Thursday, June 26, 2014

Isabelle de Valois; a highly desirable royal bride

by Anne O'Brien

On Thursday 26th October 1396 King Richard II travelled to France with a vast contingent of family, counsellors and English nobility, as well as a huge personal wardrobe, to take a new wife.  It was two years since the death of Anne of Bohemia and Richard was without an heir, a dangerous position for a medieval state.  At thirty years of age, it was essential that he marry again.  For Richard, however, the need for an heir would not appear to be his first priority, for his new bride was not quite seven years old. 

(To overcome the immediate problem, Richard was to select his cousin Edward, Earl of Rutland, as his 'brother' and heir, giving him the title Duke of Aumale.)  Here is Richard II, splendid in red with gold lions, receiving a copy of Froissart's Chronicles from the author.

But back to the marriage. Richard met with Charles VI of France (in one of his saner moments) at Ardres in France where a truce in the 100 Years War was hammered out between the two countries. For England a truce was more advantageous than a full peace treaty which would have demanded greater concessions from England. It was not a popular marriage in England but Richard saw it as an occasion on which to make his presence known on the European scene.

The poet and author Philippe de Mezieres gave Richard a beautifully illuminated manuscript, the Letter to King Richard, extolling the value of the marriage and exhorting Richard to go on Crusade, sending it to Richard from Paris on behalf of Charles VI in advance of the marriage.  Here is one of the superb illuminated pages.

Richard was persuaded; he never took up the idea of the Crusade but the marriage appealed to him, seeing an opportunity to win affection and good will from his subjects when there would be no further drain on the treasury for campaigns that brought little benefit. Furthermore he could make an superlative impression of wealth and power in Europe.  

Another example of Philippe de Mezieres work in the book.

Once the truce was decided on, it was time to discuss Isabelle's dowry and the terms of her marriage. Her dowry was fixed at 800, 000 francs, 300,000 to be paid on the occasion of the marriage and the rest in annual instalments. If Richard were to die childless before her twelfth birthday, the youngest age at which Isabelle might be considered to be physically mature to fulfil her role as wife, she was to have 500,000 francs for her own disposal. Interestingly, on her twelfth birthday Isabelle would have the power to refuse consent to this marriage if she so wished, as Richard would have the right to reject her. In the event of Richard's death, Isabelle would be free to return to France with this money and all her jewellery.

A great encampment of pavilions was set up near Ardres in France and it was to this that Richard came.  On the following day the kings met, Richard in long scarlet gown bearing his own livery of the white hart, Charles clothed in similar fashion, but shorter, emblazoned - a nice touch here - in memory of Richard's late queen.  All was splendour and magnificence.  Richard gave Charles a collar of pearls and precious stones, belonging to Anne of Bohemia, worth 5,000 marks.  Many of the English royal family present - the Duchess of Lancaster, Countess of Huntingdon and Joan Beaufort - were given solid gold livery chains to wear, bearing the white hart.  There was much festivity: wine and sweetmeats, kisses and handclasps, with banquets and junketing that went on for four days. 


Comparisons have been made with the later Field of the Cloth of Gold, as shown here, between Henry VIII and Francis I, the two monarchs lavish with their gifts and good will and promises of eternal friendship, all set about with banquets and dances and lavish spectacle, but with one main difference. Henry and Francis jousted regularly. Richard and Charles did not. Neither of them had the physical attributes or love of physical sport of the later monarchs.

All this cost Richard a vast amount of money, but for him it was worth it.  This was power play at the highest level, his first ever meeting with another king, where he must not be found wanting.  No expense was spared, Richard having to borrow to offset his spending estimated between £10,000 and £15,000.  A torrential downpour during the proceedings which soaked many of the lords and swept away some of the French pavilions did nothing to dampen his enthusiasm for the marriage.

Finally the little bride was delivered to Richard on the 30th October.  She had a French governess, Madame de Courcy, but was was entrusted in England to the care of the Duchesses of Lancaster and Gloucester and the Countesses of Huntingdon and Stafford.  Richard and Isabella were married on 4th November in the church of St Nicholas in Calais.


What of Isabelle's thoughts on this marriage? Did she, at six years old, enjoy leaving family and those known to her to go to live in England, with a husband she had never before met? We have no idea. Richard seems to have treated her with much affection, rather like a sister in the brief three years of their marriage.

As for the jewels in Isabelle's dowry, we know in some detail what she brought with her. It must have been a remarkable collection of crowns and chaplets, collars and brooches and jewelled clasps, gold and silver vessels for use in her apartments and chapel. Even her dolls were packed up for her to bring to England along with their miniature silver furnishings.

The marriage was brief and tragic for Isabelle.  After Richard's imprisonment and death, she remained in England, a pawn in a political game, in spite of her father's demands that she return home, because Henry IV could not afford to repay Isabelle's dowry.  The French ambassadors had difficulty in gaining access to her.  She sailed at last for France in August 1401 where she eventually married her cousin Charles Duke of Orleans, but there was little happiness for her as she died in childbed in 1409 at the age of  19 years. 

The marriage treaty between Richard and Isabelle had stipulated that if the marriage was unconsummated, Isabelle's dowry and jewels should be returned to France with her.  The dowry received was never repaid (Henry IV continued to have his own financial problems) but almost all the jewels and plate returned with her in 1401.  The rich array of gifts, however, sent to the happy couple by King Charles and Queen Isabeau, as well as by Isabelle's two uncles the Dukes of Burgundy and Berry, were never returned.  They could still be found in the possession of the Lancastrian kings in the 15th century, doubtless a pragmatic move on the part of Henry IV.

So what do we say about Isabelle, Queen of England?  One of those brief, transient lives about which we know so little.  A prime example of the importance of royal daughters in the medieval marriage stakes, where personal happiness of a young girl weighed nothing against the demands of state connections and political alliance.  All in all, not a happy story.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

www.anneobrienbooks.com

Wednesday, June 25, 2014

English Treasure on Gotland

Gotland coat of arms; sheep, called on Gotland
"lamm"have always been important to the local economy
By Marmelad and Leonid 2 / Wikimedia Commons
And Irish treasure And Frankish treasure. And German treasure. And Arabic – most especially Arabic.

More than 700 purposefully assembled collections, or hoards, of silver treasure have been found on the Baltic island of Gotland, most deposited in the ground for safe keeping during the Viking age (9th through mid-11th centuries).

A few of these hoards are of unequalled size, including the largest ever found. The Spillings Hoard, unearthed by a farmer in his field in north-eastern Gotland in July 1999, contains more than 14,300 silver coins, and much silver jewellery: hundreds of armlets, and numerous finger rings, as well as silver ingots, coils of rolled silver, and hack-silver, pieces of broken jewellery and cut-up coinage.

