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Welcome back to This Day in Scottish History. I’m your host, Colin MacDonald. Today, we journey back to the spring of 1938, when Glasgow welcomed the world to one of the most ambitious peacetime spectacles ever staged on Scottish soil—the opening of the Empire Exhibition in Bellahouston Park. And if you’re curious about other fascinating events that happened on this day in history, be sure to check out my blog at bagtownclans.com/thisday. The link will be in the description!

It was May 5th, 1938, and all eyes were on Glasgow. With great pomp and ceremony, King George VI officially opened the Empire Exhibition in a city transformed. Covering over 175 acres of Bellahouston Park, the exhibition was a dazzling celebration of British industrial power, imperial unity, and technological progress. At a time when Europe teetered on the brink of war, this was to be a show of strength, confidence, and modernity—a declaration that the British Empire, and Scotland within it, still stood tall.

The idea for the exhibition was born during the economic depression of the early 1930s. Scotland, like much of the industrial world, was struggling. Unemployment was high, shipyards were silent, and confidence had waned. Civic leaders, led by Sir James Lithgow—a prominent industrialist and chairman of the exhibition—believed that a world-class event could revive morale and show Scotland’s enduring importance to Britain and the wider empire. It was, in every sense, a bold act of faith in the future.

Construction began in 1937, and by the time the gates opened a year later, the transformation was complete. More than a hundred buildings had sprung up, showcasing modernist architecture at its most ambitious. The centerpiece was the Tait Tower, an elegant 470-foot spire of concrete and steel, designed by Thomas S. Tait, which soared above the city skyline. Though it was later dismantled, for a few months it stood as a symbol of optimism and architectural daring.

Each of the empire’s dominions and colonies was represented with its own pavilion. From Canada to Ceylon, from Australia to South Africa, the exhibition offered a curated vision of the vastness and diversity of British rule. There were industrial halls brimming with the latest innovations in shipbuilding, engineering, textiles, and aviation. Scottish firms, including giants like John Brown & Company and William Beardmore, proudly displayed their achievements, reminding visitors of Scotland’s central role in powering the empire.

And it wasn’t all business. The exhibition also dazzled with entertainment. The amusement park featured roller coasters, dancing fountains, and an illuminated lagoon. Crowds flocked to performances, concerts, and film screenings. Art lovers admired exhibitions from the Royal Scottish Academy, while children were entranced by puppet shows and model trains. It was a place of wonder—a temporary world where the future felt within reach.

Over the course of the exhibition’s six-month run, more than 12 million people passed through its gates. Special trains brought visitors from all corners of Britain, and the event became a national talking point. It was the largest ever held in Scotland, and one of the most successful international exhibitions of the 20th century.

But behind the optimism lurked unease. In 1938, Adolf Hitler had just annexed Austria. The Munich Agreement, appeasing Germany's expansion, loomed in the autumn. The storm clouds of war were gathering fast. For many, the Empire Exhibition now feels like the last golden summer before the darkness of World War II. A moment frozen in time, when architecture soared, hopes were high, and people believed in progress.

And yet, its legacy endures. Though most of the structures were dismantled after the exhibition closed in October, the Palace of Art still stands in Bellahouston Park, and the event remains etched in Glasgow’s collective memory. It was a proud moment—Scotland at the heart of empire, welcoming the world, confident in its place and purpose.

Thank you for joining me today on This Day in Scottish History. I hope you’ve enjoyed this journey to the Empire Exhibition of 1938—a time of grandeur, vision, and the bold belief in better days to come. Don’t forget to check out my blog for more historical stories at bagtownclans.com/thisday. Tune in tomorrow for another fascinating glimpse into Scotland’s remarkable past. I’m Colin MacDonald—Haste Ye Back!

This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bagtown.substack.com

For More Events on This Day in Scottish History - https://bagtownclans.com/index.php/thisday/may-4/

Welcome back to This Day in Scottish History. I’m your host, Colin MacDonald. Today, we step into the politically charged atmosphere of May 4th, 1654—a day that marked a seismic shift in Scottish sovereignty and governance. It was on this day that General George Monck, acting on behalf of Oliver Cromwell’s English Commonwealth, arrived in Edinburgh. And if you’re curious about other fascinating events that happened on this day in history, be sure to check out my blog at bagtownclans.com/thisday. The link will be in the description!

To truly understand the weight of General Monck’s arrival, we need to look at the context. The 1640s and early 1650s were a time of intense political upheaval across the British Isles. Civil wars had torn through England, Scotland, and Ireland, culminating in the execution of King Charles I in 1649 and the rise of the English Commonwealth under Oliver Cromwell. Scotland, though having supported Charles II’s claim to the throne, was on the losing end of this conflict. Cromwell, determined to bring the entire British Isles under republican rule, launched a brutal military campaign into Scotland.

