VERY soon after Morton had demitted
the regency, he partly recovered his power, and this he continued for some
time to exercise. The young king remained in Stirling Castle, under
considerable restraint. With a view to acquire some control over him, as
the only means of resisting the English or Protestant interest, his mother
and French grand-uncles sent to his court a young gentleman of engaging
manners, in whom they had confidence. This was Esme Stuart, usually called
Monsieur d’Aubigné, a member of the Lennox family, being nephew of the
late Regent, but who had been brought up in France. It was believed that
he carried with him forty thousand pieces of gold, to be employed in
winning favour with the Scottish nobility. ‘He was,’ says a contemporary,
‘a man of comely proportion, civil behaviour, red-beardit, honest in
conversation, weel likit of by the king and a part of his nobility at the
first" To aid him in his purpose, he brought with him one called Monsieur
Mombirneau, ‘a merry fellow, able in body and quick in spirit.' The young
king readily opened his heart to this pleasant relative, who took care to
accommodate himself to his tastes, and to assist, above all, in making his
time pass agreeably. About the same time, another but more distant
relative, James Stuart, of the Ochiltree family, a captain in the royal
guard, began to acquire favour with the king. This was altogether a less
worthy person than D’Aubigné, being arrogant, domineering, and vicious.
D’Aubigué, however, being a Catholic, and suspected of designs in favour
of popery, was perhaps the least liked of the two.
It was in September 1579, when
little more than thirteen years of age, that James was for the first time
so far liberated from the control of Morton and other councillors, as to
be able to leave his castle of Stirling. Accompanied by D’Aubigné, then
newly arrived, he made a formal visit to Edinburgh, where the citizens
gave him a most affectionate reception.
This was a more important crisis of
British history than is generally supposed. It was now that a commencement
was made of that struggle for authority which we see going on through the
remainder of this and the whole of the ensuing century. James had been
reared as the creature of the zealous Presbyterian party. When he began to
judge for himself, and to become conversant with minds beyond the range of
his earlier associations, his affections led him to prefer those who had
been his mother’s friends, and he soon came to believe that they and such
as they were likely to be his own warmest supporters. What was most
important of all, he found that the Presbyterian clergy, while professing
respect for him as the chief-magistrate of the land, and disposed to obey
him in civil matters, claimed to be, in things ecclesiastical, not merely
independent of him, but his superiors. Restricting the idea of the church
to those ‘exercising the spiritual function among the congregations of
them that profess the truth,’ they asserted that it had 'a certain power
granted by God,’ having ‘ground in the word of God,’ and ‘to be put into
execution by them unto whom the government of the kirk by lawful calling
is committed.’ And, ‘as the ministers and others of the ecclesiastical
state are subject to the magistrate civil, so aucht the person of the
magistrate to be subject to the kirk spiritually and in ecclesiastical
government.’ In their view, as far as his own religions and moral practice
was concerned, King James was only a parishioner of the Canongate. On the
other hand, when one of their order interfered with politics in his
sermon, he was only liable to be challenged by his presbytery. The claim
was presented by men of whose disinterestedness there can be no more doubt
than of their religious zeal; that it might have worked satisfactorily if
it had ever found a monarch who would cordially accept and submit to it,
cannot be denied, for we have had no experience on the subject, the final
settlement of the Scotch church at the Revolution having left it in a
doubtful state. The compromise which was attained at the end of a
century-long struggle, was unattainable in the days of King James. The
pretension only set him upon looking up scriptural texts too, texts which
could be interpreted as setting the royal authority equally above human
challenge; and such were not difficult to be found. Hence arose the
celebrated doctrine of the divine right of kings—a sort of antithesis to a
doctrine which would have made kings in one important respect the subjects
of a set of church-courts. And so commenced that unfortunate course of
things in our national history, which has presented this king as in
constant antagonism to the ecclesiastical forms and order of worship
preferred by the great bulk of his people, as seeking by all arts to
thrust hated systems upon them, and as founding a policy which, becoming a
deadly and obstinate struggle with his descendants, alternately gave us
anarchy and despotism, till it ended in the total overthrow of the main
line of the House of Stuart. Such were the natural fruits of the
earnestness, beautiful but terrible, with which men then seized and worked
out principles which they found, or thought they found, in the
Bible—arguing on the religion of peace and good-will to men, with swords
in their hands, and laws as cruel as swords, till a sense of the
inconsequentiality of such reasoning for any good at length came over most
of them with the sickening effect of a wind from a field of battle, and
disposed them to rest content with the sulky mutual protest in which they
have since lived.
Notwithstanding a strenuous
opposition from Elizabeth and the Presbyterian clergy, D’Aubigné, whom
James made Earl, and finally Duke of Lennox, succeeded in greatly
advancing the French interest. It was in vain that the ministers railed at
him as a papist: he coolly came before them and abjured popery. A
confession of faith, condemning the pope and all his pretensions and
works, was brought forward: James and his councillors, including the Earl
of Lennox, unhesitatingly signed it (January 28, 1580-1). Morton, who
alone possessed the personal character that could effectually stand for
the English interest and the kirk, had, by his cruel and avaricious
conduct, lost the support of all classes, the clergy included. It was even
found possible to effect the ruin of this great man. On the last of
December 1580, the adventurer Stuart came into the council-chamber, and,
falling on his knees, accused the ex-Regent of being concerned in the
murder of his majesty’s father. To the general surprise, he fell without a
struggle, and after a few months’ confinement, he perished on the scaffold
(June 2, 1581).
Under Lennox and Stuart—the latter
now created Earl of Arran—a movement was made for bringing an episcopate
into the church. Arran is said to have put the idea of absolute power into
the king’s mind, and a French alliance was threatened. The clergy, in
general assembly, showed their usual courage in protesting against the
court proceedings. The conduct of their moderator, Andrew Melville, was
specially remarkable. When he and his fellow-cornmissioners came before
the council with their grieves, Arran, according to a contemporary
narration, ‘begins to threaten, with thrawn brow and boasting lauguage.
"What!" says he, "wha dar subseryve thir treasonable articles?" Mr Andrew
answers: "We dar, and will subseryve them, and give our lives in the
cause!" And withal starts to, and taks the pen fra the clerk and
subseryves, and calls to the rest of his brethren with courageous
speeches; wha all cain and subseryvit.’ Such were the men who faced the
king in behalf of an independent rule for the kirk of Scotland.
At length there was a reaction
against the dominion of the two court favourites. A combination of nobles
of the ultra-Protestant party—the Earl of Gowrie, the Earl of Mar, Lord
Glammis, and others, laid a gentle compulsion on the young king while he
was staying at Ruthven House near Perth (August 1582), and his councillors
Lennox and Arran were debarred from his presence. After this event, known
in our history as the Raid of Ruthven, the king remained under the
control of his new councillors for a year, during which a pure
Presbyterianism was again encouraged, and the English alliance was
cultivated. The Duke of Lennox was forced to withdraw to France, where, to
the great grief of the king, he soon after contracted a sickness, and
died.
Regaining his liberty by stratagem,
James once more put himself under the guidance of the profligate but
energetic Arran. A modified episcopate was established in the church,
under a subordination to the state, and a restraint was imposed on the
tongues of the clergy in the pulpit. The Earl of Gowrie was brought to the
block. Several ministers, including Melville, had to take refuge in
England. But the general tendency of things in Scotland was inconsistent
with the rule of a man possessing the genius of Arran. Elizabeth, too,
deemed it best for her interests that others should have the control of
Scottish affairs. Accordingly, a new and more formidable combination was
formed. Joined by Lord John Hamilton, the head of the long proscribed
house of Hamilton, and by Lord Maxwell, whom Arran had offended, they
advanced with an army of 5000 men to Stirling, then the seat of the court.
Arran, unable to resist, fled, and was allowed to fall into obscurity. The
king with great placidity put himself into the hands of his new
councillors (November 1585). This coup d’etat was followed by the
restoration of the Hamilton family to its titles and estates.
1579
The young king having now assumed the government, and being about to make
his first visit to Edinburgh, the magistrates and citizens were anxious to
give him an honourable reception. There was immediately a great bustle
regarding the preparation of a silver cupboard and other pieces of plate
to be presented to him, as well as the getting of dresses suitable to be
worn by the chief men at the royal entry. There was even a deputation to
the High School, ‘to vesie the maister of the Hie Schule tragedies to be
made by the bairns, and to report;’ besides another ‘to speak the
Frenchman for his opinion in device of the triumph.’
All merchants stented to above ten
pounds were enjoined to have ‘everilk ane of them ane goune of fine black
camlet of silk of serge, barrit with velvet, effeiring his substance.’ All
stented to sixteen pounds, ‘to have their gounes of the like stuff, the
breists thereof linit with velvet, and begairit with coits of velvet,
damas, or sattin.’ The thirteen city-officers were to have each a livery
composed of three ells of English stemming to be hose, six quarters
of Rouen canvas to be doublets, with 13s. 4d. for passments, and a black
hat with a white string.
