Isabella MacDuff Crowns Robert the Bruce, 1306

2024-03-30T14:10:33-05:00March 25, 2024|HH 2024|

Isabella MacDuff Crowns Robert the Bruce,
March 26, 1306

Since the overthrow of the infamous Macbeth’s usurpation, Scotland’s rightful kings were crowned by a member of the clan MacDuff. From 1058 onward, one after another, members from this proud family had been given the honor of leading Scotland’s vanguard in battle and placing the crown on the head of God’s anointed. But in 1306, Scotland was running out of kings, lawful or potential.


Robert the Bruce (1274-1329)

One of the last claimants was Robert the Bruce, an outlawed hero in his own terrorized country, he was in the midst of carrying on the bitter war against England that the martyred William Wallace had begun. Harried from his home, losing brothers to the English axe, excommunicated by the pope and facing charges of murder, Robert the Bruce had little to recommend his claim beyond his birthright and a promise to free his people once and for all from English rule. For himself it was a matter of winning the throne—or death.

He had the support of the bishop of St. Andrew, a wise and pious man who did not bow to the politics of Rome that censored all Scots as “rebels.” This was favorable for the Bruce as a bishop was needed for a coronation. A circle of gold was hastily made to replace the crown of Scotland that their enemy Edward I had carried off, along with the Stone of Destiny upon which Scottish kings were crowned. Painstakingly these customs were accumulated, recreated or forged to make Bruce a king. But what of the civic realm? Where were the essential and revered MacDuffs to validate the heir of choice?


Bruce and his first wife, Isabella of Mar (1277-1296)


MacDuff Castle and the Wemyss Caves, Fife, Scotland

Many MacDuffs had been slain in the recent wars of independence, and some were imprisoned in England. Furthermore many had chosen sides with the English against the Bruce after his killing of their kinsman, The Red Comyn, in a feud. All seemed lost in regard to the MacDuffs and the Bruce’s hasty coronation at Scone Abby—ancient site of Scottish kings—appeared ever more presumptuous and invalid, until the arrival in his camp of a most unexpected validator: Isabella MacDuff.


John Comyn is killed by Robert Bruce and Roger de Kirkpatrick, Greyfriars Church, Dumfries, Scotland, 1306

A day late, and without permission from her husband who had chosen the English side, the sudden support of Isabella MacDuff, Countess of Buchan, was of such importance that Bruce agreed to run the whole ceremony again. The crowning of the day before was scrapped and with great to-do Bruce knelt once again to be charged before God and man to do his duty, with Isabella MacDuff carrying out her family’s role in placing the circlet on his head.


Isabella MacDuff places the crown upon the head of Robert the Bruce

The MacDuffs’ role in these ceremonies had great traditional and symbolic significance in substantiating the sovereign’s power as coming from the pleasure of the Scottish people, their subjects and their under-lords. Just as the first MacDuff had judged Macbeth to be a murdering usurper and crowned the ousted Prince Malcom instead, so Isabella refuted Edward I’s claim to Scotland’s throne and chose the most likely champion left her.


Notable Figures in the First Scottish War of Independence—(L-R) Robert the Bruce; Isabella MacDuff, Countess of Buchan; William Wallace. Detail from a frieze in the entrance hall of the Scottish National Portrait Gallery, Edinburgh, Scotland

This defiance would cost both Isabella and the Bruce greatly in the coming years. No glorious reign commenced after she crowned him. Instead there were years of guerrilla fighting in the wilderness of Scotland, bounties on the heads of all who supported the new king, and abandonment by relatives.

Bruce entrusted his young wife and sisters to the care of Isabella as he traveled north into the highlands to gain support. Isabella intended to follow, but she and the Bruce ladies were betrayed to the English by a Scottish lord, the Earl of Ross, and were sent into captivity. Their enemy King Edward I of England was delighted at having such hostages: the Bruce’s wife, his daughter, two sisters and the woman who dared crown him. They were offered clemency if they renounced him. None would.


Chapel at Moot Hill, Scone, Scotland which was the inauguration site of the Scottish Kings

Edward’s punishment for this was to imprison them in cages, hung from the sides of various prestigious castles, exposed to weather, ridicule and constant observation. His own decree for Isabella’s treatment reads thus:

“Let her be closely confined in an abode of stone and iron made in the shape of a cross, and let her be hung up out of doors in the open air at Berwick, that both in life and after her death, she may be a spectacle and eternal reproach to travellers.”