The Spillings Hoard was buried under the floorboards of a farmhouse about 881 CE, as the latest coin is dated to then. The house quite possibly was that belonging to a metalsmith - always a prosperous member of society in medieval times - judging by the other metal remains found on site. The earliest coins in the hoard are 6th c Sasanian. The vast majority of the coins are Arabic dirhams, not brought to the island as plunder but rather through the extensive trade around the Baltic basin that connected Gotland with the Silk Road and its fabled riches of silk, furs, and spices. The area where the Spillings Hoard was found abounded in well-to-do savers; a hoard was found in the same field in 1883 and numbered 5,922 coins.

Part of the Spellings Hoard, found inside a copper barrel by a farmer and
weighing 67 kg of silver (almost 148 pounds) and 20 kg (40 pounds) of bronze objects
Photo by Wolfgang Sauber / Wikimedia Commons

Gotland is an island 109 miles long and 32 miles wide in the Baltic sea, and today is home to some 58,000 residents. An independent nation until captured by the Danish King Valdemar Atterdag in 1361, Gotland did not become part of Sweden until 1645.

Map of Gotland
Created by Oona Räisänen / Wikimedia Commons

The walled capital city of Visby, on the eastern coast, grew immensely rich in the later middle ages as part of the Hanseatic League, leaving it and all of Gotland dotted with impressive medieval buildings, including the 94 parish churches it is justly famed for.

Visby, an UNESCO World Heritage designated site
Photo by En-cas-de-soleil / Wikimedia Commons

It is a place of exceptional beauty, its extensive coast and many inlets dotted with rauk – wind- and water-swept limestone rock formations - and blessed with the sunniest location of all Sweden. The name “Gotland” – Gutland in Gutnish, the original language of the settlers, is “Goth-land”, land of the Goths. Although the official language politically is Swedish, Gutnish is still spoken amongst some residents, although sadly barely survives in written form. Swedish friends living and studying on Gotland tell me that when they overhear Gutnish it is unintelligible to them, so distinct a language it is.


Raukar, weathered limestone towers
Photo by Allen Watkin / Wikimedia Commons
Nearly 200,000 old coins have been found on Gotland, including more late Anglo-Saxon coins than have been found in Britain itself. Yes: more late Anglo-Saxon coins have been found on this small distant island than in England itself. Many of these English coins were almost certainly plunder, and from the payment of thousands of pounds of danegeld (the payments paid by Anglo-Saxon rulers to stave off the predations of the Vikings). But the Gotlanders themselves were not “Vikings” – they were prosperous and peaceful farmers and traders, highly independent, pragmatic, and successful. Gotland’s location in the Baltic Sea made it perfect for trading runs across to the eastern and southern shores, where tribes such as the Polanie, Pomerani, and Prus ran Summer trading posts. These connected to trade routes heading further East deep into Russia, South to present day Iraq and Uzbekistan, and West to the great trading towns of the Svear (Swedes) such as Birka, and Aros (Aarhus) of the Danes.

The Spillings Hoard, along with much more treasure and examples of Gotland’s famed standing memorial stones, are on view in Visby at the Gotlands Museum. An excellent book is available on the Hoard: The Spillings Hoard: Gotland’s Role in Viking Age World Trade, Visby, Gotlands Museum, 2009

We'll return to Gotland in a later post; the island is too rich in interest not to.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Hall of Tyr, Book Four of the Circle of Ceridwen Saga, is set on Gotland at the same time the Spillings Hoard was buried. The Hall of Tyr debuted last week on the Amazon.com Top Ten in Women's Adventure. Available now at Amazon.com and Amazon.co.uk.  Octavia Randolph.


Book Four
Book Two
Book Three


Book One

Monday, June 23, 2014

Orphans in Regency England

by Lindsay Downs

When I was writing The Guilty Countess, I had a scene set in Stratford upon Avon at a tea house. One of the characters was a little six year old girl, an orphan who worked in the shop. It got me thinking—was this possible, and what other options, if any, were available to these children? The short answer, there were not many. So I went off to do some research on the topic, and what I found was not only interesting but surprising.

During the Regency period, there wasn’t adoption as we know it today. In England, this didn’t come about until the 1920’s.

If the head of a household brought an orphan in but left no provisions for the child in his will, the new head had no obligation to continue the care. If the head did have unentitled property that could be left to the child in the will, it was probably with conditions until adulthood was reached.

Another option would be to have a family in the village take the orphan in. This is what I did with my character. Depending on the needs of the family, the child might become a scullery maid or if taken in by a farmer, might become additional help. These are a few of the best possible options for these waifs.

Another, and better, choice would be that a childless couple might take in a relative’s children. Here, through a provision in the will, the orphan would be able to inherit on the passing of their foster parents. This was not necessarily required of the new parents.

When the child didn’t find a home with family or friends, they were turned over to the parish. Here an orphan could be contracted to a master under certain conditions. The pact gave control over the child to their, for lack of a better word, owner who was required to feed, clothe, and care for the boy or girl, and apprentice them in a trade. Sometimes the new master might not be as scrupulous as was thought, and he would force the child into dangerous work situations. One which comes to mind is a chimney sweep’s apprentice where they could easily die if care was not taken.

In conclusion, the life of a young child in Regency England could be easy or harsh. In book four of the Markson Regency Mystery series, I will be going into what a boy, as a chimney sweep’s apprentice, would endure. That book, tentatively titled Swept Away, will be releasing later this year or early next year. I should warn you, though—some of what you read might shock and astound you.

In conclusion, the life of Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens was real.