Another preparative was an edict,
that all manner of persons having cruives for swine under their
stairs or in common vennels, ‘and sic like as has middings and fulyie
collectit, or has tar barrels on the Hie Street, as also ony redd stanes
or timber on the said Hie Street or common vennels, remove the same.’
Pioneers, too, ‘to shool in the muck outwith the West Port.’ The
inhabitants to hang their stairs with tapestry and arras wark. The Privy
Council, on their part, proclaimed penalties against all who should come
with firearms, or any other armour than their swords and whingers.
Sep 30
The boy-king came from Stirling attended by about two
thousand men on horseback, and his reception in the city was quaintly
magnificent. ‘At the West Port he was receivit by the magistrates under a
pompous pall of purple velvet. That port presentit unto him the wisdom of
Solomon, as it is written in the thrid chapter of the first book of Kings;
that is to say, King Solomon was representit with the twa women that
contendit for the young child. This done, they presented unto the king,
the sword for the one hand, and the sceptre for the other. And as he made
further progress within the town, in the street that ascends to the Castle
there is an ancient port [the West Bow], at the whilk there hang a curious
globe that openit artificially as the king came by, wherein was a young
boy that descendit craftily, presenting the keys of the town to his
majesty, that were all made of fine massy silver; and these were presently
receivit by ane of his honourable council at his awn command. During this
space, Dame Music and her scholars exercisit her art with great melody.
Then in his descent [along the High Street], as he came foment the house
of Justice, there shew themselves unto him four gallant vertuous ladies;
to wit, Peace, Justice, Plenty, and Policie; and either of them had ane
oration to his majesty. Thereafter, as he came toward the chief collegiate
kirk, there Dame Religion shew herself, desiring his presence, whilk he
then obeyit by entering the kirk; where the chief preacher for that time
made a notable exhortation unto him for the embracing of religion and all
her cardinal vertues, and of all other moral vertues. Thereafter he came
forth, and made progress to the Mercat Cross, where he beheld Bacchus with
his magnifick liberality and plenty distributing of his liquor to all
passengers and beholders, in sic appearance as was pleasant to see. A
little beneath is a mercat place of salt, whereupon was paintit the
genealogy of the kings of Scotland, and a number of trumpets sounding
melodiously, and crying with loud voice, Welfare to the King! At
the east port was erectit the conjunction of the planets, as they were in
their degrees and places the time of his majesty’s happy nativity, and the
same vively representit by the assistance of King Ptolemy. And withal the
haill streets were spread with flowers, and the fore-houses of the
streets, by the whilk the king passit, were all hung with magnifick
tapestry, with paintit histories and with the effigies of noble men and
women. And thus he passed out of the town of Edinburgh, to his palace of
Halyroodhouse.’ - H. K. J.
Oct 20
The Estates passed an act against ‘strang and idle beggars,’ and ‘sic as
make themselves fules and are bards;' likewise against ‘the idle people
calling themselves Egyptians, or any other that feigns them to have
knowledge of charming, prophecy, or other abused sciences, whereby they
persuade the people that they can tell their weirds, deaths, and fortunes,
and sic other fantastical imaginations.’ The act condemns all sorts of
vagrant idle people, including ‘minstrels, sangsters, and tale-tellers,
not avowed in special service by some of the lords of parliament or great
burghs,’ and ‘vagabond scholars of the universities of St Andrews,
Glasgow, and Aberdeen.’ The same act made some provision for the genuine
poor, enjoining them all to repair to their native parishes and there live
in almshouses: a very nice arrangement for them, it must be owned; only
there were not any almshouses for them to live in.
Two poets hanged in August, and an
act of parliament against bards and minstrels in October; truly, it seems
to have been sore times for the tuneful tribe!
By this time, Arbuthnot’s edition of
the Bible was completed and in circulation. The gratification of the
clergy on seeing such a product of the native press, found eloquent
expression in an address of the General Assembly to the king (June 1579),
when they took occasion to praise the printer as ‘a man who hath taken
great pains and travel worthy to be remembered;’ and told how there should
henceforth be a copy in every parish kirk, to be called the Common Book of
the Kirk, ‘as the most meet ornament for such a place.’ ‘Oh what
difference,’ exclaimed these devout men, ‘between thir days of light, when
almost in every private house the book of God’s law is read and understood
in our vulgar language, and the age of darkness, when scarcely in a whole
city, without the cloisters of monks and friers, could the book of God
once be found, and that in a strange tongue of Latin, not good, but mixed
with barbarity, used and read by few, and almost understood and exponed by
none.’ All worldly wealth seemed vain and poor compared with this fountain
of spiritual comfort. ‘We ought,’ they said, ‘with most thankful hearts to
praise and extol the infinite goodness of God, who hath accounted us
worthy to whom He should open such an heavenly treasure.’—B.
U. K.
Nov 10
In that unmistrusting reliance on force for religious objects which marked
the age, it was enacted in parliament, that each householder worth three
hundred merks of yearly rent, and all substantious yeomen and burgesses
esteemed as worth five hundred pounds in land and goods, should have a
Bible and psalm-book in the vulgar tongue, under the penalty of ten
pounds. A few months later (June 16, 1580), one John Williamson was
commissioned under the privy seal to visit and search every house in the
realm, ‘and to require the sicht of their Bible and psalm-buke, gif they
ony have, to be marked with their awn name, for eschewing of fraudful
dealing in that behalf.’
The zeal of the clergy, their
self-denying poverty, their resoluteness in advancing their views of
church polity against court influence, have all been touched upon. Little
more than six hundred in number—for hundreds of the parishes had no
minister—they were indefatigable in their efforts to moralise the rude
mass of the community; although it was, by their own account, such as
might have appeared hopeless to other men; there being now, as they said,
an ‘universal corruption in the whole realm,’ ‘great coldness and
slackness’ even in the professors of religion, and a ‘daily increase of
all kinds of fearful sins and enormities, as incest, adulteries, murders,
. . . cursed sacrilege, ungodly sedition and division, . . . with all
manner of disorders and ungodly living.’
The picture which James Melville
gives of the four ministers of Edinburgh, then living in one house—where
the Parliament House now stands—is very interesting: ‘God glorified
himself notably,’ says he, ‘with that ministry of Edinburgh in these days.
The men had knawledge, uprightness, and zeal; they dwelt very commodiously
together, as in a college, with a wonderful concert in variety of gifts;
all strake on ae string, and soundit a harmony. John Dune was of small
literature, but had seen and marked the great warks of God in the first
Reformation, and been a doer baith with tongue and hand. He had been a
diligent hearer of Mr Knox, and observer of all his ways. He conceivit the
best grounds of matters wed, and could utter them fairly, fully, and
fearfully, with a mighty spreit, voice, and action. The special gift I
marked in him was haliness, and a daily and nightly careful, contiunal
walking with God in meditation and prayer. He
was a very gude fallow, and took delight, as
his special comfort, to have his table and house filled with the best men.
These he wald gladly hear, with them confer and talk, professing he was
but a book-bearer, and wald fain learn of them; and getting the ground and
light of knawledge in any guid point, then wald he rejoice in God, praise
and pray thereupon, and urge it with sae clear and forcible exhortation in
assemblies and pulpit, that he was esteemed a very furthersome instrument.
There lodgit in his house at all these assemblies in Edinburgh for common,
Mr Andrew Melville, Mr Thomas Smeaton, Mr Alexander Arbuthnot, three of
the learnedest in Europe; Mr James Melville, my uncle, Mr James Balfour,
David Ferguson, David Home, ministers; with some zealous, godly barons and
gentlemen. In time of meals was reasoning upon guid purposes, namely
matters in hand; thereafter qarnest and lang prayer; thereafter a chapter
read, and every man about [in turn] gave his note and observation thereof;
sae that, gif all had been set down in write, I have heard the learnedest
and best in judgment say, they wald not have wished a fuller and better
commentary nor [than] sometimes wald fall out in that exercise. Thereafter
was sung a psalm; after the whilk was conference and deliberation upon the
purposes in hand; and at night before going to bed, earnest and zealous
prayer according to the estate and success of matters. And oft times, yea
almost daily, all the college was together in sue or other of their
houses, &c.’
The picture which the same writer
gives of his uncle Andrew is full of fine touches. Andrew was principal of
the theological college (St Mary’s) at St Andrews; deeply learned,
logical, not arrogant for himself, but possessed of all that
disinterestedness and integrity which form the peculiar glory of Knox’s
character; to crown all, strenuous and fearless in the advocacy of his
views of religion and church-discipline. James describes him as remarkable
for patience and equal temper, where others were hot. Yet—’this I ever
marked to be Mr Andrew’s manner: Being sure of a truth in reasoning, he
wald be extreme hot, and suffer nae man to bear away the contrair, but
with reason, words, and gesture, he wald carry it away, caring for nae
person, how great soever they were, namely in matters of religion. And in
all companies at table and otherways, as he understood and took up the
necessity of the persons and matter in hand to require, he wald freely
and bauldly hald their ears fu’ of the truth; and, take it as they
wald, he wald not cease nor keep silence; yea, and not only anes or twice,
but at all occasions, till he fand them better instructed, and set, to go
forward in the good purpose.’