Isabella MacDuff would endure such captivity for four long years. When Bruce finally gained support and won a series of victories in Scotland, her treatment and that of the Bruce ladies improved, their roles being turned from gruesome warnings to valuable bargaining chips—better alive than dead.


The earliest known depiction of the Battle of Bannockburn from a 1440s manuscript— Robert the Bruce is portrayed wielding a battleaxe and riding a red-festooned horse

Whether such a happy turn of events saved Isabella’s life in the long run is lost to history. In 1314, after Bruce’s stunning victory over the English at Bannockburn, his female relations were sent home in return for certain English nobles he had captured. Isabella MacDuff is not mentioned in these exchanges, the presumption being she had died before seeing this successful outcome of her daring choice. But the legacy of Clan MacDuff lived on in Bruce’s extraordinary reign, canonized into the fabric of Scottish nationalism with the Declaration of Arbroath signed by the king and his Scottish lords. It declared God as Lord of all and the King of Scots His loyal subject, a willing servant of his under-lords, charged to defend and ensure the liberty of his people.


Statue of Bernard de Linton (then Abbot of Arbroath) and Robert the Bruce holding the Declaration of Arbroath aloft


Reproduction of the “Tyninghame” (1320 A.D) copy of the Declaration of Arbroath

Princess Pocahontas Dies in England, 1617

2024-04-22T19:31:59-05:00March 18, 2024|HH 2024|

Princess Pocahontas Dies in England,
March 21, 1617

Once upon a time in Jamestown, Virginia, during the days of King James I when America was yet a wilderness, an Indian Princess was traded for a copper kettle. As is often the case with providence, the clumsy schemes of men in the life of Princess Pocahontas resulted in unforeseen blessing and relief for those who had come to establish our country.

Pocahontas was born the daughter of the great Indian King Powhatan, chief of the Tsenacomoco in the tidewater region of Virginia. When she was still a young girl she was the means of sparing the life of Captain John Smith, military leader of the Virginia Company who was sent to settle in her father’s lands. Smith had been captured by her father Powhatan when attempting to make contact with the natives during Jamestown’s infamous first winter of 1607. It was a time when the English gentlemen of the Virginia Company had no time to sow upon arrival and thus starved as a result.


Pocahontas (c. 1596-1617)


Powhatan Village recreation at the Jamestown Settlement

John Smith himself recounts in third person how he was captured and taken to Powhatan and was asked the white man’s intent. Upon hearing the long and short of it through translators, Powhatan’s council decreed Smith should die. It was then that little Pocahontas, moved with compassion and curiosity for the foreigner, defended Captain Smith:

“Two great stones were brought before Powhatan—then as many as could lay hands on him dragged him to [the stones] and thereon laid his head, and being ready with their clubs, to beat out his brains, Pocahontas, the Chief’s dearest daughter, when no entreaty could pre-vail, got his head in her arms and laid her own upon his to save him from death.”


Pocahontas rescues John Smith, from a 1906 children’s history book on the life of Pocahontas

Smith would survive that day to forge a peace with the Indians, become Powhatan’s adopted son and the Virginia Colony’s greatest governor. With this fledgling prosperity came a constant influx of hopeful new settlers, pouring into Jamestown along with provisions from England, among them an esteemed gentleman by the name of John Rolfe.

Rolfe and his pregnant young wife had been shipwrecked in Bermuda on their way to Virginia. There they lost their child and soon after Mrs. Rolfe died as well, leaving John a widower.

By the time Rolfe arrived in Jamestown, John Smith was gone, returned to England after a gunpowder injury, and Pocahontas, who had so often come to trade with or warn her adopted brother, had not been heard from in over a year. With Smith gone she no longer had reason to visit. And then it was that a certain Captain Argall struck a deal with a neighboring chief, a tricky trade—a copper kettle for the Princess Pocahontas. The deal was made and Pocahontas lured aboard Argall’s ship and taken to Jamestown to be kept as a bargaining chip against her wily father Powhatan—he had taken seven Englishmen prisoner himself, you see.


