PANALBA

Heart of the Noble Montrose

Roddy Martine 06/27/2010 11:58 AM

IN Scotland's substantial roll call of charismatic heroes, there is nobody who stands out more than James Graham, 4th Earl and 1st Marquis of Montrose. Soldier and poet, strikingly handsome and loyal, his spirited story embraces every aspect of historical romance . Not without reason was he known among his followers as the "Noble Marquis."

For decency and honour were among his core virtues and sadly it was these values that led to his downfall and early death on the scaffold at the age of thirty eight. Whichever side you supported during Scotland's Covenanting Wars and subsequent engagement with the English Civil War, nobody emerges from the snake pit of betrayal and intrigue with more dignity than Montrose.

These thoughts were firmly in my mind when I heard that members of The First Marquis of Montrose Society (www.montrose-society.org.uk) had written to Scotland's First Minister to propose that the Scottish Government lend support to a series of celebrations in 2012 to mark the 400th anniversary of the great man's birth.

James Graham inherited his earldom from his father at the age of fourteen and was an early signatory of the Scottish National Covenant which opposed the religious dictates of Charles I. Although he led the Covenant troops in the Bishop's War of 1639, he rapidly realised that for a number of his compatriots it was little more than an opportunity to undermine the authority of the monarch. In a dramatic turn-around, he therefore surrendered to Charles I who commissioned him to raise a Royalist army in Scotland.

This he proceeded to do and, as the English Civil War gained momentum between 1644 and 1645, won a string of remarkable victories until his soldiers were eventually defeated by a Covenanting army which had been hastily recalled from England. Escaping to Europe, it says it all that he was offered the rank of Field Marshall in the armies of the King of France, the Holy Roman Empire and the King of Sweden. But Charles I having been executed by the English parliament in 1649, he chose instead to return home the following year in what proved to be a hopeless attempt to mobilise Scotland in support of Charles II.

Alas, this time Montrose's meagre force was comprehensively defeated at the Battle of Carbisdale in Sutherland, and although he escaped, he was taken a prisoner and ransomed by Neil Macleod of Assynt at Ardvreck Castle. From here, he was taken to Edinburgh where he was hastily condemned to death. It is interesting to note that as he was taken up the Royal Mile of Edinburgh to be executed on 21st May 1650, the crowd which had been paid to shout abuse at him by his great enemy the Marquis of Argyll, stood silent, their heads bowed in respect.

Having been hung, drawn and quartered, as was the custom for those found guilty of treason, Montrose's head was placed upon a stake at Edinburgh Castle where it remained for ten years. Other limbs were displayed in Glasgow, Stirling, Dundee and Aberdeen, and his other remains buried in a felon's grave on the Boroughmuir marsh just outside of the city walls of Edinburgh. On the Restoration of the Monarchy in 1660, however, Charles II ordered a State Funeral at St Giles's Kirk for his former Viceroy in Scotland and the recovery of all the limbs to be interred therein.

Not much of a consolation for the living Montrose, but thereby hangs a curious sequel to this narrative.

Among the Noble Marquis's many admirers was his nephew's wife Lady Napier who, in the rather bizarre habit of handing out grisly keepsakes in that age, had allegedly been promised his heart when he was dead. Two nights after his execution, therefore, the remains of Montrose's corpse were located and, so the story goes, his heart removed. It was thereafter embalmed and placed in a small steel case made from the blade of its owner's sword, and this, in turn, was placed in a gold filigree box and later deposited in a large silver urn.

Not long after this, the Napiers left Scotland for Holland where the urn remained until it was brought back to Merchiston Tower (now the centrepiece of Edinburgh's Napier University) by their great-grandson. It was then passed on to his daughter Hester who soon afterwards set off to live in India with her husband Samuel Johnston, taking the urn with them. In their home at Madura it sat on an ebony table where it gained a reputation for possessing magical powers, and this is probably what caused it to be stolen. Twenty years passed until, one day, Hester's son Alexander, now in his twenties, was invited on a sporting excursion by a wealthy Indian prince who, as it transpired, had bought the urn, unaware of its provenance.

He immediately gave it back but when the Johnstons returned to Europe with their possessions in 1792, the port authorities of the French Republic announced that their gold and silver ornaments were to be confiscated. Conscious of the immense sentimental value of the urn, if nothing else, Hester secretly handed the urn over for safekeeping to a Mrs Knowles, an English lady resident in Boulogne.

Soon afterwards, war broke out between Britain and France and the fate of Mrs Knowles is unknown. As soon as the hostilities were over in 1815, Alexander Johnston set off to Boulogne hoping to find the missing relic, but all trace of it and the lady had vanished.

Over the following centuries there have been several claims as to the whereabouts of the urn. However, nothing to date has materialised, which might suggest that somewhere in the South of France there still survives a silver receptacle and gold box containing the heart of one of Scotland's greatest men.

In that case, should you ever find yourself poking about in a French curiosity shop or visiting a car boot sale in the area, be sure and keep your eyes open. Wouldn't it be truly splendid to bring it back to Scotland for the anniversary celebrations?