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LIVES

SCOTTISH WORTHIES.

PATRICK ERASER TYTLER, ESQ.,

F.R.S. AND F.S.A.

VOL. III.

LONDON:

JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET.

MDCCCXXXIII.

V-3

LONDON i

FRETTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES,
Stamford Street.

CONTENTS.

JAMES I.
(Continued from Vol. II.)

Good Effects of the King's Return to his Dominions, page 2. — In-
ternal Administration of his Kingdom, 3. — Birth of the Princess
Margaret ; Embassy from Charles VII. of France, 3. — Institution
of the ' Session,' 5. — Acts of the Parliament assembled at Perth,
12th March, 1425, C.— State of the Highlands, and James's Pro-
gress to the N.prth, 8. — Rebellion of Alexander of the Isles : he
'is compelled to submit, 9.— The King's Sternness, 13. — Consti-
tution of the Scottish Parliament ; important Change in it, 14.

— Marriage with France, 16. — James's Attention to the Condi-
tion of the Poorer Tenantry and Labourers, 17. — Parliament at
Perth, April, 1429; its Sumptuary Laws, 19.— State of the Navy,
19. — Rebellion of Donald Balloch, 20. — Feuds in Strathnaver,
21. — Royal Progress to the North, 22. — Pestilence revisits Scot-
land, 23. — Persecution of the Wickliffites, and burning of Paul
Crawar, 24. — James's Efforts to strengthen the Royal Authority.
Power of the Earl of March, 28.— Stripped of his Lands, he
flies to England, 30. — Jealousy and Alarm of the Nobles, 32. —
Hostilities with England on the Borders ; Skirmish at Piperden,34.

— Marriage of the Princess Margaret of Scotland to the Dauphin,.
35. — War with England ; the King besieges Roxburgh, but sud-
denly retires, 35. — Conspiracy against James I. ; its Secret His-
tory investigated, 36.— Graham's Flight to the Highlands, 41.—
His League withAthole and Stewart, 43. — A Spae-wife attempts
to warn James of his Danger, 43. — The King arrives at Perth, 44.

— His Murder, 45. — The Murderers escape, 49. — They are appre-
hended and executed, 50. — James's great Talents, 51. — His Ge-
nius as a Poet, 52. — The King's Quhair ; Criticism of this Poem,
52. — Its Opening, 53. —Description of Windsor, 55. — The Gar-

b 2

IV CONTENTS.

den, 56.'— Appearance of his Mistress, 59. — Introduction of the
Vision, 62. —Its Conclusion, 67. — Remarks upon it, 68.—
Humorous Poetry of James I,, 69. — ' Christ's Kirk on the Green,'
70. — 'Peebles at the Play,' 72. — James's varied Accomplish-
ments, 74.

ROBERT HENRYS ON.

Scantiness of our Biographical Notices of Henryson, 76. — Passage
from Urry, 77. — Character of his Poetry, 78. — Fine Picture of
Saturn, 78. — Troilus and Cressida, 79.— Fiue description of a
Winter Night, 81. —Analysis of the Poem, 82. — ' Praise of Age,'
83. — 'Town and Country Mouse,' 85. — Criticism on the Poem
and Extracts, 87. — Conclusion, 88.

WILLIAM DUNBAR.

Little known of Dunbar, 89. — Error of Pinkerton, 89. — Educated

. for the Church, 90.— Received a small Annual Pension, 90.—
His Address to the Lords of the King's Checquer, 91.— He at-
taches himself to the Court of James IV., 92. — Character of this
Monarch, 93.— Dunbar's Description of the Court, 94. — Verified
by the curious Manuscript Accounts of the Lord High Treasurer,
96. — Poverty of Dunbar, and Neglect with which he is treated,
99. —Poem of the 'Thistle and the Rose,' 100.— Its beautiful
Commencement, 101. — Criticism of the Poem, and Extracts, 102.

; — Fine Picture of the Lion, 104. — Coronation of the Rose as
Queen of Flowers, 105. — Digression on the Marriage of James
IV., 107. — Particulars of this Event, from the Treasurer's Ac-
counts, 108. — Dunbar's humorous Address to Jamie Doig, 10&.
— Complaint of the Grey Horse, Auld Dunbar, 111. — Reply of
James IV., 112.— Flytings of Dunbar and Kennedy, 112.— Dance
in the Queen's Chamber, 114. — Reform in Edinburgh ; Address
to its Merchants, 115. — Dunbar's Allegorical Taste ; his Dream,

' 116.— Dunbar's Satirical Powers; his 'Twa Married Women
and the Widow,' 118.— His « Friars of Berwick,' 120. — Criticism
of this Poem, and Extracts, 121. — 'The Golden Targe,' 128.—
Its fine Opening, 129. — Address to Chaucer and Gower, 131.—
Dunbar's Religious Poetry, 132. — Conclusion of the Life, 133.

CONTENTS. V

GAVIN DOUGLAS. x

Douglas's noble Birth ; born about 1474, 137. — Anecdote of his
Father, the Earl of Angus, 138. — Death of his Brethren at Flod-
den, 140. — Douglas made Rector of Hawick, 140. — His Poem
of « King Hart,' 141. — His own Analysis of the Story, 142.—
Its spirited Opening, 143.— Criticism on its Merits and Defects,
144. — ' Castle of Dame Plesance,' 145. — Progress of the Poem,
146. — Marriage of King Hart, and Happy Life, 147. — Arrival of
Age, and King Hart's Distress, 148.— His Queen and her Sub-
jects desert him, 149. — His Death and Testament, 149. — Dou-
glas's 'Palace of Honour,' 151. — Indiscriminate Panegyric of
Sage, 151. — True Character of the Poem, 152. — Extracts, 153.
Progress of the Story, 156. — Court of Minerva, 157. — Court of
Venus, 158.— Fine Picture of Mars, 158. —The Castalian Spring,
159. — Apparition of the Muses, 161. — Palace of Honour, 162.—
Description of King Honour, 165. — Conclusion of the Poem, 168.
— Douglas's Translation of Virgil, 169. — Extracts, 170. — Great
Beauty of his Prologues to each Book, 1?2. — Prologue to the 7th
Book, 173. — Douglas's Language, 176. — His Adieu to his Poeti-
cal Studies, 177. — His future Life troubled and eventful, 179. —
Nominated Archbishop of St. Andrew's, 180. — Hepburn and
Forman compete with him for the Primacy, 180. — Douglas retires
from the Contest, 180. — He is elected to fill the See of Dunkeld,
181. — Difficulty in obtaining possession of this Dignity, 182.—
Factions amongst the Nobles and the Clergy, 183. — Bishop
Douglas takes refuge at the Court of Henry VIII., 185.— He is
seized with the Plague ; Dies, 186. — His Character, 187.

SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

Lindsay's Birth in the Reign of James IV., 191. — Antiquity andre-
spectability of his Family, 191. — His early introduction at Court,
192,— Singular Apparition at Linlithgow,193.— Lindsay's Picture
of the^Infancy of James V., 194. — Troubled state of the Country,
196. — Letter of Lord Dacre, 197. — English Incursions, 198. —
James's promising Boyhood, 199. — Revolution which deprives
Lindsay of his Office, 200. — Servitude under which the young
King is kept; he escapes, 201. — Lindsay writes his ' Dream j'
its defects and beauties.,202. — A .Winter Landskip, 203. — Ana-

f lysis of the Poem, 204. — Appearance of Johne Commonweillj
his Description of the state of Scotland,,205. — Nervous Lines

VI CONTENTS.

on the same Subject by Stewart, 207. — Lindsay's Poem of the
' Complaint,' 210. — His Picture of the Venality of the Courtiers,
211. — Mismanagement of the young King's Education, 213.—
James V. assumes the Supreme Power, 214. — His Expedition
against the Border Thieves, 215. — Execution of Johnnie Arm-
strong, 216. — Remarks on this Event, 217- — Traditions which
remain in the Country regarding this Expedition, 218. — Lindsay
promoted to the office of Lord Lion, 219. — Its Nature and Anti-
quity, 220. — He writes the ' Complaint of the King's Papingo,'
221. — Its graceful Introduction, 222. — Progress of the Poem,
224. — Disaster of the Papingo, 225. — Her dying Counsel to the
King, 226. — To her Brethren, the Courtiers, 227. — Character of
James IV., 228. — The Papingo's Adieu to Stirling, 229. — Her
Expostulation with her Executors, 230. — Attack upon the Cor-
ruptions of the Church, 231. — Death of the Papingo, 232. — Her
last Legacy, and conduct of her Executors, 233.— Lindsay's
Mission to Brussels in 1531, 234. — His Marriage, 235. — His
« Satire of the Three Estates,' 235. — Early Scottish Stage, 236.

— Remarks on this Primitive Drama, 237. — The same Subject
continued, 238. — Prologue and First Part, 239. — Second Part :
Avarice of the Clergy, 240. — Dialogue between the Spiritual
Estate and Correction, 241. — Consistory Courts ; their Abuses,
242. — John Commonweill dressed in a New Suit, 243. — Conclu-
sion of the Piece, 244. — Manner of its Performance, 245. —
James V. disposed at first to favour the Reformation of the
Church, 246. — Lindsay's Mission to the Court of France in 1536,
247. — James pays a Visit to that Country : his splendid reception
at the Palace of Vendosme, 248. — His meeting with Francis I :
falls in love with Princess Magdalen, 249. — Marries her, 250. —
Conveys her to Scotland, 251. — Her sudden Death, 252. — Lind-
say writes his ' Deploration for the Death of Queen Magdalen,'
253. — Criticism on this Poem, 254. — Lindsay's deep Enmity to
the Romanist Religion, 255. — Remarks on the Scottish Refor-
mation, 256. — James V. marries Mary of Guise, 257. — Lindsay's
splendid Pageants, 257. — Justing between Watson and Barbour,
258. — Answer to the King's ' Fly ting,' 259. — Digression on the
Poetical Talents of James V., 260. — Anecdotes of James V, 261.

— Lindsay's Satire against Side-Tails, 263. — And ' Mussal'd
Faces,' 264. — His Tragedy of ' The Cardinal,' 265 — Remarks on
the Murder of Beaton, 266. — History of Squire Meldrum, 267. —
Value of this Poem as a Picture of Manners ; Quotations, 268.—
Authenticity of the Story ; Sack of Carrickfergus, 269. — Ad-
venture with the Irish Lady, 270. — Meldrum arrives in Brittany;

CONTENTS. ¥11

his challenge of Talbart, 271. — Kindness of Aubigny, 272.—
Arrangement of the Lists, 273. — The Combat, 274. — Meldrum's
Courtesy and Generosity, 275. — His Voyage home, and arrival in
Scotland, 276. — Kind reception by the Lady of Strathern, 277.

— Waylaid by Stirling of Keir, 273. — He is desperately wounded,
279. — His Recovery, and mode of after Life, 280. — Faithfulness
to his Mistress of Strathern, 281.— His last Sickness and Testa-
ment, 282. — Further Remarks on this singular Composition, 284.

— Lindsay bears no active part in the Reformation of Religion
in Scotland, 286. — He composes bis ' Monarchy,' 287. — Fine In-
troduction to this Poem, 288. —Moral Nature of the Work;
Striking Picture of Experience, 289. — Idolatry of the Church of
Rome, 290. — Lindsay's judicious Distinction upon this Subject,

291. — Temporal Power of the Pope ; Evil Effects of Pilgrimages,

292. — Sweet Conclusion of the Poem, 293.— It is Lindsay's last
Work. His Death. Family Estate of the Mount Traditions.

CHAPTER OP ANTIQUARIAN ILLUSTRATIONS.
HENRY THB MINSTREL.

Conjecture regarding the value to be attached to the Poem of Wal-
lace by this Ancient Author, 299. — Singular mixture of Truth
and Error in his Details, 300. — Proofs of this; History of the
Siege of Berwick in 1296. — Carte's Account, 301. — Buchanan's
Account, 302. — Narrative of Henry the Minstrel, 303. — Proofs
of his Accuracy from Hemingford, 303. — From Fordun, 304. —
From other Authors, 305. — Minute Particulars in Henry the
Minstrel's Account corroborated, 306. — Inference from the whole
that he must have had access to some accurate Chronicle of the
Times, 307. — Another Example and Proof of this ; Taking of
Dunbar, 308. — A Third Example ; Corroboration by the Rotuli
Scotise, 309. — Additional Confirmations of his occasional Accu-
racy in minute Particulars, 310. — Conjectures as to the original
Materials possessed by this Writer, 312. — His reference to the
Latin Book of Wallace's Life, 313. — Major's Account of Blind
Harry, 313. — Conclusion of Remarks, 314.
BRUCE AND ST. FILLAN.

St. Fillan; his History, 314.— His luminous Arm; carried by

Bruce to Bannockburn, 315.— Relic of St. Fillan, called the

Quigrich, 316. — Charter to Malise Doire, 317. — Remarks, 313.

BATTLE OF BANNOCKBURN.

Best mode of examining the Field of Bannockburn, 319. — Line of

Edward's March, 319. — Place where he encamped, 319. — Re-
marks, 320.

DEATH OP SIR JAMES DOUGLAS IN SPAIN.

Obscurity which hangs over the Particulars of this Event j Illus-
trated by some Passages in the Chronicle of Alonso XL, 321.—
Remarks on these Extracts, 322. — Account of Barbour corrobo-
rated by the Chronicle, 323. — Conclusion, 324.
RANDOLPH, EARL OF MORAY.

His minute Directions regarding his Sepulture, 325. — Quotation
from an Ancient unpublished Charter.

FEUDAL GOVERNMENTS OP EITROPB.

Coincidences in the Feudal Governments of England, France, and
Scotland, 326. — Struggle between the King and the Nobles, 327.
— In France, 327. — In Scotland, 328. — Influence of the Per-
sonal Character of the King, 329. — Miseries of the Feudal Sys-
tem, 330.

JAMES IV. 's TOURNAMENT FOR THE BLACK LADY.
MS. Accounts of the High- Treasurer of Scotland, collected by the
Rev. Mr. Macgregor Stirling ; James IV. and his Blackamoors,
331. — Tournament for the Black Lady ; Articles of Defiance
sent to France, 332. — Items in the Accounts illustrative of the
Tournament, 333. — Dunbar's Poem on the Blackamoor, 334.

JAMES IV. AND THE FLYING ABBOT op TUNGLAND.

James's Passion for Empirics of all Kinds, 335. — Lesly's Account
of the Abbot of Tungland's Attempt to fly, 335. — History of
John Damidne ; his pretended Skill in Alchemy, 336. — His
Familiarity with the King, 337. — Other strange Characters who
haunted the Court, 338. — The King's Passion for Surgery.
ARRIVAL OP THE GIPSIES IN SCOTLAND.

Curious Letter of James IV. upon this subject, 339.
ANCIENT SCOTTISH GAMES.

Value of the Accounts of the High Treasurer in illustrating Scottish
Sports and Pastimes, 340. — James IV. an enthusiastic Lover of
Music, 341. — Common Games, 341. — Obscure Games, 342. —
Tale-tellers,343. — Singular Mixture of Levity and Austerity in
the Character of this Monarch 5 St. Duthoc's Relic, 343. — His

[ Iron Girdle probably apocryphal, 344. — Conclusion.

JAMES THE FIRST.

1424—1437.

THE return of James the First to his dominions
had been signalized, as we have seen*, by a me-
morable example of retributive justice, from the
sternness of which the mind revolts with horror.
We must be careful indeed to regard his conduct
to the house of Albany, not through the more
humane feelings of our own age, but in relation
to the dark feudal times in which he lived. To
forgive, or rather not to revenge an injury was
a principle which in such days was invariably
regarded as a symptom of pusillanimity. James
had a long account to settle with the house of
his uncle. The blood of his brother, the broken
heart of his father, the usurpation of his here-
ditary throne for eighteen years, and the scenes
of rapine and cruelty which had been permitted to
take place during his captivity in England, all
called upon him to whet the sword of justice
with no ordinary edge ; to make an impression
upon a people accustomed to laxity and disorder,
which should powerfully affect their minds, and
convince them that the reign of misrule was at
an end. In assuming the government, his ob-
ject was to be feared and respected ; but making

* Vol. ii. pp. 314, 315.
VOL. III. B

2 JAMES THE FIRST.

every allowance for such considerations, and
taking fully into view the circumstances under which
he returned to his kingdom, it is impossible to
deny that in the catastrophe of the family of Al-
bany, the King appears to have attended to the
gratification of personal revenge, as much as to
the satisfaction of offended justice.

The effects however of his conduct upon a feu-
dal age were such as might easily have been anti-
cipated, and within a wonderfully short interval
matters appeared to be rapidly approaching that
state when as James himself had predicted " the
key should keep the castle, and the braken bush
the cow." The first cares of the monarch were
wisely directed to the internal administration of
the country. From without he had at present
nothing to dread. England was at peace, the
marriage with Jane Beaufort had secured the inte-
rest of the governors of that kingdom, during the
minority of Henry the Sixth. France was the
ancient ally of Scotland, and the commercial inte-
rests of the Netherlands were too essentially pro-
moted by their Scottish trade not to be anxious
to preserve the most friendly relations. James
therefore was permitted to direct his undivided at-
tention to his affairs at home, and his great prin-
ciple seems to have been to rule the country through
his Parliament ; to assemble that great national
council as frequently as possible, to enact or to
revive wholesome and salutary laws, suited to the
emergency in which he found his kingdom, and
to insist on their rigid observance. In the same
Parliament which beheld the downfal of the house
of Albany, we have seen that the administration

JAMES THE FIRST.

of justice and the defence of the kingdom formed
two principal subjects of consideration; and his
attention to the commercial interests of the state
was equally active, though not equally enlightened.
The acts of the legislature upon this subject are
pervaded by that jealousy of exportation, and the
narrow policy in restricting the settlement of Scot-
tish merchants in foreign parts which mark an
unenlightened age. During the detention of the
monarch in England, the Flemings as allies of
that kingdom, had committed repeated aggressions
on the Scottish merchant vessels, and the king on
his return had removed the staple of the Scottish
commerce to Middleburg in Zealand. Soon after,
however, an embassy from the States of Flanders
arrived at the Scottish Court, with the object of
procuring the restoration of the trade, and James
not only received the Envoys with distinction, but
consented to their request on the condition of more
ample privileges being conferred on his subjects
who traded to these parts*.

About this time the Queen was delivered of a
daughter, and with an affectionate recurrence to
the virtues of the sainted consort of Malcolm Can-
inore, the Princess was christened Margaret. The
event was received with almost as much satisfac-
tion in France as in Scotland, and Charles the
Seventh, anxious to procure the assistance of that
country in his protracted struggle with the arms
of England, immediately opened a negociation
for the marriage of the Dauphin with the infant
daughter of James. Stewart of Derneley, Constable
of the Scottish Army in France, and the Arch-
* Fordun, vol. ii., p. 484.

B2

4 JAMES THE FIRST.

bishop of Rheims visited the Scottish Court ; the
king returned his answers to their proposals by
Leighton, Bishop of Aberdeen, and Ogilvy, Jus-
ticiar of Scotland, and it was determined that after
five years the'parties'should be solemnly betrothed,
and the Princess conveyed to the Court of France*.
It was another part of the prudent policy of James
to cultivate the friendship of the church, to secure
the co-operation of the numerous and influential
body of the Catholic Clergy in the execution of
his schemes for the reduction of the country, under
a system of order and good government ; and with
this view we find him about the same time dis-
patching an embassy to the Court of Rome, and
directing a Commission to the Bishop of St. An-
drews, by which that Prelate was empowered to
resume all alienations of ecclesiastical lands which
had been granted under the administration of the
two Albanies. The deed also conferred upon him
the dreaded power of placing the party under the
anathema of the Church.

The collection of the sum due for the King's
ransom was a matter of grave consideration ; and
in the first Parliament after his return, a tax of
twelve pennies in the pound was directed to be
levied upon the whole lands of the kingdom f ;
but as the zeal of the people cooled, complaints
were made of the impoverishment and distress
which were occasioned by so general a burden ;
and James, admonished by the defalcation in the
second collection, with equal prudence and gene-
rosity, directed that no further efforts should be
* Fordun, vol. ii., p. 484.

-j- Acts of the Parliament of Scotland, vol. ii. p, 4.

JAMES THE FIRST. 5

made to levy the imposition*. In his third Parlia-
ment, which assembled at Perth on the 12th of
March, 1425, the administration of justice, through-
out every portion of the kingdom, was provided for
by the institution of a new ambulatory court, deno-
minated the ' Session.' It consisted of the Chan-
cellor and certain persons of the three estates, to
be selected by the King, who were to hold their
sittings, three times in the year, at whatever place
the royal will should appoint, for the determination
of all causes and quarrels which might be brought
before them t- Another material object was the
amendment of the laws, and their promulgation
throughout the most distant parts of the country.
For this purpose a committee of six of the most
able and learned counsellors, to be chosen from
each of the three estates was directed to examine
the books of the law, Regiam Majestatem and
Quoniam Attachiamenta, to explain their obscuri-
ties, reconcile their contradictions, and, in the
ancient and simple language of the times, ' to
mend such as need mending.' Copies of the
statutes of the realm were directed to be distri-
buted to all sheriffs throughout the country ; and
these judges were, in their turn, enjoined to publish
them in the principal places of their sheriffdom,
and to furnish copies to all prelates, barons, and
other persons of authority, who applied for them.
Although enjoying a profound peace both at
home and abroad, James did not neglect that warlike
policy which is its best preservation ; armed musters,
or ' weapon schawings,' were appointed to be held

* Fordun, vol. ii. p. 482.
f Acts of Parliament, vol. ii., p. 11.

JAMES THE FIRST.

in every county, under the superintendence of the
sheriff, four times in the year, at which all, capable
of bearing arms, were compelled to attend for the
purpose of having their weapons inspected, and
devoting a portion of their time to the cultivation
of warlike exercises. The baron, the yeoman, the
wealthy burgher, the hind, the vassals of the church,
were all equally called out on such occasions. Every
yeoman, between sixteen and sixty years of age,
was obliged to furnish himself with a bow and a
sheaf of arrows ; gentlemen, possessing ten pounds
value in land, were to arm themselves with sword,
spear, and dagger, a steel cap and iron greaves, or
leg-harness ; and those of less substance, in propor-
tion to their estate ; whilst it was made incumbent
on all merchants trading beyond seas, to bring
home along with their other cargoes, a good store
of harness and quilted armour, besides spears, bows,
and bowstrings. During his residence in England,
and his campaigns in France under Henry the
Fifth, the Scottish monarch had personally wit-
nessed the fatal superiority of the English archers.
He had himself arrived at great perfection in this
martial exercise, and he was anxious to promote it
amongst his subjects.

The King next directed his attention to a still
more arduous inquiry, — the state of the Highlands
and Isles ; but he soon found, that without his
personal presence in these remote districts, little
success could be anticipated. He determined,
therefore, to remedy this defect, and set out on a
progress to Inverness, with a resolution not to
return till he had effectually reduced the northern
portion of his dominions under the control of legi-

JAMES THE FIRST. 7

timate authority. The condition of the Highlands
at this period, so far as we can discern it by the
feeble light of contemporary history, was in a high
degree rude and uncivilized. There was to be
found in them a singular admixture of the Scoto-
Norman, Celtic, and Scandinavian races. The
tenure of lands by charter and seisin, the rights
of the overlord, the duties of the vassal, the
bonds of manrent, the baronial jurisdiction, the
troops of armed retainers, the pomp of feudal
life, and the ferocity of feudal manners, were all
there to be met with in as full force as in the
more southern parts of the kingdom. ' Powerful
chiefs of Norman name and Norman blood had
penetrated into their remotest fastnesses, and
ruled over multitudes of vassals and serfs, whose
strange and uncouth appellatives proclaim their
difference of race in the most convincing manner*.'
But the gloomy castles and inaccessible fortresses
of these northern regions were also inhabited by
many fierce chiefs of the pure Celtic race. They
spoke a different language, lived under a totally
different system of manners from the Norman
barons, and regarded all intrusion into a coun-
try which had been originally their own, with
mingled feelings of disdain and abhorrence. Over
their separate septs or clans, these haughty poten-
tates exercised an equally despotic authority as the
baron over his military followers ; and whilst both
disdained to acknowledge an allegiance to the
monarch, of whose existence they were scarcely
aware, and derided the authority of laws which
they hardly understood, the perpetual disputes
* History of Scotland, vol. iii., p. 251.

8 JAMES THE FIRST.

which arose between them, and the jealousy and
ferocity of their followers, led inevitably to such
scenes of spoliation, imprisonment, and murder,
as threatened to cut off the country beyond the
range of the Grampians from all communication
with the more pacific parts of the realm. It was,
if possible, to put a period to this state of things,
that James now determined to visit his northern
dominions.

Surrounded by his barons, who were accom-
panied by troops of armed retainers, and attended
by a military force which rendered resistance
hopeless, he took his progress to Inverness, from
which he issued to these northern chiefs his writs
commanding their attendance at a Parliament to
be held in that burgh. It is singular that they did
not dare to disobey his summons, and the fact seems
to point to some proceedings upon the part of the
King of which all record has been lost, but bitterly
did they repent their weakness or their credulity.
Scarcely had they entered the hall of Parliament,
when they were seized, manacled hand and feet,
and cast into separate prisons, whilst the Monarch
is described by Fordun as turning triumphantly to
his courtiers and reciting some monkish rhymes,
applauding the skill by which they had been
circumvented, and warning them of the folly of
entertaining any hope of mercy. Amongst these
victims the most noted were Alexander of the
Isles, Angus Dhu or black Angus of Strathnarvern,
with his four sons, Kenneth More or big Kenneth,
his son-in-law Angus of Moray, Alexander Ma-
crory of Garmoran, John Macarthur, William
Lesley, and James Campbell. Macrory, Macar-

JAMES THE FIRST. 9

thur, and Campbell, men notorious for the law-
lessness of their lives and the murders which they
had committed, were instantly tried, convicted, and
executed. Of the rest, some were imprisoned,
others were suffered on a trial of amendment to
return to their homes, whilst Alexander of the Isles,
after a temporary restraint, was restored to his
liberty and permitted again to place himself at the
head of those vassals whose allegiance, as well as
his own, he solemnly engaged should never again
be brought into question.

But the promises of this fierce chief, who had
long been accustomed to a life of independence
and piratic warfare, were broken so soon as he saw
the gathering of his clansmen and the white sails
of his galleys. At the head of an army of ten
thousand men, embracing the whole strength of
Ross and the Isles, he broke down from his northern
retreats, and sweeping every thing before him, let
loose the hottest of his wrath against the lands
belonging to the crown, whilst he concluded his
expedition by rasing to the ground the royal burgh
of Inverness *.

The Highlander, however, had yet to learn the
uncommon energy of the King, and the royal
wrath overtook him with a strength and a rapidity
for which he was not prepared. Scarcely had he time
to divide his spoil, when he found himself furiously
attacked in Lochaber by a force hastily levied and
led by James in person, which scattered his undis-
ciplined troops, more solicitous to escape with the
plunder which they had secured, than to risk its loss
by making head against the enemy. Deserted by

* Fordun a Hearne, vol. iv. p. 1485. f Ibid. p. 1286.

10 JAMES THE FIRST.

the clan Chattan and Cameron, who deemed it pru-
dent to make their peace before the King's wrath
was kindled to the uttermost, and convinced of his
inability to maintain the struggle, the Island Prince,
whose pride was yet unconqtiered, dispatched am-
bassadors to sue for peace, but they were dismissed
from court with the utmost contempt, and the
haughty monarch, deriding this feeble effort of a
fugitive and outlaw to assume the state of an inde-
pendent prince, commanded his sheriff sand officers
to bring the rebel dead or alive into his presence.
Hunted like a noxious animal from place to place,
aware of the stern character of the King, and dis-
trusting the fidelity of the few followers who were
left, the unhappy man was driven at last to sue for life
in a humiliating form. On a great solemnity when
the King, surrounded by his prelates and nobles,
stood in front of the high altar at Holyrood, a
wretched-looking mendicant, squalid from suffering
and misery, clothed only in his shirt and drawers,
and holding a naked sword in his hand, threw him-
self on his knees before the monarch, and holding
his weapon by the point, presented it to James
and implored his clemency. It was the Highland
Prince who had secretly travelled to the capital,
and adopted this , mode of conciliating the royal
indignation*. James granted him his life, but
instantly shut him up in Tantallan Castle under
the charge of the Earl of Angus, and at the same
time imprisoned the Countess of Ross, his mother,
a proud matron who was believed to have en-
couraged her son in his rebellious courses. Both,
however, were released not long after, and the
* Fordun a Hearne, vol. iv., p. 1485.

JAMES THE FIRST. 11

example of mingled severity and mercy had a happy
effect in securing for a while the peace of these
remote districts.

The state of insubordination indeed to which
they had arrived during the long usurpation of
Albany can scarcely be conceived, and some anec-
dotes have been preserved by our ancient histo-
rians which paint it more forcibly than the most
laboured description. The highland districts, to
use the language of the Chronicle of Moray, were
little else at this moment than a den of robbers *,
where might made right; and it happened that
under this state of misrule a poor Highland widow
had been plundered by one of the Ketheran
chiefs, who had stripped her of her substance, and
left her utterly destitute. Yet the spoiler walked
abroad, and none dared to seize him. In the
agony of her heart, however, she confronted the
robber chief, upbraided him with his cowardice,
and declared she would never wear shoes again
till she had herself carried her complaint before
the King. ' It shall be a broken vow,* said the
monster, ' you shall be shod before you stir from
this spot ;J and instantly seizing the defenceless
creature, he had two horse-shoes nailed to her
naked feet, and thus bleeding and in agony she
was thrust upon the highway. But superior to
the sense of pain, and wrought up by her wrongs
to a pitch of supernatural endurance, she main-
tained her purpose, and falling into the hands of
some humane persons, who removed the iron shoes,
she travelled to Court, told her story to the King,
and held up her feet, still torn and bleeding by the
* MS. Chron. of Moray, Cast. Moray, p. 220.

12 JAMES THE FIRST.

inhuman treatment which she had received. The
character of James has been already described.
In a tumult of commiseration for the victim who
stood before him, and of uncontrollable wrath
against her oppressor, he directed his instant
orders to the Sheriff of the county where the out.
rage had been committed, commanding him, on
the peril of his head, to have the robber-chief
apprehended, and sent to Perth, where the Court
was then held. The energy of the King commu-
nicated itself to his officers, and in a short time
the miscreant was hurried into his presence, and
instantly ordered to execution. A shirt, on which
was painted a rude representation of his crime,
was thrown over him ; and after having been
dragged at a horse's heels, he was hanged, a
memorable example of the speedy vengeance of
the laws *.

It is in circumstances like these that we applaud
the stern severity of a character peculiarly fitted
to rule over the cruel and iron-hearted hordes
which then peopled his northern dominions, but
there were other occasions when the heart revolted
at the royal severity. A nobleman, nearly related
to the King, having- quarrelled with another baron,
so far forgot himself as to strike his antagonist in
presence of the Monarch : the crime, by the law,,
was capital ; but the King unsheathed the short
cutlass which hung at his side, and with a look
which forbade all further question, ordered the
delinquent to stretch upon the table the hand which
had offended. A thrill of horror ran through the
Court, as he next turned to the baron who had
* Fordun, vol. ii., p. 510.

JAMES THE FIRST. 13

received the blow, and giving him the cutlass,
commanded him to chop off the worthless member,
which had dared to lift itself against the law. In
vain his councillors and prelates implored forgive-
ness for the culprit; James was inexorable, and
the sentence would have been carried into execu-
tion, had not the Queen, in an agony of distress,
thrown herself at the feet of her husband, who,
moved by her tears, consented to change the sen-
tence into banishment *.

Tt is remarkable, however, what dissimilar qua-
lities were found united in this Prince. Prudence,
political sagacity, generosity to his friends, cour-
tesy, and even gentleness to those who submitted
themselves to his authority, were conspicuous fea-
tures in his character, and if distinguished for the
inexorable severity with which he pursued the
proudest offender, he was no less remarkable for
his anxiety to consult the interests of the lowest
classes of his subjects, and to give redress to the
poorest sufferer. His first endeavours had been
directed to the redress of abuses in the adminis-
tration of justice, but nothing escaped his attention.
By the frequency with which he assembled his
Parliaments, the barons and prelates were accus-
tomed to the operation of an established and re-
gular government ; they were compelled to respect
the character of the sovereign, of whose wisdom
and vigour they were constant witnesses, and no
longer able to remain for an indefinite period at
their castles, where they had been accustomed to
live in an independence which owned no superior,
* Fordun a Hearne, vol. iv., pp. 1334, 1335.

14 JAMES THE FIRST.

they dared no longer to disobey the laws, for the
execution of which they were sure, within a short
period, to be made personally responsible.

These observations are, however, principally
applicable to the highest ranks of the feudal nobi-
lity, for the lesser barons appear soon to have
complained against the grievance of a too frequent
attendance upon Parliament, and this remonstrance
led to a change which is well worthy of notice.
It was declared in a General Council held at Perth,
on the 1st of March, 1427, that the smaller barons
and free-tenants who had hitherto been summoned
to Parliament, should be excused their attend-
ance, provided from their number there were
chosen for each sheriffdom two or more in pro-
portion to its extent, who should be returned to
Parliament as the representatives of the sheriffdom
from which they came. The Commissaries or re-
presentatives were next directed to elect from
their body an expert or able person, to be called
the Common Speaker of the Parliament, whose
duty it should be to bring forward all cases of
importance involving the rights and privileges of
the Commons; and it was declared that they,
should enjoy a delegated power from their con-
stituents to discuss and determine all such causes
involving the rights of the lesser barons, which it
might be expedient to bring before the Great
Council or Parliament. The expenses of these
commissaries were directed to be paid by the
electors who owed suit and presence in the Par-
liament, but were thus excused their attendance,
whilst it was added, that this should in no

JAMES THE FIRST. 15

way interfere with the bishops, abbots, earls,
and other lords, who were to be summoned
as usual by the King's special precept *. This
remarkable law contains the first introduction
of the principles of a representative government
in Scotland, and although expressed in brief and
simple terms, we can discern in them the rude
draught of a Lower House, under the form of a
Committee or Assembly of the Commissaries of the
Shires, who deliberated by themselves on the various
subjects which they thought proper to be brought
by their Speaker before the higher court of Par-
liament. It is thus evident that an institution,
which was afterwards to be claimed as the most
valuable privilege of every free subject, the right
of having a voice, by means of his representative,
in the great council of the nation, arose, by a sin-
gular contradiction out of an attempt to avoid it ;
the lesser barons considered the necessity of at-
tending Parliament an expensive grievance, and
the King permitted them to be absent on condition
of their electing a substitute and defraying his
expenses.

There were few subjects, in any way con-
nected with the prosperity of the kingdom, which
escaped the attention of this monarch ; the agri-
culture, the manufactures, the foreign commerce,
the fisheries, the state of the labouring classes,
the provision regarding the increase of pauperism,
the prices of manufactured commodities, and of
labour, all were included in his inquiries, and
became the subject of parliamentary enactment,
if not always of parliamentary wisdom. It was
* Acts of Parliament of Scotland, vol. ii., p. 1C, c. 2.

16 JAMES THE FIRST.

made incumbent upon the farmers and husband-
men, and the greater barons, that they should
annually sow a stated proportion of grain, pease
and beans, under a fixed penalty; a provision
was introduced for the repair of the castles, for-
talices, and manor places, which had been allowed
to fall into decay in the remoter mountainous dis-
tricts of the kingdom ; the transportation of bul-
lion out of the realm was strictly prohibited ; four
times in the year regular days were appointed in
each barony for hunting the wolves, and a reward
fixed for every wolf's-whelp which should be
brought in, whilst the tenantry were enjoined, under
a heavy penalty, to assist their masters in the ex-
tirpation of such noxious animals.

In these homely but not unenlightened cares for
the prosperity of his kingdom, James was interrupted
by a second embassy from France, to arrange more
definitely the preliminaries for the marriage of the
Princess Margaret with the Dauphin. At this mo-
ment the Scottish King was little able to advance a
dowry suitable to the rank of the royal bride ; for
his revenues were still impoverished by the dilapi-
dations of Albany and the payment of the heavy
debt incurred during his detention in England.
But the circumstances of France rendered men
more acceptable than money; James agreed to
send to that country a force of six thousand sol-
diers in transports to be furnished by Charles the
Seventh. In return, the Scottish Princess was to
be provided in an income as ample as any hitherto
settled upon the Queens of France, and the county
of Xaintonge and lordship of Rochfort were made
over in property to her royal father. It is by no

JAMES THE FIRST. IT

means improbable, that a jealousy on the part of
England of this intimate connexion with their
enemy led to a proposal of Cardinal Beaufort, at
this time the leading person in the English govern-
ment, for a personal interview with James, but it
was declined. The Monarch deemed it beneath
his dignity to confer in person with a subject^
although he declared his anxiety that the amicable
relations of the two kingdoms should be inviolably
preserved.

His attention to the interests of the poorer classes
has been already noticed ; and in a Parliament
held at Perth in April, 1'429, a new proof of this
was given, which, a.s leading to one of the most
important rights of the subject, deserves atten-
tion. It had not escaped the notice of the king,.,
that a fertile source of distress to the poorer
tenantry and the labourers of the soil arose from
the right possessed by their landlords of ex-
pelling them from their farms, whenever they
chose to grant a lease of the estate to a new pro-
prietor: This hardship James was anxious to
remove ; but he was compelled also to respect the
customary law of the land, and by it such was then
the miserable condition of a great proportion of
the lower classes in Scotland, that their over-lord
had a right to remove and dispose of them as if
they were little better than the cattle upon his
property. It was beyond the power of the prince
at once to raise them from this degraded state,
but he remonstrated with his prelates and barons
upon the evil consequences of its continuance, and
he at least paved the way for its removal by
making it a request to them, (which, coming from

18 JAMES THE FIRST.

such a quarter, no one, probably, would be disposed
to refuse,) that where their lands had been leased
out to a new tenant, they would not suddenly
remove the poorer labourers, but would permit
them to continue in possession for a year after the
transaction. There can be little doubt that this
benevolent enactment is to be considered as the
first step towards that invaluable privilege which
was, twenty years after, under the reign of James's
successor, conferred on the body of the Scottish
tenantry and labourers, which secured to them an
undisturbed possession of their lands till the ex-
piration of their lease, and which is familiarly
known by the name of the real right of tack.

Yet whilst the King showed himself thus so-
licitous for the real interests of the great body of
his people, he kept a strict eye upon the growth
of idleness, or unnecessary luxuries and refine-
ments. Their occupation as artizans or trades-
men, their mode of travelling from place to place,
their amusements, and even their dress — all were
superintended and provided for with a minute
vigilance, and some of the sumptuary laws passed
at this time convey a curious picture of the
costume of the times. For example, we find it
provided, that no person under the rank of a
knight is to wear clothes of silk, adorned with
furs, or embroidered with gold or pearls. An ex-
ception was made in favour of aldermen, baillies,
and councillors in the magistracy, who were per-
mitted to wear furred gowns, whilst others were
enjoined to equip themselves in such plain and
honest apparel as became their station. It 'was
the natural effect of the increase of wealth amongst

JAMES THE FIRST. 19

the commercial classes, that the wives of the opu-
lent burghers imitated, and probably exaggerated
the dress of their superiors. Against this the
law directed its anathema. * Long trains, rich
hoods and ruffs, purfled sleeves, and costly curches
of lawn, were henceforth banished from the ward-
robe of a commoner's wife, and permitted only as
part of the bravery of a gentlewoman*.'

In the same Parliament something like an at-
tempt is discernible for the establishment of a
navy ; — one of the sources of national strength
wherein the country was greatly deficient, and the
want of which had been lately severely felt during
the rebellion of the Lord of the Isles. All barons
possessing lands within six miles of the sea were
commanded to contribute towards the building of
galleys for the public service at the rate of one oar
for every four marks of land — a proportion whose
exact value it is now impossible to discover.

It is probable this enactment had some reference
to the condition of the Highlands and Isles, where
symptoms of disturbance again began to exhibit
themselves, and whose fierce chieftains, in defiance
of the recent examples, renewed their attempts to
set the laws at defiance. Alan Stewart, Earl of
Caithness, and Alexander Earl of Mar had been
stationed by James in Lochaber for the purpose of
keeping this important district in subjection. Caith-
ness was a brave, Mar a distinguished, soldier,
and they commanded a force which was judged
sufficient to keep its ground against any enemy
likely to attack them. But Donald Balloch, a
fierce Ketheran leader, nearly related to the Lord
* Acts of the Parliament of Scotland, vol.ii., pp. 17, 18.

C 2

20 JAMES THE FIRST.

of the Isles, assembled a formidable fleet and army,
ran his galleys into the narrow sea which divides
Morven from Lismore, disembarked his troops,
and breaking down suddenly upon Lochaber, at-
tacked the royal forces at Inverlochy. Such was
the irresistible fury of the assault, that the dis-
ciplined squares of the Lowland warriors were
broken by the wild hordes which threw themselves
upon them. Caithness, with sixteen of his per-
sonal retinue and many other knights, were left
dead on the field. Mar was more fortunate, yet
it was with difficulty that he effected his retreat
with the remains of the army, which narrowly es-
caped being entirely cut to pieces. Lochaber now
lay at the mercy of the victor, and had Donald
Balloch made an immediate advance, the conse-
quences might have been serious ; but this wild
chief partook of the character of the northern
pirates, who were commonly afraid of trusting
themselves too far from their ships. He contented
himself accordingly with the plunder of Lochaber,
and reimbarking in his galleys retired at first to
the Isles, and soon afterwards to Ireland *.

Some time previous to this the Queen was deli-
vered of twin sons, a joyful event which, in the
prospect it gave of a successor to the throne, alle-
viated James's disappointment at the continued dis-
turbances which arose in the north. The defeat of
his army, however, and a desperate feud or private
war which had broke out in Caithness between
Angus Dow Mackay and Angus Murray called
for his immediate presence, and, with his wonted
activity, he determined to lead an army against his
* Fordun a Hearne, vol. iv.; p. 1289.

JAMES THE FIRST. 21

rebels in person. Before he could reach the re-
moter Highlands the rival armies of the two
Catheran chiefs had met in Strathnaver, a remote
valley in Caithness which is watered by the river
Naver, and the conflict was maintained with so
fierce and exterminating a spirit, that out of twelve
hundred only nine men returned from the field.
Amid such a butchery it cannot be ascertained, and
the information is scarce worth seeking, to whom
the victory belonged ; but to the peaceable inhabi-
tants of the country the consequences of the conflict
were peculiarly grievous, by throwing it into a
state of insecurity and terror. Every man who
had lost a friend or a relative in the battle con-
sidered it a sacred duty to allow himself no rest till
he had inflicted a bloody retaliation on those by
whom he had fallen ; and this feudal privilege, or
rather duty, drew after it a series of spoliations,
slaughters, and atrocities which interrupted for the
time all regular industry and improvement.

Determined that these things should have an end,
James, notwithstanding the advanced season of the
year, summoned his nobles with their feudal ser-
vices to meet him at Perth : whence, having first
held a Parliament, and raised supplies to defray the
expenses of the expedition, he proceeded at the
head of a force sufficient to overawe all opposition
to Dunstaffinch Castle. From this it was his
determination to pass into the Western Isles and
inflict an exemplary punishment upon the piratic
chiefs who had been lately concerned in the rebel-
lion of Donald Balloch, but any further progress
was found unnecessary. The royal standard had
scarcely waved from the towers of Dunstaffinch,

22 JAMES THE FIRST.

when the monarch found himself surrounded by
crowds of suppliant chieftains, who brought their
men and their ships to his assistance ; and, im-
ploring pardon for a co-operation with a tyrant
whose power it would have been death to resist,
renewed their homage with every expression of
devoted loyalty. James, however, as the price of
his mercy, insisted that they should deliver over to
him the principal offenders in the late disgraceful
scenes of outrage and rebellion ; and although many
of these were their friends and vassals, disobedience
to the demand was impossible. Three hundred
robbers, men hardened in crime and trained from
their early years to blood and rapine, were brought
bound hand and foot and delivered to the monarch.
The spectacle of this ferocious troop, marching
along, and guarded by the officers of the King,
had a salutary effect in impressing upon the
people of this district an idea of the certainty
and severity of the law, which was not lessened
when, with that inexorable justice which distin-
guished, and almost blemished, his character, James
ordered them all to immediate execution*.

Having by such methods, perhaps, the only
course which could have succeeded in this iron
age, re-established the order and security of his
northern dominions, the King found time to de-
vote himself to more pacific cares. His twin sons
were baptized with great splendour and solemnity,
the Earl of Douglas standing godfather. Of these
boys the eldest was named Alexander, and died
very young ; but the second took the name of his

* Acts of Parliament, vol. ii., p. 20 ; Buchanan, b. x.?
c. 33—36.

JAMES THE FIRST. 23

father, and succeeded him in the throne. Both
the infants were created knights at the font ; and
in honour of the occasion the Monarch bestowed
the same dignity upon fifty other youths selected
from the noblest families in the country. Feast-
ing, games, tournaments, and every species of
feudal revelry accompanied the ceremony ; and the
people, who had perhaps been somewhat alarmed
at the excessive sternness with which the laws had
been executed against the guilty, were pleased to
discover that to the peaceable and orderly-disposed
classes of his subjects no prince could be more
courteous, accessible, and even affectionate.

In the midst of these rejoicings a terrible guest
revisited Scotland. So far back as 1348 the pes-
tilence had carried off almost a third of the whole
population. It had returned in 1361, — again in
1378 had committed very fatal ravages ; and now,
after an interval of more than half a century, it
once more broke out, to the dismay of the people,
who had scarcely begun to enjoy the sweets of
security under a regular government, when they
were attacked by this new calamity. Nearly about
the same time there occurred a total eclipse of the
sun, which for a short time involved the whole
country in darkness as deep as midnight ; and
whilst the pestilence stalked abroad, and the
blessed and healthy light of heaven was with-
held, mens' minds became agitated with super-
stitious terror of the pestilence ; the ravages were
very great*. There can be little doubt that the
poverty of the lower classes, the cessation of
the labours of agriculture by the prevalence of
* Fordun a Hearne. vol. iv., p. 1307.

•24 JAMES THE FIRST.

private war, the plunder of the industrious pea-
santry, and the consequent relapse of large
districts, once fertile and cultivated, into a state
of nature, aggravated, to the greatest degree, if
they did not actually occasion this dreadful national
scourge.

It is melancholy to find that amid this general
distress the fires of religious persecution were
again kindled in the heart of the country. The
reader is already familiar with the fate of Resby,
the undaunted disciple of Wickliff, who, twenty-
eight years before this, was condemned by Lau-
rence of Lindores, and fearlessly refusing to retract
his opinions, suffered at the stake in 1405. The
Church were not then, probably, aware of the ex-
tent to which his doctrines had spread amongst
-the people ; but it is certain that they had been
adopted by a very considerable sect of disciples
who met in secret, freely and boldly attacked the
fundamental errors of the Romish faith, and appeal-
ing to the written word of God as the single test of
truth, rejected its splendid and imposing ceremo-
nial, as founded on the fallible traditions of man.
It was natural that these supporters of the truth,
whilst they concealed their opinions from the
world, should be anxious to open a communication
with their brethren on the Continent who had
adopted the doctrines of Wickliff, and for this
purpose Paul Crawar, a Bohemian physician,
arrived in Scotland, soon after James's return
from his second expedition to the north. His
ostensible object seemed to be the practice of his
art, regarding his eminence in which he brought
letters which spoke in the highest terms, but it

JAMES THE FIRST. 25

was soon discovered that, in the exercise of a pro-
fession which admitted him into the confidence
and privacy of domestic life, he seized every op-
portunity of disseminating principles subversive
of the ancient doctrines of the Church, and of
exposing the ignorance, cunning, and rapacity of
the priesthood.

It was not to be expected that such conduct
should long escape the jealous vigilance of the
clergy, and that same Laurence of Lindores, who
had signalized himself by his zeal against Resby,
determined that his successor should also feel the
strength of his inquisitorial powers. Crawar was
accordingly summoned before him, and although
he defended his tenets with remarkable courage
and acuteness, his piety and learning were little
convincing to the tribunal before which he pleaded.
It appeared indeed at his examination, that, under
the garb of a physician, he was a zealous minister
of the word of God, and had been deputed by the
citizens of Prague, a city which had adopted the
tenets of Wickliff, to keep alive in Scotland the
flame of reformation originally kindled by Resby.
An ancient historian of these times has left us a
summary of the articles of his creed. He taught
that the Bible ought to be freely communicated
to the people ; that the civil magistrate had a right
to arraign and punish delinquent ecclesiastics ;
that the efficacy of pilgrimages, the existence of
purgatory, the doctrine of transubstantiation, the
system of penance and absolution, and the power
of the keys claimed by the Roman pontiff, were
all inventions and delusions of men. In the

26 JAMES THE FIRST.

administration of the Lord's Supper, he and his
disciples, renouncing as too complicated and
artificial the splendid ceremonial of the Romish
church, adhered as much as possible to the primi-
tive simplicity of apostolic times. They com-
menced the service by repeating the Lord's Prayer ;
the chapters of the New Testament were then read
which contained the history of the institution of
the Supper, and they then proceeded to distribute
the elements, using common bread and a common
chalice *.

It is very evident that, in such tenets and prac-
tices, we discover not merely the twilight, but a
near approximation to the full blaze of the Refor-
mation ; and when they once detected the powerful,
consistent, and systematic attack which had thus
been made against the whole fabric of their
Church, we are not to wonder that the Romanists
became seriously alarmed. Unfortunately, James
the First had imbibed under Henry the Fourth and
Fifth an early disposition towards religious per-
secution. These monarch s were ever ready to
purchase the friendship of the influential body of
the Clergy, at the price of religious persecution t
and the Scottish monarch, in the prosecution of
his schemes for humbling the power of the greater
barons, was ready to pay in the same coin for the
same commodity : Crawar, therefore, had nothing
to hope for from the clemency of the sovereign,
and refusing to retract his belief in the great
truths which he had so ably defended, he was con
demned, and led to the stake. The sight of the
* Fordun, vol. ii.; p. 495.

JAMES THE FIRST. 27

flames did not shake his resolution even for a
moment, and he suffered not only with constancy,
but with triumph.

On his return to his dominions after his long
detention in England, James, as it might have
been anticipated, found the royal lands and reve-
nues in a dilapidated condition, and his power
as an independent monarch proportionably weak-
ened. It arose from the same causes, that, during
this interval, the strength, pride, and independence
of the greater barons had increased to an alarming
degree. The Duke of Albany, anxious to secure
their support, had not dared to restrain their
excesses ; and there can be little doubt that many
grants out of the royal customs, many portions
silently cut off from the estates belonging to the
crown, were presented by this crafty and sagacious
usurper to those barons whose good offices he was
anxious to secure, or whose enmity he was de-
sirous to neutralize. That all this had taken place
could not long be concealed from the King, but
on his first assuming the government he was
neither fully informed of the extent of the abuse,
nor prepared to administer a remedy. When,
however, he became more firmly seated on the
throne, when he felt his own strength, and had
exhibited to his nobles and his people that remark-
able mixture of wisdom, vigour and severity, which
formed his character, the purposes of the prince
and the feelings of the people experienced a change.
It became evident to the monarch, that, unless he
succeeded in curtailing the overgrown power of
his nobles, and recovering for the crown the wealth
and the influence which it had lost, he must be

28 JAMES THE FIRST.

contented to be little more than a nominal sove-
reign ; and, on the other hand, it was not long
before the aristocracy were convinced that the
time had arrived when they must consent quietly
to part with no small portion of that license to do
wrong which they had arrogated to themselves
under the unprincipled administration of Albany.
Some sacrifice they were probably ready to make
rather than come into collision with a monarch of
whose indomitable energy of character they had
witnessed some appalling specimens ; but James
had determined to abridge their authority still
more effectually than they imagined, and he began
with the most powerful baron in the country — the
Earl of March.

The extent, and, still more, the situation of his
estates, rendered this feudal potentate a person of
high consequence, and entrusted him with a power
which was too great for a subject. He possessed
the strong castle of Dunbar, and his lands,
which stretched out into a little principality along
the borders, gave him a command of the prin-
cipal passes by which an enemy could enter. It
was thus a common saying that March held at
his girdle the keys of the kingdom ; and the
frequent attempts on the part of England, during
the whole course of our history, to seduce the
Earls of March from their allegiance, sufficiently
proved that the kings of that country were well
aware of the importance of the accession. Nor
had James to go far back for a proof that this
exorbitant power was a thorn in the side of the
country. The Earl who then wielded it was in-
deed more pacific and unoffending than his fore-

JAMES THE FIRST. 29

fathers ; but his father, a man of powerful talents
and restless ambition, had been the cause of great
misery to Scotland. We have seen that when the
Duke of Rothsay, James's elder brother, broke his
plighted faith to Elizabeth of Dunbar, March's
daughter, this haughty baron fled in disgust to
England ; and, renouncing his allegiance, invaded
his native country in company with Hotspur *.
The calamitous defeat at Homildon had been
chiefly ascribed to his military skill, and for eight
years he had remained in England an able rene-
gade, attached to the interests of Henry the
Fourth. These were circumstances which it was
natural should impart to James an early antipathy
against this baron ; and his return to Scotland, on
the accession of Albany, where he continued to
enjoy the favour and protection of the usurper,
was not calculated to diminish the impression.
The elder March, whose career we- have just de-
scribed, continued to reside in Scotland from 1408
to 1420, the period of his death, in the full pos-
session of his hereditary power and estates, and
his son succeeded quietly to the immense property
of his father.

Certainly, in strict justice, nothing could be more
irregular than all this. The elder March had been
guilty not of an act but of a life of treason ; and
there can be no doubt that, under Robert the
Third, his whole estates were forfeited to the
Crown. Albany's government, on the other hand,
was one long act of usurpation, that of his son
Murdoch stood exactly in the same predicament ;
and although by their authority the father and the
* Vol. ii., Lives of Scottish Worthies, p. 240.

30 JAMES THE FIRST.

son had been permitted for sixteen years to pos-
sess their estates, yet it will not admit of a doubt
that, according to the strict principles of the feudal
law, this could not remove the sentence of for-
feiture ; James rightly reasoned that nothing short
of an act of pardon and indemnity by his father
or himself could have restored the Earl to the le-
gitimate possession of the lands which he had
forfeited. Till then, in the eye of the law, his
blood was tainted, his title extinct, his possessions
the sole property of the Crown, and he himself a
nameless and landless traitor : but although such
were the strict principles by which we must con-
sider the situation of this powerful baron, the King
appears, for ten years after his return to his do-
minions, to have permitted him to enjoy his here-
ditary estate and title. It may be observed, how-
ever, that the Earl of March was one of those
barons who were arrested by James immediately
previous to the execution of Duke Murdoch and
his sons ; and it is quite possible that some trans-
action may have then taken place, of which no
record now remains, but which, if known, would
have placed the conduct of the king in a less
harsh light than we view it through the meagre
records which have been left. Yet, it must be
allowed that all that we know of the character of
this monarch renders it probable that he dissembled
his designs against March till he found himself
strong enough to carry them into execution, per-
mitting him to enjoy his title and his lands, but
abstaining from every act which might be pleaded
on as having removed the forfeiture.

The period, however, had now arrived when

JAMES THE FIRST. 31

the long-protracted sentence was to be enforced
against him. In the Parliament which as-
sembled at Perth, in January, 1434, the question
regarding the property of the late Earl of March,
and its reversion to the crown, was discussed with
great solemnity. The advocates of the king,
and the counsel for the person then in possession,
were first heard, after which the judges declared
it to be their unanimous opinion, that, in con-
sequence of the treason of Lord George of Dunbar,
formerly Earl of March, the lands held by that
baron, and the feudal dignities attached to them,
had reverted to the King, to whom as the foun-
tain of all honour and property, they now be-
longed. The strict justice of this sentence could
not be questioned, and it met with no oppo-
sition either from the Earl or his adherents ; but
it becomes not a sovereign to inflict, on all occa-
sions, the extremest sentence of the law, and nei-
ther the nobility nor the people could see without
emotion a baron of ancient and noble lineage re-
duced at once to the condition of a nameless out-
cast, and estates, which for many centuries had
been possessed without challenge, torn from
his hands to enrich the coffers of the Crown.
The King himself appears to have been solicitous
to soften the blow to March : he created him Earl
of Buchan, and out of the revenues of this northern
principality bestowed on him an annual pension
of four hundred marks ; but he disdained to accept
a title which he considered as a badge of his degra-
dation, and, forsaking his country with mingled feel-
ings of grief and indignation, retired to England*.
* Acts of the Parliament of Scotland, vol. ii., p. 23.

32 JAMES THE FIRST.

In a former Parliament, a statute had been passed
by which all alienations of lands made by the
governor of the realm, in consequence of the de-
mise of a bastard, were declared to be revocable
by the Crown, although the transaction had been
completed by feudal investiture. It is by no
means unlikely that this was connected with other
acts, by which all transactions of Albany and
Murdoch, in relation to the landed property of the
kingdom, might become subject to challenge.
These statutes, when viewed in connexion with
the fate of March, were enough to alarm the nobi-
lity, and by degrees, as the stern character of the
King developed itself, and the patient but unbending
vigour with which he pursued his designs became
apparent, a dark suspicion began to arise in their
minds that should he live to complete them, the
power and independence of the Scottish aristocracy
would be at an end. They could not conceal
from themselves that, if rigidly scrutinised, the
titles by which they held their estates were, in
some cases, as questionable as that of March,
and their conscience probably brought to their
recollection many transactions during James's
captivity in England, which if strictly investigated,
approached indefinitely near to treason. These
circumstances did not fail to create feelings of
distrust and insecurity on the part of his nobles
towards their sovereign, which, although con-
cealed at present under an affected acquiescence
in the royal will, could not long exist in a
fendal government, without leading to some open
rupture. An unusual transaction took place
before the Parliament was dissolved; the King

JAMES THE FIRST. 33

required the whole lords temporal and spiritual, as
well as the commissaries of the burghs, to give
their bonds of adherence and fealty to the Queen
before returning to their homes *. It may, per-
haps, be inferred from this that James had already
causes for distrust and suspicion, but this is con-
jectural.

The truce with England still continued, and the
government of Henry the Sixth, alarmed by the
successes of the Maid of Orleans, who had wrested
from the English a great portion of their French
conquests, became anxious for the conclusion of a
lasting peace between the two countries. To pur-
chase this, the English Regency declared them-
selves ready to deliver Berwick and Roxburgh into
the hands of the Scots, and the King having as-
sembled a Parliament, the proposal appeared to
the temporal barons and the majority of the pre-
lates far too advantageous to be^ declined. There
appears, however, to have been a strong party,
headed by the Abbots of Scone and Inchcolm,
which, from their attachment to the interests of
France, contended that it was impossible to go
into these proposals without breaking the late
treaties of alliance and marriage between that coun-
try and Scotland ; and such was the force of the
arguments they employed, that the Parliament
at first delayed their answer, and finally rejected
the overtures of peace f. This appears to have
led to a renewal of hostilities upon the borders,
and a wanton infraction of the truce by Sir Robert
Ogle, one of those stirring feudal knights who

* Acts of Parliament, vol. ii., p. 292.
+ Fordun a Hearne, vol. iv., pp. 1309, 1310
VOL. III. D

34 JAMES THE FIRST.

languished under any long continuance of peace.
Breaking across the marches at the head of a
strong body of men at arms, and without any
object but plunder and defiance, he was met by the
Earl of Angus, Hepburn of Hailes, and Ramsay
of Dalhousie, near Piperden, and completely de-
feated, himself taken prisoner, and almost the
whole of his party cut to pieces.

It was now time to send the Princess Margaret,
who had reached her tenth year, to her consort the
Dauphin. A small squadron of three ships and
six barges was fitted out, and placed under the
command of the Earl of Orkney, High Admiral of
Scotland. A guard of a hundred and forty youthful
squires, selected from the noblest families in the
land, and a thousand men at arms, attended the
bride ; and the Bishop of Brechin, Ogilvy the
High Treasurer, Sir John Maxwell, Sir John
Wischart, and many other barons and knights,
accompanied her to France. Anxious by every
method to prevent an alliance in which they saw
an increase of the hostility of Scotland, and a
dangerous accession of strength to France, the
English Regents fitted out a large fleet, which was
anchored off Brest, with the object of intercepting
and seizing the Princess on her passage to her
husband. It was impossible that the Scottish
monarch should be unmoved at an insult like this,
committed in a time of truce, and which reminded
him of the parallel treachery of which he had
himself been the victim. The scheme, however,
fortunately failed, the little fleet of the Princess,
having escaped the vigilance of the English, en-
tered the port of Rochelle, where she was received

JAMES THE FIRST. 35

by the Archbishop of Rheims, and a brilliant
train of French nobility, and the marriage was
afterwards celebrated with great magnificence at
Tours. The character of the French Prince, to
whom she was united, and who became afterwards
known as Lewis the Eleventh, is familiar to most
readers, and her lot as his wife was singularly
wretched.

The late infraction of the truce, and this un-
worthy attempt to intercept the Princess, effectually
roused the King, and he determined to renew the
war. It is not improbable that there were other
motives : James may have deemed a renewal of
hostilities the best method of giving employment
to many discontented spirits, who in peace were
likely to be more mischievously engaged. But
the army which he assembled, although numerous,
was weakened by disaffection ; and after having
for fifteen days laid siege to Roxburgh, the cam-
paign concluded in an abrupt and mysterious
manner. The Queen suddenly arrived in the
camp, and although the place was not expected to
hold out many days longer, the. King, with a haste
which inferred some secret cause of danger and
alarm, disbanded his army and precipitately re-
turned to his capital*. This was in August.
Two months after a Parliament assembled at
Edinburgh, in which nothing transpired or was
enacted which throws light upon these suspicions.
The probability is that discontentment, perhaps
conspiracy, continued to exist; but we have no
clue to unravel it, and events for a short space
seemed to reassume their ordinary tenor.

