Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Pretender Perkin Warbeck


‘…It was probably by an appeal to this romantic cast in James's disposition that the Scottish king was prevailed on to take up the cause of Perkin Warbeck, the pretended duke of York. He received this adventurer at the court of Scotland; he permitted him to wed a near relation to the crown, the daughter of the earl of Huntley; acknowledged Perkin's claim to the kingdom of England as authentic; and supported him with an army, at the head of which he himself marched into Northumberland, expecting a general insurrection in favour of his ally. The expectations of James were entirely disappointed: no one joined with Perkin. The Scottish king gave a loose to his disappointment, and laid waste the country. Perkin affected compassion for the subjects whose allegiance he claimed, and interceded in their behalf. "You are too merciful," answered James with a sneer, " to interest yourself for a people who are tardy in acknowledging you for their sovereign." These words intimated that James felt himself engaged in a losing adventure, which he soon afterwards terminated by a truce with England.

In the previous negotiation, James firmly refused to deliver up Perkin Warbeck to Henry; but he dismissed him from his kingdom, to pursue elsewhere that series of adventures which ended with his life on the gallows at Tyburn. His unfortunate widow was honourably supported by Henry VII., and long distinguished at the English court by the title of the White Rose, from her husband's claim to be the representative of the house of York…’

England’s own Pretender, Perkin Warbeck, claimed to be Richard of Shrewsbury, a son of King Edward IV.  The supposed Richard was officially recognized by Margaret of York, Edward’s sister.  It wasn’t enough to convince a Tudor king.  Warbeck enticed James IV of Scotland to rise against England’s Henry VII, as Sir Walter Scott discusses in “The History of Scotland” (text above).  After James backed off, Warbeck incited Cornish forces to invade England on his behalf.  Henry handled the challenge with little effort, and Warbeck was captured.  Warbeck, under duress, confessed to being a fraud, and was ultimately executed; November 23rd, 1499.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Dugald Stewart


‘…While attending Mr. Dugald Stewart's class, in the winter of 1790-1, Scott produced, in compliance with the usual custom of ethical students, several essays besides that to which I have already made an allusion, and which was, I believe, entitled, " On the Manners and Customs of the Northern Nations." But this essay it was that first attracted, in any particular manner, his professor's attention. Mr. Robert Ainslee, well known as the friend and fellow-traveller of Burns, happened to attend Stewart the same session, and remembers his saying ex cathedra, "The author of this paper shows much knowledge of his subject, and a great taste for such researches." Scott became, before the close of the Session, a frequent visiter in Mr. Stewart's family, and an affectionate intercourse was maintained between them through their after-lives…’

There’s no way to truly value the worth of a great teacher, but often that worth is reflected in the achievement of one or more of his/her pupils.  Such was the case with the Common Sense philosopher Dugald Stewart and his student Walter Scott.  Stewart was himself influenced by Adam Ferguson and more importantly, Thomas Reid.  The paragraph above comes from Lockhart’s “Memoirs of the Life of Sir Walter Scott”.  Dugald Stewart was born on November 22, 1753.

Monday, November 21, 2011

James VII and Mary of Modena


On the 21st of November, 1673, James Duke of York and Mary of Modena were married in an Anglican ceremony, upon Mary's arrival to England.  From the perspective of a legal marriage, the Anglican ceremony was irrelevant, as the couple had been wed as Catholics two months earlier.  The fifteen year old Mary held some strong opinions on certain topics, as shown in the anecdote Sir Walter Scott  presents in his “Tales of a Grandfather” (vol 50).

‘…The Duke of York, it is said, became aware of the punctilious character of the Scottish nation, from a speech of the well known Tom Dalziel. The Duke had invited this old cavalier to dine in private with him, and with his Duchess, Mary of Este, daughter of the Duke of Modena. This princess chose to consider it as a derogation from her rank to admit a subject to her table, and refused to sit down to dinner if Dalziel should remain as a visiter. " Madam," said the undismayed veteran, " I have dined at a table where your father might have stood at my back." He alluded to that of the Emperor of Germany, whom the Duke of Modena must, if summoned, have attended as an officer of the household. The spirit of the answer is said to have determined James, while holding intercourse with the Scottish nobles and gentry, to exercise as much affability as he could command or affect, which, with the gravity and dignity of his manners, gave him great influence among all that approached his person. He paid particular attention to the chiefs of Highland clans, made himself acquainted with their different interests and characters, and exerted himself to adjust and reconcile their feuds. By such means, he acquired among this primitive race, alike sensible to kind treatment, and resentful of injury or neglect, so great an ascendency, that it continued to be felt in the second generation of his family…’