References used:
Common Regency Errors by Allison Lane
The Word Wenches
Wikipedia

~~~~~~~~~~~~~


When Lord Robert Markson, Viscount of Hampshire, is force to return to England to find out who murdered his father and older brother, he’s in for a surprise. It comes in the guise of Lady Kristina Rosewood, daughter to the Earl and Countess of Crossington. To many she’s quartz but to him a multifaceted diamond.

While recovering from an attempt on his life which thrust them closer together, they work through emotions for each other while sorting through letters sent to his mother years ago. Slowly, they’re able to discover the one man who could have set the murders in motion. The only problem: he’s been dead for years, so who could it be and more importantly, why now?

Once all the evidence is compiled the answer is something neither could believe, as the threat comes from within the late viscount’s house.



Accused of murdering her husband, Lady Donna Kersey turns to the only people who can prove her innocence—her brother and his new bride.

As Robert and Kristina start their search for the real killer they learn the murder might be more complicated than first thought. Uncovering evidence sends the three in pursuit of a possible suspect only to find this person is innocent, or is he not guilty of the murder but something else?

When Robert and Kristina learn Lord Kersey might not be exactly who they believe him to be, the facts become murky. It takes a surprise visit by Kristina’s brother to help set the record straight which only adds more confusion to the facts.

Will Robert and Kristina find the killer of Lord Kersey before the authorities take Lady Kersey away in irons?


Bio

What does it take to be a bestselling author? Determination, skill, talent, luck or taking a risk with a venture into a totally new genre. For me it was a little of some and a lot of the others.

In 2008 when I got two books published I thought it was due to skill; little did I know it was more luck than anything. Over the next three years I wrote, submitted, and was rejected. I then did what I tell everyone who asks; I wrote some more. I didn’t give up.

More on a dare than anything, I tried my hand at a Regency, one of the most difficult genres because of the rules, of which, I might add, I broke almost every one. Within two days of its release, the book was on a best seller list and stayed there for two months.

Turns out it is all of the aforementioned.

After two failed marriages, one from divorce while with the other died unexpectedly, I decided upon retirement to move. That opportunity came in September 2012 when I migrated to Texas.
For me, as a multipublished author, it was one of the best things I’ve done to date. Now, every day I can write, creating stories to take my readers to places they can only dream about.

I’m also a member of the Published Authors Network (PAN) by the Romance Writers of America (RWA).

Where you can find me
Facebook Page           
Twitter- @ldowns2966


Sunday, June 22, 2014

Giveaway: The Queen's Exiles by Barbara Kyle

Barbara Kyle is giving away one signed copy her new novel, The Queen's Exiles. "Riveting Tudor drama in the bestselling vein of Philippa Gregory" - USA Today. This giveaway ends at midnight Sunday June 29th. For information about The Queen's Exiles please click HERE. To enter the draw, leave a comment here and be sure to include your email address.

Saint George in Dark Ages Britain

By Paolo Uccello, around 1456-1460

 

 By Kim Rendfeld


Long before Richard the Lionhearted invoked him in the Crusades, before he became England’s patron, Saint George was a popular figure in medieval Christianity.

The basic story is that George was born to noble Christian parents in Cappadocia and moved with his mother to her native Palestine after his father died. He joined the Roman army and was named a tribune. Sometime in his career, he rescued a princess from a dragon in the city of Selena. However, Emperor Diocletian issued an anti-Christian edict. Refusing to renounce his faith, George resigned his commission and complained to the emperor. For his troubles, he was imprisoned, tortured, and beheaded around 303.

Regardless of whether the events are historically accurate, Saint George’s legend captured medieval Christians’ imagination. The saint’s tomb is in Lydda (later Diospolis then Lod in Israel), and after Constantine issued an edict of tolerance in 314, churches were dedicated to George in the region. Perhaps pilgrims who traveled to the Holy Land brought the saint’s legend back with them to Europe and the British Isles.

If you’re familiar with the hero’s epic of Beowulf, it’s easy to see why Saint George caught the interest of Christians from warlike Germanic cultures such as the Saxons and the Franks. Like Beowulf, Saint George is a tough guy who killed a monster. The greatest difference is that George makes the ultimate sacrifice for God, while Beowulf dies in a fight for the sake of his people.

On the Continent, the Franks knew about Saint George by the sixth century. After King Clovis was baptized in 496, he founded a monastery at Baralle in George’s honor. Clovis’s wife, Clotilda, who wanted her husband to convert in the first place, also honored George by building an altar and the church at Chelles.

Whether Saint George’s story had crossed the Channel at that time is uncertain. However, around 670, Bishop Arculf, a pilgrim from Gaul, was blown off course on his return from the Holy Land and landed on the island monastery of Iona (also called Hy), near today’s Scotland. His host was the Irish abbot Adamnan. As Arculf talked about the Holy Land, Adamnan wrote down his guest’s account on wax tablets, then transcribed them to parchment and presented Arculf’s descriptions to the king of Northumbria in 698. The Venerable Bede also used that information in his own writing about holy places, and his martyrology included Saint George.

Might Arculf have also told the story of Saint George during his visit? It’s possible. Saint George’s acts were translated into Anglo-Saxon, and churches were dedicated to him before the Norman Conquest. Artwork of George slaying the dragon dates back as early as the seventh century. Perhaps the image of a hero literally driving a lance through a symbol of evil (or paganism) inspired medieval Christians.

To read about the role Saint George’s story played in later centuries and how he became closely tied to English identity, see Helena P. Schrader’s informative post, "England and St. George."

Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.

Sources:

Herbert Thurston, "St. George." The Catholic Encyclopedia. Vol. 6, 1909.

Godefroid Kurth, "Clovis." The Catholic Encyclopedia. Vol. 4, 1908.

William Grattan-Flood, "St. Adamnan." The Catholic Encyclopedia. Vol. 1, 1907.

Thomas Walsh, "Arculf." The Catholic Encyclopedia. Vol. 1, 1907.

Herbert Thurston, "The Venerable Bede." The Catholic Encyclopedia. Vol. 2, 1907. 14 Jun. 2014

The Edinburgh Review: Or Critical Journal, Volume 177

About Saint George

EWTN

StGeorge.org

Saint George was popular among the Franks, whom Kim Rendfeld writes about in her novels: The Cross and the Dragon (2012, Fireship Press),  a tale of love amid wars and blood feuds, and The Ashes of Heaven’s Pillar (August 28, 2014, Fireship Press), a story of the lengths a mother will go to protect her children. For more about Kim visit her blog, Outtakes of a Historical Novelist, at kimrendfeld.wordpress.com or her website, kimrendfeld.com or contact Kim at kim [at] kimrendfeld [dot] com.





Saturday, June 21, 2014

The Birth of the Corps of Marines 1664 - 1815

by David Cook

The Corps of Marines can trace its commencement all the way to the year 1664 when Britain was at war with the Dutch Republic for control of the seas and trade routes.

It became apparent from the Dutch success that infantry units were needed on-board ship what with the increasing use of firearms. The first recognised raised unit was called the ‘Duke of York and Albany’s Maritime Regiment of Foot’ and soon after was known as the ‘Lord High Admiral’s Regiment’. These were infantrymen recruited from the Trained Bands of London and were the very first soldiers drafted for the roles of marines.