* Fordun a Goodal; vol. ii.; p. 502.
D 2

36 JAMES THE FIRST.

We are now arrived at that gloomy period when
a reign, hitherto more than commonly prosperous,
and in which the Monarch carried through his
schemes with an energy and ability which seemed
to promise a long career, was destined to close
with an appalling suddenness. It is to be regretted
that, at this interesting moment, the accounts of
our contemporary historians, and the evidence of
our national records, are both extremely indistinct
and unsatisfactory, so that the causes of the con-
spiracy against James the First are involved in
-much obscurity. In the feelings indeed of a great
proportion of persons in the country, any daring
individuals desirous of effecting a revolution, might
have discovered ample ground for hope and encou-
ragement. The rigour with which the King carried
on the administration, whilst it gave a happy in-
terval of comfort and security to the people, was
displeasing to a large portion of the nobility ;
and the contrast between the feudal license and
privileged disorder of the government of Albany,
with the rigid justice and severity of James, was
deplored by many fierce spirits to whom rapine had
become a trade and a delight. To these, any
prospect of a change could not fail to be accept-
able ; and it must be remembered, that, according
to the miserable principles of the feudal system
then in full force in Scotland, the disaffection of
any baron was sure to draw along with it the enmity
jof the whole body of his followers.

But in accounting for the designs against this
Monarch, it is also to be remembered, that there
must have been many, and these of the highest
rank, who were animated by a still deeper enmity.

JAMES THE FIRST. 37

The impression made upon the numerous con-
nexions of the unfortunate Albany and Lennox r
by the unmeasured severity of their punishment,
was not to be easily eradicated. Revenge was a
feudal duty, and such were the dark principles of
this iron time, that the longer it was delayed the
more fully and the more unsparingly was the debt
of blood exacted. These circumstances, how-
ever, are to be considered not as the causes, but
the encouragements, of a conspiracy, the actual
history of which is involved in obscurity. The
great actors in the plot were Sir Robert Graham,
Walter, Earl of Athole, a son of Robert the Se-
cond, and his grandson, Sir Robert Stewart,
Chamberlain to the King. In Graham, the mo-
tives which led to his mortal enmity against the
King have been clearly ascertained. At the time
of the execution of Albany this baron had been
imprisoned, in common with other adherents of
that powerful family, but, in addition to this cause
of quarrel, the conduct of James in seizing, or
resuming the Earldom of Strathern, had created
a determined purpose of revenge. David, Earl of
Strathern, was the eldest son of Robert the Second,
by his second marriage with Euphemia Ross.
This David left an only child, a daughter, who
married Patrick Graham, son of Sir Patrick Gra-
ham of Kincardine, and, in right of his wife,
by the acknowledged law of Scotland, which al-
lowed the transmission of feudal dignities through
females, Earl of Strathern. To her eldest son,
by the same law, the estates and the dignity of
this earldom unquestionably belonged ; but the
King contended that it was a male fief, and that,

38 JAMES THE FIRST.

upon the death of David, Earl of Strathern, it
ought to have reverted to the crown. He accord-
ingly dispossessed Malise Graham, and seized the
estates of Strathern; but, to reconcile his nobility
in some degree to the severity of such a proceed-
ing, he conferred the life-rent of the earldom upon
Athole, and erected the new earldom of Menteith
in favour of Graham.

At the time that he was thus deprived of his
paternal inheritance, Malise was in England, de-
tained as one of the hostages for the payment of
the money due by James ; but Robert Graham,
his uncle, indignantly remonstrated against the
wrong done to his nephew; and finding his repre-
sentations ineffectual, determined on revenge. The
character of this baron was of that dark and power-
ful kind which made him a dangerous enemy. He
was cruel, crafty, and eloquent ; he could conceal
his private ambition under the specious veil of zeal
for the public good ; he pursued his purposes with
a courage superior to the sense of danger, and
followed the instinct of his revenge with a delight
unchecked either by mercy or remorse. Of all
these qualities he gave ample proof in the events
which followed.

It may be doubted whether he at first ven-
tured to explain to the nobles, whom he had at-
tached to his party, any more serious design
than that of abridging the power of the King
under which they had lately suffered so severely,
and resuming into their own hands not only the
lands of which they had been deprived, but the
feudal prerogatives which had been, by the late
acts of the legislature, so materially curtailed.

JAMES THE FIRST. 39

Animated by this desire it was determined that
they should draw up a list of their grievances, for
the purpose of presenting it to the monarch. The
first was an easy task to discontented men ; but
all shrunk from laying it before the Parliament,
till Graham, having first made them promise that
they would support him against the royal displea-
sure, undertook the dangerous commission. His
daring character, however, hurried him into an
excess for which his associates were not pre-
pared. He described, in glowing colours, the
tyranny of the government; adverted to the ruin
which had fallen on the noblest houses ; to the
destruction which might be meditated against them
at that moment by a Prince who wrested the ancient
laws and customs of the kingdom to suit the pur-
poses of his own ambition ; and, appealing to the
barons who surrounded him, implored them to save
themselves and the country, were it even at the ex-
pense of subjecting to restraint the person of the
sovereign. This audacious speech was pronounced
in the royal presence ; and the barons, habituated to
respect, or rather to fear their prince, gazed silently
on each other. It was a moment of fearful sus-»
pense ; and all hung upon the resolution of the
Monarch. But this was a quality in which James
Was never deficient. A glance of his eye con-
vinced him that his enemies were hesitating; he
started from his throne, and in a stern voice com-
manding them to arrest the traitor who had dared to
insult him to his face, was promptly obeyed. The
result, for the time, appeared to strengthen the
party of the King ; and Graham, uttering impre-
cations against the weakness of his associates, was

40 JAMES THE FIRST,

hurried to prison ; soon after banished from court,
and his estates confiscated to the crown.

It is evident, I think, that this first plot which
concluded in the banishment of Graham, and the
temporary triumph of the King, must be distin-
guished from the second conspiracy whose termi-
nation was so fatally different. The first was an
association of the barons entered into for the pur-
pose of imposing some restraint upon that un-
scrupulous severity with which they were treated.
That a large proportion of his nobility were
disaffected to the government of James can-
not be doubted, and the sudden arrival of the
Queen in the camp before Roxburgh, the imme-
diate disbanding of the army, and the return of
the monarch to his dominions, demonstrate very
clearly that he had received information of the
association against him, and that he suspected his
enemies were amongst the leaders of his army. But
whilst such was the case, it is equally clear that the
conspiracy was against the authority, not against
the life of the monarch, and that the farthest point
to which Graham had brought his associates was
to make a bold and simultaneous effort to abridge
the power of which they had lately experienced
such mortifying effects. In this first association
also it is manifest that Athole and Stewart took not
a more prominent part than others of the nobility.
We may be assured that a Sovereign possessed of
the vigour and acuteness of James, having re-
ceived so appalling a warning, would not rest till
he had thoroughly investigated the whole matter,
and the single banishment of the principal traitor
appears to prove that although aware of the disaf-

JAMES THE FIRST. 41

fection which had united his nobility against him,
he deemed the disease too general to render it
prudent in him to make it the subject of punish-
ment.

In the mean time, Graham, a proscribed and
landless fugitive, buried himself in the recesses
of the Highlands, where he brooded over his
wrongs and meditated a desperate revenge. But
it is impossible to deny that there was some-
thing great in the mode in which he proceeded.
He sent a letter to the King, in which he renounced
his allegiance, defied him as a cruel tyrant, who
had ruined his house, and warned him that, wher-
ever they met, he would slay him as his mortal
enemy. The circumstance was well known at
Court, and men aware of the dark character of its
author, and the fierce spirits whom a man of his
family and connexions might muster for the accom-
plishment of his purposes, wondered at the indif-
ference with which it was received ; but, although
James despised his threats as proceeding from a
vagabond traitor, a proclamation was made for
his apprehension, and a large sum fixed on his
head. It is from this moment we may date the
connexion between Graham and the Earl of
Athole, and now the conspiracy appears to have
been concerted which aimed at nothing less than
the destruction of the monarch and the settlement
of the Crown upon the children of Euphemia Ross.
In unravelling this dark plot it must be recollected
that Athole was the son of Robert the Second by
Euphemia Ross, the second queen of that monarch.
It is said to have been early predicted to him by a
Highland seer, that he should not die before his

42 JAMES THE FIRST.

brows were encircled by a crown, and a singular
and unexpected combination of events had undoubt-
edly brought him not very far from the accom-
plishment of the prediction. By the murder of
the Duke of Roth say, the death of Albany, and
the execution of Murdoch and his sons, the whole
descendants of the first marriage of Robert the
Second were removed, with the exception of James
the First and his son, an infant. Although nothing
could be more legitimate or unquestionable than
the right of the King then reigning to the throne,
still we are not to wonder that Athole, whose rea-
sonings were coloured by his ambition, easily per-
suaded himself there was a flaw in his title. Ro-
bert the Third, he contended, had been born out of
lawful wedlock, and that no subsequent marriage
could confer legitimacy upon a child so situated :
the extinction of the line of Albany and Buchan
therefore opened up the succession to the children
of the second marriage of Robert with Euphemia
Ross, and these children were himself, and David,
Earl of Strathern. Shallow as were these pre-
tences,— for Athole could not be ignorant of the
papal deed which destroyed all his reasonings — they
appeared sufficient to his ambition, and the ex-
ample of Henry the Fourth, who had expelled from,
the throne his hereditary sovereign, upon a claim
still more unsound, held out encouragement to the
Scottish conspirators. With the exception of Gra-
ham, Athole, and Stewart, the other persons en-
gaged in the plot were few in number, and of low
rank. Christopher and Thomas Chambers, who
appear to have been dependants on the House of
Albany, and a knight named Hall, with his brother,

JAMES THE FIRST. 43

are the only individuals whose names have been
preserved; but the influence of the leaders had
raised a body of three hundred Highlanders, with-
out whose assistance it would have been difficult
to have effected their designs.

Whilst Graham thus matured his sanguinary
purpose in the Highlands, the Earl of Athole and
his grandson, Stewart, who was chamberlain to the
King, and a great favourite with James, continued
at court eagerly watching the most favourable mo-
ment to carry it into execution. Christmas ap-
proached, and the monarch determined to keep
the festival at Perth, a resolution which the con-
spirators heard with satisfaction, as it facilitated
their designs by bringing their victim to the
confines of the Highlands. They accordingly re-
solved that the murder should be perpetrated at
this sacred season, and having completed their
preparations, awaited the arrival of the King, who
soon after set out on his progress to the North.
As he was about to pass the Forth surrounded by
his nobles, a Highland Spae Wife, or prophetess,
suddenly started from the crowd, and addressing
the monarch, implored him to desist from his
journey, adding, ' that if he crossed that water, he
would never return alive.' James was struck by
the boldness and solemnity in the manner of the
ancient sybil, and reining up his horse for a mo-
ment, commanded a knight who rode beside him
to inquire into her meaning. But, whether from
carelessness or treachery, the commission was
hurriedly executed, the courtier pronounced her
either mad or intoxicated, and the King, giving

44 JAMES THE FIRST.

orders to proceed, crossed the fatal river, and rode
on to Perth. On his arrival there he took up his
residence in the Monastery of the Dominicans,
which was situated at some little distance from the
town, but, from its ample dimensions, was fitted to
contain the whole royal retinue. The court is said
to have been unusually splendid : the days were spent
in hunting, in tournaments, and martial games ;
the masque, the dance, the harp, and the song
occupied the night : and Athole and Stewart,
communicating with Graham, had matured their
plans, and fixed the hour for the murder, whilst
their unconscious victim believed that every dis-
content had been forgotten, and gave himself up to
unrestrained enjoyment. It was on the night be-
tween the 20th and 21st of February that they re-
solved to consummate their atrocious purpose.
On that evening the King had been unusually gay,
and the revels were kept up to a late hour. James
even jested about a prophecy which had foretold
that a king should be slain that year ; and being
engaged in a game of chess with a young knight
whom, from his singular beauty, he was accus-
tomed to call the King of Love, warned him play-
fully to look well to himself, as they two were the
only kings in the land.

During these pastimes, Stewart, whose office of
chamberlain facilitated his treachery by giving him
immediate access to the royal apartments, had
removed the bolts and destroyed the locks of the
King's bedchamber, and also of the outer apart-
ment beyond it which communicated with the
passage. He had likewise placed wooden boards

JAMES THE FIRST. 45

across the moat which surrounded the monastery
over which the conspirators might pass without
alarming the warder, and he anxiously awaited
the moment when the King should retire to rest.
At this moment, when James was still engaged
at chess, Christopher Chambers, one of the con-
spirators, seized with a sudden fit of remorse,
approached the monarch, intending to warn him of
his danger; but, unable to press through the crowd
which filled the presence-chamber, he was com-
pelled to desist. It was now past midnight, and the
monarch expressed his wish that the revels should
break up, a resolution which Athole heard with se-
cret satisfaction, for he knew that Graham was
now near, and only waited for the signal that the
palace was at rest. But at this moment, when
James had called for the parting cup, and the com-
pany were dispersing, a last effort was made to
save him. The faithful Highland Sybil, who inter-
rupted his progress at the Forth, had followed the
court to Perth, and, in an agony of grief and
emotion, presented herself once more at the door
of the presence-chamber, loudly demanding to see
the King. James was informed of her wishes ;
and on the decision of the moment his fate seemed
to hang. Had he admitted her, it was not yet too
late to have defeated the purposes of his enemies;
but, after hesitating for a moment, he bade her
return and tell her errand in the morning, and she
was forced to leave the monastery, observing,
mournfully, that they would never meet again.

The King by this time had undressed himself,
Athole and Stewart, the chamberlain, who were
the last to leave the apartment, had retired,

46 JAMES THE FIRST.

and James stood in his night gown gaily talking
with the Queen and her ladies of the bedchamber,
when the noise of a clang of weapons and a
sudden glare of torches in the outer court threw
them into alarm. It was then, for the first time,
that a suspicion of treason, and a dread that it
might be the traitor Graham, darted into his
mind ; and whilst the Queen and her women flew
to secure the door of the apartment, James anxi-
ously examined the windows, which, to his dismay,
he found were secured by iron bolts of such
strength as to make escape impossible. It was
discovered at the same moment that the locks of
the door were removed, and, convinced beyond a
doubt that his destruction was intended, the King,
as a last resource, seized the tongs which stood
in the fireplace, and forcibly wrenching up one of
the boards of the floor, let himself down into a
small vault situated beneath the bedchamber ;
dropping the plank again, which fitted into
its original place, and thus completely concealed
him. During this, a feeble attempt to barricade
the door was made by the Queen, and one of
the ladies, a daughter of the house of Douglas,
with heroic resolution, thrust her arm into the iron
staple from which the bolt had been removed. But
the fragile impediment was soon snapped by the
brutal violence opposed to it, and the next moment
the conspirators, having slain one of the royal
pages whom they met in the passage, burst into the
apartment, brandishing their naked weapons, and
calling loudly for the King. They had even the
brutality to wound the Princess, who, paralysed
with horror, stood rooted to the floor, clad only

JAMES THE FIRST. 47

in her kirtle, with her hair loosely streaming over
her shoulders*. A son of Graham, however, up-
braiding them with their cowardice, and perceiving
that the King had escaped, commanded them to
leave the women and search the chamber. So
effectually, however, had James concealed himself,
that their labour was vain, and, suspecting that the
victim whom they sought was concealed elsewhere,
they extended their scrutiny to the outer chambers,
and afterwards dispersed themselves over the re-
moter parts of the monastery.

There appeared, therefore, a probability that
James would still escape ; and, in the agony of
the moment, he joyfully recollected that the vault
where he was now hid had a communication with
the outer court by means of a drain large enough
to admit his body : but, on examining it, the aper-
ture had been built up, because the tennis balls
had frequently been lost in it, and this last hope
was cut off.

The alarm, however, had now spread from the
monastery to the town ; the nobles who were
quartered there, having risen in arms, were has-
tening to the spot ; and, although Graham had
secured the outer court by his Highlanders, they
could not long have withstood the numbers which
would have mustered against them. The con-
cealment where the King lay had as yet completely
eluded the utmost search of the conspirators, and,
as rescue was near, it seemed likely that, had he
remained quiet for a very short interval, he must
have escaped. But he was ruined by his impa-
tience. Hearing no stir, and imagining that his

* Contemporary account published by Pinkerton, Hist.,
TOl. i., p. 468.

48 JAMES THE FIRST.

enemies had left the apartment not to return, James
called to those above to take the sheets from the
bed, and draw him out of the narrow chamber
where he stood. The strength of the Queen and
her ladies was insufficient to the task ; and Eli-
zabeth Douglas, in attempting it, fell down into the
vault, whilst the noise occasioned by the accident
recalled Thomas Chambers, one of the conspirators,
who immediately recollected the small closet be-
neath the bed-chamber, and traced the sound to
that quarter. A moment's inspection showed him
the broken plank, and, holding his torch to the place,
he saw clearly the King and the unfortunate lady
who had fallen beside him. A savage shout made
his companions aware of the discovery, and calling
out that they had found the bride for whom they
had sought and carolled all night long, Sir John
Hall leapt down with his drawn sword, followed
by his brother. James, however, who was an
athletic and very powerful man, made a desperate
resistance, although unarmed and almost naked.
Seizing first Hall, and afterwards his brother, by
the throat, he grappled with them in a mortal
struggle, and succeeded in throwing both below
his feet. Such was the convulsive strength with
which they had been handled, that at their execu-
tion a month after, the marks of the King's grasp
were discernible upon their persons. But in these
efforts his hands were dreadfully cut, and his
strength exhausted. Sir Robert Graham, at this
juncture, rushed into the apartment, and instantly
threw himself, with his drawn sword, upon his
victim, who earnestly implored his life, though it
were at the expense of half his kingdom. But his
mortal enemy was deaf to his entreaties. ' Thou

JAMES THE FIRST. 49

cruel tyrant,' said he, ' thou never hadst compas-
sion on thine own noble kindred : wherefore expect
none now.' * At least,' said James, * let me have
a confessor, for the good of my soul.' * None/
cried Graham, * none shalt thou have, but this
sword.' Saying this he wounded him mortally in
the body, and his unhappy victim, exhausted by
his former struggles, fell down covered with blood,,
yet still faintly imploring his life. It is said that, at
this moment, even the iron heart of the murderer
revolted from the piteous scene, and he was about
to come up, leaving the King still breathing, when
his companions, who stood above, threatened him
with instant death, unless he completed the work.
This he at length did, assisted by the two Halls ;
but so tenacious was the miserable sufferer of life,
that he was almost cut to pieces by repeated wounds
before he expired. The whole scene was most
shocking, and rather a butchery than a murder.
The ruffians now sought anxiously for the Queen,
but the lengthened resistance of her husband had
given her time to escape ; and, as the tumult
increased in the town, and some of the nobles-
were seen hastening to the monastery, the con-
spirators deemed it prudent to retire. They were
seen crossing the outer moat, and flying in the
direction of the Highlands. One of them only,
and he a person of inferior note, was overtaken
and slain, but the rest succeeded in burying them-
selves in the remote fastnesses of Athole.

Here, however, they were not long suffered to
remain ; and such was the horror and execration
with which the accounts of James's death were re-
ceived throughout the country, and the activity of

50 JAMES THE FIRST.

the pursuit, that in less than a month all the mur-
derers were taken and executed. Graham, the
arch-traitor, who had been the principal contriver
and executioner of the whole, maintained his firm
and vindictive character to the last, — enduring
without a murmur the complicated tortures inflicted
on him, and not only justifying his conduct but
glorying in his success. He audaciously pleaded
before his judges, that, having renounced his alle-
giance, he could not be accused of treason to a
monarch of whom he was no longer a subject ;
that he had defied the King as his mortal enemy,
and had a right to slay him wherever they met, as
his feudal equal, without being amenable to any
human tribunal. As for the rest, he said, although
they might now exhaust their ingenuity in his tor-
tures, the time would soon arrive when they would
gratefully acknowledge that his sword had de-
livered them from a merciless tyrant. These sen-
timents were no vain or empty boasts. They
were uttered in the midst of tortures, at the recital
of which humanity shudders, — when the flesh of
the victim was torn off by burning pincers, and his
son, who had been the companion of his crime,
was exposed, mangled and dying, before the eyes
of his father. The rest of the conspirators, Sir
Robert Stewart, Chambers, the two Halls, and
Athole, were all executed at the same time. This
aged conspirator, who was now on the borders of
seventy, although he admitted his knowledge of
the plot, denied his being, in any degree, con-
cerned in it.

We have traced the history of James as a cap-
tive and as a monarch. It remains to speak of

JAMES THE FIRST. 51

him as a man of varied and remarkable accom-
plishments, and, without entering too deeply into
antiquarian discussion, to give the general reader
some idea of his excellence as a poet and his en-
dowments as a scholar. In both these respects,
the circumstances of his checquered life conferred
on him great advantages. His education in Scot-
land under Wardlaw, his lengthened nurture in
England, his repeated residence in France, and
the leisure for study and mental cultivation which
was given by his tedious imprisonment, were much
in his favour ; yet, giving full weight to all this,
James the First was unquestionably endowed by
nature with original genius ; — that rare quality of
mind, which, had he been a subject instead of a
sovereign, would still have marked him for an ex-
traordinary man. As a boy, it is probable he had
read and delighted in the works of B arbour *, and
we may conjecture that the exploits of the re-
nowned Bruce, the chivalry of the good Sir James,
and the counsels, sage and calm, of the great
Randolph, cheered many a lonely hour in his con-
finement at Windsor. From the ' Chronicle,' too,
of the venerable Prior of Lochlevenf, with which it
is impossible that a mind so eager and inquisitive
as his should not have been acquainted, he must
have derived, not a bare chronology of the history
of his kingdom, but many fresh and romantic
pictures, descriptive of the scenery of the period
and the manners of a feudal age. But whilst the
literature of his own country could furnish him
with two such authors, he has himself informed us
that his poetical ambition was chiefly kindled by

* Life of Barbour, vol. ii., p. 158. f Ibid., p. 173.

E2

52 JAMES THE FIRST.

the study of Chaucer and Govver. ' His maisters
dere ' —

— — ' that on steppes sate

Of rhetoric, while they were lyvand l here.'

Of Chaucer, a man whose genius, in many of its
distinguishing peculiarities, has been yet unrivalled
in the history of English literature, it was the
highest praise that he created a new style, and
clothed it in a new language ; that out of the rude
and unformed materials of his native tongue, which
lay scattered around him, disdained and deserted
by the pedantry of the age, he erected a noble and
original edifice, full of delightful chambers of
imagery, furnished with the living manners and
crowded with the breathing figures of his own age,
clothed in their native dresses, and speaking their
native language.

The same praise, though certainly in an inferior
degree, is due to James the First. Although pre-
ceded by Barbour and Winton, he is the father of
the tender and romantic poetry of Scotland, — the
purifier and the reformer of the language of his
country. His greatest work, the ' King's Quhair,'
or * King's Book,' is in no part unworthy of
Chaucer, and, not un frequently, in the delicacy
and tenderness of its sentiment, superior even to
that master of the shell. ' The design, or theme,
of this work,' says that excellent author, to whose
taste and research the literary world is indebted
for its first publication, ' is the royal poet's love
for his beautiful mistress, Jane Beaufort, of whom
he became enamoured whilst a prisoner at the
castle of Windsor. The recollection of the mis-
1 living.

JAMES THE FIRST. 53

fortunes of his youth, his early and long captivity,
the incident which gave rise to his love, its purity,
constancy, and happy issue, are all set forth by way
of allegorical vision, according to the reigning
taste of the age, as we find in the poems of
Chaucer, Gower, and Lydgate, his contempora-
ries*.'

This interesting and beautiful poem opens by
a description of the captive prince and poet
stretched upon his couch at midnight. He awakes
suddenly from sleep at that silent season when the
moon, like a yellow crescent, was seen in the
heavens surrounded by the stars ' twinkling as
the fire :' —

' High in the hevynis figure circulate
The ruddy sterris l twinkling as the fire,
And in Aquary Cynthia the clear
Rinsed her tresses, like the golden wire,
That late tofore, in fair and fresh attire,
Through Capricorn heaved hir hornis bright,
North northiward approached the midnight.'
It is easy, with a slight difference, to present this
fine stanza in a modern dress, yet not without
diluting its strength, and marring its venerable
aspect : —

' High in the heavenly circle of the sky,
Twinkled the ruddy stars like sparks of fire,
And in Aquarius Cynthia shook on high
Her tresses like the threads of golden wire ;
She that of late in fair and fresh attire
Had heaved through Capricorn her crescent bright,
Now rose, whilst from the north came deep midnight.'

Unable to compose himself to rest, from the crowd
of divers fancies which flit through his mind, he

* Tytler's Poetical Remains of James the First, p. 47.
1 stars.

54 JAMES THE FIRST.

takes up a book, the treatise of Boethius — * De Con-
solatione Philosophise,' a work —

1 Schewingthe counsel of philosophy
Compylit by that noble senatoure
Of Rome, whilom that was the worldis floure.'

And after reading till his eyes began to smart, and
his head to be confused with study, he again seeks
his couch, and falls naturally into a reverie upon
the variety and fickleness of human fortune, and
his own early calamities : —

'Among thir thoughtis rolling to and fro,
Fell me to mind of my fortune and tire1:
In tender youth how she was first my foe,
And eft my friend ; and how I got recure8
Of my distress and all my aventure, —
I gan o'erhale that longer sleep ne rest,
Ne might I not, so were my wittis wrest 8.

In the midst of these perplexing thoughts the
mind of the royal captive subsides into the dreamy
state between sleeping and waking, in which out-
ward sounds are often invested by the power of fancy
with strange meaning. He hears the bell for
matins, and imagines that its silver tones bid him
compose the story of his life : —

' I listened sodaynlye,

And sone I herd the bell to matins ring,

And up I rase, no longer wald I lye ;

But now how trow ye * such a fantasy

Fell to my mind ? — that aye methotight the bell

Said to me — Tell on, man, what thee befel.'

In whatever way it arose, the poet determines to

obey the suggestion of the matin bell ; and, after

an apology for the feebleness of his powers, he

compares his difficulties in * inditing this lytill

1 trouble. 2 relief. 3 tortured. 4 how think ye ?

JAMES THE FIRST. 55

treatise ' to the perplexities of a mariner covered
with a starless sky, and steering his fragile bark
through an unknown and wintry sea. He then
invokes Calliope, Polyhymnia, and their fair sisters,
to pilot him with their bright lanterns through
the darkness which surrounds his unripe intellect,
that his pen may be enabled to describe his tor-
ment and his joy.

It would far exceed our limits to pursue this
analysis. throughout the whole course of the poem.
The royal minstrel describes his days of happy
boyhood, his embarkation for France, his unfore-
seen seizure by the English, and imprisonment at
Windsor. It was his custom, he tells us, in the
summer mornings to rise by daybreak, and enjoy,
as much as a captive might, the sweet hour of
prime, devoting it to exercise and study : —

' For which, against distress, comfort to seke,
My custom was, on mornis, for to rise
Early as day. Oh ! happy exercise ! '

He informs us that the tower wherein he was con-
fined overlooked a beautiful garden, in which there
was a green arbour, and trellised walk, so thickly
overshadowed with foliage, that they who stood be-
low were concealed completely by the umbrageous
screen. Upon the branches sat the little sweet
nightingales pouring from their loving hearts so
full a flood of song that all the garden rung with
joy and harmony. The poet listens and imagines
that the hymn of these feathered choristers is a
welcome to May. The verses are tender and
beautiful : —

' Worship ye all that lovers bene this May,
For of your bliss the Kalends are begun,

56 JAMKS THE FIRST.

And sing with us, — Away, Winter ! away !

Come, Summer ! come ! the sweet season, and sun ;

Awake ! for shame ! that have your heavenis won,
And amorously lift up your hedes * all ;
Thank Love, that list you to his mercy call.

* When they this song had sung a little thrawe 2,

They stent awhile, and therewith unafraid,
As I heheld, and cast mine eyes alawe,

From bough to bough they hoppit and they played,
And freshly in their bird is kind arrayed
Their feathers new, and fret them in the sun,
And thanked Love they had their makis 3 won.*

A witness to the transports of these free and
happy birds, trimming their coats in their leafy
chambers, and singing the praises of their mates,
the youthful prince, a captive, and cut off from
the pleasures of his kind, is led to ruminate on
that mysterious passion, which seems to confer,
even on the irrational creation, such perfect en-
joyment. ' What may this love be/ he asks him-
self, * which seems to exercise such a mastery
over the heart? Is it not, after all, a fantasy —
a counterfeited bliss — a mere creature of the
imagination ? ' —

' Is it of hym as we in bukis find ?

May he our hertis 4 settin and unbynd !

Hath he upon our hertis such maistery,

Or is this all bot feynit fantasye.
* Is Love the power that we in books him find ?

May he our wills thus fetter and unbind ?

Hath he upon our hearts such mastery,

Or is this all but feigned fantasy ?'

It is at this moment of pensive scepticism on
tlie reality of the passion that the poet, with much
taste, introduces that charming object, who was

a heads. z a short space: s mates. * hearts.

JAMES THE FIRST. 57

destined in a moment to put an end to all his
doubts, and to enlist him a happy captive in her
service. He accidentally casts his eyes from the
latticed window of his tower upon the garden
below, and there beholds a youthful lady of such
exquisite loveliness, that never till that instant had
he seen or imagined any human thing so beautiful.
It was the Lady Jane Beaufort coming forth to
her morning orisons : —

' And therewith kest I down mine eye ageyne,
Quhare, as I sawe walking under the toure,

Full secretly, new comyn her to pleyne l,
The fairest or the freschest zounge flower,
That e'er I sawe, methought, before that hour ;

For which sudden abate*, anon astert3

The blood of all my body to my heart.
4 And tho' I stood abaysit there a lite 4,

No wonder was ; for why ? — my wittis all

Were so o'ercome with plesance and delyte,
Only thro' lettin of mine eyen fall,
That sodenly my heart became her thrall

For ever, of free will ; for of menace 5

There was no token seen in her sweet face.'

Thus slightly modernised :

4 Then as it hapt, mine eyes I cast below,

And there I spied, beneath my prison tower,
Telling her beads, in walking to and fro,

The fairest and the freshest youthful flower,

That ever I beheld, before that hour j
Entranced I gazed, and, with the sudden start,

Rushed instant all my blood into my heart.

Awhile I stood abased, and speechless quite ;

Nor wonder was ; for why ? — my senses all
Were so o'ercome with pleasure and delight,

Only with letting thus my eyes to fall,

1 to petition ; to make her morning orisons.
s abate j sinking down. a started. 4 a little. 5 pride.

58 JAMES THE FIRST.

That instantly mine heart became her thrall'
. For ever, of free will ; for nought was seen
But gentleness in her soft looks serene.

In the Prince's situation, says an excellent critic,
viewing from his prison window the beautiful Jane
walking below in the palace garden, he could not
with propriety or verisimilitude have given a mi-
nute description of her features ; but he describes
the sweetness of her countenance, untinctured by
the slightest expression of pride or haughtiness ;
her beauty, health, and blooming youth, and the
sudden and irresistible passion with which these
had inspired him *. He paints also her rich attire ;
and the picture is not only a charming piece of
highly-finished poetry, but interesting as bringing
before us the female costume of the time : —

Of her array the form gif I shall wryte,
Toward her golden iiair and rich attire,

In fretwise couchet with the perles white, l
And great balas, 2 lemyng like to the fire,
With many an emerant and fair saphu e ;

And on her head a chaplet fresch of hue

Of plumys parted, red and white and blue.

Full of the quakyng spangis bright as gold,
Forged of shape like to the amorettys3,

So new, so fresh, so pleasant to behold ;

The plumys eke like to the flower jonettes, 4

And other of shape like to the flower jonquettes ; 5

And above all this there was, well I wot,

Beauty enow to make a world to dote.

* Tytler's Poetical Remains of James I. p. 80.

1 covered with a net, or fretwork of pearls.
* balas, a precious stone of the ruby kind, from Balassia

in India.
3 love knots. 4 unknown. 5 jonquils.

JAMES THE FIRST. 59

About her neck, white as the fine amaille l,

A goodly chain of small orfeverye 2,
Quhareby there hung a ruby without faille 3,

Like to ane herte schapen, verily,

That as a spark of lowe 4 so wantonly
Semyt byrning upon her quhite throte ;
Now gif there was gude pertye, God it wote :
And for to walk that fresche Mayis morrowe,

Ane huke 5 she had upon her tissue white.
That goodlier had not bene seen to forowe,

As I suppose — and girte she was alyte

Thus halt'lyng loose for haste, to suich delyte
It was to see her youth in gtidelihed,
That for rudeness to speak thereof I drede.
In her was zouth, beauty, with humble port,-

Bountee, richesse, and womanly feature,
God better wote than can my pen report ;

Wisdom, largesse, estate and cunning sure,

In every poynt so guided her mesure
In word, in deed, in shape, in countenance,
That Nature might uo more her child advance.

Throw which anon I knew and understood

Wele that she was a wardly6 creature,
On whom to rest myne eyen, so mich gude

It did my woful hert ; I zow assure

That it was to me joy without mesure ;
And at the last my look unto the Hevin
I threw forthwith, and said thir verses seven.
It is not difficult, giving almost line for line, to
present the English reader with a transcript of
these sweet verses —

Write I of her array and rich attire,—

A net of pearl enclosed her tresses round,
Wherein a Balas flamed as bright as fire,

And midst the golden curls, an emerant bound,

Painted with greeny light the flowery ground.
Upon her head a chaplet, fresh of hue,
Of plumes divided, red and white and blue.

1 enamel.' * goldsmith's work. 3 without flaw.
4 fire. 5 clasp. 6 worldly.

60 JAMES THE FIRST.

Which, waving, showed their spangles carved in gold,
Formed by nice art like amorous love-knots all ;

Glancing most bright, and pleasant to behold,

And shaped like that sweet flower, that on the wall
Grows fragrant, which young lovers jonquil call ;

Yet still above all this, 'she had, I wote,

Beauty enough to make a world to dote.

About her neck, that whiter was than snow,

She wore a chain of rich orfeverye ;
Where pendant hung a ruby, formed I trow

Like to a heart — so seemed its shape to me;

WThich bright as spark of fire danced wantonly
Whene'er she moved, upon her throat so white,
That I did wish myself that jewel bright.
Early astir to taste the morn of May,

Her robe was loosely o'er her shoulders thrown,
Half open as in haste, yet maidenly,

And clasped, but slightly, with a beauteous zone,

Through which a world of such sweet youthhead shone,
That it did move in me intense delight,
Most beauteous — yet whereof I may not write.

In her did beauty, youth, and bounty dwell,

A virgin port and features feminine j
Far better than my feeble pen can tell,

Did meek-eyed wisdom in her gestures shine ;

She seemed perfay — a thing almost divine
In word, in deed, in shape, in countenance,
That Nature could no more her child advance.

We pass over the address to Venus, but the
lines which succeed are too beautiful to be omitted :

Quhen I with gude intent this orison
Thus endit had, I stynt a lytil stound1,

And eft mine eye full pitously adoun

I kest, behalding there hir lyttill hound, '"
That with his bellis playit on the ground ;

Then wold I say, and sigh therewith a lyte 2,

Ah wele were him that now were in thy plyte3.

* staid a little while. a little. 3 collar or chain.

JAMES THE FIRST. 61

An other quhyle the lytill nightingale
That sat upon the twiggis wold I chide.

And say richt thus, — Quhare are thy notis small
That thou of love hast sung this morowe tyde?
Sees thou not her that sittis thee besyde,

For Venus' sake the blissful goddesse clere,

Sing on agane and make my ladye chere.

The feelings of the lover, who envies the little
dog that wears the chains of his mistress and plays
around her with his bells, and his expostulation
with the nightingale, who is silent when she to
whom she should pour her sweetest melody was
sitting near her, are conceived in the sweetest vein
of poetry. But to the delight of seeing his mis-
tress succeeds a train of melancholy reflection on
his miserable fate as a prisoner, cut off from all
hope of intercourse or acquaintance. The thought
overwhelms him with distress ; he sits in his soli-
tary chamber, till the golden sun had sunk in the
west,

Bidding farewell to every leaf and flower.
Then ' Hesperus gan light his lamp on high ;' and
as sorrow and darkness deepen around him, he
leans his head on the cold stone, and, overcome with
weariness and languor, falls into a dreamy sleep.
Suddenly a bright ray of light pierces his lattice,
illuminating the whole apartment ; a gentle voice
addresses him in words of comfort and encourage-
ment, and he finds himself lifted into the air, and
conveyed in a cloud of crystal to the sphere of
Venus : —

Methought that thus all sodeynly a lycht

In at the window came quhareat 1 lent,
Of which the chamber window schone full brychr,

And all my bodye so it hath o'ervvent;

62 JAMES THE FIRST.

That of my sicht the verteu hale I blent,
And that withal a voice unto me said,
I bring comfort and hele — be not afraid.
And furth anon it passit sodeynly

Where it come in by, the rycht way ageyne,
And sone methocht furth at the door in hye,

I went my way, was nething me ageyne,

And hastily, by bothe the armes tweyne,
I was araisit up into the aire,
Clipt in a cloud of crystal cleare and faire.

In this resplendent chariot the royal lover is con-
veyed from sphere to sphere, till he reaches

the glad empire
Of blissful Venus,

which he finds crowded, as was to be expected,
with all descriptions of lovers —

Of every age and nation, class and tongue —
the successful, the unfortunate, the faithful, the
selfish, the hypocritical, accompanied by those alle-
gorical personages — Prudence, Courage, Benevo-
lence, Fair Calling — which abound in the poetry
of this period, and whose introduction is rather the
fault of the age than of the author. Through the
various chambers peopled by his amorous devotees
we cannot follow him ; and we fear the reader,
should he make the attempt for himself, would find
it rather -a tedious pilgrimage, although the way
would be lightened by many touches of genuine
poetry. Cupid, in his chair of state, his yellow
locks bound with a verdant chaplet, his fatal quiver
glittering at his side, and his body

With wingis bright all plumed, but1 his face,

is a fine personification ; and the discourse of

1 Except.

JAMES THE FIRST. 63

Venus, somewhat pi atonic and metaphysical for the
queen of ' becks and wreathed smiles/ contains
some beautiful poetry. Nor is it unworthy of
notice, that although a pagan divinity is intro-
duced, her counsels do not breathe the licentious
spirit of the Cyprian queen of classical antiquity,
but are founded on better and holier principles :
the Venus of the royal bard is the goddess of
lawful disport and pure and virtuous love. She
first ascertains that her votary is none of those

That feynis truth in love but for a while,
The silly innocent woman to beguile :

comparing them to the fowler, imitating the various
notes of the birds that he may decoy them into
his net ; and after having satisfied herself that he
is consumed by the flame of a virtuous attach-
ment, he is addressed in the language of encou-
ragement, assured of her benign assistance, and
despatched, under proper guidance, to seek counsel
of Minerva. The precepts of this sage goddess
present rather a monotonous parallel to the advice
of Venus; after which, the votary of love is dis-
missed from her court, and, like Milton's Uriel,
descends upon a sunbeam to the earth: —

right anon

I look my leave, as straight as any line,
Within a beam that from the clime divine
She piercing thro the firmament extended,
And thus to earth my sprite again descended.

We cannot follow the poet in his quest of For-
tune, which occupies the fifth canto, but its opening
verses are singularly beautiful : —

Quhare in a lusty1 plane I took my way
Endlang2 a ryver, plesand to behold,
1 delightful. 2 along the brink of a river.

64 JAMES THE FIRST.

Embrondin all with fresche flouris gay,

Quhare thro' the gravel, bright as ony gold,
The cristal water ran so clere and cold,

That in mine ear it made continually

A maner soun mellit with harmony '.

That full of lytill fischis by the brym,

Now here now there with bakkis blewe as lede,

Lap and playit, and in a rout gan swym
So prettily, and dressit thame to sprede
Their crural fynnis, as the ruby red,

That in the sonne upon their scalis brycht,

As gesserant- ay glitterit in my sight.

Beside this pleasant river he finds an avenue of
trees covered with delicious fruits, and in the
branches and under their umbrageous covert are
seen the beasts of the forest : —

The lyon king and his fere lyonesse ;

The pantere like unto the smaragdyne ;
The lytill squerell full of besynesse ;

The slawe asse, the druggare beste of pyne3 ;

The nyce ape, and the werely4 porpapyne ;
i The percying lynx, the lufare unicorn
That voidis venym with his evoure5 home.

Thare sawe I dress hym new out of his haunt

The fere tigere, full of felony ;
The dromydare, the stander elephant ;

The wyly fox, the wedowis enemy ;

The clymbare gayte, the elk for arblastrye6 ;
The herkner boar7, the holsom grey for sportis,
The haire also that oft gooth to the hortis.

1 a pleasant sound mingled with harmony. 2 jacinth.

8 the sluggish ass, beast of painful drudgery.

4 warlike. 5 ivory.

6 the strings of the arblast or cross-bow, were probably
formed out of the tough sinews of the elk.

7 herknere boar — probably hearkening boar. It is the habit
of the buffalo to listen for the breath oi any person extended
on the ground before attacking him, so as to ascertain
whether he be a living being. The same propensity, in all

JAMES THE FIRST. 65

Thus slightly modernised :

The lion king and his fierce lioness ;

The panther spotted like the smaragdine ;
The tiny squirrel, full of business ;

The patient ass that drudgeth still in pine ;

The cunning ape ; the warlike porcupine ;
The fire-eyed lynx ; the stately unicorn,
That voideth venom from his ivory horn.
There saw I rouse, fresh-wakening from his haunt,

The brindled tiger, full of felony ;
The dromedare and giant elephant ;

The wily fox, the widow's enemy ;

The elk, with sinews fit for arblastrye ;
The climbing goat, and eke the tusked boar,
And timid hare that flies the hounds before.

These stanzas are, as it will be seen, scarcely
altered from the original ; and it would be diffi-
cult, in any part of Chaucer or Spenser, to dis-
cover comprised in so small a compass so pic-
turesque and characteristic a description of tha
tenants of the forest.

Being guided by Good Hope to the goddess
Fortune, he finds her sitting beside her wheel,
clothed in a parti-coloured petticoat and ermine
tippet, and alternately smiling and frowning, as
it became so capricious a lady. The meeting and
the parting with her are described in such a man-
ner as rather to excite ludicrous ideas than any
feelings befitting the solemnity of the vision. She
inquires into his story, rallies him on his pale and

probability, belongs to the wild boar. I remember hearing
that the late Dr. R. saved himself from the attack of a wild
boar, when botanising in a German forest, by resolutely
keeping himself quite motionless till the creature, tired of
snuffing and walking round him, went off". I have extracted
the above ingenious conjecture from the letter of a literary
friend.

VOL. III. F

66 JAMES THE FIRST.

wretched looks ; and when he pleads his love and
despair, places him upon the wheel, warning him
to hold fast there for half an hour. She then bids
him farewell, assures him that he will be fortunate
in his love, and in departing gives him a shake,
not by the hand, but by the ear ; the prince now
suddenly awakes, and pours out this beautiful
address to his soul : —

Oh besy ghoste ! ay flickering to and fro,

That never art in quiet nor in rest
Till thou come to that place that thou come fro,

Which is thy first and very proper nest ;

From day to day so sore here art thou drest,
That with thy flesch ay waking art in trouble,
And sleeping eke, of pyne so hast thou double.

Walking to his prison window in much per-
plexity and discomfort, he finds himself unable to
ascertain to what strange and dreamy region his
spirit had wandered, and anxiously wishes he
might have some token whether the vision was of
that heavenly kind to whose anticipations he might
give credit —

Is it some dream, by wandering fancy given,

Or may I deem it, sooth, a vision sent from heaven.

At this moment he hears the fluttering of wings,
and a milk-white dove flies into his window. She
alights upon his hand, bearing in her bill a stalk
of gilliflowers, on the leaves of which, in golden
letters, is written the glad news, that it is decreed
he is to be happy and successful in his love : —

This fair bird rycht into her bill gan hold,

Of red jerrofleris, with stalkis grene,
A fair branche, quhairin written was with gold,

On every lefe with letters brycht and sheue,

In compas fair, full plesandly to sene;

JAMKS THE FIRST. 67

A plane sentence, which, as I can devise,
And have in mind, said rycht upon this wise :

Awake, awake, I bring, lufar, I bring

The newis glad that blissful bene and sure

Of thy comfort ; now laugh, and play, and sing,
That art beside so glad an aventure,
For in the heav'n decretit is thy cure,

And unto me the flowers did present ;

With wyngis spread, her ways furth then she went.

How easy do these sweet verses, with scarce
any alteration, throw themselves into a modern
dress !

This lovely bird within her bill did hold,
Of ruddy gilliflowers, with stalkis green,

A branch, whereon was writ, in words of gold,

Pourtray'd most plain, with letters bright and sheen,
A scroll, that to my heart sweet comfort told ;

For wheresoe'er on it J cast mine eyes,

This hopeful sentence did before me rise :

Awake, awake, I, lover, to thee bring

Most gladsome news, that blissful are and sure ;

Awake to joy — now laugh and play and sing,
Full soon shalt thou achieve thine adventure,
For heav'n thee favours, and decrees thy cure !

So with meek gesture did she drop the flowers,

Then spread her milk-white wings, and sought her airy
bowers.

From these extracts the reader may have some
idea of the ' King's Quhair,' the principal work of
James I. That it is faultless, nothing but a blinded
enthusiasm would affirm ; but whatever may be its
defects, it is certainly not inferior in fancy, ele-
gance of diction, and tender delicacy of feeling
to any similar work of the same period, produced
either in England or in his own country. It has
been already remarked that its blemishes are those

F2

68 JAMES THE FIRST.

rather of the age than of the poet. The rage for
allegorical poetry, at best a most insipid inven-
tion, was then at its height. It began with
the great models of Greece and Rome, although
their taste taught them to use it sparingly ; it was
adopted by the monks of the middle age, was fos-
tered by Chaucer, revelled in the luxuriant fancy
of Spenser, and even lingered in the polished ele-
gance of Pope. Strange that these great geniuses
should not have felt, what is now acknowledged
by almost every reader, that even in those parts
where they have produced the highest effect, it
is the poetry, not the allegory, that pleases.
Another defect in the poem results from the sin-
gular, and almost profane mixture of classical
mythology and Christian agency ; but for this,
too, James has to plead the prevailing taste of
the times, and we can even find an approximation
to it in Milton.

The poem of which we have been speaking is of
that serious and plaintive character which neces-
sarily excluded one characteristic feature of the
Author's genius, his humour. For this we must
look to his lesser productions, ' Christ's Kirk on the
Green,' and ' Peebles at the Play.' With regard
to the first of these excellent pieces of satirical
and humorous poetry, some controversy has been
raised by antiquarian research, whether it be the
genuine production of the first James ; Gibson,
Tanner, and the Editor of Douglas's Virgil ascrib-
ing it to James V. The absurdity of this hypo-
thesis, however, was very clearly exposed by the
excellent author of a ' Dissertation on the Life of
James the First;' and from this time the learned

JAMES THE FIRST. 69

world have invariably adopted his opinion, that
both poems are the composition of this monarch.

In * Christ's Kirk on the Green,' the king ap-
pears to have had two objects in view : not only
to give a popular, faithful, and humorous picture
of those scenes of revelry and rustic enjoyment
which took place at this annual fair or wake, but
in his descriptions of the awkwardness of the Scot-
tish archers, to employ his wit and ridicule as the
means of encouraging amongst his subjects a dis-
position to emulate the skill of the English in the
use of the long bow. He had, as we have seen,
made archery the subject of repeated statutory
provisions, insisting that from twelve years of age
every person should busk or equip himself as an
archer, and practise shooting at the bow-marks
erected beside the parish churches ; and his poem
of Christ's Kirk is almost one continued satire
upon the awkward management of the bow, and
the neglect into which archery had then fallen
in Scotland. To make his subjects sensible of
the disgrace they incurred by their ignorance of
the use of their arms, and to re-establish the disci-
pline of the bow amongst them, were objects
worthy the care of this wise and warlike mo-
narch.* The poem opens with great spirit, paint-
ing, in a gay and lively measure, the flocking
of country lads and lasses, wowers and Kitties, to
the play or weaponschawing at Christ's Kirk on
the Green, a village of this name traditionally re-
ported to have been situated in the parish of Ken-
nethmont in Aberdeenshire : —

* Tytler's Dissertation on the Life of James I., p. 40.

70 JAMES THE FIRST.

Wes never in Scotland hard nor sene

Sic dansing nor deray ',
; Nouthir at Falkland on the Greue 2,

Nor Peblis at the Play 3,
As was of wowers 4 as I vvene

At Christ's Kirk on a day;
There came our Kitties 5, weshen clene,

In their new kirtles gray,

Full gay
At Christ Kirk of the Grene that day.

To dans thir damysells thame dicht6,

Thir lasses licht of laitis 7;
Thair gluvis war of the raff el richt8,

Thair shune wer of the straits,
Thair kirtillis wer of the lincome licht9,

Weill prest with mony plaits ;
They were so nyss when men thaim nicht 10,

They squeilt like ony gaitis,

Sa loud
At Christ's Kirk of the Grene that day.

|. From the colloquial antiquity of the language,
and the breadth and occasional coarseness of the
native humour which runs through this production,
it is impossible to present the English reader, as
we have attempted in the 'King's Quhair,' with any-
thing like a translation. The picture of the scorn
of a rural beauty, the red-cheeked, jimp, or nar-
row-waisted Gillie, is admirably given :

1 merriment.

2 palace of Falkland, in Fifeshire.
3 an ancient town in Tweedale, where annual games

were held.

4 wowers — suitors. * country lasses or girls.

6 dressed. 7 frolicksome in their manners.

8 gloves of the roe-deer skin.

9 gowns of Lincoln manufacture,

10 thaim nicht — came near them.

JAMES THE FIRST. 71

Scho' scornit Jok, and scrapit at him ',

And murgeonit 2 him with mokkis ;
He wald haif luvit, scho wald not lat him,

For all his zellow locks ;
He cherish' d hir, scho bad gae chat him3,

Scho compt him not twa clokkis 4,
Sae schamefully his schort goun set him,

His lymmis were like twa rokkis,

Scho said,
At Christ's Kirk on the Grene that day.

The attempts of the different archers, and the
ludicrous failure with which they are invariably
accompanied, are next described with great force
and happiness of humour. Lourie's essay with the
long-bow is perhaps the best : —

Thau Lourie as ane lyon lap,

And sone ane flane gan fedder 5 ;
He hecht 6 to perss him at the pap,

Thereon to wed a wedder 7.
He hit him on the wame a wap,

It buft like ony bledder 8.
But sa his fortune was and hap,

His doublet was of ledder 9,

And saifit him
At Christ's Kirk on the Grene that day.

The buff sa boisterously abaift10 him,

He to the card dusht down n ;
The uther man for deid then left him,

And fled out o' the toune,

1 mocked him.

2 made mouths at him. 3 go to the gallows.

4 she valued him not the worth of two beetles.

5 soon feathered an arrow. 6 meant.

7 to wager or pledge a sheep.
8 a wap on the wame — a blow on the belly — making

a sound like a bladder.
9 leather. 10 stunned him. n fell suddenly down.

72 JAMES THE FIRST.

The wyves cam furth, and up they heft him,

And fand lyfe in the loun ',
Then with three routtis 2 up thai reft him,

And curd him of his soune,

Fra hand that day3,
At Christ's Kirk of the Grene, &c.

* Peebles at the Play ' partakes much of the
same character as ' Christ's Kirk on the Green/
presenting a highly humorous picture of the inci-
dents occurring at a Scottish fair and weaponschaw-
ing held near that ancient town. * The anniver-
sary games or plays at Peebles,' says the same
able critic whose "Dissertation" we have already
quoted, * are of so high antiquity, that at this
day it is only from tradition, joined to a few re-
mains of antiquity, we can form any conjecture of
the age of their institution, or even trace the ves-
tiges what these games were . . . .That this town,
situated on the banks of the Tweed, in a pastoral
country, abounding with game, was much resorted
to by our ancient Scottish princes is certain :
King Alexander III. is said to have had a hunting-
seat here : the place where it stood is still pointed
out. We are told by Boetius that the monastery
of Cross Church, now in ruins, was built by that
prince, and anciently our monarchs occasionally
took up their residence in religious houses. Con-
tiguous to it is a piece of ground, of old surrounded
by walls, and still called the King's Orchard ; and
on the opposite side of the river is the King's
Green. The plays were probably the golf, a game
peculiar to the Scots, football, and shooting for
prizes with bow and arrow. The shooting butts

1 found life in the rogue. * loud bellowings.

3 instantly.

JAMES THE FIRST. 73

still remain ; and an ancient silver prize-arrow,
with several old medallions appended to it, is, as I
am informed, still preserved in the town-house of
Peebles.' * Our limits will only permit us to give
some of the opening stanzas: —

At Beltane ] when each body bownis

To Peblis at the Play,
To hear the singing and the sownis,

The solace, sooth to say,
By firth and forest, furth they found,

They grathit2 them full gay ;
God wot ' that would they do that stound/
For it was their feast-day,

. They said,
Of Peblis to the Play.
* # * #

All the wenches of the West

Were up ere the cock crew,
For reeling there might no man rest

For garay3 and for glew 4.
One said my curches are not prest,

Then answered Meg, full blue,
To get a hood I hold it best,

I wow hot that is true,

Quoth she,

Of Peblis to the Play.
Hope, Cayley, and Cardronow 5,

Gatherd out thick fold,
With heigh-how-rumbelow,

The young fools were full bold ;
The bag-pipe blew, and they outthrew

Out of the towns untold ;
Lord such a shout was them among,

When they were o'er the wold,

There west,
To Peblis at the Play.

* Dissertation on the Life of James T.

1 Beltane, an ancient festival on the 1st of May.
2 clothed themselves. 3 preparation. 4 glee.

* the names of villages on the Tweed.

74 JAMES THE FIRST.

The late Mr. George Chalmers, in his little
work entitled the * Poetic Remains of the Scottish
Kings,' has, without assigning any sufficient
reasons, reverted to the exploded theory of Tan-
ner and Gibson, and printed ' Christ's Kirk on
the Green,' amongst the productions of James V.
He has also hazarded an assertion, which is com-
pletely contradicted by the intrinsic evidence of
the work itself. ' He wrote his " Quhair," (says
he,) when he was yet a prisoner, and while he was
young. Had he read the 6th stanza of the second
canto, or the epilogue, he would have found that
in the one, he speaks of his captivity or detention
in England having endured for eighteen years ;
and in the other, commemorates in strains of high
enthusiasm, his happiness subsequent to his mar-
riage; a certain proof that the poem was not
completed till after his union with Johanna Beau-
fort, and his return to his own dominions.

This monarch, however, in addition to his poeti-
cal powers, was a person of almost universal ac-
complishment. He sang beautifully, and not only
accompanied himself upon the harp and the
organ, but composed various airs and pieces of
sacred music, in which there was to be recognized
the same original and inventive genius which dis-
tinguished him in everything to which he applied
his mind. It cannot be doubted, says Mr. Tytler,
in his * Dissertation on Scottish Music,' that under
such a genius in poetry and music as James I.,
the national music must have greatly improved.
One great step towards this was, the introduction
of organs by this prince, into the cathedrals and
abbeys in Scotland ; and, of course, the establish-

JAMES THE FIRST. 75

ment of a choral service of church music. The
testimony of Tassoni is still more remarkable :
1 We may reckon among us moderns,' says he,
in his ' Pensiera Diversi,' lib. 10, ' James, King of
Scotland, who not only composed many sacred
pieces of vocal music, but also of himself invented
a new kind of music, plaintive and melancholy,
different from all other ; in which he has been
imitated by Carlo Gesualdo, Prince of Venosa,
who, in our age, has improved music with new
and admirable inventions/

ROBERT HENRYSOUN.

IT says little for the gratitude of Scotland, that
of some of her sweetest poets, whose works have
been admired and sought after by future times,
little is known but the name. Their life is a
mere blank ; they have spent it in some remote
province, unacknowledged and almost unseen
by the world ; struggling, perhaps, against the
attack of poverty and the iniquity of fortune ;
yet, nursing amidst this neglect, a mind of su-
perior powers — finding a solace in the cultivation
of their intellect and the exercise of their genius
which has more than repaid them ; and from a
full, and sometimes a weeping heart, pouring out
strains which were destined to be as imperishable
as the language and literature of the country.
Such has been the fate of Robert Henryson, of
whom the following passage in Urry, the editor of
* Chaucer,' contains almost the sum of our know-
ledge : — * The author of the " Testament of Cre-
seide," which might pass for the sixth book of
this story, I have been informed by Sir James
Erskine, late Earl of Kelly, and divers aged
scholars of the Scottish nation, was one Mr.
Robert Henryson, chief schoolmaster of Dum-

ROBERT HENRYSOUN. 11

fermline, a little time before Chaucer was first
.printed, and dedicated to Henry VIII., by Mr.
Thynne, which was near the end of his reign.
Mr. Henryson wittily observing, that Chaucer, in
his fifth book, had related the death of Troilus,
but made no mention what became of Creseide, —
learnedly takes upon him, in a fine poetical way,
to express the punishment and end due to a false
inconstant woman, which commonly terminates
in extreme misery *.'

It has been supposed by Lord Hailes, that
Henryson officiated as preceptor in the Bene-
dictine Convent at Dumfermline ; but as the idea
is solely founded on the lines of Dunbar, in his
* Complaint on the Death of the Makars,' which
simply state that gude Mr. Robert Henrysoun
died in that ancient burgh, nothing can be more
vague and inconclusive. We know not the exact
period of his birth, (which must have been under
the reign of James II.,) the time of his death is
involved in equal obscurity ; and the intermediate
period must be abandoned to those whose in-
genuity is delighted with wandering in the la-
byrinths of conjectural biography.

But of the works of this remarkable man it is
difficult, when we consider the period in which
they were written, to speak in terms of too warm
encomium. In strength, and sometimes even in
sublimity of painting, in pathos and sweetness, in
the variety and beauty of his pictures of natural
scenery, in the vein of quiet and playful humour
which runs through many of his pieces, and in
that fine natural taste, which, rejecting the faults
* Urry's Chaucer.

78 ROBERT HENRYSOUN.

of his age, has dared to think for itself, — he is
altogether excellent ; and did the limits of these
sketches permit, it would be easy to justify this
high praise by examples. Where, for instance,
could we meet, even in the works of Chaucer or
Spenser, with a finer personification than this early
poet has given us of Saturn, sitting shivering in
his cold and distant sphere, his matted locks fall-
ing down his shoulders, glittering and fretted with
hoar frosts ; the wind whistling through his grey
and weather-beaten garments, and a sheaf of
arrows, feathered with ice and headed with hail-
stones, stuck under his girdle ?

His face frouned, his lere l was like the lede,
His teeth chattered and shivered with the chin,

His eyin droupid,8 whole sonkin in his hede ;
Out at his nose the mildrop fast gan rin,
With lippis blew, and chekis lene and thin j

The icicles that fro his heer doune honge,

Were wonder grete, and as a speer was longe.

Attour hishelte his lyart lokkis3 laie
Feltrid4 unfair or fret with frostis hore,

His garment and his gite8 full gay of graie,
His withered wede fro him the winde out wore ;
A bousteaus bow •within his hande he bore ;

Under his girdle a fasche of felon flains

Fedrid6 with ice, and headed with holstains.

Let us turn now for a moment from this wintry
picture, and observe with what a fresh and glow-
ing pencil, with what an ease and gracefulness of
execution, the same hand can bring before us a
summer landscape : —

1 flesh or skin. 2 droped. J3 hoary. 4 mattecL
5 fashion of his clothing. 6 feathered.

ROBERT HENRYSOUN. 79

In middis of June, that joly swete sessoun,

Quhen that fair Phoebus with his beamis brycht

Had dryit up the dew fra daill and down,

And all the land maid with his lemyss l lycht,
In a morning, between midday and nycht}

I rais and put all sloth and sleep aside,

Ontill a wod I went alone, but gyd 2.

Sweet was the smell of flouris quhyt and reid,
The nois of birdis vycht delitious,

The bewis brod blumyt abone my heid,
The grund growand with grasses gratious,
Of all plesans that place was plenteous

With sweit odours and birdis armonie,

The morning myld, my mirth was mair forthy.

The roses red arrayit, the rone and ryss 3,

The primrose and the purpure viola ;
To heir, it was a point of paradyss,

Sic mirth, the mavis and the merle couth ma 4 ;

The blossomyss blyth brak up on bank and bra 5,
The smell of herbis, and of foulis the cry,
Contending quha suld have the victory.

Henryson's greatest work is that to which we
have already alluded, the completion of Chaucer's
beautiful poem of Troilus and Cressida, in a
strain of poetry not unworthy of the original.
' Henryson,' says Mr. Godwin, in his " Life of
Chaucer," perceived what was defective in the
close of the story of Troilus and Creseide, as
Chaucer had left it. The inconstant and un-
feeling Creseide, as she appears in the last book>
is the just object of aversion, and no reader can
be satisfied that Troilus, the loyal and heroic
lover, should suffer all the consequences of her
crime, whilst she escapes with impunity. The

1 beams. 2 without guide.

3 the brambles and bashes. * ma Ye. 5 a hill side.

