DOMESTIC
ANNALS OF SCOTLAND.

DOMESTIC
ANNALS OF SCOTLAND

From the Reformation to the Revolution.

BY ROBERT CHAMBERS,
F.R.S.E., F.S.A.Sc., &c.

SECOND EDITION.

VOLUME I.

Bannatyne House, Strathmore.

W. & R. CHAMBERS, EDINBURGH AND LONDON.

MDCCCLIX.

Edinburgh:
Printed by W. and R. Chambers.

PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.

It has occurred to me that a chronicle of domestic matters in Scotland from the Reformation downwards—the period during which we see a progress towards the present state of things in our country—would be an interesting and instructive book. History has in a great measure confined itself to political transactions and personages, and usually says little of the people, their daily concerns, and the external accidents which immediately affect their comfort. This I have always thought was much to be regretted, and a general tendency to the same view has been manifested of late years. I have therefore resolved to make an effort, in regard to my own country, to detail her DOMESTIC ANNALS—the series of occurrences beneath the region of history, the effects of passion, superstition, and ignorance in the people, the extraordinary natural events which disturbed their tranquillity, the calamities which affected their wellbeing, the traits of false political economy by which that wellbeing was checked, and generally those things which enable us to see how our forefathers thought, felt, and suffered, and how, on the whole, ordinary life looked in their days.

Nor are these details, broken up and disjointed as they often are, without a useful bearing on certain generalisations of importance, or devoid of instruction for our own comparatively enlightened age. A good end is obviously served by enumerating, for example, all the famines and all the pestilences that have beset the country; for when this is done, it becomes evident that famine and pestilence have been connected in the way of cause and effect. For the astronomer, the meteorologist, and the naturalist, many of the accounts of comets, meteors, and extraordinary natural productions here given, must have some value.[1] To the political economist, it may be of service to see the accounts here drawn from contemporary records of the productiveness and failure of many seasons, and of the varying proportions of bad seasons to good throughout considerable spaces of time. As for the numberless narratives and anecdotes illustrative of the mistaken zeal, the irregular passions, the deplorable superstitions, and erroneous ideas and ways in general, of our ancestors, they furnish beyond doubt a rich pabulum for the student of human nature; nor may they be without some practical utility amongst us, since many of the same errors continue in a reduced style to exist, and it may help to extinguish them all the sooner, that we are enabled here to look upon them in their most exaggerated and startling form, and as essentially the products and accompaniments of ignorance and barbarism.

It will probably be matter of regret that this work consists of a series of articles generally brief and but little connected with each other, producing on the whole a desultory effect. Might not the materials have been fused into one continuous narration? I am very sensible how desirable this was for literary effect; but I am at the same time assured that, in such a mode of presenting the series of occurrences, there would have been a constant temptation to generalise on narrow and insufficient grounds—to make singular and exceptional incidents pass as characteristic beyond the just degree in which they really are so—namely, as matters just possible in the course of the national life of the period to which they refer. It seemed to me the most honest plan, to present them detachedly under their respective dates, thus allowing each to tell its own story, and have its own proper weight with the reader, and no more, in completing the general picture.

As one means of conveying ‘the body of each age, its form and pressure,’ the language of the original contemporary narrators is given, wherever it was sufficiently intelligible and concise. Thus each age in a manner tells its own story. It has not been deemed necessary, however, to retain antiquated modes of orthography, beyond what is required to indicate the old pronunciation, nor have I scrupled occasionally to omit useless clauses of sentences, when that seemed conducive to making the narration more readable. This procedure will not be quite approved of by the rigid antiquary; but it will be for the benefit of the bulk of ordinary readers.

In general, the events of political history are presented here in only a brief narrative, such as seemed necessary for connection. But I have introduced a few notices of these events where there was a contemporary narration either characteristic in its style, or involving particulars which might be deemed illustrative of the general feeling of the time.

Edinburgh, January 25, 1858.

CONTENTS OF VOL I.

Illustrations.

VOL. I.

INDEX

Edinburgh Castle, restored as in 1573.

DOMESTIC ANNALS OF SCOTLAND.

INTRODUCTORY.

Our attention lights, a few years after the middle of the sixteenth century, on a little independent kingdom in the northern part of the British island—a tract of country now thought romantic and beautiful, then hard-favoured and sterile, chiefly mountainous, penetrated by deep inlets of the sea, and suffering under a climate not so objectionable on account of cold as humidity. It contains a scattered population of probably seven hundred thousand:—the Scots—thought to be a very ancient nation, descended from a daughter of Pharaoh, king of Egypt, and living under a monarchy believed to have originated about the time that Alexander conquered India. A very poor, rude country it is, as it well might be in that age, and seeing that it lay so far to the north and so much out of the highway of civilisation. No well-formed roads in it—no posts for letters or for travelling. A printing-press in the head town, Edinburgh, but not another anywhere. A regular localised court of law had not yet existed in it thirty years. No stated means of education, excepting a few grammar-schools in the principal towns, and three small universities. Society consisted mainly of a large agricultural class, half enslaved to the lords of the soil: above all, obliged to follow them in war. Other industrial pursuits to be found only in the burghs, the chief of which were Edinburgh, Glasgow, Stirling, Perth, Dundee, and Aberdeen.

In reality, though it was not known then, the bulk of the people of Scotland were a branch of the great Teutonic race which possesses Germany and some other countries in the north-west of Europe. Precisely the same people they were with the bulk of the English, and speaking essentially the same language, though for ages they had been almost incessantly at war with that richer and more advanced community. As England, however, was neighboured by Wales, with a Celtic people, so did Scotland contain in its northern and more mountainous districts a Celtic people also, rude, poor, proud, and of fiery temper, but brave and possessed of virtues of their own, somewhat like the Circassians of our own day. These Highland clansmen—whom the English of that time contemptuously called Redshanks, with reference to their naked hirsute limbs—were the relics of a greater nation, who once occupied all Scotland, and of whose blood some portion was mingled with that of the Scots of the Lowlands, producing a certain fervour of character—‘perfervidum ingenium Scotorum’—which is not found in purely Teutonic natures. The monarchy had originated with them early in the sixth century of the Christian era, and had gradually absorbed the rest of Scotland, even while its original subjects were hemmed more and more within the hilly north. But, by the marriages of female heirs, this thorn-encircled crown had come, in the fourteenth century, into a family of Norman-English extraction, bearing the name of Stuart.

The present monarch was ‘our Sovereign Lady Mary,’ a young and beautiful woman, married to Francis II. of France. She had been carried thither in a troublous time during her childhood, and in her absence, a regent’s sceptre was swayed by her mother, a princess of the House of Guise. Up to that time, Scotland, like most of the rest of Europe, was observant of the Catholic religion, and under vows of obedience to the pope of Rome. But the reforming ideas of Luther and Melancthon, of Zuinglius and Calvin, at length came to it, and surprising were the effects thereof. As by some magical evolution, the great mass of the people instantaneously threw off all regard to the authority of the pope, with all their old habits of worship, professing instead a reverence for the simple letter of Scripture, as interpreted to them by the reforming preachers. Indignant at having been so long blinded by the Catholic priesthood—whose sloth and luxury likewise disgusted them—they attacked the churches and monasteries, destroyed the altars and images—did not altogether spare even the buildings, alleging that rooks were best banished by pulling down their nests: in short, made a very complete practical reformation through all the more important provinces. This was done by the populace, with the countenance and help of a party of the nobility and gentry; and the regent, Mary de Guise, who was firm in the old faith, in vain strove to stem the torrent. Obtaining troops from France, she did indeed maintain for a time a resistance to the reforming lords and their adherents. But they, again, were supported by some troops from Elizabeth of England, whose interest it was to protestantise Scotland; and so the Reformation got the ascendency. Mary the Regent sunk into the grave, just about the time that her faith came to its final and decisive ruin within her daughter’s dominions.

This change may be considered as having been completed in August 1560, when an irregular parliament, or assembly of the Estates of the kingdom, abolished the jurisdiction of the pope, proscribed the mass under the severest penalties, and approved of a Confession of Faith resembling the articles which had been established in England by Edward VI. The chief feature of the new system was, that each parish should have its own pastor, elected by the people, or at least a reader to read the Scriptures and common prayers. While thus essentially presbyterian, there was a trace of episcopal arrangements in the appointment of ten superintendents (one of whom, however, was a layman), whose duty it should be to go about and see that the ordinary clergy did their duty. The great bulk of the possessions and revenues of the old church fell into the hands of the nobles, or remained with nominal bishops, abbots, and other dignitaries, who continued formally to occupy their ancient places in parliament, while the presbyterian clergy were insufficient in number, and in general very poorly supported.

‘Lo here,’ then, ‘a nation born in one day; yea, moulded into one congregation, and sealed as a fountain with a solemn oath and covenant!’ So exclaims a clerical writer a hundred years later; and we, who live two hundred years still further onward, may well echo the words. But a little while ago, there were priests, with vestments of ancient and gorgeous form, saying mass in churches, which were the only elegant structures in the country. The name of the pope was a word to bow at. Confession was one of the duties of life. Barefooted friars wandered about in the enjoyment of universal reverence. Any gentleman going out with his sovereign on a military expedition, would have been thought liable to every evil under the sun, and altogether a scandalous person, if he did not beforehand obtain pardon for his sins from the Grayfriars, and leave in their hands his most valuable possessions, including the very titles of his estate, which he might hope to get back if he survived; but otherwise, he well knew all would go to the enriching of these same friars, who were under vows to live in perpetual poverty.[2] The king himself sought for his highest religious comfort in pilgrimising to St Duthac’s shrine in Ross-shire, or to the chapel of our Lady of Loretto, at Musselburgh. The bishop of Aberdeen felt a solacement in the hour of death, in the trust that his bowels would be buried, as he requested, in the Blackfriars Monastery in Edinburgh.[3] So lately as 1547, the Scotch, fighting with the English at Pinkie, called out reproachful names to them, on the score of their having deserted the ancient faith. But here is now Scotland also converted, and that as it were in a day, from all those old reverences and observances, and taken possession of by a totally new set of ideas. The Bible in the vulgar tongue has been suddenly laid open to them. Their minds, earnest and reflecting, though unenlightened, have been impressed beyond description by the tale of miraculous history which it unfolds, and the deeply touching scheme for effecting the salvation of man which the theologian constructs from it. They feel as if they had got hold of something of priceless value, and in comparison with which all the forms and rites of medieval Christianity are as dust and rubbish. The Evangel, the True Religion, as they earnestly called it, is henceforth all in all with this poor and homely, but resolute people. Nothing inconsistent therewith can be listened to for a moment. Scarcely can a dissentient be permitted to live in the country. The state, too, must maintain this system, and this system alone, or it is no state for them. Above all, the errors of Popery must be unsparingly put down. The mass is idolatry: God, in his Book, says that idolatry is a sin to be visited with the severest judgments; therefore, if you wish to avoid judgments, you must extinguish the mass. Even modified forms and rituals which have been preserved by English Protestantism, as calculated to raise or favour a spirit of devotion, and maintain a decency in worship, are here regarded as but the rags of Rome, and spurned with nearly the same vehemence as the mass itself. Scotland will have nothing but a preacher to expound, and say a prayer. That, with the Bible in the hands of the people, is enough for her. No hierarchy does she require to maintain order in the church. Let the ministers meet in local courts and in General Assembly, and settle everything by equal votes. Bishops and archbishops are a popish breed, who must, if possible, be kept at a distance.

Even one who may now take more charitable and lenient views can scarcely fail to sympathise with, yea, admire, this little out-of-the-way nation, in seeing it dictate and do thus against the might of an ancient institution of such imposing dimensions as the Romish Church. And to do it, too, in the teeth of their own ruling power, such as it was. And all so effectually, that from that hour to this, Rome, in all her back-surgings upon the ground she lost in the sixteenth century, was never able to put Scottish Protestantism once in the slightest danger. Undoubtedly, if there be merit in a faithful contending for what is felt to be all-important truth, it was a worthy thing, and one that shewed there was some good metal in the constitution of the Scottish mind. It could not surprise one that a people who acted thus, should also prove to be a valiant and constant people under physical difficulties; that they should make wonderful results out of a poor soil and climate; that they should do some considerable things in the science of thinking and in letters; and, above all, stand well to their own opinions and ways, and to the maintenance of their political liberties and national independence, frown, threaten, and drive at them who might.

It was so—and yet—for every picture of noble humanity has its reverse—it is forced upon us that the Scots were, at this very time, a fearfully rude and ignorant people. As usual, they were so without having the least consciousness of it: their greatest author of that age, George Buchanan, speaks in perfect earnest of the refinement of his own time, in comparison with the barbarism of former days.[4] But, whatever the age might be relatively to past ages, it was rude in itself. The Scotland of that day was ruder than the England of that day, ruder than many other European states. Few persons could read or write. Few knew aught beyond their daily calling. Men carried weapons, and were apt to use them on light occasion. The lords, and the rich generally, exercised enormous oppression upon the poor. The government was a faction of nobles, as against all the rest. When a man had a suit at law, he felt he had no chance without using ‘influence.’ Was he to be tried for an offence?—his friends considered themselves bound to muster in arms round the court to see that he got fair-play; that is, to get him off unharmed if they could. Men were accustomed to violence in all forms, as to their daily bread. The house of a man of consideration was a kind of castle: at the least, it was a tall narrow tower, with a grated door and a wall of defence. No one in those days had any general conceptions regarding the processes of nature. They saw the grass grow and their bullocks feed, and thought no more of it. Any extraordinary natural event, as an eclipse of the sun or an earthquake, still more a comet, affected them as an immediate expression of a frowning Providence. The great diseases, such as pestilence, which arose in consequence of their uncleanly habits and the wide-spread famines from which they often suffered, appeared to them as divine chastisements; not perhaps for the sins of those who suffered—which would have been comparatively reasonable—but probably for the sins of a ruler who did not suffer at all. The ruling class knew no more of a just public economy than the poor. Through absurd attempts to raise the value of coin by statute, the Scotch pound had fallen to a fraction of its original worth. By ridiculous endeavours to control markets, and adjust exportation and importation, mercantile freedom was paralysed, and penury and scarcity among the poor greatly increased. The good plant of Knowledge not being yet cultivated, its weed-precursor, Superstition, largely prevailed. Bearded men believed that a few muttered words could take away and give back the milk of their cattle. An archbishop expected to be cured of a deadly ailment by a charm pronounced by an ignorant countrywoman. The forty-six men who met as the first General Assembly, and drew from the Scriptures the Confession of Faith which they handed down as stereotyped truth to after-generations, were every one of them not more fully persuaded of the soundness of any of the doctrines of that Confession, than they were of the reality of sorcery, and felt themselves not more truly called upon by the Bible to repress idolatry than to punish witches. They were good men, earnest, and meaning well to God and man; but they were men of the sixteenth century, ignorant, and rough in many of their ways.

While, then, we shall see great occasion to admire the hardy valour with which this people achieved their deliverance from bondage, we must also be prepared for finding them full of vehement intolerance towards all challenge of their own dogmas and all adherence to alien forms of faith. We shall find them utterly incapable of imagining a conscientious dissent, much less of allowing for and respecting it. We must be prepared to see them—while repudiating one set of superstitious incrustations upon the original simple gospel—working it out on their own part in creeds, plats, covenants, and church institutions generally, full of mere human logic and device, but yet assumed to be as true as if a divine voice had spoken and framed them, breathing war and persecution towards all other systems, and practically operating as a tyranny only somewhat less formidable than that which had been put away.

REIGN OF MARY: 1561-1565.

The regent, Mary de Guise, having died in June 1560, while her daughter Mary, the nominally reigning queen, was still in France, the management of affairs fell into the hands of the body of nobles, styled Lords of the Congregation, who had struggled for the establishment of the Protestant faith. The chief of these was Lord James Stuart, an illegitimate son of James V., and brother of the queen—the man of by far the greatest sagacity and energy of his age and country, and a most earnest votary of the new religion.

Becoming a widow in December 1560, by the death of her husband, Francis II., Mary no longer had any tie binding her to France, and consequently she resolved on returning to her own dominions. When she arrived in Edinburgh, in August 1561, she found the Protestant religion so firmly established, and so universally accepted by the people—there being only some secluded districts where Catholicism still prevailed—that, so far from having a chance of restoring her kingdom to Rome, as she, ‘an unpersuaded princess,’ might have wished to do, it was with the greatest difficulty that she could be allowed to have the mass performed in a private room in her palace. The people regarded her beautiful face with affection; and, as she allowed her brother, Lord James, and other Protestant nobles to act for her, her government was far from unpopular.

Mary’s conduct towards the Protestant cause appeared as that of one who submits to what cannot be resisted. Before she had been fifteen months in the country, she accompanied her brother (whom she created Earl of Moray) on an expedition to the north, where she broke the power of the Gordon family, who boasted they could restore the Catholic faith in three counties. What is still more remarkable, she dealt with the patrimony of the church, accepting part of the spoils for the use of the state. It is believed, nevertheless, that she designed ultimately to act in concert with the Catholic powers of the continent for the restoration of the old religion in Scotland. One obvious motive for keeping on fair terms with Protestantism for the present, lay in her hopes of succeeding to the English crown, in the event of the death of Elizabeth, whose next heir she was.

1561.

A custom, dating far back in Catholic times, prevailed in Edinburgh in unchecked luxuriance down almost to the time of the Reformation. It consisted in a set of unruly dramatic games, called Robin Hood, the Abbot of Unreason, and the Queen of May, which were enacted every year in the floral month just mentioned. The interest felt by the populace in these whimsical merry-makings was intense. At the approach of May, they assembled and chose some respectable individuals of their number, very grave and reverend citizens perhaps, to act the parts of Robin Hood and Little John, of the Lord of Inobedience, or the Abbot of Unreason, and ‘make sports and jocosities’[5] for them. If the chosen actors felt it inconsistent with their tastes, gravity, or engagements, to don a fantastic dress, caper and dance, and incite their neighbours to do the like, they could only be excused on paying a fine. On the appointed day, always a Sunday or holiday, the people assembled in their best attire and in military array, and marched in blithe procession to some neighbouring field, where the fitting preparations had been made for their amusement. Robin Hood and Little John robbed bishops, fought with pinners, and contended in archery among themselves, as they had done in reality two centuries before.[6] The Abbot of Unreason kicked up his heels and played antics like a modern pantaloon. The popular relish for all this was such as can scarcely now be credited. ‘A learned prelate [Latimer] preaching before Edward VI., observes, that he once came to a town upon a holiday, and gave information on the evening before of his design to preach. But next day when he came to the church, he found the door locked. He tarried half an hour ere the key could be found, and instead of a willing audience, some one told him: “This is a busy day with us; we cannot hear you. It is Robin Hood’s day. The parish are gone abroad to gather for Robin Hood. I pray you let [hinder] them not.” I was fain (says the bishop) to give place to Robin Hood. I thought my rochet should have been regarded, though I were not; but it would not serve. It was fain to give place to Robin Hood’s men.’[7]

1561.

Such were the Robin Hood plays of Catholic and unthinking times. By and by, when the Reformation approached, they were found to be disorderly and discreditable, and an act of parliament was passed against them.[8] Still, while the upper and more serious classes frowned, the common sort of people loved the sport too much to resign it without a struggle. It came to be one of the first difficulties of the men who had carried through the Reformation, how to wrestle the people out of their love of the May-games.

In April 1561, one George Durie was chosen in Edinburgh as Robin Hood and Lord of Inobedience, and on Sunday the 12th of May, he and a great number of other persons came riotously into the city, with an ensign and arms in their hands, in disregard of both the act of parliament and an act of the town-council. Notwithstanding an effort of the magistrates to turn them back, they passed to the Castle Hill, and thence returned at their own pleasure. For this offence a cordiner’s servant, named James Gillon, was condemned to be hanged on the 21st of July.

1561. July 21.

‘When the time of the poor man’s hanging approachit, and that the [hangman] was coming to the gibbet with the ladder, upon which the said cordiner should have been hangit, the craftsmen’s childer[9] and servants past to armour; and first they housit Alexander Guthrie and the provost and bailies in the said Alexander’s writing booth, and syne came down again to the Cross, and dang down the gibbet, and brake it in pieces, and thereafter passed to the Tolbooth, whilk was then steekit [shut]; and when they could not apprehend the keys thereof, they brought fore-hammers and dang up the same Tolbooth door perforce, the provost, bailies, and others looking thereupon; and when the said door was broken up, ane part of them past in the same, and not allenarly [only] brought the same condemnit cordiner forth of the said Tolbooth, but also all the remanent persons being thereintill; and this done they past down the Hie Gait [High Street], to have past forth at the Nether Bow, whilk was then steekit, and because they could not get furth thereat, they past up the Hie Gait again; and in the meantime the provost, bailies, and their assisters being in the writing-booth of Alexander Guthrie, past to the Tolbooth; and in their passing up the said gait, they being in the Tolbooth, as said is, shot forth at the said servants ane dag, and hurt ane servant of the craftsmen’s. That being done, there was naething but tak and slay; that is, the ane part shooting forth and casting stanes, the other part shooting hagbuts in again; and sae the craftsmen’s servants held them [conducted themselves] continually fra three hours afternoon while [till] aucht at even, and never ane man of the town steirit to defend their provost and bailies. And then they sent to the masters of the craftsmen to cause them, gif they might, to stay the said servants; wha purposed to stay the same, but they could not come to pass, but the servants said they wald have ane revenge for the man whilk was hurt. And thereafter the provost sent ane messenger to the constable of the Castle to come to stay the matter, wha came; and he with the masters of the craftsmen treated on this manner, that the provost and bailies should discharge all manner of actions whilk they had against the said craftschilder in ony time bygane, and charged all their masters to receive them in service as they did of before, and promittit never to pursue them in time to come for the same. And this being done and proclaimit, they skaled [disbanded], and the provost and bailies came furth of the Tolbooth.’—D. O.

An Edinburgh Hammerman, 1555.[10]

1561.

This was altogether an unprotestant movement, though springing only from a thoughtless love of sport. We may see in the attack on the Tolbooth a foreshadow of the doings of the Porteous mob in a later age. It appears that the magistrates, though reformers, were unpopular; hence the neutrality of the citizens, who, when solicited to interfere for the defence of the city-rulers, went to their four hours penny,[11] and returned for answer: ‘They will be magistrates alone; let them rule the multitude alone.’—Cal. Thirteen persons were afterwards ‘fylit’ by an assize for refusing to help the magistrates.—Pit.

On its being known that Queen Mary was about to arrive in Scotland from France, there was a great flocking of the upper class of people from all parts of the country to Edinburgh, ‘as it were to a common spectacle.’

Aug. 19.

The queen arrived with her two vessels in Leith Road, at seven in the morning of a dull autumn-day. She was accompanied by her three uncles of the House of Guise—the Duc d’Aumale, the Grand Prior, and the Marquis d’Elbeuf; besides Monsieur d’Amville, son of the constable of France, her four gentlewomen, called the Maries, and many persons of inferior note. To pursue the narrative of one who looked on the scene with an evil eye: ‘The very face of heaven, the time of her arrival, did manifestly speak what comfort was brought unto this country with her;’ to wit, sorrow, dolour, darkness, and all impiety; for in the memory of man, that day of the year, was never seen a more dolorous face of the heaven, than was at her arrival, which two days after did so continue; for beside the surface weet and corruption of the air, the mist was so thick and so dark, that scarce might any man espy ane other the length of twa butts. The sun was not seen to shine two days before nor two days after. That forewarning gave God unto us; but, alas, the most part were blind.

1561.

‘At the sound of the cannons which the galleys shot, the multitude being advertised, happy was he and she that first might have presence of the queen.... [At ten hours her hieness landed upon the shore of Leith.] Because the palace of Holyroodhouse was not thoroughly put in order ... she remained [in Andrew Lamb’s house] in Leith till towards the evening, and then repaired thither. In the way betwixt Leith and the Abbey, met her the rebels of the crafts ... that had violated the authority of the magistrates and had besieged the provost; but because she was sufficiently instructed that all they did was done in despite of the religion, they were easily appardoned. Fires of joy were set forth all night, and a company of the most honest, with instruments of music, and with musicians, gave their salutations at her chalmer window. The melody, as she alleged, liked her weel; and she willed the same to be continued some nichts after.’—Knox.

The magistrates of Edinburgh, although all of them zealous for the reformed religion, resolved to give their young sovereign a gallant reception, taxing the community for the expenses. It was likewise thought good that, ‘for the honour and pleasure of our sovereign, ane banquet sould be made upon Sunday next, to the princes, our said sovereign’s kinsmen.’

Sep. 2.

The queen ‘made her entres in the burgh of Edinburgh in this manner. Her hieness departed of Holyroodhouse, and rade by the Lang Gate[12] on the north side of the burgh, unto the time she came to the Castle, where was ane yett [gate] made to her, at the whilk she, accompanied by the maist part of the nobility of Scotland, came in and rade up the castle-bank to the Castle, and dined therein.’

1561.

‘When she had dined at twelve hours, her hieness came furth of the Castle ..., at whilk departing the artillery shot vehemently. Thereafter, when she was ridand down the Castle Hill, there met her hieness ane convoy of the young men of the burgh, to the number of fifty or thereby, their bodies and thies covered with yellow taffetas, their arms and legs frae the knee down bare, coloured with black, in manner of Moors; upon their heads black hats, and on their faces black visors; in their mouths rings garnished with untellable precious stanes; about their necks, legs, and arms, infinite of chains of gold: together with saxteen of the maist honest men of the town, clad in velvet gowns and velvet bonnets, bearand and gangand about the pall under whilk her hieness rade; whilk pall was of fine purpour velvet, lined with red taffetas, fringed with gold and silk. After them was ane cart with certain bairns, together with ane coffer wherein was the cupboard and propine [gift] whilk should be propinit to her hieness. When her grace came forward to the Butter Tron, the nobility and convoy procedand, there was ane port made of timber in maist honourable manner, coloured with fine colours, hung with sundry arms; upon whilk port was singand certain bairns in the maist heavenly wise; under the whilk port there was ane cloud opening with four leaves, in the whilk was put ane bonnie bairn. When the queen’s hieness was coming through the said port, the cloud openit, and the bairn descended down as it had been ane angel, and deliverit to her hieness the keys of the town, together with ane Bible and ane Psalm-buik coverit with fine purpour velvet.[13] After the said bairn had spoken some small speeches, he delivered also to her hieness three writings, the tenour whereof is uncertain. That being done, the bairn ascended in the cloud, and the said cloud steekit.’

‘Thereafter the queen’s grace came down to the Tolbooth, at the whilk was ... twa scaffats, ane aboon, and ane under that. Upon the under was situate ane fair virgin called Fortune, under the whilk was three fair virgins, all clad in maist precious attirement, called ... , Justice, and Policy. And after ane little speech made there, the queen’s grace came to the Cross, where there was standand four fair virgins, clad in the maist heavenly claithing, and frae the whilk Cross the wine ran out at the spouts in great abundance. There was the noise of people casting the glasses with wine.’

‘This being done, our lady came to the Salt Tron, where there was some speakers; and after ane little speech, they burnt upon the scaffat made at the said Tron the manner of ane sacrifice. Sae that being done, she departed to the Nether Bow, where there was ane other scaffat made, having ane dragon in the same, with some speeches; and after the dragon was burnt, and the queen’s grace heard ane psalm sung, her hieness passed to the abbey of Holyroodhouse, with the said convoy and nobilities. There the bairns whilk was in the cart with the propine made some speech concerning the putting away of the mass, and thereafter sang ane psalm. And this being done, the ... honest men remained in her outer chalmer, and desired her grace to receive the said cupboard, whilk was double over-gilt; the price thereof was 2000 merks; wha received the same and thankit them thereof. And sae the honest men and convoy come to Edinburgh.’—D. O.

The Sunday banquet to the queen’s uncles duly took place in the cardinal’s lodging in Blackfriars’ Wynd. The entire expenses on the occasion of this royal reception were 4000 merks.

1561. Oct. 8.

Before the queen had been settled for many weeks in her capital, the new-born zeal of the people against the old religion found vent in a way that shewed in how little danger she was of being spoilt by complaisance on the part of her subjects. The provost of Edinburgh, Archibald Douglas, with the bailies and council, ‘causit ane proclamation to be proclaimit at the Cross of Edinburgh, commanding and charging all and sundry monks, friars, priests, and all others papists and profane persons, to pass furth of Edinburgh within twenty-four hours, under the pain of burning of disobeyers upon the cheek and harling of them through the town upon ane cart. At the whilk proclamation, the queen’s grace was very commovit.’—D. O. She had, after all, sufficient influence to cause the provost and bailies to be degraded from their offices for this act of zeal.

The autumn of this year, the weather was ‘richt guid and fair.’ In the winter quarter, the weather was still fair, and there was ‘peace and rest in all Scotland.’—C. F.

Dec. 16.

William Guild was convicted, notwithstanding his being a minor and of weak mind, of ‘the thieftous stealing and taking forth of the purse of Elizabeth Danielstone, the spouse of Niel Laing, hinging upon her apron ... she being upon the High Street, standing at the krame of William Speir ... in communing with him, the time of the putting of ane string to ane penner and inkhorn, whilk she had coft [bought] fra the said kramer, of ane signet of gold, ane other signet of gold set with ane cornelian, ane gold ring set with ane great sapphire, ane other gold ring with ane sapphire formit like ane heart, ane gold ring set with ane turquois, ane small double gold ring set with ane diamond and ane ruby, ane auld angel-noble, and ane cusset ducat.’—Pit. This account of the contents of Mrs Laing’s purse, in connection with the decorations of the fifty young citizens who convoyed the queen in her procession through the city, raises unexpected ideas as to the means and taste of the middle classes in 1561.

1561. Dec. 24.

Mr William Balfour, indweller in Leith, was convicted of breaking the queen’s proclamation for the protection of the reformed religion. One of his acts—‘He, accompanied with certain wicked persons ... upon set purpose, came to the parish kirk of Edinburgh, callit Sanct Giles Kirk, where John Cairns was examining the common people of the burgh, before the last communion ... and the said John, demanding of ane poor woman, “Gif she had ony hope of salvation by her awn good works,” he, the said Mr William, in despiteful manner and with thrawn countenance, having naething to do in that kirk but to trouble the said examination, said to the said John thir words: “Thou demands of that woman the thing whilk thou nor nane of thy opinion allows or keeps.” And, after gentle admonition made to him by the said John, he said to him alsae thir words: “Thou art ane very knave, and thy doctrine is very false, as all your doctrine and teaching is.” And therewith laid his hand upon his weapons, and provoking battle; doing therethrough purposely that was in him to have raisit tumult amang the inhabitants of this burgh.’—Pit.

1561-2. Jan. 1.

Alexander Scott, a poet of that time, sometimes called the Scottish Anacreon, because he sung so much of love, sent Ane New Year Gift to the queen, in the form of a poetical address in twenty-eight stanzas. ‘Welcome, illustrate lady, and our queen!’ it begins. ‘This year sall richt and reason rule the rod’—‘this year sall be of peace, tranquillity, and rest!’ says the sanguine bard, speaking from his wishes rather than a contemplation of known facts. He calls on Mary to found on the four cardinal virtues, to cleave to Christ, and be the ‘protectrice of the puir.’ ‘Stanch all strife’—‘the pulling down of policy reprove.’

‘At Cross gar cry by open proclamation,

Under great pains, that neither he nor she

Of haly writ have ony disputation,

But letterit men or learnit clerks thereto;

For limmer lads and little lasses low

Will argue baith with bishops, priests, and frier;

To danton this thou has eneuch to do,

God give thee grace against this guid new year!’

Mary would probably feel the force of the seventh line of this stanza.

With commendable prudence, seeing he was addressing a papist queen, honest Alexander says:

‘With mess nor matins noways will I mell,

To judge them justly passes my ingine;

They guide nocht ill that governs weel themsel.’