His ‘heroic courage and stoutness’
in advancing his own views, and resisting persons of authority set upon
establishing what he thought error, was equally remarkable. For
example—’The Regent [Morton], seeing he could not divert him by benefits
and offers, calls for him ae day indirectly, and after lang discoursing
upon the quietness of the country, peace of the kirk, and advancement of
the king’s majesty’s estate, he breaks in upon sic as were disturbers
thereof by their conceits and ower-sea dreams, imitation of Geneva
discipline and laws; and after some reasoning and grounds of God’s word
alledgit, whilk irritat the Regent, he breaks out in choler and boasting
[threatening] : "There will never be quietness in this country till half a
dozen of you be hangit or banishit the country." "Tush, sir," says Mr
Andrew, "I have been ready to give my life where it was not half sae wed
wared [spent], at the pleasure of my God. I lived out of your country ten
years as weel as in it. Let God be glorified, it will not lie in your
power to hang or exile his truth."’
1580, Apr
John Innes, of that Ilk, being childless, entered, in March 1577, into a
mutual bond of tailyie with his nearest relation, Alexander Tunes,
of Cromy, conveying to him his whole estate, failing heirs-male of his
body, and taking the like disposition from Cromy of his estate. There was
a richer branch of the family represented by Robert Innes, of Innermarky,
who pined to see the poorer preferred in this manner. So loud were his
expressions of displeasure, that ‘Cromy, who was the gallantest man of his
name, found himself obliged to make the proffer of meeting him single in
arms, and, laying the tailyie upon the grass, see if he durst take it
up—in one word, to pass from all other pretensions, and let the best
fellow have it.’
This silenced Innermarky, but did
not extinguish his discontent. He began to work upon the feelings of the
Laird of Innes, representing how Cromy already took all upon himself, even
the name of Laird, leaving him no better than a masterless dog—as
contemptible, indeed, as a beggar—a condition from which there could be no
relief but by putting the usurper out of the way. This he himself offered
to do with his own hand, if the laird would concur with him: it was an
unpleasant business, but he would undertake it, rather than see his chief
made a slave. By these practices, the weak bird was brought to give his
consent to the slaughter of an innocent gentleman, his nearest relation,
and whom he had not long before regarded with so much good-will as to
admit him to a participation of his whole fortune.
‘There wanted nothing but a
conveniency for putting their purpose in execution, which did offer itself
in the month of April 1580. At which time Alexander, being called upon
some business to Aberdeen, was obliged to stay longer there than he
intended, by reason that his only son Robert, a youth of sixteen years of
age, had fallen sick at the college, and his father could not leave the
place till he saw what became of him. He had transported him out of the
Old Town, and had brought him to his own lodgings in the New Town. He had
also sent several of his servants home from time to time, to let his lady
know the reason of his stay.
‘By means of these servants, it came
to be known perfectly at Kinnairdy in what circumstances Alexander was at
Aberdeen, where he was lodged, and how he was attended, which invited
Tunermarky to take the occasion. Wherefore, getting a considerable number
of assistants with him, he and Laird John ride to Aberdeen; they enter the
town upon the night, and about midnight came to Alexander’s lodging.
‘The outer gate of the close they
found open, but all the rest of the doors shut. They were afraid to break
up the doors by violence, lest the noise might alarm the neighbourhood;
but choiced rather to raise such a cry in the close as might oblige those
who were within to open the doors and see what it might be.
‘The feuds at that time betwixt the
families of Gordon and Forbes were not extinguished; therefore they raised
a cry as if it had been upon some outfall among these people, crying,
"Help a Gordon—a Gordon!" which is the gathering-word of the friends
of that family. Alexander, being deeply interested in the Gordons, at the
noise of the cry started from his bed, took his sword in hand, and opening
a back-door that led to the court below, stepped down three or four steps,
and cried to know what was the matter. Innermarky, who by his word knew
him, and by his white shirt discerned him perfectly, cocks his gun, and
shoots him through the body. In an instant, as many as could get about him
fell upon him, and butchered him barbarously.
‘Innermarky, perceiving, in the
meantime, that Laird John stood by, as either relenting or terrified, held
the bloody dagger to his throat, that he had newly taken out of the
murdered body, swearing dreadfully that he would serve him in the same way
if he did not as he did, and so compelled him to draw his dagger, and stab
it up to the hilt in the body of his nearest relation, and the bravest
that bore his name. After his example, all that were there behoved to do
the like, that all might be alike guilty. Yea, in prosecution of this, it
has been told me, that Mr John Innes, afterwards of Coxton, being a youth
then at school, was raised out of bed, and compelled by Innermarky to stab
a dagger into the dead body, that the more might be under the same
condemnation—a very crafty cruelty.
‘The next thing looked after was the
destruction of the sick youth Robert, who had lain that night in a bed by
his father, but, upon the noise of what was done, had scrambled from it,
and by the help of one John of Coloreasons, or rather of some of the
people of the house, had got out at an unfrequented back-door into the
garden, and from that into a neighbour’s house, where he had shelter, the
Lord in his providence preserving him for the executing of vengeance upon
these murderers for the blood of his father.
‘Then Innermarky took the dead man’s
signet-ring, and sent it to his wife, as from her husband, by a servant
whom he had purchased to that purpose, ordering her to send him such a
particular box, which contained the bond of tailyie and all that had
followed thereupon betwixt him and Laird John, whom, the servant said, he
had left with his master at Aberdeen, and that, for dispatch, he had sent
his best horse with him, and had not taken leisure to write, but sent the
ring.
‘Though it troubled the woman much
to receive so blind a message, yet her husband’s ring, his own servant,
and his horse, prevailed so with her, together with the man’s importunity
to be gone, that she delivered to him what he sought, and let him go.
‘There happened to be then about the
house a youth related to the family, who was curious to go the length of
Aberdeen, and see the young laird who had been sick, and to whom he was
much addicted. This youth had gone to the stable, to intercede with the
servant that he might carry him behind him; and in his discourse had found
the man under great restraint and confusion of mind, sometimes saying he
was to go no further than Kinnairdy (which indeed was the truth), and at
other times that he behoved to be immediately at Aberdeen. This brought
him to jalouse [suspect], though he knew not what; but further knowledge
he behoved to have, and therefore he stepped out a little beyond the
entry, watching the servant’s coming, and in the by-going suddenly leaped
on behind him, or have a satisfying reason why he refused him. The contest
became such betwixt them, that the servant drew his dirk to rid him of the
youth’s trouble, which the other wrung out of his bands, and downright
killed him with it, and brought back the box, with the writs and horse, to
the house of Innes (or Cromy, I know not which).
‘As the lady is in a confusion for
what had fallen out, there comes another of the servants from Aberdeen,
who gave an account of the slaughter, so that she behoved to conclude a
special hand of Providence to have been in the first passage. Her next
course was to secure her husband’s writs the best she could, and fly to
her friends for shelter, by whose means she was brought with all speed to
the king, before whom she made her complaint.’
The son of the murdered man was
taken under the care of the Earl of Huntly, who was his relation; but so
little apprehension was there of a prosecution for the murder, that
Innermarky, five weeks after the event, obtained from his chief a
disposition of the estate in his own favour. Two or three years after,
however, the young Laird of Cromy came north with a commission for the
avenging of his father’s murder, and the Laird of Innes and Innermarky
were both obliged to go into hiding. For a time, the latter skulked in the
hills, but, wearying of that, he got a retreat constructed for himself in
the house of Edinglassie, where he afterwards found shelter. Here young
Cromy surprised him in September 1584. The same young man who had killed
his servant was the first to enter his Patmos, for which venturesome act
he was all his life after called Craig-in-peril. Innermarky’s head
was cut off, and, it is said, afterwards taken by Cromy’s widow to
Edinburgh, and cast at the king’s feet. The Innermarky branch being thus
set aside, young Cromy succeeded in due time as Laird of Innes.—Hist.
Acc. Fam. Innes.
June 25
'. . . . being Saturday, betwixt three o’clock afternoon and Sunday’s
night thereafter, there blew such a vehement tempest of wind, that it was
thought to be the cause that a great many of the inhabitants of Edinburgh
contracted a strange sickness, which was called Kindness. It fell
out in the court, as well as sundry parts of the country, so that some
people who were corpulent and aged deceased very suddenly. It continued
with every one that took it three days at least.’—Moy. R.
July
The king being at St Andrews, on a progress with the Regent Morton, the
gentlemen of the country had a guise or fence to play before him.
