James Graham, Marquis of Montrose
The final item of business today is a members’ business debate on motion S4M-02253, in the name of Christine Grahame, on commemorating James Graham, Marquis of Montrose and member of the first Scots Parliament. The debate will be concluded without any question being put.
Motion debated,
That the Parliament notes that 2012 is the 400th anniversary of the birth of James Graham, fifth Earl and first Marquis of Montrose, considered to be one of Scotland’s finest battlefield commanders, poet and political thinker, and, as a member of the first Scottish Parliament from 1636 until 1641, he was a commissioner on the Committee of Estates, which acted to some extent as a committee of public safety, and became the formal opposition to the king; notes that there will be a service of commemoration at St Giles Cathedral on 21 May where his embalmed heart and bones are interred; considers that this important period of 17th century Scotland is little known and little taught despite its relevance to the current constitutional debate in Scotland, and believes that it is further evidence that Scots should be more aware of their own distinct history as the constitutional present and the future are the progeny of the past.
17:11
It is a privilege and quite strange to find myself, a Grahame and a member of the Scottish Parliament since 1999, addressing members about an ancestor—the e in my name was a later addition—who was a member of a somewhat different but ancient Scottish Parliament, which nevertheless appears to have exercised some influence and control of the then Government, which was the monarchy.
I lodged the motion to remind the Parliament of its ancient roots. The first Scottish Parliament was a unicameral Parliament that was first mentioned on record in the 13th century, when a meeting took place in Kirkliston in 1235. The Parliament met until prorogued sine die at the time of the Act of Union 1707, and until Winnie Ewing said on 12 May 1999:
“I want to begin with the words that I have always wanted either to say or to hear someone else say: the Scottish Parliament, which adjourned on 25 March 1707, is hereby reconvened.”—[Official Report, 12 May 1999; c 5.]
Some of us were there and a tingle went up our spines.
I want to remind members of the man born 400 years ago, whose execution on 21 May 1650 at the Mercat Cross just up the Royal Mile will be commemorated in St Giles cathedral on Monday. His head was fixed on a spike in the Tolbooth and his limbs were fixed to the gates of Stirling, Glasgow, Perth and Aberdeen.
In those long gone days, people did not just lose power or position; they lost their heads. Today, politicians or soldiers can be consigned to the back benches or elevated to the Lords—they could even become a columnist—but in those times, they lost their lives in the most callous and cruel fashion.
I move to the beginning, and the birth of a renaissance man who was a politician, a leader, a military commander and a poet. He achieved all that between 1612 and 1650 in what we would consider a short life of 38 years. His beginning was as the only son of John Graham, the 4th Earl of Montrose. His mother died when he was only six. At the age of 12 he was sent to Glasgow to prepare for college. His father died when he was 14 and he became clan chief but, being a minor, he was placed under the tutelage of others.
He went to the University of St Andrews, that ancient university that was founded in 1413. He appears to have been a generous man, as he donated funds for a new library at the University of Glasgow. He was already writing poetry when he went to France and Italy to complete his education, including spending time at a French military academy.
In 1638, at the ripe age of 26, he returned from France and signed the national covenant, which, in short, was to confirm opposition to the Stuart kings interfering in the Presbyterian Church of Scotland. By way of background, members may recall that, from the Tudors through to the Stuarts, kings of England believed in the divine right of kings, which meant that they were not only ruler of the land but head of the church. That thread of history runs from Henry VIII and his dispute with the Pope over the annulment of his marriage to Catherine of Aragon.
That was unpalatable to the Scots and, even to this day, any monarch of Scotland is not head of the Church of Scotland, although they remain head of the Church of England. Therefore, when Charles I thrust upon the Scots the book of common prayer and declared that opposition would be treason, it was like a red rag to a Scottish bull.
It was all about battles for power and the balance of power. Then, monarchs, nobles and the churches were involved, with the covenanters taking on the monarchy. Today, multinationals, Parliaments—international and national—the media and so on all struggle with the balance of power.
