James IV and Flodden Field
The final item of business today is a members’ business debate on motion S4M-05610, in the name of Christine Grahame, on James IV and Flodden field. The debate will be concluded without any question being put.
Motion debated,
That the Parliament notes that 9 September 2013 will mark 500 years since the Battle of Flodden in which King James IV of Scotland was killed; notes that he was reputed to be fluent in many languages including Latin, French, German, Flemish, Italian and Spanish, and that, among other achievements, he founded two new dockyards and acquired 38 ships for the Royal Scots navy, granted the Edinburgh College of Surgeons a royal charter in 1506 and welcomed the establishment of Scotland’s first printing press in 1507; notes that his marriage to Margaret Tudor, “The Thistle and the Rose”, paved the way for the Union of the Crowns and probable eventual political union, and recognises calls for the return “on loan” for the 500th anniversary of Flodden of the only artefacts attributed to him, a sword, dagger and turquoise ring currently with the College of Arms in London.
12:34
I feel that my voice may echo around the chamber.
I thank all the members who signed the motion that has allowed the debate to proceed and those who have relinquished a trip to somewhere in the north to be here.
The debate is timely, given that the quincentennial anniversary of Flodden will be on 9 September this year. That is a date in my diary, as it is also my birthday—not my quincentennial birthday, although I sometimes feel that old. As an aside, I think that we are all taught history when we are too young, but perhaps these days it is livelier and is given the immediacy of real life and made relevant to our lives.
Although a king, James IV was first and foremost a man of flesh and blood who breathed, loved and died, as we all do. He was a real person. He was also a political beast, as monarchs were then; some would say that they are political beasts, with a small P, even now. He was astute—he made alliances—and educated. He survived and died in violent circumstances.
If members will forgive me, this will be a potted and selective history. James IV was born in 1473 and, at the age of 15, rode at the battle of Sauchieburn, at which his father was killed. It is said that he wore an iron belt as penance from that date until his death on Flodden field in 1513, at the age of 40. Even for monarchs—with the exception, perhaps, of Elizabeth Tudor—life then was short.
In that time, James IV achieved much. He spoke Latin—at the time, it was the international language—French, German, Flemish, Italian, Spanish and some Gaelic, and he took an active interest in literature, science and the law. He even tried his hand at dentistry and minor surgery. With his patronage, the printing press came to Scotland, and the Royal College of Surgeons in Edinburgh, St Leonard’s College in St Andrews and King’s College in Aberdeen were founded. He commissioned building work at the royal residences of Linlithgow palace, Edinburgh castle and Stirling castle, and he developed a strong navy that was led by his flagship, the Great Michael, which was said to be the largest vessel of the time.
However, James IV is remembered most because of the massacre at Flodden. Even to this day there is a poignant moment in the Selkirk common riding when, each year, the casting of the colours in the square testifies to the fact that, of the 80 Selkirk men who left to fight at Flodden, only one returned—Fletcher. The casting of the colours replicates the legend that he cast a captured English flag about his head to show that all the others had been cut down. To this day, the casting of those colours to the rhythmic drumbeat silences the crowd.
Flodden itself, which I first saw on a bright, breezy July day, is not an historic monument but a war memorial. That is an important distinction. On that July day, the long grasses in the fields below where the slaughter took place rippled like green water, and on the memorial someone had laid a clutch of thistles. At that moment, even though centuries had passed, the pain of that day and the waste of lives were quite tangible.
It is said that between 1,000 and 4,000 English solders were casualties, and that between 7,000 and 11,000 Scots lay dead, including King James and most of his nobles who were on the field. Such was the concern that the English would march on to Edinburgh that the construction of the Flodden wall was begun. It is possible to see a bit of it just up the road by turning left at the lights to the Pleasance.
James’s burial place is unknown, but it is alleged that three artefacts—a sword, dagger and a turquoise ring—that belonged to him were taken from the battlefield. Those are currently in the custody of Mr Cheesman, who is Richmond Herald at the College of Arms in London, with whom I correspond, and although their provenance is not secure, there are sufficient grounds for believing at least that the sword was the sword of James IV.