‘The play was to be acted in the New Abbey. While the people is gazing and
longing for the play, Skipper Lindsay, a phrenitic man, stepped into the
place which was kept void till the players came, and paceth up and down in
sight of the people with great gravity, his hands on his side, and looking
loftily. He had a manly countenance, but was all rough with hair. He had
great tufts of hair upon his brows, and also a great tuft upon the neb of
his nose. At the first sight, the people laughed loud; but when he began
to speak he procured attention, as if it had been to a preacher. He
discoursed with great force of spirit, and mighty voice, exhorting men of
all ranks and degrees to hear him, and take example by him. He declared
how wicked and riotous he had been, what he had done and conquest
[acquired] by sea, how he had spended and abased himself on land, and what
God had justly brought upon him for the same. He had wit, he had riches,
he had strength and ability of body, he had fame and estimation above all
others of his trade and rank; but all was vanity that made him misken his
God. But God would not be miskenned by the highest. Turning himself to the
boss [empty] window, where the king and Aubigné was above, and Morton
standing beneath, gnapping upon his staff; he applied to him in special,
as was marvellous in the ears of the hearers; so that many were astonished
and some moved to tears, beholding and hearkening to the man. Among other
things, he warned the earl, not obscurely, that his judgment was drawing
near and his doom in dressing. And in very deed at the same time was his
death contrived. The contrivers would have expected a discovery, if they
had not known the man to be phrenitic and bereft of his wit. The earl was
so moved and touched at the heart, that, during the time of the play, he
never changed the gravity of his countenance, for all the sports of the
play.’—Cal.
Sep 9
One Arnold Bronkhorst, a Fleming, had found his way into Scotland, as one
of a group of adventurers who were disposed to make a new effort for the
successful working of the gold-mines of Lanarkshire. The account we have
of the party is obscure and traditional. One Nicolas Hilliard, goldsmith
in London, and minature-painter to Queen Elizabeth, is said to have
belonged to it, and to have brought Bronkhorst as his servant or
assistant. The story is, that, being disappointed of a patent for the
mines from the Regent Morton, Bronkhorst was glad at last to remain about
the Scottish court as portrait-painter to the king. He certainly did serve
the king in that capacity, as we have an account of his paid at this date,
to the amount of £64, for three specimens of his art—namely, ‘Ane portrait
of his majesty fra the belt upward,’ ‘ane other portrait of Maister George
Buchanan,’ and ‘ane portrait of his majesty full length,’ beside a gift of
a hundred merks, ‘as ane gratitude for his repairing to this country.’ A
twelvemonth later, King James constituted him his own painter for his
lifetime, ‘with all fees, duties, and casualties, usit and wont.'
Sep 20
In the midst of the strange phantasmagoria of rudeness and murderous
violence on the one hand, and exalted religious zeal on the other, which
now passes before us, we find that industrious men were prosecuting useful
merchandise at home and abroad, but under painful risks imposed by the
general neglect of the laws of health. Witness the following little
episode. John Downie’s ship, the William, on her return with a
cargo from Danskein [Dantzig], enters the Firth of Forth. Seven merchants
of Edinburgh, and some from other towns, are in this vessel, returning
from foreign parts, where they have been upon their lawful business. All
are doubtless full of pleasant anticipations of the home-scenes which they
expect to greet them as soon as they once more set foot on their native
soil. Alas! the pest breaks out in the vessel, and sundry of these poor
citizens are swept off. The captain dare not approach the shore, but must
wait the orders which the authorities may send him. There is immediately a
meeting of the Privy Council, at which an order goes forth that the
survivors in John Downie’s ship shall land on the uninhabited island
called St Colm’s Inch in the Firth of Forth, and there remain till
‘cleansed,’ on pain of death, and no one to traffic with them under the
same penalty.
The chief chapter of this sad story,
so characteristic of the time, is told in few words by Moysie: ‘There were
forty persons in the ship, whereof the most part died.’
On the 27th of November we have a
pendant to the tale of the plague-ship. Downie the skipper is dead,
leaving a widow and eleven children. James Scott and David Duff; mariners,
are also dead, the former leaving a widow and seven children. Several of
the passengers are also dead, while the others are pining on the lonely
islands of Inchkeith and Inch Garvie. The ship, with its cargo unbroken,
is riding at St Colm’s Inch, and beginning to leak, so that much property
is threatened with destruction. In these circumstances, the Privy Council,
on petition, enacted that orders should be taken, as far as consistent
with the public safety, for the preservation of the vessel.
Oct
Lord Ruthven and Lord Oliphant were at feud, in consequence of a dispute
about teinds. The former, on his return from Kincardine, where he had been
attending the Earl of Mar’s marriage, passed near Lord Oliphant’s seat of
Dupplin, near Perth. This was construed by Oliphant into a bravado on the
part of Ruthven. His son, the Master of Oliphant, accordingly came forth
with a train of armed followers, and rode hastily after Lord Ruthven. The
foremost of Ruthven’s party, taking a panic, fled in disorder,
notwithstanding their master’s call to them to stay. He was then obliged
to fly also; but his kinsman, Alexander Stewart, of the house of Traquair,
stayed to try to pacify the Oliphant party. He was shot with a harquebuss
by one who did not know who he was, to the great grief of the Master.
Lord Ruthven prosecuted the Master
for this outrage. The Earl of Morton, out of regard to Douglas of
Lochleven, whose son-in-law Oliphant was, gave his influence on that side,
and thus incurred some odium, which probably helped to bring about his
destruction soon after—Cal.
Oct 20
In a General Assembly held at Edinburgh, an order was issued to execute
the acts of the kirk upon apostates, and let them be punished as
adulterers; ‘perticularly that the Laird of Dun execute this act upon
the Master of Gray, an apostate now returned to Scotland. It being
reported to the king that the Master of Gray his house did shake and rock
in the night as with an earthquake, and the king [then fourteen years old]
interrogating David Fergusson [minister of Dunfermline], "What he thought
it could mean that that house alone should shake and totter?" he answered:
(‘Sir, why should not the devil rock his awn bairns?"'
An earthquake, noted in Howes’s
Chronicle as having been experienced in Kent at midnight of the 1st of
May this year, was is probably the cause of the rocking felt at the Master
of Gray’s house. In Kent it made ‘the people to rise out of their beds and
run to the churches, where they called upon God by earnest prayers to be
merciful to them.’
George Auchinleck of Balmanno had
been one of the confidants of the Regent in the days of his power. It
being well known that he had influence in bringing about the decision of
lawsuits, the highest nobility were glad at that time to pay court to him.
As an illustration of the nature of his position—Coming one day from the
Regent’s house at Dalkeith to Edinburgh, and walking up the High Street,
he met one Captain Nesbit, with whom he had some slight quarrel, and
drawing his sword, instantly thrust him through the body, so that he was
left for dead? So far from seeking concealment after this violence,
Auchinleck held straight on to the Tolbooth, where the Court of Session
sat, as though he had done no wrong; after which he coolly made his way
back to the Regent’s court at Dalkeith. It does not appear that he was in
any way punished for stabbing Nesbit.
On another occasion, as Auchinleck
stood within the bar of the Tolbooth, an old man of unprosperous
appearance made his way through the crowd, asking permission to speak with
him. When Auchinleck turned to ask what he wanted, the old man said: ‘I am
Oliver Sinclair!’ and without another word, turned and went away. It was
the quondam favourite of James V., now a poor and dejected gentleman,
albeit connected by near ties with some of the greatest men in the
country. Men talked much of this proceeding of Sinclair: it seemed to them
equivalent to his saying: ‘Be not too proud of your interest at court. I
was once as you are; you may fall to be as I am.’—H of G.
Dec 12
The prediction was now verified, for, Morton being now out of power and in
danger of his life, Auchinleck no longer had influence at council or in
court. He, moreover, stood in no small personal danger from his many
enemies. As he was walking on the High Street of Edinburgh, he was beset
at a passage near St Giles’s Church by William Bickerton of Casch, and
four other gentlemen, who assailed him with bended pistols, by one of
which he was shot through the body, after which he was left for dead. This
was thought to be done in revenge for an attack by him upon Archibald, the
brother of William Bickerton. The assailants were all found guilty of the
slaughterous attempt, but without the aggravation of its being done within
three-quarters of a mile of the king’s person, seeing that ‘the king’s
majesty was furth at the hunting, the time of the committing thereof.’—Pit.
Auchinleck survived this accident,
and we find him in the ensuing March in the hands of the Earl of Arran,
and put to the torture, in order to extort from him a confession of
certain crimes with which he was charged, but which he denied. He took a
part in the affair of the Raid of Ruthven in August 1582. When the Earl of
Arran on that occasion, hearing of the king’s being secluded in Ruthven
House, came to try if he could gain access to him, ‘the Earl of Gowrie met
him at the gate, and had straightway killed him, if George Auchinleck had
not held his hand as he was about to have pulled out his dagger to have
stabbed him.’—H. of G.
1581, Jan 28
A Confession of Faith was this day subscribed by the king, his household
and courtiers, including Lennox, and many of the nobility and other
persons, professing ‘the religion now revealed to the world by the
preaching of the blessed evangel,’ and solemnly abjuring all the doctrines
and practices of the Romish Church.’