A pair of earrings and a basket, said to have belonged to Pocahontas at the time of her marriage to John Rolfe

Despite enduring this unfair treatment by those who had once been her beneficiaries, Pocahontas recalled the past uprightness of Smith, the goodness of his minister Mr. Hunt and now in her captivity she was delighted by the company of a well-favored widower—John Rolfe.


Pocahontas is baptized as Rebecca, with John Rolfe looking on

During her “stay” at Jamestown, Pocahontas came to embrace the gospel of Jesus Christ, requested to be baptized and changed her name to that of the Christian “Rebecca”. John Rolfe then personally went to Powhatan to make amends, and when Pocahontas sent her father a letter regarding her desire to marry the Englishman, Powhatan sent an uncle and several braves to witness the covenant. So it was that in 1614 John Rolfe, entrepreneur of tobacco in Virginia, and the Lady Rebecca, erstwhile Princess of the Tidewater, were married.


John Rolfe and Pocahontas


John Rolfe and Pocahontas are married

In 1616 John Rolfe took his pretty young wife to visit his homeland, England, along with their little son Thomas. Their marriage had caused much consternation back home, not for any objection to Pocahontas’ race or creed but rather the opposite—many Englishmen wondered if it were treason for a commoner like Rolfe to have married the daughter of an “Indian emperor”. Respecters of rank as the English were, they set aside a house near Hampton Court for her stay. There she was hosted by the Bishop of London and presented to King James I with great pomp and reverence.


A cameo brooch given to Pocahontas in 1616 by Queen Anne


John Rolfe and Pocahontas are presented at King James’ court

Captain John Smith had prepared his monarch to greet her with the respect she deserved, as she had been the means not only of saving Smith’s life twice but that of the colony many times over. Yet Smith himself hesitated to seek her out, unsure if the connection and good will they once shared still remained. But the Lady Rebecca assured him she would never forget those early, forging days when she had been Pocahontas and he a brave foreigner in her father’s lodge.


Captain John Smith (1580-1631)


Pocahontas falls ill on the voyage back to Virginia; an anxious John Rolfe sits at her feet, while a nurse stands nearby holding their infant son, Thomas

When it was time for the Rolfes to return to Virginia, Pocahontas was wistful to say goodbye to her old friend and his strange, wet country with its playwrights and cathedrals. As providence would have it, she would never leave England. Their ship had not even left the mouth of the Thames before a sudden illness took her life on this day and weakened that of her child as well. John Rolfe would return to Virginia a widower once more.


St George’s church, Gravesend, Kent, England, final resting place of Pocahontas, with a memorial statue to her in the foreground

The Death of Tiberius Caesar, 37 AD

2024-03-11T12:16:52-05:00March 11, 2024|HH 2024|

“Tiberius, therefore, under whom the name of Christ made its entry into the world, when this doctrine was reported to him from Palestine, where it first began, communicated with the Senate, making it clear to them that he was pleased with the doctrine…Heavenly Providence had wisely instilled this into his mind in order that the doctrine of the Gospel, unhindered at its beginning, might spread in all directions throughout the world.”—Greek Historian Eusebius Pamphilius, circa 300s

The Death of Tiberius Caesar, March 16, 37 AD

It was in the reign of Tiberius Caesar that our Lord Jesus Christ was crucified, and what an imposing reign it was. He was born the first son of Tiberius Nero, an acclaimed Roman General, and not to be confused with the later, evil persecutor of the church, Emperor Nero. His mother was the beautiful and politically-astute Livia Drusilla. When he was an infant, Tiberius’ father sided with Mark Antony during Rome’s civil war and lost his family’s fortune and status as a result. To rise again was a tough prospect in newly-empirical Rome, but the young Tiberius’ fortunes changed when he was adopted at the age of nine into the family of the Caesars by none other than Augustus himself. This came about as Augustus married Tiberius’ mother, Livia, which caused her to set aside her first husband. Such were the tumultuous family lives of the Roman elite.


Roman emperor Tiberius (42 BC-AD 37) and his mother Livia (59 BC–AD 29)

Added to this were Augustus Caesar’s newly-acquired responsibilities as Emperor and chief god-head of the Roman State, a position Augustus had inherited from his uncle, the daring and recently assassinated Julius Caesar, and secured by shedding the blood of his detractors. Augustus himself would have no sons of his own—his only child being his daughter Julia—and so the mantle of Caesar would eventually be passed on, yet again by adoption, to Tiberius.


