This Day in Scottish History

For More Events on This Day in Scottish History - https://bagtownclans.com/index.php/thisday/may-16/Welcome back to This Day in Scottish History. I'm your host, Colin MacDonald. Today, we’re heading to the rugged and windswept Kintyre Peninsula on May 16th, 1689, where a seemingly minor skirmish would help determine the fate of a region during one of Scotland’s many turbulent uprisings. This was the Battle of Loup Hill, a brief yet strategically vital clash in the early stages of the Jacobite rising of 1689. And if you’re curious about other fascinating events that happened on this day in history, be sure to check out my blog at bagtownclans.com/thisday. The link will be in the description!To set the scene, the year 1689 was one of upheaval across the British Isles. The Glorious Revolution had just unseated the Catholic King James VII of Scotland and II of England in favor of the Protestant William of Orange and his wife, Mary. But not all of Scotland accepted this transition. Many, particularly in the Highlands and western regions, remained loyal to James and his Stuart claim to the throne. These loyalists became known as Jacobites—from the Latin for James, “Jacobus.”In the spring of that year, the Jacobite cause was gaining traction. James had landed in Ireland, and in Scotland, Viscount Dundee, better known as "Bonnie Dundee," was rallying Highland clans to his banner. In the western coastal lands of Kintyre, a group of around 200 Jacobite rebels, drawn from local supporters of James and likely bolstered by Highland allies, had assembled near Loup Hill, a prominent ridge that offered a commanding view of the surrounding countryside.These Jacobites believed they could hold the region or at least delay government control. Kintyre, with its long maritime connections and strategic location, was an important gateway to the Hebrides and to Ireland, where James was waging his campaign. Holding Kintyre would mean maintaining a critical link in the Jacobite supply and communication network.However, government forces moved quickly to suppress the rebellion. A small contingent of troops, loyal to William and Mary, was dispatched from the nearby garrison at Inveraray or possibly Greenock. Despite their relatively small numbers, these soldiers were trained, disciplined, and well-armed.On the morning of May 16th, they launched a surprise attack on the Jacobite encampment. What followed was less a battle in the grand sense and more of a swift and brutal ambush. The Jacobites, perhaps overconfident in their isolation or simply caught off-guard, were unprepared for the assault.The government troops struck with precision and force. Though outnumbered, they met little resistance from the Jacobite ranks, who were likely poorly armed and lacking in coordinated leadership. Reports suggest that the skirmish was over quickly. Government forces emerged without loss, while the Jacobites suffered casualties—some killed, others wounded, and many simply fled.The aftermath of the battle was significant. The rout at Loup Hill effectively ended Jacobite ambitions in Kintyre for the time being. Without the strength to mount a sustained resistance, the region fell under government control. More importantly, this allowed the authorities to secure the vital western seaboard and prevent further Jacobite reinforcements from Ireland or the Isles.While it may not have the grandeur or legend of Killiecrankie or Culloden, the Battle of Loup Hill was a tactical win that underscored the importance of swift, decisive action in warfare. It was a quiet but telling moment in the broader Jacobite narrative—an example of how even small engagements could shape the political and military landscape of Scotland.The soldiers who fought at Loup Hill are largely unnamed in the history books. There are no grand monuments, no ballads sung in their memory. Yet their brief clash played a part in the greater story of Scotland’s struggles between crown and covenant, between dynasty and reform.Thank you for joining me today on This Day in Scottish History. I hope you’ve enjoyed this look into a lesser-known, yet pivotal encounter in the Jacobite saga. Don’t forget to check out my blog for more fascinating tales from Scotland’s past at bagtownclans.com/thisday. I’ll see you tomorrow for another journey through our remarkable history. I'm Colin MacDonald—Haste Ye Back! This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bagtown.substack.com

For More Events on This Day in Scottish History - https://bagtownclans.com/index.php/thisday/may-15/Welcome back to This Day in Scottish History. I'm your host, Colin MacDonald. Today, we turn the clock back to May 15, 1544, and descend into the fiery depths of one of the most brutal episodes in Anglo-Scottish relations—the English army’s devastating departure from Leith, torching Seton Palace and the town of Haddington during the infamous campaign known as the Rough Wooing. And if you’re curious about other fascinating events that happened on this day in history, be sure to check out my blog at bagtownclans.com/thisday. The link will be in the description!To understand this grim moment, we must look at the turbulent political landscape of 16th-century Europe. Scotland was in a delicate position, caught between the ambitions of England and the allure of continental alliances, particularly with France. When King James V of Scotland died in 1542, leaving his infant daughter Mary, Queen of Scots, as heir, England saw an opportunity. King Henry VIII was determined to unite the crowns through marriage—his son Edward would marry Mary, and Scotland would become little more than an English province.But Scotland had other ideas. The Scottish nobility favored their traditional alliance with France and viewed Henry’s proposal as a thinly veiled conquest. Thus began the Rough Wooing—an ironic name for a campaign that brought with it not romance, but war, fire, and bloodshed.Enter Edward Seymour, Earl of Hertford. In May of 1544, under direct orders from Henry VIII, Hertford launched a large-scale invasion of Scotland. The goal was clear: force the Scots into submission through a campaign of terror. He landed at Leith with a well-equipped English force and began a scorched-earth offensive that devastated the Lothians. Edinburgh was sacked, Leith was looted, and villages and monasteries were reduced to rubble.But it was on May 15 that the campaign reached a crescendo of destruction. As Hertford began his withdrawal southward, he ordered a final act of retribution: the burning of Seton Palace and the town of Haddington. Seton Palace, a seat of the powerful Seton family and a jewel of Renaissance architecture in Scotland, stood as a symbol of Scottish aristocracy and resistance. It was torched without mercy. Eyewitness accounts describe the palace consumed in a storm of flame and smoke, its stone halls collapsing amidst the roar of fire and the clash of steel.Haddington, a bustling town and an important administrative center, suffered a similar fate. English troops razed it to the ground, sparing neither homes nor churches. Civilians fled into the countryside, and the blackened remnants of the town were left as a stark warning: defy England, and suffer the consequences.This act of destruction wasn’t just wanton cruelty—it was psychological warfare. Hertford and his commanders believed that by incinerating Scotland’s cultural and political centers, they could break the will of the Scottish people and force the nobles into agreeing to the English marriage proposal. But the plan backfired.Instead of capitulating, the Scots grew more defiant. The violence solidified the perception of England as a brutal aggressor. Mary, Queen of Scots, was eventually smuggled to France for safety, where she would be betrothed not to an English prince, but to the French Dauphin, strengthening the Auld Alliance.The Rough Wooing would drag on for nearly a decade, marked by more raids, more battles, and a lingering bitterness that would define Anglo-Scottish relations for generations. The ruins of Seton Palace and the scars left in Haddington became enduring symbols of English tyranny and Scottish resilience.Even centuries later, the events of May 15, 1544, provoke a visceral response. The burning of towns and homes, the desecration of heritage, the calculated cruelty—all serve as reminders of the human cost of political ambition. The Rough Wooing may have failed in its immediate aims, but it succeeded in hardening Scottish resolve, paving the way for a national identity forged in resistance.Thank you for joining me today on This Day in Scottish History. I hope this tale of scorched earth and unbowed spirits has given you a deeper appreciation for Scotland’s past. Don't forget to check out my blog for more historical events at bagtownclans.com/thisday. Tune in tomorrow for another journey through Scotland’s remarkable past. I'm Colin MacDonald—Haste Ye Back! This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bagtown.substack.com

For More Events on This Day in Scottish History - https://bagtownclans.com/index.php/thisday/may-14/Welcome back to This Day in Scottish History. I’m your host, Colin MacDonald. Today, we journey back to the 14th of May, 1752—an ominous day that shook the Highlands to their core. It was on this day that Colin Campbell of Glenure, a government agent known as the “Red Fox,” was assassinated in the wooded glen of Lettermore near Ballachulish. His killing would ignite one of the most controversial trials in Scottish legal history, enveloping the Highlands in fear, fury, and injustice.To understand this moment, we must first return to the bitter aftermath of the 1745 Jacobite Rising. After the crushing defeat at Culloden in 1746, the British government turned its full attention to dismantling the traditional Highland clan system. Tartans were banned, Gaelic was suppressed, and hereditary chiefs lost their power and lands. Into this volatile landscape stepped Colin Campbell, appointed as the government’s factor, or land manager, for the forfeited Stewart estates in Appin. His job: to evict Jacobite supporters and replace them with loyal tenants.Campbell was a Campbell of Glenure, a name already detested in this region due to the deep-rooted feud between the Campbells and the Stewarts. He was viewed not just as an outsider, but a traitor sent to deliver the final blow to an already humiliated people. As Campbell traveled to enforce another round of evictions, accompanied by an armed escort and with writs of removal in hand, the air was thick with tension.Then, as he passed through the wooded narrows of Lettermore, a single musket shot rang out. The “Red Fox” slumped in his saddle, mortally wounded, and fell to the ground. Panic erupted. His attendants fled, and by the time they returned with help, the killer had vanished into the Highland mist.The authorities, determined to make an example, quickly honed in on James Stewart of the Glens—half-brother of the chief of Clan Stewart and a known Jacobite sympathizer. Though there was no direct evidence placing him at the scene, James was arrested, charged with aiding and abetting the murder, and brought to trial in Inveraray—a town under the influence of the powerful Campbell family.The trial was fraught with irregularities. The presiding judge was the Duke of Argyll, head of Clan Campbell. The jury was overwhelmingly Campbell. Despite a spirited defense and a glaring lack of concrete evidence, James Stewart was found guilty. He was hanged on November 8, 1752, his body left suspended in chains for years as a grim warning to any who might resist the government’s authority.Yet doubts about his guilt emerged almost immediately and have never faded. James Stewart had an alibi, witnesses testified to his absence from the scene, and even some Campbells expressed private misgivings. Over time, the case came to symbolize the ruthless suppression of Highland culture and the miscarriage of justice that followed Culloden.The identity of the actual assassin remains a mystery, though speculation has pointed to Allan Breck Stewart, a Jacobite fugitive and skilled marksman who disappeared shortly after the murder. His daring escape and alleged role in the crime later inspired Robert Louis Stevenson’s classic novel Kidnapped, embedding the story of the Appin Murder into Scotland’s literary canon.Today, the site of Campbell’s death is marked by a simple cairn, hidden among the trees where history and myth continue to entwine. The memory of James Stewart endures in folk songs and oral traditions as a martyr—wrongfully executed, but never forgotten.Thank you for joining me on this haunting journey into one of Scotland’s darkest chapters. For more stories like this, visit my blog at bagtownclans.com/thisday. The link is in the description. Until next time, I’m Colin MacDonald—Haste Ye Back! This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bagtown.substack.com