Jan 29
This day, Sunday, there were gay doings in the boy-king’s court of
Holyrood, namely, running at the ring, justing, and such-like pastimes,
besides sailing about in boats and galleys at Leith.—Cal.
The reader must not be too much
surprised at this occurring the day after the signing of a solemn
confession of the Protestant faith. The truth seems to have been this: the
signers signed under the pressure of a party they had some interest for
the moment in gratifying or blinding, and the accepters of the document
were content with the fact of the signing, without regard to the too
probable hypocrisy under which it took place. It is not uncommon for
professions to be only a symptom of the reality of the opposite of what is
professed.
Mar 11
The ex-Regent now lay a hopeless prisoner in Dumbarton Castle, chiefly
occupied, we are told, in reading the Bible, which, though he had forced
the people to buy it under a penalty, he had hitherto much neglected
himself. One of his servants, named George Fleck, ‘was apprehended in
Alexander Lawson’s house [in Edinburgh], together with the said Alexander,
not without their own consents, as was alleged, to reveal where the Earl
of Morton’s treasure lay. The bruit [rumour] went---when the booth were
presented to George Fleck, that he revealed a part of the treasure to be
lying in Dalkeith yard, under the ground; a part in Aberdour, under a
braid stone before the gate; a part in Leith. Certain it is, he [the earl]
was the wealthiest subject that had been in Scotland for many years.’—Cal.
Sir James Melville tells us that,
long before the trial of Morton, his gold and silver were transported by
his natural son, James Douglas, and one of his servants called John
Macmoran. ‘It was first carried in barrels, and afterwards hid in some
secret parts; part was given to be kept by some who were looked upon as
his friends, who made ill account of it again; so that the most part
thereof lighted in bad hands, and himself was so destitute of money, that
when he went through the street to the Tolbooth to undergo his assize, he
was compelled to borrow twenty shillings to distribute to the poor, who
asked alms of him for God’s sake.’
In May, he ‘was brought to
Edinburgh, and kept in Robin Gourlay’s house, ’with a band of men of
weir.’ James Melville says: ‘The very day of his putting to assize, I
happened to be in Edinburgh, and heard and saw the notablest example,
baith of God’s judgment and mercy that, to my knowledge, ever fell out in
my time. For in that Tolbooth, where oftentimes, during his government, he
had wrested and thrawn judgment, partly for gain, whereto he was given,
and partly for particular favour, was his judgment overthrown; and he wha,
above any Scotsman, had maist gear, friendship, and cliental, had nane to
speak a word for him that day; but, the greatest part of the assizers
being his knawn unfriends, he was condemned to be headit on a scaffold,
and that head, whilk was sae witty in warldly affairs and policy, and had
commanded with sic authority and dignity within that town and
judgment-seat, to be set upon a prick upon the hichest stane of the gable
of the Tolbooth that is towards the public street.’
Morton was condemned for being ‘airt
and part' concerned in the murder of Darnley. He was more clearly an actor
in the cruel slaughter of Riccio. After doing his best to insnare Mary
into a marriage with Bothwell, he had headed a rebellion against her on
hypocritical pretences. The extortions he had practised during his
regency, in order to enrich himself, shewed an equally sordid and cruel
character. Throughout all the time of his government, he had outraged
decency by the grossness of his private life. Yet ‘he had great comfort
that he died a Christian, in the true and sincere profession of religion,
whilk he cravit all the faithful to follow, and abide thereat to the
death.’—Moy. ‘He keepit the same countenance, gesture, and short
sententious form of language upon the scaffold, whilk he usit in his
princely government. He spake, led about and urgit by the commanders at
the four nooks of the scaffold; but after that ance he had very fectfully
and gravely uttered, at guid length, that whilk he had to speak,
there-after almaist he altered not thir words: "It is for my sins that God
has justly brought me to this place; for gif I had served my God as truly
as I did my king, I had not come here. But as for that I am condemned for
by men, I am innocent, as God knows. Pray for me." . . . . I [am] content
to have recordit the wark of God, whilk I saw with my ees and heard with
my ears.’— Ja. Mel.
‘After all was done, he went without
fear and laid his neck upon the block, crying continually "Lord Jesus,
receive my spirit," till the axe of the Maiden—which he himself had caused
make after the pattern which he bad seen at Halifax in Yorkshire— falling
upon his neck, put an end to his life and that note together. His body was
carried to the Tolbooth, and buried secretly in the night in the
Greyfriars. His head was affixed on the gate of the city.’—H.
of G.
The Maiden
The Maiden, which still exists in
the Museum of the Society of the Antiquaries of Scotland, is an instrument
of the same nature as the guillotine, a loaded knife running in an upright
frame, and descending upon a cross-beam, on which the neck of the culprit
is laid. It is not unlikely that the ex-Regent introduced the Maiden; but
another allegation, which asserts him to have been the first to suffer by
it, is untrue.
At the death of Morton, the common
people were much occupied in discussing a prophecy that the Bleeding Heart
should fall by the Mouth of Arran. Morton, as a Douglas, bore the Bleeding
Heart in his coat-armorial. Captain Stuart having been made Earl of Arran
between the time of the accusation and the execution, here, said they, is
the prediction realised, though what the Mouth of Arran meant it would
have puzzled them to tell. It was probably to this unintelligible stanza
in the prophecies of Merling that they referred:
In the mouth of Arran an selcouth
shall fall,
Two bloody harts shall be taken with a false train,
And derfly dung down without any dome,
Ireland, Orkney, and other lands many,
For the death of those two great dule shall make.
Morton may be taken as an example of
a class of public men in that rude and turbulent time, who were to all
appearance earnest Christians of the reforming and evangelical stamp, and
nevertheless allowed themselves a licence in every wickedness, even to
treachery and murder, whenever they had a selfish object in view, or, more
strangely still, when the interests of religion, in their view of the
matter, called on them so to act.
Nothing is more remarkable in the
history of this period than the coincidence of wicked or equivocal actions
and pious professions in the same person. Adam Bothwell, Bishop of Orkney,
who performed the marriage-ceremony of Mary and Bothwell, and afterwards
in the basest manner took active part against her— who was in constant
trouble with the General Assembly on account of his shortcomings - writes
letters full of expressions of Christian piety and resignation. He is
constantly ‘saying with godly Job, gif we have receivit guid out of the
hand of the Lord, why should we not alsae receive evil—giving him maist
hearty thanks therefore, attesting our godly and stedfast faith in him,
whilk is maist evident in time of probane.’ Sir John Bellenden,
justice-clerk, who had a share in the murder of Signor David, and who, on
receiving a gift of Hamilton of Bothwell-haugh’s estate of Woodhouselee
from the Regent Moray, turned Hamilton’s wife out of doors, so as to cause
her to run mad—this vile man, in his will, speaks of ‘my saul, wha baith
sall meet my Maister with joy and comfort, to hear that comfortable voice
that he has promisit to resotat [resuscitate], saying, Come unto me thou
as ane of my elect.’
1581, June 11
An entry in the Lord Treasurer’s books reveals the mood of the gay king
and his courtiers, nine days after the bloody end of Morton. It is Sunday,
and James is residing with the Duke of Lennox at Dalkeith Castle. He
attends the parish church within the town, and, after service, returns,
with two pipers playing before him.
It was, however, only four days
after the death of Morton, and while his blood was still fresh upon the
streets, that the man who had brought him to the block passed through the
gay scenes of a marriage. Captain Stuart—for Scottish history can scarcely
be induced to recognise him as Earl of Arran—had formed a shameful
connection with a lady of high birth and rank now figuring at the Scottish
court. Born Elizabeth Stewart, as daughter of the Earl of Athole, she had
first been wife of Lord Lovat—then, after his death, wife of the Earl of
March, brother of the Regent Lennox. Her intrigue with Captain James, her
divorce of the Earl of March on alleged reasons which history would blush
to mention, her quick-following marriage to Arran while in a condition
which would have given her husband a plea of divorce against herself, and
this occurring so close to the time when Arran had shed the blood of his
great enemy, form a series of events sufficient to mark the character of
the court into which the young king had emerged from the strictness of
Presbyterian rule. When the lady brought her husband a son in the
subsequent January, the king was invited to the baptism, and we only learn
that he was prevented from attending in consequence of a temporary quarrel
which had by that time taken place between Lennox and Arran. [A
note-worthy anecdote of this lady is stated in Anderson’s History of
the Family of Fraser. On the death of her first husband, the tutorship
of her infant son, Lord Lovat, became a matter of contention between the
child’s grand-uncle, Fraser of Struie, and his uncle Thomas; and it seemed
likely there would be a fight between their various partisans. In these
circumstances, a clerical gentleman of the clan, Donald Fraser Dhu,
entreated the widow to interfere, and ask Struie to retire. She gave an
evasive reply, remarking that whatever might befall, ‘not a drop of
Stewart blood would be spilt.’ The mediator then drew his dirk, and told
her ladyship with a fierce oath, that her blood would be the first
that would be spilt, if she did not do as he requested. She then complied,
and Thomas, the child’s uncle, was accordingly elected as tutor.]