However, from leading the covenanters—Montrose led the first regiment of covenanters across the Tweed when the Scots invaded England in the second bishops war—he came to oppose them. Such were the machinations of the time that intercepted correspondence from Montrose to King Charles, in which he criticised Argyll, resulted in Montrose’s arrest on charges of conspiracy against the ruling Committee of Estates. In 1641, he was imprisoned in Edinburgh castle and demanded an open trial. Instead, he was—for political reasons, one could say—released on bail. Think of today’s equivalent: intercepted e-mails, hacked voicemails, police charges, political resignations, public humiliation, people being trailed through the tabloid press, careers in tatters. Plus ça change.
Two years later—and this is a potted version—he opposed the solemn league and covenant, because he suspected that it went beyond its original remit to being a vehicle to undermine the king’s ultimate authority, and he pursued the royalist cause thereafter.
In 1644, his career was on the up. He was appointed lord lieutenant of Scotland and a string of military victories followed, until he suffered a bloody and devastating defeat to the covenanters at Philiphaugh in the Borders in 1645.
Just as happens in all wars, compromise was eventually found and, in due course, Charles did a deal with the covenanters and disavowed Montrose, who was displayed as he was taken to his public execution. The rest, as they say, is history, which is where I came in.
Politics and patronage, principles and pragmatism—there is nothing new in that. The politics of that time shifted as the sand. Principles—I believe that Montrose was a man of principle—fell under the sword of pragmatism. Where can we see that today?
This extraordinary man, whom his chaplain the Rev George Wishart described as
“a most resolute and undaunted spirit”,
has left his own threads of the past to today. He was a man who lived by his own words:
“He either fears his fate too much
Or his deserts are small,
That puts it not unto the touch
To win or lose it all.”
I humbly think that there may be a wee bit of his DNA in me; and, yes, above my fireplace there is the Grahame family crest with the words, “Ne oublie”—never forget—and, yes, I wear a Grahame sash on special occasions.
History—national and personal—matters, so we should not forget the Montroses of our history, the covenanters and all that came before and after, even though our views of them may differ. It is a cliché, but I repeat it nevertheless: you have to know your past to understand your present and, possibly, to determine your future.
17:18
I congratulate Christine Grahame on securing this debate and on succeeding in making Scotland’s story in the mid-17th century a focus for debate in the modern Scottish Parliament.
Christine Grahame emphasised that Scots should be aware of our own history, and that history has much to teach us about our relationships with other countries in these islands and beyond. That is all very true, but from Christine Grahame’s point of view, Montrose’s meteoric career is perhaps, more than anything else, a cautionary tale.
Scotland’s story in the 1630s is fundamentally a tale of chronic disunity and political failure, featuring among other things religious civil war, political and personal betrayal, clan warfare, the sack of Aberdeen and other towns by Montrose’s armies, the slaughter of Gaelic-speaking women and children on a Borders battlefield in the name of reformed religion, and, as Christine Grahame said, politicians who could lose their lives and their family’s livelihoods if they chose to vote the wrong way on the big issues of the day.
Montrose was one such politician. In some ways, he was more principled than many of his contemporaries, but he was nonetheless a man who stood first on one side and then on the other and who paid the ultimate price for failing to square the circle of a deeply divided kingdom. His reputation was built up after his death for much the same political reasons as he was pilloried while he was alive.
Despite Christine Grahame’s good intentions of raising awareness, her motion and, to a degree, her speech underplay the single most important fact about the Marquis of Montrose, which is that he fought and triumphed and finally died in the name of his king, Charles Stuart—“that man of blood”, as he was described by his enemies—who was one of the most determined absolute monarchs in modern Scottish or English history and who faced his executioner rather than countenance any sharing of sovereignty between a king and his subjects. It is little wonder that some members of the Tory party of today who know their Scottish history have signed the motion.
I think that the member is endorsing the part of my speech in which I said that we each have our own view of that part of history.