Julius (100 BC-44 BC)


Augustus (63 BC-AD 14)

The position of emperor was in many ways as thankless a post as it was supremely empowering. These three Caesars—Julius, Augustus and Tiberius—were the first three emperors of Rome, and in many ways they established the role’s jurisdiction and precedents, and were more successful and respected than any of their successors. Forty-three of the approximately seventy Roman emperors died violently, thirty-seven of them by targeted assassination.


Tiberius (42 BC-AD 37)

But in the times of Augustus and Tiberius, law and order was effectively maintained, as was religious awe for their deified state, and the nearly ornamental Roman Senate became their constant foil. In Plutarch’s words: “The Romans made Caesar dictator for life in the hope that the government of a single person would give them time to breathe after so many civil wars and calamities. This was indeed a tyranny avowed, since his power now was not only absolute, but perpetual, too.”


The temple of Augustus and Livia in Vienne (modern day France), a standing reminder of the worship and deification of rulers

Tiberius’ training to become emperor began in childhood, and considering the times and conditions, he could not have hoped for a better tutor. His stepfather Augustus was wise even in his ruthlessness; a measured man who fully established Rome as the pinnacle of order for which it is nowadays often praised. It was under him that a first census was taken of the inhabitants of the Roman Empire, and in the gospel of Luke we find that to be the cause of Mary and Joseph’s journey to Bethlehem, where Christ Jesus was then born in a stable, as prophesied.


Christ was born in Bethlehem during the rule of Augustus

In the interim before his own reign, while his step-father Augustus still reigned, Tiberius made a name for himself as an astute scholar, an immaculately-trained politician, and an impressive military leader. He also chose to marry Vipsania Agrippina for love. This latter misstep of Roman sensibility did not go unpunished—all the military popularity and obedient sonship in the world could not secure a lasting marital alliance in Rome, and so, Tiberius found himself ordered to set her aside and marry Julia, the twice-widowed daughter of Augustus himself.


Vipsania Agrippina (unknown-20 AD), first wife of Tiberius


Julia the Elder (39 BC–AD 14), daughter of Augustus and second wife of Tiberius

Now presumptive heir to the empire, Tiberius was bound to the house of Caesar by both adoption and marriage. The marriage would prove childless and miserable, his new wife proving a remorseless adulteress. The law of Julia’s own father Augustus decreed that Tiberius should denounce her for her infidelity, but such a move would result in angering his father-in-law. So, Tiberius sought postings far away from his new wife, preferring self-exile to humiliation, and in the turmoil of her scandals it is recorded his once pleasing temperament turned “unpleasant.”


Remnants of Tiberius’ villa at Sperlonga, on the coast midway between Rome and Naples

In 14 AD, Augustus Caesar died, and with all other heirs having fallen dead or into disrepute, Tiberius was named all-powerful successor. He was fifty-four years old. The majority of his reign was marked by peace and lack of conquest. The perpetual tussle for power with the Senate remained, but in the lives of Roman citizens, it was a primarily prosperous time in an era of predominant discontent.


Extent of the Roman Empire under Tiberius

One issue alone began to rise above all others during his reign, sprung out of the deserts of Judea and deemed inconsequential in far-off Rome. The earthly ministry of Jesus Christ would prove to be more infectious and lasting than any emperor could imagine. While espousing respect for their earthly authorities in the form of governors and Caesars, this growing sect of “Christians” fell into contention with Rome over the issue of worshipping any other deity save “the one true God”—an absurd hold-out in the sophisticated minds of polytheistic Rome.


Pontius Pilate presents Christ to the people during His trial

However, according to later historians Eusebius Pamphilius and Tertullian, when Tiberius received his reports on Jesus’ preaching from Pontius Pilate, his heart was moved. In the Senate he raised the motion of deifying Christ, suggesting they include Him among the Roman pantheon. This, however, was refused by the Roman Senate and corresponded perfectly with the Christians’ own doctrine that held the divinity of Christ as not dependent on a vote by Roman politicians.


The Roman Senate convened

This motion having failed, Tiberius still decreed that the followers of the now sacrificed Christ were not to be persecuted, his time spent in the barbarian outposts of the empire perhaps leading him to understand the nuances of peaceable detractors verses pagan ones. And so, under his reign, Christianity was allowed a tolerable foothold in the Roman world from which it did not budge when the fires of persecution were lit by his successors.