For More Events on This Day in Scottish History - https://bagtownclans.com/index.php/thisday/may-13/Welcome back to This Day in Scottish History. I'm your host, Colin MacDonald. Today, we travel back to May 13th, 1568, to witness a decisive clash that would change the fate of one of Scotland’s most tragic and romantic figures—Mary, Queen of Scots. It was on this day that the Battle of Langside was fought—a battle that crushed her final attempt to reclaim her throne and set her on a path toward nineteen years of imprisonment and, ultimately, execution.By 1568, Mary’s life had already been a whirlwind of political turbulence, scandal, and personal tragedy. The only surviving child of King James V, she was queen almost from birth. Raised in the glittering French court and married to the French Dauphin, Mary returned to Scotland as a young widow to rule a country that had changed in her absence—one simmering with religious conflict and divided loyalties.Her reign was marred by controversy, particularly her marriage to Henry Stuart, Lord Darnley, a union that swiftly deteriorated into bitterness, culminating in his murder under suspicious circumstances. Her subsequent marriage to the chief suspect in Darnley’s murder—James Hepburn, Earl of Bothwell—outraged the Scottish nobility. The backlash was swift. Mary was forced to abdicate in favor of her infant son, James VI, and imprisoned at Lochleven Castle.But Mary was never one to accept defeat. On the night of May 2nd, 1568, she escaped Lochleven in a daring plot involving disguised clothing and a small band of loyal supporters. Word spread quickly—Mary was free, and with her escape came the hope of reclaiming the crown. Her supporters rallied to her cause, and within days, she had assembled a force of nearly 6,000 men. Their goal was to reach Dumbarton Castle, a strategically vital fortress on the River Clyde that could serve as her base of operations.However, Mary’s half-brother, James Stewart, the Earl of Moray, who ruled as Regent for the young King James VI, was determined to stop her. Moray, a shrewd and calculating leader, had smaller numbers—just under 4,000 men—but his troops were battle-hardened and commanded by seasoned officers like Kirkcaldy of Grange. He anticipated Mary’s path and moved to intercept her near the village of Langside, just outside Glasgow.What followed on the morning of May 13th was not a grand clash of cavalry and chivalry, but a brutal and chaotic skirmish shaped by poor planning and rough terrain. Mary’s forces, under the command of the Earl of Argyll, were disorganized. They marched into the narrow streets and sloping ground around Langside, where Moray’s men waited. The terrain choked the movement of Mary’s vanguard, and a hail of musket fire from Moray’s sharpshooters wreaked havoc.Despite outnumbering the Regent's army, Mary’s troops could not effectively deploy. Skirmishers picked off their advance guard, and the difficult terrain prevented any cohesive formation. When Moray’s men counterattacked, Mary’s lines buckled and collapsed. What had begun as a hopeful advance became a chaotic rout. Her army scattered in retreat, leaving over a hundred of her men dead on the field.For Mary, the consequences were immediate and devastating. She fled the battlefield and rode for the border, eventually reaching England and placing her fate in the hands of her cousin, Elizabeth I. It was a fatal miscalculation. Rather than offer aid or sanctuary, Elizabeth had Mary detained. For nearly two decades, Mary would remain a prisoner—always a threat to the English crown in the eyes of Elizabeth’s advisors, always the focus of Catholic plots and rebellion.Her involvement, whether real or perceived, in one such conspiracy—the Babington Plot—led to her trial and execution in 1587. The ax fell on a life steeped in drama, romance, and tragedy.The Battle of Langside, though small in scale, was a pivotal moment. It extinguished Mary’s last real hope of regaining power and cemented the authority of the Protestant regime under Moray and eventually James VI. That boy-king would grow to become James VI of Scotland and James I of England, uniting the crowns after a century of conflict.The battlefield at Langside, today nestled within the suburban streets of Glasgow, stands as a quiet witness to the day when the fate of a queen—and indeed, the direction of Scottish and English history—was irrevocably changed.Thank you for joining me today on This Day in Scottish History. I hope you’ve enjoyed this glimpse into the fall of Mary, Queen of Scots—a tale of ambition, heartbreak, and the unyielding tides of history. Don’t forget to visit my blog for more stories at bagtownclans.com/thisday. I’m Colin MacDonald—Haste Ye Back! This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bagtown.substack.com

For More Events on This Day in Scottish History - https://bagtownclans.com/index.php/thisday/may-12/Welcome back to This Day in Scottish History. I'm your host, Colin MacDonald. Today, we journey back to May 12, 563, when a small boat carrying thirteen men made landfall on a windswept island off Scotland’s western coast. Their leader was Saint Columba, a noble-born Irish monk with a sharp intellect, a commanding presence, and a fire in his soul for spreading the Christian faith. That tiny scrap of land was the Isle of Iona, and what began as a quiet landing would soon blossom into one of the most profound religious and cultural revolutions in early medieval Britain. And if you’re curious about other fascinating events that happened on this day in history, be sure to check out my blog at bagtownclans.com/thisday. The link will be in the description!Columba’s journey to Iona was not just a spiritual mission—it was, in part, an exile. Born around 521 in what is now County Donegal, Ireland, Columba—known in Gaelic as Colum Cille—was from a powerful clan and educated in the monastic tradition. Charismatic and fiercely intelligent, he quickly rose through ecclesiastical ranks. But his fiery temperament led to conflict. A dispute over a copied manuscript escalated into a bloody battle in 561. Wracked with guilt and perhaps urged by church authorities, Columba vowed to leave Ireland and convert as many souls as had perished in that fight.So, with twelve loyal companions—symbolic of Christ and his apostles—Columba set sail across the sea. Their journey ended on the sacred shores of Iona, a tiny, remote island just 1.5 miles wide and 3 miles long. It was the perfect place for both penance and purpose. There, Columba established a monastery that would become the heart of Christian missionary activity in Scotland and beyond.The early monastic life on Iona was austere and rigorous. The monks lived simply, toiled in the fields, copied manuscripts, and gathered for prayer and study. But from this humble beginning emerged a powerhouse of learning and sanctity. Columba himself was a towering figure—known for his intense devotion, his reputed miracles, and his diplomatic skills. He played a key role in converting the Picts, the dominant people of northern Scotland, and forging ties with local kings, including King Bridei of the Picts.The influence of Iona grew rapidly. It became a center of literacy and scholarship at a time when much of Europe was descending into darkness. Monks trained at Iona were sent to establish churches and schools across Scotland and northern England. Its scribes produced illuminated manuscripts, including—many believe—the early work that would culminate in the Book of Kells, one of the world’s most stunning examples of medieval art.But the monastery’s influence wasn’t only spiritual. It became a political player, mediating disputes among clans and kings. The Abbot of Iona was not just a religious figure but a significant leader in his own right. And through Columba’s diplomatic reach, Christianity became woven into the very fabric of Scottish identity.Columba died in 597, but his legacy endured. For centuries, Iona remained a place of pilgrimage and reverence. It became the burial site for Scottish, Irish, and even Norse kings. Legend holds that over 60 monarchs found their final rest in its hallowed ground, including Macbeth and Duncan, the real-life counterparts to Shakespeare’s tragic figures.Yet, like many sacred places, Iona suffered through the centuries. Viking raids in the 8th and 9th centuries brought fire and death. The monks were scattered, and the monastery was repeatedly rebuilt. Still, the memory of Columba and the light of Iona never fully dimmed. Even today, visitors from around the world make the pilgrimage to Iona to walk where Columba walked, to feel the peace of the island winds, and to reflect on the man who brought the Gospel to Scotland.The arrival of Columba on May 12, 563, was a quiet act that echoed through centuries. He came not with an army, but with words, conviction, and faith. And through that faith, he changed a nation’s destiny.Thank you for joining me today on This Day in Scottish History. I hope you’ve been inspired by the story of Saint Columba and the island of Iona—a tale of redemption, vision, and lasting influence. Don’t forget to check out my blog for more historical events at bagtownclans.com/thisday. Tune in tomorrow for another journey through Scotland’s remarkable past. I'm Colin MacDonald—Haste Ye Back! This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bagtown.substack.com

