnwick just over the Border. He was reluctant to announce the tragic news of her husband's and her eldest son's deaths, but Margaret insisted upon hearing it. After learning of her losses, she continued to pray with her last breaths and died peacefully. "Her departure was so calm, so tranquil, that we may conclude her soul passed at once to the land of eternal rest and peace. It was remarkable that her face...became afterwards suffused with fair and warm hues, so that it seemed as if she were not dead but sleeping."

A century and a half after her death, Queen Margaret was canonised by Pope Innocent the IV, for her faithfulness, her charity, and her success in reforming the church in her adopted land. At that time her remains were removed from their original burial place at Dunfermline Abbey and re-interred in a shrine with her husband. During the 16th century, historian John Major in A History of Greater Britain as Well England as Scotland writes of the event as it occurred in 1250:

In the following year Alexander [the Third] and his mother, with the bishops of the Church, assembled at Dunfermline for the transfer of the remains of Queen Margaret. And when these were raised, a most sweet fragrance filled the whole church. But while the remains were being carried with all due honour to the monument which marked the resting-place of her husband, Malcolm, the bearers found themselves completely unable to go further—until some wise men gave them this advice: to disinter likewise the bones of Malcolm. And, when the saintly bones were united with one another, they were carried without difficulty to the appointed place, where, with due adornment of gold and precious stones, they remain to this day.

Except that Margaret did not remain. Her head was later removed from the shrine by none other than Mary Queen of Scots in 1570, who sought her saintly ancestress's presence during childbearing. The head, possibly with the rest of the saint, was later transferred to the Catholic monastery and seminary at Douai in France. All bodily relics associated with Margaret were lost during the French Revolution.

The Roman Catholic Church formerly celebrated Margaret's feast day in June. However with a later revision of the Calendar of Saints, her death date became vacant. Since 1969 the Catholic Church to which she belonged has followed the tradition of the Church of Scotland, which she reformed, honouring her on 16th November.

Margaret's Shrine, Dunfermline, © Kim Traynor

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Margaret Porter is the award-winning and bestselling author of twelve period novels, whose other publication credits include nonfiction and poetry. A Pledge of Better Times, her highly acclaimed novel of 17th century courtiers Lady Diana de Vere and Charles Beauclerk, 1st Duke of St. Albans, is her latest release, available in trade paperback and ebook. Margaret studied British history in the UK and the US. As historian, her areas of speciality are social, theatrical, and garden history of the 17th and 18th centuries, royal courts, and portraiture. A former actress, she gave up the stage and screen to devote herself to fiction writing, travel, and her rose gardens.

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The Life of Pet Marjory

by Catherine Curzon

Marjory Fleming (Kirkcaldy, Fife, Scotland, 15th January 1803 – Kirkcaldy, Fife, Scotland, 19th December 1811)

Marjory Fleming, possibly by Isabella Keith, 1811

Earlier this year I wrote a short article for my own blog on Marjory Fleming (later known as Pet Marjory), a child poet of the Georgian era whom the Victorians took to their hearts. As I have read and written about other European child prodigies of the era, Fleming has always continued to fascinate me. Her story does not seem widely known, so it is my pleasure to share it with you today.

Marjory was born in Kirkcaldy, Fife, the third child of James Fleming and his wife, Isabella Rae, known as Isa. An accountant, James was able to give his family a relatively comfortable life and was soon to realise that Marjory had a fierce intellect, one that easily surpassed her childish peers. Unlike some other prodigies of the era, Marjory's life at home was quite normal and she enjoyed a loving family environment, encouraged in her learning but not aggressively so. 

By the age of six, the Flemings decided that Marjory needed to broaden her horizons and satisfy her burning curiosity for the world in which she lived. They sent her to Edinburgh to live with her 18 year old cousin, Isabella Keith, who was happy to take over responsibility for the little girl's education.  Isabella had a passion for literature and in particular poetry; she introduced Marjory to the power of verse, and the child soon began to write poems of her own. When she wasn't writing, Marjory was reading, yet for all her intelligence, she remained a child. Playful and cheery, she took her learning in stride, seeing nothing unusual in her abilities and encouraged by Isabella to lead an utterly normal life. It was whilst in Edinburgh that she met and charmed Walter Scott, who became a regular visitor and one of her greatest literary champions.

Marjory kept her family informed of her experiences in the city by writing numerous letters to them. She further elaborated on life in Edinburgh in the diaries she kept in the final years of her short life where she discussed domestic life, the news of the day and her views on the lessons she undertook with her adored Isabella. Her poetry impressed none other than Walter Scott, a relation on her mother's side, but she was not particularly known during her life, though celebrity would follow later.