Marine of the Holland Regiment
The wholly musket-armed ‘Holland Regiment’ that John Churchill, later the 1st Duke of Marlborough, served in as a marine, wore ‘gold’ coats rather than the standard red. Today, the British Marine Corps Colours are still one part yellow to signify the ‘gold’ colour of their ancestral coats.

From the late 17th Century through to the middle of the 18th Century there were other regiments raised as marines, or Foot Regiments converted for sea duty. They fought throughout the War of the Spanish Succession, and the fragmented battles of the War of Jenkins’ Ear with notable successes on both land and sea. Once the wars were over, the units returned to their land roles.

The Corps of Marines, the infantry fighting element of the Royal Navy, were formed on 5th April, 1755. There were fifty companies in three Marine Divisions; headquartered at the major ports of Chatham, Portsmouth and Plymouth under the command each of a colonel commandant. Horatio Nelson was Chatham’s colonel in 1795.

The marines went on to serve with distinction during the American War of Independence, especially at Battle of Bunker Hill, where they were marked for their ‘cool ability under fire’.

Regularly enlisted like the Army, and not by impressment (press-ganged as some myths dictate) they primarily provided the Royal Navy with a force of troops that could fight on land as infantry, of manning the ships guns, acting as marksmen against enemy crews and for close quarter boarding action at sea.

Their secondary function was to supress mutiny among the seamen. In fact, their quarters always separated the RN officers’ and sailor quarters. They ensured security details and supported discipline of the crews. The ratio of marines on-board each ship was generally at a ratio of one marine per ship gun.


Marine officers during the War of Independence








After the Act of Union was passed in 1801, which incorporated Ireland into the United Kingdom, there was an influx of Irish volunteers. After 1805 nearly ten percent of each company were comprised of foreigners, mainly Maltese, German, Spanish and Portuguese. Each company on paper was to comprise 1 captain, 2 first lieutenants, 2 second lieutenants, 8 sergeants, 8 corporals, 6 drummers and 140 privates. Each Marine Division also had a grenadier and a light company, but they were abolished in 1804. With disease, shortages and battle-caused deaths, it was highly unlikely that the paper figures were ever met. The marine companies were dispersed throughout the fleet and where needed on land.

The marines had their uniforms supplied by the Navy Board, but their dress was that of the infantry. They wore the red coat, with white collar and cuffs. Plumes were the standard colours, white-over-red for battalion companies, green for the light and white for the grenadiers. Officers wore scarlet coats, with white lace and white gloves. Gorgets, worn at the throat, were purely decorative horseshoe shaped pieces of metal that harked back to the days when officers had worn armour like medieval knights. Officer’s carried straight bladed cutlasses with a thirty-two inch blade, a pistol and most commonly a dirk. The marine privates were armed with the Sea Service Brown Bess muskets and the sergeants carried halberds, and then later spontoons or half-pikes.

Marines fighting during ship-to-ship battles
The marines were nicknamed by the sailors ‘lobsters’ because of the red woollen coat, and ‘bootnecks’, a semi-derogatory term derived from the dark leather 'stock' worn round the neck inside the collar which forced a soldier to keep his head up. "Take my sea boots off your neck”, was a saying to imply the marines were wearing a piece of leather cut from the sailors footwear.

In 1802, largely at the recommendation of Admiral John Jervis, 1st Earl of St Vincent, the marines were re-titled ‘Royal Marines’ by King George III for services to their country:

“In order to mark his approbation of the very meritorious conduct of the Marines during the late war, His Majesty has been graciously pleased to direct that in future the corps shall be called the Royal Marines.”

The white facings (collars and cuffs) were given a royal makeover, changing to ‘Royal Blue’. The bicorn was replaced by the black ‘round-hat’ made of felt, but the red coat was retained.

UK stamp released in 2009
showing the new uniform of 1802
The Royal Marine Artillery (RMA) was formed in 1804 to man bomb vessels. They wore blue tunics of the Royal Artillery and nicknamed ‘un-boiled lobsters’ or ‘blue marines’.

In 1805, a fourth Marine Division was created at Woolwich and by the end of that year the corps numbered thirty thousand, the largest it ever saw during the Peninsular War.

The Corps of Colonial Marines were two units raised in 1808 from former American slaves for British service. They were created at different times and both disbanded after the wars. They were recruited to address the shortage of military manpower in the Caribbean. The locally-recruited men were less susceptible to tropical illnesses than were troops sent from Britain and knew the terrain. The Corps followed the practice of the British Army's West India Regiments in recruiting escaped slaves as soldiers, but were loathed to view themselves as mere ‘slave soldiers’. They were free men and they represented a psychological threat to the slave-owning American society by being armed. They were highly thought of and as competent as their European comrades. They also received free land grants in Canada in return for their commendable service, achieving freedom in which the 'Land of Liberty' had denied them.

Three additional Marine Battalions (numbered 1-3) were raised from among the Royal Marines specifically for action in Portugal, Northern Spain, the Invasion of France, the Netherlands, North America and the Caribbean. They were disbanded in 1815.

Throughout the French Revolutionary Wars, Napoleonic Wars and the War of 1812, the Royal Marines were present in every major sea battle: St Vincent, Camperdown, the Nile, Copenhagen, Trafalgar, the Dardanelles, Cape Lissa and Aix Roads.

They always formed part of any cutting out excursion - seizing an enemy ship by using their ships' boats and taking it from its anchorage by boarding it. They were used in amphibious landings and in 1812, helped disrupt coastal traffic, captured several towns, particularly Santander, and tied up the French Army of the North by not allowing it to reinforce the French Army of Portugal, which was then subsequently defeated at Salamanca.

During the Hundred Days Campaign, a RMA company was garrisoned (amongst others) at Ostend to protect Wellington’s rear in the event that the allies would have lost against Napoleon, and would had to retreat to the ports.

After 1815, the Royal Marines would serve its country again around the globe in many actions. However, it was during the wars of 1793-1815 that the force encapsulated the code and spirit of the great fighting force that today is revered throughout the world.
In 2014, the Corps will celebrate its 350th anniversary by completing a series of global physical challenges in honour to their heritage.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

David Cook’s novella, ‘’Heart of Oak’’, the second in The Soldier Chronicles series, is an authentic historical story set during the liberation of the Maltese Islands 1799-1800, and will be released at the end of June as an ebook.

Friday, June 20, 2014

Jane Austen at the Seaside

by Diana Birchall

“A Little Sea-bathing would set me up for ever” – Jane Austen

As we move toward midsummer, our thoughts may naturally turn toward the seaside, and as my thoughts ever turn toward Jane Austen, I have examined what the seaside meant to her, and what part it played in her life and writing.


Jane Austen at the seaside (1804)
Jane Austen is actually seen sitting by the seaside, in one of the two authenticated pictures of her, a water color done by her sister Cassandra in 1804. Only her back is shown, but we may imagine that she is enjoying the sea breezes. Perhaps she felt their reanimating and rejuvenating qualities, like her heroine Anne Elliot in Persuasion, who had “the bloom and freshness of youth restored” by her visit to the seaside.