For More Events on This Day in Scottish History - https://bagtownclans.com/index.php/thisday/may-10/Welcome back to This Day in Scottish History. I'm your host, Colin MacDonald. Today, we turn the pages back to May 10th, 1719, to a dramatic and fiery episode in the rugged northwest Highlands, where one of Scotland’s most iconic castles, Eilean Donan, faced the might of the British Royal Navy—and was left in ruins. It’s a story that blends rebellion, international intrigue, and the clash of empires. And if you’re curious about more riveting tales from Scotland’s past, check out my blog at bagtownclans.com/thisday. The link will be in the description!To understand what happened that day, we need to first take a step back into the context of early 18th-century Britain. The Jacobite risings—efforts to restore the exiled Stuart monarchy to the thrones of Scotland and England—had already shaken the realm. The Glorious Revolution of 1688 had ousted James II in favour of William of Orange, but many in Scotland, particularly in the Highlands, remained loyal to the Stuarts. These Jacobites saw the Hanoverian kings as usurpers and longed for the return of James Francis Edward Stuart, known as the “Old Pretender.”By 1719, Europe was once again a chessboard of shifting alliances. Spain, then ruled by the Bourbon Philip V, was seeking to reassert its influence and saw in the Jacobite cause a useful tool to destabilize Britain. The Spanish agreed to support a Jacobite uprising in the Highlands as part of a larger strategy to distract the British while they pursued their ambitions elsewhere on the continent.And so, in April 1719, a small Spanish expeditionary force—around 300 soldiers—landed on the west coast of Scotland near Loch Duich. They took up residence in Eilean Donan Castle, a medieval fortress perched on a rocky islet where three lochs meet. It was an ideal base: remote, defensible, and deeply symbolic. From here, they planned to support a larger Jacobite force assembling nearby, led by George Keith and William Murray, who hoped to march on Inverness.But the British government was well aware of the unfolding plot. Royal Navy ships were dispatched to the west coast to intercept the Spaniards and prevent the rising from taking root. On May 10th, three warships—HMS Worcester, HMS Flamborough, and HMS Enterprise—anchored off Eilean Donan. What followed was a furious bombardment.The Spanish garrison, though disciplined, was heavily outgunned. The castle’s old stone walls, built for medieval sieges, were no match for 18th-century naval artillery. Cannonballs smashed into the thick masonry, and smoke filled the Highland air. After several hours of shelling, the navy sent a landing party ashore. They stormed the castle, overwhelmed the defenders, and captured the fort.Inside, they found a stockpile of gunpowder—an explosive opportunity. Rather than occupy the fortress, the Royal Navy decided to make an example of it. They placed barrels of powder within the structure and lit the fuses. The resulting explosion tore through the ancient walls. Eilean Donan Castle, a sentinel of the western Highlands for over 500 years, was reduced to rubble.The destruction of Eilean Donan was a devastating symbolic blow to the Jacobites and their Spanish allies. Without their stronghold, the rebellion floundered. The Battle of Glen Shiel followed in June, where the remaining Jacobite and Spanish forces were decisively defeated by government troops. The Spanish survivors were taken prisoner and later repatriated. The 1719 rising was over almost before it began.For nearly two centuries, Eilean Donan lay in ruins, its crumbled walls a silent witness to that failed dream of Stuart restoration. It wasn't until the early 20th century that the castle was painstakingly rebuilt by Lieutenant Colonel John MacRae-Gilstrap, whose vision and dedication restored it to its former glory. Today, Eilean Donan stands not only as one of Scotland’s most photographed landmarks but as a reminder of a time when dynasties, empires, and Highland clans clashed for the fate of a kingdom.The events of May 10th, 1719, might have slipped into obscurity, overshadowed by larger battles and more dramatic rebellions. But the destruction of Eilean Donan was a powerful turning point—a moment when global politics, local loyalties, and maritime power collided on the rugged coast of Scotland.Thank you for joining me today on This Day in Scottish History. If you enjoyed this tale of cannon fire and castle walls, don’t forget to explore more stories at bagtownclans.com/thisday. I’ll be back tomorrow with another glimpse into the fierce, proud, and fascinating history of Scotland. Until then, I’m Colin MacDonald—Haste Ye Back! This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bagtown.substack.com

For More Events on This Day in Scottish History - https://bagtownclans.com/index.php/thisday/may-9/Welcome back to This Day in Scottish History. I'm your host, Colin MacDonald. Today, we turn our gaze to May 9th, 1645, when a clash near the quiet village of Auldearn in the Scottish Highlands etched itself into the turbulent tapestry of the Wars of the Three Kingdoms. On this day, the Marquis of Montrose—James Graham—led Royalist forces in a battle that would elevate his reputation to that of legend, thanks to sheer audacity, cunning tactics, and a battlefield performance as swift as it was brutal.To understand the significance of Auldearn, we must first look to the divided state of 17th-century Britain. The Wars of the Three Kingdoms pitted Royalists loyal to King Charles I against various factions, chief among them the Scottish Covenanters—Presbyterians who sought to maintain their religious independence from royal interference. Scotland was a nation at war with itself, torn between loyalty to the crown and allegiance to the Covenant.Montrose, once a Covenanter himself, had switched sides in 1644, committing himself to the Royalist cause. He brought with him not only military brilliance but also an uncanny ability to inspire loyalty from disparate groups—Lowland Scots, Highland clans, and even Irish troops led by the fearsome Alasdair Mac Colla. By early 1645, Montrose had already carved a path of victories across Scotland, defeating Covenanter armies at Tippermuir, Aberdeen, and Inverlochy.But the Covenanters were not yet broken. On May 9th, Major-General Sir John Hurry, a seasoned soldier recently returned from England, launched a surprise dawn assault on Montrose’s encampment outside Auldearn. Believing he had caught the Royalists unprepared and outnumbered, Hurry hoped to deliver a crippling blow.And indeed, the situation looked dire for Montrose. His army was scattered, his men weary. But Montrose, ever the tactician, had anticipated the possibility of an ambush. In a masterstroke of deception, he stationed Alasdair Mac Colla and a small force, prominently positioned with banners flying, to give the illusion that this was the full Royalist army. Meanwhile, the bulk of Montrose’s forces lay hidden in reserve behind a ridge and thick woodland.As Hurry’s troops hurled themselves against Mac Colla’s apparent frontline, the Royalist decoy held just long enough. Then, at Montrose’s signal, the concealed troops emerged and struck with devastating force. The Covenanter line, stretched thin and overextended, began to collapse under the dual pressure of frontal resistance and a sudden flank attack.What followed was not merely a rout—it was a massacre. Around 2,000 Covenanter soldiers were slain on the field, a staggering number compared to roughly 200 Royalist casualties. The battle, over in a matter of hours, cemented Montrose’s reputation as one of the most brilliant military minds of his generation.But Auldearn was more than a tactical triumph. It was psychological warfare at its finest. Montrose’s victory sent shockwaves through the Covenanter ranks and emboldened Royalist sympathizers throughout the Highlands. For King Charles I, the win offered a fleeting moment of hope in an increasingly grim struggle. For Scotland, it signaled that Montrose and his motley army of Highlanders and Irish soldiers were a force to be reckoned with.In the aftermath, Montrose continued his campaign, moving swiftly to confront Covenanter forces in other parts of Scotland. Yet for all his victories, the tide of war would ultimately turn. Just a year later, Montrose would face defeat at Philiphaugh, and the Royalist cause in Scotland would falter. But on that spring morning in Auldearn, Montrose reached the zenith of his power—a Highland David felling a much larger Goliath.Today, the quiet fields near Auldearn hold little sign of the carnage that once unfolded there. But for those who study the Wars of the Three Kingdoms, it remains one of the most remarkable examples of strategy and surprise in Scottish military history.Thank you for joining me on This Day in Scottish History. For more tales of Scotland’s past—some bloody, some brave, all unforgettable—visit my blog at bagtownclans.com/thisday. The link’s in the description. Until next time, I'm Colin MacDonald—Haste Ye Back! This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bagtown.substack.com