80 ROBERT HENRYSOUN.

poem of Henryson,' he continues, ' has a degree of
merit calculated to make us regret that it is not a
performance standing by itself, instead of thus
serving merely as an appendage to the work of
another. The author has conceived, in a very
poetical manner, his description of the season in
which he supposes himself to have written this
dolorous tragedy. The sun was in Aries — his
setting was ushered in with furious storms of
hail, the cold was biting and intense, and the
poet sat in a little solitary building, which he
calls his oratoure. The evening star had just
risen.'

A doly season for a careful dite l

Suld correspond and be equivalent ;
Richt so it was when I began to write

This tragedy ; the weather right fervent,

Whan Aries in middis of the Lent,
Shouris of haile gan fro the north descende,
That scantly from the cold I mighten me defende.

Yet neerthelesse within mine oratoure

I stode, whan Titan had his bemis brycht

Withdrawin doun, and seylid under cure2,
And faire Venus the beaute of the night
Upraise, and sette unto the weste full right,

Her golden face, in oppositioun

Of God Phoebus, directe discending down.

Throughout the glasse her bemis brast 3 so faire,
That I might see on every side me by ;

The northern winde had purified the aire,
And shedde his misty cloudis fro the side;
The freste fresid, the blasts bitterly

From Pole Arcticke came whisking loud and shrill,

And caused me remove agenst my will.

1 a sad season for a melancholy story.
2 unknown. 8 pierced.

ROBERT HENRYSOUN. 81

For I trusted, that Venus, lovers Queue,
To whom sometime 1 hight obedience,

My faded heart of love she wad make grene ;
And thereupon, with humble reverence,
I thought to praie her hie magnificence,

But for grete cold as then I lettid was,

I in my chambre to the fire gan pass.

Though love be hote, yet in a man of age
It kindlith not so sone as in youthheid,

Of whom the blode is flowing in a rage,
And in the old the corage dull and dede,
Of which the fire outward is best remeid,

To helpe by phisiche where that nature faild

I am experte, for both I have assailed.

I made the fire and bekid me aboute 1,

Then toke I drinke my spirits to comforte,
And armed me wele fro the cold thereoute ;
To cutt the winter night, and mak it schort,
I took a quere 2, and let'te all othir sporte,
Writtin by worthy Chaucer glorious,
Of fair Creseide and lusty Troilus.
The picture presented in these striking lines
possesses the distinctness of outline and concep-
tion, and the rich poetic colouring, which marks
the hand of genius. We see the aged bard
sitting in a winter's evening in his oratory ; we
hear the bitter northern blast shaking the case-
ment ; the hail-stones are pattering on the glass ;
the sun has sunk ; but as the storm subsides, the
air clears up to an intense frost, and the beautiful
evening star, the planet of love, shows her golden
face in the west. For awhile, with the enthu-
siasm of a lover of nature, the poet contemplates
the scene ; but, warned by the increasing cold, he
closes his shutters, stirs his fire, wheels in his
oaken chair, — and, after warming his sluggard

1 warmed myself on every side. 8 a book.

VOL. III. G

82 ROBERT HENRYSOim.

blood with a cup of generous wine, takes up a
volume of Chaucer, and happens to light upon
the story of Cresid fair and lusty Troilus.

In the poem, to use the words of an excellent
critic, ' Creseide is represented as deserted by
Diomed, filled with discontent, and venting her
rage in bitter revilings against Venus and Cupid.
Her ingratitude is resented by these deities, who
call a council of the seven planets, in which it is
decreed that Creseide shall be punished with
leprosy. Cynthia is deputed in a vision to inform
her of her fate: she wakes, and finds that the
dream is true. She then entreats her father to
conduct her to a hospital for lepers, by the go-
vernors of which she is compelled to go as a
beggar on the highway. Among the passers by
comes Troilus, who, in spite of the dreadful dis-
figurement of her person, finds something in her
that he had seen before, and even draws, from a
glance of her horrible countenance, a confused
recollection of the sweet visage and amorous
glances of his beloved Creseide. His instinct
leads him no farther ; he does not suspect that
his mistress is actually before him ; yet

For knightly pitie, and memorial
Of faire Creseide,

he takes a girdle, a purse of gold, and many a
gaie Jewell, and shakes them doun in the skirt of
the miserable beggar,

Then rode awaye, and not a worde he spake.

No sooner is he gone, than Creseid becomes
aware that her benefactor is no other than Troilus
himself. Affected by this unexpected occurrence,

ROBERT HENRYSOUN. 83

she falls into a frenzy ; betrays her real name and
condition ; bequeaths to Troilus a ring which he
had given her in dowry — and dies. Troilus laments
her fate, and builds her a monument *.

There is a fine moral strain, a tone of solemn
and impressive thought, which runs through
many of the pieces of Henryson : of this we have
a striking example in his poem entitled 4 Praise of
Age:' —

Within ane garth, under a red roseir,

Ane auld man, and decrepit, hard I sing ;
Gay wes the note, sweet was the voice and cleir,

It wes grit joy to heir of sic a thing.

And as methocht he said in his dyting,—
For to be young I wad nocht, for my wyss

Of all this warld to mak me lord and kyng :
The more of aige the nerrer hevynnys bliss.
Fals is this warld and full of variance,

Besoucht with sin and uther sytis mo ;
Trewth is all tynt, gyle hes the governance,

Wretchitnes hes wrocht all welthis weill to wo.

Freedome is tynt, and flemit the Lordis froj
And cuvettice is all the cause of this;

I am content that youth-heid is ago:
The moir of aige the nerrer hevynnys bliss.
* * * #

Suld no man traist this wretchit warld ; for quhy ?

Of erdly joy ay sorrow is the end:
The stait of it can no man certify ;

This day a king — to morne na gude to spend.

Quhat haif we here hot grace us to defend ?
The quhilk, God grant us till amend our miss ;

That to his gloir he may our saulis send :
The moir of aige the nerrer hevyunys bliss.

With little alteration these verses throw them-
selves into a modern garb, which does not spoil
* Godwin's Life of Chaucer, vol. i.; p. 493.
G 2

84 ROBERT HENRYSOUIf.

the striking picture of the aged moralist singing
under the rose-tree —

In garden green, beneath a sweet rose-tree,

1 heard an aged man serenely sing ;
Gay was the note, his voice was full and free,

It gave me joy to see so strange a thing.

And thus he sung : — I would not, to be king
Of all this world, live o'er a life like this.

Oh Youth ! thy sweetest flowers have sharpest sting :
The more of age the nearer heavenly bliss.

False is the world, and full of changes vile;

O'errun with sin, and penury, and pain :
Truth is all fled — the helm is held by guile —

Fell coward treason hath high honour slain,

And freedom languisheth in iron chain.
'Tis the low love of power hath brought all this.

Ah ! weep not then that youth is on the wane :
The more of age the nearer heavenly bliss.

Trust then no more this wretched world — for why ?

All earthly joy doth still in sorrow end j
His mortal state can no man certify :

To-day a king — to-morrow none will lend

Thy regal head a shelter : — may God mend,
"With his sweet grace, so sad a wreck as this ;

And to his glory soon our spirits send :
The more of age the nearer heavenly bliss.

Again, what can be sweeter than these lines on
the blessings of simple life?

Blessit be symple life withouten dreid1,

Blessit be sober feast in quietie,
Quha lies aneuch2 of nae mair3 hes he neid,

Thocht it be lytil into quantitie.

Abondance great and blind prosperitie
Mak aftentimes a very ill conclusioun ;

The sweetest lyfe therefore in this countrie,
Is sickerness4 and peace with small possessioun.

1 dread. 2 enough. 3 more. 4 security.

ROBERT HENRYSOUN. 85

Friend, thy awin1 fire thocht it be but ane gleid8,
Will warm thee weil, and is worth gold to thee ;

And Solomon, the sage, says, (gif ze reid:^,)
Under the hevin, I can nocht better see,
Then ay be blyth, and live in honestie :

Quhairfore I may conclude me with this reason,—-
Of early bliss it bears the best degree ,

Blythness of heart, in peace, with small possession.

The well-known apologue, of which this is the
4 moralitie ' — that of the Town and Country
Mouse — has been delightfully translated, or rather
paraphrased, both by Pope and La Fontaine ;
yet our ancient Scottish bard need not dread a
comparison with either. There is not, indeed,
in his production (what it would be unreason-
able to look for) the polished elegance, the grace-
ful court-like expressions, and the pointed allusions
to modern manners which mark the versification
of these great masters ; but there is a quiet vein
of humour, a succession of natural pictures, both
burgh and landwart, city and rural ; and a felicity
in adapting the sentiments to the little four-footed
actors in the drama, which is peculiarly its own.
Henryson's mice speak and reason exactly as one
of these long-whiskered, tiny individuals might be
expected to do, were they suddenly to be per-
mitted to express their feelings. There is, if we
maybe allowed the expression, a more mouse-like
verisimilitude about his story, than either of his
gifted successors. The tale is introduced with
great spirit : —

Easop relates a tale, weil worth renown,

Of twa wee mice4, and they war sisters dear;

1 own. 2 unknown. 3 if you read.

4 two small mice.

86 ROBERT HENRYSOUN.

Of quhom the elder dwelt in Borrowstoun,
The zunger1 scho wond upon land well neir,
Richt solitair beneath the buss and breir ;

Quhyle on the corns and wraith 2 of labouring men,
As outlaws do, scho maid an easy fenH.

The rural mous, unto the winter tyde

Thold 4 cauld and hunger oft, and great distress ;
The uther mous, that in the brugh gan hide,
Was gilt-brother, and made a free burgess,
Toll-free, and without custom mair or less,

And freedom had to gae5 whereer she list.
The burgh or city mouse is seized with a
sudden desire to pay her country sister a visit, and
with staff in hand,

As pilgrim pure6 scho past out of the toun,
To seek her sister baith7 in dale and down.

The meeting of the two relatives is described
with much naivete : —
Thro mony toilsom ways then couth she walk.

Thro muir and moss, throughout bank, busk, and breir,
Fra fur to fur8, cryand, frae balk to balk,

Come forth to me my ain s\veet sister dear,

Cry ( Peep' anes. With that the mous couth hear,
And knew her voice, as kindly kinsmen will,
Scho9 heard with joy, and furth scho cam her till.

The entertainment given by the rural mouse,
the poverty of the beild and board, the affectation
and nice stomach of the city dame her sister, are
admirably given : —

Quhen thus were lugit 10 thir twa sillie mice,
The youngest sister to her buttry hied,
And brocht furth nuts and pease, instead of spice,
And sic plain cheer, as she had her beside.

The burgess mouse sae dynk11 and full of pride,
Said, Sister mine, is this your daily food ?
WThy not, quoth she, think ye this mess not good ?
1 younger. 2 waste. 8 life. 4 bore. 5 go. 6 poor. ? both.
8 furrow to furrow. 9 she. 10 lodged. n nice.

ROBERT HENRYSOUN. 87

My sister fair, quoth she, have me excused,

This diet rude and I cau ueer accord ;

With tender meat my stomach still is us'd —
For why, I fare as well as any lord :

Thir withir'd nuts and pease, or they be bored,

Will break my chaffs, and mak my teeth full slender,
Which have been us'd before to meat more tender.

The rest of the story and the catastrophe are
well known; the invitation of the city mouse, its
acceptance, their perilous journey to town, their
delicious meal, and its fearful interruption by
Hunter Gib, (the jolly cat,) the pangs of the rural
mouse, whose heart is almost frightened out of its
little velvet tenement, her marvellous escape, and
the delight with which she again finds herself in her
warm nest in the country, are described with great
felicity of humour. No one who has witnessed
the ingenuity of the torment inflicted by a cat on
its victim, will fail to recognize the perfect nature
of * Hunter Gib's ' conduct, when the unfortunate
rural citizen is under his clutches : —

From foot to foot he cast her to and frae,
Whiles up, whiles down, as tait l as ony kid,

Wiles would he let her run beneath the strae2,

Whiles would he wink and play with her bubhid3:
Thus to the silly mous great harm he did,

Till at the last, thro fortune fair and hap,

Betwixt the dresser and the wall she crap 4.

Syne up in haste beside the panaling

Sae high she clam 5, that Gibby might not get her,
And by the cleeks6 sae craftily gan hing

Till he was gane 7 ; her cheer was all the better ;

Syne doun she lap when there was nane to let her.
Then on the burgess mouse aloud did cry,
Sister, farewell, thy feast I here defy.

1 tenderly. 2 straw. 3 hide and seek. 4 crep
5 climbed. 6 hooks or pins. 7 gone.

88 ROBERT HENRYSOUN.

Pinkerton has declared that this is the only
fable of Henryson's worthy of preservation ; a
clear proof that he had little feeling for true
poetry. The ' Lion and the Mous' completely
refutes his tasteless criticism. It commences with
that sweet picture of the rural delights of the
leafy-month June, which we have already quoted ;
and, besides the truth and spirit with which the
story is given, is curious, from its evident allusion
to that treasonable combination of the nobles,
which cost James III. his crown and his life: —

Thir cruel men that stentit has the net l,

In which the lion suddenly was tane,
Waited allway that they amends might get

For hurt men write with steel in marble stane.

Mair till expone as now I let alane ;
But king and lord may well wote what I mean,
The figure hereof aftymes has been seen.
When this was said, quoth Easop, My fair child,

Persuade the Kirkmen eyedentlie2 to pray
That treason fra this cuntrie be exil'd ;

That justice ring and nobles keep their fay

Unto their sovereign lord haith night and day :
And with that word he vanish'd, and I woke,
Sine thro the schaw hameward my journey toke.

1 Stretched have the net.
2 constantly and with earnestness.

WILLIAM D UNBAR.

OF this great genius, who has enriched the poetry
of his country with a strain of versification su-
perior in power, originality, and sweetness to any
of his predecessors, we have to repeat, alas ! the
same story of unavailing regret, that little is
known ; and that little, founded on very imperfect
evidence. Pinkerton, relying upon a stanza in
1 Kennedy's Flyting (or Railing) against Dunbar,'
conjectures that he was born at Salton, a village
on the delightful coast of the Forth, in East
Lothian ; but, unfortunately, the acuteness of a
future antiquary discovered that the true reading
of the passage was Mount Falcon ; a circumstance
which gave rise to a new hypothesis, equally
vague and unsatisfactory. It seems not impro-
bable, however, that he first saw the light some-
where in Lothian, about the year 1465 ; and
from his own works, a few circumstances may be
gleaned, which illustrate his individual history.

He was educated for the church ; and, undoubt-
edly, travelled over England and a part of the
Continent, as a noviciate of the order of St.
Francis. This is evident from his satirical poem,
entitled ' The Visitation of St. Francis.' The

90 WILLIAM DUNBAR.

saint appears to the poet in a vision, shortly
before the dawn, and holding in his hand the
habit of his order, commands him to renounce
the world and become his servant. Dunbar ex-
cuses himself, observing, that he has read of
many bishops, but exceeding few friars, who had
been admitted to the honour of canonization ; but
he allows that, in his early years, he had worn
the habit : —

Gif ever my fortoun1 wes to be a frier2,

The date thereof is past full raony a year ;
For into every lusty town and place

Of all Ingland, fro Berwick to Gales,
I haif into thy habit maid gude cheir".
In freiris weid full sairly4 haif I fleichit5;

In it haif I in pulpit gone and prechit ;
In Derneton Kirk and eke in Canterbury ;

In it I past at Dover oure the ferry,
Thro Picardy, and there the pepil teichet.

As lang as I did bear the freiris style,

In me, God wit, wes mony wink and wile ;

In me wes falset with ilk wight to flatter,
Whilk might be flemit 6 with na haly water j

I wes ay reddy all men to beguile *.

Where he received his education it is impossible
to discover ; but from the colophon of one of his
poems, it is presumable that he had studied at
Oxford ; and we may conclude from his address
' To the Lordes of the King's Chekkar,' that he
was in the receipt of an annual pension which was
scarcely sufficient to supply his ordinary wants.
* Ye need not,' says he to these grave personages,

1 fortune. * friar. 3 cheer. 4 earnestly.

5 entreated. 6 washed away.

* Poems, vol. i. p. 28.

WILLIAM D UNBAR. 91

* spend your time or tire your thumbs, or consume
your ink and paper in the reckoning up my rents
or annuities. It is a short story : I got a sum
of money from my lord-treasurer, which is all
gone. Is not that a sad enough tale without more
labour ?'

My Lordis of Chacker, pleis yow to heir
My compt, I sail it mak yow cleir

But ony circumstance or sonyie l ;

For left is neither cors nor cunyie 2
Of all that I tuik in the yeir.

For rekkyning of my rentis and roumes
Ye need not for to tyre your thowmes 8 ;

Na for to gar your countaris clink,

Nor paper for to spend nor ink
In the ressaving of my soumes4.

I tuik fra my Lord Thesaurair
Ane soume of money for to wair ;

I can nocht tell yow how it is spendit,

But weill I wat that it is endit :
And that methink ane compt our sair 5.

I trowit in time whain that I tuik it
That lang in burgh I suld haif bruikit,

Now the remaines are eith6 to turss:

I haiff no preif heir but my purss,
Quhilk wald noch lie an it war lukit.

Even when thrown into a modern dress, the
spirit does not wholly evaporate: —

My Lords of Chequer, please you hear
My compt — the which I'll make full clear

Sans circumstance or theft ;

Nor cross nor copper is there left
Of all I had within the year.

1 pretence. * cross nor coin. 3 thumbs.
* sums. 5 too sore. 8 easy.

92 WILLIAM D UNBAR.

Spend not grave looks, with haws'and hums,
Nor paper waste, nor tire your thumbs

And bid your counters clink ;

Or drain your reservoirs of ink
In reckoning up my sums.
My Lord the Treasurer gave me,
Some certain monies for my fee ;

I cannot tell how far they went,

But well I know, the gear is spent,

Whilst I myself am sorely shent.
And this without more words, I trow,
Is a summation sad enow.

Why should I entries more rehearse ?
My Lords, inquire ye of my purse,
And look into its empty maw,
It will you tell the selfsame saw.

In the privy seal we find, under the date of
August 15, 1500, a grant by King James IV.
to Master William Dunbar, of an annual pen-
sion of ten pounds, until he be provided with
a benefice of forty pounds or more yearly ; and
from this period the poet became an attendant
upon the court of this gay and gallant monarch.
James was devoted to his pleasures ; and if
we may judge from the account books of
the lord higli treasurer, which present, in their
various items, a curious picture of the manners of
the times, large sums of money were lavished,
with indiscriminate prodigality, upon idle amuse-
ments and unworthy objects. The character of
the king, indeed, was inconsistent and almost con-
tradictory. He had many great points about him,
which made him deservedly beloved. His anxiety
for the due administration of justice, and the inde-
fatigable activity with which he visited the most
remote portions of his kingdom ; his attention to

WILLIAM DUNBAR. $3

the navy and the artillery, as those sources of
national strength which had been neglected or un-
known before his time ; his anxiety for the pre
servation of an amicable intercourse with foreign
states ; his fondness for the clergy, undoubtedly
the wisest and most learned amongst his subjects ;
his familiar friendship and intercourse with his
nobles, and his accessibility and kindness to the
lowest classes of his people : all these qualities
were highly to be commended, and rendered the
monarch deservedly popular. But, on the other
hand, James had weaknesses and vices which, but
for the excuse of youth and a mismanaged edu-
cation, must have rendered him contemptible.
His love of amusement was wild and reckless :
plays, dances, dice, occupied every leisure mo-
ment ; hawkes, apes, jugglers, jesters, and every
sort of itinerant buffoon, received a ready wel-
come at court, and partook largely of the royal
bounty, whilst his indiscriminate gallantry and
admiration of the fair sex destroyed his health
and grievously impoverished his exchequer. The
universal patronage of the monarch, and the pic-
ture of the court, are admirably pourtrayed by
Dunbar in his poem entitled a ' Remonstrance to
the King* —

Sir, ye have mony servitours

And officers of divers cures —

Kirkmen, courtmen, craftsmeii fine,

Doctors in jure and medicine,

Philosophers, diviners, rhetors.

Artists, astrologs, orators,

Men of arms and valiant knights,

And mony other gudly wights ;

Musicians, minstrels, merry singers,

Chevalours, callanders, French flingers,

94 WILLIAM DUNBAR.

Coiners, carvers, carpentaris,
Builders of barks and ballingaris,
Masons building on the land,
And shipwrights hewing on the strand ;
Glasswrights, goldsmiths, lapidaries,
Printers, painters, poticaries, —
Labouring all, baith fore and aft,
And wondrous cunning in their craft ;
Which pleasant is and honorable,
And to your highness profitable,
And right convenient to be
With your high regal majesty,
Deserving of your grace most ding1
Both thanks, reward, and cherishing.
And though that I among the heap
Unworthy be a place to keep,
Or in their number to be told,
Yet long as their's my work shall hold,
Complete in every circumstance,
In matter, form, and eke substance;
But wearing or corruption,
Rust, canker, or corruption,
As perfect as their workes all,
Altho' my guerdon be but small.

The poet proceeds to observe, that he can nei-
ther blame nor envy any expenditure upon such
worthy though multifarious artists ; but then, says
he, with much boldness, addressing his royal
master, * Your highness is so gentle and accessible
that your court is crowded with a different and far
less respectable sort.' The enumeration must be
given in his own words, and a translation would
be almost impossible : —

Fenyeouris, fleichouris, flatteraris,
Cryaris, crackaris, and clatteraris,
Sonkaris, gronkaris, gleddaris, gunnaris,
Monsouris of France, gud clarat cunnaris j
1 worthy.

WILLIAM DUNBAR. 95

Inopportoun askaris of Yrland kynd,

And meit reivaris, lyk out o mind

Scaffaris, and scamlaris in the nuke

And hall huntaris of draik and duke,

Thrinlaris and thrif taris, as they war wod ;

Kokenis, that kens na man of gude,

Schoulderaris and schowaris that hes no schame,

And to no cunning that can clame

And ken none uther craft nor curis

Bot to mak thrang schir in your duris,

And rush in whar they counsel hear,

And will at na man nurture leir

In quintessence, eke ingynouris joly

That far can multiply in foly ;

Fantastic fulis, bayth fals and greedy,

Of tongue untrue and hand unsteady.

Few dar of all this last additioun

Come in Tolbuith without remission *.

When the first are provided for, says he, I may
not complain ; but when the king's purse opens
to these last, and I am passed over, my very heart
is ready to burst for despite : —

My mind so fer l is set to flyt

That of nochtels I can indyt,

For owther man my hert to breik,

Or with my pen I man me wreik ;

And syne the tane most uedis be,

Into malancolie to dee,

Or lat the venym ische all out —

Bewar, anone for it will spout,

Gif that the treacle com not tyt2

To swage the swalme of my despyt.
Whether this remonstrance and threatening, on
the part of Dun bar, had any effect in procuring
him a more generous treatment at court cannot
be ascertained ; but the perfect truth of his de

* Poems, vol, i. p. 145—147.
1 fierce. a quick.

96 WILLIAM D UNBAR.

scription, and his picture of the multifarious ver-
min which infested the court, may be verified by
those interesting manuscript records which reflect
so strongly the manners of the times — the accounts
of the lord high treasurer. We shall open them
almost at random. On the llth of February, 1488,
we find the king bestowing nine pounds on gentil
John, the English fule ; on the 10th of June, we
have an item to English pypers, who played to
the king at the castle gate, of eight pounds eight
shillings ; on the 31st of August, Patrick Johnson
and his fallows, that playit a play to the king, in
Lithgow, receive three pounds ; Jacob, the lutar,
the king of bene, Swanky that brought balls to
the king, twa wemen that sang to his highness,
Witherspoon, the foular, that told tales and brought
fowls, Tom Pringill the trumpeter, twa fithelaris,
that sang Grey Steill to the king, the broken-
bakkit fiddler of St. Andrews, Quhissilgybbourie,
a female dancer, Wat Sangster, young Rudman
the lutar, the wife that kept the hawks' nest in
Craigforth, Willie Mercer, who lap in the stank
by the king's command — and innumerable others
who come in for a high share of the regal bounty,

And ken none other craft nor curis
But to mak thrang within the duris —

confirm the assertions of the indignant poet, and
evince the extravagance and levity of the mo-
narch.

The same records not only corroborate Dun-
bar's description, but bring before us, in fresh
and lively colours, the court itself, with its gay
and laughter-loving monarch. Let not history

WILLIAM DUNBAR. 97

deride the labours of the patient antiquary ; for
never, in her moments of happiest composition,
could she summon up a more natural and striking
picture than we can derive from these ancient
and often neglected records. We are enabled,
by the clear and authentic lights which they
furnish, to trace the motions of the court and
of its royal master, not only from year to year,
but to mark the annals of every day. We see
his Majesty before he rises on the new-year's
morning ; we stand beside his chamberlain, and
see the nobles, with their gifts and offerings, crowd
into the apartment ; nor is his favourite, gentle
John, the English fool, forgotten, who brings his
present of cross-bows ; then enters the King of
Bene, enacted by Tom Pringle; Jok Goldsmith
chaunts his ballat below the window ; the gysars
dance ; and in the evening the Bishop of Glasgow,
the Earl of Bothwell, the Lord Chancellor, and the
Treasurer, play at cards with his Highness.

Such are but a few of the characteristic touches
of these remarkable records. They would furnish us
with a thousand more, had we time or limits to detail
them. They enable us to accompany the prince
to his chapel royal at Stirling ; we see the boys of
the choir bending down to remove his spurs, and
receive their accustomed largesse ; we follow him
in his progresses through his royal burghs, and
listen to the thanks of the gudewife of the king's
lodging, as the generous prince bestows his gra-
tuity ; we climb the romantic crag on which St.
Anthony's chapel is situated, and almost hear his
confession ; we can follow him into his study, and
find him adding to the scanty library which was

VOL. in. H

98 WILLIAM DUNBAR.

all the times permitted even to a king — the works
of Quintillian and Virgil, and the sang-buiks in
which he took so much delight ; his shooting at
the butts with his nobles ; his bandying jokes
with his artillerymen ; his issuing to the chase or
the tournament, from his royal castles of Stirling
or Falkland, surrounded by a cavalcade of noble
knights and beautiful damsels ; his presence at
the christening of the Earl of Buchan's son, and
the gold piece which he drops into the caudle, —
all are brought before us as graphically as at the
moment of their occurrence. And whilst our inte-
rest is heightened and our imagination gratified
by the variety and brilliancy of the scenery which
is thus called up, we have the satisfaction to know
that all is true to nature, and infinitely more au-
thentic than the pages even of a contemporary
historian *.

We need scarcely offer any apology for this
digression regarding the character of that monarch
who was the patron of Dunbar, and the manners
of the court in which it was his fortune to pass
the greater part of his life. In the extreme paucity
of materials for the history of his life, the only
sources of information are to be found in his own
works, and in the history of the age. He appears
to have lived in great familiarity with the king and

* If this be true, how much gratitude do we owe to
the learned Mr. Pitcairn, for his admirable Collection of
Criminal Trials ; and to that able and amiable antiquary,
the Rev. Mr. M'Gregor Stirling, whose Manuscript Collec-
tions, although less known, have thrown so much useful
light on the early history of his country. It is from these
last that the above picture of the court and amusements of
James IV. has been taken.

WILLIAM DUNBAR. 99

his nobles ; but at the same time it is easy to see
that his poverty was often extreme, subjecting
him to the most mortifying repulses from the
lowest officers about the court. The pangs of de-
ferred hope, the pride of insulted genius, the bitter
repentance that he had devoted himself to so thank-
less and ill-requited a service, and the biting satire
against kings and favourites, by which many of
his productions are distinguished, all form a pain-
ful but instructive commentary on the history of
a man of letters, who has relinquished the more
humble walk in which, with a little labour, he
might have provided for his own wants, and finds,
when it is perhaps too late, that distinction is not
synonymous with independence. It seems to have
been in one of these moods that he indited his
complaint addressed to the king : —

Of wrangis and of great injures

That nobles in their days indures,

And men of virtue and cunning,

Of wit and wisdom in guiding ;

That nocht can in this court conquess *,

For lawte, love, or long service *.
But it is time we should leave these ebullitions
of wounded pride, or disappointed ambition, to
consider some of the higher efforts of his genius.
On the &th of August, 1503, James IV. was
espoused to the Princess Margaret of England, an
event which it was earnestly hoped would have the
most beneficial effects in removing, or at least di-
luting, the feelings of mutual hostility which had
so long and so frequently arrayed the two king-
doms in mortal warfare against each other. The

1 acquire
* Poems, vol. ii. p. 142.

H2

TOO WILLIAM DUNBAR.

ceremony was accompanied with every species of
feudal triumph and solemnity ; and the event was
commemorated by Dunbar, in a poem entitled the
* Thistle and the Rose/ which, had he never
written another line, is of itself amply sufficient to
}>lace him in a high rank of genius. It com-
mences with the following beautiful stanzas: —

Quhen Marche wes with variand windis past,
And April hadde, with her silver showris,

Tane leif of Nature * with ane orient blast ;
And lusty May, that raudder is of flowris,
Had maid the birdes to begin their houris,

Amang the tender colours, red and quhyt,

Quhois 2 harmony to heir it wes delyt.

In bed ae morrow, sleeping as I lay,
Methocht Aurora, with her cristall ene,

Jn at the window lukit by the day,

And halsit me 3 with visage pale and grene,
Upon whose hand a lark sang fra the splene,

Awalk, luvaris, out of your slomering,

See how the lusty morrow does up spring.

Methocht fresh May befoir my bed up stude,
In weid depaynt of mony divers hew,

Sober, benign, and full of mansuetude,
In brycht atteir4 of flouris forgit new;
Hevinly of colour, quhyt, reid, broun, and blew,

T3almet in dew and gilt with Phoebus' bemys5,

Quhill all the house illumynit of hir lemyss 6.

Slugird, she said, awalk anone for schame,
And in my honour somthing thou go write ;

The lark his done the mirry day proclame,
To raise up luvaris with comfort and delyt ;
Yet noch incressis thy courage to indyte,

Quhois hart sum tyme hes glaid and blissful bene,

Sangis to mak under the levis grene*.

fcade adieu to Nature. 8 whose. 3 saluted me.

4 bright attire. 5 beams. 6 glitters.

* Poems, vol. i. pp. 3, 4.

WILLIAM D UNBAR. 101

With scarce the difference of a word, the whole
of this fine description may be read as English.,
poetry, not inferior in the brilliancy of its fancy
or the polish of its versification to Spenser : —

When March with varying winds had onward past,
And gentle April, with her silver showers,

Bade Nature farewell in an orient blast,
And lusty May, that mother is of flowers,
Had waked the birds in their melodious bowers,

Amongst the tender borders, red and white j

Whose harmony to hear was great delight.

In bed at dawning, as I sleeping lay,
Aurora, with her eyne as crystal clear,

In at my window look'd, while broke the day,
And me saluted with benignant cheer,
Upon whose hand a lark sang loud and clear,

Lovers, awake out of your slumbering,

See how the lovely morning doth upspring.

Methought fresh May beside my bed upstood,
In weeds depaynt of many divers hue,

Sober, serene, and full of mansuetude,

In bright attire of flowers all budding new,
Heavenly of colour, white, red, brown, and blue,

All bathed in dew, and gilt with Phoebus' beams,

While all the room with golden radiance gleams.

Sluggard, she said, awake, arise for shame,
And in mine honour something new go write ;

Hear'st not the lark the merry day proclaim,
Lovers to raise with solace and delight,
And slumbers yet thy courage to indite

Whose heart hath whilome glad and blissful been,

Weaving thy songs beneath the leaves so green ?

The poet having excused his slumbers on the
ground of the inclemency of the season and the
boisterous blasts ofLord^Eolus, which had silenced
himself and many other tuneful birds, is reminded
by May that he had promised, when her sweet

102 WILLIAM DUNBAR.

season began, to describe the rose. Now rise,
therefore, says she, and do thine observance —

Go see the birdis how they sing and dance,
Illumyt oure with orient skyis brycht,
Annamylet l richly with new azure lycht.

He arises, casts his * serk and mantill ' over him,
and follows the goddess into a lovely garden,
redolent with flowers, which are glittering in the
morning dew. The sun rises, and as his first level
rays gild the face of nature, a blissful song of wel-
come bursts from every bush and grove. The
whole description is exquisite : —

The purpour sone, with tendyr bemys reid,
In orient bricht as angell did appeir,

Throw golden skyis putting up his heid,
Quhois gilt tressis schone so wondir cleir,
That all the world tuke contort, fer and near,

To luke upone his fresche and blissful face,

Doing all sable from the hevynnis chace.

And as the blessful soune of cherachy,

The fowlis song throw confort of the licht ;

The birdis did with oppen voices cry,
O luvaris fo, away thou dully Nycht,
And welcum Day that comfortis every wicht,

Hail May, hail Flora, haill Aurora schene,

Hail princis Nature, haill Venus, luvis queue *.

The glorious sun, with beams as ruby red,
In orient bright as angel did appear,

Through the glad sky advancing up his head ;
Whose gilded tresses shone so wondrous clear,
That all the world took comfort, far and near,
• To look upon his fresh and blissful face,

Which soon all sable from the heavens did chase.

1 enamelled.
* Poems, vol. i. p. 5.

WILLIAM DUNBAR. 103

And as the glorious orb drove up the sky,

Sang every bird through comfort of the light,

And with their sweet melodious throats 'gan cry,
Lovers awake, away thou dully Night ;
Welcome, sweet Day, that comforts every wight ;

Hail May, hail Flora, hail Aurora, sheen,

Hail princess Nature, hail Love's loveliest Queen.

Dame Nature, having first commanded fierce
Neptune and Eolus the bald not to perturb the
water nor the air —

And that na schouris snell l, nor Wastes cauld,
Effray should flouris, nor fowlis on the fold, —

issues next her mandate to the beasts, the birds,
and the flowers, to attend her court, as they are
wont on the first of May :— i

Scho ordaind eik that every bird and heist,
Befoir her hienes suld aimone compeir,

And every flour of verteu, most and leist,
And every herb be field, fer and neir,
As they had wont in May, fro yeir to yeir,

To her their makar to mak obediens,

Full law inclynand, with all dew reverens *.

She then ordain'd that every bird and beast,
Before her highness should anon appear,

And every flower of virtue, most and least,
And every herb, by field or forest near,
As they were wont in May, from year to year,

To her, their Queen, to make obedience,

Inclining low, with all due reverence.

The swift-footed roe is despatched as the herald
to warn the beasts of the forest, the restless swal-
low to bear her commands to the denizens of the
air, and, obedient to the summons, all instantly
appear before the queen —

1 Piercing.
* Poems, vol. i. p. 6.

104 WILLIAM DUNBAR.

All present were in twinkling of an ee,

Baith beast, and bird, and flower, before the Queen.

And first the lion, greatest of degree,

Was called there, and he most fair to seiie,
With a full hardy countenance and keen,

Before dame Nature came, and did incline,

With visage bold, and courage leonine.

This awful beast was terrible of cheir,

Piercing of look, and stout of countenance ;

Right strong of corps, in fashion fair, but fier,
Lusty of shape, light of deliverance,
Red of his colour as the ruby glance ;

On field of gold he stood full mightily,

With flower de luces circled pleasantly *.

This description is not only noble, containing as
fine a picture of the monarch of the beasts as is to-
be found in the whole range of poetry, but is pe-
culiarly appropriate, being a blazon of the Scottish
arms, — a red lion rampant upon a field of gold,
encircled with a border of fleurs-de-luces ; Nature
permits him to lean his paws upon her knee, and
placing the royal crown upon his head, commands
him as king, and protector of the smallest as well
as the greatest of his subjects, to rule over them
with benignity, and to temper justice with mercy.
A fine moral lesson to the prince, of whom the
lion is meant to be the personification : —

The lady lifted up his clawis clear,

And let him lightly lean upon her knee,

And crowned him with diadem full dear
Of radiant stones, most royal there to see,
Saying, The king of all beasts make I thee,

And the protector cheif in wxiods and shaws,

Go forth — and to thy lieges keep the laws.

* There is scarce a word changed, except from the old to
the more modern spelling.

WILLIAM DUNBAR. 105

Justice exerce with mercy and conscience,
And let na small beast suffer scaith nor scorn

Of greater beasts that bene of more puissance :
Do law alike to apes and unicorns,
And let no bowgle with his boistrous horn

Oppress the meek plough ox, for all his pride,

But iu the yoke go quietly him beside.

Then crowned she the eagle king of fowls,

And sharp as darts of steel she made his pens,

And bad him be as just to whaups and owls,
As unto peacocks, papingoes, or cranes ;
And make one law for strong fowls and for wrens;

And let no fowl of rapine do "affray,

Nor birds devour but their own proper prey *.

The queen next addresses herself to the flowers,
and, with great beauty and propriety, selecting
the thistle, whose warlike thorns peculiarly fitted
him to protect the softer plants from scaith or
scorn : —

Then called she all the flowers that grew in field,
Describing both their fashion and effeirs l ;

Upon the aw full thistle she beheld,

And saw him guarded with a bush of spears j
Considering him so able for the weirs2,

A radiant crown of rubies she him gave,

And said, in field go forth and fend the lave 3.

Nature then proceeds to the coronation of the
rose, as queen of flowers ; and the praises, be-
stowed on the beauty and rare qualities of this
gem of the garden, are gracefully applied to the
illustrious English princess, who was about to
bestow her hand and her heart upon his royal
masterj —

* Poems, vol. i. pp. 7, 8.
1 properties. 2 wars. 3 defend the rest.

106 WILLIAM DUNBAR.

Then to the rose sche turned her visage,
And said, O lovely daughter, most bening,

Above the lily, — lustrous in lynage l,

From the stock royal, rising fresh and ying 2,
But any spot or macall doing spring3;

Come bloom of joy, with richest gems be crown'd,

For o'er them all thy beauty is renown'd.

A costly crown, with stones all flaming bright,
This comely queen did on her head enclose,

While all the land illumined was with light ;

Wherefore, methought, the flowers did all rejoise4—
Crying at once — Hail to the fragrant rose !

Hail empress of all plants ! fresh queen of flowers !

To thee be praise and honour at all hours *.

The crown is no sooner placed on the head of
the queen of flowers, than the birds, led by the
mavis and the nightingale, strain their little
throats in one loud, but melodious song of
triumph and loyalty ; with the noise of which the
poet awakes, and starting from his couch, half
afraid, anxiously looks round for the brilliant and
fragrant court, in which he had beheld these
wonders ; but the garden, the birds, the flowers,
and Darne Nature, have all faded into empty air ;
and he consoles himself by describing the vision.

This sweet poem was written, as we already
know, in commemoration of the union of James
IV. with the lady Margaret Tudor. It was
finished, as he intimates in the concluding verses,
on the ninth of May. The marriage did not
take place for some months after ; but the pre-
parations for it had commenced as early as the
fourth of May, when a commission was given by

1 lineage. * young.

3 springing without spot or taint. 4 rejoice.

* Poems, vol. i. p. 9.

WILLIAM DUNBAR. 107

Henry VII. to several of his nobles, to treat with
the King of Scots regarding the dowry. Some
of the minute particulars attending the journey of
the princess to Scotland, and her first meeting
with the king, as recorded by Leland in his
Collectanea, are characteristic of the times. On
the 1st of August she left Berwick, and was
conducted to Lambertoun Kirk, where she was
delivered, free of all expense, to the messengers of
the King of Scots ; who conducted her from
thence to Fast Castle, and thence through Dunbar,
where they ' schott ordnance for the luve of her.'
On the 3d she reached the Earl of Morton's
house at Dalkeith, where she was immediately
visited by the king, — ' his leure behind his back,
and his berde something long,' attended by his
brother the Archbishop of St. Andrew's, the Bishop
of Caithness, the Earls of Huntley, Argyle, and
Lennox, the Lord Hamilton, and many other
lords and gentlemen, to the number of sixty
horse. The king was then conveyed to the queen's
chamber, and she met him at the chamber- door,
honourably accompanied ; and at the meeting, he
and she, after making great reverences the one to
the other, kissed together ; and in like manner,
kissed the ladies and others also. And he, in
especial, welcomed the Earl of Surrey very heartily.
After which, the queen and he went aside, and
communed together for long space. On the 7th,
the princess left Dalkeith, nobly accompanied and
in fair array, seated in her litter, which was very
richly adorned. Half way between that and
Edinburgh, the king met her, mounted on a bay
horse, running at full speed as he would run after

108 WILLIAM DUNBAR.

the hare, and surrounded by a troop of his nobles.
On reaching his capital, he mounted a palfrey,
having placed the princess on a pillion behind
him ; in which honest and antique fashion, the
gallant monarch rode through the good town to
his palace, amid the acclamations of his subjects.
On the 8th of August the marriage took place in
the chapel of Holyrood. James was then in his
thirty-third year, his youthful queen just fourteen ;
and some characteristic touches of manners may
be gleaned from the ' Treasurer's Accounts/ In
his description of the king's first interview with
his bride at Dalkeith, Young, the English herald,
seems to have been struck with the length of
James's beard ; and his young bride was probably
a little annoyed at it, for on the day after the
marriage we find, that the gallant monarch em-
ployed the Countess of Surrey, and her daughter
Lady Gray, to clip his beard ; for which service,
these noble tonsors received — the first, thirty-five
ells of cloth of gold ; and the last, fifteen ells of
damask gold *.

If we may judge from the expensive prepara-
tions, and the costly dresses of the nobles, as they
appear in the same ancient records, the marriage
must have been celebrated with uncommon pomp
and magnificence : and amidst the various pre-
sents and hymeneal offerings, which on that joyous
occasion were laid at the feet of the princess, few

* Item, the 9 day of August, after the marriage, for 25
eln cloth of gold to the Comitass of Siirry of In gland, quhen
sche and her dochter, Lady Gray, dippit the King's berde,
iiicxxxlb. Item, for xv eln of damas gold, by the King's
commande to the said Lady Gray of Ingland, jc xxx Ib. —
MS. Collections by the Rev. Wm. M'Gregor Stirling.

WILLIAM DUNBAR. 109

could be more beautiful or appropriate than
Dunbar's fine allegorical vision, the ' Thistle and
the Rose.' We have no reason to believe, how-
ever, that its author experienced any substantial
instance of royal gratitude. He continued to
reside at court, to share in the amusements, and
bear a part in the revels of his gay and thought-
less master ; but he saw others preferred, whilst
he was thrust back or neglected ; and his poetry
is, in many places, little else than a severe and
biting commentary on the arrogance of court
minions, the insolence of wardrobe keepers, deputy
treasurers, and other minor officials. One of
these indignant castigations is, from its humour,
worthy of notice. The queen's keeper of the
robe was Jamie Doig, or as it was then probably
pronounced in Scotland — Dog; who, on some
occasion, had been ordered by the queen to pre-
sent the poet with a velvet doublet, a command
which he obeyed with so ill a grace, that Dunbar
addressed this poetical complaint to the prin-
cess—

ON JAMES DOIG, KEEPAR OF THE QUEEN'S WARDROP.
TO THE QUEEN.

Madame, ye have a dangerous Dog. "

When that I show to him your marks,
He turns to me again and barks,
As he were worrying ane hog :
Madame, ye have a dangerous Dog.

1 obstinate or difficult.

110 WILLIAM DUNBAR.

When that I show to him your writing,
He girns l that I am red for flyting,
I would he had a heavy clog :
Madame, ye have a dangerous Dog.
When that I speak to him friend-like,
He growls like ony midden (ike 2,
War-chasing cattle thro a bog :
Madame, ye have a dangerous Dog.
He is ane mastiff, strong of might,
To keep your wardrobe over night
From the great Soldan, Gog-magog :
Madame, ye have a dangerous Dog.
Oure large he is to be your messan3,
I you advise to get a less ane 4,
His tread gars all your chambers schog :
Madame, ye have a dangerous Dog.

Jamie Doig, however, appears soon after to have
relented, the promised suit is delivered from the
wardrobe, and the poet changes his verses as
easily and readily as he does his doublet. The
dangerous Dog is tranformed into a Lamb ; and in
the lines ' on the said James when he had pleased
him,' we learn some particulars which say little
for the matrimonial felicity of the worthy ward-
raipair : —

The -wife that he had in his inns,

That with the tangs 5 wad break his shins,

I wad she drownd were in a dam,

He is na Dog — he is ane Lamb *.

Jamie Doig himself, whose strength and make
were so great that his step shook the chambers
of his royal mistress, is one of those whom the

1 complaining bitterly. 2 dunghill cur.

* lap-dog. 4 a smaller one. * tongs.

* Poems, vol. ii. pp. 110, 111.

WILLIAM DUNBAR. Ill

treasurer is ordered to furnish with a dress of state
for the marriage*.

On another occasion the poet addresses the
King in the character of the ' Grey Horse, auld
Dunbar,' complaining that, when idler steeds are
tenderly cared for, and clothed in gorgeous trap-
pings, he who had done his Majesty good service
is neglected in his old age :

Thocht in the stall I be nocht clappit,
As coursours that in silk beine trappit,
With ane new hous I wald be happit,
Against this Christmas for the cauld 1 ;
Sir, let it nevir in town be tald 2
That I suld be a Yuillis yald3.

I am ane auld horse, as ye knaw 4,
That evir in dule 5 dois dring and draw ;
Great court-horse puttis me fra the staw 6,
To fang the fog 7 be firth and fald ;
Sir, let it nevir in town be tald
That I suld be a Yuillis yald.
I haif lang run forth in the field,
On pastouris that ar plane and peil'd 3,
I micht be now tane in for eild 9,
My banes are showing he and bald.
Sir, let it nevir in town be tald,
That I suld be a Yuillis yald.
My mane is turned into quhyte 10,
And thereof ye haif all the wyte ll,
Quhan uther horse had bran to bite,
I had but gress l2, knip gif I wald ;
Sir, let it nevir in town be tald
That I suld be a Yuillis yald.

* Treasurer's Books, August 3, 1503.

1 cold. 2 told.

8 a useless old horse, turned into a straw-yard at Yule, or

Christmas.

4 know. 5 sorrow. c stall. 7 bear the fog.

8 bare and worn out. 9 age. 10 white.

11 blame. 12 grass, if I would pick a little.

112 WILLIAM DUNBAR.

The court has done my curage cuill l,
And maid me ane forriddin muil2,
Yet to weir trappourris 3 at this Yule,
I wad be spurr'd at everie spald 4.
Sir, let it nevir in town be tald
That I suld be a Yuillis yald.

Whether this remonstrance was attended by any
substantial or permanent benefit to the ' Auld
Grey Horse ' is doubtful ; but it is certain the
King replied in the following fashion, which, as
the only poetical effort of this gallant prince, is
worth preservation :

RESPONSIO REGIS.

Efter our writtingis treasurer,

Tak in this Grey Horse, auld Dunbar,

Quhilk in my aucht with service trew 5

To lyart changeit is his hew 6.

Gar howse him now aganis this Yuill,

And busk 7 him like aue bischoppis muill8;

For with my hand I have indost 9

To pay quhat evir his trappouris 10 cost.

A curious feature in the poetical literature of
this age is to be found in that species of rhyth-
mical invective termed Flyting or Scolding, for
which Dunbar appears to have made himself
especially illustrious. It is difficult to determine
whether the enmity and rivalry of two poets, who
gave themselves up to this coarse sort of buf-
foonery, was real or pretended. The probability
seems to be, that it was considered both by the
authors and their audience, as a mere pastime of
the imagination — a licence to indulge in every
kind of poetical vituperation — a kind of literary

1 cool. 2 over-worked mule. 3 trappings

4 spurred at every bone.

3 true. ° hue. 7 adorn. 8 nmle.

9 indorsed, 10 trappings,

WILLIAM DUNBAR. 113

Saturnalia or licentious badinage, which, in its
commencement, and in the received principles by
which it was regulated, did not imply any real
hostility of feeling, but was very likely to lead
to it. Lord Hailes has well remarked, that Luigi
Pulci and Matteo Franco, although dear and in-
timate friends, for their own amusement, and the
gratification of their readers, have indulged in a
similar species of abuse ; and it seems impossible
to believe that the affectionate regret with which
Dunbar mentions Kennedy, in his ' Lament for
the Death of the Makars,' could have proceeded
from an enemy. With regard to the poetry itself,
if we may use so high a name, it consists of a
succession of stanzas of coarse and vulgar invec-
tive, of such strange antiquarian Billingsgate, that
they are happily almost wholly unintelligible. A
single stanza from Kennedy's attack, and the
reply of his antagonist, is amply sufficient : —

Dreid, dirtfast dearch, that thou hes djssobey it,
My cousing Quintene and my commissar.

Fantastick fule — traist well thou sail be fleyit.
Ignorant elf, ape, owl, irregular
Skaldit skaitbird, and common skamelar,

Wan thriven funling, that Nature made ane yrle,

Baith Johne the Ross and thou sail squeill and skirle.

To this trash Dunbar, with equal perspicuity
and elegance, replies : —

Revin ragged ruke, and full of rebaldrie,

Scarth i'ra scorpione, skaldit in scurrilitie ;
I see thee haltane in thy venomie,

And into uther science nathing slie,
Of every verteu void as men may see ;

Quytelame clergie, and clerk to the' ane club ;
Ane baird blasphemar, in brybrie ay to be,

For wit and wisdom ane wisp fra thee may rub.
VOL. III. I

114 WILLIAM DUNBAR.

To follow these flyters farther into the depths
of their scurrility, would be both unprofitable and
disgusting.

In his verses, entitled a ' Dance in the Queen's
Chamber,' Dunbar presents us with a picture of
himself, and adds the circumstance of his being in
love with Mistress Musgrave, probably one of the
court ladies who had arrived with the youthful
queen : — ~m

Then came in Dunbar the makkar l,
On all the floor there was none frakkar2,

And there he danced the dirrie dantoua,

He hoppit like a pilly-wantoun,
For love of Musgrave, men tells me ;

He tript until he tint his pantoun3;
A merrier dance might no man see.

Then came in Mistress Musgrave,
She might have learned all the lave 4,

When I saw her so trimly dance.

Her good convoy and countenance,
Then for her sake I wished to be

The greatest Earl or Duke in France :
A merrier dance might no man see *.

The lighter and shorter pieces of Dunbar pre-
sent us with great variety in subject, in humour,
and in beauty. Some of the stanzas in his ad-
dress to the merchants of Edinburgh, and the hints
he submits to them for the reformation of the
* gude | town/ are excellent; nor has the march of
modern improvement, on which the citizens of that
ancient city are so fond of descanting, entirely
removed the nuisances therein described : —

1 maker or poet. * nimbler. 3 pantaloons.

4 the rest.
* Poems, vol. i. p. 128.

WILLIAM DUNBAR. 115

Why will ye, merchants of renown,

Let Edinbruch, your noble town,

For lak of reformation,
The common profit, tyne and fame ?

Think ye no shame,

That any other regioun,
Should with dishonour hurt your name ?

Nane may pass thro your cheifest gates,

For stench of haddocks and of scates ;

Loud cries of carlings, and debates,
And fensum flytings of defame :

Think ye not shame,

Before strangers of all estates,
That such dishonour hurt your name ?
* * * *

At your high cross, where gold and silk

Should be, there is but cruds and milk ;

And at your Tron, cokill and whilk,
Paunches, and puddings of Jok and Jame,

Think ye not shame,

Syne that the hail warld says that ilk l
In hurt and slander of your name ?

Since for the court, and eke the sessioun,

The great repair of this regioun

Is to your burgh, therefore be boun
To mend all faults that are to blame,

And eschew shame ;

Gif they pass to another toun,
Ye 'will decay, and your great name.

It is to be regretted that, in some of his
sweetest pieces, he has permitted himself to be run
away with by the unfortunate passion of the age
for the introduction of those allegorical personages
with whom it is impossible for us to have much
sympathy or patience. Thus his Dream com-
mences beautifully, and we anticipate from its
continuation a harvest of the richest fancy and
1 this same thing.

I 2

116 WILLIAM DUNBAR.

the most graceful diction, when the dreary damsel
Distress, her sorry sister Heaviness, two other
very tedious relatives, entitled Comfort and Plea-
sure, a doleful gentleman yclept Languor, and a
whole crowd of other airy personifications —
Nobleness, Discretion, Wit, Considerance, Blind
Affection, Keason, who tells he has been a lord of
session, Opportunity, Temperance, and Sir John
Kirkepakker, a pluralist, are all introduced to be-
stow their tediousness upon us, and to banish
truth and nature from the delightful little produc-
tion into which they have thrust themselves. The
commencement is beautiful: —

The hinder nicht, half-sleeping as I laj-,
Methotight my chamber in a new array

Was all depaynt w'th many divers hue,

Of all the noble stories, old and new,
Since our first father formed was of clay.

Methought the lift1 all gleam'd with radiance bright,
And therein entred many a lusty wight ;

Some young, some old, in sundry wise arrayd ;

Some sung, some danc'd, on instruments some play'd ;.
Some made disport with hearts most glad and light.

Their pleasing song, their sweet melodious trade,
And joyous look, my heart no confort made,

For why ? the dreary damsel, hight Distress,

And eke her sorry sister, Heaviness,
Heavy as lead, in bed above me laid

Their doleful length — and, at my couch's head

Sat Languor, with shut eye, most like the dead

And she did play a strain, so sad to hear,

Methought one little hour did seem a year :

Wan was her hue, and bluey cold like lead*.

1 sky.
* Poems, vol.i. pp. 31, 32.

WILLIAM D UNBAR. 117

Of these verses, the two last stanzas are slightly
altered from the original.

The description of Sir John Kirkpakker, the
pluralist, and the contrast drawn by the poet be-
tween himself, who had waited long and patiently
for some preferment, and this mighty 'undertakker/
already possessed of seven, and trusting soon to
have eleven churches, is humorous : —

Then came anone one call'd Sir John Kirkpakker,

Of many cures a mighty undertakker,

Quoth he, I am possest of churches seven,
And soon I think they grow shall to eleven,

Before he come to one, yond groaning ballad-maker.

Then Patience to me said, Friend, make good cheer,

And on thy Prince depend with duteous fear ;
For I full well do know his fixed intent,
He would not, for a bishop's princely rent,

Let thee go unrewarded half-an-year.^

At what precise date this remonstrance was
written is not certain ; but the hint and compli-
ment, probably had its effect, for on the 26th of
August, 1510, the king bestowed a yearly pension
of eighty pounds upon the poet, to be continued
till he was provided in a benefice of a hundred or
more yearly *.

One of Dunbar's most characteristic poems,
and which exhibits in a strong light his powers
as a satirist, is that entitled ' The Twa Married
Women and the Widow/ Its object is to ex-
pose the licentiousness of the female manners of
the times ; and although deformed by coarse-
ness, and full of passages which cannot be read
without disgust, there are some pictures in it,

* The Privy Seal, IV. 80.

118 WILLIAM D UNBAR.

given with a freshness, truth, and humour, which
strongly reminds us of the muse of Chaucer.
The metre is the only specimen of blank verse to
be met with in the Scottish language. The poet,
in a sweet midsummer's night, walks forth to
enjoy the season in a garden, where he has
scarcely solaced himself for a few moments, when
he is startled by the sounds of mirth and revelry
proceeding from a shady arbour hard by. He
approaches unperceived, and sees three fair ladies
sitting at a table, on which is a rich banquet, with
wine, of which they have evidently partaken.
These are of course the dramatis personye of the
tale, the two married women and the widow.
Their apparel is of the most costly description,
their talk loud, and the subjects which they discuss
the miseries of matrimony, and the delights of wi-
dowed freedom. I shall endeavour to give the
verses with no very material change, except from
the ancient to the modern spelling : —

On. a midsummer's even, that merriest is of nights,

I moved forth alone, when midnight near was past,

Beside a lovely garden, all full of gayest flowers,

And highly hedged around with trees of hawthorn sweet,

On which a joyous bird her notes gan sing so loud,

That ne'er methought a blyther bird on bough was ever

heard.
Pleased with the fragrance sanative of these sweet midnight

flowers,

And with the winged minstrels song, so full of gladsomeness,
I drew in secret to the hedge, intent on mirthful cheer,
Whilst nightingales the dew drops sipt to make their notes

more clear.

Sudden I heard beneath a holly, cloth' d in heavenly green,
Beside my hand, a strife of words, with haughty argument,
And drawing nearer to the hedge, I thrust my body thro',
Ensconced in the hawthorn white, and hid with leafy screen,

WILLIAM DUNBAR. 119

And thus thro' crannies of the thorn that thickly plaited

were

I prest to see if any wight were in that garden there.
Then straight I saw three ladies gay sitting in arbour green,
Their heads all garlanded with flowers of fairest, freshest

hues,

Their braided tresses shone like gold, and such their beau-
ties were,
That all the ground seemed light around, gleaming with

gladsome beams ;
Comb'd were those waving locks so bright, and curiously

did part
Straight down their shoulders, fair and round, in folds of

wavy length ;
Their curches cast were them above, of muslin thin and

clear,
And green their mantles were as grass that grows in May

season,
Bordered with feathers curious wrought, around their

graceful sides;
With wondrous favour meek and gent their goodly faces

shone,
All blooming in their beauty bright, like flowers in middle

June :
Soft, seemly, white, their skin did show, like lilies newly

blown,

Tinted with damask, as the rose whose little bud just opes.
* # *

A marble table covered stood before these ladies three,
With glittering, goodly cups in rows, replenished all with

wine;
And of these lightsome dames were two wedded to lords

I ween,

The third in widowhood did live, a wanton she and gay.
Full loud they talked, and struck the board, and many a

tale they knew,
And deep and oft they drain'd the cup, and loud and louder

grew
Their mirth and words, and faster still from tale to tale

they flew *.

* Poems, vol. i. pp» 61, 62.

120 WILLIAM DUNBAR.

Such is a moderately close translation of the
opening of this satirical tale ; but it is impossible
to follow the widow or the married ladies farther.
We are not, however, to form our ideas of the
female manners of the age from the conversation
and loose principles of Dunbar's ' Cummeris.' It
is not to be forgotten that it is a satirical poem,
and probably did not profess to give an exact pic-
ture of the times.

The ' Friars of Berwick,' which Pinkerton, on
very probable grounds, has ascribed to this poet,
affords a still finer example of his vigour as a
satirist. Its object is to expose the licentious lives
of some of the monkish orders, and nothing can be
more rich than the humour with which the story is
told. Friar Robert and Friar Allan, two of the
order of White Jacobin Friars, set off from Ber-
wick to visit their brethren in the country. On
their return they are benighted : —

Whiles on a time they purposed to pass hame l,
But very tired and wet was friar Allane,
For he was old and might not well travel,
And he had too a little spice of gravel ;
Young was friar Robert, strong and hot of blood,
And by the way he bore both cloths and hood,
And all their gear, for he was wise and wight.
By this it drew near hand towards the night ;
As they were comming toward the town full near,
Thus spoke friar Allan, ' My good brother dear,
It is so late, I dread the gates be closed j
And tired are we, and very ill disposed
To lodge out of the toun, perchance then we
In some good house this night may lodged be *.'

This is scarcely spoken when they find them-

1 home.
* Poems, vol. ii. p. 4.

WILLIAM DUNBAR. 121

selves at the door of the hostelrie of Simon
Lauder, an honest innkeeper, whose wife, Dame
Alison, is somewhat similar in her disposition to
the two married women and the widow, with whom
we are already acquainted — fond of good cheer
and good company, and not very correct in her
morals. The friars knock at the gate, inquire for
the ' gudeman,' and find that he has gone to the
country to buy corn and hay. They then com-
plain of being wondrous thirsty, and the dame,
with ready hospitality, fills a stoup of ale, and
invites them to sit clown and refresh themselves,
to which they at once assent :

The friars were blyth, and merry tales could tell,
And ev'n with that they heard the vesper bell
Of their own abbey ; then they were aghast,
Because they knew the gates were closed fast*.

The friars in dismay entreat Dame Alison, seeing
they are shut out from their own abbey, to give
them a night's lodging ; but this she steadily re-
fuses, alleging the scandal which would be likely
to arise should she in the absence of her husband
be known to have harboured two friars. She
points, however, to a barn or outhouse, where
they are welcome to take up their quarters, and to
which she sends her maFden to prepare their bed,
and there they lie down accordingly ; friar Allan,
who was old and fatigued with travel, to sleep,
but friar Robert is wakeful, and at last rises to
see if he may spy or meet with any merriment.
The story then turns to the goodwife, Dame
Alison, who, in the absence of her husband, had
invited friar John, a neighbouring monk, of great
* Poems, vol. ii. p. 5.

122 WILLIAM DUNBAR.

riches and dignity, to sup with her that evening.
Her preparations for the feast, and her rich toilet
are admirably described : —

She thristit on fat capons to the spit,
And rabbits eke to fire she straight did lay,
Syne bad the maidin in all haste she may
To flam, and turn and roast them tenderly,
And to her chamber then she went in hy1.
# * * *

She cloth'd her in a gown of finest red,

A fair white curch she placed upon her head,

Her kirtle was of silk and silver fine,

Her other garments like red gold did shine,

On every finger she wore ringis two,

And trod as proud as any papingo.

Then spread the board with cloth of costly green,

And napery plac'd above right well be sene.*

The expected guest at last tirls at the gate, and
the meeting, which is seen through a cranny in
the chamber by friar Robert, is described with
great spirit and humour. Nor does the friar come
empty handed : he brings a pair of ' bossis' or bot-
tles

* good and fine,
That hold a gallon full of Gascogne wine ;'

two plump partridges, and some rich cakes in a
basket. They now sit down to their feast, but in
the middle of supper, their merriment is inter-
rupted by a loud knocking at the door, and to
their dismay it turns out. to be honest Simon him-
self, who, having completed his business, arrives
suddenly. All is in confusion in a moment : friar
John runs from corner to corner, not knowing
where to escape, but at last, finding it impossible

1 haste.
* Poems, vol. ii. p. 8.