I am grateful to Gary Stewart of the Society of William Wallace, Dr Elspeth King of the Stirling Smith art gallery and museum in Stirling and, indeed, Parliament staff, who are negotiating the terms of loan of those artefacts to Scotland for possible display here and at the museum from the weeks at the end of August until October. I hope that they will be exhibited in the Parliament’s public area in the week of Flodden—fingers crossed.
James has another claim to fame. He also married, with consequences that were unforeseen at the time, Margaret Tudor, who was one of Henry VII of England’s daughters. It was called the rough wooing. The marriage of the thistle and the rose took place at Holyrood on 8 August 1503. The match had great significance in the long term. After the death of Elizabeth I of England and the end of the Tudor dynasty, the two thrones were inherited by the great-grandson of James and Margaret—James I of England and VI of Scotland. The Stuarts had arrived. The rest, as they say, is history—quite literally. It now seems inevitable that the marriage of the thistle and the rose—the union of the crowns—would move on to the union of the Parliaments.
The threads from that history of 500 years ago gave us the union flag. With devolution, some of that stitching was unpicked. Next year will tell us whether those threads remain or will finally be cut and whether the saltire will fly on its own again. Whatever happens, it will be from the other Holyrood that that event takes place.
12:40
I congratulate Christine Grahame on securing the debate on this important topic. It is my great pleasure to add my modest speech to today’s discussion.
I also record my thanks to Greig Lamont, who helped to research the speech. He finishes working in the Scottish Parliament this week and I am grateful for the help that he has given me in preparing the speech.
Not many occasions are remembered 500 years after they occur—I very much doubt that my speech will be—but the fact that the battle of Flodden is remembered half a millennium later illustrates its importance as a central part of Scotland’s historical journey and national story.
The battle of Flodden will be remembered once again this year all over my Borders constituency during many of the Borders towns’ common ridings and civic weeks. My home town of Coldstream is no exception. The annual ride out to Flodden is seen as the zenith of the annual civic week. It was 51 years ago that the first cavalcade of horses made its way to Flodden, with more than 100 horses and riders being piped over Coldstream bridge to “Blue Bonnets” against the background of the waters of the River Tweed.
Although 500 years ago we crossed the border to meet our foes, making the journey as outlaws, today we cross it as friends, neighbours and, indeed, family. Although 500 years ago we Scots rode over the border to raid, today we do so to remember an ancient rivalry, remember those on both sides who fell and celebrate the central importance of the battle of Flodden in our Scottish story.
James IV’s defeat at Flodden gives him the unique claim of being the last monarch of Scotland, England or Wales to die in battle. However, although those are certainly the main facets of his memory that have been immortalised by history, they are far from being his only achievements, if that is the right word to use. His accomplishments ranged far beyond his ability to lose decisive battles. He was an experienced horseman and, despite what I have said, a talented military leader. However, he was far from being a warmongering brute. He was a steadfast patron of the arts, and his drive to improve cultural, political and scientific developments in Scotland earned him the honorary and rather becoming title of the renaissance prince.
As Christine Grahame notes in her motion, 505 years ago, James IV issued the first royal licence for printing in Scotland. The first printed book in the nation was published one year later in 1508 on a printing press not far from here in the Cowgate. A copy of that volume remains to this day in the National Library of Scotland and stands as a testament to his contribution to literature, learning and enlightenment in Scotland. Not only that, but the Palace of Holyroodhouse, which stands a few hundred feet from where we debate, owes its existence and location to his vision.
However, it was not only Scotland’s culture and landscape that James IV influenced; its shape as a nation was transformed as a result of his life. His marriage to Margaret Tudor and the eventual unification of the Scots and English royal households that resulted strengthened relations between Scotland and England. At the time, the poet William Dunbar hailed it as an end to the Anglo-Scottish rivalry that had raged for centuries. The influence of that marriage on the eventual act of union in 1707 is hardly insignificant. Therefore, James IV’s legacy remains pertinent to us today.
Christine Grahame may not have forgiven James IV for the consequences of his choice of companion, but that debate is for another day.
12:44
I apologise for the fact that I am unable to stay for the cabinet secretary’s summing-up speech, as I have another meeting to go to. I have informed the Presiding Officer in writing.