A contemporary writer, speaking of
the countess, calls her ‘the maistresse of all vice and villany,’ and says
she ‘infectit the air in his Hieness’ audience.’ He accuses her of
controlling the course of justice, and alleges that she ‘caused sundrie to
be hanged that wanted their compositions, saying: What had they been doing
all their days, that had not so much as five punds to buy them from the
gallows?’—Cal.
The Presbyterian clergy regarded the
frivolity of Lennox and Mombirneau, their foreign vices and oaths, joined
to the coarser native profligacy of Arran and his lady, as forming a bad
school for the young king. A love of amusement and buffoonery he certainly
contracted from this source; but it is remarkable that he was not drawn
into any gross vice by the bad example set before him.
Nov
At this time, upwards of twenty years after the Reformation, it was still
found that ‘the dregs of idolatry’ existed in sundry parts of the realm,
‘by using of pilgrimage to some chapels, wells, crosses . . . ., as also
by observing of the festival-days of the sancts, sometime namit their
patrons; in setting furth of bane-fires, [and] singing of carols within
and about kirks at certain seasons of the year.’ An act of parliament was
now passed, condemning these practices, and imposing heavy fines on those
guilty of them; failing which, the transgressors to endure a month’s
imprisonment upon bread and water.
1582, June
The archbishopric of Glasgow being vacant, Mr Robert Montgomery accepted
it from the king, on an understanding with the king’s favourite, the Duke
of Lennox, as to the income. The church excommunicated him. In Edinburgh,
‘he was openly onbeset [waylaid] by lasses and rascals of the town, and
hued out by flinging of stones at him, out at the Kirk of Field port, and
narrowly escaped with his life.’—Moy.
Sep 4
One consequence of the coup d’etat at Ruthven was the return of
John Dune from the banishment into which he had gone in May, to resume his
ministry in Edinburgh. The affair makes a fine historic picture.
‘As he is coming from Leith to
Edinburgh, there met him at the Gallow Green two hundred men of the
inhabitants of Edinburgh. Their number still increased till he came within
the Nether Bow. There they began [with bare heads and loud voices] to sing
the 124th psalm—"Now Israel may say, and that truly," &c., in four parts
[till heaven and earth resounded]. They came up the street to the Great
Kirk, singing thus all the way, to the number of two thousand. They were
much moved themselves, and so were the beholders. The Duke [of Lennox, who
was lodged in the High Street, and looked out and saw], was astonished and
more affrayed at that sight than at anything that ever he had seen before
in Scotland, and rave his beard for anger. After exhortation made in the
reader’s place by Mr James Lowson, to thankfulness, and the singing of a
psalm, they dissolved with great joy.’—Cal.
Sep 5
Another consequence of the change at court was, that the Duke of Lennox
was forced to leave the kingdom. The Presbyterian historians relate the
manner of his departure with evident relish. ‘The duke departed out of the
town, after noon, accompanied with the provost, bailies, and five hundred
men. . . . . He rode towards Glasgow, accompanied by the Lord Maxwell, the
Master of Livingstone, the Master of Eglintoun, Ferniehirst, and sundry
other gentlemen.' . . . . He ‘remained in Dunbarton at the West Sea,
where, or [ere] he gat passage, he was put to as hard a diet as he caused
the Earl of Morton to use there; yea, even to the other extremity that he
had used at court; for, whereas his kitchen was sae sumptuous that lumps
of butter was cast in the fire when it soked [grew dull], and twa or three
crowns waired upon a stock of kale dressing, he was fain to eat of a
meagre guse, scoudered with beare strae.’
1582, Sep 25
Died in Edinburgh, George Buchanan, at the age of seventy-eight,
immediately after concluding his History of Scotland. His high
literary accomplishments, especially his exquisite Latin composition, have
made his name permanently famous. His personal character was not without
its shades, yet it stands forth amidst the rough scenes of that time as
something, on the whole, venerable. Sir James Melville, in noting that,
while acting as one of the king’s preceptors, he kept the young monarch in
great awe, goes on to speak of him as ‘a stoic philosopher,’ who did not
act in that capacity with any view to his worldly interests. ‘A man of
notable endowmenth for his learning and knowledge in Latin poesy,’ says
this mild contemporary, ‘much honoured in other countries, pleasant in
conversation, rehearsing at all occasions moralities short and
instructive, whereof he had abundance, inventing where he wanted. He was
also religious, but was easily abused, and so facile, that he was led by
every company that he haunted, which made him factious in his old days,
for he spoke and wrote as those who were about him informed him; for he
was become careless, following in many things the vulgar opinion; for he
was naturally popular, and extremely revengeful against any man who had
offended him, which was his greatest fault. For he did write despiteful
invectives against the Earl of Monteith, for some particulars that were
between him and the Laird of Buchanan. He became the Earl of Morton’s
great enemy, for that a nag of his chanced to be taken from his servant
during the civil troubles, and was bought by the Regent, who had no will
to part with the said horse, he was so sure-footed and so easy, that
albeit Mr George had ofttimes required him again, he could not get him.
And, therefore, though he had been the Regent’s great friend before, he
became his mortal enemy, and from that time forth spoke evil of him in all
places, and at all occasions.’
A little while before Buchanan’s
death, while his history was passing through the press of Alexander
Arbuthnot in Edinburgh, the Rev. James Melville, accompanied by his uncle
Andrew, came from St Andrews ‘anes-errand ‘—that is, on set purpose—to see
him and his work. ‘When we came to his chalmer,’ says Melville, ‘we fand
him sitting in his chair, teaching his young man that servit in his
chalmer, to spell, a, b, ab; e, b, eb; &c. After salutation, Mr Andrew
says: "I see, sir, ye are not idle." "Better this," quoth he, "nor
stealing sheep, or sitting idle, whilk is as ill." Thereafter he shew[s]
us the Epistle Dedicatory to the King; the whilk when Mr Andrew had read
he tauld him it was obscure in some places, and wanted certain words to
perfite the sentence. Says he: "I may do nae mair for thinking on another
matter." "What is that?" says Mr Andrew. "To die," quoth he; "but I leave
that and mony mae things for yon to help."
‘We went from him to the printer’s
wark-house, whom we fand at the end of the 17 buik of his chronicle, at a
place whilk we thought very hard for the time, whilk might be an occasion
of staying the hail wark, anent the burial of Davia. [He states that David
Riccio was buried by the queen in the royal vault, ‘almost in the arms of
Magdalene Valois,’ and thence draws a shameful inference against the
chastity of Mary. To dedicate to the young king a book in which he
endeavoured to prove his mother an adulteress, and the murderer of her
husband, gives a strange idea of the sense of that age regarding the rules
of good taste, to say nothing more.] Thereafter, staying the printer from
proceeding, we came to Mr George again, and fand him bedfast by [contrary
to] his custom; and asking him how he did—"Even going the way of weelfare,"
says he. Mr Thomas, his cousin, shews him the hardness of that part of his
story, [and] that the king might be offended with it, and it might stay
all the wark. "Tell me, man," says he, "gif I have tauld the truth?"
"Yes," says Mr Thomas, "sir, I think sae." "I will bide his feid, and all
his kin’s then," quoth he: "pray, pray to God for me, and let Him direct
all."’
The sternness of Scottish prejudices
here reaches the heroic.
With its eight centuries of fable in
the front, and its glaring partisanship in the latter part, we cannot now
attach much importance to Buchanan’s history. Yet in respect of its
literary character, it contains some truly felicitous touches, as where he
describes the surface of Galloway in four words—’ in modicos colles
tumet;’ or the remarkable sea-board of Fife in two— ‘oppidulis
praecingitur.’ Expressions like these shew the master of literary art.
Dec 10
The king’s new councillors of course felt that hard measure had been dealt
to the ex-Regent. At this date, ‘the Earl of Morton’s head was taken down
off the prick which is upon the high gavell of the Tolbooth, with the
king’s licence, at the eleventh hour of the day; was laid in a fine cloth,
convoyed honourably, and laid in the kist where his body was buried. The
Laird of Carmichael carried it, shedding tears abundantly by the way.’—Cal.
1582-3, Jan 23
While the king was in the hands of the Ruthven conspirators, two gentlemen
came as ambassadors from France to see what could be done for him, and
were of course treated with little civility by the royal councillors. The
second, M. de Menainville, must have been the less acceptable to them, if
it was true which was alleged, that he had been one of the chief devisers
of the league in Picardy against the Protestants. With some difficulty, De
Menainville made his way into the royal presence at Holyroodhouse. ‘After
some words spoken to the king, he craved that he might be used as an
ambassador; that, as he had the use of meat and drink for his body, so he
might have food for his soul, meaning the mass, otherwise he would not
stay to suffer his most Christian prince’s authority and ambassage to be
violated. The king rounded [whispered] and prayed him to be sober in that
point, and all would be weel.’ It was not likely that the concession which
had been sternly refused to Queen Mary would, at such a time, be granted
to him. The king, with much ado, prevailed upon the magistracy of
Edinburgh to give the other ambassador, the Sieur de la Motte Fenelon, a
banquet on the eve of his departure. The kirk-session opposed the
entertainment; and when they found they could not prevent it, they did the
next best—held a solemn fast, with preachings and psalm-singing, during
the whole time of the feast—namely, from betwixt nine and ten in the
morning till two in the afternoon. The ministers called the banquet a
holding fellowship with ‘the murderers of the sanets of God.’—Cal.