WILLIAM DUNBAR. 123

to effect his retreat, he ensconces himself in a
large meal-trough or girnel, which lay in a nook
of the chamber, the rich feast is then whirled off
the board, the rabbits, capons, partridges, wine,
and dainties, shut up in the aumry or closet, the
fire slackened or put out, the house swept, and
the dame herself, stripping off her gay apparel,
creeps to bed. Meanwhile, as might be expected,
Simon gets impatient —

And on his Alison began to cry,
Whilst at the last she answered crabbedly —
Ah who is this that knows so well my name ?
Go hence, she says, for Simon is fra hame,
And I will harbour here no guests perfay ;
Therefore I pray you that ye wend your way,
For at this time ye may not lodged be.
Then Simon said, Fair dame, ken ye not me * ?

The goodman is at length admitted, and, being
cold and hungry, asks hastily for his supper ;
Alison remonstrates, and ridicules the idea of
getting meat at this unseasonable hour: —

The goodwife shortly said, ye may me trow,

Here is no meat that can be drest for you.

How so, fair dame ? go get me cheese and bread,

Then fill the stoup, hold me no more in plead,

For I am very weary, wet, and cold.

Then up she rose, and durst no more be bold,

Cover'd the board, thereon set meat in hy,

And soused nolt's foot, and sheep's head cunningly,

And some cold meat she to him serv'd meanwhile,

Syne filled the stoup ; the gudeman then gan smile,

And sat him. down to taste the hearty cheer,

Said, nought want I but a companion here f .

This hospitable wish of the honest innkeeper, is
overheard by the friars, who are in the adjoining

* Poems, vol. ii. p. 11. f Ibid, p. 12.

124 WILLIAM DUNBAR.

loft, and brother Robert, indignant that the lord
of the manor should be put off with sheep's head,
when he had just witnessed such dainty viands hid
in the pantry, determines to bring to light the
cunning of dame Alison. He coughs loud ; Si-
mon, starting up, asks what sound was this ? and
his wife informs him of the arrival of the two friars
during his absence :

Yond is friar Robert and aged friar Allane,

That all this day has travelled with great pain ;

That when they here arriv'd it was so late,

Curfew was rung, and closed was the gate ;

So in our loft I gave them harberye.

The gudeman said — Wife, prudently did ye ;

These friars two are hartly welcome hither ;

Go call them down that we may drink together.
The two friars are not slow to obey the hospit-
able invitation ; and after a kindly meeting honest
Simon laments that he has not a more dainty
supper to set before them —

Yet would I give a crown of gold for me,

For some good meat and drink among us three *.
4 My excellent friend/ said friar Robert, * let me
know only what kind of meat or drink you most
long for. I was educated in Paris, and acquired
in that university some little skill in the occult
sciences, which I would gladly use for your profit,
and the comfort of this kind landlady, to whom
we are indebted for a lodging : —

I take on hand, an ye will counsel keep,

That I shall make you taste, before you sleep,

Of the best meat that is in this countrie,

With Gascoign wine if any in it be, —

Nay should it be within a hundred mile,

It shall be here before a little while f .

* Poems, vol. ii. p. 14. f Ibid, p. 14.

WILLIAM DUNBAR. 125

Simon is delighted with the proposal, and friar
Robert, at his entreaty, commences his pretended
conjurations. He starts upon the floor, opens a
little volume which he has in his hand, turns first
to the east, next to the west, then to the aumry or
pantry, and lastly strikes with his wand the trough
or girnelin which friar John lay trembling. After
many complicated gestures and incantations, the
hooded magician starts up ' full stoure,' and de-
clares that his work is completed : —

Now it is done, and ye shall have plenty
Of bread and wine the best in this countrie ;
Therefore, good dame, get up thou speedily,
And march ye strait unto yon aumery,
Then open it, and see ye bring us syne
A pair of bottles filled with Gascoign wine,
They hold a gallon and more, that wot I weil,
Thence also bring the main bread in a creill,
A pair of rabbits, fat and piping hot,
The capons also, rostet well, I wot
Two pair of bonny partridges are there,
And eke of plewers a most dainty pair *.

Dame Alison at once perceives that her prac-
tices have been discovered ; but, proceeding to the
cupboard, and disclosing each savoury dish as it
is named by the necromancer, she assumes a well-
acted astonishment, whilst honest Simon cannot
contain either his wonder or his appetite : —

He had great wonder, and swore by the mone l,
That friar Robert well his debt had done ;
He may be called a man of great science,
That hath so quickly made this purviance,
And brought it here through his great subtilty,
And through his knowledge in philosophy,

* Poems, vol. ii. p. 16.
1 moon.

126 WILLIAM D UNBAR.

The innkeeper, however, is hungry, and has no
inclination to waste time in empty compliments ;
so sitting down without question or debate, he
does excellent justice to the capons, plovers, par-
tridges, and washes all down with many a lusty
draught of the good Gascoign wine, little careful
by what strange and unlawful practices it seemed
to be procured ; but, on the contrary, wonderfully
pleased with that substantial philosophy which had
provided him so excellent a repast. Having as-
suaged his appetite, however, he becomes inquisi-
tive as to the mode by which so extraordinary a feat
of necromancy has been performed, and earnestly
begs friar Robert to show him his familiar ; but .he
is answered, that were the spirit to appear in its
own dreadful shape, it is as much as his senses or
his life were worth : he adds, however, that it is
possible to make him change himself into some
less questionable form, and bids the innkeeper say
what that shall be : —

Then Simon said in likeness of a frier,
In colour white right as your self it wear,
For white colour to hurt no man will dare.

4 It may not be so,' says friar Robert, ' for it were
a despite to our order that so lubbard a fiend
should be honoured by bearing our livery ; yet
since you desire it, he shall assume the likeness
of a friar, but it shall be a black one/

But since it pleases you that now are here.
Ye shall him see in likeness of a frier,
In habit black it was his kind to wear*.

Simon then receives directions to take his stand
at the door with a stout oak cudgel in his hand,
* Poems, vol. ii. p. 19.^

WILLIAM DUNBAR. 127

and to hold himself ready to strike with all his
might the moment he received his orders, but to
be careful not to speak a word. The catastrophe
may be readily anticipated. Friar Robert, ad-
vancing to the trough, beneath which friar John
has lain ensconced during the whole of this adven-
ture, evokes him to make his instant appearance,
by the name of Hurlybass.

Ha ! how, Sir Hurlybass — I conjure thee—
That thou uprise, and soon to me appear
In habit black, in likeness of a frier,
Out of this trough — wherein thou now dost ly.
Thou raise thee soon, and make no din or cry,
But tumble up the trough that we may see,
And unto us now show thee openly.
But in this place take care thou no man grieve,
And draw thy lubbard hands within thy sleeve,
And pull the cowl quite o'er thine ugsome face ;
Thou mayest thank heav'ii thou gettest so much grace.

* * * * *

With that the friar beneath the trough that lay,
Raxit him sone, but he was in a fray 1 ;
And up he rose, and wist na better wayn2,
But from the trough he tumbled oer the stane3.
Syne fra the samyn 4 where he thought it lang
Unto the door he pressed him to gang.
With heavy cheer and dreary countenance,
For neer before him happened such a chance :
And when friar Robert saw him gangand by 5,
Full loudly to the gudeman did he cry —
Strike, strike, man, hardily — 'tis time for thee :
"With that Simon a fellon flap let flie,
And with his cudgel hit him on the neck :
He was so fierce he fell out o'er the sack,
And broke his head upon a mustard stane, —
Be this friar John out o'er the stair is gane6.

1 fright. 2 way. 3 stone.

4 Then from the same. 5 going past. 6 gone.

128 "WILLIAM D UNBAR.

But in sic haste, that mist he has the trap,

And in the mire he fell, such was his hap,

Well forty foot in breadth beneath the stair ;

Yet got he up — with clothing nothing fair,

All drearily upon his feet he stude,

And thro' the mire full smartly than he yude l ;

And o'er the wall he clambered hastily,

Which round about was laid with cope stones dry.

Of his escape in heart he was full fain,

I trow he shall be loath to come again*.

There are few of Chaucer's tales which are
equal, and certainly none of them superior to this
excellent piece of satire. I have dwelt upon
it the rather, because without the coarseness and
licentiousness which infects the poetry of the age,
it gives us a fine specimen of its strength and na-
tural painting. The whole management of the
story, its quiet comic humour, its variety and na-
tural delineation of human character, the fresh-
ness and brilliancy of its colouring, the excellence
and playfulness of its satire upon the hypocritical
and dissolute lives of many of the monastic orders,
and the easy and vigorous versification into
which it is thrown, are entitled to the highest
praise.

Another beautiful poem of this author is, the
4 Golden Targe,' but our limits will hardly permit
us to touch upon it. Its subject is, the Power of
Love ; and nothing, certainly, can breathe a
sweeter or truer spirit of poetry than its opening
stanzas.

Brycht as" the sterne of day begonth to schyne,
Quhen gon to bed war Vesper and Lucyne,

1 past.
* Poems, vol. i. pp. 21, 22.

WILLIAM DUNBAR. 129

I raiss, and by a rosere did me rest :
Up sprang the golden candle matutyne,
With clere depurit bemes crystalline,

Glading the merry foulis in their nest :

Or Phoebus was in purpour cape revest ;
Upraise the lark, the hevyn's menstrale fyne,

In May in till a morrow myrthfullest.
Full angellike thir birdis sang their houris
Within thair curtyns grene, into their bouris,

Apparalit quhite and red, wyth blomes swete ;
Anamalit wes the felde wyth all colouris ;
The perly droppis schuke in silvir schouris ;

Quhile all in balme did branch and levis flete ;

To part fra Phoebus did Aurora grete :
Hir cry stall teris I saw hyng on the flouris

Quhilk he for luve all drank up with his hete *.

Changing only the old spelling, scarce a word
requires alteration or transposition : —

Bright as the star of day began to shine,
When gone to bed were Vesper and Lucyne,

I rose, and by a rose-tree did me rest ;
Up sprung the golden candle matutyne,
WTith clear and purest radiance crystalline,

To glad the meriy birds within their nest,
For Phoebus was in purple garment drest ;
Up rose the lark, the heaven's minstrel fine,

In May — whose mornings are the mirthfullest.

*****

Most angel-like the sweet birds sang their hours,
Enclosed in curtains green within their bowers,

Thro' blossoms white and red they gan to peep ;
Enamelled was the field with all colours.
Down fell the pearly drops in silver showers,

And all in balm did leaves and branches steep.
To part from Phoebus did Aurora weep ;
Her crystal tears hung heavy on the flowers,

Which he anon drank up, so warm his love and deep.

* Poems, vol. up. 11.
VOL. in. K

130 WILLIAM DUNBAR.

The poet, as is rather too usual with him, falls
asleep, and sees a vision.

LulPd by the birds delightful harmony,
And with the rivers sound that ran me by ;

On Flora's cloak sleep seiz'd me as I lay,
Where soon into my dreams came fantasy.
I saw approach against the orient sky,

A sail as white as hawthorn biid on spray,
Wi-th ropes of gold, bright us the star of day,
And still she near'd the land full lustily,

Swift as the falcon pouncing on her prey.

The ship anchors, and a hundred beautiful
nymphs leap smilingly from its deck ; amongst
whom he recognises love's mirthful queen, at-
tended by

Cupid, the king, with bow in hand yhent,
And dreadful arrows grundin * sharp and keen.

Secretly drawing near to behold this wondrous
sight and creeping through the leaves, he is
discovered by Venus, who commands Beauty and
others of her archers who attend on her, to seize
the culprit; but when they are drawing their
bows to pierce him to the heart, Reason, with his
golden targe or shield, throws himself between
these assailants and their victim :

Then Reason came with shield of gold so clear,

In plate of mail, like Mars, armipotint,
Defended me this noble chevalier.

Presence, however, throws a powder in the eyes
of this noble knight ; and when his defender has
thus been blinded, the unhappy poet is abandoned
to all the tyranny of Beauty, who wounds him
nearly to death. Lord ^Eolus now gives a flourish
on his bugle, and the whole scene, but a few

1 ground.

WILLIAM D UNBAR.

131

moments before so fresh and brilliant, fades away
into empty air —

Leaving no more but birds, and bank, and brook.
This fine piece, which well deserves the high
encomium bestowed on it by Warton, concludes
with a spirited address to Chaucer, Gower, and
Lydgate, whom Dunbar compliments as the great
improvers of the language and poetry of England.

Oh, reverend Chaucer, rose of rhetors all,
And of our tongue the flower imperial ;

Sweetest that ever rose to give delight.
Thou beaist of makers the triumph riall ;
Thy fresh enamelled works most coelical,

This matter could illumined have full bright —
Wast thou not of our English all the light ;
Surmounting every tongue terrestrial,

As far as May's fresh morning doth midnight.

Oh, moral Cower, and Lydgate laureate,
Your sugard lips and tongues most aureate

Have to our ears been cause of great delight ;
Your angel voices most mellifluate
Our language rude has clear illuminate,

And gilded oer our speech, that imperfyte J
Stood, till your golden pens began to urite ;
This isle till then was bare and desolate

Of rhetorick or lusty fresch endyte.

Thou little book be still obedient,
Hubmle and meek, and simple in intent ;

Before the face of every cunning wight,
I know that thou of rhetorick art schent8;
Of all her lovely roses redolent,

Is none into thy garland set on hight ;
Ashamed be then — and draw thee out of sight.
Rude is thy weed, distained, bare, and rent,

Well may'st thou be afraid to face the light *..

1 imperfect. 2 shorn, deprived.

* Poems, vol. i. pp. 20, 21. The spelling is altered.

K 2

132 WILLIAM DUNBAR.

The power and variety of Dunbar's genius
must be evident, from the extracts already given.
It is difficult to say whether his humorous, or his
moral and didactic vein, is the richest and most
original. He has attempted also, and frequently
with great felicity, a style of poetry which appears
to have been extremely popular in those days ;
although it is somewhat difficult to find a name
for it. It commences or concludes with some
Latin quotation taken from the ' Psalms ' or the

* Gospels' ; or, sometimes only from the words of
an ancient Christian prayer or mass ; and upon
this, as a text, the poet builds a sacred ode or
religious hymn, making his concluding English
lines to rhyme in rather an uncouth manner with
the Latin final syllables. Thus in his lines on

* The Resurrection ' : —

Done is the battle on the dragon black ;

Our champion, Christ, confounded hath his force.
The gates of hell are broken with a crack;

The sign triumphal raised is of the cross.
The devils tremble with a hideous voice;

The souls are purchased, and to bliss may go.
Christ, with his blood, our ransom doth indorse;

Surrexit Dominus de Sepulchre.

*****
The victor great again is ris'n on hight;

That for our quarrel to the death was wounded.
The sun, that wax'd all pale, again shines bright,

And darkness clears ; our faith is now refounded.
The knell of mercy from the heavens is sounded !

The Christians are delivered from their woe ;
The Jews, and their gross errors are confounded.

Surrexit Dominus de Sepulchre*.

It is deeply to be regretted, that of a poet
* Poems, vol. i, p. 247.

WILLIAM DUNBAR. 133

whose genius is so unquestionable, and who
shines with a dazzling brightness amongst the
inferior luminaries by whom he is surrounded,
nothing almost is known. From his own verses
it appears that he followed the court. He lived
a companion of the great and opulent, yet poor
and often in want; he died in such extreme
obscurity, that the place where he closed his eyes,
and the time where he was gathered to his fathers,
are both alike unknown. In his curious poem
entitled a ' Lament for the Makars,' composed, in
all probability, during his last sickness, he pa-
thetically laments his having survived all his
tuneful brethren.

Syne he hes all my brethren tane,
He will not lat me live alane.
Perforce I man his next prey be,
Timor Mortis Conturbat Me.

My learned friend Mr. Laing, of Edinburgh,
the secretary of the Bannatyne Club, has kindly
communicated to me an edition of the whole
works of Dunbar, containing many pieces hitherto
unpublished, which he means shortly to present
to the world. From this edition the quotations in
the above life of the poet are taken; and I only
regret that his biographical collections regarding
Dunbar, with the notes illustrative of his poetry
and the times in which he lived, were not in such
a state as to allow of my consulting them. The
whole work however, will, I trust, soon be before
the public.

GAVIN DOUGLAS.

1474—1522.

137

GAVIN DOUGLAS

1474—1522.

THE life of Bishop Douglas, the admirable trans-
lator of * Virgil,' has already been written by
Mackenzie, Sage, and Dr. Irving; and little can
be added to the particulars which have been col*
lected by the industry and erudition of these
authors. He appears to have been born about
the year 1474, and, unlike his celebrated com-*
patriot, Dunbar, enjoyed the advantage of illus-
trious descent, a circumstance of no small im*
portance in those feudal days. His father was
Archibald, sixth Earl of Angus ; his mother, the
lady Elizabeth Boyd, daughter of Robert Lord
Boyd, high-chamberlain ; and of this marriage,
Gavin was the third son. If we are to believe the
• Eulogy ' of the historian of the House of Angus,
the father of the future poet was a remarkable
person. ' He was a man," says this quaint
writer, ' every way accomplished, both for mind
and body. He was of stature tall, and strong
made ; his countenance full of majesty, and such
as bred reverence in the beholders; wise and
eloquent of speech, upright and square in his
actions, sober and moderate in his desires, valiant
and courageous, liberal, loving, and kind to his

133 GAVIN* DOUGLAS.

friends, which made him to be reverenced and
respected of all men.'*

The same author has preserved an anecdote of
this ancient baron, which, whilst it undoubtedly
reflects credit on his personal valour, says little
for his sobriety and moderation. * The king,'
says he, (it was James IV. of Scotland,) * on a
time was discoursing at table on the personages of
men, and by all men's confession, the prerogative
was adjudged to the Earl of Angus ; but a courtier
that was by, one Spens, of Kilspindy, whether out
of envy to hear him so praised, or of his idle
humour only, cast in a word of doubt and dis-
paraging. It is true, said he, if all be good that
js upcome; meaning, if his actions and valour
were answerable to his personage and body. This
spoken openly, and coming to the earl's ears,
offended him highly ; and it fell out soon after, as
Angus was riding from Douglas to Tantallon,
that he sent all his company the nearest way,
whilst he himself, with one only of his servants,
having each of them a hawk on his fist, in hope
of better sport, took the way by Borthwick towards
Fala ; where, alighting at the brook at the west
end of the town, they bathed their hawks.

' In the mean time, this Spens happened to
come that way ; whom the earl espying, said to
his man, " Is not this he that made question of my
manhood ? I will go to him and give him a trial
of it, that we may know which of us is the better
man." "No, my lord," said his servant, " it is a dis-
paragement for your lordship to meddle with him ;

* Hume's Hist, of the House of Douglas and Angus>
vol. ii. p. 57.

.GAVIN DOUGLAS. 139

J will do that sufficiently, if it please your honour
to give me leave." " I see," said the earl, "he hath
one with him ; grapple you with him, but leave
me to deal with his master." So, fastening their
liawks, that they might not fly away in the mean
time, they rode after him, and having come up,
"What reason had you," said the earl, " to speak
so contemptuously of me, doubting whether my va-
lour were answerable to my personage." Spens
would fain have excused the matter, but Angus
plainly told him this would not serve his turn.
," Thou art a big fellow," said he, " and so am I ;
.one of us must and shall pay for it." " If it may
be no better," said the other, " there is never an
«arl in Scotland, but I will defend myself from
him as well as I can ; and rather kill him than
suffer him to kill me." So, alighting from their
horses, they fought, till at last the Earl of Angus,
with a stroke, cut Spens's thigh-bone asunder, so
that he fell to the ground, and died soon after.
** Go now," said Angus to the servant of the slain
knight, "and tell my gossip, the king, there was
nothing here but fair play, — I know he will chafe,
—but Hermitage is a strong castle, and there will
I abide till his anger be over *."

Such was the stalwart father of the poet, — a sire
more fitted to teach his children how to couch a
lance than polish a sonnet ; and Gavin's elder
brethren, George, master of Angus, and Sir
William Douglas, of Glen ber vie, were bred up in
this warlike school. They fell, with their sove-
reign, in the fatal battle of Flodden ; and two

* Hume's History of the House of Douglas and Angus,
vol. ii. p. 59.

140 GAVIN DOUGLAS.

hundred knights and gentlemen of the same

4 The flowers of the forest,
That aye were the foremost/

lay stretched around them. Their father, the old
earl, who had in vain dissuaded the monarch from
a ruinous war, bending under the weight of pub-
lic and individual sorrow, retired into Galloway,
where he soon after died.

Meanwhile a gentler fortune awaited his third
•son, Gavin, who had been educated as an eccle-
siastic ; and having entered into holy orders,
was early promoted to the rectory of Hawick,
a town in Roxburghshire, situated in a beau-
tiful pastoral country, at the confluence of the
rivers Teviot and Slitterick. Here, living in
the midst of ^romantic natural scenery, endowed
with a fore imagination, and having a mind
imbued with no common stores of learning and
knowledge, (considering the darkness of the
times,) he appears to have early devoted himself
to poetry. * The intimacy of his acquaintance
with ancient literature,' says Dr. Irving, 'was, in
that age, rarely paralleled. His favourites amongst
the ancient poets were, apparently, Virgil and
Ovid; and among the Christian fathers, St.
Augustin, whom he denominates the Chief of
Clerks. His knowledge of the Latin language
was, undoubtedly, extensive ; and as he has in-
formed us that Lord Sinclair requested him to
translate Homer, we may conclude that he pos-
sessed also an acquaintance with Greek, an ac-
complishment rarely to be met with at that time
in Scotland. We learn also from his ancient

GAVIN DOUGLAS. 141

biographer, Mylne, that he was profoundly read
in theology and in the canon law *.'

His first work of any extent was ' King Hart,'
an allegorical poem, upon human life, of which it
is impossible to give an analysis in more striking
language than his own. ' The hart of man/
says he, ' beand his maist noble part, and the
fountain of his life,' is here put for man in ge-
neral, and holds the chief place in the poem,
tinder the title of c King Hart.' This mystical
king is first represented in the bloom of youtheid,
\vith his lusty attendants, the attributes or quali-
ties of youth. Next is pictured forth the Palace
of Pleasure, near by the castle of King Hart,
with its lovely inhabitants. Queen Pleasance, with
the help of her ladies, assails King Hart's castle,
and takes him and most of his servitors prisoners.
Pity at last releases them, and they assail the
Queen Pleasance, and vanquish her and her ladies
in their turn. King Hart then weds Queen
Pleasance, and solaces himself long in her deli-
cious castle. So far is man's dealing with plea-
sure; but now when King Hart is past mid-eild,
comes another scene. For Age, arriving at the
castle of Queen Pleasance, with whom King
Hart dwelt ever since his marriage with her,
insists for admittance, which he gains. So King
Hart takes leave of Youthheid with much sorrow.
Age is no sooner admitted, than Conscience
comes also to the castle and forces entrance, be-
ginning to chide the King, whilst Wit and Reason
iake part in the conference. After this and

* Irvirg's Lives, vol. ii. p. 27.

142 GAVIN DOUGLAS.

other adventures, Queen Pleasance suddenly
leaves the King, and Reason and Wisdom persuade
King Hart to return to his own palace : that is,
when pleasure and the passions leave man, reason
and wisdom render him his own masters. After
some other matters, Decrepitude attacks and
mortally wounds the King, who dies after making
his testament.

Such is Douglas's nervous and condensed de-
scription of his own poem. The allegory, al-
though insipid and tedious to our modern taste,
was probably delightful, in all its intricate and
endless personifications, to his feudal readers.
There is a curious contrast, in these iron times,
between the fierce activity of the barons in the
lists or in the field, and the patience and resig-
nation with which they seem to have sat down to
wade through the interminable pages of their
romances, and listened to the long drawn-out
legends of their minstrels, or their jongleurs. To
them the business of life was full of passion^
violence, and bloodshed ; whilst their amusements
and their literature, were solemn, grave, and
tedious. In our days, life stagnates in repose
and indolence ; whilst the productions of our lite-
rature must be striking, abrupt, highly wrought —
above all, brief; and we keep our violence and
impatience for the unhappy authors who dare to
draw upon us for anything which requires serious
thought, sustained attention, or a prolonged
perusal.

But although uninteresting and somewhat heavy,
as a lengthened allegory, ' King Hart' abounds
with much noble poetry ; and we often forget,

GAVIN DOUGLAS. JJ3

in the vivid descriptions and stirring incidents,
the moral aim of the author. The King is a
real feudal monarch, holding his state nobly
amongst his living subjects and vassals; whilst
Queen Pleasance, in her enchanted castle, charms
us, not only by her beauty, but is invested with so
much nature and verisimilitude, that we believe
her a real enchantress, surrounded by her beautiful
and captivating syrens. The first canto opens
with great spirit : —

King Hart into his comely cast el strang1,

Closed about with craft and meikle ure 2,
So seemly was he set his folk amang,

That he no doubt had of misaventure.

So proudly was he polished, plain, and pure,
With Youthheid and his lusty levis grene,

So fair, so fresh, so likely to endure,
And also blyth as bird in summer schene.
For, was he never yet with shouris schot,

Nor yet o'er run with rouk3 or ony raine,
In all his lusty lecam 4 not ane spot,

Na never had experience into paine.

But alway into lyking mocht to layne3,
Only to love and very gentleness ;

He was inclynit cleanlie to remain,
And wonn 6 under the wing of Wantonness.

Thus slightly modernised —

King Hart sat in his comely castle strong,

All closed about with craft and cunning sure,
So proudly was he placed his folks among,

That he no doubt had of misadventure ;

His state did promise it should long endure ;
His youth was fresh, his lusty leaves were green,

His cheek show'd mantling blood, as ruby pure,
His voice was blyth as bird in summer sheen.,

1 strong. 2 toil. 3 moisture. 4 body.

5 might incline to pleasure . 6 live.

144 GAVIN DOUGLAS.

Like goodly tree whom tempest ne'er had torn,

Or fresh-blown rose, whose beauty ne'er could wane,

King Hart stood firm ; his curling locks, unshorn,
Play'd round his brows ; he never dreamt of pain :
But always thought in liking soft to layne1

Love's servant, nurst in lap of gentleness, —
He fondly dreamt that he should aye remain,

And wori beneath the wing of Wantonness.

The poet proceeds to tell us that, however bold
lie looked, this king did not enjoy freedom. Since
Nature had commissioned various " ythand ser-
vitouris," or diligent servants, to guide and govern
iiim : under which description he includes the
many evil passions and wicked propensities to
which the heart of man is a prey : —

First was their Strength and Rage and Wantonness j

Green Lust, Disport, Jelosy, and Invy,
Freschness, new gate, Waist-gude and Wilfulness ;

Deliverness, Full-hardiness thairby,

Gentrice, Freedom, Pitie, Privy, espy,
Want-wit, Vain-gloir, and Prodigalitie,

Unrest, Night-walk, and felon Gluttony,
Unricht, Dym-sicht, with Slycht and Subtiltie.

While King Hart is surrounded by these subjects,
Honor arrives at the gate, but is denied admit-
tance : —

Honor persewit to the Kingis yet2,

Thir folk said all thai wald not let him in,
Becaus thai said the laird to feast was set,

With all his lusty servants more and myn3;

But he ane port had entered with a gyn:
And up he came in haist to the great toure ;

And said he suld it perall 4 all with fine
And fresh delight, with many a richest flower.

The castle of dame Pleasure is next described
1 lie. 2 ga*e. 3 more and less. 4 decorate it.

GAVIN DOUGLAS. 145

The quhilk was paralld all about with pride,
and from this fortress, into which no care or sor-
row can force its entrance, this beauteous queen
issues on a day to take her sport in the forest : —

Happend this worthy queen upon a day,
With her fresh court arrayet weill at rycht,

Hunting to ride her, to disport and play,
With mony a lustre ladie fair and brycht,
Hir banner schene display it and on hycht

Was seen above ther heedis ; where they raid
The green ground was illmninyt of the lycht, —

Fresh Beauty had the vanguard and was guide.

Thus slightly changed —

It hapt this lovely queen upon a day,

With her gay court in glittering weeds bedight,
Rode to the chace, intent on sport and play,

Circled with many a lady fair and bright.

Their radiant banner was display'd on height,
And from its sun-lit wavy folds was shed

Upon the verdant turf a flood of light ; "
Whilst Beauty, huntress sweet, the joyous vanguard led.

When the lovely queen and her troop of bright
and captivating ladies approach the castle of King
Hart, with their banner waving, and the sounds
of joyousness and melody, the warders alarmed,
inform the monarch, and advise that he should send
some messenger to discover their intentions ; upon
this, Youthheid and Delight instantly offer their
services : —

Youtheid upstert and cleckit * on his cloke,
Was broudin all with histre levis grene —

Eise Fiesche Delyt, lat not this mater soke2,
We will go se quhat may this muster mene ;
So weill we sail us it copi betwene,

That thair sail nothing pass away unspyit,

1 buckled. * slacken.

VOL. in. L

146 GAVIN DOUGLAS.

Syne sail we tell the King as we have sene,
And thair sail nothing trewlie be denyit.

The catastrophe of Youthheid and Fresh Delight,
who are dazzled and disarmed by Beauty, and
carried prisoners to her castle, is sweetly told.
With scarce any change except the substitution
of the ancient for the modern spelling, the stanzas
throw themselves into beautiful poetry : —

Youthheid forth far'd — he rode on Innocence,
A milk-white steed that ambled as the wind ;

Whilst Fresh Delight bestrode Benevolence,
A palfrey fair, that would not bide behind :
The glorious beams had almost made them blind

That forth from Beauty burst, beneath the cloud
With which the goddess had herself enshrined,

Sitting, like Eastern queen in her pavilion proud.

But these young wights abased at the sight,

Full soon were staid in their courageous mood ;
Instant within them died all power and might :

And gazing, rooted to the earth they stood ;

At which Fair Calling, seeing them subdued,
Seized on their slackened rein with rosy hands :

Then to her castle swift away she yude l,
And fastened soon the twain in Venus' silken bands.

The consequences of this capture may be easily
anticipated. King Hart, discomposed at the dis-
appearance of his espials, sends others of his sub-
jects to inquire the cause : these, with equal ease,
are made prisoners, arid the monarch,, beholding
from the battlements the total discomfiture of this
second party, calls to arms, and at the head of his
host, his broad banner waving over a wood of
spears, issues forth to attack his fair antagonists.
As we already know, he is grievously wounded

GAVIN DOUGLAS. 147

and taken prisoner. The story now gets ingeni-
ously intricate, but tedious withal, and we cannot
follow the subjects of the king into their several
dungeons : he himself is closely confined within a
grated chamber, near the ' donjon ' tower, where,
as he lies sick with love, and hopeless of escape,
his only comfort is to listen to the melody which
issues from the palace of dame Pleasance. The
prisoners, however, by means of Pity, one of her
ladies who deserts her service, subtilely effect their
escape. The lovely queen, when asleep in her
pavilion, is surprised, and in her turn becomes a
captive. Conscious of her power, she requests an
interview with King Hart, and he, as may be ex-
pected, is too happy to become her liberator ; —
the canto concluding, in all due propriety, with
their espousals and marriage-feast. The opening
of the second Canto, and the arrival of Age is given
with great spirit : —

Quha is at eis quhen baith ar now in bliss,
But fresche King Hart that cleirlie is above,

And wantis nocht in warld that he culd wis1,
And traistis nocht that eer he sail remove
Scoir years and more, Schir Lyking and Schyr Luif

Of him thai haif the cure and governance ;
Quhile at the last befell, and sa behuif 2,

Ane changeing new, that grevit Dame Plesance.

Aiie morning tide quhen that the sun so schene,

Out-raschet had his bemys from the sky,
Ane auld gude man before the yett; was seiie

Upon ane steid that raid full easilie.

He rappit at the yett — but curtaslie,
Yet at the straik the grit dungeon gan din ;

Then at the last he schouted fellonly,
And bade thaim rise, and said he man4 come in.

1 wish. 2 behoved. 3 gate. 4 must,

L2

148 GAVIN DOUGLAS.

The arrival of Age is the signal for a change in
the pleasant life of poor King Hart. His gay and
merry subjects desert him: Youthheid, amongst
the first, demands his wages, and is soon followed
by Disport and Fresh Delight ; whilst Conscience
arrives before the gate, and, impatient of delay,
breaks in without question or resistance. Dame
Pleasance now remonstrates with the king for the
loss of some of her pleasantest servants, and the
intrusion of very old and disagreeable persons in
their stead. To appease her, he somewhat quaintly
and abruptly orders supper, and all appears to be
made up, when, on retiring to their chamber, Sad-
ness, an uncomely damsel, intrudes herself, and
approaching the couch, whispers something in the
king's ear, who had fallen asleep. Disgusted with
this new arrival, the queen loses all patience, and
rising suddenly, collects her train and deserts the
castle, whilst her royal consort is still asleep.
The scene of confusion and misery which ensues
may be easily imagined : Jealousy and Disease
attack and distract the unhappy monarch, whilst
at the last Wisdom raises his voice and solemnly
counsels him to return home —

Go to thy place, and there thyself present,
The castel yet is strong enough to hold ;

Then Sadness said, Sir King, ye man assent ;
"\Yhat have ye now ado in this waste fald l ?

The king takes the advice in good part, and
leaving the desolate palace of Queen Pleasance,
rides to his own castle, where he meets with but
poor comfort, for Languor welcomes him at the
yett, and ' Strength, who although faded of his-
1 deserted fold.

GAVIN DOUGLAS. 149

flowers' had still abided with him, * couris upon
his hocliis,' and creeps out at the postern : —

Though Strength was now much faded in his flowers,

Still with the aged king he did abide ;
But at the last upon his houghs he cowers,

And privily out at the yett did slide :

Then stole away, and went on wayis wide.
Full soon he Youthheid and his fellows found

(Nor miss'dthe road, albeit he had no guide) —
Behind a hill they lay, upon a grassy mound.

The departure of Strength makes way for the
arrival of Decrepitude, whose hideous host is
descried coming over the ' muir,' by Wisdom and
the King, as they sit conversing together. The
description is excellent : —

Right as they two in talk the hours beguil'd,

A hideous host they saw come o'er the muir :
Decrepitude (his banner torn and soil'd)

Was near at hand, with many a chieftain sture *j
A bony steed, full thin, that caitiff bore,

And crooked were his loathly limbs with eld j
No smile e'er grac'd his countenance demure;

No fere2 dar'd joke with him — with rigour all he
quell'd *.

It is at first determined to defend the castle;
but all efforts are in vain against such a host
as Decrepitude brings along with him : the great
tower is cast down, the barmekin battered to
pieces, and King Hart, mortally wounded, de-
cently prepares himself for death. He remembers,
however, that he has not disposed of his treasures,
and the poem concludes with his quaint and fan-
ciful testament. He bequeaths his proud palfrey,
Unstedfastness, to his fair but faithless consort,

1 stern. 2 companion.

* The above is very slightly altered from the original.

150 GAVIN DOUGLAS.

Dame Pleasance ; to Chastity, the task of scouring
his conscience ; to Freedom, his thread-bare
cloak ; to

Business that ne'er was wont to tire,

Bear thou this stool, and bid him now sit down ;

For he has left his master in the mire,

And scorn'd to draw him out, tho' he should drown.

Some of King Hart's items are a little coarse ;
but there is much of the peculiar satirical humour
of the age in his codicil to Reve Supper : —

To Reve1 Supper, he he amang the route,

Ye me commend — he is ane fallow fine :
This ugsome stomach that I hear ahout,

Rug ye it out, then bear it to him syne ;
For he has hindered me of mony dine,

And often e'en at kirk has gart me sleep ;
My wits he too has weakened sore with wine,

And made my breast with lustis hot to leap.

The legacy of his wounded brow to Foolhardi-
iiess, and his broken spear to Dame Danger,
conclude King Hart's testament and history : a
singular poem, deformed by the faults of the age,
but full of the out-breakings of a rich fancy and
no common powers of language and versification.
It was Douglas's first work, and in many places
betrays marks of haste and youth.

Of the ' Palace of Honour,' his next great
work, it is impossible, within our limits, and if
possible, it would be tedious, to give anything like
a full analysis. Nor is this to be regretted, as the
task has been performed by the author of the
Lives of the Scottish Poets, with much care and
erudition. ' The poet's excellent design,' says

1 reve — a steward or butler.

GAVIN DOUGLAS. 151

Bishop Sage, in his Life of Douglas, * is to re-
present, under the similitude of a vision, the
vanity and inconstancy of all worldly pomp and
glory; and to show that a constant inflexible
course of virtue and goodness is the only true way
to honour and felicity, which he allegorically
describes as a magnificent palace, situated on a
very high mountain, of most difficult access. He
illustrates the whole with a variety of examples,
not only of those noble and heroic souls whose
eminent virtues procured them admittance into
that blessed place, but also of those wretched crea-
tures whose vicious lives have fatally excluded
them from it for ever, notwithstanding all their
worldly state and grandeur. The work is addressed
to James IV., on purpose to inspire that brave
prince with just sentiments of true honour and
greatness, and incite him to tread in the paths of
virtue, which alone could conduct him to it. To
make it more agreeable and entertaining, the poet
has adorned it with several incident adventures,
discovering throughout the whole a vast and com-
prehensive genius, an exuberant fancy, and extra-
ordinary learning for the time he lived in. He
seems to have taken the plan of it from the
'* Pakce of Happiness/' described in the picture
of Cebes ; and it is not improbable that his coun-
tryman, Florentius Volusenus, had it in view, and
improved his design in his admirable but too little
known book, " De Tranquillitate Animi."'

This praise is somewhat too encomiastic and
indiscriminate ; for the 4 Palace of Honour' can-

* Sage's Life of Dougla?, prefixed to his Virgil, p. 15.

152 GAVIN DOUGLAS.

not lay claim either to a high moral tendency or
to much unity of composition and effect. It is,
on the contrary, confused in its arrangement,
often obscure in its transitions, and crowded with
persons and scenery of all ages and countries,
heaped together * in most admired disorder;'
— palaces and princes, landscapes and ladies,
groups of Pagan sages and Christian heroes, po-
pulous cities and silent solitudes, succeed so ra-
pidly, that we lose ourselves in the profusion of
its actors and the unconnected but brilliant variety
of its scenery. Yet it is justly characterised as
exhibiting, in many places, an exuberant fancy and
an extraordinary extent of learning for the age in
which it was written. The learning, indeed, is
rather ambitiously intruded in many parts, com-
municating a coldness and tedium to the narra-
tive, and betraying an anxiety in the author to
display at once the whole extent of his stores;
whilst making every allowance for the obscurities,
which are occasioned by a purer Scottish dialect,
it is impossible not to feel that the poetry is infe-
rior in genius to Dunbar. There is not that
masterly clearness of outline and brilliancy of
colouring in his grand groups, — that power of
keeping under all minor details — the perspective of
descriptive poetry, which is necessary for the pro-
duction of a strong and uniform effect. All is
too much of equal size, crowded into the fore-
ground ; and the author loses his purpose in the
indiscriminate prominence of his details. Yet
there are many charming passages. In the month
of May, the poet, as is usual with his tuneful bre-
thren of these olden times, rises early, before

GAVIN DOUGLAS.

153

dawn, and wanders into a garden of pleasance and
delight. Aurora, with her countenance sweet yet
pale, and her mantle bordered with sable, had not
yet unclosed the curtains of the couch within which
lay Flora, the goddess of flowers, but a delicious
fragrance was breathed from its flowery carpet,
and a rich melodious song burst from the groves
around it : —

The fragrant fiouris blomand in their seis l,
Ourspreid the levis of Nature's tapestries ;
Abone the quhilk, with heavenly harmonies,
The hirdes sat on twistes and on greis2,
Melodiously makand their kindlie gleis,
Quhais schill- notis fordinned4 all the skyis;

Of repercussit air the echo cryis,
Amang the branches of the blomeid treis,

And on the laurers silver droppis lyis.
Quhile that I roumed5 in that paradyce,
Replenished and full of all deiice 6,

Out of the sea Eous lift his heid?,
I mene 8 the hors quhilk drawis at device
The assiltrie and golden chair of price

Of Tytan, quhilk at morrow semis reid ;

The new colour that all the nicht lay deid
Is restorit, baith foulis, flouris, and rice 9

Recomfort was, throw Phoebus gudlyheid.
The daisy and the mariguld unlappit,
Quhilks10 all the nycht lay with their levis happit,

Thame to preserve fra reumes11 pungitive,
The ximbrate treis, that Titan about wappit,
War portrait and out fra eirth yschappit,

Be golden bemis vivificative,

Quhair amend heit is maist restorative ;
The gresshopperis amangst the vergeris12 guappit,

And beis wrocht material for their hive.

J season. ? twigs and grass. 3 shrill. 4 resounded through.

5 roamed. 6 delight. 7 head. 8 I mean.
* bushes. 10 which. n rime or frost. 12 small brushwood.

154 GAVIN DOUGLAS.

Richt hailsum 1 wes the sessoun 2 of the yeir
Phoebus furth yet depured bemis cleir,

Maist nutritive till all things vegetant;
God Eolus of wind durst nocht appeir ;
Nor auld Saturne, with his mortal speir

And bad aspect — contrair till every plant,

Neptunus n'old3 within that palice hant;
The bereall stremis 4 rynnand men mich heir ;

By bonkes5 grene with glancis variant.

It will be instantly perceived by the reader that
the language in these verses is more obscure and
latinized, and the rhythm less melodious than in
the earlier poetry of Dunbar ; yet if we attend to
the rules given by Mr. Tyrwhitt for the proper
reading of Chaucer, and make allowance for a
little learned affectation in the idiom, the descrip-
tion will be found both harmonious and poetical.
To cast it into a modern dress is not so easy,
however, as in the case of Dunbar. Let us at-
tempt it : —

In broider'd beds unnumber'd flowers were seen,
Of Nature's couch the living tapestry ;
And, hid within their leafy curtains green,
The little birds pour'd forth such harmony,
As fill'd my very heart with joy and glee ;
A flood of music followed, wave on wave,
Which Echo answered from her airy cave ;
And sprinkled o'er the laurels blooming near,
The silver dew-drops shone, like diamonds bright and
clear.

Whilst in this paradise my senses fed,T
And filled my heart with every rich delight,
Up from the sea Eous raised his head,
I mean the horse to whose aetherial might
Is given to draw the golden chariot bright

1 wholesome. l season. 3 dar'd not. 4 streams.
5 green banks.

GAVIN DOUGLAS. 155

Of Titan — which hy night looks dark and dead,

But changeth in the morn to ruhy red ;

Whilst birds, and fields, ami flowers.on holm andhight,

New life assume in glittering vests bedight.
The daisy sweet, the marigold and rose,
That all the night their silken buds did close,
Lest icy rimes their tender twigs should sear,
Expanded fragrant ; and, as Titan rose,
Each ancient tree his greeny glories shows.
Emerging joyous from the darkness drear,
All living things the kindly warmth did cheer ;
The idle grasshoppers both chirpt and play'd,

The sweet laborious bees melodious music made.

Delightful was the season, May's first hour,
The glorious sun uprising in his power,
Bathed with a kindly heat all growing things,
Nor boisterous Eolus, with blast and shower,
Nor Saturn, with his aspect sad and sour,
Dar'd in that place unfurl his icy wings,
But sweet Favonius thither fragrance brings,
And little streams, half-hid in moss, do run,
Making a pleasant chime,, and glancing in the sun.

Encircled with these varied delights, the poet
desires anxiously to pour forth a strain worthy of
the occasion, to

Nature queen, and eke to lusty May ;

when, for what reason he fails to inform us, his
faculties become weak, and he is seized with, a
trembling which incapacitates him —

With spreit arraisit, and every wit away,

Quaking for fear both pulse and vein and nervis.

Upon this he very sensibly determines to go
home, but is suddenly arrested on his road by an
extraordinary incident, which he thus describes:—

Out of the air cam ane impressioun,
Tlu'ou quhais licht in extacie or soun

156 GAVIN DOUGLAS.

Amid the virgultis, all intill a fary !,

As feminine so feblet fell I down ;
And with that gleme sa desyit was my micht,
Quhell thair remanet nouthar voice nor sicht,

Breith, motion, nor heiring naturall ;
Saw never man so faint a levand2 wicht ;
And na ferly3, for oner excelland licht

Corruptes the wit, and garris4 the blude availl,

Until the hart thocht5 it na danger aill.
Quhen it is smorit, memberis wirkis6 noeht richt,

The dreidful terrour swa did me ass aill. -

Yet at the last, I n't how long a space,
A lytte heit7 appeirit in my face,

Quhilk8 had tofoir bene paill and voide of blude :
Tho in my sueven 9 I met a ferly 10 cace ;—
I thocht me set within a desert place,

Amidst a forest by a hideous flude,

With grysly fische ; and schortly till conclude,
I sail descry ve as God will give me grace,

My visioun in rural termis rude.

The language here is so antique and remote
from English, that a translation must be attempt-
ed : —

Forth from the skies a sudden light did glance,

That threw me into extacy or swoon ;
Instant I fell in an enchanted trance,

And feeble as a woman sunk I down:
With that strange gleam, all faded was my might,

Silent my voice, and dizzied grew my sight ;
Sans motion, breath, or hearing, tranc'd 1 stood, —

Was never seen so weak a living wight.

Nor was it strange, for such celestial light
Confounds the brain, and chases back the blood
Unto the sinking heart in ruby flood :

And the faint members of the body, all

Refuse to work — when terror doth appal.

1 a faery — an enchanted trance. 2 living. 3 no wonder.

4 makes. 5 although. 6 work not right. 7 heat.

8 which. 9 swoon. 10 wonderful.

GAVIX DOUGLAS. 15-7

'Twere hard to tell how long the fit did last :

At length my colour came, though sore aghast,
And a wild wondrous vision met mine ee 1 :

Thro a huge forest I did seem to roam,

In lonely gloom far far from mortal home,
Fast by the margin of a sullen sea,
In whose dead waters griesly fishes be :
'Twas hideous all — yet here I shall essay
To tell mine aventure, though rude may be the lay.

Finding himself in this doleful region, — (I fol-
low Dr. Irving's analysis of the Palace of Ho-
nour,)— he begins to complain of the iniquity of
Fortune ; but his attention is soon attracted by the
arrival of a magnificent cavalcade ' of ladies fair
and guidlie men,' who pass before him in bright
and glorious procession. Having gone by, two
caitiffs approach, one mounted on an ass, the other,
on a hideous horse, who are discovered to be the
arch-traitors Sinon and Achitophel. From Sinon
the poet learns that the brilliant assembly whom he
has just beheld is the court of Minerva, who are
journeying through this wild solitude to the palace
of Honor. He not unnaturally asks how such
villains were permitted to attend upon the goddess,
and receives for answer, that they appear there
on the same principle that we sometimes find
thunder and tornadoes intruding themselves into
the lovely and placid month of May. The merry
horns of hunters are now heard in the wood, and
a lovely goddess is seen surrounded by buskined
nymphs, mounted upon an elephant, cheering on
her hounds after an unhappy stag, who proves to-
be Acteeon, pursued by Diana and his own dogs.
Melodious music succeeds to this stirring scene%

1 eye.

15S GAVIX DOUGLAS.

and through an opening in the forest the court of
Venus approaches, shedding a transcendent bright-
ness over the groves, and composed of every hero
and heroine of classical and romantic story. The
description of Mars upon his barcled courser ' stout
and bald' is noble; —

Everie invasabill wapon J on him he bair ;

His luik2 wes grym, his bodie large and squair,

His lymmis weill entailyiet3 to be strang,
His neck was grit a span breadth weill or mair,
His visage bald4 with crisp broun cnrland hair;

Of stature not ouir grit nor yet ouir lang,

Behaldand5 Venus Oh ye, my lufe, he sang:
And scho again with dalliance sa fair,

Her knycht hym cleipis6 quhair sa he ride or gang.

Thus modernized :

The mighty Mars a barded courser bore,

Grim was his look, his body large and square,
His sinewy neck in breadth a span or more,

Round which did shortly curl his crisp brown hair;

His limbs well-knit, and of proportion fair,
Were clothed in panoply of radiant steel.

On Venus still he gaz'd with amorous air,
And she her knight him call'd in woe or weal,
Whilst o'er his noble form her love-lit glances steal.

This brave apparition is scarcely past, when it
is succeeded by the court of Minerva, composed
of ' wise, eloquent fathers, and pleasant ladies of
fresh beauty,' all of them directing their course to
the Palace of Honour, and cheering the tedium of
the journey by rehearsing Greek and Latin his-
tories, and chaunting to their lyre Sapphic and
Elegiac Odes. We regret it is impossible to

1 invulnerable weapon. 8 look. 3 well knit. 4 bold.
5 beholding, 6 calls.

GAVIN DOUGLAS. L59

follow them in their progress ; but some of the
insulated pictures are beautiful. The poet mounts
a gallant steed, caparisoned with woodbine ; and,
under the guidance of a sweet nymph to whom
he had been introduced by Calliope, he takes his
joyous way with the Muses, and at length
arrives at the Castalian fount : —

Beside that cristall weill 1 sweet and digist2,
Thame to repois, their hors refresch and rest ;

Alichtit3 doun thir Musis cleir of hue.
The companie all haillelie lest and best,
Thrang to the well to drink, quhilk 4 ran south-west,

Throut ane meid whair alkin 5 flourfs grew

Amaug the laif6 full fa&t I did persew
To drink ; bot sa the great press me opprest,

That of the water I micht not taste een a drew 7.

Our horsis pasturit8 in ane plesand plane,
Law at the fute of ane fair greene montaine,

Amid ane meid schaddowit with cedar trees j
Saif fra all heit, thair micht we weill remain.
All kind of herbis, flouris, frute, and greine,

With everie growand tree thair men micht cheis9.

The boeriall streams, rinnand ouir stanerie greis,
Made sober noyis ; the schaw dinnit10 agane,

For birdis sang, and sounding of the beis.

The ladies fair on divers instrumentes

Went playand, siugand, dansand ouir the bentib11 ;

Full angellik and hevenlie was thair soun.
Quhat creature amid his hart imprintis
The fresche beautie, the gudelie representis,

The merrie speeche, fair haveing, hie renoun,

Of thame, wad sit a wise man half in swoun ;
Their womanlines, uryithit the elementislj,

Stoneist the hevin, and all the eirth adoun.

1 well. 2 wholesome. 3 alighted. 4 which.

5 all kind. 6 crowd. 7 drop. 8 pastured. 9 choose.

10 resounded. n fields. 12 charmed the elements.

160 GAVIN DOUGLAS.

The warld may not consider nor descrive1
The hevinlie joy, the bliss I saw belive ;

Sa ineffable above my wit, sa hie,
I will na mair thairon my forehead rive
Bot briefly forth my febill process drive ; —

Law in the meid ane palyeon picht2 I see,

Maist gudeliest, and richest that micht be :
My governour aftner than tymis five

Unto that hald to pass commandit me.

I attempt a free translation of these fine stanzas,
as the language is so obscure: —

Beside that fount, with clearest crystal blest,
Alighted down the Muses bright of hue,

Themselves to solace and their steeds to rest ;
And all their followers ou the instant drew
To taste the stream, which sparkling leapt to view,.

Thro' freshest meads with laurel canopied.
Then trembling io the well renown'd I flew,

But the rude crowd all passage there defied,

Nor might I snatch a drop of that celestial tide.

Our horses pastured in a pleasant field,

Verdant and rich, beneath a mountain green,
Where, from the mid-day heat a shade to yield,

Some ancient cedars wove a leafy screen ;

On the smooth turf unnumbered flowers were seen.
Weaving a carpet 'neath umbrageous trees,

' And o'er their channels, pav'd with jewels sheen,
The waters gliding did the senses please,
Mingling their quiet tunes with hum of honied bees.
On many an instrument of breath or string

These gentle ladies play'd or playing sung j
Some sat beneath the trees in lovely ring,

Some solitary stray'd the flowers among ;

Ev'n tbe rude elements in silence hung,
And wooed their music with intense delight ;

Whilst from their charms such dazzling rays were flung,
As utterly amass'd all mortal sight,
And might have thaw'd the heart of sternest anchorite-

1 describe, 2 a pavilion pitched.

GAVIN DOUGLAS. 161

Far doth it pass all powers of living speech

To tell the joy that from these sights I took ;
And if so high the wondrous theme doth reach,
How should my vein the great endeavour brook !
We may not soar so high, my little book.
But pass we on : — Upon the field I spied,

Woven of silk, with golden post and hook,
A goodly tent unfold its wings of pride,
To whose delightsome porch me drew my lovely guide.
Obeying his sweet conductress, Master Gavin
enters this rich pavilion, and there sees the Muses
sitting on ' deissis,' or elevated seats of distinc-
tion, served by familiars with ippocras and mead,
and partaking, much in the same fashion as mortal
ladies, of delicate meats and varied dainties. After
the feast, Calliope commands Ovid, whom she
quaintly calls her " Clerk Register," to recreate
them with a song ; and this favoured minstrel
chaunts the deeds of the heroes of ancient days,
not forgetting a digression upon transfigurations
and the art and remedy of love. He is followed
by other eminent bards ; but the enumeration
forms rather a ludicrous catalogue than a charac-
teristic or animated picture. It is wound up by

Poggius, who stood, a groaning, giruing fallow,
Spitting, and cryand Fy, on great Laurentius Valla.
The trumpet now sounds to horse, and the
Muses, with their whole attendants and followers,
throwing themselves on their steeds, gallop on at
a goodly pace till they reach a charming valley,
wherein a mighty rock is seen, which we imme-
diately discover to be some sacred and glorious
place, for the moment it is descried the whole
assembly bow their heads and give thanks that
they are permitted to behold the end of their
journey.

VOL. III. M

162 GAVIN DOUGLAS.

It is here that the allegory, in its profane ad-
mixture of the Pagan mythology with the Chris-
tian system, becomes unnatural and painful. We
find that the palace built upon this rock is in-
tended to shadow forth the bliss of heaven ; and
that under the word Honour, which, to our
modern ears, conveys a very different idea, we
are to understand that heavenly honour and dis-
tinction to which the Christian aspires. This
being the case, why does the explanation of such
mysteries proceed from the lips of a Pagan god-
dess ? — and what has Venus, the most meretri-
cious, though sometimes the most elegant, of
classical personifications, to do with that sacred
and blessed system, that "state of grace," as the
poet himself denominates it, which ought ever to
be kept pure and undefiled, as the heavenly source
from which it has proceeded ? With how much
finer taste and holier feeling has a later poet,
but he, indeed, "the mightiest master of the
Christian lyre," described the desertion of the
Pagan shrines, the silence of the oracles, the
terror of the priests and flamens, and the passing
away of the dark and unholy mysteries which
constituted the system of heathen worship, at the
birth of our Redeemer :

The oracles are dumb,
No voice or hideous hum

Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving.
Apollo from his shrirfe
Can no more divine,

With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving.
No nightly trance, or breathed spell
Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell.

GAVIN DOUGLAS. 163

The lonely mountains o'er,
And the resounding shore,
A voice of weeping heard and loud lament ;
From haunted spring, and dale
Edged with poplar pale,
The parting Genius is with sighing sent :
With flower-inwoven tresses torn,

The nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn.
In consecrated earth,
And on the holy hearth,

The Lars and Lemures moan with midnight plaint ;
In urns, and altars round,
A drear and dying sound
Affrights the flamens at their service quaint ;
And the chill marble seems to sweat,
While each peculiar power foregoes his wonted seat.

Peor and Baalim
Forsake their temples dim,
With that twice-batter'd god of Palestine ;
And mooned Ashtaroth,
Heaven's queen and mother both,
Now sits not girt with tapers' holy shine ;
The Lybic Hammon shrinks his horn,
In vain the Tynan maids their wounded Thammuz mourn.*

The Bishop of Dunkeld would, probably, have
rested his defence, as his encomiasts may still be
inclined to do, upon the plea, that the Palace of
Honour is a vision or dream; that dreams are
remarkable for their wild transitions, confined
within no rules of waking realities, and becoming
only the more natural as they assume more
mixed, multiform, and extravagant phases. All
this is true ; but there is little in the defence
which can excuse the no doubt unintentional
insult offered to the feelings of a pious reader.
Whilst our souls are pent in mortal clay, we may,

* Milton's Ode on the Nativity.

M2

164 GAVIN DOUGLAS.

and too often are, visited by dreams, which ought
not to be written : but we can have no excuse if,
when awake, we communicate these extravagant
and sinful fancies to others, and insist on writing
what cannot, without injury, be read.

On entering the Palace of Honour, the poet
beholds Venus seated on a splendid throne, having
before her a magic mirror, supported by three
golden trees :

Bot straicht before Venus' visage, but let
Stude emerant stages twelve, grene precious greis *,
Quhairon thair grew three curious golden treis.
Sustendand weill, the goddes face beforne
Ane fair Mirrour, be them quaintly upborne.
In terrac'd pomp before the Cyprian Queen,
Rose twelve bright stages as the emerald green ;
Above them wav'd, most glorious to behold,
Three wondrous trees with leaves of rustling gold ;
And on their stems supported, clear and bright,
A magic Mirror stood, and shed unearthly light.

This mirror reflects the shadowy train of past
ages, the most remarkable events recorded in
history float over its surface, — and the poet, of
course, beholds an infinite variety of incongru-
ous personages ; amongst the ancient warlike
worthies, the supporters of the authenticity of
Ossian will be pleased to discover the mighty
Fingal, and Gaul the son of Morni ; Great Gow-
makmore, and Fyn Mac Cowl ; and how

Thai suld 2 be goddis in Ireland, as thai say.
It reflects, also, the necromantic tricks of the
famous Roger Bacon and other astrologers, who
are seen diverting themselves by many subtle

1 grass. 2 should.

GAVIN DOUGLAS. 165

points of juggling, changing a nutmeg into a
monk, and a penny pie into a parish church : —

The necromancy there saw I eke anone,

Of Benytas, Bungo, and Frier Becone,
With many subtel point of jugglery ;

Of Flanders pyes made rnony precious stone,

Ane great laid saddle of a chicken bone ;
Of a nutmeg they made a monk in hy l ;
A parish kirk out of ane penny pie :

And Benytas of ane mussil made an ape,

With many other subtle mow and jaip2.

What connexion these amusements of the as-
trologers are supposed to have with the Palace of
Honour, it would be hopeless to inquire. The
poet now presses on to an eminence, from which
he beholds the attempts of the multitude to scale
its walls, and the disasters with which they are
accompanied. Equity stands as warder on the
battlements, denouncing vengeance against Envy,
Falsehood, and Covetousness ; Patience officiates
as porter, and instantly admits him and his con-
ductress. We shall give the description of the
palace, and the monarch, King Honour, who in-
habits it, in his own words : —

The durris and the winders all were breddit 3

With massie gold, quhairof the fynes scheddit,
With burnist evir 4, baith pallice and touris,

War theikit5 weill maist craftilie that cled it;

For so the quhitely blanchit bone ourspred it,
Midlit with gold6, anamalit all colouris,
Importurait7 with birdis and sweet flouris;

Curious knottis and mony a hie device,

Quhilkis8 to behald war perfite9 paradyce.

1 haste. 2 cheat. 3 broidered. 4 ivory. 5 roofed.
6 inlaid. 7 decorated. 8 which. "9 perfect.

366 GAVIN DOUGLAS.

And to proceed, my nymphe and I furth went
Straight to the hall, throwout the palice gent,

And ten stages of topaz did ascend ;
Schute was the door, in at a boir I blent l,
Quhair I beheld the gladdest represent

That ever on earth a wretched caitiff kend.

Brieffly this process to couclud and end ;
Methocht the flure was all of amethyst,
Bot quhairof war the wallis I not wist.

The multitud of precious stainis seii2,
Thairon sa schone, my febell sicht but weir 3

Micht not behald their verteous gudeliness.
For all the ruif 4 as did to me appear
Hung full of plesand, lowped sapphires cleir :

Of diamontis and rubeis as 1 ges,
War all the burdis 5 maid of maist riches :
Of sardanis, of jasp, and smaragd ane,
Traists, formes, and benkes, war polist plane.

Baith to and fro amid the hall thai went :

Royal princes in plait and armouris quent,
Of bernist6 gold couchit with precious stanis ;

Enthronit I sawe ane king gret and potent,

Upon quhais maist bricht visage, as I blent7
In wonderment, be his brichtnes at anis,
He smote me doune, and brissit8 all my banis9

Thair lay I still in swoun with colour blaucht,

Quhile at the last my nymphe up lies me caught.

Sine with grit paine with womenting10 and cair,

In her armis scho bare me doun the stair,
And in the clois full softlie laid me down ;

Upheld my heid to tak the hailsome u air j

For of my life scho stude in grtit dispair,
Me till awak wes still that lady boun 12,
Quhilk finallie out of that deidlie 13 soun.
Iswyith overcome, and up mine ene did cast,
Be merry, man, quoth scho, the worst is past.
1 looked in at a window. 2 various. 3 without injury,

. * roof. 5 boards. 6 burnished. ,7 looked.
8 bruised. 9 bones. )0 fomenting. u wholesome.

15 that lady was busied — or intent to wake me. la deadly.

GAVIN DOUGLAS. 167

It will be perceived that the description, al-
though beautiful, is, to the general reader, more
thickly sown with obscure words than the poetry
of Dunbar or Henrysoun. This must plead our
excuse for attempting to present it in a modern
garb.

In high relief of rich and massive gold,

The borders round the doors and windows shone j
Each tower and turret, beauteous to behold,

Of polish'd ivory form'd — ne was there one
That did not show inlaid its walls upon

Bright shapes of birds, midst sweet enamell'd flowers.
And curious knots, carv'd in the snow-white bone,

With matchless cunning by the artist's powers. —
So perfect and so pure were Honor's lordly bowers.
- But pass we on — the nymph and I did wend

Straight to the hall — and climb'd a radiant stair,
Form'd all of topaz clear — from end to end. —

The gate was shut — but through a lattice there
Of beryl, gazing, a transcendant glare

Broke dazzlingly on mine astonished sight. —
A room I saw — but oh, what tongue shall dare
To paint that chamber, so surpassing bright !
Sure never such a view was given to mortal wight.