Indeed.
Montrose was not above a bit of political spin himself. His military reputation was built on battles won, mainly in the north and mainly by Gaelic-speaking clansmen led by Alasdair MacCholla Ciotach ’ic Gilleaspic Fiacal, Alasdair Macdonald of Colonsay, the pioneer of the Highland charge and the scourge of clan Campbell. Montrose did not hesitate to claim the credit for those triumphs or to present Alasdair Macdonald as his deputy rather than his equal, but he was not so quick to take responsibility when things went wrong. To be fair, most of the blame for that lies more with Montrose’s hagiographers rather than with the man himself, but it is an important point.
Christine Grahame’s motion talks of the
“relevance to the current constitutional debate in Scotland”
of Montrose’s life and times. He was alternately a reluctant covenanter and a moderate royalist, whose aim was to restore Charles Stuart to power in Scotland, England and Ireland and to convince his king to govern by consent. His best efforts were not enough to save Scotland from the civil wars that simultaneously engulfed all three kingdoms in the 1640s. There was only one winner in those wars, and the upshot was that Scotland was forced into an incorporating union or commonwealth imposed by the English Parliament and the English republican army, a much less equal union than that which was negotiated two generations later.
By all means, let us mark the anniversary of Montrose’s birth, but let us also remember all the ordinary people who suffered and died on both sides because Scotland’s political leadership in his time failed to resolve their differences peacefully and failed to put the people first.
17:23
I congratulate Christine Grahame on securing the debate. I refer members to the motion that I lodged on the same subject over a year ago, which attracted cross-party support.
On 22 February 1638, a huge crowd assembled in Edinburgh’s Greyfriars kirk to hear King Charles’s proclamation brought from London by the Earl of Traquair. A young man jumped on to an upturned barrel to get a better view as Archibald Johnston of Wariston, black-robed in his lawyer’s gown, delivered the ultimatum that the new prayer book must be used in every Scottish kirk. Standing beside the barrel, John Leslie, the Earl of Rothes, said:
“James Graham, you will never be at rest ’til you are lifted up above the rest in three fathoms of a rope.”
Those proved to be prophetic words.
James Graham stands out as one of Scotland’s famous heroes. He was part heroic and part notorious but, in my view, more a hero. Christine Grahame talked about his great poem, which is an allegory of Scotland. As well as being a military genius, he was an inspired poet. I will not repeat all that Christine Grahame said, but the last two lines state:
“That dares not put it to the touch,
To win or lose it all.”
Those are immortal words. I am told that they may well have inspired Rudyard Kipling’s poem “If”, in which the first two lines of verse 3 state:
“If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss”.
Graham demonstrated promise and, indeed, notoriety at an early age. He was the only boy among six girls, his mother apparently having consulted witches to get the much wanted male heir. I just drank lots of port. He swallowed a toad whole, and a neighbour told his father that
“this child will trouble all of Scotland.”
Graham spent part of his childhood at Rossdhu on Loch Lomond—his sister Lilias having married into the Colquoun family—where he became fit climbing the hills to hunt the red deer. While living at the Graham family seat of Mugdock Castle in Milngavie, he would ride to Glasgow University on his white pony. Later, while studying Greek at St Salvator’s College in St Andrews, he won a silver medal for archery.
Graham defeated six armies of covenanters. For people who want to know more about that, I recommend that they read the forthcoming thriller written by my friend Murdo Fraser, who is sitting next to me. The book will shortly be available in bookshops.
Graham was an unconventional commander, invading Argyll in winter when traditionally the fighting season was closed. However, in December 1645, he took the advice of an Irish priest in his army, who pointed out that, as the wind was from the east, the weather in Argyll would be good. For the assault, Montrose was joined by Irish troops under the leadership of Alasdair MacColla MacDonald—probably a relation of Lewis Macdonald—who was son of the legendary Colkitto, and often called Colkitto himself. Incidentally, kitto means ambidextrous. Colkitto was a giant of a man and wielded a sword with a sliding ball weight of 10 pounds. On the way to Inveraray, he got the MacNabs of Barachastlain to sharpen his great weapon and those of his men. Colkitto and Montrose made a three-pronged attack on Inveraray and roundly defeated the Campbells. Argyll himself only escaped on a boat over Loch Fyne because of the east wind which blew him up the loch, otherwise he probably would have lost his life.
