Blog

Trailer Season 1 – Full Transcript

La Garde Ecossaise: A journey through seventeenth century history – Trailer.

Hello! My name is Dr Kirsteen MacKenzie, historian and academic and I would love to take you on a journey through seventeenth century history. Everyone is welcome to come along while we explore one of the most fascinating and turbulent periods in history, a period full of wars, revolutions, crises, political change, and conspiracy. This is the official podcast of the La Garde Ecossaise novels whose purpose is to educate and inspire interest in seventeenth century history.

This podcast is for those of you who are enjoying the novels and want to learn a little bit more about the history behind the novels. Or those of you who are just interested in learning more about seventeenth century history.

This podcast is also for students studying early modern history courses at college or university. Indeed, the novels purposefully cover many of the key events of the seventeenth century, events that are covered in many survey courses on the seventeenth century. I like to think of the book as a textbook for an early modern history course, masquerading as a historical fiction novel.

Although the characters are fictional, many of the events are not and I have tried to cover as much ground as I can in each novel whilst keeping the book informative and entertaining.

The series La Garde Ecossaise is a seven-book series. Each book will explore the life of one of six elite soldiers that served Louis XIV between 1643 and 1715. In exploring their whole life story, it allows us to explore their lives and development before they enter French service, their fortunes during their service to the Sun King and ultimately their retirement. It is through these six very different lives and individual journeys that the interesting and vast expanse of seventeenth century history will be explored.

So please come and join me as we explore the seventeenth century together through the eyes of these six truly remarkable men.

‘Good morrow dear listeners my name is Robert Meldrum, notary, archivist and member of King Louis XIV’s La Garde Ecossaise. I am delighted to make your acquaintance. Please lend me your ears and your time. I will show you the times I lived in and the remarkable events that took place during the lifetimes of the men I had the privilege to serve alongside. I look forward to meeting you soon’.

Introduction – Full Transcript

Hello and a very warm welcome to the La Garde Ecossaise podcast. This is the official podcast of the La Garde Ecossaise novels hosted by me, Dr Kirsteen M MacKenzie.

I am so glad that you have taken the time to join me as I discuss the novels in greater depth and the historical events which inspired them.

This podcast is for those of you who are enjoying the novels and want to learn a little bit more about the history behind the novels.

Although the characters are fictional, many of the events are not and I have tried to cover as much ground as I can in each novel whilst keeping the book informative and entertaining.

The book is available to buy from Amazon, KOBO, Apple Books, Google Books, Waterstones in the UK and Barnes and Noble in the US. It is also available from many different retailers in Europe. See the website www.lagardeecossaise.net for further details.

The podcasts will closely mirror the contents of each chapter and will explore the real people and events mentioned within them. The podcast is also available as a videocast on YouTube with interesting and helpful visuals. There are also subtitles on YouTube for those who are hard of hearing. You will find transcripts of these podcasts on the La Garde Ecossaise blogs. Please visit the website at www.lagardeecossaise.net to take a look.

The first book of La Garde Ecossaise will explore the various major topics and events in early modern history including:

Scottish church history, Episcopacy and Presbyterianism.

early modern London, early modern France, intelligence and spies, weapons, and skills,

early modern Ireland, the Plantation of Ulster, and the 1641 rebellion,

Wars of the Three Kingdoms, Scottish Highlands, Gaelic culture and lifecycles, Covenanters, Irish and Scottish Royalism,

Thirty Years War,

French Wars of Religion,

Early Modern Spain, The Catalonian revolt

Ottoman Empire

The Fronde

Early Modern printing press and pamphlets.

Salons and ‘good conversation’ in early modern France

Franco-Dutch war (1672-1678).

There is a dedicated website for the novel series with the official podcast recordings and transcripts on the site’s blog plus further resources. The website is specifically designed to support students of history at college, and university. You will find all this information at:

www.lagardeecossaise.net

You can also follow me on social media on:

Twitter @kirsteenmm

Instagram @earlymodernkirsteenmm

Facebook

Pinterest @drkirsteenmmackenzie

Now I should like to take the time to introduce myself properly. My name is Dr Kirsteen MacKenzie and I have an MA (hons) history degree and a history PhD from the University of Aberdeen in Scotland. I am an academic historian and published my first academic book with Routledge in 2017 on Oliver Cromwell and the Covenants. During lockdown as the archives and libraries were closed so I decided to embark on writing historical fiction.

Inspiration for the novel came from various directions and has all come together in the one place. I spent my school holidays in Yvelines with my godparents who took me to Versailles on several occasions which ignited my fascination for Louis XIV.

I subsequently found out whilst doing my family history, that an ancestor served in the bodyguard of Louis XVIII and most recently during the final stages of the book that I also discovered that my direct ancestor George Gordon, 2^nd Marquess of Huntly, raised a gendarmes regiment during the reign of Louis XIII.

Lastly, but certainly not least, the novel is a homage to Franco-British military cooperation through the centuries.

That is enough about me and the novel… let’s get started!

You are listening to episode 1 of the La Garde Ecossaise podcast. In this episode we examine the section ‘To the Reader.’

Hello and a very warm welcome to the La Garde Ecossaise podcast. This is the official podcast of the La Garde Ecossaise novels hosted by me, Dr Kirsteen M MacKenzie.

The men in the book are entirely fictional but the times and the events they lived in are real. In this podcast I will tease out fact and fiction for you and, in doing so, I hope to introduce you to this fascinating period of history.

The book La Garde Ecossaise, is available to buy from Amazon, KOBO, Apple Books, Google Books, Waterstones in the UK and Barnes and Noble in the US. It is also available from many different retailers in Europe. See the website www.lagardeecossaise.net for further details.

I am so glad that you have taken the time to join me as I discuss the novels in greater depth and the historical events which inspired them.

This podcast is for those of you who are enjoying the novels and who want to learn that little bit more about the history behind the books. You are in the right place.

The podcasts will closely mirror the contents of each chapter in the novels and explore the real people and events mentioned within them. The podcast is also available as a videocast on YouTube with interesting and helpful visuals. There are also subtitles for those who are hard of hearing. You will find transcripts of these podcasts on the La Garde Ecossaise blogs. Please visit the website at www.lagardeecossaise.net to take a look.

Let us begin today’s episode.

To the Reader

We are introduced to La Garde Ecossaise by our narrator Robert Meldrum who is the main voice of the novels. Meldrum becomes a member of the Garde in the 1670s and later becomes their notary and archivist.

Meldrum is narrating the stories of La Garde Ecossaise by going through the archives which include, mission reports, verbal testimonies, and written correspondence. Meldrum has, in effect, compiled a diary and an account of La Garde’s actions.

However, we are being shown hitherto private materials as this particular unit within the La Garde Ecossaise is a hidden elite unit who are tasked with combating and eliminating covert activities by the enemies of Louis XIV. Yet, if we look at the first novel, we know that Meldrum provides us with a comprehensive memoir of John Hamilton’s early life and times from his birth in Ulster, his time living in Scottish Highlands, his time as a solider in the Thirty Years War and his elevation to the inner circles of the French State under Cardinal Mazarin and King Louis XIV.

Meldrum opens the novel by writing a justification for his publication of the journals of the La Garde Ecossaise entitled ‘To the Reader’. These were common in printed books during the seventeenth century and were usually an explanation as to why the author felt compelled to write the book. Sometimes it would include a dedication to the book’s patron.

From the outset, Meldrum reveals his reasons for writing the book; i.e the adverse impact of the 1715 Jacobite Rebellion on the Franco-British relationship.

The 1715 Rebellion and French Involvement

Historian, Daniel Szechi, who has written the most authoritative account of the rebellion, has called the 1715 Jacobite rebellion ‘the orphan child’ of the Jacobite rebellions. It has certainly been overshadowed by the more famous rising in 1745-1746.[2] He goes on to comment that compared to the protracted Jacobite War between 1689-1692 and the Jacobite rising of 1745-1746 the 1715 looks like ‘a damp squib’.[3] However, although it ultimately failed, the 1715 should certainly not be written off or overlooked. Out of all the Jacobite risings, the rising in 1715 had the best chance of success and the threat posed to the Hanoverian state was very real indeed.[4]

Effectively, Jacobites wanted to re-establish the former Stuart government and Stuart monarchy which had been deposed by William of Orange in 1688 and the Hanoverian dynasty after Queen Anne’s death in 1714. Thus, the 1715 Jacobite rising renewed civil war across Britain and Ireland and during the ’15 families across the country chose their respective sides.[5]

The roots of the 1715 rising in Scotland lie in the disenchantment with the 1707 Union, particularly in Scotland, where the economic benefits of the Union were slow in coming. In addition, there were those amongst the Scottish elite who genuinely resented the loss of Scotland’s sovereignty and the abolition of its own parliament.[6] In England, English Tories, the political party well-disposed to the Jacobite cause, began to support the idea of a rising on the back of discontent with Whig policy and popular unrest in English society. On 6 September 1715, John Erskine, the Earl of Mar, raised the Jacobite standard in Braemar and declared King James III, the exiled Stuart monarch, to be the rightful King of Britain and Ireland

However, the 1715 rebellion failed because English Jacobites stood still and wanted foreign troops to do the fighting for them. This stood in contrast to Scottish Jacobites who had been gathering arms since the winter of 1714,[9] but the Scottish side of the rising had its problems too. There was a failed attempt by Jacobites to seize Edinburgh Castle on 8 September 1715 because they had dispensed with the original plan which was a coordinated rising on 15 September 1715. Clan leaders, such as the Earls of Huntly and MacDonald of Glengarry, mobilised their men slowly and Cameron of Locheil felt inhibited from raising any men at all given his proximity to Fort William. Ordinary clansmen resented being dragged off to war during the harvest and the men they managed to raise were supplied with private arms at the personal expense of the landed elite and as such, supplies were limited.[10] This stood in contrast to Hanoverian regiments which were composed of hardened and well trained and experienced veterans from the Spanish War of Succession who were armed from the military resources of the British State and with their wages paid by the British treasury. The British State also had the Royal Navy and its constant patrolling of British waters restricted the movement of supplies and men from France to Britain.

Further military problems for the Jacobites revealed themselves at the Battle of Sherrifmuir on 13 November 1715. There was a disconnect between the Lowland and Highland regiments due to the different ways they conducted warfare. Furthermore, there was the language barrier between the English speakers and the Highlanders who spoke Scottish Gaelic. These men were also cold, hungry, and not in the best condition to go into battle. After the Battle of Sherrfimuir the Jacobite rank and file deserted in droves. The Hanoverians, sensing weakness were hell bent on victory.[12] However, a Jacobite army composed of both Highlanders and Lowlanders did manage to cross the English border on 1 November 1715 and headed towards Preston. The Jacobites entered the town but scouts loyal to the Hanoverian regime quickly informed the Hanoverian army and it was decided by the Hanoverian command to immediately attack. The Hanoverians successfully blockaded the city. English Jacobites lost their nerve and Preston soon capitulated to the Hanoverian forces.

The 1715 rising in Scotland was doomed despite large numbers of Scots, possibly as much as 20,000, joining the Jacobite side. Szechi states the rising’s failure was due to the poor leadership of the Earl of Mar who lacked military experience. Mar had spent too much time languishing in Perth waiting for French support which never came and this contributed to the Jacobites defeat at Sherrifmuir on 13 November 1715.

What was the role of France in all of this and why, after the 1715 rising, had the Franco-British relationship taken a turn for the worse?

France had been the major supporter of the Jacobite movement and exiled Stuart Royal family since the family were deposed in the revolution in 1688. The Stuart royal family had lived in St Germain en Laye with the blessing of King Louis XIV. Interestingly, Louis XIV and King James II, King James IIIs father, were in fact cousins. Despite the cynicism within the French government felt towards the Jacobite cause they gave support to the Jacobites in 1689-1696 and in 1708. During this time France had planned and prepared multiple invasion forces. French forces had landed in Ireland in 1690 and French fleets had made their way to Scotland in 1708. So, French help for the Jacobite cause was a reality and the Hanoverian regime could not ignore it.[15]

Louis XIV died in September 1715, three months before King James III landed in Scotland. At that time the Jacobites had a ‘now or never’ attitude when it came to the cause and France saw an opportunity to intervene in British affairs for benefit of France. The rising dominance of Britain in Europe, and its growing global empire, was a key motivation for France to support the Jacobite cause. Indeed, one of the key questions is whether the French genuinely supported the Jacobite cause or whether the French were thereby using the Jacobites for their own ends.[16] The French promised 20,000 troops[17] but this promise never materialised and this did contribute to the failure of the rebellion. In addition, Mar had halted his army at Perth whilst waiting for the Duke of Berwick who was a naturalised Frenchman, the Marshal of France and James IIs illegitimate son to arrive but the Duke of Berwick did not appear, fearing displeasure from French Royal circles. When King James III landed in Peterhead on 22 December 1715 he had a small war chest and a small units bodyguards. It was certainly not the French support that the Jacobites were expecting.[18]

Meldrum in La Garde Ecossaise is resident in Paris. He therefore knew the likely outcome of the rebellion and in the novel he is hinting at a possible reconciliation between Hanoverian Britain and France.

Our narrator Robert Meldrum openly declares to the reader ‘I am neither Whig nor Jacobite’. Whether you believe him or not I will leave it up to you but he is trying to convince the reader of his neutrality.

Whigs and Tories

But what did it mean to be ‘a Whig’? What did it mean to be a ‘Jacobite’? The politics of Britain in the early eighteenth century was dominated by these two factions which were reflected in the political parties that had already emerged in England and Scotland before the Act of Union in 1707.The Jacobites were commonly known as ‘Tories’ and broadly speaking they supported the exiled Stuart Royal family. The Whigs were the Hanoverians; natural supporters when they had assumed the throne in 1714 after the death of Queen Anne.

The Tories were largely associated with the English and Scottish aristocracy and those quietly loyal to the exiled Royal House of Stuart. The English Tories were associated with the Church of England, or the Anglican church. Tories were more likely to be High Anglicans, those members of the Church of England who put an emphasis on religious ceremony and Bishops. English Tories also included English aristocrats who were Catholic.

In Scotland a similar development had taken place as Scottish Tories gravitated towards Scottish Episcopacy and, like their English Tory counterparts they believed in the place of Bishops and ceremonies within the church of Scotland. Episcopalians believed that the monarch should have some say on how the church is governed. Yet, in contrast to England, the monarch was not the head of the church. Episcopalians were major supporters of the Jacobite cause, particularly during the 1715 rebellion. Like England, Scottish Catholics gravitated towards the Tory party as their natural allies.[20]

By way of contrast, the Whig party, broadly speaking, were drawn from the minor landowners and the middle classes who had risen in wealth through enterprise and global trade. The Whigs were also dominated by lawyers. English Whigs in particular believed in the sanctity of English Common Law and English Parliamentary liberties. For English Whigs, the English Parliament was at the centre of the English constitution and not the monarchy. In terms of religion the Whigs were dominated by Protestant dissenters or low Anglicans within the Church of England, who believed in a church without Bishops or ceremonies. Low Anglican and dissenter church services were dominated by sermons. Many worshipped in their own church services and were split into various groups including Baptists, Quakers, and Presbyterians. They had been advocates of the revolution in 1688 which had disinherited King James II from the throne. They viewed James IIs deposition as a necessary step to defend parliamentary and religious liberties against a creeping and dangerous Catholicism. At worst, the exiled Stuarts were seen as agents of this Catholic threat evidenced by the fact that the exiled Stuart court was resident in Catholic France. [21]

In Scotland the Whigs were dominated by sons of Covenanters and staunch Presbyterians who had been persecuted during the reigns of Charles II and James II Some of these Whigs been resident at the court of William of Orange, the Dutch Stadholder before he deposed James II in the Glorious Revolution in 1688 and who subsequently became King William III of Britain and Ireland.[22]

Hence why Meldrum tries to assure English Protestant readers that although he has lived in France for many years, he is still a confirmed Protestant (Spoiler alert – at heart anyway!).

We will revisit these political and religious fault lines throughout the novels so it is best to introduce them at this early stage.

British and French Communities 1603-1715

Meldrum alludes to the ‘communities in both nations in our native lands who love both the land of their birth and their exiled communities’. Here Meldrum is talking about French immigrant communities in Britain and Ireland, as well as British immigrant communities in France. These immigrant communities could be found at all levels of society and in several professions. For now, I will give a brief overview:

The French in Britain and Ireland

Royalty – Queen Henrietta Maria of Britain and Ireland, wife of King Charles I was the sister of Louis XIII of France and in fact, she met King Charles I, then Prince of Wales, in Paris in 1623 and in 1624 a treaty was drawn up between Britain and France. As part of this treaty Prince Charles was to be married to the French Princess, Henrietta Maria. Between 1624 and 1625 Prince Charles sent a stream of love letters across the Channel to his prospective bride exuding romantic words and genuine excitement about the forthcoming marriage. Unfortunately, the marriage was delayed due to the French and British arguing over the position of the Catholic faith in Britain. It was illegal to practise Catholic Mass in Britain and the Catholic Church held on to the Pope’s dispensation for the marriage until changes in British law were made. However, with Prince Charles’s father, King James I of Britain and Ireland dying, King Louis XIII recognised the urgency of the situation and decreed that if the Papal dispensation for the marriage did not arrive in 30 days, the marriage would go ahead regardless. King James I, who was already extremely ill, died soon after Louis XIII gave his approval for the marriage. Due to King Charles I’s ascension to the British and Irish thrones the marriage ceremony took place at in Notre Dame in 1625 without the groom. In fact the marriage between Henrietta Maria and King Charles I took place by proxy, with the Duc of Chevreuse standing in for King Charles I as Henrietta Maria took her marriage vows. As historian Katie Whittaker, succinctly puts it ‘Henrietta was now queen of a country she had never seen, whose language she did not speak’.[23] Despite British admiration for French culture, for most of King Charles Is reign Henrietta Maria was viewed with deep suspicion from English Protestants who wished to reform the Church of England further. These people were known as Puritans. They regarded the Pope as the Antichrist, bent on destroying the Protestant religion in Britain and also regarded Queen Henrietta Maria as a willing agent for the Papacy’s plans to bring Britain back into the bosom of the Catholic church.[24]

Diplomacy – There were several French diplomats sent to Britain in the seventeenth century. These diplomats often came with their own staff from their own countries and it was a self-contained community.

Industry and Trade – There where also those traders who emigrated to Britain most famously the Huguenots, French Protestants who settled in London, Norwich and in the Midlands but also in Ireland, Dublin, and Ulster. Their skills were essential to the development of the textile industries such as lace, linen, and ‘Norwich craepe’ a silk gauze created by the Huguenot community in the city. The Huguenots in London also contributed heavily to the development of watchmaking and the silversmith industries in Britain.

Soldiers – French soldiers were present during James IIs campaign in Ireland against William of Orange from 1689-1691. French soldiers, especially Protestant Huguenots, supported William of Orange during the same campaign.

The British and Irish in France

Royalty – The Stuart Royal Family spent periods of time in France as exiles. Most notably King Charles II and King James II. Charles II spent time in exile in France from 1646 to 1655. It was natural, given the execution of his father King Charles I that Charles II should go to France to be with his mother, Henrietta Maria, a princess of France and his brother, James, Duke of York. However, due to a treaty that Cardinal Mazarin made with Oliver Cromwell in the mid-1650s the Stuart exiled court French connections were curtailed and resided in the Spanish Netherlands where Charles II was forced to try and gain support from the Court of Spain[28].