For More Events on This Day in Scottish History - https://bagtownclans.com/index.php/thisday/may-8/Welcome back to This Day in Scottish History. I’m your host, Colin MacDonald. Today, we reflect on a poignant and controversial chapter in the turbulent history of the British Isles—the execution of Mary, Queen of Scots, on this day, May 8th, 1587. A queen born to rule, entangled in dynastic rivalry, political intrigue, and religious upheaval, her death sent shockwaves through Europe and forever changed the course of Scottish and English relations. And if you’re curious about other pivotal events that happened on this day in history, be sure to check out my blog at bagtownclans.com/thisday. You’ll find the link in the description.Mary Stuart was born into the storm. Just six days old when she became Queen of Scots, her life was shaped by both destiny and danger. Raised in the opulent courts of France, she was a queen who wielded beauty, charm, and intelligence in equal measure. Yet, as fate would have it, her return to rule in Scotland was far from triumphant. She stepped into a land deeply divided by religious strife—Catholics versus Protestants—and burdened by noble factions, each vying for influence over the throne.Mary's reign in Scotland was marked by controversy and tragedy. Her marriage to Henry, Lord Darnley, a union intended to solidify her claim to both the Scottish and English thrones, quickly unraveled in scandal. Darnley was murdered in 1567 under suspicious circumstances, and Mary’s subsequent marriage to James Hepburn, Earl of Bothwell—widely suspected of orchestrating Darnley’s death—turned public opinion against her. Forced to abdicate in favor of her infant son, James VI, Mary fled across the border into England, seeking the protection of her cousin, Elizabeth I.It was a fateful decision. Instead of sanctuary, Mary found herself a prisoner. For nearly nineteen years, she lived in confinement under the watchful eye of English wardens, a queen without a throne, her very presence a threat to the Protestant crown. To English Catholics, she was the rightful monarch, and to foreign powers like Spain, she was a rallying symbol for restoring Catholic rule in England.Her downfall came with the Babington Plot—a conspiracy aimed at assassinating Elizabeth and placing Mary on the English throne. Whether Mary truly sanctioned the plot remains a matter of historical debate. But letters intercepted and decoded by Elizabeth’s spymaster, Sir Francis Walsingham, provided enough evidence to seal her fate. In a closed trial, Mary was found guilty of treason. The sentence: death.On the morning of February 8, 1587, Mary faced her execution at Fotheringhay Castle with a grace that stunned even her enemies. Dressed in a gown of black velvet, she descended the scaffold steps with dignity. She spoke words of forgiveness and reaffirmed her Catholic faith, refusing a Protestant minister. And then, in a grim and botched execution that required three strokes of the axe, Mary, Queen of Scots, met her end.Her death was more than the end of a life—it was a political earthquake. Across Catholic Europe, outrage was swift and fierce. In Scotland, the reaction was more complex. James VI, her son, was deeply grieved and publicly condemned the execution. For a time, diplomatic relations between Scotland and England were severed. Yet James, ever the pragmatist, bided his time. When Elizabeth died in 1603, it was James who would inherit the English throne, uniting the crowns of Scotland and England as James I of Great Britain.In the centuries since, Mary has been remembered in vastly different lights. To some, she is a tragic heroine—a martyr sacrificed to English paranoia and Protestant ambition. To others, a political actor undone by her own missteps and romantic entanglements. What cannot be denied is her enduring legacy. Her life and death have inspired poets, painters, and playwrights for generations.Today, Mary’s story reminds us of the dangerous currents of power, faith, and identity that have always shaped the destiny of nations. Her execution was not just the silencing of a rival—it was a moment that defined an era, pitting monarchy against monarchy, church against church, and cousin against cousin.Thank you for joining me today on This Day in Scottish History. I hope you’ve found today’s tale as haunting and powerful as I have. For more stories of courage, intrigue, and upheaval from Scotland’s rich past, visit my blog at bagtownclans.com/thisday. I’m Colin MacDonald—Haste Ye Back! This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bagtown.substack.com

For More Events on This Day in Scottish History - https://bagtownclans.com/index.php/thisday/may-7/Welcome back to This Day in Scottish History. I'm your host, Colin MacDonald. Today, we turn the clock back to the 7th of May, 1544, to a devastating chapter in Scotland’s turbulent past—the Burning of Edinburgh during the campaign ominously known as the Rough Wooing. It was a time when royal marriages were weapons of war, and diplomacy often rode in the saddle of destruction. If you’d like to explore more tales from our nation’s rich and rugged past, visit my blog at bagtownclans.com/thisday. The link is in the description!In the spring of 1544, King Henry VIII of England had a plan. His son, the young Prince Edward—future Edward VI—was to be wed to the infant Mary, Queen of Scots. But Scotland, ever wary of English ambition, had other intentions. The Scots sought to solidify their alliance with France through the Auld Alliance, and Mary’s betrothal was increasingly leaning toward a French match. Frustrated and furious, Henry abandoned diplomacy and turned to brute force.Thus began the campaign historians would later call the Rough Wooing—a name that does little to capture the ferocity and devastation it unleashed. Henry dispatched Edward Seymour, the Earl of Hertford, to deliver a fiery message to the Scots: bend to England’s will, or suffer the consequences. Hertford landed at Leith with a formidable English force on May 3rd. Within days, Edinburgh would burn.Leith, still a modest port town at the time, was swiftly overwhelmed. The English met little resistance there and used it as a staging ground. Then, on May 7th, Hertford’s army advanced on Edinburgh itself. The capital, still ringed by its defensive walls, braced for an attack. But it was not a siege Hertford intended—it was terror. The English stormed the city, torch in hand, with orders to destroy, not to occupy.Edinburgh Castle, perched high on its volcanic crag, refused to yield. The garrison held firm, and the castle’s cannons roared defiantly. But the town below—undefended, unprepared—was left to the mercy of the invaders. English troops fanned out through the streets, setting fires that would rage for days. Holyrood Abbey, the seat of royal ceremonies and one of Scotland’s most sacred places, was ransacked and burned. Homes, churches, libraries, and civic buildings were reduced to smoldering ruin.The air was thick with smoke and screams. Citizens fled or hid, clutching what few possessions they could carry. It was not simply military conquest—it was psychological warfare. Henry VIII sought to break Scotland’s spirit, to force its leaders into submission through terror. But instead of capitulation, he sowed a deeper enmity.Though Edinburgh Castle remained untouched and defiant, the city it protected was ravaged. Contemporary accounts tell of charred streets, corpses in the wynds, and churches turned to ash. One English chronicler boasted that “neither within the walls nor in the suburbs was left any house unburnt.” The destruction was total—and calculated.But the burning of Edinburgh did not achieve its intended goal. Rather than draw Scotland closer, it hardened resistance. The Rough Wooing would drag on for nearly a decade, causing untold suffering but failing to force the marriage union. Eventually, Mary, Queen of Scots, would be betrothed to the Dauphin of France, and the flames Henry VIII had lit would continue to smolder into future generations of conflict.Today, the ruins of Holyrood Abbey still whisper of that day—silent stone arches blackened by fire, standing witness to a time when kings sought to woo with war. Edinburgh would rise again, of course—resilient, defiant, scarred but unbroken. The spirit of the city, much like that of Scotland itself, was not so easily extinguished.Thank you for joining me today on This Day in Scottish History. I hope you found this episode both stirring and sobering. For more journeys into Scotland’s stormy past, visit my blog at bagtownclans.com/thisday. I’m Colin MacDonald—Haste Ye Back! This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bagtown.substack.com

For More Events on This Day in Scottish History - https://bagtownclans.com/index.php/thisday/may-6/Welcome back to This Day in Scottish History. I’m your host, Colin MacDonald. Today, we set our sights on the 6th of May, 1560—a day of smoke, steel, and bitter struggle on the cobbled streets of Leith. It was here, in the heart of the Scottish Reformation, that English and Scottish Protestant forces launched a full-scale assault on the French-held port town of Leith. And if you’re curious about other fascinating events that happened on this day in history, be sure to check out my blog at bagtownclans.com/thisday. The link is in the description!Now, let’s set the stage. The mid-16th century in Scotland was a time of seismic upheaval—religiously, politically, and militarily. The Protestant Reformation, which had already shaken much of Europe, was now rippling through Scotland. But unlike in some countries where the Reformation spread through preaching and pamphlets, in Scotland, it came with cannon fire and clashing steel.At the center of this storm stood Mary of Guise, a French noblewoman and the mother of Mary, Queen of Scots. As Queen Regent of Scotland, Mary of Guise represented the interests of Catholic France, the longstanding ally of Catholic Scotland. But times were changing. A growing number of Scots, including powerful nobles like the Lords of the Congregation, had embraced Protestantism and were determined to break French influence over their land.The port of Leith, just north of Edinburgh, became the flashpoint. Fortified by French troops and serving as their principal base of operations, Leith was a thorn in the side of the Protestant cause. It was from here that Mary of Guise exerted her authority, and it was here that Protestant hopes of reform could either take root—or be crushed.Enter the English. Sensing both an opportunity and a duty to support fellow Protestants, Elizabeth I of England agreed to send troops north to assist the Scottish reformers. This was not an act of charity—it was cold political calculation. England could not tolerate a French military presence so close to home. And so, in the spring of 1560, English ships sailed into the Firth of Forth, and a combined Anglo-Scottish army laid siege to Leith.For weeks, they bombarded the town with artillery and dug trenches in the surrounding fields. The French defenders, however, were well-prepared. They had strengthened Leith’s walls, built bastions, and were supplied by sea. Skirmishes erupted daily. The siege dragged on. And then came May 6th.That morning, the allied commanders decided it was time for an all-out assault. English and Scottish troops stormed toward Leith’s walls, scaling ladders under a hail of musket fire and cannon shot. The defenders fought back fiercely. The narrow streets became killing grounds. Reports from the time speak of soldiers being thrown from the parapets, of desperate hand-to-hand combat, and of bodies piled high in the ditches.But despite their determination, the attackers failed. The French held their ground. The assault was a disaster for the Anglo-Scottish forces—casualties were heavy, morale was shaken, and the defenders remained firmly in control. The dead lay strewn before the walls of Leith, and the siege, for the time being, settled back into a grim stalemate.Yet the story doesn’t end there. Though the French had won the day, they couldn’t hold out forever. Political winds were shifting. Mary of Guise was gravely ill and would die just a month later. And back in France, the young King Francis II—husband of Mary, Queen of Scots—was struggling to maintain control amid growing unrest at home. France’s appetite for a prolonged Scottish campaign was dwindling.By July of that year, the Treaty of Edinburgh was signed. The French agreed to withdraw from Scotland, effectively ending their military presence and paving the way for the Protestant Reformation to take hold. The blood spilled at Leith was not in vain. Though the May 6 assault had failed, the broader cause had triumphed.The Siege of Leith is a stark reminder that history is not only shaped by victory, but by resilience. The men who died on that May morning helped forge a new chapter in Scottish history—one of reform, resistance, and the long road to self-determination.Thank you for joining me today on This Day in Scottish History. I hope this tale of siege and sacrifice has brought a moment from our past vividly to life. Don’t forget to visit my blog at bagtownclans.com/thisday for more stories from Scotland’s rich and turbulent history. I’m Colin MacDonald—Haste Ye Back! This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bagtown.substack.com

