28th August 1640, the Battle of Newburn Ford

Newburn was the only battle fought during the Second Bishops War, an even more obscure campaign then the First Bishops War.

It was one of those unusual occasions when a Scottish army marched south, conducted itself in commendable martial fashion against an admittedly ill-led, ill-prepared English opposition and won the day handsomely. Its worth looking at just on the basis of this rarity alone.

Of itself the battle had a profound impact, playing a key role in the prolonged deterioration of the relationship between Charles I and his English Parliament which led to the regicide of said monarch and all the unfortunate train of events which then ensued; the war of the Three Kingdoms, the Cromwellian Interregnum, the Restoration, James II’s disasterous reign, William’s usurpation, the Jacobite Risings, the Union of the Crowns and so on ad infinitum.

This war, as with its predecessor, arose from the belief amongst Covenanting Scots that the aforementioned Covenant could only be defended on the field of battle and so a sizeable Scottish Army, of some 20,000 infantry and 3, 000 horse, headed south in mid August in order to pursue the resolution of their grievances with King Charles’ military representatives. An army assembled by the unconstitutional authority of a Parliament which convened itself without the constitutionally essential Royal Commissioner and in the face of the King’s direct instruction for proroguement, declaring the King’s consent to be tacit. It was the same fiction by which the Long Parliament would be subsequently convened at Westminster

 

Command of this army was given to Alexander Leslie, one of the foremost military commanders in Scottish and Swedish history. Leslie’s force marched south and was led in person across the Tweed at Coldstream by the Great Montrose, over the very ford that Walter Scott has Marmion riding on the eve of Flodden.

Alexander Leslie

King Charles, meanwhile, struggled to field a presentable force and was compelled to call the Short Parliament that he might raise the necessary supplies for it. Sadly, for this noble monarch, his persuasive efforts, as was so often the case, proved fruitless and he dissolved this august body of men.

Charles I, King of both the victors and the vanquished at Newburn Ford.

Charles I, King of both the victors and the vanquished at Newburn Ford.

The English army was commanded by Edward, Lord Conway. This would prove to be the only occasion that the good lord was entrusted to command men in battle, during his brief military career.

As Leslie’s army approached Newcastle’s unfortified flank from the north, Conway drew up his force at Newburn Ford to prevent his enemy crossing the river. There was, to be fair, little else he could do as the Scots Army greatly outnumbered his and the quality of men under his command led a great deal to be desired, according to various contemporary accounts.

Leslie’s army was on higher ground and well blessed with cannon which it used to shell the English into an early and full-scale retreat from the river bank. The following morning the city of Newcastle meekly surrendered.

Leslie's Scottish Army crosses Newburn Ford having blown the English soldiery out of their positions and into full-scale retreat

Leslie’s Scottish Army crosses Newburn Ford having blown the English soldiery out of their positions and into full-scale retreat

The battle had no small significance to the constitutional future of both kingdoms and was won in an afternoon with only sixty dead on the losing side and around a dozen from the victors.

The Covenanting Army then proceeded to occupy Newcastle, thus controlling the supply of coal to London and Charles was compelled to agree the raising of a levy from the surrounding district to maintain the occupying force in victuals.

 

The ramifications of Leslie’s victory went far beyond the mere financial and the dizzy descent into the War of the Three Kindoms gathered apace.

 

21 August 1689, the Battle of Dunkeld: the end of the Covenant Cause

In the previous post we looked once more at the Battle of Killiecrankie where King James II’s army in Scotland had triumphed over that of William, the Usurper. But in the course of the engagement, Viscount Dundee, James’ Lieutenant-General and architect of the victory, had suffered a mortal wound and with his death the chances of ultimate success in the Campaign were dealt a grievous blow.

Within days of the battle, the Jacobite army, now under the command of Colonel Alexander cannon, who had brought the Irish reinforcements across the previous month, pulled back north into safer territory.

The Privy Council, close to panic and with little military resources to hand following the virtual complete destruction of MacKay’s command, ordered the newly formed Earl of Angus’ Regiment to advance from Perth and engage the Jacobite Army.

Said Regiment, some twelve hundred strong, was largely formed from the Cameronians, followers of Richard Cameron, known to posterity as the Lion of the Covenant, who had met his death leading an unsuccessful rebellion against Scottish Government forces at the Battle of Airds Moss in 1680.

As would be expected from such men they were fiercely loyal to the Covenant and each company was required to have an elder in addition to a Cameronian chaplain to ensure adherence to their idiosyncratic religious views.

Dundee’s strength had been in forging the Jacobite Army in the first place, bringing together strongly minded but prickly clan chiefs and maintaining them in the field for the months of the campaign prior to Killiecrankie. Cannon was not so gifted. Few men are. And although he was able to hold the force together some chiefs took themselves off home, Cameron of Lochiel and MacDonald of Sleat specifically. However, they left their men under Cannon’s command, which still numbered over 3000 men, notwithstanding the losses suffered in the battle.

When news reached the Jacobites that the Cameronians had advanced to Dunkeld with the intention of moving on to take and hold Blair Castle, Cannon moved his men southwards again, to engage and destroy Angus’ regiment.

The military situation now was very different from that of three weeks previously. In the days prior to Killiecrankie, General MacKay’s overriding concern had been in bringing Dundee to battle. The overwhelming superiority of his men’s fighting qualities, their training and equipment and the leadership abilities of his officers was, he believed, significant in all aspects to that of his enemy. This view, naturally, would be shared by said enemy and so he believed that they would only with the greatest reluctance engage his force in combat. Thus when he led his men out of Dunkeld on the fateful morning of the battle, and through the defile of the Pass of Killiecrankie, he had little concern as to the possibility that the Jacobite Army might seek and secure favourable ground on which to engage MacKay’s troops.

This hubris was to prove his undoing and it was largely due to the fact that Dundee had been able to unleash the full ferocity of the highland charge down a steep slope that led to MacKay’s complete defeat.

The commander of Angus’ Regiment, Colonel William Cleland, a veteran of Bothwell Bridge, who had considerably less military experience than General MacKay but a more realistic appreciation of the martial abilities of the two sides, sought on this occasion to take up an initial position which was, in defensive terms, considerably stronger.

An aeriel view of Dunkeld today. Largely unchamged since the battle was fought there.

An aeriel view of Dunkeld today. Largely unchamged since the battle was fought there.

