Linlithgow Would Know

by Angelyn Schmid

Linlithgow Palace, Scotland

Burned out and abandoned in 1746. So what's the attraction?

Some will argue Linlithgow is the sole remaining witness to the moment Scotland began her irrevocable journey toward union with England. It was the night of April 23, 1567 at this palace when the Crown of Scotland forever lost its sacred value and became a naked pawn to be sold by the nobles who should have served it.

The night James Hepburn, Earl of Bothwell, plotted to kidnap Mary, Queen of Scots. But Bothwell and Mary were lovers, were they not? Did they not plan her abduction in advance, secretly, so that they might retreat to Dunbar Castle, thus paving the way for their marriage. Aye?

If walls could talk they would tell of a plan so secret that others knew of it.

Earlier that day of April 23rd, Mary's father-in-law wrote a letter. He was the Earl of Lennox, parent of her murdered husband, Lord Darnley. His letter communicated a curious warning to his wife, the formidable Margaret Douglas, daughter of Margaret Tudor. He advised her that Bothwell was about to kidnap their sovereign, the Queen of Scots.

In far away England, that perennial servant to the House of Tudor, William Cecil, advised: "Scotland was a quaqmire. Nobody seems to stand still; the most honest desire to go away; the worst tremble with the shaking of their conscience."

Yet April 23rd had begun so innocently. That morning Mary kissed her son good-bye in Stirling, not knowing she would never see him again. She planned to journey as far as Edinburgh, but had to stop along the way, at the place she was born--Linlithgow. She could travel no farther, for the pain in her side that had plagued her since girlhood had become insupportable. Some said then it was an ulcer, some say today it was a genetic malady called porphyria.

But all might have passed unnoticed except that there was another following her. Bothwell approached Linlithgow now cloaked in darkness and rode into the palace courtyard while the moon was high. Mary's retinue had since retired, but perhaps in her pain the Queen remained awake. Perhaps she might receive him where he could ask for her hand in marriage. Again.

She was awake, but she refused to see him. So her Lieutenant of the Borders had to be satisfied with an audience before her loyal Catholic retainer, George Gordon, Earl of Huntly. Huntly was a Highlander and also Bothwell's brother-in-law, with some regret over giving his sister Jean to this Lowlander he began to suspect of treason. Bothwell minced no words. He wanted help to kidnap the Queen. One can imagine Huntly's dismay, and his adamant refusal.

How I would have loved to hear how Bothwell tried to convince a man, whose sister he now planned to divorce, to give him aid. To give him the assistance necessary to overcome the Queen's guard so she may be carried off and married by force. That is the scenario I always think of when visiting this ruined palace. Because Linlithgow would know.

And it is so important to know. Had the Queen cooperated with Bothwell, as the Casket Letters would have us believe, there was surely no need to involve his wife's brother in the matter. Moreover, would Bothwell have been sent away? He was, forced to retire to Calder castle some distance southeast of Edinburgh.

The next day, Mary left Linlithgow for Edinburgh and was met by Bothwell's forces six miles west of the city. From thence forward, she lost control of her crown and her destiny.

It was not Carberry, or even Fotheringhay, that was the scene of Mary's last day as Queen of Scotland.

For Linlithgow would know.

Angelyn

Like history? Fall in love with it! Check out my blog at http://www.angelynschmid.com/ on history and romance.

Crichton Castle, Scotland

CRICHTON CASTLE

MIDLOTHIAN, SCOTLAND

Crichtoun! Though now thy miry court

But pens the lazy steer and sheep,

Thy turrets rude, and totter'd Keep,

Have been the Minstrel's loved resort.

-Marmion, Sir Walter Scott

The remarkable thing about Crichton Castle is its deceptive surroundings. Stark and lonely, the castle sits in a place devoid of habitation, as if forsaken by the whole world. Indeed, nothing has been built in this part of Scotland in over five hundred years. But yet Crichton is only mere minutes from the capitol city of Edinburgh.

Now a ruin, the castle is maintained for visitors by Historic Scotland. Today, June 10, it is closed. This is important to know in case my post inspires you to pop down the A68 and visit the castle for the afternoon. Not that many of us are able to do this, but wouldn't it be great to leave your office in a major urban center and in a few minutes be standing in the Great Hall where Jamie Hepburn watched his sister marry the Queen of Scots' brither?

'Tis so easy to get carried away.

The castle began like many others in the Scottish Borders as a simple peel tower. Overlooking the Tyne River valley, it had been built in the late fourteenth century by John de Crichton who, like his Norman ancestors, valued a fortified residence. Eventually this tower house became the central component to several expansions carried out by his descendants and survives today as one of the oldest examples built in Scotland. John's son became Lord High Chancellor and added the great hall to Crichton to reflect his family's growing power. But it was his acquisition of another castle, belonging to the murdered earl of Douglas, that forever linked the name of Bothwell to Crichton.

Eventually the castle, along with the earldom of

Bothwell, was given to the mighty Hepburn

family. It was under the tenure of the notorious and aforementioned fourth earl, James Hepburn, that Crichton saw its most tumultuous days. The castle was alternately sacked, given to a wife later divorced and finally forfeited to the Crown. The last earl of Bothwell, Jamie's nephew Francis, was a favorite of James VI and regained possession of Crichton. It was he who gave the castle its most distinctive feature, an Italianate courtyard with a faceted surface that he designed from his memory of travels abroad.

The Renaissance had penetrated even the most remote corner of the wild Scottish borders.

Crichton was a ruin by the time Scott's Marmion had been published to great acclaim in Regency England. The Age of Reason that inspired the neoclassical facelift of Crichton's courtyard had given way to the Age of Romanticism and its fascination with the crumbling and abandoned. Scott's words, brimming with longing and charged emotion, made Crichton into a mystic symbol of a vanished world. No wonder his readers later flocked to see the castle rendered in J. M. Turner's lovely watercolor.

Even Jane Austen had to acknowledge the breathless excitement over ruins that Scott's poetry might evoke. Her sensible heroine in Persuasion, Anne Elliott, cautiously debated the merits of Marmion with Captain Benwick, but privately hoped her companion might not confine himself solely to poetry and the danger it can pose to a melancholy heart.

It has been several years since I've visited Crichton. On approach, I was quite convinced the map had led me astray through pasture and hillside occupied by sheep and little else. But as Crichton Collegiate Church appeared, it seemed the destination must be close by, and it was. The car park was situated some distance away from the castle, necessitating a hike up a "terrace" of bracken and stinging nettle. But the view was well worth the journey. Nothing can compare to the sight of Crichton as it gazes sullenly across the valley towards Borthwick castle, which had the temerity to be restored and converted into a hotel.

At the entrance, a very nice man who was looking after things inspected our passes. He seemed glad of the company, having a jolly, informative manner completely at odds with Crichton's isolated and mournful demeanor. Remarkably, the fellow had just finished cleaning (!?!) the castle's pit prison which is at the top of a railed stairway. He proceeded to describe the variety of sticks, tourist pamphlets and bones (presumably animal and not human) that he had fished out of the deep, dark hole.

Of course every castle has a ghost and we were duly told of the apparition seen by visitors of a horse and rider riding up to Crichton and disappearing into its exterior wall where a former entrance once was before it had been bricked up. Others have mentioned an apparition sometimes seen in the ruined stable block some distance from the castle.

And one more thing: Crichton is a popular geo-cache location. I've been told that's because it is a muggle-free area. Go there and you will understand why.

Visit Angelyn at her blog http://www.angelynschmid.com/ for more forays into the Regency era and historic buildings throughout the United Kingdom.