In order to envision Jane Austen’s seaside, we must transport ourselves back to the coast of England two hundred years ago. We can dispense with picturing little Jenny Austen having bucket-and-spade summer holidays, as modern English children do. Jane Austen lived the first twenty-five years of her life mainly at Steventon, about thirty miles from the sea, a good day’s journey in those days. The busy Austen family, with George Austen rector of his parish and schooling a houseful of pupils as well, did not have money or leisure to frequent watering-places very often.

Yet the sea was important in the life of the Austen family. Jane Austen’s two sailor brothers were away at sea for most of her life starting in 1793, when she was seventeen. Frank, a year and a half older, and Charles, four years younger, served in the wars with France and America, and their letters home brought their family into contact with the wider world through their extensive travels. In many ways the Austens were a naval family, and as her nephew wrote, “with ships and sailors she felt herself at home.”

We don’t know exactly when Jane Austen first saw the sea, but it may be that her first visit was a tragic one. In 1783, at the age of seven, Jane and her sister Cassandra, then ten, were sent with their cousin Jane Cooper to school in the port city of Southampton. All three girls fell ill with typhus fever. They were taken to their homes, but Mrs. Cooper caught the disease and died. Jane Austen herself nearly died and was convalescent for about a year. Perhaps this gave her an idea that dangerous things might come from the sea. Not only disease, but the sea carried the dangers of accident, shipwreck, drowning, and warfare.

Jane wrote about such dangers in Persuasion, perhaps her most “nautical” novel. She rather coldly described the sailor Dick Musgrove: “he had been sent to sea, because he was stupid and unmanageable on shore; he had been very little cared for at any time by his family, though quite as much as he deserved; seldom heard of, and scarcely at all regretted, when the intelligence of his death abroad had worked its way to Uppercross.” Dick Musgrove resembled the Austen brothers not at all, but he illustrates the hazards of seagoing life, and the way such news traveled.

Jane Austen writes more feelingly about the dangers to Anne’s beloved Captain Wentworth: “His profession was all that could ever make her friends wish that tenderness less, the dread of a future war all that could dim her sunshine. She gloried in being a sailor's wife, but she must pay the tax of quick alarm for belonging to that profession which is, if possible, more distinguished in its domestic virtues than in its national importance.”

The young Jane Austen may have been taken to Portsmouth to see her brothers at the Royal Naval Academy, or to see one of their ships in its berth, similar to a scene in Mansfield Park where Fanny first sees her brother William in his uniform. After spending two years at the Academy, Frank joined the Perseverance, under Gen. Cornwallis, East India bound.


The topaz crosses Charles gave to his sisters
Charles, meanwhile, was involved in the Battle of Camperdown in 1797, and the taking of several Dutch prize ships; he famously spent some of his prize money buying his sisters topaz crosses. So Jane Austen might also see the sea as a changer of fortune and bringer of riches.

The Rev. George Austen’s busy working life centered around the home and parish, but in 1801, at the age of 70, he retired to Bath with his wife and daughters. Jane was then 25, and was not consulted about the move to Bath, which she disliked. Her father died in 1805, and Jane, her widowed mother and sister settled in Southampton, where they lived from 1805 to 1809, sharing quarters with Frank Austen and his wife Mary. The Austens looked forward to this move to the seaside, with Jane reporting “what happy feelings of escape” on leaving Bath.

They rented a house in Castle Square, with views across Southampton Water, over the old city walls and promenade. In Southampton they led a busy social life, with assemblies and balls; on one occasion Jane Austen wrote of dancing in “the same room in which we danced 15 years ago,” that is, in 1793.

We know something of that early visit to Southampton, where a plaque on the Dolphin Hotel reads: “It is said that Jane celebrated her 18th birthday here in the ball room of the Dolphin on 16 December 1793 with her brother Frank.” The plaque further reads, “Georgian Southampton was a spa resort. Running east from this spot was a waterside promenade for visitors to take daily exercise. Jane Austen and her family frequently walked along this shore, sometimes as far as Cross House Quay, where the Itchen Ferry operated.”


Netley Abbey
In 1807 the Austens used this ferry to visit Netley Abbey, the most complete surviving Cistercian monastery in southern England, whose ruins inspired Romantic writers. However, the only mention of Southampton Jane Austen makes in her fiction is in her juvenile work, Love & Freindship where she writes, “Beware of the unmeaning luxuries of Bath & of the stinking fish of Southampton.”

Portsmouth, where the Royal Naval Base is located, about 15 miles southeast of Southampton, was rather a squalid place when Frank and Charles were training there, with press gangs, brutality, prostitutes, and riots, all very different from the genteel home life the Austen boys had known.

Jane Austen has Fanny Price reflect on Portsmouth life in Mansfield Park: “The men appeared to her all coarse, the women all pert, everybody under-bred.” Fanny’s father “had no information beyond his profession; he read only the newspaper and the navy-list; he talked only of the dock-yard, the harbour, Spithead, and the Motherbank.”

Yet the beauty of the seaside shines through even the rough aspects of Portsmouth, in the way Jane Austen describes Fanny’s walk along the ramparts with Henry Crawford: “Everything looked so beautiful under the influence of such a sky, the effects of the shadows pursuing each other, on the ships at Spithead and the island beyond, with the ever-varying hues of the sea now at high water, dancing in its glee and dashing against the ramparts with so fine a sound.”

In 1808 Jane’s sister-in-law Elizabeth died with the birth of her 11th child. Her two eldest boys were at school in Winchester, and they were sent to visit Jane in Southampton, where she tried to cheer them up, taking them on “a little water party” along the river and rowing upstream to inspect a man o’ war. Soon afterward, Edward, Jane’s newly widowed brother, offered his mother and sisters a cottage near his house at Chawton. They left Southampton and were settled at their Chawton home in July 1809. Jane Austen’s seaside life was essentially over.

Jane Austen’s most extensive “watering-place” period was while she was living in Bath, for one of that city’s attractions, and certainly one of the things that reconciled her to living there, was that residents often made regular trips to seaside watering resorts. Bath, in an interior bowl, is hot during the summer, but seaside watering-places such as Lyme and Sidmouth were relatively accessible. By 1800 there were around 40 seaside settlements that had a holiday season, such as Brighton, Margate, and Ramsgate. Jane Austen wrote cheerfully at the prospect of one such tour to the seaside:

“The prospect of spending future summers by the sea or in Wales is very delightful. For a time we shall now possess many of the advantages which I have often thought of with Envy in the wives of Sailors or Soldiers.” Possibly one of the Austens’ purposes in these seaside tours, was to improve the prospects of this unmarried daughter.

In January 1801 she wrote that Sidmouth was “talked of” for their summer abode. There was also an invitation from their clergyman cousin Edward Cooper, Rector who was “so kind as to want us all to come to Hamstall this summer, instead of going to the sea, but we are not so kind as to mean to do it. The summer after, if you please, Mr. Cooper, but for the present we greatly prefer the sea to all our relations.”