Dunkeld then, as now, is a small and compact settlement with the few streets set out closely around the cathedral and the mansions of the Bishop and Marquis of Atholl. Cleland’s men had fortified themselves in a strong position in the houses in the centre of the town backed onto the Cathedral precincts and awaited the attack of the Jacobite Army which outnumbered them in the order of three to one.

And at about seven o’clock on the morning of 21 August the Cannon launched the Jacobite Army in a full-scale assault on all sides of Cleland’s position. As the bitter hand to hand struggle progressed throughout the morning, Cleland’s men were gradually forced back towards the Cathedral with Cleland himself killed at an early stage in the fight.

 

By noon, however, a stalemate had been reached, with the Jacobite Army unable to make any further progress against their enemy and they disengaged from the action, retreating back to the north. King

William Cleland commanding the Earl of Angus' regiment during the battle.

William Cleland commanding the Williamite forces during the battle.

William’s men had suffered great losses but they had won the day and the momentum which the Jacobites had gathered from their victory at Killiecrankie was now all but completely dissipated.

Cleland's monument

Cleland’s monument

History would prove that the high water mark in the fortunes of the Jacobite cause had been reached and despite further risings in 1708, 1715, 1719 and 1745, the Stuarts would come no closer to re-securing the throne.

But what of the Covenant that other complex, mystical and symbolic cause for which so many men and women had fought since the original document was first penned in 1638, some fifty years previously?

Dunkeld was the last battle that could be said, in any small measure, to have been fought in its name, albeit for the cause of an uncovenanted king. Fifty years of struggle had gained it nothing and “it faded away, impotent and gloomy, like one of Ossian’s ghosts. From that day on it had no authority in Scotland, and no living relation to the church.

Even more so it is clear that the cause of the Covenant and the input of Covenanters and strict Presbyterians of all shades had played no part in those events which had brought about the change of monarchy and all that followed on, for better or worse, mostly the latter, from what became known as the Glorious Revolution.

And going forward it would be more moderate and temperate views that prevailed in defining the role of the Kirk in Scottish life

27th July 1689 The Battle of Killiecrankie

As the hands of the clock moved round to midnight on Tuesday 26th July 1689, John Graham of Claverhouse, 1st Viscount Dundee and Lieutenant-General of King James’ army in Scotland, took a slow sip of wine.

Sat with him around the big, oak dining room table in the Great Hall of Blair Castle were some dozen of the principal Chiefs of the Highland Clans and a handful of his own officers.

They sat in silence as they awaited the return of the scouts, riders that Claverhouse had sent south just a few hours ago, directed to confirm the whereabouts and intentions of the Government redcoat army, commanded by General Hugh MacKay.

And as they waited they ate and drank enthusiastically from the larder of the Master of Blair Castle, John Murray, 2nd Earl of Atholl who was absent having allied himself with the forces of the aforementioned General MacKay.

While Claverhouse and his commanders dined and waited so did the soldiers of their small army, camped outside Blair Castle’s walls. Every man fully aware that the battle which would determine the outcome of this 10 week campaign would be fought within the next few hours.

Blair Castle, where Claverhouse's army camoped the night before Killiecrankie

Blair Castle, where Claverhouse’s army camped the night before Killiecrankie

The circumstances which had brought them here on this warm Scottish evening had been unwinding for many years previously but could be traced back five and a half years to February 1685 when the old King, Charles II, restored to the throne in 1660 amid such wild celebrations and public optimism, after the long dark years of Cromwellian rule, had suffered a sudden seizure and died.

Charles II, whose death in 1685 initiated James' rule and subsequent usurpation

Charles II, whose death in 1685 initiated James’ rule and subsequent usurpation

The crown had passed to his younger brother, James, Duke of York, who had chronically mismanaged the situation from day one. A committed Catholic, in darkly Protestant times, his mishandling of his own affairs as well as those of the crown had created widespread dissatisfaction with his rule and had led to the prominent members of the English and Scottish political leadership to extend an invitation to James’ own son-in-law, the deeply ambitious and suitably Protestant William Prince of Orange, to come and seize the throne for himself.

James VII/II, whose mismanagement of the business of kingship created the problem in the first place

James VII/II, whose mismanagement of the business of kingship created the problem in the first place

Needing little encouragement William and his invasion force had landed at Torbay in December 1688 and headed for London as King James’ support melted away by the minute. James, despite the entreaties of those loyal to him, Claverhouse in particular, had vacillated whilst his natural despondency grew until in the week before Christmas he had fled his capital city for France, flinging the Great Seal into the Thames as he went. Within days William and his wife had been declared joint rulers of England.

William, Prince of Orange, whose unprincipled pursuit of ambition was rewarded with the Crown of the Three Kingdoms

William, Prince of Orange, whose unprincipled pursuit of ambition was rewarded with the Crown of the Three Kingdoms

The Convention of the Scottish Estates had been summoned in Edinburgh in March to determine whether the Scottish people would take a similar decision or choose James instead to continue to rule his Scottish subjects. Support for James was weak from the outset but, bolstered by the efforts of Claverhouse and other loyal men, the decision was still far from certain when letters from both monarchs were received and duly read to the assembled body.

The letter which James should have sent, carefully crafted by Claverhouse and other allies of the King, which was a model of tempered leadership, had been discarded at some point. And the one which was read out, penned by the sort of foolish men who the King had chosen to surround himself with, both during his rule and now in exile, was anything but and the mood of the gathering swung sharply in favour of the usurper.

Within hours Claverhouse stood alone in committing himself to firm action to restore his king to the ancient throne of his fathers and left the Convention for Dundee. With the collapse of support for James the Convention duly reached their decision and William and Mary were pronounced joint rulers of the three kingdoms of Scotland, England and Ireland.

Three weeks later on 13 May 1689, with his commission as James Lieutenant-General in Scotland issued, Claverhouse raised the Royal Standard on Dundee Law and the first Jacobite Rising was under way.

At this point his ‘army’ comprised only the 200 officers and men of the horse troop that he had commanded for the last few years as he had sought to maintain the rule of law in those parts of Scotland where men and women, deeply committed to the establishment of undiluted Presbyterian Rule, as set out in the Solemn League and Covenant first penned in 1643, went about furthering their aims through violent insurrection.

However, as the weeks passed Claverhouse and his men moved through the Highlands drawing to their cause many influential leaders of men, particularly those of the highland chiefs who could be persuaded that the best option for them and for the people of Scotland was the overthrow of William and the return of a Stuart to the throne.