At the battle of Inverlochy, Montrose led his men from the front in one of the greatest flanking marches in British military history, and surprised the Campbells by coming from the back of Ben Nevis. The ambidextrous Colkitto reputedly beheaded Campbell of Auchinbreck with one blow of his mighty sword. History does not relate whether that was a left-handed forward drive or a right-handed haymaker.
The combination of the brain of Montrose and the brawn of MacColla was unstoppable.
I am afraid I have to ask you to conclude.
Oh, right.
When MacColla left, Montrose was greatly weakened and was caught unprepared at Philiphaugh. It was dreadful that he was hanged as a common criminal rather than executed as a nobleman. The final words of that loyal and highly principled man were:
“God have mercy on this afflicted land”,
his beloved Scotland.
17:27
I am grateful to Christine Grahame for bringing the motion before us. The moment we talk about history, we all have our different scripts. It is interesting that several hundred years on we have different slants on what happened. Where does the truth lie?
Like many aristocrats at the time, the first Marquis of Montrose did the grand tour of Europe. It is reported that he studied at a military academy in Angers in France and returned as a brilliant military tactician and a poet, which is an interesting combination that we take for granted, but was not entirely obvious.
Montrose perhaps also demonstrated that it is possible to swap sides in a conflict and still be regarded as an honest and honourable man. Nothing is ever simple, of course, and we should remember that Montrose was a key figure in a bitter and bloody civil war at a time when politics and religion were intertwined and the reformation was relatively recent.
It was the time when Charles I attempted to dilute the hard-won independence of the Scottish Presbyterian church by introducing, among other measures—as we have heard—the book of common prayer. The National Library of Scotland contains a lively contemporary account of what happened next: a mob of women rioted in the high kirk of St Giles and threw a stool at the dean, who luckily managed to duck.
Montrose was one of the leading figures behind the national covenant, which demanded continued independence for the Scottish kirk. Although he fought the armies of the king, he never sought to depose him and apparently was later appalled when the king was beheaded. The covenant expressed loyalty to the king, which was crucial for Montrose.
When Montrose began to suspect that other covenanters, such as Archibald Campbell, the Earl of Argyll, were willing to sacrifice the king for their own political ambitions, Montrose demurred, came out for the king and led an army of Irishmen and Highlanders through the north-east, as we have heard. He also sacked Aberdeen. I suspect that the Aberdonians have never forgotten him, for it was a brutal sacking according to contemporary accounts. He then won a string of victories culminating in the battle of Kilsyth, where he destroyed the last covenanting army in Scotland and was in effect, albeit briefly, master of the nation.
Montrose may have won Scotland but, in the meantime, the royalists in England were beaten. What lay ahead for him was defeat and the slaughter of his army at the battle of Philiphaugh, as we have heard; an ill-fated attempt to raise the Highlands for Charles II, who later dropped him; defeat at the battle of Carbisdale; and betrayal for money by the Macleods of Assynt.
How do we remember Montrose? I suggest that we might remember him as a cultured, principled soldier with an unbending devotion to both the reformed Calvinist church of the time and the king. There are, understandably, people in the sacked city of Aberdeen who have a different view. A local history website records that
“there was some good news in 1650 when the Marquis of Montrose was captured and executed. His arm was sent to Aberdeen and put on public display.”
One wonders how they told one arm from another, but that was the fate of Montrose—hanged and quartered, with his head and limbs scattered around Scotland.