From every part combin'd, roof, wall, and floor,

A flood of light most gloriously was cast ;
And as the stream upon mine eyes gan pour,

Blinded I stood awhile : that sight surpast
Aught that in Eastern story read them hast

Of richest palace, or of gorgeous stall;

On diamond pillars, tall as any mast,
Clustering, and bound with ropes of rubies all,
The sapphire arches leant of that celestial hall.
The very benches, forms, and footstools mean,

Were shap'd of smaragdine and precious stone,
And on the carpet brilliant groups were seen

Of heroes old, whose steely corslets shone

Embost with jewels ; — near them, on a throne
Sat Honor, mighty prince, with look severe,

168 GAVIN DOUGLAS.

And deep-set awful eye, whose glance alone
So full of might and glorious did appear,
That all my senses reel'd, and down I dropt with fear.

Within her snowy arms that Lady sweet
Me caught, and swiftly to the portal hied,

For wing'd with love and pity were her feet,
And soft she bore me to inhale the tide
Of the fresh air — she deem'd I would have died,

So sudden and so deadly pale I grew ;
But fondly each reviving art she tried,

And hath'd my brow with Heliconian dew,
Till, faint and slow, mine eyes unclos'd to meet her view.

The vision now hastens to a conclusion. On
his recovery, the Poet, under the protection of her
who has so faithfully conducted him, proposes to
visit a delightful garden, where the Muses are em-
ployed in gathering the choicest flowers of poesy,
which spring beneath trees bearing precious stones
instead of fruit. In the description of this retreat
there is a strange admixture of the beautiful and
the ridiculous. The scenery is sweetly painted ;
but what shall we say of the trees on which geese
or chickens are seen growing ; to the transplant-
ing of the extraordinary fables of Boece into the
gardens of the Palace of Honour ? Into this gar-
den, however, in whatever fashion it may be fur-
nished, the bard himself is not destined to enter.
The only access to it lies beyond a moat, across
which a tree is thrown. Over this slender and
precarious rural bridge, the Nymph passes with
ease ; but the Poet, whose head has not yet reco-
vered the effects of his swoon, in making the
attempt, slips a foot, and is immersed in the
stream. This effectually awakens him from the
trance into which he had fallen, and restores his

GAVIN DOUGLAS. 169

senses to the sober realities of a lower sphere. He
then, according to poetic use and wont, describes
his wondrous vision, and lays it at the feet of his
sovereign, James IV.

In his interview with Venus in the Palace of
Honour, Douglas informs us, that the goddess
presented him, as the richest gift she could bestow,
with a copy of Virgil's ^Eneid, commanding him
to translate it into his native language — a task,
says Dr. Irving, which he has performed with
much felicity. * To pronounce it/ continues this
learned critic, * the best version of this wonderful
poem, which ever was or ever will be executed,
would be ridiculous ; but it is certainly the pro-
duction of a bold and energetic writer, whose
knowledge of the language of his original, and
command of a rich and variegated phraseology,
peculiarly qualified him for the performance of so
arduous a task. Indeed, whether we consider the
state of British literature at that era, or the ra-
pidity with which he completed the work, (it was
the labour of but sixteen months,) he will be
found entitled to a high degree of admiration. In
either of the sister languages, few translations of
sacred authors had been attempted ; and the rules
of the art were consequently little understood.
Even in English, no metrical version of a classic
had yet appeared, except of Boethius ; who
scarcely merits that appellation. On the destruc-
tion of Troy, Caxton had published a species of
prose romance, which he professes to have trans-
lated from the French ; and the English reader
was taught to consider this motley and ludicrous
composition as a version of the ^Eneid. Douglas,

170 GAVIN DOUGLAS.

however, bestows severe castigation on Caxton,
for his presumptuous deviation from classical
story ; and affirms, that his work no more resem-
bles Virgil than the Devil resembles St. Austin j
and yet he has fallen into an error, which he ex-
poses in his predecessor, — proper names being
often so disfigured in his translation, as only to be
recognized with the greatest difficulty. In many
instances too, he has been guilty of the bad taste
of modernizing the notions of his original ; con-
verting the Sibyl into a nun, and admonishing
JEneas, the Trojan baron, to be fearful of any
neglect in counting his beads. Of the general
principle of translation, however, he appears to
have formed no inaccurate notion. His version
is neither rashly licentious, nor too tamely literal.
In affirming that he has invariably rendered one
verse by another, Dempster and Lesly betray
their ignorance of the work of which they speak ;
and Douglas well knew that such a project
would have been wild and nugatory. The verses
of Virgil and his translator must commonly
differ in length by at least three syllables, and
they may even differ by no fewer than seven.
Dr. Irving concludes his judicious remarks upon
this translation by selecting, as a specimen, the
celebrated passage on the descent of JEneas into
the infernal regions : —

" Facilis descensus Averni,
Noctes atque dies patet atri janua Ditis.
Sed revocare gradum, superasque evadere ad auras —
Hoc opus, hie labor est : pauci, quos aequus amavit
Jupiter, aut ardens evexit ad aethera virtus,
Dis geniti potuere ; tenent media omnia silvae,
Cocytusque sinu labens circumfluit atro."

'GAVIN DOUGLAS. 171

It is richt facill and eith l gate, I thee tell

For to descend, and pass on doun to hell.

The black zettis of Pluto, and that dirk2 way,

Stand evir open and patent nicht and day.

But therefra to return againe on hicht,

And heire above recovir this aids licht,

That is difficil werk, thair labour lyis.

Full few thair bene quhom hiech above the skyis,

Thare ardent vertue has rasit and upheit 3,

Or zit quhame equale Jupiter deifyit,

Thay quhilkis bene gendrit of goddes may thydder

attane,

All the mydway is wildernes unplane,
Or wilsum forest; and the laithlie4 flude,
Cocytus, with his drery bosom unrude,
Flows environ round about that place.

Perhaps a happier specimen of this remarkable
work of Douglas is to be found in the translation
of that exquisite passage in the sixth book, in
which JEneas and the Sibyl arrive at the Elysian
Fields :

' His demum exactis, perfecto munere divse,
Devenere locos Isetos et amoena vireta,
Fortunatorum nemorum sedesque beatas.
Largior hie campos aether, et lumine vestit
Purpureo, solemque suum sua sidera norunt.
Pars in gramineis exercent membra palaestris,
Contendunt ludo, et fulva luctantur arena ;
Pars pedibus plaudunt choreas, et carmina dicunt,
Nee non Threi'cius longa cum veste sacerdos
Oblectat numeris septem discrimina vocum,
Jamque eadem digitis, jam pectine pulsat eburno.*

The golden branche he sticks up fair and wele,-
This beand done at last ; and every dele
Prefurnist5, langing6 the goddyss gift gay,
Unto ane plesand grund 7 cumin ar thay

1 easy. 2 dark. 3 upheld. 4 loathsome.
* all things or rites fulfilled. 6 belonging. 7 ground.

1T2 GAVIN DOUGLAS.

With battel * gers, fresche herbis, and grene swardis,

The lusty orcharlis, and the halesome2 yardis

Of happy saulis 3 and wele fortunate

To blissit wichtis the places preparate,

Thir fieldis bene largeare4, and hevinis brycht

Revestis thaim with purpour schyning lycht ;

The sternes 5 for this place convenient

Knawis wele their sun, and observis his went6.

Sum thare amid the gersy 7 planis grene,

In to palestral playis thame betwene :

Thare membris 8 gan exerce, and hand for hand

They fall to wersling9 on the golden sand,

Assayand honest gammis 10 thaym to schorte n,

Sum uthir hanting12 gane, ane uther sporte

Als for to dansing, and to bede the ring

To sing ballettis l3 and go in karolling.

Thare wes also the priest and menstrale sle u,

Orpheus of Thrace, in syde robe harpand15 he.

Playing proporcions and springs 1G divine

Apoun his harp, sevin divers soundis fyne,

Now with gymp 17 fyngeris doing stringis smyte.

And now with subtell evorie poyntals lyte 18.

Douglas commences each book with a prologue
or original introduction, generally descriptive of the
season and circumstances under which it was writ-
ten. Thus, in the prologue to the seventh book, we
have as noble a description of winter as is to be
found in the whole range of ancient Scottish poetry.
The poet tells us that the sun had just entered the
cloudy sign of Capricorn, and approached so near
his winter stage that his heat perceptibly de-
clined—

1 thick. 2 wholesome. 3 souls. 4 larger.

5 stars. 6 path. 7 grassy. 8 members.

9 wrestling. 10 games. n divert. 12 hunting,

i3 ballads. l4 skilful. 15 harping. 16 tunes.

V beautiful and slender. 10 little.

GAVIN DOUGLAS. 173

Altho he be the lamp and heart of hevin l
Forfeblit wox his lemand gilded levin2,
Thro the declining of his large round sphere.
The frosty regioun ringis of the zere3.

Everything is melancholy and dreary ; the trees
leafless and bare; the rivers running red in spate*;
the burns or smaller streams, so sweet and quiet
in summer tide, tearing down their banks ; the
surges dashing on the shore with a noise louder
than the roar of a chafed lion ; the heavens dark
and louring, or, if the sky clears for a moment,
only opening to show the wintry constellations,
rainy Orion, and the chill, pestilential Saturn,

' Shedding infection from his tresses hoar.'
The earth, says the poet, pursuing his fine winter
picture, is now barren, hard, and unlovely ; the
meadows have put on their brown and withered
coats ; Hebe, the beautiful daughter of Juno, hath
not even a single flower with which she may
adorn herself; and through a cold and leaden
atmosphere, the mountain tops are seen capt with
snow. As these melancholy images present them-
selves, shadowy dreams of age and death steal into
the mind —

Gousty schadowis of eild and grisly dede.
All living creatures seem to sympathise with
the decay of the year. The deer are seen retreat-
ing from their high summer pastures, into the more
sheltered valley ; the small birds, congregating in
flocks, change their pleasant songs into a melan-

1 heaven. 2 flashes of light. 3 year.

* A stream overflowing its banks from heavy rains, is-
said in Scotland to be in spate.

'174 GAVIN DOUGLAS.

choly chirm, or low complaining murmur ; the
wind, either carrying all before it, tears the forest
in its strength, or sinks into a subdued or ominous
moaning. The poor husbandmen and labourers,
with their shoes covered with clay, and their gar-
ments drenched in rain, are seen toiling about the
doors; the little herd-boy, with his silly sheep,
creeps under the lee of some sheltered hill- side,
whilst the oxen, horses, and ' greater bestial, the
tuskit boars, and fat swyne/ comfortably stabled
and housed, have the well-stored provender of the
; harvest thrown down before them. As the night
approaches, the sky clears up ; the air, becoming
more pure and penetrating, at length settles into
an intense frost ; and the poet, after having bekit,
or warmed himself at the fire, and armed his body
against the piercing air by ' claithis thrynfald,'
threefold happings, retires to rest : —

Recreate wele l and by the chimney bekit*,
At evin betime doun in ane bed me strekit3,
Warpit my hede, kest on claithis thrynfald,
For to expell the perellous persand cauld 4,
I crossit me, syne bownid for to slepe 5.

For some time he is unable to sleep: he watches
the moon shedding her rays through his casement ;
he hears the owl hooting in her midnight cave,
and when she ceases, a strange sound breaks the
stillness of the night, — he listens, and recognizes
the measured creaking strokes proceeding from the
wings of a flock of wild geese, as they glide high
in air over the city — an inimitable picture, true to
nature, and eminently poetical : —

1 well. 2 warmed. 3 stretched. 4 cold.
5 sleep.

GAVIN DOUGLAS. 175

The horned bird, quhilk1 we clepe 2 the nych ovvle,
Within her caverne heard I shout and zoule3,
Laithely 4 of forme with crukit camscho5 beik,
Ugsome 6 to hear was her wild ehische skreik 7,
The wild geis eke claking by nychtes tide,
Attour 8 the city fleand 9, heard I glide.

He is at last surprised by sleep, nor does he
waken till the cock — Phcebus' crowned bird, the
clock of the night — had thrice clapped his wings,
and proclaimed the approach of day. The same
truth and excellence which marks the preceding
part of the picture, distinguishes this portion : the
jackdaws are heard chattering on the roof, the
moon is declining near the horizon, the gled or
kite, taking her station on the high leafless trees
beside the poet's window, whistles with that singular
and characteristic note which proclaims the dawn-
ing of a winter day ; and having had his fire
stirred, and his candle lighted, he rises, dresses
himself, and for a moment opens the casement to
look out upon the scene : but it is only for a mo-
ment; the hail -stones hopping on the leads, and
the gust of cold and rimy air which sweeps in,
admonish him that this is no time for such obser-
vation, and quickly closing the lattice, he hurries,
shivering with cold, to the fire-side. As he warms
himself, the faggots crackle on the hearth, the
cheerful blaze lights up his chamber, and glancing
from the precious and richly gilded volumes which
are ranged in their oaken presses, his eye lights
upon ' Virgil' lying open upon a reading-desk.
He is thus reminded of how much of his task yet

1 which. 2 call. 3 yell. 4 ugly. 5 stern looking.
6 frightful. 7 shriek. « above. 9 flying.

176 GAVIN DOUGLAS.

remains, and addresses himself diligently to his
translation. It is difficult to conceive a more
pleasing or picturesque description than what is
here given. It is distinguished by a minute ob-
servation of nature, a power of selection and
grouping, rich colouring and clearness of outline,
which we invariably trace in the works of a true
poet.

It has been already remarked, that in his
phraseology, Douglas is more obscure than Dun-
bar or Henryson. * The Friars of Berwick,' or,
the tale of the * Landwart Mouse/ may be under-
stood by a purely English reader, with compa-
rative facility ; whilst in the * Palace of Honour/
and still more in the ' Translation of the ^Eneid,'
passages are perpetually recurring which require
some study to make out their meaning. We find
the explanation of this given by the poet himself.
Dunbar represents himself as writing in the
English tongue ; but the translator of ' Virgil/ as
44 kepandna Soudron hot ouir awin langage."

In the time of James V., we know from a
curious passage quoted in ' Hailes' Life of John
Hamilton/ that to " knapp Stidrone," was con-
sidered the mark of a traitor ; and even so late as
James VI., Winzet speaks of his being ignorant
of " Southeron," and knowing only his proper
language, the ' auld brade Scottis */' The passage
in Douglas above referred to, is interesting- in this
point of view : —

And yet forsoith I set my besy pane,

As that I couth to mak it brade and plane,

Kepand no Soudroun, bot our awin langage,

* living's Lives of the Scottish Poets, vol. i.; p. 59.

GAVIN DOUGLAS. 177

And speke as I lerned quhen I wos ane page ;

Na yet J sa clene all Sudroun I refuse,

Bot some worde I pronunce as nychboure dois ;

Like as in Latine bene, grewe termes sum,

So me behuffit2 quhilum or be dum,

Sum bastard Latyne, Frensche or Ynglis, ois ;

Quhaire scant vves Scottis ; I had nane uther chois :

Not that oure toung is in the selvia skant3,

Bot for that I the fouth4 of langage want*.

It was at the request of Henry, Lord Sinclair,
cousin of tlie poet, and a liberal and learned
patron of literature, that this remarkable transla-
tion was undertaken ; and Douglas has informed
us, that he completed it on the 22d of July, 1513,
about twelve years after he had composed his
* Palace of Honour,' and not two months before
the death of his sovereign, James IV., in the
battle of Flodden ; fatal not only to the monarch
and the country, but especially disastrous to the
family and lineage of the poet. Deeply affected
by this calamity, and deprived of his father, who
died soon after, he bade farewell to the Muses,
and in the conclusion of his translation of the
^Eneid, intimates his resolution of devoting his
remaining days to the glory of God and the good
of his country.

The passage in which he bids adieu to his
poetical studies is striking and characteristic, in-
timating a strong consciousness of the perpetuity
of his fame : —

Now is my werk 5 all finist and complete,
Quhoin Jovis ire nor fyris birnand6 hete,

1 nor yet. 2 behoved. 3 scanty. 4 plenty.

5 work. 6 burning.

* Irving's Lives of the Scottish Poets, vol. i. p. 60.
VOL. III. N

178 GAVIIV DOUGLAS.

Nor trenscheand swerd, sail defays l, nor doun thring,

Nor lang proces of age, consumes all thing :

Quhen that unknawin 2 day sail him address,

Quhilk not but on this body power lies,

And ends the date of mine uncertain eild 3,

The better part of me shall be upheild 4

Above the sternis perpetuallie to ring 5,

And here my name remane but6 emparing;

Throwout the isle, yclipt'it Albione,

Read shall I bee, and sung by many a one.

Thus up my pen and instruments full zore7

On Virgil's post I fix for evermore,

Nevir from thens sic matters to descrive8 :

My muse shall now be clene contemplative 9

And solitair ; as doth the bird in caige

Sen fer by worne, all is my childis aige 10 j

And of my days near passit the half date,

That Nature suld me granting, wele I wate ;

Thus sen I feile n down sweyand IL> the ballance,

Here I resign my youngkeris13 observance,

And will direct my labours evermoir u,

Unto the Common-welth and goddis gloir 15.

Adiew, gude redaris 16, God git' you all gude nycht 17,

And, after death, grant us his hevinly lycht 1B.

The life of Douglas now became troubled and
eventful. It had before glided on serenely in
happy literary enjoyment, undisturbed by pomp
or terror. Its after-course was destined to par-
take largely of both.

The widowed queen of James IV., who had
been deprived of her husband when she was yet
in the prime of youth and beauty, fixed her affec-
tions on the Earl of Angus, one of the handsomest

1 defeat. 2 unknown.

3 old age. 4 upheld. 5 reign. 6 without.

' expert. 8 describe. 9 altogether contemplative.

10 age. u feel. 12 down inclining.

13 observance of my youth. I4 evermore. 1S glory.

16 good readers. 17 good night. l8 light.

GAVIX DOUGLAS. 179

noblemen at the court, and nephew to Douglas ;
but, from his extreme youth, little calculated to
act with prudence under circumstances so flatter-
ing to his vanity and ambition. ' To the surprise
and regret of all ranks/ says Pinkerton, ' Marga-
ret, hardly recovered from the languor of child-
birth, suddenly wedded the Earl of Angus — a
precipitate step, which was fatal to her ambition,
as, by the laws of the country, it terminated her
regency. A birth, distinguished by an ancestry of
heroes, opulent possessions, a potent vassalry,
above all, a person blooming with youth and ele-
gance, transported the woman, whilst they ruined
the queen *.'

By this imprudent union, Douglas became
nearly connected with the royal family; and, as
the archbishopric of St. Andrew's was now vacant
by the death of Alexander Stewart in the battle
of Flodden, the queen nominated him to the
primacy, recommending him, in a letter addressed
to Leo X., as ' second to none in learning and
virtues.' He accordingly took possession, of the
archiepiscopal palace, and prepared to enter upon
his ecclesiastical functions ; but these were the
iron times, in which the bishop often found it as
difficult to preach peacefully in his cathedral as the
baron to live quietly in his castle. His right was
contested by Hepburn, prior of St. Andrew's, who
Lad been elected by the canons, and Forman,
bishop of Moray, a crafty and grasping pluralist,
whose wealth and address had procured the pre-
sentation from the Pope. Hepburn, at the head

* Pinkerton's History, vol.ii. p. 121.
is" 2

180 GAVIN DOUGLAS.

of a large body of troops, expelled the servants of
Douglas, and took possession of the castle ; whilst
Forman, acquiring the assistance of Lord Hume,
one of the most powerful of the Scottish nobles,
first published the papal bull at Edinburgh at the
head of an army of ten thousand men, and then
inarched to St. Andrew's. It says much for
Douglas's moderation and love of peace, that he
immediately retired from the contest, and left his
furious rivals to pursue the stormy courses of their
ambition, which concluded by Forman obtaining
possession of the primacy.

Not long after this the see of Dunkeld, con-
sidered at that time as the third in the realm in
point of emolument, became vacant, and the queen
once more nominated Douglas, who, by the inte-
rest of Henry VIII., obtained a papal bull in his
favour. The chapter at the same moment, how-
ever, had elected Stewart, a brother of the Earl of
Athole ; and the postulate bishop, at the head of
his clansmen and ketherans, lost no time in taking
possession of his new dignity, fortifying the palace
and cathedral, stationing parties of armed retainers
in the passes where he might be attacked, and de-
claring his resolution to be expelled only at the
point of the sword. Nay, the persecution of
Douglas was carried still further : being arraigned
under some acts of parliament, which had seldom
been carried into effect, of the crime of procuring
bulls from Rome, he was found guilty, subjected
to a temporary imprisonment, and committed to
the custody of Hepburn, his former rival for the
primacy. A compromise between the two parties
at length took place, and Douglas was consecrated

GAVIN DOUGLAS. 181

at Glasgow by Archbishop Beaton. ' Having
first visited on his journey the metropolitan city
of St. Andrew's, he proceeded from thence to Dun-
keld, where all ranks exhibited the utmost delight
at his arrival, extolling to the clouds his learning
and virtues, and uttering their thanks to heaven for
the gift of so noble and eminent a prelate.' The
pope's bull was then proclaimed with the usual
solemnities at the high altar, and the bishop re-
tired to the house of the dean, where he was splen-
didly entertained. There was a very sufficient
reason for this, as the servants and soldiers of
Stewart still held the episcopal palace and cathe-
dral, declaring their determination not to sur-
render it till they received their master's orders..
Their steel coats were seen glancing on the walls,,
the cannon pointed from the battlements, and even
the steeple had been transformed into a garrison of
troops, so that the new bishop was constrained to
perform divine service in the house in which he
lodged. Here too he administered the oaths to
his canons ; and having afterwards held a solemn
consultation with the powerful nobles and gentry by
whom he was accompanied, their deliberations were
interrupted by a sudden discharge of cannon, whilst
news arrived at the same moment that Stewart
was on his march to take possession of the bene-
fice. Force had now to be opposed to force ; the
feudal friends who surrounded Douglas marshalled
their retainers ; messengers were sent off to Fife
and Angus, and next morning so powerful a rein-
forcement arrived, that Stewart retired to the
neighbouring woods. The cathedral was then
carried by one of Douglas's supporters, and his

182 GAVIN DOUGLAS.

opponents, being summoned to capitulate, at last
thought it prudent to obey. * A circumstance/
says Sage, ' very acceptable to the good bishop,
who, in all the actions of his life discovered a
gentle and merciful disposition, regulating the
warlike and heroic spirit that was natural to his
family, by the excellent laws of the Christian
religion*.'

His near relationship to the powerful and tur-
bulent Earl of Angus was an unfortunate circum-
stance for the prelate, and often involved him in
scenes deeply repugnant to his feelings. One of
these is worthy of record, as it presents an ex-
traordinary picture of the times, and brings out
the Christian meekness of Douglas in fine relief
to the dark and ferocious characters by whom
he was surrounded. In 1520 a faction of the
nobles, headed by Arran, Argyle, and Huntley,
and secretly supported by Archbishop Beaton,
determined to humble the power of Angus.
In April they assembled at Edinburgh in great
strength, and holding their rendezvous at the
house of the Archbishop, resolved to seize
Angus, whose power, they alleged, was too
exorbitant for -a subject. Apprised of this, the
earl commissioned his uncle, the Bishop of Dun-
keld, to confer with his opponents, and if possible
to bring matters to an amicable agreement. It
was in vain, however, that he addressed himself
to barons of turbulent and warlike habits, who
deemed it an indignity to forgive an injury.
Turning, therefore, to Beaton, he implored him by

* living's Lives, vol. ii. p. 11.

GAVIN DOUGLAS. 183

his sacred character to become the advocate of
peace, and to promote a reconciliation between
the hostile factions. 4 It may not be,' said the
prelate ; ' Angus is too insolent and powerful ; and
of Arran's designs, upon my conscience ! I know
nothing.' As he said this, the churchman incau-
tiously struck his hand upon his heart, and a steel
hauberk, which he wore concealed under his cas-
sack, rung with the blow. ' I perceive, my lord/
said Douglas, * that your conscience is not sound,
for I hear it clatter.' Turning next to Sir James
Hamilton, he besought him to appease his brother
the Earl of Arran ; and Hamilton appeared in-
clined to be a peacemaker, when Arran's natura.
son, a man of brutal and turbulent manners, up-
braided him with cowardice. ' Bastard smaik,
said Sir James, ' thou liest falsely ; I shall fight
this day where thou darest not be seen ! ' and
rushing into the street with his drawn sword, at
the head of his vassals, Hamilton threw himself
upon the party of Angus, and was almost instantly
slain. A fierce contest ensued, during which the
Bishop of Dunkeid retired to his chamber, where
he piously offered up his prayers to God for the
staunching of these unchristian feuds. Mean-
while the conflict raged, and Angus was at last
victorious, seventy of his antagonists being slain,
and the rest put to flight ; whilst Beaton, the arch-
bishop, who seems to have been personally en-
gaged, fled for refuge behind the altar of the Black
Friars' Church. Trembling for the safety of the
prelate, Douglas flew from his retreat, and arrived
at the moment when the enraged followers of his
nephew had torn their victim from the sanctuary

184 GAVIN DOUGLAS.

to which he had retreated. A few minutes longer,
and the tragedy of Becket might have been re-
peated in Scotland : the rochet had been already
torn from his shoulders, and their swords were at
his throat, when Douglas effectually interposed,
and by his remonstrances averted the meditated
destruction.

Not long after, one of those sudden revolutions,
which were of so frequent occurrence in a feudal
government, overwhelmed the party of Angus,
and compelled that nobleman and Bishop Douglas
to take refuge at the court of Henry VIII., at
that time described by Erasmus as a ' truly regal
abode, where learning and the best studies had
found a favoured seat.' He here not only found
an asylum, but was rewarded by a pension, and
enjoyed the society and literary converse of various
eminent scholars. One of these was the noted
Polydore Virgil, then employed in composing his
history of England. To him Douglas communi-
cated the only prose production which he appears
to have written, a Commentary on the early history
of his country. * The publication of Mairs' History
of Scotland,' says Dr. Irving, ' in which that au-
thor ventured to expose the Egyptian fables of his
predecessors, had excited the indignation of such
of his countrymen as delighted to trace their
origin to the daughter of Pharaoh. Douglas was.
studious to warn his new friend against adopting
the opinions of this writer, and presented him with
a brief commentary in which he pursued the fabu-
lous line of our ancestry from Athens to Scotland.
This tractate, which was probably written in Latin,
seems to have shared the common fate of the

GAVIN DOUGLAS. 185

writings entrusted to Polydore, who, to secure the
faults of his work from the danger of detection, is
said to have destroyed many invaluable monu-
ments of antiquity*.' From this quotation the
historical talents of the prelate appear to have been
of a far inferior description to his poetical abilities;
and the conduct of his Italian friend, if it only led to
the destruction of aLatin commentary on the descent
of the Scots from the daughter of Pharaoh, how-
ever unjustifiable in point of principle, was not
very calamitous in its effects. It was the misfor-
tune of Douglas to live in an age when national
vanity, a love of traditionary fable, and a warm
imagination, formed the chief sources from whence
Scottish history was derived.

The party of Albany and the enemies of the
bishop were now all-powerful ; and in his absence
a sentence of proscription was passed against him
as a fugitive traitor, who had devoted himself to
the service of the King of England. The reve-
nues of his cathedral were sequestrated, and all per-
sons interdicted from holding communication with
him under high penalties ; at the same time the
governor individually, and the three estates of the
realm in their collective capacity, addressed letters
to the pope, requesting his holiness to beware of
nominating the traitor, GavinDotiglas, to the arch-
bishoprick of St. Andrews and the abbacy of Dum-
fermline, — a caution which rather betrays their
high opinion of his abilities and virtues than mili-
tates against his integrity. In the midst of these
scenes of proscription and exile, Douglas, whose

* living's Lives, vol. i. p. 17.

186 GAVIN DOUGLAS.

life since the period that he had forsaken his
tranquil literary labours had been the sport of
persecution and calamity, was seized with the
plague and died at London, in the year 1522.
The character of this man, as it is drawn by the
classical pen of Buchanan, is highly to his honour,
but may be perhaps suspected of partiality. ' He died
at London, having proceeded so far on his journey
to Rome, to the great regret of all those good
men who admired his virtues. To splendour of
birth, and a handsome and dignified person, he
united a mind richly stored with the learning of
the age, such as it then existed. His temperance
and moderation were very remarkable ; and living
in turbulent times, and surrounded by factions at
bitter enmity with each other, such was the general
opinion of his honesty and uprightness of mind,
that he possessed a high influence with all parties.
He left behind him various monuments of his
genius and learning of no common merit, written
in his native tongue *.' A still higher strain of
panegyric is indulged in by Dr. Irving : ' Con-
nected,' says he, ' as Douglas was with a powerful
and factious family, which had often shaken the
unstable throne of the Stuarts, instead of co-ope-
rating in their unwarrantable designs, he invariably
comported himself with that meekness which ought
always to distinguish the character of the man
who devotes himself to the service of the altar . . .
With the fortitude incident to a great mind, he
submitted to the numerous disappointments and
mortifications which thwarted him in the career of

* Buchanan's History, b. 14, c. 13.

GAVIN DOUGLAS. 187

preferment ; and when at length he obtained an
accession of power, he never" sought to avenge the
wrongs to which he had formerly been exposed.
His character as a politician appears to have com-
manded the reverence of his countrymen ; and in
the discharge of his duty as a Christian pastor, he
exhibited a model of primeval purity. By his
exemplary piety and learning, by his public and
private acts of charity and munificence, he reflected
distinguished honour on the illustrious family from
which he descended, and on the sacred profession
to which he had devoted his honourable life.'

This is the language of generous but somewhat
exaggerated and indiscriminate panegyric. In his
political conduct Douglas supported a party which
had been called into existence by the precipitate and
imprudent marriage of the queen, and was animated
by the selfish and often treacherous policy of the
Earl of Angus. In his individual conduct he was
pacific, temperate, and forgiving ; but his secret
correspondence with Henry VIII. and his minis-
ters, instead of commanding the reverence, was
probably the great cause of the animosity with
which he was treated by his countrymen ; nor can
he be very consistently held up as a model of
primeval purity, whom we find in the next sentence
to have been the father of a natural daughter, from
whom the house of Foulevvood is descended. His
genius and learning are unquestionable ; his tem-
per was mild and affectionate ; and we may hope
that his munificence rests on a more certain
evidence than his patriotic feelings or political
integrity.

SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

1490—1557.

191

SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

1490—1557.

THE fine feudal portrait given of him in * Mar-
mion,' and the laborious edition of his works
presented to the world by Chalmers, have ren-
dered the name of Sir David Lindsay familiar to
the general reader, and to the patient antiquary.
Inferior in high poetical genius to Dunbar or
Douglas, he yet pleases by the truth and natural
colouring of his descriptions, his vein of native
humour, his strong good sense, and the easy flow
of his versification. For the age in which he
lived, and considering the court-like occupations
in which his time was spent, his learning was
various and respectable ; and were he only known
as a man whose writings contributed essentially
to the introduction of the Reformation, this cir-
cumstance alone were sufficient to make him an
object of no common interest.

The exact period of his birth is unknown, but
it was in the reign of James IV. His family
was ancient, and the paternal estate, the Mount,
near Cupar, Fife, is still pointed out as the
probable birth-place of Lindsay. Mackenzie
asserts, but without giving any authority, that
he received his education at the University
of St. Andrew's, and afterwards travelled into
France, Italy, and Germany. It is certain that

192 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

lie mentions the appearance of the Italian ladies,
as if he had been an eye-witness ; but his re-
maining travels, and their having been performed
in the period of youth, although not improbable,
are conjectural. The truth is, that of the youth
of Lindsay nothing is known. We first meet
with him in the manuscript accounts of the Lord
Treasurer, when, on the 12th October, 1511, he
was presented with a quantity of * blew and yellow
tafFety to be a play coat for the play performed in
the king and queen's presence in the Abbey of
Holyrood.' In 1512 he was appointed servitor
or gentleman - usher to the prince, afterwards
James V. ; and in the succeeding year, he
makes his appearance on a very strange and
solemn occasion. He was standing beside the
king in the church at Linlithgow, when that ex-
traordinary apparition took place (immediately
before the battle of Flodden) which warned
the monarch of his approaching danger, and
solemnly entreated him to delay his journey.
The scene is thus strikingly described by Pits-
cottie : — ' The king,' says this author, * came to
Linlithgow, where he happened to be for the time
at the council, very sad and dolorous, making his
devotion to God to send him good chance and
fortune in his voyage. In the mean time, there
came a man, clad in a blue gown, in at the kirk
door, and belted about him with a roll of linen
cloth, a pair of bootikins on his feet, to the grit
of his legs, with all other hose and clothes con-
form thereto ; but he had nothing on his head,
but syde red-yellow hair behind, and on his haffits,
which wan down to his shoulders, but his forehead

SIR DAVID LINDSAY. 193

was bald and bare. He seemed to be a man of
two-and-fifty years, with a great pyke-staff in his
hand, and came first forward among the lords,
crying and speiring for the king, saying, " he
desired to speak to him." While at the last, he
came where the king was sitting in the desk at
his prayers ; but when he saw the king he made
him little reverence or salutation, but leaned
down familiarly on the desk before him, and said
to him on this manner, as after follows : — " Sir
king, my mother has sent me to you, desiring you
not to pass at this time where thou art purposed ;
for if thou doest, thou wilt not fare well in thy
journey, nor none that passeth with thee. Fur-
ther, she bade thee converse with no woman, nor
use their counsel ; for if thou do it, thou wilt be
confounded and brought to shame." By the time
this man had spoken thir words unto the king's
grace, the evening song was near done, and the
king paused on thir words, studying to give him
an answer ; but, in the mean time, before the
king's eyes, and in presence of all the lords who
were about him for the time, this man vanished
away, and could no ways be seen or compre-
hended, but vanished away as he had been a
blink of the sun, or a whiss of the whirlwind, and
could no more be seen. I heard say, Sir David
Lindsay, (Lion Herald,) and John Inglis, (the
Marshall,) who were at that time young men
and special servants to the king's grace, were
standing presently beside the king, who thought
to have laid hands on this man, that they might
have spiered further tidings at him ; but all for
nought ; they could not touch him,. for he vanished

194 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

away betwixt them, and was no more seen*.*
There can be little doubt that the mysterious
and unearthly-looking personage, who appeared
in the royal chapel and vanished like a whiss of
the whirlwind, was a more substantial spectre
than was at that time generally believed. James,
with the recklessness which belonged to his cha-
racter, was hurrying into a war, which proved
disastrous in its consequences, and was highly
unpopular with a great proportion of his nobles ;
and the vision at Linlithgow may have been in-
tended to work upon the well-known superstitious
feelings of the monarch. It is even by no
means impossible, that Sir David Lindsay knew
more of this strange old man than he was
willing to confess ; and, whilst he asserted to
Buchanan the reality of the story f, concealed the
key which he could have given to the super-
natural appearance of the unknown monitor.

Our next information regarding Lindsay is
derived from his own works. After the fatal
battle of Flodden, and the death of the king, he
continued his attendance on the infant monarch
who succeeded him j and he presents us with a
natural and beautiful picture of himself and his
royal charge. ' When thou wert young, and had
not begun to walk, how tenderly did I bear thee
in mine arms, — how warmly wrap thee in thy little
bed, — how sweetly sing, with lute in hand, to give
thee pleasure, — or dance riotously, or play farces
before thee on the floor :' —

* Lindsay of Pitscottie, Hist, of Scotland, p. 172,
f Buchauani Hist., b. 13, c. 31.

SIR DAVID LINDSAY. 195

Quhen fhow was xoung, I bure thee in my arme
Full teiiderlie, til thow begowth1 to gang2,

And in thy bed oft happit thee full warm ;
With lute in hand syne s^weitly to thee sang;
Sum tyme in dansing fiercely I flang,

And sum tyme playand farsis on the flure ;

And sum tyme of my office takand cure.

Again in his * Complaint,' directed to the king's
grace, we have the same subject touched upon in
a more playful vein, but with a minuteness and
delicacy, which reminds us in a sister art of the
family pieces of Netscher or Gerard Dow: —

How, as ane chapman3 beirs his pack,
I bare thy grace upon my back,
And sum tymes strydlings on my neck,
Dansing with mony bend and beck.
The first sillabis that thou did mute
Was Pa, Da. Lyn 4 ; upon the lute
Then playd I twenty springs perqueir5,
Quhilk was great plesure for to heir.

Fra play thou let me nevir rest ;
Bot gynkerton fhou lov'd ay best ;
And ay whan thow cam fra the scule,
Than I behov'dto play the fule ;
As I at length into my Dreme
My sindre service did expreme.

Thoct6 it bene better, as says the wise,
Hap to the court nor gude service,
I wot thou lov'd me better than
Nor now some wyf does her gudeman.
Then men til others did record,
Said Lyndsay wad be maid ane lord.
Thow has maid lords, sir, by Sanct Geill !
Of some that hes nocht servd sa weill7.

1 begun. * go. 8 pedlar.

4 Pa. Da. Lyn — Papa, David Lindsay.

1 by heart, off-hand. « although. 7 well.

02

'196 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

The unhappy scenes of feudal turbulence and
disorder which occupied the minority of James V.
must have frequently involved Lindsay, not only in
distress and difficulties, but in absolute proscription.
Torn between contending factions, who each aimed
at possessing themselves of the person of the mo-
•narch and ruling in his name, the country lan-
guished in vain for something like a regular and
established government. Men ranged themselves
respectively according to their interests or their pre-
judices : their fears of English influence, or their
confidence in French integrity, compelled them
into the ranks of the English or French parties ; the
first led by the queen- mother and the Earl of
Angus her husband, the second by the Governor
Albany. We are not to wonder that many of the
nobles, disgusted by the imprudent marriage of the
Queen, and the violent and domineering temper
of her brother Henry VIII., resolutely opposed
the interference of this prince in the affairs of
the country ; nor, on the other hand, are we to
be surprised that some good men, whilst they
deprecated the idea of their country being wholly
governed by English interest, believed that, with
due caution, the mediation of Henry might be ser-
viceable in reducing the kingdom of his infant
nephew into a state of order and good govern-
ment.

It happened here, however, as in all cases of
political commotion, that the proportion of those
who were actuated by a sincere desire of peace
and a love of order was small, when compared
with the ambitious and selfish spirits who found
their interest and their consequence increased by

SIR DAVID LINDSAY. 197"

anarchy and confusion ; and the consequence was
what might have been anticipated, — till the king
arrived at an age, when he developed the strength
and the vigour of his character, and grasped with
his own energetic hand the reins which had been,
wrested from him by private ambition, everything
was one wild scene of misrule, oppression, and
disorder. The picture given by Lord Dacre, the
English Warden of the Marches, in his letter to the:
Council, although coming from an enemy, was not
overcharged : — ' My lords, there is so great brutil-
nesse, mutability, and instableness in the counsaill
of Scotland, that truly no man can or may trust
them or their sayings or devices, without it be of
things concluded or determined at a Parliament
season, or General Council of the Lords Spiritual
and Temporal; of which determined mind and
purposes, from time to time, as often as they have
sitten, and as far as I could get knowledge by
mine espies, I certified the king's grace or you*.'
As to the nature of Henry's interference, and
the conscientiousness of that anxiety which he
professed for the prosperity of Scotland, there is
a passage in the conclusion of Lord Caere's letter
which is very characteristic: — ' Upon the West
Marches of Scotland 1 have burnt and destroyed
the townships of Annan, Dronoch, Dronochvvood,
Tordoff, Fishgrenche, Stokes, Estridge, Ryeland,
Blawetwood, Foulsyke, Westhill, Berghe, Rigge,
Stapilton,' et cetera, adding twenty other townships,
' with the water of Esk, from Stabil Gorton down
to Canonby, which is six miles in length ; where v

* Pinkerton's Hist. App., vol. ii. p. 459.

198 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

as there was in all times past four hundred pleughs
and above, they are now clearly wasted, and no
man dwelling in any of them at this day, save
only in the towers of Annand, Steple, and Walgh-
opp.' And so he adds, with extreme complacency,
1 I shall continue my service with diligence.'
Whilst such was the miserable condition of the
borders, the interior of the countiy exhibited
an equally melancholy picture : — ' I assure you,'
says Gavin Douglas, in a letter to a friend in
England, written in 1515, ' the people of this
realm are so oppressed for lack of justice, by
thieves, robbery, and other extortions, that they
would be glad to live under the Great Turk, to
have juotice *.'

In the midst of this unhappy state of things,
Lindsay had the satisfaction of seeing the youth-
ful monarch, to whose household he was attached,
exhibiting daily indications of a generous temper
and a powerful capacity. ' There is not,' says the
queen-mother in a letter to the Earl of Surrey,
written in 1522, ' a wiser child, or a better hearted,
or a more able.' And Surrey himself, in writing
to Wolsey, declares of James, ' that he speaks
sure for so young a thing f.' When this was
written he was only eleven years old ; but as he
advanced from boyhood towards youth, the fea-
tures of his character became still more promising
and decided. ' In person, countenance, and man-
ner,' says Pinkerton, ' if we believe the English
ambassadors, James V. very much resembled his
uncle Henry : he displayed a spirit and firmness

* Pinkerton's History, Append., vol. ii. p. 464.
f Ibid., p. 216.

SIR DAVID LINDSAY. 199

above his age ; he rode well, tilted at the glove
with a spear not unskilfully, sung with force and
precision, danced with elegance, and his conver-
sation did honour to his preceptor Gavin Dunbar,
a man of science, being replete with masculine
sense and information. In nothing would he per-
mit himself to be regarded as a boy. Dr. Mag-
nus, in requesting Wolsey to send an ornamented
buckler to James, who desired to have one on
hearing that his uncle sometimes used that piece
of defensive armour, informs the Cardinal that it
must be of manly size, for the young king had no
puerile weapon nor decoration ; even his sword
being a yard long before the hilt, and yet he
could draw it as well as any man. In hawks and
hounds he delighted ; nor was he a stranger to any
noble exercise or amusement*.'

In 1524, by the intrigues of the queen-mother,
now at enmity with her husband the Earl of Angus,
the principal lords and councillors, to whom the
administration of affairs had been entrusted, were
removed. The personal household of the young
king, amongst whom were Sir David Lindsay, and
Bellenden, a brother poet, and the well-known
translator of Boece and Livy, were dismissed at
the same time. Of this state revolution, the last-
mentioned author, Bellenden, thus speaks in his
proem to his Cosmographie : —

And fyrst occurrit to my remembering,
How that I was in service with the king j

Put to his grace in zeris l tenderest,
Clerk of his Comptis, — thu' I was hiding2,
With hart and hand, and every other thing

1 years. 2 unworthy.

* Pinkerton's Hist., vol. ii. p. 240.

200 SIR DAVID LINDSAY

That mycht Kim pleis in ony manner best,
Till hie invy me from his service kest ',
By them that had the court in governing,
As bird but plumes 2 herryit out o' the nest *.

Ejected from his office of usher to the young
king, Lindsay retired with a small pension ; and
in the interval between 1524 and 1528, beheld,
without the possibility of giving assistance or
counsel, the confusions and misrule which accom-
panied the domination of the Douglases over the
monarch and his people. Wherever Angus went,
he took care to carry along with him the young
king ; and James, who daily felt his ambition
growing stronger within him, regarded with re-
sentment and disgust the durance to which he was
subjected. At last, in 1528, when he had reached
the age of sixteen, he succeeded, chiefly by his
own vigour and address, in breaking his chains
and procuring his liberty. ' It was from ths
palace of Falkland that he escaped ; where, al-
though strictly watched by the Douglases, he
was permitted to hunt in the park, and indulge in
the sports befitting his youthful years. With a
sagacity superior to his age, he contrived to carry
on a correspondence with Beaton, the Archbishop
of St. Andrew's ; and having seized an opportu-
tunity when, Angus being absent, his adherents
were less vigilant than usual, he ordered prepara-
tions for a solemn hunting ; and. to lull suspicion,
retired early to rest, that he might commence
the chace with the dawn. Scarce, however, had
the captain of the guard gone to his chamber,

1 cast. 2 without plumes.

* Irving's Lives, vol. ii. p 122.

SIR DAVID LINDSAY. 201

after walking the rounds and placing the usual
watches, when James, disguised as a groom, with
two trusty attendants, passed to the stables, threw
themselves on fleet horses, and riding hard all
night, reached Stirling Castle before sunrise. The
gates were instantly opened to him ; and, having
snatched a few hours of repose, the monarch, re-
joicing in his freedom, hastily assembled a council,
and issued a royal proclamation, interdicting any
one of the house or name of Douglas, on pain
of treason, from approaching within six miles of
the court. Meanwhile the alarm spread through
the palace of Falkland, that the king had fled ;
and Sir George Douglas, brother of Angus, shout-
ing ' treason,' assembled his followers and set off
in pursuit. On their journey, however, they met
the royal herald, who boldly read the proclama-
tion for their banishment ; and such was the terror
of the royal authority, although exercised by a
boy of sixteen, that after a short deliberation, they
deemed it prudent to disperse. Thus, by one of
those rapid, and sometimes unaccountable, transi-
tions, which astonish us in the history of feudal
Scotland, the overgrown power of the house of
Douglas, which had shot up into almost resistless
strength, sunk in the course of a single day into
feebleness and impotence.

The change, however, was favourable to Sir
David Lindsay, whose gentleness and talents had
already recommended him to the king, and with
whom the recollections of his childhood were
pleasingly associated. His pension, although in-
considerable, was faithfully paid him, notwith-
standing the many claims which his master had to

202 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

satisfy out of an impoverished exchequer ; and
aware of James's early love of literature and es-
pecial predilection for poetry, he produced his

* Dream,' which has been highly, but not unde-
servedly, commended by Warton. It undoubtedly
contains some fine passages; but the subject is
too similar to various poems of Dunbar. There is,
indeed, an unpleasant and somewhat monotonous
sameness in the subjects of the ancient Scottish
poets ; nor can we exclude from the same censure
their great contemporaries of the English school.
It is their fashion to be too constantly composing
dreams or visions; some of their finest pieces,
although they do not assume the title, resolve into
the same thing, and we almost invariably find
the poet dropping asleep. It is better, indeed,
that these soporific propensities should be exhi-
hibited by the poet than his readers, but their
perpetual recurrence is tedious : Chaucer, Gower,
James I., Henryson, Dunbar, Douglas, and Sir
David Lindsay, may be all arraigned as guilty of
this fault ; and it is to be found running through the
works of many of their contemporaries whose names
are unknown. It seems almost to have grown, by
frequent use, into an established and accredited mode
of getting rid of one of the greatest difficulties
with which a writer has to struggle — the natural
and easy introduction of his main subject. The

* King's Quhair,' the ' Thistle and the Rose,' the
4 Golden Terge,' the l Palace of Honour,' the

* General Satire/ the ' Praise of Age,' the • Vision
of Dame Vertue,' — all, in a greater or less degree,
commence after the same monotonous manner ;— -
the poet either walks into a delicious garden,

SIR DAVID LINDSAY. 203

where he falls asleep, and of course is visited by a
dream, or he awakes from sleep, rises from his
couch, walks into a garden, and reclining in some
flowery arbour, again falls asleep, and sees a
vision. In the present case, the Dream of Sir
David partakes of a very slight variety. After
having spent a long winter night without sleep,
he rises from his bed, and bends his course to-
wards the sea-shore. His description of the faded
winter landscape is beautiful —

I met dame F lora, in dule l weid disagysit 2,
Quhilk 3 into May was duke and delectabill :

With stalwart4 storm is her sweetness was surprisit;
Her hevinly hewis5 war turned into sabill,
Quhilkis umquhill6 war to luffaris amiabill.

Fled from the froist 7, the tender flouris I saw

Undir dame Nature's mantill lurking law 8.

The small fowlis in flokkis sawe I fle,

To Nature makand lamentacion ;
Thay lichtit 9 doun beside me on ane tre,

Of thair complaint I had compassioun ;

And with ane piteous exclamatioun
Thay said, ( Blissit be somer with his flouris !
And waryit be thou winter with thy schouris !l
Allace, Aurora ! the sillie lark gan cry,

Quhair his thow left thy balmy liquour sweit
That us rejosit 10, we mounting in the sky ?

Thy silver droppis ar turnit into sleit ;

Oh, fair Phoebus ! quhair11 is thy holsom heit ?
Quhy tholis l2 thow thy hevinly, plesandface
With mistie vapours to be obscurit, allace ?

Thus, slightly modernised —

I met sweet Flora, in dark weed arrayed,

She that in May was erst so lovely drest :
Fell storms of all her sweets a wreck had made,

1 sad. 2 disguised. 3 the same, that, or which.

4 fierce. 5 hues. 6 formerly. 7 frost. 8 low.

9 alighted. ie rejoiced. X1 where. 12 permittest.

204 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

And chang'd to sable was her verdant vest,
"Which youthful lovers beauteous deem and best.
Shunning the frost, I saw each tender flower
Beneath dame Nature's mantle lowly cower.

The birds, in flocks, of late so blithe and free,

Flew, drench'd and shivering, through the sleety sky j

They perch?d beside me on a leafless tree, —
They were, I ween, a dismal company.
And all with piteous note began to cry,

Away, thou wicked Winter J fierce and cold ;

Come, blessed Summer ! come, thy thousand flowers
unfold !

Oh, sweet Aurora ! the poor lark would sing,
Where be thy balmy devrs, thou goddess dear,

Which, when we sipt, made our small throats so clear,
And washed with silver drops our quiv'ring wing,
As high we flew to heav'n's gate carolling ?

Ah why, oh Phoebtis ! doth the wintry storm

Thy glorious golden tresses all deform ?

* The poet/ says Dr. Irving, * now enters a
cave, and purposes to register in rhyme some
merry matter of antiquity ; but finding himself
oppressed and languid, he wraps himself in his
cloak, and is overpowered by sleep. He fancies
himself accosted by a beautiful female, named
Remembrance, who conducts him to many un-
known regions. They first direct their steps to
the infernal regions, where they behold innume-
rable crowds of popes, emperors, kings, cardinals,
bishops, and barons ; and after having surveyed
this dreary region, they travel onwards to heaven,
visiting the sun and planets on their journey.' It
is impossible to follow him into his abstruse astro-
nomical speculations, and still less inclination will
be felt by any general reader to dive into those
mysterious theological disquisitions with which
this portion of Sir David's Dream abounds. He

SIR DAVID LINDSAY. 205

obtains a view of the terrestrial paradise, and is
next gratified with a distant prospect of his native
land. Expressing his astonishment that a country
possessed of so many natural advantages, and in-
habited by so ingenious a race of men, should
still continue in a hopeless state of poverty, his
conductress replies that wealth can never increase
where policy (meaning good government) is not
found; and that equity can only reside with
peace. A nation must of necessity be unpros-
perous when those who ought to administer jus-
tice are guilty of slumbering on the tribunal.
These observations are enforced by the sudden
apparition of a remarkable figure —

And thus, as we were speiking to and fro,

We saw ane busteous beirne l come o'er the bent,
But hors, on fute 2, as fast as he micht go,

Quhais3 raiment was all ragit, revin, and rent,
With visage lene, as he had fastit Lent :
And forward on his wayes he did avance
With ane richt melancholious countenance—-
With scrip on hip, and pyke-staff in his hand,

As he had bene purposit to pas fra hame.
Quod I, ' Gudeman, I wald fane understand,

Gif that ze plesit, to wit, what were your name ?'
Quod he, ' My sone, of that I think great schame ;
Bot sen thou wald of my name have ane feil 4,
Forsuith they call me Johne the Commonweill.'

* Schir Commonweill declares his resolution of
abandoning a country where he has only expe-
rienced neglect or insult from people of every de-
nomination. " My friends," says he, " are all
fled; Policy is returned to France. My sister,

1 a boisterous person. 2 without horse, and on foot.
3 whose. 4 information.

206 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

Justice, is no longer able to hold the balance —
Wrong is now appointed captain of the ordinance.
No Scottishman shall again find favour with me
until the realm be governed by a king who shall
delight in equity, and bring strong traitors to
condign punishment. Woe to the country that
has our zoung ane king." Having closed this
pathetic oration he departs. Remembrance con-
ducts the poet back to the cave on the sea-shore,
and he is speedily roused by a discharge of artil-
lery from a vessel, which, rather too opportunely,
appears under sail*.'

That Schir Johne Commonweill has not given
an exaggerated picture of the miseries of the
country during the minority of James V., is appa-
rent from the repetition of the same plaintive re-
monstrances in various passages written by Lind-
say's contemporaries. Thus, in the * Vision of
Dame Veritie,' by Stewart, we have a striking
passage descriptive of the universal public disor-
ders. Stewart, like all his tuneful brethren, falls
asleep, and sees a vision of ' Lady Veritie/
with cristal corps, translucent as the glass.

On hearing her name, he humbly entreats her
to inform him when the kingdom of Scotland is
likely to be at peace. Her answer conveys a
fearful picture of civil dissension : —

Then said this burd of beauty maist benigne,
Sone them sail haif solution sufficient,

Quhen thir bairuis ar banished1 fra zour King
Fro counsale, sessioun, and parliament,

1 banished.
* living's Lives, vol.ii. p. 109.

SIR DAVID LINDSA.Y. 207

Off quhome the nam is schortly subsequent,
I sail declair dewly, with diligence,

Or I depairt furth J of this place presiut,
An thou thairto sail give thy auuience.
First Willfull Wrang in ane widdy * maun waif,3

And hid Hatrit be hangit be the held4,
And Young Counsale that dois you all dissaif 5,

And Singular Profeit6 stolling of the steid ? ;

Dissimulance that does your lawis leid,
Flattery and Falsheid that your fame hes fylit 8,

And Ignorance be put to beg thair breid,
And all thair kin out of the court exilit.

Than Treason man be tyrvit 9 to ane tre,

And Murther merkit 10 for his grit mischeif,
And the foul fiend that ye call Simone

Maun 11 plainly be deprived without repreif ia.

Quhill this be done ye sail haif no relief,
But schameful slawchter, dirth, and indigens ;

And tak this for thy answer into brief,
Quhilk I the pray present unto thy prince.
For all this sort with schame mon be exilit,

Or than demanit l4 as I haif devysit,
And uther persones in thair placis stylit ;

The quhilk sen Flowdoun Field has bene despysit

In this cuntrie, and in all uthers pry sit ;
Quhois namis I sail cause the for to knaw,

That thou may sleip thairwyth, and be awysit15,
Syne baith the sortis to thy soverane schaw.
First Justice, Prudens, Forss, and Temperans,

With Commomveill and auld Experiens,
Concord, Correction, Cunning, and Constans,

Lufe, Lawty, Sciens, and Obediens,

Gude Consciens, Treuth, and als 16 Intelligens,
Mercy, Mesour, Fayth, Houp, and Cherite, —

Thir iri his court maun mak thair residens,
Or ye get plenty and prosper ite.
1 before I depart forth. 2 gallows. 3 wave. 4 head.

1 deceive. 6 selfish profit. 1 stealing the horse.

8 stained. 9 tied up. 10 fined. " must. l~ reprieve.

*3 exiled. u condemned. 15 advised. 16 also.

208 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

This being said, this Lady luminuss
Fra my presens her persoun did depairt ;

And I awaikit, and suddanly uprois,
Syne tuk my pen and put all in report,
As ye haif hard. — Thairfor I you exhort,

My soverane lord, unto this taile attend,
And you to serve seik suddanly this sort ;

Sen 1 veritie this counsale to you send.

These nervous lines, with scarce any further
alteration than the occasional substitution of the
modern for the ancient spelling, will become per-
fectly intelligible to the English reader : —

Then spoke this bird of beauty most bening,
And fled all doubts before her argument : —

When all those fiends are banished by your King
From council, session, peers and parliament,
Whose names and crimes iu manner subsequent

I shall declare, in sentence brief and clear,
Before from this sad realm my steps are bent ;

Then list — and to this fearful scroll give ear.

First Wilful Wrong must in a halter dangle,
Then hidden Hatred have his death decreed,

And Young Advise be gagg'd no more to wrangle ,
Next vile Self-Seeking, that doth richly feed j
And rank Dissembling, who the Law doth lead ;

Flattery and Falsehood, that your fame have fyled,
And Ignorance, that sows his rankest seed

Within your schools, must be quick frorii this court
exiled.

Then Treason must be tuck'd up to a tree,

And Murder have a tippet made of tow ;
And that foul fiend, whom men call Simony,

Be straight condemn'd, spite all his flattering show.

Till this be done no respite shall ye know,
But shameful slaughter, waste, and indigence,

Shall overtake thy lieges high and low :
Then spare not exhortation — tell the prince

SIR DAVID LINDSAY. 209

That all these caitiffs from the realm be chas'd,

Or put to silence, as I have devised,
And folks more honest in their seats be placed,

Whom since dark Flodden have been all despised

In this poor country, though in others prized.
Then list— their names I'll recapitulate ;

Question me not — but having well advised,
Sleep thou thereon, then rise, and to the King them

state.
First Justice, Prudence, Force, and Temperance,

With Common-weal and old Experience ;
Concord, Correction, Cunning, and Constance,

Love, Fealty, Science, and Obedience,

Conscience upright, Truth, and Intelligence,
Mercy, and Justice, Faith, Hope, Charity —

These in his court must make their residence,
And then this much wrong'd land shall have prosperity.
Thus having sweetly spoke, that lady bright,

In radiant clouds her glorious shape withdrew ;
And I awoke, all dazzled with the light,

And penned the vision, in a parchment true,

As ye have heard. Then let me counsel you,
My sovereign lord, unto this tale attend ;

Search out with pious zeal this blessed crew,
So to thy throne shall Truth strength adamantine lend.
Oh 1 let that hideous rout she branded hath,

From thy fair borders instant banish'd be ;
Lest Heaven their poisoned counsels use in wrath

To bring thy little flock to penury.

Thy God that on earth's circle sits must see
How the foul weed doth choke the useful corn ;

Then list, oh list the bruised poor man's plea,
Lest thou should'st one day be the mark of scorn
Before that awful Judge who wore the crown of thorn.

The reader will forgive a somewhat long extract,
when he learns that this vigorous picture of the
anarchy of Scotland, during the minority of
James V., is unpublished, and the effusion of a
poet, William Stewart, whose talent cannot be

VOL. in. p

210 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

questioned, but whose life and works are little else
than a blank in our national literature.

It was soon after the king's recovery of his
personal freedom, and the termination of the
power of the Douglases, that Lindsay addressed
to the monarch his ' Complaint/ in which he
states his own services, remonstrates in a manly
tone against the neglect with which he had been
treated, and compliments his master upon the
efforts which were already made for the esta-
blishment of order and good government through-
out the realm. It is written throughout, to use
the words of Warton, no mean judge of poetry,
with vigour, and occasionally with much tenderness
and elegance ; whilst its pictures of the govern-
ment and manners of the times, and its digres-
sions upon the author's individual history and feel-
ings, render it interesting and valuable. It is
singularly bold in its remonstrances against the
injury inflicted both upon the monarch and the
kingdom by the reins of government being en-
trusted too early to his hands. ' They who flat-
tered and indulged thee,' says he, ' for their own
selfish ends, took thee, when still a boy, from the
schools, and haistely entrusted to thine inexpe-
rience the governance of all Scotland :' —

Imprudently, like witless fools,

Tht y took the young prince from the schools,

Quhare he, under obedience,

Was learning virtue and science,

And hastily put in hts hand

The government of all Scotland.

As who, when roars the stormy blast,

And mariners are all aghast,

Through dangers of the ocean's rage,

Would take a child of tender age,

SIR DAVID LINDSAY. 211

That never had been on the sea,
And to his bidding all obey,
Putting the rudder in his hand,
For dread of rocks and the foreland ?

* I may not call it treason,' he continues, 'but
was it not folly and madness ? May God defend
us from again seeing in this realm so young a
king ! It were long to tell,' he continues, * in what
a strange manner the court was then guided by
those who petulantly assumed the whole power,
how basely they flattered the young monarch/
The passage is not only spirited and elegant, but
valuable in an historical point of view. I shall
give it, only altering the ancient language or
spelling, and nearly word for word : —

Sir, some would say, your Majesty
Shall now know what is liberty :
Ye shall by no man be restrained,
Nor to the weary school-bench chained.
For us, we think them very fools
That still are drudging at the schools :
'Tis time ye learn to couch a spear,
And bear ye like a man of weir ;
And we shall put such men about yeu,
That all the world shant dare to flout you.
'Twas done ; they raised a royal guard,
And royally each soldier fared ;
Whilst every one with flattering speech
His Majesty did something teach.
Some gart him ravel at the racket 1J
Some h*d'd him to the hurly-hacket, ~"
And some, to show their courtly courses,
Would ride to Leith and run their horses,
And wightly gallop o'er the sand,
They neither spared the spur nor wand.

1 made him play at the racket. 2 a school-boy game.

P 2

212 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

Casting galmonds, with benns and becks,
For wantonness some broke their necks ;
There was no game but cards and dice,
And still Sir Flattery bore the price.

Lindsay, with much spirit and humour, repre-
sents the interested and avaricious motives with
which all this was done : the courtiers and go-
vernors of the young monarch engrossing and
dividing amongst themselves the richest offices : —

Roundand and whispering to each other,
Tak thou my part, quoth he, my brother ;
Be there between us stedfast bands,
When aught shall vaik l into our hands,
That each man stand to help his fallow;
I shall thereto man be all hallow —
And if the Treasurer be our friend,
Then shall we get baith tack and teind a ;
Tak he our part, then who dare wrong us ?
But we shall pairt 3 the pelf amang us.

