Scotland in the Age of Two Revolutions (Studies in Early Modern Cultural, Political and Social History, 20) 9781843839392, 1843839393

Table of contents :
Frontcover
Contents
Figures and Tables
List of Contributors
Preface
List of Abbreviations
1. Scotland and its Seventeenth-Century Revolutions
2. The Middle Shires Divided: Tensions at the Heart of Anglo-Scottish Union
3. The Western Highlands and Isles and Central Government, 1616–1645
4. The Scottish Bishops in Government, 1625–1638
5. The Scottish Revolution
6. In Search of the Scottish Republic
7. Highland Lawlessness and the Cromwellian Regime
8. The Worcester Veterans and the Restoration Regime in Scotland
9. The Political Thought of the Restoration Covenanters
10. Scottish State Oaths and the Revolution of 1688–1690
11. The Tribulations of Everyday Government in Williamite Scotland
12. The Company of Scotland and Scottish Politics, 1696–1701
Chronology of Seventeenth-Century Scotland
Further Reading
Index

Citation preview

of ideas. The intellectual landscape of seventeenth-century Scotland has often been perceived as less important and less innovative, and such perceptions are explored and in some cases challenged in this volume. Two stories have tended to dominate the historiography of seventeenth-century Scotland: Anglo-Scottish relations and religious politics. One of the recent leitmotifs of early modern British history has been the stress on the ‘Britishness’ of that history and the interaction between the three kingdoms which constituted the ‘Atlantic archipelago’. The two revolutions at the heart of the book were definitely Scottish, even though they were affected by events elsewhere. This is Scottish history, but Scottish history which recognises and is informed by a British context where appropriate. The interconnected nature of religion and politics is reflected in almost every contribution to this volume.

JULIAN GOODARE is Reader in History at the University of Edinburgh.

Studies in Early Modern Cultural, Political and Social History

in the

Age of Two Revolutions Edited by SHARON ADAMS and JULIAN GOODARE

ADAMS and GOODARE (Eds)

SHARON ADAMS is Postdoctoral Research Fellow at the University of Freiburg.

Cover illustration: Detail from The Signing of the National Covenant in Greyfriars Kirkyard, Edinburgh, by William Allan, c.1838. City Art Centre, Edinburgh Museums and Galleries.

Scotland in the Age of Two Revolutions

The seventeenth century was one of the most dramatic periods in Scotland’s history, with two political revolutions, intense religious strife culminating in the beginnings of toleration, and the modernisation of the state and its infrastructure. This book focuses on the history that the Scots themselves made. Previous conceptualisations of Scotland’s ‘seventeenth century’ have tended to define it as falling between 1603 and 1707 – the union of crowns and the union of parliaments. In contrast, this book asks how seventeenth-century Scotland would look if we focused on things that the Scots themselves wanted and chose to do. Here the key organising dates are not 1603 and 1707 but 1638 and 1689: the covenanting revolution and the Glorious Revolution. Within that framework, the book develops several core themes. One is regional and local: the book looks at the Highlands and the Anglo-Scottish Borders. The increasing importance of money in politics and the growing commercialisation of Scottish society is a further theme addressed. Chapters on this theme, like those on the nature of the Scottish Revolution, also discuss central government and illustrate the growth of the state. A third theme is political thought and the world

Scotland

Boydell & Brewer Ltd

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Scotland in the Age of Two Revolutions 9781843839392 v6.indd 1

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STUDIES IN EARLY MODERN CULTURAL, POLITICAL AND SOCIAL HISTORY Volume 20

Scotland in the Age of Two Revolutions

Studies in Early Modern Cultural, Political and Social History ISSN: 1476–9107 Series editors Tim Harris – Brown University Stephen Taylor – Durham University Andy Wood – Durham University

Previously published titles in the series are listed at the back of this volume

Scotland in the Age of Two Revolutions

Edited by

Sharon Adams and Julian Goodare

THE BOYDELL PRESS

©  Contributors 2014 All Rights Reserved. Except as permitted under current legislation no part of this work may be photocopied, stored in a retrieval system, published, performed in public, adapted, broadcast, transmitted, recorded or reproduced in any form or by any means, without the prior permission of the copyright owner First published 2014 The Boydell Press, Woodbridge ISBN 978–1–84383–939–2

The Boydell Press is an imprint of Boydell & Brewer Ltd PO Box 9, Woodbridge, Suffolk IP12 3DF, UK and of Boydell & Brewer Inc. 668 Mt Hope Avenue, Rochester, NY 14620–2731, USA website: www.boydellandbrewer.com A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library The publisher has no responsibility for the continued existence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party internet websites referred to in this book, and does not guarantee that any content on such websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

This publication is printed on acid-free paper

To David Stevenson

Contents Figures and Tables

ix

List of Contributors

xi

Preface xiii List of Abbreviations 1. Scotland and its Seventeenth-Century Revolutions Sharon Adams and Julian Goodare

xiv 1

2. The Middle Shires Divided: Tensions at the Heart of Anglo-Scottish Union Anna Groundwater

23

3. The Western Highlands and Isles and Central Government, 1616–1645 Sherrilynn Theiss

41

4. The Scottish Bishops in Government, 1625–1638 Sally Tuckett

59

5. The Scottish Revolution Julian Goodare

79

6. In Search of the Scottish Republic Sharon Adams

97

7. Highland Lawlessness and the Cromwellian Regime Danielle McCormack

115

8. The Worcester Veterans and the Restoration Regime in Scotland Maurice Lee, Jnr

135

9. The Political Thought of the Restoration Covenanters Caroline Erskine

155

10. Scottish State Oaths and the Revolution of 1688–1690 Alasdair Raffe

173

11. The Tribulations of Everyday Government in Williamite Scotland Laura Rayner

193

12. The Company of Scotland and Scottish Politics, 1696–1701 Douglas Watt

211

Chronology of Seventeenth-Century Scotland

231

Further Reading

237

Index 249

Figures and Tables Figures 1.1 Subscribers of the Solemn League and Covenant, 1643

6

6.1 The coronation of Charles II in Scotland, 1 January 1651

108

8.1 Scotland’s defeat at the Battle of Worcester, 3 September 1651

136

8.2 The Worcester Scots

138

12.1 ‘Caledonia’s Supporters or Eighty Four Dissenters’, 1701

228

Tables 4.1 Bishops appointed during the reign of James VI who continued into the reign of Charles I

63

4.2 Bishops appointed during the reign of Charles I

65

4.3 Bishops’ attendance on Charles I’s privy council, February 1626 to November 1638

66

12.1 Directors of the Company of Scotland, May 1696

213

12.2 Company of Scotland directors’ attendance at court meetings, 1696–1701

219

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Contributors Sharon Adams is a Postdoctoral Research Fellow at the University of Freiburg. She has published several articles and is currently writing a monograph, South-West Scotland and the Scottish Revolution, based on her Edinburgh Ph.D. thesis. Caroline Erskine is a Teaching Fellow in Scottish History at the University of Aberdeen. She has published several articles and edited two books, Scotland: The Making and Unmaking of the Nation, c.1100–1707, vol. V: Major Documents (2007) (co-edited with Alan R. MacDonald and Michael Penman), and George Buchanan: Political Thought in Early Modern Britain and Europe (2012) (co-edited with Roger A. Mason). Julian Goodare is a Reader in History at the University of Edinburgh. He is the author of State and Society in Early Modern Scotland (1999) and The Government of Scotland, 1560–1625 (2004). His edited books include The Reign of James VI (2000) (co-edited with Michael Lynch) and SixteenthCentury Scotland: Essays in Honour of Michael Lynch (2008) (co-edited with Alasdair A. MacDonald). Anna Groundwater is Co-ordinator of Graduate Research Methods Training in History at the University of Edinburgh. She is the author of several ­articles and of The Scottish Middle March, 1573–1625 (2010). Maurice Lee, Jnr is Margaret Judson Professor of History Emeritus at Rutgers University, New Brunswick, New Jersey. His first book was published in 1953, and his most recent books are ‘Dearest Brother’: Lauderdale, Tweeddale and Scottish Politics, 1660–1674 (2010), The ‘Inevitable’ Union and Other Essays on Early Modern Scotland (2003) and The Heiresses of Buccleuch: Marriage, Money and Politics in Seventeenth-Century Britain (1996). Danielle McCormack is Senior Lecturer in Celtic Studies, Adam Mickiewicz University, Poznań. She is the author of ‘The Decline of the Gaelic Literary Order and its Implications for the Highland Warrior Image’, in Shane Alcobia-Murphy, Lindsay Milligan and Dan Wall (eds), Founder to Shore: Cross-Currents in Irish and Scottish Studies (2010), pp. 119–30. Alasdair Raffe is a Chancellor’s Fellow in History at the University of Edinburgh. He is the author of several articles and of The Culture of Controversy: Religious Arguments in Scotland, 1660–1714 (2012).

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Contributors

Laura Rayner recently completed her MSc by Research thesis in Scottish History at the University of Edinburgh, on the privy council and treasury commission in the 1690s. Sherrilynn Theiss recently completed her Ph.D. thesis in Scottish History at the University of Edinburgh, on the West Highlands and Isles in the covenanting era. Sally Tuckett is a postdoctoral researcher at the University of Edinburgh, working on a Leverhulme funded project exploring the craft economy and artisans in nineteenth-century Scotland. She has published articles on national dress in Scotland and the Scottish textile industry, and is editorial assistant for the journal Britain and the World. Douglas Watt recently held a Postdoctoral Research Fellowship in Scottish History at the University of Edinburgh. He is the author of The Price of Scotland: Darien, Union and the Wealth of Nations (2007).

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Preface The idea for this book arose when we were both discussing ways of interpreting the Scottish Revolution of 1638. We realised that one way to approach the problem was to set that event in a longer chronological span that also took in the revolution of 1689. Here we owe a debt of gratitude to the late John Simpson, who taught both of us as undergraduates at the University of Edinburgh and who ran a special subject entitled ‘Scotland in the Age of Two Revolutions’. Grateful thanks also go to David Stevenson, who kindly convened a conference that we organised, ‘Scotland in the Seventeenth Century’, at which early versions of a few of the chapters below were first presented. It is now forty years since his book The Scottish Revolution, 1637–44: The Triumph of the Covenanters was published in 1973, but the lasting influence of this work and of Professor Stevenson’s subsequent writings on the subject is palpable in the present book. We are pleased to acknowledge the support of the School of History, Classics and Archaeology, University of Edinburgh. Boydell & Brewer have been helpful publishers; the guidance of Dr Michael Middeke and of the series editors is much appreciated. Sharon Adams Julian Goodare December 2013

xiii

Abbreviations APS Add. MS Adv. MS BL CSP Dom. EHR HMC NLS NRS ODNB P & P PSAS RBS RPC RPS RSCHS Scots Peerage SHR SHS SHS Misc. STC TGSI TNA TRHS

Acts of the Parliaments of Scotland, 12 vols, eds Thomas Thomson and Cosmo Innes (Edinburgh, 1814–75) Additional MS (BL) Advocates’ MS (NLS) British Library, London Calendar of State Papers, Domestic Series, 94 vols, eds R. Lemon et al. (London, 1856– ) English Historical Review Historical Manuscripts Commission National Library of Scotland, Edinburgh National Records of Scotland, Edinburgh Oxford Dictionary of National Biography (2004) Past and Present Proceedings of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland Royal Bank of Scotland Register of the Privy Council of Scotland, 38 vols, eds John H. Burton et al. (Edinburgh, 1877– ) Records of the Parliaments of Scotland to 1707, ed. Keith M. Brown et al. (www.rps.ac.uk, 2007) Records of the Scottish Church History Society James Balfour Paul (ed.), The Scots Peerage, 9 vols (Edinburgh, 1904–14) Scottish Historical Review Scottish History Society Miscellany of the Scottish History Society, 14 vols (1893– ) Short Title Catalogue, 2nd edn Transactions of the Gaelic Society of Inverness The National Archives, London Transactions of the Royal Historical Society

1

Scotland and its Seventeenth-Century Revolutions SHARON ADAMS

and

JULIAN GOODARE

Seventeenth-century Scotland saw two political revolutions. Along with these came intense religious strife culminating in the beginnings of toleration, and the modernisation of the state and its infrastructure. In this book we present some of the latest research on seventeenth-century Scotland, especially (though not solely) its political and religious history. In a period when political ideologies were presented so much in religious terms, it can be hard to separate the two. I This book is distinctive because it focuses on the history that the Scots themselves made during the seventeenth century. One of the most seductive and sometimes misleading aspects of ‘seventeenth-century Scotland’ is that it tends to be framed by two conventional dates: 1603 and 1707, the union of crowns and union of parliaments respectively. Thus Anglo-Scottish relations tend to dominate the story. The date 1603 may have additional popularity because so many works on English history also use it – but in England it mainly represents a new dynasty, rather than a new relationship with Scotland. David Stevenson, who has pointed out these problems with the 1603–1707 periodisation, adds a further problem. Because AngloScottish union raises strong feelings today, it has produced a lot of biased history, concerned either to celebrate or to denigrate the Anglo-Scottish union.1 Here we seek to do neither. This book, then, asks how seventeenth-century Scotland would look if we focused on things that the Scots themselves wanted and chose to

David Stevenson, ‘Twilight before Night or Darkness before Dawn? Interpreting Seventeenth-Century Scotland’, in Rosalind Mitchison (ed.), Why Scottish History Matters (2nd edn, Edinburgh, 1997), pp. 53–64.

1

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do. Here the key organising dates are not 1603 and 1707 but 1638 and 1689. The covenanting revolution of 1638 transformed Scottish politics, restructuring Scotland’s constitutional, administrative, fiscal and military system, and bringing a sharper ideological edge to governmental aspirations. Much of the story of the generation before 1638 in Scotland is the story of the making of the revolution. Even more obviously, the story of the two generations after 1638 is the story of the working out of the revolution: the victories and defeats, the splits, reactions, intensifications and – eventually – the triumph in 1689 of a governmental system remarkably like that which the Covenanters sought. Although Scotland’s revolution in 1689 followed English events, it obviously had indigenous roots in Scottish grievances against James VII and II, and the revolution regime built up its own momentum that did not always follow the same course as the English one. If it had followed the same course, there might have been no need for the parliamentary union. Thus, although 1603 and 1707 are important, they should not be allowed to dominate the story. The union of crowns was obviously a fortuitous event, however hard James VI and others had worked to make it possible. The union of parliaments was not something that most Scots worked to create at all – except to the extent that they were made to do so. They may well have seen advantages in co-operating with English desire for union, and union may have been facilitated by political and economic convergence between the two countries. The Scots had also made clear their desire for economic union – free trade between the countries and Scottish access to English colonies. However, what made the union happen when and how it did was that the English decided, for their own reasons, that they were no longer prepared to tolerate an autonomous Scotland. Having mentioned ‘seventeenth-century Scotland’, we should perhaps add that centuries are misleading; real history does not happen in units of 100 years. The problem is sometimes addressed by using ‘long’ or ‘short’ centuries – periods that have more internal coherence, but are not exactly 100 years. One of the most effective simplifying strategies for the ‘seventeenth-century’ historian might be to define the ‘seventeenth century’ as the period falling between the ‘long sixteenth century’ – 1500–1640 – and the ‘long eighteenth century’ – 1660–1800! Reigns do have some concrete reality, in that a new monarch may appoint new advisers and initiate new policies; but the assumption that things will always be different in a new reign can be just as misleading as the equivalent assumption about a new century. The only really coherent approach is to take Lord Acton’s advice: study problems, not periods. The ‘problem’, then, for this book, is to explain the origins and nature of a cluster of political changes between 1638 and about 1700. Most of the chapters of this book concern themselves with events between these two dates. However, the search for origins means that three chapters deal wholly or partly with events before 1638. In addition to 1638 and 1689, it 2

SCOTLAND AND ITS SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY REVOLUTIONS

could be argued that a third significant date for seventeenth-century Scotland was 1560, when the Scottish Reformation occurred. This was also the date of the establishment of almost unprecedented Anglo-Scottish ‘amity’ in place of the hostility of the previous two and a half centuries. The Covenanters’ attempts to purify their church looked back to 1560, while they also attempted to maintain and indeed to strengthen a friendly relationship with England – a suitably reformed England, of course. II The opening decades of the century should not be interpreted solely as a precursor to the gathering storm clouds of 1637–38. A search for the origins of that revolution needs to make distinctions, to recognise elements of stability, and perhaps to identify problems that were ordinary problems rather than simmerings of pre-revolutionary discontent. Anna Groundwater argues that it is too simple to extrapolate divisive difficulties from the early decades of the century into the revolutionary period.2 Her study of the Scottish Borders, or the ‘Middle Shires’ as they were supposed to be called after 1603, points to areas in which longer-term problems were apparent, particularly in religious policy and governing multiple monarchies. Linked to this is the debate over the relative culpability of James VI and Charles I for the political and religious instability of mid-seventeenthcentury Scotland. Some historians have placed the blame solely on Charles I and his political ineptitude, while others have seen stresses and tensions that predated 1625. There has been recent debate on this question, mostly concerning Charles as king of England, though his Scottish policies are recognised as being relevant.3 Since Charles continued many of his father’s policies, a focus on policies rather than reigns may encourage us to see more continuities between the two reigns. One of Charles’s most notable policies was to promote episcopacy – and the bishops were among the earliest casualties of the Scottish Revolution. Their ecclesiastical activities were, of course, controversial, but Sally Tuckett’s chapter carries out a detailed survey of their political activities.4 She shows that their secular activity caused concern, especially to the nobility. However, the level of episcopal political activity was governed by individual ambitions and interests, not by how long they had been bishops. It has Anna Groundwater, ‘The Middle Shires Divided: Tensions at the Heart of AngloScottish Union’, Chapter 2 below in this volume. 3 Mark Kishlansky, ‘Charles I: A Case of Mistaken Identity’, P & P 189 (Nov. 2005), pp. 41–80, and ‘Debate’ on this with Richard Cust, Julian Goodare and Clive Holmes, P & P 205 (Nov. 2009), pp. 175–88. 4 Sally Tuckett, ‘The Scottish Bishops in Government, 1625–1638’, Chapter 4 below in this volume. 2

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often been suggested that the bishops initially appointed by James were less confrontational than those appointed by Charles, but Tuckett shows that there was no such clear distinction between the Jacobean and Caroline episcopate. From one traditional perspective, it should not be surprising to say that there was more to the Scottish Revolution than the policies of Charles I. Have we not been told repeatedly that the Scottish Revolution was a response to ‘absentee monarchy’, thus linking it back to 1603? The problem with this is that the early seventeenth-century Scottish monarchy, far from being ‘absent’, was very much present and throwing its weight about. Indeed an active and interventionist monarchy was an equally plausible trigger for the covenanting revolution. It should be noted that the alleged problem of ‘absentee monarchy’ should not be confused with the real problem of multiple monarchy – the need to keep different kingdoms on the same track and in harmony with one another. Historians who have not looked beyond the physical location of the monarch have failed to see that royal government of Scotland was intensifying in the early seventeenth century, with more things being done by the royal prerogative than ever before – and many of those things being unpopular. The trigger for the revolution was the introduction of Charles I’s prayer book in 1637, on the authority of his prerogative. It might be added that the English, who lacked the problem (or benefit) of ‘absentee monarchy’, were in their own way just as dissatisfied with Charles’s government, and undertook their own revolution in 1640. III Events are not revolutionary simply because they are important. Julian Goodare provides us with some elements which are essential to defining events as a revolution: seizure and redistribution of power, revolutionary ideology and popular mobilisation.5 All of these elements are present in the Scottish Revolution. One of its striking features was the speed with which the opposition gained control of the levers of power. One reading of the Scottish Revolution is that it was essentially conservative; however, demands such as the king being obliged to call parliament, given statutory form in the Triennial Act of 1640, clearly moved beyond customary demands that the king take advice from the political nation. As Sharon Adams argues, even where the Scottish parliamentary regime was apparently operating within the confines of pre-revolution political structures, it was doing so in a way unrecognisable as pre-revolution monarchy.6

5 6

Julian Goodare, ‘The Scottish Revolution’, Chapter 5 below in this volume. Sharon Adams, ‘In Search of the Scottish Republic’, Chapter 6 below in this volume. 4

SCOTLAND AND ITS SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY REVOLUTIONS

The politicisation of opposition to the prayer book was developed by the presentation of petitions and the organised mobilisation of the disaffected, resulting in what has famously been described as a ‘crisis by monthly instalments’ as royal government failed to respond adequately to events in 1637–38.7 The Covenants had both an inclusive and an exclusive character. The Covenants bound their signatories together, with God and in the sight of God; subscribing was a sign of conformity to the regime and a way of identifying malignants. Thus, although the Covenants were intended as unifying forces and indeed largely succeeded in their unifying function during the 1640s, they also had a divisive function. The use of religious oaths to exclude and marginalise opponents was a natural move in this intensely religious age. As Alasdair Raffe shows, political oaths continued in the later seventeenth century, more divisively than before. After 1689, their power to coerce eventually declined.8 Sherrilynn Theiss, in her chapter on the Western Highlands, makes clear that signing the Covenant was not the same as giving active support to the covenanting cause.9 Still, the fact that these were ‘covenants’ and not simply bonds was significant, and became important after 1660. The Covenants were divine in character and eternally binding; for the committed, they could not be set aside as no longer expedient, nor could they legitimately be banned by parliament. This was one of the sticking points for the Restoration Covenanters whose political ideology is discussed by Caroline Erskine: a vocal minority, with ideas that were often different from the covenanting ideology of the 1630s and 1640s.10 In defining a revolution, one of the questions to be asked concerns its legality. A revolution is rarely a legal act. However, the political coercion that accompanies a revolution does not have to be illegal; a ruler may be coerced into formal assent. Charles I reluctantly accepted all the English Long Parliament’s revolutionary legislation of 1640–41, hoping to reverse it later. In Scotland, not much of what the Covenanters did before 1641 was strictly legal, but there was no single shift from legality to illegality. One could argue, for instance, about the legality of the National Covenant – Charles did not think it was legal, but his lord advocate did. But legality could matter where the revolutionaries were operating only partially within the existing political structure; that duality of both using the existing politDavid Stevenson, The Scottish Revolution, 1637–44: The Triumph of the Covenanters (Newton Abbot, 1973), p. 74. 8 Alasdair Raffe, ‘Scottish State Oaths and the Revolution of 1688–1690’, Chapter 10 below in this volume. 9 Sherrilynn Theiss, ‘The Western Highlands and Isles and Central Government, 1616–1645’, Chapter 3 below in this volume. 10 Caroline Erskine, ‘The Political Thought of the Restoration Covenanters’, Chapter 9 below in this volume. 7

5

Figure 1.1.  The National Covenant (1638) and the Solemn League and Covenant (1643) mobilised many people for the revolutionary cause. This copy of the Solemn League and Covenant, printed as a book, contains about a thousand names from Dundee. (© Dundee Central Library. Licensor www.scran.ac.uk)

SCOTLAND AND ITS SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY REVOLUTIONS

ical structure and amending it was present in Scotland and also in England. Contemporaries were very much aware that there was a line between legality and illegality, and thought carefully about which side of that line they were treading, although interpretations of where that line lay varied. Sometimes, whether an event is ‘revolutionary’ or not may be a matter of perspective. Goodare asks, for instance, whether the Engagement of 1647 was revolutionary or counter-revolutionary – and the fact that the question can be asked at all is significant. The Engagers’ revolutionary credentials could be defended by arguing that they were serious about the Solemn League and Covenant. Probably if they had been serious about it they would not have had the duke of Hamilton as their leader, since Hamilton had opposed the Solemn League ever since it was proposed; nor would they have worked so willingly with open royalists. However, the question cannot be answered definitively because we cannot know what would have happened at the end of the threeyear trial period that they and the king had agreed for English presbyterianism. If presbyterianism – and by extension, the radical constitutional settlements of 1641 – had continued, the Covenanters would have gained and the king would have lost from their alliance. The 1661 parliament swithered over the issue, initially approving the Engagement before voting it seditious.11 Adams focuses on the vital period 1649–51. This can be set in broader context. The idea of a Scottish republic began before 1649, and continued after 1651. The revolution encouraged the idea that Scotland was a republic, or commonwealth, or at least that the word ‘kingdom’ was not necessary to discuss it. For example, episcopalians sometimes argued that general assemblies were only for times when Christians were persecuted, and that kings, once Christian, should govern the church. In arguing against this on 29 June 1638, one covenanting pamphleteer wrote: No man will thinke that a republick, becoming a Christian Kirk, should losse any of her civile liberties, why then shall a kirk being in her selfe a perfect republicke, although of another kinde, because shee now lives under a Christian Magistrate, losse her priviledges, or suffer diminution in her Christian liberty, whereof the holding of assemblies is a necessary part.12

This ‘Christian Magistrate’ was of course Charles I, but this polemicist firmly limited his power. Then in 1639, during the first Bishops’ War, Hamilton wrote of the Covenanters’ ‘desperat course’ in which they ‘will either make themself a Common Wealth or a conquered kingdom’.13 Gillian H. MacIntosh, The Scottish Parliament under Charles II, 1660–1685 (Edinburgh, 2007), pp. 22, 24–5. 12 Reasons for a Generall Assemblie (n.p. [Edinburgh], 1638; STC (2nd edn) 22054.5), sig. B. 1. 13 Hamilton to Charles, 21 May 1639, S. R. Gardiner (ed.), The Hamilton Papers (Camden Society, 1880), p. 84.

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Overall, Adams’s chapter indicates that the Scottish radicals led by Argyll and the English radicals led by Cromwell were more similar than has been thought, at least on issues of government. The split between them was not one between royalists and republicans; Cromwell was a reluctant republican, and Argyll was a reluctant royalist. The fact that they did not significantly disagree on issues of government should remind us what they really disagreed about: issues of church government, in particular presbyterianism versus Independency. Some Scottish political figures adapted themselves readily enough to English republican discourse in the 1650s. In 1659, the minister James Sharpe reported that the Protester leader James Guthrie had proposed making Scotland ‘a distinct republick from England’; the word ‘republick’ here should be understood as something like ‘state’, but Guthrie was clearly avoiding the word ‘kingdom’. Even more clearly, Sharpe himself, as a spokesman for the more moderate Resolutioners, rebutted the Protesters’ claims ‘demonstrating them to be the only commonwealth men’.14 The term ‘commonwealth’ was largely synonymous with ‘republic’, and, in this context, Sharpe was explicitly saying that the Resolutioners, too, were against a restoration of the monarchy. These ideas would resurface in the rhetoric of the papers and declarations of the Restoration Covenanters discussed by Erskine. Fuelled by the rhetoric of the suffering and persecution of the godly covenanting remnant under the tyranny of the Stewart monarchy, the Sanquhar Declaration of 1680 renounced allegiance to Charles II, while the Queensferry Paper expressed its author’s ‘hopes for a presbyterian republic’. IV Where does the Restoration of 1660 sit in this model of revolutionary Scotland? Can it be seen as a revolution? Or even as a counter-revolution? Although the Restoration took place at the level of elite politics, it was certainly massively popular in Scotland, not least because it ended the Cromwellian occupation and promised a return to stability. Charles II’s proclamation as king in Edinburgh was accompanied by civic festivities, including bonfires and fireworks. In 1661 the Scottish parliament ordered that 29 May be observed as the ‘day God Almightie hath spetially honoured and rendered auspitious to this kingdome both by his majesties’ royall birth and by his blessed restitution to his government’, with public prayers and stopping work.15 An elaborate celebration took place at Linlithgow on 29 May 1662, which included the James Sharpe to Robert Douglas, 28 May and 25 June 1659, Register of the Consultations of the Ministers of Edinburgh, 1652–1660, 2 vols, ed. William Stephen (SHS, 1921–30), II, pp. 185, 189. 15 RPS, 1661/1/255. 14

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erection of an arch satirising the covenanting revolution. The figure of ‘rebellion’ was depicted on the back of the arch as a religious fanatic, holding two covenanting treatises (Lex, Rex and Causes of the Lords Wrath), and surrounded by acts of parliament and declarations of the covenanting decades. Above her was the inscription ‘rebellion is as the sin of witchcraft’, while the following verse hung from the centre of the arch itself:16 From covenanters with uplifted hands,  From remonstrators with associate bands, From such committees as governed this nation,  From kirk commissions and their protestations, Good Lord deliver us.

Even taking these manifestations of public enthusiasm at face value, it is difficult to see the Restoration as being the product of popular mobilisation. As Maurice Lee demonstrates in his chapter, the requisite qualification for political power was loyalty to the king. Scottish government was dominated by those who had supported Charles II during his brief reign before the defeat at Worcester in September 1651 and in the Worcester campaign itself.17 Coupled with these men’s intense rivalry and ambition, this may not have been the best recipe for a stable or successful Scottish administration. Ideologically, the Restoration was in theory an attempt to turn the clock back to 1637, to eradicate all the legislative, administrative and ecclesiastical innovations of the Scottish Revolution and to restore the authority of the monarchy. Thus, as Raffe argues, the Restoration brought about changes in the use of the oaths of allegiance, which were now deployed to show agreement with a specific understanding of the royal prerogative and, for example, to denounce the Covenants. V It may no longer be controversial for Scottish scholars to interpret the events of 1688–89 as revolutionary, given that English historians have turned to doing so in recent years – especially Tim Harris, who has articulated an influential revolutionary argument for all three kingdoms.18 There

Robert Wodrow, The History of the Sufferings of the Church of Scotland from the Restoration to the Revolution, 4 vols, ed. Robert Burns (Glasgow, 1828–30), I, p. 320. 17 Maurice Lee, Jnr, ‘The Worcester Veterans and the Restoration Regime in Scotland’, Chapter 8 below in this volume. 18 Tim Harris, Revolution: The Great Crisis of the British Monarchy, 1685–1720 (London, 2006); Edward Vallance, The Glorious Revolution: 1688, Britain’s Fight for Liberty (London, 2006); Steve Pincus, 1688: The First Modern Revolution (New Haven, Conn., 2009). For a precursor of the argument, see H. T. Dickinson, ‘How Revolutionary was the 16

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are nevertheless complications in seeing a direct line from 1637 to 1689, with viewing the second Scottish revolution of the seventeenth century as the working out of the first. While the revolution itself was a response to events in England, it built upon specific Scottish grievances and circumstances, some long term, others arising directly from the Scottish policies of Charles II and James VII. As Erskine points out, the political thought of the Restoration Covenanters contributed little to mainstream politics, but their treatment did. The sufferings of the Killing Times of the 1680s, integral to the martyrology of the later Covenanters, found cooler expression in the Claim of Right, with its condemnation of the illegality of using army officers as judges and summary executions. And, as Goodare reminds us, there was a popular response to the news of William landing in England, for instance the ejection of Episcopalian ministers in the heartland of the Restoration Covenanters, south-west Scotland, and the sacking of the Catholic chapel at Holyrood Palace. The convention of estates of 1689 did not just transfer power from one monarch to another. It also demonstrated its own power over the monarch, as can be shown in several ways. Firstly, it declared that James VII had forfeited the throne. This was clearer and more decisive than the English parliament’s recent adoption of the fiction that James had abdicated. Secondly, and following on from this, the convention of estates made clear that the throne was now vacant. According to divine right theory, a new king succeeded to the throne at the moment when his predecessor died: ‘The king is dead, long live the king!’ No human decision-making was involved, because the king was appointed by God. Charles II always dated the beginning of his reign from 30 January 1649, the date of his father’s execution. This was even observed by the radical Covenanters, though government clerks were sometimes forgetful or confused about it in practice.19 As Raffe notes, this was given renewed emphasis in 1681 in the act concerning the succession, which stated that Scottish kings derived their power ‘from God Almightie alone’. But when on 4 April 1689 James was deposed, the convention declared that ‘he hath forefaulted the right to the croune and the thron is become vacant’.20 Thirdly, the convention separated making William and Mary king and queen from admitting them to the ‘exercise of regal power’. This was reminiscent of how the Scottish parliament had dealt with the accession of Charles II in 1649, recognising his right to succeed but separating this from his right to exercise power until he had given satisfaction. The extent to which William and Mary’s acceptance of the crown was conditional – in particular conditional on their agreement to the Claim of Right – is unclear. Arguably the convention understood it that way. But “Glorious Revolution” of 1688?’, British Journal for Eighteenth-Century Studies 11 (1988), pp. 125–42. 19 Register of the Great Seal of Scotland, IX, nos 2162, 2164, 2197. 20 RPS, 1689/3/94. 10

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swearing the coronation oath, now separated from the ritual of coronation, was a precondition of royal government, a step which, Raffe argues, ‘gave new life to a contractual understanding of Scottish monarchy’. Of course, there was one big difference between 1649 and 1689. In 1649, the real choice was Charles II or no monarch at all, although there had been vague English suggestions that the Scots could choose a different king (perhaps Charles’s younger brother Henry, duke of Gloucester).21 In 1689, the choice was between William and James. Thus, state oaths now focused on the legitimacy of William, Mary and Anne and later the Hanoverian succession. One way to circumvent this, as Raffe shows, was the sophistical distinction between James, who was king de jure (in law) and William and Mary, monarchs, de facto (in fact), a loophole that was closed by parliament, at least in terms of political tests, in 1690. There is another dimension to the 1689 revolution in this volume. In English scholars’ discussions of whether the Glorious Revolution was ‘revolutionary’, one approach has been to argue that the revolution was important because of the rise of the fiscal–military state in the 1690s and William’s acceptance of political constraints in return for support for his Continental wars. John Brewer has been influential in arguing this view, though more recent contributors to the debate, notably Michael Braddick and Patrick O’Brien, have argued for a longer chronology that stresses the importance of the 1640s.22 So far there has been no direct equivalent of this debate in Scotland, although it is not hard to see reasons for assigning significance to 1689. Parliament’s withholding of supply until the Committee of Articles was abolished and the presbyterian church established in 1690 indicates that the radical majority who dominated the early sessions of the post-revolution parliament did indeed have an agenda beyond simply substituting one monarch for another.23 Laura Rayner’s chapter makes it clear that the post-1689 story in Scotland was not all about parliament; the privy council was more active in the 1690s than it had been under James VI, dealing with a wide variety of business, including the economic disasters of the 1690s.24 The events of the period also placed a greater degree of responsibility on the Derek Hirst, ‘The English Republic and the Meaning of Britain’, Journal of Modern History 66 (1994), pp. 451–86, at pp. 457–8. 22 John Brewer, The Sinews of Power: War, Money and the English State, 1688–1783 (London, 1988); Michael J. Braddick, The Nerves of State: Taxation and the Financing of the English State, 1558–1714 (Manchester, 1996); Patrick K. O’Brien, ‘Historical Conditions for the Evolution of a Successful Fiscal State: Great Britain and its European Rivals from the Treaty of Munster to the Treaty of Vienna’, in Simonetta Cavaciocchi (ed.), La fiscalità nell’economia Europea, secc. xiii–xviii: Fiscal Systems in the European Economy from the 13th to the 18th Centuries, 2 vols (Firenze, 2008), I, pp. 131–51. 23 James Halliday, ‘The Club and the Revolution in Scotland, 1689–90’, SHR 45 (1966), pp. 143–59. 24 Laura Rayner, ‘The Tribulations of Everyday Government in Williamite Scotland’, Chapter 11 below in this volume. 21

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treasury commission, which was responsible for payments to the military; its records illustrate the fiscal demands of the warfare of the 1690s. VI Revolution and civil war are not synonymous – and this fact highlights the question of allegiance during civil war. Successful revolutions are successful precisely because most people support them at the time, but the result is to create a broad and temporary coalition among different groups who do not all have the same interests or expectations towards the revolution. Those who are most committed to revolutionary change try to push things further; those who are less committed try to put on the brakes. If revolution results in civil war, then the question of why people took the sides they did becomes crucial. The question of allegiances can even be elevated into becoming the question of why the civil war occurred at all. Several of the chapters in this volume touch on the question of allegiances and their political consequences. Allegiances were not static, and the Scottish Revolution provided a succession of decision points at which allegiances needed to be reassessed or choices made. Had the revolutionary aims been achieved by 1641? Was it right to ally with the English parliament in 1643? Should the Engagement be supported after it had been agreed in 1647? The revolution provides us with clear terminology to describe the main groups: Covenanters and royalists. In practice, however, matters were more complicated, because each broad group was a coalition of smaller groups, and because ‘royalism’ tended to shift as the king’s aims shifted. In particular he tried to co-operate with the Covenanters, or at least to avoid provoking them, for long periods, notably from late 1640 until the middle of 1643. One solution to this has been to refer to ‘pragmatic royalists’, as John Young has done. He even describes the second marquis of Huntly as a ‘pragmatic Royalist’ during Charles I’s visit to Scotland in late 1641, although Huntly never signed either Covenant and made very little effort to compromise with the Covenanters.25 A more conventional ‘pragmatic royalist’ might be the eighth earl of Glencairn. No revolutionary, Glencairn nevertheless co-operated with the Scottish parliamentary regime for most of the 1640s, until the Engagement. In 1653 he led the royalist uprising, which began in the Highlands (on which more in a moment). At some points, Glencairn tried to remain uncommitted or took a neutral stance.26

John R. Young, The Scottish Parliament, 1639–1661: A Political and Constitutional Analysis (Edinburgh, 1996), pp. 35, 40. 26 David Stevenson, ‘Cunningham, William, eighth earl of Glencairn (1610/11–1664)’, ODNB.

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The process of choosing allegiance in Scotland should be analysed in conjunction with the parallel process in England. This is true not only in the obvious sense that people were often motivated by their attitudes to AngloScottish issues, notably the Solemn League and Covenant of 1643. There is also a more fundamental way in which processes determining allegiance in the two countries really were similar, despite the different issues involved. For instance, the English evidence may indicate that people chose opposite sides because of differing attitudes to the English Prayer Book, or to episcopacy. Were these the determining issues? We find Scots choosing opposite sides in similar circumstances, but over different issues. The marquis of Montrose, standard-bearer of Scottish royalism in the mid-1640s, remained committed to presbyterianism and to the National Covenant of 1638.27 As an opponent of bishops and the Prayer Book, Montrose could hardly have been a royalist at all in English terms. Further comparative study of this problem is required. What about neutralist tendencies during the civil wars? It is questionable how far complete neutrality was a plausible long-term strategy, in southern and central Scotland in particular. However, limiting active involvement and avoiding choosing sides on ideological grounds was an option. Some regions received less attention from central government and were under less pressure to take sides – notably the Highlands, as Theiss points out. Many of the clans in the Western Highlands and Isles became involved in the Scottish Revolution only when they perceived an opportunity for material gain or a need to act defensively against neighbouring clans. As for active neutralism of the kind exemplified by the English Clubmen, there has to date been little effort to identify equivalents in Scotland. One possibility is the 1651 pamphlet ‘Declaration and Vindication of the Poore Opprest Commons of Scotland’; this condemned the covenanting leadership, but, as with most English Clubmen, was ideologically committed rather than genuinely ‘neutral’.28 Neutralism in the sense of not minding which side won the war seems to have been no more than a passive, inarticulate force, though more research is needed on this. Whether or not there were neutrals, there were certainly determined survivors. Seventeenth-century Scotland had its own ‘Vicar of Bray’, who was looked back on with that appellation in the eighteenth century. This was Gavin Young, minister of Ruthwell, who was appointed to his parish in 1617, and held his post until his death in 1671.29 He thus survived the Five Edward J. Cowan, Montrose: For Covenant and King (London, 1977), p. 296. David Stevenson, ‘Reactions to Ruin, 1648–1651: “A Declaration and Vindication of the Poore Opprest Commons of Scotland”, and Other Pamphlets’, SHR 84 (2005), pp. 257–65. For the Clubmen, see John Morrill, Revolt in the Provinces: The People of England and the Tragedies of War, 1630–1648 (2nd edn, Harlow, 1999), pp. 132–51, 200–4. 29 Thomas Pennant, A Tour in Scotland and Voyage to the Hebrides, 1772, ed. Andrew Simmons (Edinburgh, 1998), pp. 85–6. The phrase ‘Vicar of Bray’ was first recorded in 27 28

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Articles of Perth (1618), the abolition of episcopacy (1638), the radical purges of the later 1640s, the Cromwellian occupation, and the purge that followed the restoration of episcopacy in 1662. When asked how he had been able to live under so many different forms of church government, Young replied, ‘Wha wad quarrel wi’ their brose for a mote in them.’30 Which sounds like the Scotch Presbyterian Eloquence, a satirical episcopalian work from 1692.31 Under the circumstances, though, Young’s remark should perhaps be called the Scotch Conformist Eloquence. There were also political survivors, such as George Mackenzie of Tarbat. George Lockhart of Carnwath later claimed that Mackenzie, who graduated from university in 1646, had ‘complyed with all the opposite governments that had been on foot since the year 1648’32 – an impressive feat given the political twists and turns of the closing years of the Scottish Revolution. He joined the Glencairn Rising in 1653 and, following its failure, went into exile. Tarbat returned to political life with the Restoration and, as Lee shows, was deeply involved in the notorious and provocative billeting scheme of 1663; a generation later he would be deeply involved in schemes that might have prevented the even more notorious and provocative Massacre of Glencoe.33 The second earl of Tweeddale, also discussed by Lee, was another survivor, serving every regime from the 1640s to the 1690s – from the Solemn League and Covenant onwards. He was an Engager in 1648, but reconciled himself to the radical regime in 1649. He then worked harder for Cromwell than most Scottish politicians. This did not stop him serving Charles II and James VII – though with a period in opposition, as Lee shows. Finally, he became a revolution man in 1689, attaining the chancellorship under William in 1692. How far can this analysis be employed to explain allegiance in the 1690s, or even to discover the issues on which allegiances might be divided? The overt issue was the change of dynasty, with the objectors to this being identified as Jacobites. The revolution of 1689 was popular with all but a few at the time; the Jacobite uprising of 1689–91 got nowhere and its defeat was assumed at the time to be terminal.34 There was indeed no further major uprising until 1715, so that until then there was no opportunity for Jacobites 1662, as a ‘proverb’ of Berkshire (Oxford English Dictionary). It referred to an unnamed person (Simon Alleyne, according to eighteenth-century tradition) who had conformed to all the changes of religion in England under the Tudors. 30 Hew Scott, Fasti Ecclesiae Scoticanae: The Succession of Ministers in the Parish Churches of Scotland, 3 vols (Edinburgh, 1866–71), I, p. 625. Young’s phrase means ‘Who would object to their porridge for a speck of dirt in it‘. 31 ‘J. Curate’ [Gilbert Crokatt and John Monro], The Scotch Presbyterian Eloquence (London, 1692). 32 Colin Kidd, ‘Mackenzie, George, first earl of Cromarty (1630–1714)’, ODNB. 33 Paul Hopkins, Glencoe and the End of the Highland War (revised edn, Edinburgh, 1998), pp. 210–13, 220–2, 489. 34 Bruce Lenman, The Jacobite Risings in Britain, 1689–1746 (London, 1979), pp. 49–50. 14

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to commit themselves openly. By then, the issues had changed a great deal, especially because of the Union of 1707 and the succession of the Hanoverian dynasty in 1714. This makes it harder to understand the development of the 1689 revolution in the 1690s.35 If things had gone the same way in the 1690s as in the 1640s, we would expect to find that some of the makers of the 1689 revolution tried to use it as a starting-point for something more radical, while others tried to slow it down – producing splits in the revolutionary movement and attempts at counter-revolution. On the whole we do not find this – probably because the revolutionary movement was more cautious and cohesive than it had been in the 1640s. The point about cohesion may surprise those familiar with Patrick Riley’s misanthropic and Namierite analysis of the incessant factional manoeuvrings of the period, but the only reason that a Namierite analysis (focusing on interest-group rivalry rather than ideology) is possible at all is that there were few divisions over fundamental issues.36 There was no ‘radical mainstream’.37 Indeed, perhaps a comparison of the two periods immediately after the 1638 and 1689 revolutions might reveal that the latter period, unlike the former, was characterised by a ‘growth of political stability’.38 Here, one relevant point is that the ‘radicals’ of the 1690s were themselves divided. The ‘Cameronians’ – the heirs of the religious radicals analysed in Erskine’s chapter – usually supported the government while deploring its religious Erastianism. The ‘country’ opposition in the late 1690s was partly a parliamentary coalition discontented by religion and by the court’s failure to support the Company of Scotland in its Darien venture.39 In his chapter, Douglas Watt argues that the Company of Scotland was not, as Riley suggested, ‘remarkably like the opposition going into business’, but that the directors and shareholders bore more resemblance to Revolution Scotland going into business.40 However, he also shows that there were closer connections between the company and the opposition from the late 1690s. It was then that the country party made political capital out of the fate of the colonial enterprise at Darien.

Alexander J. Murdoch, ‘The Legacy of the Revolution in Scotland’, in Alexander J. Murdoch (ed.), The Scottish Nation: Identity and History: Essays in Honour of William Ferguson (Edinburgh, 2007), pp. 39–55. 36 P. W. J. Riley, King William and the Scottish Politicians (Edinburgh, 1979). 37 Cf. Allan I. Macinnes, ‘The Scottish Constitution, 1638–51: The Rise and Fall of Oligarchic Centralism’, in John Morrill (ed.), The Scottish National Covenant in its British Context (Edinburgh, 1990), pp. 106–33, at pp. 113–14. 38 Cf. J. H. Plumb, The Growth of Political Stability in England, 1675–1725 (London, 1967). 39 Riley, King William and the Scottish Politicians, ch. 7. 40 Douglas Watt, ‘The Company of Scotland and Scottish Politics, 1696–1701’, Chapter 12 below in this volume. 35

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VII The seventeenth century was a period in which Scotland’s relations with England, and ‘British’ issues more generally, cannot be ignored. Here it is appropriate to begin with Scottish patriotic sentiment. The minister and theologian Samuel Rutherford, an influential church agitator against Charles I, said in a sermon of 1634: Now, O Scotland, God be thanked, thy name is in the Bible. Christ spoke to us long since, ere ever we were born. Christ said, ‘Father, give me the ends of the earth, put in Scotland and England, with the isles-men in the great charter also: for I have them among the rest.… Believe in the name and authority of the Son of God, I pray you believe, and read Scotland’s Charter. Psalm ii. 8, xlv, and lxxii. Will ye then believe?41

This was mainly based on Psalm 2, verses 7–8, which said: ‘I will declare the decree: the LORD hath said unto me, Thou art my Son; this day have I begotten thee. Ask of me, and I shall give thee the heathen for thine inheritance, and the uttermost parts of the earth for thy possession.’ This was conventionally taken to be an Old Testament prefiguring of the coming of Jesus. What Rutherford added to it was the idea that ‘the uttermost parts of the earth’ must mean, or rather include, Scotland. This was partly because of Scotland’s geographical location, and partly because Scotland was thought to have made a ‘covenant’ with God in the way that ancient Israel had done. Can the melodramatic phrase ‘O Scotland … thy name is in the Bible’ be taken in a nationalist sense? Rutherford was certainly patriotic. But he was not ‘nationalist’ in the modern sense of seeking to separate from England. On the contrary, he mentioned England as another of Christ’s nations. England was also thought to be a ‘covenanted’ nation. And this was nearly a decade before the Solemn League and Covenant of 1643. We have had a number of analyses of ‘British’ history as the history of three interacting kingdoms.42 This phenomenon would not have been particularly surprising to seventeenth-century Scots. In 1638, writing to his brethren in Ireland, Rutherford eloquently expressed his desire to give his all ‘so that Christ were enthroned, and His glory advanced in all the world, and especially in these three kingdoms’.43 As Goodare argues, the Scottish Revolution is best understood as part of a British movement. And, as Adams makes clear, the inability of even the most radical members of the Scottish

Quoted in S. A. Burrell, ‘The Covenant Idea as a Revolutionary Symbol: Scotland, 1596–1637’, Church History 27 (1958), pp. 338–50, at p. 348. 42 See, for example, Brendan Bradshaw and John Morrill (eds), The British Problem, c.1534–1707: State Formation in the Atlantic Archipelago (Basingstoke, 1996). 43 Andrew A. Bonar (ed.), The Letters of Samuel Rutherford (Edinburgh, 1891), p. 554. 41

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parliamentary regime to divorce themselves from a three kingdoms context conditioned their response to the execution of Charles I. A ‘three kingdoms’ approach has particular interest for the Highlands, with their traditional links to Ireland. The Scottish clansmen and chiefs are discussed not only by Theiss but also by Danielle McCormack, whose chapter presents us with the Glencairn Rising of 1653 as a renewal of the involvement of clan politics with wider Scottish and British events. The English army viewed their Highland problem in a similar fashion to guerrilla warfare in Ireland.44 These clansmen and chiefs, in fact, operated in various overlapping political arenas. The local arena, with concern for immediate neighbours as allies or enemies, was often crucial. Beyond this was the Highland arena, in which all chiefs formed a political community. This community also interacted both with the wider Gaelic world in Ireland, and with the wider Scottish world including the Lowlands. Finally, Britain as a whole could be an important arena; in the Montrose–MacColla uprising of 1644–45, Montrose always aimed to bring aid to the king in England, while the Glencairn Rising was directed against the English army of occupation. Overall, though, Theiss and McCormack both direct our attention back to the Scottish arena as one that shaped their chiefs’ and clansmen’s actions. Theiss shows that Montrose and MacColla’s army was more ‘Scottish’ and less ‘Irish’ than is sometimes thought, while McCormack questions the idea that the Irish term ‘tory’ was used in Scotland in this period. One of the reasons why the Scottish Revolution was successful was that it was national. Its ideology embraced the whole kingdom. Its Covenants, committees, financial demands and mustering of regiments created links from Edinburgh to most of Scotland. But to say that the Scottish Revolution was national is not to say that it was nationalist. The Covenanters had no thought of separating from England. They patriotically reformed their own church, but they assumed that a political link with England would continue; indeed they hoped that the English link would intensify. So they made this the starting-point for a reform of the church in England too. The problem was not the political connection with England, but the form that connection took and its implications for Scotland. VIII The ‘Scotland and England’ story is one of two nations, but one of the most exciting aspects of recent research has been the opening up of a diverse, regional history within Scotland itself. Three of the chapters in this volume focus on Scottish localities – the Highlands and the Borders – and discuss

Danielle McCormack, ‘Highland Lawlessness and the Cromwellian Regime’, Chapter 7 below in this volume.

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both their particular political and social structures and their relationship with wider Scottish and English governmental agendas. Anna Groundwater uses the experience of the Middle Shires to bring a fresh perspective to the regal union. The pacification of the Middle Shires was central to James’s ambitions for complete union; its success was to be an example to the English parliament of the merits of James’s plans. James’s union plans had foundered by 1607, but as Groundwater argues, the Borders were essentially peaceful within two decades of the union. The pacification process illustrated some of the difficulties in bringing the region together – legal differences made cross-border commissions difficult. But the process also showed a certain efficiency in the regal union and its ability to create mechanisms to carry out royal policy. The powerful borders kindreds, connected to both Edinburgh and London, were essential to this process. Theiss contrasts James VI’s approach to the Scottish Borders with his treatment of the Western Highlands and Isles – which was, she concludes, heavy-handed but ultimately successful. Personal contacts were also important in the Western Highlands and Isles, at local level and with Edinburgh and London. Theiss sees the annual meetings, in which highland chiefs were summoned to Edinburgh, as central to this process and their falling into desuetude the loss of a key point of contact. The Covenanters too failed to tap the potential of the Western Highlands, which reverted to ‘local politics and personal agendas’. It was Montrose who realised how local politics could be harnessed in the royalist campaigns of 1644 and 1645. McCormack, too, like Theiss, shows us how the Highlands were perceived as socially and culturally different by the external forces who sought to control them or to whom they posed a threat. McCormack sees continuities between the policies of the 1650s and those of previous Scottish administrations, but the heavy military presence of the Cromwellian regime meant that the English were more successful in suppressing Highland violence. IX The government of Scotland is one of the themes that runs through this volume, a theme that is also directly connected to Scotland’s two seventeenth-century revolutions. Dissatisfaction with the way in which Scottish government was being conducted was one of the underlying causes of both revolutions. For instance, as Tuckett shows, the bishops were useful agents in secular administration, but their activities caused resentment, which was in part linked to wider concerns about Charles I’s religious policy and the nature of royal government. Both revolutions also affected government in the longer term. After the Restoration, Charles II had limited interest in governing Scotland and left it to those he trusted, primarily those who had been loyal to him in the Worcester campaign. However, as Lee points out, several of Charles’s trusted advisers were not wholly adequate for the task, 18

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which meant that the political allegiances of the early 1650s and the defeat at Worcester hampered the government of Scotland into the early years of the Restoration. Rayner’s chapter focuses on the business of day-to-day administration by the privy council and the treasury commission in the 1690s. Their operation shows both continuity with pre-revolution administration and the need to adapt to new political circumstances and deal with specific issues such as the fiscal military demands of William III’s wars. Social and economic change is one of Goodare’s ‘optional extras’ in his definition of revolution. Significant economic developments can be seen in seventeenth-century Scotland, directly and indirectly arising out of the revolutions. The treasury commission, which is the subject of much of Rayner’s chapter, was fairly new. For most of the period before 1667, financial responsibility had lain with a single lord treasurer, but in that year, a treasury commission was created for Scotland and another one for England. In England, and after 1707 in Britain, the treasury commission rose to be the leading institution of government, and its head, the ‘first lord of the treasury’, gradually became known in the early eighteenth century as the ‘prime minister’. There may be a longer-term pattern of different styles of government. The Covenanters, and the English under Cromwell, characteristically governed by committee. Before 1667, the previous Scottish treasury commission had operated between 1641 and 1644.45 An even longer-term history of government by committee would look back to the Octavians in 1596.46 They were exchequer commissioners, rather than treasury commissioners, but their legacy remained important in the early seventeenth century. The chancellor in 1630, Viscount Dupplin, promised to send the new treasurer, the earl of Morton, copies of several past exchequer commissions, especially ‘that of the eight lords with a copie of thair oathes in a tyme muche resembling this, when K. James of blessed memorie and his crowne heir wer reduced to extreame penurie’.47 One of the early indicators that the opposition to Charles I were turning into an alternative government was their assumption of tax and revenue-raising powers. In the 1640s, the Scottish parliamentary regime stopped using the customary system of Old Extent to assess liability for land tax, switching to a system of valued rent and drawing up the first valuation rolls. This form of tax assessment was one of the casualties of the Restoration, but was brought back in 1667.48 Striving after economic modernity and efficiency was not restricted to the field of state finance. Scotland’s closest international contacts were the 45

89.

A. L. Murray, ‘The Scottish Treasury, 1667–1708’, SHR 45 (1966), pp. 89–104, at p.

Julian Goodare, ‘The Octavians (act. 1596–1598)’, ODNB. NLS, Dupplin to Morton, 8 April 1630, Morton papers, MS 82, no. 19, fol. 25. 48 Laura A. M. Stewart, ‘Fiscal Revolution and State Formation in Mid SeventeenthCentury Scotland’, Historical Research 84 (2011), pp. 443–69. 46 47

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two most economically advanced states in Europe: England and the United Provinces. The Dutch Republic is often seen as the first modern commercial economy. When the beginnings of modernity and globalisation are traced back to the early modern period, this is largely based on the political and economic structures built by the Dutch and the English. These were the economic models that the Scots hoped to emulate, albeit with greatly reduced resources. Their motivation was not just financial: introducing new agricultural and industrial practices, establishing colonies and promoting economic growth also had a patriotic dimension. This patriotic enthusiasm for a distinctively Scottish commercial venture was one of the reasons for the initial success, in subscriptions at least, of the Company of Scotland. The final two chapters in this volume provide us with complementary and contrasting pictures of the financial health of 1690s Scotland. Rayner highlights the financial challenges faced by the privy council and the treasury commission, with deficiencies in the currency and their need to manage financial crises caused by the contracting of Scottish trade in the difficult international conditions of the 1690s and, above all, the crisis caused by the series of failed harvests in the late 1690s. The Company of Scotland ran into financial and management difficulties and was also affected by the same economic conditions that challenged government administrators; however, Watt’s chapter sets it against a different background. The Company of Scotland was one of forty-seven joint stock companies founded in the early 1690s, another being the Bank of Scotland, part of Scotland’s own ‘financial revolution’. In the first years of its existence, influenced by the ambitions of William Paterson, the Company attempted to branch out into other areas, salt manufacture and banking. Watt, though, shows that these economic ambitions were always shaped by politics. X Finally, there is, or has been, a long historiographical tradition seeing Scotland’s seventeenth century as important for something other than union with England. Robert Burns’s quatrain on the Solemn League and Covenant linked it with ‘Freedom’: The Solemn League and Covenant   Now brings a smile, now brings a tear; But sacred Freedom, too, was theirs:   If thou’rt a slave, indulge thy sneer.

Burns may not have had much sympathy with the Covenanters’ religious vision, but he honoured them because they had ‘Freedom, too’. The invocation of ‘Freedom’, however anachronistically, could link the Covenants with radical movements of the eighteenth century. 20

SCOTLAND AND ITS SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY REVOLUTIONS

The Covenants, in fact, left a long-lasting radical tradition. The Galloway Levellers, in 1724, organised popular resistance to agricultural enclosures, agitating and destroying dykes. On several occasions when groups of Levellers were challenged with the Riot Act, they responded by reading the Solemn League and Covenant.49 Then there were the radical reformers of the 1790s. Although they were mainly inspired by the French Revolution, the Covenants remained popular with them – especially among the Seceders. John Brims has shown that they had absorbed the Scottish covenanting tradition but often combined this with radical demands for parliamentary reform.50 This perhaps brought these radicals closer to the political traditions of the 1630s and 1640s and the revolutionaries of 1689 than the establishmentminded presbyterian martyrology that became popular through the works of Robert Wodrow and his successors.51 The Covenants were certainly seen as radical, and Gordon Pentland observes that the appeal of the covenanting tradition to moderate reformers was limited for that very reason: ‘for most men in the eighteenth century it carried with it notions of civil war, violence and religious fanaticism’. Dr Pentland does, however, highlight the distinct Scottish contribution made by the Claim of Right of 1689, which could readily be adapted to the British perspective sought by most reformers.52 In Ulster, the Covenants have been important even into the twentieth century.53 The Unionist ‘Ulster Covenant’ of 1912 was partially inspired by the Covenants of the seventeenth century; indeed a small group of Ulster-born residents in Scotland re-enacted the events of February 1638 by signing the Ulster Covenant in Greyfriars Kirkyard. In August 1945, a significant date, Hugh Watt wrote grandly about the long-term and widespread influence of the ‘Age of the Covenants’: No period of Scottish history has proved more pregnant with far-reaching results than the Age of the Covenants. The English-speaking world of today still bears the impress in thought and institution of the contests of the two Scottish generations from the 1630’s to the 1690’s. The great questions at issue will constantly be A. S. Morton, ‘The Levellers of Galloway’, Transactions of the Dumfriesshire and Galloway Natural History and Antiquarian Society 3rd ser. 19 (1936), pp. 231–62, at p. 239; Valerie Wallace, ‘Presbyterian Moral Economy: The Covenanting Tradition and Popular Protest in Lowland Scotland, 1707–c.1746’, SHR 89 (2010), pp. 54–72. 50 John Brims, ‘The Covenanting Tradition and Scottish Radicalism in the 1790s’, in Terry Brotherstone (ed.), Covenant, Charter and Party: Traditions of Revolt and Protest in Modern Scottish History (Aberdeen, 1989), pp. 50–62. 51 For example, Wodrow, History of the Sufferings, and John Howie, Biographia Scoticana, or, A Brief Historical Account of the Lives, Characters and Memorable Transactions of the Most Eminent Scots Worthies … (Glasgow, 1775; 2nd edn, Glasgow, 1781–2). 52 Gordon Pentland, ‘Patriotism, Universalism and the Scottish Conventions, 1792– 1794’, History 89 (2004), pp. 340–60, esp. pp. 348–50, 355 (quotation). 53 Alvin Jackson, ‘Unionist Myths, 1912–1985’, P & P 136 (Aug. 1992), pp. 164–85. 49

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re-examined by all who are interested in the development of political and ecclesiastical history; the loyalties and sacrifices displayed by leaders and common folk will continually attract all who are drawn to the heroic elements in the spirit of man.54

It’s true that we don’t write history like that any more – even ecclesiastical history, of which Watt was a professor. ‘Heroic elements in the spirit of man’ are particularly unfashionable. Yet there have been times, of which Watt’s was one, in which people could see the point of them – and this fact may provide a valuable insight into the seventeenth century, even today. The seventeenth century, like the 1940s, saw high drama and passionately contested issues, and Watt evidently expected his readers to share his view that the contests had lasting consequences. The contested issues that Watt had in mind for the seventeenth century were presbyterian church government, religious toleration and constitutional monarchy, probably in that order. Present-day readers might order these issues differently, but would surely not disagree that they all had long-term importance. These issues, and others connected to them, are further explored in the chapters that follow.

54

Hugh Watt, Recalling the Scottish Covenants (Edinburgh, 1946), p. vii. 22

2

The Middle Shires Divided: Tensions at the Heart of Anglo-Scottish Union ANNA GROUNDWATER

On 7 April 1603, as James VI and I rode south to assume his English crown, he stopped at Berwick to proclaim that since ‘the pairt of baith the countreyes quhilk of late wes callit the Marchis and Bordouris’, is now ‘be the happie union … the verie hart of the countrey’; the former English and Scottish marches were to be rechristened the ‘Middle Shires’.1 In doing so, he was attempting to create a cross-border entity out of two regions that had a month previously been divided by a frontier between two independent sovereignties. To accomplish this, James was to write in 1604, it is neccssaire that querrellis amoungst thaim be reconcyled and all straingenes betwene the nations quyte removed; that all theeves, murderers, oppressouris and vagabondis be quyte rooted out, … [and] that severe and indifferent justice be ministered upon all offenders.2

From 1605, a pacification of crime on both sides of the border was prosecuted with an unprecedented persistence. In late 1606, when progress was deemed slow, James’s loyal enforcer, George Home, earl of Dunbar, was appointed lieutenant to maintain the severity of the operation.3 For James, the pacification of the Middle Shires formed a central part of his Union project – a project that dominated the earlier years of his English reign. RPC, VI, pp. 560–1; VII, p. 286. HMC, Calendar of the Manuscripts of the Marquis of Salisbury, 24 vols, eds S. R. Bird et al. (London, 1883–1976), VI, p. 405. 3 HMC, The Manuscripts of Lord Muncaster (London, 1885), pp. 266–7; Sheldon J. Watts and Susan J. Watts, From Border to Middle Shire: Northumberland, 1586–1625 (Leicester, 1975); R. T. Spence, ‘The Pacification of the Cumberland Borders, 1593– 1628’, Northern History 13 (1977), pp. 59–160; Jared R. M. Sizer, ‘“The Good of this Service Consists in Absolute Secrecy”: The Earl of Dunbar, Scotland and the Border (1603–1611)’, Canadian Journal of History 36 (2001), pp. 229–57; Anna Groundwater, The Scottish Middle March, 1573–1625: Power, Kinship, Allegiance (Woodbridge, 2010), ch. 7. 1 2

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I James dreamed of a ‘perfect Union’, but in 1603, union between England and Scotland was limited to that which existed in his kingship of both; a regal or dynastic union. He envisaged much more: a union of hearts and minds, cemented through the greater integration of the political and legal systems of the two ‘auld enemies’. The English and Scottish parliaments were called in the spring of 1604 to agree articles for negotiation by a union commission, and at James’s urgent behest, on 20 October 1604, commissioners from the two kingdoms met in London to draw up a plan for fuller union.4 In November 1606, these articles were presented to the English parliament and protracted and impassioned debates began. Against this background, the new Middle Shires were intended as an exemplar of Union to convince dubious English parliaments from 1604 to 1607 of its merits: the pacification of crime, cross-border co-operation, the harmonious ‘hart of the countrey’. While the pacification was deemed successful in suppressing crime by around 1611, it was less demonstrative of greater cohesion between Scottish and English political or legal systems.5 Officials on both sides of the border trenchantly defended their jurisdictions, while successive English parliaments fiercely resisted James’s calls for the extradition of offenders to the kingdom of their offence. Furthermore, the rhetoric of the Middle Shires officials’ reports suggested the legacy of several centuries of Anglo-Scottish hostility, which would not be overcome as easily as James envisaged. Keith Brown with justification points to the ‘increasingly close working relationship’ between Scotland and England in the years leading up to 1603, but in the place where previous hostility had had the greatest impact, the English enemy was not merely ‘a culturally constructed memory’.6 Such distrust was suggestive of wider political difficulties in achieving a ‘perfect’ Anglo-Scottish union. The very composition of the commission appointed to execute the pacification, with the jurisdiction of its officials limited to their own kingdoms, was to institutionalise a divide, a blockage, in the heart of the supposedly united kingdoms.

Bruce Galloway, The Union of England and Scotland, 1603–1608 (Edinburgh, 1986), pp. 15–29, 58–78; Bruce R. Galloway and Brian P. Levack (eds), The Jacobean Union: Six Tracts of 1604 (SHS, 1985), pp. xvi–xxvii; Brian P. Levack, The Formation of the British State: England, Scotland, and the Union, 1603–1707 (Oxford, 1987), pp. 1–30 and passim. 5 Levack, Formation of the British State, pp. 192–3. 6 Keith M. Brown, ‘A Blessed Union? Anglo-Scottish Relations before the Covenant’, in T. C. Smout (ed.), Anglo-Scottish Relations from 1603 to 1900 (Proceedings of the British Academy 127: Oxford, 2005), pp. 37–55, at pp. 40–1; cf. Jane Dawson, ‘AngloScottish Protestant Culture and Integration in Sixteenth-Century Britain’, in Steven G. Ellis and Sarah Barber (eds), Conquest and Union: Fashioning a British State, 1485–1725 (London, 1995), pp. 87–114, at p. 91. 4

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By the end of the parliament in 1607, James’s dreams of a perfect union were dead. But there was no substantive challenge to the union as it stood, or to James’s kingship.7 And despite the physical absence of James from Scotland, his promotion of certain of the Scottish Borders’ elite helped to establish lines of communication between the region and Whitehall.8 In a wider sense, as Conrad Russell has observed, the Scottish-dominated royal bedchamber was ‘a serious constitutional mechanism for dealing with the problem of an absentee king’.9 Such connections arguably linked the Scottish Borders to Whitehall in a way that transcended the demarcations within the Middle Shires themselves. Similarly, despite the evident friction within the Middle Shires, the primary objective of the pacification was achieved in a region previously seen as irredeemably problematic. That it was suggests that something was working within the new multiple monarchy, that there were mechanisms in place that could execute crown policy even at three hundred miles distance from the king. Could it be that the cohesive nature of such conduits was sufficient to counter the political and judicial tensions within the wider kingdom in the early 1600s? Or did the problems that pacification encountered have implications for any greater legal or political integration between the two kingdoms, tensions that became evident as opposition grew in the English parliament to any such integration? There was nothing revolutionary about the Borders during James’s reign, but did the division within the Middle Shires, and its failure as a cross-border administrative entity, indicate fundamental tensions within the governing of the multiple monarchy – tensions that would ultimately undermine the regal Union in the late 1630s?

Jenny Wormald, ‘O Brave New World? The Union of England and Scotland in 1603’, in Smout (ed.), Anglo-Scottish Relations, pp. 13–36; Jenny Wormald, ‘James VI and I: Two Kings or One?’, History 68 (1983), pp. 187–209; Conrad Russell, ‘The Anglo-Scottish Union 1603–1643: A Success?’, in Anthony J. Fletcher and Peter Roberts (eds), Religion, Culture and Society in Early Modern Britain (Cambridge, 1994), pp. 238–56, at pp. 240, 245, 256. 8 Anna Groundwater, ‘From Whitehall to Jedburgh: Patronage Networks and the Government of the Scottish Borders, 1603 to 1625’, Historical Journal 53 (2010), pp. 871–93; Neil Cuddy, ‘The Revival of the Entourage: The Bedchamber of James I, 1603– 1625’, in David Starkey et al., The English Court from the Wars of the Roses to the Civil War (London, 1987), pp. 173–225; Neil Cuddy, ‘Anglo-Scottish Union and the Court of James I, 1603–1625’, TRHS 5th ser. 39 (1989), pp. 107–24; Keith Brown, ‘The Scottish Aristocracy, Anglicisation and the Court, 1603–38’, Historical Journal 36 (1993), pp. 543–76; Maurice Lee, Jnr, Government by Pen: Scotland under James VI and I (Urbana, Ill., 1980). 9 Russell, ‘Anglo-Scottish Union’, p. 241. 7

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II The felicity of the ‘blessed unioun’, James thought, was manifold.10 In 1604, he recounted the ‘blessings of Inward and outward Peace, which I haue brought with me’, and in 1607, he tried to convince a still dubious English parliament of the ‘Commodities that come by the Vnion of these Kingdoms, they are great and evident; Peace, Plentie, Loue, free Intercourse and common Society of two great Nations’; ‘Two snow-balls put together, make one the greater: Two houses ioyned, make one the larger.’ And he protested, there were tangible successes: Those confining places which were the Borders of the two Kingdomes, where heretofore much blood was shed, and many of your ancestours lost their liues; yea, that lay waste and desolate, and were habitations but for runnagates, are now become the Nauel or Vmbilick of both Kingdomes, planted and peopled with Ciuilitie and riches.