Sunday, November 20, 2011

Beginning a Journal


‘[Edinburgh,] November 20, 1825.—I have all my life regretted that I did not keep a regular Journal. I have myself lost recollection of much that was interesting, and I have deprived my family and the public of some curious information, by not carrying this resolution into effect. I have bethought me, on seeing lately some volumes of Byron's notes, that he probably had hit upon the right way of keeping such a memorandum-book, by throwing aside all pretence to regularity and order, and marking down events just as they occurred to recollection. I will try this plan; and behold I have a handsome locked volume, such as might serve for a lady's album. Nota bene, John Lockhart, and Anne, and I are to raise a Society for the suppression of Albums. It is a most troublesome shape of mendicity. Sir, your autograph—a line of poetry—or a prose sentence!—Among all the sprawling sonnets, and blotted trumpery that dishonours these miscellanies, a man must have a good stomach that can swallow this botheration as a compliment…’

Walter Scott finally began his journal, on this day, November 20th, 1825.  There seems to be a range of prefatory remarks among the famous diarists.  Samuel Pepys published no lofty goals, and no real introduction.  He just delved into his work, beginning, as many of us might, at the beginning of the new year, in 1660.

‘Sunday 1 January 1659/60

Blessed be God, at the end of the last year I was in very good health, without any sense of my old pain, but upon taking of cold.1 I lived in Axe Yard having my wife, and servant Jane, and no more in family than us three. My wife … gave me hopes of her being with child, but on the last day of the year … [the hope was belied.] The condition of the State was thus; viz. the Rump, after being disturbed by my Lord Lambert, was lately returned to sit again…’

The famous journal keeper James Boswell, began his London Journal at the beginning of his trip from Scotland.  Like Scott, Boswell began in November; on the 15th, in 1762.  Also like Scott, Boswell prefaced his work.

‘ The ancient philosopher certainly gave a wise counsel when he said “Know thyself.”  For surely this knowledge is of all the most important.  I might enlarge upon this.  But grave and serious declamation is not what I intend at present.  A man cannot know himself better than by attending to the feelings of his heart and his external actions, from which he may with tolerable certainty judge “what manner of person he is.”  I have therefore determined to keep a daily journal in which I shall set down me various sentiments and my various conduct, which will be not only useful, but very agreeable…’

There’s no bad time to begin one’s journal, but November saw the launching of at least two famous efforts.  Maybe it’s time to start yours.

Saturday, November 19, 2011

Princess Charlotte's Funeral


Princess Charlotte of Wales left life tragically, on November 6th, 1817.  Having been bled for medical reasons over the course of several days while pregnant, she weakened and died of postpartum bleeding after childbirth.  She was only 21, and recently married to Prince Leopold.  Her death impacted many, with businesses closing down for weeks.

In The Edinburgh Annual Register (vol 19), which Sir Walter Scott edited, Charlotte is referenced in association with a couple of the notable obituaries of the day (Eminent Characters Deceased):

‘The Rev. C. M. Cracherode, M.A….During the last year he spent several months at Worthing, in Sussex, where he resided in the mansion which had been for a short time occupied by the lamented Princess Charlotte of Wales….

Sir Thomas Stamford Raffles left the shores of England for his new station, in November 1817, having been detained at Falmouth by contrary winds long enough to receive the melancholy intelligence of the death of the lamented Princess Charlotte, whose friendship, together with that of her illustrious consort, he had the distinguished gratification to enjoy; and his first public act, on his arrival in his new government, was the forwarding of an address of condolence to his Majesty, on that most mournful event.’

In addition to the emotion surrounding her death, a religious controversy developed, which is recorded in the journal of Lord Henry Cockburn, and involves an event which occurred on November 19, 1817:

‘...Shortly after this we were thrown into an uproar by a point of Calvinistic orthodoxy. Moved by the sad and unexpected death of the Princess Charlotte, which had melted all hearts, every clergyman in Edinburgh, except one, following the universal example, had religious service in his church on the 19th of November 1817, the day of her funeral, which was what we call a week-day—that is, not a Sunday. This, in Scotland, was not in obedience to the Royal proclamation, which we sons of Calvin always despise, but solely from natural decency and piety. Addressing their flocks on such an occasion, of course they all introduced the poor Princess, her virtues and her fate; and this in most cases probably amounted to a funeral sermon. But the Reverend Andrew Thomson maintained that all such sermons are repugnant to the presbyterian system, and dangerous in themselves from their tendency to degenerate into sycophantish eulogy: and perhaps he was right in this. But most clearly he was wrong in bringing discredit on his party, by being the only minister who shocked the universal feeling by acting on this principle on this occasion. Several of his brethren entreated him to yield.' Sir Harry in particular remonstrated and implored. But a useless personal battle, in which his will was on one side and all the world on the other, had always irresistible charms to Thomson. So he stood out; and while crowds rolled into every other church, the gates of his were closed, and he himself was made happy by being universally abused. On the following Sunday he preached on death, and alluded to the recent calamity, in a manner that disarmed those that heard him; and for the edification of those who did not, he published a pamphlet, demonstrating that everybody was wrong except himself. Possibly they were: but it seems odd how notices of striking deaths, which is so common on Sundays, and was so even in Thomson's own practice, should be so bad on every other day...’