Faced with this development the Convention appointed General MacKay in command of their forces and charged him with bringing Claverhouse’s rebel force to battle and destroying it. Since then both armies had played cat and mouse with each other throughout the highlands and about the north-east of Scotland as they sought circumstances which would favour victory. Hitherto these circumstances had proven elusive but now, in the dog days of July, matters had drawn to a head.

 

Now in the early hours of the short Scottish night, the scouts returned. MacKay’s army comprising almost four thousand men was, it seemed, camped at Dunkeld, some twenty plus miles south of Blair Castle, with the intention of moving north at first light to seek out King James’ army and bringing it finally to battle.

Claverhouse, his officers and the chiefs sat around the big oak table in silence as the full implications of this news sank in. Whilst all were warriors and eager for a decisive victory they were each aware of the likely consequences of defeat: the end of the Stuart cause with William secure on his throne for years to come, the ruin of their clans’ fortunes with a vengeful government unlikely to be reluctant to pursue Jacobite loyalists to their utter ruin and either execution or transportation for any fortunate to survive defeat.

General Hugh MacKay of Scourie, commander of the Williamite army destroyed at Killiecrankie

General Hugh MacKay of Scourie, commander of the Williamite army destroyed at Killiecrankie

Then the Viscount broke the silence and with a calm and decisive voice swept away the doubt and indecision. Announcing his intention to head south and engage MacKay as soon as dawn broke, he issued a stream of orders concerning the marching order of the army and the route to be taken.

In the meantime twenty miles to the south at Dunkeld, General Hugh MacKay, similarly appraised of the whereabouts of his enemy had already issued his instructions for the morning’s northern march and his force lay abed.

As dawn broke both armies formed up into marching order and headed towards each other. Mackay himself was a highlander but had left Scotland long before to pursue a military career. He had one concern only this morning and that was the fear that Claverhouse’s army, faced with superior odds, would again decline to engage him and melt away like highland mist and the seemingly endless pursuit would have to continue. In his mind the only challenge was to bring Claverhouse to battle at which point the superior quality of his men, their equipment and his leadership would bring about the inevitable victory.

However, there was the difficulty of the Pass of Killiecrankie to be first hazarded. The road north from Dunkeld follows the River Tummel for some miles until it meets the confluence with the River Garry at which point the way closes in to a dark and narrow defile which is the Pass. Even a General such as MacKay with his unshakeable belief in the superiority of his troops was cautious about this passage. Consequently, he had directed some of his troops to hold the Pass the previous day and as he now drew near to the entrance in the early afternoon sunlight it was not without concern that his troops entered the dark and forbidding way.

The narrow defile of the Pass of Killiecrankie.

The narrow defile of the Pass of Killiecrankie.

When his command subsequently emerged at the other end and a galloping trooper brought the news to him at the head of the column that the last of his soldiery were safely through, it would have seemed to him that the last remaining possibility of failure had passed.

Claverhouse, in the meantime, also a seasoned veteran of formal, continental warfare as well as the more haphazard style of fighting which prevailed in Scotland at the time, had cause for doubt which matched MacKay’s confidence in magnitude. He was now committed to leading his irregular force in to battle against greater numbers of regular infantry. To engage toe-to-toe in a stand up fight would be to invite disaster. So he had to find and fully utilize any opportunity for advantage that might be gleaned.

The first such was terrain. Aware that MacKay would need to traverse the Pass following the road at the bottom of the gorge, the Viscount held firmly to the high ground as his army made passage south. The single tactical ploy for a highland army is to charge and while this had proven effective on flat ground its advantage would be considerably multiplied if it could be deployed downhill.

The HIghland Charge, a challenge to defend against on level ground. Considerably harder downhill of it.

The Highland Charge, a challenge to defend against on level ground. Considerably harder downhill of it.

So the two armies felt their way towards each other as the day wore on. Not long after MacKay’s men had cleared the Pass a shout went up from the front of their column and all eyes followed the direction of pointing hand up the hill on their right hand side where a handful of kilted figures had emerged from the trees. These were followed by several more and it became clear that this was indeed the vanguard of Claverhouse’s army.

MacKay immediately realised the weakness of his tactical position, his army with their backs to the thundering River Garry and at the bottom of a steep slope. Ordering his men through a quarter turn he issued orders for them to head a little up the slope where a slight ridge promised a better tactical position.

Meantime the Highland army had cleared the woods and under the direction of Claverhouse and the chiefs, formed easily from column of march into battle order. As MacKay completed his initial dispositions further down the hill it was clear that the Highlanders still retained a significant advantage at the top of the steep slope. Furthermore it was equally clear that the width of the Claverhouse’s frontage exceeded his own and thus threatened to outflank him.

MacKay, somewhat discomfited by this realisation, issued orders to thin his ranks from three to two in order to extend his frontage to match Claverhouse’s. Whose initial tactical advantage at the top of the slope now greatly increased in magnitude without any effort on his own part.

Many an eyebrow will have been raised further up the hill as they watched the execution of this manoeuvre. For an experienced general, steeped in the ways of warfare, MacKay’s fortunes were dwindling rapidly before a ball had been kicked.

Finally, with both armies optimally disposed in the view of their respective commanders, all now settled down for the inevitable, interminable wait which was the custom of the time.

Claverhouse sat on his horse a little behind the front centre of the army. Dressed for once in a buff coat at the insistence of the senior chiefs who knew to the extent which the fortunes of this escapade rode on the shoulders of this one man. After all the drama and intrigue and endless marching of the past few months it all now came down to this one engagement.

Finally, with the sun dipping behind the hills to the west and shining into the eyes of the redcoat soldiers Claverhouse gave the order to charge. It has been said that “Even a haggis, God bless her, can charge down a hill”. And the view has been expressed that a Highland army ceases to resemble a comic opera the moment it starts to move.

What a sight and sound that must have been as over two thousand of the finest fighting men in the kingdom hurtled down the hill roaring their determination. Whatever the cumulative experience of MacKay’s command little of their previous combat exploits would have prepared them for this.

Within moments the highland charge struck the redcoat line which, thinned to two troopers only, almost immediately came apart. With the angle of the slope pulling the impetus of this wave of ferocious humanity slightly to the one side, some redcoat regiments remained intact while others were completely swept away. MacKay, to his credit, retained his composure and was able to pull his surviving forces into some semblance of order as he led the retreat back in the direction whence they had marched so confidently but a few short hours before.