Where before there was nothing but ‘bloodshed, oppressions, complaints … they now liue euery man peaceably vnder his owne figgetree’. ‘The Marches beyond and on this side the Twede, are [now] as fruitfull and as peaceable as most parts of England’.11 James was not alone in welcoming union. From John Russell’s celebration of the ‘Happie and Blissed Unioun’, and its ‘great and infinit benifittis’ of ‘perpetuall peace’, to John Doddridge’s cautions against future ‘difficulties and discommodities’, authors of tracts mostly showed their support ‘for the general principle of British unity’, if not agreement on its form, and there were few who voiced disagreement with regal union.12 Historians broadly agree that it appears to have been acceptable to the majority, while James’s ability to compromise bought time for union to embed itself. Keith Brown warns against ‘the imaginary clouds on the distant horizon’ overshadowing the decades of domestic peace where ‘disagreements were contained peacefully for the better part of four decades’.13 There are others, such as Alan MacDonald and Nicholas Canny, who emphasise the fractious problems

20 October 1604, Stuart Royal Proclamations, vol. I: Royal Proclamations of King James I, 1603–1625, ed. James F. Larkin and Paul L. Hughes (Oxford, 1973), pp. 94–7. 11 James VI and I, Political Writings, pp. 168, 169, 177. 12 Galloway and Levack (eds), Jacobean Union, pp. xxvii, 77, 78, 143, 145; Russell, ‘Anglo-Scottish Union’, pp. 240, 245. 13 Wormald, ‘Two Kings or One?’, pp. 208–9; Pauline Croft, King James (Basingstoke, 2003), pp. 8, 140–2, 153–4, 187; Russell, ‘Anglo-Scottish Union’, pp. 238–40; Conrad Russell, The Fall of the British Monarchies, 1637–1642 (Oxford, 1991), pp. 525, 528; Brown, ‘A Blessed Union’, pp. 43–4, 55. 10

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that James left his son, but these mainly concerned the ecclesiastical aspects of James’s ‘British’ policy, and not the issue of union per se.14 Particularly offensive to the members of the Scottish and English parliaments of 1604 and 1606–7 were the measures proposed for greater legal integration. Even the name ‘Great Britain’ was contentious.15 In April 1604, Sir Francis Bacon presented problems on this to the English lower house, concluding that ‘whereas now England, in the style, is placed before Scotland, in the name of Brittaine that degree of priority or precedence will be lost’. This, he warned, ‘will be harsh in the popular opinion, and unpleasing to the country’.16 The implicit assertions of English overlordship will not have endeared the project to an anxious Scottish parliament. Scottish fears particularly revolved around the integrity of Scots law. James, in response, promised that nothing was done ‘whiche mycht tend ather to the reproche in honour or the prejudging of the liberteis and freedomes of our ancient and honourable realme’.17 Scottish fears were to be realised during the lengthy union debates of the English parliament of 1606–7, with Scotophobia rampant in its hysterical discussions over naturalisation, and its contemptuous dismissal of Scots law.18 James’s desires for a ‘perfect Vnion of Lawes’ made no headway. The only thing that generated agreement was that hostile and Border-specific laws, formed during active Anglo-Scottish hostility, should be repealed.19 These disputes had implications for the administration of the Middle Shires, and in particular the prosecution of the pacification. As Sir Edward Coke, the English attorney general, observed in 1606, ‘it will not appear which will be the middle shires, for a jury of England and Scotland cannot yet join. And for many respects I think that such a proviso would be very offensive.’20 This reflected, firstly, the difficulty of getting English and Scottish officials to co-operate when neither had jurisdiction in the other’s kingdom, and secondly, the hostility to any blurring of the distinct jurisdictions. Bacon’s suggestion for an Anglo-Scottish court to try cases from both countries under a practical mix of their laws quietly disappeared. Everyone Alan R. MacDonald, The Jacobean Kirk, 1567–1625: Sovereignty, Polity and Liturgy (Aldershot, 1998), pp. 184–7; Nicholas Canny, ‘Irish, Scottish and Welsh Responses to Centralization, c.1530–c.1640: A Comparative Perspective’, in Alexander Grant and Keith Stringer (eds), Uniting the Kingdom? The Making of British History (London, 1995), pp. 147–69, at pp. 168–9. 15 Levack, Formation of the British State, pp. 22–30. 16 Galloway, Union of England and Scotland, pp. 28–9. 17 Galloway and Levack (eds), Jacobean Union, pp. xxiv–xxvii; Galloway, Union of England and Scotland, pp. 23–5; Levack, Formation of the British State, pp. 85–6; RPC, VII, pp. 457–9; HMC, Salisbury, XVI, pp. 86, 98–9. 18 Galloway, Union of England and Scotland, pp. 93–135; Journals of the House of Commons, 1547–1626 (London, 1803), I, pp. 1033–4. 19 James VI and I, Political Writings, p. 161. 20 HMC, Salisbury, XVIII, pp. 186–7. 14

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agreed that for greater union to happen, ‘a union of laws appeared to be a necessity’, all ‘straingenes’ removed; but the resistance to any such interference was insuperable, even where everyone also agreed that co-operation was crucial.21 The issue of remanding offenders to the country of their offence for trial was a sticking point. James felt that this was crucial to remove the immunity enjoyed by offenders fleeing over the border. 22 The English parliament bitterly contested this proposal, because of its implications for external interference within English law, and submission to what they saw as inferior, and overly severe, Scottish judicial processes. Opposition was stimulated further by anxious officials in Northumberland, themselves potentially liable to extradition.23 It was not until 1610 that an indignant James succeeded in getting the English parliament’s agreement, though its ratification was dependent on the Scottish parliament’s concurrence. This finally happened in 1612, but problems associated with remanding persisted. In 1617 it was still causing concern, and in 1623 the earl of Buccleuch experienced difficulty in extraditing a fugitive from Northumberland.24 III The disputatious parliamentary proceedings of 1604 and 1606–7 were hardly the most encouraging background to cross-border co-operation, whilst the resistance to any harmonisation of the two kingdoms’ laws perpetuated the judicial division running through the centre of the Middle Shires. The appointment in 1605 of five officials from each kingdom to the commission for the Middle Shires, with the assistance of two armed guards, institutionalised this division, restricting commissioners’ jurisdictions to their own side of the border. The only official ever to bridge that divide with dual jurisdiction was Dunbar, and none were to succeed to such powers after his death in 1611. Almost from the start, the work of the Middle Shires commissioners was beset by difficulties rooted in the divisive legal framework within which their activities were bound. These procedural problems were exacerbated by deepening personal animosity, and distrust between officials across what legally remained an international frontier. The order to the Scottish commissioners to remove all ‘mark of divisioun’ between the two regions was undermined by the constitution of the commission itself.25

Levack, Formation of the British State, pp. 69, 75. Galloway, Union of England and Scotland, p. 98. 23 HMC, Salisbury, XIX, pp. 487, 507. 24 Watts and Watts, From Border to Middle Shire, pp. 142, 148, 151, 155; RPS, 1612/10/9 (accessed 7 Oct. 2011); RPC, XI, p. 290; CSP Dom., 1623–5, pp. 38, 82. 25 RPC, VII, pp. 706–7. 21

22

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The relationship had begun well: in April 1605, the English commissioner, Sir Wilfred Lawson, wrote that ‘I cannot but commend the Scottish Commissioners for their care for his Majesty’s service.’ But by July, Sir William Seton of Kylesmure, while protesting friendship, was writing snidely to Lawson that ‘though you have wealth, we have liberality. Knightships with you are common merchandise, with us they are rewards of virtue.’26 Then in August, Lawson complained to Sir William Cranstoun, captain of the Scottish guard, over the impunity of fugitives from Carlisle, who ‘go about openly at Edinburgh and elsewhere’. The Scottish commissioners countered this in December, asking the English to search their farms more carefully ‘for we are informed that the fugitives have their maintenance there, dreading our side more than their own’.27 Cranstoun’s stinging reproach to the English commissioners in March 1606 exemplified the worsening relations: ‘If you will needs be commanders, I desire that your discretion may appear as well as your authority. Think not that my body can be everywhere to do all your services.’28 The commissions were reconstituted every few years, changes in membership necessitated by the passing of time. But in 1617, James visited Scotland and travelled through both eastern and western border regions on his way. After this, concern was resumed over the Borders, with a flurry of instructions from London and the creation in April 1618 of a large ‘Conjunct Commission’. James wanted the ‘joining [of] certane of our loveing subjectis of both nationis in one commissioun for that purpois whome God hes alreddie conjoyned togidder as memberis of ane body under ane head … for the establischment and preservatioun of our peace’.29 Initial directions in late 1617 were couched within an English framework, referring to quarter sessions at Newcastle, and briefly adding ‘The lyk to be done in Scotland’. Having taken a deep breath, in February 1618 the Scottish council responded, explaining why some directions were not applicable to Scotland. Contrasting the delays caused in England by the quarterly nature of assizes, the council reminded James the Middle Shires were ‘so neir to the burgh of Edinburgh, quhair the supreme judges of the land sittis’ that commissioners might have speedy resolution; ‘thairfoir the cours sett downe in the fyft article is unnecessar in Scotland’. As a parting shot, they complained of the ‘greit harme’ done by Northumbrians in Scotland.30 The insensitivity of James’s commands showed his carelessness with the Scottish council, and also his misunderstanding of the import of two distinct legal systems, which made a cross-border ‘conjunct’ commission impossible. The Commission of 1618 demonstrated confusion on this, with articles 26 27 28 29 30

HMC, Muncaster, pp. 243, 244. HMC, Muncaster, pp. 235, 242. HMC, Muncaster, pp. 250–1. RPC, XI, pp. 344–8, 386–7. RPC, XI, pp. 288–91, 313–18, quotations at pp. 313, 315. 29

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referring to a cross-border region in which commissioners were to have ‘full power and auctoritie’ by all ‘lawfull wayes and meanes … within ony of the saidis counties, schyres, schirefdomes … in ather of our saidis kingdomes’.31 But for such a joint commission to be legal, it would require changes to each kingdom’s laws; the commission therefore did not have ‘lawfull wayes and meanes’. The impracticability of this commission led to its silent disappearance, its ineffectiveness implicitly recognised by the appointment in 1622 of the ‘triumvirs’, the earls of Buccleuch and Nithsdale, and John Murray of Lochmaben (shortly after created the earl of Annandale), their jurisdiction limited to the Scottish side.32 IV It was not all gloom and doom. Although it proved premature, in 1609 the chancellor, Alexander Seton, the earl of Dunfermline, felt able to report that ‘all these ways and passages’ between Scotland and England are ‘as as lawful, as peaceable and quiet as any part in any civil kingdom’ thanks to Dunbar’s severity.33 Though impossible to quantify in the absence of consistent judicial records, cross-border crime had faded out by 1611. That year, the last old-style raid into England by Armstrongs and Elliots caused the council to express disbelief that ‘suche ane accident and outrage sould haif fallin out’, ordering ‘exemplar puneshment’.34 Reports of internal crime persisted in the Scottish council registers, but these too, despite crown concern in 1617–18, and in 1622, were lessening. Mentions of the Borders in the English council records disappear after 1618. While cross-border tensions and jurisdictional difficulties remained, the suppression of crime had succeeded. The pacification was helped by the long-term service of its officials. Of the original set of Scottish commissioners appointed in 1605, Sir Gideon Murray of Elibank and Sir William Seton of Kylesmure were the longest lasting, and in 1607, Cranstoun joined their ranks. Although succeeding commissions underwent various personnel changes, most notably to include Sir Andrew Ker of Oxnam from 1613, and Elibank’s replacement, his cousin Sir John Murray of Philiphaugh, in 1617, they represented a remarkably stable and experienced membership to 1618.35 Previous lieutenants with Borders-wide jurisdiction had held office usually for a year. And in addition to their formal jurisdiction, these officials were also allowed in practice to exercise summary justice, numerous indemnities indicating its frequency. A RPC, XI, pp. 345–8 (my italics). RPC, XII, pp. 673, 675–9. 33 NLS, Denmilne MSS, Adv. MS 33.1.1, vol. 3, fol. 23. 34 RPC, IX, pp. 614–15. 35 RPC, VII, pp. 701–9, 728–9; VIII, pp. 15–16; IX, pp. 194–6; X, pp. 164, 176, 184, 200, 331–2, 467; XI, pp. 11–14. 31 32

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river pool near Langholm was later said to be where Buccleuch ‘did wapp [i.e. fling] the outlaws into the dubb’.36 V For all these legal powers, it would have been difficult for the commissioners to function effectively without support in the Borders. All of them, except for Kylesmure, were well connected into local networks through their own ties to powerful Borders kindreds. There were therefore a number of interconnected structures of authority operating alongside the commissioners: the local office-holders, the sheriffs, and from 1610 the justices of the peace; and the more ‘informal’ networks, based on ties of kinship, alliance and landholding, headed by the leaders of the Ker, Scott, Maxwell, Johnstone, Home, Murray, Douglas, Stewart and Pringle surnames. These men were directly accountable to the council, only a day or two’s ride away in Edinburgh, and frequently summoned to subscribe assurances on behalf of themselves, their surname and tenants. But transcending even this powerful body were the direct connections that existed between James in Whitehall and the Borders elite, providing channels for the transmission of crown policy, and rewarding the officials that executed it. These more conducive conduits were personified by the links between the Ker and Murray kindreds in the Borders and their kinsmen at court. The most notable of these was the previously impoverished Robert Ker, James’s favourite from around 1608 to 1615, who rose to become earl of Somerset. Somerset’s brother was the influential borderer Sir Andrew Ker of Ferniehirst. His cousin, Robert Ker of Ancrum, was in Prince Charles’s household. His uncle, Sir Gideon Murray of Elibank, was a long-serving Border commissioner as well as being treasurer depute of Scotland. Another ally, and kinsman of Sir Gideon, was John Murray of Lochmaben, one of James’s gentlemen of the bedchamber. These men were more directly connected into the pacification than the flowery letters that whizzed between Whitehall, Edinburgh and the Borders might suggest. James’s elevation of Somerset was consciously done to utilise his connections in the Borders to prosecute the pacification, particularly after Dunbar, Somerset’s early promoter, died in 1611.37 In 1610 Somerset was granted extensive lands, particularly in Dumfriesshire, from the forfeiture of John, Lord Maxwell and he was soon redistributing these to maintain the co-operation of Borders kindreds, in

HMC, Manuscripts of the Earl of Lonsdale, ed. J. J. Cartwright (London, 1893), p. 76. See the correspondence in: NLS, Denmilne MSS, Adv. MSS 33.1.1, vols 1–11; 33.3.12; 33.1.3; 33.1.7; Correspondence of Sir Robert Kerr, first Earl of Ancram, and his Son William, third Earl of Lothian, ed. David Laing (Bannatyne Club, 1875).

36 37

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1612, boasting of the ‘helpes’ that he had ‘procured from the king’ for his family.38 As well as lands, Somerset engineered offices in both Scotland and England for his kindred, thus securing their service in the suppression of crime. Firstly his cousin Ker of Ancrum, then his nephew Ker of Oxnam, were appointed captains of the border guard.39 Oxnam was also made a commissioner of the Middle Shires in 1613, and appointed to the conjunct commission in 1618, remaining captain until 1621.40 Oxnam often employed his Borders kinsmen as deputies, while his frequent attendance at council linked his work in the Borders to the highest levels of Scottish government.41 These connections extended further when cousin Ancrum was seconded to the court in 1613. The access to the king that this gave the Ker kindred survived Somerset’s disastrous fall in 1615, with Ancrum still in post in 1642. Somerset’s patronage had secured his family’s fortunes. It had also provided direct conduits for the transmission of policy to the Borders, and rewards for co-operative service in the pacification. VI Alongside these intersecting networks, an ecclesiastical network, with its hierarchy of synods, presbyteries and kirk sessions, connected the highest in the land to parish level. From around 1608, the kirk was actively used as another means of pacification. Lawlessness and godlessness had often been associated: ‘the bypast barbarite and incivilitie in that parte of the Middle Shyris’ was due, James thought, to ‘the inhabitantis in most pairt thairof being voyd of all trew feir of God and religioun’.42 In July 1608, therefore, during a general drive to plant able ministers in vacant parishes, the general assembly prioritised the Borders, approving a visitation by Archbishop Spottiswoode, for the ‘planting of the kirks that ar presentlie destituted of pastors’, in particular in Annandale, Ewesdale and Eskdale. Progress was slow: in 1609 Jedburgh presbytery ordered two of its brethren to go to Edinburgh ‘to seik owt some lawsuit and instruments to plant the kirkis … destitute off pastours’.43 The linkage between spiritual and temporal measures was evident in the friendly co-operation between NRS, Lothian papers, GD40/2/12, fols 22, 34; Register of the Great Seal of Scotland, VII, nos 217, 613, 786. 39 RPC, X, pp. 157, 170, 176, 184, 200. 40 RPC, X, p. 164; XI, pp. 344–8; XII, pp. 582–4, 657–60. 41 RPC, XI, p. 217; XII, pp. 658–9. 42 RPC, VIII, pp. 266–7, 564–5. 43 Book of the Universall Kirk: Acts and Proceedings of the General Assembly of the Kirk of Scotland, 3 vols, ed. Thomas Thomson (Bannatyne Club, 1839–45), III, pp. 1061–2; NAS, Jedburgh presbytery records, CH2/198/1/97. 38

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Spottiswoode and James’s chief secular henchman, Dunbar. They proved a formidable joint force in the Borders, Spottiswoode staying with Dunbar at Newcastle in August 1608, perhaps planning the visitation to the Middle March.44 In November 1610 Spottiswoode’s powers were extended into the secular realm when he was appointed as a justice of the peace for Roxburghshire, Selkirkshire and Peeblesshire.45 The principal problems facing the kirk during the pacification were the planting of ministers, and the usual rows over rights of patronage. There were signs, however, of troubles to come prompted by James’s reintroduction of episcopacy, and from 1607, the appointment of constant moderators (usually bishops) to oversee presbytery business. There was widespread resistance, led by the synod of Merse and Teviotdale (as well as that of Perth and Stirling), in whose region lay many of the middle and eastern Borders parishes. A dispute broke out lasting nearly two years over the constant moderator for Melrose’s and Jedburgh’s presbyteries. Empowered by the general assembly, the Kers of Ancrum and Ferniehirst attempted to insist on the acceptance by Jedburgh of their nominee John Abirnethie, the future bishop of Caithness. This presbytery contained, however, a number of stubborn presbyterians, including the rabidly anti-episcopal David Calderwood, minister of nearby Crailing, who did not want a constant moderator at all, let alone one with such high church tendencies. In March 1608, the council accused the synod of Merse and Teviotdale of disobedience ‘upoun some passionat humour of their awne’ in discharging their moderator. Abirnethie was only installed as moderator that July, following Elibank’s enforcement of the appointment. Calderwood and four others were then put to the horn for refusing to submit to a visitation by the bishop of Orkney. The council thought that this was ‘ane offence so heinous, as gif that it be not examplarlie punist, thair nedis no forder dewtye nor obedience to be ony way expected’ from ministers generally. The dissidents were banned from preaching and confined to their parishes, Abirnethie writing unsuccessfully on their behalf to Dunbar in August. In February 1609 the presbytery were still appealing to the council for their reinstatement. Calderwood and another, George Johnstone, were not released until 1613, in a belated attempt by the crown to appease disaffected ministers.46 Calderwood himself was to be banished in 1617, following his protest against James’s attempts to introduce what became known as the Five Articles of Perth.47 And in 1621, the parliamentary commissioners from 44 A. S. W. Pearce, ‘John Spottiswoode, Jacobean Archbishop and Statesman’ (University of Stirling Ph.D. thesis, 1998), pp. 65, 78, 116; Spottiswoode, History, III, p. 516. 45 RPC, IX, pp. 75–6. 46 NRS, CH2/198/1/33, 40, 42–3, 73, 75, 77, 99; RPC, VIII, pp. 68, 102–3, 126, 128, 148, 508–10; Calderwood, History, VI, pp. 706–12, 716; MacDonald, Jacobean Kirk, pp. 132–6, 138, 151. 47 Calderwood, History, VII, pp. 261–9; MacDonald, Jacobean Kirk, p. 159.

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Jedburgh were the only such from the Borders to vote against these contentious articles.48 Here we see some of the tensions that had characterised the difficulties in crown–kirk relations almost from the Reformation onwards: crown intervention in ecclesiastical affairs offending the more presbyterian ministers; the strident opposition by such as Calderwood to secular intervention; and the use of secular authority to impose decisions within the spiritual sphere. Crucially, and of lasting significance, was the overt presbyterian opposition to the supervisory powers of the episcopacy, following James’s reintroduction of it. The disparity between Charles I’s episcopal policies and presbyterian opinion, alongside the political implications of determinedly separate Protestant churches within the British archipelago, have long been seen as the time-bomb that exploded in St Giles in 1637. But for Alan MacDonald, the fuse was lit earlier by James’s antagonistic ecclesiastical policies in Scotland, which from 1603 formed part of a conscious ‘British policy’ to achieve some uniformity of religion throughout his multiple monarchy, a policy more Anglicanising than Anglicising. James was, he notes, careful to avoid any mention of ecclesiastical union, aware of the strength of opposition to it. This makes James’s insistence from 1617 on the unpopular ‘Five Articles’ all the more remarkable; he was not unaware of how controversial such measures were.49 What James failed to appreciate, perhaps, was the lasting impact of this antagonism, which for many historians fed into the crisis of 1637. Jenny Wormald however is more positive: James was ‘an ecumenical king of far wider vision than this son’ who was attempting to move his kirk beyond the ‘remarkably narrow focus of the Scottish godly’. Not everyone was presbyterian. While accepting that James underestimated the widespread opposition, Wormald concludes that James ‘did not push them into open opposition; it was left for Charles to create a combined opposition of clerics and laymen, which makes opposition to the Five Articles look tame’.50 In contrast, MacDonald observes that James’s ‘ecclesiastical legacy was the worst start’ Charles could have had; the problems surfacing during the covenanting revolution should ‘be traced to the period immediately after the regal union

Julian Goodare, ‘The Scottish Parliament of 1621’, Historical Journal 38 (1995), pp. 29–51, at pp. 37, 51. 49 MacDonald, Jacobean Kirk, pp. 156, 159–70, 184; Alan R. MacDonald, ‘James VI and I, the Church of Scotland, and British Ecclesiastical Convergence’, Historical Journal 48 (2005), pp. 885–903. 50 Jenny Wormald, ‘The Headaches of Monarchy: Kingship and the Kirk in the Early Seventeenth Century’, in Julian Goodare and Alasdair A. MacDonald (eds), SixteenthCentury Scotland: Essays in Honour of Michael Lynch (Leiden, 2008), pp. 365–93, at pp. 376, 380–1, 386, 388. 48

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of 1603’.51 Certainly Calderwood’s treatment in Jedburgh in 1608, and a similar row at Melrose, would lend credence to such a conclusion. In 1620, Calderwood’s A Defence of our Arguments against Kneeling warned that ‘conformity with England is intended’, and, as Conrad Russell concludes, ‘This is surely a cross-border debate.’52 If we apply Julian Goodare’s argument that the battle lines of 1638 were evident in the division of the 1621 parliament, then the burgesses of Jedburgh might be seen to be in agreement with their presbyterian ministers.53 Of course wider conclusions cannot be drawn from these small examples, any more than from the early submission of the Peebles presbytery over its moderator in 1607.54 And despite Jedburgh’s opposition in 1621, when revolution did come, the Borders remained pretty conservative, the sway of local magnates such as Roxburgh probably counteracting the urban ministers; Jedburgh itself was to be investigated by parliament over compliance with the earl of Montrose’s royalist troops in 1645.55 A case certainly cannot be made that revolution was fomenting in the Borders’ kirks at this point, though the issues that became explosively contentious in the late 1630s were clearly present. VII The concept of the ‘Middle Shires’, transcending the Anglo-Scottish frontier, was never to achieve permanence, and the terminology faded quickly from the public record.56 The jurisdictional and administrative divisions of 1603 remained in place, and any blurring of these divisions was firmly resisted by Scotsmen and Englishmen alike. The structure of the Middle Shires commissions themselves institutionalised the divide. Even potentially convivial aspects of cross-border life, such as hunting, were banned

MacDonald, Jacobean Kirk, p. 187. Russell, ‘Anglo-Scottish Union’, p. 244. 53 Goodare, ‘Scottish Parliament of 1621’, pp. 37, 47. 54 MacDonald, Jacobean Kirk, p. 138. 55 Goodare, ‘Scottish Parliament of 1621’, pp. 37, 38; David Stevenson, ‘The Burghs and the Scottish Revolution’, in Michael Lynch (ed.), The Early Modern Town in Scotland (London, 1987), pp. 167–91, at p. 186. Francis, 2nd earl of Buccleuch (1626–1651) was too young in 1638 to influence events, but by 1644 he was fighting with General Leslie at Newcastle, employing his Scott kinsmen on the committees of war for Selkirkshire and Roxburghshire, and storing arms on behalf of the Covenanters at Newark Castle prior to the battle of Philiphaugh in 1645. Sir William Fraser, The Scotts of Buccleuch, 2 vols (Edinburgh, 1887), I, pp. 285–7; APS, VI, I, pp. 51, 52, 57, 201, 212–13, 560–1; VI, II, pp. 34, 36, 189. 56 Maureen M. Meikle, A British Frontier? Lairds and Gentlemen in the Eastern Borders, 1540–1603 (East Linton, 2004), pp. 280–1. 51 52

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to stamp out potentially disruptive activities.57 If the Middle Shires was an example of union, it was a discouraging one, revealing the difficulties of the new composite British state. The local resistance to legal integration, and national prejudices seeping through the commissioners’ exchanges, echoed the acrimonious union debates in the English parliament. The difficulties of trying to fit one government policy onto two separate regions, with two distinct administrations, suggested the problems that James, and then Charles, would encounter in governing their multiple monarchies. This was a lesson that should have been remembered by both when pursuing their religious policies, whether it was convergence or uniformity that they sought. To extrapolate these divisive difficulties into the revolutionary period, the late 1630s onwards, would be too simple; nevertheless, divisions existed from the very beginnings of Anglo-Scottish union. Whether these divisions fundamentally undermined that union is another matter. The answer arguably lies in how carefully these distinct sovereignties were managed. There were encouraging signs in the Middle Shires in the suppression of crime. The crown had not sent in an alienating outsider to do this, like Rowland Lee in the Welsh Marches in the 1530s, or successive English governors in Ireland; this suggests that James had managed to attract significant local support.58 Many borderers themselves were crying for justice, and James had also taken to London the valuable lesson of his Scottish kingship, that of attracting the co-operation of the local elites.59 To do this, James used a system of patronage, originating at Whitehall, which staffed offices in the Borders with willing and well-rewarded members of the Borders elite, who themselves exercised power, and patronage, through more localised structures of authority. At the same time, the correspondence that flew between London, Edinburgh and the Borders established conduits for the transmission of information, advice and grievance, and reassuring communication between the borderers and their absent king. And the prominent presence of such borderers as Somerset, Ancrum and Lochmaben

RPC, VII, pp. 41–2, 158, 162, 352, 470, 600, 601, 623, 639, 709; VIII, p. 81. NLS, Denmilne MSS, Adv. MS 33.1.1, vol. 3, fol. 21; Groundwater, ‘From Whitehall to Jedburgh’, pp. 875–6, 881–2; J. Gwynfor Jones, Early Modern Wales, c.1525–1640 (Basingstoke, 1994), pp. 58–70; Canny, ‘Irish, Scottish and Welsh Responses to Centralization’; Steven G. Ellis, Tudor Frontiers and Noble Power: The Making of the British State (Oxford, 1995), pp. 5, 16, 254–5, 267–70; Steven G. Ellis, ‘Tudor State Formation and the Shaping of the British Isles’, in Ellis and Barber (eds), Conquest and Union, pp. 40–63, at p. 61; Ciaran Brady, ‘England’s Defence and Ireland’s Reform: The Dilemma of the Irish Viceroys, 1541–1641’, in Brendan Bradshaw and John Morrill (eds), The British Problem, c.1534–1707: State Formation in the Atlantic Archipelago (London, 1996), pp. 89–117, at pp. 89–90, 92, 99–102. 59 For the identification of a similar process with English elites, existing too in Scotland, see Michael J. Braddick, State Formation in Early Modern England, c.1550–1700 (Cambridge, 2000).

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at the heart of James’s court gave those within their patronage networks access to the ultimate source of authority within the Anglo-Scottish union. If James VI and I had needed any advice on how to run a multiple monarchy, he need only have looked to the Continent.60 The Anglo-Scottish union was usually compared to the Spanish dynastic union.61 James was aware of this comparison, warning the English parliament about Scotland, ‘I hope you meane not I should set Garrisons ouer them, as the Spaniards doe ouer Sicily and Naples, or gouerne them by Commissioners, which are seldom found succeedingly all wise and honest men.’62 He could have looked too to France, which in its absorption of the newly acquired peripheral provinces, Burgundy and Languedoc, was itself a composite kingdom.63 Conrad Russell compared unions in terms of the state of Anglo-Scottish relations and found similarities in the Franco-Bearnaise union in a ‘pattern of cooperation across the border with co-religionists, rather than co-operation with fellow nationals’.64 Even more persuasive is the comparison that can be made with the Polish–Lithuanian union from 1569; while the Lithuanian and Polish parliaments had been merged, Lithuanian offices, administration and legislation remained separate from those in Poland, just as Scottish administrative and legal systems remained distinct. Both Scotland and Lithuania continued, as Elliott observes generally of such unions, to be ‘aeque principaliter’, where both kingdoms had equal status, ‘to be treated as distinct entities, preserving their own laws, fueros [i.e. local laws] and privileges’. Crucially, within this union, the crown avoided alienating the indigenous elites who remained in place, with a degree of discretion in their daily government. Within the Anglo-Scottish union, by allowing the Scottish council such discretion, James could avoid alienating the Scottish elites. This, as Elliott writes of the Spanish composite monarchy, could give ‘the most arbitrary and artificial of unions a certain stability and resilience’: one way, perhaps, that James could combat tensions within his multiple monarchy.65 This was a problem he shared with those European princes. For Conrad Russell and others, the difficulties of ‘rule over multiple kingdoms was a Mark Greengrass, ‘Introduction: Conquest and Coalescence’, in Mark Greengrass (ed.), Conquest and Coalescence: The Shaping of the State in Early Modern Europe (London, 1991), pp. 1–24. 61 J. H. Elliott, ‘A Europe of Composite Monarchies’, P & P 137 (Nov. 1992), pp. 48–71. 62 James VI and I, Political Writings, pp. 172–3. 63 William Beik, Absolutism and Society in Seventeenth-Century France: State Power and Provincial Aristocracy in Languedoc (Cambridge, 1985). 64 Russell, ‘Anglo-Scottish Union’, p. 243. 65 Edward Opalinski, ‘The Path towards the Commonwealth of the Two Nations’, in Allan I. Macinnes and Jane Ohlmeyer (eds), The Stuart Kingdoms in the Seventeenth Century: Awkward Neighbours (Dublin, 2002), pp. 49–61, at pp. 56–8; Elliott, ‘A Europe of Composite Monarchies’, pp. 52–3. 60

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common cause of political instability’ in Europe; thus in the British archipelago, they have identified a ‘British Problem’. Russell concludes that in ‘Britain, the problem of multiple kingdoms seems to have been largely religious’, and if we look forward to the 1640s, for John Morrill, it ‘was the force of religion that drove minorities to fight, and forced majorities to make reluctant choices’.66 Dispute over religion was certainly the spark that lit revolution in Scotland in 1637; the circumstances that forced this dispute, however, lay in the administrative and judicial divisions within the structure of the regal union, as much as the ecclesiastical differences between Scotland and England. Two kingdoms united only in the person of their king, and unified no further. Where structural barriers existed it was all the more important to maintain relationships that could transcend them. The importance of keeping local elites happy, whether burgess or noble, runs through much of early modern European historiography, as do warnings against alienating interference with established systems of government, ancient customs and laws. In Iberia, in the 1630s, previously cordial relations were reversed when Philip IV’s minister, Olivares, abruptly changed policy towards Portugal, seeking a greater degree of conformity; this ultimately resulted in the Portuguese revolt of 1640.67 In contrast, in 1655, the Lithuanian nobility, careful to protect their considerable rights within the Polish–Lithuanian union, resisted moves to sever their alliance in the face of Swedish and Muscovite aggression, protecting the eighty-six-year-old Union of Lublin.68 There is an uncomfortable analogy to be drawn here between the state of Anglo-Scottish relations in the 1630s and those between Castile and Portugal in the same period.69 But keeping political elites happy was not just a question of granting sufficient reward, or even some self-government; they needed to feel that decisions were taken with their views in mind.70 After 1603, a happy co-operative elite was what James needed to govern on his behalf in Scotland; in the Borders he had one, content enough with the Russell, Fall of the British Monarchies, pp. 27–8; John Morrill, ‘The British Problem, c.1534–1707’, in Bradshaw and Morrill (eds), British Problem, pp. 1–38; John Morrill, ‘The Religious Context of the English Civil War’, TRHS, 5th ser. 34 (1984), pp. 155–78, at p. 157; John Morrill, ‘The English, the Scots, and the Dilemmas of Union, 1638– 1654’, in Smout (ed.), Anglo-Scottish Relations, pp. 57–74, at p. 60. 67 Elliott, ‘A Europe of Composite Monarchies’, pp. 54–6; Greengrass, ‘Introduction: Conquest and Coalescence’, pp. 11–13, 16–17. 68 Opalinski, ‘The Path towards the Commonwealth’, pp. 57–60. 69 David Stevenson compares Scottish grievances with those of the Catalans during the Catalonian revolt of 1640: David Stevenson, The Scottish Revolution, 1637–44: The Triumph of the Covenanters (Newton Abbot, 1973), pp. 321–3. For a Scottish–Portuguese comparison, see Julian Goodare, ‘The Scottish Revolution’, Chapter 5 below in this volume. 70 Alan R. MacDonald, ‘Consultation and Consent under James VI’, Historical Journal 54 (2011), pp. 287–306, at p. 305. 66

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success of the pacification. His careful nursing of the connections between Whitehall and the Scottish Borders was one of his biggest success stories after 1603. Here, the pacification can be seen as a cohesive example of government countering the tensions within the multiple monarchy. The Borders earls that James had raised would show an enduring loyalty to the crown in the parliament of 1621, and in their royalist sympathies after 1638.71 However, for those without such ease of access to James, it was a different story. Even in the Borders, where James’s political antennae appeared sensitive, there were those excluded from the networks of patronage. Sir John Stewart of Traquair’s pleas to Ker of Ancrum for a title commensurate with those doled out elsewhere;72 the pleadings of Jedburgh presbytery on behalf of Calderwood and other presbyterians; and those unfortunate Armstrongs and Grahams transported to Ulster:73 all resonated with their exclusion from the conduits that facilitated government in James’s absence. And in the south-west of Scotland, James appears not to have been so careful, Sharon Adams finding that his creation of new nobles, such as Annandale and Nithsdale, ‘militated against the successful involvement of other [existing] magnates’. He had not made ‘sure of the loyalty of his established nobility’ such as the earl of Eglinton, who voted against the Five Articles, along with the commissioners for Ayrshire and the burghs of Ayr, Kirkcudbright and Irvine; this alienation anticipated the radical opposition that developed in Ayrshire in the 1630s.74 In the wider political nation there were others too who felt the absence of their king; the convention of royal burghs in 1604 directed their representatives to the union commission to ‘regraitt the lois sustenit be Scottis men be his maiesteis absence, and thairfoir to desire [th]at his majeste may remayne in Scotland yeirle ane quarter of the yeir and sie justice administratt’.75 They were already feeling the loss of access to a monarch who had occasionally dined with them, and wanted to maintain contact in any further union. It was an expensive business maintaining a representative in London to defend their monopolies and privileges from encroachment by those enjoying greater intimacy with James. And despite the increased correspondence between London and Edinburgh, Alan MacDonald convincingly shows the deleterious effects of a net decline after 1603 in correspondence between the Scottish council and political elites within Scotland, which ‘represents a collapse in the number of people in regular contact with the centre’. This faltering communication meant that many nobles, lairds and burgesses, Goodare, ‘Scottish Parliament of 1621’, pp. 40, 46, 48–9. Correspondence of Sir Robert Kerr, first Earl of Ancram, pp. 39–40. 73 HMC, Salisbury, XVII, pp. 132, 177, 343–4; XIX, pp. 73–4, 101, 106. 74 Sharon Adams, ‘James VI and the Politics of South-West Scotland, 1603–1625’, in Julian Goodare and Michael Lynch (eds), The Reign of James VI (East Linton, 2000), pp. 228–40, at pp. 234, 236–7, 240; quotations at p. 234. 75 RCRB, II, p. 190. 71 72

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once accustomed to being consulted, were being ‘ignored’, while James was coming ‘to rely increasingly on a narrow range of Scots for his information on Scotland’.76 The resulting discontent led to the fractious parliaments of 1617 and 1621, where policies that would have been tested on the political nation prior to 1603 were now being presented without sufficient consultation.77 In the Scottish Borders there was less sign of this frustration; arguably this was due to the heightened levels of the crown’s concern about the region, which meant that channels of communication were consciously kept open. After 1603, the crown’s Border policy necessitated its grooming and reward of the Borders elite to maintain their co-operation, with an emphasis that was not replicated throughout Scotland. In doing so it showed that there were more cohesive methods of governing individual regions within a multiple monarchy. In the Middle Shires, however, despite these more positive connections with Whitehall, the frontier line that ran between the Solway Firth and the Tweed continued to slice through its centre; in doing so it divided the heart of the Anglo-Scottish union.

MacDonald, ‘Consultation and Consent’, pp. 295–6, 297–9, 304. MacDonald, ‘Consultation and Consent’, pp. 300–2; Goodare, ‘Scottish Parliament of 1621’, p. 47.

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3

The Western Highlands and Isles and Central Government, 1616–1645 SHERRILYNN THEISS

The key to understanding the influence of national politics on the Western Highlands and Isles lies in the very nature of the tenuous relationship between the Western Highlands and Isles and central government. The experiences of those in the Western Highlands and Isles differed from their Highland counterparts east of the central Druim Alban Range; this was the territory formerly under the Lordship of the Isles and for centuries had been fraught with bloodshed. The animosity in the region towards the Campbells of Argyll and the lingering ties to Ireland and Catholicism created a political situation that resulted in the Western Highlands and Isles being viewed by central government as barbarous, uncivilised, and often a problem for the Campbells to handle rather than central government. This chapter provides an overview of the occasional points of contact between central government and the Western Highlands and Isles in the reign of Charles I, and will highlight specific incidents that indicate the withdrawal of the region from the dealings of central government and a re-focusing on local issues. This increasing autonomy allowed the region at first to refrain from active participation in the ‘Scottish troubles’, then to align themselves in 1644–45 with the faction that best served their political needs, only to retreat again after the departure of the royalist leader Alasdair MacColla. I During much of the reign of James VI, government policies were at times heavy-handed yet successful in subduing a region whose inhabitants were once thought to be ‘allutterly barbares, without any sort or shew of civilitie’.1 Although the clans of the Western Highlands and Isles were not barbarians, it

1 Johann P. Sommerville (ed.), Political Writings of James VI and I (Cambridge, 1994), p. 24.

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is understandable how their societal structure and the processes of H ­ ighland justice could be misinterpreted as such. The structure of the Highland clan system was a complex hierarchy involving every level of Highland society, with each individual providing an essential role in the functioning of the clan.2 As head of the kindred, the chief acted as the patriarch of the clan, but, like the Stuart monarchs, was restricted in his actions, which prevented him from acting as a despot. Similar to the relationship between king and council, the chief was the head of the clan elite, or gentry, and was therefore answerable to his own council. The power of the chief was derived from the loyalty and service of their subordinates in return for the chiefs practising ‘good lordship’, meaning acting in the best interest of the kin-group. The chief of the clan could not unilaterally impose a particular line of policy; Highland chiefs were answerable to their kin-group and were expected to lead but not command. The clan gentry, especially the ‘tacksmen’ who managed the clan’s estates and collected rents, were consulted by their chief on policy-making, and their consent was essential to the functioning of the kin-group because the tacksmen were the ones able to mobilise the whole clan and its resources. Relations between the clans of the Western Highlands and Isles and central government were complicated by the government’s perception that the region, in comparison to the Lowlands, continued to be fraught with cattle thieving, murder for retribution and open rebellion. Their economy continued to be based on subsistence farming and lacked the regular use of a monetary unit. Many of the clans functioned independently of central government, only obeying the state when it was forced to intervene. One example of central government’s intervention was in the feud between the MacDonalds of Dunyveg and the MacLeans of Duart. Since the early 1580s, Angus MacDonald of Dunyveg and Lachlan Mor MacLean of Duart had been at odds over possession of the Rinns of Islay – the MacDonalds were hereditary holders of the land, but Duart attempted to claim it as his own through an old office held by his ancestors during the reign of the Lordship of the Isles. After the fall of the Lordship of the Isles in 1493, royal authority over the region had been entrusted to the Gordons, Mackenzies, and Campbells. According to Jane Dawson, ‘After 1493 royal authority was exercised in the Isles but only at one remove through the use of proxies from among the Highland clans.’3 Relying on the Campbells of Argyll and others as agents of the crown was the cornerstone of royal policy towards the Western HighFor more details of the Highland clan system, see Allan I. Macinnes, Clanship, Commerce and the House of Stuart, 1603–1788 (East Linton, 1996), pp. 1–10; Jenny Wormald, Lords and Men in Scotland: Bonds of Manrent, 1442–1603 (Edinburgh, 1985); Edward J. Cowan, ‘The Discovery of the Gàidhealtachd in Sixteenth Century Scotland’, TGSI 60 (1998), pp. 259–84. 3 Jane E. A. Dawson, ‘The Origins of the “Road to the Isles”: Trade, Communications 2

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lands and Isles, and gave rise to overwhelming influence and power of the Campbells. Thus, as hostilities increased, James VI was forced to turn to the Clan Campbell. In 1608 Dunyveg Castle was surrendered, and as a reward for Argyll’s service he was granted the charter for Kintyre, with the stipulation that no lease was to be granted to MacDonalds, MacLeans, MacLeods, MacAllistairs or MacNeils – all of whom were considered barbarous Highland clans. With Argyll’s new charter of Kintyre his kinsman, Sir John Campbell of Cawdor, had begun to set his sights on Islay. The privy council, furious with the MacDonalds in Islay, promised Cawdor the charter of Islay on the condition that he would personally fund an expedition to Islay to put down the insurrection.4 Through James VI’s policies of colonisation, the authorised destruction of entire clans, and – more constructively – the advent of compulsory annual meetings between the privy council and the island chiefs, the perception of James’s administration was that it had transformed the Western Highlands and Isles from ‘alluterly barbares’ into law-abiding subjects and government agents.5 By the succession of Charles I, the Western Highlands and Isles were generally subdued. With the exception of a few isolated incidents, such as the Clan MacIan’s piracy, the perceived period of blood feuds and lawlessness appeared to be over. This relative peace in the region led to a decline in government intervention, and Charles’s government no longer pursued the range of policies towards the Highlands that his father’s had. By the time the Scottish Revolution broke out in 1638 central government had almost completely neglected the island chiefs, allowing the inhabitants of the Western Highlands and Isles to regain their autonomy. II Since 1616 it had become customary that the island chiefs were to appear before the council every year in early July. It was believed by members of the privy council ‘that by their comeing heir yeirlie thay may be reducit to

and Campbell Power in Early Modern Scotland’, in Roger Mason and Norman Macdougall (eds), People and Power in Scotland (Edinburgh, 1992), pp. 74–103, at p. 96. 4 The continuing feud between the MacDonalds and MacLeans, as well as the Campbells’ intervention, is discussed at length in Edward J. Cowan, ‘Fishers in Drumlie Waters: Clanship and Campbell Expansion in the Time of Gilleasbuig Grumach’, TGSI 54 (1987), pp. 269–312; Edward J. Cowan, ‘Clanship, Kindred and the Campbell Acquisition of Islay’, SHR 58 (1979), pp. 132–57; Ronald Black, ‘Colla Ciotach’, TGSI 48 (1976), pp. 201–43. 5 Julian Goodare, The Government of Scotland, 1560–1625 (Oxford, 2004), pp. 236–9; Michael Lynch, ‘James VI and the “Highland Problem”’, in Julian Goodare and Michael Lynch (eds), The Reign of James VI (East Linton, 2000), pp. 208–27. 43

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civilitie and maid to acknowledge their obedience to his Majestie and his lawis’.6 In order to enforce this ‘obedience’ the council ordered the island chiefs to nominate between three and eight leading gentry who were also to be accountable for the clan being ‘reduceit to civilitie’. Of the nominated gentry, one to three gentry attended the annual meetings with their respective chief. If a clan was found to be in violation of the law or was in any way found to be hostile, then one or all of the gentry brought to the meeting would be held by the privy council, often in Edinburgh Castle, until order was restored. As the clan gentry were often tacksmen, their freedom was essential to the functioning of the clan system and for the subsistence of the clan chief. Thus the imprisonment of the gentry served as an incentive to regain order in the clan’s territory. Another measure employed by the privy council, which proved more effective than warding clan gentry, was the exaction of cautions and sureties. These were financial guarantees for the clan’s continued good behaviour and for the chief’s appearance at the next year’s meeting. Depending on the size of the clan and their past behaviour sureties would range from 5,000 merks to £10,000 Scots. Sureties became so successful that they were later used to underwrite rents, duties and taxes. The combination of imprisonment of the gentry and the exacting of sureties increased clan obedience and the chiefs’ ‘civility’ to such an extent that by 1625 it was common for island chiefs to be granted commissions against neighbouring troublesome clans or even against their own disruptive clansmen. The advent of the annual meetings has been neglected by many Highland historians, but a thorough investigation of this innovative Highland policy is found in an article by Jean Munro.7 Dr Munro provides basic details of the meetings, including the means used to summon chiefs, lists of the chiefs included, and the amounts of cautions and sureties charged to them. Through her research the foundation is laid for a more detailed study of the importance of these meetings. Unfortunately, the only surviving records of the meetings are found in the Register of the Privy Council and do not provide details of the annual meetings, nor is there a surviving minute book if one was ever written. What are recorded in the Register are the attendance records of the chiefs with the amounts of their cautions and sureties, commissions issued while the chiefs were in Edinburgh, and any legal disputes that needed to be addressed by the privy council. By piecing together the evidence it appears that the chiefs presented themselves to the privy council and made whatever payments were due to the crown, then awaited word of any complaints or charges being brought against them. If a complaint was filed and upheld the chief would forfeit his Quoted in Donald Gregory, History of the Western Highlands and Isles of Scotland, 1493–1625 (2nd edn, London, 1881), pp. 393–5. 7 Jean Munro, ‘When Island Chiefs came to Town’, Notes & Queries of the Society of West Highland and Island Historical Research 19 (Dec. 1982), pp. 11–19. 6

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surety and the matter was either dealt with by the privy council or referred to the justiciary court. If no complaints were made against the chief then he would be granted any commissions for which the privy council needed his services and be allowed to return home. A comparison of the records of the annual meetings with the wider history of the region shows that the years in which the annual meetings were held coincided with a period of decreased frequency and longevity of blood feuds recorded and an increase in the number of disputes being resolved through the legal system in Edinburgh. Although the crown and the local chiefs were developing a closer, mutually beneficial relationship, the cornerstone to this accord, the annual meetings, was eroding. With the increased role of the chiefs as government agents and the subsequent peace resulting from the chiefs’ new position of authority, attendance at the July meetings appears to have become irregular as early as 1624. None of the chiefs appeared for the 1624, 1625, 1629 and 1631 meetings; only MacLean of Coll, due to his indisposition and age, had actually been given permission to be absent prior to his non-attendance in 1631.8 In April 1632, the island chiefs’ lawyers in Edinburgh presented a series of petitions to the privy council requesting to be excused from the 1632 annual meeting.9 All of the April petitions were granted for one year only, on the condition the chiefs appeared in 1633. Four chiefs complied with this, compared with a typical seven from the meetings of the 1620s. As tempers began to rise in response to Charles’s new policies, the privy council attempted to reinstate the annual meetings in 1636. However, the council’s efforts were generally ineffective as some clans were already beginning to enjoy increased freedom from government intervention while others were having to look to local politics to fill the void left by the collapse of power derived from central government. Therefore, on 21 July 1636, Mr James Logy, attorney for MacDonald of Sleat, MacLean of Morvern and the captain of Clanranald, appeared before the privy council alongside George Campbell, attorney for MacLean of Coll and MacKinnon of Strathordale, requesting an excuse from their meeting that was supposed to take place in July 1636. The council disagreed with the necessity to stay at home but conceded that ‘if, upon the like incident necessities the saids ylanders sall be disabled to appeare’ they could apply for dispensation no later than the first council day of June.10 This ruling was not adhered to, as no chiefs appeared in 1637 and the council subsequently gave them until 17 November to comply with their previous order to appear. After this feeble attempt to reinstate the chiefs’ meetings in Edinburgh, the council again changed their attitude towards the meetings in June 1638. RPC, 2nd ser., IV, p. 280. RPC, 2nd ser., IV, pp. 675–7; Robert L. MacNeil, The Clan MacNeil: Clann Niall of Scotland (New York, 1923), p. 76. 10 RPC, 2nd ser., VI, pp. 300–1. 8 9

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As a result of the National Covenant and the emergence of the covenanting movement, Donald Gorme MacDonald of Sleat and Rory Mor MacLeod of Dunvegan applied for and were granted excuses from attendance on the grounds that ‘the country was very disturbed and their presence was needed in their awne countrey’.11 The granting of this petition served as the definitive end of the annual meetings by allowing MacDonald and MacLeod to use the current turmoil as the reason for not attending. On the heels of MacDonald and MacLeod’s petition came a ‘Supplication from Gentlemen of the Isles’, presented in person by MacDonald on behalf of all the island chiefs. The supplication claimed that the chiefs had striven to maintain obedience of law and justice, and requested permission to remain at home ‘in good hop to retaine and hald thair haill bounds under obedience’. The supplication was granted on 26 June 1638, and although it did not specifically cancel all future meetings it had the effect of doing so.12 III When the annual meetings began in 1616, it had been seen as essential to summon the chiefs to Edinburgh during times of trouble to enforce order and subdue hostilities. By the end of the 1620s the chiefs had, however, proved themselves useful in maintaining the peace in the Western Highlands and Isles, and the privy council began to accept the idea that chiefs should stay at home to enforce law and order among their clan and territory. It can be argued that the chiefs gained their autonomy in the 1620s as a result of a partnership that developed between central government and the chiefs through the course of the annual meetings. Although the chiefs were increasingly seen as reliable in implementing law and order in the region, the relationship between the council and chiefs was one of superior over subordinate, with both entities having different agendas because the process of assimilation was still relatively new. A partnership implies a joint venture with both parties working towards a common goal; however, the council’s main objective was the subjugating of the inhabitants of the Western Highlands and Isles, while the chiefs’ goal was to maintain or increase their position within the locality. Both parties came to realise that co-operation would allow them to achieve their goal, but this should not be construed as their entering into a joint venture with central government and the chiefs adopting a common goal. The dynamics of this relationship cannot account for the region’s autonomy because the purpose of allowing the chiefs to stay home during times of trouble was to better enable the chiefs to continue

11 12

RPC, 2nd ser., VII, pp. 22, 26. RPC, 2nd ser., VII, p. 26. 46

THE WESTERN HIGHLANDS AND ISLES, 1616–1645

their work for the council, and was not intended to allow them to function independently from central government, as inevitably happened. The increased autonomy of the chiefs that resulted from the privy council’s acceptance that chiefs should remain in their territories during times of trouble was further increased by central government’s preoccupation with the emergence of the covenanting movement in 1638. The main arguments for or against the National Covenant, such as the Act of Revocation and religious innovations, had a limited impact on much of the Western Highlands and Isles. A number of the clans from the Western Highlands and Isles entered the conflict later, when the opportunity to gain personally was present or when their survival was threatened by neighbouring clans who had taken an active role. The delay in the clans’ involvement suggests that they were not concerned about events at the national level until they affected the local level. The preoccupation of central government and perceived indifference of many of the clans in the Western Highlands and Isles with the Covenant issue is emphasised by the lack of contact with central government and subsequent neglect of the region. The region’s unique position during the Scottish Revolution is evident when compared with Allan Kennedy’s study showing that Northern Highland elites held numerous offices within the covenanting government; this is not found within the Western Highlands and Isles.13 It is surprising that the privy council allowed the annual meetings to fall into disuse when they had proven so effective in ending the hostilities in the region. On the other hand, it could also be assumed that the chiefs did not pose a threat because they had, by 1638, been subdued; they could be left on their own for a short time while central government dealt with the grander problems of religion. Whatever the reason may be, hindsight indicates that the meetings could have been continued by either the royalist government of Charles or the covenanting regime. The meetings would have been most useful for the covenanting regime if they wanted to enforce the National Covenant and later the Solemn League and Covenant throughout the kingdom. By using sureties and warding of clan gentry they would have been able to enforce the Covenant, and the same could be said if Charles had wanted to enforce the King’s Covenant on a larger scale. Instead of using the meetings to their advantage, allowing the meetings to end opened the door for chiefs to revert to local issues. Chiefs were no longer being held accountable for their behaviour on a regular basis, were not being imposed on by the external forces from central government, and were no longer able to increase their status in the locality through a

Allan Kennedy, ‘“A Heavy Yock Uppon Their Necks”: Covenanting Government in the Northern Highlands, 1638–1651’, Journal of Scottish Historical Studies 30 (2010), pp. 93–122, at pp. 102, 117–22.

13

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reciprocal relationship with the crown; thus allowing local political issues to impose on a national theatre. IV An analysis of the Western Highlands and Isles after 1637 indicates that the inhabitants had reverted to their local mentality, occupying themselves with local issues, almost completely indifferent to what was happening on a national level. The difference between local and national mentalities can be defined as a heightened concern and awareness of issues that would only have a direct effect on the clan’s position within its community, rather than a concern for issues that would impact the kingdom as a whole; for example, disputes over territory would take precedence over a new Book of Common Prayer. The Western Highlands and Isles and central government were largely ignoring each other and concentrating on their own agendas, only interacting when Highlanders were unable to resolve their own local disputes. There is little documentation of the Western Highlands and Isles’ involvement in national politics between 1638 and 1644. Further local research would no doubt reveal more, but what is available nationally are references in the Acts of Parliament, Register of the Privy Council, and in the Stair Society’s Selected Justiciary Cases, 1624–1650 to clan versus clan lawsuits. These indicate that the government under the Covenanters dealt with the region, and the clans, on a case-by-case basis in the form of judicial actions. These lawsuits, ranging from petty to large-scale issues, provide evidence that the chiefs went back to focusing on personal business and in some cases resumed feuding with one another. The dispute between Lachlan Mackintosh of Torcastle and Angus MacDonald of Glengarry in 1641 shows that the clans of the Western Highlands and Isles did in fact revert to the bygone practice of feuding and violence when government intervention collapsed and chiefs were no longer held accountable for their clans’ actions. On 27 August 1641 Mackintosh filed a supplication against MacDonald claiming that certain Glengarry friends and kinsmen went to Kilravock in Moray in August 1640 and stole oxen and horses. The inhabitants of Kilravock pursued and killed two of the thieves, and the younger Glengarry and others were so enraged at the murder of their kinsmen that they went armed into Inverness on 15 August. Glengarry’s men, who included three of the old Laird’s sons and 80 to 100 kinsmen, attacked Lachlan Mackintosh and nine to ten of his men in Inverness, firing 40 to 50 shots from their pistols, killing two of Mackintosh’s men and wounding four to five others.14 Upon being released from ward Glengarry set about providing ‘satisfaction’ to Mackintosh, as is evident

14

APS, V, p. 649. 48

THE WESTERN HIGHLANDS AND ISLES, 1616–1645

in a series of notarial instruments recorded on 29 October, 11 December, 17 December 1642, and 3 January 1643. After months of negotiating with Mackintosh, Glengarry finally offered to give Mackintosh whatever satisfaction the privy council found reasonable.15 This and similar cases indicate that the region was transgressing from their peaceful cooperative position within the Scottish kingdom towards the traditional practices of feuding essential to re-establishing the clans’ position within the locality.16 The limited nature of the evidence concerning the Western Highlands and Isles between 1637 and 1644 reflects the fact that the region had little direct involvement or interest in the emergence of the covenanting movement. The sources that are available indicate that a greater emphasis was put on issues close to home, such as land disputes and cattle rustling. As will later be discussed, the reassertion of local politics would facilitate the recruitment of support in the region for the royalist cause, primarily because of the negative impact that Clan Campbell had on the Western Highlands and Isles, as well as the existing alliances and rivalries between clans that resulted from their heightened sense of local politics. V While the Western Highlands and Isles were occupied with local issues and politics, the rest of Scotland was increasingly involved in national issues relating to the covenanting movement. In order to impose national politics on even the most remote regions of the kingdom, subscription to the National Covenant was sought throughout the country. Meetings were held at various locations throughout Scotland, during which the Covenant was read and those summoned to attend were expected to subscribe. The Western Highlands and Isles were far removed from anything pertaining to central government, but they were not exempt from these meetings. In a letter dated 26 May 1638, the attendance of Lord Reay, chief of Clan MacKay, was requested at a meeting in Inverness where the commissioners would meet with local barons and gentlemen, ‘Informing yow truelie how loyalie we haue proceidit from the beginning’. This letter also makes evident the fact that the Covenanters were willing to use intimidation and threats to acquire the necessary signatures to the National Covenant when they implied that Lord Reay’s non-attendance would be viewed as a defiance of his feudal superior, the earl of Sutherland.17 Of those in attendance at the Inverness meeting, most Grants and Mackintoshes did not sign as their RPC, 2nd ser., VII, pp. 559–63. The earl of Seaforth’s foray into MacLeod of Assynt’s territory of Aluein and Leadmore to claim superiority is another case that makes evident the fact that bygone practices of feuding and forays were on the rise: APS, V, pp. 425, 698, 713; RPC, 2nd ser., VII, p. 364. 17 NRS, Papers of Lord Reay, GD84/2/194. 15 16

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territory was ‘invyroned amidst the Hieland’; however, all others present agreed to sign including the Master of Berridale, heir to the earl of Caithness, plus forty of his friends and vassals, the earl of Sutherland, and the gentry of Sutherland, Donald MacKay, Lord Reay, and the chiefs of Clan Ross, Munro and Fraser.18 Subscription to the National Covenant was essentially a signaturegathering exercise. Those in attendance at the Inverness meeting were not pushed to act on behalf of the covenanting movement. In actuality, Lord Reay and others who signed the document returned home, and the earl of Sutherland, whose power was used to intimidate Reay to subscribe, was not seen as an active Covenanter through most of the ‘troubles’. In essence the purpose of the Inverness meeting was merely to get the nobles, lairds and gentlemen to put pen to paper. Furthermore, the use of threats and innuendoes to gain subscription, such as the threat to Lord Reay, makes the usefulness of the signatures even more questionable because the subscribers’ true intention is blurred through the possible intimidation used to acquire the subscription. Not surprisingly a number of people credited with signing the Covenant were actually neutral or even royalists, some signed but did not actively participate and others were credited with signing but in fact had not. The exaggerated list of names of those who subscribed included names such as Forbes, Fraser, Grant, Mackintosh, MacKenzie, MacKay, MacLean, MacDonald, Innes, and every man by the name of Campbell.19 The National Covenant was intended to be a bond through which all those who subscribed were opposed to Charles’s innovation – the larger the list, therefore, the larger the opposition would appear. The inaccuracies in the lists of subscribers suggests that the intention was to persuade Charles into complying with the demands of the covenanting regime because he was simply outnumbered. By enforcing their autonomy from central government through their non-subscription to the Solemn League and Covenant in 1643, the clans in the Western Highlands and Isles made a passive statement on the issues concerning national politics. Numerous areas throughout the Western Highlands and Isles remained refractory either because they were directly involved in the upcoming royalist campaign or because of the repercussions they would face if they aligned themselves with the covenanting regime; for example, Badenoch in April 1644 was reputed to ‘absolutlie refuse obedience’ while the whole of Skye and the Outer Hebrides in May 1650 were reported to still be negligent in their subscription.20

As quoted in David Stevenson, The Scottish Revolution, 1637–44: The Triumph of the Covenanters (Newton Abbot, 1973), p. 92. 19 Stevenson, Scottish Revolution, p. 99. 20 As quoted in Macinnes, Clanship, p. 90. 18

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THE WESTERN HIGHLANDS AND ISLES, 1616–1645

VI The examination of the clans of the Western Highlands and Isles’ motives for aligning with the Covenanters and royalists indicates that local politics and personal agendas, such as long-standing clan rivalries, self-preservation and territorial expansion, played a larger role in their allegiances than the traditional platforms of the two factions. The purpose of studying allegiances during this period is to provide a better understanding of the instability of the Western Highlands and Isles, and the resulting threat it posed to the outcome of the Scottish Revolution and subsequent Wars of the Three Kingdoms. None of the motives found among the clans were mutually exclusive, and there was always an interconnection between them; however, by detailing the actions taken by the clans it can be seen that some issues were given more weight than others. The covenanting movement began as a revolt of the nobility and Protestant ministers against the policies of Charles I. The complaints against Charles were aimed at the religious innovations he introduced to the Church of Scotland and the power structure within the government. As the revolt escalated it divided Scotland in two by the summer of 1638, engulfing every social class from nobility to peasant. The motives behind the covenanting faction within the Western Highlands and Isles can be classified into three categories: opposition to Charles I’s policies, existing alliances and rivalries, and territorial expansion. Through these motives the cause of the Coven­ anters was propagated in a region previously removed from the issues of government due to the impact that these motives had on the locality. Royalist support during the Scottish Revolution developed in response to the rise of the covenanting movement. Prior to 1644, the motives behind the royalist allegiances were support of the king’s authority and his religious policies, neither of which had a large following in the Western Highlands and Isles. Although support for Charles was key to the overall royalist cause, the rivalry between clans and the opportunity for revenge were significant components of the royalists’ success and local politics, in many cases, influenced the Western Highlands and Isles’ involvement in national politics. One of the difficulties in understanding allegiances to the Covenanters and royalists is that several clans shifted their allegiance from one faction to the other, and in some cases back again. A number of clans aligned themselves with whichever faction had the upper hand at the moment; thus, the study of these clans adds a ‘wildcard’ element to allegiances in the region. Within this category we can include those who were provoked to change their allegiance as their reaction to a particular event was motivated by self-preservation. The fluctuating careers of Sir James Lamont of Lamont, Sir Lachlan MacLean of Duart, and George MacKenzie, earl of Seaforth, illustrate the difficulty in categorising the clans of the region and determining their motives. However, the careers of all three men can ultimately 51

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be classified as a desire to navigate their clan safely through the Scottish Revolution; the motive behind their allegiances was primarily the threat of retaliation either directed at them or that they could direct towards another, and was conducted to safeguard the family’s status. Due to this survivalist mentality, few clans could unequivocally be classified as Covenanter or royalist, making it difficult at times to determine whom the two factions could rely on for assistance. The influence of the Lowlands combined with connections at court among the magnates in the Western Highlands and Isles, such as the marquis of Argyll and the earl of Sutherland, gave rise to the acceptance of the ideology behind the National Covenant, opposition to Charles I’s government and his religious innovations. For both Argyll and Sutherland the prospect of losing land to the prelates and the potential for a decline in their position in government made the earls wary of their tentative dominance in their locality that could well be undermined by Charles’s policies. Therefore, religion was an underlying factor in adherence to the covenanting regime and merely served to magnify the situation, the main aspect being a fear of increased power of the bishops that would result in the lords’ loss of control. On the whole, religious affiliation in the Western Highlands and Isles was a greater factor in supporting the Covenant than in opposing it, which limited the scope with which religion affected the allegiances in the region. Protestantism was able to maintain a limited hold in Argyllshire, Sutherland and Caithness as a result of the strength of the local earls and their connections to the Lowlands and to court. However, most of the Western Highlands and Isles lacked a strong and organised religious institution, which resulted in a number of inhabitants being religious but devoid of regular services. The fact that many inhabitants did not benefit from regular church services meant that the innovations that the Covenanters were opposed to had little bearing on the religious beliefs of the populace and, therefore, played a lesser role in their allegiances. During the Scottish Revolution, one of the most common ways to gain territory was to acquire commissions from the covenanting regime against the inhabitants of the desired property. Therefore, the impact that economics had on allegiances was that it instigated many to act nationally in an attempt to improve their position in the locality because more territory equalled more power for the clan and chief in the form of increased revenues and greater mustering capabilities. This resulted in local and national interests existing simultaneously, but with greater importance being placed on the locality. An expert in this practice was the marquis of Argyll, especially in regard to his acquiring commissions to justify his actions. Allan Macinnes in his biography of Argyll, and in his earlier study of clanship, argues that Argyll was a devout Protestant and a ‘British Confederate’ intent on preserving the Scottish nobility, but that he used his position within the covenanting 52

THE WESTERN HIGHLANDS AND ISLES, 1616–1645

regime to expand his clan’s territory.21 The fact that Argyll acted nationally as a result of the effect it would have on the locality meant that the interests of the Covenanters and of Argyll intersected. By the outbreak of the Bishops’ Wars, the Clan Campbell had extended their power over the region to such an extent that Argyll’s authority as justiciar of the Isles and high rank within the covenanting regime placed him in a position that allowed him to act almost as a second monarch. Edward J. Cowan states that ‘the “Anti-Campbell coalition” was largely the creation of Hamilton during the summer of 1638’ and that Hamilton was the one ‘who hit upon the idea of exploiting the widespread antipathy towards Sliochd Diarmaid’ (Clan Campbell).22 Granted, it was Hamilton who joined the clans in opposition to the Covenant and thus to Argyll; however, it was Argyll’s actions that created the ‘Anti-Campbell coalition’. Unfortunately for Argyll, he perpetuated the animosity towards his house by his actions during the Bishops’ Wars and did little to rectify the hostile situation he himself had created. The use of rivalries in the recruitment of royalists within the Western Highlands and Isles was rooted in Argyll’s territorial ambitions, as well as those of the earl of Sutherland. The most important polarising factor within the region prior to the Scottish Revolution was the manoeuvrings of the nobles in their attempt to strengthen their power. The way in which the earls of Argyll and the earl of Sutherland expanded their territory either threatened or victimised a large number of clans, especially the MacDonalds and the MacKays. Because Argyll and Sutherland supported the Covenant, opposition to them provided the means to regain lands lost to the earls and the opportunity to wreak revenge on their aggressors. The Campbells’ acquisition of Islay and Kintyre in the early 1600s and the destruction of the MacDonalds of Dunyveg gave rise to one of the most extreme cases of anti-Campbellism seen through the career of Alasdair MacColla. MacColla was a descendant of the MacDonalds and the son of Colla Ciotach, who was taken captive in the conflict. David Stevenson succinctly describes the mentality of MacColla: he ‘probably didn’t give a damn about the king’.23 In fact, his allegiance to the king ranked sixth in a list of his personal priorities. At the top of MacColla’s list was his allegiance to Clan Donald and the attempt to regain Kintyre and Islay. Like the earl of Antrim, MacColla wanted to revive the Lordship of the Isles and renew the fame and fortune of Clan Donald, which, in effect, meant destroying the Clan Campbell. MacColla’s hostility towards the Campbells manifested

Allan I. Macinnes, The British Confederate: Archibald Campbell, Marquess of Argyll, c.1607–1661 (Edinburgh, 2011), p. 122; Macinnes, Clanship, pp. 94–7. 22 Cowan, Montrose, p. 50. 23 David Stevenson, King or Covenant? Voices from Civil War (East Linton, 1996), p. 140. 21

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into a personal war against Argyll, as highlighted by Stevenson in his biography of Alasdair MacColla.24 MacColla’s motive of revenge was made clear when he declined to involve himself in the invasion of England, and instead persuaded Montrose to allow him to lead his Irish regiments and a large portion of Highlanders into Argyll, where he was able to fulfil his desire to enact revenge on the Clan Campbell by devastating the region. Although there appear to be no surviving muster records from Montrose and MacColla’s army, some rough estimates can be made as to the number of men from the Western Highlands and Isles who were involved. MacColla brought three Irish regiments, approaching 2,000 men, to Scotland.25 However, the number of men recruited from the Western Highlands and Isles made up at least half of the army at the various pitched battles, and the majority of MacColla’s forces when he pillaged Argyllshire. As early as October 1644 MacColla recruited approximately 1,500 men with the support of the MacDonalds of Clanranald, Glengarry and Keppoch, Stewart of Appin, and the MacIans.26 By the time Montrose and MacColla reached Inverlochy their army was a little over 3,000 fighting men, about half clansmen from the Western Highlands and Isles. It was at the battle of Inverlochy that the MacLeans came out in support of the royalist cause, although they did not all arrive until after the battle. Inverlochy was a turning point in the Scottish Revolution. It was during this battle that Argyll fled the battlefield, deserting his troops, while the MacDonalds killed 1,500 Campbells, the largest post-battle massacre during the conflict. As a result of this defeat, a large contingent of covenanting clans met with Montrose at Killiwheim, near Elgin, and pledged their loyalty to the crown.27 Even the most ardent supporters of the Covenant could not ignore the dangers posed to their estates. Because the loyalty of the clans in the Western Highlands and Isles was influenced by self-preservation, and they could be forced to switch sides at any moment, neither faction could

David Stevenson, Highland Warrior: Alasdair MacColla and the Civil Wars (Edinburgh, 1980; originally pub. as Alasdair MacColla and the Highland Problem in the Seventeenth Century). 25 Stevenson, Highland Warrior, pp. 106–7. 26 George Wishart, The History of the Kings Majesties Affairs in Scotland: under the conduct of the most honourable James Marques of Montrose, Earle of Kincardin, &c. and generall governour of that kingdome, in the years, 1644, 1645, & 1646 (n.p., 1648; Wing, 2nd edn, W3120), p. 59; A True Relation of the Happy Success of His Maiesties Forces in Scotland: under the conduct of Lord Iames Marquisse of Montrose His Excellencie, agains the rebels there (n.p., 1644; Wing, 2nd edn, T2694), p. 12; Edward M. Furgol, ’The Civil Wars in Scotland’, in John Kenyon and Jane Ohlmeyer (eds), The Civil Wars: A Military History of England, Scotland and Ireland, 1638–1660 (Oxford, 1998), pp. 41–72, at p. 55; A. Macdonald and A. Macdonald, The Clan Donald, 3 vols (Inverness, 1896–1904), II, p. 333; Stevenson, Highland Warrior, pp. 140–1. 27 NRS, Montrose Papers, GD220/3/184. 24

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wholly rely on their support. The use of threats to the clans’ existence and property played a significant role in both the instability of the region and the success of the royalists between 1644 and 1645. The Covenanters neglected to use the personal agendas of the clans in the Western Highlands and Isles to their fullest potential; instead it was the royalists who were able to capitalise on the survivalist mentality and dominate the mid-1640s. Prior to 1644, the primary clan mobilised by either faction was Campbell of Argyll, and they were employed by the Covenanters to defend and monitor the region. The active participation of the remaining clans of the Western Highlands and Isles was not considered to be crucial to the overall success of either faction compared to other regions of Scotland. However, the need to defeat the Covenanters prompted Charles I and the marquis of Montrose to actively recruit the military excellence of the region, and ensured victory by giving the clans individual incentives, such as the opportunity given to the MacDonalds to kill Campbells. The combination of bribery from Charles and threats to person and property from Montrose clearly drew the clans of the Western Highlands and Isles into the Scottish Revolution by playing on their personal agendas and local politics, thus temporarily altering the course of the conflict in favour of the royalists. VII The decline of government intervention and resulting neglect of the Western Highlands and Isles can be traced back to the beginning of Charles I’s reign. During the period of the annual meetings, the inclusion of a broader range of chiefs in the administration of the region shifted their attention towards central government as a source of political power and as an alternative means of local dominance. The chiefs were no longer forced to seek legitimacy through their manipulation of local politics and recurring violence. As with the process of integration of the Welsh elites as government agents during the mid-sixteenth century, the Highland chiefs found it increasingly beneficial to co-operate with central government.28 As in Wales, a reciprocal relationship developed between the chiefs and central government that facilitated state formation. By working within the existing framework of the clan system and the region’s socio-political hierarchy, the crown was able to promote its needs while at the same time meeting the needs of the chiefs by empowering them with commissions and licences. The end result of the

For discussion of relations between government and Wales, see Michael J. Braddick, State Formation in Early Modern England, c.1550–1700 (Cambridge, 2000); Brendan Bradshaw, ‘The Tudor Reformation and Revolution in Wales and Ireland: The Origins of the British Problem’, in Brendan Bradshaw and John Morrill (eds), The British Problem, c.1534–1707: State Formation in the Atlantic Archipelago (London, 1996), pp. 39–65.

28

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meetings and subsequent promotions of chiefs to government agents was an increase in the clans’ involvement in national politics and a decrease in the levels of lawlessness and violence. Unfortunately, the relationship between the chiefs and central government was damaged by the dissolving of the annual meetings. The Western Highlands and Isles chiefs then reverted to their customary practices with which they had previously acquired their status. The fact that the chiefs were no longer able to gain legitimacy from central government meant that the clans had again to enforce their political dominance through manipulation of the region’s socio-political dynamics. Thus the clans in the Western Highlands and Isles were increasingly preoccupied with local issues, such as land disputes, while central government was increasingly preoccupied with national issues, such as subscription to the National Covenant. This resulted in limited interaction between the two parties. Once the Western Highlands and Isles slipped out of central government’s grasp, the stage was set for alliances and rivalries to take priority in the patterns of allegiances that shaped the region’s involvement in the covenanting movement. The result was that when central government came to direct its attention back to the Western Highlands and Isles during the Scottish Revolution, the chiefs were by then firmly in an autonomous position, and it proved extremely difficult for the committee of estates to enlist the aid of the clans throughout much of the 1640s. A key element to the royalist success between 1644 and 1645 was the fact that the covenanting administration relied heavily on the Clan Campbell network, and failed to exploit the tensions and rivalries within local politics to its own advantage, whereas Montrose realised how local politics could be harnessed for a national cause. Although the Covenanters were afraid of an invasion by Irish forces sent by the earl of Antrim, they made no attempt to neutralise his possible accomplices or to recruit them for the covenanting cause. Nor did they make any strong attempts to prevent the Highlanders on the western seaboard from joining an invading Irish army. Instead, defence of the western seaboard relied on the Clan Campbell network.29 Montrose and MacColla were the first to exploit the region, using the existing clan networks in the pursuit of their own agenda. By utilising the hostilities among clans in the region, and particularly many clans’ animosity towards the marquis of Argyll, Montrose and MacColla were able to employ the clans almost as mercenaries, participating in the ‘troubles’ for their own benefit and with the intention of destroying the power of Clan Campbell. A critical mistake made by the Covenanters was their neglect of turning nominal subscription of the Covenants into active support for the cause. Had the Covenanters attempted to entice the clans with land and booty

29

Stevenson, Scottish Revolution, p. 101. 56

THE WESTERN HIGHLANDS AND ISLES, 1616–1645

seized from royalists, similar to the tactics used by Montrose and MacColla, it is quite possible that the lines of allegiance could have been drawn differently. The committee of estates instead attempted to counter opposition to the Covenants by establishing committees and commissions to deal with the Highlands on a regional, case-by-case basis. There were, however, no committees or commissions directed specifically at the Western Highlands and Isles to prevent a rebellion or to thwart royalist recruitment in the region. The question remains, then: why did the government under the Covenanters fail to involve the Western Highlands and Isles? One of the prime reasons was the covenanting regime’s reliance on the marquis of Argyll and the Clan Campbell network. When the Western Highlands and Isles needed to be dealt with, the covenanting regime left the task in the hands of Argyll. This was seen in his defence of the western seaboard, begun in 1639, and in a letter to the earl of Seaforth stating that the Estates had referred his request to stay in the north to Argyll as lieutenant of the region.30 The overwhelming power Argyll wielded in the region prompted the marquis of Hamilton to warn Charles I that the clans’ allegiance ‘was less however from affection to the king than from spleen against Lord Lorne’ (Lorne was the future earl and marquis of Argyll).31 A second reason for central government’s neglect of the Western Highlands and Isles during this period was the fact that the region was both physically and perceptually far removed from the hotbed of the conflict. Although the Covenanters did, sometimes successfully, attempt to gain subscriptions to the Covenants in the region, few of those who subscribed were ever active Covenanters. The inclusion of the clans from the Western Highlands and Isles was not seen as a priority for the Covenanters as they continued to be seen as ‘uncivilised’ and had very limited interaction with the dealing of central government and the Kirk. In essence the uprising of the clans from the Western Highlands and Isles between 1644 and 1645 was caused by a serious miscalculation on the part of the covenanting regime. By allowing the clans to maintain their autonomy while becoming increasingly occupied with liturgical and monarchical arguments, the covenanting regime for the most part turned their back on a potential hotbed of conflict. This was compounded by the fact that an overwhelming amount of authority was entrusted to Argyll and the Clan Campbell, which fuelled existing animosity in the region. The only thing missing prior to 1644 was the spark to ignite the clans into open warfare. The arrival of Alasdair MacColla provided the spark and afforded the clans a banner to unite under against the Clan Campbell and, given

NRS, Parliamentary Papers, PA11/3, fols 24v–25v. HMC, Eleventh Report, Appendix VI, MSS of Duke of Hamilton, ed. William Fraser (London, 1887), p. 95. 30 31

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SHERRILYNN THEISS

Argyll’s position in the covenant regime, indirectly against the Covenanters. The departure of MacColla and the subsequent withdrawal of the clans from the conflict indicates that the involvement of the Western Highlands and Isles was just as Hamilton had warned in 1638.32

For the next phase in Highland history, see Danielle McCormack, ‘Highland Lawlessness and the Cromwellian Regime’, Chapter 7 below in this volume.

32

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4

The Scottish Bishops in Government 1625–16381 SALLY TUCKETT

Thir unhappy bischopes they were eiuell counselloers, bot worsse musitians; for they tempered ther stringes to such a cleiffe of ambition and superstitious fooliry, that befor euer they zeildit aney sound, they burst all in peices.2

In the Glasgow general assembly of November 1638, the Scottish episcopate was deposed in its entirety. With previous general assemblies declared null and void, the authority of the episcopate was abolished and the future of presbyteries was secured.3 All fourteen bishops were removed from their position as prelates, and nine of them were excommunicated. Charges levelled at the bishops included drunkenness, breaking the Sabbath, Arminianism,4 and responsibility for the hated Prayer Book of 1637. The words of Sir James Balfour quoted above, however, point to a further reason for the bishops’ downfall: their secular ambition and role as councillors to the king. These actions provoked the Scottish nobility into an alliance with the presbyterians, culminating in the National Covenant and the general assembly of 1638, and it is this secular role of the bishops that is under investigation here.