Yet he deems himself at liberty to remark—doubtless suspecting that Mary would not be much displeased—that instead of old idols has now come in another called Covetice, under whose auspices, certain persons, while

1561-2

‘Singing Sanct David’s psalter on their books,’

are found

‘Rugging and ryving up kirk rents like rooks.’

‘Protestants,’ he goes on to say,

‘takes the friers’ antetume,[14]

Ready receivers, but to render nocht.’

On this Lord Hailes remarks: ‘The reformed clergy expected that the tithes would be applied to charitable uses, to the advancement of learning and the maintenance of the ministry. But the nobility, when they themselves had become the exactors, saw nothing rigorous in the payment of tithes, and derided those devout imaginations.’[15]

In one verse of his poem, Scott makes pointed allusion to certain prophecies which seemed to assign a brilliant future to Mary:

‘If saws be sooth to shaw thy celsitude,

What bairn should brook all Britain by the sea,

The prophecy expressly does conclude

The French wife of the Bruce’s blood should be:

Thou art by line from him the ninth degree,

And was King Francis’ perty maik and peer;

So by descent the same should spring of thee,

By grace of God against this good new year.’

The poet here undoubtedly had in view a prediction which occurs in a rude metrical tract printed at Edinburgh by Robert Waldegrave in 1603, under the title, ‘The Whole Prophesies of Scotland, England, and somepart of France and Denmark, prophesied by mervellous Merling, Beid, Bertlingtoun, Thomas Rymour, Waldhave, &c., all according in one.’[16] These so-called prophecies are unintelligible rhapsodies about lions, dragons, foumarts, conflicts of knights, of armies, and of navies—how there should be fighting on a moor beside a cross, till by the multitude of slain the crow should not find where the cross stood—how the dead shall rise, ‘and that shall be wonder’—how

‘When the man in the moon is most in his might,

Then shall Dunbarton turn up that is down,

And the mouth of Arran both at one time,

And the lord with the lucken hand his life shall he lose—’

and much more of the like kind.

1561-2.

From the style of the verse, which is in general alliterative, as well as some of the allusions, it may be surmised that these prophecies were written in the minority of James V., on the basis of obscure popular sayings attributed to Merlin, Rymour, and other early sages. The special passage which Alexander Scott refers to was in Rymour’s prophecies, but also given in a slightly different form in those of Bertlingtoun:

‘A French wife shall bear the son,

Shall rule all Britain to the sea,

That of the Bruce’s blood shall come,

As near as to the ninth degree.’

There can be no doubt that it is applicable to Queen Mary, who was a French wife, and in the ninth degree of descent from Bruce; and did we know for certain that it formed a part of the prophecies made up in the minority of her father, it would be remarkable. But the probability is, that the verse was a recent addition to the old rhymes, a mere conjecture formed in the view of the possibility and the hope that a child of Mary would succeed to the English crown at the close of Elizabeth’s life. What makes the allusion of Scott chiefly worthy of notice, is the knowledge it gives us of the public mind being then possessed by such soothsayings. It certainly was so, to a degree and with effects beyond what we now may readily imagine.[17]

1561-2.

While Scotland was noted in the eyes of foreigners as a barren land—Shakspeare comparing it for nakedness to the palm of the hand[18]—its own people were fain to believe and eager to boast that it was rich in minerals. In 1511, 1512, and 1513, James IV. had gold-mines worked on Crawford Muir, in the upper ward of Lanarkshire—a peculiarly sterile tract, scarcely any part of which is less than a thousand feet above the sea. In the royal accounts for those years, there are payments to Sir James Pettigrew, who seems to have been chief of the enterprise, to Simon Northberge, the master-finer, Andrew Ireland, the finer, and Gerald Essemer, a Dutchman, the melter of the mine. Under the same king, in 1512, a lead-mine was wrought at Wanlock-head, on the other side of the same group of hills in Dumfriesshire. The operations, probably interrupted by the disaster of Flodden, were resumed in 1526, under James V., who gave a company of Germans a grant of the mines of Scotland for forty-three years. Leslie tells us that these Germans, with the characteristic perseverance of their countrymen, toiled laboriously at gold-digging for many months in the surface alluvia of the moor, and obtained a considerable amount of gold, but not enough, we suspect, to remunerate the labour: otherwise the work would surely have been continued.

We shall find that the search for the precious metals in the mountainous district at the head of the vales of the Clyde and Nith, did not now finally cease, but that it never proved remunerative work. On the other hand, the lead-mines of the district have for centuries, and down to the present day, borne a conspicuous place in the economy of Scotland. It must be interesting to see the traces of the first efforts to get at

‘the wealth

Hopetoun’s high mountains fill.’

Jan. 23.

John Acheson, master-cunyer, and John Aslowan, burgess of Edinburgh, now completed an arrangement with Queen Mary, by virtue of which they had licence to work the lead-mines of Glengoner and Wanlock-head, and carry as much as twenty thousand stone-weight of the ore to Flanders, or other foreign countries, for which they bound themselves to deliver at the queen’s cunyie-house before the 1st of August next, forty-five ounces of fine silver for every thousand stone-weight of the ore, ‘extending in the hale to nine hundred unces of utter fine silver.’

Acheson and Aslowan were continuing to work these mines in August 1565, when the queen and her husband, King Henry, granted a licence to John, Earl of Athole, ‘to win forty thousand trone stane wecht, counting six score stanes for ilk hundred, of lead ore, and mair, gif the same may guidly be won, within the nether lead hole of Glengoner and Wanlock.’ The earl agreed to pay to their majesties in requital fifty ounces of fine silver for every thousand stone-weight of the ore.—P. C. R.

How the enterprise of Acheson and Aslowan ultimately succeeded does not appear. We suspect that, to some extent, it prospered, as the name Sloane, which seems the same as Aslowan, continued to flourish at Wanlock-head so late as the days of Burns.

A similar licence, on similar terms, was granted by the king and queen to James Carmichael, Master James Lindsay, and Andrew Stevenson, burgesses of Edinburgh, referring, however, to any part of the realm save ‘the mine and werk of Glengoner and Wanlock.’

1561-2. Feb. 8.

The Lord James, newly created Earl of Mar (subsequently of Moray), ‘was married-upon Annas Keith, daughter to William Earl Marischal, in the kirk of Sanct Geil in Edinburgh, with sic solemnity as the like has not been seen before; the hale nobility of this realm being there present, and convoyit them down to Holyroodhouse, where the banquet was made, and the queen’s grace thereat.’ The solemnity was of a kind which seems rather frisky for so zealous an upholder of the presbyterian cause. ‘At even, after great and divers balling, and casting of fire-balls, fire-spears, and running with horses,’ the queen created sundry knights. Next day, ‘at even, the queen’s grace and the remaining lords came up in ane honourable manner frae the palace of Holyroodhouse to the Cardinal’s lodging in the Blackfrier Wynd, whilk was preparit and hung maist honourably; and there her hieness suppit, and the rest with her. After supper, the honest young men in the town [the youths of the upper classes] came with ane convoy to her, and other some came with merschance, well accouterit in maskery, and thereafter departit to the said palace.’—D. O.

Feb.

There was ‘meikle snaw in all parts; mony deer and roes slain.’—C. F.

1562. Apr.

The queen was at St Andrews, inquiring into a conspiracy of which the Duke of Chatelherault and the Earl of Bothwell had been accused by the Duke’s son, the Earl of Arran. In the midst of the affair, Arran proved to be ‘phrenetick.’ On the 4th of May, ‘my Lords Arran, Bothwell, and the Commendator of Kilwinning came fra St Andrews to the burgh of Edinburgh in this manner; that is to say, my Lord Arran was convoyit in the queen’s grace’s coach, because of the phrenesy aforesaid, and the Earl of Bothwell and my Lord Commendator of Kilwinning rade, convoyit with twenty-four horsemen, whereof was principal Captain Stewart, captain of the queen’s guard.’—D. O.

1562.

This is not the first notice of a travelling vehicle that occurs in our national domestic history. Several payments in connection with a chariot belonging to the late Queen Mary de Guise, so early as 1538, occur in the lord-treasurer’s books.[19] It is not, however, likely that either the chariot of the one queen or the coach of the other was a wheeled vehicle, as, if we may trust to an authority about to be quoted, such a convenience was as yet unknown even in England.

‘In the year 1564, Guilliam Boonen, a Dutchman, became the queen’s coachman, and was the first that brought the use of coaches into England. And after a while, divers great ladies, with as great jealousy of the queen’s displeasure, made them coaches, and rid in them up and down the countries, to the great admiration of all the beholders; but then, by little and little, they grew usual among the nobility and others of sort, and within twenty years became a great trade of coachmaking.

‘And about that time began long waggons to come in use, such as now come to London from Canterbury, Norwich, Ipswich, Gloucester, &c., with passengers and commodities. Lastly, even at this time (1605) began the ordinary use of carouches.’—Howes’s Chronicle.

The author of the Memorie of the Somervilles—who, however, lived in the reign of Charles II., and probably wrote from tradition only—says that the Regent Morton used a coach, which was the second introduced into Scotland, the first being one which Alexander Lord Seaton brought from France, when Queen Mary returned from that country. It is to be remarked that the Lord Seaton of that day was George, not Alexander; and it is evident that Mary did not use a coach on her landing, or at her ceremonial entry into Edinburgh.

To turn for a moment to one of the remoter and wilder parts of the country—John Mackenzie of Kintail ‘was a great courtier with Queen Mary. He feued much of the lands of Brae Ross. When the queen sent her servants to know the condition of the gentry of Ross, they came to his house of Killin; but before their coming he had gotten intelligence that it was to find out the condition of the gentry of Ross that they were coming; whilk made him cause his servants to put ane great fire of fresh arn [alder] wood when they came, to make a great reek; also he caused kill a great bull in their presence; whilk was put altogether into ane kettle to their supper. When the supper came, there were a half-dozen great dogs present, to sup the broth of the bull, whilk put all the house through-other with their tulyie. When they ended the supper, ilk ane lay where they were. The gentlemen thought they had gotten purgatory on earth, and came away as soon as it was day; but when they came to the houses of Balnagowan, and Foulis, and Milton, they were feasted like princes.

1562.

‘When they went back to the queen, she asked who were the ablest men they saw in Ross. They answered: “They were all able men, except that man that was her majesty’s great courtier, Mackenzie—that he did both eat and lie with his dogs.” “Truly,” said the queen, “it were a pity of his poverty—he is the best man of them all.” Then the queen did call for all the gentry of Ross to take their land in feu, when Mackenzie got the cheap feu, and more for his thousand merks than any of the rest got for five.’[20]

Sep. 23.

This day commenced a famous disputation between John Knox and Quintin Kennedy, abbot of Crossraguel, concerning the doctrines of popery. Kennedy was uncle to the Earl of Cassillis, a young Protestant noble, and the greatest man in the west of Scotland. The birth and ecclesiastical rank of the abbot made him an important person in his province, and he possessed both zeal for the ancient religion and talents to set it in its fairest light. Early in September, John Knox, coming into Ayrshire for certain objects connected with the Protestant cause, found that Abbot Kennedy had set forth, in the church of Kirkoswald, articles in support of the Catholic faith, which he was willing to defend. The fiery reformer immediately resolved to take up the challenge; and after a tedious correspondence between the two regarding the place, time, and number to be present, they met in the house of the provost of the collegiate church of Maybole, under the sanction of the Earl of Cassillis, and with forty persons on each side. The conference commenced at eight in the morning, being opened by John Knox with a prayer, which Kennedy admitted to be ‘weel said.’

1562.

We can imagine the forty supporters of Kennedy full of joyful anticipation as to the defeat which their champion was to give the unpolite heretic Knox, and the company of the latter not less hopeful regarding the triumph which he was to achieve over the luxurious abbot. Acts of parliament had done their best to put down the old church, and still it had some obstinate adherents; but now comes the valiant reformer, with pure argument from Scripture, to sweep one of these recusants off the face of the earth, and leave the rest without an excuse for their obstinacy. Now are the mass, purgatory, worship of saints, and other popish doctrines, to be finally put down. If such were the anticipations, they were doomed to a sad disappointment. The disputation proved to be the very type of all similar wranglings which have since taken place between the two parties.

It will scarcely be believed, but there is only too little reason why it should not, that three days were consumed by these redoubted controversialists in debating one question. The warrant of the abbot for considering the mass as a sacrifice was the priesthood and oblation of Melchizedek. ‘The Psalmist,’ said he, ‘and als the apostle St Paul affirms our Saviour to be ane priest for ever according to the order of Melchizedek, wha made oblation and sacrifice of bread and wine unto God, as the Scripture plainly teacheth us.... Read all the evangel wha pleases, he sall find in no place of the evangel where our Saviour uses the priesthood of Melchizedek, declaring himself to be ane priest after the order of Melchizedek, but in the Latter Supper, where he made oblation of his precious body and blude under the form of bread and wine prefigurate by the oblation of Melchizedek: then are we compelled to affirm that our Saviour made oblation of his body and blude in the Latter Supper, or else he was not ane priest according to the order of Melchizedek, which is express against the Scripture.’

To this Knox answered that Scripture gives no warrant for supposing that Melchizedek offered bread and wine unto Abraham, and therefore the abbot’s warrant fails. The abbot called on him to prove that Melchizedek did not do so. Knox protested that he was not bound to prove a negative. ‘For what, then,’ says Kennedy, ‘did Melchizedek bring out the bread and wine?’ Knox said, that though he was not bound to answer this question, yet he believed the bread and wine were brought out to refresh Abraham and his men. In barren wranglings on this point were nearly the whole three days spent; and, for anything we can see, the disputation might have been still further protracted, but for an opportune circumstance. Strange to say—looking at what Maybole now is—it broke down under the burden of eighty strangers in three days! They had to disperse for lack of provisions.[21]

1562. Nov.

There raged at this time in Edinburgh a disease called the New Acquaintance. The queen and most of her courtiers had it; it spared neither lord nor lady, French nor English. ‘It is a pain in their heads that have it, and a soreness in their stomachs, with a great cough; it remaineth with some longer, with others shorter time, as it findeth apt bodies for the nature of the disease.’[22] Most probably, this disorder was the same as that now recognised as the influenza.

1563. May 19.

Sir John Arthur, a priest, was indicted for baptising and marrying several persons ‘in the auld and abominable papist manner.’ Here and there, the old church had still some adherents who preferred such ministrations to any other. It appears that Hugh and David Kennedy came with two hundred followers, ‘boden in effeir of weir;’ that is, with jacks, spears, guns, and other weapons; to the parish kirk of Kirkoswald and the college kirk of Maybole, and there ministered and abused ‘the sacraments of haly kirk, otherwise and after ane other manner nor by public and general order of this realm.’ The archbishop of St Andrews in like manner came, with a number of friends, to the Abbey Kirk of Paisley, ‘and openly, publicly, and plainly took auricular confession of the said persons, in the said kirk, town, kirk-yard, chalmers, barns, middings, and killogies thereof.’—Pit. ‘After great debate, reasoning, and communication had in the council by the Protestants, wha was bent even to the death against the said archbishop and others kirkmen, the archbishop passed to the Tolbooth, and became in the queen’s will; and sae the queen’s grace commandit him to pass to the Castle of Edinburgh induring her will, to appease the furiosity foresaid.’—D. O. The other offenders also made submission, and were assigned to various places of confinement. William Semple of Thirdpart and Michael Nasmyth of Posso afterwards gave caution to the extent of £3000 for the future good behaviour of the archbishop.—Pit.

1563. June 4.

In the parliament now sitting, some noticeable acts were passed. One decreed that ‘nae person carry forth of this realm ony gold or silver, under pain of escheating of the same and of all the remainder of their moveable guids,’ merchants going abroad to carry only as much as they strictly require for their travelling expenses. Another enacted, that ‘nae person take upon hand to use ony manner of witchcrafts, sorcery, or necromancy, nor give themselves furth to have ony sic craft or knowledge thereof, therethrough abusing the people;’ also, that ‘nae person seek ony help, response, or consultation at ony sic users or abusers of witchcrafts ... under the pain of death.’ This is the statute under which all the subsequent witch-trials took place.

A third statute, reciting that much coal is now carried forth of the realm, often as mere ballast for ships, causing ‘a maist exorbitant dearth and scantiness of fuel,’ forbade further exportations of the article, under strong penalties. In those early days, coal was only dug in places where it cropped out or could be got with little trouble. As yet, no special mechanical arrangements for excavating it had come into use. The comparatively small quantity of the mineral used in Edinburgh—for there peat was the reigning fuel—was brought from Tranent, nine miles off, in creels on horses’ backs. The above enactment probably referred to some partial and temporary failure of the small supply then required. It never occurred to our simple ancestors, that to export a native produce, such as coal, and get money in return, was tending to enrich the country, and in all circumstances deserved encouragement instead of prohibition.

July 2.

Henry Sinclair, Bishop of Ross and President of the Court of Session—‘a cunning and lettered man as there was,’ remarkable for his ‘singular intelligence in theology and likewise in the laws,’ according to the Diurnal of Occurrents—‘ane perfect hypocrite and conjured enemy to Christ Jesus,’ according to John Knox—left Scotland for Paris, ‘to get remede of ane confirmed stane.’ This would imply that there was not then in our island a person qualified to perform the operation of lithotomy. The reverend father was lithotomised by Laurentius, a celebrated surgeon; but, fevering after the operation, he died in January 1564-5: in the words of Knox, ‘God strake him according to his deservings.’

1563. Sep. 13.

At the same time there were not wanting amongst us pretenders to the surgical art. In this very month, Robert Henderson attracted the favourable notice of the town-council of Edinburgh by performing sundry wonderful cures—namely, healing a man whose hands had been cut off, a man and woman who had been run through the body with swords by the French, and a woman understood to have been suffocated, and who had lain two days in her grave. The council ordered Robert twenty merks as a reward.[23] Two gentlemen became sureties in Edinburgh for Marion Carruthers, co-heiress of Mousewald, in Dumfriesshire, ‘that she shall not marry ane chief traitor nor other broken man of the country,’ under pain of £1000 (Pit)—a large sum to stake upon a young lady’s will.

This was a year of dearth throughout Scotland; wheat being six pounds the boll, oats fifty shillings, a draught-ox twenty merks, and a wedder thirty shillings. ‘All things apperteining to the sustentation of man in triple and more exceeded their accustomed prices.’ Knox, who notes these facts, remarks that the famine was most severe in the north, where the queen had travelled in the preceding autumn: many died there. ‘So did God, according to the threatening of his law, punish the idolatry of our wicked queen, and our ingratitude, that suffered her to defile the land with that abomination again [the mass].... The riotous feasting used in court and country wherever that wicked woman repaired, provoked God to strike the staff of breid, and to give his malediction upon the fruits of the earth.’

It was of the frame of the reformer’s ideas, that a judgment would be sent upon the poor for the errors of their ruler, and that this judgment would be intensified in a particular district merely because the ruler had given it her personal presence. He failed to observe, or threw aside, the fact, that the same famine prevailed in England, where a queen entirely agreeable to him and his friends was now reigning, and certainly indulging in not a few banquetings. Theories of this kind sometimes prove to be two-edged swords, that will strike either way. It might have been replied to him: ‘Accepting your theory that nations, besides suffering from the simple misgovernment of their rulers, are punished for their personal offences, what shall we say of the Protestant Elizabeth, whose people now suffer not merely under famine, as the Scotch are doing, but are visited by a dreadful pestilence besides,[24] from which Scotland is exempt?’

1563-4. Jan. 20.

‘God from heaven, and upon the face of the earth, gave declaration that he was offended at the iniquity that was committed within this realm; for, upon the 20th day of January, there fell weet in great abundance, whilk in the falling freezit so vehemently, that the earth was but ane sheet of ice. The fowls both great and small freezit, and micht not flie: mony died, and some were taken and laid beside the fire, that their feathers might resolve. And in that same month, the sea stood still, as was clearly observed, and neither ebbed nor flowed the space of twenty-four hours.’—Knox.

Feb. 15 and 18.

In the ensuing month meteorological signs even more alarming to the great reformer took place. There were seen in the firmament, says he, ‘battles arrayit, spears and other weapons, and as it had been the joining of two armies. Thir things were not only observed, but also spoken and constantly affirmed by men of judgment and credit.’ Nevertheless, he adds, ‘the queen and our court made merry.’

The reformer considered these appearances as declarations of divine wrath against the iniquity of the land, and he is evidently solicitous to establish them upon good evidence. There can be no difficulty in admitting the facts he refers to. The debate must be as to what the facts were. Most probably they were resolvable into a simple example of the aurora borealis.

The crimes of unruly passion and of superstition predominated in this age; but those of dexterous selfishness were not unknown.

1563-4. Feb.

Thomas Peebles, goldsmith in Edinburgh, was convicted of forging coin-stamps and uttering false coin—namely, Testons, Half-testons, Non-sunts, and Lions or Hardheads. It appeared that he had given some of his false hardheads to a poor woman as the price of a burden of coal. With this money she came to the market to buy some necessary articles, and was instantly challenged for passing false coin. ‘The said Thomas being named by her to be her warrant, and deliverer of the said false coin to her, David Symmer and other bailies of the burgh of Edinburgh come with her to the said Thomas’s chalmer, to search him for trial of the verity. He held the door of his said chalmer close upon him, and wald not suffer them to enter, while [till] they brake up the door thereof upon him, and entered perforce therein; and the said Thomas, being inquired if he had given the said poor woman the said lions, for the price of her coals, confessit the same; and his chalmer being searched, there was divers of the said irons, as well sunken and unsunken, together with the said false testons, &c., funden in the same, and confessit to be made and graven by him and his colleagues.’ Thomas was condemned to be hanged, and to have his property escheat to the queen.—Pit.

Mar. 22.

In consequence of the slaughter of the Laird of Cessford, in an encounter with the Laird of Buccleuch, at Melrose, in 1526, a feud had ever since raged between their respective dependents, the Kerrs and Scotts. In 1529, there had been an effort to put an end to this broil by an engagement between Walter Kerr of Cessford, Andrew Kerr of Ferniehirst, Mark Kerr of Dolphinston, George Kerr, tutor of Cessford, and Andrew Kerr of Primsideloch, for themselves and kin on the one part, and Walter Scott of Branxholm, knight, with sundry other gentlemen of his clan on the other side, whereby the latter became bound to perform the four pilgrimages of Scotland—that is, to the churches of Melrose, Dundee, Scone, and Paisley—as a reparation for the slaughter. Bad blood being nevertheless kept up, Sir Walter Scott of Branxholm, Laird of Buccleuch, was slain on the streets of Edinburgh by Cessford, in 1552.[25]

1563-4.

At the date now under attention, a meeting of the heads of the two houses took place in Edinburgh, and a contract was drawn up, setting forth certain terms of agreement, and arranging that, ‘for the mair sure removing, stanching, and away-putting of all inimity, hatrent, and grudge standing and conceivit betwin the said parties, through the unhappy slaughter of the umwhile Sir Walter Scott of Branksome, knight, and for the better continuance of amity, favour, and friendship, amangs them in time coming, the said Sir Walter Kerr of Cessford sall, upon the 23 day of March instant, come to the perish kirk of Edinburgh, now commonly callit Sanct Giles’s Kirk, and there, before noon, in sight of the people present for the time, reverently upon his knees ask God mercy of the slaughter aforesaid, and sic like ask forgiveness of the same fra the said Laird of Buccleuch and his friends whilk sall happen to be present; and thereafter promise, in the name and fear of God, that he and his friends sall truly keep their part of this present contract, and sall stand true friends to the said Laird of Buccleuch and his friends in all time coming: the whilk the said Laird of Buccleuch sall reverently accept and receive, and promise, in the fear of God, to remit his grudge, and never remember the same.’ A subsequent part of the agreement was, that the son of Cessford should marry a sister of Buccleuch, and Sir Andrew Ker of Fawdonside another sister, both without portion.[26]

This singular meeting would of course take place, but with what effect may well be doubted. It appears that the feud which had begun in 1526 still remained in force in 1596, ‘when both chieftains paraded the streets of Edinburgh with their followers, and it was expected their first meeting would decide their quarrel.’[27]

Mar. 24.

At a time when the most prominent events were clan-quarrels and the rough doings connected with the trampling out of an old religion, it is pleasant to trace even speculative attempts to enlarge the material resources and advance the primary interests of the country.

At the date noted, the queen granted to John Stewart of Tarlair,[28] and William Stewart his son, licence to win all kinds of metallic ores from the country between Tay and Orkney, on the condition of paying one stone of ore for every ten won; and this arrangement to last for nine years, during the first two of which their work was to be free, ‘in respect of their invention and great charges made, and to be made, in outreeking of the same.’ In the event of their finding any gold and silver where none were ever found before, they had the same licence, with only this condition, that the product was to be brought to her majesty’s cunyie-house, ‘the unce of gold for ten pund, and the unce of utter fine silver for 24s.’ It was too early for such an enterprise, and we hear no more of it in the hands of the two Stewarts of Tarlair.

1564. March.

John Knox, at the age of fifty-eight, entered into the state of wedlock for the second time, by marrying Margaret Stewart, daughter of Lord Ochiltree. She proved a good wife to the old man, and survived him. The circumstance of a young woman of rank, with royal blood in her veins—for such was the case—accepting an elderly husband so far below her degree, did not fail to excite remark; and John’s papist enemies could not account for it otherwise than by a supposition of the black art having been employed. The affair is thus adverted to by the reformer’s shameless enemy, Nicol Burne: ‘A little after he did pursue to have alliance with the honourable house of Ochiltree, of the king’s majesty’s awn bluid. Riding there with ane great court [cortège], on ane trim gelding, nocht like ane prophet or ane auld decrepit priest, as he was, but like as he had been ane of the bluid royal, with his bands of taffeta fastenit with golden rings and precious stanes: and, as is plainly reportit in the country, by sorcery and witchcraft, [he] did sae allure that puir gentlewoman, that she could not live without him; whilk appears to be of great probability, she being ane damsel of noble bluid, and he ane auld decrepit creature of maist base degree, sae that sic ane noble house could not have degenerate sae far, except John Knox had interposed the power of his master the devil, wha, as he transfigures himself sometimes as ane angel of licht, sae he causit John Knox appear ane of the maist noble and lusty men that could be found in the warld.’[29]

May 17.

‘... the Lord Fleming married the Lord Ross’s eldest daughter, wha was heretrix both of Ross and Halket; and the banquet was made in the park of Holyroodhouse, under Arthur’s Seat, at the end of the loch, where great triumphs was made, the queen’s grace being present, and the king of Swethland’s ambassador being then in Scotland, with many other nobles.’—Mar.

In the romantic valley between Arthur’s Seat and Salisbury Crags, there is still traceable a dam by which the natural drainage had been confined, so as to form a lake. It was probably at the end of that sheet of water that the banquet was set forth for Lord and Lady Fleming’s wedding. The incident is so pleasantly picturesque, and associates Mary so agreeably with one of her subjects, that it is gratifying to reflect on Lord Fleming proving a steady friend to the queen throughout her subsequent troubles. He stoutly maintained Dumbarton Castle in her favour against the Regents, and against Elizabeth’s general, Sir William Drury; nor was it taken from him except by stratagem.[30]

1564. Aug.

At the beginning of this month, Queen Mary paid a visit of pleasure to the Highlands of Perthshire, where the Earl of Athole was her entertainer. It is understood that Glen Tilt was the scene of a grand hunt, in the characteristic style of the country, at which the queen was present, and of which an account has been preserved to us by a scholarly personage who was in the royal train. ‘In the year 1563,’ says he (mistaking the year), ‘the Earl of Athole, a prince of the blood-royal, had, with much trouble and vast expense, a hunting-match for the entertainment of our most illustrious and most gracious queen. Our people call this a royal hunting. I was then,’ says William Barclay, ‘a young man, and was present on the occasion. Two thousand Highlanders, of wild Scotch, as you call them here, were employed to drive to the hunting-ground all the deer from the woods and hills of Athole, Badenoch, Mar, Murray, and the counties about. As these Highlanders use a light dress, and are very swift of foot, they went up and down so nimbly that in less than two months’ time they brought together 2000 red deer, besides roes and fallow-deer. The queen, the great men, and others, were in a glen when all the deer were brought before them. Believe me, the whole body of them moved forward in something like battle order. This sight still strikes me, and ever will, for they had a leader whom they followed close wherever he moved. This leader was a very fine stag, with a very high head. The sight delighted the queen very much; but she soon had occasion for fear, upon the earl’s (who had been accustomed to such sights) addressing her thus: “Do you observe that stag who is foremost of the herd? There is danger from that stag; for if either fear or rage should force him from the ridge of that hill, let every one look to himself, for none of us will be out of the way of harm; for the rest will follow this one, and having thrown us under foot, they will open a passage to this hill behind us.” What happened a moment after confirmed this opinion; for the queen ordered one of the best dogs to be let loose upon a wolf;[31] this the dog pursues, the leading stag was frightened, he flies by the same way he had come there, the rest rush after him, and break out where the thickest body of the Highlanders was. They had nothing for it but to throw themselves flat on the heath, and to allow the deer to pass over them. It was told the queen that several of the Highlanders had been wounded, and that two or three had been killed outright; and the whole body had got off, had not the Highlanders, by their skill in hunting, fallen upon a stratagem to cut off the rear from the main body. It was of those that had been separated that the queen’s dogs, and those of the nobility, made slaughter. There were killed that day 360 deer, with five wolves and some roes.’[32]

Queen Mary’s Harp.

1564.

The queen, in the course of her excursion, is believed to have taken an interest in the native music of the Highlands, in which, as in Ireland, the harp bore a distinguished part. It is even reported that a kind of competition amongst the native harpers took place in her presence, at which she adjudged the victory to Beatrix Gardyn, of Banchory, Aberdeenshire. Certain it is, that the Robertsons of Lude possessed a harp of antique form, which family tradition represented as having come to them through a descendant of Beatrix Gardyn, who had married a Robertson of Lude; and the same authority regarded this harp with veneration, as having been the prize conferred on the fair Beatrix by Queen Mary, for her superior excellence as a performer on the instrument.[33] Queen Mary’s harp, as it is called, is now in the possession of Mr Stewart of Dalguise.[34] It is a small instrument compared with the modern harp, being fitted for twenty-eight strings, the longest extending twenty-four inches, the shortest two and a half. There had once been gems set in it, and also, it is supposed, a portrait of the queen. It was strung anew and played upon in 1806.

This summer there was ‘guid cheap of victuals in all parts. The year afore, the boll of meal gave five merk, and this summer it was 18s. There ye may see the grace of God.’—C. F.

Oct.

‘... William Smibert, being callit before the kirk [session of the Canongate] why he sufferit his bairn to be unbaptised, answers: “No, I have my bairn baptised, and that in the queen’s grace’s chapel,” because, as he allegit, the kirk refusit him; and being requirit wha was witness unto the child, answers: “I will show no man at this time.” For the whilk, James Wilkie, bailie, assistant with the kirk, commands the said William to be halden in ward until he declare wha was his witness, that the kirk may be assurit the bairn to be baptisit, and by wham.’—Kirk-session Rec. of Canongate.

1564-5. Jan.

The queen making a progress in Fife caused so much banqueting as to produce a scarcity of wild-fowl: ‘partridges were sold for a crown apiece.’—Knox.

1565. Apr. 1.

The communion was administered in Edinburgh, and as it was near Easter, the few remaining Catholics met at mass. The reformed clergy were on the alert, and seized the priest, Sir James Carvet, as he was coming from the house where he had officiated. Knox tells us with what an absurd degree of leniency the offender was treated. They ‘conveyed him,’ says he, ‘together with the master of the house, and one or two more of the assistants, to the Tolbooth, and immediately revested him with all his garments upon him, and so carried him to the Market Cross, where they set him on high, binding the chalice in his hand, and himself tied fast to the said Cross, where he tarried the space of one hour; during which time the boys served him with his Easter eggs.