The second major period was from 1688-1718 when Louis XIV of France allowed James II and his successors,, who had fled Britain after the Dutch invasion of William of Orange to settle in Saint-Germain en Laye. Louis XIV was a first cousin of both Charles II and James II. The Stuarts and Bourbons were a close family. Louis XIV, Charles II and James II grew to know Louis XIV and the French court during the 1650s.[29]

Aristocracy – It was not just the British Stuart Kings that came to live in France but their Royal courts moved with them to France as well. These exiled courts functioned as proper Royal courts projecting the monarch’s authority abroad. There was a King’s Counsel with chosen aristocrats who held key offices of State and a King’s Household just as they would have done so in Britain. Both Charles IIs court and James IIs court were seen as threats to the established British and Irish governments of the time, whether that be the English Republic under Oliver Cromwell in the 1650s or Williamite governments of the 1680s and 1690s. The threat from these exiled Royal courts should not be underestimated. The Jacobite courts in the later seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries cast a permanent shadow over Williamite and early Hanoverian Britain.[30]

Diplomacy – Just as there were French diplomats resident in England, there were British diplomats’ resident in France with their own embassies and staff. Henry Rich, Lord Kensington, was the ambassador to France from 1623-1624 tasked with facilitating the treaty which led to the marriage between Princess Henrietta Maria and Prince Charles, later King Charles I. Sir George Goring was then sent over to Paris to complete the marriage articles and brought a letter from Louis XIII to King James I at the time of James Is death in March 1625. George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, was then sent over to Paris to meet Queen Henrietta Maria and take her to London.[31] This latter journey may be vaguely familiar to you, Alexandre Dumas used the embassy of the Duke of Buckingham as inspiration for a storyline in the Three Musketeers where the Musketeers are dispatched to collect jewels that the Queen of France had given to Buckingham.[32]

Merchants and Trade – Whereas in Britain there were communities of French residents and exiles who contributed to industry in Britain, there were British communities in France that facilitated trade between the two countries. Most notably, for our purposes, many Scottish merchants traded in wine and brandy from Bordeaux. Wine would not be bought but was exchanged with goods from Britain including cloth and fish.[33] The Irish also traded in wine from France in the seventeenth century[34] and throughout the centuries English traders traded in French wine leading to the evolution of wine production in the Medoc region near Bordeaux.[35]

Religious exiles – There was also a significant number of British and Irish Catholics living in France. The proximity of France to Britain meant that France became a natural haven for Catholics from Britain and Ireland who had to flee persecution as practicing Mass was still illegal in the seventeenth century.[36] There were also communities of clerics that taught at the Catholic colleges in France. These Colleges acted as schools for older male pupils and universities giving students skills for life. Some of these male students would have become priests but after the Protestant Reformation Catholics were prohibited from attending British universities. As a result, these institutions became educational establishments for sons of the leading Catholic gentry in Britain and Ireland. Colleges were organised by nationality, there was an English College in France for members of the English gentry, Scots Colleges in France for the sons of the Scottish gentry and Irish Colleges for members of the Irish gentry. An English College was located in Douai, Scots Colleges were to be found in Douai and Paris and there were Irish Colleges in Bordeaux, Toulouse, and Paris. [37]

Soldiers – There were also Scottish, Irish and English soldiers serving in the French armies during the seventeenth century, particularly during the Thirty Years War. We see this in the La Garde Ecossaise novels when John Hamilton joins French forces in 1643.[39] However, there were also well-established regiments that formed part of the French King’s bodyguard from Scotland, England and Ireland. Of course, our novel, La Garde Ecossaise, is most closely associated with the Scottish guard. Our group of men are clearly fictitious but the regiment is not. The regiment was founded in the Middle Ages but had become smaller in size by the 1600s.[40] It was essentially Scottish men in arms on loan to the King of France from the King of Britain and, as such, when France and Britain were on different sides in a war, loyalty in these Scottish, English, and Irish regiments could easily become conflicted and painful for those serving.[41] In the 1670s Louis XIV consolidated these regiments into a British brigade which upset the Irish deeply because they did not see themselves as British and regarded their integration into such a brigade as a slur against their identity and culture. Unsurprisingly, Louis XIV was unsympathetic to their protests.[42]

In future podcasts we will delve more deeply into these Franco-British and Franco-Irish communities in greater detail, as well as Jacobites and Williamites, Whigs and Tories.

I hope you have enjoyed this podcast.

Just a reminder that the historical fiction novel La Garde Ecossaise is available from all good bookstores.

If any of the topics in this podcast have interested you today and you would like to know more, further resources, including recommended reading, websites, digital resources, and social media can be found at www.lagardeecossaise.net These resources have been organised by podcast and by reading order in the novels with corresponding page numbers.

I look forward to joining you again next week for the next episode of the La Garde Ecossaise podcast where we will explore religious controversy and war in seventeenth century Scotland.

Until then, au revoir, A bientôt.

[1] Sarah Werner, Studying Early Printed Books 1450-1800 (Oxford, 2019) 92, 110.

[2] Daniel Szechi, 1715: The Great Jacobite Rebellion (New Haven, 2006) 2

[3] Szechi, 1715 2-3.

[4] Daniel Szechi, The Jacobites: Britain and Europe 1688-1788 (Manchester, 1994) 73.

[5] Szechi 1715 4-8

[6] Szechi 1715 14-16, 43.

[7] Szechi, The Jacobites 75.

[8] Szechi, 1715 51.

[9] Szechi, 1715 93-94.

[10] Szechi 1715 110-111, 124, 131, 134.

[11] Szechi, 1715 127, 131, 140.

[12] Szechi 1715 153-154, 160, 162.

[13] Szechi, 1715 174-181; Szechi, The Jacobites 76.

[14] Szechi, The Jacobites 77-78.

[15] Szechi 1715 78

[16] Szechi, 1715 79.

[17] Szechi, 1715 89.

[18] Szechi 1715 163; Szechi, The Jacobites 78.

[19] D L Smith, A History of the Modern British Isles 1603-1707 (Oxford, 1998) 259-260, 390; Mark Kishlansky, A Monarchy Transformed Britain 1603-1714 (London, 1997) 318

[20] Murray G.H. Pittock, Jacobitism (London, 1998) 27-29.

[21] Smith, A History of the Modern British Isles 259-260 391; Kishlansky, A Monarchy Transformed 318.

[22] Tim Harris, Revolution: The Great Crisis of the British Monarchy, 1685-1720 (London, 2006) 368.

[23] Katie Whittaker, A Royal Passion: The Turbulent Marriage of Charles I and Henrietta Maria (London, 2011). Loc 504, Loc 795-818, Loc 869-873 Kindle.

[24] Adam Morton, ‘Sanctity and Suspicion: Catholicism, Conspiracy and the representation of Henrietta Maria of France and Catherine of Braganza, Queens of Britain in Queen’s Consort, Cultural Transfer and European Politics 1500-1800 ed., by Helen Wantanbe-O’Kelly and Adam Morton (Abingdon, 2017). pp. 172-201.

[25] C H Firth, Notes on the Diplomatic Relations between England and France 1603-1688 (Oxford, 1906).

[26] Frank Meers, The Welcome Stranger: Dutch, Walloon and Huguenot incomers to Norwich 1550-1750 (Norwich, 2018). Pp. 167-177. Ruth Whelan, ‘Promised Land: Selling Ireland to the French Protestants’ Proceedings of the Huguenot Society of Great Britain and Ireland 29:1 (2008) pp. 37-50. Ruth Whelan, ‘The Huguenots and the imaginative geography of Ireland: a planned immigration scheme in the 1680s’ Irish Historical Studies 35, 140 (2006-7) pp.477-495; Robin D Gywnn, Huguenot Heritage: the history and contribution of the Huguenots in Britain (Brighton, 2001). B J Cottret The Huguenots in England: Immigration and Settlement c.1550-1700 (London, 1992).

[27] J G Simms, Jacobite Ireland 1685-91 (Dublin, 2000) 60-73, 122, 129, 131-132, 149, 165, 178, 221-223.

[28] Antonia Fraser, King Charles II (London, 2002) p. 179-197.

[29] Fraser, King Charles II p. 179-197. Edward Corp, A Court in Exile: The Stuarts in France, 1689-1718 (Cambridge, 2004) p. 158-179; F.J. McLynn, France and the Jacobite Rising of 1745 (Edinburgh, 1981) 1-11.

[30][30] Fraser, King Charles 115-197; Corp, A Court in Exile p. 104-157.

[31] Notes on the diplomatic relations of England and France p. 8

[32] Alexandre Dumas, The Three Musketeers (London, 2006) 133-141.

[33] Steve Murdoch, ‘The French Connection: Bordeaux’s ‘Scottish’ Networks in Context c.1670-1720 in Giles Liedyer eds., Scotland and Europe: Scotland in Europe (Newcastle, 2007) pp. 26-55; Siobhan Talbot. Conflict, Commerce and Franco-Scottish Relations 1560-1713 (London, 2015) 119-124.

[34] H F Kearney, ‘The Irish Wine Trade 1614-1615’ Irish Historical Studies 9:3 (1954-1955) 400-42.

[35] R Piajassou, ‘Le marché de Londres et la naissance des grands crus Médocains (fin 17^e siècle debout 18^e siècle’ Revue historique de Bordeaux et du Département de la Gironde ns 23 (1974) 139-50.

[36] The literature on Catholics and their position in early modern England, Ireland and Scotland is vast. For an overview of the subject see Robert E Scully and Angela Ellis eds., A Companion to Catholicism and Recusancy in Britain and Ireland: from Reformation to Emancipation (Leiden, 2022).

[37]Patrick Ferte, ‘List of Superiors of the Irish College, Toulouse (1618-1793) Archivum Hibernicum (2010) 285-298; Patrick O’Connor, ‘The Irish College in Paris: from penal days seminary to Irish cultural centre’ in Franco-Irish Connections: essays, memoirs, and poems in honour of Pierre Joannon ed., Jane Conroy and Pierre Joannon (Dublin, 2009) pp. 258-268; Michael Sharrat, ‘Theology and Philosophy at the English College Douai: A Handlist of Sources’ History of Universities 18.2 (2003) 197-225; Thomas M McCoog, ‘Replant the uprooted tree of faith’: the Society of Jesus and the Continental Colleges for Religious exiles’ in Robert Armstrong and Tadhg O’hAnnrachain eds., Insular Christianity: alternative models of the church in Britain and Ireland c.1570-1700 (Dublin, 2013) pp. 28-48.

[38] Steve Murdoch and Alexia Grosjean, Alexander Leslie and Scottish Generals of the Thirty Years War, 1618-1648 (London, 2015); Steve Murdoch ed., Scotland and the Thirty Years War 1618-1648 (Brill, 2001).

[39] Kirsteen M Mackenzie, La Garde Ecossaise : The Life of John Hamilton 1620-1689: Part 1 (Aberdeen, 2022) pp. 269-236.

[40] Matthew Glozier, Scottish Soldiers in France in the Reign of the Sun King: Nursery for Men of Honour (Leiden, 2004) p. 31-37.

[41] Glozier, Scottish Soldiers in France pp. 181-203.

[42] Glozier, Scottish Soldiers in France pp. 134-153.

Early Modern Scottish Religion – Full Transcript

You are listening to episode 2 of the La Garde Ecossaise podcast. In this episode we examine the section ‘To the Reader and chapter 1 ‘Edinburgh and Leith 1672’

Hello and a very warm welcome to the La Garde Ecossaise podcast. This is the official podcast of the La Garde Ecossaise novels hosted by me, Dr Kirsteen M MacKenzie.

The men in the book are entirely fictional but the times and the events they lived in were real. In this podcast I will tease out fact and fiction for you and in doing so I hope to introduce you to this fascinating period of history.

I am so glad that you have taken the time to join me as I discuss the novels in greater depth and the historical events which inspired them.

This podcast is for those of you who are enjoying the novels and those of you who want to learn that little bit more about the history behind the novels. You are in the right place.

This podcast is also for students studying early modern history courses at college or university. Indeed, the novels purposefully cover many of the key events of the seventeenth century, events that are covered in many survey courses on the period. I like to think of the book as a textbook for an early modern history course masquerading as a historical fiction novel.

Let us begin today’s episode.

In ‘To the Reader’ Meldrum writes as follows ‘Scotland was being threatened by religious tensions’. Meldrum then proceeds to take us quickly through four decades of religious tensions. This episode will explain the religious changes Scotland experienced during the early modern period. It will then reflect upon parish life within a small village such as Corstorphine, and give a glimpse into Meldrum’s life before his journey to Paris. However, to explain these religious changes fully I have to take you back to the Scottish Reformation in 1560.

The Scottish Reformation: From the Auld Alliance to the Auld Enemy

Before 1560 Scotland was a Catholic country and, as such, it was part of a wider European Catholic culture, for example, a Scot in Edinburgh, participated in Mass on Sunday, just like a Frenchman in Rouen, a Spaniard in Cadiz, a Bavarian in Munich and so on. Even though each country had its own monarch, the monarch was the secular leader with some religious responsibilities towards their subjects but the head of the Catholic Church in all religious matters was the Papal See in Rome.[1] The interesting aspect of the Scottish Reformation, that is to say Scotland’s transition from a Catholic to a Protestant country, which sets it apart from the majority of Reformations which took place across Europe was that it was mainly a legislative affair where conflict was limited. This should be seen in contrast to the French Wars of Religion which took place between 1562 and 1598 which resulted in a bloodbath of extreme violence, as France vacillated between the Catholic and Protestant faiths as aristocrats battled for the religious soul of France. Another important aspect that has to be noted about the Scottish Reformation is that it marked a move away from the Auld Alliance with France, a formal treaty which ended in 1560, and a move towards a more formal relationship with England. This move away from France and towards England laid the religious foundations of the Union of the Crowns between England and Scotland in 1603 whereby the monarch ruled over a united Protestant British kingdom.

If you had visited Scotland in the 1550s you would have had no inkling of the momentous religious changes that lay ahead. Scotland was a member of the Catholic church. Mass was practised in every church in Scotland, ordinary men and women regularly went to the confessional and priests provided the sacraments marking key stages of life between birth and death; baptism, first communion, marriage and the last rites before death. There were monasteries throughout Scotland run by the various orders such as the Augustinians, the Carthusians, and the Cistercians. Yet as historian Gordon Donaldson notes there was already a decline in numbers of such institutions before the Scottish Reformation in 1560.[5] Friaries were also common in Scotland before the Reformation with many being run by the Dominicans, Franciscans and Carmelities. Whilst many retained their ideals, they were not well funded by the burghs in which they were situated so they started to go into decline before the Reformation. However, one area where there was an increased interest was in education, with the foundation of collegiate churches and universities. Ordinary priests and clergy were deeply underpaid and this was a major weakness of the Scottish Catholic church as many of the rank and file had to find other ways to supplement their income.[6] However this did not mean that Rome or Scotland’s secular and religious authorities did not try and improve the Church before the break with Rome in 1560. Quite the contrary, nunneries were shut down if the situation was critical enough. In 1541 the Scottish Parliament passed acts for addressing the ills within the Scottish Catholic church, with the support and blessing of Rome.[7]

The key question for those within the Scottish church in the 1560s was not whether to become Protestant or Catholic, rather it was Did Rome and the Scottish Church’s attempt to reform itself go far enough? Scotland’s reformation came later, four decades after Martin Luther had first advocated a complete break from Rome. For some, the problems which the Scottish church faced were too large and too difficult. It was clear for some that the Catholic church in Scotland was in a spiral of decline. Many of those that became ministers of the new Scottish Protestant church were the underfunded friars and priests who felt that the system was irreconcilably broken. Others believed that although it was an uphill struggle, the Scottish church working with Rome could reform itself.[8]

Yet, arguably, what drove Scotland’s reformation was not religious reform but the wider political and diplomatic events taking place across Britain and France between 1543 and 1560. In 1542 King James V died three weeks after the English had defeated a Scottish force at Solway Moss, leaving Scotland to be ruled by his infant daughter Mary who was to become known as Mary Queen of Scots.[9] Scotland’s infant Queen became a pawn in a wider British and European conflict. It was clear that the early Protestant reformers in Scotland preferred a closer alliance with England, despite suspicions about King Henry VIII’s motives. Whereas the infant Queen Mary’s mother, Mary of Guise, widow of King James V, was from the fervent French Catholic aristocratic House of Guise, the same House of Guise that was central to the French Wars of Religion and unsurprisingly she wanted a closer alliance with France. Her daughter’s inheritance was under threat from an aggressive English neighbour. France saw an opportunity to curtail England’s influence by supporting Mary of Guise.[10]

King Henry VIII was not a man to miss a good opportunity to expand England’s influence through dynastic marriage. He wanted to establish a marriage alliance between the infant Mary Queen of Scots and his English Protestant heir Edward VI. Indeed, he came close to his ambitions with the negotiation of the Treaties of Greenwich which promised the hand of Mary Queen of Scots in marriage to his son Edward. As Jane Dawson has stated, this would remove the ‘confessional border’ between both nations forming a closer unity between England and Scotland. However, by the time the treaty was in its closing stages, the pro-French Cardinal Beaton took the reins of government and actively looked for a renewal of the Auld Alliance between Scotland and France. This took place in December 1543 as Mary of Guise’s money kept Beaton’s cause alive.[11] Between 1544 and 1546 Henry VIIIs English forces laid waste to Fife, the Lothians, and the Borders. Historians have called this ‘the rough wooing’ when Henry VIII invaded Scotland and tried to force Mary of Guise’s hand over the dynastic marriage. Cardinal Beaton’s life was continually under threat and he was assassinated by Anglophile supporters in May 1546.[12]

With the death of Henry VIII in January 1547 it was for the Protector Somerset, Edward VI’s regent to drive England’s policy towards Scotland. Several months later an English force invaded Scotland and at the battle of Pinkiecleugh dealt the Scots a severe blow. However, Somerset recognised that there was a growing number of Protestant reformers who saw England as a key ally so he tailored his proclamations to appeal to this growing section of Scottish society. The proclamations spoke of a bright future for both England and Scotland united by faith. Here, some Scots, who were sympathetic to the England, began to write about a united realm called Britain. Yet, many Scots saw Somerset’s English army as an occupying force and his visions of a new country fell on deaf ears. The English occupation collapsed with Somerset’s death and as it was collapsing the French seized the opportunity to pour in soldiers and military resources to drive the English army out of Scotland.[13] As historian Jane Dawson concludes ‘Henry VIIIs bullying and Somerset’s unionism had driven the Scots straight into the arms of the French’[14] The French signed the Treaty of Haddington, and, as part of the terms of the treaty, Mary Queen of Scots was to be brought up at the French court.[15] It looked as if the Auld alliance had triumphed over the Auld Enemy – so where did it go wrong?

King Henry II of France’s motives in helping Scotland against England were not purely in Scotland’s interest. He too had his own ambitions for France and wanted to make Scotland a client state of France but there was no difference. Both England and France regarded Scotland as a pawn and also a territorial acquisition that could help further the ambitions of their own countries. Therefore, the key question was – which empire did the Scots really want to be part of? England or France? It was these French expansionist attitudes, alongside Mary of Guise’s harsh treatment of Protestant reformers, that drove the Scots into the arms of the English. Mary of Guise was invested as regent in 1554 and, after exhausting her own money for the war effort against England she decided to raise taxes by using far more effective French methods. This upset the minor nobility who felt the burden of this new tax.[16] Mary of Guise also wanted to reform the Scottish justice system, stoking fears amongst the Scots that ‘French laws’ would be brought into Scotland as part of these reforms. Many Scots feared that the French were treating Scotland as a colony and this was a resentment Protestant reformers took full advantage of [17]

The death of Queen Mary I of England in 1558, and the succession of the Protestant Queen Elizabeth I, gave the Protestants, both within Scotland and England hopes of a Protestant Britain and a new era of Anglo-Scottish relations and their hopes were realised when Scottish Protestant nobles signed a defensive treaty with Elizabeth I in February 1560. Hope was revived further when in June 1560 the staunch Catholic Queen Regent, Mary of Guise, died. Her daughter, now Queen of France but also Queen of Scots was recognised as her mother’s successor to the government of Scotland. However, in 1560 Mary, Queen of Scots was still in France and as such Protestant reformers took the initiative. It was during this period that the Scottish Parliament passed legislation turning Scotland away from the Catholic church and towards Protestantism. The Scottish reformer John Knox returned from exile and his supporters organised themselves into a group known to historians as the ‘Lords of the Congregation’ who sought to organise local pockets of Protestant reformation in Scotland as a national event. In Mary’s absence they rejected French influence in Scotland and pivoted the nation towards England. Here is another very curious facet of the Scottish Reformation which contrasts with many other European reformations, the Scottish Protestant Reformation took place in the absence of the monarch. In England, King Henry VIII had driven the English Protestant reformation in his own interests and in France, the monarchy and aristocracy was split between Catholics and Protestants. The legacy of Scotland’s reformation can still be felt today because as the monarch is not the head of the Church in Scotland, unlike England. At the end of 1560, when Mary Queen of Scots arrived back in Scotland, she was a Catholic monarch of a Protestant country.[18]

Presbyterianism or Episcopacy? The conflict at the centre of the long Scottish Reformation c.1560-1672

Scotland’s Reformation was a reformation enacted through a legislative programme pushed through the Scottish Parliament in August 1560.The easy part was legislating against the Catholic religion, the harder task was agreeing the form in which the new Scottish Protestant church should take. At first the Scottish Parliament legislated against the church practising Catholic Mass. Revenues from the Catholic church in Scotland were now diverted to build the new Protestant church.[19] Regarding settling for a new faith, a Book of Common Reformation’ was drawn up and Bishops were to be retained as part of the structure as long as they did not practise Catholic Mass. Furthermore, services were to be conducted in Scots rather than Latin with the Bible and sermons at the centre of the service. In December 1567 the Scottish Parliament met again and the new Scottish church was backed by law.[20] As historian Gordon Donaldson comments, ‘The reformation was achieved in Scotland with surprisingly little dislocation of persons or institutions, certainly with less bloodshed than the English reformation’.[21] Yet, there was an emerging division over the form of discipline to be instilled within the church. Was the church to be run by Bishops or was there further need for reformation, similar to the Calvinist reformations in Europe, most notably in Switzerland and France? The stage was set for a battle between Episcopacy, which advocated a church run by Bishops with the oversight of the monarch and Presbyterianism which drew its inspiration from John Calvin in Switzerland and which advocated church discipline through a series of church courts. The Scottish Protestant church would move between these two positions over the next 120 years. The question was finally settled in 1689 after William of Orange invaded Britain and established Presbyterianism as the form of church discipline within the Church of Scotland.