This chapter is based on research collected for an M.Sc. dissertation funded by the AHRC Professional Preparation Masters Scheme. 2 Sir James Balfour of Denmilne, Historical Works, 4 vols, ed. J. Haig (Edinburgh, 1824– 25), II, p. 140. 3 Robert Baillie, Letters and Journals, 1637–1662, 3 vols, ed. David Laing (Bannatyne Club, 1841–42), II, p. 151. 4 Cf. David G. Mullan, ‘Arminianism in the Lord’s Assembly, Glasgow, 1638’, RSCHS 26 (1996), pp. 1–30; David G. Mullan, ‘Masked Popery and Pyrrhonian Uncertainty: The Early Scottish Covenanters on Arminianism’, Journal of Religious History 21 (1997), pp. 159–77. 1

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I The Scottish Reformation had not wholly destroyed the episcopal system. From the mid-sixteenth century onwards an uneasy balance existed between the presbyterian and episcopal camps, with periodic struggles between the two. Despite continued efforts to secure the presbyterian system over the latter half of the sixteenth century, some form or relic of episcopacy was always evident in the Scottish church, such as the superintendents of the 1560s and the insultingly named ‘tulchan’ bishops of the 1570s. James VI made concerted efforts to re-establish episcopacy in Scotland, seeing the power and authority of the bishops over their dioceses and clergy as an important ally for royal interests. Following altercations between presbyterians and episcopalians, in 1600 James supported the appointment of three new bishops, significantly with the power to vote in parliament. Over the next few years, James gradually appointed a full complement of bishops and restored their jurisdictional powers, a process completed by 1612.5 Such moves, as well as the changes James sought to the liturgy, were fought by convinced presbyterians who argued against James’s authority over the kirk. Bishops, in particular, were seen by presbyterians as servants of the king rather than servants of God, and represented an unacceptable secular and civil encroachment into the religious realm. In 1625 Charles I thus inherited from his father a church system where bishops were increasingly powerful and visible in secular circles, but also faced consistent opposition and criticism from presbyterians. James’s approach to the kirk and its system of governance, his attempts to establish and maintain reciprocal relationships between the episcopacy and the crown, simultaneously ensuring further entanglements of religious and secular authority, created a strong template for his son to follow. This template was to contribute to the bishops’ downfall in 1638. An examination of the secular activities of the bishops who were incumbent during Charles I’s reign adds to the ongoing debate over the relative culpability of Charles I and James VI for the outbreak of revolution and civil war.6 The continuing perception that Charles was more at fault than his father for the hostilities of the 1630s and 1640s has been applied to many circumstances of the period, including the choice of men for the epis-

David G. Mullan, Episcopacy in Scotland: The History of an Idea, 1560–1638 (Edinburgh, 1986); Alan R. MacDonald, The Jacobean Kirk, 1567–1625: Sovereignty, Polity and Liturgy (Aldershot, 1998). 6 Laura Stewart’s work, for instance, has shown the adverse impact that James’s religious policies had on Scotland: Laura A. M. Stewart, ‘The Political Repercussions of the Five Articles of Perth: A Reassessment of James VI and I’s Religious Policies in Scotland’, Sixteenth Century Journal 38 (2007), pp. 1013–36. 5

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copate. The view of Henry Guthry, for instance, an active minister during Charles’s reign and bishop of Dunkeld following the Restoration, was that the ‘younger’ bishops chosen by Charles lacked the wisdom and experience of the ‘older’ bishops who had survived from James’s reign.7 This view has coloured subsequent perceptions of these men. Jenny Wormald has assessed the Jacobean episcopate as a generally modest and useful group of ecclesiastical administrators.8 Margo Todd’s recent study of the Jacobean bishop, William Cowper, implies that had Charles’s bishops been of the same calibre as Cowper who had maintained the balance of ‘presbytery within prelacy’, the events of the late 1630s and early 1640s would have been very different.9 The purpose of this chapter is thus twofold. Firstly, it will examine the secular activities of the episcopate between 1625 and 1638. The role of bishops on the privy council and their participation in bodies such as the commission for grievances and the commission for surrenders and teinds, are the prime focus. By examining the records of the privy council it can be determined how the actions of these men and their responses to various acts of government could be seen as antagonistic towards their noble opponents. Some of these bishops were more provocative than others, and the level of their secular activity had a bearing on how each man was treated in the assembly of 1638. The second aim of the chapter is to show that, in their secular activity at least, the distinction between James’s and Charles’s bishops is not so clear-cut. The level of activity of each bishop varied, but did not necessarily correlate to length of time he had spent in the episcopate before 1638. Jacobean bishops were just as capable of being ‘civil servants of absolutism’10 as their ‘younger’, Caroline brethren. Both groups of bishops were involved in a pattern of religious and secular activity established before Charles came to the throne in 1625. From 1625 until 1634 there were thirteen dioceses in Scotland. In 1634, the diocese of Edinburgh was created, bringing the number of prelates to fourteen.11 Between 1625 and 1638, twenty-one men were incumbent Henry Guthry, The Memoirs of Henry Guthry, Late Bishop of Dunkeld: Continuing an Impartial Relation of the Affairs of Scotland, Civil & Ecclesiastical, From the Year 1638, to the Death of Charles I (Glasgow, 1748), p. 15. For the age of these men, see Mullan, Episcopacy in Scotland, p. 169. 8 Jenny Wormald, ‘No Bishop, no King: The Scottish Jacobean Episcopate, 1600–1625’, in Bernard Vogler (ed.), Miscellanea Historiae Ecclesiasticae VIII (Bruxelles: Bibliothèque de la Revue d’Histoire Ecclésiastique 72, 1987), pp. 259–67. 9 Margo Todd, ‘Bishops in the Kirk: William Cowper of Galloway and the Puritan Episcopacy of Scotland’, Scottish Journal of Theology 57 (2004), pp. 300–12, at pp. 302, 312. 10 Julian Goodare, ‘The Nobility and the Absolutist State in Scotland, 1584–1638’, History 78 (1993), pp. 161–82, at p. 177. 11 The diocese of Edinburgh was formed by splitting the large archdiocese of St Andrews into two. The initial plan was to erect two new dioceses, also splitting the large 7

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within these dioceses at various times; it is this group that forms the basis of the present study. Thirteen of these men had been appointed to bishoprics during James VI’s reign and eight were appointed after 1625 with the accession of Charles I (see Tables 4.1 and 4.2). During this period several translations between dioceses were made, including one translation to Ireland.12 Six bishops died between 1625 and 1638, being replaced either by bishops of Charles’s choosing or by the translation of bishops from other dioceses. Throughout the period Jacobean bishops numerically dominated the Scottish episcopate. At the general assembly of 1638 eight of the bishops were Jacobean, having been appointed before 1625, and six had been appointed during Charles’s reign. II The key area of episcopal involvement in the secular realm was the privy council, the executive of Scotland and one of the mainstays of noble power.13 Fourteen of our twenty-one bishops were admitted as members of this select governing body (Tables 4.1 and 4.2). John Spottiswoode, archbishop of St Andrews, James Law, archbishop of Glasgow, Adam Bellenden, bishop of Dunblane, and Patrick Forbes, bishop of Aberdeen, had all sat on the council during the reign of James VI and continued to do so after 1625. Jacobean bishops outnumbered the Caroline bishops on the privy council throughout Charles’s reign. In the 1630s episcopal additions to the privy council were chiefly prelates Charles had appointed himself. Six of the eight bishops appointed after 1625 became privy councillors. The appointment of Jacobean bishops Alexander Lindsay in 1626, John Guthrie in 1633 and David Lindsay in 1634 to the privy council, however, is just one indication that the division between the ‘young’ and ‘old’ bishops was not as clear-cut as the presbyterian commentators and subsequent historians have implied.

archdiocese of Glasgow to create a diocese in ‘the dales, that is Nithsdale, Annandale, Eskedale’: ‘Historie of Church and State, c.1646’, in David G. Mullan (ed.), Religious Controversy in Scotland, 1625–1639 (SHS, 1998), pp. 21–49, at p. 28. This did not take effect. 12 John Leslie, bishop of the Isles, was transferred to the bishopric of Raphoe in Ireland in 1633. 13 For the privy council prior to this period, see Julian Goodare, The Government of Scotland, 1560–1625 (Oxford, 2004), ch. 6. 62

THE SCOTTISH BISHOPS IN GOVERNMENT, 1625–1638

Table 4.1.  Bishops appointed during the reign of James VI who continued into the reign of Charles I Name John Abernethy

Date first appointed 1616

Diocese Caithness

Privy council No

Adam Bellenden

April 1616

Dunblane 1616–1635; Aberdeen 1635–1638

Yes

Andrew Boyd

March 1613

Argyll

No

Patrick Forbes of Corse

May 1618

Aberdeen

Yes

August 1615

Dunblane 1603–1615; Orkney 1615–1638 Moray

No

Yes

The Isles

No

August 1619 July 1615

Galloway

No

Glasgow

Yes

January 1607 November 1619

Dunkeld

Yes

Brechin 1619–1634; Edinburgh 1634–1638

Yes

George Graham

John Guthrie Thomas Knox Andrew Lamb James Law

Alexander Lindsay David Lindsay

July 1623 1618

63

Other secular Date of positions death Teind 1639 commission; justice of the peace February Teind 1648 commission; justice of the peace; commission for grievances Teind 21 commission; December justice of the 1636 peace Teind 28 March commission; 1635 justice of the peace Teind November/ commission December 1643 Teind 28 August commission 1649 1628 Justice and steward of the Isles Teind 1634 commission 12 Teind commission; November 1632 commission for grievances Teind October commission 1639 1639/ Teind 1640 commission; justice of the peace; commission of council for Service Book

SALLY TUCKETT Patrick Lindsay

December Ross 1613–1633; 1613 Glasgow 1633–1638

Yes

John Spottiswoode

July 1603

Yes

Glasgow 1603–1615; St Andrews 1615–1638

June 1644 Teind commission; commission for grievances; commission for the exchequer; extraordinary lord of session November President of 1639 the exchequer; president of the teind commission; chancellor; president of the commission for grievances; commission of council for Service Book

Sources: Handbook of British Chronology; ODNB; RPC.

The bishops’ rate of attendance at the privy council varied considerably (Table 4.3). Patrick Forbes of Corse, bishop of Aberdeen, for instance, was a member of the privy council for the first ten years of Charles’s reign but only attended twenty-five meetings over this period. As with many of his Jacobean colleagues, Forbes had been accused of hypocrisy when he accepted his bishopric in 1618, and it was alleged that he had only accepted the position as a means to procure funds for his ‘estates and ruined houses’.14 Nevertheless, Forbes was one of the more respected bishops.15 This was in part attributable to his connections with the staunchly presbyterian Andrew Melville, and to his acceptance of episcopacy as long as it was ‘conjunctlie elected, rightlie defined, [and] in such moderation of place and power as may putt restraint to excessive usurpation’.16 The leniency with which presbyterian commentators treated him could also be attributed to the fact that much of his energy was spent within his own diocese, a region plagued with Catholic recusants, and on other religious matters rather than being prominently involved in secular issues through the privy council.17 The records David Calderwood, History of the Kirk of Scotland, 8 vols, eds Thomas Thomson and David Laing (Wodrow Society, 1842–49), VII, p. 296. The same charge was levelled at Adam Bellenden, bishop of Dunblane: John Row, History of the Kirk of Scotland, 1558– 1637, ed. David Laing (Wodrow Society, 1842), p. 260. 15 David G. Mullan, ‘Forbes, Patrick, of Corse (1564–1635)’, ODNB. 16 Cited by Calderwood, History, VII, p. 291; see also W. G. Sinclair Snow, The Times, Life and Thought of Patrick Forbes, Bishop of Aberdeen, 1618–1635 (London, 1952), p. 63. 17 Mullan, ‘Forbes, Patrick’; Maurice Lee, Jnr, The Road to Revolution: Scotland Under 14

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Table 4.2.  Bishops appointed during the reign of Charles I Date appointed December 1633 James Fairlie August 1637 William Forbes January 1634 John Leslie August 1628 Name Neil Campbell

John Maxwell

June 1633

Thomas Sydserff

July 1634

James Wedderburn Walter Whitford

February 1636 December 1635

Diocese The Isles

Privy council Yes

Argyll

No

Edinburgh

Yes

The Isles 1628–1633; Raphoe (Ireland) 1633–1661; Clogher (Ireland) 1661–1671 Ross

Yes

Brechin 1634–1635; Galloway 1635–1638 Dunblane

Yes

Brechin

Yes

Yes

No

Other secular positions

Date of death 1643– 1647 February 1658 April 1634 8 September 1671

Teind commission; 14 justice of the peace; February extraordinary lord 1641 of session Teind commission; 29 commission of September council for 1663 Service Book 23 September 1639 Justice of the peace 1647

Sources: as Table 4.1.

of the privy council, for instance, show that he was active in suppressing Catholicism through commissions and organised the Protestant education of children of suspected papists.18 Whether such actions would have spared him the accusations and insults that were thrown at his colleagues in 1638 cannot be known, as he had died three years before. As will be seen below, however, it would not be unreasonable to assume that his low attendance at the privy council would have been beneficial to him had he survived.

Charles I, 1625–37 (Chicago, Ill., 1985), pp. 64–5. Unfortunately, there is no space here to investigate the activity of individual bishops within their dioceses. 18 RPC, 2nd ser., III, pp. 233, 246. 65

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Table 4.3.  Bishops’ attendance on Charles I’s privy council, February 1626 to November 1638 Monarch Date of Number Average at first entry to of sessions annual Diocese appointment privy council attended attendance Dunblane; James March 1626 613 47 Aberdeen David Lindsay Brechin; James July 1634 159 32 Edinburgh Thomas Sydserff Brechin; Charles January 1637 59 30 Galloway Edinburgh Charles February 1634 5 30 William Forbes19 John Maxwell Ross Charles December 1633 133 27 Walter Whitford Brechin Charles June 1636 81 27 Patrick Lindsay Ross; James March 1626 342 26 Glasgow John Spottiswoode St Andrews James March 1626 317 24 John Leslie The Isles Charles April 1631 107 13 John Guthrie Moray James December 1633 54 11 Alexander Lindsay Dunkeld James March 1626 149 11 Patrick Forbes Aberdeen James March 1626 25 2 James Law Glasgow James March 1626 28 2 Neil Campbell The Isles Charles December 1637 1 1 Name of bishop Adam Bellenden

Source: RPC.

The most active participant on Charles’s privy council was the Jacobean prelate Adam Bellenden, bishop of Dunblane from 1616 to 1635 and bishop of Aberdeen from 1635 to 1638. Bellenden was a man of complex and changing loyalties. In 1606 he had signed a protest against the reintroduction of episcopacy, along with the future bishop of Caithness, John Abernethy.20 Nine years later Bellenden attacked George Graham for accepting the bishopric of Orkney: I see nothing in thee but thou art a mensworn man; thou art the excrements of all the ministrie; and thou hes imbraced the excrements of all the bishopricks in Scotland; if the brethren would follow my counsel, we should presentlie give thee over to the devil; but because they pitie thee, let this advertisement move

William Forbes was on the privy council for just two months before he died. Hew Scott (ed.), Fasti Ecclesiae Scoticanae: The Succession of Ministers in the Church of Scotland from the Reformation, 5 vols (2nd edn, Edinburgh, 1915), I, p. 205.

19 20

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thee, that thou mayest cast off that unlawfull place and calling, whilk thou has taken thee to.21

Such sentiments did not last long, however, and just a year later in 1616 Bellenden had accepted his own appointment to the bishopric of Dunblane. Once appointed, Bellenden accepted the position with open arms and consistently pursued his advancement. In 1634, for instance, he sought to be transferred to the newly created bishopric of Edinburgh upon the death of William Forbes, only to be overlooked in favour of David Lindsay, then bishop of Brechin. This lack of promotion appears to have been because Bellenden had not said prayers according to the English liturgy as dean of the chapel royal.22 Disappointed with the outcome, Bellenden tried to appease both the king and his leading ecclesiastical adviser, William Laud, archbishop of Canterbury. Having previously refused to wear a white surplice in the chapel royal, as well as omitting to cover parts of the English liturgy, Bellenden changed tactics and publicly adopted the surplice, gaining praise from Laud.23 The wearing of the surplice was contentious, and it has been argued that the ‘older’ bishops were more resistant to such practices than their ‘younger’ colleagues.24 Bellenden’s actions show that this was not necessarily the case. Having been noted by Laud for his conformity, Bellenden was transferred from the bishopric of Dunblane to Aberdeen.25 Bellenden’s compliance did not last long, however. Being unimpressed with the move north, he retaliated by allowing a public fast in his diocese ‘contrary to the rules of Christianity, and all the ancient canons of the Church’ – an action which once again incurred the displeasure of Laud and Charles.26 Bellenden was an active member of the privy council and served the councils of both James and Charles from 1621 onwards. From 1626 to 1638 Bellenden attended the privy council 613 times – an average annual attendance of 47 sessions. Bellenden’s attendance was the highest of any bishop by far (Table 4.3). In comparison, Alexander Lindsay, bishop of Dunkeld and a privy councillor for the same amount of time, attended only 149 sessions. Even after being transferred to Aberdeen in 1635, Bellenden still managed to attend the privy council 103 times between 1635 and 1637. This eagerness to attend the council could explain his reluctance to move north in the first place.

Row, History, p. 305. See also Mullan, Episcopacy in Scotland, p. 115. William Laud, The Works of the Most Reverend Father in God, William Laud, 7 vols, eds W. Scott and J. Bliss (London, 1847–60), VI, pp. 370–1. 23 Laura A. M. Stewart, Urban Politics and the British Civil Wars: Edinburgh, 1617–53 (Leiden, 2006), p. 214; Laud, Works, VI, p. 409. 24 Snow, Times, Life and Thought of Patrick Forbes, p. 97. 25 Laud, Works, VI, p. 419. 26 Laud, Works, VI, p. 443. 21 22

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Bellenden’s name was consistently linked to commissions that dealt with varied secular affairs. As well as sitting on the commission for grievances and the commission for surrenders and teinds, discussed further below, Bellenden was also active in the raising of regiments for service abroad, in printing laws and acts of parliament, and in organising the king’s household in Scotland.27 Although his attentiveness to the privy council meant that he was generally absent from his dioceses, Bellenden was still concerned with religious issues. He examined Jesuits in 1627, and put his name to a letter to Charles that praised the monarch for his zeal in procuring a ‘uniformitie in religioun’ through the education of sons of Catholic noblemen.28 He also subscribed to an act that would examine the overseeing of punishment for acts such as fornication, drunkenness and Sabbath breaking in the parishes.29 He was active on numerous commissions that dealt with witchcraft – both delegating others to oversee trials and acting as a commissioner himself.30 All bishops on the privy council were involved in similar projects, but none worked on the scale that Bellenden did. Adam Bellenden epitomised the blurring of boundaries between the secular and the religious realms and represented a clear encroachment into the traditional sphere of influence of the Scottish nobility. Following the general assembly of 1638, Bellenden was described as a man who had ‘turned with the tymes, and had given brybes to get himself preferred to be bishopp, and had turned as violently to the other extreme’.31 Bellenden was thus the archetypal object of presbyterian and noble hatred. Although it could be argued that he spread himself too thinly to be truly effective in secular roles,32 his attendance on the privy council clearly indicates that the animosity against bishops acting in the secular sphere was well founded. Bellenden’s actions were provocative and apparently self-serving – and he was a Jacobean not a Caroline bishop. Bellenden was not the only bishop with diverse interests. The interests and skills of individual bishops no doubt had a bearing on the scale and type of their secular dealings. David Lindsay, for instance, bishop of Brechin and Edinburgh, and like Bellenden a Jacobean bishop, was particularly active with issues involving coinage and the mint during his time on the privy council.33 In other cases, the motivations and intentions of the bishops

RPC, 2nd ser., I, p. 247; II, pp. 365, 385. Ibid., I, p. 490; III, p. 126. 29 Ibid., I, pp. xvii, 93. 30 Ibid., I, pp. 108, 509. 31 James Gordon, History of Scots Affairs, from 1637 to 1641, 3 vols, eds Joseph Robertson and George Grub (Spalding Club, 1841), II, p. 133. 32 This point is made about the bishops generally by Lee, Road to Revolution, p. 199. It was also part of the contemporary critique of them by Sir James Balfour: see the epigraph to this chapter. 33 RPC, 2nd ser., I, pp. 630–1; III, p. 464; V, p. 230; VI, p. 509. 27 28

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involved in secular matters were less clear. John Spottiswoode, archbishop of St Andrews, for instance, was given considerable secular responsibility during Charles’s reign. One of James’s earliest episcopal appointments, Spottiswoode amassed several secular positions from 1625 onwards, including being the president of the exchequer, president of the commission for grievances, and president of the commission for surrenders and teinds. Having been given precedence by Charles over the chancellor in the reconstruction of the privy council in 1626, Spottiswoode’s pre-eminence was further sealed in 1635 when he was made chancellor himself.34 Such attention and privilege in the secular realm was ‘thocht strange’, especially because his son Sir Robert Spottiswoode had just become lord president of the college of justice.35 As with Bellenden and other bishop councillors, Spottiswoode was involved in various privy council causes, including the examination of Jesuits and witch trials.36 Spottiswoode’s attendance at council sessions, however, was half that of Bellenden’s, attending on average only twenty-four sessions a year between 1626 and 1638. This can either be read as a reflection of his many duties, or as an attempt by Spottiswoode to allay the accusations of secular usurpation that his numerous appointments attracted. The ambiguity of Spottiswoode’s career increases when it is noted that he was not entirely enthusiastic over an Anglicised Scottish church. His support for the introduction of the Prayer Book, for instance, was a result of his loyalty to the crown rather than a deep-seated religious belief that such changes were necessary.37 Such misgivings were irrelevant, however, from the perspective of the noble and presbyterian opposition. His highly placed secular offices and his eventual acquiescence with the new liturgy only served to emphasise his position as a civil servant of absolutism. Although, the examples of Bellenden and Spottiswoode show that Henry Guthry’s distinction between the ‘younger’ and ‘older’ bishops is too simplistic for the bishops of 1625–38, the perception that the ‘younger’ bishops were more ambitious and antagonistic must have come from somewhere. A likely source is John Maxwell, bishop of Ross from 1633, who was seen as a particularly ambitious upstart. His aspirations to secular posts such as privy councillor, lord of exchequer, an extraordinary lord of session, and even treasurer, were well known among his contemporaries.38 Maxwell was admitted to the privy council in 1633 following his appointment to the

Ibid., I, pp. li, 252; V, pp. 452–3; R. S. Rait, The Parliaments of Scotland (Glasgow, 1924), p. 509. 35 John Spalding, Memorialls of the Trubles in Scotland and England, 1624–1645, 2 vols, ed. John Stuart (Spalding Club, 1850–1), I, p. 57. 36 RPC, 2nd ser., I, pp. 491, 453, 456. 37 A. S. Wayne Pearce, ‘Spottiswoode, John (1565–1639)’, ODNB. 38 Guthry, Memoirs, pp. 16–17; Baillie, Letters and Journals, I, p. 7. 34

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see of Ross.39 In the assembly of 1638, he was accused of having ‘involved himself wholly into secular affaires, and was become a constant attender of the Kings court or councell’.40 This referred to his frequent trips to London during the 1630s (discussed further below), rather than to his attendance on the privy council, which, because of his trips south, was not particularly high. During his five-year tenure as a privy councillor, he attended sessions on average twenty-seven times a year. This was a greater attendance than Spottiswoode but still significantly less than that of Adam Bellenden. III Adam Bellenden and John Maxwell were obviously acting individually and according to their own interests. The bishops also provoked noble and presbyterian enmity, however, through collective activity. Significant points of contention in this case were the commission for grievances and the commission for surrenders and teinds. Both commissions were controversial, a state that was heightened by the high-profile involvement of the bishops. Spottiswoode, for instance, was president of the commission for grievances,41 and although he initially declined the presidency of the commission for surrenders and teinds, he eventually accepted it in 1628.42 Even bishops who were not members of the privy council sat on these commissions (Tables 4.1 and 4.2), effectively expanding the secular reaches of the episcopate as a whole. Established to deal with malpractice in government, the commission for grievances was based on an earlier example established by James VI that had dealt primarily with monopolies and patents.43 Neither James’s nor Charles’s commission was viewed favourably. James Balfour, for instance, described Charles’s commission as ‘nothing els bot the star-chamber courte of England … come doune hier to play the tyrant’.44 In the end, the commission was short-lived, and although only four bishops were involved, it should be noted that all four were appointed to the episcopacy before 1625.45 Meanwhile, though, several bishops were involved with commissions on trade monopolies separate from the commission for grievances and providing further examples of religious encroachment into secular affairs. Adam Bellenden, to cite just one example, signed a commission that made Robert Buchan, RPC, 2nd ser., V, pp. 156–7. Gordon, History of Scots Affairs, II, p. 134–5. 41 Goodare, ‘Nobility and the Absolutist State’, p. 178. 42 RPC, 2nd ser., I, p. 574; II, p. 323. 43 Allan I. Macinnes, Charles I and the Making of the Covenanting Movement, 1625–1641 (Edinburgh, 1991), pp. 41, 51. 44 Balfour, Historical Works, II, p. 131. 45 These bishops were Adam Bellenden, James Law, Patrick Lindsay and John Spottiswoode. 39 40

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burgess of Aberdeen, the sole lessee and manager of the pearl fisheries in the waters of Aberdeenshire, Ross, Sutherland and Strathnaver.46 If the commission for grievances was not popular, the commission for surrenders and teinds proved even more controversial. Established in 1627 as part of Charles’s divisive revocation scheme and considered a significant contributor to the outbreak of civil war, the ‘teind commission’ epitomised the increased tension between the clerical and noble factions over secular power.47 The commission was established to exercise the right of the monarch to rescind grants of lands made during a royal minority, protecting the monarch from acts of misgovernment made in his name. Charles was by no means the first Scottish king to exercise this right, but he was unusual in his declaration that he would revoke grants made from 1540 onwards and would include grants made during a monarch’s majority as well as any made before the monarch came of age.48 This meant that all landowners, both secular and religious, would have their ownership questioned and their land was at risk of being transferred to the crown. The commission established to conduct the revocation was made up of sixty-eight members, only ten of whom were bishops at any one time. For any decision to be ratified, however, and for that decision to take effect, a quorum of three representatives from each estate (nobility, clergy, shire commissioners and burgesses) was necessary.49 This system enhanced the power of the bishops despite their low numbers. Such quorums had been in use during James’s reign; as with the commission for grievances, they indicate a continuity of policy between the two monarchs.50 Fourteen of the twenty-one bishops during this period were members of the teind commission. Contrary to the perception that the younger bishops were the powerhungry ones, only two of the Caroline bishops, John Maxwell and Walter Whitford, were on the commission, while Thomas Knox, bishop of the Isles, was the only Jacobean bishop not to be involved (Tables 4.1 and 4.2).51 The bishops’ response to the revocation scheme raises two apparently contradictory points. The first is that the bishops had inherited the early Reformers’ idea that all the extensive lands and teinds of the pre-Reformation church belonged in principle to its Protestant successor – yet most of these lands and teinds had in practice been secularised during the sixteenth century. The revocation proposed to reform the teind system and to raise the real income of many parish ministers, but at the price of recognising the sixteenth-century secularisation as permanent. The bishops were relucRPC, 2nd ser., I, pp. 95–7. RPC, 2nd ser., I, p. 510; Macinnes, Charles I and the Making of the Covenanting Movement, ch. 3. 48 Lee, Road to Revolution, pp. 10, 16. 49 Macinnes, Charles I and the Making of the Covenanting Movement, p. 58. 50 Goodare, ‘Nobility and the Absolutist State’, p. 177. 51 Knox died at some point between 1627 and 1628. 46 47

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tant to pay this price. Archbishop James Law urged that the actions of the commission should not ‘prejudge the church’.52 Secondly, the bishops’ relationship with the crown, their role as civil servants of absolutism, and their dependence on the crown’s patronage, meant that any act of disobedience regarding the revocation had to be limited in order not to threaten this relationship. These conflicting objectives go some way to explaining the bishops’ actions regarding the teind commission. Although bishops were involved from the start of the commission, none were particularly active. Andrew Boyd, bishop of Argyll, for instance, failed to appear for a meeting of the commission at the beginning of 1629 and was accused of neglecting his responsibility to nominate sub-commissioners for the investigation into teinds.53 In 1633 he failed to appear again, and was ordered to attend the next meeting under ‘pane of rebellioun’, along with Alexander Lindsay and John Abernethy, bishops of Dunblane and Caithness respectively.54 Boyd was not a member of the privy council and was noted for his dedication to his diocese, which might explain his absenteeism.55 However, Adam Bellenden, the most active of the prelates in secular circles, was also berated for absence, along with Alexander Lindsay, David Lindsay and John Abernethy, in November 1631.56 With his obvious interest in government and secular workings, Bellenden’s absence from this commission is telling and supports the notion that the church was anxious to protect its assets – a point further illustrated by Bellenden’s visit to Charles to protest that the revocation would eradicate the church’s right to the teinds.57 In 1636, four more bishops failed to appear when required – of whom two had been appointed bishops before 1625 and two had been appointed after.58 Once again, no clear division between the Jacobean and Caroline bishops was apparent. The bishops’ lack of enthusiasm for the revocation is notable, given that it was royal policy. Charles’s bishops, like James’s, were in general obedient servants of their king.59 The earl of Melrose, hostile to the revocation, felt that the general silence of the bishops represented a fear that they did not want to incur ‘his Maiestie’s displeasure and the dislyke of all

John Connell, A Treatise on the Law of Scotland Respecting Tithes, and the Stipends of the Parochial Clergy, 2 vols (2nd edn, Edinburgh, 1830), II, p. 79. 53 RPC, 2nd ser., III, pp. 87–8. 54 Ibid., V, p. 32. 55 Jamie Reid-Baxter, ‘Mr Andrew Boyd (1567–1636): A Neo-Stoic Bishop of Argyll and his Writings’, in Julian Goodare and Alasdair A. MacDonald (eds), Sixteenth-Century Scotland: Essays in Honour of Michael Lynch (Leiden, 2008), pp. 395–425, at p. 406. 56 RPC, 2nd ser., IV, p. 348. 57 Lee, Road to Revolution, p. 49. 58 RPC, 2nd ser., VI, p. 192. 59 Mullan, Episcopacy in Scotland, p. 123. 52

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the good subjects of the kingdome’.60 It is possible that the bishops’ reluctance to support the revocation reflected their knowledge that opposition to the scheme was great and that its likelihood of success was slim; reporting failure to the king would then damage the royal and episcopal relationship. Their lack of attendance and motivation did incur Charles’s displeasure, however. A more realistic view, therefore, as demonstrated by Lindsay and Bellenden, would be that the bishops were more concerned with protecting their own and the church’s interests than with their obedience to the crown. By delaying the implementation of the commission the bishops were refusing to abandon their long-term (if unrealistic) claim to even more land and resources than the revocation scheme was promising them. Despite their apparent lack of enthusiasm, the commission for grievances and the commission for surrenders and teinds expanded the opportunity for bishops to be involved in secular government. Of the six bishops who were not on the privy council, for instance, four were on the commission for surrenders and teinds. Not all of these bishops embraced their secular roles, however. Andrew Lamb, bishop of Galloway from 1619, was involved in the commission for surrenders and teinds but he was not particularly energetic in the secular realm, a result perhaps of his blindness towards the end of his life. This lack of secular activity should not be taken as sign that he was particularly devoted to his diocese, however, as he spent most of his time in Leith, rather than Galloway, before his death in 1634.61 Similarly, although John Abernethy was bishop of Caithness from 1616, he appears to have spent most of his time in Jedburgh – whether this was because of lack of funds or to escape the troubled atmosphere of his diocese, it is unclear.62 He was ordered to Caithness in July 1629 ‘there to remain and attend his charge as he will answere upon the contrarie at his perrell’.63 Less than a year later, however, he was summoned back to Edinburgh to attend the commission for surrenders and teinds – a task that, as seen, he was less than enthusiastic about.64 In a few cases, a bishop’s apparent lack of interest in secular roles did represent an interest in the well-being of his diocese. Andrew Boyd, bishop of Argyll, was one of the few bishops to spend most of his time within his diocese. Although he was involved with the commission for surrenders and teinds, he does not appear to have been particularly interested in integrating himself with wider secular politics. This secular inactivity, the dedication to his diocese, and the fact that he died before the general assembly in 1638

Thomas, earl of Melrose, to Robert, earl of Roxburgh, 6 March 1627, Memorials of the Earls of Haddington, 2 vols, ed. William Fraser (Edinburgh, 1889), II, p. 149. 61 Sharon Adams, ‘Lamb, Andrew (1565?–1634)’, ODNB. 62 Todd, ‘Bishops in the Kirk’, pp. 309–10; Lee, Road to Revolution, p. 62. 63 RPC, 2nd ser., III, p. 248. 64 Ibid., III, p. 570. 60

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meant he was spared the vitriol directed at his colleagues.65 George Graham, bishop of Orkney, was also a member of the commission for surrenders and teinds, but again the references to him in the privy council records imply that he was more concerned with his diocese and its inhabitants than with secular affairs. In 1634 he appealed to the council on two separate occasions to consider relieving the distress of the inhabitants of Orkney and Shetland, and a year later was part of a commission to investigate these issues.66 Lamb, Abernethy, Boyd and Graham had all been appointed before 1625 and none of them were on the privy council. It is these men, perhaps, who acted as the basis for the perception that Jacobean bishops were older, wiser and less controversial than their Caroline colleagues. Only two of the bishops appointed after 1625 were excluded from both the privy council and the two commissions discussed above. James Wedderburn and James Fairlie were appointed to the bishoprics of Dunblane and Argyll in 1636 and 1637 respectively, by which point both the commissions had lost their sense of urgency. Reference to James Fairlie is largely absent from contemporary comment, suggesting that he did not overly antagonise presbyterian and secular circles. The career of James Wedderburn, however, highlights a prominent and contentious issue of the period – the introduction of the Prayer Book in 1637. Although the Prayer Book was primarily a religious issue, its ramifications for the Scottish episcopacy and its political role as a catalyst for revolution and civil war means that it would be remiss to exclude it entirely from the present study. IV An examination of which bishops were involved (or perceived to be involved) with the new liturgy of the 1630s introduces interesting patterns when considering how provocative or antagonistic individual bishops were of their contemporaries. Efforts to reform the Scottish liturgy had been made as early as 1601, when it was suggested that amendments be made to the Psalm Book.67 James’s Five Articles of Perth of 1618 had caused further problems, as they attempted to introduce contentious practices such as kneeling for communion.68 Guthry’s interpretation of the events of the 1630s was that the ‘older’ Jacobean bishops had learned from the furore surrounding James’s introduction of the Articles of Perth and that they were hesitant to make further innovations. The ‘younger’ bishops, however, such as Thomas

Reid-Baxter, ‘Mr Andrew Boyd’, p. 406. RPC, 2nd ser., V, pp. 284, 331; VI, p. 39. 67 Gordon Donaldson, The Making of the Scottish Prayer Book of 1637 (Edinburgh, 1954), p. 31. 68 Stewart, Urban Politics, pp. 176–82. 65 66

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Sydserff who in 1637 was bishop of Galloway, were keen to promote the new liturgy.69 James Wedderburn was a prominent example of Caroline enthusiasm for the new liturgy. Despite not being on the privy council, Wedderburn can be definitively categorised as one of the provocative bishops thanks to this liturgical activity and interest. Prior to his appointment to the see of Dunblane in 1636, Wedderburn had sent Laud some suggestions for the liturgy.70 His connection with the Prayer Book, and his associations with the Church of England,71 mean that it can be surmised that he was one of the few bishops who was deposed for wholly religious reasons rather than secular ones in 1638. Wedderburn’s Caroline colleague, John Maxwell, was also prominently linked with the Prayer Book. Maxwell became bishop of Ross in 1633 but had been linked to the new liturgy as early as 1629 when Charles revived his father’s religious policy.72 Maxwell was known for his close association with Laud, and played a central role in bringing news of the Prayer Book from London to Scotland.73 As seen, his secular ambition was duly noted by his contemporaries, and his pro-episcopal and royalist tracts written after his deposition in 1638 earned him a declaration of treason from the Scottish parliament in 1641.74 The majority of the other bishops, both Jacobean and Caroline, were also implicated in some way with the Prayer Book. To give just two examples, Patrick Lindsay, archbishop of Glasgow, and supposedly one of the ‘wise old bishops’,75 threatened his ministers with horning (outlawry) if they did not buy the requisite two copies of the Prayer Book.76 At the time of the deposition, Lindsay’s Jacobean colleague, Adam Bellenden, was accused of having ‘obtruded upon the ministrye the Book of Canons and Service Booke’.77 Such accusations should not be taken at face value, however, as it cannot be said for certain to what degree these men actually embraced the liturgical changes signalled by the Prayer Book as the majority of the evidence left to posterity regarding this issue was recorded by their presbyterian opponents.78 Guthry, Memoirs, pp. 21, 18. Cf. Joong-Lak Kim, ‘The Scottish–English–Roman Book: The Character of the Scottish Prayer Book of 1637’, in Michael J. Braddick and David L. Smith (eds), The Experience of Revolution in Stuart Britain and Ireland: Essays for John Morrill (Cambridge, 2011), pp. 14–32, at p. 20. 70 Laud, Works, VI, p. 456. 71 Mullan, Episcopacy in Scotland, pp. 170–1; Kim, ‘Scottish–English–Roman Book’, pp. 23–4. 72 Donaldson, Making of the Scottish Prayer Book, p. 41. 73 Baillie, Letters and Journals, I, p. 4. 74 A. S. Wayne Pearce, ‘Maxwell, John (d. 1647)’, ODNB. 75 Guthry, Memoirs, p. 21. 76 Baillie, Letters and Journals, I, p. 19. 77 Gordon, History of Scots Affairs, II, p. 133. 78 Michael Lynch, ‘Preaching to the Converted? Perspectives on the Scottish Reformation’, in A. A. MacDonald, Michael Lynch and Ian B. Cowan (eds), The 69

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With the exception of Wedderburn, the bishops who were not intimately connected with the new liturgy were also the ones who were not particularly active within the secular sphere. According to John Spalding’s account of the 1630s, bishops John Abernethy, George Graham, Alexander Lindsay and James Fairlie were all ‘against thir seruice bookis’.79 Of these four, only Lindsay had been on the privy council, and his attendance was low. In other accounts of events leading up to 1637 these four bishops, along with Neil Campbell, bishop of the Isles, were conspicuous by their absence.80 Of these five bishops, Abernethy, Lindsay and Graham had been ordained during James’s reign while Campbell and Fairlie were Caroline bishops. It cannot be automatically assumed, therefore, that the younger bishops all supported the Prayer Book. V From this collective analysis of the Scottish bishops, various patterns emerge. Although the threat posed by individual bishops to secular authority varied, concern among the nobles over the collective secular activity of the Scottish episcopate was clearly justified. Between 1625 and 1638 the bishops, both ‘younger’ and ‘older’, who participated in secular affairs significantly outnumbered those who did not. The general assembly of 1638 ensured that all fourteen bishops lost ‘not only the office of Commissionaire to vote in Parliament, Councell or Convention in name of the Kirk, but also of all functions whether pretended Episcopall or ministerial calling’.81 Nine of the bishops refused to submit to the authority of the assembly and were subsequently excommunicated. Of these nine Adam Bellenden, David Lindsay, Patrick Lindsay, John Guthrie and John Spottiswoode had been consecrated during James’s reign, while John Maxwell, Thomas Sydserff, James Wedderburn and Walter Whitford were Caroline bishops. Eight of the excommunicated bishops fled Scotland.82 Of these, John Maxwell, having alienated the respect of his fellow countrymen through Renaissance in Scotland: Studies in Literature, Religion, History and Culture Offered to John Durkan (Leiden, 1994), pp. 301–43, at pp. 301–2. See also Mullan, Episcopacy in Scotland, pp. 134–5. 79 Spalding, Memorialls, I, p. 88. 80 Neil Campbell was a member of the privy council but only attended one session before the 1638 assembly: RPC, 2nd ser., VI, p. 549. 81 Records of the Kirk of Scotland, 1638 Downwards, ed. Alexander Peterkin (Edinburgh, 1838), p. 27. 82 The exception, John Guthrie, bishop of Moray, barricaded himself in Spynie Castle until he was forced to surrender in 1640 and spent a period in the Edinburgh Tolbooth. Freed in 1641, he went into retirement, dying in 1649. A. S. Wayne Pearce, ‘Guthrie, John (d. 1649)’, ODNB. 76

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his religious tracts, retained Charles’s favour. He became bishop of Killala and Achonry in Ireland in 1640, served as royal chaplain to Charles in Oxford, and then became Archbishop of Tuam in 1645. He died in 1647.83 John Spottiswoode, James Wedderburn and David Lindsay were all dead by 1640.84 Adam Bellenden and Walter Whitford became ministers in England, and both had died by 1648.85 Thomas Sydserff, having attended Charles briefly in the 1640s, was the only bishop who survived until the restoration of episcopacy in Scotland in 1661. He was made bishop of Orkney, but remained in Edinburgh rather than going to his diocese, dying in 1663.86 Of the nine excommunicated bishops only Wedderburn had not been on the privy council or heavily involved in secular affairs. His role in the Prayer Book and refusal to acknowledge the power of the assembly was cause enough for his excommunication, however. The other eight excommunicates, both Jacobean and Caroline, were all connected in some way with the episcopal encroachment into secular government, and all of them had been members of the privy council. Having been stripped of their episcopal title and position John Abernethy, George Graham, Alexander Lindsay, James Fairlie and Neil Campbell acknowledged and submitted to the assembly’s authority, thus saving themselves from the added punishment of excommunication.87 These five, a mixture of Jacobean and Caroline bishops, were allowed to return to being parish ministers.88 Although Alexander Lindsay and Neil Campbell had been on the privy council, their secular activity was minimal in comparison with their excommunicated colleagues. Robert Baillie’s observation that more bishops would have submitted to the authority of the assembly had it not been for the ‘fear of the King’s wrath’ is an important point that must have had at least some bearing on the individual reactions of the bishops who had relied on Charles’s good-

Pearce, ‘Maxwell, John’. Pearce, ‘Spottiswoode, John’; A. S. Wayne Pearce, ‘Wedderburn, James (1585–1639)’, ODNB; David Stevenson, ‘Lindsay, David (c.1575–1639/40)’, ODNB. 85 A. B. Grosart, ‘Bellenden, Adam (c.1572–1648)’ rev. Alan R. MacDonald, ODNB; Spalding, Memorialls, II, p. 137; E. I. Carlyle, ‘Whitford, Walter (d.1647)’, rev. Sean Kelsey, ODNB. 86 Sharon Adams, ‘Sydserff, Thomas (1581–1663)’, ODNB. 87 Gordon, History of Scots Affairs, II, pp. 162–3; see also Alexander Lindsay, The Recantation and Hvmble Svbmission of Two Ancient Prelates of the Kingdome of Scotland; Subscribed by their own Hands and Sent to the General Assembly. As Also, the Act of the said Assemblie, Condemning Episcopacy and Other Abuses Which are Contrary to the Word of God, and the Laws of the Church and Kingdome ([Edinburgh,] 1641). 88 Balfour, Historical Works, II, p. 31; L. G. Graeme (ed.), ‘Some Letters and Correspondence of George Graham, Bishop of Dunblane and of Orkney, 1602–1638’, SHS Misc. II (1904), pp. 229–67, at p. 242; Gordon, History of Scots Affairs, II, p. 163; Fasti, I, p. 329; IV, p. 481. 83 84

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will.89 For the five who acknowledged the assembly, thus turning their back on royal patronage, Charles’s retribution could not, and did not, extend to their new ministries in Scotland. For those who fled to England, however, although Charles’s reaction was perhaps muted by the events that swiftly followed 1638, it is apparent that he still bestowed or removed his royal favour as he saw fit. As seen from the paths of John Maxwell and Thomas Sydserff, those who were vocal in their support of the king and his liturgy and who immediately denied the authority of the assembly were rewarded with further appointments and privileges. Similarly, Walter Whitford, who had already fled to England by the time of the deposition, was rewarded for his loyalty by an appointment to the English ministry, nominated by Charles himself.90 Patrick Lindsay, archbishop of Glasgow, however, hesitated to either deny or accept the authority of the general assembly, and his lack of response resulted in his excommunication. Eventually he fled to England, but, unlike Whitford, Sydserff and Maxwell, he died in poverty and obscurity in York in 1644.91 Related to this issue of royal retribution and patronage is the equally significant fact that submitting to the assembly would have meant that the bishops would have lost the secular power and authority that they had been accumulating as a body and as individuals since the reign of James VI. Those who denied the authority of the assembly were also those who had the most secular power to lose if they bowed to the assembly’s demands. Such authority and prestige was retained by very few of the exiled bishops, but this was not an outcome they would have predicted when they fled south. Charles’s government welcomed and encouraged bishops to involve themselves in secular roles. The extent to which each individual bishop did so was determined by his own interests and personality. The reactions of the bishops to the rise and fall of episcopacy were dictated not by their Jacobean or Caroline origins, but by their personal motivations, interests and ambitions. Although information is scarce, it is clear that some were particularly interested in pursuing their secular as well as their religious ambitions. It was these ambitions, and not how long they had been in the episcopate, which determined the extent of their secular involvement and ultimately, their fate at the 1638 general assembly.

89 90 91

Baillie, Letters and Journals, I, p. 151. Carlyle, ‘Whitford, Walter’; see also Spalding, Memorialls, II, p. 137. David Stevenson, ‘Lindsay, Patrick (1566–1644)’, ODNB. 78

5

The Scottish Revolution JULIAN GOODARE

’Tis he that’s cloathed with light, and dwels in thunder, Displayes this gratious Year, great Year of wonder: A yeare, which shall unto all nations be A common talk, This our felicitie Shall be the measure of their souls desire, And patterne of their wishes, when th’aspire At such joy, peace, harmonie, and blesse As this Great year of our Great Covenant is In which are opened the eyes of Nations all.… For after yeares from hence shall date their tyme In Almanackes, and in our historie This year of joy gold letters shall descry.1

To understand seventeenth-century Scotland it is essential to understand the revolution that occurred in the middle years of the century.2 That revolution casts long shadows backwards and forwards through the period, with some of its origins readily detectable at the beginning of the century and even before, and with its effects working their way through the whole of the rest of it. As early as 1596, the attempted coup d’état of that year has distinct parallels with the events of 1637–38.3 As late as 1707, there could have been no union of parliaments with England if the revolution had not secured parliament’s place in the Scottish constitution. As the example of the union illustrates, the T. H., The Beautie of the Remarkable Year of Grace, 1638, the Yeare of the Great Covenant of Scotland (Edinburgh, 1638 [STC 960:04]), sig. A2. 2 I am grateful to Professor David Stevenson for his detailed and insightful comments on an earlier draft of this chapter. Versions of it were presented at the conference that initiated this volume, and at the Fourth International Conference on Hierarchy and Power in the History of Civilisations, Russian Academy of Sciences and Russian State University for the Humanities, Moscow. I am grateful to the audiences on both occasions for helpful comments. 3 Julian Goodare, ‘The Attempted Scottish Coup of 1596’, in Julian Goodare and Alasdair A. MacDonald (eds), Sixteenth-Century Scotland: Essays in Honour of Michael Lynch (Leiden, 2008), pp. 311–36. 1

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importance of the revolution extends into many other fields of history beyond the narrative histoire événementielle – fiscal history, religious history and the history of political thought are some other examples. The term ‘Scottish Revolution’ was launched by David Stevenson in a celebrated book of 1973.4 It was inspired by English historians’ recent adoption of the term ‘English Revolution’. Previously there had been occasional mention of the ‘Presbyterian Revolution’, evidently on the model of the earlier English ‘Puritan Revolution’.5 These new terms drew attention to the wide-ranging character of the revolutionary transformation: it was not just about religion, but also about political and social change. However, although these terms have been generally accepted, not all scholars who have used them have reflected explicitly on their meaning. Hence this chapter. This is not another retelling of the story of the revolution. Initially at least, it is an exercise in definition of terms. To understand the Scottish Revolution it is essential to understand what revolution is – or at least what revolution was in early modern Europe. Any universal definition loses historical specificity. The Spartan Revolution of 227 BCE and the Chinese Revolution of 1949 have some things in common with one another and with the Scottish Revolution of 1638, but detailed comparison is unlikely to be fruitful. We need to analyse and explain the Scottish Revolution as a recognisable event arising from its political and cultural context, and one way of doing this is to compare it with other similar events. The chapter, therefore, begins with a diagnostic definition that can distinguish early modern revolutions from other events, confirming that the Scottish Revolution does in fact qualify as one, and forming a starting-point for a comparative discussion of it. I A revolution is a seizure of political power in a state. It is resisted by the previous regime, often by force, but overcomes the resistance successfully with the aid of popular mobilisation. Revolutionaries appeal to a distinct ideology of reform or renewal, which is in practice innovatory. The establishment of the revolutionary regime is accompanied by large-scale and deliberate restructuring of the political system, and is sometimes followed by wider social and economic change. This definition thus contains some mandatory elements – seizure and redistribution of power, revolutionary ideology, popular mobilisation – and some optional extras – social and economic change.6 4 David Stevenson, The Scottish Revolution, 1637–44: The Triumph of the Covenanters (Newton Abbot, 1973). 5 E.g. J. D. Mackie, A History of Scotland (Harmondsworth, 1964), ch. 11. 6 This definition owes much to E. J. Hobsbawm, ‘Revolution’, in Roy Porter and Mikulas Teich (eds), Revolution in History (Cambridge, 1986), pp. 5–46. Professor Hobsbawm warns that precise definitions can be counter-productive, and prefers to see revolution as a

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This attempt at diagnostic definition gains in precision if we consider what revolution is not. In particular, revolution is something more than coup d’état or usurpation. Such an event will occur without popular mobilisation, and probably with few changes to the structure of politics.7 Indeed a list of coups might well include events that are not really abnormal to the political system in which they occur.8 Comparative attention could also be directed here to sudden and violent changes of government policy that did not exactly ‘seize’ power but which came close to establishing a new regime.9 Revolution is also distinct from civil war.10 Civil war may precede revolution, with the revolution being constituted by the rebels’ victory (if they do win).11 The insurrection itself must be internal – if a foreign power invades a country and imposes a new regime, we call that conquest and not revolution – but it can be accompanied by foreign intervention. Another type of prerevolutionary war is one in which a regime’s defeat by a foreign power provides the opportunity for revolution.12 Civil war can occur without revolution (or even rebellion), just as revolution can occur without civil war. The clearest early modern examples are wars of succession, in which each side calls the other ‘rebels’ or ‘traitors’. The end of such a war may produce some restructuring of the political system, but it is unlikely to be fundamental enough to qualify as a revolution. Rival claimants to a throne usually want simply to capture the throne.13 As for revolutions without civil war: the seizure of power by the Scottish Revolution in 1638 is a prime example of a coercive but non-lethal transfer of power. It was paralleled in this by the English Revolution in 1640. However, the Scottish Revolution did not remain peaceful for long. Many revolutions are followed by revolutionary wars – civil wars, external wars,

‘syndrome’ – a varying collection of symptoms with no single central feature; but these seem to be the key symptoms, at least in the early modern period. For another definition of ‘state breakdown and revolution’ relying on a collection of symptoms, see Jack A. Goldstone, Revolution and Rebellion in the Early Modern World (Berkeley, Calif., 1991), pp. 10–11. Although I have aimed for more precision than a ‘syndrome’, I have incorporated flexibility in my definition through the words ‘often’ and ‘sometimes’. 7 A coup could become a revolution by subsequent popular mobilisation, but this does not seem to have been a common early modern pattern. 8 No historian has called the usurpation of Richard III in England, or the Ruthven Raid of 1582 in Scotland, or the Italian coups that interested Machiavelli, ‘revolutions’. 9 For instance, the establishment of the duke of Alba’s regime in the Netherlands (1567), or the Massacre of St Bartholomew in France (1572). 10 This should be stressed; many English works unfortunately treat the terms ‘English Revolution’ and ‘English Civil War’ as virtually synonymous. 11 The later stages of the French Wars of Religion, in the 1590s, can be seen as a civil war that could have turned into a revolution if the radical elements of the Catholic League had gained power. 12 The English Revolution of 1640 followed defeat by the Scots in the Bishops’ Wars. 13 There was nothing ‘revolutionary’ about the Time of Troubles in Russia, 1598–1613. 81

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or both – to defend or extend the gains of the revolution against counterrevolutionary challenges. Some of the most remarkable ‘revolutionary’ events – purges, mobilisations – have been responses to such challenges. Counterrevolutionary forces may be internal to the state, in which case we find the revolutionary government fighting forces loyal to the old regime, or they may be external, in which case we find it fighting foreign powers trying to restore the old regime. Both of these occurred in the Scottish Revolution.14 Still, revolution and war are not actually the same thing. The concept of revolution calls attention, not to the fact of armed conflict, but to its outcome. The revolution is constituted, or consolidated, not by war as such, but by victory. A further conclusion here is that a failed attempt to seize political power is not a revolution, though studying it may shed additional light on revolutionary dynamics. If success is a criterion for revolution, how should this be measured? Some revolutions do not last very long; some never have a very secure hold on power. It could be argued that the Scottish Revolution of 1638 was negated by defeat by the English in 1651, or by the Restoration in 1660. Such arguments could be used to dismiss most revolutions (including the French Revolution of 1789); in the Scottish case they fail on two grounds. The revolutionary regime did establish itself and govern largely unchallenged for a number of years; it decisively destroyed the regime of Charles I. And, as we shall see, its achievements were not entirely obliterated in 1660 or at any other date. Indeed, the Restoration regime was surely no more secure than the covenanting regime. An alternative argument against the idea of covenanting success might be that the covenanting regime was only ever provisional, as it depended on reaching an agreement with the king that was never forthcoming from Charles I and that was unlikely to last even when Charles II hypocritically swore to accept the Covenants in 1650.15 There is something in this, but in a Scottish context the covenanting regime achieved all it wanted from Charles I by the settlement of the autumn of 1641, by which it became a purely legal regime, no longer provisional. The problem was, as we shall also see, that the Scottish Revolution was not purely Scottish. The final type of event to be distinguished from revolution is counter-revolution. This is a seizure of power from a revolutionary regime by a regime that aims to restore the status quo ante.16 There can obviously be a counter-revolution only after there has been a revolution. In practice it is hard to turn the clock back completely, so a counter-revolutionary regime may be newer than it claims. This was so for the Restoration regime in Scotland, which retained many of the Covenanters’ innovations.

Both are also found in the Dutch revolt against Spanish rule. On the king’s role in 1650, see Sharon Adams, ‘In Search of the Scottish Republic’, Chapter 6 below in this volume. 16 As well as counter-revolution, there can be counter-coup, as with Mary Tudor’s seizure of power from the duke of Northumberland in England in 1553. 14 15

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I use the concept of revolution in a social-scientific sense, as a technical term to facilitate the analysis of a category of political events that have something meaningful in common. Whether the participants in early modern revolutions themselves were aware of this category is irrelevant; they might know little about revolutions other than their own, and they would probably be more concerned to pass moral judgement on the revolution than to analyse it scientifically. Similarly, I have felt no need to restrict myself to early modern usage of the term ‘revolution’ itself, which traditionally had cyclical connotations.17 So far my discussion has broadly followed Perez Zagorin in his analysis of early modern revolutions.18 In particular, like him, I have excluded non-­ political ‘revolutions’, which do not help us to understand political change. Where I differ from Professor Zagorin is in his inclusion of what he calls ‘revolutionary civil war’, and in particular the French wars of religion and Fronde. His justifications for including them are that they involved many people from different classes, that they represented protests against state formation, that the contestants were highly organised and that there were conflicting ideologies.19 These things certainly occur in some revolutions, but what we do not see in France at these times is any overthrow of a government or seizure of power. There were elements of attempted revolution, both in 1588–94 and in 1648–52, but the attempts were defeated. It seems to me that Professor Zagorin has here succumbed to the temptation he criticises in others, to label events ‘revolutionary’ simply because they are important. II The Scottish Revolution was not the only one at that time. Numerous European countries saw revolutions, revolts or coups in the 1640s.20 There are two possible ways of explaining this. Firstly, we can seek to explain the revolts as owing to common features possessed by any early modern regime – there is usually a monarchy, for instance, and protest tends to be directed against evil counsellors. On that basis, it was just chance to find so many revolutionary events in the mid-seventeenth century. If revolutions were scattered randomly

Though the modern usage was increasing: Christopher Hill, ‘The Word “Revolution” in Seventeenth-Century England’, in Richard Ollard and Pamela Tudor-Craig (eds), For Veronica Wedgwood These: Studies in Seventeenth-Century History (London, 1986), pp. 134–51. 18 Perez Zagorin, Rebels and Rulers, 1500–1660, 2 vols (Cambridge, 1982). 19 Zagorin, Rebels and Rulers, II, pp. 51–4. 20 As was pointed out by R. B. Merriman, Six Contemporaneous Revolutions (Oxford, 1938). His ‘revolutions’ were in Catalonia (1640), Portugal (1640), Naples (1647), England (1640, with a little attention paid to Scotland), France (1648–52) and the Netherlands (1650). Most of these were revolts or coups by my definitions. 17

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over time, this would naturally produce some clustering rather than a uniformly even distribution.21 Secondly, we can look for distinctive features of the 1640s (or perhaps of the 1620s and 1630s), on the hypothesis that the clustering was not random but was due to concrete features of this period. This leads on to the ‘seventeenthcentury crisis’, which remains elusive despite having been variously analysed. Clustering may occur if revolutions tend to happen at particular stages of a country’s development. Caution is needed here because different countries could reach similar stages at different times.22 One plausible idea connected with the ‘seventeenth-century crisis’ is that of political reaction to the voracious fiscal demands of modernising states.23 This can encompass England and probably Scotland too; the triggers of the Scottish Revolution were religious, but fiscal grievances were also important. This idea is even compatible with a version of Maurice Lee’s stimulating arguments. He rejects the ‘seventeenthcentury crisis’ because he argues that the English – and Scottish – Revolutions were provoked by one man, Charles I. But he sketches an alternative scheme for Europe’s seventeenth century (taken as the period 1560–1660) that is in its own way at least as sweeping: the transition from the medieval idea of Christendom to the modern idea of the state.24 For the Scottish Revolution, probably the most important background aspect of the seventeenth-century crisis was the Thirty Years’ War. This calamitous struggle was behind most of the fiscal demands that provoked rebellion and revolution on the Continent in the 1640s. In England and Scotland, Charles I’s regime was partly shaped by his undistinguished attempt to participate in the war in the 1620s, and by his determination to modernise his realms thereafter. Hopes and fears for the Protestant cause in the war sharpened the determination of militants in their struggles at home. The present chapter, in its assumption that Scotland’s position in the 1640s’ clustering of European revolutionary events was not entirely random, may be seen as a small contribution to the debate on the seventeenth-century crisis.

Another revolutionary decade that might have been the result of such clustering was the 1560s, which saw revolts in the Netherlands and France – and of course in Scotland – as well as dramatic change in England with the Elizabethan settlement of religion. 22 Perry Anderson, Lineages of the Absolutist State (London, 1974), pp. 9–10. 23 Niels Steensgard, ‘The Seventeenth-Century Crisis’, in Geoffrey Parker and Lesley M. Smith (eds), The General Crisis of the Seventeenth Century (London, 1978), pp. 26–56. 24 Professor Lee’s case is most fully expressed in ‘Scotland, the Union, and the Idea of a “General Crisis”’, a paper collected with other relevant ones in Maurice Lee, Jnr, The ‘Inevitable’ Union and Other Essays on Early Modern Scotland (East Linton, 2003), pp. 189–204. 21

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III What, then, was the Scottish Revolution? Returning to my diagnostic definition, there are four immediate issues to address: seizure of power; popular mobilisation; ideology; and restructuring of the political system. These shade into one another, since a revolution is not four separate things, but conceptual clarity may be enhanced by analysing them separately. There is consensus that the seizure of power was completed remarkably early; there is no Scottish counterpart to the English historiographical trend that regards the ‘revolution’ as occurring with the king’s execution in 1649.25 It began with the riot of 23 July 1637 against the new prayer book, and the authorities’ failure to suppress the increasingly organised campaign that followed. The symbolic date for the revolution is February 1638, the launch of the National Covenant as a revolutionary manifesto. Charles had lost power at this point. As he himself famously said, ‘So long as this Covenant is in force … I have no more power in Scotland than as a Duke of Venice.’26 The Covenanters rapidly formalised their commanding position by re-establishing and capturing the general assembly of the church (1638), capturing parliament (1639–40), and establishing a new executive body, the committee of estates (1640). After this we are no longer looking at a ‘seizure’ of power, and further developments will be considered under the heading of political restructuring. Popular mobilisation occurred at several stages of the revolution. The Edinburgh riot of 18 October 1637, in response to an uncompromising royal proclamation, was even bigger and better organised than the initial riot in July, and effectively got rid of the privy council.27 The National Covenant was signed up and down the country; many signatures were gathered even in the generally conservative north-east. Quite humble people subscribed, and in some parishes just about every adult male householder. Having a ‘physical document that one could actually sign in the knowledge that it was a covenant’ was

For a powerful restatement of the case for an early English Revolution, see David Cressy, ‘Revolutionary England, 1640–1642’, P & P 181 (Nov. 2003), pp. 35–71, and David Cressy, England on Edge: Crisis and Revolution, 1640–1642 (Oxford, 2006). The case for 1649 as the point of revolution is often made without considering the case for 1640: e.g. Ann Hughes, ‘The English Revolution of 1649’, in David Parker (ed.), Revolutions and the Revolutionary Tradition in the West, 1560–1991 (London, 2000), pp. 34–52. One recent survey leaves the question open, stating that the ‘epicentre of the English Revolution’ is ‘located in the two decades between 1640 and 1660’, but also praising Cressy’s work as ‘masterly’: Nicholas Tyacke, ‘Introduction: Locating the “English Revolution”’, in Nicholas Tyacke (ed.), The English Revolution, c.1590–1720: Politics, Religion and Communities (Manchester, 2007), pp. 1–26, at pp. 19–20. 26 Charles to marquis of Hamilton, 25 June 1638, Gilbert Burnet, The Memoires of the Lives and Actions of James and William, Dukes of Hamilton and Castleherald (London, 1677), p. 60. 27 Laura A. M. Stewart, Urban Politics and the British Civil Wars: Edinburgh, 1617–53 (Leiden, 2006), pp. 230–4. 25

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innovatory and individualist.28 Military recruitment, a vital area of popular mobilisation, was not always voluntary but was affected by commitment to the cause. Recruitment quotas were usually achieved – except for the armies of the Engagement in 1648, opposed by the radical Covenanters.29 Ideologically, the Covenanters were challenging the divine right of kings – the most persuasive political concept to emerge from Europe’s troubled sixteenth century. Putting the monarchy beyond dispute had seemed the only way to unite the political classes and prevent civil war. In Scotland, insubordination in the church had prompted a royal attempt to control it through crown-appointed bishops. The Covenanters rejected divine right in favour of an ascending theory of power. Power was conferred directly by God on the people (that is, the political nation of propertied men), and arose from them to the government. The Covenanters appealed directly and publicly to the ‘people’ at an early stage. The Tables in June 1638 ‘caused print the reasones why they could noway render upp ther Covenant’.30 Even in 1641, the English parliament could not bring itself to print the Grand Remonstrance against Charles.31 The revolutionary restructuring of the political system was linked to this. Charles I’s regime had sought to make the king the sole focus of political authority, downgrading or abolishing representative institutions (parliament and the general assembly) and governing through courtier nobles and courtier bishops.32 The revolution abolished bishops, enhancing noble power since nobles had regarded bishops as rivals. However, it also entrenched parliament in the constitution, obliging nobles to share power more directly with lairds and burgesses – the other two of parliament’s three remaining estates. Parliament did not just legislate, but took over the executive government through a new body, the committee of estates. The church, like parliament, escaped from royal control under a restored general assembly. This was kept under political control through the new office of ‘ruling elder’, allowing the parliamentary politicians to appoint themselves to key positions in the assembly. Edward J. Cowan, ‘The Making of the National Covenant’, in John Morrill (ed.), The Scottish National Covenant in its British Context (Edinburgh, 1990), pp. 68–89, at p. 82; David Stevenson, ‘The National Covenant: A List of Known Copies’, RSCHS 23 (1989), pp. 255–99. 29 Edward M. Furgol, ‘Scotland Turned Sweden: The Scottish National Covenant and the Military Revolution, 1638–1651’, in Morrill (ed.), Scottish National Covenant, pp. 134–54, at pp. 138–40. 30 James Gordon, History of Scots Affairs, 1637–1641, 3 vols, eds Joseph Robertson and George Grub (Spalding Club, 1841), I, p. 71. This was [Archibald Johnstone of Wariston,] Reasons Against the Rendering of our Sworne and Subscribed Confession of Faith ([Edinburgh,] 1638 [STC 22036]). It may have been printed for an English audience, but the point remains that the Covenanters were not just arguing with the king: they were bypassing him. 31 Conrad Russell, The Fall of the British Monarchies, 1637–1642 (Oxford, 1991), pp. 427–9. 32 On bishops, see Sally Tuckett, ‘The Scottish Bishops in Government, 1625–1638’, Chapter 4 above in this volume. 28

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This led to an overhaul of the structure of the state. In particular, the tax system became radically more efficient. A land tax on a fresh assessment was introduced, as was a completely new excise (sales tax). This in turn allowed the raising of large armies, paid and equipped by the state, instead of the unpaid feudal retinues of the sixteenth century. These developments can be regarded as modernising, and continued after the Restoration. More distinctively associated with the Covenanters was a movement to intensify godly discipline, punishing ecclesiastical offenders of all classes. IV The issues of composite monarchy and of revolt in outlying provinces are not part of any social scientist’s universal model of revolution, but were prominent in many early modern revolutions.33 Both by historians of Scotland and by outsiders, Scotland’s difficult relationship with England has often been seen as a determining factor in the Scottish Revolution. Perez Zagorin includes it in his category of ‘provincial rebellions’ against metropolitan authority.34 Allan Macinnes has called the National Covenant a ‘nationalist manifesto asserting the independence of a sovereign people under God’, which probably means something similar.35 We cannot label everything that happened north of Berwick as ‘nationalist’, so if we are to speak meaningfully of ‘nationalism’, the term must refer to a movement for national autonomy – in practice, to separation from England. Several early modern revolts were straightforwardly separatist. A subordinate kingdom or province would rise up in protest against exactions by the metropolitan core state, in defence of their special privileges. The Catalan and Portuguese revolts in 1640 were of this type, as was the Dutch revolt in the 1560s; the American Revolution in the 1770s was a similar if late example. Provincial privileges often impeded governmental efforts, especially in wartime. The metropolitan core state was often more heavily taxed than its satellite provinces, and would seek to spread the burden more widely. The Scottish Revolution partly fits this model. The initial prayer book protest was against an English innovation that threatened to reduce national autonomy. Charles I’s revocation, which upset the nobles so much, was not exactly a metropolitan policy but did threaten traditional rights. Scotland was certainly a lightly taxed, privileged province, with its own representative institutions, of the kind that multiple monarchies sometimes found intractable.

H. G. Koenigsberger, ‘Early Modern Revolutions’, Journal of Modern History 46 (1974), pp. 99–106, at p. 104. 34 Zagorin, Rebels and Rulers, II, pp. 37–42. 35 Allan I. Macinnes, Charles I and the Making of the Covenanting Movement, 1625–1641 (Edinburgh, 1991), p. 173. 33

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By promoting parliament, which was Scottish, and downgrading the crown, which was British, the Covenanters can be seen as pursuing devolution. There, however, the similarities end. The Scottish Revolution, though certainly patriotic, and certainly seeking to make the most of Scotland’s newfound freedom from the British crown as represented by Charles I, was not separatist. Devolution was not an end in itself; Charles was sidelined, not because he was British, but because he was ungodly and authoritarian. The Covenanters sought a new and closer relationship with what they hoped would become a similarly reformed England. This was particularly notable in August 1640, when the Scots invaded England, encouraged by English dissidents to believe that they could precipitate political changes there.36 After capturing Newcastle they boldly occupied the town instead of withdrawing, forcing the summons of an English parliament that they knew would destroy Charles’s regime. David Stevenson has persuasively argued that the Scots did this to secure their own position: Charles might otherwise have mobilised English military resources against them.37 Yet this was not the only approach they could have taken. Already by August 1640 Charles had twice tried to reconquer Scotland, and had twice failed. Each failure weakened his chances of future success. Here the telling comparison is with Portugal, which in December 1640 broke away from the Spanish monarchy. The Portuguese might have sought to export their revolt to Castile, the heart of that monarchy, which groaned under even heavier taxes imposed by Philip IV’s hated minister Olivares. Yet they made no such attempt.38 Instead they simply resisted Spanish attempts at reconquest, finally abandoned in 1668. The Scots, if they had been nationalists like the Portuguese, could have retreated beyond the Tweed in 1640, having demonstrated that their regime was united and capable of resisting attack.39 The English would soon have abandoned their attempts at reconquest. The Spaniards had a strong incentive to reconquer Portugal, for it possessed a wealthy overseas empire; Scotland did not. It had some strategic importance to the English, partly through the legacy of the pre-1560 ‘auld alliance’ with 36 Peter Donald, ‘New Light on the Anglo-Scottish Contacts of 1640’, Historical Research 62 (1989), pp. 221–9. 37 David Stevenson, ‘The Early Covenanters and the Federal Union of Britain’, in Roger A. Mason (ed.), Scotland and England, 1286–1815 (Edinburgh, 1987), pp. 163–81. 38 The nearest they came seems to have been the interest they took in 1641 in a halfhearted Andalusian plot: J. H. Elliott, The Count-Duke of Olivares: The Statesman in an Age of Decline (New Haven, Conn., 1986), pp. 615–18. 39 The Portuguese chose a new king at the outset of their revolt, and the Scots might eventually have found it expedient to do the same. They would probably have looked for a descendant of James II; the representatives of the most senior lines were either committed royalists (the marquis of Hamilton and duke of Lennox) or Catholics (the earl of Abercorn), but no doubt a suitable candidate would have been found. The English Act of Settlement (1701), bypassing numerous senior but politically unsuitable descendants of James VI and I and Charles I, illustrates how this could have been done.

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France, which were relevant to English demands for union with Scotland in 1701–7. However, in the 1640s and 1650s the English did not see France as a particularly likely enemy, and English official opinion could see Scotland as too poor and remote to be worth conquering.40 All this underlines Professor Stevenson’s convincing account by putting Scottish choices into perspective. The Covenanters chose to make common cause with English revolutionaries because they wanted to do so, and welcomed the opportunity to act as British politicians.41 The Scottish Revolution is best understood as part of a British movement. V What happened to the Scottish Revolution during the 1640s? This question is a structural one, and cannot be answered simply by narrating the course of events. It can be developed further by asking: which strands of the revolutionary movement remained genuinely revolutionary? The covenanting movement, so united in its early years, began to develop cracks with the conservative Cumbernauld Band of August 1640. The Band’s leading spirit, Montrose, broke openly with the Covenanters when the latter concluded the Solemn League and Covenant with England in 1643, and led a rebellion in 1644–45. The Engagement precipitated a second split in 1648, with moderate Covenanters against radicals. A third split occurred in 1651, with moderate ‘Resolutioners’ against radical ‘Protesters’. These internal splits tended to relate to the British dimension of the movement. Even when England and Scotland were at war, there were ‘Scottish’ factions who favoured the ‘English’ side and vice versa. The fault-lines were between moderates and radicals in both countries, not between all the Scots on one side and all the English on the other.42 These labels, ‘moderate’ and ‘radical’, are blunt instruments with which to characterise the shifting allegiances of the period, but they do at least open up the question of which groups constituted a revolutionary movement. Answers to this question depend not on the precise wording of each group’s manifesto (who actually read the Covenants?), but on the actions that followed and in

Derek Hirst, ‘The English Republic and the Meaning of Britain’, in Brendan Bradshaw and John Morrill (eds), The British Problem, c.1534–1707 (London, 1996), pp. 192–219, at pp. 195–9. 41 They did so, too, in their interventions in Ireland: David Stevenson, Scottish Covenanters and Irish Confederates (Belfast, 1981). For the ‘British’ career of a leading Covenanter, see Allan I. Macinnes, The British Confederate: Archibald Campbell, Marquess of Argyll, c.1607– 1661 (Edinburgh, 2011). 42 The English regime in 1650 could not begin a war against Scotland without first removing its own commander-in-chief, Lord Fairfax, who took the Solemn League and Covenant seriously: John D. Grainger, Cromwell Against the Scots: The Last Anglo-Scottish War, 1650–1652 (East Linton, 1997), pp. 9–13.