Mar 28
De Menainville remained for some time after. ‘Upon Thursday the 28th of
March, commonly called Skyre Thursday, [he] called into his lodging
thirteen poor men, and washed their feet according to the popish manner,
whereat the people was greatly offended.’—
Cal.
Aug 23
All previous efforts at the finding of metals in the country having
failed, a contract was now entered into between the king and one
Eustachius Roche, described as a Fleming and mediciner, whereby the latter
was to be allowed to break ground anywhere in search of. those natural
treasures, and to use timber from any of the royal forests in furthering
of the work, without molestation from any one, during twenty-one years, on
the sole condition that he should deliver for his majesty’s use, for every
hundred ounces of gold found, seven ounces; and for the like weight of all
other metals - as silver, copper, tin, or lead—ten ounces for every
hundred found, and sell the remainder of the gold for the use of the state
at £22 per ounce of utter fine gold, and of the silver at 50s. the ounce.—P
C. R.
We light upon Eustachius again on
the 3d of December 1585, and he is then in no pleasant plight with his
mines. Assisted by a number of Englishmen, he had done his best to fulfil
his share of the contract, but ‘as yet he has made little or nae profit of
his travel, partly by reason of the trouble of this contagious sickness,
but specially in the default of his partners and John Scolloce their
factor,’ who would not fulfil either their duty to his majesty or their
engagements to himself. Through these causes, ‘the hail wark has been
greatly hinderit.’ He had Scolloce warded in Edinburgh; but he, ‘by his
majesty’s special command, is latten to liberty, without ony trial taken.’
At the same time, the king’s treasurer ‘has causit arreist the leid ore
whilk the complener has presently in Leith, and whilk was won in the mines
of Glengoner Water and Winlock.’ This was the greater hardship, as it was
the part he had to set aside for the Earl of Arran, in virtue of a
contract for the protection of his lordship’s rights to certain
lead-mines. The Lords were merciful to the poor adventurer, and ordered
the arrestment to be discharged.—P. C.
R.
He rises once more before us in a
new capacity under September 4, 1588.
Sep 10
The king having now escaped from his Ruthven councillors and fallen once
more under the influence of the Earl of Arran, Sir Francis Walsingham came
as Elizabeth’s ambassador to express her concern about these movements,
and see what could be done towards opposite effects. Coming to a king with
an unwelcome message has never been a pleasant duty; but it must have been
particularly disagreeable on this occasion, if it be true, as is alleged
by a Presbyterian historian, that Arran—who, says he, within a few days
after his return to court, ‘began to look braid ‘—hounded out a low woman,
called Kate the witch, to assail the ambassador with vile speeches
as he passed to and from the king’s presence. She was, it is alleged,
hired by Arran ‘for a new plaid and six pounds in money, not only to rail
against the ministry [clergy], his majesty’s most assured and ancient
nobility, and lovers of the amity [English alliance], but also set in the
entry of the king’s palace, to revile her majesty’s ambassador at
Edinburgh, St Andrews, Falkland, Perth, and everywhere, to the great grief
of all good men, and dishonour of the king and country.’ It is further
stated, that, being imprisoned ‘for a fashion,’ large allowance was made
for her entertainment, and she was relieved as soon as Walsingham had
departed.—Cal.
1583-4, Jan 9
While the kirk was beginning to feel the consequences of the king’s
emancipation from the Ruthven lords, it sustained an assault, though of a
very petty character, from a different quarter. Robert Brown, a Cambridge
student, had three years before attracted attention in Norfolk by his
novel and startling ideas regarding ecclesiastical matters. The Bishop of
Norwich imprisoned him, with the usual non-success as far as the
correction of opinion was concerned. He had then taken refuge at
Middleburgh, and there given forth his notions to the world in the form of
a pamphlet. Now he was come to Scotland, perhaps thinking it a pity that a
people should be in trouble between the contending claims of Prelacy and
Presbytery, when he could shew them that both systems were wrong. Landing
at Dundee, where, it is said, he received some encouragement, he advanced
by St Andrews to Edinburgh, and there took up his quarters ‘in the head of
the Canongate,’ along with four or five English followers, who were
accompanied by their wives and children. The people—who, for the most
part, were passionately attached to the simple fabric of their national
church, and dreamt of no rivalship or enmity to it except in
episcopacy—how they must have felt at the novel sight of a group of men
who, in declaring against bishops, also found fault with sessions and
synods, with indeed all ecclesiastical action whatever, considering each
congregation independent in itself, and no member of it less entitled to
pray and preach than the pastor!
Brown, whose self-confidence in
asserting his peculiar doctrines was very great, did not rest four days in
Edinburgh before he had presented himself to the general kirk-session for
a wrangle. We are told by a Presbyterian historian—he ‘made shew, in an
arrogant manner, that he would maintain that witnesses at baptism was not
a thing indifferent, but simply evil. But he failed in the probation.’ A
week after, ‘in conference with some of the presbytery, he alleged that
the whole discipline of Scotland was amiss; that he and his company were
not subject to it, and therefore he would appeal from the kirk to the
magistrate.’ Considering how the clergy stood with the court, this must
have been a most offensive threat; the more so that the court had already
shewn some symptoms of favour to Brown, in order to ‘molest the kirk.’ ‘It
was thought good that Mr James Lowson and Mr John Davidson should gather
out of his book such opinions as they suspected or perceived him to err
in, and get them ready, to pose him and his followers thereupon, that
thereafter the king might be informed.’ A week later, Brown and his
‘complices’ came before the presbytery, to answer the articles prepared
against him. We only further learn that he left Edinburgh, ‘malcontent,
because his opinions were not embraced, and that he was committed to ward
a night or two till they were tried’ (Cal.), a form of religious
disputation highly characteristic of the age. Brown afterwards, when
founding his sect of Independents in England, published a volume
containing various invectives against the Scottish kirk and its leaders,
of which Dr Bancroft took advantage in preaching against presbytery (9th
February 1589), while probably ready to consign their author to the pains
which the Bishop of Peterborough actually meted out to him by
excommunication.
1584
Thomas Vantrollier, a French Protestant, who had come to England early in
Elizabeth’s reign, migrated about this time to Edinburgh, where he set up
a printing-press. From his office proceeded this year a small volume of
poems, composed by the young king, under the title of The Essayes of a
Prentise in the Divine Art of Poesie; to which was added a prose
treatise embracing the ‘rules and cautels for Scottish poesie:’ a volume
of which it may be enough to say, that it betrays a laudable love of
literature in the royal author, joined to some power of literary
expression. Vantrollier does not appear to have met with sufficient
encouragement to induce him to remain in Edinburgh, as he soon after
returned to London.
July
At the end of this month, the pest was brought into Scotland at Wester
Wemyss, a small port in Fife—’ where many departed.’—Moy.
King James tells us in his
Basilicon Doron, that ‘the pest always smiths the sickarest such as
flies it furthest and apprehends deepliest the peril thereof.’ See his own
conduct on this occasion. About the end of September, while he was hunting
at Ruthven, ‘word came that there were five or six houses in Perth
affected with the plague, where his majesty’s servants were for the time.
Whereupon, his majesty departed the same night, with a very small
train to Tullibardine, and next day to Stirling, leaving his whole
household servants enclosed in the place of Ruthven, with express command
to them not to follow, nor remove forth of the same, until they saw what
became of them upon the suspicion.’—Moy.
R.
The pest on this occasion remained
in Perth for several months, working great destruction. It was ordained by
the kirk-session, May 24, 1585, that ‘hereafter during the time of the
plague, no banquets should be at marriages, and no persons should resort
to bridals under pain of ten pounds . . . . forty pounds to be paid by
them that call more than four on the side to the banquet, or bridal,
during the pest.’
In the ensuing February, under an
apprehension about the arrival of the pestilence in their city, the
town-council of Edinburgh adopted a highly rational sanitary measure,
ordering the ashes, dust, and dirt of their streets to be put up to
auction. We do not learn that any one undertook to pay for the privilege
of cleaning the streets of the capital, and Maitland remarks in his
history, that many years elapsed before the movement was renewed, not to
say carried into effect.
Dec 2
'.... baxter’s boy, called Robert Henderson—no doubt by the instigation of
Satan—desperately put some powder and a candle in his father’s
heather-stack, standing in a close opposite to the Tron of Edinburgh [the
public weighing-machine], and burnt the same, with his father’s house,
which lay next adjacent, to the imminent hazard of burning the whole town.