Moral discipline was a significant feature of the Scottish Reformation, both for the laity and the ministry, but what kind of structure would enforce this discipline? Bishops or Kirk courts staffed by elders? The church was to be governed by a General Assembly and the monarch’s role was only to promise to maintain the true religion. When the Protestant King James VI inherited the throne, the General Assembly declared that he was the ’supreme governor of the realm, as well as in things temporal as in the conservation and purgation of religion’.[22] Bishoprics continued to be a feature of the Scottish church because doing away with them would have caused immense disruption to a church which had largely kept the previous parish structures intact. Religious reformers were aware that they risked alienating the populace if they abolished bishops. Therefore, after the Union of the Crowns 1603, episcopacy, a church governed by bishops became the established ‘modus operandi’ of the church in Scotland. However, not everyone believed in the bishops, seeing the office as tainted with Catholicism and preferred a church governed by a series of church courts instead. Andrew Melville and his supporters advocated further change, thereby disrupting any consensus within the Scottish Reformation. He had spent six years in Calvin’s Geneva and upon his return to Scotland in the 1570s he believed that all ministers were equal and advocated a church governed by a series of church courts which acted as peers, rather than a top-down structure of king, bishop, and minister. The parity of ministers and the establishment of church courts is the foundational basis of what we know as Presbyterianism in Scotland. There were debates between those who supported bishops, Episcopalians, and those who supported Melville’s vision of the church who were later known as Presbyterians.’[23]

When James VI of Scotland became James I of Britain he sought to maintain the bishops in Scotland. However, he also sought to maintain both Scottish Episcopacy and English Anglicanism as separate churches but wanted to bring them together in conformity in ceremony and liturgy. This met with stiff resistance by those who saw elements of James Is Anglican inspired policies tainted with Catholicism, but, wisely, James I recognised the objections and backed down from pushing his reforms further.[24] Unfortunately, his successor King Charles I was not so wise as he sought a closer alignment between Anglicanism and Episcopacy. In doing so he pushed Scotland, Ireland, and England into civil war with the Presbyterian view of the Scottish reformation pushed front and centre leading to the abolition of Episcopacy. It started in July 1637 when the new Scottish Prayer book was being read from the pulpit in St Giles Kirk, Edinburgh which resulted in commotion and riots with the prelate being led out at the back by an armed guard. Although the Scottish Prayer Book had been drafted by Scottish Bishops, in consultation with King Charles I, it was perceived by the populace that the Scottish church was being forcibly pulled into line with its Anglican counterpart. This touched a very raw nerve about Scottish national identity. For the more radical Presbyterians, the new prayer book, tainted by Anglicanism, was more akin to Popery, a slanderous term for Catholicism in the seventeenth century. King Charles I was therefore accused of undermining Scotland’s true religion. In response, members of Scotland’s elite, clergymen, lawyers, and nobles drew up a national religious band or agreement with God to defend Scotland’s true religion. This was known as the National Covenant and people from all levels of society were encouraged to sign. The first signatures took place at Greyfriars Kirk in Edinburgh in February 1638 and thereafter copies of the National Covenant were circulated all over the Scotland and attracted signatures from people from all walks of life, some even signing their names in blood to reaffirm their commitment to God to defend religion in Scotland. Others who could not write left their mark and women signed the document by raising their hands during their local church service. Robert Meldrum in La Garde Ecossaise alludes to this in ‘To the Reader’ ‘I had parents who freely signed the National Covenant in Edinburgh in 1638’. Thus, we can glean from Meldrum that his parents were committed Presbyterians or Covenanters, as they were more commonly known, because they were committed to the National Covenant. Between 1637 and 1652 the Covenants and the Covenanters dominated Scottish politics and religion at the expense of the Episcopalians. Scottish Bishops were pushed out of office for their loyalty to King Charles I and so too were university principals and ministers in every parish in Scotland were vetted for their loyalty to the Covenant. The Scottish General Assemblies that sat during this period were all filled with those loyal to the covenants. Furthermore, the Covenanters had taken full control of the Scottish Parliament and the Scottish printing presses which regularly churned out covenanting propaganda.

In 1650 Scotland’s religious and political landscape changed again with the approach of Oliver Cromwell’s army. Cromwell and his army believed that they were coming to liberate Scotland.[25] Oliver Cromwell’s army occupied Scotland from July 1650 until the monarchy was restored in 1660. In ‘To the Reader’ Robert Meldrum states ‘I was born in Edinburgh, in the year 1650, the year of the invasion of the usurper Oliver Cromwell’.[26] Meldrum is writing his account decades after he was born and knew that the monarchy was restored in 1660, therefore he has no hesitation in calling Oliver Cromwell an usurper. Furthermore, Meldrum describes his experience of growing up in Leith during the Cromwellian occupation by stating ‘I grew up in the streets amongst military men and tradesmen of Edinburgh’. [27] Cromwell’s men were very visible but made an effort to integrate themselves into local Scottish communities.[28] As Meldrum testifies ‘One day we found ourselves playing cudgels with soldiers in the town’.[29] However, Cromwell’s army challenged the Scottish Covenanters hold over the Scottish Church by trying to promote ‘liberty of conscience’ and giving people the freedom of religious worship, except if you were Catholic or episcopalian. Many of the men in Cromwell’s army were self-appointed religious men, lay men, without a formal education, or trained in the ministry who would preach the gospel, sometimes at the expense of the local Presbyterian minister.[30] Meldrum alludes to this when he talks about Captain Smith, a captain in Cromwell’s army who invites Meldrum as a young impressionable boy to a church service for the occupying forces. It is during this service that Meldrum is inspired to become a church minister, yet, he knows that because his parents were Covenanters, they would not have approved of him being in attendance.[31]

The Cromwellian occupation ended in 1660 with the Restoration of the monarchy under King Charles II. The bishops and Scottish episcopacy also returned and any adherence to the Covenants was made illegal. After the return of the monarchy any new entrants to the Scottish ministry had to take episcopal orders.[32] Meldrum alludes to this when he states in ‘To the Reader’, ‘Like many second sons I decided to go into the clergy but when I was ready to enter the clergy, after a time at St Andrews University, the Bishops had the governance of the church and therefore I was ordained according to Episcopal orders’. However, trouble was again brewing in the Scottish church because those who still adhered to the Covenants wanted to overturn the order of the bishops in Scotland. Charles II had been wise to curtail the power of the bishops in church and included some of those who had adhered to the Covenant in the government of both church and state. The most notable of these were Archbishop Sharp, Archbishop of St Andrews and the Earl of Lauderdale who became Charles IIs secretary in Scotland. Episcopacy became bound up with the preservation of Charles II and his government in Scotland.[33] However, there were Covenanters that rejected this compromise and were willing to take up arms against the monarch and the State to restore the Covenants. Meldrum states this when he says in Chapter 1, ‘whilst Scotland was being threatened by religious tensions which had been visible for sometime because the Covenanters, who still felt loyalty towards the national covenants, showed their disgust and contempt for a Scottish church which they felt had lost its way’. These men believed that the Covenants were divinely anointed and eternally binding upon the Scottish people and this is what drove them to try and overturn church and state.[34]

In 1666 radical Covenanting ministers and their followers rose up in rebellion against the state. The origins of the rising lay in the aforementioned loyalty to the Covenants driven by radical covenanting ministers who had been deprived of their charges in the South-West of Scotland. They gathered their followers and arms and marched upon Dumfries, capturing the town and one of the King’s veteran Scottish soldiers, Sir James Turner. They marched across the country, gathering supporters as they went, before they reaching Edinburgh. Their numbers were around 3,000 men. However, the rising failed due to desertions and arguments amongst themselves but ultimately it was the disinterest from the former covenanting aristocracy and the centre of power in Edinburgh that stopped the rising in its tracks. The city of Edinburgh and Scotland’s covenanting aristocracy remained loyal to the monarchy. The armed force of radical covenanters was defeated at the Battle of Rullion Green in November 1666 and an uneasy peace settled over the church afterwards and the government became more conciliatory in its approach to church matters but the problem still remained by the time we meet Robert Meldrum in 1672 [35] Meldrum reflects on this in La Garde Ecossaise stating that ‘the Covenanters amassed arms and raised their own private armies against Charles II.’[36] Here he is not merely talking about the rising of radical Covenanters in 1666, but the troubles caused by Covenanters in 1679, especially the murder of Archbishop James Sharp, plus another armed rising of Covenanters which came to an end at the Battle of Bothwell Brig by the King’s forces under the Duke of Monmouth on 22 June 1679. Although, the resistance from the South-West Covenanters had been broken, a small number of Covenanters still held out but they were defeated at Airds Moss on 22 July 1680.[37] This explains Robert Meldrum’s fear that Scotland was heading for civil war. In 1672 the fear of armed conflict was very real indeed.

The life of a Scottish Minister in the 1670s

So, what was life like for a Scottish minister like Robert Meldrum in the 1670s? His primary roles within the church would have been the reading of scriptures to his congregation and the administering of communion. The use of the prayer book was entirely voluntary and it is doubtful that he would have used it in his church services, given his Covenanting background and that of his patron Lord Forrester. It was only the Lord’s Prayer and the Apostles Creed that were mandatory features in Scottish church services after the Restoration.[38] The other main role of the minister was to perform the sacraments of baptism, marriage and funeral rites. As Meldrum makes clear, ‘I enjoyed performing the sacraments, especially those that marked the stages of life from birth to death: baptism, marriage and funeral rites’.[39] Yet, Meldrum’s role would also have been to implement moral discipline in the parish community disciplining people for various excesses including drunkenness, gambling and fornication.[40] Clearly Meldrum was failing to do this effectively as he recalls ‘there were those crammed at the back of the church who took no interest in the service at all, who chatted away sharing the village gossip, telling jokes, drinking alcohol and there was Mr D who ran a betting stall who sat there taking small bets on cudgels and horse races and taking poor people’s money’. Furthermore, Meldrum’s patron, Lord Forrester, was an avid gambler and drinker himself.[41] The reformed Scottish church, whether in its Presbyterian or Episcopalian, form sought to look after what it called the deserving poor, widows, orphans, the sick and disabled. The deserving poor were to be distinguished from the undeserving poor, the gamblers, the willingly idle, including beggars and criminals.[42] Meldrum writes about this describing how he distributed funds to the needy, i.e the deserving poor.[43] However, it is clear that Meldrum was beset by a number of problems which prevented him from doing his work to the best of his ability. The church building clearly was not large enough to hold all the parishioners within the village and the church refused to increase his maintenance to enable him to look after his parishioners.[44] In the 1670s many church buildings were in a poor state of repair.[45] Furthermore, Meldrum felt the ire of the more radical Covenanters. These radical covenanters, the same people who rose up in arms against King Charles II, would meet in secret gatherings called ‘conventicles’ to preach the gospel, discuss scripture and plot to overthrow the government. Meldrum mentions Mr S, whom he describes as an ‘active Covenanter’ who would challenge Meldrum on his ungodliness and unfit practices, taking the evidence of Meldrum’s conduct to his fellow Covenanters in his local conventicle. To add insult to injury we find out later that Lord Forrester, who he describes as a ‘zealous Presbyterian’ has built a meeting house in the village for his fellow Presbyters, in effect snubbing and undermining Meldrum’s position and authority in the village. This is the catalyst which forces Meldrum to leave his position in Corstorphine and take the journey to London.[46]

[1] Gordon Donaldson, The Scottish Reformation (Cambridge, 1960) pp. 1-28. Although dated this book is still one of the best introductions to the Scottish Reformation.

[2] Donaldson, The Scottish Reformation pp.54-75.

[3] Richard Bonney, The European Dynastic States 1494-1660 (Oxford, 1991) pp. 163-171.

[4] Jane E.A. Dawson, Scotland Re-formed 1488-1587 (Edinburgh, 2007). pp. 200-215. The best survey of this period in recent years.

[5] Donaldson, The Scottish Reformation pp. 1-4.

[6] Donaldson, The Scottish Reformation 8-14

[7] Donaldson, The Scottish Reformation 1.

[8] Donaldson, The Scottish Reformation 1.

[9] Dawson, Scotland Re-formed 150

[10] Dawson, Scotland Re-formed 155-156.

[11] Dawson Scotland Re-Formed 160, 162

[12] Dawson, Scotland Re-formed 155-156, 162, 166-167

[13] Dawson, Scotland Re-Formed 169-173.

[14] Dawson, Scotland Re-Formed 173.

[15] Dawson, Scotland Re-Formed 173.

[16] Dawson, Scotland Re-Formed 176-184.

[17] Dawson, Scotland Re-Formed 189-190, 210.

[18] Dawson, Scotland Re-Formed 200-201, 208-209, 211.

[19] Donaldson, The Scottish Reformation 55, 63-64.

[20] Donaldson, The Scottish Reformation 54-55, 57; Gordon Donaldson, Scotland: James V-James VII (Edinburgh, 1965). 141-143.

[21] Donaldson, The Scottish Reformation 75.

[22] Donaldson, Scotland James V-James VII 146.

[23] Donaldson, Scotland James V – James VII 146-150; George Mullan, Episcopacy in Scotland: The History of An Idea 1560-1638 (Edinburgh, 1986). The best academic introduction to the episcopal side of the debates within the Scottish church during the early years of the long Scottish Reformation. David George Mullan, Scottish Puritanism 1590-1638 (Oxford, 2000). The best introduction to the Melville and Presbyterian side of the debates in the early years of the Scottish Reformation.

[24] Keith Brown, Kingdom or Province? Scotland and the Regal Union, 1603-1715 (London, 1992) 94-96.

[25] David Stevenson, ‘Cromwell, Scotland and Ireland’ in John Morrill ed., Oliver Cromwell and the English Revolution (London, 1990) 163-165.

[26] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 3

[27] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 3

[28] Frances D Dow, Cromwellian Scotland (Edinburgh, 1979)

[29] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 17.

[30] Scott Spurlock, Cromwell and Scotland: Conquest and Religion 1650-1660 (Edinburgh, 2007).

[31] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 17-18.

[32] Donaldson, Scotland James V to James VII 362-363

[33] Donaldson, Scotland James V to James VII 364-365; Brown, Kingdom or Province? 143-144.

[34] Donaldson, Scotland James V to James VII 360.

[35] Donaldson, Scotland James V to James VII 367-368; Brown, Kingdom or Province? 148-151.

[36] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 7

[37] Donaldson, Scotland: James V to James VII 370-371.

[38] Donaldson, Scotland: James V and James VII 364

[39] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 7

[40] T.C Smout, A History of the Scottish People 1560-1830 (London, 1998) 67.

[41] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 9.

[42] Smout, A History of the Scottish People 68.

[43] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 8.

[44] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 8.

[45] Smout, A History of the Scottish People 71-72.

[46] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 8-9, 13-15.

Stuart London : A Cosmopolitan Metropolis – Full Transcript

You are listening to episode 3 of the La Garde Ecossaise podcast. In this episode we examine Chapter 2, ‘Leith, London, and St Malo’. This episode will focus on London during the seventeenth century.

Hello and a very warm welcome to the La Garde Ecossaise podcast. This is the official podcast of the La Garde Ecossaise novels hosted by me, Dr Kirsteen M MacKenzie.

I am so glad that you have taken the time to join me as I discuss the novels in greater depth and the historical events which inspired them.

This podcast is for those of you who are enjoying the novels and those who want to learn a little bit more about the history behind the novels. If so, you are in the right place.

The podcasts will closely mirror the contents of each chapter in the novels and explore the real people and events mentioned within them. The podcast is also available as a videocast on YouTube with interesting and helpful visuals. There are also subtitles for those who are hard of hearing. You will find transcripts of these podcasts on the La Garde Ecossaise blogs as well as links to further resources. Please visit the website at www.lagardeecossaise.net to take a look.

Let’s begin!

London in the 1670s: an emerging political, commercial, industrial, and financial centre.

The London which Robert Meldrum visited in 1672 was a vibrant, cosmopolitan, commercial, industrial and financial centre and was one of the most populous and industrious centres in Europe. Its bustling and narrow streets housed over 300,000 people.[1] It was also the centre of political power in England. London was England’s capital and it is important to remember that Edinburgh was still the capital of a separate and sovereign Scotland and Dublin was the capital of a sovereign Ireland. London, Edinburgh, and Dublin were the three centres of commercial and political power in the three Stuart kingdoms. They shared the British and Irish crown as all three capitals were ruled over by the same monarch but all three capitals and centres of power had their own political structures and relationship with the Crown.[2] After 1660 the English coronation of the British monarch became the British coronation and successive monarchs have chosen Westminster Abbey for British coronations ever since. The British monarch and its government were based in the Palace of Whitehall, London. The English Parliament was based at the Palace of Westminster[4] but was very much an English Parliament, as Scotland and Ireland both had their own parliaments.

London was also a centre of banking, industry and commence and it is during the Stuart era that the international and national banking systems began to emerge [5]. In the first decade of the seventeenth century the Dutch established the Amsterdam Bank and stock exchange which stood alongside the Dutch East India Company, and the VOC, a major global trading corporation. In seventeenth century Europe the United Provinces became the major European commercial power at the expense of the Spanish who had dominated the markets in the sixteenth century. Amsterdam was a huge commercial hub drawing in traders from all over the world who dealt in raw materials and selling commercial and luxury goods.[6] London had established its own global trading company, the East India Company, two years before the VOC in 1600. In the early decades of the seventeenth century London became a commercial centre for luxury goods and raw materials[7] and although there was a Royal Exchange for the import of raw materials and the exchange of luxury goods, unlike Amsterdam the development of the banking and financial structures did not emerge until the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries.[8]

London was the major industrial centre of Britain, but there were other urban centres of industry in Britain such as Norwich in Norfolk and Ashton Under Lyme in Lancashire. These cities usually specialised in a major industry such as luxury cloth in Norwich, wool weaving in Ashton under Lyme. Smaller villages, such as Shepshed in Leicestershire focused on stocking weaving. In rural areas and villages industry still took second place to the tilling of the land and sowing of crops.[9] By way of contrast, London supported large international industries with multiple links across the world. Key industries in London during the seventeenth century included, needle making and cloth finishing.[10] There was also a large publishing industry full of printers, publishers, and booksellers. There was also a large shipbuilding site at Deptford where ships were built for the Navy and for the trading of goods. There was also a large weaving industry in which the Huguenots played a prominent role.

London: A Cosmopolitan City

London being a major global hub which attracted people for all over the world who settled in the city during the seventeenth century thereby helping it to become the city it is today. It was also a melting pot of different races, cultures, religions, and nationalities. Whilst viewing the city from his boat sailing town the Thames, Robert Meldrum may have seen a variety of people, including the following:

The Huguenots – Protestants from France and the Low Countries who began to settle in London as far back as the mid-sixteenth century. A French Church had existed for over 100 years by the time Meldrum visited London in 1672. The Huguenots opened up links between France and London, not just in the woollen trade but silks and other luxury fabrics too. By the latter half of the seventeenth century London became heavily influenced by French fashions and this led to the establishment and growth of London’s own fashion trade.[12]

The Jews – In the mid-1650s Oliver Cromwell clarified the legal position over Jewish trade and settlement in England since the formal expulsion of the Jews during the reign of King Edward I. Many of the Jews that came to settle in London came originally from Spain and Portugal via Amsterdam. As historian Margarette Wilson has stated, many were merchants who exported fish and imported currants. They also became members of the Royal Exchange, buying in raw materials and selling imported luxury goods. The Jewish community was centred around its synagogue in Creechurch street, London.

The Scots – The Scottish community in London during the seventeenth century was not large by any means but probably numbered less than 35,000 people.[14] English sensibilities were sensitive to Scottish migrants after the Union of the Crowns in 1603. There were fears that poverty-stricken Scots would come to London in their droves after James I ascended to the English throne but these fears were unfounded.[15] Scottish people could be found at all levels of London society. Two Stuart monarchs, both King James I and King Charles I, were born in Scotland and there were, of course, the courtiers. Many Scottish courtiers were given favour by King James I which unsettled English opinion.[16] There were also Scots who worked in the trades in London as blacksmiths, glovers, fishmongers and farriers.