So hastily they made a hand,

Some gather'd gold, some conquest land:

Sir, some would say, by St. Denis,

Give me some lusty benefice,

And ye shall all the profit have ;

Give me the name, take thou the lave 4 ;

But e'er the bulls were weill come hame

His conscience told him 'twas a shame ;

An action awful and prodigious,

To make such pactions with the lieges,—

So to avoid the sin and scandal,

'Twas right both name and rent to handle.

Methocht it was a piteous thing
To see that fair, young, tender king,

1 any office shall become vacant. z both lease and tithe.
3 divide. 4 remainder.

SIR DAVID LINDSAY. 213

Of whom these gallants had none awe,

But played with him ' pluck-at-the-craw V *

From this sad scene of selfishness and misgo-
vernment, occasioned by the Queen's marriage
with the Earl of Angus, and the seizure of the go-
vernment and person of the young king by the
Douglases, Lindsay naturally passes to his own
extrusion from office. * They deprived me of rny
place,' says he, 'yet, through the kindness of my
master, the young king, my pension was punc-
tually paid. Not daring to show my face at
court openly, I yet could hide myself in a corner,
from which I watched their vanities :' —

When I durst neither peep nor look,
I yet could hide me in a nook ;
To see these wondrous vanities,
And how, like any busy bees,
They occupied their golden hours,
With help of their new governours.f

It is impossible within our limits to pursue the
analysis of this interesting poem with any mi-
nuteness. It proceeds to describe, in vigorous
numbers, the torn and distracted state of the coun-
try ; the rapid revolutions which took place upon
the expulsion of the Douglases by Archbishop
Beaton and the Regent Albany, —

And others took the governing,
Far worse than they in ilka 2 thing ;

the return of Angus to power ; the tumult, misery,
and bloodshed by which it was accompanied ; and
finally the escape of the king, with the sudden

1 To play at pluck and crow, to pigeon or cheat one.

2 every.
* Poems, vol. i. p. 264. f ib. vol. i. p. 267.

214 SIR DAVID LIXDSAY.

flight of those who had kept him in such ignomi-
nious durance, —

When of their lives they had sic dreed,
That they were fain to trot o'er Tweed*.

Soon after James's assumption of the supreme
power, the state of the borders arrested his atten-
tion. Murder, robbery, and excess of every
description had for many years held their fa-
vourite haunts in these unhappy districts. —
Nor were the crimes which disgraced the country
confined to broken men and common thieves, —
they were openly perpetrated by lords and barons ;
amongst whom, Cockburn of Henderland, and
Adam Scott of Tuschielaw, who was called the
* King of Thieves,' particularly distinguished
themselves. The husbandmen and labourers were
grievously oppressed ; property and human life
recklessly invaded and destroyed ; ' black mailP
levied openly, and all regular industry suspended.
Under such circumstances, the king exhibited the
energy of his character by levying an army and
inarching in person against the border thieves.
Henderland and Tuschielaw were seized and exe-
cuted ; and the famous Johnny Armstrong, who,
by his depredations, had raised himself to power
and opulence, met that fate, which, with some jus-
tice, has been stigmatised as needlessly severe.
The account of this expedition, and of the execu-
tion of this noted freeboter, given by Pitscottie,
is excellent: —

* To this effect charge was given to all earls,
barons, lords, freeholders, and gentlemen, to pass

* Poems, vol. i. p. 272.

SIR DAVID LINDSAY. 215

with the king to daunton the thieves of Thividaill
and Anandaill. Also, the king desired all gen-
tlemen that had doggis that were gud, to bring
them with them to hunt in the said bounds, quhilk
the most part of the noblemen of the highlands
did ; such as the Earls of Huntly, Argyle, and
Athole, who brought their deer-hounds with them,
and hunted with his Majesty. These lords, with
many other barons and gentlemen, to the number
of twelve thousand men, assembled at Edinburgh,
and therefra went with the King's grace to Meg-
getland, in the quhilk bounds were slain at that
time eighteen score of deer.

' Efter this hunting, the king hanged Johne
Armstrong, Laird of Gilnockie, whom mony
Scottismen heavily lamented ; for he was ane re-
doubted man, and as gude a chieftane as ever was
upon the borders either of Scotland or of Eng-
land; and albeit he was ane loose living man, and
sustained the number of twenty-four well-horsed
able gentlemen with him, yet he never molested
nae Scottis man ; but it is said, from the Scottis
border to Newcastle in England, there was not ane,
of whatsoever estate, but paid to this Johnnie Arm-
strong a tribute to be free of his cumber, — he was
so doubted in England. So when he entered in
before the king he came very reverentlie, with the
foresaid number of twenty-four gentlemen, very
richly apparelled, trusting that in respect he had
come to the king's grace wittingly and voluntarily,
BOt being apprehended by the king, he should
obtain the more favour. But when the king saw
him and his men so gorgeous in their apparel, and
so mony braw men under a tirant's command-

216 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

ment, throwwardlie he turned about his face, and
bad tak that tirant out of his sight, saying " What
wants yon knave that a king should have ?" But
when Johne Armstrong perceived that the king
kindled in a furie against him, and had no hope
of his life, notwithstanding of many great and
fair offers which he proposed to the king ; that is,
that he should sustain himself, with forty gentle-
men, ever ready to await upon his Majesty's ser-
vice, and never to tak a penny fra Scotland, or
Scottisman ; and that, secondly, there was not a
subject in England, duke, earl, lord, or baron, but
within a certain day he would bring any of them
to his Majesty, quick or dead : he, seeing no hope
of the king's favour to him, said, very proudly, " I
am but a fool to seek grace at a graceless face ;
but had I known, Sir, that ye would have taken
my life this day, I should have lived upon the
borders in despite of King Harrie and you both ;
for I know King Harrie would weigh down my
best horse with gold to know that I were con-
demned this day." So he was led to the scaffold,
and he and all his men hanged*.'

It is still a tradition in the country that the trees,
on which this brave freebooter and his gallant
company suffered, not long afler withered away: —

The treis on which the Armstrongs died

Wi' summir's leaves were gay,
But lang before the harvist tide

They withered all away.

Every reader of the * Minstrelsy of the Scottish
Border' is familiar with the spirited ballad of

* Pitscottie's Hist, of Scotland, pp. 249, 257.

SIR DAVID LINDSAY. 217

Johnny Armstrong. In one material respect the
traditionary account of the death of this prince of
freebooters is apocryphal. There was no letter of
safe-conduct granted by James ; no direct commu-
nication of any kind between the sovereign and »
the outlaw previous to his being taken. From the
account, quoted by Mr. Pitcairn in that valuable
collection of criminal trials which throws so much
clear and useful light on the history of the coun-
try, it appears, * that Johne, enticed by the king's
servants, forgetting to seek a letter of protection,
accompanied with fifty horsemen unarmed, coming
to the king, lighted upon some outwatches, who,
alleging they had taken him, brought him to the
king, who presently caused hang him, with a great
number of his accomplices*. Anderson, from
whose manuscript history this narrative is taken,
observes, that the Lord Maxwell himself, who was
then Warden of the West Marches, feared his
power, and sought all possible means for his de-
struction. It is not impossible that some of Max-
well's servants may have deceived Armstrong with
assurances of safety, having no authority from
the king, and concealing such promises from their
master. Johnny was brother to the laird of
Mangertown, chief of the clan Armstrong, nor is
there any reason to think that the ballad exagge-
rates either his power or his magnificence : —

They ran their horse on the Langholm-hows,
They brak their spears wi* mickle main ;

The leddies lookM frae their loft windows —
1 God send our men weel hame again.'

* Pitcairn's Criminal Trials, vol. i. pp. 152, 153.

218 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

When Johnny cam before the king

With all his men sa gallantlie,
The king he mov'd his boniief to him,

He trow'd him a king as well as he.

To this day the tradition of the country has
preserved many recollections of this regal expe-
dition against the border thieves. The wild and
romantic pass through which James penetrated
into Ettrick is still known by the appellation of
the King's Road ; the ruins of the castle of Hen-
derland are pointed out in the vale of Megget ;
and near it the Dow's Linn, a romantic waterfall,
at the side of which is a wild natural cavern. To
this spot, it is said, the unhappy wife of the border
freebooter retreated whilst her husband was ma-
nacled before his own gate. In the valley of the
Ettrick, opposite to Rankleburn, is seen the dark
tower of Tuschielavv, where Adam Scott, the King
of the Border, so long kept the neighbourhood in
terror, and levied his black mail from the trem-
bling inhabitants. It is to this famous expedition
of James that Lindsay alludes in these enco-
miastic verses : —

Now Justice holds her sword on high3
With her balance of Equity ;
And in this realm has made sic ordour,
Baith thro' the hieland and the bordour,
That Oppression and all his fallows
Are hanged high upon the gallows.
Dame Prudence has thee be the heed,
And Temperance doth thy bridle lead;
I see dame Force mak assistance,
Bearing thy targe of assurance ;
And lusty Lady Chastity
Has banished Sensualitie.

SIR DAVID LINDSA.Y. 219

Policy and Peace begin to plant,
That virtuous men can nathing want ;
And masterful and idle lowns l
Shall banished be in the Galz.eownis;
Johne Upland ben full blyth, I trow,
Because the rash-bush keeps the cow*.

Lindsay concludes this piece by some admirable
advice to the young king on the subject of his
duties and his responsibility, not neglecting a pru-
dent hint that if his Majesty made provision for
his old servant, or, at least, lent him

Of gold ane thousand pound or tway,
it would be for the credit and advantage of both :
4 If not,' says he, in a tone of calm Christian phi-
losophy, ' My God

Shall cause me stand content
With quiet life and sober rent,
And take me in my latter age
Unto my simple hermitage,
To spend the gear my elders won,
As did Diogenes in his tun-]-.

It is pleasing to find, that soon after the presen-
tation of this poem to his sovereign, the same
affection which prompted the punctual payment
of Lindsay's pension induced James to promote the
servant of his early years to the honourable office
of Lion King at Arms, — a situation the duties of
which were probably of as high antiquity as the
bearing of coats armorial, but which under this
name does not appear earlier than the reign of
Robert the Second. At the coronation of this
monarch, as it is described in a manuscript quoted

1 fellows.
* Poems, vol. i., pp. 273, 274. f Ibid. p. 279.

220 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

by Chalmers, the Lion King at Arms was called
in by the Lord Marshal, attended by the heralds,
who came in their coats or tabards, * those awful
vestments ' of which Sir David speaks in his
4 Lament for Queen Magdalen ;' the Lion then
sat down at the king's feet, and the heralds went
to the stage prepared for them ; after which, the
Marshal, by the mouth of the Bishop of St. An-
drew's, did swear the Lion, who, being sworn,
put on his crown ordained him to wear for the
solemnity*. The coronation of the Lion himself,
when he was appointed to this dignity, was a matter
of great state and solemnity. The ancient crown
of Scotland was placed on his head by the hand of
the king himself, and it was his privilege, on the
day of his enthronization, to dine at the royal
table, wearing the crown during the continuance
of the feast f.

Shortly after his promotion, Lindsay appears to
have written the * Complaint of the King's Pa-
pingo,' a satirical poem, which may be regarded
as his first open declaration of war against the
abuses of the Romanist religion in Scotland.
In the concluding verses of his ' Complaint,' he
had congratulated the king upon the happy cir-
cumstance that all things throughout the realm
had been reduced into good order except * the spi-
rituality,' and he now introduces the ' Papingo,' to
expose the ignorance, avarice, and licentiousness
which, as he alleges, then disgraced the church.
The fiction of throwing his observations into the

* Chalmers' Life, prefixed to his edition of Lindsay's
Poems, vol. i. p. 13.
f Ibid. p. 51.

SIR DAVID LINDSAY. 22 1

mouth of this feathered satirist, so well known for
its petulance, garrulity, and licentiousness of re-
mark, was ingenious and prudent : ingenious, be-
cause it enabled him to be severe under the dis-
guise of being natural ; and prudent, as in case of
any threatened ecclesiastical persecution, it per-
mitted him to substitute the papingo for the poet.
To give anything like a complete analysis of the
poem is impossible within our limits ; but some pas-
sages may be quoted, which are remarkable for
their light and graceful spirit. After lamenting, in
his initiatory stanzas, that his genius does not
permit him to soar so high as his elder and more
illustrious brethren of the lyre, he warns the reader
that since in the garden of eloquence and poetry
every rich and resplendent flower hath been already
plucked by these master-spirits, he must be con-
tented with a lower theme, ' The Complaint of a
wounded Parrot : — '

And syne I find nane other new sentence,

I sail declare, or I depart you fro,

The complaint of ane wouuded papingo.

' As for the rudeness of my composition/ he
adds, * I can only say, it was addressed to rural
folk, and must hide itself far from the eyes of men
of learning. Should they, however, search it out,
and run it down as idle and foolish, my defence is,
that it was made in sport for country lasses : — *

Then shall I swear, I made it but in mows l
To landwart lassis quhilkis keep ky and yowis 2.

Although thus deprecating the severity of
1 sport. 2 cows and sheep.

222 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

learned criticism, and addressing himself to less
fastidious readers, nothing can be more graceful
or pleasing than our first introduction to the
papingo: —

Ane papingo, right plesand and perfyte J,

Presentit wes till our maist iiobill King,
Of quhome his Grace ane lang tyme had delyte, —
Mair fair of forme I wot flew ne'er on wing :
This proper 2 bird he gave in governing
To me, quhilk 3 was his simpiil servitoure,
On quhome I did my diligence and cure,
To learn her language artificial,

To play ' platt'ute ' and quhissill ' futebefore * ;*
Bot of her inclinatioun naturall,

Sche counterfeit all fowlis less or more
Of hir curage 5. She wald, without my lore,
Syng like the merle, and craw like to the cock,
Pew like the gled 6, and chaunt like the laverock 7,
Bark like a dog, and kekill like ane kae 8,

Blait like ane hog 9, and buller like ane bull,
Wail like ane gouk10, and greit quhen she wes wae11,
Climb on ane cord, syne lauch and play the fule l2;
Sche micht have bene ane minstrel agains Yule 13 :
This blyssit bird was to me sa plesand,
Where'er I fure 4 I bure hir on my hand.

With scarce any alteration these graceful lines
may be made easy to an English reader : —

A parrot once most pleasant and perfyte,
Presented was unto our noble king,

In whom his Majesty took great delight,
For never flew a wittier bird on wing :
It hap't to me was giv'n the governing

1 accomplished. 2 elegant. 8 who.

4 popular games and tunes. 5 of her own self.

6 hawk. ? lark. 8 jackdaw. 9 sheep.

10 cuckoo. n sorry. 12 fool.

13 Christmas. u went.

SIR DAVID LINDSAY. 223

Of this accomplished creature ; for my place
Was, in my youth, at court, an usher to his grace.

And soon my pleasing lahour I began,

And soon far wiser than my lore she grew,

For she would talk like any Christian man,

And other wond'rous things full well she knew;
She counterfeited every bird that flew, —

Like thrushes chaunted, trilled like sky-lark clear,

Pew'd as a hawk, or crowed, as loud as chanticleer ;

Like bull she groaned, then chattered as a jay,
Bark'd as a hound, or bleated like a sheep j
The cuckoo-note full well she knew, perfay ;
• Next, like a tight-rope dancer would she leap,
And swing, and fall, and slyly seem to weep,
Whilst to her face her cunning claw she prest ;
Then would she start, and laugh, and swear 'twas all
in jest

With her conversing not an hour was sad,
So happily she knew to play the fool —

So many a song, so many a trick she had —
She might have been a minstrel sweet at Yule.
I bore to her a love that ne'er could cool,

And she to me ; where'er I turned my feet

This dear papingo had, upon my wrist, her seat.

With his pleasant companion sitting on his
hand, Lindsay, one sweet summer's morning,
strolls into a garden to enjoy himself

Amang the fragrant flowers
Walking alane, nane but my bird and I.

He wishes to ' say his hours/ — to repeat his
morning orisons — and, in the interval, places his
little green friend on a branch beside him ; and
she, delighted with her liberty, instantly begins
to climb from twig to twig, till she reaches the
dizzy height of tire topmost bough —

224 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

Sweet bird, said I, bewair ! mount not ouir hie *,
Returne in tyme, perchance thy feet may failzie j

Thou art richt fat, and nocht weill us'd to file —
The greedie gled I dreid she thee assailzie.
I will, said she, ascend, vailzie quod vailzie ;

It is my kyne 2 to climb aye to the hicht ;

Of feather and bone I wat weill I am wicht 3.

So on the heichest lytill tendir twist 4,

With wing displayit, scho sat full wantonlye ;

But Boreas blew ane blast, or e'er she wist,

Quhilk brak 5 the branch, and blew her suddanlye
Down to the ground3 with mony careful crye.

Trow ye, gif that my hart was wo-begone

To see that fowl fiychter 6 amang the flowirs, —

Quhilk, with greit murnyng, gan to make her mone.
Now cummin are, she said, the fatal houris
Of bitter death ; now mon I thole 7 the schouris.

Oh, dame Nature ! I pray thee, of thy grace,

Lend me laiser to speik ane lytill space,

For to complene my fate infortunate,
And to dispone my geir 8, or 1 departe, —

Sen of all comfort I am desolate,
Allane, except the deith, heir with his dart,
With awful cheir, reddy to perse my hart.

And with that word she tuke ane passioun,

Syne flatlyngis fell andswappit into swoun9.

With sorry hart, persit 10 with compassioun,
And salt teris distilling from myne ene,

To heir that birdis lamentatiouu,

I did approche undir ane hawthorne grene,
Quhair I micht hear, and see, and be unseen ;

And quhen this bird had swooned twice or thryse,

Scho gan to speik n, saying upon this wyse.

Thus modernised —

1 high. 2 nature. 3 strong. * twig.
5 broke. 6 flutter. 7 bear. 8 wealth.

9 svmk over in a swoon. 10 pierced. n speak.

SIR DAVID LINDSAY. 225

Sweet bird, said I, beware ! mount not too high,

Hawks may be near — perchance thou'lt slip thy foot ;

Besides thou'rt very fat, nor used to fly.

Tush, I will mount, she answered, coutequi coute ; 't
Am I a bird ? a popinjay to boot ?

And shall I not climb up a sorry tree ?

Have I my nature lost ? talk uot such stuff to me.

So climbing to the highest twig she past,

And her green wings most wantonly outspread ;

But e'er she wist fell Boreas sent a blast,

Broke the slim perch — then down she dropt like lead
Upon a stake — a fearful wound it made

In her fair breast — out rushed the sanguine rill,

Whilst in faint tones she cried, I wish to make my will .

Thou canst not doubt my heart was woe-begone,
To see my favourite weltering mid the flowers,

Fluttering in death, and pouring forth her moan.
Adieu, she cried ; adieu, my happy hours !
Now cruel death thy shadow o'er me lours.

Thus spoke my sweet and most poetic bird,

Ah spare me but a while, my last request regard !

Though I have much mismanaged mine estate,
I have some wealth to leave ere I depart ;

Friends may be blest, though I be desolate.
Thus kindly and considerate was the heart
Of poor papingo ; but a sudden smart

Now coming o'er her, from the mortal wound,

Shook every inmost nerve, and falling flat she swoon'd.

Pierced with compassion at her wretched plight,

Down my warm cheek there dropt full many a tear ;
Yet I was anxious to be out of sight,

That her last words I might more truly hear.
So by the hawthorns screen'd I drew me near—-
Thrice did she swoon, by poignant pain opprest,
Then oped her languid eyes, and thus her woes exprest.

In her last moments, the unfortunate papingo
addresses an epistle, first to the king, her royal
master, as in duty bound, next to her brethren at

VOL. III. Q

226 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

court, and, lastly, she enters into a long expostu-
lation with her executors, a pye, a raven, and a
hawk, who personate the characters of a canon
regular, a black monk, and a holy friar. In this
manner, somewhat inartificial, if we consider that
the poem is long, and the papingo in the agonies
of death, Lindsay contrives to introduce his advice
to the king, his counsel to the courtiers and nobles,
and his satire upon the corruptions of the clergy.
Much in each of these divisions is excellent, the
observations are shrewd, the political advice sound
and honest, the poetry always elegant, often bril-
liant, and the wit of that light and graceful kind,
which, unlike some of his other pieces, is not de-
formed by coarseness or vulgarity. It may in-
deed be generally remarked of Lindsay's poetry,
that there is in it far greater variety, both in
subject and invention, than in any of his predeces-
sors, not excepting even Dunbar or Douglas. I
regret that I may not delay long upon any of these
epistles. A stanza or two from each will be suffi-
cient to prove the truth of my criticism. In the
epistle to the king, after alluding to his fine na-
tural genius and accomplishments, he introduces
these nervous lines : —

Quharefore sen thou hes sic capacitie

To lerne to play sae pleasandly, and sing,

Ride hors, rin speiris, with grit audacitie ;

Schute with handbow, crossbow, and culvering ;"(
Amang the rest, sir, learn to be ane king.

Kyith l on that craft, thy pregnant fresh ingyne z,

Grantit to thee by influence divine.

1 practice. * genius.

SIR DAVID LINDSAY. 227

Pray thou to Him that rent wes on the rude,
The to defend from deidis ] of defame,

That na poeit report of the bot gude 2,
For princis days induris bot ane draine ;
Sen fyrst king Fergus bure ane dyadame

Thou art the last king of five scoir and fyve,

And all are deid, and nane bot thou on lyve.

Treit ilk trew baron as he wes thy brother,

Quhilk mon 3 at neid thee and thy realm defend.

Quhen suddanlie ane doth oppress ane other,
Let justice, mixed with mercy, thame amend,
Have thou their hartis, thou hes yneuch4 to spend* ]

And be the contrair thou art bot king of bone,

From tyme thy lordis' harts bene fro the gone*.

The epistle to his dear brother at court contains
an excellent commentary on the disasters to which
kings and nobles have been generally exposed in
all countries, with a more particular allusion to
the history of Scotland, from the period of Robert
the Third to the fatal field of Flodden, and the
troubled minority of his own sovereign. In the
rapid sketches which he gives of the characters and
misfortunes of the various monarchs who pass
before us, the poet shows great discrimination, as
well as a remarkable command of powerful and
condensed versification. The miserable assassi-
nation of the Duke of Roth say, the broken heart
of his royal father, the captivity and cruel murder
of James the First, the sudden death of his suc-
cessor, the rebellion of the nobles, and of his
own son against James the Third, the hanging
of Cochrane and his ' Cative Companie* over
Lander Brig, the brilliant and gallant court, and

1 deeds. * nothing but good. 8 must. * enough.
* Poems, vol. i., pp. 300, 302,303.
Q2

228 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

the popular government of the fourth James,
and its sudden and sanguinary close at Flodden,
are all brought before us with great vigour and
clearness of detail, and at the same time with a
brevity which marks the hand of a master. I
select the character of James the Fourth : —

Allace ! quhare bene that richt redouted Roy,

That potent prince, gentle King James the Feird *.

I pray to Christ his saul for to convoye ;
Ane greater nobill rang not in the eird 2.
Oh, Atropos ! warye 3 we may thy weird 4,

For he was mirrour of humilitie,

Lodesterre and lamp of liberalitie.

During his tyme did justice sa prevail,
The savage His then tremblit for terrour ;

Eskdale, Euesdale, Lidsdale, and Aunandale,
Durst nocht rebel, douting his dintis dour'j
And of his lordis had sic perfyte favour.

So, for to shaw 6 that he afeird not ane,

On thro his realm he wald ryde him alaue.

And of his court thro Europe sprang the fame

Of lusty lordis and lufesome ladies ying7,
, Triumphant tournays, Justin gs, knichtly game,
With all pastyme according for a king.
He was the glore 8 of princely governing ;

Quhilk 9 through the ardent love he had to France,

Against England did move his ordinance*.

The poet describes with still greater power the
'reif mischief and misgovernment ' during the
'tender youth and innocence' of his master
James the Fifth. ' It was then,' says he, with a
mixture of that high and homely imagery which

1 Fourth. 2 earth. 3 curse. 4 destiny.
5 dreading his sore strokes. 6 show. 7 young.

8 gl°ry- 9 which.
* Poems, vol. i., pp. 313, 314, 315.

SIR DAVID LINDSAY. 229

we constantly meet with in Lindsay's poems, ' that
Oppression blew his bugle, and Jok Upland
(John the Countryman) lost his mare, alluding
to the constant horse-stealing on the borders.
The successive changes which were exhibited at
that time in the troubled government of the
state, the domination and subsequent banish-
ment of the Douglases, the power of Archbishop
Beaton, and his sudden fall, when he was com-
pelled to skulk through the country in the disguise
of a freebooter, are next described, and parallel
examples of the misery, deceit, and insecurity of
courts, drawn from the history of other coun-
tries ; after which the poet directs the mind of his
youthful sovereign, with great solemnity, to the
celestial court above the skies, where sorrow and
mutability can never enter ; thinking in his own
person, although the papingo is the speaker,
and overlooking for a moment the absurdity
and profanity of introducing so sacred an exhor-
tation in the circumstances under which it occurs.
With more verisimilitude the epistle of the dying
favourite to his brother at court, concludes with a
sweet address to Stirling, Lithgow, and Falkland,
the royal palaces in whose gardens of pleasure
and delight he had passed so many happy hours.

Adieu, fair Snowdoun, with thy towris hie,
Thy chapel-royal, park, and table round ;

May, June, and July, would I dwell in thee,
Were I a man, to hear the birdis sound,
Which doth against thy royal rock redound.

Adieu, Lithgow, whose palace of plesance

Meets not its peer in Portingale or France.

230 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

Farewell, Falkland, the forteress of Fife,
Thy velvet park under the Lomond law ;

Sometime in thee I led a lusty life,

The fallow-deer to see them raik on raw *.
Court men to come to thee they have great awe.

Saying thy hurgh bene to all burrows baill2,

Because in thee they never got good ale*.

It will be seen from these extracts, that the poet
often forgets the papingo, fluttering and bleeding
amidst the flowers, to indulge in a strain of moral
and philosophic reflection, which proceeds rather
ludicrously from a bird so situated ; and if the
remark applies to this portion of the poem, it may
be directed still more strongly against that third
division in which she addresses an expostulation of
great length, severity, and vigor against the
abuses of the spiritual estate. There is much truth,
much learning, and abundance of playful satire in
this 'expostulation of the papingo with her exe-
cutors the jay, the hawk, and the raven, whilst, at
the same time, it cannot be denied that Lindsay's
ideas are founded on some of the very questionable
theories of Wickliff, who, not considering religion
as reduced to a civil establishment, and because
our Saviour and his apostles were poor, imagined
that secular possessions were inconsistent with the
simplicity of the gospelt.' It is asserted, that in
the primitive and purer ages of Christianity, the
church was wedded to Poverty, whose children
were Chastity and Devotion. The Emperor Con-

1 walk in a row.
2 thy burgh is the most wretched of all.

* Poems, vol. i., pp. 323,324.
f Warton, Hist. English Poetry, vol. iii., p. 149.

SIR DAVID LINDSAY. 231

stantine unfortunately took upon him to divorce
this holy couple, and without leave asked, or dis-
pensation granted, espoused the church to Dame
Property, upon which Devotion withdrew herself
to a hermitage, and, in due time, Dame Property
produced two daughters, so beautiful, that all
persons, especially the spirituality, pronounced
them peerless. These were named Riches and
Sensualitie, and so universal was the admiration
and regard which they attracted, that very soon all
spiritual matters fell under their direction. The
rich dresses of the clergy, under this new state of
things, are well described : —

Cleikandto them skarlet and cramosye l,

With miniver2, martnell3, gryss4, and rich armyne

Their ance low hearts exalted are so high.
To see their papal pomp it is a pyne ;
More rich array is now, with fringes fine,

Upon the trappings of a bishop's mule,

Nor e'er had Paul or Peter agains yule s.

The scene which takes place at the death of
poor papingo is described with great felicity and
humour. The gled or hawk, who pretends to be
a friar, holding up her head, whilst the raven
stands on one side, and the magpie on the other,
enquires tenderly to which of the three she chooses
to leave her fortune and goods : —

Chuse you, she said, which of us brethren here
Shall have of all your natural geir8 the curis,
Ye know none bene more holy creaturis.

1 crimson. 2 white fur. 2 fur of the martin.
4 a rich foreign fur. 5 Christmas. 6 wealth.

232 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

I am content, quoth the poor papingo,

That ye, Friar Gled, and Corbie1 Monk, your brother,
Have cure of all my gudis, and no mo8,

Since at this time friendship I find none other.

We shall be to you true as to our mother,
Quoth they, and swore to fulfill her intent ;
Of that, said she, I take ane instrument.

She then leaves her green mantle to the quiet
and unobtrusive owl, her golden and brilliant
eyes to the bat, her sharp polished beak to the
affectionate pelican—

To help to pierce her tender heart in twain ;

her angelical voice to the single-songed cuckoo,
lier eloquence and 'tongue rhetorical' to the
goose ; her bones, which she directs to be enclosed
in a case of ivory, to the Arabian phcenix, her
heart to the king her master, and her intestines,
liver, and lungs, to her three executors. With
scarce the alteration of a word, these last stanzas
throw themselves into graceful poetry : —

To the lone owl so indigent and poor,
Which, by the day, for shame dare not be seen,
I leave my glossy, glittering coat of green.

Mine eyes, of liquid gold and cristal clear,
Unto the bat ye shall them twain present

In Phoebus' presence, who dares not appear,
So dim her natural sight, and impotent.
My burnished beak I leave with good intent

Unto the gentle, piteous pelicane,

To help to pierce her tender heart in twain.

I leave the gouk 3, who hath no song but one,

My musick, with my voice angelical ;
And give ye to the goose, when I am gone,

1 crow. 2 no more. 3 cuckoo.

SIR DAVID LINDSAY. 233

My eloquence, and tongue rhetorical ;

Then take and dry my bones, both great and small,
Next close them in a case of ivory fair,
And them present unto the phoenix rare.
To burn with her when she her life renews ;

In Arabie the blest she makes her beir ;
Soon will ye know her, by her heavenly hues,

Gold, azure, purple, ruby, synopeir l ;

Her date it is to live five hundred year —
So haste ye need not, but when her you see
Bear her my tender love. Now, farewell, brethren three !

Having finished her last injunctions, Polly dis-
poses herself to die, and falling into her mortal
passion, after a severe struggle, in which the blood
pitifully gushes from her wounds, she at last
breathes out her life.

Extinguished were her natural wittisfive.
Her executors then proceed to divide her
body in a very summary manner. ' My heart
was sad,' says Lindsay, ' to see this doleful par-
tition of my favorite ; her angel feathers scattered
by these greedy cormorants in the air.' Nothing
at last is left except the heart, which the magpye,
with a sudden fit of loyalty, vindicates as belong-
ing to the king. The portion, however, is too
tempting to the raven. u Now, may I be hanged,"
says he, " if this piece shall be given either to-
kin g or duke ;" a tussle ensues, the greedy hawk,
seizing the heart in her talons, soars away, whilst
the rest pursue her with a terrible din, and disap-
pear in the air.' So ends the tragedy of the pa-
pingo ; the poet dismissing his little quhair or
book with the usual acknowledgment of its rude-

1 synopeir green

234 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

ness and imperfection, a very unnecessary apology,
for, as the extracts we have given abundantly
demonstrate, it is in point of elegance, learning,
variety of description, and easy playful humour,
worthy to hold its place with any poem of the
period, either English or Scottish.

Soon after writing this work, Lindsay, in 1531,
was dispatched by the government on a political
mission to Brussels. Its object was the renewal
of the commercial treaty concluded by James
the First between Scotland and the Netherlands ;
his fellow ambassadors were David Panter, Se-
cretary to the King, and Sir James Campbell,
of Lundie. Margaret, the Governess of the Ne-
therlands, was lately dead, upon which the Queen
of Hungary had been raised to that splendid
prefecture, and the Scottish ambassadors were
received by this princess and the Emperor Charles
the Fifth, then at Brussels, with great state
and solemnity. They were soon after dismissed,
having succeeded in every point of their nego-
ciation. In a letter from Antwerp to his friend
the Scottish Secretary of State, Lindsay thus
expresses himself: — ' It war too langsome to
write to your L. the triumphs that I have seen,
since my cumin to the court imperial, that is to
say, the triumphs and justings, the terrible tourna-
ments, the fighting on foot in barras, the names
of lords and knights that were hurt that day of
the great tournament, whose circumstances I have
written at length in articles to show the King's
Grace at my home coming*.' It is a pity that

* Chalmers' Life, p. 14.

SIR DAVID LINDSA.Y. 235

these * articles,' containing an account of such
splendid entertainments, and, it is to be presumed,
some description also of Antwerp, the great com-
mercial emporium of Europe, cannot now be
discovered.

On his return from this mission, Lindsay's mind
was occupied with two great subjects, his marriage,
and his celebrated ' Satire of the three Estates.'
His marriage was unhappy, originating probably
in ambition, (for he united himself to a daughter
of the house of Douglas,) and ending in disap-
pointment. He had no children, and from the
terms in which he commonly talks of the sex, it
may be plausibly conjectured that the Lady Lioness
was not possessed of a very amiable disposition.

His ' Satire of the three Estates ' was a more
successful experiment, and is well deserving of
notice, as the first approach to the regular drama
which had yet been made in Scotland. In this
country, as in the other European kingdoms,
we may believe there was the same progress
in the history of the stage from the ancient ex-
hibitions entitled mysteries, to the more com-
plicated pageants known by the name of mo-
ralities, and from thence the transition must have
been easy to the mixed species of drama of
which Lindsay's satire presented probably a per-
fect specimen. Jugglers, minstrels, buffoons,
and masqued characters, appear at the Scottish
court, anterior to, and during the reign of James
the First. * At the celebration of the nuptials of
James the Fourth and the Lady Margaret, a com-
pany of English comedians, under the manage-
ment of John English, regaled the court with a

236 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

dramatic representation.' It may be suspected
that John English is the * Gentle Johne the English
Fule,' whom we have already noticed as making so
prominent a figure in the accounts of the Lord
High Treasurer. Of this exhibition it is to be
regretted that we have only a very brief account
by a contemporary author : — * After dinnar,' says
Johne Younge, ' a moralitie was played by the
said Master Inglishe and his companions, in the
presence of the kyng and quene ; and then daunces
were daunced*.' In 1515, when John, Duke of
Albany, arrived from France to assume the re-
gency, we learn from Lesly, that he was received
by many lords and barons, on the 26th of May,
and sundrie farces and good playes were made by
the burgesses to his honor and praisef. Lindsay,
as we have already seen, played farces on the
floor, 'for the amusement of his youthful and royal
master; and now, in 1535, when his genius was
more vigorous, and his acquaintance with human
nature more extensive, he produced a moralitie,
which, in the regularitie of its form, the breadth
and boldness of its satire, and the variety of its
delineations of character, was superior to the pro-
ductions of any of the early English dramatists.'
4 Whether,' says Chalmers, ' the matter or the
manner of this drama be considered, it must be
allowed to be a very singular performance, and to
have carried away the palm of dramatic composi-
tion from the contemporary moralities of England,
till the epoch of the first tragedy in Gorboduc,.

* Leland Collect., vol. iv., p. 258.
•j- Lesly's History, Bannat. Ed., p. 102.

SIR DAVID LINDSAY. 237

and of the first comedy in Gammer Gurton's
Needle.'

Some things are remarkable in this early dra-
matic composition. It was acted before as re-
fined an audience as could then be assembled.
The king and queen, the ladies and nobles of the
court, with the spiritual estate, were present, and
yet its coarseness and licentiousness is extreme,
and on many subjects its wit of such a kind as
to preclude all quotation. Yet Lindsay wrote in
the character of a professed reformer of manners ;
but, if its grossness and vulgarity give us a low
picture of the morality or delicacy of the age,
the boldness of the author, and the liberality
or folly of the audience, are equally conspicu-
ous. The representation took place before the
king, with his favorite ministers and advisers,
yet it lashes his youthful excesses, and their
profligate and selfish devices, with unsparing se-
verity. It was performed in presence of the
bishops and clergy, and before an immense multi-
tude of the people, the burgesses, the yeomen,
the poor labourers, and tacksmen, and yet it ex-
poses with a poignancy of satire, and a breadth
of humour which must have made the deepest im-
pression, the abuses of the Catholic religion, the
evils of pluralities and non-residence, the igno-
rance of the priests, the grievances of tithes, the
profligacy of the prelates, and the happy effects
which would result from a thorough and speedy
reformation. Hitherto what had been written
against these excesses had never reached the
people ; it was generally shut up in a learned lan-
guage, which they did not understand ; if com-

238 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

posed in English, there were few printing-presses
to multiply books, or if printed, the great body of
the people could not read them. But Lindsay,
when he wrote a play in the language of the
people, and procured permission to have it acted
before them, at once acquired a moral influence
over the times, and gave a strength and edge to
his satire, which probably neither the king, the
clergy, nor the author himself contemplated.
Had it been otherwise, it is difficult to believe
that the prince or prelates would have suffered, or
any author have dared the trial of such an expe-
riment.

Another singular feature in this dramatic cu-
riosity is its extravagant length and tediousness.
These are certainly such as to impress us with a high
admiration of the patience of a feudal audience.
* We may learn,' says Chalmers, * from the length
of the perusal of this production, that its exhibition
must have consumed the live long day j and we are
informed by Charteris,the bookseller, who was him-
self present, that its representation, in 1554, before
the Queen-Regent, lasted " fra nine hours afore-
noon till six hours at even." And yet this is
nothing to the extended representation of the
English mysteries during the persevering curiosity
of feudal times.' 'In 1391,' honest Stow tells
us, ' that a play was acted by the parish-clerks of
London, which continued three days together, the
king, queen, and nobles of the realm being pre-
sent ; and another was performed in 1409, which
lasted eight dayes, containing matter from the
creation of the world, whereat was present most
of the nobility and gentry of England.'

SIR DAVID LINDSAY. 239

The satire of the 'Three Estates' is divided
into three parts. Of these great divisions, the
first appears to have been directed against the evil
councillors, who, under the minority of James the
Fifth, neglected the virtuous and prudent education
of the young monarch, and permitted his youth to
be polluted by idleness and vice. The dramatis
personce are numerous : we have King Humanity,
Rex Humanitas, Diligence, Good Counsel, Hame-
liness, Verity, Chastity, and Divine Correction.
In addition to these, such low and disreputable
interlocutors as Flattery, Falsehood, Sensuality,
intrude themselves, with occasional appearances of
abbots, prioresses, parsons, placebo, Deceit, Dan-
ger, Solace, and Soutar's wife. The proceedings
open with a sort of prologue by Diligence, who
requests the audience to remember that no satire
is intended against any person in particular ; that
all is general, offered in pastime, and to be heard
in silence. 4 Therefore,' says he, ' let every man
keep his one tongue, without permitting it to wag
against us, and every woman her two.'

Prudent people, I pray you all,
Take na man grief in special,
For we shall speik in general, 3

For pastime and for play.
Therefore, till all our rhymes be rung,
Let every man keep weill ane tongue,

And every woman tway 1.

The plot of the first part, if it deserves such a

name, is extremely simple. King Humanity, with a

disposition naturally easy and amiable, is seduced

into evil and wicked courses by Flattery and Sen-

Mwo.

240 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

Duality, from which he is at last reclaimed by
Divine Correction and Good Counsel. He then
declares himself ready to redress all grievances
and correct all abuses, for which end Diligence is
ordered to summon the Three Estates of the
Realm. ' Here,' says the stage direction, ' shall
the messenger Diligence return, and crying, oycz,
oyez, oyez, say thus' —

At the command of King Humanitie,

I warne and charge all members of Parliament,

Baith spiritual estate and temporalitie,
That till his Grace they be obedient.
And speid them to the court incontinent

In gude ordour1, arrayit royallie.
"VVha beis absent, or inobedient,

The king's displeasure they shall underlye.
Also I mak you exhortatioun,

Since ye have heard the first part of our play,
Go tak ane drink, and mak collatioun,

Ilk man drink till his marrow, I you pray.

The second part opens with an attack upon
the extreme severity with which the churchmen
exacted their tithes, a poor mendicant appear-
ing on the stage, and asking charity, with a
miserable story of the oppression under which
he had sunk. During the dialogue which takes
place between the Pauper, Diligence, and a Par-
doner, or retailer of the papal indulgences, the
Three Estates of the Realm issue from the ' pal-
zeoun,' or tent, in procession ; but, to the horror
and astonishment of the audience, they approach
the king's presence, not in the usual fashion, with
their faces turned towards the sovereign, but going

1 order.

SIR DAVID LINDSAY. 24J

backwards. Correction enquires the cause of this
strange procedure —

Correctioun.

My tender friends, I pray you, with my hart,
Declair to me the thing that I wad speir 1.
What is the cause that ye gang 2 all backwart ?
The veritie thereof fain wald I hear.

tSpiritualitle.

Soverane, we have gain so this mony 3 a year,
Howbeit ye think we gang indecently,
We think we gang richt wondrous pleasautlie.

Diligence.

Sit down, my lords, into your proper places,
Syne let the King consider all sic cases ;
Sit down, Sir Scribe, and Dempster sit down, too.
And fence the court as ye were wont to do.

The sovereign now announces his readiness to
redress all abuses, but is reproved for his hasty
resolution by the Spirituality, upon which, Correc-
tion, declaring his astonishment that such abomi-
nable counsel should proceed from these grave
sages, orders Diligence to make open proclama-
tion that every man who feels himself aggrieved
should give in his bill, or come forward and tell
his story: —

Haste, Diligence, proclaim it is our will
That every man opprest give in his bill.

No sooner is this invitation made public, than
John the Common weill comes dancing in upon
the stage in the highest possible spirits, although
rather sorrily clad ; upon which, this homely dia-
logue ensues between him and Rex Humanitas : —

1 enquire. 2 go. 3 many.
VOL. in. R

242 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

Rex Humanitas.
Show me thy name, gudeman, I thee command.

Johne.
Marry, Johne Commomveill of fair Scotland.

Rex.
The Commonweill has been amang his faes l.

Johne.
Yes, sir, that gars the Commonweill want claes 8.

Rex.
What is the cause the Commonweill is cmkit 3 ?

Johne.
Because the Commonweill has been o'erlukit4.

Rex.
What gars 5 thee look so with ane dreary heart ?

Johne.
Because the three estates gang 6 all backwart.

A long catalogue of abuses is now presented
by John, which it is impossible to analyse parti-
cularly, although, in some instances, they pre-
sent a singular picture of the times. The pauper's
description of the law's delay, in the Consistory
Court, is excellent. He had brought an action
for the recovery of damages against a neighbour,
to whom he had lent his good grey mare : —

Marry, I lent my mear to fetch hame coals,
And he hir drownit in the quarry holes ;
And I ran to the Consistore to pleinzie7,
And there I happt amangane greedy meinzie8;
They gave me first ane thing they call citandutn,
Within aucht 9 dayis I got but debellandum,
Within ane moneth 10 I gat ad opponendum,
In half ane yeir I got inter loquendum,
And syne u, how call ye it ? ad replicandum ;
But I could ne'er ane word yet understand him ;

1 foes. 2 clothes. 8 crooked. * overlooked, neglected.

5 causes. 6 go. 7 complain. 8 multitude.

9 eight. 10 a mouth. » then.

SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

243

And then they gart 1 me cast out mony plakkis 8,
And gart me pay for four-and-tvventie actis ;
Bot or they cam half gate 3 to cnncludendumy
The feind ane plack was left for to defend him.
Thus they postpon'd me twa yeir with their traine,
Syne, hudie ad octo, bade me come againe.
And then thir rukis they rowpit 4 wonder fast,
For sentence silver they cry'd at the last ;
Of pronunciandum they made wonder fain,
But I gat never my gude grey mear again.

Many interesting sketches of national manners
are to be found in this satire ; yet we must be on
our guard against the error of considering Lind-
say's descriptions as exactly faithful to truth and
nature. The probability is, that they were strong
caricatures, the trick of all political satirists, who,
getting hold of an idea originally true, pare it
down, or dress it up, to suit their own purposes,
till it loses its identity, although it gains in the
power of exciting- ridicule.

All abuses having been duly investigated, and a
remedy provided, Correction proposes that John
Commonweill should be stripped of his ragged
habiliments, clothed in a new suit * of satin dainas,
or of velvet fine,' and placed amongst the lords in
the parliament. He is accordingly arrayed gor-
geously, and, having taken his place, Correction
congratulates the audience —

All vertuous pepill5 now may be rejosit6,

Sen Commonweill has gottin ane gay gannount7,

And ignorants out of the kirk deposit ;
Devout doctouris, and clarkis of reiioun,
Now in the kirk shall have dominioun ;J

1 made. z pennies. 3 halfway.

* those ruuks croaked fast.
5 people. e rejoiced. 7 garment.
11 2

244 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

And gude Counsall, with ladie Veritie,
Are ministeris to our King's Majesty.

Blist is that realm that hes ane prudent king,
Quhilk dois clelyte to heir the veritie,

Punisching thame that plainly dois maling,
Contrair the Commonweal and equitie.

Proclamation is then made of the acts of the
parliament ; Theft, Deceit, and Falsehood are
hanged, after having severally addressed the peo-
ple ; Folly is indulged with a reprieve, and the
piece concludes with an epilogue by Diligence,
entreating the audience to take 'their lytil sport*
(such is the term he uses for a play lasting nine
hours) in patience, making allowances for the
rudeness of the matter, and the poverty of the
style.

As to the manner in which this piece was per-
formed, it seems to have been acted in the open air,
the king, lords and ladies occupying raised seats,
or covered galleries, and the dramatis personce,
according to the progress of the entertainment,
coming out or going into a pavilion pitched on the
green field, where the stage was erected. This is
evident from some of the marginal directions, such
as, ' Here shall Gude Counsall show himself in
the fields ; here they depart and pass to the pail-
zion ; here shall the carle loup off the scaffold.'
Of scenery there can be traced no vestige ; but as
a hill and a running stream appear in the play, the
ground where it was acted was so chosen that na-
ture supplied them ; and, in other respects, the
machinery required seems to have been extremely
simple. A throne or royal seat for the mimic
king, benches for his parliament, a pulpit from

SIR. DAVID LINDSAY. 245

which Folly preaches his sermon, the stocks, which
are frequently used as a punishment throughout
the piece, and a gallows on which malefactors are
hanged, constitute the whole. Some of the stage -
directions are quaint and amusing. ' Here shall
the wyvis ding their gudemen with silence.' * Here
shall Flattery spy Veritie with ane dumb counte-
nance.' * Here sail Johne Commonweill loup the
stank, or else fall in it ;' a singular alternative to
be left to honest Johne, who, at this time, is re-
presented as clothed in tattered garments and
almost naked.

There is a letter published by Pinkerton, in
the appendix to his History, from Sir Ralph
Evre to the Lord Privy Seal of England, in
which a marked allusion is made to this play
of Lindsay's having been acted before the king.
It appears that Sir Ralph had been commis-
sioned by Henry the Eighth to sound the Scot-
tish monarch as to his disposition to reform the
spiritual estate in his dominions after the same
system that his uncle had pursued in England.
' I had divers communings,' says Evre, * with Sir
Thomas Bellenden, one of the said councillors for
Scotland, a man by estimation, appearing to be the
age of fifty years or above, and of gentle and sage
conversation, touching the staye of the spiritua-
litie in Scotland. And gathering him to be a man
inclined to the sort used in our sovereign's realm
of England, I did so largely break with him in
those behalves, as to move to know of him what
minde the king and council of Scotland was in-
clined unto, concerning the Bishop of Rome, and
for the reformation of the misusing of the spiri-

246 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

tualitie in Scotland. Whereunto he gently and
lovingly answered, shewing himself well contented
of that communing, and did say that the King of
Scotland himself, with all his temporal council, was
greatly given to the reformation of bishops, reli-
gious persons, and priests within the realme ; and
BO much, that by the king's pleasure, he being privy
thereunto, they have had ane interlude played in
the feast of the Epiphanie of our Lorde last paste,
before the king and queen, at Lithgow, and the
whole counsil spiritual and temporal. The whole
matter thereof concluded upon the declaration of
the naughtiness in religion, the presumption of
bishops, the collusion of the spiritual courts,
called the consistory courts, in Scotland, and mis-
using of priests. I have obtained a note from a
Scotsman of our sorte being present at the play-
ing of said enterlude ; of the effect thereof, which
I send unto your lordship, by this bearer. My lord,
the same Mr. Bellenden shewed me that after
the said interlude finished, the King of Scots did
call upon the Bishop of Glasgow, being Chan-
cellor, and divers other bishops, exhorting them
to reform their factions and manner of living,
saying, that unless they so did, he would send sax
of the proudest of them unto his uncle of Eng-
londe ; and as those were ordered, so he would
order all the rest who would not amend.' The
note of the play here alluded to, and transmitted
along with this letter, clearly proves that the in-
terlude enacted at Linlithgow, in 1540, was ma-
terially different from the play as published by
Lindsay.

Lindsay had already been employed in a sue-

SIR DAVID LINDSAY. 247

cessful negociation with the Estates of the Nether-
lands, and in 1536 he was dispatched by his royal
master on a matrimonial mission to the court of
France, along with Sir John Campbell, of London.
James's object was to demand a daughter of the
house of Vendosme, and the ambassadors, who
soon after followed Lindsay's mission, selected
Marie de Bourbon. The king sent her his pic-
ture, and a treaty of marriage was actually in the
course of negociation, when some unforeseen dif-
ficulties occurred to interrupt it. Angry at the
delay, and intent upon effecting an alliance with
France, the youthful monarch determined to pro-
ceed thither in person, and set sail in 1536, though
the expedition was much against the opinion of
many of his nobles. Sir James Hamilton had the
courage, when he slept, to steer again to Scot-
land, but no excuses could mollify the king, who
embarked again, and at Dieppe paid a visit at
the palace of Vendosme, where, notwithstanding
his strict incognito, the Princess Mary, from his
resemblance to the picture he had sent her, soon
discovered her royal lover. Upon this, James
ardently embraced the duke and duchess, and
saluted them, with their daughter, not passing
over the grandees and ladies of the court who
were present. On the part of his host no respect
was omitted which befitted such an occasion.
Music, with galliard dancing in masques, farces
and plays, with justing and running at the ring,
and every species of gallant amusement, occu-
pied the time. A costly palace was prepared
for the Scottish monarch, the apartments of which
were splendidly decorated, hung with tapestry of

248 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

cloth of gold and silk, the floor was spread with
green frieze, a rarity in those times, when the
apartments were generally strewed with rushes ;
the beds glittered with curtains of cloth of gold ;
and when the king sat at meat, a circlet of gold,
studded with precious stones, was suspended
from the ceiling immediately above his head ; the
halls and chambers were perfumed with sweet
odours ; and, in short, the noble Vendosme ex-
hausted his exchequer and his imagination in
providing every species of pleasure for the youthful
monarch. James was now in his twenty- fourth
year, and, from Ronsard's description, who was
intimately acquainted with him, must have been a
very handsome prince : —

Ce Roi d'Escosse estoit en la fleur de ses ans
Ses cheveux non tondus comme fin or linsans,
Cordonnez et crespez, flottans dessus sa face,
Et sur son col de lait lui donnoit bon grace.
Sou port estoit royal, son regard vigoureux,
De vertu, et d'honneur, et de guerre amoureux.
La douceur, et la force illustroient son visage,
Si que Venus et Mars en avoient fait partage.

A prince in the flower of his years, his long
golden ringlets floating, in the style of the times,
down his shoulders, or gracefully curling on his
white neck ; a countenance in which manliness,
energy, and beauty, were blended ; a kingly man-
ner, and a mind devoted to virtue, honour, and
war ; such a suitor was well calculated to engage
the affections of the daughter of Vendosme, but
from some reason not now discoverable, the king
seems to have been disappointed in the choice of
his ambassadors. He left the palace abruptly,

SIR DAVID LINDSAY. 249

and hearing that Francis the First was about to
set out for Provence, with the design of attack-
ing the imperial forces, he resolved to join him.
On the road between Tarray and St. Saphorin,
the Scottish monarch was met by the French
dauphin, with a message from the king, informing
him, that the emperor having been obliged to quit
the kingdom, he had delayed his military prepa-
rations, and had sent the dauphin to conduct him
to Paris. In Francis, James, on his arrival at the
capital, found the affectionate tenderness of a
parent, who omitted no endearment that could
shew the satisfaction he received in the attach-
ment he had manifested to France. It was
in vain, however, that he urged him to marry
Marie de Bourbon. The young sovereign was
now bent on uniting himself to the Princess Mag-
dalen, the daughter of the French king. When
he first saw her, she was in a chariot, on account
of her ill health, but the delicacy of her constitu-
tion did not discourage him ; the tender passion
seemed to have mutually seized them, and they
declared they would never consent to any other
marriage. The danger of exposing so tender a
frame to an inhospitable climate was strongly
urged, and the royal lover was even warned that
he must not look for an heir to his throne from
such a union ; but all was unavailing, and Francis
at last reluctantly consented.

James instantly sent the news to Scotland, order-
ing an addition to his attendants of six earls, six
lords, six bishops, and twenty great barons, who
were directed not to leave their best garments
behind them. They complied with their sove-

250 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

reign's desire, and the marriage was performed
January 1, 1537, in the church of Notre Dame,
in the presence of the Kings of France and Na-
varre, the queen, dauphin, and other members of
the royal family, seven cardinals, and a numerous
and splendid assemblage of French and Scottish
nobility, with many illustrious strangers. Ronsard,
in a kind of epithalamium, not inelegantly, and
very minutely describes the persons of the royal
bride and bridegroom. The poet was then a page
in the suite of the Duke of Orleans, who presented
him to the Queen, and she afterwards carried him
into Scotland. To honour the wedding France dis-
played all her riches and gallantry, so that it was
said nothing had ever before equalled its splendour.
Nor was the bridegroom behindhand in magnifi-
cence : amongst other noble presents he ordered a
number of covered cups or macers, filled with coined
gold, and standing on frames of the same metal,
to be presented to the guests as the produce of the
mines of Scotland. He was the most brilliant and
conspicuous figure in all the martial games ; and
as he had won the Princess, so did he every prize
that was contended for at the ring *. All this
must have been a gratifying sight to what Chal-
mers calls * the heraldic eyes of Lindsay.' * For/
says the garrulous and pleasant Pitscottie, * there
was such jousting and tournament, both on horse
and foot, in burgh and land, and also upon the sea
with ships, and so much artillerye shot in all parts
of France, that no man might hear for the reard
thereof, and also the riotous banquetings, delicate

* Mitchell's Scotsman s Library, pp. 518, 519.

SIR DAVID LINDSAY. 251

and costly clothings, triumphant plays and feasts,
pleasant sounds of instruments of all kinds, and
cunning carvers having the art of necromancy,
to cause things appear that were not, as flying
dragons in the air, shots of fire at other's heads,
great rivers of water running through the town,
and ships fighting thereupon, as it had been in
bullering streams of the sea, shooting of guns
like cracks of thunder ; and these wonders were
seen by the nobility and common people. All
this was made by men of ingyne, for outsetting
of the triumph, to do the King of Scotland and
the Queen of France their master's pleasure *.'

It formed part of Lindsay's duties, as Lord
Lion, to marshal processions on occasions of state
and rejoicing, to invent and superintend the ex-
ecution of pageants, plays, moralities, or inter-
ludes ; and for all this his genius appears to have
been cast in a happy mould. He possessed inge-
nuity, wit, and that playful satirical turn which,
under the license permitted by the manners of the
age to such performances, could lash the vices
and laugh at the follies of the times with far greater
effect than if the lesson had been conveyed through
a graver medium. Of his pageants one of the most
brilliant appears to have been intended for exhibi-
tion on the coronation of Magdalen, the youthful
queen of James the Fifth. This beautiful princess
after her marriage, attended by her royal husband,
and accompanied by the Bishop of Limoges, had
sailed from France, and landed in Scotland in
May, 1537. On stepping from the ships upon

* Pitscottie's History of Scotland, pp. 249, 251.

252 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

the strand, she lifted a handful of sand to her mouth,
and thanking God for her safety, prayed with
emphatic sensibility for prosperity to the land
and its people. Her countenance and manners
were impressed with the most winning sweet-
ness, but her charms were already touched by the
paleness of disease, and only forty days after she
had entered her capital, amid shouts of joy and
applause, the voice of universal gratulation was
changed into lamentation for her death.

It was on this occasion that Lindsay composed
his pathetic ' Deploratioun for the Death of Quene
Magdalen :' —

Oh, traitor death, whom none may countermand,

Thou might have sene the preparatioun
Maid be the thre estaittis l of Scotland

With great comfort and consolatioun
In every city, castell, toure, and town,

And how each noble set his whole intent

To be excelling in habiliment.

Theif ! saw thou not the great preparatives']
Of Edinburgh, the noble, famous town ?

Thou saw the people labouring for their lives
To mak triumph, with trump and clarioun ;

Sic pleasure never was in this regioun,

As should have been the day of her entrace,
With richest presents given to her Grace.

It has been well observed by Warton, that the
verses which immediately follow, exclusive of this
artificial and very poetical mode of introducing a
description of those splendid spectacles, instead of
saying plainly and prosaically that the Queen's
death interrupted the superb ceremonies which
would have attended her coronation, possess the

1 estates.

SIR DAVID LINDSAY. 253

merit of transmitting the ideas of the times in the
exhibition of a royal entertainment*. We have
the erection of the costly and gilded scaffolding;
fountains spouting wine, troops of actors on each
stage, disguised like divine creatures ; rows of lusty
fresh gallants, in splendid apparel ; the honest yeo-
men and craftsmen, with their long bows in their
hands, lightly habited in green ; and the richer
burgesses in their coats of scarlet. Next come —

Provest and baillies, lordis of the town,
The senators, in order consequent,

Clad into silk of purple, black, and brown ;
Then the great lords that form the parliament,
With many knightly baron and banrent,

In silk and gold in colouris l comfortable :

By thee, alas ! all turned into sable.

He next describes the procession of the Lords
of Religion, the venerable dignitaries of the
Church, surrounded by the inferior clergy; then
the din of the trumpets and clarions, the heralds
in their " awful vestments," and the macers mar-
shalling the procession with their silver wands.

Then last of all, in order triumphal,
That most illuster Princess honorabill,

With her the lovely ladies of Scotland,

Which should have been a sight most delectabill:
Her raiment to reherse I am nocht habill,

Of gold and pearl and precious stonis bright,

Twinkling like stars in a clear frosty night.

The Princess was to have walked under a canopy
of gold borne by burgesses in robes of silk, mar-
shalled by the great master of the household, and

1 colours.
* WTarton's History of English Poetry, vol. iii., p. 142.

254 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

followed by the King's train. She was' to have
been received by a troop of beautiful virgins, cry-
ing * Vive la Reine,'

With a harmonious sound angelical.

Thou should have heard the ornate oratouris,

Making her highness salutation,
Both of the clergy, town, and councillors,

With many a notable narration.

Thou should have seen her coronatioun,
In the fair Abhey of the Holyrood,
In presence of a mirthful multitude.

Sic 1 banquetting, sic awful tornaments

On horse and foot, that time which should have been,

Sic chapel royal, with sic instruments

And crafty music singing from the splene8,
In this country was never heard nor seen.

But all this great solemnitie and gam 3,

Turned thou hast in requiem seternam.

The poem concludes with a patriotic wish very
gracefully exprest. Although the heavenly flower
of France, the flower de luce, be rooted up by
death, yet its fragrance will remain ; and, dispers-
ing itself through both realms, preserve them in
peace and amity: —

Tho' death has slain the heavenly flower of France,
Which wedded was unto the thistle keen,

Wherein all Scotland saw their whole plesance,
And made the lion joyful from the splene* ;
Tho' root be pull'd, and shed its leaves so green,

The fragrance ne'er shall die — despite of thee

'Twill keep these sister realms in peace and amitie.

Of Lindsay's private life and character we know
so little, that it is difficult to ascertain whether it
was exclusively from deep convictions on the sub-

1 such. s from the heart. " game. 4 heart.

SIR DAVID LINDSAY. 255

ject of religion, or from more interested motives,
that with such earnest and early zeal he threw the
whole weight of his abilities into the scale of the
reformers ; attacking the Catholic clergy and the
ancient ceremonies of the Catholic church with a
coarseness and bitterness of satire, of which the
gross indelicacy renders quotation impossible.
That the lives of many of the prelates, the licen-
tiousness of the monastic orders, the gross igno-
rance in which they retained the minds of the people,
the shutting up the Bible in an unknown language,
and the mischievous assumption of temporal power
by the Papacy, all called loudly for that reforma-
tion, which, under the blessing of God, was intro-
duced into the country, no one who tries the sub-
ject by the test of Scripture will deny. But, whilst
this is admitted, nothing can be more erroneous
than the very common idea that, in those dark
and troubled times, the name of a reformer was
synonymous with truth and religious sincerity,
whilst that of a Romanist was only another word
for all that was licentious, bigoted, and hypo-
critical. It is the prerogative of an infinitely
wise, good, and powerful God to overrule even
the most corrupted instruments, so that unknow-
ingly they shall accomplish his predestined pur-
poses ; and never was this divine attribute more
signally displayed than in the history of the Scottish
reformation. At first, regarding this great event
with a hasty and somewhat superficial eye, we see
two great parties, two living phalanxes of human
opinion, ranged in mortal opposition to each other ;
the one proclaiming themselves to be the congre-
gation of the Lord, and not unfrequently branding

256 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

their antagonists with the epithet of the Congre-
gation of Satan : and the other, whilst they repel
this odious charge, arrogating to themselves the
exclusive character of being the sole supporters
of the Church of Christ. A second and more at-
tentive consideration will probably be shocked at
the discovery of the selfishness, the hypocrisy, and
the sin which often lurked under the professions of
both. A third, a more profound, a more heavenly-
guided examination, will see the working of that
Almighty arm, which, in the moral as well as in
the physical world, can guide the whirlwind and di-
rect the storm ; which educes good out of evil, and
compels the wrath of man to praise him. These
observations are peculiarly applicable to the satirical
effusions of Lindsay ; for, whilst it cannot be denied
that his writings had a powerful effect in preparing
the way for the reformation, none will be so hardy
as to attempt a defence, and it will even be diffi-
cult to discover an extenuation for their occasional
grossness and profanity.