The pursuit of the shattered wreckage of his command continued in all directions for several miles with fully two thirds of those engaged failing to survive the day.

At the height of the battle the slaughter was tremendous.

At the height of the battle the slaughter was tremendous.

The disasterous news for the Jacobite army, however, was further up the slope, where King James’ Lieutenant-General lay mortally wounded. With the battle at its height and Claverhouse seeking to pull the imbalanced charge back onto better order, an enemy musket ball had penetrated under his raised sword arm, beyond the protection of his breast-plate. Within a few minutes John Graham of Claverhouse, 1st Viscount Dundee and the man who had pulled the whole rising together in the first place by sheer determination and force of personality was dead.

Claverhouse passes away and the hopes of the Jacobite cause die with him.

Claverhouse passes away and the hopes of the Jacobite cause die with him.

With him also passed the fortunes of the Jacobite cause. Although there were to be four further attempts to restore the Stuarts to the throne over the next fifty six years none had any real prospect of success. As Claverhouse will have realised from the very beginning their best chance was for James to have stood his ground in the face of William’s initial advance.

And so passed one of Scotland’s finest leaders of men. And as the history of any struggle is penned by the victors and not the vanquished, his memory has been sorely traduced in the intervening centuries with the focus falling on the false history of the ‘Killing Times’.

22 June 1679, The Battle of Bothwell Bridge

On the anniversary of this key military encounter I re-post an updated version of last year’s piece……

In a previous post we looked at the Battle of Drumclog where on 1st June 1679, a small government force under Bonnie Dundee’s command was attacked and routed by a larger, irregular force of Covenanters.

Emboldened by this outstanding success the Covenanters moved to capitalise on it. While in Edinburgh, the Privy Council initiated counter measures designed to quell the rebellion before it got completely out of hand. All of this would lead to a second and decisive military encounter some three weeks later and 20 odd miles further north on 22 June at the Battle of Bothwell Bridge.

Battle of Bothwell Bridge monument

Battle of Bothwell Bridge monument

In the immediate aftermath of his defeat at Drumclog, Dundee had written a full report to his commander, the Earl of Linlithgow, Major General of his Majesty’s forces in Scotland expressing his opinion that “This may be counted the beginning of the rebellion”. And so this would seem to be the case with the sudden appearance of covenanting sympathies in many hitherto seemingly law-abiding citizens.

3rd Earl of Linlithgow, Claverhouse's commander

3rd Earl of Linlithgow, Claverhouse’s commander

While many of those to the fore of the Covenanting force could be deemed to be determined, ruthless and experienced, none of them were generals. And the military command initially fell upon Robert Hamilton who, as was so often the case in these troubled times, would feature in a prominent role on both pro and anti Stuart divide, having fought for the Stuarts in the defeats at Cromwell’s hands at Dunbar (1650) and Worcester (1651) and would eventually flee to Holland in the aftermath of the failure of the Monmouth Rising (1685) the purpose of which was to remove James VII and II from the throne, replacing him with Charles II’s illegitemate but acceptably Protestant offspring, the Duke of Monmouth.

As soon as they had abandoned their pursuit of Dundee’s defeated force after Drumclog, the Covenant Army resolved, under Hamilton’s leadership, to “continue and abide together in arms”. They understood well that it was only a matter of time before the Government would move against them, in force. On the afternoon of their victory they marched the fifteen miles to Hamilton (the village not the man) where they camped. Glasgow, where Dundee and his remaining troops stood to arms with the Government garrison under the command of Lord George Ross of Hawkhead, was only 10 miles distant.

In the wee, small hours of the following morning the post boy galloped through the dark, Edinburgh streets bearing Ross’ despatch to Linlithgow announcing the defeat at Drumclog and his intention to barricade the streets of Glasgow in the face of the advancing covenanting host. Within an hour the Privy Council were gathered and plans laid to assemble the scattered Government troops from Fife and Dumfries for the Earl of Linlithgow to lead westwards against the rebels on 4th June.

17th century Glasgow, where the Covenanting rebels attacked Claverhouse and Ross

17th century Glasgow, where the Covenanting rebels attacked Claverhouse and Ross

At sunrise on 2nd June the rebel force approached Glasgow and at 11 am made a rash and ill-judged assault on the barricades at the bottom of High Street and the Gallowgate. The troops of Ross and Claverhouse fired on them from behind these and within a short time their assailants withdrew leaving many wounded lying in the street and at least seven dead. They rallied a mile to the east of the town where the setback of their repulse now gave rise to the splits and schisms long-threatened in a mob where each man and woman considered themselves to be a party of one.

If they possessed ‘leaders of integrity and followers with a singleness of purpose’ then this army of Covenanters might have been forged into a force as strong as any led by Cromwell. However, with fully two thirds of them deemed by themselves to be preachers, with the vanity and unwillingness to subvert to the greater good often prevalent in the species, it was a hopeless cause. Even with strong leadership it would have been an almost impossible task but the leadership of this rebel force was inept to a degree rarely seen before or since in our little corner part of the world.

The total number of different shades of religious opinion amongst them would have been impossible to determine but in broad terms they were split into two factions. These being the Moderates (which was purely a relevant term) led by John Welsh of Irongray, a great grandson of John Knox. And the Honest Party, led by the previously mentioned Robert Hamilton, who had no aspirations to moderation when it came to matters religious amd political. And a considerable surprise it would have been, no doubt, for the redoubtable Mr Welsh to find himself for once outstripped in his fanaticism.

John Welsh, leader of one of the Covenant factions at Bothwell Bridge

John Welsh, leader of one of the Covenant factions at Bothwell Bridge

Having checked the forward movement of the rebels, Linlithgow now amended his initial plan of concentrating his forces in Glasgow and decided instead to carry out this assembling of his forces at Stirling. A strange choice explained only by timidity on his part and one which left both Glasgow and Edinburgh vulnerable to subsequent advance by the still intact rebel force. And if they were to repeat their manouevre of the Pentland Rising of 1666 then there might yet be an undesired outcome to this revolt.

Thus Ross and Dundee were ordered to withdraw from Glasgow towards Stirling, doing so on 3rd June while Linlithgow advanced from Edinburgh. Their forces joined at Bonnybridge on the 5th. This combined force now numbered 1800 men; horse, dragoons (mounted infantry) and foot. A despatch was then received from the magistrates of Glasgow reporting that the Covenanters, now some 7000 strong, were camped in the vicinity of Bothwell Bridge, near Hamilton.