The Irish – The Irish could be found at all levels of London society where leading Irish peers spent time at court including the earls of Antrim, Desmond and Kildare. As Toby Barnard has stated the Irish in London could be found in various professions, as academics in the societies such as the Royal Society, petitioners to Whitehall. There was a very distinct Irish Catholic community at the Inns of London, where Irish lawyers were trained for their legal practice in Ireland. Irish labourers were attracted to London too via the London companies in Ulster.[19]

Ottomans and Africans – There were already longstanding and centuries old links between London and the Ottoman Empire particularly through trade and diplomacy. The Levant Company traded in raw materials and luxury goods from the Mediterranean and North Africa and men from the Ottoman Empire came to trade in London. Likewise, London’s links with Africa had a long history but as Peter Fryer comments, it was not until 1621 that there is evidence of black people being bought and sold in England. Many of the Africans living in London and the rest of Britain could be found as pages and laundrymaids.

So, Meldrum, sailing up the Thames, would have seen a bustling cosmopolitan city.

London in the Seventeenth Century: A Place of Conspiracy and Revolution

Whilst Robert Meldrum is sailing up the Thames in his water taxi to Lambeth Palace he recalls some of the most momentous historical events to take place in London as well as some of London’s most historical landmarks.

The Tower of London

As Meldrum states, this is an impressive fortress built by William the Conqueror which held, in Meldrum’s opinion ‘the most notorious prisoners’ Some of the prisoners were awaiting execution such as Anne Boleyn, the second wife of Henry VIII who was eventually executed on Tower Green; and Simon Fraser, 11^th Lord Lovat, later executed at Tower Hill for his part in the failed 1745 Jacobite Rising. However, not all prisoners were executed and not all were notorious, for example, Princess Elizabeth, sent to the Tower by her sister Queen Mary I. Princess Elizabeth later became Queen Elizabeth I. The Tower of London was also a place of interrogation. Guy Fawkes was brought there after the failed Gunpowder Plot in 1605. Meldrum, is drawn to the story of Colonel Blood and his audacious heist of the Crown Jewels from the Tower of London, noting that it was the talk of the Edinburgh coffeehouses.[24] In May 1671 Colonel Thomas Blood seized the Crown and the Orb from the Tower of London. Blood was an Irishman who was sympathetic to religious dissenters and English Republicans rallying against King Charles IIs renewed Anglicanism. Blood already had a career mired in conspiracy and murde and a few months previously he tried to abduct the Duke of Ormond. It came as a surprise to many (including our very own Robert Meldrum) that when Blood was interviewed by the King after the event, Blood was released and pardoned. Perhaps a deal was struck behind doors because for weeks afterwards Blood was known to have spoken to fellow English Republicans and asked them to accept the King’s government.[25]

The Great Fire of London, 1666

We will explore this subject in much greater depth in another podcast but Robert Meldrum makes mention of the fire which devastated large parts of London in September 1666. He notes the ‘old and new became visibly apparent’.[26] Here he is writing about the efforts to rebuild London after the fire. The Great Fire of London in 1666 scorched 395 acres of the city and over 13,000 houses were destroyed including St Paul’s Cathedral, 87 churches, four bridges, and goods worth over 3.2 million pounds. The rebuilding of London took much time and effort and it is here that Meldrum’s memory becomes muddled. He mentions the dome of St Pauls and French and Italian influences which did not become apparent until a few years later. Clearly, he was mixing up his recollections with a later visit to London.[28] This is the first historiographical ‘easter egg’ in these novels. This false recollection was a deliberate mistake by me, the author. As a historian, the recollection of events, particularly those written by people many years after the event, can become hazy and errors are made. This is a recurring issue with primary sources and testimonies of the time. Historians must constantly assess sources for such errors.[29]

The Palace of Westminster

Meldrum also recalls seeing the Palace of Westminster from his water taxi. The Palace of Westminster included St Stephen’s Hall where the English House of Commons sat and Westminster Hall was where the trials of King Charles I and William Wallace took place before their respective executions.[30] Note again the issues of biases here; Meldrum calls King Charles I, the martyr. This was a common Anglican and Episcopalian view of the execution of Charles I. They saw Charles I’s execution as murder and echoing Charles Is own point of view that he was a martyr for the Church of England.[31] Of course, another issue of bias is also present in this paragraph as Meldrum notes that it was in Westminster Hall, where William Wallace was tried and this would have been of particular interest to a Scotsman like Meldrum. I doubt this would have been of interest to English contemporaries.

The Banqueting House, the Palace of Whitehall

The Banqueting House at the Palace of Whitehall hosted the execution of King Charles I on the 30 January 1649. The Palace of Whitehall was far more extensive than it is today and was the primary Royal residence in London. On the London skyline the Banqueting House could be seen towering above other buildings.

Lambeth Palace

This is where Meldrum’s journey on the Thames ends and where he alights to meet the Archbishop of York who is apparently in London meeting the Archbishop of Canterbury.[33] Lambeth Palace was and still is the official residence of the Archbishop of Canterbury. Lambeth Palace is the highest office in the Church of England. Meldrum is taken to the Lollard Prison in the Lollard Tower for his interview. The Lollard Prison was used as a prison in the sixteenth century and by the seventeenth century it had retained many of its prison like features.[35] This would have been a very intimidating place to have an interview, particularly, if like Meldrum, you had a dark secret which has surfaced from your past.

[1] Liza Picard, Restoration London (London, 2001) 20.

[2] David Smith, A History of the Modern British Isles 1603-1707 (Oxford, 1998) 6-23. These pages contain one of the best introductory overviews of the three Stuart kingdoms (and Wales!).

[3] Allan I Macinnes, The British Revolution 1629-1660 (London, 2005) 228-229.

[4] Picard, Restoration London 22.

[5] Picard, Restoration London 21-22.

[6] Charles Wilson, Profit and Power: A Study of England and the Dutch Wars (London, 1957) 5-6.

[7] Macinnes, The British Revolution 64.

[8] Smith, A History of the Modern British Isles 314; Margarette Wilson, London and the Seventeenth Century: The Making of the World’s Greatest City (New Haven, 2022) 251.

[9] Peter Laslett, The World We Have Lost: England Before the Industrial Age (New York, 1984) 129-130, 59-60, 63-69.

[10] Picard, Restoration London 22;

[11] Wilson, London and the Seventeenth Century: The Making of the World’s Greatest City (New Haven, 2022) 2, 160-161, 249.

[12] Wilson, London and the Seventeenth Century 249. Picard, Restoration London 137-145.

[13] Wilson, London and the Seventeenth Century 251.

[14] Allan Kennedy ‘Highlanders and the City: Migration, Segmentation, and the Image of the Highlander in early modern London c.1603-1750’ Northern Scotland ns. 12: 2 (2021)

[15] Brown, Kingdom or Province? 86-87.

[16] Smith, A History of the Modern British Isles 1603-1707 40.

[17] Kennedy ‘Highlanders and the City’ 115-116.

[18] Jane Ohlmeyer, Making Ireland English: The Irish Aristocracy in the Seventeenth Century (New Haven, 2012) 212-213.

[19] Toby Barnard, ‘The Irish in London and the “London Irish” ca. 1660-1780’ Eighteenth Century Life 39:1 (2015) 15-16.

[20] Linda McJannet, ‘Oranges and Lemons say the Bells of St Clement’s: Domesticating Eastern Commodities in London Comedies’ in Bernadette Andrea and Linda McJannet eds., Early Modern England and the Islamic Worlds (London, 2011) 215, 218-219.

[21] Peter Fryer, Staying Power: the History of Black People in Britain (London, 2018) 8, 14.

[22] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 22.

[23] Historic Royal Palaces, The Tower of London, ‘Prisoners of the Tower’ https://www.hrp.org.uk/tower-of-london/history-and-stories/tower-of-london-prison/#gs.o1hx5p [Accessed 30/1/2023].

[24] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 22.

[25] The History Press, ‘Colonel Blood and the Crown Jewels’ https://www.thehistorypress.co.uk/articles/colonel-blood-and-the-crown-jewels/ [Accessed 30/1/2023]; John Miller, Charles II (London, 1991) 286.

[26] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 22.

[27] Smith, A History of the Modern British Isles 217.

[28] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 22.

[29] This is one of the first hidden lessons on the practice of history within the novel La Garde Ecossaise. The best introduction to the practice of history and reading historical sources is John Tosh, The Pursuit of History (Abingdon, 2010) 129-133. Here Tosh discusses what influences authors and the issues of biases.

[30] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 22.

[31] Smith, A History of the Modern British Isles 163-164.

[32] Wikipedia, ‘The Old Palace of Whitehall by Hendrick Danckerts’ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Palace_of_Whitehall#/media/File:The_Old_Palace_of_Whitehall_by_Hendrik_Danckerts.jpg [Accessed 30/1/2023].

[33] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 23.

[34] Lambeth Palace, ‘About Us’ https://www.archbishopofcanterbury.org/about/lambeth-palace/visit-lambeth-palace [Accessed 30/1/2023.

[35] Wikimedia Commons, ‘Lollards Prison; jpg. https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Lollards_QE4_126.jpg [Accessed 30/1/2023]

France in 1672: An Introduction

Geography and Borders

The country we know today as France was shaped considerably during the French Revolution in 1789. The author L.P. Hartley once declared that ‘The past is a foreign country, they do things differently there’[1] and this can be applied to pre-revolutionary France, known in French as the Ancien Regime or Old Regime in English. However, before I give an overview of French society during the early modern period and particularly during the reign of Louis XIV, I would like to briefly discuss the geography and culture of early modern France. If you looked at a map of France at the beginning of Louis XIVs reign around 1643 the first thing that you would notice is that it is not quite the ‘hexagon’ shape we are all familiar with today.

If you look at Eastern France at this time, the border comes in at the side.[2] During this time Alsace, which is now part of modern France, was, at the start of Louis XIVs reign, part of the Holy Roman Empire.[3] The Duchy of Lorraine, which is now part of modern France was a semi-autonomous region in the east. Other autonomous or semi-autonomous regions included the Franche-Comte to the east and the Duchy of Savoy in the South-east. These territories were all outside France’s official provincial borders and stopped at Provence, Burgundy and Champagne. [4]

France’s southern border in 1643 halted at Navarre, Foix, and Languedoc.[5] The current border we are all familiar with is further south and now includes the historic province of Roussillon which is, in fact, part of French speaking Catalonia which until the Treaty of the Pyrenees in 1659 between France and Spain, resulted in French speaking parts of Catalonia being brought into the French state. We will discuss this in greater depth in a future podcast.[6]

The northern border of France in 1643 would be unfamiliar to modern eyes too. Again, the borders fall slightly shorter than what we would be familiar with today. The northern border of France stopped at Picardy and Artois and the cities of Lille and Dunkirk became French later in the seventeenth century.[7]

Another feature that would strike modern observers as unusual is that the town of Avignon still belonged to the Papal See of Rome.[8]

Although France was one of the oldest political kingdoms in Europe it was clear that it needed to secure its borders.[9]

The French State and Provincial France

Today France is a very centralised state compared to France under the old regime. The current French state is divided into Departments, Communes and arrondisments and all are overseen and governed by national institutions in Paris. The current French government is very much a product of the French Revolution of 1789.

Old Regime France was divided into provinces each with their own regional capitals and some with their own parliaments or Estates which gathered the local political ruling classes to discuss the issues of the day. Historian E.N. Williams has called old regime France a ‘federation of provinces’.[10] Even across the French state King Louis XIV had different titles. In Provence he was the Comte de Provence whereas in Dauphiné Louis XIV held the title Dauphin de Viennois.[11] Each province had its own traditions, laws and customs. Some provinces, such as Artois, Burgundy and Languedoc, had their own Estates. There were two kinds of representative assemblies in the provinces, the Pays’ d’ elections which did not have the power to raise taxes and the Pays D’ Etats which had the power to raise their own taxes. The Pays d’ etats could be tough opponents of the King’s policies. They saw it as their duty to protect local privileges against an encroaching French King. The pays d’ elections concerned Louis XIV far less and he could raise taxes in these areas without consulting the regional assemblies.[12]

The French legal system was not uniform and did not reflect the current legal system in France which again was a the product of the French Revolution and the Napoleon codification of the law. France under the old regime was a patchwork of different legal systems reflective of the varying histories of the areas concerned. In the South of France the courts used Roman law and in the North the courts used customary law where it could vary from village to village’.[13] Furthermore, in some regions, there were parlements, not to be confused with meetings for political debate that were sovereign courts and in the beginning of Louis XIVs reign royal edicts held no significance but during the course of his reign Louis XIV strengthened the crown’s oversight of these courts. These courts could act as final courts of appeal and be obstructive to the wishes of the crown.[14] Furthermore, customs and taxes were not uniform across the country. Some cities and towns had their own taxes levied against goods from other parts of France, yet, allowed free trade with other countries.[15]

There were also national structures directed by the Crown which aimed to provide unifying links across provinces, including the King’s ability to raise a military force to defend France with its authority resting firmly with the Crown which united the nation. The organisation and evolution of such an army was a major achievement of Louis XIVs reign and at the beginning of his reign Louis XIV was very much dependent on the regional nobles to assist recruitment. Furthermore, military contracts at this time were entirely voluntary and as Louis XIVs reign progressed the French army became a professional military force. There were also the offices, a nationwide network of courts which were overseen by the main court in Paris. This system of courts sat above the local courts in the regions and concerned itself with the Taille, the primary direct tax extracted by the Crown. At the beginning of Louis XIVs reign these offices were for sale and prestigious posts often went to the highest bidder. During his reign Louis XIV sought to curtail this practice. In the army he would often promote experience and ability in addition to promoting persons of noble lineage. The commisaires inspected and regulated appointments within the French State.[17]

The King and the Three Estates

Before the French Revolution in 1789 French society was structured into three estates, or three social classes, with the King at the top of the social hierarchy. The King was the divinely anointed head of the Kingdom of France and its people. In this society everyone had their divinely ordained place and this was deeply understood. Anyone who dared to step out of place was severely reprimanded. Below the monarchy there was the first estate, the clergy, the second estate, the nobility and by far the most numerous, the third estate which comprised of everyone else, from the wealthy Bourgeoise to urban dwellers such as shopkeepers and publicans to the dirt poor and rural peasantry.[18] Let’s look at each estate in greater depth:

The First Estate – The Clergy

The French church was devoutly Catholic. The King had taken an oath at his coronation to uphold the Catholic religion in France which explains Louis XIVs attitude towards the Huguenots who as Protestants, were considered as outsiders within the French state. The French Catholic church was also subject to edicts from Rome and was governed by cannon law. The Assembly of the French Clergy, which consisted of bishops drawn from across France, met to discuss ecclesiastical matters every five years. The top posts within the French Catholic church went to aristocrats and the middling and lower posts went to France’s middle or bourgeois class. Their role was to administer the sacraments, hear confession and perform Mass for all the King’s subjects and ensure their spiritual welfare. The church also distributed poor relief and looked after the sick and dying in their final days.[19]

The Second Estate – The Nobility

The nobility was divided between the noblesse de robe, the nobility of the robe. members of the nobility who were government administrators and the nobles of the sword, nobles in military service and/or those who held ancient titles. Estimates for these vary between 120,000 to 350,000 throughout France. Nobleman occupied many top positions in both church and state as Archbishops, provincial governors, military generals, and ambassadors for France. They could also collect taxes from the third estate but wealth amongst the ancient nobility varied. Some were extremely wealthy and owned large Chateaux, and others were destitute and poor. Under Louis XIV numbers of the nobility of the robe increased, creating resentment and jealousy amongst the nobility of the sword. Louis XIV recognised the need for excellent administrators who were very loyal who would collect his taxes thereby enabling him to increase the size of the army and create the magnificence of Versailles. Many of the Nobles of the Robe were the wealthy Bourgeoisie who could pay for their offices and who were appointed with the approval of the Crown. In short, it was a nobility that Louis XIV could control. After the Fronde which was in part a revolt of the nobility of the sword, Louis XIV felt he could trust the nobility of the robe far better.[20]

The Third Estate – Everyone Else

The third estate comprised of everyone else in French society, from wealthy middle class, industrialists, entrepreneurs and bankers, to traders and merchants who dealt with goods in the cities to rural peasants, the destitute and the poor. However, very few businessmen made great profits such was the extent of taxes and regulations around trade and commerce. Urban dwellers, who were still a very small percentage of the overall population of France, lived in squalor beset by poor hygiene and crime. Rural farming communities were often poor, living from hand to mouth. Yet, these communities came together in times of need and looked after their own. Peasants were bound to give the nobility taxes as part their rights to work the land. Some peasants leased their land and buildings, such as mills and storehouses which could be used by the peasants for a fee payable to the noble landlord. These fees were enforced through the seigneurial courts which settled legal disputes between the peasants and their noble landlords. Within the rural peasantry there were different degrees of prosperity based on the amount of land, equipment and their position in village life.[21]

This is a very brief introduction to the French Estates and aspects of these groups, the clergy, the nobility and the French people will be explored in greater depth in future podcasts.

The Auberge: the melting pot of society

As Meldrum travels through rural France he eats and stays in inns or auberges. Indeed, throughout the novel there is a recurrence of inns as a meeting place for the characters. Later in the novel John Hamilton stays in an inn in Madrid and in another chapter travels to London where he meets the Scottish Highlander, Alasdair MacDonald, at an inn in Southwark. Finally, Robert Meldrum’s first encounter with John Hamilton takes place in an Auberge in Marly on the outskirts of Paris.[22] But what was it like to be a visitor to an inn in France in the 1670s? What sights and smells would have greeted you? It is clear that Meldrum finds some of the behaviour within the inn morally reprehensible and as a reader we cannot be sure whether it is due to Meldrum’s religious nature or youthful naivety or, as Molyneaux indicates, there are cultural differences between Britain and France. Meldrum is suffering from what modern observers call ‘culture shock.[23]’

Public houses were important meeting places within their respective communities and could be visited by a vast array of people, including travellers on foot, horsemen, traders, military men and ambassadors, farmers, women, the young, the old and infirm. All visitors were welcome and the inn was at the centre of most rural communities.[24] Inns were places of overnight accommodation, a place to dine, and a place for the poor to be able to afford beer at cheaper rates.[25] Although authorities frowned upon female presence within taverns, women could be found in these establishments as landladies or servants, wives of travellers accompanying their husbands or single women or married women involved in prostitution and some young women visited the tavern to look for a potential partner.[26] We are made aware of this in La Garde Ecossaise when Meldrum is sat in an inn with Peter and a lady uninvited sits on his lap. Meldrum is horrified. We either conclude from this that she was a prostitute as Meldrum states or a lady looking for love.[27]

[1] Tosh, The Pursuit of History 9.

[2] Robin Briggs, Early Modern France 1560-1715 (London, 1998) xii.

[3] William Doyle, Old Regime France (Oxford, 2001) 262;

[4] Briggs, Early Modern France xii, 75.

[5] Briggs, Early Modern France xii

[6] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 428-431; Peter Salins, Boundaries : The Making of France and Spain in the Pyrenees (Los Angeles, 1991) Loc 486-514.

[7] Briggs, Early Modern France xii; René Chartrand, The Armies and Wars of the Sun King 1643-1715 Volume 1: The Guard of Louis XIV (Warwick, 2019) 25-26, 57-69.

[8] E. N. Williams, The Ancien Regime in Europe: Government and Society in the Major States 1648-1789 (London, 1970) 165.

[9] Briggs, Early Modern France 75.

[10] Williams, The Ancien Regime in Europe 162.

[11] Williams, The Ancien Regime in Europe 162-163.

[12] Williams The Ancien Regime in Europe 162-163; David L Smith, Louis XIV (Cambridge, 1992) 48-49.

[13] Williams, The Ancien Regime in Europe 163.

[14] Smith, Louis XIV 45-47.

[15] Williams, The Ancien Regime in Europe 163-164.

[16] Williams, The Ancien Regime 165-166; Guy Rowlands, The Dynastic State and the Army under Louis XIV: Royal Service and the Private Interest 1661-1701 (Cambridge, 2002) 17-23.

[17] Williams, The Ancien Regime 166-167; Briggs, Early Modern France 230, 232.

[18] Richard Wilkinson, Louis XIV, France and Europe 1661-1715 (London, 1995) 70-82.

[19] Wilkinson, Louis XIV: France and Europe 72-75 ; Briggs, Early Modern France 160-176; David A Bell ‘Culture and Belief’ in William Doyle ed., Old Regime France 78-82.