As we have heard, he was executed on 21 May at the market cross in Edinburgh. Eyewitnesses recorded the dignity and grace of his bearing and the generosity of his last words, as I have them—we perhaps do not know the correct order:
“I leave my soul to God, my service to my prince, my goodwill to my friends, my love and charity to you all.”
I commend Christine Grahame for giving us the chance to remember the life of her most eminent clan chief, whose statue stands to this day at the end of the High Street in Montrose, in my constituency. I also commend the excellent Montrose museum, which holds James Graham’s sword.
17:32
I, too, offer my congratulations to Christine Grahame on securing the debate. I was struck by Nigel Don’s comment about Montrose’s arm being sent to Aberdeen. Apparently, there was great disappointment because they had been promised a leg. It is just another example of the inadequacy of the powers that be at the time that things got a bit mixed up.
As the motion and the debate have reflected, this year is the 400th anniversary of the birth of James Graham, the fifth earl and first Marquis of Montrose—a fact that will be celebrated next Monday at St Giles’s Cathedral. The motion tells us that Montrose was rated one of the finest battlefield commanders of his day. It is undoubtedly true that that is how he was rated at the time, but I would not disagree with my colleague Lewis Macdonald, who perhaps has a slightly different slant on his military capabilities. Montrose was celebrated across Europe largely on account of the history of his exploits that was written not long after his first activities by his chaplain, George Wishart, in Latin, which was the academic language of the day. That led to Montrose being offered an appointment as lieutenant general in the French army and the award of the rank of field marshal by the Emperor Ferdinand III.
The motion also tells us that he was a poet, a philosopher and a political thinker, all of which points can be and have been argued both during his life and in the centuries that have followed. The motion does not tell us that he was a contradiction: a man who fought with the covenanters and then became a loyal supporter of the king; a man who was sometimes distrusted by the covenanters with whom he fought and who was later disavowed by the king whom he had served and sentenced to death by the Parliament in which he had served. It seems to me that his career very much reflects the turmoil of the time and the fast pace of the politics of the day. Perhaps he was fairly typical of his class and his time. His efforts as a covenanter, which culminated in the signing of the Cumbernauld bond because of his distrust of some of his fellow covenanters, also show that he had something in common with today’s politicians—but perhaps we should not look into that too seriously.
The motion also asserts that we should be more aware of our distinct history because of the effect that it has on the present. If this period of history teaches us anything, it must be that the peoples of these islands are inextricably linked and that political agendas are framed not only by high principle and deep conviction but by other motivations, too.
Having perhaps injected a slight element of dissent or controversy, something that I am sure James Graham would have been familiar with, I end by saying that he deserves to be remembered as an important Scot with allegiances that were perhaps framed more by religion than by geography, but also as a poet whose works should be more widely read. His best known poem, which has already been mentioned this evening, “My Dear and Only Love”, stands the test of time. I thoroughly recommend to colleagues the version by the Corries, which adds beautiful music to moving words. It is not the only legacy of James Graham’s short life, but if it was, it would be legacy enough.
17:35
I commend Christine Grahame for lodging her motion and congratulate her on securing the debate and on her excellent speech. Indeed, all the speeches in the debate have been excellent. They demonstrate that history is never simple, because there are so many different perspectives. We do not spend enough time in the chamber discussing the history of Scotland. It is important that we do so, for what happened in our past will surely shape our future as a nation. I am therefore all the more pleased to contribute to the debate.
I should declare an interest. As Jamie McGrigor kindly pointed out, I am writing a book based on the rivalry between James Graham, first Marquis of Montrose, and his great adversary, Archibald Campbell, the Marquis of Argyll. I am hoping to have it published next year, at which point I am sure it will be available in all good bookshops at a reasonable price.
As Christine Grahame and other members pointed out, the first Marquis of Montrose was undoubtedly one of Scotland’s great heroes. He is best remembered for championing the cause of Charles I during the Scottish civil war of 1644-45. In the course of a year, which is often referred to as the year of miracles, Montrose defeated no fewer than six armies of the covenanters and made himself the military master of the kingdom. On the battlefield, he displayed genius as a general, ably assisted by his loyal lieutenant the Ulsterman Alastair Macdonald, or Mac Colla, or Colkitto as he is sometimes known. Their partnership swept all before it in a military campaign that is probably unsurpassed by any in Scottish history.