Bothwell Bridge, scene of the eponymous battle

Bothwell Bridge, scene of the eponymous battle

Linlithgow advanced once more, reaching Kirkintilloch at midday on 6th June. A reconnaissance party reported that the rebels had now occupied Glasgow and after due consideration and consultation with his officers, Linlithgow decided that the disparity in size of the two armies was such that he risked disaster by attacking and was duly recalled to Edinburgh by the Privy Council. Drumclog was only 5 days old and the rebellion was now entirely out of hand.

Still more of the disaffected rallied to the Covenant banner and the rebel force continued to grow in size, and to their collective misfortune, to grow also in disparity of strongly-held opinion. There now ensued fully two weeks of internecine bickering over religious intricacies. On 8th June a ‘very great convention’ was held in Rutherglen where a resolution was determined by the Honest Party to remain aloof from Welsh and his moderates. They met again the following day where both sides of the debate agreed on the necessity of issuing a unified, public declaration of their aims. Yet neither could accept the other’s drafting of this. On 10th June there was a ‘very hot disputation, particularly concerning the indulgence’ which is to say who was to be forgiven for previous political / religious transgressions and who was not. Again no resolution was determined. And so it continued. Each passing day brought further discussion and yet more disagreement as the differences between the disparate viewpoints became emphasised and that which drew them together became drowned in the din.

But now the King, his majesty Charles II, became stirred into action by the reports of rebellion from the north. He decided to appoint his illegitimate son, James, Duke of Monmouth as commander-in-chief of his forces in Scotland. Monmouth’s orders were issued on 11th June and he disembarked in Edinburgh on 19th June.

James, Duke of Monmouth. commander of the Government army at Bothwell Bridge

James, Duke of Monmouth. commander of the Government army at Bothwell Bridge

He brought only two troops of horse from England to supplement the Scottish Government’s now concentrated army which he rendezvoused with at Blackburn, West Lothian on 19th June, assuming overall command of a combined force of some 5000 men.

If this army force was small in numbers it was strong in leadership. Monmouth had extensive campaigning experience in Flanders. The 3 principal dragoon officers were seasoned and experienced men. Claverhouse and the Earls of Home and Airlie commanded their own separate troops and with Montrose (not The Montrose, note) leading the Life Guards there was no shortage of skill, experience and, crucially, military discipline.

On 20th June Monmouth was at Muirhead and on the evening of 21 June he was advancing on Bothwell Bridge and the larger Covenanting Army. How had things gone with them in the meantime? Not well. The advance of the Government Army had merely accentuated the acute divisions in their camp. On 16th, 17th and 18th, camped on Shawhead Moor, their leadership, such as it was, continued to meet in acrimonious debate. Hamilton’s Moderates had proposed a Day of Humiliation which Welsh’s Honest men had protested. With the whole gathering deep in confusion they had recrossed Bothwell Bridge on 18th June and encamped on Hamilton Moor.

The wrangling continued through the 19th, and on 20th June they were joined by reinforcements from Galloway. These were favourers of the Indulgence and thus natural allies of Welsh’s party. They submitted a written statement of their desires to Hamilton who promptly, and unsurprisingly, rejected it.

Late in the evening of 21 June, just hours before the battle would commence, the two factions met in their final council of war. One desired to purge the army of undesirables while the other refused to fight under the officers which had been selected prior to the arrival of the Galloway men which had given the moderates numerical superiority in the argument. After heated discussion Hamilton and his people withdrew. The Moderates sat down to frame a petition to Monmouth but once again agreement over the content proved impossible. And in a few short hours this host of pious men, leaderless, unprepared and distracted would blunder into battle.

The surviving comments from among their number give us an insight into the shortcomings of their situation;……..”We were not concerned with an enemy as if there were none within 100 miles of us”………………..”There were none went through the army to see if we wanted powder or ball”……”A little before day we saw the enemy kindling their matches a great way off”…………
At about 3 am in the morning of 22 June the advance guard of Monmouth’s army closed on one end of the bridge. The rebels formed into two bodies with one holding their end of the bridge and the other drawn up a mile or so to the rear, while the single piece of cannon they possessed was dragged down to command the approach to the bridge. This piece and its gunner would be the star of the show for the discomfited rebels.

An exchange of pistol fire began across the water as Monmouth came to the front line. The two rebel factions, faced now with the imminent destruction of their host, had managed to thrash together a parley with which they could both live and now this representation was made to Monmouth, who could do little but entertain it. So hostilities ceased temporarily.

Their submission though was merely a list of their grievances and a request that they might meet with Monmouth to discuss the matters. The erstwhile Duke sent back that he could not enter into any discussions with rebels until they lay down their arms. He did not bother to await their reply before recommencing preparations for his assault and ordered the deployment of his own cannon to command the bridge. A second parley was sent out from the Covenant lines desiring to be told the nature of any terms that he might have brought from England. Monmouth sent them packing and duly ordered his cannon to open fire.

And this provided the first surprise of the day as the lone Covenant gun, manned by a stalwart whose name posterity has not preserved but was their one true hero if the day, drove the government artillerymen from their pieces. However, after their initial discomfiture they returned to their pieces and under the cover of their fire a storming party of dragoons led by the splendidly named Major Theophilus Oglethorpe, stormed and forced the bridge.

Oglethorp's dragoons storm the bridge

Oglethorp’s dragoons storm the bridge

Under instruction not to advance any further than the other end of said bridge, they became carried away by the heat of the moment and advanced up the hill towards the main body of the enemy. Who, perceiving the small numbers of the force approaching them, moved down the hill and drove them into the houses at that end of the bridge.

In response 300 foot, under the command of Lord Livingstone’s son, were sent across the bridge and they, in turn, drove the Covenanters back on their main body. Monmouth himself now came forward over the bridge with his own troop and together with those already over, formed up to face the rebels ‘but two carabines shot apart’.

A haphazard and leaderless effort, but an effort nonetheless, was made by the rebels in an attempt to rescue the day. An assault was made on a body of Atholl Highlanders on Monmouth’s right, as the commander sought to form his second line. A brief cannonade forced them back in confusion with the Covenanting horse among them driven headlong from the field. Seconds later the foot joined the stampede and the rout began.

Oglethorp and Claverhouse were ordered to pursue with Monmouth following with the foot. At about ten o’clock that morning a messenger was despatched to Edinburgh bearing news of the victory.