[20] Wilkinson, Louis XIV: France and Europe 75-77 ; Gail Bossenga ‘Society’ in William Doyle ed., Old Regime France 57-62.

[21] Wilkinson, Louis XIV: France and Europe 78-80 ; Bossenga, ‘Society’ 63-64, 67-69.

[22] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 37-42, 358-363, 439-446.

[23] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 30-32.

[24] Beat Kumin, ‘Public Houses and their Patrons in Early Modern Europe’ in Beat Kumin and B. Ann Tlusty ed., The World of the Tavern: Public Houses in Early Modern Europe (Abingdon, 2017) 50, 57.

[25] Kumin, ‘Public Houses and their patrons’ 53.

[26] Kumin ‘Public Houses and their patrons’ 56, 58.

[27] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 31-32.

2: 1 Unveiling the Secrets of the Palace of St Germain en Laye during the reign of Louis XIV

In La Garde Ecossaise the Palace of St Germain en Laye plays a significant role in the novels as this is the base of the secret unit of elite men, La Garde Ecossaise, who have sworn to protect the life of Louis XIV and innocents from certain death. This is where Hamilton’s office is located and where our narrator of the novels, Robert Meldrum meets Hamilton properly for the first time and is invited to be part of the Guard. Meldrum recounts his first journey through the Palace of St Germain, waiting at the gates and then being taken through the large courtyard and up a narrow staircase to the servant quarters in the attic at the back of the castle. Hamilton’s office is located down a long dark corridor. We get the impression that the office is, unsurprisingly, located in a part of the palace which is little used. Indeed, the door, or entrance, leading to Hamilton’s office looks like the entrance to a storeroom or cupboard. It’s true purpose was concealed. Finally, Alexander Murray who is taking Robert Meldrum to the office, states that St Germain is fast becoming a favourite place for the visiting British and Irish expatriate communities.[1] This podcast will introduce the history of the royal connections of this region which lay to the west of Paris, especially before Louis XIV moves his court to Versailles in 1682. It will explore the Palace of St Germain and paint a picture of life in these residences for those who were part of the Royal household. Finally, it will place the palace in its wider British and Irish context by exploring the British and Irish expatriate community at St Germain en Laye prior to 1682.

The Royal Playground and Place of Refuge: Le Grand Couronne

The modern-day area department of Yvelines in which the royal residences of St Germain en Laye, Rambouillet and Versailles are located are known collectively as ‘Le Grand Couronne’ or the large crown and it acts as an outer ring marking the suburbs of Paris. It is no coincidence that it has been given this name given its history and connections with old regime France. This area was used by successive French monarchs to escape the dirt and grime of Paris in the early modern period. It was often a welcome refuge from Royal pressures and government administration. It could also act as a place of refuge. To understand why Louis XIV moved his court and the French government to Versailles in 1682 we have to understand why this area to the west of Paris was so important for the French Royal family.

The palace of St Germain en Laye which, in actual fact, consists of two palaces, both old and new, played a significant role in the lives of the Bourbon royal family and Louis XIV himself. Louis XIV was conceived around December 1637 when the usually estranged King and Queen spent time at the old chateau at St Germain en Laye. Louis XIV was born at the new Palace of St Germain en Laye nine months later on 5 September 1638, a much longed for and anticipated Dauphin of France. His formal baptism took place in the chapel of the old chateau of Saint-Germain en Laye. King Louis XIII, Louis XIVs father, died at St Germain en Laye in May 1643 and thereafter Louis XIV became monarch.[2]

During the Fronde the Royal family found refuge at the palace of St Germain en Laye at a critical time when there was disorder in Paris. On 5 January 1649 Anne of Austria made a secret plan to spirit the King out of Paris, fearing danger to the King’s person by the crowds and nobles who had revolted against the Crown. Of course, there is an important Franco-British context here because at the same time, Charles I was awaiting trial at the hands of a purged English parliament which resulted in King Charles Is execution on 30 January 1649. We cannot be sure if Anne of Austria saw this added dimension at the time but, considering Charles Is wife, Queen Henrietta Maria, was at the French court, this seems highly likely.[3]

However, we must not underestimate how traumatic this move would have been from the Palais Royale in Paris, where, at that time, Anne of Austria lived with her two sons, to the Palace of St Germain en Laye. This was a real upset for the two young princes who had unsurprisingly grown accustomed to Royal luxuries and protocols. This move was done with the upmost secrecy and at short notice because the palace of St Germain was not prepared for the Royal family’s arrival. It did not escape Louis XIV that the family had to flee under the cover of darkness in the dead of night, to remain safe. At 3 am in the morning, in the bitter cold and darkness Louis XIV was told to get dressed to board a carriage to take him out of Paris. Yet, it was unlikely that he knew of the plans himself and had to follow the instructions given to him by his mother. It must have been distressing and frightening for both him and his brother Philipe. When Louis XIV and his brother arrived at St Germain en Laye they arrived at a cold and empty palace which was wholly unprepared for Royal in residence. As Mme de Motteville describes, the King, the Queen, and the nobles that came with them, found themselves without beds, attendants and without [bed] linen. The Queen slept in a small bed that Cardinal Mazarin had sent to the palace days earlier. There was another bed for Louis XIV and another two military camp beds, one for Louis’s brother Philipe and another for the Cardinal himself. All nobles who came with the family, including those of Royal blood, spent the night sleeping on straw. The gates of Paris were shut, and this caused the Royal family and their household major problems. As Josephine Wilkinson, a leading biographer of the Sun King has stated, ‘Louis and Anne were deprived of every necessity. They endured hardship for several days until supplies finally came through’. This spartan existence must have been a shock for the young king and his brother, and this left a lingering feeling of vulnerability that never left Louis XIV for the rest of his days. Furthermore, despite his tender age of ten years, Louis XIV became aware of the monarchy’s fragility. However, for Louis XIV, the palace at St Germain en Laye became associated with safety and refuge, and it became one of the main Royal residences during his reign.[4]

After his marriage to Marie-Therese in 1660 as Queen she would spend the winter months at St Germain en Laye with her two children and Louis XIV used to walk with her. Marie-Therese also gave birth to a daughter at Saint-Germain en Laye. St Germain en Laye was clearly associated with family, away from the court politics and intrigue.[5] It also was a safe place for the family should accidents, illness or death occur, as it did in February 1661 when the Louvre was ravaged by fire. This refuge became all too apparent after the death of his mother, Anne of Austria in 1666, where Louis XIV spent some time at Saint Germain en Laye and at Versailles.[6] Another indicator that St Germain en Laye was an important residence for Louis XIV was that some important ministers, such as Jean Baptiste Colbert and Francois-Michel Le Tellier, Marquis de Louvois all owned personal residences and large properties in the town.[7] Another note of interest is that the famous landscaper Andre le Notre is responsible for the garden terrace at the new chateau of St Germain en Laye.[8] By the 1670s Saint-Germain had become the main royal residence as Versailles remained under construction. Even the famous English political theorist John Locke visited St Germain en Laye in 1678 and watched as Louis XIV started his day with prayers and Locke was impressed by the King’s devotion to God.[9]

Exploring the Old Chateau of Saint-Germain

The old chateau of Saint-Germain plays a central role in the La Garde Ecossaise novels because this is where Hamilton’s office is based and where Meldrum meets Hamilton for the first time. Meldrum states:

‘I was taken to a door at the back of the palace and then up a narrow staircase leading to what only can be described as servant quarters in the attic. They were sparsely decorated but functional. It was residential accommodation for many of Louis XIVs servants’[10]

He continues:

‘He [Murray] then led me down a dark corridor, towards a door, a plain door with oak panelling but without any of the famous decoration and style which France at this time was known for.’

Behind this ordinary looking door was the office of Lieutenant-Colonel John Hamilton.

So, what was the Old Palace of St Germain really like? We are extremely fortunate in that Professor Edward Corp has managed to gather some key sources which gives us an idea of how the chateau functioned as a royal residence. These include floor plans which can be found in the Bibliotheque Nationale in Paris, plus the household lists of King James II found in the Carte Collection at the University of Oxford, alongside some French studies on the old chateau of St Germain en Laye which give us a rough idea about how the old chateau was organised. Corp has drawn floor plans of the chateau which show the layout and activities within the palace.[11]

To approach the old chateau Meldrum would have walked up a steep road from the river to the Royal estate and during this walk he would have seen several buildings including royal stables and kennels, plus an old tennis court. He would have walked past the Maison du controller and turned a sharp right and walked across a drawbridge to reach the entrance of the chateau-veux, as it was known.[12] As Meldrum notes in La Garde Ecossaise, he is taken across a large courtyard in the centre of the chateau. Indeed, the old chateau of St Germain was as Corp describes it as ‘an irregular pentagon shape’ with a large courtyard in the middle.[13]

The third floor of the chateau was occupied by staff, including chaplains, barbers, and a physician as well as other senior staff.[14]

The Royal apartments were located on the second floor with public presence chambers for meeting guests and officials, bedchambers, and rooms for guards. The second floor also included a small chapel and a theatre for entertainment.[15]

The first floor contained accommodation for courtiers and senior staff.[16]

The ground floor contained the large chapel where Louis XIV himself had been baptised and also accommodation for chaplains. The ground floor also contained the kitchens, a larder also with accommodation for kitchen staff such as the King’s master cook. There was also accommodation for the guards which stood at the three entrances to the chateau.[17]

The area below stairs contained a woodyard, cellars and a pantry.[18]

The main character of the novel John Hamilton is in the attic out of the way of the King, his courtiers, and senior staff. Of course, this is to allow his Garde Ecossaise to maintain secrecy as to their activities, but it was not unusual for ordinary staff to receive accommodation in the attic and this was certainly the case at Versailles.[19] Indeed, we are told by Robert Meldrum that the room is down a long dark corridor, presumably away from the other rooms. We are given the impression that Hamilton and his men are in one corner or section of the attic, within the chateau with a narrow staircase leading to these rooms. Yet this staircase is concealed by a door, and it leads directly up to Hamilton’s part of the attic. Again, this is to underscore the secrecy of his unit and his understated presence at court.[20]

British and Irish Exiles in St Germain en Laye before 1688

In La Garde Ecossaise Murray explains to Meldrum that Saint Germain was becoming a favourite place amongst the British and Irish expatriate communities. What did he mean? Although King James II and his household did not arrive in France until 1688, St Germain en Laye was a place that many British and Irish visitors to France had lived in or visited. In the 1640s and 1650s St Germain en Laye was home to a diverse community of Royalist exiles who were still loyal to the House of Stuart and thus could no longer live in Britain and Ireland. St Germain en Laye was a particular draw to this community because this is where the household of the exiled Queen Henrietta Maria was located, as well as the exiled household of her son Charles, Prince of Wales, later crowned King Charles II of Britain, and Ireland at Scone palace in 1651. Charles IIs household was firmly established in October 1651 after the defeat of the Royalist-Presbyterian forces in September 1651. Therefore, St Germain en Laye was home to a significant number of British and Irish subjects at this time. It was truly a diverse British and Irish community which included government ministers and soldiers, some of which were Irish Catholic exiles, physicians, and Anglican chaplains, in fact, a wide array of household staff were present as well as Charles IIs closest friends The court of Charles II and that of Queen Henrietta Maria shuttled between the Louvre and St Germain en Laye. Charles IIs court remained in Paris until 1654. Some exiled royalists, such as Jermyn, Berkeley and Percy, chose to stay in St Germain en Laye on a permanent basis, Berkeley and Jermyn were attached James, the Duke of York’s household, the Duke of York later became King James II in 1685.[21]

Life in the royal households were not trouble free as it was often a place of factionalism and infighting. As Geoffrey Smith points out, this was certainly the case for the household of James, Duke of York, where Henrietta Maria alienated many in the household with her interference and Berkley and Jermyn fought over power and influence. As it consisted of those forced out of their native country by circumstance it was a very unhappy community, as men bickered for a limited number of employment opportunities, battled xenophobia from the French and often had shortages of money, food and accommodation which resulted in duels to redeem their reputations from slander and insults. Sometimes these duels could be between the Royalists themselves or sometimes between Royalists and the French nobility.[22]

Some of the courtiers and government ministers in the court of Charles II in St Germain en Laye spent their exile pursuing their intellectual interests and their own networks, and the most famous amongst these was Thomas Hobbes, author of the famous political treatise Leviathan which, at the time of Charles IIs exiled court in the 1650s, was being prepared for publication.[23] Besides the political and philosophical intellectual networks there were religious and theological networks driven by a sizable Episcopal community who had been driven into exile by the outlawing of Episcopacy by the English Parliament and the Scottish Covenanters. Indeed, the religious community did not stand still and those ministers who wanted to be ordained in the episcopal church came to Paris and were directed by Richard Browne within whose chapel many of the services for ordination were undertaken.[24]

The household of Queen Henrietta Maria was multifaceted, especially in the 1640s during Britain’s civil wars when it became a fundraising centre for the Royalist cause, as well as a centre of diplomacy for the Royalist court. It also became a military operations centre as the exiled Stuarts gave their blessing for military endeavours for their cause undertaken by Irish, Scottish and English Royalists.[25] These courts also ran a network of agents and spies in the 1640s and 1650s who would gather intelligence on events for the Royalist court in Britain and Ireland. Sometimes these murky networks could contain double agents such as Colonel Joesph Bampfield who seemingly had Royalist sympathies but fed a constant stream of information back to John Thurloe, head of intelligence for Oliver Cromwell and the English Republic. Bampfeild was a key inspiration behind the character Timothy Gray in the La Garde Ecossaise novels.[26]

Of course, these exiles returned to Britain and Ireland when the monarchy returned in 1660. Yet, because Charles II had spent a significant amount of time in St Germain en Laye, many of the connections forged in the 1650s continued throughout the 1660s and 1670s. Furthermore, by the 1670s Louis XIV had made St Germain en Laye his principal residence and many British and Irish visitors came to St Germain en Laye.

One of the most enduring symbols of friendship between Louis XIV and King Charles II that continued to connect them both to St Germain en Laye was Louis XIVs Scottish guard which, of course, has a particular significance for the historical fiction novel La Garde Ecossaise. There were a number of units with Scottish connections that had served the Bourbons throughout the early modern period, most notably in the 1660s, when the Scottish regiment under Lord George Douglas followed French standards of conduct. Although they served Louis XIV, their ultimate loyalty was, in fact, to King Charles II. Lord George Douglas, despite his Scottish lineage, was treated like any French noble or solider. He was seen as a courtier and moved amongst the Royal circles in Paris. Like the Royalist exiles in the 1650s he managed to get involved in a serious duel which by all accounts could have ended his life. [27]

There was also some continuity in the diplomacy too and William Lockhart, who had served as the head diplomat between France and England in the later 1650s, continued to serve in France under King Charles II and was a well-known face at the French court in the 1670s.[28]

St Germain also had its fair share of British visitors, one of whom we already know, John Locke, the famous political philosopher and author of the treatises of government who visited France in the 1670s. Louis XIVs rising and dressing in the morning was very much a public affair full of ritual and ceremony to project kingly authority and as long as visitors were well dressed, they could have access to the palace grounds. Some of the British visitors to St Germain may not have been as entirely wholesome as Locke as Charles II had his agents and spies in France reporting back on the activities within the French court.[29]

In the novel Hamilton’s men in La Garde Ecossaise fit within this wider context of British communities at St Germain en Laye and Paris which continues and grows with the arrival of King James IIs to St Germain en Laye in 1688.

That concludes episode 1 of season 2 of the La Garde Ecossaise podcast. Please remember that the historical fiction novel can be purchased from all online bookstores. Next week we will be exploring early modern warfare and in particular its codes of conduct and rules of engagement.

Until then au revoir and a bientot.

[1] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 44-45

[2] Oliver Bernier, Louis XIV (Paris, 2018) [Kindle] Loc 169; Philip Mansel, King of the World: The Life of Louis XIV (London, 2022) p.16-18, 25.

[3] Bernier, Louis XIV [Kindle] Loc 637-654

[4] Bernier, Louis XIV 645-659; Josephine Wilkinson, Louis XIV: The Real King of Versaillies (Stroud, 2019) [Kindle] 683; Mansel, The King of the World 42.

[5] Wilkinson, Louis XIV [Kindle] Loc 2643; Nancy Nicols Barker, Brother to the Sun King, Philipe Duke of Orleans (Baltimore, 1989) 86.

[6] Mansel, King of the World p. 129; Geoffrey Treasure, Mazarin: The Crisis of Absolutism in France (London, 1995) p.307.

[7] Mansel, King of the World p. 114; E N Williams, The Ancien Regime in Europe: Government and Society in the Major States 1648-1789 (London, 1970) p. 206.

[8] Nancy Mitford, The Sun King (London, 1996) 40.

[9] David L Smith, Louis XIV (Cambridge, 1992) 101; Tony Spawforth, Versaillies: A Biography of a Palace (New York, 2008) p.9.

[10] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise p. 45.

[11] Edward Corp, A Court in Exile: The Stuarts in France 1689-1718 (Cambridge, 2004) 76-103.

[12] Corp, A Court in Exile 78.

[13] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 45; Corp, A Court in Exile 80.

[14] Corp, A Court in Exile 87.

[15] Corp, A Court in Exile 82-84.

[16] Corp, A Court in Exile 86.

[17] Corp, A Court in Exile 85.

[18] Corp A Court in Exile 88.

[19] This is Versailles Blog This is Versailles: South Wing (Attic) (thisisversaillesmadame.blogspot.com); Corp, A Court in Exile 91.

[20] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 45

[21] Geoffrey Smith, The Cavaliers in Exile 1640-1660 (Basingstoke, 2003) 67-74.

[22] Smith, The Cavaliers in Exile 70-72

[23] John Stubbs, Reprobates: The Cavillers of the English Civil War (London, 2011) 417.

[24] Kenneth Fincham and Stephen Taylor ‘Episcopalian conformity and non-conformity 1646-1660’ in Jason McElliogot and David Smith eds., Royalists and Royalism during the Interregnum (Manchester, 2010) 25, 30.

[25] Geoffrey Smith, Royalist Agents, Conspirators and Spies: Their Role in the British Civil Wars, 1640-1660 (Farnham, 2011) 4.

[26] Smith, Royalist Agents, Conspirators and Spies 96, 177.

[27] Glozier, Scottish Soldiers in France 102-103, 125=126.

[28] Ekberg, The Failure of Louis XIVs Dutch War 92.

[29] Smith, Louis XIV 37, 39, 101.

2.2 What is Important about Rules of Engagement in Seventeenth Century Warfare?

Rules of warfare, laws of warfare or rules of engagement are a key theme in book 1 of La Garde Ecossaise, distinguishing between murder and defence. Indeed, it was a distinction that many early modern military theorists were familiar with. However, before I go on to discuss the historical theory and practice of the rules of engagement in early modern warfare, for those of you who have read La Garde Ecossaise I will refresh your memory about passages in the book that discuss and relate to rules of engagement in early modern warfare. For those of you currently reading the novel there may be spoilers ahead, but I will try my best to keep them to a minimum.

We are first introduced to the rules of engagement when Hamilton teaches the difference between murder and defence using passages from the bible.

As Meldrum recalls:

‘He drew my attention to the difference between the biblical passages on Cain and the killing of his brother Abel and that of David and Goliath. Hamilton used both these passages to distinguish between ‘murder’ and ‘killing’. It was pointed out to me that Cain murdered his brother Abel and it was considered murder because Cain had lost his temper with his brother Abel because Abel was receiving God’s favour. In a rage motivated by the sins of covetousness and by extension, jealousy Cain did not recognise God’s will or judgement and killed his brother Abel. This was murder because it was against God’s will and the natural order. It was not done in self-defence or for the preservation of men in general’.[1]

Meldrum continues:

‘On the other hand, the passage on David and Goliath was set in a time of war between the Israelites and the Philistines so they were in the act of war and defending their respective communities from harm. The Philistines requested that the best warriors on each side should be presented in battle which followed the conventions and rules of warfare. Likewise, so did the Israelites when they, as part of God’s plan, met with the Philistines in battle’.[2]

In these passages the basic rules of engagement are very clear, killing based on individual and personal motivations driven by anger of jealousy constitutes murder. The early modern period was an intensely religious time and murder was seen as a sin against God and against the natural order, whereas, if the actions are undertaken during war and are taken in self-defence, either for yourself or your community in the field of battle, they constitute a legitimate act of war. These are the underlying rules of engagement that the men of La Garde Ecossaise are bound by and underpin their actions and decisions by.

This is underscored in other parts of the novel where on occasion I would put the men in difficult circumstances showing how, in reality, these basic rules can be complex in different contexts.