Although Montrose was an outstanding success on the battlefield, it is worth remembering that he was a failure in the field of politics, at least in his lifetime. The cause that he championed was not a popular one with the majority of the Scottish people, particularly in the lowlands, who remained loyal to the covenanting cause. Indeed, Montrose’s employment of Irish Catholic troops and the barbarities for which they were responsible, including the horrific sacking of the city of Aberdeen, which other members have mentioned, served to decrease sympathy for the king among the populace. By the time of Montrose’s eventual defeat by the covenanting General David Leslie at Philiphaugh in September 1645, far from being regarded as a hero, he was undoubtedly viewed as a villain and his defeat was a cause of celebration.
There is always a tendency for us to view history in black and white terms. Every story must have a hero and a villain. Montrose was both a hero and, on occasion, a villain, just as his rival the Marquis of Argyll fulfilled both roles.
After Charles I’s defeat and subsequent execution at the hands of the English parliamentarians, Montrose pledged his sword to his son, who was crowned Charles II. While negotiating with the covenanters, Charles II licensed Montrose to make war against them in his name as a means of cynically enhancing his negotiating position. Montrose was defeated at Carbisdale in Sutherland, betrayed by Neil Macleod of Assynt, delivered to his enemies and then taken to Edinburgh for execution. He received no support from the king to whom he had been so loyal.
Having been stripped of his titles, Montrose was not even allowed the benefit of being beheaded by the maiden, but rather was hanged as a commoner. His head was cut off and put on a spike on the Tolbooth outside St Giles and his limbs were cut off and distributed to four parts of the kingdom by way of a warning to others. It was only on the restoration to the throne of Charles II, 11 years later, that he was given a proper burial, on 11 May 1661. By that point, his great rival the Marquis of Argyll had been imprisoned by Charles in Edinburgh castle for treason and would soon face his own execution by the maiden. His severed head was placed on the very spike that was recently vacated by Montrose’s.
Right or wrong, winner or loser, Montrose was undoubtedly a great Scottish hero who should be celebrated today. I look forward to joining Christine Grahame and others at the memorial service in St Giles on Monday, which will be hosted by the 1st Marquis of Montrose Society, and I hope that future generations will learn more about our great history as a nation.
17:40
The debate has been interesting and challenging in some ways. I was intrigued by the references to the sword by Christine Grahame and Murdo Fraser and to principles. Whether there were or were not principles, Jamie McGrigor even managed to get in gambling. Lewis Macdonald and other members quite properly referred to the civil war.
This is a debate about one of Scotland’s best and most impressive figures. I will leave others to judge whether we might think of him as a hero or villain at various times, but perhaps we should take pride in our history.
Some of what has been said has almost been on the basis of, “I’m a Macdonald,” or, “I’m a McGrigor.” I did not quite hear, “I’m a Fraser,” but I certainly heard, “I’m a Grahame.” Mr Don did not make any such claim, of course, but he did refer to a lady who threw a stool in St Giles cathedral, although he did not name her. Her name was Jenny Geddes and, on my maternal side, I come from a long line of Geddeses. I have investigated my family history, and questions have been asked about whether it was the Protestant or Catholic Geddeses. That fits neatly into the debate, which is about the difficult circumstances in Scotland in the 17th century.
In particular, I commend the hard work of the 1st Marquis of Montrose Society. I believe that some members of that society have joined us in the public gallery.
The life of the Marquis of Montrose is incredibly local for all of us who are sitting in the chamber. Indeed, we have heard virtually personal testimonies of involvement. It is well known that the Macdonalds did not get on with the Campbells and, of course, neither did the MacGregors or the McGrigors—one does not know which. I assume that that is also true of the Grahames, whether or not there was an “e” in the name.