‘The next day, Carvet with his assistants were accused and convinced by an assize, according to the act of parliament; and, albeit for the same offence he deserved death, yet, for all punishment, he was set upon the Market Cross for the space of three or four hours, the hangman standing by and keeping him, [while] the boys and others were busy with eggs-casting.’

The queen sent an angry letter to the magistrates about this business; from which ‘may be perceived how grievously the queen’s majesty would have been offended if the mess-monger had been handled according to his demerit’—that is, hanged.—Knox.

Apr.

A discovery of antique remains was made at Inveresk, near Musselburgh, revealing the long-forgotten fact of the Romans once having had a settlement on that fine spot. Randolph, the English resident at Mary’s court, communicated some account of the discovery to the Earl of Bedford. ‘April 7, For certain there is found a cave beside Musselburgh, standing upon a number of pillars, made of tile-stones curiously wrought, signifying great antiquity, and strange monuments found in the same. This cometh to my knowledge, besides the common report, by th’ assurance of Alexander Clerk, who was there to see it, which I will myself do within three or four days, and write unto your lordship the more certainty thereof, for I will leave nothing of it unseen.’ ‘April 18, The cave found beside Musselburgh, seemeth to be some monument of the Romans, by a stone which was found, with these words graven upon him, Appolloni Granno Q. L. Sabinianus Proc. Aug. Divers short pillars set upright upon the ground, covered with tile-stones, large and thick, torning into divers angles, and certain places like unto chynes [chimneys] to avoid smoke. This is all I can gather thereof.’[35]

1565.

The reader will be amused at the difficulty which Randolph seems to have felt in visiting a spot scarcely six miles from Edinburgh. He will, however, be equally gratified to know that the queen herself became interested in the preservation of the remains found on this occasion. Her treasurer’s accounts contain an entry of twelvepence, paid to ‘ane boy passand of Edinburgh, with ane charge of the queen’s grace, direct to the bailies of Musselburgh, charging them to tak diligent heed and attendance, that the monument of grit antiquity, new fundin, be nocht demolishit nor broken down.’

The monument here spoken of was, in reality, an altar dedicated to Apollo Grannicus, the Long-haired Apollo, by Sabinianus, proconsul of Augustus, while the cave with pillars was the hypocaust or heating-chamber of a bath, connected with a villa, of which further remains were discovered in January 1783. The spot where the antiquities were discovered in 1565 is occupied by the lawn in front of Inveresk House. Camden reports the following as an accurate copy of the inscription, made by Sir Peter Young, preceptor to King James VI.—‘Appollini Granno Q. Lusius Sabinianus Proc. Aug. vsslvm.’—which is thus extended and translated by the ingenious Robert Stuart in his Caledonia Romana (1845): ‘Appollini Grannico Quintus Lusius Sabinianus Proconsul Augusti, votum susceptum solvit lubens volens merito;’ that is, ‘To Appollo Granicus, Quintus Lusius Sabinianus, the Proconsul of Augustus [dedicates this], a self-imposed vow, cheerfully performed.’

Napier alludes to the Inveresk altar in his Commentary on the Apocalypse, and it appears to have attracted the attention of Ben Jonson, when he was in Scotland in 1618. We last hear of it from Sir Robert Sibbald, who died in 1711. In Gordon’s Itinerarium, published a few years later, it is not noticed; wherefore it may be conjectured that this interesting relic of antiquity was lost sight of or destroyed about the beginning of the eighteenth century.

REIGN OF MARY: 1565-1567.

In July 1565, Mary married her youthful cousin, Henry Lord Darnley, son of the Earl of Lennox. This was a match not without its politic aspect, as things stood at that time, for, by accepting Darnley as her husband, the Scottish queen took a rival out of her way to the English throne, and added his pretensions to her own. As Darnley, however, was a Catholic, the union was disrelished by Queen Elizabeth, as well as by all the leaders of the Protestant interest in Scotland. A still greater objection to it lay in the weak and childish character of the young king.

Moray and his friends were thrown by the event into a rebellion; which, however, quickly ended in his defeat and exile. The queen then ruled for some time with the assistance of her husband and of her Italian secretary, David Riccio. In such circumstances, it was unavoidable that the confidence of her Protestant people should abate. Darnley soon proved to be little worth the sacrifice she had made for his sake. By a freak of youthful folly, prompted by jealousy of Riccio’s influence, he associated in a conspiracy with the banished Moray and his associates, for putting the Italian away from the queen; thinking he might then bear undivided sway. Riccio was assassinated at Holyroodhouse, in the queen’s presence (March 9, 1566), and the Protestant lords immediately returned. The horrible outrage took a strong hold of Mary’s feelings, and was allowed too much to sway her subsequent actions. She seemed, however, to be reconciled to her husband; and not long after, her son, who afterwards became James VI., was born (June 19, 1566).

The childishness and low habits of Darnley completely unfitted him to become an adviser and help to the queen; he proved, on the contrary, a source of great trouble and vexation. Indignant as she was at Moray, Morton, and other Protestant lords who had been concerned in the Riccio assassination, she was little inclined to lean upon them as before. As the only remaining resource, she began to give her confidence to the Earl of Bothwell and the Earl of Huntly, two nobles of great power, but whose administration could not bring her so much popularity. Bothwell was a man of coarse character, fully as much disposed as any man in that age to gain his ambitious ends by violence. As early as March 1561-2, he had formed a plan for seizing the queen’s person, and carrying her to the castle of Dumbarton, that he and the Duke of Chatelherault might enjoy the government between them. He had since then been restored to favour; but, so far from the queen having ever appeared to regard him as a lover, she had, so lately as February 1565-6, promoted and sanctioned his marriage to a friend of her own, a sister of the Earl of Huntly. He seems now to have thought that an opportunity was presented for his acquiring a mastery in Scotland. He caused the wretched Darnley to be murdered at his lodging in the Kirk of Field, near Edinburgh (March 12, 1567). Being suspected and accused of this act, he submitted to a trial, but was able to overbear justice, and to maintain his place in the queen’s councils.

Mary, consequently, suffered in reputation, though whether she was aware of Bothwell’s guilt is to this day a matter of doubt; much less is it certain that she had, as has been suspected, a guilty knowledge of her husband’s death.

Having procured the countenance of some of the nobility to his plans, Bothwell seized the queen at the river Almond (April 24), and conducted her to his castle of Dunbar, where he kept her a prisoner, as was generally believed, by her own consent. His wife being hastily divorced, he married the queen (May 15), and thus seemed to have fully attained the object of his ambition; but the Protestant leaders rose in arms, took the queen away from him, and drove him into banishment. Mary, as one suspected of horrible crimes, was imprisoned in Lochleven Castle (June 17), and forced to sign a deed of abdication in favour of her infant son, who was consequently crowned as James VI., with the Earl of Moray as regent during his minority (July 29).

‘Ane guid summer and har’est.’—C. F.

1565. Aug. 6.

The queen and her husband were obliged, immediately after their marriage, to set about the suppression of a rebellion. The measure they adopted for raising troops was according to the custom and rule of the Scottish government. ‘There was ane proclamation at the Mercat Cross of Edinburgh, commanding all and sundry earls, lords, barons, freeholders, gentlemen, and substantious yeomen, to address them with fifteen days victuals, to pass and convoy the king and queen to the parts of Fife, under the pain of tinsel [loss] of life, lands, and guids; and also commanding all and sundry the inhabitants of the burgh of Edinburgh, betwixt sixteen and sixty, to address them in the same manner, under the pains aforesaid.’—D. O. On the 22d of the month, this order was extended to ‘all our sovereign’s lieges.’

1565.

This feudal mode of raising an army was felt as a serious burden, particularly in the larger towns, where industry had attained, of course, the highest organisation. For the Rothschilds of Edinburgh, such as they were, there was another trouble. The mode of raising money adopted by Henry and Mary was not quite what would suit the views of modern men of that class. Sept. 27, ‘Our soveranes causit certain of the principals of Edinburgh to come to them to Halyrudehouse, and after their coming, some of free will, and some brought agains their will, our soverane lady made ane orison to them, desiring them to lend her certain sowms of money, whilk they refusit to do; and therefore they were commandit to remain in ward within the auld tower wherein my lord of Murray lodgit, wherein they remainit.’ Ultimately, the two difficulties were in a manner solved by each other. On the 6th of October, the above-mentioned notables of the city ‘agreeit with our soveranes in this manner, to lend their majesties ten thousand merks, upon the superiority of Leith, under reversion ... and alse to give their highnesses ane thousand pounds, to suffer the haill town to remain at hame.’

For some time after, the criminal records abound in cases of persons ‘delatit for abiding from the queen’s host.’ On such occasions, some are found excusing themselves on account of sickness or personal infirmity; others plead their having sent substitutes. When no excuse could be made, fines are imposed. On the whole, it appears to have been a public burden of no light character, and during the reign of Mary, and the subsequent regencies, it was, owing to the great troubles of the country, of frequent occurrence.

‘Great herships and oppression in mony parts of Scotland, in Strathearn, in Lennox, in Glenalmond, in Breadalbin; baith slaughter and oppression being made in sundry other parts by the Earl of Argyle and M‘Gregor and their accomplices. Siclike in Strathardle, mony men slain by the men of Athole and the Stuarts of Lorn.’—C. F.

Nov.

The town-council of Edinburgh were accustomed annually, at this time, to bestow upon their chief a bullock, which was called The Provost’s Ox, twelve pounds Scots being allowed for the purpose of buying the best that was to be had. They also now gave him a tun of wine, and twelve ells of velvet to make him a gown, as an acknowledgment of special services he had done to the city.—City Register, apud Maitland.

1565-6. Mar. 2.

‘... it was ordainit by the ministers, exhorters, and readers of this realm, that they should begin ane public abstinence fra that day aucht hours afternoon, whilk was Saturday, unto Sunday at five hours at even, and then to take but bread and drink, and that in ane sober manner, during the whilk time the people to be occupiet in prayers and hearing the word of God; and as meikle to be done the next Sunday thereafter, for to pray to the eternal God that he wald saften and pacify his angry wrath whilk appearandly is come upon us for our sins, and specially that God wald inform, mollify, and make soft the hearts of our sovereigns towards our nobility whilk are now banished in England....’—D. O.

These nobles were meanwhile arranging very active measures by the arm of flesh to bring about the desired change. Before the second fast had taken place, Riccio lay cold with his fifty-six wounds in the ante-chamber of Holyrood, the palace was in the hands of Morton, and the exiled lords had returned to Edinburgh.

1566. June.

Paul Methven, originally a baker in Dundee, afterwards minister of Jedburgh, for an immorality of a gross kind, was excommunicated by the General Assembly in 1563. He was from the first penitent, offering to submit to any punishment which the church might impose for his offence, ‘even if it were to lose any member of his body.’ After two or three years of troubles and buffetings to and fro, he succeeded in inducing the Assembly to look mildly on his case. ‘It was ordainit that he present himself personally before the Assembly, and, being entrit, [he] prostrate[d] himself before the whole brethren with weeping and howling, and, being commandit to rise, might not express farther his request, being, as appeared, so sore troublit with anguish of heart.’ The penance imposed gives a striking idea of the discipline of these Calvinistic fathers: ‘The said Paul upon the twa preaching-days betwixt the Sundays, sall come to the kirk door of Edinburgh when the second bell rings, clad in sackcloth, bareheaded and barefooted, and there remain while [until] he be brought in to the sermon, and placed in the public spectacle above the people ... in the next Sunday after sall declare signs of his inward repentance to the people, humbly requiring the kirk’s forgiveness; whilk done, he sall be clad in his awn apparel, and received in the society of the kirk as ane lively member thereof.’

1566. June 19.

A prince, who subsequently became James VI., was born to the queen in Edinburgh Castle, within that small irregularly shaped room, of about eight feet each way, which is still to be seen in the angle of the old palace. The wet-nurse of the royal babe was a certain Lady Reres, whose name occurs unpleasantly in the subsequent history of Mary. At the same time, the Countess of Athole, who was believed to have magical gifts, was brought to bed in the Castle. In a conversation which took place five years after, at Fallside in Fife, between one Andrew Lundie and John Knox, the former related that, ‘when the queen was lying in gisson of the king, the Lady Athole, lying there likewise, baith within the Castle of Edinburgh, he came there for some business, and callit for the Lady Reres, whom he fand in her chalmer, lying bedfast, and, he asking of her disease, she answerit that she was never so troubled with no bairn that ever she bare, for the Lady Athole had casten all the pyne of her childbirth upon her.’[36]

It was a prevalent belief of that age that the pains of parturition could be transferred by supernatural art, and not merely to another woman, but to a man or to one of the lower animals. Amongst the charges against an enchantress of the upper ranks called Eupham M‘Calyean, twenty-five years after this time, is one to the effect, that, for relief of her pain at the time of the birth of her two sons, she had had a bored stone laid under her pillow, and enchanted powder rolled up in her hair—likewise ‘your guidman’s sark tane aff him, and laid womplit under your bed-feet; the whilk being practisit, your sickness was casten aff you unnaturally, upon ane dog, whilk ran away and was never seen again.’[37]

1566. Dec. 10.
Dec. 17.

‘The Earl of Bedford, accompanied with forty horsemen, Englishmen, come as ambassador frae the queen’s majesty of England, to nominate ane woman in Scotland, to be cummer to our sovereigns, to the baptising of our prince, their son, to the burgh of Edinburgh, and was lodgit in my lord duke’s lodging at the Kirk of Field. In his coming in Edinburgh, he was honourably convoyit by the gentlemen of Lothian, but for the maist part by them of the Religion, because the said earl favourit the same greatumly. The said earl brought ane font, frae the queen’s grace of England, of twa stane wecht, to be presentit to our sovereigns, in the whilk their son and our prince should be baptisit; the same was of fine gold. And he brought ane ring with ane stane, to be delivered to the said woman wha should occupy the place of the queen’s grace of England in the time of the said baptising.’—D. O.

The young prince was baptised at Stirling Castle, and named Charles James. The preparations in apparel and decorations were magnificent beyond everything of the kind hitherto known. ‘The said prince was borne out of his chalmer to the chapel by the French ambassador, my Lady of Argyle, cummer for the Queen of England by commission, and Monsieur La Croc for the Duke of Savoy. All the barons and gentlemen bore prickets of wax, wha stood in rank on ilk side, frae the prince’s chalmer door to the said chapel. Next the French ambassador, ane great serge of wax by the Earl of Athole, the salt-vat by the Earl of Eglintoun, the cude by the Lord Semple, the basin and laver by the Lord Ross; and at the chapel door, the prince was receivit by my Lord Sanct Androis, wha was executor officii in pontificalibus, with staff, mitre, cross, and the rest. Collaterals to him were the Bishops of Dunkeld [and] Dumblane, with their rochets and hoods; and also assistit with rochets and hoods the Bishop of Ross, the Prior of Whithorn, and sundry others with serpclaiths and hoods, and the hale college of the chapel royal, with their habits and u[p]maist copes[?]. The prince was baptisit in the said font, and thir solemnities endit by near five hours afternoon, with singing and playing on organs.’—D. O.

It appears that at these festivities the skeleton was not wanting. ‘There was sitting in the entry of the Castle a poor man asking alms, having a young child upon his knee, whose head was so great [hydrocephalus?] that the body of the child could scarce bear it up. A certain gentleman perceiving it, could scarce refrain from tears, for fear of the evils he judged to be portended.’—Knox.

1566-7. Feb. 10.

‘... At twa hours in the morning, there come certain traitors to the provost’s house [in the Kirk of Field], wherein was our sovereign’s husband Henry, and ane servant of his, callit William Taylor, lying in their naked beds; and there privily with wrang keys openit the doors, and come in upon the said prince, and there without mercy worried him and his said servant in their beds; and thereafter took him and his servant furth of that house, and cuist him naked in ane yard beside the Thief Raw, and syne come to the house again, and blew the house in the air, sae that there remainit not ane stane upon ane other, undestroyit.... At five hours, the said prince and his servant was found lying dead in the said yard, and was ta’en into ane house in the Kirk of Field, and laid while [till] they were buriet.’—D. O.

Buchanan relates two ‘prodigies’ which happened in connection with the death of Darnley. ‘One John Lundin, a gentleman of Fife, having long been sick of a fever, the day before the king was killed, about noon, raised himself a little in his bed, and, as if he had been astonished, cried out to those that stood by him, with a loud voice, “to go help the king, for the parricides were just then murdering him;” and a while after he called out with a mournful tone, “Now it is too late to help him; he is already murdered;” and he himself lived not long after he had uttered these words.’ The other circumstance occurred just at the time the murder happened. ‘Three of the familiar friends of the Earl of Athole, the king’s cousin, men of reputation for valour and estate, had their lodgings not far from the king’s. When they were asleep about midnight, there was a certain man seemed to come to Dugald Stewart, who lay next the wall, and to draw his hand gently over his beard and cheek, so as to awake him, saying, “Arise, they are offering violence to you.” He presently awaked, and was considering the apparition within himself, when another of them cries out presently in the same bed, “Who kicks me?” Dugald answered, “Perhaps it is a cat, which used to walk about in the night;” upon which the third, who was not yet awake, rose presently out of his bed, and stood upon the floor, demanding “who it was that had given him a box on the ear?” As soon as he had spoken, a person seemed to go out of the house by the door, and that not without some noise. Whilst they were descanting on what they had heard and seen, the noise of the blowing up of the king’s house put them into a very terrible consternation.’

1567. Apr. 24.

‘... whilk was Sanct Mark’s even, our sovereign lady, riding frae Stirling (whereto she passed a little before to visie her son) to Edinburgh, James Earl of Bothwell, accompaniet with seven or aucht hundred men and friends, whom he causit believe that he would ride upon the thieves of Liddesdale, met our sovereign lady betwixt Kirkliston and Edinburgh, at ane place called the Briggis, accompaniet with ane few number, and there took her person, [which he conducted] to the castle of Dunbar. The rumour of the ravishing of her majesty coming to the provost of Edinburgh, incontinent the common bell rang, and the inhabitants ran to armour and weapons, the ports was steekit, [and] the artillery of the Castle shot.’—D. O.

The place indicated was well chosen for the purpose, being in an angle of ground enclosed by the Almond River and the Gogar Burn, which meet here; so that the queen and her little party could not have fled except at considerable risk. The post-road from Linlithgow to Edinburgh still passes by the spot, immediately after crossing the river Almond by the Boat-house Bridge.[38] Thus characterised, it is perhaps of all places on the road from Linlithgow to Edinburgh, that which Bothwell might be expected to choose if he had been in no collusion with the queen, and anxious to take her at advantage.

May 11.

The queen had time at this remarkable crisis of her history—when just about to be married to Bothwell—to grant a letter to ‘the cunning men of the occupation and craft of chirurgeons,’ freeing them from the duty of attending hosts and wappenshaws, and also from that of ‘passing upon inquests and assizes,’ in order that they might have ‘the greater occasion to study the perfection of the said craft, to the uttermost of their ingynes [abilities].’[39]

There is a common belief that surgeons and butchers are exempt from serving on juries, on account of the assumed effect of their profession in making them reckless as to destruction of life. Perhaps the notion has in part taken its rise in this exemption from service for the surgeons, though it appears to have been granted on more honourable consideration.

REGENCY OF MORAY: 1567-1570.

Mary remained a prisoner in Lochleven Castle for ten months, while Moray, as Regent, maintained a good understanding with England, and did much to enforce internal peace and order. At length (May 1568), the unhappy Queen made her escape, and threw herself into the arms of the powerful family of Hamilton, who had continued unreconciled to the new government. They raised for her a considerable body of retainers, and for a few days she seemed to have a chance of recovering her authority; but her army was overthrown at Langside by the Regent, and she had then no resource but to pass into England, and ask refuge with Queen Elizabeth. By her she was received with a show of civility, but was in reality treated as a prisoner, and even subjected to the indignity of a kind of trial, where her brother Moray acted as her accuser. The proofs brought forward for her guilt were such as not to allow of any judgment being passed against her by Elizabeth, and it cannot be said that they have secured a decidedly unfavourable verdict from posterity. The series of circumstances is, no doubt, calculated to excite suspicion; yet they are not incompatible with the theory; that she was trained into them by others; and it must be admitted that one who had previously lived so blamelessly—rejecting the suit of Bothwell when they were both free persons—and who afterwards made so noble an appearance when adjudged to a cruel death for offences of which she was innocent, was not the kind of person likely to have assisted in murdering a husband, or to have deliberately united herself to one whom she believed to be his murderer.

Under a protestant Regent, with the friendship and aid of Elizabeth, whose interest it was to keep popery out of the whole island, Scotland might have enjoyed some years of tranquillity. Moray, whatever opinion may be entertained of his conduct towards his sister, proved a vigorous and just ruler, insomuch as to gain the title of the Good Regent; but he was early cut off in his course, falling a victim to private revenge at Linlithgow (January 23, 1569-70).

1567. Oct.

The long-enduring system of predatory warfare carried on by the borderers against England rendered them a lawless set at all times; but in the present state of the government, they were unusually troublesome. ‘In all this time,’ says the Diurnal of Occurrents, ‘frae the queen’s grace’ putting in captivity to this time, the thieves of Liddesdale made great hership on the poor labourers of the ground, and that through wanting of justice; for the realm was sae divided in sundry factions and conspirations, that there was nae authority obeyed, nor nae justice execute.’—D. O.

1567.

Sir Richard Maitland of Lethington gives us a lively description of these men and their practices:

‘Of Liddesdale the common thieves

Sae pertly steals now and reaves,

That nane may keep

Horse, nolt, or sheep,

For their mischieves.

They plainly through the country rides,

I trow the meikle De’il them guids,

Where they onset,

Ay in their gait,

There is nae yett,

Nor door, them bides.

Thae thieves that steals and turses[40] hame

Ilk ane of them has ane to-name,[41]

Will of the Laws,

Hab of the Shaws;

To mak bare wa’s,

They think nae shame.

They spulyie puir men of their packs,

They leave them nought on bed nor balks,[42]

Baith hen and cock,

With reel and rock,

The Laird’s Jock

All with him taks.

They leave not spendle, spoon, nor spit,

Bed, bolster, blanket, sark, nor sheet;

John of the Park

Rypes[43] kist and ark;

For all sic wark

He is right meet.

He is weel-kenned, Jock of the Syde,

A greater thief did never ride.

He never tires

For to break byres;

O’er muir and mires,

O’er guid ane guide....

Of stouth[44] though now they come good speed,

That nother of God nor men has dread,

Yet or[45] I die,

Some shall them see

Hing on a tree,

While[46] they be dead.’[47]

If it was at this time, as is likely, that Sir Richard wrote these verses, he might well calculate on the vigour of the Regent while prophesying sad days for the Border men.

‘... there was ane proclamation [October 10], to meet the Regent in Peebles upon the 8 of November next, for the repressing of the thieves in Annandale and Eskdale; but my Lord Regent thinking they wald get advertisement, he prevented the day, and came over the water secretly, and lodged in Dalkeith; this upon the 19 day [October]; and upon the morrow he departed towards Hawick, where he came both secretly and suddenly, and there took thirty-four thieves, whom he partly caused hang and partly drown; five he let free upon caution; and upon the 2nd day of November, he brought other ten with him to Edinburgh, and there put them in irons.’—Bir.

We have some trace of these men in the Lord Treasurer’s accounts as inmates of the Tolbooth of Edinburgh. On the 30th of November, thirty-two pounds are paid to Andro Lindsay, keeper of that prison, for the furnishing of meat and drink to Robert Elliot, alias Clement’s Hob, and Archy Elliot, called Archy Kene. On the same day, twenty-three pounds four shillings are disbursed for a month’s board in the same black hotel, for ‘Robert Elliot, called Mirk Hob; Gavin Elliot, called Gawin of Ramsiegill; Martin Elliot, called Martin of Heuchous; Robert Elliot, son to Elder Will; Robert Elliot, called the Vicar’s Rob; Robert Elliot, called Hob of Thorlieshope; Dandy Grosar, called Richardtoncleucht; and Robert Grosar, called Son to Cockston.’

1567.

In an act of the Privy Council, 6th November 1567, it is alleged that the thieves of Liddesdale, and other parts of the Scottish Border, have been in the habit, for some time past, of taking sundry persons prisoners, and giving them up upon ransom—exactly the conduct of the present banditti of the Apennines. It is also averred that many persons are content to pay ‘black-mail’ to these thieves, and sit under their protection, ‘permittand them to reif, herry, and oppress their neighbours in their sicht, without contradiction or stop.’ Such practices were now forbidden under severe penalties; and it was enjoined that ‘when ony companies of thieves or broken men comes ower the swires within the in-country,’ all dwelling in the bounds shall ‘incontinent cry on hie, raise the fray, and follow them, as weel in their in-passing as out-passing,’ in order to recover the property which may have been stolen.

Walter Scott of Harden, a famous Border chief, was this year married to Mary Scott of Dryhope, commonly called the Flower of Yarrow. The pair had six sons, from five of whom descended the families of Harden (which became extinct); Highchesters, now represented by Lord Polwarth, Raeburn (from which came Sir Walter Scott of Abbotsford), Wool, and Synton; and six daughters, all of whom were married to gentlemen of figure, and all had issue.

It is a curious consideration to the many descendants of Walter Scott of Harden, that his marriage-contract is signed by a notary, because none of the parties could write their names. The father-in-law, Scott of Dryhope, bound himself to find Harden in horse meat and man’s meat, at his own house, for a year and day; and five barons engaged that he should remove at the expiration of that period, without attempting to continue in possession by force.

Harden was a man of parts and sagacity, and living to about the year 1629, was popularly remembered for many a day thereafter under the name of ‘Auld Watt.’ One of his descendants relates the following anecdote of him:—‘His sixth son was slain at a fray, in a hunting-match, by Scott of Gilmanscleuch. His brothers flew to arms; but the old laird secured them in the dungeon of his tower, hurried to Edinburgh, stated the crime, and obtained a gift of the lands of the offenders from the crown. He returned to Harden with equal speed, released his sons, and shewed them the charter. “To horse, lads!” cried the savage warrior, “and let us take possession! The lands of Gilmanscleuch are well worth a dead son.”’[48]

[Oct. 30].

Bessie Tailiefeir, in the Canongate, Edinburgh, having slandered Bailie Thomas Hunter by saying ‘he had in his house ane false stoup [measure],’ which was found not to be true, she was sentenced to be [brankit] and set on the Cross for an hour.[49]

1567.

The punishment of branking, which was a customary one for scolds, slanderers, and other offenders of a secondary class, consisted in having the head enclosed in an iron frame, from which projected a kind of spike, so as to enter the mouth and prevent speech.

The Branks.

Nov. 20.

Charles Sandeman, cook, on being made a member of the guild of Edinburgh, came under an obligation that, from that time forth, ‘he sall not be seen upon the causey,’ like other cooks, carrying meat to sell in common houses, but cause his servants pass with the same; and ‘he sall hald his tavern on the Hie Gait ... and behave himself honestly in all time coming, under pain of escheat of his wines.’—E. C. R.

Nov. 24.

‘... At 2 afternoon, the Laird of Airth and the Laird of Wemyss met upon the Hie Gait of Edinburgh; and they and their followers faught a very bluidy skirmish, where there was many hurt on both sides with shot of pistol.’—Bir. Apparently in consequence of this affair, there was, on the 27th, ‘a strait proclamation,’ discharging the wearing of culverins, dags, pistolets, or ‘sic other firewerks,’ with injunctions that any one contravening should be seized and subjected to summary trial, ‘as gif they had committit recent slauchters.’—P. C. R.

This is the first of a series of street-fights by which the Hie Gait of Edinburgh was reddened during the reign of James VI., and which scarcely came to an end till his English reign was far advanced. It is worthy of note that sword and buckler were at this time the ordinary gear of gallant men in England—a comparatively harmless furnishing; but we see that small firearms were used in Scotland.

1567. Dec. 15.

An act of parliament was passed to prevent horses being exported, it being found that so many had lately been taken to Bordeaux and other places abroad, as to cause ‘great skaith’ by the raising of prices at home.

There has been a feeling of rivalry between Perth and Dundee from time immemorial, and it probably will never cease while both towns exist. At a parliament now held by the Regent Moray, the representatives of each burgh strove for the next place after Edinburgh in that equestrian procession which used to be called the Riding of the Estates. A tumult consequently arose upon the street, and it was with difficulty that this was stilled. Birrel relates how the Regent was ‘much troubled to compose those two turbulent towns of Perth and Dundee,’ and that ‘it was like to make a very great deal of business, had not the same been mediate for the present by some discreet men who dealt in the matter.’ Due investigation was afterwards made (January 9, 1567-8), that it might be ascertained ‘in whais default the said tumult happenit.’ It was found that ‘James Wedderburn and George Mitchell, burgesses of Dundee, and William Rysie, bearer of the handsenyie [ensign] thereof,’ were no wise culpable; and they were accordingly allowed to depart.

Dec. 27.

Alexander Blair younger of Balthayock, and George Drummond of Blair, gave surety before the Privy Council for Alexander Blair of Freirton, near Perth, ‘that Jonet Kincraigie, spouse to the said Alexander, sall be harmless and skaithless of him and all that he may let, in time coming, under the pain of five hundred merks; and als that he sall resave the said Jonet in house, and treat, sustene, and entertene her honestly as becomes ane honest man to do to his wife, in time coming;’ besides paying to her children by a former husband their ‘bairn’s part of geir.’—P. C. R.

Dec. 31.

‘Robert Jack, merchant and burgess of Dundee, was hangit and quarterit for false coin called Hardheads, whilk he had brought out of Flanders.’—Bir. ‘Fals lyons callit hardheades, plakis, balbeis,[50] and other fals money,’ is the description given in another record, literatim.

1567.

The hardhead was originally a French coin, denominated in Guienne hardie, and identical with the liard. It was of debased copper, and usually of the value of three-halfpence Scotch; but further debasement was oftener than once resorted to by Scottish rulers as a means of raising a little revenue. Knox, in 1559, complains that ‘daily there were such numbers of lions (alias called hardheads) prented, that the baseness thereof made all things exceeding dear.’ So also the Regent Morton increased his unpopularity by diminishing the value of hardheads from three halfpence to a penny, and the plack-piece from fourpence to twopence.[51]

Robert Jack had probably made a sort of mercantile speculation in bringing in a debased foreign hardhead. The importance attached to his crime is indicated by the payment (January 28, 1567-8) of £33, 6s. 8d. to George Monro of Dalcartie, for ‘expenses made by him upon six horsemen and four footmen for the sure convoying of Robert Jack, being apprehended in Ross for false cunyie.’

1567-8. Jan. 5.

It may somewhat modify the views generally taken of the destruction of relics of the ancient religion under the Protestant governments succeeding the Reformation, that John Lockhart of Bar was denounced rebel at this time for conveying John Macbrair forth of the castle of Hamilton, and ‘for down-casting of images in the kirk of Ayr and other places.’[52]

About the same time, the Regent learned that the lead upon the cathedrals of Aberdeen and Elgin was in the course of being piecemeal taken away. Thinking it as well that some public good should be obtained from this material, the Privy Council ordered (February 7, 1567-8) that the whole be taken down and sold for the support of the army now required to reduce the king’s rebels to obedience.

1567-8. Jan. 17.

‘A play made by Robert Semple,’ was ‘played before the Lord Regent and diverse others of the nobility.’—Bir. There have been several conjectures as to this play and its author, with little satisfactory result. It was probably a very simple representation of some historical scene or transaction, such as we can imagine the life of the execrable Bothwell to have gratefully furnished before such a company. Semple appears to have been in such a rank of life as not to be above ordinary pecuniary rewards for his services, as on the 12th of February there is an entry in the treasurer’s books of £66, 13s. 4d. ‘to Robert Semple.’ He was a fruitful, but dull writer, being the author of The Regentis Trajedie, 1570; The Bishopis Lyfe and Testament, 1571; My Lord Methvenis Trajedie, 1572; and The Siege of the Castle of Edinburgh, 1573: besides various poems preserved in the Bannatyne Manuscript.