Tiberius himself spent his last decade of life mourning the death of his only son by becoming a recluse, far from his duties in Rome and ever more preoccupied in depraved pursuits. Like his own stepfather Augustus, Tiberius found himself at the end of his life choosing the least offensive family member as his heir from an unappealing lot: Gaius Caesar, better known by his childhood nickname Caligula, meaning “little boots.” “I am nursing a viper in Rome’s bosom”, Tiberius observed of his choice, but he named Caligula his son and successor, cementing the beginning of the end of Roman superiority.


Gaius Caesar (AD 12-41), better known by his nickname Caligula


The Death of Tiberius

Tiberius met his own end, racked with disease and commanding little loyalty from his household. He took to bed after injuring himself in a javelin-throwing contest and, having determined his injuries insufficient to kill him, the commander of his Praetorian Guard insured they would do the job themselves by smothering old Tiberius with his own blankets. Thus ended the harsh but useful life of the deified Tiberius Caesar, a blind servant of Providence and now only a footnote in the life of the true Son of God whom he had crucified.

The Boston Massacre, 1770

2024-03-30T14:06:05-05:00March 4, 2024|HH 2024|

The Boston Massacre, March 5, 1770

When looking back at our nation’s road to independence, there were a number of inciting incidents considered to be formative in setting the tone for the manner in which such an unprecedented endeavor would proceed. A string of emotionally-charged battles for the loyalties and conscience of the colonies were engaged in, long before the war of bullets and bayonets.


The Boston Tea Party, as depicted by Nathaniel Currier of the famed Currier & Ives

We can easily recall the acceleration of The Boston Tea party or the stirring first shots fired at Lexington, the guarding of Concord Bridge or our first and second Congresses meeting under threat of death. But it was The Boston Massacre of 1770 that showcased on the world stage the ideological mettle of some of those who would become our greatest founding fathers. In this single story we encounter many familiar names, in various roles and often at odds with each other, most of whom eventually found themselves pulling together during our revolution.


Detail of the marker shown inset below

One frigid evening in the spring of 1770, five years before America’s Declaration of Independence, a historic confrontation occurred. An angry crowd of civilians gathered outside of Boston’s Customs House, one of many such protests against the imposed taxations and sanctions of merchandise in the colonies. The recent imposition of an ever-growing presence of soldiers being stationed in Boston to enforce these measures often led to a seething discontent amongst the civilians who held their King and his Parliament in rightful suspicion. Tensions were running high between citizens themselves, and political fractioning had become substantial by the time British occupation began.


Old State House in Boston; the cobblestone circle is labeled “Site of the Boston Massacre”, however the event technically occurred nearby on what now is a busy Boston street

Samuel Adams’ organized group of freedom zealots—“The Sons of Liberty”— made great effort to intimidate those merchants and civilians not cooperating with a boycott of certain government goods. Some of these intimidations escalated to violent altercations: an apprentice boy was killed during a scuffle in February, and an army sergeant went missing on the first of March—presumed murdered.


A handbill, advertising an upcoming Sons of Liberty meeting, dated December 17, 1765


Samuel Adams (1722-1803)

With tensions high, the events of the evening of March the 5th outside the Customs House of Boston further split colonial loyalties in two. With the rioting outside growing ever more heated, and abuse being hurled on the lone sentry standing guard, British army Captain Thomas Preston called out his soldiers as reinforcements and ordered them at attention in front of the government building. Matters only escalated when the soldiers presented arms and the Bostonians began throwing ice and debris at the soldiers who eventually began firing on the civilians, killing five and wounding many. First-hand accounts of the event were chaotic, full of discrepancies, and any order to fire on the civilians was adamantly denied by Captain Preston himself. Nevertheless, the following morning Preston and all eight soldiers were arrested for murder.


A reenactor portrays Captain Thomas Preston during a street reenactment of the Boston Massacre

The race for the hearts and loyalties of public opinion was on. When delivering his address at the funeral for “the fallen”, James Otis wore a Roman toga, evoking not only in words but in dress an ever-growing republican perspective toward the tyranny of the mother country. The later-renowned Paul Revere—a silversmith at the time—etched a powerful and exaggerated depiction of the scene, labeling it a unprovoked “massacre”. His close friend Samuel Adams rigorously distributed these etchings amongst his circles, and loudly declared the King’s soldiers to be murderers. Soon all thirteen colonies were ablaze with horror over the incident.