For More Events on This Day in Scottish History - https://bagtownclans.com/index.php/thisday/may-5/Welcome back to This Day in Scottish History. I’m your host, Colin MacDonald. Today, we journey back to the spring of 1938, when Glasgow welcomed the world to one of the most ambitious peacetime spectacles ever staged on Scottish soil—the opening of the Empire Exhibition in Bellahouston Park. And if you’re curious about other fascinating events that happened on this day in history, be sure to check out my blog at bagtownclans.com/thisday. The link will be in the description!It was May 5th, 1938, and all eyes were on Glasgow. With great pomp and ceremony, King George VI officially opened the Empire Exhibition in a city transformed. Covering over 175 acres of Bellahouston Park, the exhibition was a dazzling celebration of British industrial power, imperial unity, and technological progress. At a time when Europe teetered on the brink of war, this was to be a show of strength, confidence, and modernity—a declaration that the British Empire, and Scotland within it, still stood tall.The idea for the exhibition was born during the economic depression of the early 1930s. Scotland, like much of the industrial world, was struggling. Unemployment was high, shipyards were silent, and confidence had waned. Civic leaders, led by Sir James Lithgow—a prominent industrialist and chairman of the exhibition—believed that a world-class event could revive morale and show Scotland’s enduring importance to Britain and the wider empire. It was, in every sense, a bold act of faith in the future.Construction began in 1937, and by the time the gates opened a year later, the transformation was complete. More than a hundred buildings had sprung up, showcasing modernist architecture at its most ambitious. The centerpiece was the Tait Tower, an elegant 470-foot spire of concrete and steel, designed by Thomas S. Tait, which soared above the city skyline. Though it was later dismantled, for a few months it stood as a symbol of optimism and architectural daring.Each of the empire’s dominions and colonies was represented with its own pavilion. From Canada to Ceylon, from Australia to South Africa, the exhibition offered a curated vision of the vastness and diversity of British rule. There were industrial halls brimming with the latest innovations in shipbuilding, engineering, textiles, and aviation. Scottish firms, including giants like John Brown & Company and William Beardmore, proudly displayed their achievements, reminding visitors of Scotland’s central role in powering the empire.And it wasn’t all business. The exhibition also dazzled with entertainment. The amusement park featured roller coasters, dancing fountains, and an illuminated lagoon. Crowds flocked to performances, concerts, and film screenings. Art lovers admired exhibitions from the Royal Scottish Academy, while children were entranced by puppet shows and model trains. It was a place of wonder—a temporary world where the future felt within reach.Over the course of the exhibition’s six-month run, more than 12 million people passed through its gates. Special trains brought visitors from all corners of Britain, and the event became a national talking point. It was the largest ever held in Scotland, and one of the most successful international exhibitions of the 20th century.But behind the optimism lurked unease. In 1938, Adolf Hitler had just annexed Austria. The Munich Agreement, appeasing Germany's expansion, loomed in the autumn. The storm clouds of war were gathering fast. For many, the Empire Exhibition now feels like the last golden summer before the darkness of World War II. A moment frozen in time, when architecture soared, hopes were high, and people believed in progress.And yet, its legacy endures. Though most of the structures were dismantled after the exhibition closed in October, the Palace of Art still stands in Bellahouston Park, and the event remains etched in Glasgow’s collective memory. It was a proud moment—Scotland at the heart of empire, welcoming the world, confident in its place and purpose.Thank you for joining me today on This Day in Scottish History. I hope you’ve enjoyed this journey to the Empire Exhibition of 1938—a time of grandeur, vision, and the bold belief in better days to come. Don’t forget to check out my blog for more historical stories at bagtownclans.com/thisday. Tune in tomorrow for another fascinating glimpse into Scotland’s remarkable past. I’m Colin MacDonald—Haste Ye Back! This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bagtown.substack.com

For More Events on This Day in Scottish History - https://bagtownclans.com/index.php/thisday/may-4/Welcome back to This Day in Scottish History. I’m your host, Colin MacDonald. Today, we step into the politically charged atmosphere of May 4th, 1654—a day that marked a seismic shift in Scottish sovereignty and governance. It was on this day that General George Monck, acting on behalf of Oliver Cromwell’s English Commonwealth, arrived in Edinburgh. And if you’re curious about other fascinating events that happened on this day in history, be sure to check out my blog at bagtownclans.com/thisday. The link will be in the description!To truly understand the weight of General Monck’s arrival, we need to look at the context. The 1640s and early 1650s were a time of intense political upheaval across the British Isles. Civil wars had torn through England, Scotland, and Ireland, culminating in the execution of King Charles I in 1649 and the rise of the English Commonwealth under Oliver Cromwell. Scotland, though having supported Charles II’s claim to the throne, was on the losing end of this conflict. Cromwell, determined to bring the entire British Isles under republican rule, launched a brutal military campaign into Scotland.By 1652, much of Scotland was under military occupation, but formal union with England had not yet been enacted. That changed with the arrival of George Monck. A seasoned soldier and staunch ally of Cromwell, Monck was tasked with securing Scotland not just by sword, but by statecraft. When he rode into Edinburgh on May 4, he did so with the full backing of the Commonwealth, bringing both a military presence and a political mission.The very next day, on May 5, 1654, at the heart of the city—the Mercat Cross—Monck made a proclamation that would reverberate through Scottish history. There, with a mixture of pomp and tension, he declared the Ordinance of Union, officially integrating Scotland into the Commonwealth of England, Scotland, and Ireland. For the first time, the Scottish Parliament was dissolved, and governance was centralized under the authority of the English Council of State in London.To many Scots, this was nothing short of occupation. The union was not one of mutual agreement but of imposition—enforced by English bayonets and backed by the might of Cromwell’s New Model Army. While the Ordinance promised economic benefits and representation at Westminster, few were convinced. The memory of Scottish independence and the indignity of being annexed by a foreign power stirred resentment across the country.Monck's role in Edinburgh was more than symbolic. He was given sweeping powers to oversee the political and military administration of Scotland. Garrisons were stationed across the Lowlands and Highlands alike, and a series of fortifications was constructed to keep the Scottish population in check. Taxes were levied to fund the Commonwealth’s efforts, and dissent was ruthlessly suppressed. But Monck, unlike some of his predecessors, was also pragmatic. He managed his post with a balance of stern control and political shrewdness, ensuring the Commonwealth’s grip remained firm—even if uneasy.Yet, this chapter of Scottish history was not destined to last. Despite the efforts to forge a single republican state, the death of Oliver Cromwell in 1658 created a power vacuum. George Monck, ever the tactician, watched events unfold with keen interest. By 1660, with the Commonwealth collapsing and chaos looming, it was Monck who led the march into London and orchestrated the Restoration of Charles II—a dramatic reversal of the very union he had once enforced.It’s one of the great ironies of history that the same man who proclaimed the end of Scottish sovereignty in 1654 would help restore the monarchy only six years later. Monck’s actions on May 4 were pivotal—not just in binding Scotland to Cromwell’s regime, but in laying the groundwork for the political recalibrations that would follow. His legacy is complicated. Was he a tyrant, a patriot, or merely a pragmatist serving the winds of political necessity?Regardless of your view, May 4, 1654 stands as a defining moment in Scotland’s constitutional evolution. The arrival of George Monck in Edinburgh marked the beginning of a short-lived but impactful experiment in union under a republican regime—one enforced by power, but undone by the tides of political change.Thank you for joining me today on This Day in Scottish History. I hope you’ve enjoyed this deep dive into one of the lesser-known, but profoundly significant moments in our nation’s past. Be sure to visit my blog at bagtownclans.com/thisday for more tales from Scotland’s remarkable history. Until next time, I’m Colin MacDonald—Haste Ye Back! This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bagtown.substack.com