Feb. 24.

Seeing that ‘in the spring of the year all kinds of flesh decays and grows out of season, and that it is convenient for the commonweal that they be sparit during that time, to the end that they may be mair plenteous and better cheap the rest of the year,’ the Privy Council forbade the use of flesh of any kind during ‘Lentern.’ Fleshers, hostelers, cooks, and taverners, were forbidden to slay any animals for use during that season hereafter, under pain of confiscation of their movable goods.—P. C. R. This order was kept up in the same terms for many years, a forced economy preserving a rule formerly based on a religious principle.

Mar. 4.

The Regent granted a licence to Cornelius De Vois, a Dutchman, for nineteen years, to search for gold and silver in any part of Scotland, ‘break the ground, mak sinks and pots therein, and to put labourers thereto,’ as he might think expedient, with assurance of full protection from the government, paying in requital for every hundred ounces of gold or silver which could be purified by washing, eight ounces, and for every hundred of the same which required the more expensive process of a purification by fire, four ounces.—P. C. R.

1567-8.

Stephen Atkinson, who speculated in the gold-mines of Scotland a generation later, gives us[53] some account of Cornelius De Vois, whom he calls a German lapidary, and who, he says, had come to Scotland with recommendations from Queen Elizabeth. According to this somewhat foolish writer, ‘Cornelius went to view the said mountains in Clydesdale and Nydesdale, upon which mountains he got a small taste of small gold. This was a whetstone to sharpen his knife upon; and this natural gold tasted so sweet as the honey-comb in his mouth. And then he consulted with his friends at Edinburgh, and by his persuasions provoked them to adventure with him, shewing them at first the natural gold, which he called the temptable gold, or alluring gold. It was in sterns, and some like unto birds’ eyes and eggs: he compared it unto a woman’s eye, which entiseth her lover into her bosom.’ Cornelius was not inferior to his class in speculative extravagance. He found in his golden dreams a solution for the question regarding the poor. He saw Scotland and England ‘both oppressed with poor people which beg from door to door for want of employment, and no man looketh to it.’ But all these people were to find good and profitable employment if his projects were adopted. We are not accustomed to consider our countrymen inferior in energy and enterprise to the Germans. Yet Cornelius stated, that if he had been able to shew in his own country such indications of mineral wealth as he had found in Scotland, ‘then the whole country would confederate, and not rest till young and old that were able be set to work thereat, and to discover this treasure-house from whence this gold descended; and the people, from ten years old till ten times ten years old, should work thereat: no charges whatsoever should be spared, till mountains and mosses were turned into valleys and dales, but this treasure-house should be discovered.’

It appears that Cornelius so far prevailed on the Scots to ‘confederate,’ that they raised a stock of £5000 Scots, equal to about £416 sterling, and worked the mines under royal privileges. According to Atkinson, this adventurer ‘had sixscore men at work in valleys and dales. He employed both lads and lasses, idle men and women, which before went a-begging. He profited by their work, and they lived well and contented.’ They sought for the valuable metal by washing the detritus in the bottoms of the valleys, receiving from their employer a mark sterling for every ounce they realised. So long after as 1619, one John Gibson survived in the village of Crawford to relate how he had gathered gold in these valleys in pieces ‘like birds’ eyes and birds’ eggs,’ the best being found, he said, in Glengaber Water, in Ettrick, which he sold for 6s. 8d. sterling per ounce to the Earl of Morton. Cornelius, within the space of thirty days, sent to the cunyie-house in Edinburgh as much as eight pound-weight of gold, a quantity which would now bring £450 sterling.

What ultimately came of Cornelius’s adventure does not appear. He vanishes notelessly from the field. We are told by Atkinson that the adventure was subsequently taken up by one Abraham Grey, a Dutchman heretofore resident in England, commonly called Greybeard, from his having a beard which reached to his girdle. He hired country-people at 4d. a day, to wash the detritus of the valleys around Wanlock-head for gold; and it is added, that enough was found to make ‘a very fair deep basin of natural gold,’ which was presented by the Regent Morton to the French king, filled with gold pieces, also the production of Scotland.

1567-8.

The same valleys were afterwards searched for gold by an Englishman named George Bowes, who also sunk shafts in the rock, but probably with limited success, as has hitherto been experienced in ninety-nine out of every hundred instances, according to Sir Roderick Murchison.

In consequence of an extremely dry summer, the yield of grain and herbage in 1567 was exceedingly defective. The ensuing winter being unusually severe, there was a sad failure of the means of supporting the domestic animals. A stone of hay came to be sold in Derbyshire at fivepence,[54] which seems to have been regarded as a starvation price. There was a general mortality among the sheep and horses. In Scotland, the opening of 1568 was marked by scarcity and all its attendant evils. ‘There was,’ says a contemporary chronicler, ‘exceeding dearth of corns, in respect of the penury thereof in the land, and that beforehand a great quantity thereof was transported to other kingdoms: for remeed whereof inhibitions were made sae far out of season, that nae victual should be transported furth of the country under the pain of confiscation, even then when there was no more left either to satisfy the indigent people, or to plenish the ordinar mercats of the country as appertenit.’—H. K. J.

During his short administration, the Regent Moray gave a large portion of his time and attention to the repression of lawless people. Justice was executed in no sparing manner. March 8, 1567-8, ‘the Regent went to Glasgow, and there held ane justiceaire, where there was execute about the number of twenty-eight persons for divers crimes.’ July 1568, he ‘rade to St Andrews, and causit drown a man callit Alexander Macker and six more, for piracy.’ Sep. 13, ‘the Lord Regent rade to the fair to Jedburgh, to apprehend the thieves; but they being advertised of his coming, came not to the fair; sae he was frustrate of his intention, excepting three thieves whilk he took, and caused hang within the town there.’—Bir. April 1569, the Regent made a raid to the Border against the thieves, accompanied by a party of English. ‘But the thieves keepit themselves in sic manner, that the Regent gat nane thereof, nor did little other thing, except he brint and reft the places of Mangerton and Whithope, with divers other houses belonging to the said thieves.’—D. O.

1567-8.

In the same month, a number of the most considerable persons in the southern counties entered into a bond at Kelso, agreeing to be obedient subjects to the Regent Earl of Moray, and to do all in their power for the putting down of the thieves of Liddesdale, Ewesdale, Eskdale, and Annandale, especially those of the names Armstrong, Elliot, Nickson, Croser [Grozart?], Little, Bateson, Thomson, Irving, Bell, Johnston, Glendoning, Routledge, Henderson, and Scott; not resetting or intercommuning with them, their wives, bairns, tenants, and servants, or suffering any meat or drink to be carried to them, ‘where we may let;’ also, if, ‘in case of the resistance or pursuit of any of the said thieves, it sall happen to ony of them to be slain or brint, or ony of us and our friends to be harmit by them, we sall ever esteem the quarrel and deadly feid equal to us all, and sall never agree with the said thieves but together, with ane consent and advice.’[55]

1568. July 13.

Axel Wiffirt, servant of the king of Denmark, was licensed to levy 2000 men of war in Scotland, and to convey them away armed as culviriners on foot, ‘as they best can provide them,’ being to serve the Danish monarch in his wars.[56]

July 15.

‘Touran Murray, brother-german to the Laird of Tullibardine, was shot and slain out of the place of Auchtertyre, in Stratherne, by one Wood [Mad] Andrew Murray and his confederates, who kept the said place certain days, and slew some six persons more, yet made escape at that present.’—Bir.

Sep. 8.

‘Ane called James Dalgliesh, merchant, brought the pest in[to] Edinburgh.’—D. O.

1568.

According to custom in Edinburgh, when this dire visitor made his appearance, the families which proved to be infected were compelled to remove, with all their goods and furniture, out to the Burgh-moor, where they lodged in wretched huts hastily erected for their accommodation. They were allowed to be visited by their friends, in company with an officer, after eleven in the forenoon; any one going earlier was liable to be punished with death—as were those who concealed the pest in their houses. Their clothes were meanwhile purified by boiling in a large caldron erected in the open air, and their houses were ‘clengit’ by the proper officers. All these regulations were under the care of two citizens selected for the purpose, and called Bailies of the Muir; for each of whom, as for the cleansers and bearers of the dead, a gown of gray was made, with a white St Andrew’s cross before and behind, to distinguish them from other people. Another arrangement of the day was, ‘that there be made twa close biers, with four feet, coloured over with black, and [ane] white cross with ane bell to be hung upon the side of the said bier, whilk sall mak warning to the people.’[57]

The public policy was directed rather to the preservation of the untainted, than to the recovery of the sick. In other words, selfishness ruled the day. The inhumanity towards the humbler classes was dreadful. Well might Maister Gilbert Skeyne, Doctour in Medicine, remark in his little tract on the pest, now printed in Edinburgh: ‘Every ane is become sae detestable to other (whilk is to be lamentit), and specially the puir in the sight of the rich, as gif they were not equal with them touching their creation, but rather without saul or spirit, as beasts degenerate fra mankind.’[58] This worthy mediciner tells us, indeed, that he was partly moved to publish his book by ‘seeand the puir in Christ inlaik [perish] without assistance of support in body, all men detestand aspection, speech, or communication with them.’

Dr Skeyne’s treatise, which consists of only forty-six very small pages, gives us an idea of the views of the learned of those days regarding the pest. He describes it as ‘ane feverable infection, maist cruel, and sundry ways strikand down mony in haste.’ It proceeds, in his opinion, from a corruption of the air, ‘whilk has strength and wickedness above all natural putrefaction,’ and which he traces immediately to the wrath of the just God at the sins of mankind. There are, however, inferior causes, as stagnant waters, corrupting animal matters and filth, the eating of unwholesome meat and decaying fruits, and the drinking of corrupt water. Extraordinary humidity in the atmosphere is also dwelt upon as a powerful cause, especially when it follows in autumn after a hot summer. ‘Great dearth of victual, whereby men are constrained to eat evil and corrupt meats,’ he sets down as a cause much less notable. He does not forget to advert to the suspicious intermeddling of comets and shooting-stars. ‘Nae pest,’ he says, ‘continually endures mair than three years;’ and he remarks how ‘we daily see the puir mair subject to sic calamity nor the potent.’

1568.

Dr Skeyne’s regimen for the pest regards both its prevention and its cure, and involves an immense variety of curious recipes and rules of treatment, expressed partly in Latin and partly in English. He ends by calling his readers to observe—‘As there is diversity of time, country, age, and consuetude to be observit in time of ministration of ony medicine preservative or curative, even sae there is divers kinds of pest, whilk may be easily knawn and divided by weel-learnit physicians, whase counsel in time of sic danger of life is baith profitable and necessar, in respect that in this pestilential disease every ane is mair blind nor the moudiewort in sic things as concerns their awn health.’

There has been preserved a curious letter which Adam Bothwell, bishop of Orkney, addressed in this time of plague to his brother-in-law, Sir Archibald Napier of Merchiston, regarding the dangers in which the latter was placed by the nearness of his house to the bivouac of the infected on the Burgh-moor.[59] It opens with an allusion to Sir Archibald’s present position as a friend of Queen Mary in trouble with the Regent:

1568.

‘Richt honourable Sir and Brother—I heard, the day, the rigorous answer and refuse that ye gat, whereof I was not weel apayit. But always I pray you, as ye are set amids twa great inconvenients, travel to eschew them baith. The ane is maist evident—to wit, the remaining in your awn place where ye are; for by the number of sick folk that gaes out of the town, the muir is [li]able to be overspread; and it cannot be but, through the nearness of your place and the indigence of them that are put out, they sall continually repair about your room, and through their conversation infect some of your servants, whereby they sall precipitate yourself and your children in maist extreme danger. And as I see ye have foreseen the same for the young folk, whaise bluid is in maist peril to be infectit first, and therefore purposes to send them away to Menteith, where I wald wiss at God that ye war yourself, without offence of authority, or of your band, sae that your house get nae skaith. But yet, sir, there is ane mid way whilk ye suld not omit, whilk is to withdraw you frae that side of the town to some house upon the north side of the samen; whereof ye may have in borrowing, when ye sall have to do—to wit, the Gray Crook, Innerleith’s self, Wairdie, or sic other places as ye could choose within ane mile; whereinto I wald suppose ye wald be in less danger than in Merchanston. And close up your houses, your granges, your barns, and all, and suffer nae man come therein, while [till] it please God to put ane stay to this great plague; and in the meantime, make you to live upon your penny, or on sic thing as comes to you out of Lennox or Menteith;[60] whilk gif ye do not, I see ye will ruin yourself; and howbeit I escape in this voyage,[61] I will never look to see you again, whilk were some mair regret to me than I will expreme by writing. Always [I] beseeks you, as ye love your awn weal, the weal of your house, and us your friends that wald you weel, to tak sure order in this behalf; and, howbeit your evil favourers wald cast you away, yet ye tak better keep on yourself, and mak not them to rejoice, and us your friends to mourn baith at ance. Whilk God forbid, and for his goodness, preserve you and your posterity from sic skaith, and maintein you in [his] holy keeping for ever. Of Edinburgh, the 21st day of September 1568, by your brother at power,

‘The Bishop of Orkney.’

The bishop speaks with unmistakable friendship for his brother-in-law; but what he says and what he does not say of the miserables of the Burgh-moor, tends much to confirm Dr Skeyne’s remarks on the absence of Christian kindness among the upper classes towards the afflicted poor on this occasion.

This pestilence, lasting till February, is said to have carried off 2500 persons in Edinburgh, which could not be much less than a tenth of the population. From the double cause of the pest and the absence of the Regent in England, there were ‘nae diets of Justiciary halden frae the hinderend of August to the second day of March.’[62] Such of the inhabitants of the Canongate as were affected had to go out and live in huts on the Hill (by which is probably meant Salisbury Crags), and there stay till they were ‘clengit.’ A collection of money was made among the other inhabitants for their support.[63]

1568.

The distresses of pestilence were preceded and attended by those of a famine, which suffered a great and sudden abatement in the month of August 1569, perhaps in consequence of favourable appearances in the crop then about to be gathered. At least, we are informed by the Diurnal of Occurrents, that on that day, in the forenoon, ‘the boll of ait meal was sauld for 3l. 12s., the boll of wheat for 4l. 10s., and the boll of beare for 3l.; but ere twa afternoon upon the same day, the boll of ait meal was sauld for 40s., 38s., and 36s., the boll of wheat for 50s., and the beare for 33s.‘—D. O.[64]

Little doubt is now entertained that the exanthematous disease called long ago the Pest, and now the Plague, and which has happily been unknown in the British Islands for two centuries, was the consequence of miasma arising from crowded and filthy living, acting on bodies predisposed by deficient aliment and other causes, and that at a certain stage it assumed a contagious character. It will be found throughout the present work that the malady generally, though not invariably, followed dearth and famine—a generalisation harmonising with the observations of Professor Alison as to the connection between destitution and typhus fever, and supporting the views of those who hold that it is for the interest of the community that all its members have a sufficiency of the necessaries of life. The pest was not the only epidemic which afflicted our ancestors in consequence of erroneous living and misery endured by great multitudes of people. There was one called the land-ill or wame-ill, which seems to have been of the nature of cholera. In an early chronicle quoted below,[65] is the following striking notice of this kind of malady in connection with famine as occurring in 1439:—‘The samen time there was in Scotland a great dearth, for the boll of wheat was at 40s., and the boll of ait meal 30s.; and verily the dearth was sae great that there died a passing [number of] people for hunger. And als the land-ill, the wame-ill, was so violent, that there died mae that year than ever there died, owther in pestilence, or yet in ony other sickness in Scotland. And that samen year the pestilence came in Scotland, and began at Dumfries, and it was callit the Pestilence but Mercy, for there took it nane that ever recoverit, but they died within twenty-four hours.’

Oct. 1568.

At the time when the pest broke out in Edinburgh, there lived in the city a young man of the middle class, bearing the name of George Bannatyne, who was somewhat addicted to the vain and unprofitable art of poesy. He was acquainted with the writings of his predecessors, Dunbar, Douglas, Henryson, Montgomery, Scott, and others, through the manuscripts to which alone they had as yet been committed. It was not then the custom to print literary productions unless for some reason external to their literary character, and these poems, therefore, were existing in the same peril of not being preserved to posterity as the works of Ennius in the days of Augustus. In all probability, the greater part of them, if not nearly the whole, would have been lost, but for an accidental circumstance connected with the plague now raging.

George Bannatyne’s Arms and Initials.

1568.

In that terrible time, when hundreds were dying in the city, and apprehensions for their own safety engrossed every mind, the young man George Bannatyne passed into retirement, and for three months devoted himself to the task of transcribing the fugitive productions of the Scottish muse into a fair volume. His retreat is supposed to have been the old manor-house of Newtyle, near the village of Meigle in Strathmore, and nothing could be more likely, as this was the country-house of his father, who seems to have been a prosperous lawyer in Edinburgh. In the short space of time mentioned, George had copied in a good hand, from the mutilated and obscure manuscripts he possessed, three hundred and seventy-two poems, covering no less than eight hundred folio pages; a labour by which he has secured the eternal gratitude of his countrymen, and established for himself a fame granted to but few for their own compositions. The volume—celebrated as the Bannatyne Manuscript—still exists, under the greatest veneration, in the Advocates’ Library, Edinburgh, after yielding from its ample stores the materials of Ramsay’s, Hailes’s, and other printed selections.[66]

Nov. 18.

In this time of dearth and pestilence, the council of the Canongate providently ordained that ‘the fourpenny loaf be weel baken and dried, gude and sufficient stuff, and keep the measures and paik of twenty-two ounces;’ ‘that nae browsters nor ony tapsters sell ony dearer ale nor 6d. the pint;’ and ‘that nae venters of wine buy nae new wine dearer than that they may sell the same commonly to all our sovereign’s lieges for 16d. the pint.’

They also ordained (January 10, 1568-9), that ‘nae maner of person inhabiter within this burgh, venters of wine, hosters, or tapsters of ale, nor others whatsomever, thole or permit ony maner of persons to drink, keep company at table in common taverners’ houses, upon Sunday, the time of preaching, under the pain of forty shillings, to be upta’en of the man and wife wha aucht the said taverners’ houses sae oft as they fails, but favour.’[67]

It is evident from this injunction, that the keeping of public-houses open on Sundays, at times different from those during which there was public worship, was not then forbidden.

1568-9. Jan. 10.

In presence of the magistrates of the Canongate, Edinburgh, ‘William Heriot, younger, baxter, became, out of his awn free motive will, cautioner for George Heriot, that the said George sall remove furth of this burgh and freedom thereof, within the space of fifteen days next, and nae be fund thereintill, in case the said George associate not himself to the religion of Christ’s kirk, and satisfie the kirk in making of repentance, as effeirs.’—C. C. R.

This was a part of the process of completing the Reformation.

1569. May.

1569. Aug. 16.

‘... the Regent made progress first to Stirling, where four priests of Dumblane were condemnit to the death, for saying of mess against the act of parliament; but he remittit their lives, and causit them to be bund to the mercat cross with their vestments and chalices in derision, where the people cast eggs and other villanie at their faces, by the space of ane hour; and thereafter their vestments and chalices were burnt to ashes. From that he passed to Sanctandrois, where a notable sorcerer called Nic Neville was condemnit to the death and brunt; and a Frenchman callit Paris, wha was ane of the devisers of the king’s death, was hangit in Sanctandrois, and with him William Stewart, Lyon King of Arms, for divers points of witchcraft and necromancy.’—H. K. J.

The Diurnal of Occurrents relates the Regent’s proceedings against the powers of the other world in this journey in a style equally cool and laconic. ‘In my Lord Regent’s passing to the north, he causit burn certain witches in Sanctandrois, and in returning he causit burn ane other company of witches in Dundee.’

Sep.

The Regent once more set out on an expedition against the Border thieves, attended by a hundred men of war. In the words of a poetical panegyrist:

‘... having established all thing in this sort,

To Liddesdale again he did resort.

Through Ewesdale, Esdale, and all the dales rade he,

And also lay three nichts in Cannobie,

Where nae prince lay thir hunder years before;

Nae thief durst stir, they did him fear so sore;

And that they should nae mair their theft allege,

Threescore and twelve he brought of them in pledge,

Syne warded them, whilk made the rest keep order,

Than might the rash buss keep kye on the Border.’[68]

It is said that no former ruler had ever so thoroughly awed the Border men. On his return to Edinburgh in November, he distributed the hostages among certain barons of the realm.

This, however, was the last of Moray’s expeditions against the thieves. He was approaching the end of his career, doomed by party hatred in conjunction with private malice.

1569-70. Jan. 23.

‘The Earl of Moray, the Good Regent, was slain in Linlithgow by James Hamilton of Bothwell-haugh, who shot the said Regent with a gun out at ane window, and presently thereafter fled out at the back, and leapt on a very good horse, which the Hamiltons had ready waiting for him; and, being followed speedily, after that spur and wand had failed him, he drew forth his dagger, and struck his horse behind; whilk causit the horse to leap a very broad stank; by whilk means he escaped.’—Bir.

REGENCIES OF LENNOX AND MAR: 1570-1572.

The death of the Regent Moray proved a great blow to the infant king’s party, for there was no man of equal mark and energy to take his place. The friends of the exiled queen raised their heads again, and in a force which might well give the ruling party some anxiety. Seeing the imminence of the danger, Elizabeth yielded to the wishes of Mary’s enemies, and sent an army under the Earl of Sussex into Scotland in April, who ‘burnt, herrit, and destroyit sae mickle of the Merse and Teviotdale as they might be masters of, asseizit the castle of Farniehirst, and demolishit the same, and thereafter past to Hawick and to Branksholm, and burnt and herrit the same,’ thus punishing the Scotts, Kerrs, and others who had lately made a hostile incursion in Mary’s behalf into England. Towards the end of the month, they besieged and took Hume Castle. A similar army under Sir William Drury entered Scotland in the ensuing month, and committed the like havock in Lanarkshire, so as to disable the queen’s friends of the house of Hamilton. The sufferings thus occasioned in certain districts were dreadful, and the principal sufferers were the poor. In Hume Castle, when taken by Sussex, ‘was the hale guids and gear perteining to the hale tenants of my Lord Hume, wherethrough the saids puir tenants were allutterly herrit.’ The devastation at Hamilton was ‘in sic sort and maner as the like in this realm has not been heard before.’ And when the English troops came thence to Linlithgow on their return, ‘they herrit all the Monkland, the Lord Fleming’s bounds, my Lord Livingstone’s bounds, together with all their puir tenants and friends, in sic maner that nae heart can think thereon but the same must be dolorous.’—D. O. Yet this was but a foretaste of the woes which a disputed succession was now for three years to lay upon the land.

At the dictation of Elizabeth—for the Protestant lords in Scotland were wholly subservient to her—Matthew, Earl of Lennox, paternal grandfather of the young king, was elected Regent (July 17, 1570). The real ruling spirit was the Earl of Morton, who lost no time in proceeding against some friends of Queen Mary in the north. Taking the town of Brechin, which had been held for her, he caused thirty-one of the garrison to be mercilessly put to death. ‘The deaths of thir persons were greatomly bewailit by mony.’ At the same time, the Earl of Sussex made an inroad into Dumfriesshire, cast down many houses of Mary’s friends, ‘burnt certain houses in the town of Dumfries, and reft and spulyit all that they micht get.’ Three considerable districts in Scotland were this summer reduced to a desert.

The Gordon power in the north, that of the Hamiltons and Argyle in the west, and the Border chiefs, formed the great centres of Mary’s party, which altogether was so strong, that it must have triumphed but for the backing which the other party received from England. As matters stood, the king’s friends were able to maintain themselves in possession of the country at large, holding Stirling as the seat of government, while Kirkaldy of Grange, governor of the Castle of Edinburgh, unexpectedly went over to the queen’s side, as did Maitland of Lethington, and some others lately arrayed against her. Edinburgh and its castle consequently became a centre of operations for that party. Then commenced an intestine war, at first consisting of mutual devastations on each other’s lands, but soon assuming a sanguinary character. It is not consistent with our design to relate it in detail; but a few characteristic proceedings are given in the chronicle, usually in the simple and pathetic language of the time.

Lennox being killed in a surprise at Stirling (September 3, 1571), the Earl of Mar was chosen to the vacant regency. Under him the war advanced with even increased ferocity, until it came to be a rule that no quarter should be given on either side. In little more than a twelvemonth, this gentle-natured noble sunk under the burden of government; ‘the maist cause of his deid was that he lovit peace, and could not have the same.’—D. O. The Earl of Morton, the ablest man of the whole party since Moray, but merciless and greedy in the extreme, succeeded, with the full approbation of the Mistress of the Protestant party of Scotland.

1570. May.

Lord Fleming being a conspicuous leader on the queen’s side, and captain of Dumbarton Castle, his lands in the counties of Lanark and Dumbarton were amongst those which fell under the vengeance of the ruling party. As one of the enormities perpetrated by the Earl of Lennox and his men on Lord Fleming’s estates—‘they have slain and destroyit the deer of his forest of Cumbernauld, and the white kye and bulls of the said forest, to the great destruction of policy and hinder of the commonweal. For that kind of kye and bulls has been keepit thir mony years in the said forest, and the like was not maintenit in ony other parts of the Isle of Albion, as is weel knawn.’[69]

1570.

The ‘white kye and bulls’ here spoken of are believed to have been a remnant of the original wild cattle of the Caledonian forest. Boece describes them as white, with lion-like manes, fierce, untamable, and shunning human society—so misanthropical, indeed, that they would eat nothing which the hand of man had touched. He, like the writer quoted above, says that none of them were left but only in Cumbernauld. Leslie, however, tells us that they also existed in the parks of Stirling and Kincardine. Latterly, there have been herds of the same oxen (but perhaps imported) in the Duke of Hamilton’s park of Cadzow, in Lanarkshire; in the Duke of Buccleuch and Queensberry’s at Drumlanrig; and in Lord Tankerville’s park at Chillingham, in Northumberland.

Perhaps the severities of the English army on this occasion were only what her Scottish allies would themselves have practised against their opponents. What follows, however, seems to have gone a little beyond the bounds of partisan vengeance, while it not less illustrates the sacrifice of national dignity at which the enemies of Mary were content to purchase the aid of the English queen.

May 29.

Sir William Drury, returning with the English army from the devastation of the Duke of Chatelherault’s country in Lanarkshire, resolved to destroy the town of Linlithgow, in retribution for its having proved a harbour for the enemies of Elizabeth and of her ally the young Scottish king. It seemed but right that the scene of the murder of Moray should thus suffer. He therefore called the provost of the burgh before him, and announced his intention, saying, however, that he would allow time for the carrying away of any women in childbed or impotent people, and also conceding that a place should be appointed, to which the goods belonging to the citizens should be brought for preservation.

‘The time being come for this execution, the Earl of Morton, that still accompanied the English general, offered himself as an intercessor to entreat and sue for a pardon, bringing afore the general a multitude of wailing people, whose mournful and most piteous cries was lamentable and very importunate.’

1570. July 4.

Drury insisted that justice demanded an example being made of Linlithgow; but ‘the people of all sorts so pressed about him, and made such pitiful cries and sorrowful noise, with children sucking of their mothers’ breasts, that he, taking ruth of their miserable estates, at this their lamentable suit, especially at the great instance of the Earl of Morton, who came bareheaded to speak for them, the general was content to save the town and people therein.’ He took assurance from them, however, that the chief inhabitants should follow his camp to Berwick, and there wait the clemency of the queen of England.—Holinshed.

‘... at 10 hours at night, there was ane earthquake in the city of Glasgow, and lastit but ane short space; but it causit the inhabitants of the said city to be in great terror and fear.’—D. O.

‘In this time there was ane monstrous fish seen in Loch Fyne, having great een in the head thereof, and at some times wald stand aboon the water as high as the mast of a ship; and the said [creature] had upon the head thereof [twa crowns, ane] aboon little, and the downmaist crown meikle; whilk was reportit by wise men, that the same was ane sign and taiken of ane sudden alteration within this realm.’—D. O.

The low intelligence of the age is seen in nothing more conspicuously than in the numerous tales of animals alleged to have been seen, with peculiarities impossible in nature, and believed to be ominous of public calamity. The appearance of a similar animal in another of the Argyleshire lochs in 1510 is noted by Hector Boece, on the information of Duncan Campbell, a noble knight. This ‘terrible beast’ was ‘of the bigness of a greyhound, and footed like a gander. Issuing out of the water early in the morning about midsummer,’ he ‘did very easily and without any force or straining of himself overthrow huge oaks with his tail, and therewith killed outright three men that hunted him with three strokes of his said tail, the rest of them saving themselves in trees thereabouts, whilst the aforesaid monster returned to the water. Those that are given to the observation of rare and uncouth sights, believe that this beast is never seen but against some great trouble and mischief to come upon the realm of Scotland.’[70]

In Holinshed’s Chronicle (1577), the Firth of Forth is said occasionally to contain ‘sundry fishes of a monstrous shape, with cowls hanging over their heads like unto monks, and in the rest resembling the body of man. They shew themselves above the water to the navel, howbeit they never appear but against some great pestilence of men or murrain of cattle; wherefore their only sight doth breed great terror to the Scottish nation, who are very great observers of uncouth signs and tokens.’

On the whole, it is most likely that some species of the cetacea or phocidæ was concerned in giving rise to these tales of sea-monsters.

1570.

Sir William Sinclair of Roslin, who was living at this time, thus notes the appearance of an extraordinary animal in the year 1500: ‘Hutcheon Frizell in Glenconie, the best and maist in estimation of the Lord Lovat’s kin, he and ane servand with him, being at the hunting on ane hie land amang very rank heather, twa arrow-draught frae him he heard like the call of ane ratch approaching near and near, while [till] at the last he saw it, and shot at it ane dead straik with ane arrow; where it lap and welterit up and down ane spear length of breadth and length. The heather and bent being mair nor ane foot of height, it being in the deid-thraw, brint all to the eird [earth], as it had been muirburn. It was mair nor twa eln of length, as great as the coist of ane man, without feet, having ane mickle fin on ilk side, with ane tail and ane terrible head. His great deer-dogs wald not come near it. It had great speed. They callit it ane dragon.’[71]

He commemorates a sea-animal not less wonderful, which was thrown upon the coast of Northumberland in 1544. ‘At the sea-side at Bamburgh, there was nae kind of fish ta’en by the space of twa year; but the sea made ane great routing and horrible noise, which was by [beside] custom and use. So it chancit, at the hie spring [tide], that ane terrible beast was casten in dead, of the quantity [bulk] of ane man. Nae man could devise ane thing mair terrible, with horns on the head of it, red een, with misshapen face, with lucken [webbed] hands and feet, and ane great rumple hinging to the eird. It consumit and stinkit sae, that in short time nae man nor beast might come near it; but all the country about saw it before, and sundry took great fear and dreadour for the sicht of it a lang space after. It was callit a Sea-devil. Witness the Laird of Mow.’[72]

‘The summer right guid, and all victuals guid cheap; the August right fair and guid weather.’—C. F.

Sep. 1. 1570.

An extraordinary act of Gilbert, Earl of Cassillis, sometimes called King of Carrick, on account of the great power which he possessed in that district.

The revenues of the abbey of Crossraguel, in Carrick, had been bestowed upon Master Allan Stewart. The earl had got a feu of the abbey from a predecessor of Stewart, but it never was confirmed. After some fruitless endeavours to obtain a confirmation from Stewart, the earl inveigled him to the castle of Dunure, a strong fortalice situated on a rocky part of the coast overlooking the Atlantic.