By 1652, much of Scotland was under military occupation, but formal union with England had not yet been enacted. That changed with the arrival of George Monck. A seasoned soldier and staunch ally of Cromwell, Monck was tasked with securing Scotland not just by sword, but by statecraft. When he rode into Edinburgh on May 4, he did so with the full backing of the Commonwealth, bringing both a military presence and a political mission.

The very next day, on May 5, 1654, at the heart of the city—the Mercat Cross—Monck made a proclamation that would reverberate through Scottish history. There, with a mixture of pomp and tension, he declared the Ordinance of Union, officially integrating Scotland into the Commonwealth of England, Scotland, and Ireland. For the first time, the Scottish Parliament was dissolved, and governance was centralized under the authority of the English Council of State in London.

To many Scots, this was nothing short of occupation. The union was not one of mutual agreement but of imposition—enforced by English bayonets and backed by the might of Cromwell’s New Model Army. While the Ordinance promised economic benefits and representation at Westminster, few were convinced. The memory of Scottish independence and the indignity of being annexed by a foreign power stirred resentment across the country.

Monck's role in Edinburgh was more than symbolic. He was given sweeping powers to oversee the political and military administration of Scotland. Garrisons were stationed across the Lowlands and Highlands alike, and a series of fortifications was constructed to keep the Scottish population in check. Taxes were levied to fund the Commonwealth’s efforts, and dissent was ruthlessly suppressed. But Monck, unlike some of his predecessors, was also pragmatic. He managed his post with a balance of stern control and political shrewdness, ensuring the Commonwealth’s grip remained firm—even if uneasy.

Yet, this chapter of Scottish history was not destined to last. Despite the efforts to forge a single republican state, the death of Oliver Cromwell in 1658 created a power vacuum. George Monck, ever the tactician, watched events unfold with keen interest. By 1660, with the Commonwealth collapsing and chaos looming, it was Monck who led the march into London and orchestrated the Restoration of Charles II—a dramatic reversal of the very union he had once enforced.

It’s one of the great ironies of history that the same man who proclaimed the end of Scottish sovereignty in 1654 would help restore the monarchy only six years later. Monck’s actions on May 4 were pivotal—not just in binding Scotland to Cromwell’s regime, but in laying the groundwork for the political recalibrations that would follow. His legacy is complicated. Was he a tyrant, a patriot, or merely a pragmatist serving the winds of political necessity?

Regardless of your view, May 4, 1654 stands as a defining moment in Scotland’s constitutional evolution. The arrival of George Monck in Edinburgh marked the beginning of a short-lived but impactful experiment in union under a republican regime—one enforced by power, but undone by the tides of political change.

Thank you for joining me today on This Day in Scottish History. I hope you’ve enjoyed this deep dive into one of the lesser-known, but profoundly significant moments in our nation’s past. Be sure to visit my blog at bagtownclans.com/thisday for more tales from Scotland’s remarkable history. Until next time, I’m Colin MacDonald—Haste Ye Back!

This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bagtown.substack.com

For More Events on This Day in Scottish History - https://bagtownclans.com/index.php/thisday/may-3/

Welcome back to This Day in Scottish History. I'm your host, Colin MacDonald. Today, we journey to the town of Lanark, on May 3rd, 1297—a date that would ignite one of the most potent symbols of Scottish resistance. It was on this day that William Wallace, a man not yet legend, took his first bold step into the fires of rebellion by slaying the English-appointed Sheriff of Lanark, Sir William de Heselrig. And if you’re curious about other fascinating events that happened on this day in history, be sure to check out my blog at bagtownclans.com/thisday. The link will be in the description!

To understand the gravity of this moment, we must first recall the suffocating climate of English occupation. Since the death of Alexander III and the subsequent crisis of succession, Scotland had fallen into turmoil. King Edward I of England—ever ambitious, ever domineering—saw opportunity. He installed his own authority across Scotland, placing English sheriffs and constables to govern Scottish towns, collect taxes, and enforce his rule. Lanark, a key town on the River Clyde, was one such place where English boots stomped heavily upon Scottish soil.

Wallace, by most accounts, was still a young man in 1297. The details of his early life remain cloaked in myth and legend, but what is certain is his fierce disdain for English rule. Some chroniclers say it was personal tragedy that brought him to the edge—his wife, Marion Braidfute, was reportedly murdered by English soldiers or directly by Heselrig himself after Wallace refused to bow to authority. Whether myth or truth, this tale captured the spirit of a man driven by both personal and national vengeance.

