Master of Gray - Broughty Castle

 Those following my Nigel Tranter rereading project will know that Tranter was clearly intrigued by Patrick, Master of Gray. He wrote a trilogy about him (Montrose only got two books) and featured in two others. 

Patrick, Master of Gray (1559–1612), was a Scottish nobleman and politician who played a notable, though often controversial, role during the reign of James VI of Scotland. Known for his political cunning and shifting allegiances, Gray was deeply involved in the intrigues and power struggles that defined late 16th-century Scotland. He was born into the influential Gray family and became Master of Gray, a title that referred to the heir to the chief of the Gray family. Gray emerged after Mary’s forced abdication and subsequent imprisonment by Queen Elizabeth. Initially a supporter of Mary, his loyalties shifted as he sought to secure his position and favour with her son, James VI. He became an important courtier and diplomat during James VI's reign, although he was dropped by James when he became James I of England.

Patrick's main base was Broughty Castle, just down the Tay from Dundee. I am working in Dundee this coming week, so it would be a good opportunity to visit. It wasn't the Gray family's seat, that was Castle Huntly, not the more famous Gordon castle, but near the village of Longforgan, not far from Dundee. Today, it is Scotland's only open prison. In Tranter's telling, Patrick's father gave him Broughty Castle (granted to the family in 1490) because it was derelict after it had been held by the English during the Rough Wooing. Patrick restored the castle and much more, using it to weave his many plots.

The castle wasn't particularly well defended, but it held a strategic position at the mouth of the Tay. The owner could levy tolls and control the lucrative ferry across the Tay to Fife. There were no road and rail bridges in those days. The castle in Patrick's day would have been the large tower house, although the English excavated a trench to strengthen the landward defences. An English writer who accompanied the English garrison noted the castle's strategic importance;

"it standeth in such sort at the mouth of the river Tay, that being gotten, both Dundee and St. John's Town (Perth), and many other towns else shall become subject to this hold or be compelled to forgo their use of the river."

This photo highlights the strategic position with Fife in the background.

The castle was damaged during the Wars of the Three Kingdoms, and the Gray family sold it in 1666. 

The War Office acquired it in 1860 and rebuilt it with modern gun positions in response to the threat of attack from the Russians and then the French. Submarine miners were also based near the castle. In an emergency, they would lay mines in the Tay Estuary to damage enemy shipping. It was garrisoned in both World Wars with modern artillery.

The castle is a museum today and is well worth a visit.

The Wisest Fool

 The latest in my rereading of Nigel Tranter's novels covers James the Sixth from his accession to the English throne as James the First after the death of Elizabeth. 

Tranter typically narrates the story using someone close to the action. He chose George Heriot, the King's Jeweller and money-lender, in this book. Heriot is an interesting character in his own right. He was the court goldsmith to the Queen, Anne of Denmark, and the king himself. He became very wealthy from this position and more prosperous by lending this money back to the king and the rest of his court. He moved to London along with the court in 1603, at the time of the Union of Crowns, and remained in London until he died in 1624. He is chiefly remembered today as the founder of George Heriot's School, a large public school in Edinburgh. His name has also been given to Heriot-Watt University, several streets and a pub, the Jinglin' Geordie, after his nickname. I walk past (I know, hard to believe!) the pub on my way back to the station from research trips to the National Library. 

James was not the universal choice as Elizabeth's successor, and he must have been a bit of a shock to the English court. There were a couple of early plots to unseat him, including one involving Sir Walter Raleigh. The most famous is Guy Fawkes and the Gunpowder Plot, which Tranter covers in detail and is probably the best chapter in the book. 

James had less luck with his plan to establish a single country under one monarch, one parliament, and one law rather than simply a personal union of the crowns. The English Parliament was strongly opposed, which didn't go well with James, who believed in the divine right of kings to rule—something that would get his successor into more serious difficulties. Parliament also kept him short of cash, so he started a range of financial schemes, including the plantation of Protestants in Ulster. Heriot was the man who helped organise at least some of these schemes.

This is not a Bernard Cornwell-style action story. James was firmly against wars, primarily because of the cost. He championed peace in Europe and ended the long Anglo–Spanish War, and a peace treaty was signed between the two countries in August 1604. Despite the lack of military action, this is an interesting tale of court life under a strange but quite effective monarch. The Wisest Fool in Christendom is an appropriate title.

The Golden Throne: The Curse of a King.

I complained to one of our local councillors about the ageing stock in our local library the other week. So, I was pleasantly surprised to find Christopher de Bellaigue's new book about the later reign of Suleiman the Magnificent (Lawgiver) on the shelves and snapped it up as my library pick this month.

Despite having several books on the arguably greatest Ottoman sultan on my book shelves, I might have bought this given the excellent reviews. 