Here the Commendator was honourably entertained—‘gif a prisoner can think ony entertainment pleasing. But after that certain days were spent, and that the earl could not obtain the feus of Crossraguel according to his awn appetite, he determined to prove gif a collation could work that which neither dinner nor supper could do of a long time. And so the said Master was carried to a secret chalmer [according to Stewart’s own account, to a house called the Black Voute (Vault) of Dunure; there is something horribly suitable in the name]. With him passit the honourable earl, his worshipful brother, and sic as was appointed to be servants at that banquet. In the chalmer there was a great iron chimney, under it a fire; other great provision was not seen. The first course was: “My lord abbot (said the earl), it will please you confess here, that with your awn consent ye remain in my company, because ye dare not commit you to the hands of others.” The abbot answered: “Wald ye, my lord, that I should make a manifest leasing for your pleasure? The truth is, my lord, it is against my will that I am here; neither yet have I ony pleasure in your company.” “But ye sall remain with me at this time,” said the earl. “I am not able to resist your will and pleasure,” said the abbot, “in this place.” “Ye maun then obey me,” said the earl. And with that were presented unto him certain letters to subscrive, amongst which there was a five-year tack [lease] and a nineteen-year tack, and a charter of feu of all the lands of Crossraguel, with all the clauses necessar for the earl to haste him to hell! For gif adultery, sacrilege, oppression, barbarous cruelty, and theft heaped upon theft, deserve hell, the great King of Carrick can no more escape hell, for ever, nor the imprudent abbot escaped the fire for a season, as follows.

1570.

‘After that the earl espied repugnance, and that he could not come to his purpose by fair means, he commandit his cooks to prepare the banquet. And so first they flayit the sheep, that is, they took off the abbot’s claithes, even to his skin; and next they band him to the chimney, his legs to the one end and his arms to the other; and so they began to beet the fire, sometimes to his buttocks, sometimes to his legs, sometimes to his shoulders and arms. And that the roast should not burn, but that it might roast in sop, they spared not flamming with oil. (Lord, look thou to sic cruelty!) And, that the crying of the miserable man sould not be heard, they closed his mouth.... In that torment they held the poor man, while that ofttimes he cried “for God’s sake to dispatch him; he had as meikle gold in his awn purse as wald buy powder eneugh to shorten his pain.”

‘The famous King of Carrick and his cooks, perceiving the roast to be eneugh, commandit it to be tane from the fire, and the earl himself began the grace in this manner: “Benedicite, Jesus, Maria! you are the most obstinate man that ever I saw! Gif I had known that ye had been so stubborn, I wold not for a thousand crowns handled you so. I never did so to man, before you.”‘—Ban.

The abbot’s own account, in the complaint which he afterwards rendered to the privy-council, is different, in as far as it describes him as now yielding to the earl’s desire, in order to save his life and free himself from the pain he was suffering. He also says that he at this time subscribed the papers presented by the earl, though, it would appear, in an incomplete manner. He goes on—‘which being done, the earl causit the tormentors of me sweir upon ane bible never to reveal ane word of this my unmerciful handling to ony person or persons.

‘Yet he, not being satisfied with their proceedings, came again upon the 7 day of the month, bringing with him the same charter and tack, which he compellit me to subscrive, and required me to ratify and approve the same before notar and witnesses; which alluterly I refused. And therefore he, as of before, band me, and put me to the same manner of tormenting, and I said, notwithstanding, “he should first get my life ere ever I agreed to his desire;” and being in so great pain as I trust never man was in, with his life, I cried: “Fye upon you! will ye ding whingers in me, and put me out of this world! Or else put a barrel of powder under me, rather nor be demeaned in this unmerciful manner!” The earl hearing me cry, bade his servant, Alexander Richard, put ane serviette [towel] in my throat, which he obeyed; the same being performed at 11 hours at night; wha then seeing that I was in danger of my life, my flesh consumed and burnt to the bones, and that I wald not condescend to their purpose, I was releivit of that pain; wherethrough I will never be able nor well in my life time.’

1570.

The abbot was relieved from Dunure by the Laird of Bargeny, an enemy of Cassillis. The government was too weak and in too much trouble to avenge his cause against the earl, who thenceforth continued to draw the revenues of Crossraguel. But ‘my lord gave the abbot some money to live upon, whilk contentit him all his days.’—Hist. Ken.

Sep. 7.

Robert Hepburn, second son of the Laird of Waughton, was a partisan of the queen. Travelling to visit his friends in Lothian, he was betrayed by a companion to the knowledge of a party of the king’s friends, consisting of the Lairds of Applegarth and Carmichael, who consequently made an attempt to lay hold of him as he was passing Bathgate. ‘He, being alone with ane boy, fled, and they chasit him continually fra the said place while he come to the castle of Edinburgh, wherein he was resavit with great difficulty; for when the said Robert was passand in at the castle-yett, his adversaries were at Patrick Edgar his house-end. Ane thing to be wonderit at that he could escape the hands of the said persons, considering their multitude and [their being] as weel horsit as he was; and he being riding upon ane brown naig, could never have space to change off the same upon his led horse, but continually rade while he come to the castle foresaid; but his pursuers not only changit horse, but also did cast from them saddles and other gear, to mak licht for pursuing of him.’[73]—D. O.

Oct. 4. 1570.

John Kello, minister of Spott, in Haddingtonshire, was executed in Edinburgh for the murder of his wife. The confession of this wretched man shews that he was tempted to the horrible act by a desire to marry more advantageously, his circumstances being somewhat straitened. He deliberated on the design for forty days; tried poison, which failed; then accomplished it by strangulation. His confession admits the amiable character of the victim; nay, he tells that, ‘in the verie death, she could not believe I bure her onie evil will, but was glad, as she then said, to depart, gif her death could do me either vantage or pleasure.’[74] According to a contemporary recital, ‘he stranglit her in her awn chamber, and thereafter closit the ordinar door that was within the house for his awn passage, and sae finely seemit to colour that purpose after he had done it, that immediately he passed to the kirk, and in the presence of the people made sermon as if he had done nae sic thing. And when he was returnit hame, he brought some neighbours into his house to vissie his wife, and callit at the ordinar door, but nae answer was made. Then he passed to another back passage with the neighbours, and that was fund open, and she hinging stranglit at the roof of the house. Then, with admiration, he cryit, as though he had knawn naething of the purpose, and they for pity in like manner cryit out. But, in [the] end, finding himself prickit with the judgments of God, of the grievous punishment wherewith transgressors have been plagued in time bygane, he thought gude to communicate his fact to ane of his brether in office, wha then was schoolmaster at Dunbar.’—H. K. J.

To resume his own confession: ‘Mr Andrew Simson, minister of Dunbar, did so lively rype furth the inward cogitations of my heart, and discover my mind so plainly, that I persuaded myself God spak in him ... he remembered me of ane dream which in my great sickness did apparently present the self. “Brother,” said he, “I do remember when I visited you in time of your sickness, ye did expose to me this vision, that ye were carried by ane great man before the face of ane terrible judge, and to escape his fury, ye did precipitate yourself in ane deep river, when his angels and messengers did follow you with two-edged swords, and sae when they struck at you, ye did decline and jouk in the water, while in the end, by ane way unknown to you, ye did escape. This vision I do interpret, that ye are the author yourself of this cruel murder then conceived in your heart, and ye were carried before the terrible judgments of God in your awn conscience, which now stands in God’s presence to accuse you; the messengers of God is the justice of the country before the which ye sall be presented; the water wherein ye stood is that vain hypocrisy of your awn, and feigned blasphemy of God’s name, whereby ye purpose to colour your impiety; your deliverance sall be spiritual.”... At this time did God move my heart to acknowledge the horror of my awn offence, and how far Sathan had obteinit victory ower me.’—Ban. J. ‘Briefly, by his awn confession, being clearly convict, he was condemnit to be hangit, and his body to be casten in the fire and brynt to ashes, and so to die without any burial. And thus he departit this life, with an extreme penitent and contrite heart, baith for this and all other his offences in general, to the great gude example and comfort of all beholders.’—H. K. J.

Oct. 1570.

In those days, while as yet there were not only no newspapers, but no ready means of conveying letters, true intelligence made its way slowly, and the most ridiculous rumours obtained circulation. For example, on John Knox being at this time struck with apoplexy, ‘a bruit [report] went through Scotland and England, that he was become the most deformed creature that ever was seen; that his face was turned awry to his neck; and that he would never preach or speak again.’ In the ensuing year, while the venerable reformer lived at St Andrews, it was rumoured, and very generally believed as a serious truth, that he had been banished from the town, ‘because in his yard he had raised some sancts, among whom came up the devil with horns; which, when his servant, Richard Bannatyne, saw, he ran wood, and so died.’ It is stated that Lady Hume and some others thronged round the postman of St Andrews, with anxious inquiries whether it was true that Knox was banished from St Andrews, and that Bannatyne had run mad in consequence of seeing the devil raised.[75]

At this time, the witches of Athole are spoken of as noted personages. In the late and present civil dissensions they sided with the unfortunate queen, having probably too much Highland feeling to dissent from the great man of the district, the Earl of Athole, who was one of her majesty’s warmest friends. About the time indicated, a present was sent to Mary, supposed to be from this uncanny portion of her late subjects. It was ‘a pretty hart horn, not exceeding in quantity the palm of a man’s hand, covered with gold, and artificially wrought. In the head of it were curiously engraven the arms of Scotland; in the nether part of it a throne, and a gentlewoman sitting in the same, in a robe-royal, with a crown upon her head. Under her feet was a rose environed with a thistle. Under that were two lions, the one bigger, the other lesser. The bigger lion held his paw upon the face of the other, as his lord and commander. Beneath all were written these words:

“Fall what may fall,

The lion shall be lord of all.”

1570.

This was evidently designed to convey a hope and wish that Mary should erelong, in spite of all contrarious circumstances, be in possession of England as well as of her native dominions.[76] In the same spirit was a rhymed prophecy which, at the same time, came into circulation, but which was quickly falsified:

‘The howlet shall lead the bear to his bane,

The queen of England shall die the twelfth year of her reign;

The court of England that is so wanton,

Shall shortly be brought to confusion.’—Cal.

Nov. 12.

A sad picture of civil war is presented by the so-called Harrying of Bothwell Moor. ‘Captain Andrew Cunningham and Captain Thomas Crawford, accompanied with certain men of weir, departit of Glasgow, and passed in the night to Bothwell Moor, where they reft and spulyit all the inhabitants and tenants thereof; and because the Hamiltons was gathering to rescue the said guids, they fearit to return again to the said town of Glasgow, but came to Edinburgh with the same. They brought to the said burgh of Edinburgh 400 kye and oxen, 600 sheep, and 60 mares and staigs [colts]; this done, they passed to my Lord Regent, he being in Dalkeith, and knew his mind, whither they should take ane composition from the poor tenants, awners of the same, or not; but the matter was sae unmercifully handled, that the said guids were proclaimit by sound of drum and trumpet, to be sauld [to] whatsomever persons wald buy the same.... To hear the lamentable crying of the said poor tenants, for the unmerciful robbery and oppression committit upon the said persons by the men of weir, it wald made ane stane-heartit man to greit and bewail. But cry what they wald cry, and lament as they pleasit, there was nane that obtainit comfort at their unmerciful hands; for when the said poor creatures made their complaint to the Regent, he wald not hear them, while [till] the oppression was cryit out upon by John Craig, minister. And then the Regent and lords of secret council ordainit that ane half of the guids be renderit again to the said poor tenants; but ere this time, the men of weir had sparfilit the best of them, and then the poor tenants were constrainit either to take again the ane half of the warst of the said guids that were left behind, or else they wald not have gotten naething.’—D. O.

Dec. 7. 1570.
Dec. 9.

‘... there was ane day of law betwixt the Hoppringles and Elliots in Edinburgh, wherein the ane party set upon the other, and, had not the town of Edinburgh redd [separated] them, there had been great slauchter done the said day.’—D. O.

‘Patrick Moscrop, son to John Moscrop, advocate, and Eupham M’Calyean, only apparent heir to Mr Thomas M‘Calyean, ane of the senators of the College of Justice, were married in the said Thomas M‘Calyean’s house within Edinburgh, but nocht by permission of the kirk, and that for fear of tumult to be made by Archibald Ruthven, brother to William Lord Ruthven, wha allegit he had the first promise of her.... This order of marriage endured in ane manner ane slander to the kirk of God.’[77]—D. O.

1570-1. Jan. 15.

From this day till the 22d March, ‘great frost, that nae plews gaed while aucht days; and men might pass and repass on the ice of Lyon the 3d day of March.’ February 22, after noon, ‘there came ane great storm, and snaw and hail and wind, that nae man nor beast might take up their heads, nor gang, nor ride, and mony beasts, and mony men and women, were perished in sundry parts, and all kind of victuals right dear, and that because nae mills might grind for the frost.’—C. F.

1571. Mar.

A General Assembly sitting in Edinburgh issued an order that adulterers, murderers, and others guilty of heinous offences, who might desire to be received back into Christian fellowship, should first appear penitently before their respective ministers, and then present themselves in linen clothes, bareheaded and barefooted, before the synod of their district. It was presently found, however, that divers of these penitents were too far distant from the meeting-places of the synods, and others were in such poverty, or under such terror of enemies, that they could not, or durst not travel through the country.

This fact verifies to us a passage in a contemporary historian: ‘The haill realm of Scotland was sae divided in factions, that it was hard for any peaceable man as he rade out the hie way, to profess himself openly, either to be a favourer of the king or queen. All the people were casten sae lowss, and were become of sic dissolute minds and actions, that nane was in account but he that could either kill or rieve his neighbour.’—H. K. J.

1571.

Incidents characteristic of such a time abound in the contemporary diarists. ‘March 27, David Lawtie, writer to the signet [in Edinburgh] was invaded by Thomas Douglas, and the maist part of his fore-finger strucken fra him.’—D. O. October 30, ‘There was ane combat betwixt Campbell on the king’s part, and ane Smith, a lieutenant or servant within Edinburgh. Campbell strack him twice through the body without blood drawn upon himself, except a scrape upon the thumb.’—Ban.

Apr. 7.

The castle of Dumbarton being taken by surprise, great joy was experienced by the king’s party on finding John Hamilton, archbishop of St Andrews, among the prisoners. The primate, a zealous adherent of the ancient faith, and partisan of the queen, was suspected of various crimes against the Protestant cause; so no mercy was to be expected for him. Then was seen the remarkable spectacle of the head of the church in Scotland—he whom Jerome Cardan travelled from London to Scotland only to cure of some trifling ailments—dragged with but little ceremony to a scaffold and put to a dog’s death—a victim of the frightful passions excited by civil war. In answer to a dittay which George Buchanan assisted in bringing against him at Stirling, he denied everything but a foreknowledge of and participation in the death of Moray, ‘of whilk he repentit, and askit God mercy. Being further accusit gif ony of his surname or friends were upon the counsel thereof, he answerit that he wold accuse nae man at that time but himself. As touching his religion,’ says this chronicler, ‘I reasonit with him, and could find naething but that he was ane papist, and exhortit sic as were near hand upon the scaffold to abide at the Catholic faith—sae he termed the papistry. In the castle, he desirit some papist priest to whom he micht confess him, and of whom he micht resave consolation [absolution] of his sins, according to the order of the kirk (as he spak); and sae he continuit to the death in the papistry, as he livit. As the bell struck at six hours at even, he was hangit at the mercat-cross of Stirling, upon ane gibbet, on whilk was written thir twa verses following:

“Cresce diu, felix arbor, semperque vireto

Frondibus, ut nobis talia poma feras.”—D. O.

1571.

At this time, Mr William Collace was first regent in St Leonard’s College, St Andrews; he ‘had the estimation of being the maist solid and learnit in Aristotle’s philosophy.’ James Melville gives an interesting picture of this learned person, to whose class he came at fifteen years of age, so ill prepared for understanding the language (Latin) in which the prelections took place, that ‘I did naething,’ says Melville, ‘but bursted and grat at his lessons, and was of mind to have gone home again, were [it] not the loving care of that man comforted me; [he] took me in his awn chalmer, causit me to lie with himself, and every night teached me in private till I was acquainted with the matter. Then he gave us ane compend of his awn of philosophy and the parts thereof ... whilk I thought I understood better. About the whilk time my father, coming to the town, begoud to examine me, and, finding some beginning, was exceeding rejoiced, and uttered sweeter affection to me than ever before. He enterteinit my regent very heartily in his lodging, and gave him great thanks; he sent me to him, after he had taken leave, with twa pieces of gold in a napkin; but the gentleman was sae honest and loving, that he wald have none of his gold, but with austere countenance sent me back with it; nay, never wald receive gold or silver all the time of my course.’

Melville mentions having frequent opportunities at this time of seeing and hearing John Knox, who had taken refuge in St Andrews, while Edinburgh was possessed by the queen’s party. ‘Mr Knox wald some time come in and repose him in our college yard, and call us scholars unto him and bless us, and exhort us to knaw God and his wark in our country, and stand by the gude cause, and follow the guid example of our masters.’

‘I saw him every day of his doctrine go hooly and fair [softly and fairly] with a furring of matricks about his neck, a staff in ane hand, and guid godly Richard Ballanden, his servant, halding up the other oxter [armpit] from the abbey to the parish kirk, and by the said Richard and another servant, lifted up to the pulpit, whaur he behovit to lean at his first entry, but ere he had done with his sermon, he was sae active and vigorous, that he was like to ding that pulpit in blads [knock the pulpit in splinters], and flie out of it.’

He adds: ‘This year, in the month of July, Mr John Davidson, ane of our regents, made a play at the marriage of Mr John Colvin, whilk I saw playit in Mr Knox’s presence, wherein, according to Mr Knox’s doctrine, the castle of Edinburgh was besieged, taken, and the captain, with ane or twa with him, hangit in effigy.’

1571.

This dramatic performance represented an unfulfilled prophecy of the reformer. When Kirkaldy of Grange, after many years of zealous service in the reforming cause, declared for the Queen, and held out Edinburgh Castle against the Regent, Knox, who had loved him much, was deeply grieved. He felt, however, no doubt as to the ultimate triumph of his own cause against all such opposition, and it was perhaps no great venture for so acute a person to utter the prediction that, notwithstanding the trust which Kirkaldy put in that powerful fortress, it should yet run like a sand-glass; it should spew out the captain with shame; he should not come out at the gate, but over the walls. Mr Robert Hamilton, minister of St Andrews, asking his warrant for this vaticination, he said: ‘God is my warrant, and ye shall see it.’ ‘As the other was scarcely satisfied,’ says James Melville, ‘the next sermon from the pulpit, he repeats the threatenings, and adds thereto: “Thou that will not believe my warrant, shall see it with thy e’es that day, and shall say: ‘What have I to do here?’” This sermon the said Mr Robert’s servant wrote....’—Ja. Mel.

This year ‘great weirs in the north land betwixt the Gordons and Forbeses, and the Forbeses put till the warst, and mony slain of them, and towns wasted and burnt.’—C. F.

Adam Gordon, brother of the Earl of Huntly, was a leader in these broils, and of some avail in supporting the queen’s cause. He stained his name by a frightful act of cruelty. The house of Towie, belonging to Alexander Forbes, was maintained by his lady against Gordon. On his sending to demand its surrender, the brave dame answered that she could not give it up without direction from her husband. Gordon then set fire to it, and burnt the heroic woman, her children and servants—twenty-seven persons in all!

July. 1571.

The queen’s party, after holding a parliament in Edinburgh, where they affected formally to re-establish her government, sent a pursuivant to Jedburgh, ‘to proclaim the new erected authority,’ probably thinking that the man would be safe in the performance of his duty at that town through the favour of Kerr of Ferniehirst, their fellow-partisan. They little reckoned on the spirit of the Border burghers. ‘He was suffered to read his letters till he came to this point, that the lords assembled in Edinburgh had found all the proceedings against the queen null, and that all men should obey her only. Then the provost caused the pursuivant to come down from the cross, and eat his letters. Thereafter, [he] caused loose down his points, and gave him his wages —— with a bridle; and threatened that if ever he came again, he should lose his life. Ferniehirst threatened the town: but they gave him the defiance.’—Cal.

A few months after, Ferniehirst and Buccleuch mustered a great multitude of the Border thieves, and came to take vengeance on the burghers of Jedburgh. The town, assisted by Kerr of Cessford, stood to its defence; and when Lord Ruthven came with a party of horse to aid them, they were able to beat back the assailants, many of whom fell into their hands.

Aug. 1.

‘There was ane sow farried in William Davidson’s house, flesher in Edinburgh, of thirteen gryces [pigs], of the whilk there was ane a monster. It had the gruntle [snout] in the heich of the heid, and under that it had twa een, ane nose and mouth, ane brow, ane cheek, ane tongue, and lugs like to the similitude of man in all sorts; the remanent thereof was like ane other gryce without hair. This portendit some mischief to this burgh.’—D. O.

Aug.

The Earl of Argyle, Robert Lord Boyd, and some other nobles, lately friends of the queen, were now brought over to the king’s side, after sundry meetings and discussions with the Regent. ‘The greedy and insatiable appetite of benefices was the maist cause thereof, for there was nane that was brought under the king’s obedience but for reward either given or promised. Als he [the Earl of Argyle] was greatumly persuadit hereto by Lord Boyd, wha persuadit the kirk to part the said earl and his wife, and [the earl] to marry his [Lord Boyd’s] daughter, wha was married upon the young laird of Cunninghamheid of before.’—D. O.

After these particulars, it is instructive to read the epitaph inscribed on Lord Boyd’s tomb in the Laigh Kirk (Burns’s Laigh Kirk) of Kilmarnock:

‘Heir lyis y^t godlie, noble, wyis Lord Boyd,

Quha kirk and king and commonweil decoird,

Quhilk war (quhill they yis jowell all injoyd)

Defendit, counsaild, governd, by that lord.’ &c.

Aug. 28.

The Regent Lennox held a parliament at Stirling, where he made an oration to the nobility. The king, five years old, was present, and, while his grandfather was speaking, he looked up and espied a hole in the roof, occasioned by ‘the lack of some sclates.’ At the conclusion of the harangue, the child remarked: ‘I think there is ane hole in this parliament.’

1571.

‘In effect, his majesty’s words came true; for the same month, about the end of the parliament (September 3), there came to Striviling in the night, ere the nobility or town knew, the Earl of Huntly, the queen’s lieutenant, Claud Hamilton, with the Lairds of Buccleuch and Ferniehirst, who, ere day brake, had possessed themselves of the town, crying “God and the Queen!” so that those that were for the King and his Regent could not, for the multitude of enemies, come to a head. Wherever they could see any that belonged to the Regent, him they killed without mercy. The Regent being taken prisoner by the Laird of Buccleuch, and horsed behind him, ane wicked fellow lift up his jack, and shot him through the body with a pistol.... [On a counter-surprise, the queen’s party] departed the town immediately. The Earl of Mar was declared Regent, and concluded the parliament. This was the hole which the young king did see in the parliament, although he meant nothing less.’—Bal.

Nov. 10.

Robert Lord Boyd entered this day into a bond of manred with William Fairly, brother of David Fairly of that Ilk. Manred, properly, is a service of allegiance; but in Scotland it had come, in the course of time, to be an agreement, sometimes between a great man and a less, sometimes between two or more equally great men, to stand by each other in all contingencies of war and law, excepting only (and perhaps it was but a hypocritical exception) where the king’s majesty and his commands were concerned. It was an arrangement dictated by the exigencies of a rude time, when law was but partial and uncertain in its actings, and natural feeling often called for something being done, whether the law would or no. As something not very consonant with good government, or even such attempts at the same as might be made in those days, manred had been denounced by a statute so long ago as 1457, when it was enacted ‘that nae man dwelling within burgh be fund in manrent, nor ride in rout in feir of weir with nae man, but with the king or his officers, or with the lord of the burgh.’ But acts of parliament were voices crying in the wilderness in Scotland, and manred still continued to have its place in the economy of life in this age.

1571.

On this occasion, William Fairly binds and obliges himself to be ‘man and subject servant’ to Lord Boyd and his heirs, ‘aefaldly and truly to serve them upon their retinue and expenses in household and out of household, as best sall please them in all their affairs, and as weel in defence as pursuit, with whom or against whom it sall happen them to have action and ado,’ the king excepted. He is likewise to help them with his good counsel, ‘and sall never hear nor know their hurt, damage, nor skaith, in ony sort, but sall diligently sift out the same, and mak true declaration thereof.’

The consideration for all this service is the possession of ‘the thretty-shilling land of auld extent of Byrehill.’

This was but the first of a long series of similar engagements which Lord Boyd formed down to his death in 1589.[78] For a forty-shilling land, the Laird of Fergushill becomes bound, October 26, 1572, in the same way as William Fairly, and to take part with the said lord and his heirs, in all their actions, quarrels, questions, and debates. The Laird of Lochrig, the Laird of Rowallan, Andrew Macfarlane of Arroquhar, and the Laird of Camstroddan, all in succession put themselves in this relation to his lordship. In March 1575, the Laird of Blair engaged with his friends, tenants, and servants, to ‘ride, gang, and assist with the said lord, in all kind of leeful conventions.’ It was with such satellites that a great man of that age, if to be tried on any criminal charge, appeared at the place of law, professedly that he might be sure of fair-play, but in reality with the effect of overbearing justice. It was with such assistants that two or three lords were sometimes enabled to take possession of the government, and for a time rule all at their pleasure. Amongst the most curious things in the early history of the reformed religion, are the occasions when it was manifestly indebted for its progress to associations of this irregular kind.

Dec. 24.

About this time, there was apprehended ‘one that keepit ane hostelry at Brechin, who before, at divers times, had murdered sundry that came to lodge with him, the wife being also as busy as the man with a mell [mallet], to fell their guests sleeping in their beds.’—Ban.

1571-2. Jan.
Feb. 8.

Among numberless skirmishes, surprises, and barbarous ravagings which marked the struggle between the friends of the queen and those of the infant king, was an affair of several parts or acts in this and the ensuing month. Lord Maxwell being contracted in marriage to a sister of the Earl of Angus, the lady’s relation, the Earl of Morton, proposed to give a banquet on the occasion at Dalkeith Castle. The wine required at the feast was to be brought in carts from Leith, together with some venison and a quantity of silver plate. Kirkaldy and his friends in the castle hearing of this, sent out a party of horse, which surprised Morton’s servants, and took as spoil the materials of the proposed banquet. Morton who, it was said, smarted more from the loss of the plate than the killing of a few of his servants in the struggle, immediately sent a party to requite Kirkaldy’s attack by laying waste his estate in Fife. Kirkaldy, again, repaid these attentions by sending a party a few nights after to set fire to the town of Dalkeith. On this occasion, he killed ten of Morton’s people, and took nine prisoners. ‘In their return [they] perceived fifty-sax horses from Dalkeith to Leith, passing laded with ale; they brake the barrels, and made prey of the horses, and brought into Edinburgh many kye and oxen forth of that lordship for supply of their scant and hunger.’—H. K. J. ‘These three scuffles went all under one name, and were ever after called Lord Maxwell’s Handfasting.’[79]

1572. Mar.

The condition of the ordinary places of worship in this time of civil war is sketched in the Lamentation of Lady Scotland, printed by Lekprevik in 1572.

‘The rooms appointit people to consider,

To hear God’s word, where they suld pray together,

Are now convertit in sheep-cots and faulds,

Or else are fallen, because nane them uphalds.

The parish kirks, I ween, they sae misguide,

That nane for wind and rain therein may bide:

Therefore nae pleasure tak they of the temple,

Nor yet to come where nocht is to contemple,

But craws and dows, cryand and makand beir,

That nane throuchly the minister may hear.

But feathers, filth, and dung does lie abroad,

Where folk should sit to hear the word of God;

Whilk is occasion to the adversaries,

To mock and scorn sic things before your eyes.

Thus to disdain the house of orison,

Does mak folk cauld to their devotion;

And als they do disdain to hear God’s word,

Thinking the same to be ane jesting bourd;

They go to labour, drinking, or to play,

And not to you,[80] upon the Sabbath day.’

1572.

The civil war told nowhere with more severity than on Edinburgh, which was the scene of the principal transactions. The bringing of victuals or coal to the city was forbidden by the beleaguering troops under pain of death, and the penalty was exacted in many instances. The consequence was ‘great penury and scant of vivres, sae that all was at ane exceeding dearth.’—D. O. In May, oatmeal was nine shillings of the native money per peck; eleven ounces of wheaten bread cost 8d., ‘and baps of nine [ounces] for 12d.’ It was found necessary to demolish some houses for the sake of the wood, to be used as fuel. At the commencement of a truce on the 22d of July, the meal had risen to twelve shillings, the boll of wheat to ten pounds, and a carcass of beef to sixteen pounds. On that day, ‘after noon, the victuals whilk was keepit to ane dearth was brought to Leith and sauld, the meal for five shillings the peck, ... and [sae] very mickle bread baken, that it that was sauld for sixteen pennies was sauld for six pennies. Thanks to God.’ During the scarcity, ale not being to be had, a drink of vinegar and water was substituted.—D. O. ‘Nochttheless,’ if we are to believe the same chronicle, ‘the remainers therein [that is, in Edinburgh] abade patiently and were of good comfort, and usit all pleasures whilk were wont to be usit in the month of May in auld times, viz., Robin Hood and Little John.’

Apr. 16.

From the day here noted to the 8th of June, the war between the queen’s party in Edinburgh and the king’s beyond the city was conducted on the principle of No quarter. All who were taken on either side were presently put to death. The common belief was, that this frightful system originated with Morton, who conceived that by such severity the war would sooner cease. In the end, both parties, ‘wearied of execution daily made, were content to cease from such rigour, and use fair wars, as in former times.’—Spot.

Apr. 21.

‘... there was ane minister [named Robert Waugh] hangit in Leith (and borne to the gibbet, because he was birsit[81] with the boots[82]). The principal cause was that he said to the Earl of Morton, that he defended ane unjust cause, and that he wald repent when nae time was to repent. And when he was required by whom he was commanded to say the same, he answered and said: “By the haly spreit.”‘—D. O.

In the same year, Mr Andrew Douglas, minister of Dunglass, was first tortured, and then hanged, for publicly rebuking Morton on account of his living with the widow of Captain Cullen.

July 19. 1572.

Another characteristic incident of the time, but of a somewhat mysterious character, occurred in a southern burgh. James Tweedie, burgess of Peebles, John Wightman, Martin Hay, and John Bower there, and Thomas Johnston, son to Thomas Johnston of Craigieburn, were tried for being concerned in ‘the cruel slaughter of the umwhile John Dickison of Winkston; committit within the town of Peebles on the 1st of Julii instant.’ They were acquitted. The fact is only worth mentioning here, to afford an opportunity of illustrating the long perseverance of tradition in certain favouring circumstances. In his youth, which was passed in the town referred to, the author distinctly remembers hearing an aged person speak of how Provost Dickison was long ago ‘stickit’ at the back of the Dean’s Well in the High Street. The event was then 240 years past.

Oct. 29.

‘The Earl of Mar, Regent, ended his life, about three hours in the morning. It was constantly affirmed, that about the time of his death, the trough of the water of Montrose, where it runneth through his lands, was dry, the water running nevertheless above [higher up]. At the same time, a violent wind drave a great number of sheep from the links of Montrose into the sea.’—Cal.

Some events of the kind did certainly occur about the time of the Regent’s death; but, contrary to all rule in such matters, they came after that event, if we are to believe another historian, who places them under November, and describes them as follows:

‘In this mean time was ane great ferly in Montrose. By the space of six hours, the water thereof was dry in the sea, and during the whilk space the people past within the said sea, and got sundry fishes.... After the whilk space, the people on the sands perceiving the water as ane popill pitt, frae the whilk they fled to land, and syne it was sea again suddenly, and never nane perishit hereinto. Also there was ane hill callit ... , whilk burnt by the said space; men riding by the way, the manes and coils of their horses burnt, the wands of their hands burnt; poor men passing on the way, the staves in their hands burnt, and when they wald dight [wipe] off the fire thereof, it wald entres again.’—D. O.