For which, being apprehended most marvelously, after his escaping out of
the town, he was on the next day burnt quick at the Cross, as an
example.’— Moy. R.
1585, Apr 7
John Lord Maxwell was at this time the most powerful man in the south-west
province of Scotland. He possessed Caerlaverock Castle and many fair
estates. The next man in the district was the chief of the clan Johnston,
usually called Johnston of that Ilk, or the Laird of Johnston. The
jealousy in which these great lords of the land usually stood of each
other chanced at this time to be inflamed into hostilities, and Maxwell
took such an attitude towards the profligate government of the Earl of
Arran, as to cause himself to be denounced as a rebel. According to the
common practice, the court gave a commission to Johnston to proceed
against Lord Maxwell, only helping him with two companies of hired troops
under the command of Captains Cranstoun and Lammie.
This proved an unfortunate movement
for the house of Johnston. The two hired bands were cut to pieces on
Crawford Moor by Robert Maxwell, natural brother to the earl. The same
bold man proceeded to Johnston’s castle of Lochwood, and at the date noted
set fire to it, jestingly remarking that he would give Lady Johnston light
‘to set her hood.’ Johnston himself sustained a defeat at the hands of the
Maxwells, was made prisoner by them, and died of a broken heart.
This was only the beginning of a
protracted feud between the Maxwells and Johnston; which cost each family,
as will be seen, the destruction of two of its chiefs.
Apr 30
John Livingstone of Belstane complained to the Council of an assault which
had been made upon him on the 3d of the preceding February by sundry
persons, whose motive in so assailing him does not appear. The affair is
most characteristic—indeed, a type of numberless other lawless proceedings
of the time. John quietly leaves his house before sunrise, meaning no harm
to any one, and expecting none to himself. He walks out, as he says under
God’s peace and the king’; when suddenly he is beset by about forty people
who had him at feud, ‘all bodin in feir of weir;’ namely, armed with jack;
steel-bonnet; spear; lance-staff; bow; hagbuts, pistolet; and other
invasive weapons forbidden by the laws. At the head of them was William,
Master of Yester—a denounced rebel on account of his slaughter of the
Laird of Westerhall’s servant— Alexander Jardine, younger of Applegarth;
his servants, Stephen Jardine and Matthew Moffat in Woodend, James
Borthwick of Colela, John Lauder of Hartpool, Michael Hunter of Polmood,
John Hoppringle in Peebles, James Hoppringle of the same place, William
Brenarde [Burnett?] of the Barn; John Cockburn of Glen, and Colin Langton
of Earlshaugh, were among the company, evidently all of them men of some
figure and importance. Having come for the purpose of attacking
Livingstone, they no sooner saw him than they set upon him, with discharge
of their firearm; to deprive him of his life. He narrowly escaped, and ran
back to his house, which they immediately environed in the most furious
manner, firing in at the windows and through every other aperture, for a
space of three hours. A ‘bullon’ pierced his hat. As they departed, they
met his wife and daughter, whom they abused shamefully. In short, it seems
altogether to have been an affair of the most barbarous and violent kind.
The offenders were all denounced rebels.
May 7
The pest, which had commenced in Perth in the previous September, was
believed to be now brought thence by a servant-woman to the Fishmarket in
Edinburgh (Moy.), where it ‘was first knawn to be in Simon
Mercerbanks’s house.’ (Bir.) From accident or otherwise, the king
acted on this occasion exactly as he had done at Perth, when the plague
first declared itself there. On the very day when the disease appeared in
Edinburgh, he left the city, and ‘rode to Dirleton to a sumptuous banquet
prepared by the Earl of Arran.’ (Cal.) The pest continued in the
capital till the subsequent January, sometimes carrying off twenty-four
people in a single night. ‘The haill people whilk was able to flee, fled
out of the town: nevertheless there died of people which were not able to
flee, fourteen hundred and some odd.’ (Bir.) It was at St Andrews
in August, ‘and continued till upwards of four hundred people died, and
the place was left almost desolate.’ (Moy.) Dunse is cited as a
place where this pestilence ‘raged extremely.’ (Mar.) In Perth,
between 24th September 1584, and August 1585, when it ceased, it carried
off fourteen hundred and twenty-seven persons, young and old, or thereby.
(Chron. Perth.) This could not be less than a sixth of the entire
population.
June 23, 1585, on account of the
pest being in Edinburgh, the business of the cunyie-house was ordered to
be transported to Dundee, and the coining of gold, silver, and alloyed
money to go on there as it had hitherto done in Edinburgh. On the alloyed
pennies, OPPIDUM DUNDEE was to be substituted for OPPIDUM EDINBURGI. The
Exchequer was also removed to Falkland, and the Court of Session to
Stirling. On the 21st of October, the pest being now in Dundee, the
coining was ordered to be removed to Perth, and the name of that burgh to
be substituted in the circumscription.—P.
C. B.
The severity of this pestilence
excited the rage of the people against the Earl of Arran and his lady, the
then ruling power of the country, to whose infamous life, and to the
banishment of the Protestant leaders, the evil was attributed. In the
course of the summer, the air being ‘perpetually nebulous,’ and the
growing crop ‘universally corrupted,' the popular feeling was further
excited in the same direction, and the general cry was that the Lord would
not stay his hand till the banished lords were brought home again. These
lords actually did draw nearer to the Border, under the encouragement
which the plague thus afforded them (Ja. Mel.), and by reason that
the citizens of Edinburgh were not now able to come forward and act, in
blind obedience to court-orders, as they were wont.
The revolution effected by the ultra
Protestant party at Stirling (November 2, 1585), was followed by a
stoppage of the pestilence, ‘not by degrees or piecemeal, but in a
instant, as it were; so that never any after that hour was known to have
been infected, nor any of such as were infected before, to have died. The
lane, also, in Stirling by which they [the banished lords] entered, was
wholly infected; yet no man [of their party] was known to have been
tainted with it, or to have received any hurt: nay, the men of Annandale
did rob and ransack the pest-lodges which were in the field about
Stirling, and carried away the clothes of the infected, but were never
known to have been touched therewith themselves, or any others that got or
wore the clothes. They also that were in the lodges, returned to their
houses, and conversed with their neighbours in the town, who received them
without fear, suspicion, or reproof, and no harm did ensue upon it. As for
Edinburgh, before the 1st of February, within three months it was so well
peopled and filled again with inhabitants, as none could perceive by the
number that any had died out of it.’ This change— ‘nothing can be alleged
to have brought it to pass but the very finger of God. Let mankind advert
and admire it; and whosoever shall go about to bereave God of his glory by
laying it upon fortune, may his chance be such as his perverseness
deserveth! ‘—H. of G.
The assumed immunity of the Border
thieves is extremely amusing. Being here engaged in the right cause, it
mattered not that they committed the monstrous inhumanity of plundering
the sick and cheating the heirs of the dead.
James Melville remarks the same
connection of circumstances, but places the improvement of the public
health a month later. From the meeting of the parliament in December,
under the auspices of the king’s new advisers, ‘the pest abated, and began
to be strangely and remarkably withdrawn by the merciful hand of God, sae
that Edinburgh was frequented again that winter; and at the entry of the
spring, all the towns, almost desolate before, repeopled—St Andrews among
the rest.’
Melville relates a remarkable
anecdote of this pestilence, under November, when he had occasion to
return from banishment at Berwick, and to proceed through Edinburgh on his
way to attend a General Assembly at Linlithgow. ‘On the morn, we made
haste, and, coming to Losterrick [Restalrig], disjuned, and about eleven
hours, came riding, in at the Water-gate, up through the Canongate, and
rade in at the Nether Bow, through the great street of Edinburgh, to the
West Port, in all whilk way we saw
not three person,
sae that I miskenned Edinburgh, and almost
forgot that I had ever seen sic a town.’
Nov 2
‘The news of the taking of Stirling was at the court of England and in
London within aught and forty hours; for it being done on Tuesday in the
morning, on the Thursday thereafter Mr Bowes tauld us, and on the Friday
it was common in the mouths of all London.’—Ja.
Mel.
Under March 17, 1578, is another
instance of extraordinary quickness in the communication of intelligence
from Stirling to Edinburgh. In that case, we might suppose that the event
only fulfilled a previous design. Such could scarcely be the case here.
Sir John G. Dalyell remarks, that ‘rumours subsequently verified are
undoubtedly sometimes in circulation. The author recollects very well that
the result of the battle of Trafalgar, or of Corunna, was currently
reported in the city of Edinburgh, previous to any certain intelligence
known to have been received of the fact through what was esteemed the
speediest channel: nor, on subsequently computing the intervals, could
satisfactory conjectures be formed how it had arrived.' It may be
remembered by many that, in the war in Afghanistan in 1842—3, the natives
were remarked often to be possessed of intelligence of events occurring at
a distance, long before any information had come to the British through
recognised channels The author just quoted expresses his opinion that, in
such cases, there has merely been an anticipation on probable grounds of
an event which was subsequently ascertained to have happened. |