James Otis (1725-1783)


The Bloody Massacre, a 1770 engraving by Paul Revere of the Boston Massacre

Meanwhile, Samuel Adams’ cousin—a devout patriot, lawyer and native Massachusetts man, John Adams—went against public sentiment and accepted the thankless role of defense attorney for the accused soldiers, making himself “the most despised man in Boston”. Adams defended his choice by insisting that if colonial rights were not capable of being pressed and guarded under the rule of law, then the practical consequences would be anarchy and injustice.


John Adams (1735-1826)

The English common law—ensuring its subjects their rights since the Magna Carta and reaffirmed with blood by Cromwell’s Parliament—was the colonists’ refuge in this national argument for representation. Adams argued they could not decry the current King’s trampling of it, and then in turn deny its provisions of a fair trial to the accused soldiers. His opponent in this trial was the Enlightenment’s protégée, Thomas Paine, writer of the esteemed pamphlet Common Sense, who catered to the emotion of his incensed audience, citing a dangerous license to justifiable measures when in the cause of personal liberties.


Thomas Paine (1737-1809)

But a fair trial was held at last, a jury of Massachusetts men were called, and while the statues observed may have been English, the proceedings of it became distinctly American. It would become the first time reasonable doubt was upheld in court and the first time a jury was sequestered: it was a case of many firsts.

In the end the jury found Captain Preston and six of his eight soldiers innocent of all charges, citing self-defense. The remaining two were charged with manslaughter and had their thumbs branded in punishment. While it proved to be a great personal victory for John Adams and launched him into the national spotlight, yet greater still was the ideological victory in the colonies’ long term struggle for freedom.


The gravestone, in the Granary Burying Ground, Boston, of the victims of the Boston Massacre, as well as the 12-year-old apprentice boy killed shortly before as tensions were rising

While many visionary patriots who were impatient for imminent revolt to occur grieved the case’s outcome as a setback, the integrity of the legal process had been upheld. The condemnation of mob action and the equality of the justice rendered to the accused earned their cause a reputation for the moderation and impartiality that became synonymous with American courts, derived as it was from God’s law.

I will close with John Adam’s own closing remarks to the judge and jury:

“I am for the prisoners at the bar, and shall apologize for it only in the words of the Marquis Beccaria: “If I can but be the instrument of preserving one life, his blessing and tears of transport, shall be a sufficient consolation to me, for the contempt of all mankind.” As the prisoners stand before you for their lives, it may be proper, to recollect with what temper the law requires we should proceed to this trial. The form of proceeding at their arraignment, has discovered that the spirit of the law upon such occasions, is conformable to humanity, to commonsense and feeling; that it is all benignity and candor. And the trial commences with the prayer of the Court, expressed by the Clerk, to the Supreame JUDGE of Judges, empires and worlds: ‘God send you a good deliverance’.
…I will enlarge no more on the evidence, but submit it to you. Facts are stubborn things; and whatever may be our wishes, our inclinations, or the dictates of our passions, they cannot alter the state of facts and evidence… The law, in all vicissitudes of government, fluctuations of the passions, or flights of enthusiasm, will preserve a steady undeviating course; it will not bend to the uncertain wishes, imaginations, and wanton tempers of men. To use the words of a great and worthy man, a patriot, and an hero, and enlightned friend of mankind, and a martyr to liberty; I mean Algernon Sidney, who from his earliest infancy sought a tranquil retirement under the shadow of the tree of liberty, with his tongue, his pen, and his sword, “The law, (says he,) no passion can disturb. Tis void of desire and fear, lust and anger. ‘Tis menc sine affectu; written reason; retaining some measure of the divine perfection. It does not enjoin that which pleases a weak, frail man, but without any regard to persons, commands that which is good, and punishes evil in all, whether rich, or poor, high or low—Tis deaf, inexorable, inflexible.” On the one hand it is inexorable to the cries and lamentations of the prisoners; on the other it is deaf, deaf as an adder to the clamours of the populace.”