Suleiman ruled from 1520 to 1566, the longest reign of any Ottoman sultan. In the Islamic world, he is known as the Lawgiver because he reorganised the Ottoman legal system, codifying secular and religious laws into a comprehensive legal code. He earned the title 'the Magnificent' in Europe mainly due to his military conquests. Under his rule, the Ottoman Empire reached its territorial peak, stretching from Hungary to the Persian Gulf and North Africa to the Caucasus. These included major victories at Belgrade (1521), Rhodes (1522) and Mohács (1526). His navy also dominated the Mediterranean under the leadership of Barbarossa Hayreddin Pasha.

This is not a conventional narrative history. It is told more as a novel or a play, with the narrative darting about the empire, bringing in the key players in the story. These include his most famous consort, Hurrem (also known as Roxelana) and her rival Mahidevran. His sons, who in the Ottoman tradition would compete for his throne, and the various officials, including Grand Vizier, Lufti Pasha, Barbarossa and Sinan the architect. External influences are not ignored. These include the French King Francis I, who was loosely allied to the Ottomans in competition with Charles V of Spain. Looking eastwards, the Iranians were led by Tahmasp, Shah of Iran.

The author doesn't just stick to the personalities. The governance of the empire is explained, including the tax on boys (devshirme) to recruit into government service and the Janissaries. I knew Jews and Armenians were exempt, but also exempt were tall boys who were not taken because they were known to be stupid and anyone who was conceited or full of himself. That would probably have excluded me on both counts! I am curious why boys who knew Turkish or had been to Istanbul weren't eligible. The book is full of snippets like this, so there is something, even for those who think they have read all there is to know on this subject. I had read Luther's entertaining take on the Ottomans: 'The Turks are to be endured like floods, forest fires, plagues and famine, all sent by God to try his people.'

I hadn't realised that Sinan, the architect of many fine buildings I have visited, including the Selimiye Mosque in Edirne and the Suleiman Mosque in Istanbul, started as a military engineer in the Janissaries. His bridge over the Prut in 1538 was his breakthrough. Having recently driven down and studied the campaigns along this river in modern-day Romania, you can appreciate the importance of this achievement when so many others failed.

Overall, I'm afraid I didn't like the style. It jumped around too much, and the narrative didn't flow. I appreciate that it may draw others into the period, and that's a good thing. In the West, Suleiman's contemporaries, like Francis and Henry VIII, are better known, without this fascinating sultan's achievements. 

I was playtesting Simon Miller's new variant of his To the Strongest rules, Lust for Glory, at the club yesterday. So my Janissaries were getting a good workout against Peter the Great's Russians. A threat Suleiman didn't face.

The Battle of Quiberon Bay 1759

 My holiday aircraft reading was Nicolas Tracy's study of the Battle of Quiberon Bay, a decisive naval engagement during the Seven Years' War. It was fought on 20 November 1759 between the Royal Navy and the French Navy in Quiberon Bay, off the coast of France near Saint-Nazaire. I picked this up when writing my book on HMS Ambuscade, because although Ambuscade was not at the battle, I realised that I knew very little of the planned invasion of Britain during this conflict. The biography of Lord Anson reminded me that this was in the reading pile.

Writing a book about one battle inevitably requires a lot of context, but in this case, the author has stuck to relevant issues. I hadn't appreciated the challenges the French faced with wind direction in the Channel and the dire state of their finances. The French also had to finance large land armies and a navy, while the British could concentrate their efforts on the Royal Navy, efficiently organised by Anson. The British commander at the battle was Admiral Hawke, who implemented the reforms of hygiene, diet and ship rotation that allowed the Royal Navy to maintain a blockade of the French coast.

Despite these challenges, the threat of invasion was real, and Bonnie Prince Charlie was still a French asset. It was only fourteen years since France had last succeeded in landing him in Scotland, and the Duke of Cumberland’s draconian Highland Clearances were the firm basis for continued anger, and might be the basis for another uprising. However, when the French minister Choiseul met Charles Stuart on 7 February 1759, the no longer very Bonnie Prince was intoxicated, and Choiseul concluded he was indiscreet and rather stupid. It was also a problem that the Dutch had no use for a Stuart restoration, and Choiseul needed Dutch financial support.

The first plan was to make a landing of French soldiers in Ireland, while an army of Swedes and Russians was concentrated at Gothenburg and sailed to Scotland. These two assaults were to be feints. The main assault force would be directed at the Thames estuary and escorted by the Brest fleet. However, the potential allies weren't interested and later plans involved landings in Scotland. These were all too complex and relied on command of the sea. As Tracy says, 'The fact that Choiseul, Nicolas-René Berryer and the Duc de BelleÎle committed the lives of two armies and two fleets to such a dangerous gamble exposes them and the structure of the French Ancien Régime to the gravest criticism.'

Command of the sea was lost at the Battle of Quiberon Bay. The French fleet struggled to prepare for action with a shortage of experienced sailors and almost everything else. It was commanded by Marshal de Conflans, who eventually managed to evade the blockade in poor weather with a fleet of 20 ships of the line. Hawke, with a numerically superior and more aggressive fleet, pursued them despite rough weather. The British attacked as the French attempted to retreat into the sheltered but treacherous waters of Quiberon Bay, known for dangerous shoals and rocks. Hawke boldly followed, showing exceptional seamanship, and caught the French off guard. Twelve French ships were sunk, captured or ran aground, with no British battle losses, although two ran aground. Hawke's battle report concludes, 'When I consider the season of the year, the hard gales on the day of action, a flying enemy, the shortness of the day, and the coast they were on, I can boldly affirm that all that could possibly be done was done.'

