Of all Scots who have formed their countrymen and women's perceptions of Scottish history, Sir Walter Scott was one of the most important. His romantic view of the Scottish past helped to lead to the 'discovery' of Scotland as a popular tourist destination. Perhaps the greatest gift which he possessed was the uncanny ability to fasten onto emblematic events in Scotland's past, such as the Jacobite risings or the Porteous riots, and to convey them to his audience in ways which gripped and fascinated them. It was a talent which succeeded not only with the reader in the street but also with royalty. George IV, the former Prince Regent, was so impressed by Scott that he gave him permission to carry out one of his most cherished projects - to open the chest in the little strong room in Edinburgh Castle where the Scottish Regalia had been stowed away after the Union of 1707. By promoting such a striking Scots image, Sir Walter helped to reassure his countrymen and women of their importance within the Union and of their distinctiveness as a nation at the very time when they were becoming more and more subsumed in the common purpose of the Empire. The regalia themselves - the 'Honours of Scotland' - were among the most potent symbols of Scottish nationhood. They were a vital part of the panoply of the old Scottish parliament, where the sceptre was used for touching acts in token of royal assent and where the crown sat in state on its cushion in front of the throne. During Cromwell's occupation of Scotland in the 1650s, the Honours were one of his most sought after targets, but due to the heroism of minister's wife Christian Grainger, they were spirited away out of Dunottar Castle. Scott here tells the story not only of his own discovery, but of the previous adventures of the jewels.
Edinburgh, 4th Feb. 1818
My dear Croker, - I have the pleasure to assure you the Regalia of Scotland
were this day found in perfect preservation. The Sword of State and Sceptre
showed marks of hard usage at some former period; but in all respects
agree with the description in Thomson's work. I will send you a complete
account of the opening tomorrow, as the official account will take some
time to draw up. In the meantime, I hope you will remain as obstinate
in your belief as St. Thomas, because then you will come down to satisfy
yourself. I know nobody entitled to earlier information, save one, to
whom you can perhaps find the means of communicating the result of our
researches. The post is just going off. Ever yours truly,
Walter Scott
Edinburgh, 7th February 1818
My dear Croker, - I promised I would add something to my report of yesterday,
and yet I find I have but little to say. The extreme solemnity of opening
sealed doors of oak and iron, and finally breaking open a chest which
had been shut since 7th March 1707, about a hundred and eleven years,
gave a sort of interest to our researches, which I can hardly express
to you, and it would be very difficult to describe the intense eagerness
with which we watched the rising of the lid of the chest, and the progress
of the workmen in breaking it open, which was neither an easy nor a speedy
task. It sounded very hollow when they worked on it with their tools,
and I began to lean to your faction of the Little Faiths. However, I never
could assign any probable or feasible reason for withdrawing these memorials
of ancient independence; and my doubts rather arose from the conviction
that many absurd things are done in public as well as in private life,
merely out of a hasty impression of passion or resentment. For it was
evident the removal of the Regalia might have greatly irritated people's
minds here, and offered a fair pretext of breaking the Union, which for
thirty years was the predominant wish of the Scottish nation.
The discovery of the Regalia has interested people's minds much more
strongly than I expected, and is certainly calculated to make a pleasant
and favourable impression upon them in respect to the kingly part of the
constitution. It would be of the utmost consequence that they should be
occasionally shown to them, under proper regulations, and for a small
fee. The Sword of State is a most beautiful piece of workmanship, a present
from Pope Julius ii to James iv. The scabbard is richly decorated with
filigree work of silver, double gilded, representing oak leaves and acorns,
executed in a taste worthy that classical age in which the arts revived.
A draughtsman has been employed to make sketches of these articles, in
order to be laid before his Royal Highness [the Prince Regent]. The fate
of these Regalia, which his Royal Highness's goodness has thus restored
to light and honour, has on one or two occasions been singular enough.
They were, in 1652, lodged in the Castle of Dunnottar, the seat of the
Earl Marischal, by whom, according to his ancient privilege, they were
kept. The castle was defended by George Ogilvie of Barra, who, apprehensive
of the progress which the English made in reducing the strong places in
Scotland, became anxious for the safety of these valuable memorials. The
ingenuity of his lady had them conveyed out of the castle in a bag on
a woman's back, among some hards, as they are called, of lint. They were
carried to the Kirk of Kinneff, and intrusted to the care of the clergyman
named Grainger and his wife, and buried under the pulpit. The Castle of
Dunnottar, though very strong and faithfully defended, was at length under
necessity of surrendering, being the last strong place in Britain on which
the royal flag floated in those calamitous times. Ogilvie and his lady
were threatened with the utmost extremities by the Republican General
Morgan, unless they should produce the Regalia. The governor stuck to
it that he knew nothing of them, as in fact they had been carried away
without his knowledge. The Lady maintained she had given them to John
Keith, second son of the Earl Marischal, by whom, she said, they had been
carried to France. They suffered a long imprisonment, and much ill usage.
On the Restoration, the old Countess Marischal, founding upon the story
Mrs. Ogilvie had told to screen her husband, obtained for her own son,
John Keith, the Earldom of Kintore, and the post of Knight Marischal,
with £400 a-year, as if he had been in truth the preserver of the Regalia.
It soon proved that this reward had been too hastily given, for Ogilvie
of Barra produced the Regalia, the honest clergyman refusing to deliver
them to any one but those from whom he received them. Ogilvie was made
a Knight Baronet, however, and got a new charter of the lands, acknowledging
the good service. Thus it happened oddly enough, that Keith, who was abroad
during the transaction, and had nothing to do with it, got the earldom,
pension, &c., Ogilvie only inferior honours, and the poor clergyman nothing
whatever, or, as we say, the hare's foot to lick. As for Ogilvie's lady,
she died before the Restoration, her health being ruined by the hardships
she endured from the Cromwellian satellites. She was a Douglas, with all
the high spirit of that proud family. On her deathbed, and not till then,
she told her husband where the honours were concealed, charging him to
suffer death rather than betray them. Popular tradition says, not very
probably, that Grainger and his wife were booted (that is, tortured with
the engine called the boots). I think that the Knight Marischal's office
rested in the Kintore family until 1715, when it was resumed on account
of the bearded Earl's accession to the Insurrection of that year. He escaped
well, for they might have taken his estate and his earldom. I must save
post, however, and conclude abruptly. Yours ever,
Walter Scott
Letters of Sir Walter Scott, ed. H. J. C Grierson, London, 1933.