REGENCY OF MORTON: 1572-1578.

The Earl of Morton had no sooner assumed the reins of government, than his vigorous talents began to be felt. The chief strength of Mary’s friends was in Edinburgh Castle, held for her by Kirkaldy of Grange. All the means at the Regent’s command proving insufficient to reduce this fortress, he obtained from England an army of 1500 men, commanded by Sir William Drury, and provided with artillery. The castle stood a siege of three weeks, and was then obliged to yield (May 29, 1573). With mean vindictiveness, Morton sent the gallant Kirkaldy to the gallows. Maitland of Lethington might have shared the same fate, if it had not been anticipated either by a natural death or suicide. The other chiefs of the queen’s party were spared. After this event, the friends of Mary could no longer make an appearance anywhere in her favour. The new government remained triumphant, and peace was restored to a bleeding and exhausted country.

Morton was, on the whole, a serviceable, though not a just or clement ruler. It was his policy, arising from his love of money, to punish his adversaries rather by fines than bloodshed. All the persons of note who had befriended the queen, he caused to give security for their future behaviour. The smallest offence forfeited the pledge, and the cautioners were then mulcted without mercy. Under this ruling passion, he tampered with the coin, sold justice, and cheated the church of its revenues. It was supposed that he had concealed large treasures in his castle of Dalkeith; but we have no certain account of their ever being found, and probably the popular notions on the subject were exaggerated.

Under Morton, a slight move was made towards the establishment of a kind of episcopacy in the church, though the persons he appointed to the sees were mere creatures who consented to be receivers of the revenues on his account. The general feeling of the people continued to be decidedly in favour of the simple presbyterian polity, and the Regent’s interference with the purity of that system was one cause of his loss of popularity, and of his subsequent ruin. While the recognised champion of the Protestant interest in Scotland, and, as such, the protégé of Elizabeth, he disliked the presbyterian clergy. He not only refused to countenance by his presence any of their assemblies, but ‘threatened some of the most zealous with hanging, alleging that otherwise there could be no peace or order in the country.’[83] The noted efforts of King James to bring the church into a prelatic conformity with England, had in reality an exemplar in the doings of the Regent Morton.

Meanwhile the young king was reared in great seclusion in Stirling Castle, under the care of the celebrated scholar George Buchanan. His acquirements, at a very early age, were such as to raise great hopes of his future rule. Killegrew, the English ambassador, reports having heard him, at eight years of age, translate the Bible, ad aperturam libri, from Latin into French, and from French into English, ‘so well as few men could have added anything to his translation.’ But, in reality, his character was a strange mixture of cleverness and weakness, of wit and folly. His greatest deficiency was in a courageous will to pursue the ends of justice. He could clearly enough apprehend the disease, and speak and write about it plausibly; but he could do little towards its cure, because he shrank from all strong measures except against poor and inferior people, and those who had wounded his own pettier feelings.

The regency of Morton came to a premature conclusion in consequence of a combination raised against him by the Earls of Athole and Argyle; and James became nominally the acting ruler (March 1578), ere he had completed his twelfth year.

1572. Nov. 18.

‘... in the morning, was seen a star northward, very bright and clear, in the constellation of Cassiopeia, at the back of her chair; which, with three chief fixed stars of the said constellation, made a geometrical figure lozenge-wise, of the learned men called rhombus. This star, at the first appearing, seemed bigger than Jupiter, and not much less than Venus when she seemeth greatest ... the said star never changed his[84] place ... and so continued (by little and little appearing less) the space of sixteen months; at what time it was so small, that rather thought, by exercise of oft viewing, might imagine the place, than any eye could judge the presence of the same.’—Holinshed.

1572.

This was the celebrated Star of Tycho, so called because Tycho Brahé made it the subject of observation. The Danish astronomer is known to have first observed it a few days before the date assigned by Holinshed—namely, on the 11th of November, while taking an evening walk in the fields. From the suddenness of its appearance, and its very great brightness, he suspected that his sense was deceived, and was only convinced he saw truly when he found some peasants gazing at the imposing stranger with as much astonishment as himself. It has been regarded as an example of a class of stars which move in periods between remote and comparatively near points in space; and as there was a similar object seen in 945 and 1264, it was supposed that the period of this star was somewhat over 300 years. But ‘the period of 300 years, which Goodriche conjectured, has been reduced by Kiell and Pigot to 150 years.’[85]

The Star of Tycho, during the time it was visible, ‘suffered several very remarkable changes. On a sudden it became so brilliant, that it surpassed in brightness even Venus and Mercury, and was visible on the meridian in the daytime. Its light then began to diminish, till it disappeared sixteen months after it had been first seen.’[86]

1572-3.

‘This year, a great and sharp frost almost continually lasted from before the feast of All Saints, till after the feast of Epiphany of our Lord, with sometimes great and deep snows, and sometimes rains, which freezed as fast as the same fell to the ground, wherethrough at Wrotham, in Kent, and many other places, the arms and boughs of trees, being overcharged with ice, broke off and fell from the stocks ... also the wind continued north and east till after the Ascension Day, with sharp frosts and snows, whereby followed a late spring.’—Stowe.

1573. Apr. 3.

The gipsies, who are usually said to have wandered into Europe from the East in the beginning of the fifteenth century, are not heard of in Scotland before 1540, when a writ of the Privy Seal was passed in favour of ‘John Faw, Lord and Earl of Little Egypt,’ enabling him to rule his company in conformity with the laws of his pretended country. First accepted as noble refugees, possessing a semi-religious character, they were in time discovered to be mere rogues and vagabonds. It was now declared in the Privy Council, that ‘the commonweal of this realm was greatumly damnifiet and harmit through certain vagabond, idle, and counterfeit people of divers nations, falsely named Egyptians, living on stowth and other unlawful means.’ These people were commanded to settle to fixed habitations and honest industry; otherwise it should be competent to seize and throw them into the nearest prison, when, if they could not give caution for a due obedience to this edict, they were ‘to be scourgit throughout the town or parish, and sae to be imprisonit and scourgit fra parish to parish, while [till] they be utterly renderit furth of this realm.’—P. C. R.

Little more than three years onward (August 27, 1576), it was declared that this act had ‘wantit execution’—a very common misfortune to acts of council in those days; and it was found that ‘the said idle vagabonds has continuit in their wicked and mischievous manner of living, committing murders, theft, and abusing the simple and ignorant people with sorcery and divination.’ Men in authority were now enjoined to stricter courses with these wanderers, on pain of being held as their accomplices.

May 2.

An English force having come to help the Regent in winning Edinburgh Castle, the operations of the siege commenced by the fixing up of twenty ‘great pieces’ at four several places around the ancient fortress. ‘They shot so hard continually, that the second day they had beat down wholly three towers. The Laird of Grange ... would not give over, but shot at them continually, both with great shot and small; so that there was a very great slaughter amongst the English cannoneers, sundry of them having their legs and arms torn from their bodies in the air by the violence of the great shot. At last, the Regent continuing his siege so close and hard—the captain being forced by the defendants for lack of victuals—rendered the same, after a great many of them were slain [May 29].’—Bir.

Mr Robert Hamilton, minister of St Andrews, was in Edinburgh at this time, along with the servant who had written down John Knox’s prediction regarding the fate of Kirkaldy (see under 1571). According to James Melville, ‘they gaed up to the Castle-hill, and saw the forewark of the castle all demolished, and running like a sandy brae; they saw the men of weir all set in order. The captain, with a little staff in his hand, taken down over the walls upon the ladders, and Mr Robert, troubled with the thrang of the people, says: “Go, what have I ado here?” In going away, the servant remembers his master of the sermon, and the words, wha was compelled to glorify God, and say he was a true prophet.’

Aug. 3. 1573.

‘William Kirkaldy of Grange, knight, sometime captain of the Castle of Edinburgh, and James Mosman, goldsmith, were harlit in twa carts backward, frae the Abbey to the Cross of Edinburgh, where they, with Mr James [Kirkaldy] and James Cockie, were hangit,’ ‘for keeping of the said castle against the king and his regent.’—D. O. Bir.

Such was the dismal end of one who had undoubtedly been a most valiant soldier, though, it must be added, an unsteady politician, and too much a follower of private ends in public affairs. His concern in the assassination of Cardinal Beaton also detracts somewhat from the sympathy which would naturally be felt for him on this occasion. James Melville relates some curious particulars regarding his latter days and his execution:

When John Knox was on his death-bed in Edinburgh, November 1572, the situation of Kirkaldy and his friends in the castle had become critical. Mr David Lindsay, minister of Leith, came to visit the reformer, and asked how he did. ‘He answerit: “Weel, brother, I thank God; I have desired all this day to have you, that I may send you yet to yon man in the castle, whom ye ken I have loved sae dearly. Go, I pray you, tell him that I have sent you to him yet ance to warn and bid him, in the name of God, leave that evil cause, and give ower that castle: gif not, he shall be brought down ower the walls with shame, and hing against the sun: sae God has assured me.” Mr David, howbeit he thought the message hard, and the threatening over particular, yet obeyed, and passed to the castle; and meeting with Sir Robert Melville walking on the wall, tauld him, wha was, as he thought, meikle movit with the matter. Thereafter [he] communed with the captain, whom he thought also somewhat moved; but he passed from him into the Secretar Lethington, with whom, when he had conferred a while, he came out to Mr David again, and said to him: “Go, tell Mr Knox he is but ane ... prophet.” Mr David, returning, tauld Mr Knox he had discharged the commission faithfully, but that it was not weel accepted of after the captain had conferrit with the secretar. “Weel (says Mr Knox) I have been earnest with my God anent the twa men; for the ane [Kirkaldy] I am sorry that so should befall him; yet God assures me there is mercy for his saul: for that other [the Secretary Lethington], I have nae warrant that ever he shall be weel.”’

1573.

The castle surrendered, and Kirkaldy fell into the power of the Regent Morton. He offered all he possessed for his life. But the reformer’s prophecy was to be fulfilled, and how far it served to fulfil itself, we may surmise from what Morton wrote to the English agent. ‘Considering,’ he says, ‘what has been, and daily is, spoken by the preachers, that God’s plague will not cease while the land be purged of blood, and having regard that such as are interested by the death of their friends, the destruction of their houses, and away taking of their goods, could not be satisfied by any offer made to me in particular.... I deliberated to let justice proceed.’[87]

Mr David Lindsay, who had gone with Kirkaldy’s fruitless offer, ‘the morn by nine hours comes again to the captain, the Laird of Grange [who was now confined under a guard in a house in the High Street], and taking him to a fore-stair of the lodging apart, resolves him it behoved him to suffer. “O, then, Mr David (says he), for our auld friendship, and for Christ’s sake, leave me not.” So he remains with him, wha, passing up and down a while, came to a shot

‘Sae, about three hours afternoon, he was brought out, and Mr David with him, and about four, the sun being wast about the northward nook of the steeple, he was put aff the ladder, and his face first fell to the east, but within a little while, turned about to the west, and there remained against the sun; at whilk time Mr David, ever present, says he marked him, when all thought he was away [dead], to lift up his hands that were bund before him, and lay them down again saftly; whilk moved him with exclamation to glorify God before all the people.’

The burgh records of Glasgow from 1573 to 1581, of which liberal excerpts have been published by the Maitland Club,[88] throw much light on manners and the state of society, and also on the burgal or municipal customs. Glasgow was then a little town, undistinguished from any other of its size, excepting in its university and a small commerce, chiefly of a coasting description. We see in these records all the common affairs of a petty town, but with the rough character proper to an age of ignorance and ill-regulated feeling.

The quarrels, flytings (scoldings), and acts of personal violence form by far the most conspicuous entries in these records. Men strike women, women clapperclaw each other, and even the dignitaries of the town are assailed on the street and in their council-house. Whingers (that is, swords) and pistols are frequently used in these conflicts, and sometimes with dire effects. As examples—

April 9, 1574.—‘Alexander Curry and Marion Smith, spouses, are found in the wrang for troublance done by them to Margaret Hunter, in casting down of two pair of sheets, tramping them in the gutter, and striking of the said Margaret.’ Surety is given that Alexander and Marion shall in future abstain from striking each other; and ‘gif they flyte, to be brankit‘—that is, invested with the kind of iron bridle, with a tongue retroverted into the mouth, of which a description has already been given. ([See under Oct. 30, 1567].)

April 23.—William Wilson is found in the wrong for blooding of Richard Wardrope on the head. Richard and Andrew Wardrope are at the same time found in the wrong as the occasion thereof; and John and Andrew Wardrope, for hurting and wounding of the said William Wilson, to the great effusion of his blood in the Gallowgate on the morning thereafter. So also, Richard and John Wardrope are declared guilty of ‘onsetting and invading of the said William with drawn swords and pistols in the mercat, on Shere Thursday last.’ Shere Thursday,[89] otherwise called Maundy Thursday, is the day before Good Friday.

1573-81.

One common species of case is an attack of one female upon another, ‘striking of her, scarting of her, and dinging her to the erd’ [earth]; in one instance, ‘shooting of her down in her awn fire.’ Injurious words often accompany or provoke these violent acts. Bartilmo Lawteth strikes ‘ane poor wife’ to the effusion of her blood. Ninian Swan strikes Marion Simpson with ‘ane tangs’ [pair of tongs], and knocks her down—she, however, having previously spit in his face. ‘Andrew Heriot is [November 8, 1575] fund in the wrang and amerciament of court for troublance done to David Morison, in striking of him with his neive in Master Henry Gibson’s writing-chamber, on the haffet [side of the head], and also for the hitting of him on the face with his neive upon the Hie Gait, and making him baith blae and bloody therewith.’

George Elphinstone of Blythswood, one of the bailies, suffered a violent attack in the council-house (August 24, 1574) from Robert Pirry, a tailor, who wounded him with his whinger, striking one of the officers at the same time. For this, Pirry lost his freedom as a burgess. Six years afterwards, the same magistrate was assaulted on the street by George Herbertson, ‘saying how durst he be sae pert to deal ony wines without his advice;’ after which he threatened the bailie with his whinger. Immediately thereafter, Herbertson assailed the magistrate in the Tolbooth, ‘giving him many injurious words, sic as knave, skaybell, matteyne, and loon, and that he was gentiller nor he, having his hand on his whinger, rugging it halflings in and out, and that he cared him not, nor the land that he had nowther.’

In June 1589, Thomas Miln, chirurgeon, was brought before the magistrates for slanderous speeches against them, and for applying to the town itself an epithet which now, at least, appears strangely inapplicable—the Hungry Town of Glasgow. He was sentenced to appear at the Cross and openly confess his fault.

Much light is thrown on the character of the age by the magistrates ordering ‘every booth-halder [shopkeeper] to have in readiness within the booth ane halbert, jack, and steel bonnet, for eschewing of sic inconveniences as may happen, conform to the auld statute made thereanent.’

The streets of the town appear to have been kept much in the same state in which we now find those of neglected country villages, yet not without efforts towards a better order of things. The ordinances for good order may be said to prove the disorder. It is statute (1574) ‘that there be nae middings laid upon the fore-gate [front street], nor yet in the Green, and that nae fleshers toom their uschawis upon the fore-gate, and that nae stanes or timber lie on the gate langer nor year and day.’ In 1577, this statute is renewed in nearly the same words, shewing that it was but imperfectly obeyed; and next year there is a simple order ‘that the haill middings be removed off the Hie Gait, and that nane scrape on the Hie Gait.’

1573-81.

The town, according to a common custom, had its ‘minstrels,’ by which is inferred simply musicians—probably a couple of bagpipers. In 1579, there is an entry of ten shillings ‘to the minstrels, for their expenses to Hamilton siege.’ This was a siege in which popular affections would probably be engaged at Glasgow, as its object was to destroy the last vestige of the queen’s interest in Scotland. At the Whitsunday court 1574, the minstrels are continued until ‘the Summerhill,’ by which was meant a court annually held at a place so called, when the marches of the town’s property were subjected to review. There, accordingly, on Sunday the 20th June, Archibald Bordland and Robert Duncan are ‘admittit to be menstrals to the town for this instant year, and to have frae ilk freeman allenarly, but meat, twa shillings money at the least, with mair at the giver’s pleasure.’

In the treasurer’s accounts, we are struck by the many considerable presents, chiefly of wine, given by the town to noblemen possessing influence over its fortunes. We find, amongst frequent propines of wine to the Earl of Argyle, as much as seventeen gallons given at once. Two hogsheads are given to Lord Boyd, six quarts to the lord provost, two quarts to the parson of Glasgow, and so forth. At the town’s banquets, aquavitæ figures on several occasions, a quart being charged twenty-four shillings.

Several allusions are made in these records to the ‘knocks’—that is, clocks—set up for the public conveniency. An old one is repaired, and James Scott gets a sum ‘for labour done by him in colouring of the knock, moon, and horologe, and other common work of the town.’ References are made to several trades not known in our age by the same names, as a lorimer, the maker of the ironwork in horse-furniture; a snap-maker, by which is to be understood a maker of firelocks, then called snap-hances; a ladleman; a tabroner, meaning a drummer; &c. In 1577, the magistrates grant a pension of ten marks to Alexander Hay, chirurgeon, to encourage him to remain in Glasgow, ‘in readiness for serving of the town by his craft and art.’ This gentleman would bleed the citizens in exigencies of their health, and shave them daily.

1573-81.

The editor of these records remarks on the treasurer’s accounts, that the revenue is fully stated, and the whole expenditure minutely detailed. ‘It is true,’ he says, ‘the magistrates and “divers honest men” occasionally treat themselves to a dejeune; but this is after the completion of some public business, tending to the honour and profit of the commonweal. Indeed, the class of disbursements which, strictly speaking, are the least legal, the most rigid corrector of abuses could not well object to. We allude to the numerous benevolences bestowed upon poor scholars to buy them a suit of clothes, or books, to enable them to prosecute their studies; the sums voted to shipwrecked mariners, to ruined merchants who had lost their horses by some untoward accident, or to the widows and children of those burgesses whom unforeseen difficulties had plunged into absolute want. Not a little of the public funds is sometimes devoted to ransom unfortunate burgesses from captivity among the Turks, while considerable sums are expended in providing medical aid for those afflicted with physical infirmities, or who have met with severe bodily injuries.... Much curious matter may be elicited regarding the sports and pastimes of the people. The diverse disbursements for foot-balls are not unworthy of notice. We also meet with payments made to a piper called Ryall Dayis, and to “a fule with a treen sword,” as well as to certain young men of the town, for their playing—probably bearing a part in some mask or public pageant. The care bestowed on the decorement of the town’s minstrels is evinced in the entry of the purchase of blue cloth to make two coats for them, with as much “cramosie” as would serve for containing the town’s arms thereon. Nevertheless, though this care was shewn for the recognised minstrels of the burgh, the profession had thus early fallen into disrepute; for in the ordinance anent the pest [in 1574], “pipers, fiddlers, and minstrels,” are unceremoniously classed together as vagabonds, and threatened with severe penalties, should they venture into the city in contravention of the act.’

In those days, the citizens of Glasgow kept each his cow, which was fed, under the care of a town’s herdsman, in a common beyond the walls, as is the case with small burghs like Lauder and Peebles at the present day. In March 1589, John Templeton and John Hair were appointed herds for the year to come, John Templeton for ‘the nolt and guids aboon the Cross,’ and John Hair for ‘the nolt and guids beneath the Cross and the rest of the nether parts of the town.’

1574. Apr. 11.

A strange tragedy took place at the Cross of Edinburgh. Robert Drummond, sometimes called Doctor Handie, who had been a great seeker and apprehender of papists, had been punished for adultery by exposure in the church and banishment from the city. Out of favour on account of his services against popery, he was pardoned and brought back; but being again found guilty of the same offence, he was condemned to exposure in the stocks at the Cross, along with the companion of his crime; after which he was to be burnt in the cheek. While undergoing this punishment, ‘there being great science (?) of people about them, and the Doctor Handie being in ane great furie, said: “What wonder ye? I sall give you more occasion to wonder.” So, suddenly, he took his awn knife, wha strake himself three or four times fornent the heart, with the whilk he departit. This done, the magistrates causit harl him in ane cart through the town, and the bloody knife borne behind in his hand; and on the morn harlit in the same manner to the gallows on the Burghmuir, where he was buried.’—D. O.

May.

The Regent had passed an act, very agreeable to the people, to prevent the transporting of grain out of the country. There were, however, certain merchants who found it not difficult, by means of bribes, to obtain from him a licence enabling them to break the law. One of these was Robert Gourlay, originally a servant of the Duke of Chatelherault,[90] but now a rich merchant in Edinburgh—at least so we may reasonably infer from the grandeur of his house, not long ago existing. Robert was driving a good trade in this way, when the kirk, of which he was an elder, interfered to put an end to what it regarded as an unrighteous traffic. He was pronounced by the General Assembly to be guilty of a high offence in transporting victual out of the realm, and was sentenced to appear in the marriage-place in the church, and publicly confess his offence, clad in a gown of his own, which should thereafter be given to the poor. He obstinately refused to submit. The Regent came forward as his friend, and told the minister, Mr James Lowson: ‘I gave him licence, and it pertaineth not to you to judge of that matter.’[91] But it was all in vain. A week after, Robert was glad not only to go through the prescribed penance, but to crave forgiveness of the kirk for his temporary disobedience.[92]

July 29. 1574.

The press was not likely to be a friend to the Regent, and the Regent, therefore, was not a friend to the press. At this date he induced the Privy Council to issue an edict that ‘nane tak upon hand to emprent or sell whatsoever book, ballet, or other werk,’ without its being examined and licensed, under pain of death, and confiscation of goods.—P. C. R.

Sep. 3.

The town-council of Edinburgh agreed with a Frenchman that he should set up a school in the city, to teach his own language, for which he should be entitled to charge each child twenty-five shillings yearly, besides enjoying a salary of twenty pounds during the council’s pleasure.—City Register, apud Maitland.

‘The summer right evil weather, and dear; the boll of malt five merk and half merk, and the boll of meal four merk and three merk. Evil August; wind and rain. The harvest evil weather that ever was seen; continual weet.’—C. F.

Consequently, in autumn and winter, ‘there was ane great dearth in Scotland of all kinds of victuals.’—D. O. ‘About Lammas, wheat was sold at London for three shillings the bushel; but shortly after it was raised to four shillings, five shillings, six shillings, and before Christmas to a noble and seven shillings, which so continued long after. Beef was sold for twenty pence and two-and-twenty pence the stone, and all other flesh and white meats at an excessive price; all kind of salt fish very dear, as five herrings twopence. Yet great plenty of fresh fish, and oft times the same very cheap.... All this dearth notwithstanding (thanks be given to God) there was no want of anything to him that wanted not money.’—Howes.

Oct. 14.

‘The pest came to Leith by ane passenger wha came out of England, and sundry died thereof before it was known.’ On the 24th, it entered Edinburgh, ‘brought in by ane dochter of Malvis Curll out of Kirkaldy.’ The Court of Session abstained from sitting in consequence. ‘My Lord Regent’s grace skalit his house and men of weir, and was but six in household; I know not whether for fear of the pest or for sparing of expenses.’—D. O.

1574.

In December, the kirk-session of Edinburgh, ‘foreseeing the great apparent plague and scourge of pest, hinging universally upon the haill realm,’ and considering that ‘the only ordinary means appointed by God in his holy word, whereby the said apparent scourge may be removed, is ane public fast and humiliation,’ did accordingly appoint such a fast, to last for eight days, with sermon and prayers every day, and the people’s ‘food to be breid and drink with all kind of sobriety.’[93]

We do not hear of the pest proving very deadly in Scotland on this occasion.

Dec. 25.

This Christmas-day, the minister and reader of Dumfries having refused to teach or read, ‘the town ... brought a reader of their own, with tabret and whistle, and caused him read the prayers.’ This extraordinary exercise they maintained during all the days of Yule. It was complained of at the subsequent General Assembly, and referred to the Regent.—Cal.

1574.

In this year died David Home of Wedderburn, a gentleman of good account in Berwickshire, and father of the David Home of Godscroft, to whom Scottish literature owes the History of the House of Douglas. The son has left us a portraiture of the father, which, even when we make a good allowance for filial partiality, must be held as shewing that society was not then without estimable members. ‘He died in the fiftieth year of his age, of a consumption, being the first (as is said) of his family who had died a natural death—all the rest having lost their lives in defence of their country.

1574.

‘He was a man remarkable for piety and probity, ingenuity [candour], and integrity; neither was he altogether illiterate, being well versed in the Latin tongue.... He had the Psalms, and particularly some short sentences of them, always in his mouth; such as: “It is better to trust in the Lord than in the princes of the earth:” “Our hope ought to be placed in God alone.” He particularly delighted in the 146th psalm, and sung it whilst he played on the harp with the most sincere and unaffected devotion. He was strictly just, utterly detesting all manner of fraud. I remember, when a conversation happened among some friends about prudence and fraud, his son George happened to say, that it was not unlawful to do a good action, and for a good end, although it might be brought about by indirect methods, and that this was sometimes necessary. “What,” says he, “George, do you call ane indirect way? It is but fraud and deceit covered under a specious name, and never to be admitted or practised by a good man.” He himself always acted on this principle, and was so strictly just, and so little desirous of what was his neighbour’s, that, in the time of the civil wars, when Alexander, his chief, was forfeit for his defection from the queen’s party, he might have had his whole patrimony, and also the abbacy of Coldingham, but refused both the one and the other. When Patrick Lindsay desired that he would ask something from the governor [Morton], as he was sure whatever he asked would be granted, he refused to ask anything, saying that he was content with his own. When Lindsay insisted, says he: “Since you will have it so, I will ask something; but you must first assure me I will not be refused.” Then Lindsay swore to him that he should have whatever he desired. “Let me have, then,” says he, “the abbacy of Haddington.” “That you cannot get,” says Lindsay, “as I received it myself some time ago. But ask something seriously; for if you do not get a share of our enemies’ estates, our party will never put sufficient trust in you.” To this David answered: “If I never can give proofs of my fidelity otherwise than in that manner, I will never give any, let him doubt of it who may. I have hitherto lived content with my own, and will live so, nor do I want any more.”

‘David was a man of that temper, that he never was willing to offer any injury, nor to take notice of one when offered. His uncle George Douglas sometimes stayed at Wedderburn. He still kept up a secret grudge at Alexander of Home on account of that controversy they had had about Cockburnspath. Alexander happened to be at this time at Manderston, which is within half a mile of Wedderburn. Alexander of Manderston, with a great number of attendants, goes out with him to hunt; and as he was a turbulent man, and much given to ostentation, under the pretext of seeking game, he ranges through all Wedderburn’s fields. This was intended as an affront to George Douglas, and to shew him what trouble he occasioned to his nephew David.

‘George had resolved to bear the thing patiently, and to dissemble; but David, knowing their intention, and not bearing that any affront should be put upon his uncle, mounts his horse, and orders his servants to do the like, and, taking George along with him, he presses hard upon the heels of Alexander, who was then going home, and follows him to the very doors of his own house of Manderston, and hunted about the whins and broom at the back of the garden, till evening forced him to return home.’[94]

1574.

At this time was the conspiracy or Black Band formed against him, which he bore patiently, and at the same time wisely repulsed. I know not upon what account some gentlemen of the Merse entered into this conspiracy; it is certain it was for no misdemeanour of his, nor did they pretend any. Alexander of Manderston was the contriver of the whole. It was a thing openly known, for in the meetings of the judges on the Borders about mutual restitutions, the one [party] stood on this side, and the other on that, like opposite armies.... One day, when both parties were returning home, and among the rest Manderston, some of Wedderburn’s followers, flushed with indignation, advised him no longer to bear the arrogance of the confederates. He, on the other hand, refused to stain his hands in blood, saying that Manderston was furious and insolent in his youth, but would grow wiser when he was old, and acknowledge his fault.’

John Stuart, the titular abbot of Coldingham, a natural son of James V., was importuned to join the Black Band, but had too much regard for Wedderburn to do so. While he was absent in the north with his brother the Regent Moray, his wife, who had a spite at Wedderburn, made a strange kind of demonstration against him. She ‘ordered the men of her faction to be present on a certain day, and to bring along with them wains, carts, and other things fit for carrying off the corns, all of which was carefully done. But Wedderburn with his friends having gathered together about 500 horse, hastens to the fields, and dissipates the scattered troops before they could unite themselves into one, breaks the wagons, looses the horses, and drives them away. On this they all betake themselves to flight, together with Stuart’s wife (she was called Hepburn, and a sister of old Bothwell). A few received some strokes; none were wounded; but so great was the terror struck into them all, that they all sought hiding-places in their flight. Some hid themselves among the furze or broom; others under the banks of the river; some in the fields of corn, and all either in one place or other. One John Edington (commonly called the Liar, as he was always the messenger of strange news, which was commonly false) hid himself in the ambry of a poor old woman, from which he was dislodged, to the great diversion of his enemies and his own great terror. When their fear a little subsided, and it appeared that none were hurt, the affair appeared so ridiculous both to themselves and others, that Hepburn (as she was a woman of a pretty good genius and poetically inclined) described the whole in some verses. Nor was there ever anything afterwards attempted by the confederates.’

1574.

David is described as being swift of foot, and fond of foot-races. Horse-racing was also one of his amusements. ‘He collected a number of the swiftest horses both from the north of Scotland and from England, by the assistance of one Graeme, recommended to him by his brother-in-law, Lochinvar. He generally had eight or more of that kind, so that the prize was seldom won by any but those of his family.... He was so great a master of the art of riding, that he would often be beat to-day, and within eight days lay a double wager on the same horses, and come off conqueror.... He went frequently from home to his diversion, sometimes to Haddington, and sometimes to Peebles, the one of which is eighteen, and the other twenty-four miles distant, and sometimes stayed there for several days with numerous attendants, regardless of expense, as being too mean and sordid a care, and below the dignity of one of his rank.

‘Being educated in affluence, he delighted in fencing, hunting, riding, throwing the javelin, managing horses, and likewise in cards and dice. Yet he was sufficiently careful of his affairs without doors. Those of a more domestic nature he committed to the care of his wife, and when he had none, to his servants; so that he neither increased nor diminished his patrimony.’

The writer, in the true spirit of his age, cites Wedderburn’s love of the house of Home as ‘not the least of his virtues.’ The chief was prejudiced against him, but ‘he bore it patiently, and never failed giving him all due honour.’ At length, Lord Home being taken prisoner by Morton at the close of the queen’s wars, and put into Leith Fort, Wedderburn went to see him, and acted so much as his friend as to obtain his release and secure his love.

David’s first wife, of the Johnstons of Elphinston, in Haddingtonshire, was a paragon of benevolence. She not only supplied the poor bountifully, but often gave large help to superior people who had fallen back in the world. She would give the clothes of her own children to clothe the naked and friendless. Yet, such was her good management, that she left at her death 3000 merks in gold—‘a great sum in those days.’ ‘Everything in the family had a splendid appearance; and this she affected in compliance to her husband’s temper. As she was herself, so she instructed her children in the fear of God, and in everything that was good and commendable. To sum up her whole character, she obtained from all the appellation of the Good Lady Wedderburn.’

1574.

David ‘was of a beautiful and manly make. His complexion (for a man) was rather too fair. He had yellow hair, and an aquiline nose; his stature rather inclining to tall, his countenance comely and majestic, claiming at the same time both love and reverence. He much affected elegance in his dress, but not extravagance. He was very fond of his children, and seldom ceased to dance them in his arms.... These are the parents who make me rejoice in my birth. These are the parents who are an honour to their posterity. To live and die like them, loving and beloved by all, is my great and only ambition.’[95]

1574-5. Feb.

‘In the meantime, there was ane great dearth in Scotland of all kind of victuals.’—D. O.