Marjory left Edinburgh and returned home to Kirkcaldy at the age of eight. That same year she contracted measles during an epidemic and, though she appeared to recover, she fell ill again and swiftly deteriorated. The official verdict on her death was that she had been killed by "water on the head", likely meningitis, and she was laid to rest in Abbotshall Kirkyard, Kirkcaldy.

Fascinated by the world around her, Marjory watched and absorbed all that she saw, and from a young age she proved to be a prolific letter writer. Her diary provides a fascinating insight into the life of a child in the era. Rumour has it Walter Scott was highly impressed by the poems of the little girl, but her writings were largely ignored for many years after her death.

The diary Marjory wrote in the last two years of her life remained unpublished for decades after her death until a journalist, HB Farnie, serialised them in a heavily edited version in the Fife Herald. Shocked at some of the forthright language used by the little girl, further edits followed before in 1868, the diaries were published as a book. This was the first of several works about Marjory and slowly but surely, six decades after her death, the child was famous.

These published diaries were a huge hit in the Victorian era, as readers were utterly beguiled by the tragic tale of this bright, brave little girl. Although Marjory's original journals had been substantially rewritten, it was for these that she eventually found fame. So popular were the diaries that they were reprinted on numerous occasions and each time, more and more celebrity admirers queued up to shower lavish praise on the child including Mark Twain, who wrote an essay on Marjory that popularised her works in America.

Marjory's works are now kept in the National Library of Scotland, and she has become recognised as a deservedly important figure in the history of Scottish literature. Her poems and writings reveal a child with a wit and intelligence that surpasses that of many adults; whilst it is tempting to speculate on what she might have achieved had she lived, the legacy she left behind cannot be underestimated.

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Glorious Georgian ginbag, gossip and gadabout Catherine Curzon, aka Madame Gilflurt, is the author of A Covent Garden Gilflurt’s Guide to Life. When not setting quill to paper, she can usually be found gadding about the tea shops and gaming rooms of the capital or hosting intimate gatherings at her tottering abode. In addition to her blog and Facebook, Madame G is also quite the charmer on Twitter. Her first book, Life in the Georgian Court, is available now, and she is also working on An Evening with Jane Austen, starring Adrian Lukis and Caroline Langrishe.

Scotland and the Second Jacobite Uprising

by Christy Nicholas

Many a tale has been set in Scotland. Some truly tragic and romantic events have taken place in this isolated corner of the UK, with strong personalities, implacable egos, and cruel masters. The Jacobite Risings were full of such stories, but none so tragic as the Battle of Culloden during the Second Jacobite Rising of 1746.

In 1707, the Act of Union brought England and Scotland together as one economic and political unit, allowing greater trade, and replacing Scottish systems of currency, taxation, and laws.

This move was unpopular in Scotland, of course, and the Jacobites rose again, under James VII’s son, James Frances Edward Stuart, aka “The Old Pretender”. He had lived in exile most of his life, and attempted several failed invasions, most notably in 1715. It was ruined by a failure of coordinated risings in Wales and Devon, lack of leadership, bad timing, and bad luck. By the time James finally landed in Scotland, he was told it was hopeless, and so he fled back to the relative safety of France. If you would like a glimpse into what life may have been like, watch the movie Rob Roy, starring Liam Neeson. Rob Roy was an historical character, though the stories of him are mixed. Some show him as a cattle-thieving rogue; others as a national hero, standing up to the oppressive evil English landlord. I suspect the truth is somewhere in the middle. The real Rob Roy lived near Balquhidder, and there is a small cemetery there, where is grave is situated.

In 1745, James I’s son, Charles Edward Stuart, tried again to reclaim the Scottish crown. He was ”The Young Pretender”, or Bonnie Prince Charlie. The nickname Charlie most likely came, not from a diminutive of the name Charles, but from the Gaelic for Charles – Teàrlach. This rising was more successful, and he won some important battles, such as Prestonpans. Several clans joined the movement, albeit some very reluctantly. While he was successful at first, and managed to secure a good chunk of Scotland, he became greedy, and tried moving south into England. This overextended his resources, and many of his allies changed their minds. The rising ended with a horrible defeat by the Duke of Cumberland at Culloden. Charles fled to exile again, never to return.

If you ever visit Culloden field, please take the time to explore the visitor center. It has very poignant presentations on this time, this battle, and the events leading up to it. It is very moving, even if you have not a drop of Scottish blood.

The loss at Culloden broke the Highlanders and the Jacobites. What followed was a horrible part of British history – the Highland Clearances. In order to remove the teeth of the Scottish clans, the English outlawed Highland dress, custom, language – and capriciously stole from, killed, arrested, and transported thousands of Highlanders. These transportees ended up in Canada and America, often as indentured servants. Crofts were burned, cattle were slaughtered, valuables were stolen, and women were raped. Much of the land that was “cleared” of troublesome Highlanders was used for sheep, to support the budding wool trade in England.