On that fateful day, Wallace and a small band of rebels descended upon Lanark. What unfolded was less a battle and more an act of precise and purposeful fury. Heselrig was killed, his garrison scattered or slain, and the English grip on the town temporarily broken. The sheer audacity of the attack sent ripples across the land.

In killing Heselrig, Wallace did more than avenge a personal wrong—he sent a clear and thunderous message. The Scots were no longer willing to be governed by foreign law. This was not a spontaneous riot. It was a calculated strike, and its symbolism would light the fire of rebellion across southern Scotland.

What followed was nothing short of astonishing. Word of Wallace’s stand spread like wildfire. Local leaders, peasants, and warriors who had long suffered in silence now saw that resistance was not only possible but stirringly real. Small uprisings flared in Ayr, Renfrew, and beyond. Wallace, once an outlaw, was now becoming the face of a people’s fight.

The action at Lanark marked the beginning of what would become Wallace’s campaign of resistance. In the months to follow, he would strike at English forces with unrelenting guerrilla tactics, culminating in his most famous victory at the Battle of Stirling Bridge in September 1297. But it all began here—with a single, visceral act that reverberated throughout a nation.

It’s important to note, though, that Lanark was never meant to be the final blow. Wallace was not driven solely by vengeance. He envisioned a Scotland free from the yoke of tyranny—a Scotland governed by its own laws, its own customs, and its own people. And while his story ends in betrayal and brutal execution, his legacy was immortal. The Lanark uprising transformed him from a local rebel into a national hero, a martyr, and a symbol of Scottish defiance.

Today, Lanark remembers Wallace not just as a warrior, but as a catalyst of change. A statue now stands in the town, bearing his likeness—long hair, broadsword, and a gaze fixed defiantly toward the horizon. And while history can sometimes blur the lines between fact and legend, the impact of that May morning in 1297 remains crystal clear.

Thank you for joining me today on This Day in Scottish History. I hope you’ve enjoyed this tale of rebellion, loss, and unyielding courage. Don't forget to check out my blog for more historical events at bagtownclans.com/thisday. Tune in tomorrow for another journey through Scotland’s remarkable past. I'm Colin MacDonald—Haste Ye Back!

This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bagtown.substack.com

For More Events on This Day - https://bagtownclans.com/index.php/thisday/may-1/

Welcome back to This Day in Scottish History. I'm your host, Colin MacDonald. Today, we turn the clock back to May 1st, 1544, a grim and fiery day in the annals of Edinburgh’s past. On this date, English forces under Edward Seymour, the Earl of Hertford, launched a devastating attack on Scotland’s capital. The city burned for three days in what became one of the most harrowing episodes of the so-called “Rough Wooing”—a brutal campaign of intimidation designed to force a marriage alliance between two infant royals: Mary, Queen of Scots, and Prince Edward of England. And if you’re curious about other fascinating events that happened on this day in history, be sure to check out my blog at bagtownclans.com/thisday. The link will be in the description!

To understand the scale of this catastrophe, we need to step back and consider the volatile political landscape of 16th-century Britain. Following the death of King James V of Scotland in 1542, his daughter Mary ascended the throne at just six days old. Henry VIII of England saw an opportunity—if Mary married his son Edward, he could unify the crowns of England and Scotland and extend his influence north of the border. But the Scots weren’t interested. They had no desire to be bound by English will, especially under threat. When Scottish nobles rejected the marriage proposal and instead renewed the Auld Alliance with France, Henry responded not with diplomacy—but with war.

Thus began the “Rough Wooing,” a chillingly ironic name for a campaign marked by fire, sword, and slaughter. Henry sent his armies to batter Scotland into submission, and no city felt the brunt more than Edinburgh.

In the early hours of May 1st, 1544, English ships under the command of the Earl of Hertford landed at Granton, just a few miles from the capital. With a force of over 10,000 men, they quickly overwhelmed the limited Scottish defenses and marched straight for Edinburgh. The city, largely unprepared for such an overwhelming force, stood little chance.

What followed was nothing short of a nightmare. The English troops poured into Edinburgh, setting buildings alight with gunpowder and torch. The flames spread rapidly through the timber structures of the medieval Old Town. Churches, homes, and civic buildings were consumed. For three relentless days, the skies over Edinburgh glowed orange, and the screams of terrified citizens echoed through the wynds and closes. The English spared neither woman nor child in their wrath. Hundreds were killed, and thousands more displaced.