Mar. 7.

In the course of the late civil war, Lords John and Claud Hamilton came to an inn to apprehend old Carmichael and the Laird of Westerhall. The house being beset and set on fire, the two gentlemen surrendered, on condition that their lives should be spared; but after they came forth, and were disarmed, Westerhall was slain, and Carmichael carried away a prisoner.

Westerhall being a dependent of the house of Angus, his death added largely to the resentment already felt by the Regent towards the Hamiltons. Love, however, which so often raises wrath, here came in to smooth it. There was a certain widowed Countess of Cassillis, whom Lord John knew and loved; and, as she was a cousin of the Regent, it became necessary to effect a reconciliation with him before a match could be effected. As one step towards this object—for doubtless there would be others, and particularly one involving a money-payment to the griping Morton—Lord John, now the actual head of the princely house of Hamilton, agreed, along with his brother, to perform a ceremony of expiation for the death of Westerhall. The Earl of Angus, head of the house of Douglas, being placed in the inner court of Holyrood Palace, Lords John and Claud walked across barefooted and bareheaded, and falling down on their knees before the earl, held up to him each a naked sword by the point, implying that they put their lives in his power, trusting solely to his generosity for their not being immediately slain. Soon after this strange scene, Lord John wedded Lady Cassillis.

1574-5.

This seems, after all, to have been but a partial and temporary restoration of the Hamiltons to court favour. There were many who could not forget or forgive their concern in the slaughter of the Regents Moray and Lennox. Douglas of Lochleven, uterine brother of Moray, was irreconcilably bitter against them. ‘Twice he set upon the Lord Hamilton, as he was coming from Aberbrothick, and chased him so that he was constrained to return to Aberbrothick again. Another time, as he was coming through Fife, he made him flee to Dairsie, which he beset and lay about it till the Regent sent to him and commanded him to desist.’—H. of G.

Mar. 8.

Though copies of the English Bible had found their way into Scotland, and been of great service in promoting and establishing the reformed doctrines, there was as yet no abundance of copies, nor had any edition been printed within the kingdom. There was, however, a burgess of Edinburgh named Thomas Bassendyne, who for some years had had a small printing-office there. He was probably too poor a man to undertake the printing of a thick quarto, the form in which the Bible was then usually presented; but he took into association with himself a man of better connection and means, named Alexander Arbuthnot, also an Edinburgh burgess; and now it was deemed possible that an edition of the Scriptures might be brought out within the realm of Scotland. The government, under the Regent Morton, gave a favourable ear to the project, and it was further encouraged by the bishops, superintendents, and other leading men of the kirk.

On the day noted, the Privy Council, seeing that ‘the charge and hazard of the wark will be great and sumptuous,’ decreed that each parish in the kingdom should advance £5 as a contribution, to be collected under the care of the said officers of the church, £4, 13s. 4d. of this sum being considered as the price of a copy of the impression, to be afterwards delivered, ‘weel and sufficiently bund in paste or timmer,’ and the remaining 6s. 8d. as the expense of collecting the money. The money was to be handed to Alexander Arbuthnot before the 1st of July next.

1574-5.

Arbuthnot and Bassendyne, on their parts, bound themselves to execute the work under certain penalties, and respectable men came forward as their sureties. Those who stood for Arbuthnot were David Guthrie of Kincaldrum, William Guthrie of Halkerton, William Rynd of Carse, and James Arnot of Lentusche—all Forfarshire gentlemen, be it remarked—a fact arguing that Arbuthnot himself was of the same district. The exact arrangements of Arbuthnot and Bassendyne between themselves do not at this time appear; but we find that Bassendyne engaged in Flanders one ‘Salomon Kerknett of Magdeburg’ to come and act as ‘composer’ at 49s. of weekly wages, and sought the aid of Mr George Young, servant of the abbot of Dunfermline, as corrector of the press. Having ‘guid characters and prenting irons,’ it was to be expected that the work, great and sumptuous as it was, would go quickly and pleasantly on. This hope, however, was not to be realised. (See under July 18, 1576.)—P. C. R.

Mar.

Among the evils of these times, was one which the present generation knows nothing of but from history. Owing to the constant exporting of good coin, and the importing of bad, the circulating medium of the country was in a wretched state. There seems to have been a regular system for coining base placks and lions (otherwise called hardheads) in the Low Countries, to be introduced by merchants into Scotland. The Regent, in a proclamation, described the abundance of debased money as the chief cause of the present dearth, the possessors of grain being thus induced to withhold it from market. For this reason, according to his own account, proceeding upon an act of the convention now sitting, he ordained the old coin to be brought to the cunyie-house, where it would be ‘clippit, and put in ane close lockit coffer upon the count and inventar of the quantity receivit frae every person;’ and meanwhile the lately issued genuine placks and lions were to have currency at twopence and a penny apiece respectively—that is, at denominations above their value. Any one hereafter possessing the false coin, was to be punished as an out-putter of false money.

‘Every day after this proclamation, induring the convention, the poor veriit and banned the Regent and haill lords openly in their presence, whenever they passed or repassed frae the Abbey, whilk was heavy and lamentable to hear.’—D. O.

The Regent, while thus an oppressor of his people by attempting to enhance the value of the coin, was engaged in several sumptuous undertakings. He was restoring the Castle of Edinburgh at a vast expense, and also erecting a new mint—putting over its door, by the way, a prayer which he had at this time much need to use—

Be mercyfull to me, O God.

1574-5.

His own personal extravagances were not less remarkable. He erected at Dalkeith a magnificent palace, richly adorned with tapestries and pictures, and fitter for a king than a subject. Here he lived in an appropriate style. All this he did at the expense of his enemies. He kept a fool named Patrick Bonny, who, seeing him one day pestered by a concourse of beggars, advised him to have them all burnt in one fire. ‘What an impious idea!’ said the Regent. ‘Not at all,’ replied the jester; ‘if the whole of these poor people were consumed, you would soon make more poor people out of the rich.’—Jo. R. B. Hist.

1575. Mar. 30.

‘There was ane calf calfit at Roslin, with ane heid, four een, three lugs [ears], ane in the middle, and ane on ilk side, twa mouths.’[96]—Sinclair of Roslin’s MS. additions to Extracta ex Chronicis Scotie.

June.

A number of French Protestants having at this time taken refuge in London in great poverty, there was a collection in Edinburgh for their benefit, one person being commissioned to go ‘through the Lords of Session, advocates, and scribes,’ and another ‘to pass to the deacons and crafts,’ in order to gather their respective contributions.—R. G. K. E.

Aug.

The General Assembly declared its mind regarding the dress fit for clergymen and their wives. ‘We think all kind of broidering unseemly; all begares[97] of velvet, in gown, hose, or coat, and all superfluous and vain cutting out, steeking with silks, all kind of costly sewing on passments[98] ... all kind of costly sewing, or variant hues in sarks; all kind of light and variant hues in clothing, as red, blue, yellow, and such like, which declare the lightness of the mind; all wearing of rings, bracelets, buttons of silver, gold, or other metal; all kinds of superfluity of cloth in making of hose; all using of plaids in the kirk by readers or ministers, namely in the time of their ministry, or using of their office; all kind of gowning, cutting, doubletting, or breeks of velvet, satin, taffeta, or such like; all silk hats, and hats of divers and light colours.’ It was recommended to the clergy, that ‘their whole habit be of grave colour, as black, russet, sad gray, or sad brown; or serges, worset, chamlet, grogram, lytes worset, or such like.... And their wives to be subject to the same order.’

1575.

It is rather curious that any such sumptuary regulations should have been required for the Presbyterian ministers, or even their helpmates, as, according to all accounts, their incomes for the first forty years after the Reformation were wretchedly narrow and irregular. The thirds of the old benefices assigned to them by Queen Mary’s act were far from being well paid. In the pathetic words of a memorial they presented to Mary in 1562, ‘most of them led a beggar’s life.’ They were as ill off under the grasping Morton as at any other time. The proceedings of the General Assembly of 1576 reveal that some were compelled to eke out their miserable stipends by selling ale to their flocks. The question was then formally put: ‘Whether a minister or reader may tap ale, beer, or wine, and keep an open tavern?’ to which it was answered: ‘Ane minister or reader that taps ale or beer or wine, and keeps ane open tavern, sould be exhorted by the commissioners to keep decorum.’—B. U. K.

Towards the end of this year, the Regent Morton was at Dumfries, holding justice-courts for the punishment of the Borderers. ‘Many were punished by their purses rather than their lives. Many gentlemen of England came thither to behald the Regent’s court, where there was great provocation made for the running of horses. By chance my Lord Hamilton had there a horse sae weel bridled and sae speedy, that although he was of a meaner stature than other horses that essayit their speed, he overran them all a great way upon Solway Sands, whereby he obtained great praise both of England and Scotland at that time.’—H. K. J.

1576. Mar. 27.

It was found that in Meggotland, Eskdale-muir, and other parts near the Border, ‘where our sovereign lord’s progenitors were wont to have their chief pastime of hunting,’ the deer were now slain with guns, not only by Scotsmen, but by Englishmen whom Scotsmen smuggled in across the Border, and this often at forbidden times; all which was ‘against the commonweal and policy of the realm.’ The Privy Council accordingly took measures to put a stop to these practices.—P. C. R.

May 1.

‘The first day of May, 1576 years, was sae evil, the wind and weet at the west-north-west, with great showers of snaw and sleet, that the like was nocht seen by them that was living, in mony years afore, sae evil.’—Chr. Aber.

May. 1576.

The Earl of Huntly died in a sudden and mysterious manner at Strathbogie Castle. Having fallen down in a fit while playing at foot-ball, he was carried to bed, where he foamed at the mouth and nostrils, struggled with his hands, and stared wildly, as if he would have spoken, but could never command but one word—‘Look, look, look.’ He also vomited a good deal of blood. After four hours’ illness, he expired.

‘The Earl of Huntly being dead thus on Saturday at even, Adam [Gordon, his brother] immediately causit bear but [out, outward] the dead corpse to the chalmer of dais [room of state], and causit bear into the chalmer where he had lain, the whole coffers, boxes, or lettrens [desks], that the earl himself had in handling, and had ony gear in keeping in; sic as writs, gold, silver, or golden work, whereof the keys were in ane lettren. The key of that lettren was at his awn bag, whilk Adam took and openit that, and took out the rest of the keys, and made ane inventory upon all the gear he fand within that coffer, or at least on the maist part and special part of that that was within; and when he had ta’en out sic money as to make his awn expenses south, he lockit all the coffers again, and thereafter lockit the chalmer door, and put up the key, and causit lock the outer chalmer door where the dead corpse lay. After they had set candles in the chalmer to burn, and gave the key of that chalmer door to John Hamilton, wha was man having greatest care within that place and credit of the Earl of Huntly in his time—this done, with sic other directions made for waiting on the place, Adam made him ready, and took the post south at 12 hours on the night, as I believe.... At ten hours or thereby before noon, on the morn after the earl was dead, there was in ane chalmer together, callit the leather chalmer, ... fourteen or sixteen men lamenting the death that was so suddenly fallen, every man for his part rehearsing the skaith [damage] that was to come by that death to them. Amangst the whilk there was ane westland man standing upright [with] his back at the fire, wha said the cause was not so hard to nane as [it] was to him, for he was newlings come out of Lochinvar, for some evil turn that he had done that he might not brook his awn country for ... he falls flat down on his face to the ground dead. The men pullit him up, cuist up door and window, and gave him air; there could appear no life in him, except he was hot.’ After lying several hours in the fit, ‘he recovered with great sobbing and working with his hands, feet, and body, and he cried, “Cauld, cauld.”’ This lasted till next morning, when he recovered thoroughly.

1576.

‘On the morn ... Tyesday next after the earl’s death, John Hamilton was gone up to the gallery of the new wark [building] to bring down spicery or some other gear for the kitchen, and had with him ane Mr James Spittal, and ane other man of the place, whose name I have forgotten.... This John Hamilton opened ane coffer, taking out something that he needit; he says: “I am very sick,” and with that he falls down, crying, “Cauld, cauld.” The other twa took him quickly up, cast up the window, and had him up and down the house. At length he said he was very sick; he wald have been in ane bed. Mr James Spittal convoyit him down the stair. When he was there down, he remembered that he had forgotten ane coffer open behind him; he turned again and the said Mr James with him, and when they had come again, they found the third man that was with them fallen dead ower the coffer, and he on his wambe lying ower the coffer. John Hamilton might make no help, by reason he himself was evil at ease. Mr James Spittal ran down, and brought up twa or three other men, and carried him down the stair, and up and down the close, but could find no life in him. At length they laid him in ane bed, where within ane while he recovered, with sighing and sobbing, wrestling with hands, feet, and body, and ever as he got ony words betwixt the swooning, he cried, “Cauld, cauld;” and this lasted twelve or thirteen hours, and I trow langer, if he was sae weel waited on as the lave [rest], as he was not, but gave him leave to work him alane, because he was ane simple poor man. All these wrought as the Earl of Huntly did in his dead passions, except they vomited not, nor fumed at the mouth and nostrils.

1576.

‘Upon that Tyesday after the deid [death], ane surgeoner of Aberdeen, callit William Urquhart, came to Strathbogie and bowelled the dead corpse, which, after the bowelling, was ta’en out of the chalmer and had into the chapel, where it remaineth to the burial. John Hamilton receivit the key of the chalmer door again when the dead corpse was ta’en out. On Wednesday next after the deid, Patrick Gordon, the earl’s brother, was sitting on ane form next to that chalmer door where that the dead corpse was bowelled; he hears ane great noise and din in that chalmer, whether it was of speech, of graning, or rumbling, I cannot tell. There was sixteen or twenty men in the hall with him; he gars call for John Hamilton, and asks gif there was onybody in that chalmer; the other said: “Nay.” He bade him hearken what he heard at the door, wha heard as he did. Then the key was brought him. He commandit John Hamilton to gang in, wha refused; he skipped in himself; John Hamilton followed ane step or twa, and came with speed again to the door for fear. Patrick passed to the inner side of the chalmer, and heard the like noise as he did when he was thereout, but yet could see nothing, for it was even, at the wayganging of the daylight. He came back gain very affrayedly, and out at the door, and show[ed] so mony as bidden in the hall what he had heard, wha assayit to pass to the chalmer, to know what was there; but nane enterit ower the threshold; all came back for fear. This pastime lasted them more nor ane hour. Candles were brought, the chalmer vissied [examined]; nothing there. As soon as they came to the door again, the noise was as great as of before, the candles burning there ben [within]; they said to me that knows it, there is not sae meikle a quick thing as a mouse may enter within that chalmer, the doors and windows [being] steekit, it is so close all about. Judge ye how ghaists and gyre-carlins come in among them. They were ane hour or twa at this bickering, while ane man of the place comes in among them, and said to Patrick: “Fye, for gif he was not tentie [careful], the bruit [report] wald pass through the country that the Earl of Huntly had risen again.” Then Patrick called them that had heard it, and commandit that nae sic word should be spoken.’—Ban.

July 18.

The work of printing the Bible, undertaken by Arbuthnot and Bassendyne in March of the year preceding, had proved a heavier undertaking than they expected, and had met with ‘impediments.’ They now therefore came with their sureties before the Privy Council, and pleaded for nine months further time to complete the work, obliging themselves, in case of failure, to return the money which had been contributed by the various parishes. This grace was extended to them.

On the 5th January 1576-7, the work of the Bible was still in hand, and we have then a complaint made to the Regent by ‘Salomon Kerknett of Magdeburg, composer of wark of the Bible,’ to the effect that Thomas Bassendyne had refused since the 23d of December by past, to pay him the weekly wages of 49s., agreed upon between them when he was engaged in Flanders. The Regent, finding the complaint just, ordered Bassendyne to pay Kerknett his arrears, and continue paying him at the same rate till the work should be finished.

1576.

Six days later, a more serious complaint was made against Bassendyne—namely, by Alexander Arbuthnot, that he would not deliver to Alexander, as he had contracted to do, the printing-house and the Bible, so far as printed, ‘wherethrough the wark lies idle, to the great hurt of the commonweal of the realm.’ The Regent, having heard parties, and being ripely advised by the Lords of the Council, ordered that Bassendyne should deliver the printing-house and Bible to Alexander Arbuthnot before the end of the month.—P. C. R.

Such were the difficulties which stood in the way of the first edition of the Bible printed in Scotland.

It was found necessary to issue an edict to the gold-seekers in Crawford-muir, Roberton, and Henderland, forbidding them to continue selling their gold to merchants for exportation, but to bring all, as was legally due, to the king’s cunyie-house, to be sold there at the accustomed prices, for the use of the state.—P. C. R.

‘The whilk summer was right guid weather; but there was weir betwixt my Lord of Argyle and my Lord Athole, and great spoliation made by the men of Lochaber on puir men. God see till that.’

‘All June, July, and August right evil weather.... Nae aits shorn in Fortirgall the 23 day of September.... All October evil weather; mickle corn unshorn and unled.’—C. F.

Nov. 8.

The trial of Elizabeth or Bessie Dunlop of Lyne, in Ayrshire, for the alleged crime of witchcraft. Bessie was a married woman, apparently in middle life, and her only offence was giving information, as from a supernatural source, regarding articles which had been stolen, and for the cure of diseases. ‘She herself had nae kind of art nor science sae to do;’ she obtained her information, when she required it, from ‘ane Tom Reid, wha died at Pinkie,’ that is, at the battle fought there twenty-nine years before. Her intercourse with a deceased person seems to have given herself little surprise, and she spoke of it with much coolness.

1576.

Being asked, ‘what kind of man this Tom Reid was, [she] declairit, he was ane honest, weel, elderly man, gray-beardit, and had ane gray coat with Lombard sleeves of the auld fashion; ane pair of gray breeks and white shanks [stockings], gartenit aboon the knee; ane black bonnet on his head, close behind and plain before; with silken laces drawn through the lips thereof; and ane white wand in his hand. Being interrogat how and in what manner of place the said Tom Reid came to her, [she] answerit, as she was ganging betwixt her awn house and the yard of Monkcastle, driving her kye to the pasture, and making heavy sair dule with herself, greeting very fast for her cow that was dead, her husband and child that were lying sick in the land-ill, and she new risen out of gissan [childbed], the said Tom met her by the way, halsit her [took her round the neck, saluting her], and said: “Gude day, Bessie;” and she said: “God speed you, gudeman.” “Sancta Maria,” said he, “Bessie, why makes thou sae great dule and sair greeting for ony warldly thing?” She answerit: “Alas, have I not cause to make great dule? for our gear is traikit [dwindled away], and my husband is on the point of deid, and ane baby of my awn will not live, and myself at ane weak point; have I not gude cause, then, to have ane sair heart?” But Tom said: “Bessie, thou hast crabbit [irritated] God, and askit something you should not have done; and therefore I counsel thee to mend to him, for I tell thee thy bairn shall die, and the sick cow, ere you come hame; thy twa sheep shall die too; but thy husband shall mend, and be as haill and feir as ever he was.” And then was I something blyther, frae he tauld me that my gudeman wald mend. Then Tom Reid went away from me in through the yard of Monkcastle; and I thought he gaed in at ane narrower hole of the dyke nor ony eardly man could have gane through; and sae I was something fleyit [frightened].’ ... The third time that Tom and Bessie met, ‘he appeared to her as she was ganging betwixt her awn house and the Thorn of Damustarnock, where he tarriet ane gude while with her, and speerit [inquired] at her, “Gif she wald not trow in him?” She said: “She wald trow in onybody did her gude.” And Tom promisit her baith gear, horses, and kye, and other graith, gif she wald deny her christendom and the faith she took at the font-stane. Whereunto she answerit: “That gif she should be riven at horse-tails, she should never do that,” but promisit to be leal and true to him in ony thing she could do.

1576.

‘... The feird [fourth] time, he appearit in her awn house to her, about the 12 hour of the day, where there was sitting three tailors and her awn gudeman ... he took her apron and led her to the door with him, and she followit, and gaed up with him to the kiln-end, where he forbade her to speak or fear ony thing she heard or saw ... when they had gane ane little piece forward, she saw twelve persons, aucht women and four men: the men were clad in gentlemen’s claithing, and the women had all plaids round about them, and were very seemly-like to see. And Tom was with them. Demandit if she knew any of them, answerit: “Nane, except Tom.” Demandit what they said to her, answerit: They bade her sit down, and said, “Welcome, Bessie; will thou go with us?” But she answerit not, because Tom had forbidden her.’

‘And further declairit, that she knew not what purpose they had amongst them; only she saw their lips move; and within a short space, they partit all away; and ane hideous ugly sough of wind followit them; and she lay sick till Tom came back again frae them.... Being demandit gif she speerit at Tom what persons they were, answerit: “That they were the gude wights that winnit in the court of Elfame, wha came there to desire her to go with them.” And further, Tom desirit her to do the same; wha answerit: “She saw nae profit to gang thae kind of gaits [to go such ways], unless she kend wherefore.” Tom said: “Sees thou not me, baith meat-worth, claith-worth, and gude eneuch like in person? and [he] should make her far better nor ever she was.” She answerit: “That she dwelt with her awn husband and bairns, and could not leave them.” And sae Tom began to be very crabbit with her, and said: “Gif sae she thought, she wald get little gude of him.”’

1576.

Bessie from time to time consulted her ghostly friend about cases of sickness for which her skill was required. ‘Tom gave out of his awn hand, ane thing like the root of ane beet, and bade her either seethe or make ane saw [salve] of it, or else dry it, and make powder of it, and give it to sick persons, and they should mend.... She mendit John Jack’s bairn, and Wilson’s of the town, and her gudeman’s sister’s cow.... The Lady Johnston, elder, sent to her ane servant to help ane young gentlewoman, her doughter, now married on the young Laird of Stanley, and I thereupon askit counsel of Tom. He said to me, “that her sickness was ane cauld blude that gaed about her heart, that causit her to dwalm [faint]” ... and Tom bade her take ane part of ginger, clows, anniseeds, liquorice, and some stark [strong] ale, and seethe them together, and share it, and put it in ane vessel, and take ane little quantity of it in ane mutchkin can, and some white suckar casten amang it; take and drink thereof ilk day, in the morning; gang ane while after, before meat; and she wald be haill.... Demandit what she gat for her doing, declairit “ane peck of meal and some cheese.” ... Interrogate, gif she could tell of ony thing that was away, or ony thing that was to come, [she] answerit, that she could do naething of herself, but as Tom tauld her ... mony folks in the country [came to her] to get wit of gear stolen frae them.... The Lady Thirdpart in the barony of Renfrew sent to her and speerit at her, wha was it that had stolen frae her twa horns of gold, and ane crown of the sun, out of her purse? And after she had spoken with Tom, within twenty days, she sent her word wha had them; and she gat them again.... Being demandit of William Kyle, burgess in Irvine, as he was coming out of Dumbarton, wha was the stealer of Hugh Scott’s cloak, ane burgess of the same town? Tom answerit: ‘That the cloak wald not be gotten, because it was ta’en away by Mally Boyd, dweller in the same town, and was put out of the fashion of ane cloak in [to] ane kirtle,’ &c.

Bessie, being asked how she knew that her visitor was Tom Reid who had died at Pinkie, answered: ‘That she never knew him when he was in life, but that she should not doubt that it was he bade her gang to Tom Reid his son, now officer in his place to the Laird of Blair, and to certain others his kinsmen and friends there, whom he named, and bade them restore certain goods and mend other offences that they had done.... Interrogate gif Tom, at his awn hand, had sent her to ony person to shaw them things to come, declarit that he sent her to nae creature in middle-eard but to William Blair of the Strand, and his eldest dochter, wha was contractit and shortly to be married with .... Crawford, young Laird of Baidland, and declare unto them, “That gif she married that man she should either die ane shameful death, slay herself, or gae red-wod [mad];” whereby the said marriage was stayit, and the laird foresaid married her youngest sister.’

Bessie denied any further advances on Tom’s part than his taking her once by the apron, and asking her to go with him to Elfame, that is, Fairyland. He used to come chiefly to her at noon. She had seen him walking among the people in the kirk-yard of Dalry; also once in the High Street of Edinburgh, on a market-day, where he laughed to her. Having once ridden with her husband to Leith to bring home meal—‘ganging afield to tether her horse at Restalrig Loch, there came ane company of riders bye, that made sic ane din as heaven and eard had gane together; and incontinent they rade into the loch, with mony hideous rumble. Tom tauld it was the gude wights that were riding in middle-eard.’

Being found guilty of the sorcery and other evil arts laid to her charge, Bessie Dunlop was consigned to the flames.—Pit.

The modern student of insanity can have no difficulty with this case: it is simply one of hallucination, the consequence of diseased conditions.

1576.?

The family of Innes of that Ilk, seated in their fine old castle on the coast of Moray, near Elgin, was one of prime importance in the country. The present laird, Alexander, ‘though gallant, had something of particularity in his temper, was proud and positive in his deportment, and had his lawsuits with several of his friends; amongst the rest with Innes of Peithock, which had brought them both to Edinburgh in the year 1576, as I take it; where the laird having met his kinsman at the Cross, fell in words with him for daring to give him a citation, and in choler either stabbed the gentleman with a dagger, or pistolled him (for it is variously reported). When he had done, his stomach would not let him fly, but he walked up and down upon the spot, as if he had done nothing that could be quarrelled (his friend’s life being but a thing that he could dispose of without being bound to account for it to any other); and there stayed until the Earl of Morton, who was Regent, sent a guard and carried him away to the Castle.

‘When he found truly the danger of his circumstances, and that his proud rash action behoved to cost him his life, he was then free to redeem that at any rate; and made an agreement for a remission with the Regent, at the price of the barony of Kilmalemnock, which this day extends to twenty-four thousand merks rent yearly.

‘The evening after the agreement was made, and writ given, being merry with his friends at a collation, and talking anent the dearness of the ransom the Regent had made him pay for his life, he vaunted that, had he his foot once loose, he would fain see what Earl of Morton durst come and possess his lands; which being told to the Regent that night, he resolved to play sure game with him; and therefore, though what he spoke was in drink, the very next day he put the sentence in execution against him by causing his head to be struck off in the Castle, and then possessed the estate.’—Hist. Acc. Fam. Innes.

This is a traditionary tale, perhaps true in the main facts; but there is reason to believe that it is to some extent misreported. On the 8th of January 1575-6, Robert Innes, of Innermarky, and James Adamson, burgess of Edinburgh, gave security to the extent of a thousand pounds, that Alexander Innes of that Ilk, being relieved from ward in Edinburgh Castle, should not go beyond the bounds of the town.

1576?

On the 18th of February, this surety was discharged by the Regent in council, in order that the laird might ‘do his utter and exact diligence for apprehending of John Innes in Garmouth, callit the Sweet Man; Thomas Innes, callit the Little; John Adam, callit Meat and Rest; and John Innes, callit the Noble; and bringing them before the justice to be punished for the slauchter of umwhile David Mawer of the Loch;’ which duty he had undertaken to perform before the 1st of August next, under pain of a thousand pounds.—P. C. R.

It is of course not impossible that after these events the laird was treated in the manner described by the family memoirs.

1576-7. Feb. 14.

The Regent, seeing the present abundance of corns in the country, and considering how in bypast times of dearth the people of Scotland had ‘received large help and support of victuals out of the easter seas, France, Flanders, and England,’ thought it proper that ‘the like favour and guid neighbourheid, charity and amity, should be extendit towards the people of the said countries in this present year, when it has pleasit God to visie them with the like dearth and scarcity.’ This was the more proper, in as far as ‘the farmers sould be greatly interested, gif they were constrainit to sell their corns at the low prices now current,’ seeing that their expenses were now as great as when in other times they were getting double prices. For these and other good reasons (whereof probably not the least was a good douceur from a few corn-merchants, such as Robert Gourlay), the Regent was pleased to arrange for a short suspension of the act of parliament forbidding the export of corn out of the country, taking on himself the power of licensing that operation to a certain modified extent.—P. C. R.

1577.

‘That April, right evil weather; and the May, mickle weet and rain; and June, right evil, weet and wind; and the beir seed right late in all places, while after Sanct Colm’s Day [9th June].’—C. F.

Nov. 13.

‘This year, in the winter, appeared a terrible comet, the stern [star, forming the head] whereof was very great, and proceeding from it towards the east a long tail, in appearance of an ell and a half, like to a besom or scourge made of wands all fiery. It raise nightly in the south-west, not above a degree and a half ascending above the horizon, and continued about a sax weeks or twa month, and piece and piece wore away. The greatest effects whereof that out of our country we heard, was a great and mighty battle in Barbaria in Afric, wherein three kings were slain, with a huge multitude of people. And within the country the chasing away of the Hamiltons, &c.’—Ja. Mel.

1577.

The notices of comets given by our old historical writers and diarists have no scientific value. They are only worthy of notice, as shewing the views entertained regarding comets by the people of an early and unenlightened age. The real nature of these strangers of the sky is not yet ascertained; but we have at least come to know some of the laws by which they are governed; above all, we know the great fact, that they are obedient to law. To our ancestors, they appeared in a very different light—as menacing messengers, sent for special reasons, ‘importing change of times and states.’ Some of the views expressed regarding them are sufficiently remarkable to be worthy of preservation.

The comet of 1577 was a very noted one, seen over Europe and Asia, also in Peru, and well observed by Tycho Brahé. Its tail, according to the description of the Danish astronomer, extended over 22 degrees. Such was the real space described by James Melville as an ell and a half! This comet passed its perihelion on the 26th of October in the year mentioned, and was visible, as we see, for a considerable portion of the winter. The date here given for its first appearance in Scotland is from the Aberdeen Chronicle.

The most noted comet at this time recent, was one called in Scotland the Fiery Besom, which has been set down at various dates by English and Scottish historians, but was undoubtedly identical with that so well known in the history of astronomy as having appeared in 1556. John Knox tells us that it presented itself during the winter which he spent in Scotland before his last return to France—a time when the doctrines of the Reformation stood in the most perilous circumstances in both England and Scotland, and men’s minds were consequently in a state of great excitement. Sir James Balfour speaks of it as having portended change not only in government, but in religion, and Knox takes care to note—‘Soon after, Christian, king of Denmark, died, and war raise betwixt Scotland and England, &c.’ Modern astronomers believe this comet to be the same with one which alarmed Europe in 1264, and Professor Hind is predicting that it must speedily revisit our skies, at the very time when these sheets are passing through the press. It is a curious consideration, that a heavenly body which left the confines of our sphere on its stated journey when Cranmer stood at the stake in Oxford, should next come amongst us when we are busy with such an affair (for example) as the laying of the electric telegraph across the Atlantic.

Dec. 18. 1577.

‘The Lord Somerville had often importuned the Lords of Session for a hearing in the Inner House [of a cause respecting lands, in which he was engaged against his relation, Somerville of Cambusnethan], but was still postponed by the moyen [means] and interest of the Laird of Cambusnethan and the Lady. At length he was advised to use this policy, by one who knew the temper and avarice of Morton, then Regent. This gentleman’s advice was, that the Lord Somerville should have his advocates in readiness, and his process in form, against the next day; timely in the morning, that he might not be prevented by other solicitors, he should wait upon the Regent in his own bed-chamber, and inform him that his business was already fully debated and concluded; that only Cambusnethan had given in a petition of new, craving that his business might be heard again in presentiâ, before their decerniture, which hitherto, notwithstanding of his bill, he had hindered himself; therefore his desire should be that his royal highness[99] should be pleased to call his action against Cambusnethan, that so long had been depending before them. And, whatever answer he should receive from the Regent, he desired my Lord Somerville not to be much concerned; but upon his taking leave, he should draw out his purse, and make as though he intended to give the waiting-servants some money, and thereupon slip down his purse with the gold therein, upon the table, and thereafter make quickly down stairs, without taking notice of any cry that might come after him. The Lord Somerville punctually obeyed this gentleman’s direction and advice in all points; for, having advised his business the night before with his advocates, and commanded his agents to have all his papers together against the morrow, for he hoped to bring his business to a close, being prepared, timely the next morning with his principal advocate he was with the Regent, and informed him fully of his affair; he gave a sign to his advocate to remove, as though he had something to speak to the Regent in private; when he observed his advocate to be gone, he takes his leave of the Regent, there being by good-fortune none in the room but themselves, two of the Regent’s pages, and the door-keeper within. It being the custom for noblemen and gentlemen at that time always to keep their money in purses, this the Lord Somerville draws out, as it were to take out a piece of money to give to the door-keeper, and leaves it negligently upon the table. He went quickly down stairs, and took no notice of the Regent’s still crying after him: “My lord, you have forgot your purse,” but went on still, until he came the length of the outer porch, now the Duke of Hamilton’s lodging, when a gentleman that attended the Regent came up, and told him that it was the Regent’s earnest desire that his lordship would be pleased to return and breakfast with him; which accordingly the Lord Somerville did, knowing weel that his project had taken effect.