Family tradition holds that it was at Sidmouth that Jane Austen met and fell in love with a young clergyman, who died. Nothing more is known of this incident, but it seems to confirm the impression that to Jane Austen, momentous, life-changing things did happen at the seaside.

According to scholar Brian Southam this visit to Sidmouth, as well as Barmouth and Tenby on the Welsh coast, occurred in summer 1801. The following year the Austens visited Dawlish and Teignmouth, and in 1803 and 1804 they went to Lyme Regis. They even traveled into Wales, visiting Tenby and Barmouth, a round trip from Bath of 400 miles.

Doctors recommended visits to such spas for ailments ranging from scurvy to putrid fever. The treatment consisted not only of bathing in seawater, but drinking it. The saltiness was sometimes cut with new milk, and it was an effective purgative.

In the early days, men and women bathed together, and there was no such thing as a bathing costume, but by Jane Austen’s day modesty was important and the bathing-machine was standard equipment. Ladies were plunged into the sea by strong women dippers. In September, 1804, Jane wrote about going into the water, at Lyme:

“The Bathing was so delightful this morning & Molly so pressing with me to enjoy myself that I believe I staid in rather too long, as since the middle of the day I have felt unreasonably tired.”

In Sanditon, Jane Austen writes of Miss Diana Parker feeling the need “to encourage Miss Lambe in taking her first Dip. She is so frightened, poor thing, that I promised to come & keep up her Spirits, & go in the Machine with her if she wished it.”

Bathing Machines

Jane Austen’s readers would have known just what each resort meant, in social standing and gentility. Each seaside town had its own reputation. Tom Bertram of Mansfield Park met his raffish friends at Ramsgate, which is also where Mr. Wickham of Pride and Prejudice tried to abduct Georgiana Darcy. In Emma, John Knightley chose Southend as being near his home in London, while Mr. Perry recommended the more remote and colder Cromer.

Jane Austen used seaside locations most extensively in her later novels. Mansfield Park is thoroughly suffused with seaside references, with the sailor brother William and the Crawfords’ circle of Admirals; though Mary Crawford, no lover of nature, urges Fanny not to let the sea airs ruin her pretty looks. The heroine of Emma has never even seen the sea, though she finally achieves that delight on her honeymoon with Mr. Knightley, after she’s been purified of her willful ways. And there are a number of watery references in connection with hypochondriacal Mr. Woodhouse, who holds that sea-air never did any body any good, and he is sure that it nearly killed him once.

It is in her last complete novel, Persuasion, that Jane Austen most intensely reveals her love for the sea, when she writes, “All must linger and gaze on a first return to the sea, who ever deserve to look on it at all.”

Jane Austen clearly felt all the enchantment of the seaside, but she also reveals it in another guise, as less idyllic for those who live there year round, not as tourists. Captain Harville and his family are settled in Lyme for the winter, in cheap lodgings. And the reader is reminded again of the dangers of the seaside with Louisa’s famous fall on the Cobb at Lyme. It is as if at the seaside, there’s no telling what will happen.

The different spas and seaside towns Jane Austen knew all had different characters and were frequented by people of differing social levels. Brighton, where the Prince Regent began building his Pavilion in 1813, is associated with immorality in Jane Austen’s novels, most famously with Lydia and Wickham; Wickham ran up a thousand pounds of debt in Brighton, and Elizabeth knew that a sojourn there would be “the death knell of all possibility of common sense for Lydia.”

Sanditon, Jane Austen’s unfinished novel, seems the culmination of all that she observed in her stays at watering places. She chose this subject when she was in poor health, toward the end of her life, so it is no surprise that health, hypochondria, and medical men receive their share of satire in Sanditon.

She gives a meticulous, if humorous, picture of a watering-place that is actively being developed from its former fishing village existence. Her inimitable depiction of the enthusiastic promoter Tom Parker may have been based on Mr. Edward Ogle, the entrepreneur of Worthing, whom she knew. Austen wrote that Sanditon “was his Mine, his Lottery, his Speculation & his hobby horse; his Occupation his hope and his futurity.” She adds, in a wonderful satiric spate: “He held it indeed as certain that no person could be really in a state of secure & permanent Health without spending at least 6 weeks by the Sea every year. – The Sea air & Sea Bathing together were nearly infallible, one or the other of them being a match for every Disorder of the Stomach, the Lungs, or the blood.” By the time she wrote this, Jane Austen was already ill. For her there was no cure, and she could only mock such empty promises.

One final lovely word-picture from Sanditon: “Charlotte having received possession of her apartment, found amusement enough in standing at her ample Venetian window, & looking over the miscellaneous foreground of unfinished Buildings, waving Linen, & tops of Houses, to the Sea, dancing & sparkling in Sunshine & Freshness."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Diana Birchall is a story analyst at Warner Bros, reading novels to see if they would make movies. She is also the author of a scholarly biography of her grandmother, the first Asian American novelist, Onoto Watanna (University of Illinois Press), and several "Austenesque" novels, includingMrs. Darcy's Dilemma and Mrs. Elton in America (Sourcebooks). She's also written and produced several Jane Austen-related comedy plays, and her latest, "A Dangerous Intimacy: Behind the Scenes at Mansfield Park", written in collaboration with Syrie James, is being featured at the Jane Austen Society of North America's conference in Montreal this October.

My blog:  www.lightbrightandsparkling.blogspot.com
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Thursday, June 19, 2014

June 20th and the Discovery of the Casket Letters ~ Tainted Evidence

By Linda Root


In criminal prosecutions, dates are often significant, sometimes critical, and even dispositive of a case's outcome.  When  viewing  the last year of the reign of  Marie Stuart, Queen of Scots  through the eyes of an experienced  prosecutor,  June 20, 1567  becomes  a landmark date.  

Placed in the chronology of events occurring in Scotland during that regime- shattering summer, the emergence of damning evidence against the queen five days after her surrender at Carberry Hill casts  more doubt on the men who produced it than on the guilt or innocence  of the queen whom they claimed  had been complicit in her husband’s murder. The tribunal which investigated the charges against the queen was hardly impartial and her accusers were the true principals in the very crime of which she was charged. It all began on June 20 in the course of a most unlikely dinner attended by two men who openly disliked one another, each of whom probably ate with a table knife in one hand and a sgian dubh hidden in the other.



According to Morton,  June 20, 1567   is the day that the infamous 'Casket Letters' were dropped into his lap, a most fortuitous windfall for the prosecution's case, although the evidence alleged to have surfaced on that important day was not presented to the Scottish Parliament when it indicted the queen the following December, never presented in its original form to the tribunal that heard the case against her at York and Westminster in 1568,  and early in the independent reign of her son and successor James VI the evidence mysteriously disappeared.  Of utmost importance, while discovery of the evidence was leaked to Cecil and the French via hint and innuendo, the actual evidence was not disclosed while the queen was still in Scotland and public sentiment was so critical to the Regent's cause, and it was never shown to the queen.