For More Events on This Day in Scottish History - https://bagtownclans.com/index.php/thisday/may-3/Welcome back to This Day in Scottish History. I'm your host, Colin MacDonald. Today, we journey to the town of Lanark, on May 3rd, 1297—a date that would ignite one of the most potent symbols of Scottish resistance. It was on this day that William Wallace, a man not yet legend, took his first bold step into the fires of rebellion by slaying the English-appointed Sheriff of Lanark, Sir William de Heselrig. And if you’re curious about other fascinating events that happened on this day in history, be sure to check out my blog at bagtownclans.com/thisday. The link will be in the description!To understand the gravity of this moment, we must first recall the suffocating climate of English occupation. Since the death of Alexander III and the subsequent crisis of succession, Scotland had fallen into turmoil. King Edward I of England—ever ambitious, ever domineering—saw opportunity. He installed his own authority across Scotland, placing English sheriffs and constables to govern Scottish towns, collect taxes, and enforce his rule. Lanark, a key town on the River Clyde, was one such place where English boots stomped heavily upon Scottish soil.Wallace, by most accounts, was still a young man in 1297. The details of his early life remain cloaked in myth and legend, but what is certain is his fierce disdain for English rule. Some chroniclers say it was personal tragedy that brought him to the edge—his wife, Marion Braidfute, was reportedly murdered by English soldiers or directly by Heselrig himself after Wallace refused to bow to authority. Whether myth or truth, this tale captured the spirit of a man driven by both personal and national vengeance.On that fateful day, Wallace and a small band of rebels descended upon Lanark. What unfolded was less a battle and more an act of precise and purposeful fury. Heselrig was killed, his garrison scattered or slain, and the English grip on the town temporarily broken. The sheer audacity of the attack sent ripples across the land.In killing Heselrig, Wallace did more than avenge a personal wrong—he sent a clear and thunderous message. The Scots were no longer willing to be governed by foreign law. This was not a spontaneous riot. It was a calculated strike, and its symbolism would light the fire of rebellion across southern Scotland.What followed was nothing short of astonishing. Word of Wallace’s stand spread like wildfire. Local leaders, peasants, and warriors who had long suffered in silence now saw that resistance was not only possible but stirringly real. Small uprisings flared in Ayr, Renfrew, and beyond. Wallace, once an outlaw, was now becoming the face of a people’s fight.The action at Lanark marked the beginning of what would become Wallace’s campaign of resistance. In the months to follow, he would strike at English forces with unrelenting guerrilla tactics, culminating in his most famous victory at the Battle of Stirling Bridge in September 1297. But it all began here—with a single, visceral act that reverberated throughout a nation.It’s important to note, though, that Lanark was never meant to be the final blow. Wallace was not driven solely by vengeance. He envisioned a Scotland free from the yoke of tyranny—a Scotland governed by its own laws, its own customs, and its own people. And while his story ends in betrayal and brutal execution, his legacy was immortal. The Lanark uprising transformed him from a local rebel into a national hero, a martyr, and a symbol of Scottish defiance.Today, Lanark remembers Wallace not just as a warrior, but as a catalyst of change. A statue now stands in the town, bearing his likeness—long hair, broadsword, and a gaze fixed defiantly toward the horizon. And while history can sometimes blur the lines between fact and legend, the impact of that May morning in 1297 remains crystal clear.Thank you for joining me today on This Day in Scottish History. I hope you’ve enjoyed this tale of rebellion, loss, and unyielding courage. Don't forget to check out my blog for more historical events at bagtownclans.com/thisday. Tune in tomorrow for another journey through Scotland’s remarkable past. I'm Colin MacDonald—Haste Ye Back! This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bagtown.substack.com

For More Events on This Day - https://bagtownclans.com/index.php/thisday/may-1/Welcome back to This Day in Scottish History. I'm your host, Colin MacDonald. Today, we turn the clock back to May 1st, 1544, a grim and fiery day in the annals of Edinburgh’s past. On this date, English forces under Edward Seymour, the Earl of Hertford, launched a devastating attack on Scotland’s capital. The city burned for three days in what became one of the most harrowing episodes of the so-called “Rough Wooing”—a brutal campaign of intimidation designed to force a marriage alliance between two infant royals: Mary, Queen of Scots, and Prince Edward of England. And if you’re curious about other fascinating events that happened on this day in history, be sure to check out my blog at bagtownclans.com/thisday. The link will be in the description!To understand the scale of this catastrophe, we need to step back and consider the volatile political landscape of 16th-century Britain. Following the death of King James V of Scotland in 1542, his daughter Mary ascended the throne at just six days old. Henry VIII of England saw an opportunity—if Mary married his son Edward, he could unify the crowns of England and Scotland and extend his influence north of the border. But the Scots weren’t interested. They had no desire to be bound by English will, especially under threat. When Scottish nobles rejected the marriage proposal and instead renewed the Auld Alliance with France, Henry responded not with diplomacy—but with war.Thus began the “Rough Wooing,” a chillingly ironic name for a campaign marked by fire, sword, and slaughter. Henry sent his armies to batter Scotland into submission, and no city felt the brunt more than Edinburgh.In the early hours of May 1st, 1544, English ships under the command of the Earl of Hertford landed at Granton, just a few miles from the capital. With a force of over 10,000 men, they quickly overwhelmed the limited Scottish defenses and marched straight for Edinburgh. The city, largely unprepared for such an overwhelming force, stood little chance.What followed was nothing short of a nightmare. The English troops poured into Edinburgh, setting buildings alight with gunpowder and torch. The flames spread rapidly through the timber structures of the medieval Old Town. Churches, homes, and civic buildings were consumed. For three relentless days, the skies over Edinburgh glowed orange, and the screams of terrified citizens echoed through the wynds and closes. The English spared neither woman nor child in their wrath. Hundreds were killed, and thousands more displaced.The destruction wasn’t confined to the city. The English moved on to ravage Leith and surrounding villages, burning crops, slaughtering livestock, and leaving a scorched path in their wake. They targeted not just military installations but symbols of Scottish identity and resistance—churches, archives, and even monasteries fell to their torches. Hertford’s campaign was one of psychological warfare as much as physical conquest. His orders from Henry VIII had been clear: devastate the land until the Scots submitted.But far from bringing Scotland to its knees, the sack of Edinburgh hardened its resolve. The campaign bred deep, lasting resentment toward England, and any hope of a peaceful marriage alliance died in the ashes of the capital. Mary, Queen of Scots, was soon spirited away to France for her safety and betrothed to the Dauphin, effectively sealing the Franco-Scottish alliance and scuppering Henry’s ambitions.As for Hertford, he returned to England with a temporary victory but at a high cost. The burning of Edinburgh became a rallying cry for Scottish resistance, and in time, the Rough Wooing would be seen as a failed attempt at coercive diplomacy. Though further battles and raids followed in the years ahead, the cruelty of May 1544 stood out as a singular act of destruction that could not be forgotten.And today, walking through Edinburgh’s historic Old Town, it’s easy to forget that beneath the cobbles and behind the stone facades lies the memory of that devastation. Though the city has risen, transformed, and endured through centuries, the memory of that fiery assault lingers in the soul of the capital.Thank you for joining me today on This Day in Scottish History. The sacking of Edinburgh reminds us of the consequences when ambition and violence intertwine. It’s a story of loss, but also one of defiance, resilience, and the enduring spirit of a people who refused to be broken. Be sure to check out my blog at bagtownclans.com/thisday for more tales from Scotland’s stirring past. Until next time, I'm Colin MacDonald—Haste Ye Back! This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bagtown.substack.com

For More Events on This Day in Scottish History - https://bagtownclans.com/index.php/thisday/april-30Welcome back to This Day in Scottish History. I'm your host, Colin MacDonald. Today, we turn the clock back to a crisp April morning in 1728, when a quiet but revolutionary event changed the world of finance forever. It was on this day that the Royal Bank of Scotland, a fledgling institution at the time, granted the very first overdraft in history—£1,000 to a bold Edinburgh merchant named William Hog. And if you’re curious about other fascinating events that happened on this day in history, be sure to check out my blog at bagtownclans.com/thisday. The link will be in the description!The early 18th century was a time of enormous change in Scotland. Following the 1707 Union with England, Scotland's economy was trying to find its footing within a larger British framework. Trade was expanding, cities were growing, and new financial institutions were popping up to meet the demands of a more dynamic economy. The Royal Bank of Scotland had been founded just one year earlier, in 1727, as a rival to the Bank of Scotland. It was determined to attract new business by offering innovative services.Enter William Hog, an enterprising Edinburgh merchant. Like many businessmen of his day, Hog faced the constant challenge of balancing incoming payments with outgoing expenses. Ships laden with goods could be delayed. Debtors could be late. Opportunities could arise that demanded immediate cash, even when the coffers were temporarily dry. Traditionally, if a merchant didn’t have ready money, he was simply out of luck—or worse, driven into ruin. But the Royal Bank of Scotland saw an opportunity to offer a lifeline.On April 30, 1728, the bank agreed to let Hog withdraw up to £1,000 more than he actually had in his account. It was a staggering amount at the time, equivalent to hundreds of thousands of pounds today. The idea was revolutionary: instead of requiring Hog to have every penny upfront, the bank trusted him to repay the excess in due course. It was a bold move, a calculated risk that recognized the realities of doing business in a fast-changing world.This first overdraft was not just about helping a single merchant. It signaled a fundamental shift in banking philosophy. No longer were banks merely vaults for storing wealth; they became active partners in commerce, supporting growth and innovation. The ability to extend credit based on trust and reputation became one of the cornerstones of modern finance.The implications of that decision rippled outward. Overdrafts soon became a standard offering, first across Scotland and then throughout the British Isles. They allowed businesses to weather short-term cash shortages, fund new ventures, and seize opportunities that would have otherwise been out of reach. Without overdrafts and similar credit instruments, the Industrial Revolution itself might have looked very different.William Hog's overdraft might seem modest compared to the enormous financial tools available today, but it opened the door to a new era where ambition wasn’t chained to immediate cash on hand. It showed that banking could be about enabling the future, not just safeguarding the past.The Royal Bank of Scotland continued to innovate over the centuries, becoming one of the major players in global finance. Although it has faced its share of ups and downs—including the financial crisis of 2008—its legacy as a pioneer was secured on that spring day in 1728.Today, when you swipe a card, apply for a loan, or simply rely on a line of credit to bridge a gap, you’re benefiting from a concept that started with a handshake between a Scottish banker and an Edinburgh merchant nearly three centuries ago.Thank you for joining me today on This Day in Scottish History. I hope you’ve enjoyed this story of financial innovation, bold ideas, and a little bit of trust. Don't forget to check out my blog for more historical events at bagtownclans.com/thisday. Tune in tomorrow for another journey through Scotland’s remarkable past. I'm Colin MacDonald—Haste Ye Back! This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bagtown.substack.com