Boston Massacre Memorial


A later (1878) portrayal of the events of March 5, 1770

The Sinking of the HMS Birkenhead, 1852

2024-03-30T14:16:46-05:00February 26, 2024|HH 2024|

“Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.”—John 15:13

The Sinking of the HMS Birkenhead,
February 26, 1852

There was a time not so long ago in this country where, if a woman or child found themselves in less than ideal surroundings, they might look around and find with some ease an assortment of fellas that could be counted on were their situation to go sour. It’s long been a mark of Christian cultures that the welfare of the weaker is the duty and diligence of the stronger, that a stranger’s plight is not considered a remote burden for those possessing the capability to aid it.

This grounding quality of culture has not been entirely lost to us, but it has been diluted to such a degree that when studying certain portions of history, the willing choices and resolute sacrifices made therein appear almost fantastical. Such bravery is the legacy and conduct of the men and women aboard the doomed troopship, HMS Birkenhead.


The HMS Birkenhead

The year was 1852: Queen Victoria had been reigning for fifteen years over the British Empire, a massive and sprawling landmass of rich assets and varied people groups requiring the presence of troops to ensure governance. HMS Birkenhead was commissioned to carry many of these soldiers and their accompanying families bound for South Africa’s Cape of Good Hope, Britain’s many incursions there having escalated to all-out war and reinforcements were needed. HMS Birkenhead weighed 1400 tons and was the Royal Navy’s first iron steamer with a state-of-the-art paddle wheel that gained her record speeds.

The first set of troops embarked from Portsmouth and then the ship stopped at Cork in Ireland, picking up more men who perhaps best resembled the sort who found themselves wearing the British uniform. They were men without prospects in famine-riddled Ireland, and found the most lucrative employ to be that in Her Majesty’s army as it supplied wages that could provide for a family and the benefit of some social standing. Often the aspirations of empire were not fervently espoused by the very men sent to enforce them, but the common tenants of their shared upbringing which emphasized good character, loyalty, and unwavering discipline, made them into one of the most effective and typically gallant fighting forces in the world.


Friends and family say farewell to emigrants leaving Ireland during The Great Famine of 1845-1852


Adderley Street in Cape Town, South Africa as it appeared in 1897

On February 23 a large component of the troop, their wives, children and provisions, disembarked near Cape Town. The remainder stayed aboard HMS Birkenhead as it steamed round the cape of South Africa, hugging the coastline and making its way to Algoa Bay and their intended destination.


An 1856 map of Algoa Bay, the intended destination of the ill-fated HMS Birkenhead

In the dead calm of a pitch dark morning on the 26th of February, the Birkenhead struck an uncharted rock off Danger Point at such speed it instantly tore the iron hull apart. Water flooded the lower compartments in seconds, trapping and drowning those bunked there. The damage and the impact of the wreck were evident to even the most safely situated passengers, the men hastily readied their families and rushed them to the deck, finding hordes of lone soldiers already up there receiving orders from Captain Salmond to begin emergency measures as the ship was sinking.


The coast of Gansbaai, South Africa, near where the Birkenhead was wrecked

Despite having offloaded a substantial number of passengers at Cape Town earlier, the all-too-familiar predicament of limited lifeboats arose, and not a single life vest was to be found. There were some 630 people aboard the Birkenhead—the exact number is not known since the ship’s manifests were lost in the wreck—with only 26 of them being women and children. Compared to such grand and comparatively lengthy maritime disasters as that of the Titanic or the Lusitania, these numbers seem easily surmountable, but it was the speed with which the Birkenhead sank that made its tragedy so dire and the corresponding sacrifice of her men so necessary.


The precise location of the Birkenhead wreck off the coast of South Africa

Famously now, the order was given for the men to form ranks on the slanting, shuddering deck and the call of “women and children first” was given, establishing for the first time the “official” great maritime protocol. Form ranks they did—hundreds of her Majesty’s best men, in the prime of their life and at the height of their vigor, they kept order and decorum as their women and children were lowered away to safety in the largest and most serviceable of the lifeboats.