In 1672 it is revealed that Hamilton has broken his own rules of engagement and this shakes Meldrum to the core especially after their biblical conversations. Hamilton confesses to the murder of a man in 1658 and this indeed was a private act on Hamilton’s part, done within the confines of the grounds of the hunting lodge at Versailles. Hamilton knows that he is in serious trouble as Meldrum explains:

‘However, the letter of the law is impartial and John Hamilton was a sensible fair minded man who recognised the trouble that he had caused himself in the eyes of the law’.’[3]

Meldrum continues:

‘Sat squarely in front of Le Marshal [Turenne] Hamilton had his head down, waiting for the interrogation to begin. Le Marshal had a stern look on his face and given the gravity of his crime Hamilton thought his next place would be jail, followed by a court martial and then a hanging’.[4]

Here the distinction between killing to defend your community and killing through private actions which constitute murder is very clear. This was a deliberate inclusion on my part to underscore the rules of engagement in early modern warfare, but as we will discover when examining Hamilton’s actions and the context in which they took place, things are not as clear cut as we are led to believe.

In his defence Hamilton pulls out a bundle of letters in children’s handwriting which contain evidence relating to the actions of the deceased man Hamilton has murdered. Furthermore, we also discover that the man posed a direct threat to Hamilton’s daughter, Elouise, who, at this time, was only four years old. The man was a lover of Evelyne, John Hamilton’s estranged wife. Hamilton states plainly that his actions did not stem from jealousy because of Evelyne’s extramarital affair but rather because this man posed a direct threat to children, including Hamilton’s own daughter Elouise. Given Hamilton’s past in Ireland we, as readers, are therefore unsurprised that Hamilton instinct was to act against the man. It is an action that audiences will feel empathise with, even though it is seen as murder in the eyes of the law.[5]

Throughout the novel we are confronted with these rules time and again:

Hamilton ends the life of Jan De Vries as Jan poses a credible and actionable threat to the life of Robert Meldrum, who, at the time, is on observation or reconnaissance for the Garde. This contrasts with Jan De Vries himself who is motivated to kill Meldrum based upon personal grudges and driven by private motivations for revenge.[6]

Again, the theme is apparent but within the context of the Scottish Highlands, which had its own rules of engagement and societal expectations of what is considered permissible within the context of self-defence and warfare but again Hamilton crosses the line between self-defence and murder. As Meldrum recalls:

‘Upon seeing he had been stabbed, Alasdair passed out. Unfortunately for the commander John Hamilton was a horrified onlooker. John thought the commander had killed his close friend, the man who had saved his life in the past and without thinking twice Hamilton had pulled out his dirk and slit the commander’s throat’.[7]

Meldrum continues:

‘John Hamilton was deep in his own thoughts about how he had killed a man. Hamilton replayed the scenario over and over again in his head and was racked with guilt. It was during this time that John vowed to make the distinction between self-defence and murder. To his dying day John had stated that he had killed a man in cold blood, impulsively, without much thought, driven by intense loyalty to his friend’.[8]

Here Hamilton commits murder because although the man did not pose a direct threat to him personally he was driven by what he thought the commander had done to his friend rather than what had actually happened. It was not an act of self-defence grounded firmly upon the facts at the time. Furthermore, Hamilton had allowed his emotions to cloud his judgement about the facts and this was not how professional soldiers at the time operated, quite the opposite. At this point in his life Hamilton is not a professional solider but I inserted this scenario so it would contrast with Hamilton’s conduct in French service during the Thirty Years War.

When recounting John Hamilton’s service in the Thirty Years War, Meldrum draws our attention to the fate of Marc Berger, John Hamilton’s brother in arms. Marc Berger is cut down by an opposing solider, despite Berger holding his hands up as an act of surrender and submission. Hamilton, looking on and horrified allows his emotions to get the better of him and cuts the solider down for breaching the rules of combat, yet, Hamilton declares his actions in killing the opposing solider was permissible given that they were fighting each other in a battle. I will leave it for you to judge whether Hamilton is correct in his statement.[9]

Again, the rules of engagement are followed clearly when MacDonald shoots a man dead. This man was about to detonate explosives in a church with the intent of causing injury and death.[10]

Finally, the real life murder of Antony Ascham, English ambassador to Spain for the English Republic, by a group of Royalist exiles in May 1650 is used to distinguish between the murder of an individual in the name of a community as a callous act of revenge by a group of individuals who take the law into their own hands and this contrasts with killing someone in the name of self-defence on behalf of a community for its safety.

Therefore, it is clear that La Garde Ecossaise operates under rules of engagement and Hamilton and his men cannot kill anyone based on their own will alone.

The Laws of War in Early Modern Europe

How do the above ideas, thoughts and actions compare to the rules of engagement as understood by soldiers in early modern Europe during the seventeenth century? There was not codification of the rules of war as we have today but, rather, there were unwritten rules of conduct on warfare that depended upon the context in which they were applied and how they were interpreted by soldiers and officers in given circumstances.

However, there were early modern theorists whose ideas would have impacted upon John Hamilton’s generation of soldiers such as Francesco de Vitoria who lived from 1483 to 1546 , Balthazar Ayala who lived from 1548 to 1584, Luis de Molina who lived from 1535 to 1600 and Hugo Grotius who lived from 1583 to 1645. These authors grappled with the theory behind the conduct of war. Their theories were based upon a mixture of Classical precedence of Greek and Roman scholars and Christian theorists from the Middle Ages who had drawn their ideas from Biblical scriptures. These ideas were then applied to the context within which these writers lived. It was during the early modern period that the laws of war, as we would recognise them today, began to be standardised and established.[11]

However, there are important caveats to these rules that we must understand before we proceed. Firstly, these rules of engagement or rules of war only pertained to Christians. Muslims were excluded from these rules because these rules of engagement came from the Christian tradition in the Middle Ages. The second caveat is that the rules of engagement tended to differ in terms of rank. The rules of engagement were agreed and applied by officers who mainly comprised the aristocracy. These laws of war did not necessarily extend to the actions and experiences of the lower ranks.[12]

One of the major rules of warfare that was agreed upon was that legitimate warfare could only be undertaken by a sovereign power. This could be a monarch, in the case of Louis XIV, or in the case of the United Provinces, modern day Dutch Netherlands, the assemblies of the Provinces. Anyone who went to war without the permission of the sovereign was classed as a rebel, and as such, declarations of war issued without the sovereign’s permission were seen as rebellions and therefore the sovereign had every right to supress them using armed force. This is an argument that was fully accepted and, as such, when Louis XIV supressed the Fronde, he had the law of war on his side.[13]

Theorists such as Vitoria, Ayala, Molina and Grotius were all occupied with the key question of what constitutes a ‘Just War’. The majority of these works were published when Spain was conquering the New World and Spain was the dominant military power in Europe. At this time, during the sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries Spain was trying to supress rebellion in the Netherlands – hence why the majority of these early modern treatises on the rules of war have Spanish connections. In Hugo Grotius’s case he was writing his works after the United Provinces had successfully manged to cede from the Spanish Empire and create an independent country. This new independent country drew its wealth primarily from overseas expansion and had to justify it assertive, and some would say overtly aggressive, mercantile policy. These are the key contexts which informed these authors opinions, and it is something to keep in mind.

So, what constituted a Just war? All theorists broadly agreed on the following:

A war in defence of ourselves, our country, our property and goods, liberty and to defend our allies.
To regain something from the enemy that they have unjustly taken from us and something that the enemy still unjustly retains.
To take vengeance for some wrongdoing that someone unjustly inflicted upon us.
When a neighbour denies us access to cross his territory peacefully.
There is also a right to oppose pillaging, rape and killing.
Breach of agreements and treatises.
Dissuade a country or peoples to join your enemies.
To repress internal heresy and rebellion.[14]

Other customs that became commonplace were the exchange of prisoners and the taking and releasing of hostages. There was also the concept of protection money – sums paid by local authorities to pay military forces in the area not to harm non-combatants. The killing of innocents is prohibited in war but some theorists like Vitoria, take account of accidental killing or what we would call today ‘collateral damage’. Grotius classed innocents as women, children, priests, husbandmen, merchants and all captives. For some theorists like William Ames, women and children should not be killed. For Grotius neutral countries should not be despoiled. Yet Grotius differs from other theorists, in believing that non-combatants in the theatre of war and their property are not immune from the effects of war. They may be taken prisoner, including women and children, and they may be killed. This diversion is particularly notable as it coincides with the Thirty Years War.[15]

However, being a very religious era for many of these writers and indeed, for many contemporary soldiers God played a key role in their decisions to go to war. This was particularly the case, but not exclusive to, Puritans in England and New England but also to other Protestant Calvinists in the United Provinces and in Swiss Confederation. In fact, Grotius had to revise his treatise on war which he wrote whilst in exile in France to appeal to his Calvinist compatriots in the United Provinces. Many Calvinists believed that God himself inspires and leads men into war and that God handpicks certain men for the task of war. A famous example of this perspective is Oliver Cromwell who was instrumental in the defeat of the Royalists during the Wars of the Three Kingdoms. He believed that he was God’s instrument to fulfil God’s will on earth, which was predestined, otherwise known as God’s Providence. Other theorists and contemporaries believed that God’s role and will could be a double-edged sword. If an army was victorious, it was the sign that God was pleased and that the victors were righteous. However, if the army lost, it was a sign of God’s displeasure upon the combatants and a sign of God’s wrath upon the army This despair experienced in the wake of God’s wrath after a military defeat, can be seen amongst the Covenanters after their defeat at the Battle of Dunbar at the hands of Oliver Cromwell’s forces in September 1650. Indeed, the French theorist Francios de Sallins suggested that soldiers should mitigate and regulate their own behaviour towards civilians fearing God’s wrath for any transgression against noncombatants but it is important to note that not all theorists in the early modern period believed that victory was a sign of God’s help, such as Matthew Sutcliffe.[16]

Decoding Early Modern Rules of War: Key Examples

I will reflect upon some of the key events of our historical fiction novel La Garde Ecossaise and will explain their significance in relation to the codes of conduct in warfare in the early modern period. It will explain why contemporaries saw events in a particular light and why certain actions were taken. It will also highlight how conduct in early modern warfare is ultimately decided by the context of particular conflicts and show that these customs varied considerably.

1641 Irish Rebellion

In his excellent study of the plantation of Ulster Jonathan Bardon made the following observation about the 1641 Irish Rebellion, ‘A great many of the incidents of cruelty could be classed as acts of war, incidents which would have been considered run of the mill in the Thirty Years War still raging in Germany’.[17] I am not sure I agree with this statement but if we view the 1641 rebellion through the perspective of early modern theories of war we can see how and why many contemporaries saw the rebellion as a massacre rather than as a legitimate act of war.

First and foremost, it was clear to many Protestants after the events, that the 1641 rebellion was an act of rebellion against the sovereign. It was an internal rebellion within the realms of King Charles I that needed to be supressed. Therefore, we should not be surprised that the Scottish Covenanters, and later Oliver Cromwell, used the 1641 rebellion as justification for the invasion and occupation of Ireland in the 1650s. It is clear, even to historians today, that the rebellion was a premeditated conspiracy against the State to ensure its disruption and paralysis.[18]

However, it is clear that even in the early stages of the rebellion Sir Pheliim O’ Neil, who was a trained lawyer and therefore aware of the customs of war, attempted to justify the rebels’ actions in taking fortresses. He claimed these actions were acts of self-defence with the Irish fearing their own personal and material destruction, fearing loss of influence and property as well as the destruction of the Catholic religion in Ireland. Indeed, amongst priests, the latter argument was particularly potent. Later, it has been claimed by many historians that O’Neil justified his actions and his acts of rebellion via a false Royal commission, but John Cunningham has uncovered that this false Royal declaration was in fact a work of propaganda by English Presbyterian minister Edward Bowles in 1643. Although Cunningham admits that O’Neil and his rebels did issue declarations under the Great Seal of England within their local areas of jurisdiction, in O’Neil’s case this was County Armagh. Indeed, fellow conspirators in Dublin went as far as to declare that they were protecting the King’s prerogative by undertaking their actions against undue English parliamentary influence on Irish affairs. Furthermore, at the beginning of the rebellion O’Neil issued a declaration stating that English and Scottish civilians and their property were not intended targets of the rebellion. It is clear to me that O’Neil was aware of the legal customs of war, and he was trying to project the 1641 rebellion as a legitimate act of war. O’Neil wanted to summon the settlers in the communities to explain why they were taking action, and thus, in line with the customs of war, making his grievances publicly known. Yet, one must question the disarming of innocent civilians and the Catholics using those confiscated arms and ammunition against the settlers themselves.[19]

The rebellion very quickly spun out of O’Neil’s control and thousands of innocent civilians were indeed murdered in cold blood. We will be looking at these events in greater detail in later podcasts, but it should be noted that within the first 24 hours of the rebellion, property belonging to innocent non-combatants was destroyed. In the afternoon of 23 October 1641 the settlement of Moneymore was burnt to the ground. There was widespread looting and violence as the native Irish began turning against the English settlers. In other instances the English settlers were killed so the Irish could gain their property.[20] There were two infamous events in the 1641 rebellion which illustrate the rebellion’s ferocity, the drowning and shooting of innocent women, children, and men in the River Bann at Portadown in October 1641 and the premeditated burning alive of civilians in a cottage near Kilmore in 1642. These acts were not acts of war but a violation of customs of war and thus would have been seen as acts of murder. As Eamon Darcy has stated in his excellent study of the 1641 rebellion ‘There are numerous instances of local Irish leaders granting their followers permission to execute Protestant settlers’. [21]

The Siege of Magdeburg

The breeching of the walls of Magdeburg by Imperial forces in 1631 has been described by historians as ‘the single worst atrocity’ of the Thirty Years War. The city was burnt to the ground and 24,000 men, women and children died.[22] As the city’s walls fell and soldiers poured in property was destroyed, weapons were taken from inhabitants, money was extorted from inhabitants by individuals or units of soldiers and in return, these civilians who were extorted would live to see another day. Other civilians were taken as prisoners and marched to the Imperial camp. It may surprise you to learn that these actions were all legitimate within the context of the early modern the rules of warfare. Even the deaths of 24,000 inhabitants were accepted and justifiable under rules of warfare as the city had repeatably refused multiple summons from the Imperial forces to surrender. It is often this refusal to capitulate that resulted in these bloodbaths. The infamous siege at Drogheda in Ireland at the hands of Oliver Cromwell in 1649 is justified on these grounds too. In Geoffrey Parker’s words ‘There was nothing special about the level of brutality at Magdeburg – to sack a town that resisted was standard practice during the war’. However, what marked Magdeburg from other sieges and capitulations was the sheer ferocity of the Imperial troops and it seemed to contemporaries both Imperialists or Hapsburgs and those in the Anti-Hapsburg alliance both Protestants and Catholics, that Magdeburg broke all previous thresholds in military conduct. Peter Wilson states that only 5,000 of the 25,000 inhabitants of the city are said to have survived.[23]

In La Garde Ecossaise Hamilton makes a correlation between the Siege of Magdeburg and the 1641 Rebellion. We now know that within the rules and customs of early modern warfare that this is a false equivalency as one conforms to the rules of warfare, Magdeburg, whilst the other, the 1641 rebellion, does not. Yet, in Hamilton’s own mind they are very similar indeed.[24] This was not unusual by the standards of the time, especially for men like Hamilton who had fought against the Imperial forces during the Thirty Years War, who saw the Imperial armies at Magdeburg as bloodthirsty murderous thugs. Those who fought on the Hapsburg/Imperial side of the Thirty Years War celebrated the victory as a punishment on their enemies for disrespecting the emperor and for following the Protestant faith and siding with the Emperor’s Protestants opponents, most notably Gustavus Adolphus of Sweden. The people of Magdeburg saw the Imperial victory as punishment upon the city from God for its sins. In both cases they reference the destruction of Jerusalem from the bible to support their arguments. It was commonplace to use the Bible to show evidence of God’s displeasure and blessings after military actions.[25]

The Murder of Anthony Ascham

I would like to jump forward in the book to Spain and to the murder of Anthony Ascham, the English ambassador to Spain, and contrast this event briefly with the previous two episodes. We will look at this episode in greater depth in a future podcast. In La Garde Ecossaise, Hamilton describes the murder in detail. Essentially, a group of young Royalist exiles murder the English ambassador in Spain in an inn in May 1650 in retaliation for the execution of King Charles I and the creation of the English Republic whom this English ambassador represents. However, Hamilton, in La Garde Ecossaise makes it clear that the actions committed by these Royalist men constituted murder as it was a private act by a group of self-appointed individuals who committed the action. It is not an action supported or sanctioned by a sovereign state. The action took place in a civilian place of refuge not on a battlefield. Therefore, it cannot be classed as a legitimate act of war. Conversely, Spain charges these Royalists with high treason because, as an ambassador, Anthony Ascham had the protection of the King of Spain. This was, and still is, standard practice in diplomacy, as an ambassador is a representative of their sovereign or leader and is automatically accorded the protection of the sovereign or leader in the country they reside. [26]

That concludes today’s podcast on rules of engagement and military codes of conduct in the early modern period. Please don’t forget that you can purchase the historical fiction novel La Garde Ecossaise: the life of John Hamilton from all good online bookstores. Next week we will explore the world of the early modern sword master – until then – au revoir, a bientot.

[1] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 80

[2] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 80

[3] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 159.

[4] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 159.

[5] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 159-165.

[6] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 191-198.

[7] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 231

[8] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 231.

[9] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 308.

[10] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 344-345.

[11] John Childs, ‘The Laws of War in Seventeenth Century Europe and their application during the Jacobite War in Ireland 1688-1691’ in David Edwards, Padraig Lenihan and Clodiagh Tait eds., Age of Atrocity: Violence and Political Conflict in Early Modern Ireland (Dublin,2007) 283. Geoffrey Parker, ‘Early Modern Europe’ in Michael Howard et al eds., The Laws of War: Constraints on Warfare in the Western World (London, 1994) 42.

[12] Childs ‘The Laws of War in Seventeenth Century Europe’ in Edwards, Lenihan and Tait eds., Age of Atrocity 285.

[13] Parker ‘Early Modern Europe’ in Howard eds, The Laws of War 42; Richard Tuck, The Rights of War and Peace: Political Thought and the International Order from Grotius to Kant (London, 2001) 84.

[14] Parker, ‘Early Modern Europe’, The Laws of War 43; . James Turner Johnson, Ideology, Reason and the Limitation of War: Religious and Secular Concepts, 1200-1740 (Princeton, 1973) 108, 155, 159-162, 212-214, 218, 221-223, Tuck, The Rights of War and Peace 51-52.

[15] Parker, ‘Early Modern Europe’ The Laws of War 52-53; Turner Johnson, Ideology, Reason and the Limitation of War 196-197, 198, 223-224, 227.

[16] Turner Johnson, Ideology, Reason and the Limitation of War 89, 109, 159 , 162, 175; Tuck, The Rights of War and Peace 99.

[17] Jonathan Bardon, The Plantation of Ulster (London, 2012) 277.

[18] Nicholas Canny, Making Ireland British 1580-1650 (Oxford, 2001) 469.

[19] Canny, Making Ireland British 462, 464.469-472, 484; Eamon Darcy. The Irish Rebellion of 1641 and the Wars of the Three Kingdoms (London, 2015) 61-62; Bardon, The Plantation of Ulster 273, 275; M. Perceival-Maxwell, The Outbreak of the Irish Rebellion in 1641 (London, 1994) 214, 218; John Cunningham, ‘Who Framed King Charles I? The Forged Commission of the Irish 1641 rebellion revisited’, English Historical Review (2011) 61-70. Many thanks to Professor Tim Harris for bringing this article to my attention.

[20] Canny, Making Ireland British 473; Perceival-Maxwell, The Outbreak of the Irish Rebellion 227.

[21] Canny, Making Ireland British 484; Bardon, The Plantation of Ulster 276; Darcy. The Irish Rebellion of 1641 and the Wars of the Three Kingdoms 56.

[22] Richard Bonney, The Thirty Years War 1618-1648 (London, 2022) Loc 621 [Kindle].

[23] Peter Wilson, The Thirty Years War: A Sourcebook (London, 2010) 144-146, 149, 158, 165-166; Geoffrey Parker, The Thirty Years War (London, 1989) 88.

[24] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 283.

[25] Wilson, The Thirty Years War 144-146, 149, 152-153, 166.

[26] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 358-363.