The destruction wasn’t confined to the city. The English moved on to ravage Leith and surrounding villages, burning crops, slaughtering livestock, and leaving a scorched path in their wake. They targeted not just military installations but symbols of Scottish identity and resistance—churches, archives, and even monasteries fell to their torches. Hertford’s campaign was one of psychological warfare as much as physical conquest. His orders from Henry VIII had been clear: devastate the land until the Scots submitted.

But far from bringing Scotland to its knees, the sack of Edinburgh hardened its resolve. The campaign bred deep, lasting resentment toward England, and any hope of a peaceful marriage alliance died in the ashes of the capital. Mary, Queen of Scots, was soon spirited away to France for her safety and betrothed to the Dauphin, effectively sealing the Franco-Scottish alliance and scuppering Henry’s ambitions.

As for Hertford, he returned to England with a temporary victory but at a high cost. The burning of Edinburgh became a rallying cry for Scottish resistance, and in time, the Rough Wooing would be seen as a failed attempt at coercive diplomacy. Though further battles and raids followed in the years ahead, the cruelty of May 1544 stood out as a singular act of destruction that could not be forgotten.

And today, walking through Edinburgh’s historic Old Town, it’s easy to forget that beneath the cobbles and behind the stone facades lies the memory of that devastation. Though the city has risen, transformed, and endured through centuries, the memory of that fiery assault lingers in the soul of the capital.

Thank you for joining me today on This Day in Scottish History. The sacking of Edinburgh reminds us of the consequences when ambition and violence intertwine. It’s a story of loss, but also one of defiance, resilience, and the enduring spirit of a people who refused to be broken. Be sure to check out my blog at bagtownclans.com/thisday for more tales from Scotland’s stirring past. Until next time, I'm Colin MacDonald—Haste Ye Back!

This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bagtown.substack.com

For More Events on This Day in Scottish History - https://bagtownclans.com/index.php/thisday/april-30

Welcome back to This Day in Scottish History. I'm your host, Colin MacDonald. Today, we turn the clock back to a crisp April morning in 1728, when a quiet but revolutionary event changed the world of finance forever. It was on this day that the Royal Bank of Scotland, a fledgling institution at the time, granted the very first overdraft in history—£1,000 to a bold Edinburgh merchant named William Hog. And if you’re curious about other fascinating events that happened on this day in history, be sure to check out my blog at bagtownclans.com/thisday. The link will be in the description!

The early 18th century was a time of enormous change in Scotland. Following the 1707 Union with England, Scotland's economy was trying to find its footing within a larger British framework. Trade was expanding, cities were growing, and new financial institutions were popping up to meet the demands of a more dynamic economy. The Royal Bank of Scotland had been founded just one year earlier, in 1727, as a rival to the Bank of Scotland. It was determined to attract new business by offering innovative services.

Enter William Hog, an enterprising Edinburgh merchant. Like many businessmen of his day, Hog faced the constant challenge of balancing incoming payments with outgoing expenses. Ships laden with goods could be delayed. Debtors could be late. Opportunities could arise that demanded immediate cash, even when the coffers were temporarily dry. Traditionally, if a merchant didn’t have ready money, he was simply out of luck—or worse, driven into ruin. But the Royal Bank of Scotland saw an opportunity to offer a lifeline.

On April 30, 1728, the bank agreed to let Hog withdraw up to £1,000 more than he actually had in his account. It was a staggering amount at the time, equivalent to hundreds of thousands of pounds today. The idea was revolutionary: instead of requiring Hog to have every penny upfront, the bank trusted him to repay the excess in due course. It was a bold move, a calculated risk that recognized the realities of doing business in a fast-changing world.

This first overdraft was not just about helping a single merchant. It signaled a fundamental shift in banking philosophy. No longer were banks merely vaults for storing wealth; they became active partners in commerce, supporting growth and innovation. The ability to extend credit based on trust and reputation became one of the cornerstones of modern finance.

The implications of that decision rippled outward. Overdrafts soon became a standard offering, first across Scotland and then throughout the British Isles. They allowed businesses to weather short-term cash shortages, fund new ventures, and seize opportunities that would have otherwise been out of reach. Without overdrafts and similar credit instruments, the Industrial Revolution itself might have looked very different.

William Hog's overdraft might seem modest compared to the enormous financial tools available today, but it opened the door to a new era where ambition wasn’t chained to immediate cash on hand. It showed that banking could be about enabling the future, not just safeguarding the past.

The Royal Bank of Scotland continued to innovate over the centuries, becoming one of the major players in global finance. Although it has faced its share of ups and downs—including the financial crisis of 2008—its legacy as a pioneer was secured on that spring day in 1728.