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particular on the alliances that the group formed. The Engagement is a case in point, since it could appear to have been promoting a version of the Solemn League and Covenant. But who supported tendencies like the Engagement within the broader covenanting movement, and who opposed them? Would radicals take the tendency in question in a radical direction, or would conservatives take it in a conservative direction? Conservatives tended to try to lead the covenanting movement towards a compromise with the king that was in practice counter-revolutionary. Montrose had started as a Covenanter and would probably have been willing to work with moderate Covenanters in 1643, but when they rejected him he became wholly royalist. The Engagers, many of whom were moderate Covenan­ters, would probably have been willing to work with radical Covenanters, but when the latter rejected the Engagement, the Engager leaders linked hands with royalists. The Resolutioners did much the same by repealing the Acts of Classes that had barred non-radicals from political life. Montrose and the Engagers were thus fairly clearly counter-revolutionary. The main reason why it is harder to characterise the Resolutioners in the same way is that their opponents, the Protesters, never withdrew co-operation from their regime despite bitter public disagreements. Radicals, by contrast, tended to become even more radical. This is less obvious in Scotland than in England, with its Independents and republicans, its Levellers and Diggers. But similar radicalising forces were at work in Scotland. The decision to proclaim Charles II as king on 5 February 1649 was, in its way, as radical as the subsequent proclamation of a republic in England, since it tied the king to rigorous constitutional conditions. The English republic was a political necessity in specifically English circumstances, rather than a longsought radical goal.43 These were elite radicals in power; beyond them there were more extreme popular radicals. Scotland had no open Levellers, but various movements look like expressions of extreme radicalism. In June 1648 the Mauchline Rising was clearly based on popular radicalism, though with links to the elite radicals who later made the Whiggamore Raid. In 1650, in the same area, we find the Western Association.44 The fact that these movements were not directly at odds with elite radical Covenanters arguably tells us as much about the elite radicals as it does about the popular movement. An anonymous lower-class radical in 1651 denounced all leaders responsible for the recent defeats and demanded a church governed by ‘ministers elders and deacons, not of Lords and great ones medling with staite Armies, but poore preaching and praying Adams, ‘Scottish Republic’. The English republican regime does not appear wholly ‘radical’ in Sean Kelsey, Inventing a Republic: The Political Culture of the English Commonwealth, 1649–1653 (Stanford, Calif., 1997). 44 Sharon Adams, ‘A Regional Road to Revolution: Religion, Politics and Society in South-West Scotland, 1600–1650’ (University of Edinburgh Ph.D. thesis, 2002), pp. 151–7, 175–9. 43

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people’.45 This is not as eloquent as some of the things said by English radicals in the Putney Debates of 1647, but it is as radical. All these tendencies would culminate in the post-Restoration Covenanters, who by the 1680s would be more radical than just about anything ever seen. VI The realm of literature and ideas deserves much fuller treatment than it can receive here, but a few indications may be offered. The Scottish Revolution did not produce a Milton or a Hobbes, nor even a Winstanley or a Harrington. No doubt there are many reasons why the explosion of English revolutionary literature was not paralleled in Scotland – the Scots’ presbyterian consensus, and the maintenance of censorship, being only two. Indeed it is perhaps the English Revolution, rather than the Scottish, that was distinctive in unleashing such a torrent of original thought. One key question is whether fresh currents of thought separated themselves from the theological concerns that had dominated intellectual life hitherto. Here we are not necessarily looking at overtly ‘radical’ thought. England’s Diggers had no direct successors, while Scotland’s radical presbyterians, in intellectual terms at least, painted themselves into a corner.46 But other currents did begin to flow, quite possibly stimulated by the revolution’s break with tradition. A case-study of Scottish academic geography has found the period from 1650 to 1680 particularly fruitful, when university curricula adopted the new Cartesian and later Newtonian cosmologies, and geography ceased to be taught by theologians.47 Scotland’s scientific life in general became increasingly closely involved with that of England from the 1660s, placing Scotland in an advanced position.48 Beyond this we glimpse the roots of the Enlightenment. VII When I defined revolution I said that it is ‘sometimes followed by wider social and economic change’. Was the Scottish Revolution followed by such

Quoted in David Stevenson, ‘Reactions to Ruin, 1648–1651: “A Declaration and Vindication of the Poore Opprest Commons of Scotland”, and Other Pamphlets’, SHR 84 (2005), pp. 257–65, at pp. 262–3. 46 Caroline Erskine, ‘The Political Thought of the Restoration Covenanters’, Chapter 9 below in this volume. 47 Charles W. J. Withers and Robert J. Mayhew, ‘Rethinking “Disciplinary” History: Geography in British Universities, c.1580–1887’, Transactions of the Institute of British Geographers, new ser. 27 (2002), pp. 11–29, at pp. 17, 21–2. 48 Paul Wood, ‘The Scientific Revolution in Scotland’, in Roy Porter and Mikulas Teich (eds), The Scientific Revolution in National Context (Cambridge, 1992), pp. 263–87. 45

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change? The question of political revolutions leading to social and economic change has been particularly pressing in more recent times. Several revolutions since 1789 have explicitly set out to create a new society, and their impact on the modern world has been enormous. However, if early modern revolutions set out consciously to create a new society, they did so in religious terms. The impact that an early modern government could have on the economy was also limited. Yet the question of revolutionary social and economic change remains worth asking. The fullest recent discussion of this has been by Neil Davidson. His ‘Scottish Revolution’ is rather different from mine, though some of the differences can perhaps be resolved. He attempts to identify the ‘revolutionary’ transformation of state and society from feudalism to capitalism – the ‘bourgeois revolution’ of Marxist theory. Davidson defines this as follows: ‘A bourgeois revolution is a series of social and political conflicts which remove institutional barriers to local capitalist development and allow the establishment of an independent centre of competitive accumulation within the framework of the nation-state.’ He points out that such a revolution could be prolonged and could involve ‘more than one moment of “convulsive transformation”’.49 Quite so, but I am not attempting anything so ambitious as identifying a ‘bourgeois revolution’. In Davidson’s terms, the revolution of 1638 was a ‘political revolution’, a lesser event, which he defines as follows: ‘Political revolutions are struggles within society for control of the existing state, but which leave the social and economic structure intact.’50 Thus far, Davidson and I do not disagree much; rather we are defining our terms differently. Clearly, if one is interested in the origins of capitalism one will seek to differentiate those revolutions that contributed to capitalism from those that did not, and one may regard the latter as lesser events. But even within his methodological framework, Davidson could have been less dismissive of the revolution of 1638. If he had conceptualised it as linked to his eighteenth-century social and economic changes, this would actually have strengthened his argument. This is because Davidson regards the English Revolution of 1640 as a successful bourgeois revolution. Arguably he fails to investigate the logical corollary of this for Scotland. He points out that England’s revolutionary process took a long time to complete. It was still incomplete in 1688, and its final triumph came only in 1746, with the defeat of feudal reaction in the form of the Jacobites.51 In those terms, again, I can only agree. But what about Scotland? In political terms, both revolutions established parliamentary regimes against burgeoning Caroline absolutism. Both mobilised popular support, some of which proved too radical for the mainstream. The emancipation of popular

49 50 51

Neil Davidson, Discovering the Scottish Revolution, 1692–1746 (London, 2003), pp. 8, 10. Davidson, Discovering the Scottish Revolution, p. 5. Davidson, Discovering the Scottish Revolution, pp. 9, 74–5 and passim. 92

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radicals could never be reversed. Both revolutions seemed to have been defeated politically at the Restoration, yet the reactionary triumphs were far from complete and were themselves reversed in both countries in 1688–89. Any difference between the two revolutions thus rests on socio-economic change. The ultimate issue here is capitalist relations of production – free labour employed by entrepreneurial farmers, manufacturers or traders. The scale of this would be hard to gauge in the present state of research; capitalism was probably less developed in Scotland than in England, but there was a good deal of it about. Since revolutions are about state power, the immediate issue is whether the Scottish state itself fostered capitalism or impeded it. This is not the place to discuss this question in full. One important change in government policy can be noted: the shift away from patents and monopolies. Economic policy before 1638 generally tried to create privileged companies, or privileged individuals, who would foster economic projects. In practice this often meant commissioning a courtier or his friends to fleece the most active commercial parts of the economy.52 The absolutist state wanted to promote the economy, but was usually parasitic on it. From 1641, this changed dramatically. The Covenanters received wholehearted support from the burghs, who had campaigned for decades against patents and monopolies.53 Patents and monopolies largely ceased. Instead the covenanting authorities set out to create a public regulatory and fiscal regime to benefit all those engaged in particular types of commercial activity. The 1641 Manufactories Act was actually promoted by commercial interests – the same interests that had vainly resisted most pre-1638 economic legislation.54 The 1641 act was re-enacted in improved form in 1661, indicating practical experience already gained in operating it.55 In the countryside we have enclosure of commonties, by which the government began in 1647 to encourage ‘improving’ capitalist agriculture.56 This was possible because the previous century of governmental regulation of agrarian tenure had created a more modern legal framework both for lands and for teinds (with the despised revocation of Charles I playing a part in the latter). The framework was, however, more coercive than contractual.57 Acts favouring commerce by the pre-revolutionary regime were likely to be concessions to the

Julian Goodare, The Government of Scotland, 1560–1625 (Oxford, 2004), pp. 53–4, 208–12. 53 David Stevenson, ‘The Burghs and the Scottish Revolution’, in Michael Lynch (ed.), The Early Modern Town in Scotland (London, 1987), pp. 167–91. 54 APS, V, pp. 411–12, c. 100 (RPS, 1641/8/194); David Stevenson, ‘The Effects of Revolution and Conquest on Scotland’, in Rosalind Mitchison and Peter Roebuck (eds), Economy and Society in Scotland and Ireland, 1500–1939 (Edinburgh, 1988), pp. 48–57, at pp. 53–4. 55 APS, VII, pp. 261–2, c. 280 (RPS, 1661/1/344). 56 Stevenson, ‘Effects of Revolution and Conquest’, pp. 54–5. 57 Goodare, Government, pp. 268–71. 52

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opposition, like the Bankruptcy Act of 1621, which curbed fraudulent alienations by aristocratic debtors.58 A full study of this subject might well conclude that the Scottish Revolution was significant in the social and economic sphere. VIII An overall assessment of the Scottish Revolution may begin by revisiting a point I made at the outset: that coups d’état can be normal to some types of political system. One reason for distinguishing revolutions from coups is to retain a sense of the seriousness and even the grandeur of revolutions. People are swept up in revolutions and carried away to an unknown destination. Not everyone proved willing to stay the course, but some did. The commission of the general assembly declared in October 1648, at the beginning of the radical regime: There hath been great murmuring and repining because of expense of means and pains in doing our duty; Many by perswasion or terror have suffered themselves to be divided and withdrawn to make defection to the contrary part; Many have turned off to a detestable indifferency and newtrality in this cause, which so much concerneth the glory of God and the good of these Kingdoms; Nay, many have made it their study to walk so as they might comply with all times and all the revolutions thereof.59

This last phrase conveys a traditional, cyclical sense of the word ‘revolution’ itself, perhaps natural after the rise and fall of the Engagement. However, the commissioners clearly saw their ‘cause’ as a forward movement in history, not a cyclical one. They also detested compromise. Widespread ‘defection to the contrary part’, and the growth of ‘indifferency and newtrality’, merely sharpened their own militancy. One thing that differentiates a revolution from a coup is this depth of ideological commitment. A coup may not be an abnormal event, but that does not necessarily mean that a revolution is one. The very fact that revolutions can be studied in the plural shows that they conform to recognisable patterns. A revolution, by definition, is abnormal in the context of the internal political system of the country in which it occurs; after a revolution overthrows a country’s political system, that political system cannot generate further revolutions with which to compare it. In the context of the political practice of human society as a whole, however, revolutions can be considered normal in the social-scientific sense that they recur from time to time. A major political system with no revolutions at all: that would be abnormal. Julian Goodare, ‘The Scottish Parliament of 1621’, Historical Journal 38 (1995), pp. 29–51, at p. 45. 59 Records of the Commissions of the General Assemblies of the Church of Scotland, 1648 and 1649, ed. Alexander F. Mitchell and James Christie (SHS, 1896), p. 84. 58

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The Scottish Revolution, then, conforms to a recognisable pattern of revolutionary events. The ideology and mechanisms of absolutism were overthrown, and the state’s fiscal, military and ideological power was comprehensively restructured. Many aspects of this transformation, particularly the fiscal and military ones, were permanent. Some aspects, particularly the ideological ones, were fought over bitterly for much of the next half-century. This is why, despite my use of the definite article, the Revolution of 1638 was not the only Scottish revolution.60 It was followed by the Revolution of 1689. This was not a wholly separate event from that of 1638 – the Covenant­ers had paved the way for it. It was, nevertheless, a dramatic seizure of power, with wide popular mobilisation that is only now beginning to be appreciated.61 The extent to which the 1689 Revolution consciously aimed to restore the covenanting regime may be pondered, though nobody seems to have called it a ‘restoration’. Whether or not it qualifies as a revolution on its own, there should be no difficulty in seeing it as the second and (as it turned out) conclusive stage of the revolution of 1638. The Claim of Right of 1689, and the parliamentary ‘Club’ of 1689–90, ensured that the revolutionary settlement rejected absolutism decisively.62 This led on to further government promotion of social and economic change, which can only be mentioned in passing. The Bank of Scotland was formed in 1695 – an impossibility under an absolute monarchy because its security could never have been guaranteed. The Company of Scotland (also 1695) took its colonisation venture to disaster at Darien, but the novel idea that Scotland’s future depended on commercial success had become conventional.63 The Union of 1707 gave Scotland access to English colonies, looking forward to the remarkable growth of eighteenth-century Scottish imperial activity. The Union was also a forward-looking bid to defend the constitutional gains of the Revolution from the threat of a Jacobite restoration.64 Many of the Covenanters would have preferred to have their efforts judged Similarly, what we call ‘the French Revolution’ was not the only French revolution. In Scotland, the Reformation of 1560 also fits my definition of a revolution; it is discussed as one by Alec Ryrie, The Origins of the Scottish Reformation (Manchester, 2006), pp. 196–204. 61 Neil Davidson, ‘Popular Insurgency during the Glorious Revolution in Scotland’, Scottish Labour History 39 (2004), pp. 14–31; Tim Harris, Revolution: The Great Crisis of the British Monarchy, 1685–1720 (London, 2006), ch. 9. Steve Pincus, 1688: The First Modern Revolution (New Haven, Conn., 2009), argues that England saw no revolution in the 1640s. As there is no attempt to extend the argument to Scotland, I leave it to English historians to ponder this. 62 Aspects of revolutionary ideology are discussed by Alasdair Raffe, ‘Scottish State Oaths and the Revolution of 1688–1690’, Chapter 10 below in this volume. 63 Cf. Douglas Watt, ‘The Directors of the Company of Scotland and Scottish Politics, 1696–1701’, Chapter 12 below in this volume. 64 Alexander J. Murdoch, ‘The Legacy of the Revolution in Scotland’, in Alexander J. Murdoch (ed.), The Scottish Nation: Identity and History: Essays in Honour of William Ferguson (Edinburgh, 2007), pp. 39–55. 60

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by the extent to which they created a truly godly state, enforcing uniformity and purity of religion and punishing ungodliness. However, religious strife eventually led, not to a godly state, but to schism in the church. After the 1689 Revolution, the warring religious factions had fought themselves to a standstill. Once it became clear that none could suppress the others, the result had to be religious toleration – an important contribution to modernity. So if you are interested in the origins of modernity, whether from a political, religious, intellectual, social or economic point of view, you should be interested in the Scottish Revolution of 1638. The Scots participated in this crucial early stage of modernity. They were not alone, of course, since the English Revolution played an even more important role. But the English Revolution was paralleled, complemented and supported, and in some ways preceded and even precipitated, by the Scottish Revolution.

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In Search of the Scottish Republic SHARON ADAMS

And I may confidently say, That God’s controversie with the Kings of the Earth; is for their Arbitrary and Tyrannical Government.1

On 30 January 1649, Charles I stepped out of the window of the Banqueting House of the Palace of Whitehall onto the scaffold on which his execution would take place, an event that brought to an end ‘One Act of our lamentable Tragedy’.2 Notoriously, the Scots began the next act of their tragedy with the proclamation of his son, Charles II, not just as king of Scots, but as king of Great Britain and Ireland. This provoked an invasion of Scotland by Oliver Cromwell in the summer of 1650, which resulted in two humiliating Scottish defeats, first at Dunbar on 3 September 1650 and then, on 3 September 1651, at Worcester. The result was a decade of English military occupation and Scotland’s incorporation into what became the ‘Commonwealth of England, Scotland and Ireland’. Because English hostility to Charles I’s regime culminated in ‘republicanism’, it makes sense to ask whether Scottish hostility to Charles I’s regime might not also have had ‘republican’ tendencies. This also raises the question of what is meant by ‘republicanism’ in a seventeenth-century context. But before addressing these questions, some more discussion of that context is needed. I The Worcester campaign in 1651 was the fourth time since 1640 that a Scottish army had entered or invaded England. The first invasion had been during the second of the two Bishops’ Wars (1639 and 1640), which saw

Robert Douglas, sermon preached at the coronation of Charles II, The Forme and Order of the Coronation of Charles the Second, King of Scotland, England, France, and Ireland (Aberdeen, 1651), p. 9. 2 Robert Baillie, Letters and Journals, 1637–1662, 3 vols, ed. David Laing (Bannatyne Club, 1841–42), III, p. 66. 1

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the Scottish rebellion against Charles I of 1637–38 transformed into a military conflict. The Scottish covenanting regime then allied itself with the English parliament against Charles I in the Solemn League and Covenant of 1643, as a result of which Scottish troops crossed the border again in January 1644. A Scottish army entered England for a third time, this time in an alliance with Charles, the Engagement of December 1647. This was the product of a counter-revolution in Scotland in which Scottish royalists made common cause with moderate members of the Scottish parliamentary regime. The defeat of the Army of the Engagement by Cromwell’s forces at Preston in 1648 allowed the radical wing of the covenanting movement, those who had refused to participate in the Engagement, to seize power. But it was this same radical regime that later proclaimed Charles II as king and negotiated his return to Scotland. And it had been the Scottish opposition to Charles I in 1637 that had arguably begun the Wars of the Three Kingdoms in the first place. No wonder that there has been so much confusion about the attitude of the Scots towards the Stewart monarchy during the 1640s and 1650s. This narrative of the twists and turns of Scottish politics in the middle decades of the seventeenth century highlights two themes. One is the extent to which Scottish politics was inextricably bound to the affairs of the three kingdoms; the leading actors in church and state could not divorce themselves from this British context. The other is the Scots’ seemingly dogged attachment to the institution of monarchy. Derek Hirst has argued that ‘The Scottish proclamation of Charles Stuart as a “British” king, a proclamation that can only be seen as the fruit of intense Scottish commitment to a British ideal, therefore provoked an English invasion that would not otherwise have happened.’3 Maurice Lee has remarked that ‘One of the remarkable aspects of the upheaval in Scotland was that it produced no separatist movement among the king’s enemies. Nor, by contrast with England, did it spawn any republican sentiment.’4 This chapter will focus on this last point. That the Scots refused to follow the English in abolishing the monarchy itself in 1649 is certainly correct. Furthermore, the Scots fought for Charles II at the battles of Dunbar in 1650 and Worcester in 1651 against the explicitly republican English regime. But it would be simplistic to describe these Scots as ‘royalists’. The analysis offered here draws on a more complex and multi-faceted understanding of what early modern republicanism actually meant and looks more critically at what was happening in Scotland, setting this within the context of political developments in Scotland since 1637 but with particular focus on the crucial period around the proclamation of Derek Hirst, ‘The English Republic and the Meaning of Britain’, Journal of Modern History 66 (1994), pp. 451–86, at p. 458. 4 Maurice Lee, Jnr, ‘Scotland, the Union and the Idea of a “General Crisis”’, in Roger A. Mason (ed.), Scots and Britons: Scottish Political Thought and the Union of 1603 (Cambridge, 1994), pp. 41–57, at p. 53. 3

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Charles II in 1649, his arrival in Scotland in 1650 and the reaction to the English republic. Blair Worden has, however, warned of the dangers of being too ‘ready to describe any criticism of absolutism or tyranny as republicanism’ and of looking for ‘quasi-republicanism’ or ‘proto-republicanism’ prior to and as an explanation for the English republic.5 That caveat is equally applicable to Scotland. And there were, of course, large numbers of genuine royalists in Scotland. Even some of those who initially supported the covenanting revolution, most famously the marquis of Montrose, broke from the initial covenanting consensus so soon that they are best described as ‘royalists’. But overt royalists played a limited part in public life under the Scottish parliamentary regime, and virtually none during the crucial period of 1649–50. Indeed, Scottish royalists were generally quiescent, perhaps forced by covenanting strength to conform or stay quiet. This discussion largely focuses on a minority – on the radical minority who were politically active throughout the covenanting revolution – but it was this minority who controlled the levers of power during the critical period from late 1648 until 1650. This is one of the key obstacles to explaining the political history of late 1640s Scotland, that it was by far the most radical manifestation of the Scottish parliamentary regime that proclaimed Charles II as king in February 1649.6 II The English republic was, of course, also constituted and maintained by a minority. Republicanism in England was not so much the cause of the regicide as a reaction to it, created and developed in the months after Charles I’s execution to make sense of that event and justify England’s political future: ‘There is a real sense in which republican theories were a consequence, not a cause or even a precondition, of the execution of the King and the temporary abolition of the monarchy.’7 English republicanism was essentially reactive. Thus there was an intrinsic tension between republicanism as an intellectual construct, as a concept with which to explore the Blair Worden, ‘Republicanism, Regicide and Republic: The English Experience’, in Martin Van Gelderen and Quentin Skinner (eds), Republicanism: A Shared European Heritage, vol. I: Republicanism and Constitutionalism in Early Modern Europe (Cambridge, 2002), pp. 307–27, at p. 313. 6 See e.g. John R. Young, ‘Scottish Covenanting Radicalism, the Commission of the Kirk and the Establishment of the Parliamentary Radical Regime of 1648–1649’, RSCHS 25 (1993–95), pp. 342–75. 7 J. G. A. Pocock (ed.), James Harrington, The Commonwealth of Oceana and A System of Politics (Cambridge, 1992), p. xi. For a useful summary of the various ways in which historians have understood the term republicanism and how this can be applied to England before and after the regicide, see Worden, ‘Republicanism, Regicide and Republic’. 5

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nature of good government, and actively using that concept to construct a workable republican polity. Republican ideas uneasily straddle this divide both in the writings of seventeenth-century Englishmen and in the work of historians of the English republic. An English republic after 1649 was a reality, but this reality interacted with the classical and European republican traditions that were used to explain and justify it. What then does republicanism mean in the context of seventeenthcentury English political discourse? Perhaps the best way to think of it is of having no single definition, but several strands of meaning, either distinct or overlapping, each carrying an identifiable set of ideas or values. There was more to ‘republicanism’ than simply abolishing the monarchy. As J. G. A. Pocock famously phrased it, ‘republicanism in England was a language, not a programme’.8 The first and perhaps most obvious strand of republicanism was the concept of kingless government. But republican tendencies could mean reforming ‘monarchy’, downgrading it or redefining it, rather than necessarily abolishing it. A republican polity was not necessarily an end in itself, rather one way of achieving good government, a government in the interests of its people, a balanced government or a government that secured liberty. Monarchy was not intrinsically bad, but tyranny and arbitrary government were. As the Act Abolishing the Kingship concluded in March 1649, ‘experience’ had shown ‘that usually and naturally any one person in such power, makes it his interest to incroach upon the just freedom and liberty of the people, and to promote the setting up of their own will and power above the Laws’.9 Thus a second strand of republican thinking was political liberty and, in particular, liberty from arbitrary government.10 This could, however, be attained within a balanced polity that retained a monarchical element. A related strand was the idea of classical republicanism. Greek and Roman histories and theoretical texts were familiar to educated people. They provided both a historical model of a republican constitution and one of the sources for the idea of the republic as a promoter of civic virtue, in which individuals worked for the public good and to preserve the republic free of corruption. As Markuu Peltonnen has put it, ‘The term “Classical Republicanism” thus embraces a cluster of themes concerning citizenship, public virtue and true nobility. But it also refers to a more specific constitutional stance.’11 J. G. A. Pocock (ed.), Political Works of James Harrington (Cambridge, 1977), p. 15. C. H. Firth and R. S. Rait (eds), Acts and Ordinances of the Interregnum, 3 vols (London, 1911), II, pp. 18–20. 10 Quentin Skinner, Liberty Before Liberalism (Cambridge, 1988), remains a classic text. For a more recent exploration of the meaning of political liberty by Skinner, see his ‘Rethinking Political Liberty’, History Workshop Journal 61 (2006), pp. 156–70. 11 Markku Peltonen, Classical Humanism and Republicanism in English Political Thought, 1570–1640 (Cambridge, 1995), p. 2. 8

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III The search for the Scottish republic does not, however, begin in 1649. The dominance of English political culture after the union of 1707 has perhaps distracted historians from constitutional developments in seventeenthcentury Scotland, which became subsumed in a greater story of the struggle between crown and parliament in England. Thus the narrative of the development of parliamentary sovereignty has been the story of the English parliament, yet such developments were equally present in 1640s Scotland. One of the rallying calls of the Scottish Revolution was a free parliament and a free general assembly. The right of a free parliament to determine civil affairs and the corresponding right of the general assembly in matters ecclesiastical stood at the core of any debate about liberty in Scotland after 1637; they both questioned the extent of the king’s prerogative in these matters but also represented separate jurisdictions in church and state. In civil government, the embryonic covenanting executive dates back to 1637 and the co-ordination of opposition to royal policies.12 One indication that at least some Covenanters were envisaging a takeover of the levers of state power as early as 1639 was the proposal that they should start raising financial levies to defray the cost of raising an army to oppose the king and that the rents of every parish were to be valued to ensure that the costs of the war could be spread evenly. By 1640 the Covenanters were collecting the royal revenues in Scotland.13 The parliamentary sessions of 1641, the later stages of which Charles I was himself present at, secured a virtual constitutional revolution. John Young has suggested that this ‘is probably the most powerful constitutional settlement that was ever enacted by the Scottish Parliament’.14 The vital measures were a triennial act, which required parliament to be summoned every three years, and an act giving parliament the power to ratify royal appointments to key public offices, the court of session and the privy council. The scrutiny of Charles’s nominees for the council in 1641, seven of whom were originally rejected, was a potent symbol of the power shift that was occurring. The constitutional revolution was reinforced by a revolution in the way in which Scotland was governed. New administrative bodies to run For more on the nature of the Revolution, see Julian Goodare, ‘The Scottish Revolution’, Chapter 5 above in this volume. 13 David Stevenson, ‘The Financing of the Cause of the Covenants, 1638–1651’, SHR 51 (1972), pp. 89–123, at p. 89. For a detailed discussion of fiscal policy and state formation, see Laura A. M. Stewart, ‘Fiscal Revolution and State Formation in Mid Seventeenth-Century Scotland’, Historical Research 84 (2011), 443–69. 14 John R. Young, ‘The Scottish Parliament and the Monarchy in the Context of Absentee Monarchy and the Anglo-Scottish Dynastic Union, 1603–1707’, Czasopismo prawno-historyczne 61 (2009), pp. 113–28, at p. 116. 12

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the covenanting regime and prosecute the war were set up both in Edinburgh and in the localities, and aimed to link the two. These included the shire committees of war in the regions of the kingdom, mechanisms for tax collection and a multiplicity of parliamentary committees, which were set up to, for example, raise taxation, liaise with the English parliament and with the covenanting armies. Thus the Scottish parliamentary regime did not need to abolish the monarchy in 1649 in order to achieve a limited monarchy or government by parliament; they had already achieved this in the early 1640s. IV The execution of the king in whose name they had ostensibly been governing would, however, pose a serious challenge to this state of affairs. The leaders of the Scottish parliament were very aware of the events unfolding in England in the opening weeks of 1649. Their commissioners in London kept them informed about the plans to put the king on trial and had asked for ‘speidey instructions how to carey themselues in so difficult a bussines’.15 These instructions provide an insight into the complex attitudes in parliament towards the king, the institution of monarchy and the unfolding events in England. The commissioners in London were instructed to petition those friendly to the Scottish position but to do nothing to justify the king’s actions in any of his kingdoms. They were not ‘craving his majesties restitution to his government, hee not having satisfied his kingdomes’, clearly recognising the king’s royal person but underlining the conditional nature of him being able to exercise his royal authority. If the king were to be tried and sentenced, the commissioners were to register the dissent and protestation of the kingdom of Scotland, ‘bot without offering in any reasons that princes are exempt from all tryell of justice’.16 The trial of the king was also seen as a breach of the 1643 Solemn League and Covenant between the kingdoms. The insistence on the inviolability of the Covenants and presbyterianism permeated civil politics and provided an inescapable context for Scottish reactions not just to the proposed trial of the king, but also to the regicide and the republican regime. English Independency, that is individual congregations outside a national church, was as unacceptable as episcopacy had been. In their Solemn Testimony Against Toleration of 16 January 1649, the commission of assembly reiterated their opposition to all errors in religion, against ‘Independency, Erastianisme, Anabaptisme, Antinomianisme’ and so on, alleging these to be common

Sir James Balfour of Denmilne, Historical Works, 4 vols, ed. J. Haig (Edinburgh, 1824– 25), III, p. 378. 16 RPS, 1649/9/21; Balfour, Historical Works, III, pp. 383–4. 15

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in England.17 Their target was liberty of ecclesiastical conscience, ‘a cursed toleration’ that would lead to religious uncertainty, disturb the good order of both church and state and ‘bring forth many blasphemies and abominations’. Ecclesiastical liberty in the Scottish context was the liberty of presbyterian conscience and practice. The kirk’s views on toleration and Independency were largely predictable. More interesting was their ‘grief, that as a throne is set up for Satan, and the house of God laid waste, so the civil government is exceedingly shaken, if not quite subverted and overthrown’. The discussion that followed was framed not as a religious but as a political discourse and used the same register as the English rhetoric justifying the trial of the king and later the republic. They stressed that ‘We plead not for tyranny, or arbitrary power either in kings or parliaments’, but drew attention to the fact that the trial of the king was being proposed by a minority: If power be originally in the people, and all of them do equally share in the privilege of liberty and freedom, how comes it to pass that a few take upon them to impose this agreement upon others, and that it is desired that the opposers may be punished with death, …

The pursuit of liberty could itself become a trap ‘wherein men may unhappily lose both themselves and their liberty, whilst they seek to be too much free’. The solution offered was a balanced government, suggested in the question they posed: ‘Were it not better to preserve monarchy and the privileges of parliament, walking in the middle betwixt tyranny and anarchy, betwixt arbitrary government and confusion’? The Solemn Testimony Against Toleration clearly shows that the assembly commission knew that the unfolding events in England might lead to a change in the ‘fundamentall governament of the kingdomes’ by which ‘monarchy [would] be destroyed, and parliaments subverted by an imaginary and pretended agreement of the people’. This last phrase refers to the Agreement of the People, a radical constitution for which the English Levellers were campaigning. It is significant that the assembly commission objected to it, not just as against ‘monarchy’, but also as against ‘parliaments’. Parliament too was aware of The Agreement of the People, having been sent a copy by their London commissioners, and also believed that it could lead to a change in the form of government. For example, they urged Charles II to negotiate with them in February 1649 and

A Solemn Testimony Against Toleration and the Present Proceedings against Sectaries and their Abettors in England, in Reference to Religion and Government (Edinburgh, 1649). This was presented to parliament and published with a statement showing the members’ concurrence. The quotations come from pp. 2, 9–10.

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claim the right of his government before democracy or any new model of government under the name of an agreement of the people or any other name or device be settled and take root, it will be more easy to maintain monarchical government than to repeal and cast out any new form of government after it is once established and the people habituated thereto.18

V It was with this knowledge, therefore, that the Scottish parliament convened on 5 February 1649, shortly after the news of the king’s execution reached Edinburgh, to most unanimouslie and cheerfullie, in recognisence and acknowledgement of his just right, title and successioun to the croune of these kingdomes, heereby proclaime and declare to all the world that the said lord and prince Charles is by the providence of God and by the laufull right of undoubted successioun and descent king of Great Britane, France and Ireland.

The Scottish parliamentary regime’s proclamation of Charles II raises three important and interrelated sets of questions. Why continue the monarchy by proclaiming Charles as king? Why king of Great Britain, why not just of Scotland? What role did they envisage for the exercise of genuine royal authority by the new king? The first of these questions – why continue the monarchy? – is a question very much framed with the benefit of hindsight. Scottish parliamentarians did not yet know what their English counterparts would do over the coming months, i.e. abolishing the office of king in England and Ireland in March and proclaiming the English Commonwealth in May. While the Scots were well aware that there would probably be an alteration of government in England, they could not be expected to prejudge what form this might take. Nor should they have been expected simply to take the same path. More importantly, however, the proclamation of the new king provided the regime with continuity. It allowed them to continue governing as they had been until then, substituting Charles II’s name for his father’s where necessary. One of the few practical effects of the change of monarch in the aftermath of the regicide was the commissioning of new seals in the name of Charles II.19 Monarchy, especially hereditary monarchy, offered stability. As the minister Samuel Rutherford expressed it in his political treatise, Lex, Rex:

18 19

RPS, 1649/1/166. 8 Feb. 1649; RPS, 1649/1/80. 104

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Yet I shall not be against the succession of Kings by birth, with good limitations; and shall agree, that through the corruption of man’s nature it may be in so far profitable, as it is peacable, and preventeth bloody tumults, which are the bane of human societies.20

It was equally essential to the security of the regime governing Scotland. Continuing to act in the king’s name made it more difficult for royalists to oppose the radical regime also in the name of the king. The early months of 1649 did in fact see the beginnings of royalist military manoeuvring in northern Scotland. Thus seeking to control and manage negotiations with Charles and stage-manage any potential return from exile was logical for the preservation of the regime in 1649. Monarchy also provided the ostensible source of legitimacy for the Scottish parliamentary regime. They were keenly aware of the need to legitimate their government, as was shown by the care that parliament took to declare the authority by which each session met. This dated back to the first triennial parliament of 1644, the first meeting of parliament since 1641, which met according to the date appointed in 1641, in a parliamentary session at which Charles I had himself been present. Subsequent parliamentary sessions, including that of 1649 itself, were called by the Committee of Estates, who derived their authority from the previous parliament. On the one hand, this is a good example of the Scottish parliamentary regime using monarchy as their apparent source of legitimacy but in reality operating under authority derived from parliament itself.21 Crucially, however, this was a necessary fiction, which provided parliament with its legislative authority. This was one of the paradoxes of 1640s Scotland, that parliament governed but operated within the framework of monarchy, which bestowed legitimacy on its actions. This remained as true after the regicide as it had been before. Charles was, however, proclaimed king not of ‘Scotland’ but of Great Britain, France and Ireland. Much has been made of this, but these were simply the king’s correct titles. The inclusion of France serves to underline the formulaic nature of the terminology. But Charles II was king by ‘laufull right of undoubted successioun’ and that undoubted right of succession applied equally to all his thrones. Following the regicide the Scottish commissioners in London submitted papers to the English parliament, protesting against the execution of Charles I and ‘likewise showing them Samuel Rutherford, Lex, Rex (London, 1644), p. 79. For more on Rutherford, see Caroline Erskine, ‘The Political Thought of the Restoration Covenanters’, Chapter 9 below in this volume. 21 A preamble to that effect prefaced much of the legislation of the later 1640s. The second session of the second triennial parliament, which opened in Jan. 1649, adopted the formula: ‘The estats of parlement, now presently conveened in this second session of the second trienniall parlement be vertue of ane act of the committee of estats, who had power and authoritie from the last parlement for conveining the parliament’: RPS, 1649/1/19. 20

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that his son was proclaimed in Scotland, being the undoubted heir of his father’s three crowns’.22 Charles II was king of England as an inescapable consequence both of the regal union and of the Covenant between the kingdoms. The Solemn League and Covenant existed between the people of the three kingdoms, who were ‘by the providence of God living under one King’. If the Scottish parliament had proclaimed Charles as king of Scotland alone, this would have implied abandoning their commitment to three covenanted kingdoms. Even if Charles II had been proclaimed king only in Scotland, this would not necessarily have prevented conflict with England, for the simple reason that many people in England also believed him to be the undoubted heir to his father’s throne.23 The question of how actively the Scots envisaged supporting Charles II in his claim to his other thrones is an important one, which cannot be fully explored here. Charles himself was committed to regaining all of his thrones and repeatedly raised the question during the negotiations of 1649 and 1650. By contrast, in the English act abolishing the monarchy, Charles I was referred to as ‘late King of England, Ireland, and the Territories and Dominions thereunto belonging’. These were not the king’s correct titles, but Cromwell’s regime adopted this formula because they were not claiming to abolish monarchy in Scotland – or indeed in France. VI Far more significant than the Scottish proclamation of Charles II as king of Great Britain was the conditional nature of the act. This declared that before he be admitted to the exercise of his royall dignitie hee shall give satisfactioun to this kingdome in those things that concerne the security of religioun, the union betuix the kingdomes and the good and peace of this kingdome according to the Nationall Covenant and the Solemne League and Covenant, for the which end wee are resolved with all possible expeditioun to mak our humble and earnest address to his majestie.

The need to fill the vacancies in the court of session and offices of state that resulted from the purging of public offices under the 1649 Act of Classes provided an early practical example of the extent to which the king’s power was in name only until he had given satisfaction. The agreement reached in 1641 had been that appointments to these offices would be made by crown and parliament together, an agreement again recognised by parliament in March 1649. These positions could not, however, be conveniently left vacant, and since ‘the king’s ma[jes]tie who 22 23

The Life of Mr Robert Blair, ed. Thomas M’Crie (Wodrow Society, 1848), p. 217. Life of Blair, p. 216. 106

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now is, before he come to the exercise of his royall power, is to give the satisfactioun desyred by this kirk and kingdome’ these offices should ‘duiring these troubles’ be filled by parliament alone. This was without prejudice to the king’s rights, but his acceptance of these appointments was to be one of the conditions he was required to subscribe prior to his return to Scotland.24 On 10 March, for example, parliament nominated Archibald Johnston of Wariston as Clerk Register. This contrasted with Wariston’s appointment as King’s Advocate in October 1646, when both Wariston and Charles I were with the Scottish army at Newcastle and the king’s consent was obtained. In March 1649 the first delegation from Scotland to negotiate with Charles II left for The Hague. Thus there was a possible mechanism for Charles II to be invited to exercise his conjunct powers of appointment, but the Scottish parliamentary regime chose not to avail itself of it, the king not yet being admitted to the exercise of his authority. The proclamation of Charles II as king in 1649 recognised his automatic right of succession but gave him no automatic right to rule. Nor did it in itself allow him to return to Scotland from his continental exile. The first delegation that met with Charles at The Hague in the spring of 1649 failed to reach an agreement with the king. Their three core demands were that the king should remove malignants (that is, royalists like Montrose) from his court, accept the Covenants and agree that ‘matters Civill should be determined by this present and subsequent parliaments of this kingdome, and matters Ecclesiasticall by the Generall assembly of the Church’.25 Charles was as yet unwilling to make sufficient concessions. The validity of parliamentary business since 1641 was a particular point of contention. In 1649 Charles declared himself willing to accept all acts of parliament ‘as have actually been consented to by the King my father, being personally present in Parliament’ or by the king’s representatives; the commissioners for parliament recognised that this would mean that ‘at once all our Lawes and Parliaments these eight years bypast are now by this your Majestie’s answer laid aside and utterly rejected’.26 Crucially this included the Act of Classes, which excluded all those with royalist records – all of Charles’s natural allies and supporters – from public life. A second, successful, set of negotiations took place in the spring of 1650. The resulting Treaty of Breda stipulated the terms on which Charles II was allowed to come to Scotland. The king may by now have been willing to compromise, but for some Scots this did not go far enough. The general assembly, for example, sent commissioners to both rounds of negotiations, but only the parliamentary commissioners had the authority to reach an agreement. The kirk’s commissioners reported in 1650 that the king had RPS, 1649/1/254. The Proceedings of the Commissioners of the Church and Kingdome of Scotland with his Majestie at the Hague (Edinburgh, 1649), p. 2. 26 The Proceedings of the Commissioners … at the Hague, pp. 11–12. 24 25

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Figure 6.1.  The coronation of Charles II in Scotland, on 1 January 1651, was a celebration of constitutionalism more than royalism. (The True Manner of the Crowning of Charles the Second King of Scotland, on the first day of January, 1650 (Robert Ibbitson: London, 1651). British Library: Shelfmark 699.f.15 (81). Credit © The British Library Board.)

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‘granted so much to the Commissioners of the State as they fand a ground to give invitation to give to Scotland’, but that they themselves were ‘exceedingly unsatisfied with his Majesties’ concessions’.27 It would be this dissent over the terms negotiated with the king that would prove to be so divisive in the months after the Scottish defeat at Dunbar in September 1650. In the meantime Charles II did, however, land in Scotland on 24 June 1650. Following his subscription of the Covenants and the ratification of the Treaty of Breda by parliament on 4 July 1650, Charles was allowed to enter into the exercise of his royal power, according to the laws, the Covenants and the terms of the Treaty. But this did not necessarily mean that Charles took control of the levers of power. The same parliament appointed a committee of estates ‘by whose advise his majesty is to manage the government of this kingdom in all matters according to the commission to be granted to them’. Real power remained in the hands of the Scottish parliamentary regime.28 The king’s coronation eventually took place in January 1651, and the coronation sermon provided a set-piece opportunity to articulate the regime’s constitutional ideas. It was preached by Robert Douglas, an Edinburgh minister and the moderator of the Commission of the General Assembly. The second half of Douglas’ lengthy sermon presented the coronation as a covenant between king and people, a covenant that bound both parties. Subjects obviously owed a duty of obedience to their king, but the king’s power was correspondingly limited by the covenant. Thus ‘It is good for our king to learn to be wise in this time; and to know this day that he receiveth a power to govern; but a power limited by contract.’ According to Douglas, ‘It is clear that a king’s power is not absolu[t]e, as Kings and flattering Courtiers apprehend, a King’s power is a limited power, by this Covenant.’ The limits on the king’s power as elaborated by Douglas were threefold. The first two limitations are not particularly surprising. The king was subject to God and had to rule according to the ‘standing, received Laws of the kingdom’, limitations that were perfectly consistent with the coronation oath the new king was about to take.29 The third limit was, however, more interesting, particularly given how Scotland had been governed in the 1640s, i.e. effectively by parliament. The king was not to rule alone, but with counsel, specifically parliament: The total government, is not upon a king, he has counsellors, a Parliament, or Estates, in the land, who share in the burthen of Government. No king should have the sole government.… There is no man alone able to govern all. The 27 Records of the Commissions of the General Assemblies of the Church of Scotland, 1646–53, 3 vols, eds Alexander F. Mitchell and James Christie (SHS, 1892–1909), III, pp. 392–3. 28 RPS, A1650/5/120. 29 The form of the oath taken by Charles II was that laid down by the Scottish parliament in 1567: RPS, A1567/12/7.

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kingdom should not lay that burthen on one poor man, who may easily miscarry. The Estates of this Land, are bound in this Covenant, to bear a burthen with him.30

VII Is there any evidence for attitudes explicitly hostile to monarchy in Scotland in the late 1640s? One of the most detailed narrative sources for the events of 1649 is the ‘Annals’ of Sir James Balfour of Denmilne. Balfour was a presbyterian but a royalist, bitterly opposed to the English parliamentary regime and Independency but a careful chronicler. His work needs to be used with caution, but he draws attention to examples of what he construes as anti-monarchical or pro-English sentiment in the spring and summer of 1649, sometimes conflating the two. For example, he attributed the examination by a committee of the general assembly of James Baron, the provost of St Salvator’s College in St Andrews, and some of his colleagues to their being ‘extremly hatted and maligned as frinds to monarchey’ by men ‘grately malinging monarchey’, namely the ministers Robert Blair, James Wood and Samuel Rutherford.31 According to Balfour, anti-monarchical views were also to be found in political circles. He described a meeting of leading political figures and ministers of the church, which took place in July 1649, at which the majority of those present were in agreement that Charles II should be supported to the ‘last drope of ther blood and utemost endeauour’, provided that he gave satisfaction on religion and the Covenants. Three of the ten present, however, dissented because of their alleged ‘zeale to the neue Englishe Commonwealthe’: Archibald Johnston of Wariston, Sir John Chiesley and the minister, James Guthrie.32 Robert Baillie also recorded that Guthrie had been ‘passionate’ in his opposition to proclaiming Charles II king, ‘till his qualification for government had first been tryed and allowed’.33 Guthrie opposed the negotiations with the king in 1649 as well as the terms on which the king was allowed to return in 1650. Wariston too had opposed the sending of commissioners to meet with the king until as late as February 1650. This is what links the three individuals – Archibald Campbell, 1st marquis of Argyll, Johnston of Wariston and James Guthrie – singled out for execution for treason at the Restoration.34 In a sense they were the closest The Forme and Order of the Coronation of Charles the Second, pp. 8–10. Balfour, Historical Works, III, p. 410. 32 Balfour, Historical Works, III, p. 416. Chiesley survived the Restoration but was excluded from the Act of Indemnity and spent most of the 1660s in prison. 33 Baillie, Letters and Journals, III, p. 114. 34 For the Restoration regime, see Maurice Lee, Jnr, ‘The Worcester Veterans and the Restoration Regime in Scotland’, Chapter 8 below in this volume. 30 31

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Scottish equivalent to the English regicides. It was not simply their role in the revolution against Charles I or the Scottish parliamentary regime that singled them out, it was also the fact that they had been at best lukewarm in their support of Charles II and in favour of limitations on his authority. The summons for treason against Wariston in 1661, for example, specifically referred to his haveing traiterouslie intendit and purposed the eradicating and subverting [of] the fundamentall governement of this our ancient kingdome, at leist the enervating, violating, derogating or impairing the soverane authoritie, royal prerogative, and priviledge of the croune.

It also cited his opposition to the negotiations with Charles II and his responsibility for the king’s return being ‘clogged with limitatiounes, restrictiounes and conditiones’.35 Had it not been for his death in March 1661, Samuel Rutherford himself might well have joined the list of victims of the Restoration; he was cited to appear before parliament charged with treason. His political treatise, Lex, Rex, was condemned as ‘seditious and treasonable’ and burnt by the public hangman at St Andrews and Edinburgh in October 1661 along with the pamphlet Causes of the Lord’s Wrath (1653). As for James Guthrie, his role in the production and dissemination of Causes of the Lord’s Wrath was one of the charges laid against him in his indictment for treason in 1661.36 In his defence Guthrie recognised that two passages of the pamphlet could be read as seditious, particularly the condemnation of the treaty with Charles II, and Charles’s coronation ‘after he had given many clear evidences of his disaffection and enmity to the work and people of God, and was continuing in the same’.37 Several passages stand out in the context of the discussion here, particularly the argument RPS, A1661/1/15. RPS, 1661/1/67. The authorship of Causes of the Lord’s Wrath Against Scotland (n.p., 1653) is complex. The pamphlet was published anonymously. A significant part of the text was taken directly from an act of the general assembly (see below). On 10 Oct. 1651, Archibald Johnston of Wariston recorded in his diary that he had completed a draft of Causes of the Lord’s Wrath, having been asked to do so after a meeting about which no details are available: Diary of Sir Archibald Johnston of Wariston, vol. II: 1650–1654, ed. D. Hay Fleming (SHS, 1919), pp. 148–9. Many contemporaries attributed authorship to James Guthrie: Life of Blair, p. 366. In his defence before parliament, Guthrie never denied his role in drawing up the pamphlet, although he explicitly denied his authorship of the Western Remonstrance. Wariston’s role in its production also featured in his own indictment. Causes of the Lord’s Wrath thus represents the discourse circulating in the most politically radical covenanting circles between the Engagement and the early years of the Cromwellian occupation. 37 RPS, A1661/1/68; Two Speeches of Mr James Guthry before the Parliament (London, 1661). The quoted passages are from Causes of the Lord’s Wrath, pp. 6–7, 53–4. 35 36

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That an arbitrary Government and an illimited Power was the fountain of most, if not of all the corruptions both of Kirk and State: And that it was for restraint of this, and for their own just defence against tyranny and unjust violence … that the Lord’s People did join in Covenant.

The authors of Causes of the Lord’s Wrath also used an argument similar to that used by Douglas in his coronation sermon, that there was a mutual and reciprocal bond between king and people. Most striking, however, is the contention That in the League and Covenant that had been so solemnly and publicly sworn and renewed by this Kingdom, the duty of defending and preserving the King’s Majesty’s Person and Authority, is joined with, and subordinate to the duty of preserving and defending the true Religion and Liberty of the Kingdoms.38

The king was thus subordinate, not only to religion, but also to ‘liberty’. This argument was not unique to Causes of the Lord’s Wrath, which here quoted verbatim from an act of the general assembly of 27 July 1649.39 This highlights an incendiary device buried deep within the Solemn League and Covenant. Paradoxically, it was where the Covenant appeared to be most loyal in its language – in its third article, which contained the promise ‘to preserve and defend the King’s Majesty’s person and authority, in the preservation and defence of the true religion and liberties of the kingdoms’ – that it could be subverted to subordinate the king’s interests to the defence of true religion and liberty. This potentially offered the right of resistance to the king where the defence of monarchy and the interests of true religion conflicted. This was what Baillie was referring to when he later wrote about those who had ‘no scruple to lay aside the King, and to make the third article of our Covenant stand well enough with a freedome to change Monarchy with a Scottish Republick’.40 Baillie had previously exhibited some concern over similar language in a draft of the National Covenant of 1638, some clauses of which ‘might have seemed to import a Defence in armes against the King’. According to Baillie, these clauses, which had also caused difficulty for some covenanting nobles, were altered ‘so that no Causes of the Lord’s Wrath, pp. 53–4. Acts of the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland (Edinburgh, 1843), p. 207, contemporaneously printed as A seasonable and necessary Warning and Declaration, concerning present and imminent Dangers, and concerning Duties relating thereto, from the General Assembly of this Kirk unto all the Members thereof (Edinburgh, 1649). This line of argument on the part of the church dated back to early 1648 and the reaction to the Engagement: see e.g. RPS, 1661/1/69. 40 Baillie, Letters and Journals, III, p. 176. This quotation needs to be used with caution and with an exact understanding of its context. Baillie was writing in 1652 in the context of the factional split within the Church of Scotland into Protesters and Resolutioners, a split that originated in the period after the battle of Dunbar.

38 39

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word, I hope, remaines in this write, whilk, in any congruitie, can be drawn against the Prince’.41 A further indictment against Guthrie in 1661 was his involvement in the drawing up of the Western Remonstrance after the defeat at Dunbar on 3 September 1650.42 Many Scots sought a solution in the relaxation of the qualifications to serve in the army and public life, in trying to rebuild a broader coalition against the English invasion. Radicals like Guthrie, however, saw a more purged and more holy army as the way to regain God’s favour, which was needed for victory. The Western Association of 1650 attempted to recreate the heady days of 1648 when the west had delivered the radical regime to power in the aftermath of the Engagement and preserved the purity of the covenanting cause. It was outside of the political control of the mainstream radicals and the parliamentary regime, and was not led by the nobility.43 Even before Dunbar, key figures in what would become the Western Association wrote to the Committee of Estates, declaring that they were not supporting the ‘Malignant quarrel and interest’ and fought ‘merely in defence of the Covenant, Cause and Kingdom’.44 But it was after the defeat at Dunbar that the divisions over Charles II and, in particular, the terms on which he had been allowed to come to Scotland in 1650 came to a head. In calling for a national fast after Dunbar, the commissioners of the general assembly were careful not to refer specifically to the king, but lamented the lack of purging of malignants and the ungodly from the king’s family and household, and the ‘crooked and praecipitant wayes, that were taken by sundry of our States-men, for carrying on the Treatie [of Breda] with the King’.45 The Western Remonstrance was drawn up on 17 October. Its signatories were committed to expelling the English forces from Scotland, but declared that they were not obliged to fight for Charles II unless he gave religious satisfaction and shunned the company of malignants. The King was to be suspended from the exercise of his power and authority until he gave convincing evidence of repentance. The Western Remonstrance represented a split within the ranks of the radical Covenanters, not just over continued purging and the presence of malignants in public life, but also over the person of the king himself. The Remonstrance was presented to the Baillie, Letters and Journals, I, pp. 52–3. Although Guthrie himself denied this. 43 David Stevenson, ‘The Western Association, 1648–50’, Ayrshire Collections XII (Ayrshire Archaeological and Natural History Society, 1983). 44 To the Right Honourable Lords and the Others of the Committee of Estates, the Humble Remonstrance and Supplication of the Officers of the Army (Edinburgh, 1650). 45 The Causes of a Publick Fast, and Humiliation, to be Kept with all Convenient Diligence by All the Members of this Kirk and Kingdom of Scosland [sic]. Set down by the Commissioners of the Generall Assemblie (Aberdeen, 1650). 41 42

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Committee of Estates who found it ‘scandalous and injurious to his Majesties persone, and prejudiciall to hes authoritie’, which ‘holds forth the seeds of a division of ane dangerous consequence’.46 VIII What does a search for the Scottish republic reveal? There are tantalising hints, especially in 1650, that the adherence of some Scots to the institution of monarchy was becoming stretched thin and that alternatives might be considered. These hints echo through the 1650s. But it must be remembered that they are very context-specific, relating to the terms on which Charles II was allowed to return to Scotland and the shifts in the Scottish parliamentary regime after the English invasion of 1650. Unwillingness to fight for Charles II or a willingness to co-operate with the English Commonwealth cannot necessarily be extrapolated into republicanism. Thus there is little evidence of Scots actively seeking an alternative to the ‘established’ or ‘fundamental’ monarchical government. After all, why would any Scottish government adopt a political model that would undermine their legitimacy, create instability and provide their opponents with a focal point around which to organise? Why adopt the same political model as an English Commonwealth, which they saw as scarred by the sins of Independency and Covenant-breaking? Nor did they need to. Monarchy, as it survived in revolutionary Scotland, was unrecognisable as pre-revolutionary monarchy long before 1649. It was, in effect, parliamentary limited monarchy. It would have made no sense to abandon a relatively successful system of government, one that had worked efficiently for a decade, for one which offered uncertainty at best. Having both limited the monarch’s power and sidelined him from participation in government, what advantages would it have offered? Those governing Scotland in the 1640s had succeeded in divorcing the principle of monarchical government from the exercise of monarchical authority. The Scottish parliament recognised the fact that Charles I was king in January 1649, but their protests against his execution confirmed that they were not seeking to have him restored to government. As for Charles II, he could be proclaimed king yet considered unable to exercise his royal authority until specific conditions had been met. Far from being a royalist act, the proclamation of Charles II most clearly articulated the regime’s conception of limited monarchy and denied the king’s automatic right to rule. Scotland did not need a kingless republic to achieve political liberty; the Covenanters had attained this liberty by creating a strictly limited monarchy. But Scotland did remain a monarchy. 46

Records of the Commissions of the General Assemblies, III, pp. 124–5. 114

7

Highland Lawlessness and the Cromwellian Regime DANIELLE McCORMACK

The issue of ‘lawlessness’ is central to the history of the Scottish Highlands in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. King James VI decried Highland lawlessness, justifying his policies towards the region on the basis that it was a troublesome area that needed to be controlled. Increased official interest in the Highlands eventually led to the assimilation of the region into the cultural and social norms of the rest of Scotland and Britain.1 However, this lawlessness which justified government policy was not regarded only as a physical threat or as a problem of law and order. It symbolised the social and cultural differences between the Highlands and Lowlands and pointed to conflict between the two. These issues emerged in striking form during the Cromwellian occupation of Scotland in the 1650s. I Highland lawlessness drew its strength from its association with the structures of clanship. Chiefs maintained a retinue of warriors about their person, known to the clans as fine (clan gentry), and known to the government as sorners. These were usually younger members of the chief’s close kin group or of leading cadet families of the clan.2 Within the Highlands, their violence was regarded as an integral aspect of clan life. By denominating this violence as lawlessness, Lowlanders and the government demonstrated For a discussion of the emergence of the conceptual distinction between Highlands and Lowlands, see Jane E. A. Dawson, ‘The Gaidhealtachd and the Emergence of the Scottish Highlands’, in Brendan Bradshaw and Peter Roberts (eds), British Consciousness and Identity: The Making of Britain, 1533–1707 (Cambridge, 1998), pp. 259–300, at pp. 269–71. 2 Robert A. Dodgshon, From Chiefs to Landlords: Social and Economic Change in the Western Highlands and Islands, c.1493–1820 (Edinburgh, 1998), p. 89; Julian Goodare, The Government of Scotland, 1560–1625 (Oxford, 2004), p. 224. 1

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the hostility of their understanding of Highland society and their intention to attack it by undermining one of its important features. The Highlands were not substantially more violent than the Lowlands, but they were understood to be so. The denomination of Highland violence as lawlessness was the imposition of a subjective, negative assessment on Highland society. To declare that Highlanders were outside the law was also an assertion of power: it reinforced the claim of Scots legal norms over the Highlands and hinted at a project to bring it under control. Thus, the issue of lawlessness and the charged nature of this term are intrinsic not only to understanding the differences between the social structures of the Highlands and Lowlands, but also to understanding the relationship between the two regions. The matter of lawlessness in the Highlands – its extent, cultural or political significance, and the potential for comparison with similar phenomena in the Lowlands – has also given rise to historiographical debate, as shall be discussed below. The conquest of Scotland by the army of the English Commonwealth had been making steady progress since summer 1650. The Scots were decisively defeated by the English at the battle of Worcester on 3 September 1651. This defeat enabled George Monck, in his capacity as lieutenant-general of the army, to consolidate conquest of the Scottish Lowlands.3 Monck had been involved in the Scottish conquest since its earliest stages. His increasing prominence culminated in his 1654 appointment as commander-in-chief of the army in Scotland. The English conquest of Scotland allowed for the implementation of an incorporating union between the two countries. Civilian government was instituted with the establishment in September 1655 of a Scottish Council. Roger Boyle, Lord Broghill was president of the council until August 1656 but, apart from this period, Monck was unquestionably the leading figure of the Scottish administration.4 In July 1653, William Cunningham, earl of Glencairn, raised the royal standard in the Scottish Highlands. This act marked the beginning of an alliance between the Scottish royalist nobility and Highland fighters against the Cromwellian army. For the next two years, the association of Highland fighters and royalist nobility presented a sustained, if haphazard, threat to the Cromwellian regime that was secure in the Lowlands but that struggled to assert its authority in the Highlands. The responses of the English army to these enemies have been analysed elsewhere but the troops who formed the backbone of the Glencairn Rising have been neglected.5 They were composed of Highland clansmen and moss-troopers. Moss-troopers were ‘gangs of marauders, many of them ex-soldiers, who roamed throughout F. D. Dow, Cromwellian Scotland, 1651–1660 (Edinburgh, 1979), p. 11. Dow, Cromwellian Scotland, pp. 162–4. 5 Dow’s Cromwellian Scotland is the major study of Cromwellian government in Scotland in this period. For Broghill’s administration, see Patrick Little, Lord Broghill and the Cromwellian Union with Ireland and Scotland (Woodbridge, 2004), pp. 91–123. 3 4

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Scotland’.6 These two groups were in turn joined by other persons who had been displaced by the conflict of the 1640s. However, it was the aforementioned clan fighting men who suffered the effects of English Highland policy in the aftermath of the rising. This chapter will commence with an overview of some of the more significant historiographical contributions to the subject of Highland lawlessness. It will then progress to a demonstration of the continued existence of elite Highland fighters and explication of the manner in which their status was understood culturally as one bound up with a relationship to a chief. The Glencairn Rising was a notable renewal of the relationship between internal clan politics and wider Scottish and British events, which had been cultivated during the 1640s as the army of James Graham, marquis of Montrose, and Alasdair MacColla fought both against covenanting power in Scotland and Campbell power in the Highlands.7 There will be analysis of the extent of royalist sentiment inherent in the clan alliance with a royalist leadership, followed by discussion of English policy in dealing with the rising and the clans throughout the 1650s in the context of earlier Scottish government attempts to erode clan power. The English government’s policies towards the Highlands demonstrate continuities with those of its Scottish predecessor. Scottish and English governments each worked towards the isolation of the chief from his clansmen, causing erosion of the chief’s personal authority and the relegation of his clansmen to the status of ‘broken men’, men without a clan. However, a heavy military presence enabled the English to be more efficient in the suppression of clan violence and power. The Interregnum thus provides an insight into the process whereby members of traditional military retinues were changed from henchmen to broken men. II Highland lawlessness was expressed through a range of cultural practices, not least of which was the composition of praise poetry that produced ‘a glorification of the warrior’.8 This was poetry of ‘chief and fine’, which flourished between 1600 and 1745 and reinforced the cultural basis of the dominant social order.9 This culture also involved feasting and display, in which consumption of the fruits of raiding was important to the demonstration of

Dow, Cromwellian Scotland, p. 19. David Stevenson, Highland Warrior: Alasdair MacColla and the Civil Wars (Edinburgh, 1980; repr. 1994), p. 267; cf. Sherrilynn Theiss, ‘The Western Highlands and Isles and Central Government, 1616–1645’, Chapter 3 above in this volume. 8 John MacInnes, ‘The Panegyric Code in Gaelic Poetry and its Historical Background’, TGSI 50 (1976–78), pp. 435–98, at pp. 454–5. 9 MacInnes, ‘Panegyric Code’, p. 459. 6 7

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clan power.10 The phenomenon of Highland violence has necessarily been discussed by historians of the period. Julian Goodare has suggested that some Highland violence in the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries, particularly that carried out by the proscribed Clan Gregor and those clans affected by the colonisation of Lewis, was a means by which to ‘resist’ government initiatives of a ‘colonial’ character.11 However, the association of the clans with violence could also have the effect of furthering the political integration of the chiefs, as the military power at their command became a valuable asset with the wars of the mid-century.12 More generally in relation to clan violence, David Stevenson has asserted that ‘Violence, aggression and plundering came to have a central part in the ethos of the clans’ and that ‘Periodic violence was an essential and honourable part of life.’13 Jane Dawson has written of the importance of the values of the traditional fighting male elite to Gaelic society, and argued that growing Lowland disdain for such values contributed to social division between the two regions.14 Scholars who highlight the importance of a culture of violence and lawlessness in the Highlands nonetheless acknowledge the many similarities with the rest of Scottish society.15 Allan Macinnes has emphasised these similarities, particularly those pertaining to violence in the Lowlands and Highlands. Macinnes has pointed to the role of lawyers and an inept central government in exaggerating a ‘Highland problem’ in the pursuit of their own ends.16 He has stated that ‘the denigration of the Highlands as an area of endemic lawlessness amounted to the deliberate creation of a climate of disorder by venal, grasping and crude politicians to justify not only their resort to the military option but their retention of power in Scotland’.17 Macinnes has analysed the demise of clanship in the Scottish Highlands in five phases, with the final of these taking place following the battle of Culloden in 1746. His book details the interaction between clanship and wider political processes, casting light on the manner in which clanship gave way to commercialism. Macinnes’ revision of ideas concerning the relationship between clanship and militarism complements his focus on the Dodgshon, From Chiefs to Landlords, p. 87. Goodare, Government, pp. 239–40. For the argument that the Scottish government pursued colonial policies towards the Highlands in the first quarter of the seventeenth century, see pp. 225–30. 12 Goodare, Government, pp. 242–3. 13 Stevenson, Highland Warrior, pp. 15–16. 14 Dawson, ‘The Gaidhealtachd and the Emergence of the Scottish Highlands’, pp. 260, 287. 15 Stevenson, Highland Warrior, p. 16. 16 Allan I. Macinnes, Clanship, Commerce and the House of Stuart, 1603–1788 (East Linton, 1996), p. 30. 17 Allan I. Macinnes, ‘Repression and Conciliation: The Highland Dimension, 1660– 1688’, SHR 65 (1986), pp. 167–95, at p. 168. 10 11

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government’s utilisation of them for propaganda purposes. This vindicated policies whose injustice Macinnes is keen to invoke, particularly for the period following the battle of Culloden.18 Macinnes distinguishes between two types of Highland violence in the seventeenth century. He denominates the first of these as the creach, explaining it as a ritualistic occurrence in which younger members of the clan gentry exhibited the athletic prowess necessary to join their chief’s military retinue. This practice was in decline in this period. The second, denominated the sprèidh, was ‘an illicit act of private enterprise’, integral to the practice of racketeering, as it gave rise to demand for Highlanders to guard territories that straddled the Highland/Lowland border.19 However, it seems unlikely that this distinction between the creach and the sprèidh existed. A creach should be understood as a general term to refer to cattle-lifting.20 Sprèidh signifies the goods that were taken. The word means ‘dowry’ or ‘cattle’ and derives from the Middle Irish ‘préid’. This in turn derived from the Latin ‘praeda’, which means ‘prey’.21 Thus, the creach was the activity, while the sprèidh was its object.22 While Macinnes’ attempt to distinguish different types of cattle-raiding is potentially helpful, it is unlikely that the distinctions were so neat or that participants in cattle-raids for economic gain can be so easily excluded from the culture of heroism. III Throughout the seventeenth century, the structure of clanship provided an increasingly tenuous basis for raiding activities as chiefs distanced themselves from the martial activities of their clansmen.23 The marginalisation of these clansmen meant that the character of their raiding activity differed from that of counterparts who yet enjoyed the political protection of their Macinnes, Clanship, p. 211. Macinnes, Clanship, pp. 33–4. 20 Middle Irish: ‘crech’. For references to usages of ‘crech’ in Old and Middle Irish, see E. G. Quin (ed.), Dictionary of the Irish Language: Based Mainly on Old and Middle Irish Materials (Compact edn, Dublin, 1983), p. 156. ‘Creach’ can also refer to the plunder taken. See Edward Dwelly, The Illustrated Gaelic–English Dictionary (10th edn, Glasgow, 1971), p. 267. 21 Thomas F. O’Rahilly, ‘Etymological Notes – II’, Scottish Gaelic Studies 2 (1927), pp. 13–29, at p. 29. 22 This understanding of ‘creach’ and ‘sprèidh’ is exemplified in the song entitled ‘A Cheud Di-luain de’n Ràithe’ (The First Monday of the Quarter). Roderick Morison, The Blind Harper = An Clarsair Dall: The Songs of Roderick Morison and His Music, ed. William Matheson (Edinburgh, 1970), pp. 32–45. 23 Domhnall Uilleam Stiùbhart, ‘Highland Rogues and the Roots of Highland Romanticism’, in Christopher MacLachlan (ed.), Cross-Currents in Eighteenth-Century Scottish Writing (Edinburgh, 2009), pp. 161–94, at p. 164. 18 19

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chief. On a more dramatic scale, the use of government instruments by Clan Campbell could result in a similar change in status of whole clans. Clan Gregor and Clan Iain of Ardnamurchan were expropriated in the early seventeenth century and their entire fine was forced to subsist on the fringes of other clans’ lands.24 Consequently, those who continued to feud or steal cattle came to be treated as ‘thieves and broken men’.25 By the time of the Cromwellian Protectorate, most raiding was conducted by these ‘broken men’. They were joined by others who had been uprooted by the civil wars, or by men who deliberately chose a raiding life upon quarrelling with their clansmen.26 The circumstances of the chief determined the character and intensity of a warrior’s martial activity. For instance, the clansmen of William Mackintosh of Torcastle, who was heavily in debt and frequently subjected to hornings (outlawry) because of this, regularly engaged in raiding.27 Geographical location was also an important determinant of the nature of violent activity executed by these men. Lochaber, as home to Clan Cameron, the MacDonalds of Keppoch and the MacDonalds of Glencoe, witnessed more frequent and organised raiding than other regions.28 Other clans owed possession of their land to the continuation of inter-clan feuds. For example, the MacMartins of Letterfinlay held their lands in Kylinross on condition that they act as a buffer between Clan Cameron and the Mackintoshes on behalf of the former.29 Thus, there is no clear way to distinguish between raiding within the clan system and that which occurred outwith its structures, as the personnel of this violence shared an identity as successors to a heroic warrior lifestyle in Scottish Gaelic society, whatever their relationship to their clan or chief.30 Nonetheless, the warrior class was an exclusive group, as those of peasant origins, who were regarded as inferior to Highland fighters, were excluded from the heritage of martial valour.31 The persistence of a distinctive warrior class was something of which Highland commentators continued to be aware during the seventeenth century. Niall MacMhuirich, in his contribution to ‘The Book of Clan Ranald’, referred to the soldiers of the royalist campaigns of 1644–47 as A. Macdonald and A. Macdonald, The Clan Donald, 3 vols (Inverness, 1896–1904), II, pp. 179–89. 25 Dodgshon, From Chiefs to Landlords, p. 88. 26 Paul Hopkins, Glencoe and the End of the Highland War (Edinburgh, 1986), p. 29. 27 Henry Paton (ed.), The Mackintosh Muniments, 1442–1820 (Edinburgh, 1903), pp. 102–6; Jean Munro (ed.), The Lochiel Inventory, 1472–1744 (SRS, 2000), p. 103. 28 Allan I. Macinnes, ‘Lochaber – the Last Bandit Country, c.1600–c.1750’, TGSI 64 (2004–06), pp. 1–21. 29 Charles Fraser-Mackintosh, ‘Minor Highland Families – No. 4: The Camerons of Letterfinlay, Styled “Macmartins”‘, TGSI 17 (1890–91), pp. 31–45, at p. 39. 30 Stiùbhart, ‘Highland Rogues’, p. 164. 31 John MacInnes, ‘Gaelic Poetry’ (University of Edinburgh Ph.D. thesis, 1975), pp. 182–3; MacInnes, ‘Panegyric Code’, p. 453. 24

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‘daoine uaisle’, or, in English, ‘gentlemen’. They were not the only men involved in fighting and MacMhuirich subtly differentiated between the ‘núasle 7 an tsluaig’ (nobility and host).32 The force sent by Randal MacDonnell, marquis of Antrim, to Scotland to assist the king’s cause under the command of Alasdair MacColla in 1644 was considered to be composed of ‘daoine uaisle’.33 Clan Mhuirich of Badenoch, Clan Finlay of Braemar and the followers of Donald Moydartach also enjoyed respectful treatment by MacMhuirich. MacMhuirich, as the chronicler of the Clanranald MacDonalds, was faithful to the Scottish royalist cause, but he nonetheless honoured the followers of Campbell of Lawers and MacLeod of Lewis, who fought for the Covenanters.34 The status of ‘duine uasal’ (‘gentleman’) belonged to a distinct group. Membership of this group transcended partisan allegiances and was based upon two qualifications. In the first place, these daoine uaisle were inured to fighting.35 Secondly, their warrior status was inextricably linked to their relationship with their chief. MacMhuirich presented MacColla and his followers to his readers as men who were acting upon the instructions of their chief. Thereafter, MacColla assumed the role of leadership in the narrative and his followers were understood as ‘belonging’ to MacColla – ‘daoinibh uaisl[e] Alasdair’ (Alasdair’s gentlemen).36 When John Moydartach sent his son Donald to Ireland, he ordered that Donald be accompanied by ‘cuid dá d[h]aoinibh uaisle’ (some of his gentlemen), again emphasising the possessive nature of the relationship between chief and clansman.37 Accordingly, the privileged position of these gentlemen was due to their vocation as fighting men but specifically, as fighting men who belonged to a chief. Conversely, MacMhuirich described the honour of the chiefs in the context of their possession of these military retinues. MacMhuirich emphasised the closeness of this relationship by asserting that the members of these retinues were of the chiefs’ own blood. Thus, he described the MacMhuirich chief, Eoghan Óg, as captain and head of the fine. This fine amounted to three hundred men of the chief’s own blood. Similarly, the chief of Clan Finlay led noblemen of his own blood into battle.38 The emphasis on blood relationship, whether real or fictional, was a way to further cohesion throughout the clan as a whole,39 but these passages of MacMhuirich indicate that the idea of blood ties was particularly pertinent to the relationship between the chief and his military retinue. 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39

A. Cameron, Reliquiae Celticae, 2 vols (Inverness, 1892–4), II, p. 190. Cameron, Reliquiae Celticae, II, pp. 176, 88, 92. Cameron, Reliquiae Celticae, II, pp. 186–8. Cameron, Reliquiae Celticae, II, p. 200. Cameron, Reliquiae Celticae, II, p. 192. Cameron, Reliquiae Celticae, II, p. 204. Cameron, Reliquiae Celticae, II, p. 178. Stevenson, Highland Warrior, p. 16; Macinnes, Clanship, pp. 2–3. 121

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IV The Highlands were a site of nuisance for the Cromwellians by engaging in guerrilla warfare. MacMhuirich noted that the captain of Clanranald continued to defend his territories following the collapse of the royalist war effort.40 Highland fighters were to be ‘found in every place where there were English troops’.41 Oliver Cromwell complained of them: ‘I finding that divers of the army under my command are not only spoiled and robbed, but also sometimes barbarously and inhumanly butchered and slain, by a sort of outlaws and robbers, not under the discipline of any army.’42 Alexander MacNaughton of Dunderawe had led staunch resistance to the Cromwellians in 1652. The latter escaped massacre thanks to the marquis of Argyll.43 MacNaughton’s presence among guerrillas had been forced upon him after making himself ‘obnoxious’ to Argyll.44 Similarly, the MacDonalds of Glengarry had continued in arms against the English following the battle of Worcester.45 The intransigence of the Highlands in the early years of the English occupation furthered royalist hopes for a renewed campaign.46 The Glencairn Rising, by attaching itself to this pre-existing campaign, provided an opportunity to sustain this violence as royalism joined with Highlanders’ determination to maintain their local power and traditional lifestyle. Now, letters and commissions from Charles justified the Highland campaign as a royalist movement.47 For a chief like Glengarry, who was fighting anyway, the royalist banner allowed him to pursue his hopes of the earldom of Ross, in which he was to be disappointed at the Restoration. However, the union of royalist leadership and Highland fighters brought issues of Highland lawlessness or incivility versus Lowland civility to the fore. Glencairn, in his

Cameron, Reliquiae Celticae, II, p. 206. John Graham of Deuchrie, ‘An Account of the Expedition of William the Ninth Earl of Glencairn, as General of His Majesty’s Forces in the Highlands of Scotland in the Years 1653–1657’, Miscellanea Scotica IV (Glasgow, 1818–20), p. 49. 42 ‘Proclamation of Oliver Cromwell, Edinburgh, 5 Nov. 1650’, The Letters and Speeches of Oliver Cromwell, 3 vols, eds S. C. Lomas, Thomas Carlyle and C. H. Firth (London, 1904), II, p. 146. 43 Andrew McKerral, Kintyre in the Seventeenth Century (Edinburgh, 1948), p. 100. 44 John Drummond, Memoirs of Sir Ewen Cameron of Locheill, Chief of the Clan Cameron: With an Introductory Account of the History and Antiquities of That Family and of the Neighbouring Clans (Abbotsford Club, 1842), p. 141. 45 Macdonald and Macdonald, Clan Donald, II, p. 427; Scotland and the Protectorate, ed. C. H. Firth (SHS, 1899), pp. xxxvi–xxxvii. 46 Dow, Cromwellian Scotland, p. 62. 47 Macdonald and Macdonald, Clan Donald, II, p. 432; A. G. M. MacGregor, History of the Clan Gregor, from Public Records and Private Collections, 2 vols (Edinburgh, 1898– 1901), II, p. 127. 40 41

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official declaration to rouse Scotland against the invader, addressed Lowland misgivings about Highlanders, asking of them: Or are you so scrupulous, that ye will not join with your fellow-subjects and brethren of the Highlands? Whatever we may pretend, we shall say for them, that loyalty and obedience to lawful magistrates cannot be banished out of their hearts; they cannot endure foreign bondage, which proves them to be descended from the ancient and Scottish race; neither will they easily admit of novelty in matters of religion. So that without hurting your conscience, you may join with them in this cause, separating from their vices, if any appear.48

A concern with Highland ‘incivility’ led other writers to stress Highland virtue in the context of royalism. James Turner described Highlanders as trustworthy in the cause of the king and stated that their respect for Glencairn was due to his reputation as a staunch royalist.49 In June 1654, Sir Peter Mews wrote that the Highlanders were ‘right sett for the ancient government of their Country, and that in his person who only hath a just claime to it’.50 John Drummond wrote that ‘The only body of men that stood out for the King, and rendered themselves considerable, were those that putt themselves under the command of the Earl of Glencairn, in the Northern parts of the Highlands.’51 Turner and Mews both wished to apologise for the presence of ‘uncivilised’ Highlanders in the royalist army by emphasising their sincere loyalty to Charles. Mews went to great lengths to excuse the fact that Highland manners did not accord with those of Lowlanders, representing this as the consequence of the disruptions of the civil wars.52 Drummond’s primary concern when writing the Locheill Memoirs was to promote an image of Highland civility and to present a favourable view of the House of Lochiel in the context of Stuart loyalism. The representations of Glencairn, Mews and Drummond have had the effect of imposing a royalism on the Highlanders. However, their protestations as to Highland fidelity to the Stuarts were really the result of tensions between leadership and soldiery as the former was deeply dissatisfied with an army composed of such men.

48 ‘A Declaration of His Majesty’s Forces Now on Foot Within the kingdom of Scotland Under the Command of the Right Honourable the Earl of Glencairne’, A Collection of the State Papers of John Thurloe, Esq; secretary, first, to the Council of State, and afterwards to the two Protectors, Oliver and Richard Cromwell, 7 vols, ed. Thomas Birch (London, 1742), I, p. 511. 49 James Turner, Memoirs of His Own Life and Times, 1632–1670, ed. Thomas Thomson (Bannatyne Club, 1829), pp. 109–10. 50 ‘The Narrative of Captain Peter Mews, Thurso, Caithness, 4 June 1654’, Scotland and the Protectorate, pp. 123–4. 51 Drummond, Memoirs of Sir Ewen Cameron of Locheill, p. 97. 52 ‘The Narrative of Captain Peter Mews’, p. 124.

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Conversely, Highland fighters were impatient with the royalist leaders, who avoided engagement with English troops and who were beset by internal squabbling.53 The king was obliged to intervene in order to calm a dispute between Glencairn and Lord Balcarres. Glencairn was also involved in a duel with Sir George Munro.54 This was brought on by the latter’s disparagement of the army as ‘a number of thieves and robbers’, in response to Glencairn’s praise for their bravery.55 This was the conflation of discourses of Highland ‘incivility’ with a desire to undermine the efforts of Glencairn prior to John Middleton’s arrival with Munro as his second in command. The Cromwellian captain Jonathan Sherwin wrote caustically: ‘And if they [the Glencairn leadership] have but a stomacke to fight w[i]th us as they have one w[i]th ye other: yt Roguish gang wilbe dissipatted. There is like to be good order & disciplin amomgst them when the cheifest fight one w[i]th ye other (att single hand) for superiority.’56 These factors led to rapid abandonment of the cause. As early as December 1653, the royal forces were dispersing in the hope of being able to maintain themselves better by spreading the burden throughout the parishes nearest the Highlands.57 In July 1654, Middleton was said to have only eight hundred horse and two hundred foot.58 Six months later he had fewer than twenty men.59 The relationship between Highland warriors and the royalist nobility was tenuous at best. Highland fighters were certainly dissatisfied with the change of leadership from Glencairn to Middleton,60 and this was possibly due to Middleton’s previous association with the covenanting regime, which had similarly infringed on traditional martial practices. Alliance with the royalists was a matter of pragmatism but did not supersede opposition to infringement on their lifestyle. To distinguish the period 1653–55 according

Drummond, Memoirs of Sir Ewen Cameron of Locheill, p. 102; ‘John Baynes to Adam Baynes, near Weynes, 11 July 1654’, Letters from Roundhead Officers from Scotland to Captain Adam Baynes, 1650–1660, ed. J. Y. Akerman (Bannatyne Club, 1856), p. 82; ‘Intercepted Letter from Gilbert Mowat to Mr le Clerke, Hague, 4 June 1654’, Thurloe Papers, II, p. 317. 54 ‘The Narrative of Captain Peter Mews’, pp. 121–2. 55 ‘Intercepted Letter from Lord Newburgh, 4 Oct. 1653’, Thurloe Papers, I, p. 502; Graham, ‘An Account of the Expedition’, pp. 71–3; Macdonald and Macdonald, Clan Donald, II, pp. 433–4. 56 TNA, ‘Captain Jonathan Sherwin to the Admiralty Committee, April 16 1654’, SP18/69/161. 57 ‘A Letter of Intelligence from Scotland, Dalkeith, 13 Dec. 1653’, Thurloe Papers, I, p. 635. 58 ’Jonathan Pease to Adam Baynes, St Johnstons, 5 July 1654’, Letters from Roundhead Officers, p. 79. 59 ’John Baynes to Adam Baynes, Dalkeith, 12 Dec. 1654’, Letters from Roundhead Officers, p. 107. 60 Graham, ‘An Account of the Expedition’, p. 70. 53

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to the presence of royalist nobility in the Highlands distorts the continuum of Highland violence in the period, which was most likely conducted in order to defend local hegemonies. The English army viewed their Highland problem in much the same way as they regarded guerrilla warfare in Ireland, as evidenced by their use of the term ‘tory’ to denominate rebels in both regions.61 ‘Tory’, originally a Gaelic word meaning ‘pursuer’, was used as a term of abuse by English administrators and settlers to describe Irish Catholic guerrilla fighters and bandits following the Plantation of Ulster. Tories came to be associated with royalism following the dispersal of the Irish Catholic Confederate and royalist forces after 1652. Macinnes’ article, ‘The First Scottish Tories?’ has argued that Gaelic speakers also understood royalists as ‘tories’. His evidence is based on a Gaelic poem from the Mclagan Manuscripts that refers to the 1647–48 Scottish Engagement and contains the phrase ‘Sgrios ar a Chobhernandori’ (plague on a Chobhernandori). Following upon the interpretation of the editor of the 1889 Highland Monthly, Macinnes has asserted that ‘a Chobhernandori’ means ‘the help to the tories’ and that the author of this Gaelic poem was applying the English usage of tory to the members of the army of the Engagement.62 The poem clearly refers to the Engagers but, from a linguistic perspective, it is unlikely to mark the infiltration of the English meaning of tory into Gaelic. Rather, the phrase ‘an cobhernandori’ probably simply means ‘the covenanters’. 63 In Ireland, guerrilla fighters were drawn from a variety of backgrounds.64 The same was true of Highland guerrillas, who counted Highland clansmen and moss-troopers among their number. It seems that the English army distinguished between moss-troopers and Highland warriors by not allowing the former quarter during the Glencairn campaign.65 However, Highland fighters, who formed an integral part of the political fabric of the Highlands, were treated of separately. The process of extirpating the nuisance they posed took the form of an attack on the relationship between chief and clansmen, a recognition of the particular nature of this problem.