In Parliament Square, we can still see the bronze markers in the cobbles where the 30ft-high gallows were, and we can still see the mercat cross where the severed head of Montrose was displayed for many years—it was followed by the severed head of the Marquis of Argyll. The National Archives of Scotland still holds the various invoices relating to the task and cost of gathering his separated limbs from Glasgow, Perth, Stirling and Aberdeen, where they had been sent after his execution. Eleven years after his death, his severed limbs were returned and interred in the tomb in St Giles. We do not know, of course, whether there was a public audit committee in the Parliament that would have pursued to the last degree the public pound that was spent in extracting revenge for the perceived mistakes and errors that Montrose made. Rather appropriately, his heart was eventually placed in a reliquary that was made from one of his own swords—only for it to go missing during the French revolution.
My colleague Fiona Hyslop, the Cabinet Secretary for Culture and External Affairs, will attend the formal commemorative service for the first Marquis of Montrose on Monday, which is the anniversary of his execution. I know that several members will attend that service—indeed, some have said in the debate that they will do so. I also understand that an exhibition is planned for October to celebrate the 400th anniversary of his birth in 1612.
Montrose contributed to Scotland on two levels. He contributed at a personal level and he contributed to our view of politics and society. As Mr Macdonald pointed out, views on politics are often seen through the prism of the spin doctors of the day and are analysed much later by commentators, some of whom even masquerade as historians—I am not sure whether that is the role that Mr Fraser sees for himself in the future, but one never knows.
Montrose undoubtedly had impressive multiple skills as a writer, a charismatic leader and—rarely for the time—a trained soldier. The physical feats of battle and marching over 2,500 miles in one year of campaigning speak of the man’s personal endurance.
The words “wisdom”, “justice”, “compassion” and “integrity” are woven into the thistles at the head of the mace. We aspire to those principles. As for whether Montrose worked towards them, we will have to await the commentaries. Perhaps even Mr Fraser might wish to consider that as he debates the rivalry between Argyll and Montrose.
The words on the mace at the front of the chamber certainly represent the Scottish people’s aspirations for their members of the current Parliament. We can see that, in some ways, those qualities were abundant in the first marquis. He retained those qualities even at the end of his life. When paraded through the streets of Edinburgh in a tumbrel in front of an angry mob, he maintained his dignity. The mob eventually fell quiet and, as Mr Don told the Parliament, Montrose still found the grace at the end of his life to utter:
“I leave my soul to God, my service to my prince, my goodwill to my friends, my love and charity to you all”.
In his second role, as a political philosopher, Montrose’s contribution was arguably more remarkable. Another great Scottish figure, John Buchan, recognised that in his 1913 biography “The Marquis of Montrose”. Montrose wrestled with the concept of sovereignty and the need for the consent of the governed. He did not subscribe to the divine right of kings and argued for an inclusiveness in society that was centuries ahead of his time and dangerously heretical for him during the time that the covenanters held sway in Scotland. He argued that there certainly had to be a body that exercises sovereignty but, unusually for the time, he said that sovereignty must be moderate in application and exercised for the benefit of all.
Education Scotland and Historic Scotland have developed resources to support teaching and learning on James Graham, Marquis of Montrose, and on clan Graham. The curriculum encourages practitioners to work in partnership with partners, such as the 1st Marquis of Montrose Society, to further support such learning.
All children and young people should have the opportunity to learn about Scotland’s history, heritage and culture. That has been strengthened by the Scottish Government’s manifesto commitment to Scottish studies, and we are taking forward the recommendations of the Scottish studies working group. Some excellent resources have been produced, including the Scotland’s history website, which is now part of a one-stop shop—the studying Scotland resource. We have also enabled access to a wide range of heritage education through the school visits travel subsidy scheme, which covers all Historic Scotland properties, a number of National Trust for Scotland sites and the New Lanark world heritage site.
Meeting closed at 17:48.