I congratulate Christine Grahame on securing today’s debate on a subject that we all know is close to her heart.
It was fitting that, last weekend, the loss of life at the battle of Flodden 500 years ago was the focus of one of Europe’s oldest and biggest equestrian spectacles, the Selkirk ridings, in my colleague’s constituency. I am not sure whether my colleague took part in the ride through the town that day—perhaps as a modern-day Lady Godiva.
For the sake of clarity, I should point out that Selkirk is in my constituency; Christine Grahame represents the neighbouring constituency.
I thank the member for that correction, but that would not stop my friend from attending.
I, too, want to thank Gary Stewart and Elspeth King for the work that they have done on this and other issues. They have done a great deal to ensure that our history is kept alive.
As we have heard, the common ridings were established to commemorate the 400th anniversary of the fateful day in 1513 when 80 men left Selkirk to fight for King James IV and just one returned. As legend has it, he returned with a captured English standard, which he cast around his head to let the people of Selkirk know that everyone else had perished.
The generation of borderers who were lost in the battle are immortalised in the Scots folk song, “The Flowers of the Forest”:
“The Flowers of the Forest are a’ wede away.”
I will not sing it, but it is a haunting tune that many know as the lament that is played on remembrance day or remembrance Sunday.
The song goes on to tell the fate of the battle:
“The English, for ance, by guile wan the day”.
It is said that, although King James IV’s army vastly outnumbered that of his English rival, through Scottish mistakes and English guile, the English inflicted on the Scots one of the heaviest defeats in Scotland’s history.
King James was killed and his body removed and taken to Berwick, where it was embalmed and put in a lead coffin. The coffin was taken to London and was placed in a monastery, but disappeared during the dissolution of the monasteries about 20 years later.
Mystery still surrounds the whereabouts of the body, with some rumours suggesting that the king was eventually buried at St Paul’s cathedral. It would be interesting to know whether that is the case. Maybe that is something that my colleague could take up, among her other crusades.
I support my colleague in her calls for the artefacts that are attributed to King James—a sword, a dagger, and a turquoise ring, which are currently with the College of Arms in London—to be returned to Scotland in time for the anniversary.
Only the other month, more artefacts of the battle were unearthed on the field where the battle was fought. One was a badge made of copper alloy, which appears to have been snapped off a hat band. Its design includes the fleur-de-lis, with jewels and diamonds—elements that were part of the Scottish crown in 1513. That shows that there is still much to be discovered about the battle and Scotland’s history.
I was surprised and interested to hear that James IV was fluent in many languages, including Latin, French, German, Flemish, Italian and Spanish. If only we had such language skills today. Perhaps we will move on to that. Those skills reflected the vital importance of Scotland in Europe at that time and the enduring friendships that we had built up throughout the continent. It is a shame that events that followed seemed to reduce that friendship. However, as history moves on, we can see those friendships being rebuilt, particularly with our European friends.
I am sure that history will not repeat itself, that we will go on to independence following the referendum in 2014, and that the friendships and the languages that have been built up will continue to flourish in an independent Scotland.
12:48
I congratulate Christine Grahame on securing the debate and on her continuing efforts to mount an exhibition in Parliament around the Flodden objects from the College of Arms in London. What today’s speeches lacked in quantity they made up for in quality—we have had three very fine speeches.
As Christine Grahame said, James IV was one of Scotland’s greatest kings. His achievements were remarkable, and she was right to set them out. However, of course, his reign ended in disaster.
It had all started so well. Just 11 years earlier, the treaty of perpetual peace had been signed between Scotland and England and, the following year, on 8 August 1503, James married his child bride, Margaret Tudor, across the road from the Parliament, in Holyrood Abbey. The thistle and the rose were finally at peace.
Yet, on a dreich autumnal day in 1513, thousands of the flower of Scotland were scythed down. The immediate impact of the battle of Flodden was horrendous. The head of state—the king—was dead, along with many of the country’s governing elite. The army was decimated, with thousands of foot soldiers slaughtered. It is hard to imagine, but the nation was rocked to its core. Writing in 1530, Sir David Lyndsay, the Scots poet and parliamentarian, reflected:
“I never read in tragedy nor story,
At one journey so many nobles slain,
For the defence and love of their sovereign.”