Today, when you swipe a card, apply for a loan, or simply rely on a line of credit to bridge a gap, you’re benefiting from a concept that started with a handshake between a Scottish banker and an Edinburgh merchant nearly three centuries ago.

Thank you for joining me today on This Day in Scottish History. I hope you’ve enjoyed this story of financial innovation, bold ideas, and a little bit of trust. Don't forget to check out my blog for more historical events at bagtownclans.com/thisday. Tune in tomorrow for another journey through Scotland’s remarkable past. I'm Colin MacDonald—Haste Ye Back!

This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bagtown.substack.com

For More Events on This Day in Scottish History - https://bagtownclans.com/index.php/thisday/april-29/

Welcome back to This Day in Scottish History. I'm your host, Colin MacDonald. Today, we journey back to the 29th of April, 1769, when a brilliant mind from Greenock, Scotland, secured a patent that would change the world forever. That man was James Watt, and his innovation—the separate condenser for the steam engine—became a catalyst for the Industrial Revolution. And if you’re curious about other fascinating events that happened on this day in history, be sure to check out my blog at bagtownclans.com/thisday. The link will be in the description!

The steam engine, prior to Watt’s time, was already in existence thanks to earlier inventors like Thomas Newcomen. But it was cumbersome, inefficient, and prone to enormous energy losses. Engines needed to heat and cool the same cylinder repeatedly, wasting precious time and fuel. For industries that were beginning to grow in the 18th century—mining, textiles, and manufacturing—this inefficiency was a massive bottleneck.

James Watt was a man of quiet intensity and endless curiosity. Working as an instrument maker at the University of Glasgow, he encountered a model of the Newcomen engine that didn’t perform well. Most would have accepted the flaws as inevitable; Watt did not. He saw the crux of the problem: the engine’s cylinder had to be cooled down and reheated with every stroke. If only the steam could be condensed in a separate place, he reasoned, the main cylinder could remain hot, vastly improving efficiency.

In a flash of insight, Watt designed a separate condenser—an addition that allowed steam to be cooled in an entirely different chamber, preserving the heat of the main cylinder. This seemingly simple innovation slashed energy consumption and doubled the engine’s efficiency. On April 29, 1769, Watt secured British Patent No. 913, protecting his invention and setting into motion a revolution that would power cities, industries, and empires.

But having a brilliant idea and bringing it into widespread use are two very different things. Watt struggled financially and lacked the resources to commercialize his engine. Enter Matthew Boulton, a savvy English entrepreneur who recognized Watt’s genius and had the means to bring his inventions to the world. Together, they founded Boulton & Watt, a partnership that would dominate the steam engine market for decades.

Watt's improved steam engine transformed industries that had once been limited by the availability of water power. Factories were no longer tethered to rivers; they could spring up anywhere. Mining operations could go deeper than ever before. Transportation would eventually be revolutionized as steam engines found their way onto ships and trains, shrinking the world and reshaping economies.

Beyond the mechanical improvements, Watt’s work introduced a new way of thinking about power itself. He even coined the term “horsepower” to help people understand the output of his engines, and the SI unit of power—the watt—is named in his honor. Watt’s contribution wasn’t just a better machine; it was a fundamental change in how humans harnessed and multiplied their labor and energy.

Scotland, proud of her son, would see James Watt celebrated not just as an inventor but as one of the architects of the modern world. His work embodies that spirit of Scottish ingenuity, persistence, and practical brilliance that has so often left an outsized mark on history.

Today, James Watt’s legacy lives on in every piece of machinery powered by engines and motors, from power plants to cars to factories. His separate condenser wasn't just a mechanical innovation; it was a spark that helped ignite the transformation from agrarian society to industrial powerhouse.

Thank you for joining me today on This Day in Scottish History. I hope you’ve enjoyed this story of invention, perseverance, and the profound impact of one Scotsman's vision. Don't forget to check out my blog for more historical events at bagtownclans.com/thisday. Tune in tomorrow for another journey through Scotland’s remarkable past. I'm Colin MacDonald—Haste Ye Back!

This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bagtown.substack.com

For More Events on This Day in Scottish History - https://bagtownclans.com/index.php/thisday/april-28/

Welcome back to This Day in Scottish History. I'm your host, Colin MacDonald. Today, we journey back to April 28, 1650, when the brilliant but ill-fated James Graham, 1st Marquess of Montrose, fought his final, tragic battle at Carbisdale. It was a day of betrayal, desperation, and the closing act of one of Scotland’s most compelling figures. And if you’re curious about other fascinating events that happened on this day in history, be sure to check out my blog at bagtownclans.com/thisday. The link will be in the description!