For More Events on This Day in Scottish History - https://bagtownclans.com/index.php/thisday/april-29/Welcome back to This Day in Scottish History. I'm your host, Colin MacDonald. Today, we journey back to the 29th of April, 1769, when a brilliant mind from Greenock, Scotland, secured a patent that would change the world forever. That man was James Watt, and his innovation—the separate condenser for the steam engine—became a catalyst for the Industrial Revolution. And if you’re curious about other fascinating events that happened on this day in history, be sure to check out my blog at bagtownclans.com/thisday. The link will be in the description!The steam engine, prior to Watt’s time, was already in existence thanks to earlier inventors like Thomas Newcomen. But it was cumbersome, inefficient, and prone to enormous energy losses. Engines needed to heat and cool the same cylinder repeatedly, wasting precious time and fuel. For industries that were beginning to grow in the 18th century—mining, textiles, and manufacturing—this inefficiency was a massive bottleneck.James Watt was a man of quiet intensity and endless curiosity. Working as an instrument maker at the University of Glasgow, he encountered a model of the Newcomen engine that didn’t perform well. Most would have accepted the flaws as inevitable; Watt did not. He saw the crux of the problem: the engine’s cylinder had to be cooled down and reheated with every stroke. If only the steam could be condensed in a separate place, he reasoned, the main cylinder could remain hot, vastly improving efficiency.In a flash of insight, Watt designed a separate condenser—an addition that allowed steam to be cooled in an entirely different chamber, preserving the heat of the main cylinder. This seemingly simple innovation slashed energy consumption and doubled the engine’s efficiency. On April 29, 1769, Watt secured British Patent No. 913, protecting his invention and setting into motion a revolution that would power cities, industries, and empires.But having a brilliant idea and bringing it into widespread use are two very different things. Watt struggled financially and lacked the resources to commercialize his engine. Enter Matthew Boulton, a savvy English entrepreneur who recognized Watt’s genius and had the means to bring his inventions to the world. Together, they founded Boulton & Watt, a partnership that would dominate the steam engine market for decades.Watt's improved steam engine transformed industries that had once been limited by the availability of water power. Factories were no longer tethered to rivers; they could spring up anywhere. Mining operations could go deeper than ever before. Transportation would eventually be revolutionized as steam engines found their way onto ships and trains, shrinking the world and reshaping economies.Beyond the mechanical improvements, Watt’s work introduced a new way of thinking about power itself. He even coined the term “horsepower” to help people understand the output of his engines, and the SI unit of power—the watt—is named in his honor. Watt’s contribution wasn’t just a better machine; it was a fundamental change in how humans harnessed and multiplied their labor and energy.Scotland, proud of her son, would see James Watt celebrated not just as an inventor but as one of the architects of the modern world. His work embodies that spirit of Scottish ingenuity, persistence, and practical brilliance that has so often left an outsized mark on history.Today, James Watt’s legacy lives on in every piece of machinery powered by engines and motors, from power plants to cars to factories. His separate condenser wasn't just a mechanical innovation; it was a spark that helped ignite the transformation from agrarian society to industrial powerhouse.Thank you for joining me today on This Day in Scottish History. I hope you’ve enjoyed this story of invention, perseverance, and the profound impact of one Scotsman's vision. Don't forget to check out my blog for more historical events at bagtownclans.com/thisday. Tune in tomorrow for another journey through Scotland’s remarkable past. I'm Colin MacDonald—Haste Ye Back! This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bagtown.substack.com

For More Events on This Day in Scottish History - https://bagtownclans.com/index.php/thisday/april-28/Welcome back to This Day in Scottish History. I'm your host, Colin MacDonald. Today, we journey back to April 28, 1650, when the brilliant but ill-fated James Graham, 1st Marquess of Montrose, fought his final, tragic battle at Carbisdale. It was a day of betrayal, desperation, and the closing act of one of Scotland’s most compelling figures. And if you’re curious about other fascinating events that happened on this day in history, be sure to check out my blog at bagtownclans.com/thisday. The link will be in the description!By the spring of 1650, Scotland was in turmoil. The Wars of the Three Kingdoms had left the land divided, weary, and bloodied. King Charles I had been executed the previous year, and his son, Charles II, was struggling to reclaim his father’s throne. Scotland, nominally a kingdom of royalists, had fallen under the control of the Covenanters, a stern Presbyterian faction that had made uneasy alliances with England’s Parliamentarians. Into this complex and dangerous political landscape stepped James Graham, better known as the Marquess of Montrose.Montrose had once been a Covenanter himself, but he had switched sides, becoming one of Charles I’s most dashing and daring commanders. Between 1644 and 1645, he had led a brilliant guerrilla campaign across Scotland, winning a string of unlikely victories against overwhelming odds. But the tides of war shifted, and Montrose was eventually forced into exile. Now, in 1650, he returned from the Continent with a small force of mercenaries and loyal Highlanders, determined to rally Scotland once more in the royal cause.The plan was audacious, but the risks were enormous. Montrose’s army was tiny—barely 1,200 men, including Germans, Danes, and Orcadians—and many of the local clans were either hostile or unwilling to commit. Nevertheless, Montrose pushed forward, landing in Orkney and then crossing to the Scottish mainland. He hoped to ignite a broader uprising that would clear the way for Charles II’s return.But the Covenanter forces were ready for him. Commanded by Colonel Archibald Strachan, a shrewd and capable leader, they moved quickly to intercept Montrose before he could gather strength. Strachan cleverly masked the true size of his force, sending a small advance party to feign weakness. Montrose, misled by faulty intelligence and betrayed by local allies who deserted him at the critical moment, decided to engage.Near Carbisdale, not far from Bonar Bridge in Sutherland, the two forces clashed. It was a disaster for Montrose. His exhausted troops, poorly positioned and lacking cavalry, were quickly overwhelmed. The Covenanter horsemen scattered Montrose’s infantry with brutal efficiency. Many of his foreign mercenaries were cut down as they tried to flee; others surrendered, only to be massacred after the battle. Montrose himself escaped the immediate slaughter, wandering the rugged landscape disguised as a commoner.But his escape was short-lived. Betrayed once again—this time by Neil MacLeod of Assynt, who turned him over for a bounty—Montrose was captured and transported south to Edinburgh. His arrival in the capital was a grim spectacle: he was paraded through the streets in disgrace, chained and humiliated. On May 21, 1650, James Graham, the once-proud Marquess of Montrose, was sentenced to death by hanging, his body mutilated in a chilling act of political theater.Montrose’s death was not just the fall of a man, but the end of a certain ideal. He had fought not merely for a king, but for a vision of loyalty, honor, and a united Scotland—principles that were increasingly out of place in a world ruled by power and pragmatism. Even his enemies could not deny his bravery or his remarkable military genius. In time, Montrose’s reputation would be rehabilitated, and he would be remembered as one of Scotland’s greatest and most tragic heroes.Today, the Battle of Carbisdale remains a powerful reminder of how fortunes can turn on a single day—how betrayal, miscalculation, and circumstance can bring even the most brilliant leaders to ruin. And Montrose's story continues to echo through Scotland’s rugged hills, a haunting testament to loyalty, ambition, and the harsh price of defeat.Thank you for joining me today on This Day in Scottish History. I hope you’ve enjoyed this poignant chapter of bravery and betrayal. Don't forget to check out my blog for more historical events at bagtownclans.com/thisday. Tune in tomorrow for another journey through Scotland’s remarkable past. I'm Colin MacDonald—Haste Ye Back! This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bagtown.substack.com

