In 1458, on the orders of James II, Falkland became a royal burgh. The palace itself, really only the gatehouse remains today, was built in the twelfth century. It became crown property in 1424 after the death of David Stewart, Duke of Rothesay at the hands of his uncle, the then keeper of the castle. It was said that Rothesay died of a mysterious illness while quieter, but more persistent gossip, said that he died in chains in Falkland’s cellars. In any event it was James I, Rothesay’s little brother, who with the crown firmly on his head took possession of Falkland when their uncle, the Duke of Albany, fell from power.

In 1451, James II of Scotland gave the castle to his queen Mary of Guilders -and it was she who turned it into a palace with comfortable apartments and a pleasure garden. It was improved upon by successive kings. At the turn of the sixteenth century by James IV (the one killed at Flodden in 1513) improved the hunting on offer by importing wild boar from France and began work on a Renaissance palace. James V, who spent much of his minority in Falkland in captivity at the 6th Earl of Douglas, continued his father’s plan for a splendid summer palace by adding the gate house with its magnificent twin towers. It was he who added the tennis court in 1539. It was one of James V’s favourite retreats, despite the fact that he had been forced to escape from his step-father’s clutches at Falkland dressed as groom. He died at Falkland Palace in December 1542 following his defeat at the Battle of Solway Moss.

Later Falkland would hold the same appeal for his daughter Mary who could see the influence of France in its architecture and the chapel which retained its Catholic flavour in the newly Protestant realm. Her son, James VI, commissioned the famous Falkland Bed but by the time it was ready for him, he was James I of England and never slept in it. Charles I visited briefly. Charles II, who stayed in Falkland in 1650 when the Scots recognised him as their monarch was the last of the Stewarts to stay at the palace. In response, Oliver Cromwell, burnt the palace to the ground in 1654- although the fire could have been an accident.

Warning – the next two paragraphs contain evidence of a grumpy blogger at work!!

Unfortunately, despite the current entry fee of £17 per person, interior photography is not permitted. It’s a bit of a non sequitur I admit but it does make me feel that history is only for those who can afford it – which is just plain wrong on so many different levels. How can heritage belong to people if it’s made inaccessible to them? You’ll have to take my word that the painted ceilings and nineteenth century renovations including heraldic glass in the chapel are a treat – I could have an entire project on the way heraldic beasts are presented at Falkland beginning with the stencils of the red lions on the staircase at the entrance, to the wallpaper with its assorted stylised beasts, stained glass and, of course, various coats of arms. Falkland, still technically in the hands of the Crown even today, was purchased in 1887 by the 3rd Marquess of Bute who became the palace’s keeper. It was he who set about conserving and rebuilding what he was able of the palace. He even purchased the Falkland Bed when it came up for sale – and used it for the next three decades. It is indeed a bed fit for a king – complete with six royal swans, the virtues and a warning to remember that it is God rather than monarchs who are in charge! The wall paper and the decorative metalwork are pure Arts and Crafts and absolutely wonderful ( I loved the candle sconces in the chapel).

The hereditary keeper today is the great grandson of the Marquess of Bute but the deputy keepership resides with the National Trust for Scotland. And if anyone from that august body is reading this – I don’t make any money from the History Jar – so any photographs would be entirely non-commercial. The guides dressed in period costume are very informative and their costumes splendid – can’t photograph those either and I don’t think they’re going to stand still while I get a sketch pad out. Nor can I show you the 17th century stump work mirror frame with its rendition of Nonsuch Palace, the beautifully embroidered night cap or the modern examples of blackwork embroidery that are on display. And I shall not be recreating the blackwork motifs even if I wanted to (which I do) because there were no postcards available and there were certainly no images of the blackwork in the guide book or of the Jacobean bed hangings (in enough detail) in the event that I fancied creating a crewel work memento of my visit. Am I grumpy about this? Yes I am. But then, you’ve probably already gathered that fact. The Falkland Tapestries are old and their colour needs to be conserved – yes – but that doesn’t explain why everything is off limits. As a visitor, my experience is better when I’m looking closely at the detail and think about how I might use an image or design if I was going to turn it into a piece of needlework or even a sketch. And let’s not forget that I use images as a visual reminder of what I want to write about both for this blog and for anything else I might be writing. I think the sight of a woman scribbling manically into a notebook might be rather more off putting than one taking photos – and certainly more irritating for those members of her family who have to wait while she writes everything down and does neat little annotated sketches in the margins. In this day and age no one needs to use a flash to obtain a decent picture – so long as there is some natural light. And there weren’t that many people there so I don’t think it had much to do with crowd control. Oh well – rant over. I do think a book introducing the history of needlework through the embroideries of the Trust (Scotland or England) with some practical projects would sell a treat. I’d rather buy something like that than yet another tea towel. Come to think of it, I would love to be the one to write it. Perhaps I’ll add a new section to the History Jar- the meanderings of an embroiderer…

Falkland is a pretty little palace, or rather very large gatehouse, and it’s the first one off my Stuart odyssey. The spelling changed from Stewart to Stuart in about 1548 when Mary Queen of Scots married the French dauphin. The village has some quirky shops, friendly locals and a couple of excellent cafes. If you’re a fan of Outlander it will look very familiar. And now the sun has come out. Fingers crossed that’s it for the dreek greyness and my grumpiness for the rest of the visit.