Morton was Marie Stuart's bitter enemy, the man who orchestrated the murder of her friend and confidante David Rizzio so that it occurred in the heavily pregnant queen’s presence, and who was instrumental in changing the terms of her surrender at Carberry from house arrest at Holyrood to close confinement in the dismal island fortress at Loch Leven.

On June 20, five days after the knight Sir William Kirkcaldy delivered the queen into his clutches, Morton and Maitland were settled in for a supposedly friendly dinner when they were interrupted with astonishing news.




There had been an incursion into Edinburgh Castle by a trio of men aligned with the  queen's third husband, her-co suspect Bothwell, and one of them, James Dalgleish, had been discovered with evidence in his possession. At least that was the story Morton brokered to the English sixteen months later when the queen's brother, the Scottish Regent Moray placed Morton’s sworn declaration in evidence before the assembled tribunal at York.  It is what happened in the intervening month that makes Morton's averments suspicious.

Kikcaldy at Carberry by Russ Root

There are several different views as to how this most unlikely discovery  surfaced and whether Morton's words are credible.

The first red flag is the dinner itself, because Morton and Maitland were not friends. What bound them together, if anything was the fact that each had the goods on the other.  But since the two of them were running Scotland until the queen's half-brother Moray returned from wherever he had gone to stay clear of the fracas that followed his sister's marriage to Bothwell, I concede that perhaps they did have matters to discuss. Moray was due to return in a matter of days, and Morton and Maitland needed to have their ducks lined up. 

At that point, while the surrender of the queen  had been accepted by the common folk, who had been shocked by her behavior with Bothwell, there were already grumblings coming from the Knight Kirkcaldy of Grange, who had procured the queen's surrender on very specific terms and was of the opinion that her harsh treatment left his honor tarnished. Kirkcaldy had served in France with King Henri Valois in a setting where chivalry was the watchword and a man's honor was everything.

Russ Root from The Last Knight
The entire campaign the lairds had waged had been launched on the premise that they were merely attempting to free their befuddled queen from Bothwell's thrall. With Bothwell in flight and essentially neutralized, there was no good reason for the queen to be locked up at Loch Leven with Morton's kin as her jailers if freeing her from Bothwell's influence was the objective. That could have been achieved in a house arrest at Holyrood or Edinburgh Castle, which is what she had been promised.

Kirkcaldy was beginning to think he had been duped.  Thus, three days after spiriting her off to the Douglas stronghold at Loch Leven in the dead of night with little more than the clothes on her back, Morton and Maitland would have been highly motivated to uncover evidence of her direct participation in her husband Darnley's murder, and the letters produced in facsimile at York the following year did just that.

Power players such as Elizabeth Tudor and Catherine de Medici's and her sons, and especially Philip II of Spain  were not impressed with the idea of locking up an anointed sovereign on grounds as flimsy as having entered into an unpopular marriage. The Scottish lairds desperately needed a stronger case—one which directly implicated the queen in her second husband Henry Darnley’s murder. Their discovery was an all too convenient surprise.

The discovery of documents that had allegedly been left by Bothwell in his apartments in Edinburgh Castle presents another red flag issue, for at the time, Edinburgh Castle was under the control of Sir James Balfour, and if anyone knew the truth about the events of 1566 and 67, it was Balfour, who was as inconstant as the shifting winds from off the Firth and blew both ways.  Contemporaries called him 'the most corrupt man of his age,’ (Robertson’s Hist. vol. ii. p. 354,).

The Balfour Armoral

He first appears as a principal in the events leading to consort Darnley's murder in the autumn of 1566 at Craigmiller where the plot to kill the queen's offensive husband was formalized, right under her nose and possibly at her bidding.  It is Balfour who allegedly did the drafting and supervised the signing of the mysterious document known as the Craigmillar Bond, which conveniently disappeared in all of its alleged versions and causes some historians to speculate that perhaps it never existed, at least not in the format alluded to by rival  historians.

But the few undisputed facts about Craigmillar suggest  that indeed a meeting was held there and its results reduced to writing, and that the queen's new champion Bothwell was the person who recruited his friend Balfour to act as scribe.  Balfour was probably not present at the early discussions, but he must  have been at Craigmillar or nearby, and it was at Bothwell's instigation that he was let into the loop. 

Which begs the question, if he was Bothwell's boon friend and henchman, why did the lairds leave him in possession of Edinburgh Castle during the rebellion when the castle was so large a prize? The answer, it seems, was that they had already turned him.   And if that is true, that also begs the second question of why they would trust him once their backs were turned?

Another undisputed fact is that after the queen married Bothwell on May 15, she and her new husband believed that if matters deteriorated they could always ride up Castle Hill and deal with their enemies from the safety of Scotland’s most  impenetrable fortress.  However, when the time came for the excursion up the hill, either Maitland or his emissary James Melville had been there first, because as a result of  secret negotiations with Maitland acting as a clandestine agent  of  the rebel lords, Balfour refused to let the queen and her consort Bothwell enter.  Perhaps his continuing governorship of the castle had been the bribe that kept the gates of the castle locked.

Balfour's refusal of entry was not an act without risk. Historically, the Queen of Scots had not dealt kindly with those who denied her access to her castles.  In 1562 after she had been denied entry into a royal  castle on her march north, she had its captain  hung from the battlements. Such an act was considered treason. Balfour’s  open act of defiance  might have inspired trust in Morton to a limited degree if that had been the end of it.  But it was not.  

When the queen and Bothwell fled the city and took refuge in Borthwick Castle, Balfour sent a message warning them that an army was hot on their heels. Balfour was a man who played the odds but also hedged his bets. If Morton was aware of Balfour’s double-dealing, and it is hard to believe he was not, his continued reliance on Balfour's loyalty was misplaced, unless of course, he and Maitland had agreed to overlook it, knowing that Balfour could be bought.

So, how did the documents that allegedly implicated the queen end up in Morton's hands?  Morton's formal declaration describes the event essentially as follows. He was dining with Maitland in Edinburgh when a man appeared with a message that three men in the service of the Earl of Bothwell had appeared at the castle to take  possession of certain of Bothwell's things that had been left behind in early June and to which, as stated above, he had been denied access. Balfour, acting in character, gave the men permission to enter Bothwell's quarters and carry off whatever they willed. Also in character, he sent his messenger to Morton, who interrupted his supper long enough to  summon a band of Douglases to hasten up the hill to check it out while he and Maitland continued their repast.