‘Lilburne to Lambert, Dalkeith, 6 Jan. 1653’, Scotland and the Protectorate, p. 9; ‘Francis Cranwill to the Navy Commissioners, July, 1655’, CSP Dom., 1655, p. 511. 62 Allan I. Macinnes, ‘The First Scottish Tories?’ SHR 67 (1988), pp. 56–66; Highland Monthly, eds D. Campbell and A. MacBain, I, no. 5, Aug. 1889 (Inverness, 1889–90), pp. 280–2. 63 See also Colm Ó Baoill (ed.), Gàir nan Clàrsach = The Harps’ Cry, trans. Meg Bateman (Edinburgh, 1994), p. 116. 64 Micheál Ó Siochrú, God’s Executioner: Oliver Cromwell and the Conquest of Ireland (London, 2008), p. 193. 65 ‘Monck to Cromwell, Stirling, 30 May 1654’, Scotland and the Protectorate, p. 113. 61

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V By 1655, rebellion in the Highlands had been suppressed by Monck and the military government. Thereafter, clan chiefs accommodated themselves to the regime. In this respect, they came to represent judicial authority and made themselves vulnerable to Highland warrior hostility. Early evidence of clan divisions was perceptible in the case of the MacLeods of Dunvegan. The chief capitulated on 20 May 1655, but some members of the clan fine, Rory MacLeod, Norman MacLeod and Norman MacLeod of Raasay, continued to fight. They were excluded from Dunvegan’s treaty with Monck, and the chief was set at variance with his clansmen as he was obliged to apprehend them.66 The fomentation of such division by the government had been practised by the covenanting regime. James Grant of Freuchie had found himself at odds with his clansmen in 1649. Freuchie’s brother initiated a disturbance at Inverness, which threatened to prove a nuisance to the army of the Engagement. The motivations of Freuchie’s clansmen are unclear. According to David Leslie, they acted ‘without any shadow of publick pretext’,67 but it seems likely that they resented the chief’s utilisation of a commission to proscribe their traditional raiding activities. This tension between chief and clansmen continued throughout the Interregnum. An eighteenth-century document based upon local tradition detailed anecdotes of strife between Freuchie and his clan during the Cromwellian period.68 In the absence of this document or a transcription of it, it is difficult to say how valid this is as evidence. However, the tradition does accord with other proof of strained relations between Freuchie and his clansmen. Freuchie’s position became so desperate that he feared for his life. Accordingly, in July 1658, he took out a writ of lawburrows in order to force his enemies to grant surety that they would not use any violence against him. The writ named Alexander Grant in Auchnarrows, his son Allan, William Grant of Newtoun, his son Donald, John Grant of Gorton and fifteen others as the suspected aggressors. It stated that they attacked Freuchie’s property daily, attempted to thwart his policies, and intimidated him, ‘awoing oppinlie to bereawe him of his lyff’.69 On 25 September 1663, Alexander MacDonald, chief of Keppoch, and his brother Ranald, were murdered by Inverlair MacDonalds with whom their clan was at feud. However, Keppoch’s own clansmen were also involved, and none came to the assistance of the brothers. This breakdown in clan

‘Treaty of MacLeod of Dunvegan, 20 May 1655’, Scotland and the Protectorate, pp. 285–7. 67 William Fraser, The Chiefs of Grant, 3 vols (Edinburgh, 1883), II, pp. 18–19. 68 Fraser, Chiefs of Grant, I, p. 279. When Fraser wrote, the document was lodged at Castle Grant, but I have been unable to locate it. 69 Ibid. 66

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authority was the result of Keppoch’s attempt to impose order on his clan following his long minority.70 Refusal to adhere to Cromwellian law continued to manifest itself throughout the remainder of the Interregnum. The chief of Clanranald demonstrated this most conspicuously. He displayed a determination to persist in raiding activities during the Interregnum, and in 1658 he raided the holding of Martin MacPherson, minister of Kilmuir on Skye. The plunder taken from MacPherson was considerable, including fifty-four cows, sixty sheep, twenty-eight lambs, thirteen horses, corn, barley and utensils. MacPherson claimed that their total value was 2632 merks 7d., including 176 merks for legal expenses.71 However, legal recourse proved ineffective, and four years later the court of session ordered Clanranald’s apprehension, complaining that he took ‘no fear or regard, for he daily haunted, and frequented, and repaired to kirk and market, and other public places, as if he were ane free person, in high authority, and in proud contempt of the laws’.72 Clanranald was clearly unable to reconcile himself to the maintenance of order and submissiveness to government authority, either Cromwellian or Stuart. In 1658, a band of approximately eighteen Highland warriors attempted to subsist by taking to arms and plundering the countryside. These men were drawn from the clans of Cameron, MacPherson and MacDonald of Glencoe. The chief of Glencoe was ordered to offer a bond of security for those warriors of his clan, while MacNaughton was called upon to assist in their apprehension, in return for an unspecified reward.73 As aforementioned, the men of Glengarry’s clan also broke out in raiding in 1659. These incidents were among the more important martial activities in the postGlencairn period as they involved sustained efforts by clansmen to live the traditional warrior lifestyle. They thereby expressed disdain for the order imposed by the Cromwellians, and could have attracted other clansmen to join with them, potentially creating the situation that existed immediately prior to the Glencairn Rising.

Annie M. MacKenzie (ed.), Orain Iain Luim: Songs of John MacDonald, Bard of Keppoch (Scottish Gaelic Texts Society, 1964), pp. 8–12; John A. MacLean, ‘The Sources, Particularly the Celtic Sources, for the History of the Highlands in the Seventeenth Century’ (University of Aberdeen Ph.D. thesis, 1939), pp. 167–82. 71 Charles MacDonald, Moidart: Among the Clanranalds, ed. John Watt (Edinburgh, 1997), pp. 67–8; L. Macdonald, ‘Gleanings from Lord Macdonald’s Charter Chest’, TGSI 14 (1887–88), pp. 63–77, at pp. 69–70. 72 Macdonald, ‘Gleanings from Lord Macdonald’s Charter Chest’, p. 70. 73 Scotland and the Protectorate, p. xxxvi. 70

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VI Throughout the Cromwellian period, the Highlands was the subject of special attention by the government. The basis for quieting the area was established during the campaign to subdue the Glencairn Rising. The English army used this campaign as an opportunity to sever fighters from the support of the country people and from alliance with Lowland royalists. Lands were wasted and houses burned in order to ensure that the Highlands could not sustain further rebellion. This indiscriminate wastage tended to the isolation of fighters from the support of country people. When campaigning in Kintail, John Baynes described this policy as follows: ‘We have not found man, woman, or child at their homes, all being either in arms or in remote places with their cattle. At their return they will have new houses to build and corn to seek, which will be a means to quiet them, or nothing.’74 Regions in which rebels were known to have been harboured were deliberately ravaged.75 Lochaber and Glengarry were wasted for three days by Monck and Colonel Thomas Morgan respectively as retribution for the killing of English soldiers to whom quarter had been granted.76 The chief of Glengarry’s house was burned and dismantled.77 In August 1654, Monck wrote to Cromwell that he was destroying the area around Lenee and that he intended to destroy Caithness.78 Monck also deterred Lowland royalists from joining with the Highlanders by making parents and tutors responsible for the actions of their charges.79 These measures met with considerable success, and the country people refused to support Middleton’s campaign, causing him and his associates to become very discouraged.80 On one occasion, Lochaber people fought against warriors who were attempting to take their cattle.81 However, the principal reason for English success in suppressing Highland lawlessness was the strong physical presence of the army and the expendi‘Cornet John Baynes to Captain Adam Baynes, Kintail, 29 June 1654’, Letters from Roundhead Officers, p. 78. 75 ‘John Baynes to Adam Baynes, Stirling, 28 July 1654’, Letters from Roundhead Officers, p. 87. 76 ‘Robert Baynes to Adam Baynes, Aberdeen, 6 July 1654’, Letters from Roundhead Officers, pp. 79–80. 77 William Mackay, ‘General Monck’s Campaign in the Highlands in 1654’, TGSI 18 (1891–92), pp. 70–9, at p. 75. 78 ‘Monck to Cromwell, 5 Aug. 1654’, Thurloe Papers, II, p. 526. 79 Ibid., pp. 261–2; ‘Monck to Cromwell, Dalkeith, 22 Apr, 1653’, Scotland and the Protectorate, p. 91; George Monck, The Commonwealth of England Having Used All Means of Tendernesse and Affection Towards the People of This Nation, By Receiving Them (After a Chargeable and Bloody War) Into Union with England … (Leith, 1654). 80 ‘John Baynes to Adam Baynes, Blair Castle, 10 July 1654’, Letters from Roundhead Officers, p. 81. 81 Dow, Cromwellian Scotland, p. 135. 74

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ture by the government of vast military resources. Lieutenant Colonel John Roseworme was commissioned to build garrisons at the head of Loch Tay in 1654.82 The Cromwellian army also occupied Inveraray and Blair Castles in 1654.83 These strongholds furthered suppression of Highland fighting, and the garrison at Inverness was of particular importance.84 Monck’s intention was to maintain soldiers throughout the Highlands so that any clan that attempted to rise could be quickly and effectively suppressed. The territory of the marquis of Argyll was the only area excepted from this scheme, as forces from Ireland were to be landed at Dunstaffnage and Inverlochy in case of unrest there.85 The scale of military presence in the Highlands was vastly ambitious. The Highlands hosted far greater numbers of soldiers than the remainder of Scotland, although the army began to disband garrisons after 1655 owing to lack of funds.86 This heavy military presence enabled the implementation of limitations to free movement throughout the Highlands. It was complemented by the realisation of a Scottish-wide system whereby no person was permitted to venture five miles beyond their abode without an official pass.87 Iain Lom welcomed the Restoration in terms of liberty of movement in the Highlands, compared with the restrictions of the Cromwellian era.88 Skippers and seamen who transported dissidents or imported unlicensed weaponry exposed themselves to the confiscation of their vessel.89 Charles Fleetwood warned his brother-in-law, Henry Cromwell, that Alexander MacNaughton had sent agents into Ireland in order to foment disturbances there.90 Attempts to co-ordinate actions in Ireland and Scotland led to the issue of a proclamation against travel to Ireland without a licence.91 The clans were also being closely watched by Cromwellian spies.92

‘Monck to Cromwell, 23 Aug. 1654’, Scotland and the Protectorate, p. 163. ‘John Baynes to Adam Baynes, Aberfoyle, 17 Aug. 1654’, ‘Jonathan Pease to Adam Baynes, Blair Castle, 3 Sept, 1654’, Letters from Roundhead Officers, pp. 92, 95. 84 Drummond, Memoirs of Sir Ewen Cameron of Locheill, pp. 111–12. 85 ‘Monck to Cromwell, Dalkeith, 15 Oct. 1657’, Scotland and the Protectorate, p. 368. 86 ‘Monck to Lambert, Dalkeith, 28 Aug. 1655’, Scotland and the Protectorate, pp. 301–3. 87 ‘Proclamation of Lilburne at Dalkeith, 7 April 1654’, Thurloe Papers, II, p. 221. 88 MacKenzie (ed.), Orain Iain Luim, p. 76. 89 John Nicoll, A Diary of Public Transactions and Other Occurrences, Chiefly in Scotland, from January 1650 to 1667, ed. David Laing (Bannatyne Club, 1836), p. 183; Lord Broghill, An Order and Declaration of His Highnes Council in Scotland, for the Government Thereof: Prohibiting the Bringing in of Any Arms or Ammunition into Scotland, without Licence 6th June 1656 (Edinburgh, 1656). 90 ‘Charles Fleetwood to Henry Cromwell, London, 8 Jan. 1656’, Correspondence of Henry Cromwell, 1655–1659, ed. Peter Gaunt (Royal Historical Society, Camden 5th series, 2007), p. 93. 91 ‘Charles Fleetwood to Henry Cromwell, Wallingford House, 15 Jan. 1656’, Correspondence of Henry Cromwell, pp. 94–5. 92 Macdonald and Macdonald, Clan Donald, II, pp. 428–9. 82 83

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Persons were also rounded up for transportation to Barbados. In October 1655, Cromwell directed the Council in Scotland to ensure that Monck and the governors of Inverlochy and Inverness employed people to maintain lists of ‘idle masterless vagabonds and robbers … to the effect none may be omitted’. Six per cent was added to the cess (the land tax) for this purpose.93 Cromwell originally intended for the lists to be used in order to round up persons for further transportation, but this was not proceeded with. There was no concerted policy of transportation in the Scottish Highlands in the 1650s, as there was in Ireland. Transportation was regarded as a way to rid the country of unruly elements and costly prisoners. It was not an aim in itself, and those transported could simply be the victims of army parsimony.94 Nonetheless, this maintenance of detailed information about the populace of Highland regions certainly contributed to the maintenance of control over Highlanders. VII The political machinations employed to control Highlanders were more subtle. It was in this area that the English government altered the fabric of Highland society by promoting the separation of chiefs from the clansmen who formed their military retinues. By requiring bonds of security from chiefs and demanding the surrender of ammunition following the Glencairn Rising, the government was able to harness the chiefs’ influence to its own ends.95 Further bonds of security were later demanded in times of political unrest,96 and, in 1659, chiefs from whom bonds had been taken were forced to sign a parole document.97 Chiefs were also forced to apprehend clansmen engaged in cattle-raiding, on pain of losing their own cattle.98 Such measures were intended to sever the relationship of clansman and chief and to erode the personal authority of the latter. They were exacerbated by the policy of appointing the tutor of the clan or another prominent member – other than the chief – as sheriff. Monck wrote to Major-General John Lambert in April 1654:

‘Instructions to the Council of Scotland, Oct. 1655’, The Writings and Speeches of Oliver Cromwell, 4 vols, ed. Wilbur Cortez Abbott (Oxford, 1988), III, p. 305. 94 ‘Monck to Lambert, Dalkeith, 21 Aug. 1655’, Scotland and the Protectorate, p. 299. 95 In return for the benefit of peace with the English, chiefs generally had to go surety for their clansmen. The privilege of bearing arms was granted on condition that ‘broken men’ be suppressed. See, for instance, ‘Treaty with Lord Seaforth, 10 Jan. 1655’, Scotland and the Protectorate, p. 235. 96 Dow, Cromwellian Scotland, p. 246. 97 Munro (ed.), Lochiel Inventory, p. 46. 98 Dow, Cromwellian Scotland, pp. 188–9; Paton (ed.), Mackintosh Muniments, p. 106. 93

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If his Highnes and Councell would think fitt to give power to appoint Justices of Peace and Constables in Scotland it would much conduce to the settling of the Country, especially the Highlands, where the next to the cheife of the Clan might bee appointed a Justice of Peace, which would probably keepe them in awe or divide them.99

By means of political favouritism, Monck succeeded in further isolating potential sympathisers of the Highland warrior class and in gaining powerful allies for the government against any dissatisfied chiefs. The most noteworthy recipient of favouritism was Lochiel. This aided the expansion of Clan Cameron as members of other clans accepted Lochiel’s authority in order to benefit from Cameron privileges.100 As an ally of the government, Lochiel enjoyed immunity from prosecution for any offences committed during the ‘late wars’. While Monck could not offer Lochiel protection in civil cases, he was willing to use his personal influence to force third parties to desist from prosecuting his client. An example of this was when he ordered the earl of Callendar not to act against Lochiel in response to the attack upon his son by Lochiel’s followers.101 However, the Cameron chief was closely supervised. He was reminded to suppress ‘broken men’ who resided within his territory. He was also ordered to restore MacMartin of Letterfinlay to his estates following MacMartin’s eviction and the theft of his cattle by Lochiel and his followers.102 Further, Lochiel was obliged to act against other chiefs and their clansmen in the government’s interest. In November 1659, when members of Clan Donald of Glengarry broke out in raiding, the government issued a call to Lochiel and Mackintosh of Conage to suppress these men. Lochiel was also instructed to arrest Donald MacDonald ‘in case he [MacDonald] shall abett or countenance the said Robbers’.103 Lochiel does not seem to have obeyed this instruction, possibly because of the weakening of the regime by this time. Nonetheless, this order is indicative of English confidence that they could depend upon their clients to arrest a former ally. The interest they showed in the apprehension of Donald MacDonald bespeaks awareness of the conflicts experienced by chiefs who were expected to join with their followers but were aware that this could have damaging results. Similarly, Sir James MacDonald of Sleat enjoyed autonomy within his bounds on Skye as a reward for his loyalty to the regime. He had informed the government of Glengarry’s movements in preparation for the Glencairn Rising.104 Sleat also raised a force against Middleton when he attempted 99 100 101 102 103 104

‘Monck to Lambert, Dalkeith, 29 Apr. 1654’, Scotland and the Protectorate, p. 98. Drummond, Memoirs of Sir Ewen Cameron of Locheill, p. 155. Munro (ed.), Lochiel Inventory, pp. 43–6. Ibid., pp. 43–4. Scotland and the Protectorate, p. xxxvii. Dow, Cromwellian Scotland, p. 80. 131

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to enter Skye in order to make it his winter quarters. He was of further service by preventing the earl of Seaforth, who had landed with six hundred men on the island, from ‘raising the country’. Sleat was aided in this by the captain of Clanranald.105 This demonstration of loyalty to the Commonwealth resulted in the provision of Sleat with ammunition and, most significantly, guaranteed his freedom to protect his territory without Cromwellian interference.106 The policy of favouring certain chiefs over others was not without opposition within the regime. Broghill, as president of the Scottish council between 1655 and 1656, preferred to grant a general indemnity for offences committed prior to 1655 in the Highlands. However, the council of state at Whitehall rebuffed this, fearing the damage it might do to supporters of the regime who had suffered robbery during the rising.107 This enabled the maintenance of the special status of Lochiel. Moreover, Monck and Broghill were agreed upon the policy of weakening Argyll’s power.108 Lochiel’s promotion formed an aspect of this policy, as he was a feudal dependant of Argyll. The government thus showed itself willing to accept and endorse the traditional authority of certain chiefs and to allow them a degree of power within their own bounds. Their authority was much diminished, though, as the suppression of broken men involved the removal of former supporters. VIII By the time of the Cromwellian conquest, therefore, the chiefs’ practice of maintaining retinues of fighting men had declined. The process of alienation from a chief was a dynamic one, and many of the men engaged in violence against the English army were subjects of that process, being either acknowledged clansmen of a chief, raiders who were isolated from him, or members of clans that had been ‘broken’. Fighting against the Cromwellian army was a means by which to continue with traditional raiding activities while also defending local power. Its association with royalism should not, however, be overstated. With the suppression of the Glencairn Rising, the English administration in the Highlands set about changing the status of Highland warriors from that of clansmen, whose activities were endorsed by the chief, to that 105 ‘Clarke to Errington, Camp in Glendowheiot, 17 July 1654’, Thurloe Papers, II, p. 465. 106 TNA, ‘Edmond Thomson to the Navy Commissioners, Highlake, near Liverpool, 15 Sept. 1654’, SP18/76/80. 107 ‘President Henry Lawrence to Lord Broghill, Whitehall, 5 Dec. 1655’, CSP Dom., 1655–6, p. 48; ‘Scotch Committee to the Council of Scotland, 9 Jan. 1656’, CSP Dom., 1655–6, p. 106. 108 Little, Lord Broghill, pp. 116–18.

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of broken men, to be suppressed. This was achieved by means of tactics that had already been used by their Stuart predecessors, but such policies were now supported by large-scale military force in the region. Of particular importance was the utilisation of the chief’s power against his clansmen. The erosion of the relationship between chief and clansmen, of such importance to writers like MacMhuirich, was an extremely important process in Highland history. It brought about change to the material and social circumstances of a social group, while also changing the nature of chiefdom in the Highlands. The erosion of the traditional cultural importance of the warrior class was one aspect of a complex of processes leading to the abandonment of the principle that land and people represented social value in favour of a commercial attitude on the part of Highland chiefs.

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The Worcester Veterans and the Restoration Regime in Scotland MAURICE LEE, JNR

Charles II, famously, hated the year he spent in Scotland in 1650–51.1 It was a curious year: a young and untried king, subjected at first to all sorts of humiliation, whose authority and influence grew in direct proportion to the military disasters suffered by the forces of the party that had brought him back to Scotland. On 31 July 1651, with Cromwell’s forces in control of Fife and about to occupy Perth, Charles, his ramshackle army and some members of the committee of estates left Stirling on the only road open to them: the road south. Charles was at last free from all tutelage, but his army’s road led to Worcester and to Cromwell’s ‘crowning mercy’ there five weeks later – their defeat. It was a flight forward rather than an invasion. Their condition was ridiculous, wrote the duke of Hamilton. ‘We have one stout argument, despair; for we must now either stoutly fight it or die.’2 The duke and many others fought stoutly on the day of Worcester, and like many others he died. One man who fought stoutly and did not die, and, remarkably, escaped a relentless pursuit, was the king. For the rest of his life Charles felt enormous gratitude, not only to those brave souls who helped him to safety in the weeks after the battle, but also to those who had accompanied him south from Stirling on his desperate, but in some senses liberating, adventure. They were mostly Scots, but not all. There were Englishmen too, notably Charles’s boyhood friend George Villiers, duke of Buckingham. It is the Scots who are the focus of this chapter. A list of them, along with those who stayed behind to govern in Charles’s absence and raise an army for him, See Maurice Lee, Jnr, ‘Annus Horribilis: Charles II in Scotland, 1650–1651’, in Maurice Lee, Jnr, The ‘Inevitable’ Union and Other Essays on Early Modern Scotland (East Linton, 2003), pp. 205–22; Ronald Hutton, Charles II, King of England, Scotland, and Ireland (Oxford, 1989), pp. 49–70; David Stevenson, Revolution and Counter-Revolution in Scotland, 1644–1651 (London, 1977), pp. 154–210. 2 Henry Cary (ed.), Memorials of the Great Civil War in England, 1642–1652, 2 vols (London, 1842), II, p. 305. 1

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Figure 8.1.  This engraving, from an English broadside, celebrated the Scots’ defeat by republican England at the battle of Worcester, 1651. (A list of the princes, dukes, earls, lords, knights, generals, maior generalls, &c. and colonells, of the Scots Kings party slaine and taken prisoners, 1651. Image published with permission of ProQuest. Further reproduction is prohibited without permission. Image produced by ProQuest as part of Early English Books Online. www.proquest.com. © De Agostini/The British Library Board [669.f.16(29).])

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reads like a roll-call of the Scottish administration for the first two decades of the Restoration government. This is far from coincidence. These men, loyal enough to follow the king at this juncture, comprised most of those few Scots whom Charles trusted and liked. Whether they provided Scotland with the best possible government is an altogether different question. I Exhibit A must be John Maitland, earl, later duke, of Lauderdale. In 1651 he had known the king for three years, a veteran statesman at 35 who had bonded closely with his 21-year-old sovereign. Though not a soldier, he had accompanied the king to Worcester as a member of the committee of estates. He was captured after the battle, narrowly escaped being put on trial for his life,3 and spent almost nine years in various English prisons before being released in March 1660. He went to see the king at Breda as quickly as he could, and successfully angled for the post he wanted in the new administration, that of secretary of state. That job, and only that job, would allow him to stay in London, in personal contact with Charles. Personal contact meant power, which Lauderdale badly wanted, both for its own sake and to repair his damaged fortunes. He had learned from his dealings with the king that Charles disliked paperwork and preferred to settle matters orally, either one-on-one or in small committees. Charles’s chief English minister in 1660, Lord Chancellor Clarendon, knew this too. He disliked and distrusted Lauderdale and did his best to prevent Lauderdale’s appointment as secretary. He urged the king to make Lauderdale chancellor, once the most important post in the Scottish administration, but now primarily a paper-pushing job, which required its holder’s presence in Edinburgh. Clarendon’s candidate for secretary was the soldier James Livingstone, Viscount Newburgh, another Worcester Scot. Charles, however, had no reason to want Newburgh as secretary: he was a quarrelsome drunk who had been involved in fights with other officers in Charles’s little army in Flanders in 1658 and 1659.4 Charles consoled him with a promotion in the peerage and the honorific captaincy of the guard. It is hardly necessary here to dwell on Lauderdale’s career. He may have got his post in part because he was a Worcester Scot; more important was the fact that the king liked him and had a high opinion of his abilities and efficiency, despite some doubts about his political judgement.5 In 1660, however, Lauderdale was less important in the Scottish administration than Lauderdale apparently believed that the threat was serious and that he owed his life to the intervention of his future wife, Elizabeth Murray, with Cromwell. Raymond C. Paterson, King Lauderdale: The Corruption of Power (Edinburgh, 2003), pp. 114–16. 4 Hutton, Charles II, p. 123. 5 Lee, ‘Annus Horribilis’, pp. 210–11, 221. 3

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Figure 8.2. Part of a list of Scottish casualties at the battle of Worcester, 1651, from an English broadside. The earls of Rothes and Lauderdale, prominent among the ‘Lords taken Prisoners’, would also be prominent among the ‘Worcester Scots’ whom Charles relied on to govern Scotland in the 1660s after the Restoration. (A list of the princes, dukes, earls, lords, knights, generals, maior generalls, &c. and colonells, of the Scots Kings party slaine and taken prisoners, 1651. Image published with permission of ProQuest. Further reproduction is prohibited without permission. Image produced by ProQuest as part of Early English Books Online. www.proquest.com. © De Agostini/The British Library Board [669.f.16(29).]) 138

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the royal commissioner, the earl of Middleton, another Worcester Scot. By 1663 Middleton was gone, and Lauderdale had achieved parity with the earl of Rothes, still another Worcester Scot. Four years later he was supreme; his supremacy lasted for over a decade. Lauderdale was far more competent than his predecessors, and was scrupulous in carrying out the king’s wishes. He might have died in office, save that he was called upon to administer a religious policy that was none of his making and which his predecessors’ bungling had rendered almost unworkable. He struggled vainly to find a satisfactory compromise; his failures, coupled with his bad health, led the king to decide to supplant him by 1679. Charles was both generous and considerate. In October 1679 he sent his brother the duke of York to Scotland as royal commissioner in Lauderdale’s place. This appointment could not reflect badly on the secretary and it serendipitously solved the problem of getting James out of England at the height of the Exclusion Crisis. Lauderdale’s health was deteriorating; in October 1680 he finally resigned as secretary of state, after a tenure of over twenty years. He was allowed to name his successor: his nephew, Alexander Stewart, earl of Moray, whose son and heir had recently married one of Lauderdale’s step-daughters. That marriage made Moray’s political career. Far from being a Worcester Scot – he was only 17 in 1651 – he had got himself elected to one of the parliaments of the Protectorate, apparently in an effort to avoid paying a fine levied on his deceased father.6 In 1678 he became a member of the powerful treasury commission, and secretary in 1680. He converted to Catholicism in order to keep his job under James VII; the revolution ended his career. Charles had been equally considerate with the two Worcester Scots whose political careers had been cut short during the years of Lauderdale’s rise to power. In 1660 John Middleton, earl of Middleton, was arguably Charles’s favourite Scot. He certainly was Clarendon’s. He was a professional soldier who had been a general in the covenanting army, then an Engager who had fought well at Preston in 1648. During Charles’s awful year in Scotland it was Middleton, more than any other single individual, who saved Charles from utter humiliation after the latter’s bungled attempt to free himself from his captors in the month after Cromwell’s great victory at Dunbar in 1650. He had been wounded at Worcester, escaped from his captors, and did his best for Charles in the futile revolt in 1654 against the Cromwellian regime known as Glencairn’s Rising. ‘Middleton’, said Charles to Clarendon in introducing the general to his principal English adviser, ‘had the least in him of any infirmities most incident to the nation that he

P. J. Pinckney, ‘The Scottish Representation in the Cromwellian Parliament of 1656’, SHR 46 (1967), pp. 95–114, at pp. 106–7.

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knew, and he would find in him a man of great honour and ingenuity, with whom he would be well pleased.’7 II So Middleton became the royal commissioner in 1660. His administration was full of Worcester Scots, either those who had been present at the battle, such as Rothes, the lord president of the council, Sir Archibald Primrose, the clerk register, Newburgh, Lauderdale, and Middleton himself, or those who had been left behind to govern in Charles’s name. This group included the earl of Glencairn, the eponymous leader of Glencairn’s Rising, who became lord chancellor, and William Keith, Earl Marischal, a Covenanter turned Engager, who concealed the Scottish regalia at his fortress at Dunnottar, was captured by Monck in 1651, and like Lauderdale, spent the years until the Restoration in various English prisons. He became lord privy seal, and held the office until his death in 1671. The aged earl of Leven resumed the post he had once held as governor of Edinburgh Castle; he died within a year and was succeeded by Middleton himself. These men were all acceptable to Clarendon and Middleton. One who was not was John Lindsay, earl of Crawford-Lindsay, who resumed the office of lord treasurer to which he had been appointed in 1644. He was a convinced, hard-line presbyterian, a Covenanter turned Engager who had been dismissed as treasurer after the Engagers’ failure at Preston. He was to have been commander of the forces never raised in 1651. Like Marischal, he was captured by Monck and spent the next nine years in prison. Charles could hardly deny him his old office once again. Furthermore, he was the father-in-law of the earl of Rothes, whom the king genuinely liked. Four significant appointments went to non-Worcester Scots. One, Sir John Fletcher, the lord advocate, was Middleton’s man. Sir Robert Moray, a professional soldier who had left the service of the king of France and been appointed justice clerk in 1651, was now reinstated. He had not been at Worcester, but had played a considerable part in Glencairn’s Rising, when he earned Glencairn’s enmity but seems to have gotten on well enough with Middleton.8 Furthermore the king liked him, and in 1660 he and Lauderdale’s cousin Lady Balcarres had been useful in getting French Protestant ministers to testify to the constancy of the king’s faith.9 Sir John Gilmour, the favourite lawyer of the Scottish aristocracy, became president of the court of session. The fourth appointment was curious: John Kennedy, earl of Edward, earl of Clarendon, The History of the Rebellion and Civil Wars in England, 6 vols, ed. W. D. Macray (Oxford, 1888), V, p. 242. 8 Alexander Robertson, The Life of Sir Robert Moray (London, 1922), pp. 75–6 and ch. 5. 9 Robertson, Moray, pp. 102–4. 7

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Cassillis, initially resumed the office of justice general, which he had received from the covenanting radicals in 1649. Cassillis was an extreme presbyterian who had never supported the Engagement. He had also opposed the readmission of the Engagers and royalists to the committee of estates in 1651, and refused to follow the king to Worcester. But he had always been on good terms with Lauderdale; his daughter, Lady Margaret Kennedy, was the secretary’s close friend and correspondent, and he was transparently honest. Lauderdale, and perhaps the king, may have hoped that Cassillis would take the oaths of allegiance and supremacy and remain in office: his doing so would have helped reconcile the presbyterian extremists to the regime. But he refused to do so. He wanted permission to go to London and explain his position to Charles, who, he apparently expected, would ‘dispense with niceties’ in his favour. Lord Chancellor Glencairn angrily refused to let him go, gave him a deadline to take the oaths or resign, and in the meantime confined him to Edinburgh Castle, perhaps to prevent him from going to court without permission. Cassillis would not submit, and forfeited his offices.10 But officialdom rightly regarded him as old, eccentric and harmless, and when in future years oath-taking was required of all landowners, especially in the south-west, where the Kennedy estates were concentrated, Cassillis was left strictly alone. His place as justice general went to a young royalist, John Murray, earl of Atholl, who had been involved in Glencairn’s Rising. He was the nearest thing to a highlander in the administration, and for some years his principal task was to try to keep the peace there. He would eventually become one of Lauderdale’s allies. One prominent Worcester Scot got virtually nothing: David Leslie, who had commanded the Scottish army. He was a capable general whose career could hardly commend itself to Charles, as his successes had been won against royalists. He had played an important part in Cromwell’s victory at Marston Moor in 1644, had destroyed Montrose’s army at Philiphaugh in 1645, and five years later had captured him at Carbisdale and sent him to his death. Facing Cromwell, he repeatedly lost. He threw away a strong position at Dunbar. He defended Stirling well in the summer of 1651 but allowed his flank to be turned – the manoeuvre by which Cromwell cut the royalist army off from its northern bases but left open the road south. At Worcester itself, Leslie performed unimpressively. He was captured there and, like Lauderdale and the others, imprisoned until the Restoration. His reward was meagre: a peerage and a pension of £500 a year. This, then, was the Middleton administration, dominated by the men on whom the king had relied in the spring and summer of 1651. They had BL, Cassillis to Lauderdale, 2 Jan., 7 March, 6, 9 April 1661, Add. MS 23115, fols 4, 100; Add. MS 23116, fols 15, 17, 19. Lady Margaret’s impassioned letter to Lauderdale on 25 April arguing that all Charles had to say to get her father to acquiesce was that ‘he intends not to assume thereby any power in doctrine or the spiritual keys of discipline’ was written in vain. NLS, MS 3136, fol. 143.

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little else in common save a perfervid royalism and, in most cases, equally perfervid ambition and greed. Most members of the aristocracy were laden with debt and wanted to feed at the public trough in either the civil administration or the army. In 1661–62 a new element was added: the bishops. As a group they commanded little respect. James Sharp, the primate, was generally regarded as a turncoat who had sold out the presbyterian moderates for the sake of power and wealth. ‘Sharp of that ilk’, Cromwell had once called him, which phrase Sharp’s biographer takes to be a tribute to his skills as a negotiator.11 A double-edged compliment at best. Spirituality was in short supply among the new bishops. Scotland’s most respected minister, Robert Douglas, who had preached at Charles’s coronation in 1651, dismissed the offer of a bishopric with scorn – he later said, with a curse.12 However contemptible the bishops may have seemed to the secular politicians, they could not be ignored. They were the chiefs of the official church, and they had friends at court and in the church of England. The administration in Edinburgh had to maintain them in office and dignity, a task that proved increasingly difficult as the years went by. III The key figures in the Scottish government were Middleton, Glencairn, Crawford, Rothes and Lauderdale. And there was Clarendon. He expected to govern Scotland from Whitehall, by means of a council on Scottish affairs with a number of English officials among its members, as well as Lauderdale and whatever Scottish councillors happened to be in London. Thus Clarendon would make policy for Scotland, issue instructions to Middleton, and neutralise Lauderdale’s influence with Charles.13 The council did not always work as Clarendon had hoped. Middleton was not always inclined to wait for instructions, or to obey them. He and Glencairn seized the initiative in passing the Act Rescissory in March 1661, even as a letter was on its way north urging consultation with the bill’s potential opponents before they acted. Nor could Clarendon always prevent Lauderdale from persuading the king not to follow the chancellor’s recommendations. True, the secretary could not delay the immediate reimposition of episcopacy after the passage of the Act Rescissory; he had urged prior consultation with the synods and presbyteries in order to prepare public opinion for the change.14 On the Julia Buckroyd, The Life of James Sharp, Archbishop of St Andrews, 1616–1679: A Political Biography (Edinburgh, 1987), p. 37. 12 Buckroyd, Sharp, p. 73. 13 Edward, earl of Clarendon, The Life of Edward, Earl of Clarendon, Continuation, 2 vols (Oxford, 1760), I, p. 291. 14 Paterson, King Lauderdale, pp. 139–42; Julia Buckroyd, Church and State in Scotland, 1660–1681 (Edinburgh, 1980), pp. 39–40. 11

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other hand Lauderdale, backed by virtually unanimous Scottish opinion, persuaded Charles to honour his promise to remove the remaining English garrisons in Scotland. Clarendon dragged his feet but finally had to agree. In 1662 the garrisons went, and the fortresses they occupied were demolished. Glencairn, the conservative royalist, was Middleton’s chief supporter. He had been the commander of the royalist forces in the ‘Rising’ in 1654 until Middleton, as arranged, arrived to take over from him. During its course he had quarrelled with Lauderdale’s cousins Sir Robert Moray and the earl of Balcarres, and with Lord Lorne, Lauderdale’s nephew.15 Glencairn was a prickly and difficult man, brave and loyal and not very bright. He was perhaps less to blame than Moray and Balcarres for the quarrels that erupted, though he certainly overreacted.16 He had no love for Lauderdale. Rothes was a weathercock who carefully kept a foot in both camps. He supported Middleton, since the commissioner was currently the most influential man in Scotland, and commander-in-chief. Rothes always hankered to be a soldier – ‘he told me he liked soldiers above all other ways of living’, wrote Moray in 1667. He wanted to be commander of the national militia, if there was to be such a post. It was a much more suitable post for him, he thought, than the presidency of the council, and Middleton’s approval would obviously be necessary.17 But he corresponded regularly with Lauderdale, with whom he devised a code for dealing with requests for royal favours. If Rothes supported the request, he would write in his own hand; any request in the hand of one of his secretaries Lauderdale could disregard.18 And in 1661 Lauderdale did him a huge favour. Thanks to the secretary Charles granted Rothes the sole wardship of his niece, the young countess of Buccleuch, the richest heiress in Scotland. The girl’s mother, Rothes’s sister, was furious; she wanted at least a share of the wardship for her husband, the earl of Wemyss. She raged in vain. Rothes was the king’s friend, and Wemyss a former Coven­anter who had not supported the Engagement. Rothes was profuse in his thanks to Lauderdale.19 Crawford and Lauderdale, on the other hand, were personae non gratae to both Clarendon and Middleton. Both were ex-Covenanters who, they thought, were still presbyterians at heart. In the decisive meeting of the Scottish council at Whitehall on the restoration of episcopacy Crawford

Balcarres, like Lauderdale, was a grandson of Alexander Seton, earl of Dunfermline, James VI’s lord chancellor; Moray married Balcarres’s sister, who died in 1653. Lorne’s wife was Lady Lauderdale’s niece. 16 For the Glencairn Rising, see Robertson, Moray, ch. 5, and Danielle McCormack, ‘Highland Lawlessness and the Cromwellian Regime’, Chapter 7 above in this volume. 17 BL, Rothes to Lauderdale, n.d., Add. MS 23115, fol. 51. Moray’s letter is in Add. MS 23127, fols 113–14. 18 BL, Rothes to Lauderdale, 13 Nov. 1660, Add. MS 23114, fol. 76. 19 For the wardship, see Maurice Lee, Jnr, The Heiresses of Buccleuch (East Linton, 1996), pp. 56–9. 15

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had flatly opposed it, while Lauderdale, as has been said, counselled delay. They were outvoted. Middleton, flushed with his success, resolved to be rid of them, and to use the next session of parliament to that end. In September 1662 parliament passed an act requiring all public officials to take an oath denouncing the Covenants and declaring them illegal. This was too much for Crawford. He resigned as treasurer in 1663 and retired from public life. He was 67. The king exacted no further penalties – he had spent nine years in prison, after all. He kept his pensions, and lived to a ripe old age, dying at 82 in 1678. Lauderdale’s cousin Lady Balcarres had warned him that he rather than Crawford was the real target of the required oath.20 Lauderdale reportedly ‘laughed … and told them that he would sign a cartful of such oaths before he would lose his place’.21 So Middleton had to find another way to unseat the secretary. The result was the celebrated billeting scheme, one of the best-known episodes in Restoration politics. Middleton got parliament to pass an act excluding from office twelve people to be chosen by secret ballot (‘billeting’) of the members of parliament. The king thought that this would be used against diehard covenanters, but Middleton, in what he thought was a clever manoeuvre against his rival, arranged for Lauderdale to be among those ‘billeted’. Indeed he aimed at disabling not only Lauderdale but also many of his political friends such as Sir Robert Moray.22 Instead it was Middleton who was ruined. Charles parted with him reluctantly. He was the first to go of any of Charles’s major appointees in his three kingdoms, the first mistake he had to acknowledge. Clarendon, in spite of his exasperation at Middleton’s stupidities, fiercely supported him, arguing that only the presbyterians would profit from Middleton’s removal. Unhappily for the chancellor, Middleton, when called upon to defend himself in front of the king, was ineffective – ‘parturiunt montes’, Lauderdale remarked.23 He then compounded his offence by an act of disobedience which may have been unintentional but which angered the king.24 Middleton had to go. Charles let Middleton down very lightly. His doom was sealed early in 1663. He lost his commissionership in May because a new session of parliament was necessary to undo the billeting act, but he was given one last BL, Add. MS 23117, fol. 52. Sir George Mackenzie, Memoirs of the Affairs of Scotland from the Restoration of King Charles II (Edinburgh, 1821), pp. 64–5. 22 There are good brief accounts in Paterson, King Lauderdale, pp. 151–60, and in Maurice Lee, Jnr, ‘Dearest Brother’: Lauderdale, Tweeddale and Scottish Politics, 1660–1674 (Edinburgh, 2010), pp. 16–22. 23 Lauderdale to Gilmour, 9 May 1663, ‘Letters from John, Earl of Lauderdale, and others, to Sir John Gilmore, President of Session’, ed. Henry M. Paton, SHS Misc. V (1933), pp. 170–1. The phrase (from Horace or Aesop) means ‘The mountains will labour’; the labour results in a ‘ridiculous mouse’, thus indicating a task that requires great effort but brings forth little result. 24 Paterson, King Lauderdale, p. 158. 20 21

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chance, after the end of the parliamentary session in October, to explain his part in the billeting business. Predictably, he failed. In December Charles asked for his resignation of his military offices, and received it in January 1664.25 Charles’s generosity to the fallen minister, two precepts totalling £6,000 in addition to the arrears of his fees as commissioner, irritated the treasurer-depute, William, Lord Bellenden.26 Bellenden’s irritation was understandable: Middleton had used his office to line his and his cronies’ pockets.27 He was never held to account. His hope of recovering the king’s favour vanished with the fall of his patron Clarendon in 1667. So in 1668 he took up the post of governor of Tangier to which Charles had appointed him at Lauderdale’s suggestion. He died there in 1674.28 Few of Middleton’s followers suffered with him. The two principal actors in the billeting scheme, Newburgh and Sir George Mackenzie of Tarbat, did pay a price. The latter, a royalist involved in Glencairn’s Rising but not a Worcester Scot, lost his place in the court of session. His career revived only with Lauderdale’s decline in the late 1670s. He played his cards very successfully thereafter; under Queen Anne he wound up with an earldom and the secretaryship of state. Newburgh, who was a Worcester Scot, lost nothing but any hope of future rewards. The lord advocate, Middleton’s man Sir John Fletcher, was charged with corruption and forced to resign; his replacement, Sir John Nisbet of Dirleton, was Lauderdale’s man. The Lord Lyon, Sir Alexander Durham of Largo, Middleton’s brother-in-law, was one of those who had played fast and loose with public money. The new Lord Lyon, Charles Erskine, was Lauderdale’s cousin; he effectively reformed and professionalised the Lyon office. This was the extent of the purge. There had been far too many people involved in the billeting scheme, including the king’s cousin the duke of Lennox, for Lauderdale to make a clean sweep of the conspirators. He did not even go after Lord Chancellor Glencairn, though he made it clear that he expected the latter to do as he was told. Glencairn was nervous and touchy; relations between the two remained tense until Glencairn suddenly died in May 1664. IV Lauderdale and Rothes now had no further rivals; but Middleton’s legacy proved to be a poisoned chalice. His enthusiastic promotion of episcopacy, with which he and his English supporters were so pleased, turned out disasPaterson, King Lauderdale, p. 159; BL, Add. MS 23120, fols 140–1. BL, Bellenden to Lauderdale, 31 March 1664, Add. MS 23121, fol. 76. 27 Ronald A. Lee, ‘Government and Politics in Scotland, 1661–1681’ (University of Glasgow Ph.D. thesis, 1995), pp. 105–7. 28 CSP Dom., 1667, pp. 273, 364; 1667–8, p. 417; NLS, Lauderdale to Tweeddale, 11 April 1667, MS 7023, fol. 31. 25 26

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trously. This was not so much because of the Act Rescissory, though its abruptness was alarming and unnecessary, or even the predictable restoration of episcopacy itself, even though what transpired made the king look hypocritical.29 The real disaster was the enforcement of the legislation of 1662, which not only restored the bishops in all their rights and privileges but also required all clergy installed in parishes since the abolition of patronage in 1649 to obtain formal presentation from the patron of the benefice and collation from the bishop of the diocese. Ministers were required to attend diocesan synods, and could be deprived for a second failure to do so. All this was not unreasonable, and was in accordance with Charles’s instructions.30 What followed was not reasonable at all. After the adjournment of parliament Middleton went to the west of Scotland, where ‘a more than usually convivial meeting of the Privy Council on October 1’ issued a proclamation ordering all ministers who had not yet obtained presentation and collation to do so within a month or get out.31 The result was the vacating of some 270 parishes,32 and the total dislocation of the religious structure in the west and south-west, where well over half the vacancies occurred. Archbishop Sharp, who probably intended to apply the patronage act selectively, was appalled, and rightly so.33 The resulting polarisation of both church and society was never repaired. Charles’s and Clarendon’s decision to entrust the management of Scottish affairs to the politically inexperienced and headstrong Middleton had proved a dreadful mistake. Middleton’s disastrous tactics in the enforcement of conformity victimised some of those who succeeded to his political authority. The principal beneficiary of Middleton’s fall was Rothes, whose accumulation of offices over the next few years was extraordinary – in fact, unique. The king appointed him commissioner for the session of parliament that began in June 1663; in that same month he succeeded his father-in-law Crawford as lord treasurer. In 1664 he took over the command of Middleton’s troop of horse, and with the latter’s resignation as commander-in-chief was in overall charge of the army, though he became officially commander-in-chief only in In Aug. 1660 Charles had promised to ‘protect and preserve the government of the Church of Scotland as it is settled by law’: presbytery when the letter was written, episcopacy after the Act Rescissory. The controverted question is that of Charles’s intentions. See Buckroyd, Sharp, p. 62; Buckroyd, Church and State, p. 25. 30 APS, VII, pp. 372–4, 376, 379. Charles’s instructions are in BL, Add. MS 23117, fol. 11. 31 RPC, 3rd ser., I, pp. 269–70. The quoted phrase comes from W. L. Mathieson, Politics and Religion: A Study in Scottish History from the Reformation to the Revolution, 2 vols (Glasgow, 1902), II, p. 190. 32 See Mathieson’s figures, ibid., p. 193. See also E. H. Hyman, ‘A Church Militant: Scotland, 1661–1690’, Sixteenth Century Journal 26 (1995), pp. 49–74, at pp. 55–6. 33 James Kirkton, The Secret and True History of the Church of Scotland from the Restoration to the Year 1678, ed. Charles K. Sharpe (Edinburgh, 1817), pp. 148–52; Buckroyd, Church and State, pp. 49–50. 29

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the wake of the Pentland Rising in 1666. On top of all this he was entrusted with the keeping of the great seal when Lord Chancellor Glencairn died in 1664, though it was understood that this was a temporary appointment. For the next few years the rumour mills were busy speculating about potential candidates for what was theoretically the greatest of all Scottish administrative offices. All these plums landed in the lap of a man who was neither very energetic nor very competent and who in October 1666 asked Lauderdale to get the king’s permission for him to come to London because, among other things, he wished to clear himself of the charge that he was an ‘infamous drunkard’.34 Rothes’s seeming monopoly of power was in fact an illusion. He had to share influence with Lauderdale and with the two archbishops. Lauderdale had apparently received little enough of the spoils of office when Middleton fell. He did become keeper of Edinburgh Castle, where he promptly installed his impoverished cousin Alexander Erskine, earl of Kellie, another Worcester Scot, as captain of the garrison. But he got his friends and allies into office, like Sir John Nisbet who became lord advocate. His cousin John Hay, earl of Tweeddale, was an important member of the council; in 1666 Tweeddale’s son and heir married Lauderdale’s only child, his daughter Mary. Most striking of all, perhaps, was his rehabilitation of his nephew, Lord Lorne, son of the executed marquis of Argyll. Middleton had had Lorne imprisoned on a trumped-up charge of ‘leasing-making’ (sedition), a capital offence. In June 1663 Lorne was released, and in October restored to the earldom (not marquisate) of Argyll and admitted to the privy council. Lauderdale was building a party. Furthermore, he had to some extent freed himself of Clarendon: the Scottish council in Whitehall met no more after Middleton’s fall. The best way to describe the Scottish political situation after the beginning of 1664 is as a balance of influence between the secretary and the new commissioner. V Clarendon and his circle still regarded Lauderdale as a closet presbyterian. So, in order to demonstrate his repentance for his covenanting past, Lauderdale made a theatrical mea culpa speech at the parliamentary session of 1663 and sponsored the appointment of the two archbishops to the privy council. They concerned themselves with the enforcement of Middleton’s religious legislation, especially Archbishop Burnet of Glasgow, who advocated the use of force and bombarded Archbishop Sheldon of Canterbury

BL, Add. MS 23125, fols 112–13. The king, who was not a heavy drinker, castigated Rothes from time to time for his drinking, though never for his womanising. At bottom Charles was not a hypocrite.

34

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with alarmist letters. Neither Rothes nor Sharp was especially enamoured of the use of force, but they eventually agreed to the dispatch of a handful of soldiers to the south-west. Their commander, Sir James Turner, another Worcester Scot, a professional soldier, bungled badly: he allowed himself to be captured by a small number of protesters against the behaviour of his men. The protesters’ numbers grew and the result was an almost accidental rebellion, the so-called Pentland Rising, which caught Rothes completely by surprise – he was at court when it broke out. Lauderdale had kept a low profile on religious issues. He now undertook to persuade the king, who, remembering the fate of his father, was understandably nervous about a religious rebellion in Scotland, that the use of force was not a sensible policy. Sharp, who had been angling for the chancellorship, alienated Rothes by a foolish attempt to involve him in trying to restore Middleton to office and found himself politically isolated. He retired to Fife, later emerging to lick the boots of Lauderdale and Tweeddale, who became Lauderdale’s chief agent in Edinburgh in 1667.35 Burnet, who continued to clamour for a violent policy, eventually lost his archbishopric and Turner his military commission, though perhaps because Turner was a Worcester Scot he was not otherwise punished for his incompetence and the misbehaviour of his soldiers. His military colleagues, Generals Dalyell and Drummond, also Worcester Scots, successfully appealed for leniency in the privy council. The king was not inclined to blame Rothes for the Edinburgh administration’s failed religious policy. The condition of the country’s finances was another matter: Rothes was lord treasurer. That Scotland was poor and had an empty treasury was not primarily Rothes’s fault. The country was economically and commercially backward, with a merchant fleet that had not recovered from the civil wars. Trade was further handicapped by Scotland’s exclusion from the privileges of the English Navigation Act and, after 1665, by the war against Holland and France, Scotland’s two chief trading partners. Rothes had farmed the customs and foreign excise to a competent thief, Sir Walter Seaton, who was far more interested in his own financial well-being than in that of the kingdom. The military necessities of the war created additional burdens. The debt-ridden nobility clamoured for military commands and pensions, and, often enough, got them. Rothes, at his wits’ end to pay the army, nevertheless made himself the spokesman of his class in arguing to Lauderdale that the pensions must be paid or the nobility would perish.36 The king listened: he knew that aristocratic dissatisfaction as well as Laud’s liturgy had triggered the rebellion of 1637. After the suppression of the Pentland Rising Rothes joined the generals

See his abject letters to Lauderdale on 27 July and 15 Oct. 1667, BL, Add. MS 23127, fol. 166; NLS, MS 2512, fol. 104. 36 BL, Rothes to Lauderdale, 12 July 1666, Add. MS 23125, fols 5–6. 35

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and ecclesiastical hard-liners like Archbishop Burnet in urging the use of force against nonconformists. He may not have believed them to be truly dangerous unless the Dutch should land an armed force, but if the army were used against them it would not shrink so much in size when peace came, and his fellow nobles could continue their military employments. Here the king was much less willing to listen: too many other reporters, Treasurerdepute Bellenden and Argyll among them, did not believe that the disaffected constituted a threat. Bellenden repeatedly warned Lauderdale that financial disaster loomed. Rothes could not cope: at one point he simply decamped to his home in Fife and left Bellenden to face the government’s angry creditors. Entrusting so much power to Rothes had not been wise. A new financial administration was badly needed.37 As with Middleton, Charles, having decided that Rothes must go, let him down gently and gradually. His key decision was to kick Rothes upstairs into the chancellorship, a move Lauderdale apparently did not like but had to accept, and replace him with a treasury commission.38 Rothes was horrified and vainly begged the king to change his mind, pleading his utter incapacity to be chancellor.39 As consolation he was named chairman of the treasury commission, but he had no veto and could not control it. The de facto leader of the commission was Tweeddale, Lauderdale’s cousin and new ‘brother’ – their children had just married – and now his chief agent in Edinburgh. Rothes’s other offices were gradually stripped away, including, crucially, that of royal commissioner. The king would not do this until after the end of the Dutch war; his final orders were issued on 20 September 1667.40 Rothes had been anxious to go to court to plead personally with the king. Tweeddale adjured Lauderdale not to let him do so; he feared the impact on Charles of Rothes’s glib and persuasive tongue. Lauderdale agreed: the required permission was not forthcoming until after Charles dismissed him as commissioner. Once again Charles sugar-coated his decision. He decided, he wrote, that there would be no national synod of the kirk for the foreseeable future, so that there was no need for a royal commissioner at all.41 Rothes kept his troop of horse, though the disbanding of much of For an excellent analysis of the government’s financial situation, see R. W. Lennox, ‘Lauderdale and Scotland: A Study in Restoration Politics and Administration, 1660– 1682’ (Columbia University Ph.D. dissertation, 1977), pp. 44–82. 38 NLS, Lauderdale to Moray, 22 June 1667, MS 7023, fol. 49. For the development of the treasury commission, see A. L. Murray, ‘The Scottish Treasury, 1667–1708’, SHR 45 (1966), pp. 89–104, and Laura Rayner, ‘The Tribulations of Everyday Government in Williamite Scotland’, Chapter 11 below in this volume. 39 See, e.g., his letter of 15 June 1667 to Lauderdale, BL, Add. MS 23127, fol. 34. 40 RPC, 3rd ser., II, p. 346. 41 BL, Tweeddale to Lauderdale, 30 July, 7 Sept., 23 Sept. 1667, Rothes to Lauderdale, 24 Sept., Add. MS 23127, fols 170–1, Add. MS 23128, fols 16–17, 58, 63; NLS, Lauderdale to Tweeddale, 21 Sept., MS 7023, fol. 94. 37

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the army after the war greatly diminished the importance of his position as commander-in-chief. He was also solaced by the uncontested passing of his treasury accounts over Tweeddale’s opposition, and the king’s relatively favourable decision on the legality of the wardship of his niece, now duchess of Monmouth and Buccleuch and Charles’s daughter-in-law.42 The timing of this decision suggests that Lauderdale had persuaded the king to hold off making it until Rothes’s acquiescence in his reduced place in the Scottish political hierarchy was assured. Rothes was by no means a cipher after 1667, but he was never again the powerful figure he had been for the previous four years. He trod carefully, wound up with a dukedom and a large pension, and died in office. VI So in 1667 Lauderdale began his long tenure of power. His ability to retain that power hinged on his personal relations with the king and on his monopoly of information from Scotland: there was no one else around Charles who could provide him with an alternative version of what went on there. Prior to 1667 the two archbishops had a channel through Archbishop Sheldon, but now Burnet, whose Jeremiads to Sheldon were numerous and lengthy, was out of office and Sharp was cowed. Furthermore Sheldon’s support of the now-departed Clarendon lasted too long for the archbishop’s political good. It is hardly necessary to add that Clarendon’s fall was welcome news to Lauderdale, who crowed that Secretary Morice, whom Charles sent to get the great seal from the newly dismissed chancellor, ‘brought it through all the court openly under his arm like a bagpipe’.43 In the long era of government by pen that began with the union of the crowns there was no doubt, in these years, whose pen it was that governed. The first few years of Lauderdale’s regime went very well indeed. These were the only years in the whole of the Restoration period when real reform might have been possible. There were promising beginnings. The treasury commission did a lot of good and useful work. It was dominated by Tweeddale and Moray, and when Moray returned to London in June 1668 after a year in Edinburgh, by the entrepreneurial Alexander Bruce, earl of Kincardine, an old friend of Moray’s, appointed in September of that year. The end of the war brought a commercial revival. There were discussions with England on the vexed Navigation Act, and later, on the possibility of political union as a means of solving many of the outstanding economic issues – people remembered that the Cromwellian union, otherwise thoroughly disliked,

Bishop Burnet’s History of His Own Time, 6 vols, ed. M. J. Routh (Oxford, 1823), I, pp. 422–3; Lee, Heiresses, p. 68. 43 NLS, Lauderdale to Tweeddale, 31 Aug. 1667, MS 7023, fol. 85. 42

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had meant Scottish inclusion in the Navigation Act. A session of parliament in 1669, over which Lauderdale presided as commissioner, went very well, though Lauderdale’s high-handed behaviour caused some resentment. The policy of religious repression was replaced by a two-pronged approach, of indulgence of those outed ministers who were prepared to conform minimally, and of a new scheme of comprehension promoted by Bishop Leighton of Dunblane, who replaced Burnet as archbishop of Glasgow. But in 1671 serious trouble developed. The union negotiations foundered. Lauderdale unwisely arranged for the appointment of his venal and incompetent brother Charles as treasurer-depute when Bellenden finally retired: Tweeddale wanted the job, and thought that he was entitled to it. Tweeddale and Lauderdale quarrelled, first over the customs farm – Tweeddale favoured direct collection – and then far more bitterly, over a family matter. Lauderdale in effect robbed his daughter, Tweeddale’s son’s wife, of her inheritance from her deceased mother for the benefit of his new wife, and did so by an outrageous piece of lying and chicanery.44 The renewal of war with the Dutch in 1672 threatened Scotland’s fragile economic recovery. Moray, who might have served as a mediator between Tweeddale and Lauderdale – he supported Tweeddale – died suddenly in July 1673. The upshot, in the autumn of 1673, was an explosion of opposition to Lauderdale in parliament that caught him completely by surprise. The leaders of the opposition were Tweeddale and the duke of Hamilton. They were an odd pair. Hamilton was a man whom Lauderdale and his allies had had to put up with, though they did so reluctantly. He ‘is not as yet a very worthy nor a wise person’, wrote Moray in 1667, when Hamilton was 32. But he was the only duke in Scotland other than the king’s courtier-cousin Lennox, a great landowner in the south-west, and a substantial creditor of the crown for debts owed to his predecessors. He was also, by marriage, a sort of Worcester Scot. His wife, who was duchess of Hamilton in her own right and transferred the title to him, was the daughter and niece of the first two dukes of Hamilton, both martyrs in the civil wars. Her father, the first duke, was the leader of the Engagers and was captured and executed after the defeat at Preston. Her uncle died of the wounds he incurred at Worcester. Charles felt the same sort of obligation to her as he did to the men who had been with him. She was also a great friend of Lauderdale and Moray. In the letter quoted above Moray went on to write of her, ‘I account [her] one of the most worthy and virtuous persons that breathes, and you know we owe kindness to the noble family. How to neglect [the duke] and befriend these is my difficulty.’45 Lauderdale’s associates found no way totally

John Hay, earl of Tweeddale, ‘Relatione of the Wrangs Done to the Ladie Yester, 1683’, ed. Maurice Lee, Jnr, SHS Misc. XIII (2004), pp. 266–307. 45 BL, Moray to Lauderdale, 16–17 Sept. 1667, Add. MS 32128, fols 36–42. 44

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to neglect Hamilton. His behaviour was maddeningly unreliable, ‘never 24 hours of a tune’, wrote Tweeddale during the parliament of 1669.46 The duke’s grievances, real and imagined, accumulated, and when in the summer of 1673 the crown repaid what it owed him – a tactical error – he had nothing to lose by leading the parliamentary attack on Lauderdale’s regime.47 Lauderdale survived by making concessions on three unpopular monopolies and then adjourning parliament. Dissolution followed in 1674; parliament never met again during Lauderdale’s tenure of office. Hamilton had lost his platform. He repeatedly visited London to complain of Lauderdale to the king; Charles paid him no heed. But the king and Lauderdale showed considerable forbearance. Hamilton was not dropped from the privy council until 1676, by which time Lauderdale had made a firm alliance with Charles’s new chief minister, Lord Treasurer Danby. Lauderdale’s biographer comments that ‘Hamilton was in many ways the ideal enemy – transparent and patently shallow’.48 Tweeddale was another matter. He was smart and dangerous, and the family feud continued to rage. So he had to go. By mid-1674 he had lost his places on the treasury commission, the privy council and the court of session; in January 1675 he and his eldest son lost their commissions in the militia. His political career was over for the time being. At the same time the issue of his debt to the Buccleuch estate, which he had thought settled in 1667, was reopened. In 1679, after several years of struggle, he was forced to agree to pay, not the £15,600 agreed upon in 1667, but £62,400. He continued to struggle, buoyed briefly in 1685 by Monmouth’s forfeiture; he paid his final instalment in 1690, by which time accumulated interest had raised the total to over £71,000.49 After Lauderdale’s fall he resumed his places in the treasury and the council, but only in the mid-1690s did he recover real political power. Under William and Mary he became lord chancellor, and died in 1697. Tweeddale’s fate is instructive. As a young man he had supported the Engagement, though his father, a thoroughgoing Covenanter, had not. He was not in any sense a Worcester Scot; during that campaign he and his brother-in-law the earl of Buccleuch were in the north-east, preoccupied with their young families. In the 1650s his relations with the Cromwellian regime were cordial; he sat in the parliaments of 1656 and 1659. He was, like Shaftesbury, one of those prominent political figures whom King Charles might use in government but would never really trust. After 1663 the king was prepared to use him, since Tweeddale had not tried to block Tweeddale to Moray, 22 Oct. 1669, ‘Letters from John, Second Earl of Lauderdale, to John, Second Earl of Tweeddale and Others’, ed. Henry M. Paton, SHS Misc. VI (1939), pp. 223–6. 47 John Patrick, ‘The Origins of the Opposition to Lauderdale in the Scottish Parliament of 1673’, SHR 53 (1974), pp. 1–21; MacIntosh, Scottish Parliament, ch. 5. 48 Paterson, King Lauderdale, p. 210. 49 Lee, Heiresses, pp. 94–5. 46

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parliamentary ratification of the Buccleuch marriage contract, by which young Monmouth rather than Tweeddale’s wife would inherit the Buccleuch estates if Duchess Anna died childless.50 Tweeddale was arguably the ablest man in Scottish public life after Lauderdale himself, and some of the brilliant lawyers such as Mackenzie of Rosehaugh and Viscount Stair. Gilbert Burnet, who knew him well, described him as ‘the ablest and worthiest man of the nobility: only he was too cautious and fearful’ – this in reference to his ‘compliance’ in the disinheriting of his wife.51 But after 1673 his talents went unused until after the revolution. Lauderdale after 1673 increasingly turned to a policy of religious repression, symbolised by the restoration of the paranoid Archbishop Burnet to the see of Glasgow. This policy had failed before, and had helped to bring Lauderdale to power; it failed again, and greased the skids for his fall. His increasing high-handedness and his continued reliance on his brother alienated others, notably Kincardine, who lost favour in 1674. At the end his list of confidants consisted mainly of churchmen and mediocrities – and his wife, whose haughty and grasping behaviour was far from helpful, though the extent to which she influenced policy is not clear. Charles’s mistake in his relations with Lauderdale differed from that with Middleton and Rothes. They were incompetent; Lauderdale was not. The trouble was that all that the king knew of Scottish affairs came from Lauderdale; so it was easy for the secretary to persuade him that complainers like Hamilton and Tweeddale were motivated by greed, jealousy or ambition. Allowing a monopoly of the channels of information was a serious blunder. VII Charles was generous to those loyal to him, with the notorious exception of Clarendon, and to none more so than to those associated with the Worcester gamble. His kindness extended to widows like Lady Balcarres, whose husband had been left behind as governor of Edinburgh Castle in 1651. He had died under a cloud in 1659, but his wife (as we have seen) had helped Charles in 1660, and Lauderdale was close to her and her late husband – they were both cousins of his and of each other. Lady Balcarres received a pension, which survived when others were cut during the government’s periodic fits of economy. It is hard to overestimate the importance of Worcester Scots in the government of Charles’s ancient kingdom. Charles had no policy for ScotMaurice Lee, Jnr, ‘The Buccleuch Marriage Contract: An Unknown Episode in Scottish Politics’, Albion 25 (1993), pp. 395–418, repr. in Lee, ‘Inevitable’ Union, pp. 223–45. Jean Scott, Lady Tweeddale, was the only surviving sibling of Duchess Anna’s father Francis, earl of Buccleuch. 51 Burnet’s History, I, p. 176. 50

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land. All he wanted was that it should be quiet, cost his treasury as little as possible, and be a source of manpower in wartime. So he turned the country over to those Scotsmen he trusted. He made some bad choices. Middleton and Rothes were, in their differing ways, profoundly unsatisfactory, and their friend Archbishop Sharp a disaster. Lauderdale had great talent, and if Charles had decided from the beginning to put Lauderdale in charge of Scottish policy, things might have turned out differently. Even in 1667 it was just possible that the mistakes of the past seven years might have been rectified. The triumvirate of Lauderdale, Tweeddale and Moray got off to a promising start. But Moray’s removal to London in 1668 and the subsequent breach between Lauderdale and Tweeddale ruined that chance. The repercussions of Cromwell’s ‘crowning mercy’ continued to be felt in Scotland for a whole generation.52

52 There is more about many of the people discussed in this chapter in Lee, ‘Dearest Brother’.

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9

The Political Thought of the Restoration Covenanters CAROLINE ERSKINE

The covenanting struggle of the Restoration period, between 1660 and 1688, was very different from the movement that had sought from 1638 to resist the episcopal innovations and absolutist ambitions of Charles I and to seek the extension of presbyterianism in England and Ireland as well as Scotland.1 The National Covenant represented Scotland as a presbyterian nation, and in the 1640s, through military intervention in both England and Ireland, Scotland became a major player in the political and religious tumults of the three kingdoms. From this time until 1660, the established church of Scotland remained presbyterian, despite Scotland’s changing fortunes in victory and defeat, military occupation by Cromwell in the 1650s, and the splintering of the covenanting movement itself. However, by 1662 Scottish presbyterianism found itself in an embattled position, as the government of Charles II established an episcopal church and was determined to suppress dissent. Covenanting was no longer an official national movement.2 I During the Restoration period the Covenanters consisted of a small but vocal minority, concentrated particularly in the south-west of Scotland, and determined to testify against the evils of the church and state while remaining true to their presbyterian values. In the years from 1660 to 1688 their dissent escalated from conventicling to armed conventicling, to rebellion and renunciation of royal authority, all in the face of judicial and miliI am grateful to Professor Colin Kidd, Professor Roger A. Mason and Professor Keith M. Brown for their comments on an earlier version of this chapter and the doctoral research that inspired it. 2 For the establishment of the Restoration regime, see Maurice Lee, Jnr, ‘The Worcester Veterans and the Restoration Regime in Scotland’, Chapter 8 above in this volume. 1

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tary repression. Covenanting resistance extended to assassination attempts against their most hated opponent, Archbishop James Sharp, a man who had travelled to the Low Countries to treat with Charles II on behalf of presbyterianism before the Restoration, only to be raised to Scotland’s highest episcopal office afterwards. Sharp survived an assassination attempt in 1668, but a band of Covenanters caught up with him in 1679, and his killing sparked the rebellion that culminated at Bothwell Bridge. At this juncture, the Covenanters splintered under the weight of persecution, of policies of indulgence designed to split the movement, and of internal theological divisions and disagreements over aims and tactics. The late covenanting movement was one in which unwillingness to compromise was cultivated as a fundamental virtue. The earlier Covenanters, with their national and supra-national concerns, have received considerably more scholarly attention than the Covenanters of the Restoration period. The ideological origins of the Covenants of 1638 and 1643 have been studied in detail, as has the political thought of preRestoration Covenanters such as Samuel Rutherford, and the aristocratic impulse behind the covenanting movement manifested in the earls of Montrose and Argyll.3 The broadly British significance of the earlier Covenanters can readily be discerned, because as Ian Smart notes, the political thought produced in Scotland in this period prefigured the arguments and theories deployed by the parliamentary opponents of Charles I in England.4 Despite this, the corpus of political thought generated by the Wars of the Three Kingdoms and their aftermath has long been dominated by the names of English thinkers such as John Milton and James Harrington, John Locke and Algernon Sidney, and Thomas Hobbes. Scottish and Irish polemicists and theorists are now rightly receiving more attention. While Allan Macinnes argues that covenanting political thought should be recognised for its ‘non-anglocentric contribution to political discourse throughout the Three Kingdoms’, he notes that perceptions of the earlier Covenanters have been affected by the Covenanters of the

For example, John Coffey, Politics, Religion and the British Revolutions: The Mind of Samuel Rutherford (Cambridge, 1997); Edward J. Cowan, ‘The Making of the National Covenant’, in John Morrill (ed.), The Scottish National Covenant in its British Context (Edinburgh, 1990), pp. 68–89; Edward J. Cowan, ‘The Political Ideas of a Covenanting Leader: Archibald Campbell, marquis of Argyll, 1607–1661’, in Roger A. Mason (ed.), Scots and Britons: Scottish Political Thought and the Union of 1603 (Cambridge, 1994), pp. 241–61; Allan I. Macinnes, The British Confederate: Archibald Campbell, Marquess of Argyll, c.1607–1661 (Edinburgh, 2011); Edward J. Cowan, Montrose: For Covenant and King (Edinburgh, 1977); J. D. Ford, ‘Lex, rex iusto posita: Samuel Rutherford on the Origins of Government’, in Mason (ed.), Scots and Britons, pp. 262–90; David Stevenson, The Scottish Revolution, 1637–44: The Triumph of the Covenanters (Newton Abbot, 1973). 4 Ian M. Smart, ‘The Political Ideas of the Scottish Covenanters, 1638–88’, History of Political Thought 1 (1980), pp. 167–93, at p. 167. 3

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Restoration, and by the hagiographic historiography that followed them.5 This is a crucial point that this chapter will seek to develop through considering the Restoration Covenanters as part of the long-term trajectory of Scottish political culture between the Reformation of 1560 and the Revolution of 1689, and its aftermath. It is argued that the political thought of the Restoration Covenanters deserves attention on its own terms. It was essentially narrow and localised, fanatical and extreme, but this is what gives it such significance as it possesses. Through examination of how the canon of Restoration covenanting thought engaged with the themes of noble leadership, martyrdom and toleration; by assessing its scholarship; and by comparison with developments in English political theory in the same period, its limitations will be exposed. II The political thought of the Covenanters was unavoidably concerned with the justification of their actions against their Stuart kings, and the crucial question that exercised all theorists of resistance in early modern Europe was that of exactly who could legitimately resist a tyrannical or ungodly ruler. In the heightened atmosphere of the sixteenth-century Reformation, many theorists, including John Calvin in his Institutes of the Christian Religion, stopped short of allowing that such resistance could be carried out by the ordinary people or by private individuals or assassins. Calvin prescribed instead that resistance could be undertaken and led only by those who were properly qualified, such as the nobility, those ‘inferior magistrates’ who exercised power below the level of the monarch, but who were nonetheless a form of authority constituted by God.6 Following on from Calvin’s relatively slight engagement with the question of resistance, a significantly fuller Scottish Protestant tradition developed against the background of the Reformation rebellion against the royal authority of Mary of Guise in 1559–60, and followed by the deposition of Mary queen of Scots in 1567. This tradition was represented by the two towering figures of John Knox and George Buchanan. Both put forward theories of resistance between the 1550s and 1580s, but the scope and aims of their ideas were very different, and would pose a challenge to later covenanting theorists who sought to integrate and make use of both of their Reformation heroes. Knox’s political theory, contained in his tracts of 1558, based his argument on biblical authority and emphasised that ideally it was the nobility who Alan I. Macinnes, ‘Covenanting Ideology in Seventeenth-Century Scotland’, in Jane H. Ohlmeyer (ed.), Political Thought in Seventeenth-Century Ireland: Kingdom or Colony (Cambridge, 2000), pp. 191–220, at p. 191. 6 John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, trans. Ford L. Battles (Grand Rapids, Mich., 1986), p. 225. 5

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should resist and remove an unworthy ruler – especially an idolatrous one. Buchanan, in a more secular expression of resistance theory in his De Iure Regni apud Scotos of 1579, suggested that ‘any individual’ could legitimately resist a tyrant, even to the point of killing them.7 This differing emphasis carried through to the histories that Knox and Buchanan produced, with the former’s History of the Reformation in Scotland, which received its first publication in 1644, and the latter’s Rerum Scoticarum Historia or History of Scotland, of 1582. In Knox’s conception of history, God’s providence was the driving force of change, and people were merely instruments in the almighty struggle between good and evil, Protestant and Catholic. For Buchanan, however, people were the heroes of his story, and most particularly the nobility or clan chiefs, the inferior magistrates who had been the guardians of Scottish liberty and resisted allegedly tyrannical monarchs such as Mary queen of Scots. III To introduce the main covenanting political theorists of the seventeenth century, we must begin with Samuel Rutherford (1600–61) whose Lex, Rex, published in London in 1644, is regarded as ‘the classic statement of Covenanting political thought’.8 Writing in support of the English parliamentarians, Rutherford expressed the supra-national concerns of the early Covenanters and wrote at an optimistic juncture, when the struggle against Charles I was proceeding favourably, and the Westminster Assembly, of which Rutherford was a member, had begun to discuss presbyterian uniformity in the British Isles. Rutherford put forward a moderate theory of rights of resistance against tyrannical monarchs. He argued that such resistance should be led by inferior magistrates such as the nobility, and should not be undertaken by the common people, or by individuals acting on their own initiative. For this reason, John Coffey argues, ‘Lex, Rex reinforces the position of the traditional ruling elite of Scotland.’9 John Knox, On Rebellion, ed. Roger A. Mason (Cambridge, 1994); George Buchanan, A Dialogue on the Law of Kingship among the Scots: A Critical Edition and Translation of George Buchanan’s De Iure Regni apud Scotos Dialogus, ed. and trans. Roger A. Mason and Martin S. Smith (Aldershot, 2004), pp. 152–3. For comparisons between Knox and Buchanan, see Roger A. Mason, Kingship and the Commonweal: Political Thought in Renaissance and Reformation Scotland (East Linton, 1998); Roger A. Mason, ‘People Power? George Buchanan on Resistance and the Common Man’, in Robert von Friedeburg (ed.), Widerstandsrecht in der frühen Neuzeit: Erträge und Perspectiven der Forschung im deutschbritische Vergleich (Berlin, 2001), pp. 163–84. 8 John Coffey, ‘Samuel Rutherford and the Political Thought of the Scottish Covenanters’, in John R. Young (ed.), Celtic Dimensions of the British Civil Wars (Edinburgh, 1997), pp. 75–95, at p. 75. 9 Coffey, ‘Samuel Rutherford’, p. 79. Smart agrees that the Covenanters of the 1630s 7