By the spring of 1650, Scotland was in turmoil. The Wars of the Three Kingdoms had left the land divided, weary, and bloodied. King Charles I had been executed the previous year, and his son, Charles II, was struggling to reclaim his father’s throne. Scotland, nominally a kingdom of royalists, had fallen under the control of the Covenanters, a stern Presbyterian faction that had made uneasy alliances with England’s Parliamentarians. Into this complex and dangerous political landscape stepped James Graham, better known as the Marquess of Montrose.

Montrose had once been a Covenanter himself, but he had switched sides, becoming one of Charles I’s most dashing and daring commanders. Between 1644 and 1645, he had led a brilliant guerrilla campaign across Scotland, winning a string of unlikely victories against overwhelming odds. But the tides of war shifted, and Montrose was eventually forced into exile. Now, in 1650, he returned from the Continent with a small force of mercenaries and loyal Highlanders, determined to rally Scotland once more in the royal cause.

The plan was audacious, but the risks were enormous. Montrose’s army was tiny—barely 1,200 men, including Germans, Danes, and Orcadians—and many of the local clans were either hostile or unwilling to commit. Nevertheless, Montrose pushed forward, landing in Orkney and then crossing to the Scottish mainland. He hoped to ignite a broader uprising that would clear the way for Charles II’s return.

But the Covenanter forces were ready for him. Commanded by Colonel Archibald Strachan, a shrewd and capable leader, they moved quickly to intercept Montrose before he could gather strength. Strachan cleverly masked the true size of his force, sending a small advance party to feign weakness. Montrose, misled by faulty intelligence and betrayed by local allies who deserted him at the critical moment, decided to engage.

Near Carbisdale, not far from Bonar Bridge in Sutherland, the two forces clashed. It was a disaster for Montrose. His exhausted troops, poorly positioned and lacking cavalry, were quickly overwhelmed. The Covenanter horsemen scattered Montrose’s infantry with brutal efficiency. Many of his foreign mercenaries were cut down as they tried to flee; others surrendered, only to be massacred after the battle. Montrose himself escaped the immediate slaughter, wandering the rugged landscape disguised as a commoner.

But his escape was short-lived. Betrayed once again—this time by Neil MacLeod of Assynt, who turned him over for a bounty—Montrose was captured and transported south to Edinburgh. His arrival in the capital was a grim spectacle: he was paraded through the streets in disgrace, chained and humiliated. On May 21, 1650, James Graham, the once-proud Marquess of Montrose, was sentenced to death by hanging, his body mutilated in a chilling act of political theater.

Montrose’s death was not just the fall of a man, but the end of a certain ideal. He had fought not merely for a king, but for a vision of loyalty, honor, and a united Scotland—principles that were increasingly out of place in a world ruled by power and pragmatism. Even his enemies could not deny his bravery or his remarkable military genius. In time, Montrose’s reputation would be rehabilitated, and he would be remembered as one of Scotland’s greatest and most tragic heroes.

Today, the Battle of Carbisdale remains a powerful reminder of how fortunes can turn on a single day—how betrayal, miscalculation, and circumstance can bring even the most brilliant leaders to ruin. And Montrose's story continues to echo through Scotland’s rugged hills, a haunting testament to loyalty, ambition, and the harsh price of defeat.

Thank you for joining me today on This Day in Scottish History. I hope you’ve enjoyed this poignant chapter of bravery and betrayal. Don't forget to check out my blog for more historical events at bagtownclans.com/thisday. Tune in tomorrow for another journey through Scotland’s remarkable past. I'm Colin MacDonald—Haste Ye Back!

This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bagtown.substack.com

For More Events on This Day in Scottish History - https://bagtownclans.com/index.php/thisday/april-27/

Welcome back to This Day in Scottish History. I'm your host, Colin MacDonald. Today, we turn back the clock to a fateful day—April 27th, 1296—when Scottish hopes were dashed at the Battle of Dunbar, a crushing blow that opened the floodgates for English domination during the First War of Scottish Independence. And if you’re curious about other pivotal events that happened on this day, be sure to check out my blog at bagtownclans.com/thisday. The link will be in the description!

At the end of the 13th century, Scotland was a nation in turmoil. The death of King Alexander III in 1286, and the later death of his heir, Margaret, the Maid of Norway, left Scotland without a clear successor. Thirteen competitors staked their claims to the throne, and fearing civil war, the Scottish nobles invited Edward I of England—known later as the "Hammer of the Scots"—to arbitrate. But Edward’s ambitions went beyond mere mediation. He saw Scotland as a vassal state, and when John Balliol, his handpicked king, began to resist English interference, Edward unleashed a brutal response.