At some later point, Morton and Maitland were informed that only one of the three had been apprehended by Morton's kinsman Robert Douglas in Potters-Row near Edinburgh, and the unfortunate captive was Bothwell's servant George Dalgleish, who indeed had items of clothing and documents from the castle on his person. When the items were brought to Morton for his perusal, he and Maitland considered them to be of no special significance, mostly deeds and grants to properties Bothwell owned. But canny and efficient Morton was suspicious and ordered George Dagleish taken to the Tollbooth to be detained in proximity to the institution’s  well known collection of torture devices. and if necessary, subjected to a demonstration. 

Dalgleish was overcome with a need to disclose the entire story and thereafter, he led Morton's kinsman Sir Robert Douglas to his rooms in Potter-row and retrieved a silver casket from beneath his bed.  The small silver box was  delivered by Sir Robert or one of his servants to the Earl of Morton on  July 20, possibly again in Maitland's presence. But, alas!  It was locked  and Dalgleish had not provided a key.

The next installment of  the story begs the question of why a man like Morton, who had conducted himself on the battlefields of Corrichie and elsewhere with great audacity and cunning, who had been instrumental in the queen's secretary David Rizzio's grizzly murder, and who had offered himself in hand to-hand combat with the  border warrior Bothwell at Carberry less than a week before, would suddenly find himself intimidated by a simple lock on a little silver box at a time when  Bothwell was a fugitive and any clue to his whereabouts would have been a major breakthrough.



While it is true that he may not have had enough of a following to be a military threat, there is some evidence that Bothwell had a copy of another bond dealing with the murder of the king, this one signed at Whittinghame by Morton. It is disingenuous to think Morton would have waited till there were witnesses before he culled the contents of the casket so see what was  inside.  Nevertheless, his sworn statement declared that he waited until the following day to force the dainty little lock in a show witnessed by Maitland and staged for the entertainment of the Earls of Athol, Mar and Glencairn and numerous of the  barons.

His declaration does not mention why the items were apparently counted but not otherwise inspected or inventoried.   If the box Morton opened on June 21 contained the love poetry, steamy love letters and evidence of matricide Morton and Moray later claimed, would he not have been jumping up and down and shouting the 16th Century Scottish equivalent of  Eureka?

According to Morton, the items were left secured and undisturbed in Morton's possession until September at which time they were passed to the custody of Marie's treacherous brother Moray after his sister's coerced abdication. Morton’s  self-serving declaration was read to the Commission at Westminster (which had been moved from York at the request of Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth) on December 9, 1568.   Other documents offered in support of the integrity of the evidence--what modern law rules of evidence refer to as  'the chain’ -indicate quite clearly that the box contained twenty-one unspecified documents when it was opened. However, the record of the tribunal reveals that only eleven  items, eight of which were deemed significant,  were introduced, which, of course, begs the question of what happened to the remainder.

A complete analysis of the Casket Letters is far too comprehensive for a post, but books have been written either in support or in  defense of the allegation that the casket letters were the result of an artful bit of forgery and a clever cut and paste job. 

Maitland, his wife Marie Flemyng, and another of the Four Maries, Marie Beaton, Lady Boyne, are among the usual suspects.  Both Flemyng and Beaton had handwriting nearly indistinguishable from the queen's, and Maitland had the wit to pull it off.  It is interesting to note that in recreating a murder plot in which dates were crucial, the letters in their original form apparently were not dated, and some began without customary salutations, and contained awkward phrases unlike Marie Stuart's other writing, even when she was under stress.

The cut and paste theory  would explain how portions of twenty-one documents might have been combined to produce the eleven proffered,  especially when examining the especially damning letters #1 and #2, which contained Non sequiturs and strange inclusions and omissions that support the proposal that the Casket Letters are a fraud. They also disclosed a clumsy use of idiomatic French, and some rather poor verse unlikely to have been written by a woman who had been educated as a French girl and whose poetry instructor had been the famous Pierre Ronsard. None of the damning documents were presented at the indictment of the Queen before the Scottish Parliament in December, 1567, before Marie Stuart's escape from Loch Leven and unfortunate flight to England, although they were apparently discussed.  Indeed it makes one wonder if perhaps the ink was not yet dry.

Although claims of damning documents in the hand-writing of the queen had been leaked to the crowned heads of Europe as well as to Elizabeth and Cecil, the documents were never produced in their original form in any hearing, although there are claims that the chief judge of the tribunal at Norfolk read them.  He was apparently not all that impressed of the queen’s homicidal tendencies, because the next year he began a clandestine courtship of the alleged murderess, the first of several political missteps which eventually cost him his head.

It is also important to note that the queen's escape from Loch Leven in the early spring of 1568 was not engineered with intent to flee, but to prevail. Hers was the superior army in terms of raw numbers.  With Bothwell out of the picture, much of her popularity and mystique had been restored.  While at Carberry in early June 1567 her army was  cursed  by desertions, the force she led across Scotland in 1568 was growing as it marched.  It was the superior leadership of the Regent's army under Morton, Moray and Kirkcaldy that caused her formidable force to come off second best at Langside in 1568, and even that battle need not have been dispositive.

Russ Root "Defeat"
The queen acted in haste in fleeing to England rather than retreating to Dumbarton Castle, held for her  by Lord John Fleming.  That was what every single voice raised by her advisers had urged.  The great northern Catholic earls were headed there with experienced troops and might well have provided the leadership and military experience to change the ultimate outcome.  The Parliament which had condemned her a few months earlier had been a handpicked group of anti-Marians whose decision was never in doubt, but it did not reflect the rising tide of Marian support.  Her decision to flee was a product of her Stewart impetuousness, a fear of the harsh confinement she had tasted at Loch Leven and a misplaced trust in her cousin Good Queen Bess.

Dumbarton Castle

In spite of Elizabeth's   minister William Cecil's determination to besmirch the Queen of Scots, and the widespread rumors of condemning letters written in her own hand, the alleged contents of the casket apparently never surfaced in their original state, and were not even circulated in translation until the winter of 1568-69. One explanation for withholding such dynamic evidence is that the letters in the silver casket had not been manufactured yet.

Author's  Note:

It is noteworthy that in making her equivocal ruling that the case against her cousin Marie Stuart on the one hand, and the queen's charges against the rebellious lords on the other, had not been proved, Elizabeth Tudor apparently discounted the evidentiary value of the Casket Letters.  There is a strong possibility that the original French letters would not have withstood scrutiny by someone with Elizabeth's linguistic expertise.  She had always taken great pride is her knowledge of French.  Perhaps that is also why the contents of the casket disappeared during the early reign of King James VI.  In researching my debut novel The First Marie and the Queen of Scots,  I propound an interesting theory of who it was who assisted the Earl of Morton in the commission of one of history's greatest frauds, a question unlikely to be resolved without resort to fiction.