And so the rule of law was once again imposed in all areas of the nation. The defeat at Drumclog could now be placed in proper perspective as a one-off thrown up by the particular circumstances of the day. And appropriate, measured action could now be taken against those who had initiated rebellion against King and lawful Government.

The bubble which had been blown at Rutherglen two months previously had now burst spectacularly with the rout at Bothwell. Monmouth was able to lead his men through the country across which the rebels had so recently roamed at will and confirmed the conclusion that all signs of rebellion were extinguished. On June 25th the local militia were dismissed, their function fulfilled. And on the 26th Monmouth returned to Edinburgh for the grateful thanks of the Privy Council, receiving the Freedom of the City in a large gold box. By 29th June he was on his way back to London.

Controversy, inevitably abounds as we look back on the whole episode, particularly in relation to two of the day’s participants; the Duke of Monmouth, commander-in-chief of the Government force and a lowly commander of horse troops, John Graham of Claverhouse.

Within 6 years Monmouth was dead: tried and executed for treason following his defeat at the Battle of Sedgemoor as he attempted to overthrow his uncle, King James VII and II, and seize the British throne for himself. From this vantage point many re-assess his behaviour at, and after Bothwell Bridge and seek to find indications, through his clemency towards the rebels, of his future treasonous actions.

As far as Claverhouse is concerned there has been as much opprobrium heaped upon him by future historians over his actions at Bothwell Bridge as there is at any other occasion in his career. The attempt to redress which is the driving force for this blog.

Much of this abuse is due to Sir Walter Scott’s depiction of the events of Bothwell Bridge in his novel,Old Mortality, which was published in 1816, nearly 140 years after the events took place. Scott gives Claverhouse a degree of prominence which far outweighs his actual involvement on the day and  also bestows upon him an aura of rapacious cruelty and vengefulness for which there is no basis. However, to be fair to Scott, he could have had little idea of the extent to which his work would outlive and outgrow him to the degree that it has. As Charles Terry, briefly and eloquently puts it, sober history competes unequally with romance.

Scott, author of Old Mortality

Scott, author of Old Mortality

Scott portrays Claverhouse as a colonel at the battle, promoted to General in the aftermath, whereas he was but a plain captain of horse, on the day and for some time afterwards. He and General Tam Dalziel, who was not in fact present at the battle having refused to serve under Monmouth, are credited by Scott with the ruthless pursuit of the fleeing rebels, in flagrant disobedience of Monmouth’s orders, rapaciously slaughtering the vanquished enemy.

Doubtless the emotion generated by his defeat at Drumclog would have been strong. The extensive source material relating to the battle itself and its immediate aftermath make passing mention only of his leading the cavalry on the right once Monmouth was over the bridge and reference to the capture ‘with his own two hands’ of two Covenant battle standards. Once again tradition becomes crystallized into fact in the face of a total absence of evidence. But it was ever thus.

29 May 1679, The Rutherglen Declaration

This was a minor event of primarily symbolic importance. It was sandwiched between other happenings of considerably greater import. These being the cold-blooded murder of Archbishop Sharp on Magus Moor on 3 May by a handful of Covenanter lairds and the comprehensive defeat of assembled Covenanters at the Battle of Bothwell Bridge on 22 June.

By the spring of 1679 the enthusiasm of those committed to the Covenant increased by a degree as more and younger people were drawn to the cause and as the voice of the more extreme veterans of the movement, men such as Donald Cargill, an inveterate enemy of compromise, moved to the fore.

Claverhouse had been sent “to the west” some months before, in command of a newly raised troop of government horse in order to assist in the process of keeping the peace. He had then been promoted to Sheriff-depute for Dumfries and Annandale in reflection of the poor fist that was being made of the peace-keeping process by the local, heritable sheriffs who were, by and large, entirely sympathetic with the lawless if not fully involved in the law-breaking process themselves.

The elements for escalation were now in place but the spark that set the kindling ablaze didn’t happen down on the south-west as might have been expected but many miles to the east in Fife.

The murder of Archbishop Sharp, was, now as then, utterly indefensible. A prelate, a holder of one of the major offices of the state, ambushed in broad daylight by a gang of thugs who then hacked him to death while one of them held his daughter back to prevent her interference in the deed and that she might better bear witness to the hideous death inflicted on her father.

The brutal murder of Archbishop Sharp, in front of his daughter

The brutal murder of Archbishop Sharp, in front of his daughter

Even by the standards of the time it was shocking. Although there were many prepared to defend it and even now, two hundred and thirty odd years later there are those who would view it as not unreasonable. Having carried out the deed, the culprits immediately mounted their horses and fled south-west in the hope that they might conceal themselves in the heartland of their support.

In the immediate aftermath there were a number among the extremists who saw this event as a sign, as a justification for the escalation of further extreme action. Amongst their number was the 29-year-old Robert Hamilton who saw the need to carry out some further public demonstration of their cause in order to rally the faithful and to further wave an angry fist in the direction of the Privy Council.

They waited a short time until 29 May, the birthday of the King, Charles II, when public celebrations, bonfires and suchlike, were happening in the monarch’s honour. Hamilton and his 80 odd mounted support initially planned on carrying out their demonstration in Glasgow but on hearing of the presence there of Government troops, took the more cautious option of Rutherglen. There they dramatically extinguished such bonfires that had been lit in the King’s honour then created their own and on to these tossed copies of the various pieces of recent Government legislation and Royal Proclamations that they deemed to be offensive to honest Covenanting folk. Then they fixed their Declaration to the Market Cross, a reiteration of there endless, baseless complaints, the content of which does not seem to have survived the passage of time. And having made their point, they once again, in time-honoured fashion, fled the scene.

So once more, as with the Pentland Rising, thirteen years previously, extreme and brutal action carried out by hot heads was then fanned by the even more extremist covenant clergy into some indication of divinely inspired justification for full-scale rebellion and before you knew it there were a mob of heavily armed men and women fully assembled and ready to take whatever action was determined to be in the best interests of their cause. And once more, in a holy mob where each individual was essentially a party of one, collective agreement as to unity of purpose was impossible.

News reached Claverhouse in Falkirk that same evening concerning the events in Rutherglen and he immediately moved his troops to take the necessary action. Two days later at Drumclog, while searching for an illegal conventicle he ran headlong into some 200 heavily armed covenanters and his force was defeated and driven from the field.

The Battle of Drumclog, 1st June 1679

The Battle of Drumclog, 1st June 1679

With that the full weight of the forces of law and order were brought to bear and on 22 June at the Battle of Bothwell Bridge order was finally restored.