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Lex, Rex, then, contained a positive appeal to the nobility, but Rutherford’s enthusiasm for their abilities soon receded. First Montrose defected to the royalist side, concerned by the growing power of the presbyterian ministry and the emasculation of the monarchy. Then, with the Engagement of 1647, more of the Covenanters’ aristocratic supporters appeared to forsake the godly cause.10 This negative tendency was one that the Covenanters of the Restoration would increasingly assign to the nobility, and in their straitened circumstances they moved far beyond the theory of resistance outlined by Rutherford. Their principal political theorists, John Brown of Wamphray, James Steuart of Goodtrees, and Alexander Shields, extended the right of resistance to the people and even to individuals acting alone. John Brown (1610–79) was a presbyterian minister and theologian who wrote from a position of exile in the Netherlands. Ousted from his Dumfriesshire parish and imprisoned briefly in 1662, he had experienced the unexpected severity of the new regime of Charles II. His An Apologetical Relation, Of the particular sufferings of the faithfull Ministers and professours of the Church of Scotland, since August 1660, published in 1665, was concerned with demonstrating ‘the lawfulness of Scotland’s defensive warre’, and was peppered with references to the political theory of Buchanan, James VI & I, the English absolutist Henry Ferne, the English parliamentarian William Prynne, and Continental theorists of sovereignty, as well as a wealth of classical and biblical references.11 James Steuart of Goodtrees (1635–1713), an advocate, also spent much of the Restoration period in exile. He was condemned to death in his absence, only to rise to the position of lord advocate following the Revolution of 1689. He was co-author with James Stirling of Naphtali, or, the wrestlings of the Church of Scotland for the Kingdom of Christ in 1667, a text that avoided giving citations of secular sources and concentrated instead on the fortunes of Scottish presbyterianism from the Reformation to the era of the Covenants.12 In his own right, Steuart was author of Jus populi vindiand 1640s tended to subscribe to the inferior magistrates tradition of resistance theory: Smart, ‘Political Ideas of the Scottish Covenanters’, p. 169. For an alternative contention that Lex, Rex did concede the right of resistance to the people, see E. Calvin Beisner, ‘His Majesty’s Advocate: Sir James Stewart of Goodtrees (1635–1713) and Covenanter Resistance Theory under the Restoration Monarchy’ (University of St Andrews Ph.D. thesis, 2002), pp. 111–13. 10 For more on covenanting divisions. see Julian Goodare, ‘The Scottish Revolution’, Chapter 5 above in this volume. 11 [John Brown,] An Apologetical Relation of the Particular Sufferings of the Faithful Ministers and Professors of the Church of Scotland since August 1660 (Edinburgh, 1845), esp. Section XI, ‘The former purpose further prosecuted & the lawfulness of Scotland’s defensive warre demonstrated’. 12 Steuart and Stirling’s Naphtali took its name from one of the tribes of Israel, and a later covenanting work by Alexander Shields entitled A Hind Let Loose carried on the quotation from Genesis chapter 49. 159

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catum, or the people’s right to defend themselves and their covenanted religion, vindicated in 1669. Here he toned down the apocalyptic rhetoric of Naphtali and replaced it with political theory that was drawn to a considerable extent from Johannes Althusius (1557–1638), the German author of Politica methodice digesta (1603), a theory of politics with both religious and secular elements.13 At the other end of the Restoration period, Alexander Shields (1660– 1700) was both scholar and a preacher at illegal field conventicles, writing in the last desperate phase of resistance in the 1680s. During his colourful life, he escaped from imprisonment on the Bass Rock in 1686, conducted field meetings during 1688, and later sailed to Darien. A Hind Let Loose, published in 1687, combined political theory and ecclesiastical history with typical covenanting religious rhetoric and glorification of persecution and suffering. This text was markedly different – both in terms of its greater radicalism and lesser standard of scholarship – from Rutherford’s work of the 1640s. IV Each of these later covenanting texts, to varying degrees, wrestled with the tensions that had been inherent in the Scottish Protestant tradition since the time of Knox and Buchanan. Buchanan’s humanist history was written as a moral guide for great men, for members of the nobility and future kings, men who made history for themselves through their virtue and strength. For the Restoration Covenanters, however, history was made by God, and the principal actors on earth were not great members of the nobility, but the persecuted poor suffering remnant – as Shields put it, ‘wasted with oppression, wounded with persecution, rent with division, ruined with defection’.14 Buchanan was of questionable use to the Covenanters in their search for a history of the oppressed. Knox was also problematic. He had offered himself as a principal figure of the events of the 1550s and 1560s, both as actor in the main events and narrator of them in his History of the Reformation. In this, Knox at least gave due credit to reformed preachers and martyrs who had gone before him. However, if the righteousness of overthrowing a regime was to be justified by the level of its tyranny, and if the severity of the regime was to be On Steuart’s use and abuse of Althusius, see Robert von Friedeburg, ‘From Collective Representation to the Right of Individual Resistance: James Steuart’s Ius populi vindicatum and the Use of Johannes Althusius’ Politica in Restoration Scotland’, History of European Ideas 24 (1998), pp. 19–42; Robert von Friedeburg, ‘”Self-Defence” and Sovereignty: The Reception and Application of German Political Thought in England and Scotland, 1628–69’, History of Political Thought 23 (2002), pp. 238–65. 14 Alexander Shields, A Hind Let Loose (Edinburgh, 1744), p. 20. 13

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measured by the number of martyrs who died opposing it, then the Scottish Reformation, with its low body count, did not offer an entirely satisfactory model narrative of persecution. Although it featured its fair share of despair and concern that Scotland was undeserving of God’s favour, Knox’s History had at its heart the successful accomplishment of the Reformation in 1560; and the Covenanters had their successes in the period 1638–47. But from the standpoint of the Restoration Covenanters, it was their own situation that was pressing, and the models and narratives of the past did not fit their requirements. The result was an insular point of view, and an obsession with enduring under tyranny, with less thought given to an eventual victory. Brown set out to narrate the sufferings of the Church of Scotland ‘Since August 1660’. Shields regarded the period 1638–60 as achieving ‘the greatest height of purity and power, that either this Church, or any other did arrive unto’, but he evidently took more satisfaction in discussing the period after 1660. It was more glorious, he believed, because all at once the Church was facing a combination of enemies that it had faced only one or two at a time in previous epochs of its history: atheism, popery, prelacy, Erastian supremacy and tyranny.15 He proudly asserted that the Church of Scotland deserved to be ‘inrolled in the catalogue of suffering Churches’.16 The Restoration was a golden age that the Covenanters characterised by suffering: by the frowning, not the smiling of God’s providence upon them. The Restoration period at least provided a richer harvest of martyrs than the Reformation had done. Archibald Johnston of Wariston, co-author of the National Covenant, was executed in 1663. A later figure who would become part of the hagiography of the Restoration Covenanters was John Brown of Priesthill, summarily executed by government forces during the ‘Killing Times’ of 1685. But thinkers like John Brown of Wamphray and Alexander Shields found it difficult to reconcile the glory of martyrdom with some of the more civic, humanist and aristocratic aspects of their ideology that they had borrowed from Buchanan and later Rutherford. Were they struggling to serve God or to preserve the commonwealth? Were they arguing for divine or for popular sovereignty? By the late stages of the Restoration the field preachers claimed to be the leaders of the remnants of their flocks, and their vision, in which they were the persecuted elect and all malignants could, quite literally, go to hell, was not a vision of social leadership for a unified commonwealth. If Scotland was not a covenanted commonwealth, in the eyes of Shields and the later field preachers, it was no commonwealth at all. Rutherford’s view of the Scottish nobility had been positive but cautious: they could be instrumental in glorious episodes of Scottish history, but could

15 16

Shields, A Hind Let Loose, pp. 75, 109. Shields, A Hind Let Loose, p. 19. 161

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also be complicit in periods of decline. The Restoration Covenanters held an ambivalent view: they retained some respect for the nobility, but despite this an ideological shift is discernible. The nobility were increasingly abandoned as the guardians of civil and religious liberty in Scotland, and the godly were to act alone. The authors of Naphtali called for resistance against the abominations of idolatry, blasphemy, perjury and heresy, and insisted that if ‘Nobles and Primores of the Realme’ should turn a blind eye to, or collude in, these evils, then ‘either the People or any part of them’ were entitled to ‘lawfully Defend themselves, and are mutually bound to assist and deliver one another’.17 In Jus populi vindicatum, James Steuart praised the conduct of the nobility in the 1630s and 1640s in upholding the cause of presbyterianism, and he was generally respectful of nobility in the abstract, describing them as the ‘Primores Regni [leading men of the kingdom] be vertue of their particular places and stations… and so are engaged beyond others, to see to the good of the Land, and of Religion’. However, his main point was that although the leadership of the nobility in any resistance against the crown was welcome, it was not absolutely necessary. In defence of the commonwealth and of their true religion, the common people were entitled to act alone. On the nobility, he said, ‘The stresse of the lawfulnesse of that defensive warre, did not lye wholly upon their shoulders.’18 As the Covenanters’ struggle reached its most desperate phase in the late 1670s and 1680s, it was increasingly assumed that the majority of the nation was concurring either actively or silently in the tyranny of the Stuarts, and that only a small minority of loyal presbyterians could see that resistance was necessary. Shields was eager to defend the actions of this minority, such as the assassination of Archbishop Sharp in 1679. He complained that ‘Such lawful, and (as one would think) laudable Attempts, for cutting off such Monsters of Nature’, were condemned as ‘horrid Assassinations’.19 Shields was forthright in allowing popular rights of resistance on the grounds of selfdefence, asserting that there was, ‘no such restriction, that it must only be done by the conduct or concurrence of the Nobles or Parliaments’.20 Yet his endorsement of popular resistance, while it borrowed from Buchanan’s civic humanism, was not primarily concerned with the welfare of the commonwealth, but rather sought justification for the actions of a minority that claimed to be guided by God and uncorrupted by worldly concerns. A further example of the later Covenanters’ strained engagement with the role of the nobility in their resistance, and the theme of martyrdom, can be found in the Campbell earls of Argyll. On the face of it, Archibald Camp[James Steuart and James Stirling,] Naphtali, or the Wrestlings of the Church of Scotland for the Kingdom of Christ (n.p., 1667), p. 18. 18 [James Steuart,] Jus populi vindicatum, or the People’s Right to Defend Themselves and their Covenanted Religion, Vindicated (n.p., 1669), p. 64. 19 Shields, A Hind Let Loose, p. 648. 20 Shields, A Hind Let Loose, p. 596. 17

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bell, marquis of Argyll (c.1607–61) and his successor Archibald Campbell, ninth earl of Argyll (c.1629–85) might have appeared to be excellent candidates for covenanting hagiography. Both were executed by the Restoration regime for their adherence to the Covenants, the former as one of the first victims of Charles II’s vengeance in 1661, and the latter after his failed rebellion against the new king James VII in 1685. A recent biography of the first marquis by Allan Macinnes has undertaken to rehabilitate his reputation, arguing that this has hitherto been disproportionately shaped by his royalist opponents. As Macinnes acknowledges, Argyll was recognised by his successors, the Restoration Covenanters, as a ‘godly patriot sacrificed on the altar of absolute monarchy’.21 However, this point can be taken further. Argyll’s sacrifice was acknowledged by his own side, but it is significant that their recognition barely extended beyond this. Brown of Wamphray’s Apologetical Relation dealt warmly with the marquis of Argyll, rebutting the legal grounds on which he had been executed, and celebrating this ‘truly noble’ man for his ‘faithfulness and constancy in carrying on the work and cause of God’.22 Naphtali noted the execution of Argyll as ‘one who had been eminent in the Work of God’ and printed his speech from the scaffold before his execution. But greater emphasis and praise were given to the final declarations of men of more humble standing as they went to their executions after the Pentland Rising of 1666. Particular stress was placed upon the life and death of Hugh McKail, a young preacher: ‘The Lord did bring him to such a manifestation of his Grace, and declaration of His Glory, he, to the admiration of all, in his most constant and Christian suffering, by his blood sealed the Truth and glorified God.’23 As the covenanting movement reached its most desperate phase, late in the Restoration, the importance of the Campbell family was downgraded further. Shields’s A Hind Let Loose narrated the tribulations of the ninth earl of Argyll but placed him alongside the English Rye House plotters Lord Russell and the earl of Essex, as evidence of how Stuart tyranny ‘reached also the greatest of the Nobility and Gentry in both Kingdoms’.24 In the hagiography of the Restoration Covenanters, the Campbells of Argyll were given their due, but greater reverence was reserved for martyred preachers and ploughmen. The successful royalist construction of the marquis of Argyll as a villain should be understood in conjunction with the half-hearted attempts of the Restoration Covenanters to claim him as a hero. It may well be objected that the treatment of Argyll was a consequence of some of his political choices. As Macinnes shows, Argyll was acquisitive, mired in the compromises and factional struggles of the years 1647–51, and, in actions that must 21 22 23 24

Macinnes, British Confederate, p. 21. [Brown,] Apologetical Relation, pp. 7, 50. [Steuart and Stirling,] Naphtali, pp. 163–4. Shields, A Hind Let Loose, p. 162. 163

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have appeared particularly galling to the Restoration Covenanters in hindsight, deeply committed to the proclamation and coronation of Charles II following the execution of his father.25 And yet, Brown, Steuart and Stirling, and Shields did not call him out on these faults. They accepted him as a positive example of commitment to the Covenants, although they damned him with faint praise. Their resolutely localised, Lowland and plebeian ideology struggled to accommodate the high-born Highlander. Further evidence of covenanting political thought can be found in the declarations issued by the preachers of the splintering movement from 1679. The first of these, the Rutherglen Declaration of May 1679, was defensive rather than offensive, listing the grievances of the Covenanters and complaining of the persecution under which they suffered.26 More extreme was the Sanquhar Declaration of June 1680. Led by Richard Cameron, a splinter-group of Covenanters stated that, ‘Although we be for government and governors’, they could no longer owe allegiance to Charles II on account of his civil and ecclesiastical tyranny. They considered themselves to be at war with his regime.27 Contemporary with this was the Queensferry paper, captured by government forces in June 1680 while its probable author, the leading field preacher Donald Cargill, made his escape. This declaration echoed Buchanan in appealing to Scottish history for lessons in dealing with tyrannical monarchs. The Stuart line ‘hath degenerate[d] from that of virtue, moderation, sobriety and good government, which was the tenor and right by which their ancestors kept their crowns (for when they left that, they themselves were laid aside, as our chronicles and registers do record)’.28 As Charles II had subscribed the Covenants as a condition of his coronation, and had then evidently renounced his vows, he had no legitimate claim upon the allegiance of his people. Reaching a climax of radicalism, the Queensferry paper set out Cargill’s hopes for a presbyterian republic: We shall no more commit the government of ourselves, and the making of laws for us, to one single person, or lineal successor, we not being by God, as the Jews were, bound to one single family; and this kind of government by a single person

Macinnes, British Confederate, ch. 9. For the text of the Declaration, see Robert Wodrow, The History of the Sufferings of the Church of Scotland from the Restoration to the Revolution, 4 vols, ed. Robert Burns (Glasgow, 1828–30), III, pp. 66–7. Wodrow’s History was first published in 1721–22, with the aim of rehabilitating the Covenanters from their reputation of rebelliousness and fanaticism. It is worth emphasising, as Wodrow did, that these declarations of 1679 and 1680 were not representative of broad presbyterian principles, but rather issued from discrete cells of the fractured covenanting movement. 27 For the text of the Declaration, see Wodrow, History, III, pp. 212–13. 28 Wodrow, History, III, p. 208. 25 26

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being most liable to inconveniences, and aptest to degenerate into tyranny, as sad and long experience hath taught us.29

V How then, in the final analysis, is the political thought of the Restoration Covenanters to be judged? Christopher Harvie makes a positive assessment of their ideology: ‘However wild the Cameronians’ Queensferry manifesto of 1650 [sc. 1680] sounded, with its call for tyrannicide and the creation of a Scottish republic, it was not eccentric but securely within a tradition of Scottish constitutional thought.’30 But if the Covenanters’ aims by 1680 were to serve God and ward off national apostasy, rather than to preserve the commonwealth and act for the good of the people, then can such thinking be regarded as securely ‘constitutional’? The only consent that mattered had been affirmed with the two Covenants in 1638 and 1643; thereafter their obligations were perpetual. Buchanan’s resistance theory may have taken him beyond the mainstream of constitutional thought, but even he accepted the realities of monarchical government and furnished the Stuart dynasty with a glorious and ancient pedigree – as even his enemies, and the enemies of the Covenanters, could acknowledge.31 By this reckoning, the later Covenanters can be seen as having gone even further, and might justly be accused of wildness and eccentricity. Any judgement on the quality of the political thought of the Restoration Covenanters would probably not be a positive one. Samuel Rutherford joined George Buchanan and Andrew Melville as mighty totems of presbyterian learning, and these figures were a hard act for the Covenanters of the Restoration to follow. John Brown and James Steuart were formidable theorists whose abilities have been underrated. But Alexander Shields illustrates that by the late 1680s the political thought of the Restoration Covenanters was a closed system. In A Hind Let Loose, most of Shields’s ideas came not from the rights of resistance canon as a whole, but more narrowly from the covenanting canon, as Shields himself stated in his discussion of

Wodrow, History, III, p. 210. For republican tendencies among the earlier Covenanters, see Sharon Adams, ‘In Search of the Scottish Republic’, Chapter 6 above in this volume. 30 Christopher Harvie, ‘The Covenanting Tradition’, in Graham S. Walker and Tom Gallagher (eds), Sermons and Battle Hymns: Protestant Popular Culture in Modern Scotland (Edinburgh, 1990), pp. 8–23, at p. 12. 31 The writings of Sir George Mackenzie, lord advocate and persecutor of Covenanters, illustrate the combination of loathing and dependence with which the Restoration establishment regarded Buchanan, as the titles of his works indicate: George Mackenzie, Jus Regium: Or, the Just and Solid Foundations of Monarchy … Maintain’d Against Buchanan, Naphtali, Dolman, Milton, &c. (Edinburgh, 1684); George Mackenzie, A Defence of the Antiquity of the Royal Line of Scotland (London, 1685). 29

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defensive arms: ‘This Question is sufficiently discussed, by our famous and learned invincible Patrons and Champions for this excellent privilege of Mankind, the unanswerable Authors of Lex Rex, the Apologeticall Relation, Naphtali, and Jus populi vindicatum.’32 Shields made a great number of citations of other works, including the German theorists Johannes Althusius and Henning Arnisaeus and the Scottish absolutist William Barclay, as well as Ferne, Bodin and Grotius. But closer investigation of A Hind Let Loose reveals that Shields was probably not as well read as Rutherford, Brown and Steuart, nor as well read as he may have wanted his readers to think he was. Admittedly, the circumstances of the composition of A Hind Let Loose were not conducive to scholarly excellence. Shields was a hunted man, while his more celebrated English contemporary John Locke had the leisure of an exile, as did John Brown and, at times, James Steuart. This circumstance might mitigate criticism of the plagiarism and synthesis involved in presenting the ideas of others in his own cast. Ian Smart judges Shields as an unoriginal thinker, contending that he borrowed heavily from Steuart and uncovering evidence that he plagiarised from Edward Gee’s The Divine Right and Originall of the Civill Magistrate from God (1658). Gee was an English presbyterian leader during the Interregnum, and his text was invaluable because his assault on Cromwell prefigured Shields’s preferred line of attack against Charles II and James VII: they were not merely tyrants but also usurpers.33 Further examination of Shields’s citations of Arnisaeus, Barclay, Bodin, Ferne and Grotius reveals them to have been plagiarised from John Brown, as the same quotations that appear within a few pages of the Apologetical Relation are replicated within a few pages of A Hind Let Loose.34 If Samuel Rutherford in 1644 addressed a covenanted Scottish commonwealth, or even three covenanted kingdoms, then Alexander Shields by 1687 addressed only the persecuted minority. The field preachers of the Restoration certainly preached to the converted; so too, to a considerable extent, did Brown, Steuart and Shields. The political thought of Brown and Shields in particular was self-consciously exclusive, produced chiefly for their fellow Covenanters in Scotland and abroad. Steuart might be regarded differently, however, as a more broad-minded theorist who sought to persuade the uncommitted. As Robert von Friedeburg notes, Naphtali was received by episcopalian controversialists such as Bishop Andrew Honyman as an unpolished and unlearned text filled with wildly anarchic ideas. Jus populi vindicatum may have been an attempt on Steuart’s part to reach beyond covenanting circles and to restate the Covenanters’ position in a more

Shields, A Hind Let Loose, p. 591. Smart, ‘Political Ideas of the Scottish Covenanters’, pp. 188–92. 34 Compare [Brown,] Apologetical Relation, pp. 84–6, with Shields, A Hind Let Loose, pp. 603–5. 32 33

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cultured and, by extension, more respectable cast: ‘It had to support Naphtali and yet save its point from being dispensed with as sectarian rhetoric.’35 VI Further research is required on the reception of covenanting political theory both before and after the watershed of the Glorious Revolution. The work of Derek Patrick offers tantalising insights into the mood and composition of the Scottish convention of estates that met in 1689, and illustrates that measures for the conduct of the elections that were designed to reduce Jacobite influence actually facilitated the election of numerous individuals with a history of dissent to Stuart rule.36 The Scottish Claim of Right of April 1689 famously made the unembarrassed admission that through his own actions, James VII had ‘Forefaulted the Right to the Crown, and the Throne is become Vacant’.37 Might this bold statement be taken as evidence of the influence of covenanting resistance theory on the representatives in the convention? ‘Influence’ is a vexed question in the history of ideas, and the making of such connections is questionable, but it is tentatively suggested that the political thought of the Restoration Covenanters did not have a significant impact outside covenanting circles after 1688. The new regime in Scotland and the re-established presbyterian church from 1690 were sensitive to the decades of resistance that had preceded 1688 and sought to neutralise or rehabilitate, rather than to celebrate, the heritage of covenanting.38 So deeply rooted were the Restoration Covenanters in their own time and place that their writings did not teach universal lessons on liberty, but rather, in the decades and centuries after they were published, they were principally to inspire fellow Covenanters and covenanting enthusiasts.39 Or they were

Von Friedeburg, ‘From Collective Representation’, p. 25. Derek J. Patrick, ‘People and Parliament in Scotland, 1689–1702’ (University of St Andrews Ph.D. thesis, 2002). 37 The Declaration of the Estates of the Kingdom of Scotland, Containing the Claim of Right, and the Offer of the Crown to their Majesties, King William and Queen Mary (Edinburgh, 1689), p. 4. For more on the Claim of Right, see Alasdair Raffe, ‘Scottish State Oaths and the Revolution of 1688–1690’, Chapter 10 below in this volume. 38 Colin Kidd, Subverting Scotland’s Past: Scottish Whig Historians and the Creation of an Anglo-British Identity, 1689–c.1830 (Cambridge, 1993), esp. ch. 4. 39 In the eighteenth century the political theory of the Restoration Covenanters was used in the scraps between the Reformed Presbyterians and the Seceders in which each claimed to be the true heirs of the Covenanters. See for example John Fairly, An Humble Attempt in Defence of Reformation Principles; Particularly on the Head of the Civil Magistrate (Edinburgh, 1770). 35 36

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used by episcopalian controversialists as illustrations of the presbyterian tendency to rebellion.40 It can be questioned, then, how the political thought of the Restoration Covenanters ought to be assessed. The history of political theory and the evaluation of political texts have been principally concerned with membership of or exclusion from the canon, a reverenced institution of political wisdom enshrined in classic texts.41 It is usually assumed that political theory ought to have a securely rational basis and scholarly quality – an area in which the Restoration Covenanters, as we have seen, did not always excel. Secondly, it is conventionally expected that political theory should have universal applications, and should make a contribution to ideas about liberty and indeed, to the progress of liberty itself. The Restoration Covenanters cannot readily be praised on this score either. But it has not been the premise of this chapter to plead for the inclusion of radical covenanting thought in the canon of political theory. It is preferable to follow the direction set by Quentin Skinner and to seek to understand political debate at its widest, thus avoiding any privileging of certain authors who have had the label of ‘greatness’ bestowed upon them. Skinner has recently encapsulated this approach in the neat formula, ‘in political argument there is nothing but the battle’.42 Consequently, then, it is desirable to understand all the combatants. Comparison between the political thought of the Restoration Covenanters and the more securely canonical work of some of their English contemporaries can shed light on both and illustrate some of the idiosyncrasies of the canon. VII As towering figures in the political thought of the Restoration period in England, John Milton, John Locke and Algernon Sidney have enjoyed high reputations as significant contributors to anglophone liberal culture, in contrast to the lesser degree of esteem and celebrity ascribed to Rutherford, Alexander Shields was controversially admitted to the re-established presbyterian church of Scotland. This was a polemical gift to the disenfranchised episcopalians who in 1692 published excerpts of A Hind Let Loose under the title of The History of ScotchPresbytery, hoping that it spoke for itself as a ‘Just account of the Principles, Practices and Behaviour of the Scotch Presbyterians’. Alexander Shields, A History of ScotchPresbytery: Being an Epitome of the Hind Let Loose (London, 1692), p. 3. 41 The most authoritative discussion of the criteria by which the quality and ‘greatness’ of political texts can be judged is Conal Condren, The Status and Appraisal of Classic Texts (Princeton, NJ, 1985). 42 Quentin Skinner, The Foundations of Modern Political Thought, 2 vols (Cambridge, 1978); Quentin Skinner, ‘Surveying the Foundations: A Retrospect and Reassessment’, in Annabel Brett and James Tully (eds), Rethinking the Foundations of Modern Political Thought (Cambridge, 2006), pp. 236–61; quotation at p. 244.

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Brown, Steuart and Shields. In the early 1680s, John Locke (1632–1704) wrote Two Treatises of Government, published in 1689, and Algernon Sidney (1622–83) produced Discourses Concerning Government, published in 1698. Both of these texts were essentially radical and popular theories of resistance, but greater and more wide-ranging political wisdom has been read into them, and into the lives and reputations of their authors. These texts are and have long been regarded as firmly canonical, as classics of political theory, and Locke in particular has been celebrated as a founder of modern, secular, ‘liberal’ political thought. Sidney has been glorified more for the manner of his life and the manner of his death than for the quality of his political theory, but his judicial murder at the hands of the Stuart establishment in 1683 was probably instrumental in making of the Discourses Concerning Government into a classic text.43 The gulf between the English Whigs and the Scottish Covenanters illustrates that contemporary and later reactions to their political theory were determined not simply by the content of the texts, but also by the reputations of their authors. The Scottish reformed tradition of resistance, a tradition that took in John Knox and George Buchanan, Andrew Melville and Samuel Rutherford as well as the Restoration Covenanters Brown, Steuart and Shields, did not merely have a reputation for putting forward extreme, anarchic and populist theories of resistance. This Scottish tradition was bound up with a reputation of religious fanaticism, and this, arguably, was more damaging than a reputation simply for political radicalism. As Harvie notes, the Scottish covenanting tradition, while strong on resistance to tyranny, was weak on the notion of religious toleration.44 The English Whigs Locke and Sidney, and also John Milton (1608–74) who wrote on these matters before and after 1660, were known for their tolerance in religious matters, and later generations praised the ‘modern’ qualities of their thinking on religion as well as politics. These Whigs had asserted that religious beliefs that did not pose a threat to the fabric of English society ought to be tolerated. In 1673, Milton argued that the toleration of Protestant sects – even of Anabaptists, Arians and Socinians – was the best defence against the Catholic menace.45 Locke, in his Letter on Toleration

On the posthumous reputations of Locke and Sidney, and the reception and ‘canonising’ of their political thought, see Mark Goldie (ed.), The Reception of Locke’s Politics, 6 vols (London, 1999); Alan C. Houston, Algernon Sidney and the Republican Heritage in England and America (Princeton, NJ, 1991); Michael Levin, ‘What Makes a Classic in Political Theory?’, Political Science Quarterly 88 (1973), pp. 462–76; Blair Worden, Roundhead Reputations: The English Civil Wars and the Passions of Posterity (London, 2001). 44 Harvie, ‘Covenanting Tradition’, p. 12. 45 [John Milton,] Of True Religion, Haeresie, Schism, Toleration, And What Best Means May be Us’d Against the Growth of Popery (London, 1673), p. 11. 43

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of 1689, argued for toleration that would primarily benefit the Protestant dissenters, from which atheists and Catholics were to be excluded.46 The radical Covenanters equally could not tolerate Catholics or atheists, but nor could they tolerate other Protestants, or even, in some cases, other Covenanters. The general assembly of the church of Scotland had testified against the principle of toleration in 1649, and in 1658 a group of ministers including Samuel Rutherford and James Guthrie reasserted this position.47 The covenanting mind could not regard Independency as a lesser evil than popery, nor Quakerism as a lesser evil than prelacy. All were false and sinful in their eyes. From 1686 James VII and II sought to divide his enemies by introducing degrees of toleration for Protestant Dissenters and Catholics. But by the 1680s the remnant of the radical Covenanters claimed a monopoly of righteousness, and any toleration that came courtesy of the royal prerogative of a Catholic king and a tyrant was unacceptable. Interestingly, however, it has been suggested that James Steuart cautiously supported James’s policy of toleration, for he accepted a pardon for his involvement in Argyll’s rebellion and returned to England to advise the court. Calvin Beisner gives a generous assessment of Steuart in this period, arguing that his motives were not selfish, nor were his actions naïve or inconsistent. Rather, by supporting toleration he sought to relieve presbyterians of some of their burdens, to continue to oppose royal absolutism, to try to make James’s aims and motives more transparent, and to investigate how William of Orange, as a possible future monarch in the three Kingdoms, might approach the issue of toleration.48 Beisner’s account of Steuart reveals a man who, unlike Alexander Shields and most of the Restoration Covenanters, was capable of making pragmatic compromises with far-sighted aims. Differing assessments of the English Whigs and the Scottish Covenanters of the Restoration period reveal that not all crusaders against the Stuarts have been treated as equals, despite some shared contexts and similarities in their theories and acts of resistance. The principal differences between the ideas of these two groups lie in the expression of them, as Beisner notes in a comparison of Locke and Steuart: the Two Treatises were concise, elegantly written and calculated to appeal to religious and secular perspectives alike, whereas Jus populi vindicatum was longwinded and unwieldy, and took an John Locke, Epistola de Tolerantia: A Letter on Toleration, ed. and trans. Raymond Klibansky and J. W. Gough (Oxford, 1968), pp. 131–5. 47 A Solemn Testimony against Toleration and The present Proceedings of Sectaries and their Abettors in England … from the Commissioners of the Generall Assembly of the Kirk of Scotland (Edinburgh, 1649); A Testimony to the Truth of Jesus Christ, or To the Doctrine, Worship, Discipline, and Government of the Kirk of Scotland … Against the Errors, Heresies, Blasphemies, and Diverse Practises of the Times; Especially Against that Vast Toleration Now on Foot in These Nations (Edinburgh, 1660). 48 Beisner, ‘His Majesty’s Advocate’, pp. 270–86. 46

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approach that was ‘unashamedly, relentlessly, religious and even sectarian’.49 Just as Steuart and Shields wrote in defence of the Covenanters’ failed risings of 1666 and 1679, so Locke wrote to justify the violent actions planned by the Whigs in the event that their parliamentary attempts to exclude the duke of York from the throne should fail. Between 1683 and 1685, the Whig plots launched from England and Holland, including the Rye House Plot, Monmouth’s Rebellion and Argyll’s Rebellion, proved to be fruitless. Yet Locke was not labelled as the spokesman of a failed cause: quite the opposite in fact. His posthumous reputation was bolstered by the assumption that the Two Treatises had been produced in response to a successful revolution, the Glorious Revolution, bestowing a veneer of respectability upon a text that was actually written in the heated context of the Exclusion Crisis between 1680 and 1682. In contrast, the Scottish Covenanters, and the Covenanters of the Restoration in particular, tended to be viewed after 1688 as intolerant fanatics whose resistance theories were so extreme as to be beyond the pale of moderate and respectable ‘Revolution principles’. The differences, then, between the political thought of the English Whigs and that of the Restoration Covenanters are not simply disparities in the content of the texts that they produced, but also lie in the divergence in the ways that these texts have been read and received. From the point of view of later readers, the English Whigs were capable of transcending their Restoration context, but the Covenanters were not. The political thought of the English Whigs could be considered abstractly, could be transplanted and applied in new contexts – hence the post-Revolution image of Locke the liberal, the man of the Enlightenment. That was not possible with the political theory of the Restoration Covenanters, who remained symbolic of the intolerance of their immediate time. VIII Keith Brown suggests that ‘Scotland might not have produced an Algernon Sidney or a John Locke, but the Scottish contribution to whig principles is understated’.50 Beisner’s assessment of James Steuart echoes this point, emphasising the shared contexts in which Locke and Steuart operated while in exile in the Netherlands, and seeking to situate Steuart in ‘the stream of Calvinist political writers’. He argues that Steuart constitutes an important link between earlier resistance theorists such as Knox, Buchanan and Rutherford, and later Whigs such as John Locke.51 Beisner, ‘His Majesty’s Advocate’, p. 229. Keith M. Brown, Kingdom or Province? Scotland and the Regal Union, 1603–1715 (Basingstoke, 1992), p. 71. 51 Beisner, ‘His Majesty’s Advocate’, pp. ii, 4, 229. 49

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The Scottish contribution to Whig political thought may well have been understated, but an attempt to reappraise it might do better to focus on Buchanan, Melville and Rutherford rather than the Restoration Covenanters. Arguably, to compare the marginalised Brown, Steuart and Shields with the canonical Milton, Sidney and Locke does not reflect well on the former. Between the 1660s and the 1680s, covenanting political theory became ever more extreme, but of a weakening intellectual standard, characterised by questionable use of authorities and a failure to integrate the civic activism of the humanist hero with the otherworldly priorities of the Protestant would-be martyr. It was Shields who had the last and defining word, who came to be seen as the authentic voice of Scottish covenanting in all its violent, fanatical intolerance. Rather than considering how these radical Restoration Covenanters might fit into a linear canon of resistance theory, it may be more helpful to regard them as a branch off the main line and ultimately a dead end. As Victor Kiernan evocatively put it, the nature and excesses of the Scottish Reformation ‘were to lead it into the blind tracks that ended on the Galloway moors’.52

V. G. Kiernan, ‘A Banner with a Strange Device: The Later Covenanters’, in Terry Brotherstone (ed.), Covenant, Charter and Party: Traditions of Revolt and Protest in Modern Scottish History (Aberdeen, 1989), pp. 25–49, at p. 29.

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10

Scottish State Oaths and the Revolution of 1688–1690 ALASDAIR RAFFE

How radical was the Scottish Revolution of 1688–90?1 Until the 1990s, historians saw the overthrow of James VII and the settling of the crown on William and Mary as the actions of a cautious political elite. In this interpretation, the Scots were ‘reluctant revolutionaries’. They produced few or no innovations in political thought, and justified their actions in the conservative terms of feudal law.2 Scholars depicted the Revolution settlement as a response to developments in England, and argued that the Claim of Right, a catalogue of the illegal practices of the former regime, was based on the English Bill of Rights.3 Questioning these assessments, recent historians have emphasised the significant constitutional and political changes brought by the settlement of 1689–90. The convention of estates’ decision that James VII had ‘forfaulted’ the throne was compatible with a radical view of the Revolution, in which the king’s deposition resembled that of his great-grandmother, Mary queen of Scots.4 The Claim of Right not only described the ways in which the crown in the Restoration period had ruled unlawfully, but also called for reforms, most notably the abolition of episcopacy in the Church. This demand, like the request for more frequent parliaments, was inspired by the achievements of the Covenanters after I am grateful to Clare Jackson for commenting on a draft of this chapter. See esp. Ian B. Cowan, ‘The Reluctant Revolutionaries: Scotland in 1688’, in Eveline Cruickshanks (ed.), By Force or by Default? The Revolution of 1688–1689 (Edinburgh, 1989), pp. 65–81; Bruce Lenman, ‘The Poverty of Political Theory in the Scottish Revolution of 1688–1690’, in Lois G. Schwoerer (ed.), The Revolution of 1688–1689: Changing Perspectives (Cambridge, 1992), pp. 244–59; Bruce Lenman, ‘The Scottish Nobility and the Revolution of 1688–1690’, in R. A. Beddard (ed.), The Revolutions of 1688 (Oxford, 1991), pp. 137–62. 3 William Croft Dickinson and Gordon Donaldson (eds), A Source Book of Scottish History, vol. III: 1567–1707 (2nd edn, London, 1961), pp. 199–200. 4 APS, IX, p. 39, c. 28 (RPS, 1689/3/108, accessed 16 Aug. 2011); Tim Harris, Revolution: The Great Crisis of the British Monarchy, 1685–1720 (London, 2006), pp. 393–4. 1 2

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1638, as much as by the Bill of Rights.5 Moreover, the Revolution did not lack political thinkers, and clergymen, lawyers and politicians gave fresh impetus to contractual theories of monarchy that had fallen from favour in the Restoration period.6 I This chapter investigates a largely overlooked aspect of revolutionary change: transformations in the use and character of state oaths. A state oath was a declaration devised by a legitimate political authority, to be sworn by particular people as a test of faith or loyalty, often in order to take on a political office. Contemporaries distinguished between promissory oaths, which contained promises to perform specified actions, and assertory oaths, which required the swearer to testify his or her agreement with a statement of fact or principle. The most important state oath was the oath of allegiance, a formal guarantee of loyalty to the monarch. This oath was sworn mainly by propertied men and office-holders, but the seventeenth century saw new state oaths imposed on a much wider range of people. Men and women at all social levels swore the National Covenant (1638) and the Solemn League and Covenant (1643). In the 1680s, as we shall see, the Test oath (1681) was used to test the ideological principles of ordinary people thought to be disaffected to the Church. The purpose of state oaths was to bind the consciences of individuals, guaranteeing their obedience, faithful performance of duties, and sometimes their commitment to the political principles of the day. These oaths were a feature of a deeply religious society in which the threat of divine punishment for breaking one’s word was thought to be more severe than any earthly sanction. The conventions concerning oaths derived from biblical texts and Protestant doctrines. As the Westminster confession of faith made clear, an oath was a form of religious worship, an assertion or promise made with God as a witness. Both the Old and New Testaments sanctioned the swearing of oaths in matters of importance, and when imposed by lawful authority. People required to swear an oath were to consider its subject matter carefully, and to avoid rash swearing (Leviticus 5:4). Since oaths were to be sworn in truth, justice and righteousness (Jeremiah 4:2), Christians were to avoid binding themselves when they were unsure of the meaning or truthfulness of an oath, or unable to perform the actions promised. They were to remember the third commandment against taking the Lord’s name in vain by unnecessary or unrighteous swearing. Nevertheless, it was considered a

Harris, Revolution, pp. 395–403. Clare Jackson, Restoration Scotland, 1660–1690: Royalist Politics, Religion and Ideas (Woodbridge, 2003), ch. 8.

5 6

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sin to refuse to swear concerning anything good and just when required to do so by a legitimate authority.7 State oaths illustrate the powerful, but potentially conflicting, demands placed on the individual’s conscience by human and divine laws in early modern societies. When required to swear a problematic oath, careful Scots, like their counterparts elsewhere in Europe, relied on the methods of casuistry, the discipline of applying moral rules to particular cases.8 Yet the general principles concerning oath-taking could not in themselves determine if the text of an assertory oath were true, or whether one oath contradicted another. As we shall see, there were differences of opinion over the lawfulness of particular oaths. In some instances, the authority of the imposer was questioned, on other occasions doubts were raised about an oath’s subject matter. Not everyone was equally scrupulous with respect to ambiguous oaths; some people were more careful than others to avoid repeated swearing. While most agreed that oaths were to be sworn according to the sense of the words intended by the imposing authority, some attempted to qualify their swearing. This chapter argues that while the settlement of 1689–90 cancelled a series of oaths imposed during the Restoration period, the Revolution itself necessitated new and stringent tests. Many of Scotland’s politicians acknowledged the problems that state oaths created, but these difficulties were never fully resolved. We begin by analysing debates about the coronation oath sworn by kings and queens, which the Revolution’s politicians rescued from obsolescence and made a condition of monarchical rule. The chapter then discusses the oath of allegiance and other political tests imposed on subjects. At the Revolution, it was thought that the tests introduced under Charles II were too partisan and exclusive. Yet the oaths of the post-Revolution period themselves sought to exclude from influence people loyal to the political doctrines of the Restoration. The chapter concludes by discussing the opinions of those who were critical of Scotland’s heritage of numerous contradictory oaths, and of others who questioned the legitimacy of swearing in any context.

For valuable discussions of oaths in England, see John Spurr, ‘Perjury, Profanity and Politics’, The Seventeenth Century 8 (1993), pp. 29–50; John Spurr, ‘A Profane History of Early Modern Oaths’, TRHS 6th ser. 11 (2001), pp. 37–63; David M. Jones, Conscience and Allegiance in Seventeenth Century England: The Political Significance of Oaths and Engagements (Rochester, NY, 1999); Conal Condren, Argument and Authority in Early Modern England: The Presupposition of Oaths and Offices (Cambridge, 2006), esp. ch. 11. 8 See e.g. Harald E. Braun and Edward Vallance (eds), Contexts of Conscience in Early Modern Europe, 1500–1700 (Basingstoke, 2004). 7

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II Beginning in Edinburgh on 14 March 1689, the revolutionary convention of estates sought to resolve the crisis precipitated by the collapse of James VII’s government in Scotland. After the departure of most of its Jacobite members, dispirited by an uncompromising letter from James, the convention moved quickly to settle the crown on William and Mary. Aside from the identity of the throne’s occupants, however, the convention addressed a more profound problem: how could it ensure that monarchs would govern within a framework broadly acceptable to the nation? One solution to this – describing the political framework – was easily achieved. By 13 April, the estates had drawn up the Claim of Right and the articles of grievances, which were to be presented to William and Mary with the offer of the crown. These documents listed ways in which Restoration governments had apparently broken the law, and called for institutional changes, including a new Church settlement and the abolition of the parliamentary lords of the articles. Among these developments, the new emphasis the estates placed on the coronation oath has received relatively little attention from historians. Yet it was an important repudiation of the political culture of the Restoration monarchy. The Scottish coronation oath engaged monarchs to safeguard domestic peace and justice, preserve the privileges of the crown and the Church, and rule in accordance with the laws of the realm. From 1567, when the estates revised the text in advance of James VI’s coronation, the oath obliged kings to defend the Protestant Kirk and to punish its opponents.9 In the sixteenth century, it was assumed that the accession of a new monarch would quickly be followed by his or her coronation. After 1603, with monarchs resident in England, this was less likely to occur: of later kings and queens, only Charles I in 1633 (eight years after his accession) and Charles II in 1651 were crowned in Scotland.10 The logistical obstacles to the coronation ceremony were a boon to those who believed that monarchs succeeded to the throne, and governed, by divine right. For them, the coronation oath could be regarded as an unimportant symbol, easily dispensed with when its use was inconvenient. In 1681, parliament passed an act concerning the succession, which asserted that Scottish kings derived their power ‘from God Almightie alone’, and APS, III, pp. 23–4, c. 8 (RPS, A1567/12/7); Andrea Thomas, ‘Crown Imperial: Coronation Ritual and Regalia in the Reign of James V’, in Julian Goodare and Alasdair A. MacDonald (eds), Sixteenth-Century Scotland: Essays in Honour of Michael Lynch (Leiden, 2008), pp. 43–67, at p. 48. 10 John P. C. Stuart, Scottish Coronations (Paisley, 1902), pp. 63–219; Keith M. Brown, ‘The Vanishing Emperor: British Kingship and its Decline, 1603–1707’, in Roger A. Mason (ed.), Scots and Britons: Scottish Political Thought and the Union of 1603 (Cambridge, 1994), pp. 58–87, at pp. 66–7. 9

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that they succeeded to the throne ‘lineallie’, according ‘to the known degrees of proximitie in blood’. At the death of a monarch, ‘the right and administration of the government is immediatlie devolved’ upon his successor.11 The statute did not mention the coronation ceremony or any oath, but the message was clear: Charles II would be succeeded on the throne by his brother James, in spite of James’s Catholicism, which made him unwilling to swear the coronation oath, with its pledge to suppress the enemies of Protestantism. After Charles’s death in 1685, therefore, most of the ruling elite accepted that it was unnecessary for James to take the coronation oath before exercising his powers. Lawyers as different as Sir George Mackenzie of Rosehaugh and Sir John Lauder of Fountainhall agreed that coronation was not required.12 In May 1685, the new king’s first parliament issued a declaration recognising his ‘absolute power and authority’, making no mention of the coronation oath.13 In the altered political circumstances of 1689, politicians rejected this understanding of the coronation oath. The Claim of Right asserted that swearing the oath was an essential prerequisite for the exercise of royal power. It was now a matter of complaint that, as the Claim put it, James VII ‘did assume the regall power and acted as king without ever takeing the oath required by law’. Moreover, the Claim asserted that no papist was able to succeed to the throne, ‘nor can any Protestant successor exercise the regall power untill he or she swear the coronation oath’.14 On 24 April, the estates agreed that the oath was to be tendered to the king and queen in person by the tenth earl of Argyll, Sir James Montgomery of Skelmorlie and Sir John Dalrymple of Stair, who were also to deliver the Claim of Right and the articles of grievances.15 On 11 May, William and Mary swore the oath at Whitehall; Argyll later presented a signed copy of the oath to the parliament.16 Historians have long debated whether the estates expected William to approve the Claim of Right and agree to remedy their grievances before being admitted to his regal authority.17 Certainly parliament implied that William and Mary were expected to ‘accept the offer of the croune according to the instrument of governement’, an alternative name for the Claim of Right.18

APS, VIII, pp. 238–9, c. 2 (RPS, 1681/7/18). Jackson, Restoration Scotland, pp. 196–7; John Lauder, Historical Notices of Scotish Affairs, 2 vols, ed. David Laing (Bannatyne Club, 1848), II, p. 615. 13 APS, VIII, pp. 459–60, c. 2 (RPS, 1685/4/16). 14 APS, IX, pp. 38–9, c. 28 (RPS, 1689/3/108). 15 APS, IX, pp. 60–1 (RPS, 1689/3/159). 16 Dickinson and Donaldson (eds), Source Book, III, pp. 208–9; APS, IX, p. 100 (RPS, 1689/6/16). 17 Harris, Revolution, pp. 404–6; William Ferguson, Scotland: 1689 to the Present (Edinburgh, 1968), p. 6. 18 Harris, Revolution, p. 405; APS, IX, p. 41, c. 30 (RPS, 1689/3/110). 11 12

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As far as the articles of grievances were concerned, however, the estates merely noted that their commissioners were to ‘represent some things found greiveous to this natione, which we humbly intreat your majestie to remeid by whollsome lawes in your first parliament’.19 Some of the ambiguity about the conditions placed on William stemmed from the coronation oath itself. On 18 April, the estates approved its text, an anglicised and slightly amended version of the 1567 oath. By swearing it, William promised to rule ‘according to the loveable lawes and constitutiones receaved in this realme’.20 Insofar as the Claim of Right was a statement of the kingdom’s legal framework, taking the oath implied that William accepted the Claim. Yet by using the oath of 1567, rather than an oath specifically mentioning the Claim, the estates did not bind William to uphold the Claim. This potentially gave the king room for manoeuvre over the Claim’s more contentious aspects, such as its assertion that episcopacy ought to be abolished. Indeed, it required the astute parliamentary tactics of a group of politicians known as the ‘Club’, who emerged in opposition to the crown’s ministers in parliament, to ensure that a presbyterian Church settlement was achieved and the lords of the articles were removed.21 By reviving the coronation oath, the Revolution addressed a significant anomaly created by the union of crowns. No longer would monarchs rule without acknowledging the basic framework of Scottish political life. Perhaps the use of the oath of 1567 suggests that the estates acted conservatively. In England, a new coronation oath was devised, explicitly binding the king and queen to observe the laws passed by parliament.22 Yet the oath of 1567 was a detailed statement of the monarch’s responsibilities, and was impossible for a devout Catholic to swear. More importantly, the estates had untangled the oath from the ritual of coronation itself and made swearing it a precondition of royal government. In future, kings and queens would derive their authority not only from hereditary succession, but also from a formal engagement made with their subjects. The revolutionary convention of estates had given new life to a contractual understanding of Scottish monarchy. After the death of King William, early on 8 March 1702, one of Queen Anne’s first duties was to swear the coronation oath, administered to her by members of the Scottish privy council in London.23 When parliament met in June 1702, it recognised Anne’s royal authority, noting her right by succession, and ‘that her majestie hath duely sworn the coronation oath APS, IX, p. 60 (RPS, 1689/3/159). APS, IX, pp. 48–9, c. 46 (RPS, 1689/3/131). 21 Lionel K. J. Glassey, ‘William II and the Settlement of Religion in Scotland, 1688– 1690’, RSCHS 23 (1989), pp. 317–29; James Halliday, ‘The Club and the Revolution in Scotland, 1689–90’, SHR 45 (1966), pp. 143–59. 22 The History of Publick and Solemn State Oaths (London, 1716), pp. 17–18. 23 Edward Gregg, Queen Anne (New Haven, Conn., 2001), p. 151. 19 20

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conform to the said Claime of Right’.24 The parliament of 1703, in which the succession to Anne was a crucial matter of debate, clarified the relationship between the coronation oath and the Claim of Right. The act of security, introduced in 1703 and passed in the following year, is well known for its threat to end the union of crowns. By specifying the procedures to be followed after the queen’s death, moreover, the act was less ambiguous than the offer of the throne to William and Mary had been: Anne’s successor would have to swear the coronation oath and accept the Claim of Right before exercising royal authority. The act also declared it high treason ‘to administrat the coronation oath’ without the appointment of the estates, ‘or to own or acknowledge any person as king or queen of this realme […] untill they have sworn the coronation oath and accepted the crown in the terms of the Claim of Right’.25 But while this made clear the importance of the oath and the Claim, the act of security’s provisions were soon superseded by parliamentary union. The union of 1707 created the united kingdom of Great Britain, and the separate Scottish coronation oath was no longer used. Yet a new oath was introduced, the signing of which became an essential formality for monarchs coming to the throne. As recent historians have confirmed, an important stage in the union’s passage through the Scottish parliament was the introduction of an act to secure the presbyterian Church settlement of 1690.26 This measure, it was hoped, would prevent the predominantly Anglican British parliament from overturning presbyterian government in Scotland. ‘[A]t his or her accession to the crown’, the act specified, each future monarch was to promise ‘inviolably’ to ‘maintain and preserve’ the settlement of ‘the true Protestant religion with the government, worship, discipline, right and priviledges of this church’ as established at the Revolution ‘in prosecution of the Claim of Right’.27 After acceding to the throne in August 1714, George I swore the oath at almost his first opportunity. A witnessed transcript of the oath was sent to Edinburgh to be kept by the court of session.28 By requiring George and his successors to uphold the presbyterian Church of Scotland, the new oath performed one of the principal functions of the previous coronation oath. It was a lasting outcome of the Revolution’s reconfiguration of royal authority and its assertion of the contract between monarchs and their subjects.

APS, XI, pp. 15–16, c. 1 (RPS, 1702/6/28). APS, XI, pp. 136–7, c. 3 (RPS, 1704/7/68). 26 APS, XI, pp. 402–3, c. 6 (RPS, 1706/10/251); Jeffrey Stephen, Scottish Presbyterians and the Act of Union 1707 (Edinburgh, 2007), pp. 70–3, 82–3; Christopher A. Whatley with Derek J. Patrick, The Scots and the Union (Edinburgh, 2006), pp. 293, 306–7. 27 APS, XI, p. 403, c. 6 (RPS, 1706/10/251). 28 TNA, Privy council register, 1 Aug. 1714–2 March 1716, PC2/85, fol. 45v. 24 25

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III The Revolution brought a major change in the character of the oath of allegiance. In its basic form, the allegiance oath was simply a pledge of a subject’s loyalty and obedience, but before and after the Revolution it was complicated with further clauses, and supplemented with additional political tests. In the Restoration period, these tests required subjects to accept a particular understanding of the monarch’s prerogatives, and to renounce the National Covenant and the Solemn League and Covenant. After the Revolution, by contrast, state oaths focused on questions of monarchical legitimacy: first, the claim to the throne of William, Mary and Anne, and thereafter the validity of the Hanoverian succession. After the Restoration of Charles II, parliament revised the oath of allegiance as part of a body of legislation that repudiated the principles of the Covenanting Revolution and asserted the authority and prerogatives of the crown. In addition to the sweeping Act Rescissory, which cancelled all statutes passed since 1633, parliament adopted measures confirming the king’s exclusive right to choose officers of state and to convene his subjects.29 On 27 February 1661, parliament passed an act containing the oath of allegiance, and a declaration acknowledging the king’s prerogatives. All officers of state and privy councillors, burgh magistrates, officials of commissary and sheriff courts, of the court of session and the exchequer, as well as the justice general and admiral, were to take the oath and sign the declaration. The oath of allegiance contained a promise of obedience to Charles II, an acknowledgement of his ‘supreme’ authority, and a rejection of the claims of any foreign power to have jurisdiction within Scotland. The declaration was a long statement approving the legality of parliament’s acts in favour of Charles II, and acknowledging his powers with respect to appointments, convening parliaments and assemblies, as well as his exclusive rights to make war, peace, leagues and treaties. The declaration concluded with an explicit condemnation of the Solemn League and Covenant, ‘and all treaties following therupon and acts or deids that doe or may relate thervnto’.30 In September 1662, another assertory declaration was imposed on public officers, who were to disclaim the government of the Covenanters, and affirm that the National Covenant and the Solemn League and Covenant were unlawful and void. Swearers were to agree that there ‘lyeth no obligation upon me or any of the subjects’ from the Covenants ‘to endeavour any change or alteration of the government either in church or state as it is now established’.31 APS, VII, pp. 86–7, 10, 12–13, cc. 126, 6, 12 (RPS, 1661/1/158, 1661/1/16, 1661/1/23). 30 APS, VII, pp. 44–5, c. 62 (RPS, 1661/1/88). 31 APS, VII, pp. 405–6, c. 54 (RPS, 1662/5/70). 29

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Charles II and many ministers of state had sworn the Covenants. Why were they now prepared to renounce them? For some, notably defenders of the episcopalian Church, the illegality of the Covenants was clear. According to one clergyman, the Solemn League meddled in the prerogatives of the king, engaging ‘privat Persons to that which was not within their Sphere’. It was thus ‘null and void’. Breaking such unlawful oaths was not perjury; ‘the Perjury is in the first making of them, because they are contrary to those other general vows of Baptism’ against doing evil.32 In the opinion of Gilbert Burnet, professor of divinity at Glasgow, Charles II was not bound to uphold Covenanting principles. The king had sworn against episcopacy in the Covenants, but at the Restoration he was right to break his oath and re-establish government by bishops, a system that was not unlawful and tended ‘much to the good and peace’ of Scotland.33 Presbyterians, on the other hand, believed that the Covenants were founded on God’s word, and that they obliged Scotland to maintain presbyterianism. On this understanding, the Covenants were national promises to God, rather than mere human agreements. They could not be ‘dispensed with, nor loosed by any person or Party upon earth’, and thus they continued to bind Scotland.34 For presbyterians, therefore, supporting the Restoration settlement and swearing its political tests constituted perjury. The oath of allegiance was itself problematic, particularly its claim that the king was the ‘only supream governour of this kingdome over all persones and in all causes’. Fearing that this phrase implied royal supremacy over the Church, a principle rejected by presbyterians, a group of nobles led by the earl of Cassillis declined to swear the oath when it was tendered in parliament in January 1661.35 The episcopalian Church settlement of 1661–62 reinforced presbyterian objections to the oath, as the king claimed the right to determine Church government and to decide whether ecclesiastical assemblies met. Moreover, the most radical presbyterians also questioned whether the

John Cockburn, Jacob’s Vow, or, Mans Felicity and Duty (Edinburgh, 1686), pp. 20, 16–17. See also A Brief Resolution of the Present Case of the Subjects of Scotland, in order to Episcopal Government ([London,] 1661), pp. 6, 17. 33 Gilbert Burnet, A Vindication of the Authority, Constitution, and Laws of the Church and State of Scotland (Glasgow, 1673), pp. 260–1. 34 [Hugh Smith and Alexander Jameson,] An Apology for, or Vindication of the Oppressed Persecuted Ministers & Professors of the Presbyterian Reformed Religion, in the Church of Scotland ([Edinburgh?,] 1677), p. 9; [George Hickes,] The Spirit of Popery Speaking out of the Mouths of Phanatical-Protestants, or the Last Speeches of Mr John Kid and Mr John King (London, 1680), p. 42 (quotation). Many English presbyterians agreed: Edward Vallance, Revolutionary England and the National Covenant: State Oaths, Protestantism and the Political Nation, 1553–1682 (Woodbridge, 2005), pp. 182–4. 35 Gillian H. MacIntosh, The Scottish Parliament under Charles II, 1660–1685 (Edinburgh, 2007), pp. 19, 33. For other Restoration non-jurors, see Jackson, Restoration Scotland, p. 149. 32

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king was supreme in civil matters, alleging that this would compromise the powers of parliament.36 Throughout the Restoration period, the government used oaths in its attempts to enforce conformity with the episcopalian Church. In November 1662, for instance, the privy council summoned fifteen ministers who were accused of preaching against the episcopalian settlement. On 11 December, three appeared before the council, refused to swear the oath of allegiance and were banished from the king’s realms.37 Following the presbyterian rising of 1666, the government offered an indemnity to most of the rebels, on the condition that they swore a bond to keep the peace. Those who agreed were not to be pressed to take the anti-Covenanting declaration of 1662.38 In 1670, parliament passed a new act imposing penalties on presbyterian recusants, and introducing an oath against rising in arms, to be sworn by those who failed to attend their parish churches in spite of fines.39 Another new statute specified punishments for people who declined to answer questions under oath when required by government officials, an inquisitorial provision under which presbyterians risked self-incrimination.40 In 1674, the council required landlords to impose a bond on their tenants not to attend presbyterian conventicles.41 Notoriously, the government employed soldiers to administer oaths to suspected presbyterian dissenters. In August 1681, two years after the defeat of a presbyterian rising at Bothwell Bridge, and in the context of elevated fears concerning popery and a popish successor, parliament imposed another political test on officeholders. The Test oath, as it became known, combined the oath of allegiance, the main points of the assertory declarations of 1661 and 1662, and a promise to assist and defend the king and his successors. Those who swore it were required to renounce all principles, ‘whether popish or phanaticall’, contrary to the Protestant faith as contained in the Scots confession of 1560, to which they were required to adhere.42 The Test oath was unacceptable to presbyterians, who objected to its explicit repudiation of the Covenants, and its assertions against unauthorised religious assemblies and private covenanting. James Fraser of Brae thought that the assertory parts of the oath were illegitimate and could not bind, because they made statements on uncertain matters about which the swearer might reasonably change his

[John Brown,] An Apologeticall Relation, of the Particular Sufferings of the Faithfull Ministers & Professours of the Church of Scotland since August 1660 (n.p., 1665), pp. 114–200. For more on Brown and other radical presbyterians, see Caroline Erskine, ‘The Political Thought of the Restoration Covenanters’, Chapter 9 above in this volume. 37 RPC, 3rd ser., I, pp. 292–3, 302–3. 38 RPC, 3rd ser., II, pp. 343–6. 39 APS, VIII, pp. 11–12, c. 8 (RPS, 1670/7/14). 40 APS, VIII, p. 7, c. 2 (RPS, 1670/7/6). 41 RPC, 3rd ser., IV, pp. 197–200. This was renewed in 1677: ibid., V, p. 196. 42 APS, VIII, pp. 243–5, c. 6 (RPS, 1681/7/29). 36

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or her mind.43 And it was not only landowners and ministers who were confronted with the Test. In the mid-1680s, the council instructed commissioners of justiciary to tender the oath to ordinary men and women in areas where support for presbyterianism was widespread.44 Serious criticisms of the Test also came from supporters of episcopacy, including the clergy, who were required to swear. Their problem lay in the 1560 confession of faith, which was incompatible with the Test oath in various ways.45 The confession stated that obedience to rulers was conditional on their faithful performance of their duties, and that opposition to tyranny was a good work. By allowing for a right of resistance in exceptional cases, therefore, the confession contradicted the Test’s statement against armed opposition to the king. Moreover, the confession specified that Christ was the head of the Church, while the Test asserted the king’s ecclesiastical supremacy. Some episcopalian ministers also objected to the Test’s sweeping and ambiguous condemnation of religious meetings, and of any alterations in Church and state. These criticisms provoked several bishops and the privy council to produce explanations of the Test, arguing that swearers were not required to accept every article of the confession. Up to eighty episcopalian ministers refused the Test and were removed from their churches.46 Yet the most prominent victims of the Test were members of the political elite. Sir James Dalrymple of Stair, who in parliament had proposed the use of the 1560 confession, probably in an attempt to sabotage the oath, lost his position as president of the court of session and later went into exile in the Netherlands.47 When in 1681 the earl of Argyll declared that he swore the Test ‘in as far as it is consistent with itself, and the protestant religion’, he was prosecuted and convicted of treason, and might have been executed had he not escaped to the Netherlands.48 The contradictory Test oath had generated powerful opposition to the government.

43 NLS, Letter with reasons for refusing the Test, Wod. Qu. XXVI, fol. 210; NLS, James Fraser of Brae, ‘Defence of the Convention of Estates 1689’, Wod. Oct. XXII, fols 72r, 73v, 109. 44 RPC, 3rd ser., VIII, pp. 180–1, 640–58; IX, pp. 470, 477; X, pp. 239–40, 456–9. 45 The confession of 1560 was probably less familiar than the later Westminster Confession: Alasdair Raffe, ‘Presbyterians and Episcopalians: The Formation of Confessional Cultures in Scotland, 1660–1715’, EHR 125 (2010), pp. 570–98, at pp. 580–1. 46 Gilbert Burnet, Bishop Burnet’s History of his own Time, 6 vols, ed. Martin J. Routh (Oxford, 1833), II, pp. 314–15. 47 John D. Ford, ‘Dalrymple, James, first Viscount Stair (1619–1695)’, ODNB. 48 Robert Wodrow, The History of the Sufferings of the Church of Scotland from the Restoration to the Revolution, 4 vols, ed. Robert Burns (Glasgow, 1828–30), III, pp. 303–9, 314 (quotation), 337; Jackson, Restoration Scotland, pp. 150–2.

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IV At the Revolution, the political elite reacted against the previous regime’s perceived abuse of oaths. In the elections of February 1689 to the convention of estates, the requirement that candidates and electors swear the Test was suspended, allowing presbyterians to stand for election, and overcoming the influence of Jacobite magistrates in many burghs.49 The Claim of Right declared that ‘the imposeing oathes without authority of parliament is contrair to law’, and criticised Argyll’s recent prosecution. Though parliament did not explicitly condemn the Restoration state oaths, it rescinded all laws imposing ‘oathes of alledgiance, supremacie, declarationes and tests’. In their place, parliament introduced a simple oath of allegiance, whose swearers promised only to be ‘faithfull and bear true alledgiance’ to William and Mary.50 By removing James from the throne, however, the Revolution created a problem of allegiance more prevalent and profound than that seen in the Restoration period. Then the problem had centred on the legitimate powers of the crown; now it concerned the identity of the king and queen. The doctrines of indefeasible hereditary right and non-resistance to royal authority, promoted by the Church and the crown since the Restoration, convinced many that the Revolution was dubious or illegitimate. These sceptics were unwilling to believe that their obligations to King James had ceased, and that they could lawfully swear the new oath of allegiance. To an even greater extent than in the Restoration period, the oath was an ideological test. In the aftermath of the Revolution, the new regime was at war with militant Jacobites in the Highlands. Swearing the oath of allegiance was one of the terms under which these opponents of the Revolution could make peace with the government. In August 1689, the privy council offered indemnity to those who disarmed and swore allegiance; a statute of the following summer allowed the council to tender the oath of allegiance to suspected persons.51 In August 1691, the government imposed a deadline of 1 January 1692 for Highland clan chiefs to surrender and swear the oath. The failure of some chiefs to obey was the pretext for the massacre of Glencoe in February. This episode illustrates several of the dilemmas of conscience, honour and pragmatism to which the Revolution gave rise. Alasdair Maciain of Glencoe

Derek J. Patrick, ‘Unconventional Procedure: Scottish Electoral Politics after the Revolution’, in Keith M. Brown and Alastair J. Mann (eds), The History of the Scottish Parliament, vol. II: Parliament and Politics in Scotland, 1567–1707 (Edinburgh, 2005), pp. 208–44. In Feb. 1687, the Test had been suspended as part of James’s Catholicising policy: Lauder, Historical Notices, II, p. 783. 50 APS, IX, p. 99, c. 2 (RPS, 1689/6/11). 51 RPC, 3rd ser., XIV, pp. 43–4; APS, IX, p. 153, c. 17 (RPS, 1690/4/63).

49

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refused to comply with the government’s demands until King James released him from his prior allegiance. While staying with Maciain’s dependants in Glencoe, Robert Campbell of Glenlyon received orders to massacre his hosts. Under threat of dismissal from the army, he chose to follow these gruesome orders, in compliance with the oath of obedience he had sworn as a soldier, but in breach of the norms of hospitality.52 As early as 1690, it became evident that the oath of allegiance was an insufficiently demanding test of loyalty to the Revolution. Some Jacobites seem to have taken the oath in a qualified sense: they were prepared to admit that William and Mary were king and queen de facto (‘in fact’), but they held that James continued to be Scotland’s lawful monarch. In 1689, a rigged burgh council election in Stirling returned Hugh Kennedy, the serving provost, and other Jacobite magistrates to power. On resuming their offices, the magistrates swore the oath of allegiance, but explained that they were bound only so long as William and Mary were able to protect them.53 Among leading politicians, a more common tendency was to swear the oath while maintaining communications with King James. Montgomery of Skelmorlie, by late 1689 a Jacobite conspirator, is an extreme example, but many of Scotland’s nobles kept their options open.54 In the context of a continuing armed rebellion against the Revolution, the qualified allegiance of some of Scotland’s office-holders threatened the security of the regime. In July 1690, parliament passed an act complaining that there was ‘a distinction betwixt a king de facto and a king de jure [‘in law’] cunningly of late spread abroad, thereby to weaken and invalidate the allegiance sworne to their majesties’. In response, a new political test was introduced, to be signed in addition to the allegiance. The ‘assurance’, as it was known, stated that William and Mary were king and queen both de facto and de jure; it also required subscribers to ‘maintaine and defend their majesties’ title and government against the late King James, his adherents and all other enemies’.55 In England, subjects were not required to assent to the lawful right of William until 1696, and thus the de facto argument was important in winning support for the Revolution from Tory doubters.56 Indeed, James Johnston, Scottish secretary of state from 1692, claimed that Paul Hopkins, Glencoe and the End of the Highland War (revised edn, Edinburgh, 1998), pp. 292–4, 322–3, 335, 339; Allan I. Macinnes, ‘Slaughter Under Trust: Clan Massacres and British State Formation’, in Mark Levene and Penny Roberts (eds), The Massacre in History (New York, 1999), pp. 127–48. 53 RPC, 3rd ser., XIV, pp. 459–64. 54 P. A. Hopkins, ‘Sir James Montgomerie of Skelmorlie’, in Eveline Cruickshanks and Edward Corp (eds), The Stuart Court in Exile and the Jacobites (London, 1995), pp. 39–59. 55 APS, IX, p. 223, c. 99 (RPS, 1690/4/161). 56 Mark Goldie, ‘The Revolution of 1689 and the Structure of Political Argument: An Essay and an Annotated Bibliography of Pamphlets on the Allegiance Controversy’, Bulletin of Research in the Humanities 83 (1980), pp. 473–564, at pp. 487–8, 490–1. For Scottish examples of the de facto argument, see Jackson, Restoration Scotland, pp. 201–2. 52

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‘every man puts his own sense upon’ the English allegiance oath. In Scotland, Johnston argued, the Jacobite rebellion justified a more rigorous test of loyalty to the crown.57 The assurance effectively invalidated the de facto argument, narrowing the ideological grounds for accepting the Revolution. In May 1693, parliament considerably extended the range of people required to swear the allegiance and sign the assurance. In addition to the civil and military office-holders previously subject to the oaths, all noblemen, and their adult male heirs, as well as the presbyterian and episcopalian clergy, masters in universities and schools, private chaplains and tutors were now to swear. Between early June and the deadline of 1 August, courts across Scotland collected an extensive record of sworn allegiance to the monarchs.58 Since all recipients of pensions and gifts of money or land from the government were to take the oaths, the web of allegiance continued to expand during the rest of William’s reign.59 By the summer of 1695, it was rumoured (wrongly) that parliament intended to impose the oaths on all subjects.60 The requirement that clergy should swear the oaths or be deprived of their benefices was particularly significant. A majority of episcopalian clergy were Jacobites, and while many of these ministers had been deprived in the immediate aftermath of the Revolution, several hundred remained in their churches, where they continued to provide ideological support for Jacobitism.61 Most episcopalians refused the oaths at first, but their gentry supporters continued to urge them to comply, particularly after a new statute of 1695 removed the requirement that episcopalians apply for membership of the presbyterian church courts.62 James Gordon, an Aberdeenshire minister who was persuaded to swear in 1695, noted with approval that sympathetic privy councillors in the north ‘allowed men to declare what sense they took’ the oaths in.63 Presbyterian ministers, whose support for the Revolution was not in doubt, nevertheless had their own concerns about swearing the allegiance State Papers and Letters Addressed to William Carstares, ed. J. McCormick (Edinburgh, 1774), p. 179. 58 APS, IX, pp. 262–4, c. 14 (RPS, 1693/4/50); A Proclamation, appointing Persons to Administrat the Oath of Alledgiance and Assurance (Edinburgh, 30 May 1693); NRS, Records of the oath of allegiance and assurance reported to the clerk of the privy council, 1693, PC14/3. 59 NRS, Book of oaths of allegiance and declarations of assurance, 1693–1702, E12/5. 60 James Gordon’s Diary, 1692–1710, eds G. D. Henderson and H. H. Porter (Third Spalding Club, 1949), p. 54. 61 Bruce Lenman, ‘The Scottish Episcopalian Clergy and the Ideology of Jacobitism’, in Eveline Cruickshanks (ed.), Ideology and Conspiracy: Aspects of Jacobitism, 1689–1759 (Edinburgh, 1982), pp. 36–48. 62 James Grant (ed.), Seafield Correspondence, 1685–1708 (SHS, 1912), pp. 109, 167–8; APS, IX, pp. 449–50, c. 51 (RPS, 1695/5/186). 63 James Gordon’s Diary, pp. 54–5. 57

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and signing the assurance. The most scrupulous objected that the oaths were unnecessary because the presbyterians were known to be loyal. Some also argued that the swearing of multiple oaths was an affront to God.64 James Fraser of Brae thought that the oaths were unnecessary, because the ‘Oath of the Covenant’ guaranteed his allegiance.65 James Hogg believed that because the coronation oath obliged the monarch to rule according to law, swearers of the allegiance oath implied their approval of the laws. Complaining that statutes against the Covenants had not been repealed, Hogg declined the oaths.66 Fraser and Hogg were unusual; it seems that only a handful of presbyterian ministers refused to swear. But the damaging objection that the imposition of the oaths was Erastian – that the civil government had imposed conditions on the exercise of the ministry – remained, and gained in force after the accession of Anne.67 The government introduced two further state oaths to protect the Revolution settlement from Jacobite conspiracy. In April 1696, following the discovery of a plot to assassinate William, the privy council signed a bond of association in defence of the king, which was then printed and sworn by corporate bodies across Scotland.68 Closely based on the English association initiated in February, the bond obliged its subscribers to ‘Stand by, and Assist one another to the outmost of our Power in the Support and Defence’ of William’s government. If the king suffered a violent death, they were to avenge ‘the same upon all His Majesties Enemies and their Adherents’, and defend the Protestant succession to the throne.69 The association was made compulsory for civil and military office-holders, and the council’s provision that others could voluntarily sign the bond harnessed presbyterian enthusiasm for the regime.70 In June 1702, after the accession of Anne, some politicians favoured the introduction of an oath abjuring the Stuart Pretender’s claim to the throne.71 Again English in origin, this oath would have compromised crypto-Jacobites NLS, George Mair to Alexander Douglas, 2 Feb. 1694, Wod. Qu. LXXIII, fol. 51v. NLS, James Fraser letter, 29 July 1695, MS. 2565. 66 James Hog, Memoirs of the Public Life of Mr James Hogg ([Edinburgh,] 1798), pp. 47–9. 67 A Seasonable Admonition and Exhortation to some who Separate from the Communion of the Church of Scotland (Edinburgh, 1699), pp. 20–2; NRS, Grievances with the Church, 1703, CH1/2/4/1, fol. 16. 68 NRS, Privy council acta, 4 Sept. 1694–3 Sept. 1696, PC1/50, fols 459, 464, 471–2, 475–6, 522–3, 540; APS, X, pp. 10–11 (RPS, 1696/9/16). 69 Journals of the House of Commons, XI, p. 470; Association begun to be Subscribed at Edinburgh, April 10. 1696 (Edinburgh, 1696). On the English association and its Elizabethan prototype, see David Cressy, ‘Binding the Nation: The Bonds of Association, 1584 and 1696’, in DeLloyd J. Guth and John W. McKenna (eds), Tudor Rule and Revolution: Essays for G. R. Elton from his American Friends (Cambridge, 1982), pp. 217–34. 70 APS, X, p. 33, c. 3 (RPS, 1696/9/55); NRS, Privy council acta, PC1/50, fol. 464. 71 APS, XI, p. 28 (RPS, 1702/6/59). 64 65

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among the political elite.72 In the spring of 1708, following an attempted Jacobite invasion, and in the tense atmosphere created by the act of union, the oath of abjuration was imposed on civil and military officers in Scotland for the first time.73 Four years later, the Westminster parliament passed an act granting toleration to episcopalian worship, and requiring that all Scottish clergy swear the abjuration oath.74 It was to prove the most controversial oath since the Test. The abjuration oath contained three elements: a vow of allegiance to Anne, a statement abjuring the Pretender, and a promise to uphold the Hanoverian succession. It seems to have inspired little opposition from civil and military office-holders. Many episcopalian ministers refused to swear the oath, but some complied and benefited from the toleration, including men who subsequently supported the Jacobite rising of 1715.75 It was presbyterian clergy, however, who were the most prominent critics of the abjuration, and their scruples provoked a lively controversy. Some of their objections were familiar from earlier debates. Presbyterians complained that the abjuration repeated previous promises of allegiance, sinfully multiplying oaths.76 They also criticised it as Erastian.77 Moreover, the act of security for the Church (1707) had supposedly guaranteed against the introduction of dubious oaths in Scotland.78 Many critics believed that because the abjuration referred to English statutes in defence of the Anglican Church, swearing the oath implied approval of episcopacy. Thus scrupulous presbyterians complained that the oath contradicted the Covenants.79 For presbyterian ministers who refused to swear the abjuration – around a third of the total – two wider issues were at stake. First, the imposition of the oath was a consequence of the union of 1707, which many ministers and their parishioners opposed.