For More Events on This Day in Scottish History - https://bagtownclans.com/index.php/thisday/april-27/Welcome back to This Day in Scottish History. I'm your host, Colin MacDonald. Today, we turn back the clock to a fateful day—April 27th, 1296—when Scottish hopes were dashed at the Battle of Dunbar, a crushing blow that opened the floodgates for English domination during the First War of Scottish Independence. And if you’re curious about other pivotal events that happened on this day, be sure to check out my blog at bagtownclans.com/thisday. The link will be in the description!At the end of the 13th century, Scotland was a nation in turmoil. The death of King Alexander III in 1286, and the later death of his heir, Margaret, the Maid of Norway, left Scotland without a clear successor. Thirteen competitors staked their claims to the throne, and fearing civil war, the Scottish nobles invited Edward I of England—known later as the "Hammer of the Scots"—to arbitrate. But Edward’s ambitions went beyond mere mediation. He saw Scotland as a vassal state, and when John Balliol, his handpicked king, began to resist English interference, Edward unleashed a brutal response.In March 1296, Edward marched into Scotland with a powerful army, determined to crush any opposition. His campaign began with the sack of Berwick-upon-Tweed, a prosperous Scottish border town. The English forces stormed the town, and in a massacre that shocked contemporaries, thousands of civilians were slaughtered. It was a grim warning of what was to come.From Berwick, Edward turned his attention to Dunbar Castle, a stronghold in East Lothian held by Scottish forces loyal to John Balliol. The Scots, led by the Earl of Buchan and other prominent nobles, positioned their army on high ground near the town, hoping to block the English advance. Their numbers were respectable, and they believed they could repel Edward’s forces.But Edward, ever the strategist, sent a detachment under John de Warenne, the Earl of Surrey, to confront them. What followed was not a grand battle of knights and banners, but rather a swift and disastrous rout. Mistaking an English maneuver for a retreat, the Scots abandoned their strong defensive position and charged downhill in pursuit. It was exactly what the English had hoped for. Surrey’s forces wheeled around and counterattacked with devastating effect. The Scottish lines broke almost immediately.The slaughter was grim, but the real blow came in the aftermath. Hundreds of Scottish nobles were captured, including prominent leaders like the Earls of Ross, Menteith, and Atholl. Many were sent south in chains to England, held as hostages to ensure Scottish obedience. Dunbar Castle itself fell a few days later after a short siege. With the fall of Dunbar, Edward had ripped the heart out of Scottish resistance.The consequences were profound. With no army left to defend him, King John Balliol was forced to surrender in July of 1296. In a humiliating ceremony known as the "Toom Tabard"—the Empty Coat—Balliol was stripped of his royal regalia at Montrose, symbolizing the end of his reign and Scotland’s submission to English rule. For the next eight years, Scotland was effectively under English occupation.But even in defeat, the seeds of rebellion were already taking root. Out of the ashes of Dunbar would rise new leaders—most famously William Wallace and, later, Robert the Bruce—who would reignite the flame of resistance. The Battle of Dunbar marked a dark chapter, but it was not the end of Scotland’s story. It was the beginning of a long and bloody fight for freedom, one that would shape the nation’s destiny for generations.Today, when you visit Dunbar, you can still see echoes of its medieval past. The ruins of Dunbar Castle, perched dramatically on the cliffs overlooking the North Sea, stand as a silent witness to the fury of that spring day in 1296. Waves crash against the rocks below, and the wind howls through the broken stones, carrying whispers of lost battles and undying defiance.Thank you for joining me today on This Day in Scottish History. I hope this glimpse into the Battle of Dunbar has shed light on a pivotal moment in Scotland’s long struggle for sovereignty. Don’t forget to check out my blog for more stories from Scotland’s rich and rugged past at bagtownclans.com/thisday. Tune in tomorrow as we explore another chapter in the remarkable saga of our nation’s history. I'm Colin MacDonald—Haste Ye Back! This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bagtown.substack.com

For More Events on This Day in Scottish History - https://bagtownclans.com/index.php/thisday/april-26/Welcome back to This Day in Scottish History. I'm your host, Colin MacDonald. Today, we journey back to April 26th, 1315, when a pivotal decision was made within the sacred walls of St. John’s Church in Ayr—a decision that would shape the future of the Bruce dynasty and attempt to secure the hard-won gains of Scottish independence. This was the day the Scottish Parliament formally declared Edward Bruce, brother to King Robert the Bruce, as heir to the throne of Scotland.And if you’re curious about other fascinating events that happened on this day in history, be sure to check out my blog at bagtownclans.com/thisday. The link will be in the description!Now, let’s set the scene. It was nearly a year after the Battle of Bannockburn—an extraordinary triumph for Robert the Bruce and the Scottish cause. Edward II of England had been humiliated, and the English army crushed in a resounding Scottish victory. But Robert the Bruce knew all too well that a battlefield win did not equal lasting peace. England would return, and when they did, Scotland would need not only strong warriors but a clear and unified succession.At the time, Robert had no legitimate male heir. His daughter Marjorie was married to Walter Stewart, and though she would eventually bear a son—Robert II, the future founder of the Stewart dynasty—that child had not yet been born. In 1315, the line of succession was perilously uncertain. In the brutal world of medieval politics, that kind of ambiguity was dangerous. It invited division, rebellion, and foreign interference.So, to preempt such chaos, Robert convened a Parliament at Ayr. St. John’s Church, already a place of worship and local authority, was transformed into the heart of Scotland’s political future. There, surrounded by nobles, churchmen, and loyal supporters, the king proclaimed that should he die without a male heir, his younger brother Edward Bruce would succeed him as King of Scots.Edward was a natural choice. Fiercely loyal, battle-hardened, and charismatic, he had stood beside his brother through the darkest days of the war. Edward had proven himself in the campaigns that followed Bannockburn, leading successful raids and securing key territories for the Scottish crown. His appointment as heir wasn’t just about blood—it was about ensuring continuity of leadership and presenting a united front against England.But Edward Bruce’s ambition did not stop at the Scottish border. Just a year later, in 1316, Edward would lead a bold expedition into Ireland, seeking to expand the influence of the Bruce dynasty. The Irish, weary of English domination, were receptive to a new ruler who promised to drive out the Anglo-Norman lords. Edward was crowned High King of Ireland at Dundalk, a stunning moment that briefly linked Scottish and Irish resistance movements.However, the campaign in Ireland would ultimately end in tragedy. Edward’s army suffered from poor supply lines, internal divisions, and relentless opposition from both Anglo-Irish and native Irish factions. On October 14th, 1318, Edward Bruce met his end at the Battle of Faughart. His death was not only a personal blow to his brother but also marked the end of Scottish ambitions in Ireland.Still, the Parliament of 1315 and the declaration of Edward as heir represented a critical moment in Scotland’s medieval story. It was a rare example of preemptive statecraft during a time more often defined by reaction than planning. It also highlights Robert the Bruce’s foresight—not just as a warrior-king, but as a ruler deeply invested in the future stability of his realm.And though Edward never ascended the Scottish throne, his memory remains that of a prince who dared to think beyond his homeland, to challenge empires, and to grasp at the crown of two kingdoms. The echoes of his ambition would resonate for generations.Thank you for joining me today on This Day in Scottish History. I hope you’ve enjoyed this glimpse into the political intrigue and bold ambition of the Bruce brothers. Don’t forget to visit bagtownclans.com/thisday for more stories from Scotland’s remarkable past. Until next time, I’m Colin MacDonald—Haste Ye Back! This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bagtown.substack.com

For More Events on This Day in Scottish History - https://bagtownclans.com/index.php/thisday/april-25/Welcome back to This Day in Scottish History. I'm your host, Colin MacDonald. Today, we journey back to April 25, 1915, when Scottish regiments landed on the shores of the Gallipoli Peninsula, marking the beginning of one of World War I’s most grueling and ill-fated campaigns. The Gallipoli Campaign was a bold Allied attempt to knock the Ottoman Empire out of the war by seizing control of the Dardanelles Strait. But for the soldiers who landed that day—including many Scots—it would become a harrowing ordeal of mud, blood, and unrelenting hardship.​Among the first to land were the 1st Battalion of the King’s Own Scottish Borderers, part of the 87th Brigade of the 29th Division. They stormed ashore at Cape Helles, facing fierce Ottoman resistance. The 5th Battalion of the Royal Scots, attached to the 88th Brigade of the same division, also took part in the initial landings. These battalions faced withering machine-gun fire and entrenched defenders, suffering heavy casualties in the process.​In the weeks that followed, additional Scottish units arrived. The 52nd (Lowland) Division, composed of Territorial battalions from six Scottish regiments—including the 4th, 5th, and 7th Battalions of the Royal Scots—landed in June to reinforce the beleaguered Allied positions. These troops, many of them volunteers from towns and villages across Scotland, brought with them a fierce determination but faced the same brutal conditions: searing heat, disease, and a determined enemy.The Gallipoli Campaign quickly devolved into a stalemate. The rugged terrain and strong Ottoman defenses made any advance costly and slow. Trenches became the norm, and soldiers endured months of grueling warfare with little to show for their efforts. By the time the campaign was abandoned in January 1916, the Allies had suffered approximately 250,000 casualties, with Scottish regiments bearing a significant share of the losses.​The impact of Gallipoli on Scottish military history is profound. It highlighted the bravery and resilience of Scottish soldiers, who fought valiantly under dire circumstances. The campaign is remembered not only for its strategic failures but also for the extraordinary courage displayed by those who served. Memorials across Scotland pay tribute to the men who fought and died in Gallipoli, ensuring that their sacrifice is not forgotten.​Thank you for joining me today on This Day in Scottish History. I hope you’ve found this reflection on the Gallipoli Campaign insightful. Don't forget to check out my blog for more historical events at bagtownclans.com/thisday. Tune in tomorrow for another journey through Scotland’s remarkable past. I'm Colin MacDonald—Haste Ye Back! This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bagtown.substack.com