In March 1296, Edward marched into Scotland with a powerful army, determined to crush any opposition. His campaign began with the sack of Berwick-upon-Tweed, a prosperous Scottish border town. The English forces stormed the town, and in a massacre that shocked contemporaries, thousands of civilians were slaughtered. It was a grim warning of what was to come.

From Berwick, Edward turned his attention to Dunbar Castle, a stronghold in East Lothian held by Scottish forces loyal to John Balliol. The Scots, led by the Earl of Buchan and other prominent nobles, positioned their army on high ground near the town, hoping to block the English advance. Their numbers were respectable, and they believed they could repel Edward’s forces.

But Edward, ever the strategist, sent a detachment under John de Warenne, the Earl of Surrey, to confront them. What followed was not a grand battle of knights and banners, but rather a swift and disastrous rout. Mistaking an English maneuver for a retreat, the Scots abandoned their strong defensive position and charged downhill in pursuit. It was exactly what the English had hoped for. Surrey’s forces wheeled around and counterattacked with devastating effect. The Scottish lines broke almost immediately.

The slaughter was grim, but the real blow came in the aftermath. Hundreds of Scottish nobles were captured, including prominent leaders like the Earls of Ross, Menteith, and Atholl. Many were sent south in chains to England, held as hostages to ensure Scottish obedience. Dunbar Castle itself fell a few days later after a short siege. With the fall of Dunbar, Edward had ripped the heart out of Scottish resistance.

The consequences were profound. With no army left to defend him, King John Balliol was forced to surrender in July of 1296. In a humiliating ceremony known as the "Toom Tabard"—the Empty Coat—Balliol was stripped of his royal regalia at Montrose, symbolizing the end of his reign and Scotland’s submission to English rule. For the next eight years, Scotland was effectively under English occupation.

But even in defeat, the seeds of rebellion were already taking root. Out of the ashes of Dunbar would rise new leaders—most famously William Wallace and, later, Robert the Bruce—who would reignite the flame of resistance. The Battle of Dunbar marked a dark chapter, but it was not the end of Scotland’s story. It was the beginning of a long and bloody fight for freedom, one that would shape the nation’s destiny for generations.

Today, when you visit Dunbar, you can still see echoes of its medieval past. The ruins of Dunbar Castle, perched dramatically on the cliffs overlooking the North Sea, stand as a silent witness to the fury of that spring day in 1296. Waves crash against the rocks below, and the wind howls through the broken stones, carrying whispers of lost battles and undying defiance.

Thank you for joining me today on This Day in Scottish History. I hope this glimpse into the Battle of Dunbar has shed light on a pivotal moment in Scotland’s long struggle for sovereignty. Don’t forget to check out my blog for more stories from Scotland’s rich and rugged past at bagtownclans.com/thisday. Tune in tomorrow as we explore another chapter in the remarkable saga of our nation’s history. I'm Colin MacDonald—Haste Ye Back!

This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bagtown.substack.com

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Welcome back to This Day in Scottish History. I'm your host, Colin MacDonald. Today, we journey back to April 26th, 1315, when a pivotal decision was made within the sacred walls of St. John’s Church in Ayr—a decision that would shape the future of the Bruce dynasty and attempt to secure the hard-won gains of Scottish independence. This was the day the Scottish Parliament formally declared Edward Bruce, brother to King Robert the Bruce, as heir to the throne of Scotland.

And if you’re curious about other fascinating events that happened on this day in history, be sure to check out my blog at bagtownclans.com/thisday. The link will be in the description!

Now, let’s set the scene. It was nearly a year after the Battle of Bannockburn—an extraordinary triumph for Robert the Bruce and the Scottish cause. Edward II of England had been humiliated, and the English army crushed in a resounding Scottish victory. But Robert the Bruce knew all too well that a battlefield win did not equal lasting peace. England would return, and when they did, Scotland would need not only strong warriors but a clear and unified succession.

At the time, Robert had no legitimate male heir. His daughter Marjorie was married to Walter Stewart, and though she would eventually bear a son—Robert II, the future founder of the Stewart dynasty—that child had not yet been born. In 1315, the line of succession was perilously uncertain. In the brutal world of medieval politics, that kind of ambiguity was dangerous. It invited division, rebellion, and foreign interference.