13 Wm. III c. 6, in Owen Ruffhead (ed.), The Statutes at Large, from Magna Charta, to the End of the last Parliament, 1761, 8 vols (London, 1763–4), IV, pp. 88–86 [sic]; P. W. J. Riley, King William and the Scottish Politicians (Edinburgh, 1979), pp. 159–60. 73 6 Ann. c. 14, in Ruffhead (ed.), Statutes at Large, IV, pp. 289–90. 74 10 Ann. c. 7, in Ruffhead (ed.), Statutes at Large, IV, pp. 513–15. 75 Tristram N. Clarke, ‘The Scottish Episcopalians, 1688–1720’ (University of Edinburgh Ph.D. thesis, 1987), pp. 309–11; Bruce Lenman, The Jacobite Risings in Britain, 1689– 1746 (2nd edn, London, 1984), p. 131. 76 [Robert Wodrow,] The Oath of Abjuration, Considered ([Edinburgh?,] 1712), p. 14; [Hugh Clark,] The Oath of Abjuration Displayed, in its Sinful Nature and Tendency ([Edinburgh?,] 1712), p. 5. 77 [Allan Logan,] The Oath of Abjuration Enquir’d into: in a Letter to a Friend ([Edinburgh?,] 1712), p. 6; NLS, William Harvie to James Galloway, 5 Jan. 1713, Wod. Oct. XII, fol. 124r. 78 Some Reasons by a Divine of the Kirk of Scotland, Proving that their Clergy there Cannot with a Safe Conscience Swear the English Oath of Abjuration ([Edinburgh?,] [1712?]), pp. 3–4. 79 [Logan,] Oath of Abjuration Enquir’d into, p. 3; NLS, ‘A few plain queries about the abjuratione’, Wod. Oct. XXX, fol. 73r. 72

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Second, debates over the oath threatened to cause schism in the Church. Lay dissatisfaction with the establishment had been growing, particularly since 1702, and ministers risked losing the support of their parishioners. Until the oath was revised by parliament in 1719, the controversy over the abjuration was among the most important subjects in Scottish religious politics.80 V The Revolution of 1688–90 significantly altered the character of state oaths in Scotland. But while new tests were introduced, concerns multiplied about the wisdom of imposing oaths. Indeed, there was an increasingly widespread view that political tests were simply ineffective – that they offered little security to governments – because unscrupulous politicians could not be bound. Writing in response to the Test, a group of episcopalian ministers referred to ‘the danger of oaths, when pressed so generally’, arguing that ‘men of the least tenderness ordinarily swallow them most easily, and make small conscience of observing them’.81 In 1695, the lord advocate Sir James Steuart of Goodtrees likewise warned that oaths bound ‘not any that take them uith the lest aversion’, and served only to identify a scrupulous and normally unthreatening minority.82 Presbyterian opponents of the abjuration also stressed the inadequacy of oaths. It was ‘evident in fact’ that ‘party oaths, particularly Abjurations, were never a real security to any Government, but have produced effects contrary to the design upon which they seemed at first to be contrived’.83 As another writer complained, ‘state oaths Beyond simple Alledgeance, have alwise been party Tricks’, designed to eliminate political opponents without regard to long-term stability.84 There was certainly evidence for these points of view. Though the Test temporarily excluded potential opponents of James VII, oaths provided no lasting guarantee of support for his rule. In the eighteenth century, episcopalians who swore the abjuration but continued to favour the Stuart Pretenders were more threatening to the crown than loyal but conscientious presbyterian non-jurors. And by excluding the most conscientious men from office, oaths risked undermining the efficiency and stability of governments. 5 Geo. I c. 29, in Ruffhead (ed.), Statutes at Large, V, pp. 237–40. There was a more minor revision to the oath in 1715: 1 Geo. I stat. 2 c. 13, in Ruffhead (ed.), Statutes at Large, V, pp. 30–7. See Alasdair Raffe, The Culture of Controversy: Religious Arguments in Scotland, 1660–1714 (Woodbridge, 2012), esp. chs 3, 7. 81 Wodrow, History, III, p. 306. 82 Grant (ed.), Seafield Correspondence, p. 169. 83 Thomas M’Crie (ed.), The Correspondence of the Rev. Robert Wodrow, 3 vols (Wodrow Society, 1842–3), I, pp. 641–2. 84 NLS, ‘Plain queries about the abjuratione’, Wod. Oct. XXX, fol. 82r. 80

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Scrupulous men and women looked with bemusement or dismay at Scotland’s experience of state oaths in the seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries. For while the Westminster confession upheld the lawfulness of oaths, many of those introduced in Scotland seemed to be snares for tender consciences. Writing after the accession of Queen Anne, one minister remarked that the memory of Restoration oaths had led presbyterians to conceive ‘such prejudice at publick oaths imposed by civill authority, that they look on them with astonishment and frightfullness, and its hard to get them persuaded that any oaths of that kind can be good’.85 Notoriously, the oath of abjuration concluded with a clause stating that it was sworn ‘heartily, willingly and truly’. ‘If a Man take this Oath with aversion and Reluctancy he is ipso facto Perjured’, a critic complained.86 The most conscientious presbyterians came close to observing Christ’s injunction to ‘swear not at all’ (Matthew 5:34). Despite swearing allegiance to Queen Anne as a young minister, Thomas Boston felt the lack of ‘a due impression’ of the oath on his ‘spirit’, and he ‘never took another’ oath, ‘whether of a public or private nature’.87 Boston’s practice was close to that of Scotland’s small population of Quakers, who took Christ’s prohibition literally and refused all oaths. Few Quakers were subject to the state oaths discussed in this chapter. But in post-Revolution Aberdeen, members of the substantial Quaker community objected that the oath sworn by burgesses contained an explicit statement against Quaker principles. The burgh council claimed that Quakers were permitted to exercise the trading rights of burgesses without swearing, but in 1714 the oath’s controversial statement was deleted by royal authority.88 Moreover, Aberdeen’s Quakers argued successfully to be allowed to make an affirmation, in place of a sworn oath, when appearing before courts, a right established in England in 1696.89 The government’s efforts to bring dissenting minorities to swear state oaths were far less draconian in the early eighteenth century than in the Restoration period or the 1690s. In part this reflected politicians’ growing NLS, A vindication of the juring ministers, by Robert Rowan, 1703, Wod. Qu. XVI, fol. 124r. 86 [Logan,] Oath of Abjuration Enquir’d into, pp. 5–6. 87 Thomas Boston, Memoirs of the Life, Time, and Writings of the Reverend and Learned Thomas Boston, ed. George H. Morrison (Edinburgh, 1899), p. 163. 88 Michael Lynch and Gordon DesBrisay with Murray G. H. Pittock, ‘The Faith of the People’, in E. Patricia Dennison, David Ditchburn and Michael Lynch (eds), Aberdeen before 1800: A New History (East Linton, 2002), pp. 289–308, at p. 308; TNA, Letters from Sir James Steuart of Goodtrees, 17 Apr. 1712, c. May 1712, SP54/4/62, fol. 67; TNA, Privy council register, 18 Aug. 1712–31 July 1714, PC2/84, fols 365–6. 89 TNA, Letters from Sir James Steuart of Goodtrees, 11 Feb 1712, c. May 1712, SP54/4/54, fol. 67. See Mary K. Geiter, ‘Affirmation, Assassination, and Association: The Quakers, Parliament and the Court in 1696’, Parliamentary History 16 (1997), pp. 277–88. 85

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acceptance of religious pluralism, or at least their awareness that such groups as the Quakers and presbyterian non-jurors were mostly loyal and harmless. But despite the transformations initiated by the Revolution, state oaths were neither superseded nor abandoned in the decades after 1690. The allegiance of many of the crown’s subjects remained in doubt, and monarchs lacked the military forces and networks of espionage to do without oaths. Whatever their failings, the government’s security would continue to depend on the promises of individuals and, ultimately, on their belief in divine justice in the afterlife.

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11

The Tribulations of Everyday Government in Williamite Scotland LAURA RAYNER

Challenges of the day in the 1690s in Scotland were indeed challenges. A decade that saw revolution and counter-uprisings, famine, emigration, currency shortages and war was never likely to be an easy one for those tasked with governing the country. Even dealing with just one of those challenges would have been difficult, but a decade facing all of the calamities put enormous pressure on those in power. Studies of this period have often been focused on the activities of the Scottish parliament during the reign of William and Mary, or, conversely, on activities at a local level. There has not been much discussion of the roles of the privy council and treasury commission. References to the treasury commission are confined to works dealing with economic policy or administration; the privy council, faring somewhat better, tends to receive attention in broader overviews and political histories. It is often recognised that James VI and I governed with the aid of the privy council in the early seventeenth century, and that the covenanters downgraded it when they introduced the committee of estates as a new central executive body. But the apparently more personal style of Restoration government has directed attention away from the privy council. And after the revolution of 1689, it has been assumed that government was carried on by parliament, aided or perhaps obstructed by the squabbling magnates of the period. What role could there be in the 1690s for the council, let alone the treasury commission? In fact, the privy council conducted more business in the 1690s than it had done under James VI and I. After the 1689 revolution, new life was breathed into the council as it grappled with the realities of internal uprisings and invasion threats, as well as the political and religious divisions that accompanied James’s departure and the arrival of William and Mary. Along with this, military engagement, famine and the interruption of trade placed greater degrees of responsibility on the treasury commission, in particular with regard to the timely payment of military forces. The two bodies did much to uphold the stability and success of the monarchs in their northern 193

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kingdom. Their roles in military, economic and social policy will be examined here. I The privy council was the co-ordinating body for the executive government of the country.1 Like the modern Cabinet, it contained the heads of the main government departments, and co-ordinated day-to-day decisionmaking. Some decisions concerned broad public matters (recorded in the council’s register of ‘Acta’); others affected private individuals (recorded in its ‘Decreta’). It supervised royal officials, central and local, in the exercise of their duty – a wide field of action that could involve it in hearing complaints against officials. Finally, the council regulated trade, within the framework laid down by parliamentary legislation. It fixed prices of various goods, punished people for exporting goods illegally, and granted export licences. This would become important during the famine. The treasury commission supervised the collecting and spending of almost all the various branches of royal revenue.2 As summarised in the 1689 commission, the revenues consisted of land rents, feu duties and other revenues of crown lands; feudal casualties (occasional payments) from landlords holding their lands from the crown; court fines and other profits of justice; annuities of teinds (payable to the crown); vacant stipends (salaries of parish ministers, falling to the crown when no minister was in post); customs duties on exports and imports; excise duties on domestic sales; land taxes voted by parliament; and profits of the mint.3 The treasury had been managed by a commission, rather than a single treasurer, for most of the period since 1667 – an arrangement that probably gave it more importance. This was partly at the expense of the exchequer, an auditing body that in earlier times had occasionally taken policy initiatives but did not do so in the 1690s. William was keen on appointing commissions, possibly in order to broaden the base of his government. In 1690 he announced that ‘severall offices formerly manadged by single persones should now be in commissione’. He went on to appoint commissioners for the great seal, the privy seal and the clerk register.4 In addition there was another well-established corporate body in central government: the college of justice, which included the judges and advocates of the court of session, the central civil court. For an overview of the council’s jurisdiction, see Peter G. B. McNeill, ‘The Jurisdiction of the Scottish Privy Council, 1532–1708’ (University of Glasgow Ph.D. thesis, 1960). 2 For an overview of the treasury commission, see Athol L. Murray, ‘The Scottish Treasury, 1667–1708’, SHR 45 (1966), pp. 89–104. 3 RPC, 3rd ser., XV, pp. 32–5. 4 William to privy council, 16 Jan. 1690, RPC, 3rd ser., XV, p. 29. 1

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There were many nominal privy councillors, though most attended rarely. The treasury commission was a more restricted group. William’s new commission of 7 December 1689 consisted of just five people: the earls of Crawford, Cassillis and Tweeddale, Lord Ruthven and the master of Melville (soon to become Lord Raith).5 Politically the commission in its early years was attached to the Melville interest, headed by Lord Melville, secretary of state.6 The most prominent politician at the treasury at this time was Tweeddale, who would become chancellor in 1692. However, this chapter is not a political study; rather, it is a study of aspects of the administration in action. II The relationship between the privy council and treasury commission usually concerned financial matters – but financial matters were vital to government. The privy council dealt with some of these as public business and some as private business. It might make a general recommendation to the treasury to provide arms and ammunition to regiments, or a recommendation to reimburse the lieutenant governor of a castle for the money he had paid out personally for the equipment or wages of his troops. The treasury commission’s own work always related to spending money or balancing the books. They did not do the strategic thinking (or at least not intentionally), and showed no wish to try. When the privy council encountered an issue that was not something that they could constructively act upon and instead fell more comfortably within the remit of the treasury commission, it was referred to the treasury in the form of a ‘recommendation’.7 These recommendations were usually considered by the commissioners within a month or two. There were rare occasions when the council remitted something to the treasury rather than issue a recommendation.8 There was thus a largely one-way stream of traffic between the two bodies. There was just one recorded case between 1692 and 1698 where the treasury went back to the privy council with a request for clarification.9 That the treasury commissioners were also privy councillors was likely to ensure good communication and avoid outright conflict. When the privy council made a ‘recommendation’, they probably knew that it would be accepted unless the treasury commission discovered an unforeseen issue. RPC, 3rd ser., XV, p. 32. P. W. J. Riley, King William and the Scottish Politicians (Edinburgh, 1979), p. 61. 7 For example, NRS, PC1/48, 1 Mar. 1692, 12 Jan. 1693; PC2/24, 9 Apr. 1694; PC2/25, 29 Nov. 1694. There are many other instances. 8 NRS, PC2/24, 21 Apr. 1692, 16 Jun. 1692, 14 & 20 Mar. 1693; PC1/49, 11 Jan. 1694. 9 NRS, PC1/50, 10 Jan. 1695. 5 6

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In Athol Murray’s invaluable administrative analysis of the treasury commission, he wrote that ‘relations between the treasury and the privy council were conducted on the evident assumption that each was sovereign in its own sphere’.10 This might be tested, or at least illustrated, from episodes of conflict. In one such episode, in December 1694, William wrote to the privy council ‘anent the general affairs of the privy council’. Within this letter he detailed his orders regarding the treasury commission, which complemented a letter he sent the commissioners only one week earlier: And wheras we are informed That our Exchequer does not meet because of some debates amongst the Commissioners of our Theasurie which of them shall precide in Exchequer and to the other members of that board our pleasure That they meet and act according to the directions contained in our letter to them.11

The king thus used the privy council to control the squabbling commissioners. Most of the time, Murray is correct that the two bodies permitted each other to act with little interference. Nevertheless, the king’s use of the privy council here suggests that it was this body that had the final say in matters of disagreement. It is hard to be sure, though, without knowing how, and by whom, the king’s letter was drafted; it could have originated with one of the treasury commissioners themselves. The availability of a quorum was a problem for the council, and posed even greater difficulties for the treasury commission. There was a quorum of twelve for the council out of a total of between forty and fifty councillors, and a quorum of three for the treasury commission out of five or six. In the winter of 1695–96, this issue reached such a critical point that the king’s intervention was sought. Faced with the prospect of no commissioners of the treasury in Scotland, ‘except the Lord Treasurer Depute who was advertised to be present this day and did not come, excuseing himselfe by his good sister’, the chancellor, Tweeddale, produced a letter from the king dated 13 December 1695, empowering him ‘to cause summond any commissioner or Commissioner of the Treasury that are in or shall come to this kingdom to attend’. In the meantime, Tweeddale as chancellor (a member of both the council and the treasury commission) was permitted single-handedly to issue orders to pay the troops ‘and for doeing such other bussinesse as will not admitt of delay’, lifting the necessity for a quorum.12 The economic and other responsibilities of the privy council and the treasury commission were constrained by parliamentary legislation. While the privy councillors may have had the deciding word on disputes between the treasury commission and themselves, the council itself occasionally Murray, ‘Scottish Treasury’, pp. 101–2. NRS, PC1/50, 17 Dec. 1694. For the letter from William to the treasury commission, see NRS, E6/5, 11 Dec. 1694. 12 NRS, E6/5, 10 Jan. 1696; cf. Riley, King William and the Scottish Politicians, p. 111. 10 11

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remitted a matter to the Scottish parliament. In particular, the council decided in March 1695 that an act of parliament from 1686 was unworkable and required revision. An act making regulations for the mint had required members of the privy council to test personally each ‘journey’ or ‘assay’ (trial striking) of coin. The council objected that ‘such a particular Tryall would consume a vast dale time … therefor they remitt to the ensueing Parliament to consider how this affair should be ordered’.13 It looks as though this requirement of the act had never been implemented, but nevertheless the council did not have power of its own to change the act. Parliament duly passed an amending act in July 1695.14 III While the privy council usually acted on its own initiative, the treasury commission appears to have been more responsive to orders from the monarch. William’s signature was not actually necessary to treasury warrants, so if he signed a warrant it was because it mattered to him, or because it mattered to people who mattered to him. Letters from King William (mainly) and Queen Mary (on occasion) to the commission requesting specific actions were not unusual, suggesting that correspondence between the court in London and the commission in Edinburgh was frequent and detailed.15 William’s orders to the treasury commission to pay various regiments or to provide arms for another show that the monarch, or at least those who drafted documents for him, did possess a fairly thorough knowledge of issues north of the border; presumably this was thanks in part to the constant flurry of Scots travelling between Edinburgh and London or to the continual stream of letters that passed between the courts. While there was not such a large paper trail between the privy council itself and the crown, many letters were exchanged on the council’s everyday affairs between individual councillors, the secretaries of state and the monarch. From time to time, dissatisfied officials and private individuals used parliament to gain access to the executive. The treasury commission granted a tack (lease) of the poll tax of 1693 to Lord Ross and others, but when the tacksmen found that the revenues would not cover their liabilities, they petitioned parliament in 1695 to have themselves converted into collectors, so that they would be liable only for what they actually collected.16 To take another example, the privy council in 1691 recommended to the treasury commission that Lieutenant Colonel Scipio Hill should be refunded extraordinary expenses of £185 9s. 10d. sterling, but he complained to parliament 13 14 15 16

NRS, PC1/50, 6 Mar. 1695. For the 1686 act, see RPS, 1686/4/54. RPS, 1695/5/148. Cf. Murray, ‘Scottish Treasury’, p. 103. RPS, 1695/5/190. For further difficulties with this, see 1696/9/149. 197

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in 1696 that ‘never one six pence’ had been paid. Parliament remitted his case to the king and to the commissioners for the poll tax.17 A small indicator of Scotland’s position in the union was the use in the records of sterling and Scots money. The two were used interchangeably in both the council and the commission records, with sterling being used more frequently when dealing with large sums. In the records, sterling was always used in the column for outgoing expenditure, even when the amount allocated or paid was given in the full entry in Scots money. This was perhaps due to a lack of understanding and a degree of suspicion among the Scottish population regarding sterling. When dealing with stipends or charitable gifts, the usual currency was Scots money. In contrast, when allocating pensions and payment to those in political office, sterling was used with very few exceptions. A comparison with England may also help here. From its beginning in 1667, the English treasury commission was not beholden to the English privy council.18 The Scottish treasury commission was certainly beholden to the Scottish privy council. This may be an indication of the success of the Scottish privy council in maintaining co-ordination of Scottish government. There was no Scottish equivalent to the English ‘Cabinet’, which had arisen in the 1680s, possibly thanks to the flexibility of the Scottish privy council.19 The English Cabinet was essentially an inner ring of selected councillors – but the Scottish privy council (as long as it was quorate) could itself be operated by an inner ring. More study of this, and of Anglo-Scottish administrative relationships, would be desirable. IV The scope of business with which the privy council dealt was extremely broad, covering a huge variety of topics. The treasury commission’s business was also broad, though it always concerned money. Financial matters were a small but vital part of the business of the council, particularly so in periods of severe upheaval where economic security became a key factor in the survival or fall of the government. The latter years of the 1680s and much of the 1690s was one such period. Financial matters occupied a far larger proportion of the privy council’s time than in earlier or later years. There does not appear to have been any difference in the approach the privy council took when it came to financial matters compared to business RPS, 1696/9/186. Henry Roseveare, The Treasury, 1660–1870 (London, 1973), pp. 26–9. 19 Lionel K. J. Glassey, ‘Politics, Finance and Government’, in Lionel K. J. Glassey (ed.), The Reigns of Charles II and James VII & II (London, 1997), pp. 36–70, at pp. 55–6; Henry Horwitz, Parliament, Policy and Politics in the Reign of William III (Manchester, 1977), pp. 91–3 and passim. 17 18

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concerned with, for example, religion or military matters. It was not dealt with on specific days or with a particular structure as was seen with the council’s distinction between public and private business days: Tuesday was the day for public business and Thursday for private.20 The council was able to use the treasury commission as a body to which to delegate financial matters. This was less feasible for most other topics that came before the council; these were either dealt with by the body as a whole or delegated to temporary committees. These committees would investigate a matter and report back to the full council with their recommendations. Apart from infrequent detailed entries in the full council register, which minute reports from the committees, little evidence remains of the workings of these groups, but they would benefit from further study.21 There has been some study of one series of privy council sub-committees: the censorship committees of 1690, 1696 and 1700, each of which aimed to license and regulate publications discussing governmental matters. The committee of 1696 had three members, all of whom were Edinburgh rather than national figures: one of the burgh’s bailies, one of the ministers, and the principal of the university. These sub-committees were temporary responses to immediate issues rather than systematic attempts to censor printing and publication, though a few offending printers were arrested.22 The privy council had traditional and ceremonial responsibilities such as administering oaths, granting commissions (both military and political), calling and adjourning parliament, or organising celebrations to mark royal birthdays or military victories. The council also had to respond to political issues as they arose: in the 1690s this included matters such as the public uproar after the Glencoe Massacre, then later the repercussions of the failure of the Darien expedition and the beginnings of public unrest linked to the commencement of discussions on the Union. The privy council was content to leave legislative business to the parliament, instead dealing with the repercussions of actions, clarifying matters, smoothing out disagreements, and keeping correspondence flowing between Edinburgh and the court in London. One aspect of government in this period that neither the council nor the treasury showed any wish to involve itself with was religion. Privy councillors erred on the side of caution when any religious business came before them. Although the general assembly of the church had been restored in 1690, and was now responsible for management of the church, the scope of the issues that still came before the privy council cannot be described as narrow: the council frequently dealt with ministers who took up illegal occupation of churches, the distribution of stipends, or ministers who refused to pray for

20 21 22

NRS, PC2/24, 15 Nov. 1692. NRS, PC2/25, 31 Jul. 1694. Alastair J. Mann, The Scottish Book Trade, 1500–1720 (East Linton, 2000), pp. 174–6. 199

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William and Mary.23 It also took action from time to time against local episcopalians, at the request of their presbyterian enemies, either closing episcopalian meeting houses or prosecuting episcopalian ministers for conducting marriages ‘clandestinely’ (using a statute of 1661 originally aimed at dissident presbyterians).24 The wide-ranging yet repetitive acts, warrants and decreets passed by the council in religious matters show that, by the 1690s, its role was relatively well-defined. Initially there was some variety in the way in which the council dealt with such cases, though over the years the responses became ever more consistent in structure. The complexity of any progressive action (if such was sought) in such a minefield is clear, and it certainly appears that the council deliberately avoided becoming too entangled. One quasi-religious activity of the privy council was the authorisation of charitable collections and fasts.25 Fast days were requested by the general assembly and permitted by the council. They provide insights into both the matters that came before the privy council as well as the priorities of the day. In August 1692, the council authorised a collection for James Anderson, who was ‘in bondage and slaverie in Algiers by the cruel Turks’.26 As the situation in Scotland became increasingly desperate as the 1690s continued, these requests came before the council ever more frequently.27 The privy council was important in overseeing, co-ordinating, empowering and sometimes chivvying local authorities. It alone could authorise local courts to try the most serious crimes – murder, robbery, rape and arson (the traditional ‘four pleas of the crown’), plus various other crimes such as sodomy, bestiality, witchcraft or counterfeiting of coin.28 These crimes could also be heard in the central court of justiciary, but this was managed by the justice clerk, who was of course a privy councillor. The privy council could also adjudicate in jurisdictional disputes, or direct cases to be heard in one court rather than another. The council’s local role can be illustrated from one area of everyday The first fifty pages of NRS, PC1/48 are spent almost entirely on allocating stipends. Alasdair Raffe, The Culture of Controversy: Religious Arguments in Scotland, 1660–1714 (Woodbridge, 2012), p. 55. 25 Cf. Alasdair Raffe, ‘Nature’s Scourges: The Natural World and Special Prayers, Fasts and Thanksgivings, 1543–1866’, in Peter Clarke and Tony Claydon (eds), God’s Bounty? The Churches and the Natural World (Woodbridge: Studies in Church History 46, 2010), pp. 237–47, at p. 243. 26 NRS, PC1/48, 11 Aug. 1692. 27 NRS, PC1/50, 6 Aug. 1696, 7 Aug. 1696; PC1/51, 12 Dec. 1696, 10 May 1698. 28 Stephen J. Davies, ‘The Courts and the Scottish Legal System, 1600–1747: The Case of Stirlingshire’, in V. A. C. Gatrell, Bruce Lenman and Geoffrey Parker (eds), Crime and the Law: The Social History of Crime in Europe since 1500 (London, 1980), pp. 120–54, at pp. 149–53. For the council’s role in witchcraft cases, see in more detail Julian Goodare, ‘Witch-Hunting and the Scottish State’, in Julian Goodare (ed.), The Scottish WitchHunt in Context (Manchester, 2002), pp. 122–45. 23 24

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government: the construction and repair of roads and bridges. During the seventeenth century there was increasing investment in transport infrastructure, often driven by local initiative but with growing legislative support enabling local authorities to levy local taxes and tolls for roads and bridges. Taxes and tolls often needed to be authorised by the privy council, and a detailed case-study of the Stirling area shows this in action: bridge-building projects would seek council support, whereupon the council would use its authority to chivvy non-payers. However, the work slackened after 1689, for several reasons. Initially the revolution caused local administrative disruption, with experienced and established justices of the peace forced out of office for failing to support the new regime. Then the warfare of the 1690s brought increased fiscal demands that made it harder for local authorities to afford transport investments. Later in the decade, famine also disrupted the local economy. The privy council in the 1690s, as a result of all this, ceased to be so active in supporting transport projects; indeed, perhaps the council itself no longer had the time to devote to the subject.29 The privy council dealt with a vast amount of business to do with administering the law; this gradually overtook military business as the council’s principal focus. A clue as to the council’s role in the sphere of law and maintaining order is the position and responsibilities of the great legal officers of Scotland. The lord chancellor, lord advocate, treasurer, treasurer-depute, secretary, justice general, justice clerk, privy seal and clerk register all sat on the privy council. The lord president of the court of session worked alongside the lord advocate and justice clerk in legal questions. The significant council role of the lord advocate, in particular, demonstrated the body’s continuing significance in terms of legal clarification, as the monarch’s legal adviser and finally, but crucially, as a court.30 There were three main strands of treasury commission business. The first can be described as their regular functions. This incorporated matters such as the responsibility for military pay, the distribution of stipends and the allocation of the annual charity roll. Secondly, there was the body of work with which the commissioners dealt that was referred to them by the privy council. Finally, the commission also dealt with matters that do not show up in the council records, which suggests that business was brought to them separately and specifically in equal measure to the business that was referred to them by the privy council. In contrast to the privy council, the treasury commission records do not often detail who presented the business to the commissioners in the first place. Most of the treasury commission’s business was repetitive, dealing with military pay and equipment provision, even later on in the decade when war had been concluded and the likelihood of John G. Harrison, ‘Improving the Roads and Bridges of the Stirling Area, c.1660– 1706’, PSAS 135 (2005), pp. 287–307. 30 For the lord advocate, see John S. Shaw, The Management of Scottish Society, 1707– 1764 (Edinburgh, 1983), pp. 19–20. 29

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internal rebellion diminished. If any such matters came before the council, they were referred to the treasury. V Fiscal and military matters were undoubtedly of everyday importance. In fiscal matters, it is worth looking at the way in which the treasury commission and privy council managed Scotland’s accounts, not merely the collection of tax but also the distribution and use of income. The vital task of tax collection was shared between the bodies. The treasury commission was responsible for every penny due to the monarch. It received all rents and casualties due to the crown, together with customs and excise, supply and profits of the mint, and was responsible for the management of property forfeited for treason or otherwise. The commissioners were also empowered to appoint collectors, receivers and chamberlains, except those having commissions from the crown, though even the latter were also subject to their control.31 The privy council’s role was also significant, especially in regulating the collection of the excise. While excise collection was an important task at the best of times, in periods of hardship like the 1690s this undertaking became ever more difficult. As it was put bluntly to the privy council in July 1696 by two tacksmen of the inland excise, the consequences of so ‘many people falling down dead’ would be a further shortfall in receipts.32 The degree to which the hard times of the mid-1690s affected the levels of tax collection can be seen in the records of the treasury commission: from 1 November 1693 to 1 November 1695, the cess and excise taxes raised £2,727,881 Scots compared to £1,921,911 from 1695 to 1697.33 The privy council was still discussing how to collect the remainder of the 1695 poll money in March 1697.34 The collection of tax was a substantial problem for the two bodies throughout the period. Although a system of paper money was beginning to develop, it was still in its infancy. The Bank of Scotland was founded in 1695. Despite this, Scottish coinage remained inadequate, and in rural Scotland, traditional methods of conducting business using payments in kind continued.35 This proved difficult to tax, which partly explains why taxation continued to be based largely on property values and land right

Murray, ‘Scottish Treasury’, p. 96. NRS, E7/8, 6 Jul. 1696; Richard Saville, Bank of Scotland: A History, 1695–1995 (Edinburgh, 1996), p. 19. 33 NRS, E7/8, 17 Mar. 1696, 3 Apr. 1696. 34 NRS, PC1/51, 18 Mar. 1697. 35 S. G. E. Lythe and John Butt, An Economic History of Scotland, 1100–1939 (Glasgow, 1975), pp. 73–4. 31 32

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up to the union in 1707.36 The privy council did undertake a review of the levels of the hearth money in late 1692, as well as an annual re-evaluation of the levels and collection of poll money throughout the period, but in reality it was the principal heritors, or the ‘commissioners of supply’, who remained the backbone of rural administration until the end of the nineteenth century.37 One of the few industries that offered a substantial, and often urban-based, revenue stream was brewing and malting. However, the famine resulted in any grain that remained in the country being used for food, causing the collapse of this lucrative, taxable industry.38 The invasion threat from France after the English naval defeat at Beachy Head in 1690 plunged Scotland into a state of alert, and exposed large holes in its financial management. The accounts of the commission set out, clearly and precisely, the cost of all regiments and garrisons, whether it were the cost of a colonel, a drummer or a surgeon. Each month, though perhaps with less regularity than the troops and the monarch preferred, the commissioners calculated and paid the exact sum due to every company or troop, according to the muster rolls, along with the supervision of the muster-master general and his depute.39 Although this task was a regular one for the treasury, it nonetheless proved to be complicated and problematic. The claim by the commissioners in July 1692 that, subject to William preventing them from being swamped with arrears, they could raise the revenue and pay the army punctually – ‘if We enter upon a clean floor, We will be answerable to keep it so’ – was quickly shown to be unattainably optimistic. Within six months extraordinary precepts for a quarter of their total revenue had been issued.40 The monarch occasionally issued specific instructions to the treasury for the payment of various persons or regimental arrears.41 This shows that petitions for payment did not go exclusively to the treasury commission; requests and complaints also found their way to the secretaries of state and ultimately to William himself. They would, in turn, apply pressure on the commissioners. On one occasion, William involved himself in the pay of the troops to the extent that he dictated which funds could and could not be used. He informed the treasury that ‘to the end that our Army in tyme to come may have full assurance of Every pay; Our Will is that hereafter upon

For an overview of the Scottish fiscal system at this time, see Julian Goodare, State and Society in Early Modern Scotland (Oxford, 1999), pp. 306–8, 318–22. 37 Ann E. Whetstone, Scottish County Government in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries (Edinburgh, 1981), ch. 3. 38 NRS, Replyes for the Tacksmen of the Excise to the Answers given in by His Majesties Advocat and Solicitor, to the said Tacksmens Petition, GD3/10/4/1. 39 Murray, ‘Scottish Treasury’, p. 99. 40 Paul Hopkins, Glencoe and the End of the Highland War (Edinburgh, 1986), p. 359. 41 NRS, E6/5, 5 Apr. 1694, 9 Jan. 1695, 15 May 1695. 36

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no account whatsoever, without express order from us, you touch upon the fonds, that wee have sett a part for them’.42 As well as ensuring that the troops received their pay, another military task that fell primarily to the treasury commission was the responsibility of provisioning the army and navy. This demanded a great deal of the commissioners’ time, as well as a significant proportion of Scotland’s expenditure. The treasury records give fascinating details of the requirements of Scotland’s forces, with precise lists of the provisions that each garrison used, along with the cost of the supplies.43 In addition to providing food and drink for the forces, the treasury commission also made arrangements for the disposal of the remainder as its quality deteriorated. On several occasions, the treasury arranged for the sale of unused supplies to the public, and on one instance it was set out that ‘If the above written Quantities of provisions to be layd up on the … garrisons abovementioned be not speedily made use by the soldiers therein through necessitie, then they are afterwards to be sold, before they be spoyled.’44 The task of supplying the forces became harder with the onset of the harvest failures and then famine in the middle of the decade, and the task of distributing excess food all the more important as famine took its toll on the Scottish population. Besides food, the treasury was also responsible for the purchase of arms and ammunition for the Scottish garrisons, the storage of this equipment and the replacement of it as it began to deteriorate.45 Various means were used to obtain arms and ammunition, some more desperate than others. Typically, the treasury commission would enter into agreements with merchants for the provision of arms or equipment, promising to cover the cost if a vessel was destroyed in service or agreeing to meet part of the cost of the salary of the crewmen. One such agreement was made with William Cross, a Glasgow merchant, for the supply of ‘a man of warr with at least twenty guns to cruise about the River Clyde and the coast of Ireland for the security of trade and seizing all ships belonging to enemies of the crown’.46 The treasury commission usually, though not exclusively, acted on response to a recommendation from the privy council when it came to the provision of equipment and supplies. While the treasury commissioners’ remit was financial, the issuing of military orders or directions fell into the remit of the privy council. By and large the council’s role in this respect has been overlooked by historians. It was the council that independently issued orders to the military leaders in the event of an invasion or uprising (suspected or real), and it was through the council NRS, E7/7, 7 Feb. 1693. NRS, E6/5, 2 Mar. 1696. 44 NRS, E6/5, 9 Jul. 1695. Similar references can be seen in NRS, E7/7, 7 Feb. 1693; E6/5, 7 Apr. 1694, 2 Mar. 1696. 45 Murray, ‘Scottish Treasury’, p. 99. 46 NRS, E90/9. 42 43

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that William instructed the military officers in Scotland of his orders. It was also the councillors who were held accountable by the monarch in the aftermath of some defeat or blunder. With the various rebellions and invasion scares in the 1690s, the council was holding an almost constant stream of reviews of military arrangements or decisions, whether it were regarding the militia, the speed at which the country could be placed in a state of defence, the condition of the castles and other defences, the road and bridge network or communication lines across Scotland. The treasury conducted at least one of its own reviews: in 1692, the commissioners recommended that the earl of Breadalbane inspect Fort William when he next went north. From then until 1698, this was the only instance of the treasury commission instigating a review or inspection.47 One aspect of the privy council’s wartime activity has been studied by Eric Graham: its work in naval and maritime affairs.48 Scotland had no regular navy at William’s accession, but with the outbreak of war, privateers and other warships were commissioned, and complex negotiations had to be undertaken with the English admiralty about the occasionally predatory behaviour of English privateers. These matters were nominally the responsibility of the Scottish lord admiral, but this office was often vacant. In practice the privy council usually took responsibility, while the treasury commission was involved in at least some of the resulting expenditure. VI Famine during the 1690s claimed much governmental attention. The language of the council proclamations for ‘solemn national fasts and humiliations’ highlights just how desperate times had become by 1696: The displeasure and wrath of almighty God is very visible against the land in the judgements of great sicknes and mortality in most parts of the Kingdome as also of growing dearth and famine threatened with the imminent hazard of an invasion from our Cruell and bloody enemys abroad …49

The interruption of Scotland’s trading pattern and the subsequent trading slump in the wake of the 1688–89 revolution was followed by a series of failed harvests – those of 1695, 1696, 1698 and 1699. The impact of the famine was aggravated by the French wars of 1689 to 1697. Recent research by Karen Cullen confirms the figure of 15 per cent population loss through

NRS, E7/7, 13 Aug. 1692. Eric J. Graham, A Maritime History of Scotland, 1650–1790 (East Linton, 2002), pp. 63–84. 49 NRS, PC1/51, 12 Dec. 1696. 47 48

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famine-related deaths and emigration.50 As the tacksmen of the inland excise informed the treasury in a petition, ‘many poor people were dying for want, and that the ground was manured in several places, and no Seed in the Countrey for sowing the same, which are two pregnant marks of Famine’.51 With supplies of meal reduced or even unobtainable, the owners of cattle and sheep had to ‘make use of them themselves’, thereby removing the single most important source of income for many, as well as a tool for future agricultural production.52 Such upheaval meant that economic management began to take up far more of the time of those governing Scotland. Previous policy on grain had been to restrict imports and encourage exports, but, faced with such a crisis of subsistence, the usual mercantilist doctrine of the privy council underwent a rapid transformation. In November 1695, after having failed to control the upsurge in smuggling, the council allowed the import of Irish victual for two months.53 This marked the beginning of a series of proclamations permitting imports, which have been studied by Dr Cullen.54 In June 1696 the council lifted all duties on imports of all grain. In August it offered a temporary two-month subsidy (called a ‘bounty’) on imports, intended to tide people over until the 1696 harvest. This required consultation with the treasury, and appears to have cost a total of £22,000 Scots. For the privy council to take such a step is a clear indication of just how desperate the situation had become. Even permitting imports of victual was a significant step, but to place a premium on imports was unheard of.55 The 1696 harvest was also deficient, but the council did not reintroduce the subsidy, merely continuing the policy of allowing duty-free imports. In July 1697, the council claimed that enough grain had been imported for the time being, and predicted (correctly) that the harvest that autumn was likely to be good; it thus banned the importation of Irish grain and reimposed duties on other imported grain. Exports of grain were also permitted, though this was reversed in April 1698. The harvest of autumn 1698 was the worst of the decade. The privy council not only resumed permission for duty-free grain imports, it also gave local authorities various emergency powers. Maximum grain prices, known as ‘fiars prices’, were set in February for each county, but commissioners of supply or justices of the peace could now overrule these. They could also

Karen J. Cullen, Famine in Scotland: The ‘Ill Years’ of the 1690s (Edinburgh, 2010), p. 188. 51 NRS, Replyes for the Tacksmen of the Excise to the Answers given in by His Majesties Advocat and Solicitor, to the said Tacksmens Petition, GD3/10/4/1. 52 Karen J. Cullen, Christopher A. Whatley and Mary Young, ‘King William’s Ill Years: New Evidence on the Impact of Scarcity and Harvest Failure during the Crisis of the 1690s on Tayside’, SHR 85 (2006), pp. 250–76, at p. 264. 53 NRS, PC1/50, 20 Nov. 1695. 54 For what follows, see Cullen, Famine in Scotland, pp. 66–71. 55 T. C. Smout, Scottish Trade on the Eve of Union, 1660–1707 (Edinburgh, 1963), p. 247. 50

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prohibit the transporting of grain out of their county – though this measure was rapidly reversed as being counter-productive. In June 1699 the import subsidy was reintroduced for the first time since 1696, at the rate of 20 shillings per boll. These measures were finally lifted in January 1701, after an improved harvest in 1700, and imports of grain were once again banned. Nominally, at least, things were back to normal. VII An overview of everyday government should seek to separate it from the political narrative that has often been of more interest to historians. Patrick Riley, in his indispensable account of Scottish politics in this period, discusses the changing composition of the treasury commission as a small part of his account of political manoeuvres.56 He castigates Scottish politicians as short-sighted and irresponsible – a view that has, however, been criticised on the grounds that his main source, political correspondence, inevitably tends to highlight the search for immediate advantage. This does not actually prove the correspondents to have had no serious policies or principles.57 It is telling that Riley is mainly interested in the treasury if there is a suggestion of financial impropriety.58 The modern critique of Riley tends to stress the importance of ideological commitment in the shaping of political narrative.59 This chapter has shown that there is a further issue. Privy councillors and treasury commissioners carried out a large amount of routine work that brought no discernible personal benefit. Thus, to assert that it was self-interest that drove the policies of the privy council in the later seventeenth century is not only inaccurate but does great disservice to the men who served as councillors in those years. The sheer number of council meetings that councillors attended, along with the separate committee meetings, shows that many councillors and treasury commissioners worked hard for their salary. As the earl of Breadalbane commented, his salary as a treasury commissioner was inadequate to repay the expenses of living in Edinburgh to perform the duties.60 The issue of everyday government should also direct attention away from the role of the monarch and towards the activities of lower-level governors. Riley, King William and the Scottish Politicians, pp. 71–4, 92–3, 108, 111. Rosalind Mitchison, Lordship to Patronage: Scotland, 1603–1746 (London, 1983), pp. 131–2. 58 Riley, King William and the Scottish Politicians, pp. 58, 71–2. 59 E.g. Derek J. Patrick, ‘Unconventional Procedure: Scottish Electoral Politics After the Revolution’, in Keith M. Brown and Alastair J. Mann (eds), The History of the Scottish Parliament, vol. II: Parliament and Politics in Scotland, 1567–1707 (Edinburgh, 2005), pp. 208–44. 60 Hopkins, Glencoe, p. 351. 56 57

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Allan Macinnes upholds the traditional view of William as neglecting Scotland, though for him the reign is mainly important for broad developments in commerce, colonisation and international relations – matters beyond the scope of this chapter.61 David Onnekink, looking at a lower level of politics, argues that William’s chief confidant, the earl of Portland, had coherent Scottish policies and generally provided effective co-ordination for Scottish ministers.62 That many of the councillors and commissioners worked hard is certain; that they worked in the best interests of Scotland is on occasion debatable; but that the economic conditions that they were faced with were unfavourable is quite apparent. When faced with periods of external threats and internal rebellion, Scotland’s fragile state relied greatly upon the collection of tax. Considering the ongoing military activities, the reliance on the prompt and thorough collection of the money became ever more important, placing increasing pressure on those responsible. The harvest failures, as well as their devastating human and economic costs, brought further difficulties for everyday government. The dearth disrupted one of the treasury’s few reliable tax streams. The necessity to buy in supplies from abroad caused an outflow of scarce coin and bullion, making it increasingly difficult to make payments to the troops and maintain the level of other payments. Short of finding several gold mines in Scotland, there was little that either privy council or treasury commission could do. Even within such a trying arena as Scotland’s government was in the 1690s, by and large the privy council and the treasury commission had what seems to have been a workable and flexible relationship. Given the remit of the treasury, it is clear that the basis of their relationship was focused on the economic side of government affairs. That the treasury commissioners were also councillors seems to have provided both bodies with a good appreciation of what the situation and difficulties were in the other body, as well as limiting the opportunities for confusion or disagreement. Fountainhall’s comment, ‘The Exchequer sayes Amen, to what the Treasurie does,’ can be adapted to suit our purpose: ‘The Treasury says Amen, to what the privy council does.’63 This leads to the question of the relationship of the two bodies with the crown. With William and Mary’s reign came restrictions on the capacity of the crown and subsequently the privy council, as a body that derived its power from the monarch. This was not immediately apparent; the rebellion in Scotland compelled the council to act in its own name for the first year Allan I. Macinnes, ‘William of Orange – “Disaster for Scotland”?’ in Esther Mijers and David Onnekink (eds), Redefining William III: The Impact of the King-Stadtholder in International Context (Aldershot, 2007), pp. 201–23. 62 David Onnekink, ‘The Earl of Portland and Scotland (1689–1699): A Re-evaluation of Williamite Policy’, SHR 85 (2006), pp. 231–49. 63 Quoted in Murray, ‘Scottish Treasury’, p. 101. 61

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or so of the new reign. Further, this is not to say that the privy council was in decline. It was not. This was a period of metamorphosis for the council, which attempted to find its feet as the monarch’s council in a country without a resident monarch and in a period where the crown’s powers were in decline. The work and governance of the privy council was as important in Scotland as ever. The importance of the privy council and treasury commission was recognised by Sir John Clerk of Penicuik, a young man in the 1690s, who in 1730 looked back on pre-Union Scotland: The Privy Council of Scotland was sometimes arbitrary in their proceedings yet was such as contributed very much to keep up the face of government and preserve the peace of the country.   The Treasury was under the direction of those who had the chief authority in their hands and were often men of that capacity that it was a pity they had noe more to manadge than what the revenue of Scotland produced.64

This was high praise for the treasury in particular. However, Clerk also noted that As to our Civil Government … it was in an entire state of dependance on the Councils of England. We had frequent sessions of Parliament, a constant Privie Council, a Treasury and Exchequer, but all these subservient to such administratiors as the chief ministers in England thought fit to recommend to the Soveraign.65

Clerk wrote to explain and justify the Union, and it is perhaps not surprising that he expressed no regret for the demise of the Scottish parliament in 1707. However, he did add that the abolition of the privy council in 1708 had been a mistake: ‘by takeing away the Privy Council of Scotland there is very litle of Government to be seen amongst us. This complaint I am affray’d is too well founded.’66 As noted earlier, both bodies showed a tendency to react rather than lead; this should be linked to the inadequacies of the settlement of 1603. Over the years the Scottish privy council and latterly the treasury commission found themselves responding to the wishes of monarchs who had diminishing concern for or knowledge of the country. Even with relatively well-informed officials in place (as the earl of Portland seemed to be), the link between crown and kingdom was broken. This void left both the councillors and commissioners with only a limited remit to issue instructions or promote a ‘Sir John Clerk’s Observations on the Present Circumstances of Scotland, 1730’, ed. T. C. Smout, SHS Misc. X (1965), pp. 175–212, at p. 184. 65 ‘Clerk’s Observations’, p. 184. 66 ‘Clerk’s Observations’, p. 203. 64

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Scottish-centred economic policy. The distant and inefficient arrangement left in place after the regal union in 1603 enshrined an economic structure that became ever more outdated and inadequate as the century progressed. The link to the monarchy that was fundamental to the very being of the privy council was also the same connection that handicapped the councillors in their activities. The privy council struggled to find its place in the new political structure in Scotland, both in the wake of the union in 1603 and then post-1689. The position of the council closely mirrors the predicament that Scotland as a nation was in during the seventeenth century, both of them unable to find their places in the new political set-up. As the privy council faltered and stumbled, Scotland did too.

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12

The Company of Scotland and Scottish Politics, 1696–1701 DOUGLAS WATT

The Company of Scotland Trading to Africa and the Indies was established by act of parliament in 1695, and between 1698 and 1700 attempted to establish a colony at Darien on the isthmus of Central America. The historiography of this well-known episode has focused on the company as an instrument of colonialism.1 However, the abandonment of the Darien settlement was also central to the political crisis that developed over the period 1698–1701. There was vociferous opposition in parliament, and extra-parliamentary activity including two national addresses, a propaganda battle and popular protest on the streets.2 One commentator in June 1700 feared a repeat of the covenanting radicalism of the 1640s: ‘the ferment still continues, and new addresses are daily coming in from all parts of the country … God help us, we are ripening for destruction. It looks very like Forty-one.’3 An important feature of the politics of the period was the rise of an opposition grouping. This took shape over several years, and from the parliament of 1698 was known as the country party.4 The relationship between the Company of Scotland and the country party was briefly commented on by Patrick Riley in his detailed study of Scottish politics: ‘from almost the beginning, the organisation of the African Company had looked remarkSee most recently Douglas Watt, The Price of Scotland: Darien, Union and the Wealth of Nations (Edinburgh, 2007), and, for older but still useful accounts, George. P. Insh, The Company of Scotland Trading to Africa and the Indies (London, 1932) and John Prebble, Darien: The Scottish Dream of Empire (Edinburgh, 2000), first published as The Darien Disaster (London, 1968). 2 W. Douglas Jones, ‘The Darien Reaction: National Failure and Popular Politics in Scotland, 1699–1701’ (University of Edinburgh M.Sc. by Research dissertation, 2001). 3 State-Papers and Letters Addressed to William Carstares, ed. J. McCormick (Edinburgh, 1774), pp. 527–8. 4 George Lockhart of Carnwath, Memoirs Concerning the Affairs of Scotland, from Queen Anne’s Accession to the Throne, to the Commencement of the Union of the Two Kingdoms of Scotland and England, in May 1707 (2nd edn, London, 1714), p. 5. 1

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ably like the opposition going into business’.5 But he did not explore the subject further. This chapter will seek to determine whether his assertion is correct by examining the relationship between the company and party politics. The political allegiance of the managers of the company, the court of directors, has received little attention from historians. The relationship between directors and country party should provide a fresh perspective on the politics of Williamite Scotland. I The 1690s was a decade of significant development in financial capitalism, witnessing the spectacular growth of capital markets in London, a liquid government debt market and a stock market. Historians have applied the term ‘financial revolution’ to these developments.6 Scotland experienced its own financial revolution, with forty-seven joint stock companies established in the boom period from 1690 to 1695, including the Company of Scotland itself and the Bank of Scotland.7 These indicate the presence of a pool of capital and investors. The act of parliament establishing the company in 1695 gave it a monopoly of trade to Africa, America and the East Indies for thirty-one years and tax exemptions for twenty-one years, and was the result of pressure from both Scottish and London-based investors.8 In late 1695 the company failed to raise capital in London after initial success in achieving subscriptions of £300,000 in nine days.9 English vested interests opposed the privileges that had been given to the company by the act of parliament and objected to a newcomer in the London capital market. The English East India Company was trying to raise capital at the same time.10 The English parliament threatened the Scottish promoters with P. W. J. Riley, King William and the Scottish Politicians (Edinburgh, 1979), p. 132. The ‘African Company’ was one of the many contemporary names applied to the Company of Scotland. Riley portrayed the politics of the 1690s as a bitter struggle between noble factions, which rendered Williamite Scotland ungovernable. A more recent study of parliament and politics has provided a more optimistic picture: Derek J. Patrick, ‘People and Parliament in Scotland, 1689–1702’ (University of St Andrews Ph.D. thesis, 2002), p. vii, argues for ‘the continuing development of an inclusive party political system similar to that evident in England’. 6 P. G. M. Dickson, The Financial Revolution in England: A Study in the Development of Public Credit, 1688–1756 (London, 1967; repr. Aldershot, 1993); Henry Roseveare, The Financial Revolution, 1660–1760 (Harlow, 1991). 7 W. R. Scott, The Constitution and Finance of English, Scottish and Irish Joint-Stock Companies to 1720, 3 vols (Cambridge, 1910–12), I, p. 356. 8 APS, IX, pp. 377–81. 9 The Case of Mr. William Paterson in relation to his claim on the Equivalent (Edinburgh, 1708), p. 3. 10 BL, India Office Records, Court of Directors Minute Book, B/41, p. 69. 5

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impeachment, causing potential investors to withdraw. As Lord Belhaven put it: ‘our Act must be attacked in it’s swaddling cloaths, and persecuted in its infancy’.11 The company then switched its attention to Scotland, and opened subscription books in Edinburgh on 26 February and Glasgow on 5 March 1696. Rather than concentrate on merchant elites, the capital raising was extended as far as possible geographically and socially, the directors leaving ‘no reasonable means or opportunity omitted to make this the most diffusive and National joynt-stock in the world’.12 By August, when the books were closed, the large sum of £400,000 sterling had been subscribed. The first court of twenty-five directors was elected by shareholders on 12 May 1696. Candidates for election had to own at least £1,000 of company stock and so a limited number of the shareholders, 119 out of a total of 1,320 (1,267 individuals and 53 institutions), were eligible to become directors.13 This also meant that the directors had a substantial financial stake in the company. The first court is shown in Table 12.1. Table 12.1.  Directors of the Company of Scotland, May 1696 Nobles: Lord Belhaven Lord Ruthven Lairds: Adam Cockburn of Ormiston Mr Francis Montgomery of Giffen William Hay of Drummelzier Mr Hugh Dalrymple Lieutenant Colonel John Erskine Sir John Home of Blackadder Sir Francis Scott of Thirlestane Sir Patrick Scott of Ancrum Sir John Maxwell of Pollock Sir John Swinton of that Ilk John Haldane of Gleneagles Sir Archibald Muir of Thornton George Baillie of Jerviswood James Pringle of Torwoodlee John Drummond of Newton

Lord Belhaven, A Speech in Parliament on the 10th day of January, by the Lord Belhaven, on the Affair of the Indian and African Company, and its Colony of Caledonia (Edinburgh, 1701), p. 8. 12 Belhaven, Speech in Parliament, p. 92. 13 RBS, Court of Directors, D/1/1, p. 17. All sums in this chapter are given in sterling unless otherwise stated. £1,000 sterling in 1696 was equivalent to approximately £90,000 in 2002: Lawrence H. Officer, ‘Comparing the Purchasing Power of Money in Great Britain from 1264 to 2002’, Economic History Services, 2004, . 11

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douglas watt Edinburgh merchants: George Clark Mr Robert Blackwood James McLurg James Balfour Glasgow merchants: Hugh Montgomery William Arbuckle John Corse William Wooddrop Source: RBS, Court of Directors D/1/1, pp. 32–3.

Nine of these men were nominees named in the original Act of 1695;14 ten others were members of the committee elected on 3 April.15 Unfortunately sources provide little evidence about this important election, but a manuscript in the Tweeddale papers does provide the number of votes cast for those elected to the committee that formulated the constitution. This gives an indication of the level of support for particular figures among the shareholders, and shows that men such as Fletcher of Saltoun, Shaw of Greenock, the earl of Panmure and Viscount Tarbat did not have enough backing at this time to become directors.16 The first court was composed of two nobles, eight merchants and fifteen lairds.17 There was therefore limited noble presence but a very significant number of smaller landowners, and this social composition reflected that of the shareholders. T. C. Smout has calculated that 14.2 per cent of the company’s capital was owned by nobles and 34.4 per cent by lairds.18 The Lord Belhaven, Cockburn of Ormiston, Montgomery of Giffen, Maxwell of Pollock, Swinton of that Ilk, Clark, Balfour, Blackwood and Corse. APS, IX, pp. 377–81. Cf. George P. Insh, ‘The Founders of the Company of Scotland’, SHR 25 (1928), pp. 241–54. 15 Lord Ruthven, Hay of Drummelzier, Hugh Dalrymple, Lieutenant Colonel Erskine, Scott of Thirlestane, Haldane of Gleneagles, Muir of Thornton, Baillie of Jerviswood, Pringle of Torwoodlee and Drummond of Newton. 16 NLS, Yester Papers, MS 14493, fol. 112. Votes cast, in descending order, were for Scott of Thirlestane (2,272), Lord Ruthven (1,900), Hay of Drummelzier (1,789), Lord Yester (1,672), Hope of Rankeillor (1,631), Pringle of Torwoodlee (1,615), Mr Hugh Dalrymple (1,591), Lieutenant Colonel Erskine (1,469), Lord Basil Hamilton (1,468), Mr William Dunlop (1,439), Robert Watson (1,410), Haldane of Gleneagles (1,366), Baillie of Jerviswood (1,232), Dickson of Sornberg (1,208), Sir Archibald Muir (1,043), Drummond of Newton (1,022), Fletcher of Saltoun (969), Shaw of Greenock (965), earl of Panmure (930) and Viscount Tarbat (841). 17 A broad definition of the term ‘laird’ is used here, to include the sons of the nobility and merchants and lawyers who invested in land. Lieutenant Colonel John Erskine was the son of Lord Cardross and Montgomery of Giffen the son of the earl of Eglinton. Dalrymple was an advocate who had built up a landed estate in East Lothian; Drummond of Newton a merchant who had also invested in land. 18 T. C. Smout, Scottish Trade on the Eve of Union, 1660–1707 (Edinburgh, 1963), p. 150. 14

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lairds were the backbone of the shareholding structure of the Company of Scotland. The major nobles were also significant shareholders. Queensberry subscribed £3,000, one of only six who subscribed the maximum amount.19 Atholl invested only £500, perhaps reflecting less confidence in the prospects of the company or more constrained financial circumstances. Argyll subscribed £1,500.20 This pattern was very different from the English joint stock companies, such as the East India Company and Bank of England, where merchants owned most of the shares.21 It was suggested at the time that ‘people that is in the government’ deliberately held back their payments to the company in response to English hostility.22 But analysis of the cash books shows that those who had difficulty in paying included directors of the company, who despite English pressure were presumably committed to the company in principle. The directors Lord Belhaven, John Drummond of Newton, Sir John Swinton of that Ilk, Hugh Cunningham and John Graham of Dougalston were all late payers of all or part of the money that they had subscribed, suggesting that the principal reason for late payment was difficulty in raising cash rather than political opposition.23 The other major political power in 1690s Scotland, the Hamilton family, had significant holdings in the company. After persuasion from William Paterson, Anne, duchess of Hamilton, subscribed the maximum £3,000 as a pooled investment with two of her sons.24 Lord Basil Hamilton subscribed £3,000, a pooled shareholding with his elder brother the duke of Hamilton, while their sister the countess of Dundonald invested £1,000.25 The Tweeddale family were also significant investors in the company. The first marquis of Tweeddale subscribed £1,000, his half-brother William Hay of Drummelzier £1,000, his sons John Lord Yester, Lord David Hay and Lord Alexander Hay £1,000, £500 and £400 respectively, his daughter the countess of Roxburgh £1,000 and his servitor John Hay £200.26 This was clearly The Darien Papers, ed. J. H. Burton (Bannatyne Club, 1849). The other five were John, Lord Belhaven, Robert Blackwood, Anne, duchess of Hamilton, Lord Basil Hamilton and John Stewart of Grandtully. 20 NLS, Adv. MS 83.5.2, pp. 106, 124. 21 BL, India Office Records, List of Adventurers, H2. Bank of England Archive, ‘Original Subscriptions to Capital 1694’. 22 Karl von den Steinen, ‘In Search of the Antecedents of Women’s Political Activism in Early Eighteenth-Century Scotland: The Daughters of Anne, Duchess of Hamilton’, in Elizabeth Ewan and Maureen M. Meikle (eds), Women in Scotland, c.1100–c.1750 (East Linton, 1999), pp. 112–22, at p. 117. 23 NLS, Adv. MS 83.5.2, pp. 60–115. Hugh Cunningham and Graham of Dougalston were elected as directors in 1697. 24 NRS, Hamilton Muniments, GD406/1/6944. The £3,000 represented the holding of the duchess, Charles, earl of Selkirk, and John, earl of Ruglen. 25 NRS, GD406/1/6440, Darien Papers, Appendix, pp. 371–417. 26 NRS, GD406/1/6440, Darien Papers, Appendix, pp. 371–417. 19

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a major financial commitment by the family. In his diary George Home of Kimmerghame noted that the Tweeddale family and friends intended to invest £20,000 in the company.27 In fact the investment of the family was just over £5,000 although Tweeddale’s political ‘interest’, figures such as Scott of Ancrum and Scott of Thirlestane, were also major investors, providing him with further voting power among the shareholders. Tweeddale and his eldest son were also investors in the White Paper Company and the Bank of Scotland, and items in the Yester Papers indicate a keen interest in finance and money making.28 This may have been stimulated by the need to free the family from significant debts, £290,000 Scots in 1691.29 II What of the political character of the first court of directors? Riley has defined ‘revolution men’ as those who were either in exile under James VII or who actively supported William during the Revolution of 1688–89.30 A number of the first directors can be identified as such: Cockburn of Ormiston, Montgomery of Giffen, Hugh Dalrymple, Lieutenant Colonel Erskine, Home of Blackadder, Scott of Thirlestane, Maxwell of Pollock, Swinton of that Ilk, Baillie of Jerviswood, Pringle of Torwoodlee, Lord Belhaven, Lord Ruthven and Scott of Ancrum.31 The eight merchants on the court were also natural supporters of the Revolution of 1688–89 with strong presbyterian connections. Before 1688 some were linked with exiles in the Netherlands. James McLurg, who was one of the most active directors in the company’s management, was a key man of business for a number of the exiled families including Melville and his son Leven, the Dalrymples and Gilbert Burnet.32 James Balfour was associated with presbyterians in August 1684.33 John Corse and George Clerk NRS, Diary of George Home of Kimmerghame, GD1/891/1, 21 Feb. 1696. NLS, MS 1913, Scots White Paper Manufactory, fol. 7. Bank of Scotland Archive, Adventurer’s ledger, 1/92/1A. NLS, Yester Papers, ‘Memorial for Encouraging the Trade of the Kingdom of Scotland’, ‘Proposals for a Guinea Trade’ and ‘A Short Discriptione of the Madagascare Trade And of the Commodities fitting for yt place’, MS 14493, fols 114–15, 163–4. 29 Maurice Lee, Jnr, The ‘Inevitable’ Union and Other Essays on Early Modern Scotland (East Linton, 2003), p. 250. 30 Riley, King William and the Scottish Politicians, p. 141. Patrick uses the contemporary term ‘Revolutioner’ to describe these individuals: Patrick, ‘People and Parliament’, p. 62. 31 Ginny Gardner, The Scottish Exile Community in the Netherlands, 1660–1690 (East Linton, 2004), Appendix 2; Journal of the Hon. John Erskine of Carnock, 1683–1687, ed. Walter Macleod (SHS, 1893), pp. 103, 188, 189, 192; Patrick, ‘People and Parliament’, p. 176; Helen and Keith Kelsall, Scottish Lifestyle 300 Years Ago (Aberdeen, 1993), p. 88. 32 Gardner, Scottish Exile Community, pp. 69–70. 33 Journal of the Hon. John Erskine, p. 76. 27 28

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were investors in the South Carolina Company that attempted to establish a colony in the 1680s – an enterprise dominated by presbyterians from the west of Scotland.34 Perhaps surprisingly, given the political battles that ensued between company and government at a later date, a number of directors were associated with the court interest or were members of the government during the 1690s: Cockburn of Ormiston, Montgomery of Giffen, Muir of Thornton, Mr Hugh Dalrymple, Maxwell of Pollock, and even Baillie of Jerviswood, who was later an important figure in the opposition.35 In 1696 a significant proportion of the directors were members of the court interest; Riley’s view that the opposition went into business is not supported by the early history of the company. The political complexion of the first court of directors was therefore staunchly Revolutionary or Williamite. This reflected the significant number of presbyterian lairds who were shareholders in the company, many of whom were members of families who had opposed the religious policies of Charles II and James VII and whose investment was perhaps a statement of financial confidence following the Revolution, when fines and forfeitures were rescinded.36 A number had spent years of exile in the Netherlands, the centre of global capitalism in the late seventeenth century, and this may have been another powerful influence.37 One ‘interest’ on the first court consisted of a group of border lairds associated with the first marquis of Tweeddale: Sir Francis Scott of Thirlestane, William Hay of Drummelzier and Sir Patrick Scott of Ancrum. The presence of these men no doubt reflected their own substantial shareholdings, that of their kinsmen and the large investment by the Tweeddale family. At a later date the second marquis of Tweeddale and his son Lord Hay were elected directors.38 There is only limited evidence of any Jacobite presence on the initial court. The Edinburgh merchant John Drummond of Newton was a shadowy Linda G. Fryer, ‘Documents Relating to the Formation of the Carolina Company in Scotland, 1682’, South Carolina Historical Magazine 99 (1998), pp. 110–34, at p. 132. 35 Ormiston was lord justice clerk, Montgomery of Giffen a privy councillor and governor of Dumbarton Castle, Dalrymple president of the court of session from 1698, Maxwell of Pollock a lord of the treasury and from 1699 a senator of the college of justice and lord justice clerk, Baillie of Jerviswood receiver general, and Muir of Thornton lord provost of Edinburgh. 36 APS, IX, pp. 158, 164–70. 37 Lieutenant Colonel Erskine, Baillie of Jerviswood, Swinton of that Ilk and Pringle of Torwoodlee had been exiles. For the primacy of the Netherlands in economic growth and the sophistication of its capital markets see Jan de Vries and Ad van der Woude, The First Modern Economy: Success, Failure and Perseverance of the Dutch Economy, 1500–1815 (Cambridge, 1997). 38 The second marquis of Tweeddale was elected in March 1698: RBS, Council General, D/3, p. 104. Lord Yester was elected in March 1702: RBS, Council General, D/3, p. 248. 34

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figure, despite attending many court meetings, and there is no evidence that he was a Jacobite other than his suggestive surname. John Haldane of Gleneagles displayed ‘potential Jacobite behaviour’ at the Revolution when he withdrew from the convention of estates, but he later emerged as a consistent supporter of the union and the house of Hanover, and his ambivalent position in 1688–89 may have been due to his association with the Atholl interest.39 Some of the principal Jacobite suspects imprisoned in the wake of the assassination scare in February 1696 were shareholders: John, fourth earl of Strathmore (£500), Livingston of Kilsyth (£1,000), William, ninth Earl Marischal (£1,000) and James Lord Drummond (£1,000). The Edinburgh advocate Mr David Drummond who was also arrested in 1696 bought shares in the company in April 1697.40 This was a difficult time for Jacobites and suspected Jacobites; imprisonment and exile with their associated financial problems made many unable or unwilling to subscribe. This emphasises the ‘Revolution’ character of the shareholders and directors of the Company of Scotland. The opposition did not go into business, as Riley suggested; rather ‘Revolution’ Scotland did. III On the afternoon of the 12 May 1696, the court elected William Paterson as the twenty-sixth director. Paterson was a celebrated ‘projector’ who had raised capital for the Bank of England, the Hampstead Water Works and the Orphans’ Fund in London before offering his services to the Company of Scotland in 1695.41 Two days later, Paterson’s associates James Smith (a London merchant) and Daniel Lodge (an accountant who had worked with Paterson at the Bank of England) were added to the court.42 On 19 May Mr James Campbell, a merchant and London Scot, was elected as director for ‘affairs furth of the Kingdom’.43 This ‘Patersonian’ group aligned itself, in financial strategy, with the merchants on the court. They were viewed as a distinct group by Lord Basil Hamilton in January 1698: ‘I am affrayed

Patrick, ‘People and Parliament’, pp. 171, 247. Those arrested at this time were the duke of Gordon, Earl Marischal, earl of Home, earl of Strathmore, Viscount Stormont, George Drummond of Blair, Mr David Drummond advocate, Murray of Drumcairn, Sir William Bruce of Kinross, Sir William Sharp, Mr William Livingston of Kilsyth, John Byres of Coatts, Captain James Maitland, Sir George Seton of Gairletoune and Mr Thomas Wallace of Elderslie: NRS, PC1/50, pp. 393, 405, 437, 459; PC1/51, pp. 43, 43, 45. Lord Drummond escaped from Stirling Castle in March 1696: PC1/50, p. 437. 41 David Armitage, ‘“The Projecting Age”: William Paterson and the Bank of England’, History Today 44:5 (June 1994), pp. 5–10. 42 RBS, D/1/1, pp. 40–1. 43 RBS, D/1/1, p. 48. 39 40

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Paterson and ye merchants may be tricking us.’44 But they were not players in Scottish party politics; rather, their election reflected Paterson’s popularity in Scotland in 1696. Some directors were more active in the management of the company than others. Director attendance data, although not a perfect source, does provide an indication of commitment to the company. Table 12.2 shows attendance by directors from 1696 to 1701. Table 12.2.  Company of Scotland directors’ attendance at court meetings, 1696–1701 Number of Meetings Sir Francis Scott of Thirlestane John Drummond of Newton James McLurg Lieutenant Colonel John Erskine Mr David Drummond Hugh Cunningham John Haldane of Gleneagles James Balfour second marquis of Tweeddale Sir Patrick Scott of Ancrum William Hay of Drummelzier

1696 1697 1698 1699 1700 1701 Total % 56 89 92 120 58 38 453 100

21 44

82 21 58 52 71 76 52 67 57 22 41

112  90  59  77  96  49  67  50  74  40  46

33

31

39

23

43

72

14

15

26 22

 7  9

37

58

29 57 31

William Wooddrop George Baillie of Jerviswood Adam Cockburn of Ormiston William Menzies

39 29 22

26 21 35 26

23  2 11 20

 38  70 4 (off 7 Mar)  48  48 4 (off 7 Mar)  23  29  36  39

 3 21  1 12

 3 10

William Arbuckle

37

 8

16

 16

 8

Lord Ruthven Robert Blackwood Mr Robert Blackwood Sir John Shaw of Greenock fourth earl of Panmure George Clark

44

55 49 52 36

61 43 71 33

31 38

45 21 50

40 32

NRS, GD406/1/9078. 219

50 41 17 33 50 34 23 37 35  3 13 51

30 32  9 21 24 21 10

390 276 266 252 241 225 204 205 14 182 15 173 (off 12 163 Mar)  4 158 30 151 142

86 61 59 56 53 50 45 45 40 38 36 35 33 31

139 136 130

31 30 29

117 112 105 (off 12  97 Mar)  6  91

26 25 23 21 20

douglas watt Hugh Montgomery

25

12

14

 29

 7

Mr Francis Montgomery of Giffen William Paterson Robert Watson John Jameson of Balmure Sir Archibald Muir of Thornton

19

21

12

 31

48 19

16 57

15  3

  1

(off 5 Mar)  3

46

 9

17

 39

17

28

 27

John Graham of Dougalston Dr Dundas Mr Patrick Campbell of Monzie Sir John Swinton of that Ilk

46

Mr Daniel Lodge Sir John Home of Blackadder

51 43

John Corse Sir John Maxwell of Pollock

35 34

Lord Belhaven Mr Hugh Dalrymple earl of Annandale

29 25

 1  3

James Pringle of Torwoodlee

24

(off 12 Mar)

Mr James Campbell Lord Basil Hamilton Adam Hepburn of Humby Sir Robert Chiesly Dr Monro Mr James Smyth

17

42 (off 5 Mar) 35

(off 12 Mar)

33

31

 57 8 (off 12 Mar)  2 7 (off 12 Mar) 13 10  2  1

1 (off 7 Mar)   5  1   6  1  32 (off 5 Mar)

15

 4 20 15 27

87

19

83

18

83 79 75 72

18 17 17 16

72 66 57 54

16 15 13 12

53 50

12 11

48 45

11 10

38 36 32

 8  8  7

24

 5

17 19 20 15 27  0

 4  4  4  3  2

Source: RBS, Journal of the Court of Directors D1/1–3.

In 1696 and 1697 the directors made most of the key management decisions, including allocation of capital and the choice of Darien as the site of a colony. In 1696 the directors who attended most often (in descending order) were Sir Francis Scott of Thirlestane, James McLurg, Daniel Lodge, John Drummond of Newton, William Paterson, Sir Archibald Muir of Thornton, Sir John Home of Blackadder, William Wooddrop, James Balfour, William Arbuckle and George Clark. In 1697 the most active directors were James McLurg, Sir Francis Scott, George Clark, Robert Watson, James Balfour, 220

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William Hay of Drummelzier, John Drummond of Newton, Mr Robert Blackwood and Adam Cockburn of Ormiston. For the longer period from 1696 to 1701, Sir Francis Scott of Thirlestane attended the most by a large margin. Throughout the company’s history Sir Francis was by far the most active director, and he might be compared with a modern chief executive.45 The second most active was John Drummond of Newton, and other directors who were continuously involved with management were James McLurg, Lieutenant Colonel John Erskine, Mr David Drummond, Hugh Cunningham, James Balfour and John Haldane of Gleneagles. Company organisation was structured around three committees, established on 22 May 1696: the committees of improvements, foreign trade and treasury.46 The attendance record of the committee of improvements survives. This committee was responsible for company trading activity in Scotland and procuring Scottish manufactures for the overseas trading venture to Darien. It was dominated by merchants, with two lairds and a nobleman making intermittent appearances. In 1696 the committee met 116 times, and the most active participants were all Edinburgh merchants: James McLurg (101), James Balfour (66), George Clark (63) and Hugh Cunningham (60). McLurg appears to have played a dominant role in the organisation of this committee. The attendance of non-merchants was much lower: John Haldane of Gleneagles (10), John Swinton of that Ilk (21) and Lord Ruthven (18). Their role would appear to have been supervisory. William Paterson attended the committee on only three occasions in 1696.47 It was thus a mixture of lairds and merchants who ran the Company of Scotland during the years between 1696 and 1701, and none of the major political figures in Williamite Scotland were actively involved in management during the crucial years of 1696–97. At this time when most of the key decisions were made, the company was not run by the political ‘opposition’ as Riley has suggested. However, members of the government and those associated with the court interest were less involved. This was not a deliberate policy but was rather a reflection of the large amount of time and effort required to be an active director. Poor attendance was not restricted to court supporters. Lord Belhaven, prominent among the opposition to the court, was active in the first year of the company’s history, attending 29 out of 56 meetings in 1696, but his engagement was negligible thereafter.