Imagine living on a small farm. Life is hard, but peaceful. You tend your crops, your cattle or flock, and have enough to support your small family. There are, perhaps, four families within ten miles, also crofters. Your husband has gone off to a neighboring farm to help them with a building. Then the soldiers come – they slaughter the cows you rely on for your milk, run your sheep off, trample your crops, perhaps even salting the ground. They tear the door off its hinges, and violate you and your daughters. They leave, taking anything they think might be valuable… and you have no one you can complain to, for they are the Crown’s troops. You must either find a way to survive, leave, or perish. It was a very dark time, though many have managed to remain to this day.

This is an excerpt from my newly published ebook called Stunning, Strange and Secret, a Guide to Hidden Scotland. It contains some myth and history, tips and tricks to planning your own trip, and lots of hidden gems and photographs. It is available in several formats. Please visit my author page on Facebook.

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Christy Nicholas, also known as Green Dragon, has her hands in many crafts, including digital art, beaded jewelry, writing, and photography. In real life, she's a CPA, but having grown up with art all around her (her mother, grandmother and great-grandmother are/were all artists), it sort of infected her, as it were. She loves to draw and to create things. She says it's more of an obsession than a hobby. She likes looking up into the sky and seeing a beautiful sunset, or seeing a fragrant blossom or a dramatic seaside. She takes a picture or creates a piece of jewelry as her way of sharing this serenity, this joy, this beauty with others. Sometimes this sharing requires explanation – and thus she writes. Combine this love of beauty with a bit of financial sense and you get an art business. She does local art and craft shows, as well as sending her art to various science fiction conventions throughout the country and abroad.

https://www.facebook.com/groups/tirgearr.publishing/?fref=ts

Flora MacDonald: Scottish Heroine and Staunch British Loyalist

by Lauren Gilbert

Flora MacDonald 1747
Wikimedia Commons

Thanks to her dramatic rescue of Prince Charles Edward Stuart (Bonnie Prince Charlie) after the Rising of 1745, Flora MacDonald is frozen in time. Their names are almost inseparable, and the first thing mentioned about her is this romanticized event. Her life before and afterwards has almost become postscripts to this single event. The story of the rescue is told as drama, sometimes with an implication of romance between the prince and his rescuer. Victorian-era accounts are almost overwrought with their praise and idealization of Flora. But who was she? What happened afterwards?

Flora MacDonald was born in 1722 to Ranald MacDonald and his wife Marion at Milton on the island of South Uist in the Outer Hebrides. Her father was a farmer, and her mother had been the daughter of a clergyman. Ranald MacDonald died when Flora was very small, and her mother married Hugh MacDonald of Armadale on the island of Skye when Flora was about 6 years old. Flora stayed at Uist with her older brother Angus until she was 13 years old at which time she was sent to stay with the Clanranalds to pursue her education. Lady Margaret MacDonald (Clanranald) brought Flora into her home and later had Flora accompany the family to Edinburgh where Flora continued her education, attending boarding school. Flora lived with them in Edinburgh and elsewhere. Lady MacDonald and many of the MacDonalds were Jacobite sympathizers.

Accounts vary, but the rescue consisted of Flora and Niel MacEachainn in June of 1746 taking the prince, who was disguised as a female Irish servant, to the Island of Raasay. Once there, the prince was directed to find shelter in a cave until he could complete his escape. (After Flora and Niel left him, the prince made his way through Skye to the mainland. He had been living rough prior to this, and continued so, in caves and wherever he could find shelter. The prince ultimately escaped after about 3 months on a French vessel to France.) Flora’s part in the physical rescue was approximately 3 days. It would seem she was involved with the planning as her stepfather Hugh MacDonald, a captain in the militia, provided the passports for her, her manservant, and Irish spinning-maid, ostensibly to visit her mother.

The prince’s movements became known, and Flora’s participation became known. Once it was clear that the prince had succeeded in escaping to France, the search for those who had aided him intensified, and Flora was arrested on Skye after a brief visit with her mother. I was unable to find formal accounts of a trial. She was held at Dunstaffnage Castle in August of 1746 for about 10 days, where she was allowed to entertain visitors. Subsequently, she was taken by boat to Glasgow, where she was placed aboard “HMS Furnace” (or possibly the “Bridgewater”), where she stayed on board for 3 months. Again, Flora was allowed to receive visitors and gifts. On November 7, 1746, the ship departed for London.

Flora was held in the Tower of London for a short time, then released into house arrest with friends. Flora was apparently quite popular and entertained frequent visitors. At one point, she met one of George II’s sons (one account said it was Fredrick, the Prince of Wales; another indicated it was the Duke of Cumberland). Supposedly, the prince in question asked her why she aided Prince Charles, and she told him that she would have helped anyone in similar circumstances. It seems she assisted him as a humanitarian, rather than political, obligation. Finally, in June of 1747, George II passed a general free pardon, allowing those who had been convicted of treasonous acts before June 15, 1747 to be released.