© Sémhur / Wikimedia Commons

Tracey described the battle as 'the most dramatic sea battle in the age of sail', while the naval theorist Alfred Mahan claimed that 'The battle of 20 November 1759 was the Trafalgar of this war, and ... the English fleets were now free to act against the colonies of France, and later of Spain, on a grander scale than ever before.'

For wargaming, my collection is for the Napoleonic Wars. The ships of this period were slightly smaller with fewer guns, but the difference is not that great. Refighting the battle would involve some clever sailing, which will be challenging given my track record playing Black Seas!

National Military Museum Bucharest

 My last full day in Romania was spent in Bucharest, mostly doing the museums. The first call was the National Military Museum, which had been refurbished since my last visit. They have done a great job. I recall more vehicles, but they are apparently still being prepared. This was the furthest out museum, so I got a taxi and walked the rest of the day. The driver told me he drove a T-72 in the army; his driving showed it!

Before we get to the Dacians, there is a good collection of early (BCE) weapons and equipment. There are dioramas, life-size figures and plenty of equipment. 

The medieval section covers the Ottoman invasion, Vlad Tepes and Stephan the Great. I have painted a few of those distinctive shields.

We move on to the early modern period with Michael the Brave and more Ottoman kit. Romania doesn't have much coastline, but the Danube is navigable. 

The 18th and early 19th century is my main reason for being here. There were uniforms I had not seen before, including Austrian border units.

The Russo-Turkish War gets a large section, rightly recognising the Romanian Army's role, particularly at Pleven. 

Then onto the Balkan Wars and WW1.

Finally, WW2 through the Cold War until Romania joined NATO. I was pleased to see the naval exhibits, as I missed the Naval Museum in Constanta—yes, it was closed!

Overall, this museum is excellent. Not to be missed if you are in Bucharest.

My next stop was the National Museum of History. This has also been refurbished, although it is still pretty limited. An excellent special exhibition on the 1943 Ploesti raid matched bomber artwork with recovered parts of aircraft shot down. There are also plaster casts of Trajan's column covering the Dacian Wars, which are much easier to see than in Rome. 

What I call the bling room has a fine collection of Dacian arm rings and other treasures.

The next stop was the National Art Gallery, largely for the portraits of Wallachian rulers, which should come in handy someday. My favourite painting was Vlad Tepes receiving the Ottoman envoys. That didn't end well, and there wouldn't have been many volunteers for that duty!

Finally, the Bucharest Municipal Museum is fascinating. It shows how the city developed and has a scarily realistic reconstruction of Michael the Brave, some uniforms, and weapons.

A busy day, but lots of material for future projects.

The Danube Delta

 Day three of the Romania tour took me into the Danube Delta region. This was a crucial staging post for the Ottomans in the wars against Russia in the late 18th century. Shielded by their fortresses on the Danube, they could cross and march into Moldavia or further afield and link up with the Tatars. 

I stayed overnight in Braila, one of those fortified towns. However, nothing much remains of the Ottoman presence in this typical 19th-century old town except some tunnels. They haven't forgotten Trajan, though, whom I bumped into after dinner.

There is a modern bridge over the Danube at Braila, something the Ottomans needed later in the campaign when they were shot to bits crossing in boats. This took me to the Battle of Măcin, which took place during the Russo-Turkish War (1787–1792). It was fought on 9 July 1791 between a Russian army of 30,000 commanded by Prince Nicholas Repnin and 80,000 Ottomans led by Koca Yusuf Pasha. I found the site of the fort and passed a mosque on the way, which gave me a great view. 

The Russians marched around the town, and Kutusov made his name with a flank attack.

I then cut across to Isaccea, the Ottomans' favourite crossing point, probably because of the island. It is still a border crossing into Ukraine. Again, another mosque.

Then, down to another Ottoman fortress at Tulcea. It's a modern industrial town today, but a fine monument gives excellent views over the town and the Delta. 

In the distance, you can see the major Ottoman fortress of Izmail in modern Ukraine, which was the subject of an infamous storming by Suvorov in 1790. Smoke was rising from the city, which the locals told me was probably another Russian drone strike. I had hoped to view it from the Romanian side, but it is now a protected border area. 

On a happier note, they do have a steam engine!

Moving away from the Danube, I went to the Ottoman army HQ in the small village of Babadag. It is hard to believe that 60,000-plus men would have been camped here in 1790. It is close to the only authentic medieval castle I have seen on this trip, Enisala, which was probably built by the Genoese but with Tatar and Ottoman influences.

After that, it was a long drive back to Bucharest, ready for the city museums the following day.