The Battle of Bithwell Bridge, 22 June 1679. The end of the rebellion.

The Battle of Bothwell Bridge, 22 June 1679. The end of the rebellion.

21 May 1650, the Execution of Montrose

James Graham, the Great Montrose, born in Montrose in 1612 was tried for treason by the Scottish Covenanting government and hanged in 1650 in Edinburgh.

James Graham, Montrose

James Graham, Montrose

What WERE the man’s qualities exactly?

He was an outstanding military commander with a firm grasp of both strategic and tactical spheres of operation.
He was a charismatic leader of men. In his case, touchy and fickle highlander warriors who are not easily led.
He was a man of uncompromising principle whose adherence to those very principles in an age when the perceptions of society as to what principles mattered moved so wildly, that the impression was created in the eyes of the unwise that it was he who changed his stance.
He was a man of such vision and personal courage that when he failed to convince Prince Rupert, after the disaster of Marston Moor in the summer of 1644 to give him some of his soldiery to allow him to win Scotland for their King, Charles I, that he then entered Scotland with but two companions and subsequently pulled together an entire army by his own force of personality and led it to six consecutive victories between the summers of 1644 and 1645.

Prince Rupert of the Rhine, nephew of Charles I, defeated at the Battle of Marston Moor, June 1644.

Prince Rupert of the Rhine, nephew of Charles I, defeated at the Battle of Marston Moor, June 1644.

But if all this were true then he would stand as a historic icon, known to us all from childhood. Would that this were the case. However, with the ultimate triumph of the Protestant Ascendancy, the Glorious Revolution and the final disaster of the Union of Parliaments, our history has been written from the other side of this struggle. So Montrose is little known to us today and when his name is raised he is vilified as the military incompetent vanquished at Philiphaugh and a man of such uncertain principle that he would be the first to sign the National Covenant in 1638 then raise an army to oppose it in 1644.

Anyway, where’s the evidence?
As a military commander he stands with the other greats of this particular age, Conde and Cromwell. He is described by no less an authority than the honourable J.W. Fortescue in his 20 volume history of the British Army as “perhaps the most brilliant natural military genius disclosed by the civil war”.

Louis de Bourbon, Prince of Conde, the other outstanding general of the time

Louis de Bourbon, Prince of Conde, the other outstanding general of the time

A significant assessment of a man who’s only previous military experience had been the haphazard engagements of the Bishops’ War in 1639 when Scots took up weapons for the first time since the Battle of Langside in 1568, and thus he did not have the benefit of learning his craft in continental wars, in the fashion of the Earl of Leven or Alexander Leslie.

His six victories at Tippermuir, Aberdeen, Inverlochy, Alford, Auldearn and Kilsyth demonstrate clearly this outstanding ability. Ably assisted by Alasdair McColla and his Irish army, without which the whole 1644-45 campaign would not have been possible, he persuaded the clans of the central highland to fight together for the first time since the Battle of Harlaw in 1411 AND to fight with Alasdair’s men.

Much is made of the quality of the troops that opposed him at these fights but they were of exactly the same stock which he had led to victory during the aforementioned Bishops’ War.

His decisions first in November 1644, with deep winter looming, to attack Argyll’s citadel of Inverary, then in the following February to attempt a 40 mile flank march over the mountains in order to take on Argyll’s full army at Inverlochy and to utterly defeat them is the stuff of legend, and demonstrate his unrivalled grasp of the strategic aspects of warfare, with no less an authority than John Buchan describing the latter as “one of the great exploits in the history of British arms.”

His tactical dispositions particularly at Auldearn and Kilsyth merit close study.

Whilst Cromwell led a New Model Army fused together by his moral and religious authority, James Graham had no such aid and had to hold the whole army together by his personal authority alone.

Oliver Cromwell, who's military leadership owed much to external religious authority, seen here after Charles I's execution in 1649

Oliver Cromwell, who’s military leadership owed much to external religious authority, seen here after Charles I’s execution in 1649

And it was his achievements with a highland army which paved the way for another Graham, John of Claverhouse, to tread the same road some forty years later in his attempt to restore another Stuart monarch to the unified throne.

Montrose's kinsman, John Graham of Claverhouse, who follwed in Montrose's footsteps with another highland army in 1689

Montrose’s kinsman, John Graham of Claverhouse, who follwed in Montrose’s footsteps with another highland army in 1689

It was his success in persuading said highland army to fight south of the highland line which brought about his key victory at Kilsyth, the last of his six victories. And so to Philiphaugh where it all fell apart, his army was defeated on the field and then vindictively annihilated in the aftermath with Montrose forced to flee abroad. The subsequent campaign in 1650 saw only one battle fought, his defeat at Carbisdale. And when he threw himself upon the mercy of Neil MacLeod of Assynt only to be betrayed to the Government’s forces by the aforementioned’s spouse.

The execution of Montrose, 21 May 1650

The execution of Montrose, 21 May 1650

His execution in May, some 16 months after that of his King, Charles I was a turning point in our history. The ultimate triumph of Cromwell over all military forces allayed against him throughout the three kingdoms and the establishment of his Commonwealth was followed inevitably by the Stuart Restoration as the internal contradictions of Cromwell’s interregnum tore itself apart after his death. The general merriment of Charles II’s reign then led to the criminal mishandling of the job by his brother James II with William’s subsequent invasion and elevation to the throne in the Glorious Revolution, closely followed by the Union of the Parliaments.

And so we live with the consequences.

A traitor sold him to his foes;
O deed of deathless shame!
I charge thee, boy, if e’er thou meet
With one of Assynt’s name–
Be it upon the mountain’s side,
Or yet within the glen,
Stand he in martial gear alone,
Or backed by armed men–
Face him, as thou wouldst face the man
Who wronged thy sire’s renown;
Remember of what blood thou art,
And strike the caitiff down!

 

W.E.Aytoun

16 April 1746: The Battle of Culloden Moor, The End of The Whole Jacobite Adventure

And so, 47 years and 3 days after Claverhouse first raised the Royal Standard on Dundee Law to initiate the military attempt to restore the Stuarts to the throne of their fathers, the last such efforts were crushed at Culloden Moor.

Culloden Moor, the final defeat (16 April 1746)

Culloden Moor, the final defeat (16 April 1746)

During this period there were five unsuccessful efforts to bring about the Stuart Restoration. Some of them, such as in 1708, barely got off the ground. Others, such as 1745, achieved enough sustained success over a period of months to create genuine grounds for optimism as to their possible success. But none of them really came close.