Cast down as he must have been by the sudden
death of his scarcely wedded Queen, James V. was
not prevented from looking to France for her suc-
cessor : and a matrimonial embassy, consisting of
the Cardinal Beaton, Lord Maxwell, and the Master
of Glencairn, having proceeded to that kingdom,
the Scottish King selected Mary of Guise, widow
of the Duke of Longueville, who proceeded to
Scotland in June, 1538. She was conducted
by D'Annabault, an Admiral of France, and hav-
ing landed at Balcomie, in Fife, was met by the
King, who carried her to St. Andrew's, where the
marriage was celebrated with much rejoicing.

SIR DAVID LINDSAY. 257

Here the talents of Sir David Lindsay were again
brought into request in the construction and com-
position of the court festivals and pageants. * James/
says Pitscottie, ' entertained his bride with great
honors and playes made for her ; and first she
was received at the New Abbey, upon the east side
whereof there was made a triumphant arch by Sir
David Lindsay, lyon herauld, which caused a
great cloud to come out of the heavens, above the
gate, and open instantly, and there appeared a fair
lady most like an angel, having the keys of Scot-
land in her hand, and delivered them to the Queen,
in sign that all the hearts of Scotland were open
to receive her Grace, with certain orations and
exhortations made by the said Sir David Lindsay
to the Queen, instructing her to serve God, and
obey her husband according to God's command-
ments. Here the King and Queen remained forty
days, with great merriness, such as justing, running
at the lists, archery, hunting, hawking, with singing
and dancing in masquery, and playing, and all
other princely games, according to a King and
Queen*.' It was during these festivities that the
Lion King composed his satirical poem entitled
* The Justing between James Watson and John
Barbour,' in *vhich his object was to ridicule the
splendid solemnities and unnecessary bloodshed
often caused by the tournaments. It is the least
happy of his productions, — ponderous, laboured,
and far inferior to a contemporary piece written
with the same design by an English author, * The
Tournament of Tottenham.' It will be seen at

* Lindsay of Pitscottie, pp. 248, 249.

VOL. III. S

258 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

once by a short quotation that Lindsay's measure
cramps the easy flow of his humour : —
In St. Andrew's, on Whitsun-Monoday,
Two campions thair manhood did assay
Past to the barres, enarmed, head and hands.
Was never seen sic justing in na l lands.
In presence of the kingis grace and queen,
Where mony2 lustre ladie micht be seen.

*****
The ane of them was gentle James Watsoun,
And Johne Barbour the other campioun3 j
Unto the king they were familiars,
And of his chalmer both cubiculars.

*****
Fra time they entered were into the field
Full womanlie they weilded spear and schield j
Audwightly waiffit4 in the wind their heels,
Hobbling like cadgers 5, ryding on their creels.

The poet of ' The Tournament of Tottenham
has wisely selected a merrier species of rhythm.

He that beareth him hest in the tournament
Shall be granted the gree 6 by the common assent,

For to win my daughter with doughty dent,
And copple my brood hen that was brought out of Kent,
And my dun cow ;
For no spenee will I spare,
For no cattle will I care,
He shall have my grey mare and my spotted sow.

Neither of these parodies, however, possess any
high merit.

It was, perhaps, a little previous to this that
Lindsay composed his answer to the King's Flyting.
It appears that James had attacked his Lord Lion
in some verses, whose ' ornate metre Sir David

1 no. 2 many. 3 champion. * waved,

5 a pedlar who rides with panniers. 9 victory.

SIR DAVID LINDSA.Y. 259s

highly commends, although their object was to
make him ' abominable in the sight of the ladies,
and to banish him, on account of his age and in-
firmities, from the Court of Venus. In these abu-
sive poetical contests, entitled ' Flytings,' it is no
disparagement to Lindsay when we say he does not
equal the multifarious and recondite scurrility of
Dunbar or Kennedy ; whilst, if we are to judge of
the * dittay ' of the king by the coarseness and vul-
garity of the reply, it is not much to be regretted
that the royal Flyting has perished. In his con-
cluding stanza, the monarch is highly compli-
mented on his poetical talents ; he is styled ' of
flowing rhetorick the flower;' nor, — making all
due allowance for the strain in which a poet
may be supposed to indulge himself when address-
ing a prince, — was the praise of the Lion King
overstrained. We have seen the vicious and neg-
lected education under which the youth of James V.
had been blighted ; yet there emerged out of this
ungenial nurture a character of that strength and
vigour which soon enabled him to make up for the
time which he had lost. Amongst other qualities,
he possessed that genius for the fine arts, and
more especially for poetry and architecture, which
had distinguished the first and third James ; and
it is easy to see that a congeniality of taste had
recommended the Lion Herald to his royal master.
We learn from Drummond that the king ' was
naturally given to poesie, as many of his verses
yet exstant testify ; ' and few readers of Scottish
poetry are unacquainted with the admirable ballad
of the ' Gaberlunzieman,' which we owe to this
monarch.

s 2

260 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

The pauky auld carle cam o'er the lea,

Wi' mony gude eens and days to me,

Saying, gude wife, for your courtesy,

Will ye lodge a silly auld man.

The night was cauld 1, the carle was wat2,
And down ayont 3 the ingle 4 he sat j
My daughter's shoulders he gan to clap,

And cadgily5 ranted and sang.
O wow, quoth he, were I as free
As first when I saw this countrie,
How blythe and merry wad I be,

And I would ne'er think lang.

He grew canty6 and she grew fain7 j
But little did her auld minny 8 ken
What these slee 9 twa thegither were saying,
Whan wooing they were sae thrang 10.

The result of the adventure is well known, in
the elopement of the old woman's daughter with
the Gaberlunzie. Nothing can be more felicitously
described than the consequences of the discovery.
The picture of the auld wife's despair, when she
finds that the beggar had decamped, the anticipa-
tion that some of their gear must have walked away
with him, and the complacent awakening of her
charitable feelings on finding all safe, are finely
true to nature.

Upon the morn the auld wife raise,
And at her leisure put on her claes uj
Syne to the servant's bed she gaes,

To speer 12 for the silly puir man.
She gaed to the bed where the beggar lay :
The strae 13 was cauld, he was away.
She clapp'd her hands, cryed dulefa day !

For some of our gear u will be gane.
1 cold. a wet. 3 beyond. 4 fire. 5 merrily. 6 cheerful.

7 fond. 8 mother. 9 sly. 10 busy.

11 clothes. 12 inquire. 13 straw. u goods.

SIR DAVID LINDSAY. 261

Some ran to coffers, and some to kists1 ;
But nought was stown 2 that could be mist.
Sche danc'd her lane,3 cryed praise be blest !

I've lodg'd a leil* puir man.
Since naething's awa5, as we can learn,
The kirns 6 to churn and milk to earn 7 ;
Gae but 8 the house, lass, and waukeu the bairn,

And bid her come quickly ben9.

It is not too much to say that this picture, and
the rest of the ballad, are, in point of humour,
superior to anything of Dunbar's or of Lindsay's.
From his zeal for the administration of strict justice
to the lowest classes of his subjects, and his anxiety
personally to inspect the conduct of his officers and
judges, it was James's frequent practice to disguise
himself and mingle much with the common people.
4 The dangers of the wilderness,' says Pinkertonr
in one of his Gibbonian flights, ' the gloom of
night, the tempests of winter, could not prevent
his patient exertions to protect the helpless, to
punish the guilty, to enforce the observance of
the laws. From horseback he often pronounced
decrees worthy of the sagest seat of justice ; and,
if overtaken by night, in the progresses which he
made through his kingdom, or separated by design
or by accident from his company, he would share
the meal of the lowest peasant with as hearty a
relish as the feast of his highest noble.' It was on
one of these occasions that the following pleasing
anecdote is related of him : — ' Being benighted
when hunting, he entered a cottage, situated in
the midst of a moor, at the foot of the Ochil hills,

1 chests. 2 stolen. 3 danced alone. 4 honest.

5 away. 6 churn. 7 curdle.

8 but, the outer apartment of the house. B the inner.

"262 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

near Alloa, wliere, known only as a stranger who
had lost his way, he was kindly received. To regale
their unexpected guest, the gudeman desired the
gudewife to fetch the hen that roosted nearest the
cock, which is always the plumpest, for the
stranger's supper. The king, highly pleased with
his night's lodging and hospitable entertainment,
told mine host at parting that he should be glad
to return his civility, and requested that the first
time he came to Stirling he would call at the
Castle, and inquire for the gudeman of Ballan-
geich, when his astonishment at finding the royal
rank of his guest afforded no small amusement to
the merry monarch and his courtiers ; whilst, to
£arry on the pleasantry, he was thenceforth desig-
nated by James with the title of King of the
Moors, * which name,' says Mr. Campbell, the in-
telligent minister, from whose account of the
parish of Alloa this passage is taken, ' has de-
scended from father to son ever since, the family
having remained undisturbed proprietors of the
identical spot where the unknown monarch was
so hospitably treated.'

From this short digression on the character and
genius of his royal master and patron we return
to the Lion King, whom we find ' aggravating his
roar' against the extravagance of * female orna-
ment,' by his supplication to the King's Grace
against the length of the trains worn by the ladies,
and then known by the name of * syde-tails.' ' Fe-
male attire has been the marked object of the
poet's ridicule in every age. The English an-
tiquaries trace the origin of high head-dresses and
long trains to the luxurious reign of Richard II.

SIR DAVID LINDSAY. 263

Camden tells us that Anne, the wife of this mo-
narch, brought in the fashion of high caps and
long gowns. We learn from Hemingford that
a zealous ecclesiastic of that age wrote a trea-
tise, ' Contra Caudas Dominarum.' Chaucer's
parson protests against the ' costlie claithing' both
of men and women, especially reprehending the
superfluity in ladies' gowns. Lydgate raises his
voice against the high attire of women's heads ;
Hoccleve against ' waist claithing.' Dunbar lashes
the splendour of the ' farthingaillis ;' and, finally,
Lindsay presents his supplication against ' syde-
taillis.*' ' Your Majesty,' says he, ' has now intro-
duced order and good government both into the
highlands and border ; there is yet ane small fault
which requires reformation.'

Sir, tho your Grace has put great order
Baith in the highland and the border,
Yet make I supplicatioun
To have some reformatioun
Of ane small fault which is not treason,
Tho it be contrair unto reason,
Because the matter is so vile,
It may not have an ornate stile ;
Therefore I pray your Excellence
To hear me with great patience. "
Sovereign, I mean of these syde-tails^
That thro the dust and puddle trails,
Three-quarters long, behind their heels,
Express against all ccmmonweills ;
Tho bishops in pontificals
Have men to bear well up their tails,
For dignity of their office.
Right so a king or an empress ;
Howbeit they use such dignity,
Conforming to their majesty.

* Chalmers' Works of Lindsay, vol. ii. p. 196.

264 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

Tho their robe-royals be upborne,

I think it is a very scorn

That every lady of the land

Should have her side-tail sa trailland ;

How high soe'er be their estate,

The queen they should not counterfeit.

Where'er they go, it may be seen

How kirk and causeway they sweep clean.

To see I think a pleasant sight,

Of Italic the ladies bright ;

In their clothing most triumphant

Above all other Christian land ;

Yet when they travel thro the towns,

Men sees their feet beneath their gowns,

Four inch above their proper heels,

Circular about as round as wheels.

In the same poem Lindsay complains violently
of a fashion introduced by the Scottish ladies, in
covering up their faces, so that nothing is seen but
their eyes.

Another fault, sir, may be seen,
They hide their face all but their eeii.
When gentlemen bids them gude day,
Without reverence they slide away :
Unless their naked face I see,
They get no more gude days fra me.

These veiled faces of the women excited the
indignation of the Parliament of James II., which
published an ordinance, " that na woman come
to the kirk or market with her face mussal'd, that
she may not be kend, under the pain of escheit of
the curch." Lindsay's concluding admonition to
the king upon the long trains is brief and emphatic.

Wad your Grace my counsel tak 1,
Ane proclamation ye should mak2,
Baith thro the land and burrowstouns s,
To shaw their face and cut their gowns.

1 take. 2 make. 3 burghs.

SIR DAVID LINDSAY. 265

The only other work of our author's written dur-
ing the lifetime of his royal master was his attack
upon auricular confession, known by the title of
* Kitty's Confession ;' of which the coarseness is
not redeemed either by its wit or its poetry.

The death of the king in 1542 left Lindsay at
full liberty to join the party of the reformers.
However disposed James might have been in 1540
to favour the schemes which were then agitated
for the reformation of the church, it is well known
that he soon after determined upon a war with
England, chose for his principal adviser the Cardi-
nal Beaton, and adopted principles, entirely opposed
to all alliance with Henry VIII., or any changes
in the ecclesiastical establishment of the kingdom.
Lindsay, to a certain degree, must have been in-
fluenced by the opinions of a monarch by whose
patronage he had been cherished, and in whose
service he filled an honourable and ancient office.
Now he was at liberty to act uninfluenced by self-
interest, without any outrage offered to the decen-
cies of gratitude or affection, and he hesitated not
a moment to unite himself to the party of the
reformers ; one of the results of this was his publi-
cation of the tragedy of the ' Cardinal.'

The murder of Beaton, one of the most flagrant
acts which has been perpetrated in any age or
country, took place, as is well known, at St.
Andrew's on the 29th May, 1546. Into its secret
history we will not now enter, remarking only that
the plot can be traced upon evidence of the most
unquestionable authenticity to Henry VIII., that
the assassins have been detected in intimate corre-
spondence with that monarch, proposing the cut-

266 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

ting off this able enemy, receiving his approval of
the design, supported by his money, and encou-
raged by the promise of a shelter in his dominions *.
To Lindsay, and many of the reformers, the atro-
city of the deed was forgotten in the feelings of
triumph and gratulation with which they regarded
the removal of their ablest and most determined
enemy. The tone of the Lord Lion, however, is
more quiet and decorous than that adopted by
Knox. Sitting in his oratory, and pondering
in a thoughtful and melancholy mood over Boccac-
cio's work on the 4 Downfall of Princes,' a grisly
ghost glides into the chamber with a pale coun-
tenance, and the blood flowing from many wounds
over its rich ecclesiastical vestments : —

I sitting so upon my book reading,
Richt suddenly afore me did appear

Ane woundit man abundantlie bleiding,
With visage pale, and with a deidly cheer,
Seeming a man of twa-and-fifty year,

In raiment red, clothed full courteously

Of velvet and of satin cramosye.

This, as may be easily anticipated, is the appari-
tion of the once proud Cardinal, who is made to
rehearse his own story, to expose his ambition,
prodigality, and oppression ; from which he takes
occasion to admonish his brethren the prelates
upon the criminal courses in which they indulged,
and to enter a solemn caveat to all earthly princes
against their indiscriminate presentation of eccle-
siastical benefices to ignorant and unworthy pastors.

Mak him bishop that prudentlie can preich
As doth pertain till his vocation j

* Appendix to the Life of Sir Thomas Craig, No. I.

SIR DAVID LINDSAY. 267

Ane persoun quhilk his paroehoun can teiche,

Gar vicars mak dew ministratioun,

And als, I mak you supplicatioun,
Mak your abbottis of richt religious men,
Quilk Christis law can to their convent ken.

Any further quotation from this piece is unneces-
sary.

In the pages of our contemporary historians dur-
ing this period, we see so little of the private life
and manners of the times, that everything must be
welcome which can supply this defect ; and in such
a light ' Lindsay's History of Squire Meldrum * is
particularly valuable and interesting. It was
composed about the year 1550, and contains a
biography of a gallant feudal squire of those days,
drawn up from his own recital by the affectionate
liand of his friend and contemporary.

With help of Clio I intend,
Sa Minerve would me sapience lend,
Ane noble Squyer to descrive,
Whose douchtiness during his lyfe
I knew myself, thereof I write.
And all his deeds I dare indite,
And secrets that I did not know
That noble Squire to me did show.
So I intend the best I can
Describe the deeds, and eke the man*.

We have accordingly the birth, parentage, edu-
cation, adventures, death, and testament of ' Ane
noble and vailiant Squire, William Meldrum,
umquhyle (lately) Laird of Cleish and Binns.'
We first learn that he was of noble birth.

Of noblesse lineally descendit
Quhilk their gude fame has aye defendit.
Gude Williame Meldrum he was named,
Whose honour bricht was ne'er defamed*

* Poems, vol. ii., p. 245.

268 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

After having been educated in all the exercises
of chivalry, this noble squire began his ' vassalage '
at twenty years of age. His portrait at this time
is prepossessing. His countenance was handsome,
his expression cheerful and joyous, his stature of
middle height, his figure admirably proportioned,
yet strong and athletic ; his manners were amiable,
and his love of honor and knightly deeds so ardent
that he determined to win his spurs both in Eng-
land and in France.

Because he was so courageous,
Ladies of him was amorous.
He was ane lover for a dame,
Meek in chalmer like a lame ;
But in the field ane campioun,
Rampand lyke ane wild lyoun *.

At this moment James IV. had despatched a
fleet to assist his ally the King of France against
the attack of Henry VIII. It conveyed an army
of three thousand men, commanded by the Earl of
Arran, whilst the office of Admiral was entrusted to
Gordon of Letterfury. Under Arran young Squire
Meldrum determined to commence his warlike
education, and an adventure soon occurred which
is strongly characteristic of the times. In passing
the coast of Ireland a descent was made upon
Carrickfergus, which was taken and sacked with
great barbarity. In the midst of those dreadful
scenes which occur under such circumstances, a
young and beautiful lady had been seized by some
of the brutal soldiery, and was discovered by Mel-
drum imploring them to spare her life, and what
was .dearer to her than life, her honour, They had
stript her of her rich garments, and she stood

* Poems, vol. ii., p. 253.

SIR DAVID LINDSAY. 269

helpless and almost naked when this brave youth
flew to her assistance, and upbraided them for their
cruelty and meanness. He was instantly attacked
by the ruffians, but the struggle ended in his
slaying them both, and saving the lady from the
dreadful fate which seemed impending over her.
The description of her dress is graceful and
curious : —

Her kirtle was of scarlet red,
Of gold ane garland on her head
Decorit with enamelyne l,
Belt and brochis of silver fyne j

Scarce had Squire Meldrum rescued this beauti-
ful and unknown lady than the trumpet sounded,
and it became his duty to hurry on board. But
his noble and generous conduct had made an im-
pression on her which can be easily imagined.
To be saved from death and dishonour, to see her
deliverer only for a moment, but to see enougli of
him in that brief interval to be convinced that he
was the very mirror of youthful beauty and valor,
all this was what few gentle hearts could resist,
and we do not wonder when she throws herself in
a transport of gratitude and admiration at his feet,
informs him of the high rank of her father, and
in very unequivocal terms offers him her hand and
her heart. But it might not be ; Squire Meldrum
dared not desert the banner of his lord the high
admiral ; he must pass on to take his fortune in
France. ' Ah !' said the lady, * if it must be thus,
let me dress myself as thy page, and follow thee
but for love ?' * Nay ; thou art too young to be
thus exposed to danger,' said Meldrum ; * but let
1 enamel.

270 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

this warlike expedition be brought to an end, and
when the peace is made, I will be right glad to
marry you.'

Ladle, I say you in certane,

Ye shall have lufe for lufe agaiie.

Trewlie unto my lifis end.

Farewell, I you to God commend.

Meldrum now embarks, after having received a
love-token from his mistress, a rich ruby set in a
ring, and the fleet reaches the shores of Brittany,
where the army is disembarked, and the Squire
entrusted with the command of five hundred men.
1 Harry the Eighth of England,' pursues the his-
tory, ' was at that time lying with his army at
Calais, making war on the realm of France ; and
although there was no pitched battle, yet daily
skirmishing took place between the hosts, for the
King of France with his great army was encamped
near hand in Picardy. Squire Meldrum hearing of
this, immediately chose a hundred spears, the best
men in his company, and riding to the French
quarters, was courteously received by the King.' It
chanced that at this moment there was amongst the
English a hardy and excellent soldier, named in the
story Maister Talbart, probably Talbot, who used
to stalk about with * silver tokens of war ' in his
bonnet, speaking somewhat lightly of the French,
and proclaiming that, for his lady's sake, he was
ready to break his spear with any man who would
accept his challenge. His defiance had not been,
answered previous to Meldrum's arrival in the
camp. Talbart next addresses the Scots, and the
young squire, without a moment's hesitation,
takes up his gage : —

SIR DAVID LINDSAY. 271

And when the Squyer Meltlrum
Hard tell this campioun was come,
Richt hastily he past him till
Demanding him what was his will ?
Forsooth, I can find none, quoth he,
On horse or foot dare feeht l me.
Then, said he, it wer great schame
Without battle ye should pass hame 2,
Therefore to God I make a vow
The morne myself shall fight with yow.

Talbot, an experienced champion, with an iron
frame and great skill in his weapons, dissuades the
young adventurer from a contest in which he re-
presents him as certain to lose his life. Meldrum,
however, derides his assurance, and assures him
that, with the assistance of God, he trusts to tame
his pride :—

I trust that God shall be my guide,
And give me grace to stanche thy pride,
Tho thou wert great as Gow Mak Morne.

The Englishman now returns to his brethren
in the camp, and informs them of the combat
which he is to have on the morrow with a young
Scot, whose pride he means to take down.

He showed his brethren of his land
How ane young Scot had taeu on hand
To fecht with him beside Montreuil,
Bot I trust he shall pruife the fuil.
Quoth they, the morn that sail we ken,
The Scots are haldin 3 bardie men*.

* When,' continues Lindsay, c it was reported
to Monsieur D'Aubigny that the squire had taken
on hand to fight with Talbart, he greatly com-

1 fight. 2 home. 3 esteemed.

* Poems, vol. ii., p. 257.

272 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

mended his courage, and requesting his presence
in his tent, interrogated him upon the subject.
Meldrum then modestly acknowledged that he
had for the honour of Scotland undertaken that
battle ; adding, that were he as well horsed as he
was armed, he had little doubt of the victory.
Upon this D'Aubigny sent through the host, and
collecting a hundred horse, bade the squire select
the steed which pleased him best. He did so ac-
cordingly, and lightly leaping on his back, pushed
him to his speed and checking him in his career,
declared that no horse in the world could run more
pleasantly. The picture of the youthful warrior
setting out for the combat all armed except the
head, with his helmet borne before him by his
squire, is charmingly given : —

He took his leave, and went to rest.
Then early in the morn him drest
Wantonly in his warlike weed,
All bravely armed, except the head.
He leapt upon his courser good,
And proudly in his stirrups stood.
His spear and shield and helm was borne
By squyers that rode him beforne ;
A velvet cap on head he bare,
A coif of gold confined his hair.
* * * * *

The Squyer bore into his shield
An otter in a silver field.
His horse was barded full richlie,
Covered with satin cramosie.
Then forward rode this campioun
With sound of trumpet and clarioun,
And speedilie spurrit o'er the bent,
Like Mars, the God armipotent.

Talbart, in the mean time, is greatly disturbed
by a dream, in which he sees a great black otter

SIR DAVID LINDSAY. 273

rise from the sea, and fiercely attack him, pulling
him down from his horse. He relates the vision
to his friends, who ridicule his consternation ; and,
ashamed of his weakness, he arms himself at all
points, and mounting his horse, proceeds to the
lists. The arrangement of the lists, and the meet-
ing of the combatants, is extremely spirited.

Than clariouns and trumpettis blew,
And weiriouris l mony hither drew j
On everie side come monie2 man,
To behald wha the battel wan 3.
The field was in a medow grene,
Quhare everie man micht weill be sene.
The heraldis put thame sa in ordour,
That no man past within the bordour,
Nor preissit to come within the ijrene,
Bot heraldis and the campiounis^kene.
The ordour and the circumstance
Wer lang to put in remembrance.
Quhen ther twa nobill men of weir
Wer weill accouterit in thair geir4,
And in their handis strang bourdounes 5,
Than trumpets blew, and clariounis j
And heraldis cryit, hie on hicht6,
Now let them go — God schaw the richt7.
Than speedilie thay spurrit their hors,
And ran to uther 8 with sic fors,
That baith thair speiris in sindrie flaw.

Thus slightly modernised.

Then clarions bray'd and trumpets blew,
And many a warrior hither drew,
Princes and peers, a glorious sight,
To crowd the lists and view the fight.
The field was fenc'd in meadow green,
Where every man might well be seen,

1 warriors. 2 many a man. 3 won.

* warlike habiliments. 5 strong spears. 6 height.

7 the right. 8 against each other.

VOL. III. T

274 SIR, DAVID LINDSAY.

AH duly marshall'd row on row, —
An awful and resplendent show.
To pass the barrier none might dare,
The champions twain alone were there,
In burnish'd weed, from head to heel,
Enclos'd in panoply of steel.
Sudden the trumpets sounded clear ;
In rest was plac'd the ready spear ;
The solemn heralds cried on height,
Pass on, and God defend the right !
Then flying forward, fleet as wind,
With slacken'd rein and head inclin'd,
Unswerving, and with giant force,
The warriors met in middle course*.

After an obstinate contest Talbart's dream is
realised: he is vanquished, and thrown to the
earth with such force, that his companions believe
him dead. * Then it was,' says the legend, ' that the
squire leaped lightly from his horse, and taking
the wounded knight in his arms, courteously sup-
ported and comforted him ; but when he looked
up and saw his shield, with the device of an otter
upon a silver field, " Ah," said he, " now hath
my dream proved true : your's is the otter that
hath caused me to bleed ; but never shall I just
again. Here, therefore, according to our agree-
ment, I yield to thee both horse and harness." '

Then said the squire most courteously,
I thank you, brother, heartily ;
But nothing from thee must I take, —
I fight for love and honour's sake ;
Who covets more is but a churl,
Be he a belted knight or earl.

Delighted with these noble sentiments, the cap-

* Poems, vol. ii., p. 261. The verses are slightly altered
and modernised.

SIR DAVID LINDSAY. " 275

tain of the English takes Meldrum by the hand,
and leads him into the pavilion, where he is served
with a sumptuous collation, and highly commended
by all for his valour and generosity. Meanwhile,
Talbard's wounds are dressed ; and the squire,
before taking his leave, embraces him with ten-
derness, and bids him be of good cheer, for this
was but the chance of arms. He then mounts
his horse, and returns to his own camp, where he
is received with much honour.

From Picardy the squire proceeded to Nor-
mandy, as the navy of Scotland was still lying on
that coast ; and finding little opportunity ot gain-
ing distinction, he put himself at the head of a
company of a hundred and sixty men-at-arms, —

Enarmed well, like men of weir,

With hakbut, culvering, pike, and spear ;

and returned to Amiens, where Lewis of France
was then encamped. As the war had terminated,
however, he found no military employment ; and
although much courted in France, and ' asked in
marriage by a lady of great possessions,' youth,
made him so ' light-headed,' that he did not
choose to wed ; and having fitted out a ship
for himself and his soldiers, well furnished with
* artillery, bow, and speir,' besides the best wine
that he could select, he set sail from Dieppe for
Scotland. On the voyage, he was borne down
upon by an English privateer, of far greater size
and strength than his own vessel ; yet he disdained
to attempt an escape; and, after a desperate en-
gagement, captured the hostile galzeon, by board-
ing her. He then continued his voyage ; and, on

T 2

276 SIR DAVID LINDSAY,

his arrival in Scotland, was welcomed home with
much delight, and feasted by all his friends.

Out thro the land then sprang the fame
That Squyer Meldrum was come hame.
Quhen they heard tell how he debaitit,
With every man he was so traitit,
That when he travelled thro the land
They feasted him fra hand to hand,
With great solace, till, at the last,
Out thro Strathern the squyer past ;
And as it did approach the night,
Of ane castell he got a sight,
Beside a mountain in a vale ;
And there, after his long travail,
He purposit him to repois l,
Whereat his men did much rejois8.
Of this triumphant pleasant place
A lovely ladie mistress was,
Whose lord was dead short time before,
Wherethrotv her dolour was the more j
But yet she took some comforting
To hear the pleasant dulce talking
Of this young squyer, of his chance,
And how it fortuned him in France.

The manners of the times are strongly marked
in the passage describing the squire's bedchamber.

He found his chalmer weill arrayit
With dornik 3 work, on board displayit.
Of venisoun he had his waill4,
Gude aquavitae, wine, and aill,
With noble comfits, bran, and geill5;
And so the squyer fared right weill.

This adventure concluded, as might be expected,
in the gallant Meldrum gaining the heart of this
young widow ; but discovering that he is related

;. 2 rejoice. 8 napery.

choice. 5 brawn and jelly.

SIR DAVID LINDSAY. 277

to her late husband, they delay the marriage till a
dispensation can be procured from Rome. Mean-
while, as they have plighted their troth to each
other, he remains at the castle.

And sa he levit pleasantlie
Ane certain time with his ladie :
Sometime with hawking and hunting,
Sometime with wanton horse rinning ;
And sometime like ane man of weir,
Full galzeardlie wald rin ane speir.
He wan the prize above them all,
Baith at the butts and the futeball ;
Till every solace he was abill,
At cartis and dyce, at chess and tabill ;
And gif ye list, I shall yow tell
How he beseigit ane castell.

Into the particulars of this siege we may
not enter ; but messengers having arrived in
Strathern to inform his beautiful mistress that a
baron, named Macpharlane, had violently occupied
one of her castles in the Lennox, the squire de-
clares his determination to proceed instantly
against him.

Intill his hart there grew sic ire,
That all his body brint like fire,
And swore it suld full dear be said,
Gif he should find him in that hald l.

The squire now arms himself, assembles his men,
and with his lady's right-hand glove in his helmet,
rides day and night till he reaches the castle,
which, after an obstinate defence, he carries by
escalade, exhibiting as much clemency in sparing

1 Swore if he found him in that hold it should be a dear
purchase.

278 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

Macpharlane when he lay in his power, as he had
shown courage and martial skill in the siege.

And so this squyer amorous
Seigit and won the ladies house,
And left therein a capitane,
Then to Strathern returned agane,
Quhare that he by his fair ladie
Receivit was full pleasantlie *.

In the midst of this solace there occurs a sudden
and melancholy change, which is thus sweetly in-
troduced by Lindsay —

Of warldlie joy it is weill kenn'd
That sorrow bene the fatal end ;
For jealousy and false envy
Did him persew richt cruellie.
I marvel not tho it be so,
For they were ever lovers' foe.

Stirling of Keir, a cruel knight, who possessed
an estate near this lady's castle, in Strathern, had,
it seems, determined that a gentleman of his ac-
quaintance should marry her, and disappointed in
his hopes, by the arrival of Squire Meldrum, he
lays a cowardly plot for his destruction. Accord-
ingly, when about to cross the ferry between Leith
and Fife, on his return from Edinburgh, where he
had been called by business, he finds himself beset
by his mortal enemy, with a party of sixty men.
Yet, although only eight servants were in his com-
pany, such is his indomitable valour, that he dis-
idains to fly ; and, after a desperate contest, is
left for dead on the field, bathed in his blood, and

* Poems, vol. ii. p. 289t

SIR DAVID LINDSAY. 279

almost cut to pieces by unnumbered wounds.
Anthony D'Arcy, Seigneur de la Bastie, a French
knight of great valour and accomplishment, was,
at this moment, lieutenant or sub- govern or of
Scotland, appointed by the Duke of Albany, then
regent. He happened to be passing with his suite
near the spot where the unfortunate Meldrum had
been left by his cruel assailants, and instantly
ordering a pursuit, and personally engaging in
it, he apprehended the assassin, and had him
lodged in ward before a few hours had elapsed.
Before, however, the trial came on, he was himself
most cruelly waylaid and murdered, by Hume of
Wedderburn ; and Meldrum, who now slowly re-
covered from his wounds, had the mortification to
see his mortal enemy liberated from confinement,
and to hear that his lovely mistress had been com-
pelled to marry, in spite of the strongest resistance
on her side. When the squire lay so grievously
wounded in his lodging, the wisest physicians in
the country are described as flocking unsought to
give him their advice ; and so ably did he profit
by their attendance and instructions, that, in the
course of his recovery, he himself became an ex-
pert ' leech,' and greatly benefited the poor by
prescribing for them.

The greatest leeches of the land
Came to him all without command,
And all practikis on him provit,
Because he was sa weill belovit ;
They took on hand his life to save,
And he them gave what they would have ;
But he sa lang lay into pane,
He turned to be ane chirurgiane ;

280 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

And als by his natural ingyne *,
He learnd the art of medicine.
He saw them on his bodye wrocht,
Quarefor the science was dearlie bought.
But afterward when he was haill
He sparit na cost, nor yet travail,
To prove his prackticks on the pure,
And on them workit many a cure *.

Greatly weakened in his constitution by his
wounds, but bearing a high reputation, not only
for warlike experience, but civil wisdom, Mel-
drum was courted by an " aged lord, who de-
lighted in his company, and prevailed on to become
his chief marshall, and auditor of his accounts."
He was also made sheriff-depute of Fife, and
proved not only an equal judge and generous friend
to the poor, but, from his wonderful knowledge
of medicine, he delighted in visiting those who
were sick or wounded, and distributing to all his
advice and his medicines without recompense.
The conclusion shows in a very pleasing manner
his faithfulness to those vows which he had so
solemnly made to his betrothed mistress in Strath-
ern —

Then each year, for his lady's sake,
A banquet royal he would make,
With wild fowl, venison, and wine,
With tart, and flam, and frutage fine ;
Of bran or geill there was no scant,
And Ippocras he wald not want.
I have seen sitting at his tabill
Lords and lairdis honorabill,
With knightis and mony a gay squyar,
Which were too lang for to declair;

1 genius.
* Poems, vol. ii. p. 300.

SIR DAVID LINDSAY. 281

With mirth, musick, and minstrelsy.

All this he did for his ladie,

And for her sake, during his life,

Wad never be weddid til ane wife.

And when he did decline to age

He faillit neer of his courage.

Of ancient stories for to tell,

Above all uther he did precell ;

So that everilk creature

To hear him speak took great pleasure.

After some years this illustrious squire was
seized with a mortal illness, and expired at the
Struther in Fife, the castle of his noble friend and
patron, the Earl of Crawfurd. During his sick-
ness, however, he had leisure to write his testa-
ment, which has been thrown into verse by Sir
David Lindsay with much spirit and beauty. It is
a remarkable production, and, independent of its
poetical merit, which is of a high kind, may be
studied with advantage as an authentic picture of
a dying warrior of those times. It breathes from
beginning to end the soul of chivalry. First,
we have the squire's acknowledgment of the insta-
bility and brevity of all human existence ; — my
body, says he, is now weak, I plainly feel I am
about to pay my debt to Nature ; but I here resign
to God my spirit which he hath made immortal.

My spreit hartlie I recommend,

In manus tuas, Domine ;
My hope to thee is to ascend,

Rex quia redimisti me.
From sin resurrexisti me,

Or else my saul had been forlorn !
With sapience docuisti me —

Blest be the hour that thou wast born.

Having declared his faith and trust in God, he

282 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

proceeds to nominate three noble lords, all of the
name of Lindsay, to be his executors ; — David,
Earl of Crawfurd, John, Lord Lindsay, his ' mas-
ter special,' and Sir Walter Lindsay, Lord St. John,
a noble travelled knight. * I do so,' says he,
* because the surname of Lindsay never failed to
the crown, and will never fail to me.' His in-
junctions now become minute. * Dispose,' says
he, ' of my wealth to my next of kin, according to
your pleasure. It is well known I was never ad-
dicted to heaping or hoarding. I cared no more
for gold than for glass. And ye, my dear friends,
who are my relatives by blood, fail not, I beseech
you, to be present at my funeral feast. Ye know
how magnanimously I have defended that family
fame which is dear to us all. As to the disposal
of my body, it is my command that ye first disem-
bowell it, and, having washed it well with wine,
enclose it in a costly carved shrine of cedar or
Cyprus, anointing it with delicious balm, cinnamon,
and the most precious spices.'

In cases twain, of gold and precious stones,
Enshrine my heart and tongue right craftily,

Then raise a monument «.bove my hones
In holy abbaye, plac'd triumphantly ;
Of marble blocks insculptur'd curiously ;

Therein my coffin and my dust enclose,

Within these solemn precincts to repose.

There succeeds a curious specimen of the
general belief in judicial astrology in these times.
c It is certain,' says the squire, ' that the con-
stellations of Mars, Venus, and Mercury pre-
sided over my nativity. To their influence I owe
my fame in foreign lands. Wherefore/ says he,

SIR DAVID LINDSAY. 283

* I leave my body to Mars, my ornate tongue to
Mercury, and my faithful heart to Venus.5 This
conduct is eulogised by Lindsay as devout, pious,
and charitable, so there evidently appeared nothing
improper in this Pagan style of testament, which to
our ears sounds so profane and unchristian. The
same strange mixture of warlike triumph, and
joyous devotion, of Christian and classical imagery
runs through the whole. « Let me be buried,' says
he, ' in every way like a warrior ; let there be no
monks or friars, or anything in a black livery about
my beir.'

Duill l weeds I think hypocrisie, and scorne
With heudis heklit2 doun athwart their ene3,

By men of arms my body shall be borne ;
Into that band see that no black be seen,
But let the liveries be red, blue, and green.

The funeral procession, or rather the martial
triumph, is directed to be under the heraldic care
of his friend, Sir David Lindsay.

My friend, Sir David Lindsay, of the Mount,

Shall put in order my processioun.
I will that there pass foremost in the front,

To bear my pensil, a stout champion,

With him a band of Mars religion —
That is to say, instead of monks and friers,
In gude ordour ane thousand hagbutteirs.

Next them a thousand footmen in a rout,

With spear and shield, with buckler, bow, and brand,

In liveries rich, young stalwart men and stout ;
Thirdly, in ordir there shall come a band
Of warriors, that know well to wraik their harmes4— •

Their captain with my standard in his hand :

On barbed steeds a hundred men-at-arms.

1 mourning. z pulled. * eye?i
4 avenge their wrongs.

284 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

It would be tedious to marshal the whole pro-
cession. The silver banner with the three sable
otters, the helmet carried by a knight, the sword,
gloves of plate, shield, and the coat armour, are
all dwelt on by the dying squire with affectionate
earnestness ; and their places fixed for them
in the procession. Then follow his barbed horse,
and his spear carried by some brave man of
his own kindred. After which the procession
is to be closed by a multitude of earls, lords, and
knights, clothed in the livery of the deceased, and
bearing each a laurel branch in their hands — as a
proof that the warrior, whom they are carrying to
the grave, never fled from any field, or yielded
himself prisoner to an enemy.

Each baron bearing in his hand on high

A laurel bough, ensign of victory,
Because 1 never fled out of the field,

Nor yet as prisoner to my foes did yield.

Having arrived at the cathedral, after the gos-
pel and the offertory, the squire directs an orator
to ascend the pulpit, where, with ornate eloquence
and at great leisure he is to read the book of the
legend of his life from end to end. * Then,' says
he, ' enclose my body in its sepulture, but let no
knell be rung.'

Let not be rung for me that day soul knells,
But great caunounis gar them crack for bells.

I have given a full, but, I trust, not a tedious
analysis of this remarkable poem, from a con-
viction that in all essential particulars the his-
tory is real, and that it presents an accurate picture
of the manners and principles of the age, although

SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

285

richly coloured, and given with that freshness and
spirit which most matters of fact receive when they
pass through the mind of a man of genius. The
reader will perhaps be amused at the high praises
which the squire bestows upon himself. But we
must recollect that Lindsay somewhat inartificially
places his own sentiments in the mouth of his
hero. Thus, in the conclusion of his ' Testament,'
where he introduces an adieu to the noble lords and
ladies of his acquaintance, the dying Meldrum,
with complacent vanity, and a strongly expressed
conviction of his own delightful and amiable qua-
lities, which runs through the whole story of his
life, considers it certain that all will be inconso-
lable for his departure. The fairest eyes of France
will be dimmed by weeping; the beauteous stars of
London eclipsed by sorrow, and the lamps of love-
liness, which illuminate the night of the north,
shrouded in the darkness of grief. But most
heartily does he bid farewell to the fairest of them
all — the star of Strathern : —

Ten thousand times adieu, above them all,
Star of Stratherne, my Lady Sovereign,
For whom I shed my blood with mickle pain.

Brethren in arms, adieu — in general

For me I wist your hearts will be full sore ;

All true companions, into special,
I say to you, adieu for evermore

Till that we meet again with God in gloir.
Sir Curate — now give me incontinent
My crisme, with the holy sacrament.

Although the writings of Lindsay may be consi-
dered no mean instrument in preparing the way for
the reformation in Scotland, it is remarkable that
we lose sight of their author when the revolution

286 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

began in earnest ; this was, perhaps, to his honor,
as it affords a strong presumption of the purity of
his motives, and the disinterestedness of his con-
victions. He died indeed before the final and happy
triumph of Protestantism over the Romanist reli-
gion, but much progress had been made previous to
his death, and we might have expected that the fer-
vour of his zeal, the vigour of his talents, his ex-
perience and knowledge of human nature, and the
considerable station which he already occupied,
would have pushed him into the foreground as one
of the most active partisans in promoting those
mighty changes which convulsed the country.
But it was not so, and we are left to conjecture
the causes which made him a spectator rather than
an actor. It is not improbable that they are to
be found in that penetration, which, at an early
period, detected the selfish motives which prompted
many of those persons who became the lords of
the congregation ; and that whilst he fervently
prayed for the success of the work, he shrunk, with
the feelings of a man of probity and virtue, from
an over-promiscuous association with some of
its agents. Age, too, had by this time checked
the power of action, and coolexl the fiery intensity
of ambition, whilst heavenly wisdom had purified
and irradiated his mind. The world appeared to
him in its true colours, a scene of sorrow and
vicissitude, the theatre of successful guilt and
neglected virtue ; the cradle, for a few short hours,
of youthful happiness ; the grave, for many a long
year, of withered and disappointed hope ; a once
beautiful and blessed scene, on which man was the
friend of God, and reflected, in his life and cha-

SIR DAVID LINDSAY. 287

racier, the image of his Maker, changed by sin
into a gloomy wilderness, covered by the awful
shadow of the divine vengeance ; instructed by
such lessons of Christian philosophy, and full of
heavenly musings, Lindsay, to use his own sweet
language, appears to have

* stood content

With quiet life and sober rent ;
And ta'en him, in his latter age,
Unto his simple hermitage.'

It was, however, no idle or unprofitable retreat,
for in it he produced his longest, and, in many re-
spects, his most useful work, ' The Monarchic.'
It embraces the history of the most famous mo-
narchies that have existed in the world ; but, with
a similar love of tracing the stream of time to its
fountain head, which is so remarkable a charac-
teristic in the Gothic chronicles upon the same sub-
ject, it commences with the creation, and only
concludes with the general judgment. To enter
into any laboured critique, or analysis of so inter-
minable and multifarious a work, would exhaust
even the most gentle reader. The author throws
his narrative into the form of a dialogue between
Experience and a Courtier, opening the poem with
a sweet, rural landscape. Disturbed by his morn-
ing ponderings on the complicated distresses of
this mortal scene, he rises early from his couch,
and walks forth, on a May morning, into a de-
lightful park —

Somewhat before fresh Phoebus uprising,
Where he might hear the free birds sweetly sing;
Into a park he past for his pleasure,
Decorit wtill by craft of dame Nature.

28$ SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

The whole scene was beautiful. The dews
hung like orient pearls upon the branches, the
tender flowers, beginning to open, exhaled their
richest fragrance. The lord of day, springing up
from the gorgeous east, ascended his throne, in
his glorious golden robes, whilst Cynthia waxed
paler, and, at last, her silver crescent faded away
into empty air ; the birds, awakening, sang their
morning welcome to the day, and all nature seemed
to rejoice : but the charming scene failed to in-
spire with mirth the pensive bosom of the aged
poet. He refuses to address any invocation to the
fabled muses of Greece or Rome. ' Such a strain,'
says he, ' befits not a man mourning over the mi-
series of this world, and shut up in a vale of sor-
row. I call no fabled muses, Minerva, Melpo-
mene, Euterpe, or even Apollo' —

For I did never sleep on Parnaso,

As did the poetys of lang tyme ago ;

And speciallie the ornate Ennius.

Nor ever drank I with Hesiodus,

Of Greece, the perfect poet soverane —

Of Helicon, the source of eloquence —

Of that mellifluous famous fresh fountane ;

Quharefore to them I owe no reverence,

I purpose not to make obedience

To such mischeant muses, nor mahmutrie

Afore time usit intill poetrie.

* Were I,' he continues, ' to invoice any, it would
be reverend Rhamnusia, the goddess of despite, but
I scorn,' continues he, * all such heathenish inven-
tions, and only implore the great God, who created
heaven and earth, to impart to me somewhat of
that spirit which gave wisdom to Solomon, grace
to David, and strength to the mighty Sampson. Let

SIR DAVID LINDSAY. 289

me repair, then, not to Mount Parnassus, but to
Mount Calvary ; let me be refreshed, not by the
fabled Heliconian rill, but by the blessed and real
fountain which flowed from the pierced side of
my Redeemer. Walking onward, with his mind
filled with these holy aspirations, he sees an aged
man, sitting under a holly : —

Into that park I saw appear

An aged man, that drew me near ;

Quhais herd was near three-quarter lang,

His hair down o'er his shoulders hang,

The quhilk as ony snaw was white,

Whom to behold I thought delight.

His habyte angelyke of hue,

Of colour like the sapphire blue.

Under a holly he reposit,

Of whose presence I was rejosit.

I did salute him reverentlie,

Sa did he me richt courteouslie ;

To sit down he requested me,

Under the shadow of that tre,

To save me from the sonnis heat,

Among the flowers soft and sweet,

For I was weary for walking ;

Then we began to fall talking ;

I spent his name, with reverence,

I am, said he, Experience.

The picture of the aged man, reclining under
the shade of the holly > his beard descending down
his breast, his white locks scattered over his
shoulders, his flowing robe of sapphire blue, con-
trasted with the green of the soft, natural couch
on which he lies, the grave and placid deportment
which inspired reverence, and the courtesy which
won affection, is finely conceived and executed.
The poem henceforth assumes the form of a dia-
logue between the author and this venerable sage,

VOL, in. u

290 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

who, with great shrewdness and learning, and
often with much eloquence and poetic fervour, deli-
vers a kind of chronicle of human error and sin,
from its earliest appearance in Eden, till its final
doom in the day of judgment. The tedium of this
narrative is occasionally relieved by little episodes,
in which the author speaks in his own person.
Thus, in imitation of Chaucer and Lydgate, in
England, and of his Scottish brethren, Douglas and
Wedderburn, Lindsay introduces ' an Exclamation
to the Reader, touching the Writing of his Poem
in the vulgar and maternal Language.' His
argument or apology is sound and unanswerable.
' I write,' says he, ' for Jok and Thorn, coilzears,
carters, and cooks ; and I, therefore, make use of
their language.' * Aristotle and Plato,' says he,
* did not communicate their philosophy in Dutch
or Italian ; Virgil and Cicero did not write in
Chaldee or Hebrew. Saint Jerome, it is true,
translated the Bible into Latin, but if Saint Je-
rome had been born in Argyleshire, he would have
translated it into Gaelic *.'

One of the most interesting portions of Lind-
say's ' Monarchy ' is that in the second book,
where he considers the subject of the Catholic
worship of images, and draws a vigorous parallel
between the idolatries of the Gentiles and that of
the Romish church. Unlike the more violent
reformers who succeeded him, he is far from utter-
ing an uncompromising anathema against the use
of images ; on the contrary, if properly em-
ployed, he considers them useful helps to devotion,
means which may be instrumental to the instruo

* Warton's Hist. Eng. Poet., vol. iii. p, 137.

SIR DAVID LINDSAY. 291

tion and the fortifying the faith of the unlearned.
It is only when we kneel and pray to them that
they become sinful and unscriptural.

But we, by counsel of clergy,
Have license to make imagery ;
Which of unlearned are the books,
For when the people on them looks,
It bringeth to remembrance
Of Saintis lives the circumstance,
How the faith to fortify
They suffered pain richt patiently.
Seeing the image of the Rude,
Men should remember on the blude
Which Christ, intil his passion,
% Did shed for our salvation ;

Or when thou seest ane portraiture

Of blessed Mary Virgin pure,

Ane lovely babe upon her knee,

Then in thy mind remember thee

The wordis which the prophet said,

How she should be both mother and maid.

But who sittis down upon their knees,

Praying to any images,

With orison or offerand,

Kneeling with cap into their hand,

Ne difference bene, I say to thee,

From the Gentile's idolatry *.

In the following stanza, Lindsay alludes to an
image of St. Giles, the patron saint of Edinburgh,,
which was afterwards connected with a noted event
in the history of the reformation —

Of Edinborough the great idolatrie,

And manifest abominatioun ;
On their feast-day, all creatures may see —

They bear an auld stock image thro' the town,
With talbrone, trumpet, schalme, and clarion,

Whilk has usit mony a year begone,

* Poems, vol. iii. p. 5.

Tl2

292 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

With priestes and freiris into processioun,
Sic lyke as Bel was borne thro' Babylon.

The fate of this image Lindsay did not live to
see. It was destroyed by the populace, on the
1st of September, 1558, during one of the annual
processions in which the priests and friars paraded
it through the city, on which occasion, to use the
words of Knox, ' One took the idol by the heels,
and dadding his head to the street, left Dagon
without head or hands. The Grey Friars gaped,
the Black Friars blew, the priests panted and fled,
and happy was he that first gat the house*.'

The use and abuse of the temporal power of the
Popedom, the unholy lives of many of the clergy,
the injurious effects of pilgrimages, the disastrous
consequences which spring from the ignorance of
the people, the happy results to be anticipated
from the publication of the Scriptures and missals
in the vernacular language of the country, are
all enlarged upon by Lindsay, in a strain of
vigorous and convincing, though sometimes homely
argument ; at last, Experience, having concluded
his heavenly lessons, takes leave of his pupil in
these sweet stanzas —

Of our talking now let us make an end,
Behald1 how Phoebus downwart dois descend
Towart his palice in the Occident ;
Dame Cynthia, I see, she does pretend
Intill her watry regioxm till ascend
With visage paill 2 up from the orient.
The dew now doukis3 the rosis redolent,
The marigoldis, that all day wer rejosit 4
Of Phoebus heit, now craftilie ar closit5.
1 behold. 2 pale. 3 steeps. 4 rejoiced. 5 closed.
* Knox's Hist., p. 104.

SIR DAVID LINDSAY. 293

The blissful birdis bownis 1 to the treis,
And ceasis of their heavenlie harmoneis ;
The corn-crak2, in the croft3, I hear her cry,
The bat, the howlat, febill of their eis 4,
For their pastyme now in the evening fleis 5 ;
The nightingale, with mirthful melody,
Her natural notis pierceth thro' the sky —
Till Cynthia makand 6 her observance,
Quhilk on the nicht dois tak her dalliance.
I see Pole Artick in the north appear.
And Venus rising with hir bemis cleir ; »

Quharefore 7, my sone, I hald it time to go.
Wald God, said I, ye did remain all yeir8,
That I micht of your hevinly lessons leir 9 j
Of your departing I am wonder wo 10.
Tak pacience, said he, it mon be so ;
Perchance I sail return with diligence.
Thus I departed from Experience.

Thus imitated —
But see descending to the glorious west,

'Midst spiry clouds of ruby, fring'dwith gold,
Bright Phoebus seeks the palace of his rest —

And earth's sweet roses, bath'd in dew-drops cold,
Breathe richer incense, as their leaves they fold

To gentle Cynthia, lady chaste and bright,
Whose silver orb, behind yon mountain old

Slow rising, through the dark blue vault of night,
Sheds o'er each tower and tree a flood of hazy light.
Amid the woods the birds are sound asleep,

The dim-ey'd bat flits darkling through the sky ;
No note is heard to break the silence deep,

Save, in the sward, the land-rail's shrilly cry:
'Tis time, my son, we cease these reasonings high,

And leave the reverend owl a peaceful reign.
See, where she glares, with her large lustrous eye,

From that old oak that time hath rent in twain,
Wond'ring what busy tongue invades her still domain.

1 hie. 2 laud-rail. 3 field. 4 eyes.

5 flies. 6 making. 7 wherefore. 8 year.

9 learn. 10 wondrous sad.

294 SIR DAVID LIXDSAY.

Hush ! the sweet nightingale salutes the moon,

And Venus' star unveils her love-lit glance;
I deem'd not the soft goddess rose so soon —

And yonder, high in the profound expanse,
Arcttirus doth his brilliant spark advance,

That fix'dly burns — Once more, my^son, Farewell —
Nay, grieve not that we part ; — I may^ perchance,

Return, and to thine ear more wonders tell ;—
Meanwhile, 'tis meet I seek my hoary, time-worn cell.

The l Monarchy ' appears to have been Lind-
say's last, and it is, in many respects, his best
work. It is nervous, original, learned, and pious
— full indeed of many poignant, satirical attacks
upon the corruptions and licentiousness of the
Romanist clergy, yet less bitter, coarse, and scur-
rilous than most of his earlier productions. It is
pleasing, as he advances in years, to find the au-
thor receding from the indecency which was the
poetical vice of the age, — to mark the improved
tendency and higher moral tone of his writings;
and while we sympathise with the pensive me-
lancholy which tinges his last poetical legacy to
his countrymen, to know that when he entered
his quiet oratory, he met there that stedfast faith,
and rested on those blessed hopes which fur-
nished him with a key to all the sorrow, darkness,
.and vicissitude of this fluctuating existence.

Be not to much solyst in temporall thingis,

Sen thow persaves Pape, emperor, and kingis

Into the erth hath na place permanent.

Thou sees the deth them schamefullie down thringis,

And rives thame from their rent, riches and ringis j

Tharefor on Christ confirme thine haill intent,

And of thy calling be richt weill content;

The.n God, that feedes the fowlis of the air.

All needful thingis for thee he sail prepair.

SIR DAVID LINDSAY. 295

Of the exact time and circumstances of Sir
David Lindsay's death nothing is known. It
happened, probably, a short time before the dis-
graceful immolation of the venerable martyr, old
Walter Mill, who was burnt at St. Andrew's, in
April, 1558. It seems, at first, extraordinary that
a man whose writings evidently enjoyed a high
degree of popularity, should have expired without
any record or memorial, so that we in vain
search the family bury ing-place for a stone to mark
the spot where the Lord Lion sleeps with his an-
cestors ; but the fact is explained by the virtuous
retirement in which he passed the latter years of
his life, and the distracted condition of the country.

The family estate of Lindsay, called the Mount,
from which he took his title, continued in the pos-
session of his descendants when Sibbald published
his 'History of Fife,' in 1710. It .is now the
property of General Sir Alexander Hope, of Ran-
keilour. In 1806, a farmer, of patriarchal age, who
had lived for seventy years on the spot, pointed out
to the literary curiosity of Mr. George Chalmers
the site of the baronial family mansion ; adding,
that, within his memory, the walls of the castle
remained. All traces of them are now obliterated,
but a pleasing tradition still points out a shaded
walk, on the top of the mount, where Lindsay is
said to have composed some of his poems. It was
called, in the youth of this aged man, Sir David's
walk; and, in 1801, when the woods of the
Mount were cutting, the same venerable enthu-
siast interceded with General Sir Alexander Hope

296 SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

for three ancient trees, which stood near the castle,
and were known by the name of Sir David's trees.
The liberal spirit of that gentleman probably
needed no such monitor ; but the trees were
spared. It is likely they still remain, and the
literary pilgrim may yet stand beneath their
shade, indulging in the pleasing dream that he is
sheltered by the same branches under which the
Lord Lion was wont to ruminate, when he poured
forth the lays which gave dignity to the lessons of
Experience, and accelerated the progress of the
Reformation.

A CHAPTER

ANTIQUARIAN ILLUSTRATIONS.

I. HENRY THE MINSTREL.

II. BRUCE AND ST. FILLAN.

III. BATTLE OF BANNOCKBURN.

IV. DEATH OF GOOD SIR JAKES DOUGLAS IN SPAIN.

V. RANDOLPH, EARL OF MORAY.

VI. EARLY FEUDAL GOVERNMENTS.

VII. TOURNAMENTS FOR THE BLACK LADY, BY JAMES

THE FOURTH.

VIII. JAMES IV. AND THE FLYING ABBOT OF TUNGLAND.

IX. ARRIVAL OF THE GYPSIES IN SCOTLAND.

X. ANCIENT SCOTTISH GAMES AND AMUSEMENTS.

299

I. HENRY THE MINSTREL.

IN the course of the researches connected with
these lives, I have sometimes come upon points
and illustrations, the discussion of which would
have interrupted the continuity of the main sub-
ject. I have, therefore, preferred the method of
throwing them together, into the form of a chapter
of antiquarian adversaria, making no attempt at
laborious arrangement ; and, without further pre-
face, I begin by saying a few words upon that
person so well known to all enthusiasts in ancient
Scottish poetry, Henry the Minstrel, or, to give him
his more familiar soubriquet, * Blind Harry.*

Of this ancient bard, whose poetical genius has
been honoured by the praise of Warton and Ellis,
no life has been given in these volumes, because
no materials for such existed ; but, with regard to
his work, the well-known * Book of Wallace,' I
must express a doubt whether, as a biography, it
deserves the unmeasured neglect or contempt with
which it has been treated. Of this neglect I plead
guilty, amongst the rest of my brethren, for I have
scrupulously avoided consulting him as an historical
authority ; but some late researches, and an atten-
tive perusal of his poem, comparing it as I went
along with contemporary documents, have placed
the ' Life of Wallace ' in a different light. I am
persuaded that it is the work of an ignorant man,
who was yet in possession of valuable and authen-
tic materials. On what other supposition can we

300 ANTIQUARIAN ILLUSTRATIONS.

account for the fact, that, whilst in one page we
meet with errors which show a deplorable perver-
sion of history, in the next we find circumstances
unknown to other Scottish historians, yet corro-
borated by authentic documents, by contemporary
English annalists, by national muniments and
records, only published in modern times, and to
which the minstrel cannot be supposed to have had
access. The work, therefore, cannot be treated as
an entire romance — still less is it to be regarded
as a uniformly veracious chronicle : but it exhibits
the anomalous and contradictory appearance of a
poem full of much confusion, error, and absurdity,
yet through which there occasionally runs a valu-
able vein of historic truth. I am quite aware that
to the orthodox investigators of Scottish history
this must be a startling proposition, but it is
uttered with no love of paradox, and I proceed to
prove it by some examples.

The famous siege and sack of Berwick, by
Edward the First, in the year 1296, has been
variously represented by the English and Scottish
historians. Carte's account is as follows: — ' Ed-
ward, well enough pleased that the Scots had been
the aggressors, advanced upon this disaster with
all his forces to /fer/t, and there encamped, not
proposing to enter Scotland till after the Easter
holidays. In the mean time, the Scots had got
together an army of 500 horse, and 40,000 foot,
under the Earls of Buchan, Menteith, Strathern,
Lenox, Ross, Athole, and Mar: and on Easter
Monday, March 26, marched out of Annandale,
through the forest of Nicholay, to Carlisle, killing
ail they found in their way, and sparing neither

HENRY THE MINSTREL. 301

age nor sex in their fury. Their attempt upon
that city miscarrying, they retired back into their
own country, to make head against the King of
England, who, passing the Tweed at Coldstream,
on March 28, lay still all the next day, expecting
the inhabitants of Berwick to make their submis-
sion. The gentlemen of Fife, with a considerable
body of troops, had undertaken the defence of the
town, which was ill fortified, and secured on the
Scottish side by wooden barricades, rather than
entrenchments. Edward, seeing them resolved on
war, advanced early, on March 30, before the
place, fixing his head-quarters in a nunnery, half
a league distant, and drawing up his forces on a
plain before the town, knighted Henry de Percy
and several other gentlemen. This being a so-
lemnity ordinarily used before an engagement, the
seamen of the Cinque Ports, who lay with twenty-
four ships off the port, imagined that an assault
was to be given immediately, and in their eager-
ness to have a share, either in the attack or in the
plunder of the town, entered the harbour with so
little caution that three of the vessels ran aground,
and, after an obstinate combat, were burnt by the
enemy. Edward, hearing of that disorderly action,
and seeing the smoke mounting from the ships,
ordered an assault to be given,, perhaps not so
much in hopes of taking the place, as to favour
the retreat of the seamen ; but the English attacked
the barricades with so much vigour, that they broke
through them in a moment and entered the town,
before the Scots thought of standing on their de-
fence. They were so surprised at this unexpected
event that they made no resistance, and about

302 ANTIQUARIAN ILLUSTRATIONS.

7500 of them were put to the sword, the castle
surrendering the same evening *.'

Such is the narrative of Carte, who quotes, as
his authorities, Hemingford, Walsingham, and
Mathews of Westminster. Let us turn from this
to the very different account of the Scottish histo-
rians as it is thus abridged by Buchanan. * Ed-
ward, soon after finding that he made no progress
against the town, on account of the strength of the
garrison, pretended to raise the siege, as if de-
spairing of taking it, and caused reports to be
spread, by some Scots of the Bruce faction, that
Baliol was in the neighbourhood with a large army.
When the principal persons of the garrison heard
of the approach of their king, they, in order to
give him the most honourable reception, hastened
out promiscuously both horse and foot to meet
him ; on which a body of cavalry sent forward by
Edward advanced, and having partly trode down
those who were in front, and partly separated the
others from their friends, seized on the nearest
gate, and entered the city. The English king
followed with the infantry, and made a miserable
slaughter of all ranks : there were killed of the
Scots upwards of 7000, and among them the
flower of the nobility of Lothian and Fife f .'