So, to preempt such chaos, Robert convened a Parliament at Ayr. St. John’s Church, already a place of worship and local authority, was transformed into the heart of Scotland’s political future. There, surrounded by nobles, churchmen, and loyal supporters, the king proclaimed that should he die without a male heir, his younger brother Edward Bruce would succeed him as King of Scots.

Edward was a natural choice. Fiercely loyal, battle-hardened, and charismatic, he had stood beside his brother through the darkest days of the war. Edward had proven himself in the campaigns that followed Bannockburn, leading successful raids and securing key territories for the Scottish crown. His appointment as heir wasn’t just about blood—it was about ensuring continuity of leadership and presenting a united front against England.

But Edward Bruce’s ambition did not stop at the Scottish border. Just a year later, in 1316, Edward would lead a bold expedition into Ireland, seeking to expand the influence of the Bruce dynasty. The Irish, weary of English domination, were receptive to a new ruler who promised to drive out the Anglo-Norman lords. Edward was crowned High King of Ireland at Dundalk, a stunning moment that briefly linked Scottish and Irish resistance movements.

However, the campaign in Ireland would ultimately end in tragedy. Edward’s army suffered from poor supply lines, internal divisions, and relentless opposition from both Anglo-Irish and native Irish factions. On October 14th, 1318, Edward Bruce met his end at the Battle of Faughart. His death was not only a personal blow to his brother but also marked the end of Scottish ambitions in Ireland.

Still, the Parliament of 1315 and the declaration of Edward as heir represented a critical moment in Scotland’s medieval story. It was a rare example of preemptive statecraft during a time more often defined by reaction than planning. It also highlights Robert the Bruce’s foresight—not just as a warrior-king, but as a ruler deeply invested in the future stability of his realm.

And though Edward never ascended the Scottish throne, his memory remains that of a prince who dared to think beyond his homeland, to challenge empires, and to grasp at the crown of two kingdoms. The echoes of his ambition would resonate for generations.

Thank you for joining me today on This Day in Scottish History. I hope you’ve enjoyed this glimpse into the political intrigue and bold ambition of the Bruce brothers. Don’t forget to visit bagtownclans.com/thisday for more stories from Scotland’s remarkable past. Until next time, I’m Colin MacDonald—Haste Ye Back!

This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bagtown.substack.com

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Welcome back to This Day in Scottish History. I'm your host, Colin MacDonald. Today, we journey back to April 25, 1915, when Scottish regiments landed on the shores of the Gallipoli Peninsula, marking the beginning of one of World War I’s most grueling and ill-fated campaigns. The Gallipoli Campaign was a bold Allied attempt to knock the Ottoman Empire out of the war by seizing control of the Dardanelles Strait. But for the soldiers who landed that day—including many Scots—it would become a harrowing ordeal of mud, blood, and unrelenting hardship.​

Among the first to land were the 1st Battalion of the King’s Own Scottish Borderers, part of the 87th Brigade of the 29th Division. They stormed ashore at Cape Helles, facing fierce Ottoman resistance. The 5th Battalion of the Royal Scots, attached to the 88th Brigade of the same division, also took part in the initial landings. These battalions faced withering machine-gun fire and entrenched defenders, suffering heavy casualties in the process.​

In the weeks that followed, additional Scottish units arrived. The 52nd (Lowland) Division, composed of Territorial battalions from six Scottish regiments—including the 4th, 5th, and 7th Battalions of the Royal Scots—landed in June to reinforce the beleaguered Allied positions. These troops, many of them volunteers from towns and villages across Scotland, brought with them a fierce determination but faced the same brutal conditions: searing heat, disease, and a determined enemy.

The Gallipoli Campaign quickly devolved into a stalemate. The rugged terrain and strong Ottoman defenses made any advance costly and slow. Trenches became the norm, and soldiers endured months of grueling warfare with little to show for their efforts. By the time the campaign was abandoned in January 1916, the Allies had suffered approximately 250,000 casualties, with Scottish regiments bearing a significant share of the losses.​

The impact of Gallipoli on Scottish military history is profound. It highlighted the bravery and resilience of Scottish soldiers, who fought valiantly under dire circumstances. The campaign is remembered not only for its strategic failures but also for the extraordinary courage displayed by those who served. Memorials across Scotland pay tribute to the men who fought and died in Gallipoli, ensuring that their sacrifice is not forgotten.​

Thank you for joining me today on This Day in Scottish History. I hope you’ve found this reflection on the Gallipoli Campaign insightful. Don't forget to check out my blog for more historical events at bagtownclans.com/thisday. Tune in tomorrow for another journey through Scotland’s remarkable past. I'm Colin MacDonald—Haste Ye Back!

This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bagtown.substack.com