Unfortunately the papers of Scott of Thirlestane do not seem to have survived and so a detailed biography of this important figure is not possible. For a brief discussion of his life, see Scots Peerage, VI, p. 431. 46 RBS, Court of Directors, D/1/1, pp. 58–9, 74. 47 NLS, Adv. MS 83.7.1. 45

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IV The company first became involved in politics in 1696. This was initially related, not to the origins of the country party, but rather to William Paterson’s plans for developing business ventures in salt and banking. On 5 June 1696 the directors approved a motion ‘concerning the Improvement of Salt’ and on 3 August considered several ideas about an ‘intended Salt-works and Fishery’.48 The salt enterprise required parliamentary legislation to protect the company’s new method of production. On 12 September a draft act of parliament in favour of the company for making improvements in salt and encouraging fisheries was considered by the directors and then by a committee.49 The company’s salt business was in direct opposition to the Hamilton interest and other saltmasters who included nobles such as the earl of Mar, earl of Winton, the countess of Wemyss and Lord St Clair. The saltmasters stated in a pamphlet that if the act was passed it would ‘undoubtedly destroy the Manufactory of making Salt in this Kingdom’, and there was particular scorn for the articles in the act that advocated compulsory property purchase.50 Parliament remitted the act to the committee of trade on 16 September, but it was then passed despite opposition from the saltmasters.51 The company had strong backing in parliament, and it was commented at the time that there was little opposition as ‘their party is so great’.52 However, the salt enterprise proved a short-lived political distraction. The directors’ attention soon shifted onto preparations for the colonial expedition and efforts to persuade recalcitrant subscribers to pay their cash. The business languished despite considerable time and effort being expended, and only £142 out of the £10,000 allocated was spent on it.53 The company also attempted to develop a banking business. On 18 May 1696 the directors ordered Paterson to ‘prepare a schem of his Thoughts, concerning the Improvement of the Capital Fund … in point of Credit

RBS, D/1/1, pp. 67, 109. RBS, D/1/1, p. 133. 50 Reasons Offered to his Grace His Majesties High Commissioner and the Honourable Estates of Parliament by the Dutchess of Hamilton, the Earl of Arran, the Earl of Marr, the Earl of Wintoun, the Countess of Weymss, Lord St. Clair, the Lairds of Bougie, Bonhard and Grange, and other Salt-Masters and Heretors of Salt-Works, Against The Overtures proposed by the Affrican Company, anent the making of salt of a new Fashion (n.d.). 51 APS, X, pp. 13, 47, 80. 52 NRS, GD406/1/7531. In June 1690 shire representation in parliament increased by about 50 per cent. The lairds were therefore a force to be reckoned with in parliament, and they were also the most significant group of shareholders in the company. Patrick, ‘People and Parliament’, p. 74. 53 NLS, Darien Papers, Adv. MS 83.3.6, fol. 12. 48 49

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or otherways’.54 This enterprise contravened the monopoly of the Bank of Scotland, which had been established in 1695, and involved the Company of Scotland lending to its own shareholders sums up to two thirds of the cash they had already paid to the company at an interest rate of 4 per cent.55 Some shareholders used this as a way of funding their shareholding in the company, which from a financial perspective was very unsound.56 However, the initiative placed the Bank of Scotland under severe pressure; it was forced to suspend payments, call in loans and raise more capital.57 Paradoxically the two rival institutions shared significant numbers of directors and shareholders. The political complexion of the directors of the Bank of Scotland was also firmly ‘Revolutionary’ in character. The entry of the Company of Scotland into banking does not seem to have been a deliberate attack on any particular political interest.58 Both these ventures thus indicate the dominance of William Paterson in the early history of the company and his willingness to take on existing monopolies. Paterson was given access to all company committees, the only director to receive this privilege. He provided the blueprint for the constitution of the company, and was the driving force behind the very successful capital raising in Scotland between February and August 1696.59 Poetry and songs indicate that he was popular with shareholders and the general public at this time.60 However, Paterson’s credibility suffered in late 1696 as a result of a financial scandal, which involved the loss of a significant amount of the company’s capital that he had transferred to his associate James Smith in London.61 A company investigation led by Mr William Dunlop and Robert Blackwood exonerated Paterson, who, to make amends for his folly in trusting Smith, sailed on the first expedition to Darien. He was not voted off the court of directors until 1703.62

RBS, Court of Directors, D1/1, p. 46. Richard Saville, Bank of Scotland: A History, 1695–1995 (Edinburgh, 1996), pp. 861–5. 56 Saville, Bank of Scotland, p. 863. 57 Saville, Bank of Scotland, pp. 32–7. 58 Saville, Bank of Scotland, pp. 826–34. 59 RBS, Court of Directors, D/1/1, pp. 56–7, 74, 105. 60 Various Pieces of Fugitive Scottish Poetry; principally of the seventeenth century, 2nd ser. (Edinburgh, 1853), pp. 8, 10. 61 £25,476 was entrusted to Paterson to transmit to London. Of this sum he transferred £16,893 to James Smith and at least £8,200 disappeared in the web of Smith’s debts. NLS, Darien Papers, Adv. MSS 83.7.4, fol. 52, 83.8.7, fols 153–4, 83.7.9, fols 85–6, 83.8.4, fols 217–18, 83.7.8, fol. 213. 62 RBS, D/1/3, 4 May 1703. 54

55

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V In late 1696 the company sent a group of directors to the Continent in an attempt to raise more capital from the merchant communities of Amsterdam, Rotterdam, Hamburg and other German towns. Despite some initial interest the company failed to persuade investors to provide any cash. The investment climate in 1696–97 was very difficult, as a credit crunch and financial crisis devastated the financial centres of western Europe. Rumours about the company’s financial scandal also leaked out and undermined the confidence of potential investors. More relevant to politics, there was direct opposition from the English Resident at Hamburg, Sir Paul Rycaut, who from an early stage provided intelligence about company activities, and then active opposition, commissioning an anti-company pamphlet, and ultimately producing the infamous memorial to the Senate of Hamburg of 7 April 1697 that articulated English government opposition to the attempt by the Scots to raise capital there.63 In Edinburgh, the court of directors ignored the financial climate and the Smith scandal, and blamed everything on English interference. They decided to fight back. In June 1697, the council general addressed King William and made a representation to the Scottish privy council. Until then the Scottish government had shown little interest in the company. There is no mention of it in the correspondence of the chancellor, the earl of Marchmont, until the end of June 1697.64 This is perhaps surprising, since the company had been promised subscriptions of £400,000, held net cash of £54,158 in July 1696, and was clearly in a stronger financial position than the Scottish state.65 Yet its rise was not regarded as a threat by the government in the period 1696–97; they were focused on the effects of harvest failure and difficulties associated with raising their own revenues.66 The rising political temperature was reflected in elections to the court of directors. In March 1698, John, second marquis of Tweeddale, James, earl of Panmure, and Mr David Drummond were voted on to the court by the council general.67 Tweeddale was emerging as a leader of the opposition, and an important and powerful opposition faction was thus created on the court: Tweeddale and his political interest of Scott of Thirlestane, Scott Papers Relating to the Ships and Voyages of the Company of Scotland trading to Africa and the Indies 1696–1707, ed. George P. Insh (SHS, 1924), pp. 6–47; Insh, Company of Scotland, pp. 94–6. 64 NRS, Hume of Marchmont, GD158/964. 65 NLS, Adv. MS 83.5.2. 66 NRS, GD158/964. Cf. Laura Rayner, ‘The Tribulations of Everyday Government in Williamite Scotland’, Chapter 11 above in this volume. 67 RBS, D/1/1, pp. 399–400. Those excluded were the merchants John Corse, John Graham of Dougalstoun and Robert Watson. Watson, along with Hay of Drummelzier, had opposed Paterson’s Darien project. 63

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of Ancrum, Hay of Drummelzier and Baillie of Jerviswood. Panmure and Drummond were Jacobites and were also members of the country opposition. Their election represented a willingness among presbyterian shareholders to elect Jacobites to the court for political ends. Table 12.2 shows that these new directors were active in company management. Panmure gave his motivation for becoming involved in the company in a short account of his life, which he wrote in the third person: He joyend in this company and being chosen one of the directors he applied himself very much to their business in which he had this view, that if it succeeded (which it was thought it would doe if not obstructed by the P. of Orange [the Jacobites’ name for King William]) it would have been a great advantage to the kingdom and if obstructed by that Prince it would not miss to create him a great many Enemies the most part of the Kingdom being sharers in that Company.68

In 1698, from a Jacobite perspective, involvement in the management was thus a win/win political scenario. Tweeddale too must have viewed his election to the court as a political benefit; it gave him influence in an organisation that had showed it could raise money effectively and would prove, he no doubt hoped, a useful tool in the attack on the court party. The country party emerged in the period from 1696 to 1698. Riley argues that an opposition grouping was apparent in the parliament of 1696, while Patrick places its origins in the ‘irreconcilable differences’ that split the court interest in March 1698.69 Opposition in the 1698 session of parliament coalesced around the treatment of the company by the English government. A number of the directors formed a key grouping within the country party: Tweeddale, Panmure, Scott of Thirlestane, Haldane of Gleneagles, Scott of Ancrum and Baillie of Jerviswood. As major shareholders, there was also a financial incentive for them to raise the company to the top of the political agenda. These men regularly attended meetings together in the office of the company. VI The ‘country party’ directors launched a vigorous propaganda campaign with the aid of Roderick MacKenzie, the company secretary. MacKenzie was a key figure in company efforts to raise capital in London in 1695, and became an indefatigable administrator.70 In March 1702 he clearly operated NLS, ‘Coppy of a short account of the life of James Earle of Panmure done by himself’, Saltoun MS 17804, p. 11. 69 Riley, King William and the Scottish Politicians, p. 118; Patrick, ‘People and Parliament’, p. 195. 70 Roderick MacKenzie, A Full and Exact Account of the Proceedings of the Court of 68

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as an organiser of the country party, and he may have done so since 1698.71 There is much evidence of his role as propagandist for the company. In 1695 he wrote a pamphlet to advertise the company’s attempt to raise capital in London. He oversaw the printing of up to six hundred copies of a petition to parliament for distribution to MPs in July 1698, and was probably behind the publication of a collection of documents that presented company history from the directors’ point of view.72 In January 1700 he oversaw the distribution of pamphlets and papers to members of the opposition.73 The political crisis of 1699–1701 was shaped by events in Darien. In March 1699 news reached Scotland of the successful landing by the first expedition. From this time a more vigorous Hamilton influence can be detected in the company, associated with the return to Scotland of the duke of Hamilton. In July 1698 his brother Lord Basil Hamilton had complained that his absence in London was undermining the effectiveness of the opposition in Scotland.74 However by early May 1699 Hamilton’s influence was becoming more visible in the company as he transmitted advice to the court of directors via the earl of Panmure.75 Having stood aloof for so long, he was apparently soon in the thick of things. Gleneagles wrote to him in July 1699: ‘Your Grace truly merits the title which Colonel Hamilton gives you of being the great Champion of Caledonia.’76 Hamilton’s involvement marked another stage in the coalescence of the country party and the company. It seems fair to conclude that his interest in the company was driven purely by political expediency. By contrast, his younger brother Lord Basil worked tirelessly for the company and cared deeply about its success and failure.77 Confirmation that the first colony had been abandoned reached Edinburgh in October 1699. A feature of the politicisation of the company at this time was declining government influence. The weakness of the government was reflected in the power balance in the council general: of fortythree members only six or seven were regarded as loyal to the government interest, including the earl of Leven, the earl of Annandale, the lord presi-

Directors and Council-General of the Company of Scotland Trading to Africa and the Indies, with relation to The Treaty of Union, now under Parliament’s Consideration (1706), p. 39. 71 NRS, GD406/1/4982, 406/1/5002. 72 MacKenzie, A Full and Exact Account, p. 39; RBS, Council General, D/3, pp. 135–6; A Full and Exact Collection of All the Considerable Addresses, Memorials, Petitions, Answers, Proclamations, Declarations, Letters and other Publick Papers, Relating to the Company of Scotland Trading to Africa and the Indies, since the passing of the Act of Parliament, by which the said Company was established in June 1695, till November 1700 (1700). 73 NRS, GD406/1/4569. 74 NRS, GD406/1/9062, 406/1/9064. 75 NRS, GD406/1/4383. 76 NRS, GD406/1/4423. 77 NRS, GD406/1/6487, 4549. 226

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dent of the court of session Hugh Dalrymple, Cockburn of Ormiston and Muir of Thornton.78 The period from late 1699 to 1700 witnessed an attempt by the country party to broaden its political campaign through two national addresses, which were signed throughout the country.79 Government supporters became even more powerless in the company. In January 1700 Marchmont met Annandale, Cockburn of Ormiston and Montgomery of Giffen in the treasury chamber: ‘I found them hesitating whither they should goe to the meeting of the Directors (of which number they are) or not and decided not to’.80 By January 1700 the government voice was being excluded from both court of directors and council general, and the company had become synonymous with the opposition. This was emphasised in March when Annandale, Montgomery of Giffen and Sir Archibald Muir were voted off the court of directors.81 In March 1701 an engraving appeared (Figure 12.1 below) as part of the political battle between court and country parties. It represented the nation as a young woman, Scotia, and listed eighty-four loyal supporters of the colony of Caledonia who had voted against the court in parliament.82 According to Marchmont the engraving gave ‘great offence and is looked upon as ane alarm for moveing sedition and disturbance and as a treasonable practice … a very bold and insolent affront to the government’.83 He had particular reason to be annoyed, as an old man with a walking stick and a devil perched on his shoulders in the engraving supposedly represented the elderly chancellor himself. Those suspected of being involved, Charles Auchmoutie, John Thomson and Roderick MacKenzie, were arrested and an attempt was made to suppress the circulation of all copies. Thomson had been a company clerk since September 1696, and Auchmoutie was originally employed as the company’s housekeeper.84 This engraving highlights the close relationship that had developed between the Company of Scotland and the political opposition by 1701, with administrative personnel of the company producing propaganda for the opposition. By late 1701 the court had re-established some degree of control over Scottish politics. This was principally due to the recognition of ‘James VIII’ by Louis XIV in September 1701 and the resulting shift of moderate presbyterian opinion back behind William. The government began to take NRS, GD158/965, p. 139. Jones, ‘The Darien Reaction’, pp. 21–8, 37–41. 80 NRS, GD158/965, p. 227. 81 NRS, GD158/965, p. 242. 82 NRS, JC 26/81/31. The opposition had introduced an overture for an act asserting the right of Caledonia and the court proposed an address. Parliament voted for an address 108 to 84: Patrick, ‘People and Parliament’, p. 286. 83 NRS, GD158/965, p. 348. 84 RBS, D/1/1, pp. 144–5. 78 79

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Figure 12.1. ‘Caledonia’s Supporters or Eighty Four Dissenters’, an engraving of March 1701, listed eighty-four supporters of the colony of Caledonia who had voted against the court in parliament. The government was greatly offended by this political lampoon. In the bottom right hand corner, under the shade of a giant thistle, a group of ‘profane’ men – understood to be members of the government – are banished by an angel into the flames of hell. (© National Records of Scotland, JC26/81/31.)

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company of scotland and scottish politics, 1696–1701

the political initiative and organised a counter addressing campaign in late 1701.85 Government efforts to seek active public support were rare at this time.86 The falling political temperature was evident on the King’s birthday in November when the privy council appointed illuminations, which were ‘very full and without any disorder’.87 In December 1701 a country party strategy document made no mention of Darien, and the last months of William’s reign were relatively quiet on the political front.88 The country party may have lost interest in the Darien issue because the company’s cash reserves collapsed to a very low level in late June and early July 1701.89 VII This period of political peace was short-lived. The years following William’s death in March 1702 were ones of intensifying political crisis between Scotland and England.90 The group of company directors around Tweeddale were to play a vital role in the politics of this period, firstly as the core of the ill-fated New Party, which attempted to carry the Hanoverian succession in 1704, and then as a vital source of support for union in parliament in 1706.91 As substantial shareholders in the company, they received significant compensation payments from the Equivalent.92 Riley’s suggestion that the directors of the Company of Scotland were the opposition going into business therefore requires some amendment. Initially ‘Revolution’ Scotland went into business, and early political battles were caused by the business decisions of William Paterson. However, from 1698, Riley’s assertion is correct, as the relationship between opposition and directors became closer, stimulated by English opposition to the company in Hamburg. During the political crisis of 1698–1701 the company became a party political entity as the Hamilton interest fully engaged with its affairs, the Tweeddale interest increased its position on the court, Jacobites were voted on to the court and the government lost influence in the company. The Company of Scotland was therefore an important element in the coalescence of the country party, and opposition politicians viewed it as a NRS, GD158/966, pp. 44–57. Karin Bowie, ‘Public Opinion, Popular Politics and the Union of 1707’, SHR 82 (2003), pp. 226–60, at p. 249. 87 NRS, GD158/966, p. 42. 88 NRS, GD406/1/4919. 89 NLS, Darien Papers, Cash Book 1700–7, Adv. MS 83.5.3. 90 P. W. J. Riley, The Union of England and Scotland (Manchester, 1978); William Ferguson, Scotland’s Relations with England: A Survey to 1707 (Edinburgh, 1977). 91 Ferguson, Scotland’s Relations, pp. 224–6, 228–9; Riley, Union of England and Scotland, pp. 271–2. 92 Shareholders in the company received their principal investment and in addition generous interest payments of 5% per annum, totalling an average of 43%. 85 86

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useful tool for their political ends. Derek Patrick has pointed out that the country party fought two electoral campaigns, organised meetings, encouraged popular support through two national addresses and produced printed propaganda; the court and country parties were ‘far more than disgruntled factions’ as suggested by Riley.93 This analysis of the directors and politics sustains this revisionist view. The company office became a country party meeting place, and its personnel helped with the production of propaganda. Its role might be compared to the public accounts committee that became an important platform for the country interest in England in the 1690s.94 While those who ran the Company of Scotland from 1698 were engaged in a political battle with the government, this was different from political patterns in England. There, a symbiotic relationship existed between joint stock companies and the state; the Bank of England and East India Company provided large amounts of cash to fund William’s war efforts.95 The politicisation of the Company of Scotland and its seizure by the country opposition seriously weakened both the company, which could not depend on state support, and the Scottish state, which received no financial benefit from the company. Scotland’s ‘financial revolution’ did not therefore give rise to a ‘fiscal–military’ state as it did in England in the 1690s; indeed the nature of this revolution in Scotland was a contributing factor to the demise of an independent Scottish state in 1707.96

Patrick, ‘People and Parliament’, p. 382. J. A. Downie, ‘The Commission of Public Accounts and the Formation of the Country Party’, EHR 91 (1976), pp. 33–51. 95 Bruce G. Carruthers, City of Capital: Politics and Markets in the English Financial Revolution (Princeton, NJ, 1996), pp. 18, 138–58. 96 For England, see John Brewer, The Sinews of Power: War, Money and the English State, 1688–1783 (London, 1989), p. 250. Scottish fiscal and military developments of the period are outlined in Julian Goodare, State and Society in Early Modern Scotland (Oxford, 1999), pp. 318–24. 93

94

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Chronology of Seventeenth-Century Scotland 1603

7 April, James VI and I crosses the border on his journey south to take up the English crown; proclaims that the Borders should now be known as the Middle Shires.

1604–07 James VI tries and fails to persuade his English parliament to agree to a more complete union. 1605 First commissioners for the Middle Shires appointed. 1606

Bishops gain powers over presbyteries as their ‘constant moderators’ (permanent conveners).

1610

Three bishops consecrated at Westminster; ecclesiastical Court of High Commission set up.

1612

Bishops’ full powers confirmed by parliament.

1616

Start of summoning West Highland and Island chiefs to Edinburgh for an annual meeting.

1617

James VI and I visits Scotland.

1618 Five Articles of Perth agreed by the general assembly of the church (later passed by parliament in 1621); opposition begins to these ecclesiastical innovations, especially kneeling to receive communion. 1625

James VI and I dies; his son, Charles I, accedes.

1633

Charles’s first visit to Scotland since his accession; parliament marred by disputes over taxation and the linking of acts concerning the church with the Royal Prerogative.

1634

Diocese of Edinburgh created.

1635

John Spottiswoode, archbishop of St Andrews, made chancellor.

1637

New prayer book (liturgy) introduced; 23 July, riot in St Giles Cathedral at its first reading.

1638

28 February, National Covenant first signed at Greyfriars Kirk, Edinburgh, before being circulated for mass subscription; November, general assembly meets at Glasgow; deposition of the bishops, eight of whom are excommunicated. 231

chronology

1639 First Bishops’ War; first muster of the Army of the Covenant; Charles I raises an army in England with the intention of marching north; military action in north-west Scotland; June, Pacification of Berwick, Covenanters and Charles agree to disband their armies, Charles promises to call parliament and a general assembly. 1640

Second Bishops’ War; Charles raises troops to be used against the Covenanters; June, earl of Argyll’s expedition against royalist clans in the Highlands; 20 August, Scottish army enters England; 28 August, Scottish victory at Newburn; 30 August, army enters Newcastle; October, Treaty of Ripon ends the conflict, but the Scots continue to occupy northern England until a permanent settlement is reached.

1640 First legislative session of the Scottish parliament since the outbreak of the Scottish Revolution; June 1640, Triennial Act passed and the Committee of Estates established; August, Cumbernauld band signed by a group of nobles, including Montrose. 1641

10 August, Treaty of London agreed: Charles makes concessions to the Covenanters, who receive compensation of £300,000; Scottish army returns to Scotland and is disbanded; 14 August to 18 November 1641, Charles in Scotland and present in parliament; Charles accepts parliamentary appointment of officers of state; November 1641, Manufactories Act.

1641

Outbreak of rebellion in Ireland; King, Covenanters and English parliament agree that a Scottish army should be sent to Ulster (it arrives in July 1642).

1642

August, outbreak of the English Civil War.

1643

The Solemn League and Covenant, an agreement between the Scottish and English Parliaments (negotiated June to September); Scots agree to help the English Parliament in their war against Charles I in return for the establishment of presbyterianism in England; January 1644, a Scottish army enters England.

1644

Samuel Rutherford’s Lex, Rex published. John Knox’s History of the Reformation in Scotland (written 1560s) published for the first time. July, battle of Marston Moor, Scottish army participates in first decisive Parliamentarian victory in England.

1644–45 Royalist rising in the north of Scotland by an Irish Confederate army led by Alasdair MacColla and royalist forces led by marquis of Montrose (about half the army is Scottish clansmen 232

chronology

from the West Highlands and Isles). September 1644 to August 1645, Montrose and MacColla win six victories. 13 September 1645, Montrose defeated at Philiphaugh. 1646

May, Charles I surrenders to the Scottish army at Newcastle, ending the First Civil War in England.

1647

January/February, Scottish army withdraws from England, leaving Charles in the custody of the English parliamentarians; June, Charles in the hands of the English army; Royalists gain the upper hand in the Scottish Parliament; December, the Engagement agreed with Charles I by which presbyterianism is to be imposed in England for a trial period of three years (a reduced version of the Solemn League and Covenant).

1648

June, Mauchline Rising, opposing recruitment for Engager army in south-west Scotland; July, army enters England, this time in support of Charles I; 17 August, defeated by Cromwell at Preston; August/September, the Whiggamore Raid, a small hard core of the Scottish parliamentary regime seize power.

1649

23 January, Act of Classes excludes royalists and Engagers from public life; 30 January, Charles I executed in London by English Parliamentarians; 5 February, Charles II proclaimed as king in Scotland; March, monarchy abolished in England; May, England declared to be a commonwealth.

1650

May, Treaty of Breda agreed between Covenanters and Charles II; June, Charles signs the Covenants and arrives in Scotland; July, Cromwell’s army crosses the border; 3 September, Cromwell defeats a Scottish force at Dunbar; 17 October, Western Remonstrance.

1651

1 January, Charles II crowned; March, Act of Classes set aside and Engagers admitted to the army; August, Scottish army enters England for the fourth time since the Revolution; 3 September, defeated at Worcester; Scotland occupied by Cromwellian forces; October, Charles II escapes to the Continent, in exile 1651–60.

1652

‘Tender of Union’ proclaimed (drawn up by the English Council of State in 1651); Scotland united with the English Commonwealth as part of ‘Commonwealth of England, Scotland and Ireland’.

1653–54 Glencairn Rising, a royalist uprising in the Highlands. 1654

‘Ordinance for uniting Scotland into one Commonwealth with England’ passed by the Council of State; George Monck appointed as commander-in-chief of the army in Scotland. 233

chronology

1655

Rebellion in the Highlands suppressed; September, Scottish Council (civilian government) established.

1658

3 September, Oliver Cromwell dies.

1660

Restoration of Charles II; 8 May, English Houses of Parliament declare Charles to be king of England, Scotland and Ireland; 25 May, Charles lands in England; 29 May (the king’s birthday), he enters London.

1661

1 January, opening of the Restoration parliament with earl of Middleton as commissioner; 28 March, Act Rescissory annuls all the legislation of the covenanting parliaments, including that of 1641 when Charles I had been personally present.

1662

27 May, episcopacy restored; 11 June, ministers who had entered their parishes during the Scottish Revolution to be presented by a patron and seek collation from a bishop; those who fail to conform (about one third of the total) are ejected from their parishes; 24 June, Covenants declared unlawful; 5 September, all public officials to take an oath denouncing the Covenants; 9 September, Act of Indemnity and Oblivion (pardon).

1662

September, Billeting Act, Middleton arranges for parliament to pass an act excluding from office twelve people to be chosen by secret ballot (‘billeting’) of the members of parliament, which leads to his downfall and confirmation in power of duke of Lauderdale, secretary of state for Scotland.

1663

Act against Separation and Disobedience to Ecclesiastical Authority, ‘The Bishops’ Drag Net’, imposes heavy fines on those who do not attend their own parish church.

1666

November, the Pentland Rising begins in the south-west; rebels march to Edinburgh; 28 November, defeated at Rullion Green.

1667

Treasury commission established.

1670

August, act against conventicles (private religious meetings) and withdrawing from public worship; renewed in 1672.

1679

James, duke of York (the future James VII) arrives in Edinburgh; in Scotland most of the time until March 1682.

1679

3 May, Murder of Archbishop James Sharp; 1 June, government troops defeated by an armed conventicle at Drumclog, followed by an uprising; 22 June, Covenanting force defeated at Bothwell Brig.

1680s

Known as the ‘Killing Times’; series of covenanting declarations disown the government: May 1679, Rutherglen Declaration; 234

chronology

June 1680, Queensferry Paper; June 1680, Sanquhar Declaration; May 1685, Sanquhar Protestation. 1681

31 August, Test oath, all office-bearers obliged to take an oath acknowledging the king’s authority, renouncing the Covenants and conventicles and accepting the Confession of Faith of 1560. Refusal to swear leads to the exiling of Sir James Dalrymple, lord president of the court of session, and the earl of Argyll.

1685

Charles II dies. James VII and II succeeds, first professedly Catholic monarch since 1567.

1686

Scottish parliament rejects proposal for toleration of Catholics.

1687

Declaration of Indulgence: James decrees toleration for Catholics and presbyterians.

1688

10 June, son and heir born to James; November, William of Orange lands in England, James flees.

1689

13 February, English parliament offer the crown to William and Mary as joint monarchs, they accept; February, elections in Scotland to Convention of Estates; 14 March, Convention of Estates (later parliament) meets in Edinburgh; 4 April, convention declares that James has forfeited the crown; 11 April, convention adopts the Claim of Right along with an act agreeing that the vacant throne should be offered to ‘the king and queen of England’; 13 April, articles of grievances agreed; 11 May, William and Mary accept the crown of Scotland and swear the coronation oath; 22 July, episcopacy abolished.

1689

England and Scotland join the ‘Grand Alliance’ in the Nine Years’ War (1688–97) against France.

1689

Pro-James rising led by Viscount Dundee; Jacobites win battle of Killiecrankie (27 July) but are defeated at Dunkeld (21 August). Many episcopalian ministers ejected, including those who refuse to pray for William and Mary.

1690

8 May, Committee of Articles abolished; 7 June, presbyterian church established by law; 19 July, rights of patronage transferred to heritors and elders of each parish; October/November, first meeting of the general assembly of the church since 1653.

1692

MacIains of Glencoe fail to take the oath of allegiance to William and Mary on time; 13 February, massacre at Glencoe.

1693 First poll tax imposed (further poll taxes 1695, 1698). 1695

Company of Scotland founded.

1695

Bank of Scotland founded. 235

chronology

1690s

Series of failed harvests – 1695, 1696, 1698 and 1699 – result in food shortages and famine; 15 per cent population loss.

1698–1700 Unsuccessful attempt to found a colony at Darien on the Isthmus of Panama; the fate of Darien and the Company of Scotland contributes to the political crisis of 1698–1701.

236

Further Reading The bibliographical essays below provide some indication of how the topics discussed in this book have been addressed by other scholars. Chapter 1 Scotland and its Seventeenth-Century Revolutions Two essays commenting on the shape of the period are David Stevenson, ‘Twilight before Night or Darkness before Dawn? Interpreting SeventeenthCentury Scotland’, in Rosalind Mitchison (ed.), Why Scottish History Matters (2nd edn, Edinburgh, 1997), pp. 53–64, and Julian Goodare, ‘Reformation, Revolution and Union’, in Edward J. Cowan (ed.), Why Scottish History Still Matters (Edinburgh, 2012), pp. 41–55. The only significant general book specifically on seventeenth-century Scotland is Keith M. Brown, Kingdom or Province? Scotland and the Regal Union, 1603–1715 (Basingstoke, 1992), which, despite the title, ranges well beyond the issues of the ‘regal union’ in the way that the present book also seeks to do. For an essay examining the shape of the period precisely in connection with the union, see Maurice Lee, Jnr, ‘The “Inevitable” Union: Absentee Government in Scotland, 1603-1707’, in his The ‘Inevitable’ Union and Other Essays on Early Modern Scotland (East Linton, 2003), pp. 1–24. There are several review articles discussing recent works on early modern Scotland more broadly, published in a special ‘Supplement’ entitled ‘The State of Early Modern and Modern Scottish Histories’, Scottish Historical Review 92 (2013). See particularly Keith M. Brown, ‘Early Modern Scottish History – A Survey’, Laura A. M. Stewart, ‘Power and Faith in Early Modern Scotland’, and Karin Bowie, ‘Cultural, British and Global Turns in the History of Early Modern Scotland’, pp. 5–24, 25–37, 38–48. Chapter 2 The Middle Shires Divided: Tensions at the Heart of Anglo-Scottish Union The English side of the border is amply covered by Diana Newton, NorthEast England, 1569–1625: Governance, Culture and Identity (Woodbridge, 2006), S. J. and S. J. Watts, From Border to Middle Shire: Northumberland, 1586–1625 (Leicester, 1975), and R. T. Spence, ‘The Pacification of the Cumberland Borders, 1593–1628’, Northern History 13 (1977), pp. 59–160. There is as yet no book that covers the whole of the Middle Shires in Scotland, but Anna Groundwater, The Scottish Middle March, 1573–1625: Power, 237

further reading

Kinship, Allegiance (Woodbridge, 2010), has a chapter on the pacification after the Union of the Crowns, and another that shows how James VI and I’s policies were transmitted from Whitehall into action in the Scottish Middle Shires. Anna Groundwater, ‘From Whitehall to Jedburgh: The Role of Patronage Networks in the Government of the Scottish Borders, 1603 to 1625’, Historical Journal 53 (2010), pp. 871–93, puts this conduit of command, information and reward into the context of the workings of absentee kingship within the multiple monarchies of Britain and Europe. On the wider tensions within the fledgling regnal union, a crucial part of the background to the Wars of the Three Kingdoms, Brendan Bradshaw and John Morrill (eds), The British Problem, c.1534–1707: State Formation in the Atlantic Archipelago (Basingstoke, 1996), is still fresh. Also useful is Alexander Grant and Keith J. Stringer (eds), Uniting the Kingdom? The Making of British History (London, 1995), in particular Nicholas Canny, ‘Irish, Scottish and Welsh Responses to Centralization, c.1530–c.1640’ (pp. 147–69). Conrad Russell’s views remain important; his later writings include ‘James VI and I and Rule over Two Kingdoms: An English View’, Historical Research 76 (2003), pp. 151–63; ‘1603: The End of National Sovereignty in England’, in Glenn Burgess, Rowland Wymer and Jason Lawrence (eds), The Accession of James I: Historical and Cultural Consequences (Basingstoke, 2006), pp. 1–14. For an assessment of James’s management of the three kingdoms that has a more rounded recognition of his achievements, while exploring the influence of his Scottish kingship on his actions, see various papers by Jenny Wormald: ‘O Brave New World? The Union of England and Scotland in 1603’, in T. C. Smout (ed.), Anglo-Scottish Relations from 1603 to 1900 (Oxford: Proceedings of the British Academy, vol. 127, 2005), pp. 13–35; ‘James VI and I: Two Kings or One?’, History 68 (1983), pp. 187–209; or ‘James VI and I’, History Today 52:6 (June 2002), pp. 27–33. However, Alan R. MacDonald, ‘Consultation and Consent under James VI’, Historical Journal 54 (2011), pp. 287–306, argues for increasing alienation and lack of communication in James’s later years. Chapter 3 The Western Highlands and Isles and Central Government, 1616–1645 Essential social and economic background is provided by Robert A. Dodgshon, From Chiefs to Landlords: Social and Economic Change in the Western Highlands and Islands, c.1493–1820 (Edinburgh, 1998). For the sixteenthcentury political background, see Alison Cathcart, Kinship and Clientage: Highland Clanship, 1451–1609 (Leiden, 2006). Highland policy under James VI, from about 1580 to 1625, has been particularly discussed by Julian Goodare and Michael Lynch. See Julian Goodare, State and Society in Early Modern Scotland (Oxford, 1999), chapter 7 (‘Territory’) and chapter 8 (‘The Borders and Highlands’); Julian Goodare, The 238

further reading

Government of Scotland, 1560–1625 (Oxford, 2004), chapter 10 (‘Government and Highland elites’); Julian Goodare and Michael Lynch, ‘The Scottish State and its Borderlands, 1567–1625’, and Michael Lynch, ‘James VI and the “Highland Problem”’, both in Julian Goodare and Michael Lynch (eds), The Reign of James VI (East Linton, 2000), pp. 186–207, 208–27. For controversy over the so-called Statutes of Iona (1609), see most recently Alison Cathcart, ‘The Statutes of Iona: The Archipelagic Context’, Journal of British Studies 49 (2010), pp. 4–27. For the reign of Charles I, and the period of the Scottish Revolution, the main work is Allan I. Macinnes, Clanship, Commerce and the House of Stuart, 1603–1788 (East Linton, 1996), supplemented by Allan I. Macinnes, The British Confederate: Archibald Campbell, Marquess of Argyll, c.1607–1661 (Edinburgh, 2011). The meetings between western chiefs and government are catalogued by Jean Munro, ‘When Island Chiefs Came to Town’, Notes & Queries of the Society of West Highland and Island Historical Research 19 (Dec. 1982), pp. 11–19. The dramatic Montrose–MacColla campaign of 1644 and 1645 is covered in Edward J. Cowan, Montrose: For Covenant and King (London, 1977), and David Stevenson, Highland Warrior: Alasdair MacColla and the Civil Wars (Edinburgh, 1994; originally published in 1980 as Alasdair MacColla and the Highland Problem in the Seventeenth Century). Finally, there are valuable essays in Loraine Maclean (ed.), The Seventeenth Century in the Highlands (Inverness Field Club, 1986). Chapter 4 The Scottish Bishops in Government, 1625–1638 The most comprehensive work on Scottish episcopacy is David G. Mullan, Episcopacy in Scotland: The History of an Idea, 1560–1638 (Edinburgh, 1986). Doctrinal issues are further discussed in David G. Mullan, Scottish Puritanism, 1590–1638 (Oxford, 2000). The debate over ‘Puritanism’ in Scotland is reviewed by John Coffey, ‘The Problem of Scottish Puritanism’, in Elizabethanne Boran and Crawford Gribben (eds), Enforcing Reformation in Ireland and Scotland, 1550–1700 (Aldershot, 2006), pp. 66–90. The issue of the relative culpability of James and Charles for the breakdown of the latter’s regime has generated much debate, to which the issue of episcopacy is relevant. A traditional school of thought – espoused by Gordon Donaldson, Scotland: James V to James VII (Edinburgh, 1965), and W. R. Foster, The Church Before the Covenants, 1596–1638 (Edinburgh, 1975) – is that James’s restoration of bishops in the decade after 1600 led to harmonious co-operation between episcopacy and presbytery. An optimistic assessment of the Jacobean episcopate also emerges from Jenny Wormald, ‘No Bishop, No King: The Scottish Jacobean Episcopate, 1600–1625’, in Bernard Vogler (ed.), Miscellanea Historiae Ecclesiasticae VIII (Bruxelles: Bibliothèque de la Revue d’Histoire Ecclésiastique 72, 1987), pp. 259–67. 239

further reading

By contrast, Alan R. MacDonald, The Jacobean Kirk, 1567–1625: Sovereignty, Polity and Liturgy (Aldershot, 1998), shows little support for James’s policies and tellingly does not venture into Charles’s reign. James’s policies and actions have also been viewed negatively by Laura A. M. Stewart, ‘The Political Repercussions of the Five Articles of Perth: A Reassessment of James VI and I’s Religious Policies in Scotland’, Sixteenth Century Journal 38 (2008), pp. 1013–36. The reintroduction of bishops in Scotland has been seen by some as part of a larger ‘Anglicising’ project. John Morrill has argued that both Jacobean and Caroline ecclesiastical policy involved introducing what church leaders thought was best practice, in whatever country, rather than simply introducing ‘English’ practices into Scotland: John Morrill, ‘A British Patriarchy? Ecclesiastical Imperialism under the Early Stuarts’, in Anthony J. Fletcher and Peter Roberts (eds), Religion, Culture and Society in Early Modern Britain (Cambridge, 1994), pp. 209–37. A counter-argument that in practice this involved much more change in Scotland has been expressed by Alan R. MacDonald, ‘James VI and I, the Church of Scotland, and British Ecclesiastical Convergence’, Historical Journal 48 (2005), pp. 885–903. So far the debate has not extended to Charles’s reign, but the long development of liturgical change through both reigns is covered in depth by Gordon Donaldson, The Making of the Scottish Prayer Book of 1637 (Edinburgh, 1954). The reaction to the Prayer Book is discussed by Laura A. M. Stewart, ‘Authority, Agency, and the Reception of the Scottish National Covenant of 1638’, in Robert Armstrong and Tadhg Ó hAnnracháin (eds), Insular Christianity: Alternative Models of the Church in Britain and Ireland, c.1570–c.1700 (Manchester, 2013), pp. 88–106. Chapter 5 The Scottish Revolution Modern understandings of this subject have been shaped by the classic works of David Stevenson. His two-volume narrative, The Scottish Revolution, 1637–44: The Triumph of the Covenanters (Newton Abbot, 1973; reprinted 2003), and Revolution and Counter-Revolution in Scotland, 1644–1651 (London, 1977; 2nd edn, Edinburgh, 2003), is indispensable. His other books on the period include Scottish Covenanters and Irish Confederates (Belfast, 1981). A number of Stevenson’s influential essays have been reprinted as Union, Revolution and Religion in 17th-Century Scotland (Aldershot, 1997). Before Stevenson, scholars tended to ascribe everything to religion (often in a presbyterian tradition of covenanting hagiography) or to Anglo-Scottish relations (often in a Whig tradition looking forward to the 1707 union). Stevenson has shown what can be achieved with modern comparative analysis that treats the Scots as rational political actors. A narrative that does not replace Stevenson, but is good on Anglo-Scottish aspects, is Peter Donald, An Uncounselled King: Charles I and the Scottish 240

further reading

Troubles, 1637–1641 (Cambridge, 1990). Donald fails to detect a revolution in the period, but does not explain why. An enthusiastically revolutionary book (the author wanted to call it The Scottish Revolution) is Walter Makey, The Church of the Covenant, 1637–1651 (Edinburgh, 1979). Perhaps even more revolutionary – though sceptical of the covenanting revolution for Marxist reasons – is Neil Davidson, Discovering the Scottish Revolution, 1692– 1746 (London, 2003). Studies of aspects of the revolutionary period include John Morrill (ed.), The Scottish National Covenant in its British Context (Edinburgh, 1990), Edward M. Furgol, A Regimental History of the Covenanting Armies, 1639– 1651 (Edinburgh, 1990), John R. Young, The Scottish Parliament, 1639–1661: A Political and Constitutional Analysis (Edinburgh, 1996), and Laura A. M. Stewart, Urban Politics in the British Civil Wars: Edinburgh, 1617–51 (Leiden, 2006). For works on political theory, see the further reading for Chapter 6 below. Many works on the period before 1638 have some discussion of the causes of the revolution or the difference made by it; see in particular Julian Goodare, State and Society in Early Modern Scotland (Oxford, 1999), Maurice Lee, Jnr, The Road to Revolution: Scotland under Charles I, 1625–37 (Urbana, Ill., 1985), and Allan I. Macinnes, Charles I and the Making of the Covenanting Movement, 1625–1641 (Edinburgh, 1991). Surveys of British history in the period often pay attention to the Scottish dimension; see in particular Austin Woolrych, Britain in Revolution, 1625– 1660 (Oxford, 2002). A more explicitly Scottish perspective is adopted by Allan I. Macinnes, The British Revolution, 1629–1660 (London, 2004); the ‘revolution’ in the title is a reorientation of Anglo-Scottish relations rather than a seizure of political power. For other works on the ‘British problem’, see the further reading for Chapter 2 above. For comparative discussion of early modern revolutions, see Perez Zagorin, Rebels and Rulers, 1500–1660, 2 vols (Cambridge, 1982), and Geoffrey Parker and Lesley M. Smith (eds), The General Crisis of the Seventeenth Century (London, 1978). Chapter 6 In Search of the Scottish Republic Many of the works of political narrative discussed in the further reading for Chapter 5 above are also relevant to this chapter. For Scottish political thought in this period, the Covenanters’ leading theorist is discussed by John Coffey, ‘Samuel Rutherford and the Political Thought of the Scottish Covenanters’, in John R. Young (ed.), Celtic Dimensions of the British Civil Wars (Edinburgh, 1997), pp. 75–95; John Coffey, Politics, Religion and the British Revolutions: The Mind of Samuel Rutherford (Cambridge, 1997); and John D. Ford, ‘Lex, rex iusto posita: Samuel Rutherford on the Origins of Government’, in Roger A. Mason (ed.), Scots and Britons: Scottish Political Thought and the Union of 1603 (Cambridge, 1994), pp. 262–90. For 241

further reading

other studies, see Edward J. Cowan, ‘The Political Ideas of a Covenanting Leader: Archibald Campbell, Marquis of Argyll, 1607–1661’, also in Mason (ed.), Scots and Britons, pp. 241–61, and John Coffey, ‘George Buchanan and the Scottish Covenanters’, in Caroline Erskine and Roger A. Mason (eds), George Buchanan: Political Thought in Early Modern Britain and Europe (Farnham, 2012), pp. 189–203. The bibliography of English political ideas and the English republic in the seventeenth century is dauntingly voluminous. The two volumes edited by Martin van Gelderen and Quentin Skinner, Republicanism: A Shared European Heritage, vol. I: Republicanism and Constitutionalism in Early Modern Europe, and vol. II: The Values of Republicanism in Early Modern Europe (Cambridge, 2002), provide an introduction to the topic within a wider European perspective. More specifically on England, the works of J. G. A. Pocock, Quentin Skinner and Blair Worden remain essential. Pocock’s The Machiavellian Moment: Florentine Political Thought and the Atlantic Republican Tradition (Princeton, NJ, 1975), was a foundational text for modern republican scholarship. Quentin Skinner, Liberty before Liberalism (Cambridge, 1998), remains a classic, and many of his articles are usefully collected in Visions of Politics, 3 vols (Cambridge, 2002). For a wide-ranging and accessible guide to Blair Worden’s work on this topic, see chapters 1–4 of David Wooton (ed.), Republicanism, Liberty, and Commercial Society: 1649–1776 (Stanford, Calif., 1994). But there is a wider literature on the topic, including Jonathan Scott, England’s Troubles: Seventeenth Century English Political Instability in European Context (Cambridge, 2000), Sean Kelsey, Inventing a Republic: The Political Culture of the English Commonwealth, 1649–1653 (Stanford, Calif., 1997), and Sarah Barber, Regicide and Republicanism: Politics and Ethics in the English Revolution, 1646–1659 (Edinburgh, 1998). Chapter 7 Highland Lawlessness and the Cromwellian Regime The Cromwellian regime in Scotland is discussed by F. D. Dow, Cromwellian Scotland, 1651–1660 (Edinburgh, 1979). Many of the works listed in the further reading to Chapter 3 above provide useful background on the Highlands during the period before the 1650s. Two papers of Jane Dawson are essential in order to understand the development of internal cultural and social cohesion within the Highlands and the corresponding emergence of the idea in Scottish society that this was a coherent region substantially different from the Lowlands. See Jane E. A. Dawson, ‘The Origins of the “Road to the Isles’’: Trade, Communications and Campbell Power in Early Modern Scotland’, in Roger Mason and Norman Macdougall (eds), People and Power in Scotland (Edinburgh, 1992), pp. 74–103, and Jane E. A. Dawson, ‘The Emergence of the Scottish Highlands’, in Brendan Bradshaw and Peter Roberts (eds), British Conscious242

further reading

ness and Identity: The Making of Britain, 1533–1707 (Cambridge, 1998), pp. 259–300. The two key works specifically on Highland history in this period are Robert A. Dodgshon, From Chiefs to Landlords: Social and Economic Change in the Western Highlands and Islands, c.1493–1820 (Edinburgh, 1998), and Allan I. Macinnes, Clanship, Commerce and the House of Stuart, 1603–1788 (East Linton, 1996). Dodgshon brings the perspective of the geographer to bear on Highland history in the early modern period, while Macinnes’ analysis demonstrates greater awareness of political events in Britain. Paul Hopkins, Glencoe and the End of the Highland War (revised edn, Edinburgh, 1998), is also an important work for the post-Restoration period. David Stevenson, Highland Warrior: Alasdair MacColla and the Civil Wars (Edinburgh, 1994; originally published in 1980 as Alasdair MacColla and the Highland Problem in the Seventeenth Century), focuses on the career of a kinsman of Randal MacDonnell, marquis of Antrim, but its analysis also has implications for the understanding of Gaelic society in the mid-seventeenth century. Chapter 8 The Worcester Veterans and the Restoration Regime in Scotland Clare Jackson, Restoration Scotland, 1660–1690: Royalist Politics, Religion and Ideas (Woodbridge, 2003), provides an insight into Royalist culture. On parliament, see Gillian MacIntosh, The Scottish Parliament under Charles II, 1660–1685 (Edinburgh, 2007). John Patrick, ‘A Union Broken? Restoration Politics in Scotland’, in Jenny Wormald (ed.), Scotland Revisited (London, 1991), pp. 119–28, provides a brief political overview. Several of the leading political figures have their own biographies. Maurice Lee, Jnr, ‘Dearest Brother’: Lauderdale, Tweeddale and Scottish Politics, 1660–1674 (Edinburgh, 2010), focuses on the political significance of two leading figures, while Raymond Paterson offers a more popular biography in King Lauderdale: The Corruption of Power (Edinburgh, 2003). For religious politics, see Julia Buckroyd, The Life of James Sharp, Archbishop of St Andrews, 1616–1679: A Political Biography (Edinburgh, 1987), and Julia Buckroyd, Church and State in Scotland, 1660–1681 (Edinburgh, 1980). Finally, an introduction to the British context that specifically includes Scotland is Tim Harris, Restoration: Charles II and His Kingdoms, 1660–1685 (London, 2005). Chapter 9 The Political Thought of the Restoration Covenanters I. B. Cowan, The Scottish Covenanters, 1660–1688 (London, 1976), charts the changing fortunes of the later Covenanting movement, although this book has little on political thought. Biographical details of the principal preachers, theorists and martyrs of the Restoration period can be found in 243

further reading

Nigel M. de S. Cameron et al. (eds), Dictionary of Scottish Church History and Theology (Edinburgh, 1993). The political background is covered by the works discussed in the further reading to Chapter 8 above. There are several works on the most highly regarded Covenanting political theorist, Samuel Rutherford, who died in 1661 but whose intellectual legacy was important to the Restoration Covenanters; for these works, see the further reading to Chapter 6 above. Ian M. Smart, ‘The Political Ideas of the Scottish Covenanters, 1638–1688’, History of Political Thought 1 (1980), pp. 167–93, is significant as an initial foray into the ideas of the Restoration Covenanters, delineating the different contexts and priorities of successive generations of Covenanters. Recent work on royalist ideology and politics casts light on the Covenanters through consideration of the ways in which their opponents understood and misunderstood them: Clare Jackson, Restoration Scotland, 1660–1690: Royalist Politics, Religion and Ideas (Woodbridge, 2003), and Gillian MacIntosh, The Scottish Parliament under Charles II, 1660–1685 (Edinburgh, 2007). For the importance of reception and reputation and the posthumous existence of authors and texts in the history of political thought, see Caroline Erskine, ‘George Buchanan, English Whigs and Royalists, and the Canon of Political Theory’, in Caroline Erskine and Roger A. Mason (eds), George Buchanan: Political Thought in Early Modern Britain and Europe (Farnham, 2012), pp. 229–45. On the context of contemporary English and European political theory, see Mark Goldie, ‘Restoration Political Thought’, in Lionel K. J. Glassey (ed.), The Reigns of Charles II and James VII & II (Basingstoke, 1997), pp. 12–35, and J. H. Burns with Mark Goldie (eds), The Cambridge History of Political Thought, 1450–1700 (Cambridge, 1991). The sectarian and hagiographical historiography that has followed the Covenanters is now beginning to be explored. See Christopher Harvie, ‘The Covenanting Tradition’, in Graham Walker and Tom Gallagher (eds), Sermons and Battle Hymns: Protestant Popular Culture in Modern Scotland (Edinburgh, 1990), pp. 8–23, and Edward J. Cowan, ‘The Covenanting Tradition in Scottish History’, in Edward J. Cowan and Richard J. Finlay (eds), Scottish History: The Power of the Past (Edinburgh, 2002), pp. 121–45. Chapter 10 Scottish State Oaths and the Revolution of 1688–1690 Robert Wodrow’s History of the Sufferings of the Church of Scotland (1721–2) casts a long shadow over Restoration historiography. Its narrative of the persecution of presbyterian dissenters and their ultimate triumph over a poorly rooted episcopalian Church is told, largely without Wodrow’s bias, in I. B. Cowan, The Scottish Covenanters, 1660–1688 (London, 1976). More attention is paid to elite politics in Julia Buckroyd, Church and State in Scotland, 1660–1681 (Edinburgh, 1980), and Maurice Lee, Jnr, ‘Dearest Brother’: 244

further reading

Lauderdale, Tweeddale and Scottish Politics, 1660–1674 (Edinburgh, 2010), to political thought and intellectual culture in Clare Jackson, Restoration Scotland, 1660–1690: Royalist Politics, Religion and Ideas (Woodbridge, 2003), and to parliament in Gillian H. MacIntosh, The Scottish Parliament under Charles II, 1660–1685 (Edinburgh, 2007). For the period after 1689, P. W. J. Riley, King William and the Scottish Politicians (Edinburgh, 1979), and P. W. J. Riley, The Union of England and Scotland: A Study in Anglo-Scottish Politics of the Eighteenth Century (Manchester, 1978), depict politics as factional and materialist. Jacobitism emerges as a ‘principle’ of sorts in Paul Hopkins, Glencoe and the End of the Highland War (revised edn, Edinburgh, 1998), as does unionism in Christopher A. Whatley with Derek J. Patrick, The Scots and the Union (Edinburgh, 2006). Alasdair Raffe, The Culture of Controversy: Religious Arguments in Scotland, 1660–1714 (Woodbridge, 2012), analyses the issues dividing presbyterians and episcopalians. Scottish historians of this period have not studied the specific topic of state oaths in detail. But there is an extensive literature on the Covenants, which of course took the form of oaths: see especially John Morrill (ed.), The Scottish National Covenant in its British Context (Edinburgh, 1990), and David G. Mullan, Scottish Puritanism, 1590–1638 (Oxford, 2000), ch. 6. There is much recent work on state oaths and casuistry in early modern England. See David M. Jones, Conscience and Allegiance in Seventeenth Century England: The Political Significance of Oaths and Engagements (Rochester, NY, 1999); Edward Vallance, Revolutionary England and the National Covenant: State Oaths, Protestantism and the Political Nation, 1553–1682 (Woodbridge, 2005); and Harald E. Braun and Edward Vallance (eds), Contexts of Conscience in Early Modern Europe, 1500–1700 (Basingstoke, 2004), particularly the chapters by Vallance and Spurr. Chapter 11 The Tribulations of Everyday Government in Williamite Scotland The fullest and most rounded modern study of the period is found in the early chapters of Christopher A. Whatley with Derek J. Patrick, The Scots and the Union (Edinburgh, 2006). Athol L. Murray’s administrative study of the treasury commission, ‘The Scottish Treasury, 1667–1708’, Scottish Historical Review 45 (1966), pp. 89–104, is a gem in its detailed analysis. While it is a common criticism that biographers tend to fall in love with their subjects, P. W. J. Riley, King William and the Scottish Politicians (Edinburgh, 1979), shows that, on occasion, sentiments can flow in the other direction. Riley’s narrative remains indispensable even if his conclusions are no longer accepted uncritically. David Onnekink, ‘The Earl of Portland and Scotland (1689–1699): A Re-evaluation of Williamite Policy’, Scottish Historical Review 85 (2006), pp. 231–49, discusses the king’s right-hand man as a manager of Scottish business. Paul Hopkins, Glencoe and the End of the 245

further reading

Highland War (revised edn, Edinburgh, 1998), has much detail on the pressures placed on the Scottish government by the Highland situation, as well as the strains that military activities placed upon the finances of the country. T. C. Smout, Scottish Trade on the Eve of Union, 1660–1707 (Edinburgh, 1963), provides in-depth information on Scotland’s economic structure, supplemented on the famine of the period by Karen J. Cullen, Famine in Scotland: The ‘Ill Years’ of the 1690s (Edinburgh, 2010). Richard Saville, Bank of Scotland: A History, 1695–1995 (Edinburgh, 1996), is an almanac of banking practice and gives detailed explanations of some of the treasury’s problems during this period, such as coin clipping, problems with bullion, and the introduction of paper money. Chapter 12 The Company of Scotland and Scottish Politics, 1696–1701 Two of the standard histories of the Company of Scotland are George P. Insh, The Company of Scotland Trading to Africa and the Indies (London, 1932), and John Prebble, Darien: The Scottish Dream of Empire (Edinburgh, 2000), first published as The Darien Disaster (London, 1968). Both are narrative accounts providing limited contextual analysis. Prebble’s highly readable history is concerned principally with events on the high seas and at Darien. For the financial history of the company, Insh provides some sparse but accurate details. The short summary by W. R. Scott in his monumental The Constitution and Finance of English, Scottish and Irish Joint-Stock Companies to 1720, 3 vols (Cambridge, 1910–12) remains a good treatment, but see now also Douglas Watt, The Price of Scotland: Darien, Union and the Wealth of Nations (Edinburgh, 2007). There is also a study of the shareholders: W. Douglas Jones, ‘“The Bold Adventurers”: A Quantitative Analysis of the Darien Subscription List (1696)’, Scottish Economic and Social History 21 (2001), pp. 22–42. The historiography of Scottish politics in the 1690s is limited. The key work is P. W. J. Riley, King William and the Scottish Politicians (Edinburgh, 1979), which provides a bleak discussion of factionalism. Riley’s negative views have been challenged in Derek J. Patrick, ‘People and Parliament in Scotland, 1689–1702’ (University of St Andrews Ph.D. thesis, 2002). The financial revolution in Scotland has received little attention from historians. The best discussion can be found in the first four chapters of Richard Saville’s Bank of Scotland: A History, 1695–1995 (Edinburgh, 1996). Finally, for studies of Darien from a colonial perspective, see David Armitage, ‘The Scottish Vision of Empire: Intellectual Origins of the Darien Venture’, in John Robertson (ed.), A Union for Empire: Political Thought and the British Union of 1707 (Cambridge, 1995), pp. 97–118, Christopher Storrs, ‘Disaster at Darien (1698–1700)? The Persistence of Spanish Imperial Power on the Eve of the Demise of the Spanish Habsburgs’, European History Quarterly 29 (1999), pp. 5–38, and Dennis R. Hidalgo, ‘“To Get 246

further reading

Rich For Our Homeland”: The Company of Scotland and the Colonization of the Isthmus of Darien’, Colonial Latin American Historical Review 10 (2001), pp. 311–50.

247

Index

Abduration oath  187–9 Abernethy, John  33, 66, 72–4, 76, 77 Act of Classes (1649)  106–7 Act of Security  179 Act Rescissory  142, 146, 180 act securing presbyterian church (1690) 179 Agreement of the People 103–4 allegiances  12–15, 51–55 Althusius, Johannes  160, 166 Anne, Queen  178–9 Argyll’s Rebellion  163, 170–1 Arnisaeus, Henning  166 ‘assurance’, the  185–7 Auchmoutie, Charles  227 Bacon, Sir Francis  27 Baillie of Jerviswood, George  216, 217, 225 Balfour, James  216, 220, 221 Balfour of Denmilne, Sir James  110 Bank of Scotland  20, 95, 202, 212, 216, 223 Barclay, William  166 Baron, James  110 Bellenden, Adam  62, 66–70, 72, 73, 75, 76–7 Bellenden, William 1st lord Bellenden 145, 149, 151 billeting scheme  14, 144–5 Blair, Robert  110 Bodin, Jean  166 bond of association (1696)   187 Borders 18 commission for the Middle Shires 28–31 and ecclesiastical politics  32–5 pacification of  23–4, 27–8, 32–33 Boston, Thomas  190 Bothwell Bridge, battle of  156, 182 Boyd, Andrew,   72, 73–4 Boyle, Roger, Lord Broghill  116, 132 Brown of Priesthill, John  161

Brown of Wamphray, John  159, 161, 163, 165, 166, 169, 172 An Apologetical Relation  159, 166 Bruce, Alexander, earl of Kincardine  150 Buchanan, George  157–8, 159, 160, 161–2, 164, 165, 169, 171, 172 History of Scotland 158 Burnet, Archbishop Alexander  147–9, 150, 153 Burnet, Gilbert  153, 181, 216 Calderwood, David  33–5, 39 Calvin, John  157 Cameron, Richard  164 Cameron of Lochiel, Sir Ewen  131 Campbell, Archibald, 7th earl of Argyll  43 Campbell, Archibald, 9th earl of Argyll 143, 147, 149, 162–3, 183, 184 Campbell, Archibald, 10th earl and 1st duke of Argyll  177, 215 Campbell, Archibald, marquis of Argyll  7–8, 52–4, 56–7, 110, 122, 129, 132, 156, 162–4 Campbell, James  218 Campbell, Neil, 76, 77 Campbell of Cawdor, Sir John  43 Cargill, Donald  164 censorship  91, 199 Charles I  5, 50, 70–3, 77–8, 82, 84–5, 88, 101 comparison with James VI  3, 34, 60–1 ecclesiastical policies  3–4, 60–1, 62, 67, 69, 75 and Highlands  43, 47, 51–3, 55 trial and execution  97, 102 Charles II  10, 82, 103, 113, 139, 140, 181 coronation  109, 142 government of Scotland  18, 137–9, 142–3, 144–6, 148–50, 152–4 proclamation of  8, 90, 104–7 in Scotland   109, 135 Scottish negotiations with, 1649–50 107–8

249

INDEX Fairlie, James  74, 76, 77 famine (1690s)   203–8 fast days  67, 113, 200, 205 Ferne, Henry  159, 166 Five Articles of Perth  33–5, 74 Fletcher, Sir John  140, 145 Forbes, William  67 Forbes of Corse, Patrick  62, 64 Fraser of Brae, James  187 France  37, 83, 88–9, 105, 148, 203

Chiesley, Sir John  110 Claim of Right (1689)  10, 21, 95, 167, 173, 17–9, 184 Clerk, George, 216 Clerk of Penicuick, Sir John  209 Cockburn of Ormiston, Adam  216, 217, 221, 227 Coke, Edward  27 commission for grievances  68, 69, 70–71 commission for surrenders and teinds  68, 69, 70–74 commission for the Middle Shires  28–32 Company of Scotland  15, 20, 95, 211–30 see also Darien capital raising  212–16, 224 membership of court of directors 216–221 and politics  222–230 coronation oath  10–11, 109, 176–9, 187 Corse, John  216 country party  211–12, 222, 225–29 Covenant, Covenants  5, 12, 17, 21, 47, 52, 56–7, 82, 107, 109, 110, 144, 156, 164, 165, 174, 181, 187, 188, see also National Covenant, Solemn League and Covenant Cranstoun, William  29, 30 Cromwell, Oliver  7–8, 122, 130, 142 Cunningham, Hugh  215, 221 Cunningham, William, 8th earl of Glencairn  12, 116, 122–4, 140–5

Gee, Edward  166 general assembly  32–3, 85–6, 101, 107–9, 110, 112, 170, 199–200 commission of  94, 102–3, 109, 113 Glasgow general assembly (1638)  7–8, 59, 61–2, 68, 70 George 1  179 Gilmour, Sir John  140 Glencairn Rising  14, 17, 116–17, 122–5, 139, 140, 141, 145 Glencoe, massacre of  14, 184–5, 199 Gordon, George, 2nd marquis of Huntly 12 Gordon, John, 14th earl of Sutherland 49–50, 52 Graham, George  66, 74, 76, 77 Graham, James, 1st marquis of Montrose 13, 17, 18, 54–7, 89–90, 99, 107, 117, 156, 159 see also Montrose-MacColla uprising Graham of Dougalston, John  215 Grant of Freuchie, James  126 Grotius, Hugo  166 Guthrie, James  8, 110–13, 170 Causes of the Lord’s Wrath  7–8, 111–12 Guthrie, John  62, 76 Guthry, Henry  61

Dalrymple, Hugh  216, 217, 227 Dalrymple of Stair, James, 1st viscount Stair 183 Dalrymple of Stair, Sir John  177 Darien  15, 95, 160, 199, 211, 220, 221, 223, 226, 229, Doddridge, John  26 Douglas, Robert  97, 109–10, 112, 142 Drummond, David  218, 221, 224 Drummond, John  123 Drummond of Newton, John  215, 217–18, 220–21 Dunbar, battle of  97–8, 112–13, 139, 141 Durham of Largo, Sir Alexander  145 East India Company  212, 215, 230 Engagement, the  7, 86, 89–90, 94, 98, 113, 125, 126, 139–43, 151, 152, 159 Erskine, Alexander, earl of Kellie  147 Erskine, Charles  145 Erskine, Lieutenant Colonel John  216, 221

Haldane of Gleneagles, John  218, 221, 225 Hamilton, Anne, 3rd duchess of Hamilton 151, 215 Hamilton, Lord Basil  215, 218, 226 Hamilton, James, 1st duke of Hamilton  7, 53, 57–8, 151 Hamilton, James 4th duke of Hamilton 215, 226 Hamilton, John, 2nd lord Belhaven  213, 215, 216, 221 Hamilton, William, duke of Hamilton 151–3 Hamilton, William, 2nd duke of Hamilton 135, 151

250

INDEX Hay, John, 1st marquis of Tweeddale  14, 147–54, 195–6, 215–17 Hay, John, 2nd marquis of Tweeddale  215, 217, 224–5, 229 Hay of Drummelzier, William  215, 217, 221, 225 Highlands  41–58, 115–33 annual meetings  43–7 clanship  42, 117–21 and Covenants  49–50 English military presence  128–30 Glencairn Rising  116–17, 122–5 Montrose-MacColla Rising  53–5, 57–8 Violence, feuding  48–9, 117–21, 126–7 Hogg, James  187 Home, George, earl of Dunbar  23, 28, 30, 31, 32 Home of Blackadder, Sir John  216, 220 Hyde, Edward, 1st earl of Clarendon  137, 139, 140, 142–5, 146–7, 150, 153 Independency  8, 102–3, 110, 114, 170 Inverlochy, battle of  54 Islay  42–3, 53 Jacobites, Jacobitism  14–15, 92, 95, 167, 176, 184–8, 217–18, 225, 227, 229 James VI  31, 36–7, 39–40, 62, 70, 71, 72, 76, 78, 159, 193 Border policy  17–18, 23, 29 Highland policy  18, 41, 43, 115 ecclesiastical policy  32–5, 60, 74 and union  2, 18, 24–27 James VII  139, 166, 167, 170, 176–7, 184–5, 189, 216–17 Jedburgh, burgh  33–5, 73 Jedburgh, presbytery of  32–3, 39 Johnstone, George  33 Johnstone, William, 1st marquis of Annandale 226–7 Johnston of Wariston, Sir Archibald  107, 110–11, 161 Keith, William, 6th earl Marischal  149 Kennedy, John, 6th earl of Cassillis  140–1, 181 Kennedy, Lady Margaret  141 Ker, Robert, earl of Somerset  31–2, 36–7 Ker of Ancrum, Robert  31–2, 36–7, 39 Ker of Ferniehirst, Sir Andrew  31 Ker of Oxnam, Sir Andrew  30, 32 Kilravock 48 Kintyre  43, 53 Knox, John  157–8, 160–1, 169, 171

History of the Reformation  158, 160 Knox, Thomas  71 Lamb, Andrew   73–4 Lamont of Lamont, Sir James  51–2 Laud, William  67, 75 Lauder of Fountainhall, Sir John  177 Law, James  62, 72 Lawson, Sir Wilfred  29 Leighton, Archbishop Robert  151 Leslie, Alexander, 1st earl of Leven  140 Leslie, David  141 Leslie, John, duke of Rothes  139, 140, 142, 143, 145, 146–50, 153, 154 Lindsay, Alexander  62, 67, 72, 76–7 Lindsay, Alexander, 1st earl of Balcarres 124, 143 Lindsay, David  62, 67, 68, 76–7 Lindsay, John, earl of Crawford-Lindsay 140, 142–4, 146 Lindsay, Patrick  75, 76, 78 Livingstone, James, Viscount Newburgh 137, 140, 145 Lochaber  120, 128 Locke, John  168–72 Lodge, Daniel  218, 220 Lom, Iain  129 MacColla, Alasdair  41, 53–4, 56, 57–8, 121 Macdonald of Clanranald, John 12th chief 127, 132 MacDonald of Dunyveg¸ Angus  42 MacDonald of Glengarry, Angus  48–9, 122, 128, 131 MacDonald of Keppoch, Alexander  126–7 MacDonald of Sleat  45 MacDonald of Sleat, Donald Gorme  46 MacDonald of Sleat, Sir James  131–2 MacDonnell, Randal, marquis of Antrim 53, 56, 121 Mackay, Donald, 1st lord Reay  49–50 Mackenzie, Anna, Lady Balcarres  140, 144, 153 MacKenzie, George, 2nd earl of Seaforth 49 n.16, 51–2, 57 MacKenzie, Roderick  225–6, 227 Mackenzie of Rosehaugh, Sir George  177 MacKenzie of Tarbat, George, 1st earl of Cromarty  14, 145 MacKinnon of Strathordale  45 Mackintosh of Torcastle, Lachlan  48–9 Mackintosh of Torcastle, William  120 MacLean of Coll  45

251

INDEX MacLean of Duart, Sir Lachlan  51–2 MacLean of Duart, Lachlan Mor  42 MacLean of Morvern  45 Macleod of Dunvegan, Rory Mor  46 MacLeods of Dunvegan  126 McLurg, James  216, 220–1 MacMhuirich, Niall  120–2 MacNaughton of Dunderawe, Alexander 122 Maitland, Charles, 3rd earl of Lauderdale 151 Maitland, John, 1st duke of Lauderdale 137–45, 147–54 Manufactories Act (1641)  93 Mary II  197 see also William II and III Mauchline Rising  90 Maule, James, 4th earl of Panmure  214, 224–5 Maxwell, John  69–70, 71, 75, 76–8 Maxwell, Robert, 1st earl of Nithsdale  30, 39 Maxwell of Pollock, Sir John  216–17 Melville, Andrew  64, 165, 169, 172 Melville, David, 3rd earl of Leven  216, 226 Mews, Sir Peter  123 Middleton John, 1st earl of Middleton 124, 139–40, 142–47, 148, 153 Milton, John  168–9 Monck, George  116, 126, 128–32, 140 Monmouth’s Rebellion  171 monopolies  70–1, 93, 152, 223 Montgomery of Giffen, Francis  216, 217, 227 Montgomery of Skelmorlie, Sir James  177, 185 Montgomery, Alexander, 6th earl of Eglinton 39 Montrose-MacColla uprising (1644–45) 17, 35, 53–4, 117, 121, 141 Morice, Sir William  150 Moray, Sir Robert  140, 143, 144, 150, 151, 154 Moydartach, Donald  121 Muir of Thornton, Sir Archibald  217, 220, 227 Murray, John, earl of Atholl  141 Murray of Elibank, Sir Gideon  30–3 Murray of Lochmaben, John, earl of Annandale  30, 31, 36–37, 39 Murray of Philiphaugh, Sir John  30 Naphtali  159–60, 162, 163, 166–7

National Covenant  5, 13, 46, 47, 49–50, 52, 85–6, 87, 112–13, 155, 161, 180 Navigation Act  148, 150–1 neutralism 13–14 Nisbet, Sir John  147 Nithsdale 30 oath of allegiance  141, 174, 180–2, 184–7 Paterson, William  20, 215, 218–19, 220, 221, 222–23, 229 Pentland Rising  147, 148, 163 pearl fisheries  71 Poland-Lithuania 37–8 Portugal 88 Prayer Book (1637)  4–5, 13, 59, 69, 74–6, 77, 85, 87 Pringle of Torwoodlee, James  216 privy council  29, 37, 39, 43–46, 74, 85, 101, 146, 147, 148, 182, 193–210, 224, 229 bishops on  62–70, 77 and Borders  29, 30–2, 33 business of in 1690s  198–201 famine (1690s)   205–7 and Highlands  43–7, 49 and oaths  178, 182–3, 184, 186, 187 and treasury commission  195–7 Prynne, William  159 Quakers  170, 190–1 Queensferry Paper  8, 164–5 republic, republicanism  7–8, 90, 98–100, 112, 114, 164–5 Restoration (1660)  8–9, 82, 110–11, 129, 180–1 revocation (1625)  71–3, 87, 93 Revolution (1688–89)  9–12, 173–4, 176–8, 184, 193 Russell, John  26 Ruthven, David, 2nd lord  216, 221 Rutherford, Samuel  16, 104–5, 110, 111, 156, 158–9, 161–2, 165–6, 168–9, 170, 171–2 Lex, Rex  8–9, 104–5, 111, 158–9, 166 Rutherglen Declaration  164 Rycaut, Sir Paul  224 Rye House Plot  171, 163 Salt  20, 222 Sanquhar Declaration  8, 164 Scott, Anna, duchess of Buccleuch  143, 150

252

INDEX Scott, James, duke of Monmouth  152–3 Scott, Walter, 1st earl of Buccleuch  28, 30, 31 Scott of Ancrum, Sir Patrick  216, 217, 224–5 Scott of Thirlestane, Sir Francis  216, 217, 220–1, 224–5 Scottish Council (Cromwellian)   116, 130, 132 Scottish Revolution (1638)  3–5, 9, 12, 16–17, 47, 51–2, 79–96, 101–2 Seaton, Sir Walter  148 Seton, Alexander, earl of Dunfermline  30 Seton of Kylesmure, Sir William  29, 30, 31 Sharpe, Archbishop James  8, 142, 146, 148, 150, 154, 156, 162 Sheldon, Archbishop Gilbert  147, 150 Shields, Alexander  159–60, 161, 162, 163–4, 165–6, 168 n. 40, 169–72 A Hind Let Loose  159 n.12, 160, 163, 165–6 Sidney, Algernon  168–9 Smith, James  218, 223–4 Solemn League and Covenant  7, 13, 20, 21, 50, 89, 98, 102, 106, 112, 180 Spain  37–38, 88 Spottiswoode, Archbishop John,  32–3, 62, 69–70, 76–7 Steuart of Goodtrees, James  159–60, 162, 164, 165–6, 169–72, 189 Jus populi vindicatum  159–60, 162, 166–7, 170 Stewart, Alexander, earl of Moray  139 Stewart of Traquair, Sir John  39 Stirling  141, 185, 201 Stirling, James  159, 164 Swinton, Sir John  215, 216, 221

Sydserff, Thomas  74–5, 76–8 Taxation  19, 44, 87, 102, 130, 194, 197–8, 201, 202–3, 208, 212 Test oath  174, 182–4, 189 Thomson, John  227 treasury commission  11–12, 19, 20, 149–50, 193–210 membership of in 1690s  195 relationship with privy council in 1690s 195–6 business of in 1690s  201–4 war  201, 203–5 Triennial Act (1640)   4, 101 Turner, Sir James  123, 148 Ulster  21, 39, 125 Ulster Covenant  21 Villiers, George, duke of Buckingham  135 Wales  36, 55 Wedderburn, James  74–7 Wemyss, David 4th earl of Wemyss  143 Western Association  90, 113 Western Remonstrance  111 n.36, 113 Whiggamore Raid  90 Whitford, Walter  71, 76–8 William II & III   10–11, 19, 170, 176–8, 184–5, 187, 194, 196, 197, 203, 204–7, 208, 216, 224, 225, 227, 230 Wood, James  110 Worcester, battle and campaign of  9, 18–19, 97–8, 116, 122, 135–41 Young, Gavin  13–14

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STUDIES IN EARLY MODERN CULTURAL, POLITICAL AND SOCIAL HISTORY I Women of Quality Accepting and Contesting Ideals of Femininity in England, 1690–1760 Ingrid H. Tague II Restoration Scotland, 1660–1690 Royalist Politics, Religion and Ideas Clare Jackson III Britain, Hanover and the Protestant Interest, 1688–1756 Andrew C. Thompson IV Hanover and the British Empire, 1700–1837 Nick Harding V The Personal Rule of Charles II, 1681–85 Grant Tapsell VI Royalism, Print and Censorship in Revolutionary England Jason McElligott VII The English Catholic Community, 1688–1745 Politics, Culture and Ideology Gabriel Glickman VIII England and the 1641 Irish Rebellion Joseph Cope IX Culture and Politics at the Court of Charles II, 1660–1685 Matthew Jenkinson X Commune, Country and Commonwealth The People of Cirencester, 1117–1643 David Rollison XI An Enlightenment Statesman in Whig Britain Lord Shelburne in Context, 1737–1805 Edited by Nigel Aston and Clarissa Campbell Orr

XII London’s News Press and the Thirty Years War Jayne E.E. Boys XIII God, Duty and Community in English Economic Life, 1660–1720 Brodie Waddell XIV Remaking English Society Social Relations and Social Change in Early Modern England Edited by Steve Hindle, Alexandra Shepard and John Walter XV Common Law and Enlightenment in England, 1689–1750 Julia Rudolph XVI The Final Crisis of the Stuart Monarchy The Revolutions of 1688–91 in their British, Atlantic and European Contexts Edited by Tim Harris and Stephen Taylor XVII The Civil Wars after 1660 Public Remembering in Late Stuart England Matthew Neufeld XVIII The Nature of the English Revolution Revisited Edited by Stephen Taylor and Grant Tapsell XIX The King’s Irishmen The Irish in the Exiled Court of Charles II, 1649–1660 Mark R.F. Williams

of ideas. The intellectual landscape of seventeenth-century Scotland has often been perceived as less important and less innovative, and such perceptions are explored and in some cases challenged in this volume. Two stories have tended to dominate the historiography of seventeenth-century Scotland: Anglo-Scottish relations and religious politics. One of the recent leitmotifs of early modern British history has been the stress on the ‘Britishness’ of that history and the interaction between the three kingdoms which constituted the ‘Atlantic archipelago’. The two revolutions at the heart of the book were definitely Scottish, even though they were affected by events elsewhere. This is Scottish history, but Scottish history which recognises and is informed by a British context where appropriate. The interconnected nature of religion and politics is reflected in almost every contribution to this volume.

JULIAN GOODARE is Reader in History at the University of Edinburgh.

Studies in Early Modern Cultural, Political and Social History

in the

Age of Two Revolutions Edited by SHARON ADAMS and JULIAN GOODARE

ADAMS and GOODARE (Eds)

SHARON ADAMS is Postdoctoral Research Fellow at the University of Freiburg.

Cover illustration: Detail from The Signing of the National Covenant in Greyfriars Kirkyard, Edinburgh, by William Allan, c.1838. City Art Centre, Edinburgh Museums and Galleries.

Scotland in the Age of Two Revolutions

The seventeenth century was one of the most dramatic periods in Scotland’s history, with two political revolutions, intense religious strife culminating in the beginnings of toleration, and the modernisation of the state and its infrastructure. This book focuses on the history that the Scots themselves made. Previous conceptualisations of Scotland’s ‘seventeenth century’ have tended to define it as falling between 1603 and 1707 – the union of crowns and the union of parliaments. In contrast, this book asks how seventeenth-century Scotland would look if we focused on things that the Scots themselves wanted and chose to do. Here the key organising dates are not 1603 and 1707 but 1638 and 1689: the covenanting revolution and the Glorious Revolution. Within that framework, the book develops several core themes. One is regional and local: the book looks at the Highlands and the Anglo-Scottish Borders. The increasing importance of money in politics and the growing commercialisation of Scottish society is a further theme addressed. Chapters on this theme, like those on the nature of the Scottish Revolution, also discuss central government and illustrate the growth of the state. A third theme is political thought and the world

Scotland

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