Montrose by C. V. Wedgwood is quite concise, yet it tells the story well. I found her tale much easier to follow than John Buchan’s earlier work. The use of illustrations was helpful–illuminating without being overpowering.
James Graham, Marquis of Montrose was a true Presbyterian martyr, far superior to the Kirk that excommunicated him and the kings he served–who ultimately betrayed him. He sided with the National Covenant and with the Kirk until he realized that some were using the King’s bad policy as an excuse for personal ambition and unlawful rebellion. He fought for the royalist cause out of simple principle. It’s hard to describe the effect this book has on the reader, except that I keep feeling like there’s a W. W. J. G. D? bracelet fastened on my wrist.
Graham’s treatment by the Presbyterian ministers in power in his day was quite shocking. It is amazing to read about how both the civil and ecclesiastical courts were used to manipulate and eliminate people who bucked the status quo and offended the powerful. It also turns one stomach to read how often ministers of the Kirk overturned their military leaders agreements to make terms with the defeated and insist on bloody extermination of the vanquished “to purge the land of blood-guiltiness.”
(This won’t mean much to most readers, but I was surpised how “miscreant” came up in the book as a term used to describe Montrose by his Kirk enemies as a traiter.)
The entire book is moving, but naturally Montrose’s via delarosa is the worst. Aside from the fact he was so ill-used by his own king, and so horribly treated as a captured prisoner, he had to endure the fulminations of minister’s of the Gospel as they berated him before their congregations in order to frighten potential royalists and bolster their faithful. He was deliberately paraded on tour in the most humilating manner in order to provide such opportunities before arriving in Edinburgh to be hanged like a common criminal.
On the Sabbath the whole cavalcade halted at Keith. Montrose, bound and guarded, was set before a crowded congregation to hear the minister preach on the fate of Agag, king of the Amalekites, whom the ferocious prophet Samuel commanded to be hewn to pieces. He listened with patience to the torrent of abuse and then, in a momentary paulse, interjected the words, “Rail on , Rabshakeh.” Everyone in that Bible-bred audience knew that Rabshakeh was the false priest who tried to seduce the people of Judah from their true allegiance (p. 146).
To the very end Montrose kept the faith. His enemy, Argyll, could not look him in the face even when he was victorious and Montrose a bound prisoner. After he died by hanging a general purge followed with the guillotine (or “the maiden” as it was called) until “the people of Edinburgh began to talk of blood sacrifices and refer to the scaffold as the altar of Argyll” (p. 156).
It is amazing that Montrose’s family came out as well as they did. His eldest son died, probably due to the exhaustion of staying on the move with his father’s army. His wife died in a way lost to history. His younger children were made wards of the state that was at war with their father. They were allowed to see him one last time as he was being paraded on a pony, feverish and bound. But they eventually did better thanks to the Cromwellians. Say what you will about these anti-royalist independents, they were superior in spirit to the Scot junto, recognizing quality even on the other side of the battle lines. General Monck, who was the military occupier of Scotland, protected the two boys. When their other brother returned to take part in an unsuccessful royalist “rebellion,” Monck gave him generous terms and allowed him to keep a part of his estate.
This is hard to read because it ends so badly and you know that it will end that way from the moment you start reading. But Montrose’s character is inspiring, making the reader want to face adversity and painful trials with the same faith and steadfastness. I highly recommend it.