2.4 The World of the Sword Master in Early Modern Europe

In La Garde Ecossaise we are introduced to the world of the sword master through our narrator, Robert Meldrum. In his meeting with Hamilton, Hamilton introduces Meldrum to the weapons which form the basis of swordsmanship in early modern Europe. We learn that this is just a matter of re-familiarisation for Meldrum, as in a previous life Meldrum was a young sword master in Edinburgh before he had an accident. However, at this stage Meldrum does not detail what this accident was but we do know that it was serious enough for him to make a pledge to himself not to go near a sword again. We also know that Hamilton is aware of this but is encouraged by the fact that Meldrum’s eyes light up when he sees the swords on the table. It is clear that Meldrum still had a passion for swordsmanship. Hamilton has an example of each weapon lying on the table as well as a pile of printed military and swordsmanship treatises for Meldrum to read after the meeting.[1]

On the table there were three weapons, firstly a dagger which was to be used alongside the rapier for defence and attack and the two-handed sword, a large heavy sword which as the name suggests was used with both arms. In the latter case, we know that Hamilton would not use his in combat and it has become largely ornamental which was representative of the general trend in early modern warfare for weapons to become lighter and more agile as time progressed. Indeed, we learn that Hamilton’s two-handed sword matched its owner, heavier and larger than average and that Hamilton operated the sword with ease. This feeds into Hamilton’s reputation as this larger-than-life invincible warrior. This was taken straight from the legends that surround the real-life Gaelic warrior Alasdair Maccolla himself. Legend has it that Maccolla had a sword that was as large as the man himself which fed into Maccolla’s reputation as a fierce solider. Indeed, it is no coincidence in La Garde Ecossaise that the islanders of Colonsay, Maccolla’s native island, forged Hamilton’s sword for him in gratitude for his services on the island.[2]

After the basic introduction to some weaponry, we are then briefly introduced to the various schools of swordsmanship in early modern Europe such as the Italian school, the Spanish school and the French school. Each school had different techniques and approaches to sword fighting. I will now introduce the major schools of swordsmanship in early modern Europe and some of their defining features.

The European Schools of Swordsmanship

There were several schools of swordsmanship within Europe, during the early modern period. These schools were run by fencing masters who taught their pupils the art of swordsmanship. Swordsmanship was considered an art form, or a highly acquired skill, that could only be taught by fencing masters. The title fencing master was usually bestowed on someone with many years of experience in addition to passing several examinations and tests. In an English tract called ‘The Third University’ dated 1615 it details how pupils were admitted as scholars, (like today’s undergraduates at university). They aimed to earn their ‘degrees’, as the author argues, as Provosts of Defence (which would be the equivalent of an undergraduate degree). In order to become a Provost, scholars had to show proficiency in their weapons in prize fights in front of hundreds of people. Then, these Provosts could aim to become a ‘master of science of defence’ or the title of ‘Fencing Master’. In order for this title to be bestowed, the provost had to sit a viva, or as the author puts it, ‘public acts and trials’ after which the fencing masters would choose whether or not to elect that person amongst their own company or corporation. Many of these established corporations had Royal assent. Other evidence from Spanish sources suggests that the title ‘Master of the Sword’ was a title of privilege and status. Appointing someone to the corporation was a matter completed after much thought and consideration.[3] Fencing tuition was an international affair and highly competitive. We know that Italians, Spaniards and Frenchmen taught fencing in London. In France, French schools of fencing did not emerge until the seventeenth century. Until that point, Italians dominated the fencing schools in France and there were likely Spanish Masters too who taught swordsmanship to courtiers during the reign of Louis XIII. It was during the reign of Louis XIV in 1656 that the Academie d’ Armes’ were conferred letters of Royal patent and six masters were granted titles and elected to the nobility. The King also stipulated that should one of these six men die they should be replaced by a Master with at least 20 years’ experience, thus ensuring that high levels of experience and professionalism became a hallmark of the institution. Furthermore, no one was allowed to teach fencing within the kingdom of France without having attended the Académie d’armes. [4]

There were several schools or methods of swordsmanship throughout Europe in the early modern period.

The first was the Italian school which emerged in the sixteenth century, although later it was surpassed by the emerging Spanish school and ultimately the French school but the Italian school remained the foundation upon which these later schools rested.[5]

A French school of swordsmanship began to emerge with the publication of ‘Traicé contenant les secrets du premier livre sur l’espėe seule, mere de toutes les armes’.by Henri de Sainct Didier. Indeed, this is one of the texts that Meldrum is given to read by Hamilton for his own interest and instruction. Its importance cannot be overstated, to quote Egerton Castle, ‘This book is looked upon by the French as the first treatise on an art which they consider essentially their own’. However, the book drew heavily from Italian publications on fencing which is unsurprising since Sainct Didier was from Provence. It is also no coincidence that the book was published during the French Wars of Religion, a conflict which had torn France apart, and given the circumstances, this made the publication a huge success. Sainct Didier’s work was illustrated with sixty-four woodcuts, hand carved illustrations created by a wooden block, which would have been expensive to produce but would have allowed both Master and Provost the ability to easily understand the instructions.[6] The courteous salute before all bouts, which you will be familiar with having watched the Three Musketeers was certainly a French invention and the handling of the Rapier in both hands grew popular in France during the second half of the seventeenth century.[7]

The very distinctive school of Spanish swordsmanship emerged in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries and largely remained unchanged throughout the early modern period. This school of swordsmanship put an emphasis on the science of swordsmanship rather than viewing it as an art. Thus, in the Spanish school the emphasis was the anatomy of your opponent and the various points to strike them with a sword, similar to pressure points for self-defence today. The emphasis was also on geometry and natural philosophy. Angles, arcs, tangents and circles all underpinned Spanish swordplay. Carranza and Narvaez dominate Spanish swordsmanship throughout the seventeenth century and therefore, unlike other European schools of swordsmanship, it evolved little throughout the century, but do not be deceived, as the Spanish were very dangerous and feared swordsmen and had a reputation of keeping a cool head under most immense pressures.[8]

Yet there is another school of swordsmanship to discuss in this context and it is the Hispano-French school of fencing which emerged out of the Spanish Netherlands. The text, ‘The Academy of the Sword,’ was written by Girard Thibaust who was based in Antwerp. Like the Spanish school, it was underpinned by scientific and mathematical principles but also drew upon Italian and French principles. There was a fencing academy in Brussels which, would have been heavily influenced by Spain but within France itself there was also the Academy of Toulouse which due to its proximity to Spain, drew upon Spanish fashions in swordsmanship. [9]

There were also German, English and Scottish schools of fencing, which will be discussed in future podcasts.[10]

We must keep in mind that swords had different functions and purposes in war and peace. There was a division between military swords and those swords that people wore as part of court dress, either as part of their status as a gentleman, or for private defence if need be. Although I must stress that duelling was forbidden under Louis XIV, both for private persons and members of the armed forces.[11]

Now we will also briefly look at some of the key swords of the seventeenth century:

The Two-Handed Sword – Although this sword is more associated with an earlier period and was largely out of fashion as it had been replaced by lighter blades, the two-handed sword was still used in the seventeenth century. Indeed, a printed manual on the two-handed sword was published by Alferi in 1653.[12]

Rapier – To quote Egerton Castle in his superb book on fencing schools and fencing masters he states that the rapier was ‘elegant and vicious’.[13] Alfred Hutton who wrote a short definitive account of Old Swordplay in the nineteenth century stated that the rapier was ‘long and handsome’ and became a favoured weapon in the first half of the seventeenth century. Indeed, as Hamilton was of that generation we are told that the Rapier was his favourite sword. It is described as a long double-edged weapon. Indeed, we are also told that it is Meldrum’s favoured weapon also which is curious given that Meldrum was of a younger generation, one can only assume at this stage that Meldrum was taught swordsmanship from his own father who is the same generation as Hamilton (I’m trying to avoid spoilers here!). The rapier itself went through an evolution between 1625 and 1660 becoming lighter and shorter, allowing it to be easily transferred between the left and right hands in a fight. A rapier was used by the military but it was also used as a sword, worn daily by non-military persons in case of trouble. The Rapier was also associated with the aristocracy. [14]

Broadsword – This was absent from Hamilton’s collection of swords (I am again avoiding spoilers!), nevertheless, the broadsword was used during the seventeenth century. It was short, wide and double-edged and was the standard military weapon.[15]

Dagger – Although daggers became unfashionable during the first half of the seventeenth century it was used alongside the rapier for defence. It was particularly useful in close combat.[16]

The Small Sword – took over from the rapier in the later seventeenth century and was essentially a French weapon taught by French masters.[17]

Swords and Swordsmanship in the armies of Louis XIV

Louis XIVs army like other armies of their time, comprised different regiments with different functions and specialities which called for the use of specific weapons. The fictional La Garde Ecossaise is situated mainly within the Maison le Roi which comprised of a number of regiments which made up the King’s bodyguard. In this context the sword served a ceremonial function, as well as a weapon of defence. It was the duty of the men in the elite Maison Le Roi to carry the King’s food to his table with sword in hand. In addition, the elite bodyguard were also given swords and carbines for defence purposes.[18] Other regiments were known for their use of swords too. The Gendarmes were armed with swords too.[19] A mark of the Grenadiers a’ Cheval de La Garde, which distinguished them from other regiments were their sabre swords which had a curved shape.[20] For the Gendarmerie de La France swords were also a standard issue for all members of the Gendarmerie as well as pistols and rifled carbines.[21]

It should also be no surprise that the sword was standard issue amongst soldiers in Louis XIVs field armies those large-scale armies mobilised to fight for the King both at home and abroad. Interestingly, for some parts of the line infantry, such as those who carried muskets, they also carried a sword on their person and as a means of defence in hand-to-hand combat in battle since they were not issued with body armour.[22] As expected, in common with many other early modern armies, the sword was the dominant weapon of the line cavalry. It was such an important weapon that the army stipulated its length be 89.3 cm long. The guard was to be made of brass and before 1684 it was to be carried on a buff shoulder belt, after 1684 it was carried on a waist belt. Swords were to be worn on the left side of the body.[23] We must also keep in mind that Louis XIVs army contained many men of different nationalities including Scots, Irish, English, German, Swiss and Hungarians to name but a few who brought with them their own national traditions of instruction, sword fighting and equipment experience. Louis XIVs army was an international entity containing some of the best swordsmanship from across Europe, not just France. Louis XIV was interested in investing in and distributing state of the art equipment to his armies. This was facilitated by the creation of a central administration system during the War of Devolution which sought to procure, organise, and distribute weapons and equipment to soldiers. [24]

Regarding specific bladed weapons, the rapier was used to fight single opponents in combat, in other words hand to hand combat and it was often found to be of use in duelling contests. Louis XIV specifically clamped down on such contests seeing them as a symptom of ill-discipline in the army. In the world of La Garde Ecossaise Hamilton indicates that the rapier is used, of course, these men being part of a secret unit akin to modern day special forces where hand to hand combat is a key feature in their ways of fighting.[25] During Louis XIVs reign there were efforts to try and develop the use of the sword by the cavalry, by moving from a straight blade to the curved sabre to allow for more cutting and slashing, rather than the stabbing actions by a straight blade.[26]

Thank you for joining me for another episode of the La Garde Ecossaise podcast. Don’t forget that you can purchase the historical fiction novel from all good bookstores. Next week we will take a look at muskets and the world of a skilled marksman. Until then – au revoir, a bientot.

[1] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 84.

[2] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 85.

[3] Egerton Castle, Schools and Masters of Fencing: From the Middle Ages to the Eighteenth Century (London, 2012) 66.

[4] Castle, Schools and Masters of Fencing 45-46, 51, 97, 201-202, 235, 237.

[5] Castle, Schools and Masters of Fencing 19, 67; Arthur Wise, The Art and History of Personal Combat (New York, 1971) Location 562 [Kindle].

[6] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 85, 88; Castle, Schools and the Masters of Fencing 99-102, 107-108.

[7] Castle, Schools and the Masters of Fencing 226, 229; Wise, The Art and History of Personal Combat Loc 707.

[8] Castle, Schools and Masters of Fencing 121-122, 125-126, 271; Wise, The Art and History of Personal Combat Loc 747-766, 787.

[9] Castle, Schools and Masters of Fencing 203-205, 238; Wise, The Art and History of Personal Combat Loc 1301.

[10] Castle, Schools and Masters of Fencing 129,

[11] Castle, Schools and the Masters of Fencing 25-26, 282-314.

[12] Sutton, Old Swordplay 3.

[13] Castle, Schools and Masters of Fencing 25.

[14] Alfred Hutton, Old Swordplay (London, 1892) 1, 17; MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 85; Castle, Schools and Masters of Fencing 350, 371, 376; Wise, The Art and History of Personal Combat Loc 1333.

[15] Hutton, Old Swordplay 29, 376.

[16] Hutton, Old Swordplay 17; Castle, Schools and Masters of Fencing 384; Wise, The Art and History of Personal Combat Loc 667..

[17] Castle, Schools and Masters of Fencing 34, 373.

[18] Rene Chartrand, Louis XIVs Army (Oxford, 1988) 13-14.

[19] Chartrand, Louis XIVs Army 14.

[20] Chartrand, Louis XIVs Army 15.

[21] Chartrand, Louis XIVs Army 16-17.

[22] Chartrand, Louis XIVs Army 18.

[23] Chartrand, Louis XIVs Army 33.

[24] Chartrand, Louis XIVs Army 36-37, 42-43; Rene Chartrand, The Armies and Wars of the Sun King 1643-1715: Volume I: The Guard of Louis XIV 35, 38.

[25] John A Lynn, Giant of the Grand Siècle: The French Army 1610-1715 (Cambridge, 1997) 255.

[26] Lynn, Giant of the Grand Siècle 490-491.

2.5 The World of the Marksman and Firearms in the Seventeenth Century

Hello and welcome back to the La Garde Ecossaise podcast. Today we are going to explore the world of the marksman and firearms during the seventeenth century. I have avoided the term ‘musketeer’ in the title of the podcast for an obvious reason – any time the term musketeer is used in relation to seventeenth century France many people will visualise the musketeers made famous by Alexandre Dumas, Athos, Porthos, Aramis and D’artagnan. I think the term marksman is much more appropriate. The character in the novel La Garde Ecossaise which represents this skillset is Alasdair MacDonald, is a mischievous and wayward Highlander with a good heart. Many may assume that a Scottish Highlander is an odd choice as a character that would represent marksmanship within the guard, but as I will explain in later podcasts, marksmanship has a long history within Irish and Highlander warfare. For the moment, this episode will explore, through the characters of Meldrum and MacDonald, the operation and use of muskets. It will then explore the operation of both the matchlock and flintlock musket and finally, it will explore the use of firearms in the armies of King Louis XIV.

Exploring Firearms with Alasdair MacDonald: the experience of Robert Meldrum

We are introduced to muskets when Robert Meldrum, the young recruit to the group, has one thrust into his hands by the gruff and abrupt highlander Alasdair MacDonald. Alasdair demonstrates the use of the flintlock musket and proudly notes that it is Scottish because it has no trigger guard. This was a common difference between English and Scottish muskets. Yet, interestingly, it was a Frenchman that is thought to have developed the best version of the flintlock musket in the early seventeenth century. Alasdair demonstrates his musket by firing a musket ball at a beer tankard placed upon a set of barrels in the grounds of a landed estate belonging to a local French nobleman. It is inferred by the passage that the Garde Ecossaise use the estate for training. Indeed, using landed estates to train men was, of course, nothing new. Before Louis XIVs armies became state contracted, the monarch was reliant upon nobleman to raise private armies of men at their own expense and means.[1]

Alasdair sets the beer tankard on the barrels, shoots with clear accuracy and the bullet or musket ball goes through the tankard from 100 yards. To modern ears this feat might seem impossible as there seems to be a popular misconception that the musket, generally speaking, was inaccurate and its range was short. However, Alasdair MacDonald was within an effective range at 100 yards (300 feet) much helped by the fact that he was a skilled marksman of many years experience and he was disciplined and shooting a stationary target.[2] Of course, Meldrum’s experience with the musket, was very different indeed. He states that he has never handled a musket before so Alasdair shows him how his flintlock works, and how the gunpowder was kept in small containers which were usually worn across the body. In La Garde Ecossaise these charges are hidden. As we will discover, the Garde worked in civilian areas, on secret operations and as such, they would keep these charges concealed from view. This is a bit of dramatic licence on my part because it was normal practice for infantry carrying muskets on the battlefield to wear their bandoliers on the outside of their uniforms, in full view, to assist with the efficient loading of the musket.[3]

Now the astute readers amongst you may have noticed that Alasdair gives Meldurm the instructions for firing a matchlock musket. This was deliberate and, as we will discuss later, the matchlock musket was still being used by Louis XIVs armies during the seventeenth century. Meldrum clearly feels uncomfortable, which is not a surprise, as firing muskets was completely new to him. It is clear that Alasdair has given Meldrum a matchlock musket to start with and, unsurprisingly Meldrum misses his target. In fact, Meldrum is taken aback by the power of the musket, almost being blown off his feet. Meldrum misses his target, the tankard, not just due to inexperience, but also due to the fact that although the matchlock musket could hit a target at 100 yards, it was often woefully inaccurate, particularly if fired by a single individual. On the battlefield matchlock muskets were often fired in lines and rows, with the front row firing first and then the solider would go to the back of the lines for reloading. Therefore, as a group the soldiers produced a continuous volley of fire which was more accurate and effective.[4] Indeed, Meldrum alludes to this when he refers to the drills that Alasdair puts him through as part of his training and that Alasdair makes Meldrum practise again and again so that the process of loading and firing the musket becomes faster and as instinctive as walking or eating. Indeed, looking after a musket, handling and learning how to fire a musket were all skills that had to be learned and proficiency had to meet high standards as accidents were common. Hence why Alasdair gives Meldrum a scathing look when Meldrum does not ram his ball down the barrel hard enough. Meldrum looks upon MacDonald as a harsh drill sergeant, as Meldrum states MacDonald gives him a flintlock pistol to practise on which was known for its inaccuracy. Another common way that people used to practise marksmanship especially on landed estates was through gamekeeping, and being keen to introduce Meldrum to live and moving targets, MacDonald suggests they should shoot some rabbits. [5]

The Anatomy of Muskets

There were broadly two kinds of muskets in the seventeenth century – the matchlock musket and the flintlock musket also called a fusil in some of the literature. The fusil gradually replaced the matchlock musket in the seventeenth century although, as we will see, Louis XIVs army was one of the last to make this transition. We will now explore the equipment needed to fire a musket at an enemy, as well as the technical differences between a matchlock musket and a flintlock or fusil. I will post links to videos within the podcast script blog. Please head over to www.lagardeecossaise.net to take a look.

Before we move on to the muskets themselves, we will explore the basic equipment that was common to both matchlock muskets and flintlock muskets.

The first piece of equipment common to both of these muskets was of course the musket balls. Musket balls were made of lead which had been melted down and poured into a mould, then when cooled, extracted from the mould and trimmed. If you would like to see how they were made please visit the YouTube link on my blog for this episode.[6]. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=snl5AcPi03Q

Both muskets required a bandolier which ran from the left shoulder to waist and carried twelve cartouches, or cartridges. French soldiers called these the ‘Twelve Apostles’. Each would be filled with enough gunpowder for a single shot. However, as Peter Edwards comments, ‘Bandoliers were cumbersome pieces of equipment to wear; the cartouches swung to and fro and rattled or jingled as the person moved. Apart from the danger that the noise might advertise one’s presence, there was always a possibility that a spark might explode the entire belt and blow up the solider with it’. In the armies of Louis XIV the wooden bandoliers were replaced by ammunition pouches.[7]

They also had a leather pouch in which they carried musket balls. They would also carry bits of cloth, paper or grass to use as wadding as well as a rod made of wood which was used to push the musket ball to the bottom of the barrel and into position for firing. When using a matchlock musket, the solider would have a powder flask pour powder into the ‘priming the pan’.[8]

When Alasdair MacDonald gives Meldrum the matchlock to use, MacDonald is giving him a weapon that takes longer to load and has a more complex drill than that of a flintlock musket.[9] MacDonald is putting Meldrum to work.

The steps in firing a matchlock musket are as follows:

Open and clean your pan. This was important to make sure that any residue and embers from your previous shot were cleared or it could cause accidents, or the musket could misfire.
Prime your pan with a small amount of gunpowder. So that later on, when the lit match hits the pan, it will trigger the firing mechanism.
Close your pan and knock off any lose powder. Again, this was important to prevent accidents and miswirings.
Take off one of cartouches or cartridges from your bandolier and pour the powder into the barrel of the gun. These cartouches contained about half an ounce of gunpowder.
You then insert your wadding and musket ball and push both down the barrel of the musket with your wooden rod. You need to push it as far down the barrel as you can or the musket will not discharge the ball properly. (as Meldrum learns when training with Alasdair).
Light your match and cock the musket so that when the trigger is pulled the lit match will go into the pan (which you primed with gunpowder earlier).
Aim and pull the trigger. The match will instantly touch the pan creating the firing mechanism and propel the musket ball forward with momentum towards your enemy.[10]

If you would like to see this in action for yourself please watch the YouTube link to the video below in the footnotes of the blog.