There are questions that we might ask concerning the entire adventure: was there ever, realistically, any hope for success? In the light of the huge sacrifices that were made over the years by those who strove to bring about the second Restoration, might greater efforts have been made in the first place to avoid the need? If success had been achieved would the world be a better place now? And, given that in the end the whole thing crashed and burned so disastrously, what are the positives that can be taken from it?

Was there any chance of success? Of course there was. But it would have needed a lot of ducks to line up nicely and a strong following wind. When Claverhouse kicked it all off on 13 April 1689 the prospects were slim. All the principals in England had repudiated James and signed up in support of William as king. Both English and Scottish Parliaments had deemed James to have absconded and anointed William and his wife in his place.

James VII/II flees to France (Dec 1688)

James VII/II flees to France (Dec 1688)

So the only remaining hope for those who wished to see James restored was with the common folk in Scotland and Ireland. Claverhouse followed a path that had been trodden so successfully by his kinsman Montrose a generation previously and forged an army from highlanders who, whilst among the finest fighting men in Europe at that time, were led by chiefs who were constrained by the most idiosyncratic mores that even the greatest of history’s military commanders would have struggled to assemble them together on a single battlefield. Assembling and preparing such an army in the first place was probably a greater achievement by Claverhouse than leading it to victory at Killiecrankie.

Claverhouse's victory at the Battle of Killiecrankie, July 1689.

Claverhouse’s victory at the Battle of Killiecrankie, July 1689.

With his death during the battle that powerful, unifying, commanding force was gone and with it any prospects of success. But what if he’d survived the fighting? There was no point in heading south as any support there was for James was fragmented and subdued. The choice would have been to ship the entire army to Ireland to join with James’ army there or to hold Scotland and await James’ arrival following his victory over William’s forces at the Boyne. And we know how that one turned out.

The 2nd Rising in 1708, when enthusiasm was re-ignited by the heavily opposed Union of Parliaments of 1707, was the only one of the five where no battle was fought and was also the only one where the sovereign-in-waiting turned up to participate in the process. However, it was a disappointed James (VIII/III) who sailed away from Montrose on a cold, wet night in February 1708.

In 1714 Queen Anne died without issue and the unified Parliament cast around Europe seeking a suitably Protestant candidate to be shipped in, declining the credentials of some 64 possible candidates before determining that Sophia, Electress of Hannover was sufficiently non-Catholic for their purpose. This pantomime re-ignited the process and the Earl of Mar raised the Standard to initiate the 1715 Rising.

The Earl of Mar raises the Standard (1715)

The Earl of Mar raises the Standard (1715)

Controversy still surrounds the major field action of that campaign, the Battle of Sheriffmuir. A cold and clinical assessment of that day, however, would decide that King George’s man, the Duke of Argyll, in preventing Mar’s army from heading south into England and joining forces with the Jacobite Army there, was clearly the day’s victor.

And it was here on Sheriffmuir, 13 November 1715 that hindsight would suggest the possibility of success came closest. That if Mar had not been Mar, but had been of the mettle of Claverhouse or even Lord George Murray, field commander during the ’45, that a proper, decisive effort would have been made. An effort worthy of those who fought and died through all of those campaigns, which would have seen Argyll’s army driven from the field.

But with the English end of the operation losing the Battle of Preston in shameful fashion at virtually the same time, those prospects would have become dimmed once more.

The 4th effort in 1719 saw often-promised foreign support materialize for the first time with Spanish Grenadiers participating in the only field action fought at Glenshiel. However, defeat was again the order of the day. And even victory would have left a small army isolated and far from where the key decisions needed to be made.

The Battle of Glenshiel (10 June 1719)

The Battle of Glenshiel (10 June 1719)

The ’45 is often portrayed as the closest that the Jacobites came to achieving the dream of a second Restoration. And with outstanding military victories over formidable, experienced redcoat formations at both Prestonpans in September 1745 and Falkirk in January of the following year, there were real grounds for optimism. Notwithstanding the decision to retreat back to Scotland when at Derby, some 71 miles north of London.

 

The Jacobite Army victorious at the Battle of Falkirk (17 Jan 1746)

The Jacobite Army victorious at the Battle of Falkirk (17 Jan 1746)

Once again, however, lack of support in England for the whole notion critically undermined the operation. And when Bonnie Prince Charlie, egged on by his sycophantic fellow-exiles decided that removing overall military command of the operation from Lord George Murray, who had masterminded the two earlier victories and taking that role on himself with all his palpable lack of military experience and understanding of the nature of the men at his command, was the best course of action then the die was cast.

When that last Jacobite Army lined up in the sleet on Culloden Moor that April morning, only hours after failing in the unsuccessful night march on Nairn and with one third of their number still engaged in foraging supplies far from the battlefield, the possibility of success grew slimmer with each passing hour.

The morning of the Battle of Culloden...exhausted after the failed night attack...awaiting orders that would never come..

The morning of the Battle of Culloden…exhausted after the failed night attack…awaiting orders that would never come..

Defeat was by no means inevitable but the lack of clear leadership then proved to be the decisive factor as the rank and file had to take it upon themselves to determine the best way forward.

And so it ended. And with the commencement of the Industrial Revoluton in Scotland some 14 years later with the opening of the Carron Ironworks, the Jacobite Risings passed into history.

If there had indeed been any prospects of success they were so slim as to be deemed, from our perspective, impossibly marginal. Better by far if away back in the dog days of 1688, James VII/II had taken it upon himself to become a leader of men and not a spineless oaf, and had led an army to threw William back into the sea. Then things would be different.

IF somehow any of these individual campaigns had succeeded, would we be any better of? Given what we know of the manner in which the early Stuarts engaged so enthusiastically in their pursuits of British interests then that would seem unlikely.

If the result had been to undo the disaster of parliamentary union then that would have been a step in the right direction. However, that would only have led back to the ridiculous and unsustainable situation with a single head of state and two parliaments of two nations with disparate and conflicting interests.

Are there any positives to take from it other than a host of images for shortbread tins and the basis of a healthy tourist industry today? Of course there are. Not least that all of this process did a little to sustain the notion that the interests of the people of Scotland are best served when they are controlled by the people of Scotland working with people everywhere else to make the world a better place. A debate which today takes place anew. Time will tell how this one works out.

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