Leaving for a moment these conflicting stories,
let us turn to Henry the Minstrel's more particular
detail of the matter. He asserts that Edward
made himself master of Berwick by means of a
stratagem of Patrick, Earl of Dunbar. His
words are — * He (that is, Edward) raised his host,

* Carte, vol. ii., p. 263.
•J- Buchanan, by Aikman, vol. i., book viii., c,xv.? p. 405,

HENRY THE MINSTREL. 303

and came to Werk on Tweed : to Corspatrick of
Dtmbar he sent to ask his counsel, for he knew
the country well, and he was brought to the king's
presence, and by a subtil band (covenant) they
cordyt (agreed) upon this thing.' He proceeds to
explain that the thing they cordyt, or determined
on, was, that Dunbar should proceed to Berwick,
and at midnight deliver the town to the English.
' Earl Patrick/ he continues, ' then went to Ber-
wick. He was received and truly trusted ; the
king followed with his renowned army, when the
town after midnight was at rest. Then Corspa-
trick arose, and let the bridge and the portcullis
down, and drew up the gates, so that his banner
could be seen ; and the army was aware of it, and
drew towards him, and Edward entered, and
hastily " gar'd slay " 7050 men*/ So that by this
false conduct no true Scotsman escaped.

Now we know from Hemingford, an English
contemporary historian, of excellent authority,
that one principal part of Blind Harry's assertion
is perfectly accurate, although the fact does not
appear in our common historians. Patrick, Earl
of March, whom the Minstrel denominates Cors-
patrick, and some of the English chronicles Earl
Patrick with the black beard, did resort to Edward
when he was encamped at Werk ; and Heming-
ford (vol.'i. p. 102) gives us the original bond or
agreement which they cordyt between them, dated
25th March, 1295, the last day of the year 1295.
Berwick, we know, was taken by the English on
the 30th of the same month, which brings it into
the year 1296. So far, therefore, we find the
* Wallace, by Jamieson, p. 4,

304 ANTIQUARIAN ILLUSTRATIONS.

Minstrel corroborated ; and if the curious reader
will look into the second volume of the ' Chronicle
of Langtoft,' also a contemporary English au-
thority, he will find a further confirmation of this
account.

In what manner Dunbar got possession of the
gates, and on the advance of Edward opened them
to the English, does not appear in the poem of the
Minstrel, who informs us that his narrative is
merely introductory to the * Life of Wallace,' and
therefore that he does not delay upon it.

I may not put all thai dedis in rhyme
Of Cornykle — why suld I tarry lang?
To Wallace now briefly will I gang,
Scotland was lost when he was but a child.

But we see in Buchanan that a report was
spread, by Edward, of the approach of Baliol at
the head of an army ; and we learn from Fordun,
(vol. ii. p. 160,) that ' it was by means of the stan-
dard of a certain earl (who, says he, shall be name-
less, lest his fraud should be repeated) that the
citizens of Berwick were circumvented.' The
sentence is taken by Fordun from a monkish poem,
written in Leonine verse, and probably coeval with
the taking of the town.

Hie villae turmas caute statuit perimendas,
Cujusdam fraude, qui semper erit sine laude,
Vexillum cujus cives decipit — et hujus
,Nomen siletur, Comitis ne fraus iteretur.

Through all this it is not difficult to discover
the truth, if we put together these various circum-
stances derived from different sources. We see,
from the account of Carte, that Edward had not
given orders for the attack of the town by his

HENRY THE MINSTREL. 305

ships, or the assault of the barricades by his army.
The ships sailed in, mistaking the muster of the
army for the preparations of an assault ; and the
army attacked the town, not with the idea o£
storming it, but merely for the purpose of covering
the retreat of the ships. We next gather from
Hemingford and Henry the Minstrel, that, in a
secret council held between Edward, and Patrick,
Earl of March, the Scottish noble proposed a scheme
by which he trusted to deliver Berwick into the
hands of the English king, which piece of treachery
he accomplished. We learn from Buchanan, that
Edward caused reports to be spread by some Scots of
the Bruce faction * that Baliol was in the neigh-
bourhood with a large army, and that seeing an army
or body of cavalry advance, the principal persons in
the town, imagining it was the King, hastened out
to meet them ; and lastly, we are informed by
Fordun, that the mode in which the citizens were
deceived was by the ' standard or banner of a cer-
tain earl/ whose name he passes over in silence,
lest his fraudulent stratagem should be again re-
peated. The reason assigned is absurd ; the true
motive for the author of the monkish lines conceal-
ing the name of the delinquent was, that the trea-
son had prospered, and its author was in power.
Now, another ancient historian, quoted by Hut-
chinson in his History of Durham, informs us that

* This is a remarkable expression, and it serves to corro-
borate Henry the Minstrel ; for we learn from Hemingford,
vol. i. p. 102, that at this time ' Bruce, the son of the
Competitor, and his sou Robert Bruce, afterwards king,
along with Dunbar, Earl of March, and the Earl of Angus,
had repaired to Edward, and renewed their oaths of homage.'
Dunbar, therefore, was a lord of the Bruce faction.

VOL. III. X

306 ANTIQUARIAN ILLUSTRATIONS.

the manner in which Berwick fell into the hands
of Edward was this: — The English king, after in
vain attempting to carry the town, pretended to
raise the siege, having spread a report, which soon
reached the citizens, that Baliol was advancing at
the head of an army. He then marched away,
but returned suddenly and secretly, during the
night, and concealing the greater part of his force
by the nature of the ground, sent forward a detach-
ment upon whose standard the royal arms of
Scotland were emblazoned, whereupon'the citizens,
imagining it to be Baliol himself, precipitately and
tumultuously opened their gates, and found, when
it was too late, that they were enemies instead of
friends. Edward then pushed on with the main
body of his army, and the town was carried and
sacked. Who does not in this account at once detect
the * standard of the earl which deceived the citi-
zens ?'

Vexillum cujus cives decipit, et hujus
Nomen siletur : Comitis ne fraus iteretur.

The whole story, then, runs thus. — Corspatrick,
or Patrick, Earl of Dunbar, came to Werk and
had a secret consultation with Edward, who found
Berwick too strong to be taken by open assault ;
and this minute particular, which is a key to the
whole truth, which does not appear in any other
Scottish historian, and which is corroborated by
Hemingford, we learn solely from Henry the
Minstrel. They agreed to employ stratagem ;
a report was spread that Baliol was at hand with
his army ; Edward struck his tents and raised
the siege, but secretly, under cover of night,
returned. Dunbar, at the head of an advanced

HENRY THE MINSTREL. 307

party, and having the royal arms of Scotland on
his standard, proceeded to the gates, and the reader
already knows the result — the town was betrayed,
and mercilessly sacked and plundered. Now,
what is the inference which 1 draw from this, and
from which I do not see how any one, who will
candidly weigh the evidence, can escape ? — simply
this : that the account of the taking of Berwick,
by Henry the Minstrel, although garbled, is corro-
borated by the most authentic contemporary docu-
ments, both English and Scottish, and that when
he composed it, he must have had access to some
accurate chronicle of the times.

Let me take another example. Henry's ac-
count of the taking of Dunbar, by Edward, might
be shown to be minutely confirmed by the ' Rotuli
Scotise/ vol. i. p. 22 ; and by the valuable Eng-
lish Chronicle of Langtoft. He affirms that four
Scottish earls, namely Mar, Menteith, Athole, and
Ross threw themselves into the Castle of Dunbar.

Thir four erlis enterit in that place,

Of Mar, Menteith, Athol — Ross upon cace.

Now, in turning to Langtoft, we at first find
something like a contradiction, or at least an omis-
sion, on the part of Henry, for this English author
gives us only three earls —

Rosse, Menteith, Assetelle, thir Erlis thrie.

But, looking to Trivet, p. 288, another con-
temporary chronicler, we find the missing noble-
man, Mar : again, after the defeat of the Scots, at
Dunbar, and the termination of the campaign, the
Minstrel informs us of the precaution he took to

x 2

308 ANTIQUARIAN ILLUSTRATIONS.

ensure the tranquillity of Scotland, by carrying the
principal of the Scottish nobles with him into
England : —

Seven score thai led of the greatest that they fand,
Of heirs with them, and Bruce out of Scotland.
Edward gave him his father's heritage,
But he thought aye to hold him in thirlage *,
Baith Blalock Moor was his, and Huntingdon.

Now, I request the reader to turn to Heming-
ford, pp. 101, 102, 103, where he will find a
striking corroboration of the first two lines: —
' Statuit Rex (Edwardus) et prsecepit ut Joannes
quondam Rex Scotise et uterque Joannes Comyn,
et cceteri magnates terrse illius, vel in suo itinere
vel faciem ejus preecederent ad partes australes,
morarenturque in partibus iisdem, ultra aquam
qute Trenta dicitur, non revertentes sub pcena ca-
pitis quousque inter ipsum et Regem Franciae
omnino guerra finiretur.' If he will next turn
to ' Langtoft's Chronicle,' p. 278, and to the * Ro-
tuli Scotise,' vol. i. p. 44, he will find an addi-
tional confirmation of the Minstrel's statement,
and a list of the names of the Scottish prisoners
of rank who were carried out of Scotland.

Once more, the Minstrel describes the injuries
committed at this time in Scotland by the English,
in some strong lines. ' They did much wrong/
says he, * in the land ; they took the richest ecclesias-
tical livings, the bishoprics that were of greatest
value, and gave them to their archbishops and
their own clergy $ they seized the kirks, and
would not forbear, even from fear of the Pope,
but violently grasped at all : —

1 Thirlage, bound to his service.

HENRY THE MINSTREL. 309

The English did much wrong then in Scotland —
The bishopricks that were of greatest waile l
They tak in hand of their archbishops haile ;
No for the Pope they wald 2 na kirks forbear,
But grippit 3 all by violence of war.

Now, this is strikingly supported by the * Ro-
tuli Scotise,' vol. i. pp. 6, 7, 9, 10, 20. The
reader will there find an instrument, annexing the
towns of Berwick and Hadington to the see of
Durham ; and, p. 24, a deed by which the church
lands in Scotland were restored to the abbots,
priors, and other English clergy who had been
expelled by Baliol.

It would be ridiculous to expect that we should
bring from the public records, or the English or
Scottish historians, a confirmation of all the bio-
graphical particulars of Wallace's early life, as they
are given by the Minstrel, with a freshness of na-
tural character which has made his book so deserv-
edly popular amongst the lower classes of Scotland ;
but it is certainly remarkable, that when, in the
course of his narrative, he alludes to general cir-
cumstances, these are found to be correct, and that
even in some of the more minute biographical par-
ticulars he is confirmed by Fordun, a high autho-
rity. Thus, we are told by the Minstrel, that
when the father of Wallace fled to the Lennox
with his eldest son Malcolm, William, the future
champion, and his mother, retreated from El-
lerslie, passed into Goury, and dwelt at Kilspin-
die. His uncle, Sir Ronald Crawford, then, as we
are informed, sent him to his (Wallace's) uncle,
an aged man, who put William Wallace to school
at Dundee. Now, it is worthy of note, that almost

1 value. 2 would. 3 grasped violently.

310 ANTIQUARIAN ILLUSTRATIONS.

the only anecdote preserved by Fordun regarding
Wallace's boyhood, relates to a monkish Latin
rhyme, which, he asserts, when he was a boy he
learnt from his uncle. The reader is already ac-
quainted with the circumstance, which is stated in
vol. i. p. 166 ; but, to save trouble, we may again
quote the lines —

Dico tibi verura Libertas optima rerum.
Nunquam servili sub nexu vivito fill.

Again, let us take an example of a general
confirmation of minute particulars. After having
slain young Selby, Wallace was saved by the good
wife of his eyme or uncle, who disguised him in
woman's apparel, and when the house was searched,
set him down to spin ; after which, he escaped to
his mother, who fled with him to Elderslie, and
from thence sent a message to her brother, who
had made his peace with Edward, and was Sheriff
of Ayr, her object being to entreat him to use his
influence with the Lord Percy to have Wallace,
her son, admitted to the peace of the king. Now,
the biographical details here rest solely on the au-
thority of the Minstrel ; but we know that Wal-
lace's mother was a daughter of Sir Reginald
Crawford, and we find, by an instrument in the
1 Rotuli Scotiae,' vol. i. p. 23, that in the year
1296, when the event is stated to have happened,
this knight, who was Wallace's uncle, was Sheriff
of Ayr. The deed is thus entitled : — ' Reginaldo
de Crawford committitur Vicecomitatus Aerae.'
Again, we find in the same valuable collection of
ancient muniments, vol. i. p. 31, that Lord Henry
Percy was the English governor in those parts
for Edward, by whom any of the Scots who had

HENRY THE MINSTREL. 311

appeared in arms against Edward were received,
and sworn, on making proper submission, into the
peace of the king. The instrument, establishing
this, is thus inscribed : ' Custodia Galwediye et Aerse
committitur Henrico de Percy.' Do not these
corroborations, in the only particulars where Henry
can be checked by undoubted documents, entitle
us to suspect, at least, that the whole story cannot
be fabulous, but that he had before him some
authentic records which have unfortunately pe-
rished ? Again, we find it stated by the Minstrel,
that after the defeat of Fenwick and his convoy by
Wallace, at Loudon-hill *, Lord Henry Percy held
a consultation at Glasgow, to which he summoned
Sir Reginald Crawford, and where it was agreed
that a short truce should be concluded with the
Scottish insurgents under Wallace, and an attempt
made by Crawford to induce his nephew to give
up his desperate courses. This event is said to
have happened in the month of August, 1296 ;
and, in turning up the ' Rotuli Scotiae,' we find
that a temporary pacification did actually take
place about this time. Again, when Wallace
takes Kinclevin Castle, the Minstrel asserts, that
out of a garrison of ninety men, sixty, with
Butler, their captain, were slain ; and we find, by
the ' Rotuli Scotise,' vol. i. p. 38, that Sir James
Butler was then keeper of Kinclevin.

Previous to the month of May, 1297, the * Book
of Wallace ' represents its hero as engaging only
in insulated and unconnected efforts against the
English, in which he had been chiefly supported
by his own friends and relatives ; Sir John the Gra-
* Scottish Worthies, vol. i. pp. 176, 177.

312 ANTIQUARIAN ILLUSTRATIONS.

hame being the only man of note and lineage who
had joined him; but, in this year, 1497, a great
change took place ; men of ancient family and
powerful connexions, * the worthy Scots,' from
many quarters, come trooping to his banner, and
choose him as their leader. This account is corro-
borated by ' Winton's Chronicle,' an unsuspected
authority, and by the English historians, Heming-
ford,pp/119, 121, and Trivet, p. 299. These writers
now, for the first time, take notice of him as a popular
and daring leader, whose successes began to alarm
the captain of Edward in Scotland. It were easy to
point out many additional particulars, which appear
to prove the same fact, that there is, in the ' Book
of Wallace,' by Henry the Minstrel, an extraor-
dinary admixture of glaring error and absurdity,
with minute historical truth ; and that he must
have had access to some valuable materials ; and
I may now mention, that, in more than one place,
he refers to original authorities which have
perished, and represents himself as little else than
the transcriber from another author. In his ac-
count of the seizure of Percy's baggage by Wal-
lace, he adds, ' As my autor me tald.' In speak-
ing of the hero's marriage, he observes, * Mine
autor says she was his richteous wyf.' In his spi-
rited account of the romantic skirmish in Elcho
Park, he again tells us, * I but rehearse, as my
autor will say ;' and lastly, in his fifth book,
v. 533, we have this curious passage, from which
a conjecture may be formed who this author was —

Maister Johne Blair was oft in that message,
A worthy clerk, baith wise and rych sawage,
Levyt before he was in Paris town.

HENRY THE MINSTREL. 313

He was the man that principal undirtuk,
That first compylit in dyte the LATYNE BUK
Of WALLACE'S LYF : richt famous of reuoune,
And Thomas Gray, persoun of Libertoun;
With him thai war, and put in story all
Of ane or haith ; meikle of his travaill.

It was, therefore, in all probability, the * Latyne
Buk of Wallace's Life,' compiled by this worthy
ecclesiastic Master John Blair, who, as we are
elsewhere informed, officiated as his chaplain,
from which Henry the Minstrel derived those au-
thentic particulars which may be detected, crop-
ping out, as geologists say, from beneath the more
fabulous superficies of his history. There is a
curious passage in * Major's History of Scotland,'
which gives us some insight into the mode in
which Blind Harry pursued his vocation. * The
book of William Wallace,' says this author, ' was
composed during my infancy, by Henry, a man
blind from his birth. He wrote in popular rhymes,
a species of composition in which he was no mean
proficient, such stories as were then current among
the common people. From these compilations I
must not be blamed if I withhold an implicit be-
lief, as the author was one, who, by reciting them
to the great, earned his food and raiment, of which
indeed he was worthy *.' It is thus easy to con-
ceive, that whilst the main groundwork of his nar-
rative was authentic, his recitation of his verses
in the halls or -at the tables of the great might
lead him to omit some fact, to introduce another,
to alter, or perhaps add to a third, according to
the feelings or prejudices of his audience, and
thus gradually bring confusion and contradiction
* Major, Historia Britt. p. 169.;

314 ANTIQUARIAN ILLUSTRATIONS.

into his history; nor is it to be forgotten, that
many errors may be traced to the ignorance of
those who transcribed the poem, and that other
blunders may have crept in from the carelessness
of succeeding copyists. But my object in these
few remarks on the noted poem of the blind Min-
strel (is attained if I have established grounds for
•the doubt or question with which they commenced,
namely, whether the ' Book of Wallace ' is to be
considered as wholly, or even principally, a work
of fiction ; whether, amidst all its palpable con-
tradictions which are so easily detected, there does
not run through it, in many places, a vein of his-
toric truth.

II. BRUCE AND ST. FILLAN.

There is a curious piece of traditionary super-
stition connected with Bruce and Bannockburn,
which, as it was not to be found in Fordun or
Winton, I omitted in the text. Perhaps I was
wrong in doing so, as the circumstance is charac-
teristic of the times. It relates to an alleged mi-
racle regarding the luminous arm of St. Fillan ;
and it may first be necessary to inform the reader
that this saint has given his name to many cha-
pels and holy fountains in Scotland. Camerarius
informs us he was Abbot of Pittenweem, in Fife,
and afterwards died a hermit, in the wild and
romantic district of Glenurquhay, A. D. 649. The
legend asserts, that when engaged in transcrib-
ing the Scriptures, his left hand or arm emitted
a supernatural effulgence, by which he was ena-
bled, without resorting to the more natural

BRUCE AND ST. FILLAN. 315

expedient of using torches or candles, to carry
on his labours at midnight as easily as at mid-
day. This luminous arm was ever after pre-
served as a relic, and Bruce, who neglected nothing
which might give confidence to his soldiers, and
whose own mind was probably not insensible to
the influence of such ideas, carried it along with
Jiim, inclosed in its silver shrine, to Bannockburn.
The chaplain of the king, however, dreading lest
the precious relic should, in the subsequent battle,
perhaps fall into the hands of the English, secretly
abstracted it, and left nothing but the silver shrine
in the royal tent. At night, Robert, with his
mind agitated by his various affairs, scarce allowed
himself any sleep, but consumed the night in watch-
ing, and directed his prayers to St. Fillan, whose
arm he believed to be shut up in the silver shrine
which was carried with the army ; when to his
surprise the casket was observed to open and shut
suddenly, and on inspection it was found that the
saint had deposited his arm in the shrine as an as-
surance of victory.

There yet lingers in the northern parts of the
kingdom a strong superstitious belief in the powers
of the same saint to cure lunacy, and the magical
operations by which his aid is invoked are still per-
formed at his chapel and pool of Strathfillan, in
Breadalbane. A curious relic of St. Fillan existed
not very long ago at Kill in, where it was seen in
July, 1782, by Mr. William Thomson. The fol-
lowing letter from that gentleman, to the late Earl
of Buchan, gives a minute description of it : —
' At Killin, July 5, 1782, in the house of Malise
Doire, a day I was shown what he called the

316

ANTIQUARIAN ILLUSTRATIONS.

Quigrich. It is the head of a Croisier, formerly
belonging to St, Fillan, who gave his name to a
neighbouring strath, * * With it is
shown a copy of the king's letters of appropriation
and security, which I have carefully transcribed.
The neighbours conducted me to the envied pos-
sessor of this relic, who exhibited it, according to
the intent of the royal investment. A youth of
nineteen, the representative of his father's name,
and presumptive heir to this treasure, lay droop-
ing in an outer apartment, under the last gasp of
a consumption. The relic weighs about seven or
eight pounds, is of silver gilt, and hollow at one
end, A. On the other end, c, which is flat, is en-
graved a crucifix, having a star on each side. An
oval crystal is set in the front of the staff, and is
here seen in profile B.

c The document shown with this curious piece
of antiquity is in the following terms : —

BRUCE AND ST. FILLAN. 317

4 " At Edinburgh, the 1st day of November,
1734, in presence of the lords of council and ses-
sion, compeared Mr. John Lookup, advocat, as
procurator for Malise Doire after designed, and
gave in the letters of gift underwritten, desiring the
same to be registrat in their lordships' books, as a
probative writ ; which desire the said lords found
reasonable, and therefore they ordain the same to
be done accordingly, conform to act of Parliament,
made anent the registration of probative writs, in
all points, whereof the tenor follows : —

* " James, be the grace of God, king of Scottis,
to all and sindrie oure leigis and subditis spirituale
and temporale, to whais knawledge thir oure let-
ters sail come greeting : for as meikle as we haif
understud that oure servitor, Malise Doire, and
his forbears, hes had ane relic of Saint Filane,
callit the Quigrich, in keping of us and of oure
progenitouris of maist noble mynde, quham God
assoilzie, sen the tyme of King Robert the Bruce,
and of before, and made nane obedience nor an-
swer to na persoun spirituale nor temporale, in ony
thing concerning the said haly relic, uthirwayis
than what is contenit in the auld inieftment thereof
maid and grantit be oure said progenitouris. We
charge you thairfore straitly, and commandis that in
tyme to cum ye, and ilk ane of you, redily answer,
intend, and obey to the said Malise Doire, in the
peccable bruiking andjoisingofthesaidrelick. And
that ye, or nane of you, tak upon hand to compel
nor distrenzie him to mak obedience nor answer to
you, nor til ony uther bot allenarly to us and oure
successouris, according to the said infeftment and
fundatun of the said relick, and siclike as wes use

318 ANTIQUARIAN ILLUSTRATIONS.

and wont in the tyme of oure said progenitouris of
maist noble mynde of before. And that ye make
him nane impediment, letting nor distroublance in
the passing with the said relick thro the cuntrie, as
he and his forbears was wont to do. And that ye,
and ilk ane of you, in oure name and autorite,
kepe him unthrallit, bot to remane in siclike free-
dom and liberty of the said relick, like as is con-
tenit in the said infeftment, under all the hiest pain
and charge, that ye, and ilk ane of you, may amit
and inrin anent us in that pairt. Givin under oure
privie scale at Edinburgh, the xi day of July, the
yeir of God, im.iiii°.lxxxvii yeiris, and of oure regn
the xxvii yere. Sic subscribitur,

JAMES R.

* " Litera pro Malisio Doire,

in Strathfinane."

* The privy seal is appended to the principal/
It thus appears that from a period anterior to

the reign of Robert Bruce this remarkable relic
had been handed down from father to son, in the
family of Malise Doire, for nearly five centuries ;
an extraordinary instance of uninterrupted posses-
sion and traditionary superstition.

I am informed by my much-respected and intel-
ligent friend Mrs. Douglass Maclean Clephane, an
enthusiastic antiquary in everything connected with
Scottish history, that when in Strathfinane, in the
year 1800, she saw the Quigrich. It was then in
the possession of a very old Highland woman, who
exhibited also the copy of the Royal Charter : by a
pencil note on the letter to the 'Earl of Buchan,
it appears that the owner of the relic afterwards
emigrated to America, carry ing the quigrich along
with him.

319

III. BATTLE OF BANNOCKBURN.

To the enthusiast in Scottish history and anti-
quarian research, who wishes to spend a pleasant
day in his favourite pursuits, I would recommend
a walk over the field of Bannockburn, taking in
his hand the admirable poem of * Barbour,' and
the English historian Hemingford. It is neces-
sary, however, to warn him, that on reaching the
toll at the Torwood, about a mile beyond the vil-
lage of Larbert, he ought to turn to the left hand,
leaving the main road, which would lead him to
the modern village of Bannockburn, and ascend
the hill through the Torwood, along the ancient
road, which was undoubtedly the line of march pur-
sued by Edward on his advance to the battle.
He will thus traverse the Plean muir, by the back
of the Plean hill, and passing a small line of
houses, still called the camp, discern an elevated
field on his left, situated on the property of Major
Lowes. There tradition still points out the spot
where Edward halted and encamped the night be-
fore the battle ; and her voice, too often imagina-
tive and uncertain, is here confirmed by the
more solemn evidence of history ; whilst it is pleas-
ing to find that every countryman round can
show where the royal tent was pitched, and the
royal standard of England unfurled. The spot
enjoys a commanding prospect. It is about
two miles and a half or three miles from the New
Park, where Bruce was encamped. On the right
is the beautiful line of the Ochil hills ; Stirling
Castle, with a noble background of Highland
hills, being seen to the north. A small red-tiled cot-

320 ANTIQUARIAN ILLUSTRATIONS.

tage, which overtops Bannockburn Wood, marks
a spot still distinguished in the neighbourhood by
the name of the Bloody Faulds, where such was
the slaughter of the English in their flight, that
the little burn or stream which is hard by, is said
to have been choked by the dead bodies, and to
have run red with blood for twenty-four hours.
Beyond the Bloody Faulds, and to the north, is a
spot denominated the Cat's Crag, where a stone
still stands which is said to mark the position of
another standard — probably that of the advance or
vanguard of the English, under the command of the
Earls of Gloucester and Hereford. Brace's posi-
tion was completely defended from any attack in
the direct line, by the rugged ravine in which the
Bannock runs ; but at Milton, or Beaton's Mill, is
a narrow pass, where the enemy might cross,
avoiding the ravine of the Bannock, and extend-
ing themselves on some firm ground which
stretches to the left. I am persuaded they adopted
this line of attack, as the nature of the ground left
them no other alternative. In accomplishing it,
however, their columns must have been crowded
into a very small space, which probably occasioned
the appearance mentioned in the text, vol. ii., pp.
39, 40. It is still reported in the traditions of
the neighbourhood that the English came down
by the old Torvvood road, from their encamp-
ment on the Plean Muir; and this road runs
down past Coalheugh farm to Pirnhall, and thence
to Milton. Taking this line of walk, therefore,
the reader will traverse very nearly the line of ad-
vance of the army of Edward against the strong
position occupied by Bruce.

321

IV. DEATH OF THE GOOD SIR JAMES
DOUGLAS.*

It is to be wished that some Spanish antiquary
would amuse himself by investigating the circum-
stances and locality of the death of this renowned
warrior. The common Spanish historians, Ma-
riana, Rodericus Santius, and Francis Tarapha,
give us little information on the subject ; but I
have met with some passages in the Ancient Chro-
nicle of Alfonso XL, (' Cronica del Rey Alfonso
El Onceno,') published at Madrid in 1787, which
throw a little light on the subject. We find from
this source that Alfonso concluded a temporary
truce with the Sultan of Granada, in 1330, and
that soon after, in the course of the same year,
this Mahometan prince passed over to Africa, and
entered into a league with Alboacen, King of
Marocco, who promised to assist him in his wars
with Alfonso, and to send over his son with 6000
cavalry to Spain. The title of Alboacen, as we
learn by a passage in the same chronicle, was El
Rey Albohacen de Benamarin, and his son was
named Abomelique. Now turning to p. 184 of
the same chronicle, we find that when the two
Saracen princes were making these arrangements
in Africa, there arrived at the camp of Alfonso,
in 1330, a body of French, German, Gascon, and
English knights, who partook in the tournaments
and festivities, and received from the king presents
of horses and arms with which they justed. * E
el Bey,' says the Chronicle, ' mandaban les dar
caballos et armas con que justasen.' We know
* Vol. ii. pp, 206, 207.

VOL. III. Y

322 ANTIQUARIAN ILLUSTRATIONS.

from Barbour, p. 415, that the king Alfonso re-
ceived Douglas with great distinction, and pre-
sented him with ' gold and tresour, hors and
arming/ These, as is already mentioned in the
text (vol. ii. p. 206), Douglas with all due cour-
tesy declined ; but he offered to the king his ser-
vices, and those of the knights, his companions,
against the infidels ; and ' many foreign captains,
who had heard of the fame of Douglas, crowded
round him.' From these passages I conjecture
that Sir James Douglas, having landed at Seville,
took his journey with the knights and squires who
were in his suite, to the court and camp of King
Alfonso, which was then at Burgos ; and that the
Chronicle, when it notices the arrival of a distin-
guished body of knights from foreign countries,
meant to include amongst the English Sir James
Douglas and his companions. Now once more
turning to the Chronicle, it appears (p. 196) that
not long after this, Abomelique, son of Albohacen
of Benamarin, according to his agreement, landed
in Spain at the head of 6000 cavalry, and passed
to Algeziras ; upon which the Sultan of Granada
again declared war against Alfonso. I entreat the
reader to remark how completely this corresponds
to the passage in Barbour, where Douglas and his
company are described as being inactive, until
news came that the ' high King of Balmeryne
had entered the land of Spain.'

Upon this maner still they lay.
Quhil thro the countrie they hard say
That the high King of Balmeryne^
With many a moody Sarazine,
Was entrit intill the land of Spayne.
In the high King of Balmeryne of Barbour, it

DEATH OF SIR JAMES DOUGLAS. 323

is easy to recognise the Sultan Abomelique of
Benamarin (thus called from his father Albohacen) ;
and, indeed, if we look to the Latin historians of
Spain, Rodericus Santius, (vol. ii. Wechelii Rer.
Hisp. Script., p. 386,) and Marineus Siculus,
(vol. ii. p. 820,) we find the kings of Benamarin
designated Reges Bellamarini, from which the
transition to Balmeryne is still easier. It next
appears from the Chronicle, that Abomelique, after
concerting measures with the Sultan of Granada,
laid siege to Gibraltar; and that Alfonso, having
collected a great army, resolved to raise the siege,
by attacking the infidels ; for which purpose he
collected his best captains, and amongst others
sent for Don Vasco Rodriguez, Master of Santi-
ago. It is shown by the Chronicle that Abome-
lique laid siege to Gibraltar in the last week of
February, 1330, and it was not till the 8th of
June, 1331, (the siege having then lasted above
three months,) that Alfonso arrived in Seville
with the design of concentrating his forces, and
attacking the Saracens. It was here that Dou-
glas's ships were laid up, and there can be little
doubt that at this time he and his companions were
in the Spanish camp. A slight circumstance
seems to corroborate this : — On coming to Seville,
Alfonso found there the Grand Master of Santiago.
Now, it is stated by Bar hour, who probably had
his information from some of the survivors, that,
in the battle which ensued, the King gave the
leading of the first battle or vaward to Douglas ;
that he entrusted the conduct of the second to the
Grand Master of Santiago ;

And the great Master of Saint Jak

The tothyr battail gert he tak.

y 2

324 ANTIQUARIAN ILLUSTRATIONS.

It is necessary to consider for a moment the
circumstances under which the battle was fought
in which Douglas met his death, as they have not
hitherto been explained by any of our historians.
After a long and gallant defence, Gibraltar was
treacherously betrayed by its governor, Vasco
Perez, and delivered to the Sultan Abomelique,
(Chronica del Rey Alonso, p. 224,) who placed
in it a strong garrison. Alfonso, in his turn, laid
siege to it ; and the King of Granada, with his
African ally, Abomelique, or, as Barbour styles
him, the ' high King of Balmeryne,' advanced
with their combined forces to its rescue. The
Spanish monarch met and defeated these two sol-
dans ; and if the reader will consult Fordun, vol.
ii. p. 302, he will find a detailed account of the
manner in which the good Sir James was slain.
It has been abridged in the text, vol. ii. p. 207,
and may be compared with the description of the
battle in the ' Chronicle of Alonso XL, pp. 227,
228, 229. Douglas is generally believed to have
been slain on the 25th of August, 1330, according
to the tenor of an ancient epitaph, preserved by
Fordun, where he is said to have fallen ' apud
Castrum Tibris.' It seems to me almost certain
that he was slain in August, 1331, a year later ;
for in 1330 there was a truce between the Moors
and the Spaniards ; and the war does not appear
to have recommenced till Abomelique landed in
Spain with his reinforcement, which happened in
1331. As for the expression, * apud Castrum
Tibris,' I have in vain attempted to discover its
locality, and suspect some false reading of the
manuscript.

325

V. RANDOLPH, EARL OF MORAY *

In the manuscript Cartulary of Dumfermling,
preserved in the Advocates' Library at Edinburgh,
(p. 243 of Macfarlane transcript, and fol. 21 in
the original,) there is to be found a charter of the
great Randolph. In it he declares his desire that
his body shall be buried * in capella sua infra Ec-
clesiam Conventualem de Dumfermlyn,' — in his
chapel situated beneath the Conventual Church of
Dumfermline, — and devotes forty shillings sterling-
for the support of a priest, who is to say mass for
his soul, and the souls of his ancestors, every day
in the year — ' tarn in vita nostra quam post
mortem, corpore nostro ibidem sepulto vel non
sepulto,' — as well during his life as after his death,
and whether his body be then buried there or not.
During the continuance of the mass, he gives
minute directions that ' duo cerei solennes ardeant
a principio missse usque ad finem, quorum unus
stet apud caput et alter ad pedes,' — two great wax
tapers should burn from the beginning of the mass
till its conclusion, the one at his head, the other
at his feet. Unfortunately, this deed has neither
date nor witnesses.

VI. FEUDAL GOVERNMENTS.— POWER OF THE
PEOPLE TO BE TRACED TO THE MEASURES
OF THE CROWN.

The encroachments made by the power of the
feudal nobles on the authority of the crown seem
to have taken place in England, France, and Scot-
* Vol. ii. p. 209.

326 ANTIQUARIAN ILLUSTRATIONS.

land under nearly similar circumstances, although
not precisely at the same time ; and in the three
countries, the different monarch s, anxious to de-
fend their own prerogative, and to diminish the
power of the great feudal aristocracy, appear to
have adopted for this purpose very nearly the same
methods. The nobles became jealous of the in-
crease of the royal authority, because it was a
check and counterpoise to their own ; and although
with little success, it endeavoured at least to reduce
them under the obedience of the laws. It is thus
in Scotland that, during the long minorities, when
the royal power was necessarily feeble ; or during
periods of foreign war, when the king required
soldiers and money, — we see the nobles ever on
the watch to increase their own power, and the
king frequently compelled to give way, till a more
favourable crisis for asserting his prerogative ar-
rived. The reign of Edward I., one of the firmest
and wisest of the English kings, affords many
instances of this. We find the same struggle
taking place in France ; and out of the measures
adopted by the crown during this struggle arose
much of the power of the people. It became the ob-
ject of the feudal monarch, in order to put down, or
at least, to check the encroachments of his nobles,
to increase the power of the burgesses and middle
classes of the citizens ; to raise them in rank and
esteem ; to give charters of freedom to towns and
communities ; to admit the burgesses into the great
Council, or Parliament ; to enact laws in favour
of commerce and manufactures ; to put an end to
the right of private war ; to abolish servitude and
bondage ; and in everything to increase that third

FEUDAL GOVERNMENTS, ETC. 327

power in the state upon which the barons looked
with contempt, but the sovereign with compla-
cency. It would not be difficult to adduce many
historical proofs of these assertions, and to point
out the great struggle against the exorbitant
tyranny of the feudal aristocracy, of which we
discern the workings in France, England, and
Scotland.

In France, the kings, at a very early period, so
soon as the middle of the twelfth century, saw the
necessity of making a stand against the gigantic
strength of the nobles. In that country, Louis le
Gros was contemporary with David I. in Scotland,
and Henry I. in England ; and it was to this
Louis that the body of the feudal vassals owed so
much. He established free communities, by grant-
ing chartered privileges ; he adopted every means
of enfranchising the numerous and unfortunate
class of serfs, or slaves ; he abridged the odious
seignorial jurisdictions, and appointed royal depu-
ties, or commissaries (missi dominici), whose
business it was to make circuits through the king-
dom ; to inquire into and remedy all the abuses of
the baronial courts ; and either to sit in judgment
and redress them, or send the appeal to the courts
of the king. These wise and excellent measures
originated with Garland and the Abbe Suger, his
ministers*.

In Scotland, it is evident that David I. raised up
the power of the clergy as a check upon the fierce
despotism of his feudal barons, and of the wealthy
burghers. By his encouragement of agriculture,
commerce, and manufactures ; by his charters to
towns and burghs ; by his judicial progresses
* Renault, Abrege Chronologique, vol. i. p. 179.

328 ANTIQUARIAN ILLUSTRATIONS.

through the kingdom, and the frequent instances in
his reign, and in those of his successors, where we
see the serfs and bondsmen recovering their liberty,
either by grant or purchase, we can discern the
same object of humbling and reducing the ex-
cessive powers of the nobles, giving security to
the rights and property of the middle classes of
the people, and additional strength to the royal
authority. Under the reign of Malcolm IV., the
struggle between the king and the encroachments
of the barons becomes again discernible *. They
assaulted, we know, and attempted to make them-
selves masters of his person. It is even asserted
by the same historian, that, dissatisfied with the
administration of the king, they compelled his
brother William to assume the regency. On the
death of Malcolm, during the reign of William the
Lion, a monarch of great energy and determina-
tion, the barons appear to have kept within due
bounds ; and the increasing consequence of the
commercial classes is seen by a remarkable grant
of six thousand merks paid down by the boroughs,
as their portion of a sum due to England!. Under
his successor, Alexander II., Roger de Quincy,
one of the most powerful of the feudal barons,
who had married the heiress of Alan, Lord of
Galloway, carried his oppressions and extortion to
such a height, that his vassals grew infuriated,
and, besieging him in his castle, would have torn
him to pieces ; but, clothing himself in complete
armour, he cut his way, sword in hand, through
the midst of them. This happened in 1247. We
are not to suppose, however, that a regular and

* Fonlun a Goodal, book viii. c. 4.
f Ibid., book viii. c. 73.

FEUDAL GOVERNMENTS, ETC. 329

continuous system can be discerned in progress,
which wrought an increase of power to the crown,
and of consequence to the lower orders, along with
a proportionate loss of authority by the nobles,
under each successive reign. On the contrary,
when the sceptre chanced to fall into a hand natu-
rally weak, or infirm with age, under the frequent
minorities which occur in the history of Scotland,
and during the captivity of some of its sovereigns,
the nobles were ever on the alert to regain their
ancient strength, or to acquire new privileges.

In this manner it happened that the personal
character of the king, his courage, firmness, and
wisdom, exercised a very evident influence upon
the public happiness, — an observation which is
strikingly confirmed by the history of Scotland
during the reigns of David I. and Alexander II.
Alexander III., as we have seen, vol. i. p. 4,
succeeded when yet a boy ; and we instantly
see the violent commotions between the different
parties of the nobles which occurred during his
minority, the various plots for the purpose of
seizing the person of the king, and thus pos-
sessing themselves of a royal warrant to op-
press and domineer over all classes of the country,
— a history which, in a greater or lesser degree,
applies to every feudal government when it has
experienced the misfortune of a minority. We
have seen, however, that the character of Alex-
ander, by its early energy and sagacity, put an
end to these abuses, and established the govern-
ment, as his reign proceeded, upon the foundation
of just laws, administered with a wholesome se-
verity. Against these laws, indeed, and their due

330 ANTIQUARIAN ILLUSTRATIONS.

execution, the spirit of the feudal system offered
the utmost opposition. The enormous estates of
the barons, their right of private war, and of hold-
ing their own courts, and their almost unlimited
authority over their vassals and retainers ; the
custom of deadly feud, or of transmitting their
fierce and implacable quarrels along with their
inheritance to their children; and that indomitable
pride, which broke out in contentions for prece-
dence in the field, or in the councils of their sove-
reign, too often at times of the utmost emergency
and danger ; — all these marked and predominating
circumstances were just so many barriers in the
progress of the country to security, liberty, and
the blessings of good government. It is impos-
sible, indeed, to study the history of Scotland
during this remote period without being forcibly
struck with the correctness of this observation ;
and it applies with particular force to the annals
of the long war of liberty, to the struggles of
Wallace, and the early difficulties encountered by
Bruce. To the immense body of the lower feudal
vassals and retainers the service of their lord was
the only road to distinction ; their neglect of it
was sure to be visited with punishment, if not with
ruin. In reading the history of these dark times,
it is easy to see that personal security and comfort
being involved in the issue, this great body, which
composed, in truth, the whole strength of the
country, regarded the desertion of the king, or
their loss of national independence, as an affair
of less moment than a single act of disobedience
to their liege lord. It was by the iron laws of
this cruel svstem that Wallace at last found him-

TOURNAMENT FOR THE BLACK LADY. 331

self compelled to abandon the attempt to lead the
Scottish barons and their vassals against England,
and yet without it Bruce, perhaps, could not have
succeeded.

VII. TOURNAMENT FOR THE BLACK LADY,
BY JAMES IV.

It appears from the unpublished extracts from
the accounts of the High Treasurer of Scotland,
collected by the Rev. Mr. M'Gregor Stirling, a
gentleman of rare but unobtrusive talent in the
investigation of the sources of Scottish history,
that, amongst the various curiosities, animate and
inanimate, which James IV. was fond of amassing,
were a party of blackamoors. These sable orna-
ments of his court he treated with great kindness
and distinction ; and the expenses upon their cloth-
ing and entertainment occupy a prominent place in
the books of the Treasurer. They were captured
in a Portuguese ship, which brought other curiosi-
ties ; amongst the rest, a musk cat, and ' Portin-
gale horse, with a red tail*.' James ordered one
of the Moor lasses to be christened ; upon which
occasion, such is the minuteness of the accounts,
that we are informed his Majesty put nine shil-
lings in the caudle f. A tournament appears
afterwards to have been held in honour of the
4 black ladye,' in which this sable beauty was

* Nov. 8, 1504. To Mossmau Polingaire, to red (settle)
the More's expenses, the Portingail horse and beasts, and
folk with them, 30sh.— MS. Accounts of the High Trea-
surer.

f Item, when the More lasse wes cristinit, given to put
in the caudill, 9 shillings.

332 ANTIQUARIAN ILLUSTRATIONS.

introduced in a triumphal chariot, and gallant
knights contended for the prize which she was to
adjudge ; nay, such was the solemnity and grave
importance with which these feudal amusements
were prepared, that articles of defiance were sent
to France, in which a Scottish champion, under
the name of a wild or savage knight, (probably
the king himself,) challenged the chivalry of
that court to break a spear in honour of the
black lady*. On this occasion, Sir Anthony
D'Arsy, a French cavalier of great skill in all
warlike exercises, who was afterwards cruelly
murdered in Scotland, appears to have gained
much distinction. He arrived at the Court of
Scotland, accompanied by a numerous suite, and
was received by James with high honour. His
mission, probably, was not solely of a chivalrous
nature, but involved subjects of political import-
ance, which could be readily concealed from com-
mon observation under the gorgeous disguise of
the tournament. Whatever was its nature, the
consideration in which he was held may be inferred
from the generosity of his reception and the splen-
did presents with which he was dismissed. I copy
some of the items as a specimen of those valuable
documents from which we may derive so much in-
formation upon the manners of the country. When
Sir Anthony arrived, his horse's feet seem to have
been swelled and beat by the journey, and Robert
Galloway was ordered to bathe them with wine : —
* Item, to Robt. Galloway, for wyne to baiss the

* Item, to two quires of gold to illumyne the articles
sent to France for the justying of the Wild Knight for the
black lady.

TOURNAMENT FOR THE BLACK LADY. 333

French knychtis hors feit, 4sh. Item, for the
French knychtis collaciounes, belcheir, servandis,
wages, fra the llth day of December instant to
this day, £4. 4sh. 5d. Item, for his folkis ex-
pensis in Edinburgh quhilk remanit behind him,
£7. 13sh. Item, to the French knight himself,
.£112. * * Item, ane ducat of wecht, to gild the
knop of the goblets that was the Bishop of Mur-
ray's, and given to Anthony Darsey, 15sh. 6d.
Item, to the said Anthony, the French knight,
400 French crowns in English money, summa
£280. Item, for a twelbe-piece silver vessel,
new made in Flanders, weighing 12 pound, 8
ounces, ,£280. Item, ane salt fat of the lady of
gold, given by the queen on New Year's Day, the
year of God 1504, and given to the said knycht.
Item, ane stoup and ane flaggat of silver, brought
hame be Master James Merchanstoun, with their
cases given to him. Item, the ten goblets of
silver, given by the Bishop of Murray on New
Year's Day by past, given to him. Item, for bur-
nishing and grathing of the same, 13sh. Item,
that day after the French knight departed sent to
Hadington to his servants fifty French crowns,
summa £36. Item, to the French knycht's ex-
penses in Hadington, and on the morrow to his
dinner, horse's meat, and belcher, £5. 15sh. 8d.
Item, to seven French saddles to him, .£9. 15sh.
Item, to James Ackman, for the French knight's
lodging from Michaelmas to Candlemas, which is
18 weeks, each week 24sh., summa £21. 13sh.'

These entries occur towards the end of the
year 1506 ; but, in the succeeding summer of
1507, the king appears to have instituted another

334 ANTIQUARIAN ILLUSTRATIONS.

gorgeous tournament in honour of the black lady.
She again appeared in a triumphal chariot, and was
arrayed in a robe of damask silk, powdered with
gold spangles ; whilst her two damsels were clothed
in gowns of green Flanders taffeta. On this oc-
casion there were introduced a troop of wild men.
The books of the High Treasurer conduct us be-
hind the scenes, and let us know that the ' goat-
skins and harts' horns in which these civilized
savages enacted their parts, were sent by Sir
William Murray from Tullibardine, at the expense
of six shillings.' It was probably on this occasion
that Dunbar indited his lines on ' Ane Black Moir.'

Lang have I sung of ladies white,
Now of ane black I will indite

That landed forth from the last ships ;
Whom faiu I would describe perfyte1,

My ladye with the ineikle2 lippis.

How she is tute mow'd like an ape,
And like a gangaral unto graip ;

And how her short cat-nose up skips ;
And how she shines like ony saip3, —

My ladye with the meikle lips.
When she is clad in rich apparel,
She blinks as bright as ane tar-barrel ;

When she was born, the sun thol'd clipse,
The nycht be fain fought in her quarrel, —

My ladye with the meikle lips.

It appears from the books of the High Trea-
surer, under December 2, 1512, that the queen
had a black maiden who waited on her. ' Item,
for three ells J French russet to the queen's black
maiden, 31. 16s. 6d.}

1 perfectly. 2 large. 3 soap.

335

VIII. JAMES IV. AND THE FLYING ABBOT OF
TUNGLAND.

This monarch had a singular passion for collect-
ing all sorts of quacks about him. Of these, one
of the most extraordinary was a French adept,
who pretended to possess not only great skill in
medicine, but other still more attractive and mys-
terious secrets. He was an alchymist, and per-
suaded the credulous monarch that he had either
discovered, or was on the point of discovering,
the philosopher's stone. He represented himself
as eminently skilful in detecting gold and silver
mines ; and, on the occasion of an embassy setting
out from Stirling to the Court of France, had the
assurance to declare that he had constructed a
pair of artificial wings, by which he undertook to
fly to Paris, and arrive long before the ambassa-
dors. ' This time,' says Bishop Lesly, ' there was
an Italiane with the king, wha wes made Abbot
of Tungland. He causit the king believe that, by
multiplying, and uthers his inventions, he would
make fine gold of other metal, quhilk science he
called the Quintessence : whereupon the king made
great cost ; but all in vain. This abbot tuke in
hand to flie with wings, and to be in France before
the said ambassadors ; and to that effect he caused
make ane pair of wings of feathers, quhilk being
festinitt uponn him, he flew off the castle-wall of
Stirling ; but shortly he fell to the ground, and
broke his thie-bane ; but the wyte (blame) thereof
he ascribed to their beand some hen feathers in
the wings, quhilk yarnit and coveted the myddin,
and not the skies*.'

* Lesly's Historic of Scotland, p. 76.

336 ANTIQUARIAN ILLUSTRATIONS.

It was on this famous occasion that Dunbar
composed his humorous satirical stanzas, entitled
** Of the Fenyeit Frier of Tungland.' The real
name of this bold empiric was John Damidne, and
he first appeared at the Court of James in the ca-
pacity of a French leech, or physician *. He soon
recommended himself to the king's good graces
by his chemical knowledge and his extravagant
pretensions ; so that he and his servants appear to
have lived wholly at the royal expense ; and we
find him comfortably established in his laboratory
at the palace, receiving, from time to time, various
sums of gold, which he undertook to multiply.
Thus, under the 3d of March, 1501, 'the king
sent to Striveline four Hary nobles in gold,' — a
sum equal, as it is stated, to nine pounds Scots
money, — l for the leech to multiply.' These, how-
ever, were not his sole occupations ; for after the
mysterious labours of the day were concluded,
Master John was wont to play at cards with the so-
vereign,— a mode by which he probably transferred
the contents of the royal exchequer into his own
purse as efficaciously as by his distillationst. Salt-
petre, bellows, two great stillatours, brass mor-
tars, coals, and numerous vessels, of various shape,
uses, and denominations, form the items in the
Treasurer's accounts connected with the studies of
this foreign adept ; and so beloved was he by his

* It is thus noticed in the books of the High Treasurer,
under the 12th of January, 1501 : — * Item, to ane man of
Maister Johne Leiches, to fee him a horse fra Edinburgh
to Striveline, and to his expenses 13 shillings.'

f Item, to the king and the French leich to play at the
cards, £9. 5sh., March 4, 1501.— MS. Accounts of the
High Treasurer.

THE FLYING ABBOT OF TUNGLAND. 337

royal pupil, that, on a temporary visit, which he
found it necessary to pay to France, James made
him a present of his own horse and two hundred
pounds *.

On his return to the Scottish court, he enter-
tained the king by a new kind of morris-dance,
which he had imported from the Continent. It is
thus quaintly mentioned in the books of the High
Treasurer : — ' Item, payit to Johne Francis, for
twenty-one elne of red taffeta and blue, quhilk
was sax dansing cotes in Maister Johne's dans,
£13. 13sh. Item, for five elne blue taffeta to the
woman's goune in the said dans, £3. lOsh.' Soon
after this, the Abbot of Tungland, in Galloway,
died ; and the king, with that reckless levity and
which was so strangely blended with superstition
in his character, appointed this adventurer, — half
doctor, half alchymist, half morris-dancer, — to the
vacant dignity f.

According to Lesly, it was in September, 1507-8,
that the abbot exhibited himself in the form of a
bird on the battlements of Stirling Castle, and, by
the low-minded propensities of the ' hen-feathers,'
which he had inadvertently admitted into the con-
struction of his wings, was dragged to the earth,
and broke his thigh-bone. Having recovered from
this accident, he afterwards obtained, on the 8th

* MS. Acc.of HighTrea. sub. May 29 and June 3, 1501.

Item, to Gareoch Pursuivant to pass to Tungland for the
Abbacie to French Maister Johne, 13sh. Item, payit to
Bardus Altorite, Lumbard, for Maister Johne, the French
medicinar, new-made Abbot of Tungland, he aucht the said
Bardus, £35. — MS. Accounts of High Treasurer of Scot-
land, sub. March 11 and 12, 1503.

| Privy Seal, III. 187.

VOL. III. Z

338 ANTIQUARIAN ILLUSTRATIONS.

of September, 1508, the royal permission to pursue
his studies abroad, but soon again returned to
Scotland. The last glimpse which we have of this
impostor is quite in character. He is found, on
the 29th March, 1 5 13, receiving twenty pounds from
the king for his journey to the mine in Crawford
Moor, where his Majesty expected to find gold.

The Abbot of Tungland, however, was only one
of a multitude of empirics who resorted to James's
court, and seem to have been received with equal
generosity and credulity. * The leech with the
curland hair,' 4 the lang Dutch doctor,' one Ful-
lertone, who possessed the secret of making pre-
cious stones, Dr. Ogilvy, who laboured hard at
4 quinta essencia,' and many others, were kept in
pay by this monarch, who not only supported them
in their experiments, but himself assisted in their
laboratory, and delighted to show his attainments
in medicine and surgery. On one occasion, the
monarch gave Kinnard, his barber, thirteen shil-
lings for two teeth which he was pleased to draw
out of his head with his own royal hand. On
another, we find the following characteristic entry
in the books of the High Treasurer: — * Item, to
Jamie Dog, for claith to be bandages to John
Balfour's leg, quhilk the king helit1, twa shillings
and audit pennies.'

IX. ARRIVAL OF THE GIPSIES IN SCOTLAND.

The date of this remarkable event is fixed by
the books of the High Treasurer. On the 22d
of April, 1505, we find this entry : — * Item, to the
1 which the king cured.

ARRIVAL OF THE GIPSIES IN SCOTLAND. 339

Egyptianis, be the king's command, seven pounds.*
Their leader was Anthony Gavino, Lord of Little
Egypt, as he styled himself ; and after he and his
company had sojourned for some months in Scot-
land, they determined to pass over to Denmark.
It was on this occasion that the king addressed to
his uncle, the King of Denmark, the following
curious letter, which was found by Pinkerton in
the manuscripts of the King's Library, and pub-
lished by him in his Appendix, vol. ii., No. 4 : —
' Most Illustrious Prince, — Anthony Gavino, Earl
of Little Egypt, along with his company, an
afflicted and miserable race of men, in the pro-
gress of his peregrination round the Christian
world, undertaken, as he affirms, by order of the
Pope, hath at length reached the borders of our
kingdom, and entreated that, out of our royal
humanity, he might be permitted, with his goods,
chattels, and company, to travel through our terri-
tories, where he may find some refuge for his
helpless fortunes and miserable subjects. You
may believe that a request of this kind, proceeding
from the unfortunate, could not be refused ; and,
accordingly, after having lived here for several
months, comporting himself, as I am informed,
after a conscientious and Catholic fashion, he is
now preparing, my excellent king and uncle, to
pass over to Denmark. Before crossing the sea,
however, he hath requested our letters, by which
your highness might not only be informed of the
truth of these particulars, but might also be moved
to extend your kindness and munificence towards
relieving the calamities of this people. Yet, as
the kingdom of your Highness is nearer to Egypt

z 2

340 ANTIQUARIAN ILLUSTRATIONS.

than our dominions, and as there must conse-
quently be a greater resort of these people within
your territories than to these our realms, it follows
that the fate, manners, and extraction of these
Egyptian wanderers must be more familiar to
your Highness than to ourselves. — Farewell, most
Illustrious Prince*.'

X. ANCIENT SCOTTISH GAMES AND
AMUSEMENTS.

A valuable and curious additional chapter might
be added to Strutt's ' Sports and Pastimes,' from the
pages of the manuscript accounts of the Lord High
Treasurer, during the reign of the Fourth James.
The king's fondness for games, glee, and merriment
of every kind is ludicrous ; and, when we consider
the many grave and valuable qualities which James
undoubtedly possessed, presents a singular picture
of human nature. The multitude of persons
whom he kept in pay, for the sole purposes of
amusement, was very great. Take one item for
example, which belongs to his expenses in 1506.
4 Payments to divers menstrales, schawmourers,
trumpeters, tambrownars, fithelaris, lutars, clars-
charis, and pyparis, extending to eighty-nine per-
sons, forty-one pounds eleven shillings/ He ap-
pears to have been passionately fond of music,
both vocal and instrumental. When he took his
progresses through his kingdom he was generally
met at the gates of the town by maidens, who wel-
comed him with songs ; and wherever he went the
royal taste appears to have found out those who could

* The original epistle is in Latin.

ANCIENT SCOTTISH GAMES. 341

please him in his favourite art *. Thus, in the trea-
surer's accounts, as regularly as the king comes
to Dumfries, * a little crukit backit vicar ' makes
his appearance, who sings to the king; and this
deformed vocalist figures from year to year as a
recipient of the royal bounty. On his journeys he
took his organs, organists, harpers, lutars, and
Italiane minstrels along with him ; and when the
noted papal embassy arrived at his court, which
brought him from his Holiness a splendid sword
of justice, still to be seen amongst the Scottish
regalia,- the first attitude in which we discover the
king, is ' listhening' not to the ambassador, but
to the Paip's ambassador's servant, who was
a celebrated singer. Many other examples
might be given, but let us pass to the games
in vogue at court. Chess-tables, dice, and cards
we find common ; and the king seems almost
invariably to have played for money. Thus,
in 1488, we have * Item, on Yule-day, for the king
himself to play at the dice and cards, 28/. Item, on
St. John's day at even sent with Archie Dickson to
the king to play at the dice at Lithgow, 42Z.' The
Bishop of Murray and the queen seem to have been
James's most frequent partners at the card -table ; but
there are other games of which the names only re-
main, whilst the meaning and mode of playing have
passed away. What, for instance, are we to un-
derstand by the king playing attheprojo in Strath-
bogy, and losing four shillings and fourpence ?

* He himself played on the lute ; thus, in the high trea-
surer's accounts, under 6th December, 1496, we have,
' Item to Johne Jamesone for a lute to the king, 6sh. 8d.'
He performed also on the monocordis, April 10, 1497.

342 ANTIQUARIAN ILLUSTRATIONS.

and what is the difference between the * lang
bowlis ' with which his Majesty amused himself
at St. Andrew's, on the 28th of April, 1487, and
the * row bowlis ' which contributed to his royal
diversion on the 20th June, 1501 ? on which oc-
casion Sir John Sinclair, and the prothonotary,
Andrew Forman, were his partners in the game.
What, again, are we to understand by ' the kiles '
which the king played at in Glenluce, on the 29th
March, 1506 ? and what is the distinction between
the game of * Irish gamyne' (March 17, 1507),
and the * tables ' which occur so constantly ?
Archery, and shooting at the butts, shooting with
the cross bow, and culveryng, playing at the golf
and football, not only occur continually, but in
all of them the king himself appears to have been
no mean proficient. Another favourite sport of
James was the exhibition of his skill and strength
in striking with the great sledge hammer used by
smiths in their forge. Thus, when Sir Anthony
D'Arsy came into Scotland from the French court,
and distinguished himself at the tournaments held
at Stirling, in 1506, we find, on the 25th June,
this entry in the books of the high treasurer —
' Item to the smith quhen the king and the French
knycht strak at the steddye, 13 shillings.'

Other examples might be given of such exercises
of power and dexterity ; but we must look for a
moment to the king's more sedentary amusements,
— amongst these, listening to story-tellers or tale-
tellers seems to have been one of the most frequent.
Thus, on the 9th November, 1496, the accounts
introduce us to ' Wedderspoon the Foular, that
tald tales, and brocht foulis to the king :' on the

ANCIENT SCOTTISH GAMES. 343

12th of the same month we meet with Watschod
the tale-teller ; on the 19th of April, 1497, we dis-
cover the king 4 listhening to twa filhilaris, who
sung to him the ballad of " Grey Steel " ' — (pity
that the lord-treasurer had not given us the ballad
itself). And on the 13th March, 1506, ' a poor
man, wha tald tales to the Majesty of Scotland,*
received for the issue of his brain the reward of
six shillings and eight pence. It would be easy to
increase the catalogue of the royal amusements
from the same authentic records. Hunting, hawk-
ing, racing, plays, and tournaments, are constantly
recurring, whilst the King of Bene, the Abbot of
Unreason, the Queen of May, the daft Queen of the
Canongate, all contribute their stated and periodic
portions of mirth, license, and absurdity. One sin-
gular instance of James's love of practical jokes
and vulgar merriment is to be met with under the
14th August, 1491 — ' Item to a wife at Bathgate
bog that the king revit a' rung fra1, 18 shillings/

In the midst of all this reckless dissipation
of the royal mind, it is curious to remark the
outbreakings of superstitious feelings, the strange
mixture of levity and austerity which distin-
guishes his character. Pilgrimages and panto-
mimes succeed each other with startling rapidity.
In the midst of his career of gaiety the monarch
seems to be awakened suddenly by a sting of
remorse, and a messenger is despatched for St.
Duthoc's relic, or a profuse donation is made to
the grey friars for additional prayers and masses ;
or, in a still more homely frame of superstition, the
monarch borrows an angel, or gold noble, from
1 wrested a stick from.

344 ANTIQUARIAN ILLUSTRATIONS.

his high treasurer, and after cruking, or bending
it, fixes the talisman to his beads. I may here be
permitted to add a word on the common story of
James's iron girdle, which, it is said, the king ever
wore as a penance for his having appeared inarms
against his father. No evidence of the instrument is
to be traced in the treasurer's accounts, and yet
such is the minuteness of their information, that
we might have expected it to be noticed. It ap-
pears, however, that on the 3d of March, 1496,
the king employed a goldsmith to make a case of
gold, which was to be worn about his liaise, or
neck, and that three days after this the same case
was made larger or heavier than it had been ori-
ginally. It has been conjectured that the wearing
this case of gold may have been a penance, and the
origin of the story of the iron girdle ; but I am
inclined to think that it partook rather of orna-
ment than of mortification. It was probably no-
thing more than a golden collar or gorget.

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