An artist’s depiction of the wreck of the Birkenhead

“Almost everybody kept silent, indeed nothing was heard, but the kicking of the horses and the orders of (Captain) Salmond, all given in a clear firm voice.”—survivor Ensign G.A. Lucas

All of this done and the boats rowed to safety out of harm’s way from the suction of the sinking ship, Captain Salmond gave the order of “every man for himself”. The shore was less than two miles away, but while the weather was clement and the sea somewhat calm, shark-infested waters waited for each man who stood his ground till the deck was awash. A mere twenty-five minutes elapsed from the initial collision to the full submersion of the giant vessel.


A great white shark, photographed in the same waters as those in which the Birkenhead went down

Counteracting Captain Salmond’s encouragement to make their way to the lifeboats and save themselves was Lieutenant-Colonel Seton, a 38-year-old Scotsman and the soldier’s commanding officer. He recognized that such a rush would mean that the lifeboats could be swamped and the lives of the women and children onboard would be endangered. He drew his sword and ordered his men to stand fast. The untried soldiers remained at their post even as the ship began to split in two.

“The order and regularity that prevailed on board, from the moment the ship struck till she totally disappeared, far exceeded anything that I had thought could be effected by the best discipline… Everyone did as he was directed and there was not a murmur or cry amongst them until the ship made her final plunge—all received their orders and carried them out as if they were embarking instead of going to the bottom.”— survivor Captain Edward Wright, 91st Regiment (Argyllshire Highlanders)


The calm, orderly scene on deck as the Birkenhead went down

A young ensign named Alexander Russell had been put in charge of the largest of the lifeboats. Once the Birkenhead had sunk and a scene of mass death surrounded them, he found himself beseeched by the wives and children of the men in his care to row back to the site and help rescue any who might be helped. Reluctantly he did so, but despite pandemonium, horror, and a frenzy of fins churning the water, not a man dared endanger the small vessel by clinging to it. Ensign Russell himself was so moved when one family recognized their father amongst the carnage that he dove over the side to aid the struggling man and perished himself, taken by the sharks.

“Oh that I could forget what I saw that night. I would not pass such another. It was an awful sight to see despairing men fighting for anything to support them in the water.”—survivor Ensign G.A. Lucas

Later that morning the schooner Lioness reached the lifeboats and rescued the women and children. She then headed for the scene of the disaster and reached the site of the wreck that afternoon. Mercifully the same shallow shoals which had wrecked the Birkenhead kept her mainmast and rigging above the waterline as she settled down to the seabed, and clinging to it were forty men who had endured the harrowing night.


A diver examines and records the remains of the Birkenhead’s paddle during a dive to the wreck site in 2011

A few successfully made it the two miles to shore by swimming, clinging to overturned lifeboats or using makeshift rafts of broken boards. Once ashore, those exhausted and battered men had to trek for miles in South Africa’s hottest month of the year in search of water and help. But still they showed selflessness: men who had been swimming for hours helped carry their fellows too maimed by sharks or shoal to walk. No one, once found, was to be abandoned and eventually it was Dutch farmers who welcomed them and gave them shelter.

Of the more than 630 people onboard the Birkenhead, only 193 were saved, but none of those who perished were women or children. There is a code of conduct now thus named: The Birkenhead Drill—more recognizable perhaps as the strict prioritizing of “women and children first!” during times of crises. The chivalry which became famous on the Titanic half a century later had its roots in the conduct of these men who had been the role models of the men aboard her. Such character does not grow in isolation or spring from the necessity of the moment. These were men ready to die in the rush of a fight, but found the sacrifice required of them to be of a far more chilling sort—and they made it without complaint.


A bronze memorial plaque to the brave men of the Birkenhead, located on the side of the Danger Point lighthouse, just off the coast of Gansbaai, South Africa, near the site of the wreck


One of Titanic’s lifeboats, loaded with women and children

Rudyard Kipling immortalized the silent heroes in common vernacular when he wrote:

“To take your chance in the thick of a rush, with firing all about,
Is nothing so bad when you’ve cover to ’and, an’ leave an’ likin’ to shout;
But to stand an’ be still to the Birken’ead drill is a damn tough bullet to chew,
An’ they done it, the Jollies—’Er Majesty’s Jollies—soldier an’ sailor too!
Their work was done when it ’adn’t begun; they was younger nor me an’ you;
Their choice it was plain between drownin’ in ’eaps an’ bein’ mopped by the screw,
So they stood an’ was still to the Birken’ead drill, soldier an’ sailor too!”

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