Upon her release, she became a guest of a leading Jacobite lady (possibly Lady Primrose of Dunnipace). Flora remained in London for a time, trying to aid other state prisoners, receiving gifts, donations of funds, and many more visitors. After leaving London, her travels took her through England to York and on to Scotland. Apparently Flora travelled for about 12 months, visiting Jacobites on her journey. She finally settled in Skye, after visiting her mother, Lady Clanranald and her brother.

Flora married Allan MacDonald of Kingsburgh, whom she had known since childhood, on November 6, 1750, at the age of 28. She brought with her into the marriage several hundred pounds, and received more money from Jacobite supporters. The couple farmed at Flodigarry, and had seven children, but things did not go well. Whether the result of debts incurred by his father, difficulty in farming, increases in rents, or a combination of all of these factors, the couple experienced increasing difficulties. In 1774, they immigrated to North Carolina in America with their children.

Upon arrival in North Carolina, Flora and her family were welcomed by the Scots community, many of whom had emigrated before, and a ball was given in Flora’s honour in Wilmington. They purchased a plantation in Anson in January 1776, and two of their children died of typhus. Unfortunately, before they had time to get settled, the American Revolution broke out. Flora and her husband were loyalists, her husband having been commissioned an officer in the Royal Highland Emigrant Regiment in 1775. After the war broke out, Allan and several other family members fought, but Allan was captured after the defeat at Moore’s Creek and made prisoner. Their plantation was damaged and ultimately confiscated when Flora refused to take the oath required by the Act of November 1777.

Allan and Flora reunited briefly in 1778 after his release, and they moved to Nova Scotia. Although Alan remained with his regiment in Canada, Flora went back to Skye in 1779. Her surviving two sons and older daughter returned with her, where they were reunited with the youngest daughter. This voyage was more exciting, as the ship was attacked by a French privateer. Accounts indicate that Flora remained on deck and suffered a broken arm. Upon her return, her brother built a cottage for her where she stayed until her husband’s return five years later. It seems she had a sense of humour as she supposedly said that she had fought in the service of both the House of Stuart and the House of Hanover but had been defeated in both endeavours.*

Flora died March 5, 1790, possibly at Kingsburgh, her husband’s family home (accounts differ). Her body was wrapped in a sheet on which Charles Stuart had slept all those years before, and buried at Kilmuir on the north end of Skye in the churchyard. Her funeral was supposedly well attended, and her grave was covered by a thin marble slab. The slab, however, was chipped away within a short time, and the pieces carried away by tourists. Subsequently, public subscriptions allowed a large granite cross on a pedestal to be erected in her memory.

Numerous accounts of Flora’s rescue of the prince and a few biographies were written about her. Although known for a brief adventure with Prince Charles Edward Stuart, her life was exciting and full of incident. Flora showed herself to be intelligent, faithful, determined, and resilient.

Flora MacDonald’s grave in Kilmuir Cemetery on the Isle of Skye, 6/2007, by Adam Cuerden,
From Wikimedia Commons

Sources include:

Dictionary of Ntional Biography, 1885-1900, Volume 35. “Macdonald, Flora” by Thomas Finlayson Henderson. On line at http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Macdonald,_Flora(DNB00)

Internet Archives. MacGregor, Alexander. THE LIFE OF FLORA MACDONALD and her Adventures with Prince Charles*. Inverness: A & W MacKenzie, 1882. https://archive.org/details/lifeoffloramacdo00macguoft

GoogleBooks. THE SCOTS MAGAZINE Containing A GENERAL VIEW of the Religion, Politicks, Entertainment, etc. In Great Britain: and a Succinct Account of Publick Affairs Foreign and Domestic for the Year MDCCXLVII. Volume IX. June 1747. “Abstract of the act vicesimo George ii R Entitled, An Act for the King’s most gracious , general, and free pardon.” PP 258-261. http://books.google.com/books?id=FVwAAAAAYAAJ&pg=PA259&lpg=PA259&dq=act+of+grace+and+pardon+1747&source=bl&ots=R35BskguE1&sig=d2w5BqLPoKMxUWTkiJtQ1vMoObE&hl=en&sa=X&ei=Oi36U7rGNsqhyAS_tYKwCQ&ved=0CDUQ6AEwBQ#v=onepage&q=act%20of%20grace%20and%20pardon%201747&f=false

Scotland Magazine on-line. “What Flora did next.” By Jackie Cosh. Issue 22, p. 48. Http://www.scotlandmag.com/magazine/issue22/12006639.html

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Lauren Gilbert is author of HEYERWOOD: A Novel, and lives in Florida with her husband. Her second novel, working title A Rational Attachment, is expected to be released later this year.