Then there was the human impact. Hardly a family in the land was left unaffected by the battle’s aftermath—not even the royal family. Queen Margaret, with her 17-month-old son, was waiting in Linlithgow palace for news of her husband. It took five days to come. To protect her son, she immediately went to Stirling castle, where, 12 days after his father’s death, the child was crowned King James V. Five hundred years on, this is not forgotten history; these are real events, with real and lasting consequences for Scotland’s future both then and now.
Throughout this centenary year, there has been a resurgence of interest, and a wide range of events are taking place on both sides of the border to commemorate the battle of Flodden. Many are community-inspired initiatives that have been brought together under the remembering Flodden project. The old red telephone box in Branxton, near the battlefield, has been turned into the world’s smallest visitor centre, and tours of the battlefield will mark the anniversary on 9 September. The Flodden 500 archaeology project has brought together professional archaeologists and local community enthusiasts to understand the battlefield site better, and the Flodden 1513 ecomuseum is working with Historic Scotland and other partners to create web links with many associated historical sites.
As part of its 40th birthday celebrations, the Scottish Chamber Orchestra has commissioned three new pieces, one of which was composed by Sally Beamish specifically to commemorate the battle. During an evening focused on war and music, aptly entitled “The Pity of War”, the piece will premiere during the orchestra’s 2013-14 season at venues throughout Scotland from this October through to May next year.
The same tragic loss of life was marked in a very different manner in the Borders just last week, when the common riding in Selkirk also remembered the time in 1513 when 80 of the town’s men left to fight for King James and only one returned.
Throughout this summer, Historic Scotland’s living history events will remember Flodden. The popular annual jousting event at Linlithgow palace will this year recall that the knights jousting in the summer of 1513 lost their lives a few weeks later at Flodden. At Edinburgh castle, the story of the optimistic prelude to the battle will be told, including the army mustering on the Meadows and the state-of-the-art artillery being brought out from the castle’s gun house. The programme will culminate in a weekend-long event on 21-22 September at Stirling castle, relating the defeated army’s return and the crowning of the infant King James V. Also, Iona Leishman, the former artist in residence, will exhibit new paintings in the chapel royal that were inspired by the events around the battle.
Destruction is in the nature of war, and few artefacts from Flodden survive intact. Mystery and family traditions surround those that do. The Keith heraldic standard was gifted to the Faculty of Advocates in Edinburgh, in 1808, by a descendant of Black John Skirving, the Earl’s standard bearer. The story goes that Black John survived the battle but was taken prisoner and saved the banner by stuffing it inside his clothes. Although doubts have recently been cast on the authenticity of the College of Arms objects—similar uncertainty must attached to the Keith standard—the stories that surround them are marvellous and very much part of the traditions that are associated with the battle. I commend Christine Grahame for her successful efforts to secure the loan of the Flodden objects from the College of Arms in London.
Many things that are now lost were, no doubt, taken from the battlefield in the days that followed the battle, not least the mutilated corpse of the king. It was not treated well. Taken to Sheen monastery in Surrey, the decapitated body now lies buried somewhere in the ruins under a modern golf course, while the head, which was buried unceremoniously in St Michael’s church in London, is now under an office block. The remains of Richard III, the last English king to die in battle, were discovered recently under a Leicester car park, but there seems little likelihood that the remains of the last king of Scots to die in battle will ever return home.
The Flodden commemorations demonstrate what can be achieved if people unite behind a common purpose. Preparations are well under way across the country to commemorate, starting next year, the first centenary of the first world war—another conflict in which the flower of Scotland paid a heavy price. Here again, I see meaningful and imaginative collaborations being developed across the entire cultural sector. Those and this year’s Flodden-related events show the huge passion and commitment that so many have for our historic environment in its widest and fullest sense.
I thank Christine Grahame for lodging the motion and allowing us to debate an important part of Scotland’s history and the telling of Scotland’s tale.
Meeting closed at 12:55.