The advantage of the Flintlock over the matchlock musket was that it had a faster loading and firing drill. There were fewer steps to take as well being a safer piece of equipment for the soldiers, because the naked lit match was removed.

The steps for firing a flintlock musket were as follows:

Put the powder in the pan, priming the pan.
Pour powder down the barrel.
Put in the ball with wadding and ram it down to the bottom of the barrel.
Prepare to shoot, and fire![11]

The flint which replaces the more dangerous lit match in the matchlock strikes the pan instantly and creates the spark which triggers the firing mechanism. Notice how there are far fewer steps in loading and firing a flintlock.

Firearms in the Army of Louis XIV.

So, what type of firearms did the soldiers of Louis XIV use? The bodyguards of the king were issued with pistols and carbines – long barrelled guns, otherwise known as muskets. The Gendarmerie de la Garde were armed with pistols and wore bandoliers with charges attached to the outside of their uniform on a cross body belt. In the 1660s the famous musketeers’ regiment were given flintlock muskets and pistols plus bandoliers attached to their belts. By the 1670s all troopers in the King’s guard had flintlock muskets. The Grenadiers a cheval de la Garde also carried muskets and pistols. So too did the Gendarmerie de la France who also carried muskets and pistols. Each regiment within the King’s bodyguard had their own distinctive colour of bandoliers. Silver bandoliers denoted that the solider had the power of arrest on the King’s authority. [12]

Within the ranks of the military on the battlefield it was a similar picture with half of the infantry in the 1640s consisting of men with muskets. Like their European counterparts at this time, they used matchlock muskets and stood in lines of eight ranks of 32 men deep. The musket came with a forked rest due to its heavy weight.[13] By the mid-1660s it had become evident that there were too many different muskets of different calibres in the army and the standard musket balls issued did not fit some muskets. Therefore, Louis XIV brought in an ordinance which declared that all muskets used in his forces should be the same calibre, even though it took another six years for this to be fully implemented. It was only until the early 1670s that the French army began to move away from the matchlock musket and towards the flintlock musket. Rene Chartrand explains that ‘Matchlocks had been getting lighter, needing no rests, while flintlocks were appearing in larger calibres – but flintlock’s often misfired’.[14] However, the matchlock did not disappear entirely but sat alongside the flintlock in battle. In 1692 it was reported that the king’s musket infantry consisted half of flintlocks and half of matchlocks. It was not until the end of that decade that the matchlock was to disappeared from the armies of Louis XIV. John Lynn states that it was likely an issue of cost which impeded the flintlock being the standard firearm in Louis XIVs armies. There was also a clear disagreement amongst the top command about the effectiveness of the flintlock. Vauban, the famous French military engineer who failed to persuade his colleagues of the advantages of the flintlock, designed a musket that was both a flintlock and a matchlock in 1671. The line cavalry on the battlefield carried a shorter musket, while the dragoons carried a longer musket and had a pistol in a holster. Notably, in the case of the Gendarmerie, rifled carbines were given to skilled marksmen.[15] In terms of recruitment, parishes were expected to recruit for the provincial forces and also pay for their equipment, including their muskets. While on campaign carrying a musket could guarantee subsistence, as proof as a solider or extracting it from a reluctant civilian population whilst on campaign.[16]

This concludes today’s podcast which is a short introduction to firearms in the seventeenth century. Next week we will be introduced to the world of the spymaster and intelligence gathering in the early modern period. Remember you can purchase the historical fiction novel form all good online bookstores. Until then, Au revoir and A Bientot!

[1] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 96=97; Lynn, Giant of the Grand Siècle 7-8; Jay Hemmings, Going off Half-Cocked: The Invention Of The Flintlock Musket (warhistoryonline.com)

[2] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 97. Ranges differ based on the make and age of the flintlock, the range estimate can be viewed here Flintlock – Wikipedia

[3] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 97-98.

[4] Newcastle University, Meet a Musketeer | British Civil Wars (ncl.ac.uk); MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 99.

[5] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 99.

[6] James Rattray, ‘Making Lead Musket Balls on Killiecrankie Battlefield’ YouTube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=snl5AcPi03Q Accessed 09/03/2024.

[7] Peter Edwards, ‘Logistics and Supply’ in John Kenyon and Jane Ohlmeyer eds., The Civil Wars: A Military History of England, Scotland and Ireland 1638-1660 (Oxford, 1998) 235: Chartrand, The Armies and Wars of the Sun King 1643-1715: Volume 1 The Guard of Louis XIV 189; Chartrand, Louis XIVs Army 20.

[8] Edwards ‘Logistics and Supply’ 236; Earl of Manchester’s Regiment, ‘How to Fire a 17^th Century Matchlock Musket’ How to fire a 17th Century matchlock musket (youtube.com) Accessed 9/3/24. I am very grateful to Daithi Ifan for the discussion on wadding and rod materials.

[9] Lynn, Giant of the Grand Siècle 458-460.

[10] Earl of Manchester’s Regiment, ‘How to Fire a 17^th Century Matchlock Musket’ How to fire a 17th Century matchlock musket (youtube.com) Accessed 09/03/2024; Edwards ‘Logistics and Supply’ 235.

[11] Karen Henry, ‘How to fire an 18^th century musket’ How to fire an 18th century musket (youtube.com) Accessed 09/03/24.

[12] Chartrand, Louis XIVs Army 14-17: Chartrand, The Armies and Wars of the Sun King: The Guard of Louis XIV 146-147, 151, 165, 167.

[13] Chartrand, Louis XIVs Army 17-18; Lynn, The Giant of the Grand Siècle 459.

[14] Chartrand, Louis XIVs Army 18; Lynn, The Giant of the Grand Siècle 459, 461, 463.

[15] Chartrand, Louis XIV Army 18; Chartrand, The Armies and Wars of the Sun King: The Guard of Louis XIV 165; Lynn, The Giant of the Grand Siècle 462-464.

[16] Lynn, The Giant of the Grand Siècle 190, 383.

2.6 The World of the Spymaster and his Spies

Hello and welcome back to the La Garde Ecossaise podcast where will explore early modern history through historical fiction. Don’t forget to subscribe to the podcast and you can also view and subscribe to the podcast on YouTube. On today’s podcast we are going to explore the world of the spymaster and the secret world of intelligence and informants during the early modern period.

In La Garde Ecossaise we are introduced to the world of intelligence and spies through the eyes of Robert Meldrum as he is being trained in the handling of intelligence by Timothy Gray, head of intelligence for La Garde Ecossaise. Meldrum gives us an introductory insight into the methods of handling intelligence during the early modern period. Meldrum’s introduction to these methods of intelligence handling show that he is becoming a trusted member of the group.[1]

We are immediately told that the Garde operates a closed system of intelligence, meaning that only invited members would be able to learn the codes and cyphers within which the intelligence was written. This, of course, is used to maintain the highest levels of security which is unsurprising since the Garde deals with threats relating to national security and international security missions.[2]

We are also given an insight into their ‘rules of engagement’ to use a military term and to describe the ethics and parameters of their conduct in operations. It is important to note that although Hamilton is given free reign to conduct operations as he saw fit, he has to do so within the laws of war at the time. There are also rules regarding intelligence gathering, handling and acting upon that intelligence. To act upon it, the intelligence had to be corroborated with evidence. In short, Hamilton and his men, like many spymasters at the time, were bound by the law and his men had to maintain the basic legal standards in doing their work. In other words, they could not go around doing what they wish, or act upon hearsay or rumour. The Garde could only act if someone or something posed a certain immediate threat to life.[3]

Hamilton and his men were also bound by institutional obligations and were part of a hierarchy and a chain of command. Hamilton was summoned to see the king’s head of intelligence several times a week and was briefed on the latest intelligence every other day. Of course, intelligence changed constantly and therefore Hamilton and his men need to be briefed on the latest intelligence to stay ahead of the regime’s enemies and to know about any potential future threats.[4]

Indeed, as Meldrum points out that trust was integral to this intelligence network which stretched from Hamilton and his men to the head of intelligence, his contacts with the court, the King’s counsel and Louis XIV himself. It was not just the keeping of state secrets that was important, but also the trust in those ‘in the know’ to pass on as much accurate intelligence as possible.[5]

As Meldrum details, Hamilton returned from meetings with minimal notes with most of the information retained in his head. This, of course, was to reduce the paper trail or any visible recording of intelligence being lost while in transit between Paris and the palace of St Germain. To add another layer of deception, Timothy Gray’s office is a vacated royal apartment in the palace. It purposefully did not look like an office so any potential infiltrators would not suspect that this was where the Garde’s intelligence was kept. Meldrum also draws our attention to further security features of the room by revealing that the room has no windows. It was also a room used as a ‘safe place’ for his majesty King Louis XIV should there have been trouble in Paris. The room seemingly had only one entry and exit point but as Meldrum states, this was deceptive because the room was connected to Hamilton’s office by means of a secret passage. As Meldrum explains, since the turbulent Fronde in the 1650s, which were a series of serious revolts against Cardinal Mazarin and Anne of Austria by the nobles and the common people, Louis XIV was keenly aware of his own personal security.[6]

Meldrum observes that any sparse notes that Hamilton had gathered on intelligence were written in cypher and code, a code and written symbols which are in place of words. It is clear these cyphers were only understood by Hamilton and his men. In order to understand, transcribe and remember the contents of correspondence written in a cypher you would need good linguistic, mathematical, and writing skills as well as an excellent memory. Meldrum also describes verbal codewords that acted as cypher through the medium of oral transmission. The use of common languages such as Latin, French and English as well as less common languages such as Irish and Scottish Gaelic were forbidden to be used. This emphasises the importance of cyphers in their work, as well as it being a security measure. In addition to this, the cypher used within the Garde was changed on a regular basis as well as the locations used to transmit intelligence between contracts. Again, these were security measures to maintain the confidentiality of intelligence.[7]

If written correspondence was required, as Meldrum reveals, the correspondence of the Garde was written in invisible ink. The ink was made from lemon juice and after the letter was written it was covered by a thin layer of tallow wax to disguise its contents by making the letter resemble a blank page. As we will discuss later this was a common practice in the intelligence communities of early modern Europe. After revealing the contents of the letter, by moving it over a lit candle, Gray advises Meldrum to burn his intelligence ‘without fail’ removing all traces of its existence. Again, these were another security mechanism.[8]

Meldrum was also taught the ‘brush pass’ whereby people exchanged intelligence by walking parallel to each other and exchanged objects and small bits of paper as they met each other at a point of contact. At the end of his initial time with Gray Meldrum is tested in his skills in transcribing intelligence. Meldrum is asked to transcribe and translate two pages of cypher in five minutes, which was clearly a tough challenge given the little training in intelligence that Meldrum had undertaken. Yet, Meldrum does so flawlessly and, as a result, he is welcomed with open arms into the Garde.[9]

What Do We Mean by Intelligence in the Early Modern Period?

Throughout the novel we come across several different situations where intelligence is obtained and used. Often used as a homogeneous term to cover covert operations, the term ‘intelligence’ in the early modern period can refer to information generally. This is seen with reference to printed public newsbooks that call themselves ‘intelligenciers’. However, if examining the term ‘intelligence’ in its covert context, there were several kinds of covert intelligence during the early modern period.

Military Intelligence

The first type of intelligence was military intelligence. In La Garde Ecossaise we see this in action when John Hamilton is requested to do reconnaissance before a battle in the Thirty Years War.[10] As the name suggests, military intelligence was used by the military to enable them to form strategy and tactics to defeat enemies. To quote historian Jullian Whitehead, military intelligence ‘seeks to provide information on enemy strengths, dispositions and intentions in order to assist the commander in planning his own strategy and tactics’.[11] John Ellis, in his excellent analysis of military intelligence during the civil wars in England, outlines a complex web of people involved in the process of intelligence gathering and the situations in which it took place. For military intelligence to operate and be successful there needed to be a spy, a willing messenger, a transcriber of intelligence and a recipient. In a military context during the early modern period, a wide variety of people were recruited as spies, including pubescent boys, military surgeons and close civilian friends of commanding officers. All of these people could blend in with the military and the local populations. The willing messenger could be a servant, or a merchant, or an itinerant traveller. Again, these figures were very common in early modern society and could easily integrate the carrying of messages into their daily routines, thereby avoiding suspicion from enemy forces. The transcriber of intelligence was more likely to be a professional spy, such as a Timothy Gray. These men were usually recruited from the gentry and educated with excellent mathematical problem-solving skills, alongside reading and writing skills. Yet, work for these men could be tough as different generals, even in the same army, had their own cypher system which could be slow and cumbersome to crack. Therefore, to be a transcriber in the military was a high-pressure environment where results were demanded by the commanding officer and the intelligence could change very rapidly over time. The recipient, usually someone on your own side in the war, was usually a military officer who had the responsibility for planning military strategy and battlefield tactics. However, it must be remembered that all of those involved in the processes of intelligence, especially the spy and the messenger, were undertaking their duties under the greatest risk possible, at the cost of their own lives. Military spies were hung if discovered.[12]

Diplomatic Intelligence

As this name suggests this type of intelligence was collected for, and written by, diplomats and their embassies for their respective national governments. This intelligence was used to shape and inform treaties and relationships between countries. The intelligence by diplomats and their embassies would give their respective national governments an inside track into what was going on within the internal politics of government and the policies being established. However, this did not mean that the trust between respective states or counties were a given, even if a diplomat was present, often diplomats were not fully trusted by domestic governments. Domestic governments would intercept their mail on a regular basis, not just for security reasons but also to gain the inside track on what other foreign governments were doing and thinking. The diplomat was part of a wider community of diplomatic compatriots who were in regular contract with each other through written correspondence such as letters and reports. Information about the internal politics within other foreign countries could be gleaned from such correspondence. Sometimes diplomatic correspondence could be used strategically to gain the advantage in treaty negotiations by exploiting weaknesses in potential partners and allies.[13] In La Garde Ecossaise we can see this in action when John Hamilton leans on a Dutch notary left behind in France in order to gain information about the United Provinces at the outbreak of the Dutch War.[14]

We will explore the next two categories of intelligence, as seen from the point of view of a consummate spy, such as La Garde Ecossaise’s Timothy Gray.

Domestic Intelligence

Domestic intelligence dealt with internal threats to the state whether that be whole groups or individual actors. What constituted a threat to the state could change based on events or a change in personnel or governments. For example, in Britain during the English Republic, Royalists, those still loyal to the monarchy, were considered a serious threat to the security of the republic, but when the British and Irish monarchy was restored under King Charles II in 1660, the situation was reversed with the English Republicans becoming the domestic security threat to the monarchy. Threats could also ebb and flow, meaning that any threat was not constant, any threat often waned or gained in strength depending on the actions of malign actors or even as a result of a change in the perception of governments to potential threats (rather than a realistic or actual threats). In the context of seventeenth century France the Huguenots are the best example. They were distrusted by the French monarchy for their actions during the French Religious Wars, which included uprisings and attempted assassinations, but nevertheless Huguenots were given a measure of toleration under the Edict of Nantes passed in 1598. We will discuss this in greater depth in a future podcast, but for now I will keep it brief. Louis XIV had a deep distrust of Huguenots and even though Huguenots fought for him in the Thirty Years War (most notably Viscount Turenne) Louis felt that in order to ensure peace and prosperity in France he would need to persuade the Huguenots to convert to Catholicism and Turenne did so in 1668. Indeed, for the first few decades of his reign Louis wished to persuade the Huguenots to convert to the Catholic faith rather than using force. However, Louis XIV’s approach to the Huguenots changed when the security situation within and outside of France changed and in 1685 the Edict of Nantes, which had promised the Huguenots certain rights, was revoked. Seen by some historians as an act of an intolerant and cruel king, the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes can be seen as a security measure to combat any potential trouble for the French state in the face of the sharpening confessional divisions in international conflicts at the time.[15]

Foreign Intelligence

Our final category, foreign intelligence, should be seen as being separate from diplomatic intelligence as it is intelligence from abroad that is obtained by national governments and states that relate to their own national security. However, the interception of diplomatic correspondence could aid in this process. Foreign intelligence often related to exiled communities abroad that posed a direct threat to the established government of a state. In the 1650s, the English Republic collected a constant stream of information on exiled Royalist communities in The Hague, Paris, Brussels and Spain. This information was not only used to discover plots against the Republic and the movement of people between the two countries, but the intelligence obtained was also used to shape the English Republic’s diplomatic relationships with states in Europe. This is most obvious when Cromwell chose to shift from Spain towards France as a key ally in the mid to later 1650s. The expulsion of the British Royalist community from France was an essential element to negotiations. Looking at France, despite the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes in 1685, French ministers took an active interest in the Huguenot exiles, many of whom had fled to countries ill-disposed to Louis XIV at the time, including Britain and Ireland, the United Provinces and Brandenburg.[16]

Invisible Ink and Cyphers: Spies and their methods

As detailed above, Timothy Gray teaches Meldrum the two basic skills required to transmit confidential written information in the early modern period, namely using invisible ink and cyphers.

Lemon juice, squeezed finely, can produce invisible ink in which a quill is dipped. At this moment in time the ink is completely invisible but if you provide a naked flame to the letter, the words appear because the sugar in the lemon juice becomes visible under the heat.[17]

Another way to covertly share information by the written word was a cypher. As Jullian Whitehead has pointed out, cyphers took two forms, code, whereby random words and symbols replaced the real message, and, cyphers whereby each letter within a word was replaced with another letter or symbol. These encrypted words would have looked meaningless and chaotic to the uninitiated. Each system had its own key which was only understood by the sender and recipient. There were two approaches to encryption. The first was by jumbling existing letters in words in a random order. However, that made the encryption of the message easy to crack if anyone intercepted it. Therefore, the majority of spies in the seventeenth century used the second method known as the substitution method whereby individual letters were replaced with another letter or symbol making the correspondence more secure. These cyphers were quite simple and were easy to crack if you were an experienced spymaster or transcriber. Many correspondents would use recurring phrases as a form of disguise, even in encrypted material making it easier to discern their meaning. [18]

This concludes season 2 of the La Garde Ecossaise podcast. I hope you enjoyed the series. If you have any questions and are watching on YouTube please feel free to put any comments or questions on the YouTube channel community page and I will do my best to answer them. If listening on a streaming service and you have any questions please feel free to contact me on X @kirsteenmm or Instagram @earlymodernkirsteenmm.

I will see you soon for season 3 where we will explore the Ulster Plantation and the 1641 Rebellion. Until then, au revoir, A bientot.

[1] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 101.

[2] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 101.

[3] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 102.

[4] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 102.

[5] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 102.

[6] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 102-103.

[7] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 103-104.

[8] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 104.

[9] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 104.

[10] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 316.

[11] Julian Whitehead, Cavalier & Roundhead Spies: Intelligence in the Civil War and the Commonwealth (Barnsley, 2009) vii.

[12] John Ellis, ‘To Walk in the Dark’ Military Intelligence during the English Civil War 1642-1646 (Stroud, 2011) 10, 21, 30-36.

[13] Kirsteen M MacKenzie, ‘The Waiting Game’ Cromwellian Diplomacy: the Foreign Experience’ Cromwelliana (2009) 95-107; Alan Marshall, Intelligence and Espionage in the English Republic (London, 2023) 20-22.

[14] MacKenzie, La Garde Ecossaise 156-157.

[15] David Underdown, Royalist Conspiracy in England 1649-1660 (New Haven, 1960); Emmanuel Le Roy Ladurie, The Ancien Regime: A History of France, 1610-1774 (Oxford, 1991) 193-194.

[16] Le Roy Ladurie, The Ancien Regime 217, 528; Bernard Cottret, The Huguenots in England: immigration and settlement c.1550-1700 (Cambridge, 1991) 185-228; Simon Schama, The Embarrassment of Riches: An Interpretation of Dutch Culture in the Golden Age (London, 1997) 587; Underdown, Royalist Conspiracy in England; Jullian Whithead, Cavalier and Roundhead Spies 147-161; Timothy Venning, Cromwellian Foreign Policy 46.

[17] See YouTube Sarah Habibi, ‘How to Write Secret Messages with Lemons’ How to Write Secret Messages with Lemons – YouTube Accessed 31/03/24; Alan Marshall, Intelligence and Espionage in the English Republic 118, 149; Whitehead, Cavalier and Roundhead Spies 223.

[18] Whitehead, Cavalier & Roundhead Spies 223-225; Underdown, Royalist Conspiracy in England 341-342.