1577.

‘About ten o’clock, the Regent went to the house, which was the same which is now the Tolbooth Church, in coach. There was none with him but the Lord Boyd and the Lord Somerville. This was the second coach that came to Scotland, the first being brought by Alexander Lord Seaton, when Queen Mary came from France. Cambusnethan, by accident, as the coach passed, was standing at Niddry’s Wynd head, and having inquired who was in it with the Regent, he was answered: “None but the Lord Somerville and the Lord Boyd;” upon which he struck his breast, and said: “This day my cause is lost;” and indeed it proved so; for about eleven hours, the 18th day of December 1577, this action was called and debated until twelve most contentiously by the advocates upon both sides.... After the debate was closed, the interlocutor passed in my Lord Somerville’s favours.... Thus ended that expensive plea betwixt the houses of Cowthally and Cambusnethan, after seven or eight years’ debate, and these lands of Lothian [Drum, Gilmerton, and Goodtrees] returned again to the Lords Somerville, when they had been fourscore years complete in the possession of the family of Cambusnethan.’—M. of S.

Although this story was transcribed from family tradition a century after the alleged occurrence, there is too much reason in the monstrous avarice of Morton to believe it near the truth.

The commencement of the lawsuit between Lord Somerville and his cousin forms an equally curious tale. The Laird of Cambusnethan had a second wife, exceedingly ambitious of the advancement of her own children. First and second alike had been favourites of King James V., and women of great beauty. To promote a match for her son with Lord Somerville’s second daughter, Lady Cambusnethan brought a package of family papers to Cowthally, intending to shew that the young man would inherit a large portion of his father’s property—namely, the Mid-Lothian estates. It happened that Mr John Maitland, younger brother of Secretary Lethington, was then living in retirement with his kinsman, Lord Somerville; and, the papers being put into his hands, he soon discovered that the lands destined for the young man were recoverable by his lordship. He took a duplicate of one important document, and then the whole were returned to Lady Cambusnethan, who by and by took her leave with a fair answer from Lord Somerville, though in reality he only felt disgust at a proposal which aimed at a severe injury to the heir of her husband’s house.

Lord Somerville and Maitland took the pleasure of hunting that afternoon. ‘During their sport, Mr Maitland takes occasion to inquire at his cousin, if his lordship’s predecessors had ever any interest in Mid-Lothian, and if he knew how they parted with the same. He answered they had; and to the best of his knowledge, the house of Cambusnethan had these among many other lands they received from his great-grandfather, Lord John, who, upon the account of his son of the second marriage, went near to have ruined his family, by reason of the great fortune he left to the son of that marriage. By this answer, Mr Maitland understood that his cousin Lord James was altogether ignorant of the way and manner of the conveyance of Drum, Gilmerton, and Goodtrees from his family to that of Cambusnethan, and therefore, in a drolling way, he asked his cousin what he would bestow upon that person that should put him in a way to recover these lands. My Lord, smiling, said: “Cousin, the bargain should soon be made, if once I saw the man that made the offer.” Whereupon Mr Maitland pulling out the paper, which was the double of King James the Fourth’s gift, delivers it to my lord, saying: “There it is that will effectuate and do that business; and seeing I am the man that has made the discovery, I crave no more but your lordship’s white gelding.” Hearing this discourse, and having read the note, Lord Somerville immediately lights from his horse, and taking his cousin all in his arms—“Here is not only my gelding, but take this, which in these troublesome times I have still kept upon me, not knowing what might befall, having, as was my duty, sided and taken part with that just interest of my princes which has had but bad success in the world.” That which the Lord Somerville gave with the gelding to his cousin was a purse sewed by his mother, Dame Janet Maitland, with silk and silver, containing twenty old pieces of gold; and, indeed, it could not be better bestowed than upon her nephew, a brave gentleman, whose great abilities and personal worth afterward brought him to be the principal officer of state in Scotland.’

1577.

The crop of this year must have failed to a lamentable extent, as, immediately after harvest, we hear of ‘exorbitant dearth of victual and penury thereof,’ and the ensuing year was, according to a contemporary diarist, marked by ‘ane great dearth of all kinds of victuals, through all Scotland, that the like was not seen in man’s days afore.’ According to the latter authority, ‘the meal was sauld for sax shillings the peck, the ale for tenpence the pint, the wine for the best cheap forty pence the pint; fish and flesh was scant and dear.’—Aber. Chron.

In November 1577 two boat-loads of beir were about to sail from Aberdeen harbour for Leith, when the town-council arrested them, and ordained the victual to be sold to the inhabitants of Aberdeen at ‘competent prices.’[100]

According to the usual policy in such cases, the government (April 14, 1578) issued a proclamation commanding the possessors of grain to thrash it out before the 10th of June, under pain of escheating, and that no person should keep more victual than was sufficient to serve him and his family a quarter of a year, the rest to be brought to the market within twenty days. It was also ordered, that no grain should be taken forth of the kingdom, but ‘strangers bringing in victual should be favourably enterteened and thankfully paid.’—Cal. This proclamation, being entirely accordant with the prejudices of the masses, was ‘mickle commendit.’—Moy.

Following the usual rule, the scarcity of 1577 was attended by an epidemic disease. At least, so we think may be inferred from an entry in Marjorebanks’s Annals, under 1580:

‘There was twa years before this time ane great universal sickness through the maist part of Scotland: uncertain what sickness it was, for the doctors could not tell, for there was no remede for it; and the commons called it Cowdothe.’

1577-8. Mar. 17.

There was an ancient feud between the families of Glammis and Crawford, but as the present lords were on the same side in politics, it was felt by both as inexpedient that any hostility should take place between them. Moreover, it would have been highly indecent of Lord Glammis, who was chancellor of the kingdom, to allow any demonstration of rancour to come from his side. Nevertheless, a fatal collision took place between these two nobles.

1577-8.

About the dusk of a spring day, Lord Glammis was coming down from Stirling Castle to his own house in the town, attended as usual by some of his friends and followers, when, in a narrow lane, he encountered the Earl of Crawford similarly attended. The two nobles bade their respective followers give way to the other; and the order was obeyed by all except the two last, who either wilfully or by accident jostled each other, and then immediately drew their swords and fell a-fighting. A skirmish then took place between the two parties, in the course of which Lord Glammis, whose stature made him overtop the company, was shot through the head with a pistol, and many were hurt on both sides.

‘Lord Glammis was a learned, godly, and wise man. He sent to Beza when the work of policy was in hands, and craved his judgment in some questions of policy; whereupon Beza wrote the book De Triplici Episopatu, Of the threefold bishopric, divine, human, and devilish, and his answers to his questions. Mr Andrew Melville made this epigram upon him after his death:

Tu Leo magne jaces inglorius: ergo, manebunt

Qualia fata canes? qualia fata sues?

Since lowly lies thou, noble lyon fine,

What sall betide, behind? the dogs and swine?—Cal.

The respective friends of Glammis and Crawford fell into active hostilities after this event, and Crawford was seized and thrown into prison. Being really free from blame, and befriended by many of the nobility, he was soon liberated, to the great joy of his own people. The general joy diffused by this event exasperated Thomas Lyon, a nephew of the deceased chancellor, insomuch that ‘Crawford all his life was glad to stand in a soldier’s posture.’—Jo. Hist.

Godscroft relates that the slaughter of Lord Glammis, which was committed at five in the afternoon in Stirling, was ‘reported punctually and perfectly in Edinburgh at six, being twenty-four [Scotch] miles distant.’ He perhaps means to insinuate that the deed was premeditated. Under November 1585 will be found another instance of miraculous-looking quickness in the communication of intelligence.

1578. June 13.

A Band of Friendship—a sort of modification of the old bonds of manred—was formed by the Earl of Eglintoun, the Earl of Glencairn, Lord Boyd, the respective eldest sons of these nobles, Sir Matthew Campbell of Loudon, and Wallace of Craigie, for the repressing of diverse troubles in the country, and with a view to their greater efficiency in the king’s service. They bound themselves, upon their faith and honours, ‘the holy evangel touched, to tak true, faithful, plain, and aefald part all together, as weel by way of law as deed, pursuit as defence, ... in all actions, causes, quarrels, controversies, and debates, movit or to be movit by or against us ... against whatsomever person or persons, the king’s majesty alane excepted.’ It was also concluded ‘that all castles, houses, strengths perteining to us sall be ready and patent to ilk ane of us, as the occasion may require.’ Then came a remarkable clause—‘Gif it sall happen, as God forbid, ony different, slaughter, bluid, or other inconvenient, to fall out amangs us, our friends, servants, or dependers, the same, of whatsomever wecht or quality it sall be of, sall be remitted to the decision and judgment of the remanent of us, wha sall have power to judge and decern thereintill, whase sentence and decreet baith the parties sall bide at, fulfil, and observe without reclamation, and sall be as valid and effectual in all respects, and have as full execution, as the same had been given and pronounced after cognition in the cause, by the Lords of Session, Justice-general of Scotland, or ony other judge ordinar within this realm.’[101]

July.

In the parliament held at this time, Lord Home was restored from the forfeiture passed against his father in consequence of his adherence to the queen’s party. David Home of Godscroft represents this as being mainly brought about by the intervention of Sir George Home of Wedderburn with the Earl of Morton; and according to Godscroft’s narration, it was against the will and judgment of Morton that Wedderburn’s end was gained. The affair stands out in strong illustration of the principle of clanship and kindred as affecting even Lowland bosoms in that age. Morton freely told Wedderburn that ‘he thought it not his best course; “For,” said he, “you never got any good of that house, and if it were once taken out of the way, you are next—and it may be you will get small thanks for your pains.”

1578.

‘Sir George answered, that “the Lord Home was his chief, and he could not see his house ruined. If they were unkind, that would be their own fault. This he thought himself bound to do. And, for his own part, whatsoever their carriage were to him, he would do his duty to them. If his chief should turn him out at the fore door, he would come in again at the back door.”

“Well,” says Morton, “if you be so minded, it shall be so. I can do no more but tell you my opinion.” And so [he] consented to do it.’[102]

Sir George Home of Wedderburn was son and successor of the Merse gentleman described under 1574, and a sketch of him, drawn by the perhaps partial hand of his brother, David of Godscroft, is well worthy of preservation. He was now twenty-eight years of age; he had been trained to pious habits by his parents, and completed his education at the Regent’s court, in company with the young Earl of Angus. He knew Latin and French thoroughly, had studied logic, and acquired such an extensive knowledge of geography, that, ‘though he had never been out of his own country, he could dispute with any one who had travelled in France or elsewhere. He learned the use of the triangle in measuring heights, without any teaching, or ever having read of it; so that he may be said to have invented it.

‘He was diligent in reading the sacred Scriptures, and not to little purpose. He was assiduous in settling controverted points, and at table, or over a bottle, he either asked other people’s opinions, or freely gave his own.... He did read a great deal when his public and private business allowed him. He likewise wrote meditations upon the Revelations, the soul, love of God, &c. He also gave some application to law, and even to physic.... As to his body, he was well-proportioned; his countenance was lovely and modest, and his limbs handsome and of great strength. He was polite and unaffected in his manners. He sung after the manner of the court. He likewise sang Psaltery to his own playing on the harp. He also sometimes danced. He was very keen for hare-hunting, and delighted much in hawks, particularly that kind that have a small body and large wings, called marlins. With these he caught both partridges and muirfowl. He was so much given to diversion that he built a hunting-house, which he called Handaxewood, in the hills of Lammermuir, in which he might divert himself in the night-time. He first delighted most in those hawks called falcons; but, wearying of them, he took to the other kind, called tercels, which he used even in his old age.

1578.

‘He rode skilfully, and sometimes applied himself to the breaking of the fiercest horses. He was skilful in the bow beyond most men of his time. He was able to endure cold, hunger, thirst, fatigue, and watching.... He was moderate both in his eating and drinking, which was in those days scarce any praise, temperance being then frequent, though it is now very rare.’

Being, while at court in his youth, stinted of money by a step-mother, he had to avoid cards and dice, and restrict himself to tennis. He was forced by the same cause to restrain the affection he began to feel for the sister of Angus, who, by and by, was married to Lord Maxwell, ‘not at all agreeable to her own inclination, but by the express command of the Regent, who would not neglect this opportunity.’ Having succeeded to his estate, ‘his first care was to restore his family to its ancient splendour and fulness, from which it had fallen by the sordidness of his step-mother. Therefore he always went with a great number of attendants, kept a great family, about eighteen horsemen, each of whom had two horses. He was likewise attended by his vassals in Kimmerghame, which was a village at no great distance. They were about twelve in number, and had generally been made use of by his predecessors in services of this kind. They never took greater care of their fields than of their horses, and never ceased accustoming and perfecting themselves in the use of arms. They seldom employed themselves in the country work, and never made use of their horses for that purpose, and they were so swift and beautiful that they might even have contended with those of their master’s domestics. They were always ready at command on every emergency to be led or sent where he pleased. Thus, he was always guarded with twenty or thirty horsemen, all brave and warlike, in order that he might be more respected. Nor was he mistaken in his opinion; it procured him such great fame and authority both with his friends and others, it so much checked his rivals, that they all yielded to him in the beginning, nor ever dared to oppose any of his attempts.

1578.

‘Nor did he acquire less glory in the care he took of his sisters, which was crowned with success. The remembrance of the best of mothers, their own goodness and beauty, procured them his love. Chance assisted the care he had, advantageously to dispose of Isobel, the eldest. John Haldane of Gleneagles, who having come to the Earl of Morton, who was then governor, to transact and agree with him about the ward and marriage of his lands, Morton answered he had given all right he had to it to Isobel, Wedderburn’s sister, and he might go and take her and it together. There were, along with Haldane, his uncles, Richard and Robert, and David Erskine, abbot of Dryburgh. They, without delay, come to Wedderburn, where they see, converse with, and please the young lady, who had before been known to them by report only; they treat and agree with the brother, and the marriage-day is set. He had resolved that she should be dismissed as honourably as possible. For that purpose, there was a most splendid apparatus and entertainment, which was made up by the bride’s direction, and it greatly added to the fame of her prudence, as few had ever seen so grand and genteel a marriage-feast, and all who were present never failed to give it the greatest commendations.’

Sep. 11.

An attempt was made by proclamation to raise the value of the coin, thirty-shilling pieces being ordained to pass for 32s. 8d., and twenty, ten, and five shilling pieces in proportion, refusal of the coin at the exalted rates being threatened with capital punishment. ‘This was altogether mislikit by the common people, and specially by the inhabitants of Edinburgh.’—Moy.

1578-9. Feb. 21.

‘The whilk day, the lords of secret council has thought meet and expedient that the king’s majesty sould not write to the lords of his hienes’ council and session, in furtherance or hindrance of ony particular persons’ actions and causes in time coming, but suffer them to proceed and do justice in all actions privilegit to be decidit by them, as they sall answer to God and his hienes thereupon.’—P. C. R.

James was now twelve and a half years old, but nominally in possession of the government. We see that his influence was already sought by individuals, to affect the course of the chief civil tribunal of the country. It will appear a characteristic circumstance, and there are many others to corroborate its general purport. Yet it is but right to remark, as the general impression produced by a perusal of the Privy Council Record, that the decisions given there on matters of right between individuals are, on the whole, marked by an appearance of fairness and impartiality. Oppression from high quarters is frequently denounced; and there are numberless instances of a humane and forbearing spirit towards poor and unfortunate people.

1579.

‘The magistrates of [Glasgow], by the earnest dealing of Mr Andrew Melville and other ministers, had condescended to demolish the cathedral, and build with the materials thereof some little churches in other parts, for the ease of the citizens. Divers reasons were given for it—such as, the resort of superstitious people to do their devotion in that place; the huge vastness of the church, and that the voice of a preacher could not be heard by the multitudes that convened to sermon; the more commodious service of the people; and the removing of that idolatrous monument (so they called it) which was of all the cathedrals in the country only left unruined, and in a possibility to be repaired. To do this work, a number of quarriers, masons, and other workmen, was conduced, and the day assigned when it should take beginning. Intimation being made thereof, and the workmen by sound of a drum warned to go unto their work, the crafts of the city in a tumult took arms, swearing with many oaths, that he who did cast down the first stone should be buried under it. Neither could they be pacified till the workmen were discharged by the magistrates. A complaint was hereupon made, and the principals cited before the council for insurrection: where the king, not as then thirteen years of age, taking the protection of the crafts, did allow [sanction] the opposition they had made, and inhibited the ministers (for they were the complainers) to meddle any more in that business, saying, “That too many churches had already been destroyed, and that he would not tolerate more abuses in that kind.”‘—Spot.

Apr.

John Stewart, Earl of Athole, was one of the more respectable of the Scottish nobility of this age. To Queen Mary—whom he had entertained at a hunt in Glen Tilt in 1564—he proved a faithful friend,[103] till her fatal marriage with Bothwell, when, although a Catholic, he joined those who crowned her son as king. During the regencies, he lived in dignified retirement, till called upon to make an effort to rescue the young king from the thraldom in which he was held by Morton. A temporary fall of Morton in 1577 left Athole chancellor of the kingdom.

1579.

He now came to Stirling, to assist in accommodating some quarrels of the friends of the Mar family regarding the custody of the young king and the government of Stirling Castle. ‘Matters being seemingly adjusted, the old Countess of Mar, or the Earl of Morton, in her name, invited the chancellor to an entertainment. While they were drinking hard, somebody conveyed a deadly poison into the chancellor’s glass.’ April 16th, ‘the chancellor passed forth of Stirling to Kincardine,[104] very sick and ill at ease, and upon the 24th day deceased there.’ His friends, thinking he had got foul play, sent to Edinburgh for surgeons to open the body; and though these men of skill declared upon oath that they found no trace of poison or mark of violence done to the deceased, the widow and eldest son entered a protest that this should not prejudge the criminal process which they intended before the Justice-general. ‘Some blamed the old Countess of Mar for it; others suspected the Earl of Morton at the bottom of it.’ Both suspicions were probably groundless; it may even be doubted if the earl was poisoned at all. When under sentence of death some years after, Morton solemnly denied the crime imputed to him, and said in no circumstances would he have injured a hair of Athole’s head.

‘Upon the sevent of July, the corpse of the Earl of Athole being convoyit to Dunblane, was carried forth thereof the direct way to Dunfermline, where they remained that night. Upon the morn, they passed forth to Edinburgh, where a great number of friends were convenit to the burial. Upon the tenth day, [the body of the earl] was honourably convoyit with his friends from Haliroodhouse to St Giles’ Kirk, where he was buried on the east side of the altar on the south side of the church.’ Owing to the general belief as to the mode of the earl’s death, his funeral brought forth strong marks of public feeling.[105] It appears that, before it took place, there was a rumour that the relatives of the deceased designed that it should be attended with sundry superstitious rites, as ‘a white cross in the mortclaith, lang gowns with stroups, and torches.’ A deputation from the General Assembly came to inquire, and were asked to satisfy themselves by inspecting the preparations. ‘The kirk thought the cross and the stroups superstitious and ethnic-like, and desirit them to remove the same.’ It was accordingly arranged to cover the cross with black velvet and to remove the stroups.—B. U. K.

May. 1579.

There was at this time a collection of money in Aberdeen and other parts of Scotland, for the support and relief of the ‘Scottismen prisoners in Argier in Affrik, and other parts within the Turk’s bounds.’ One Andro Cook engaged himself to dispose of this money as intended, and to deliver the surplus, ‘gif ony,’ to the royal treasurer, to be used as his majesty might think fit.—Ab. C. R., P. C. R.

This collection did not go on briskly, or come to any important effect. On the 26th of October 1583, nothing had been done beyond the collecting of £562, exclusive of what had been bestowed in expenses. Cook was dead, but his son had this sum in his hands, and was desirous of rendering it up under proper authority. It was found, however, that the unhappy captives at Algiers were removed from all earthly hardships, so that it was desirable to devote the money to some other object. By the king it was ordained in council that the sum resting with Cook’s son should be paid to the procurators of David Hume, shipper in Leith, who was now lying captive at Bordeaux.

Aug. 12.

‘Twa poets of Edinburgh, remarking some of his [the Earl of Morton’s] sinistrous dealing, did publish the same to the people by a famous libel written against him; and Morton, hearing of this, causit the men to be brought to Stirling, where they were convict for slandering ane of the king’s councillors, and were there baith hangit. The names of the men were William Turnbull, schoolmaster in Edinburgh, and William Scott, notar. They were baith weel beloved of the common people for their common offices.’—H. K. J. ‘Which was thought a precedent, never one being hanged for the like before; and in the meantime, at the scattering of the people, there were ten or twelve despiteful letters and infamous libels in prose, found, as if they had been lost among the people, tending to the reproach of the Earl of Morton and his predecessors.’—Moy. R.

At the fall of Morton, less than two years after, when he was taken prisoner and conducted to Edinburgh Castle—‘as he passed the Butter Tron, a woman who had her husband put to death at Stirling for a ballad entitled Daff and dow nothing,[106] sitting down on her bare knees, poured out many imprecations upon him.’—Cal.

Aug. 17.

During the night following this day, ‘there blew sic ane tempest at the herring drave of Dunbar, that threescore fisher-boats and three hundred men perished.’—Moy.

REIGN OF JAMES VI.: 1578-1585.

Very soon after Morton had demitted the regency, he partly recovered his power, and this he continued for some time to exercise. The young king remained in Stirling Castle, under considerable restraint. With a view to acquire some control over him, as the only means of resisting the English or Protestant interest, his mother and French grand-uncles sent to his court a young gentleman of engaging manners, in whom they had confidence. This was Esme Stuart, usually called Monsieur d’Aubigné, a member of the Lennox family, being nephew of the late Regent, but who had been brought up in France. It was believed that he carried with him forty thousand pieces of gold, to be employed in winning favour with the Scottish nobility. ‘He was,’ says a contemporary, ‘a man of comely proportion, civil behaviour, red-beardit, honest in conversation, weel likit of by the king and a part of his nobility at the first.’[107] To aid him in his purpose, he brought with him one called Monsieur Mombirneau, ‘a merry fellow, able in body and quick in spirit.’[108] The young king readily opened his heart to this pleasant relative, who took care to accommodate himself to his tastes, and to assist, above all, in making his time pass agreeably. About the same time, another but more distant relative, James Stuart, of the Ochiltree family, a captain in the royal guard, began to acquire favour with the king. This was altogether a less worthy person than D’Aubigné, being arrogant, domineering, and vicious. D’Aubigné, however, being a Catholic, and suspected of designs in favour of popery, was perhaps the least liked of the two.

It was in September 1579, when little more than thirteen years of age, that James was for the first time so far liberated from the control of Morton and other councillors, as to be able to leave his castle of Stirling. Accompanied by D’Aubigné, then newly arrived, he made a formal visit to Edinburgh, where the citizens gave him a most affectionate reception.

This was a more important crisis of British history than is generally supposed. It was now that a commencement was made of that struggle for authority which we see going on through the remainder of this and the whole of the ensuing century. James had been reared as the creature of the zealous Presbyterian party. When he began to judge for himself, and to become conversant with minds beyond the range of his earlier associations, his affections led him to prefer those who had been his mother’s friends, and he soon came to believe that they and such as they were likely to be his own warmest supporters. What was most important of all, he found that the Presbyterian clergy, while professing respect for him as the chief-magistrate of the land, and disposed to obey him in civil matters, claimed to be, in things ecclesiastical, not merely independent of him, but his superiors. Restricting the idea of the church to those ‘exercising the spiritual function among the congregations of them that profess the truth,’ they asserted that it had ‘a certain power granted by God,’ having ‘ground in the word of God,’ and ‘to be put into execution by them unto whom the government of the kirk by lawful calling is committed.’ And, ‘as the ministers and others of the ecclesiastical state are subject to the magistrate civil, so aucht the person of the magistrate to be subject to the kirk spiritually and in ecclesiastical government.’ In their view, as far as his own religious and moral practice was concerned, King James was only a parishioner of the Canongate. On the other hand, when one of their order interfered with politics in his sermon, he was only liable to be challenged by his presbytery. The claim was presented by men of whose disinterestedness there can be no more doubt than of their religious zeal; that it might have worked satisfactorily if it had ever found a monarch who would cordially accept and submit to it, cannot be denied, for we have had no experience on the subject, the final settlement of the Scotch church at the Revolution having left it in a doubtful state. The compromise which was attained at the end of a century-long struggle, was unattainable in the days of King James. The pretension only set him upon looking up scriptural texts too, texts which could be interpreted as setting the royal authority equally above human challenge; and such were not difficult to be found. Hence arose the celebrated doctrine of the divine right of kings—a sort of antithesis to a doctrine which would have made kings in one important respect the subjects of a set of church-courts. And so commenced that unfortunate course of things in our national history, which has presented this king as in constant antagonism to the ecclesiastical forms and order of worship preferred by the great bulk of his people, as seeking by all arts to thrust hated systems upon them, and as founding a policy which, becoming a deadly and obstinate struggle with his descendants, alternately gave us anarchy and despotism, till it ended in the total overthrow of the main line of the House of Stuart. Such were the natural fruits of the earnestness, beautiful but terrible, with which men then seized and worked out principles which they found, or thought they found, in the Bible—arguing on the religion of peace and good-will to men, with swords in their hands, and laws as cruel as swords, till a sense of the inconsequentiality of such reasoning for any good at length came over most of them with the sickening effect of a wind from a field of battle, and disposed them to rest content with the sulky mutual protest in which they have since lived.

Notwithstanding a strenuous opposition from Elizabeth and the Presbyterian clergy, D’Aubigné, whom James made Earl, and finally Duke of Lennox, succeeded in greatly advancing the French interest. It was in vain that the ministers railed at him as a papist: he coolly came before them and abjured popery. A confession of faith, condemning the pope and all his pretensions and works, was brought forward: James and his councillors, including the Earl of Lennox, unhesitatingly signed it (January 28, 1580-1). Morton, who alone possessed the personal character that could effectually stand for the English interest and the kirk, had, by his cruel and avaricious conduct, lost the support of all classes, the clergy included. It was even found possible to effect the ruin of this great man. On the last of December 1580, the adventurer Stuart came into the council-chamber, and, falling on his knees, accused the ex-Regent of being concerned in the murder of his majesty’s father. To the general surprise, he fell without a struggle, and after a few months’ confinement, he perished on the scaffold (June 2, 1581).

Under Lennox and Stuart—the latter now created Earl of Arran—a movement was made for bringing an episcopate into the church. Arran is said to have put the idea of absolute power into the king’s mind, and a French alliance was threatened. The clergy, in general assembly, shewed their usual courage in protesting against the court proceedings. The conduct of their moderator, Andrew Melville, was specially remarkable. When he and his fellow-commissioners came before the council with their grieves, Arran, according to a contemporary narration, ‘begins to threaten, with thrawn brow and boasting language. “What!” says he, “wha dar subscryve thir treasonable articles?” Mr Andrew answers: “We dar, and will subscryve them, and give our lives in the cause!” And withal starts to, and taks the pen fra the clerk and subscryves, and calls to the rest of his brethren with courageous speeches; wha all cam and subscryvit.’ Such were the men who faced the king in behalf of an independent rule for the kirk of Scotland.

At length there was a reaction against the dominion of the two court favourites. A combination of nobles of the ultra-Protestant party—the Earl of Gowrie, the Earl of Mar, Lord Glammis, and others, laid a gentle compulsion on the young king while he was staying at Ruthven House near Perth (August 1582), and his councillors Lennox and Arran were debarred from his presence. After this event, known in our history as the Raid of Ruthven, the king remained under the control of his new councillors for a year, during which a pure Presbyterianism was again encouraged, and the English alliance was cultivated. The Duke of Lennox was forced to withdraw to France, where, to the great grief of the king, he soon after contracted a sickness, and died.

Regaining his liberty by stratagem, James once more put himself under the guidance of the profligate but energetic Arran. A modified episcopate was established in the church, under a subordination to the state, and a restraint was imposed on the tongues of the clergy in the pulpit. The Earl of Gowrie was brought to the block. Several ministers, including Melville, had to take refuge in England. But the general tendency of things in Scotland was inconsistent with the rule of a man possessing the genius of Arran. Elizabeth, too, deemed it best for her interests that others should have the control of Scottish affairs. Accordingly, a new and more formidable combination was formed. Joined by Lord John Hamilton, the head of the long proscribed house of Hamilton, and by Lord Maxwell, whom Arran had offended, they advanced with an army of 5000 men to Stirling, then the seat of the court. Arran, unable to resist, fled, and was allowed to fall into obscurity. The king with great placidity put himself into the hands of his new councillors (November 1585). This coup d’état was followed by the restoration of the Hamilton family to its titles and estates.

1579.

The young king having now assumed the government, and being about to make his first visit to Edinburgh, the magistrates and citizens were anxious to give him an honourable reception. There was immediately a great bustle regarding the preparation of a silver cupboard and other pieces of plate to be presented to him, as well as the getting of dresses suitable to be worn by the chief men at the royal entry. There was even a deputation to the High School, ‘to vesie the maister of the Hie Schule tragedies to be made by the bairns, and to report;’ besides another ‘to speak the Frenchman for his opinion in device of the triumph.’

All merchants stented to above ten pounds were enjoined to have ‘everilk ane of them ane goune of fine black camlet of silk of serge, barrit with velvet, effeiring his substance.’ All stented to sixteen pounds, ‘to have their gounes of the like stuff, the breists thereof linit with velvet, and begairit with coits of velvet, damas, or sattin.’ The thirteen city-officers were to have each a livery composed of three ells of English stemming to be hose, six quarters of Rouen canvas to be doublets, with 13s. 4d. for passments, and a black hat with a white string.

1579.

Another preparative was an edict, that all manner of persons having cruives for swine under their stairs or in common vennels, ‘and sic like as has middings and fulyie collectit, or has tar barrels on the Hie Street, as also ony redd[109] stanes or timber on the said Hie Street or common vennels, remove the same.’ Pioneers, too, ‘to shool in the muck outwith the West Port.’ The inhabitants to hang their stairs with tapestry and arras wark.[110] The Privy Council, on their part, proclaimed penalties against all who should come with firearms, or any other armour than their swords and whingers.

Sep. 30. 1579.

The boy-king came from Stirling attended by about two thousand men on horseback, and his reception in the city was quaintly magnificent. ‘At the West Port he was receivit by the magistrates under a pompous pall of purple velvet. That port presentit unto him the wisdom of Solomon, as it is written in the thrid chapter of the first book of Kings; that is to say, King Solomon was representit with the twa women that contendit for the young child. This done, they presented unto the king, the sword for the one hand, and the sceptre for the other. And as he made further progress within the town, in the street that ascends to the Castle there is an ancient port [the West Bow], at the whilk there hang a curious globe that openit artificially as the king came by, wherein was a young boy that descendit craftily, presenting the keys of the town to his majesty, that were all made of fine massy silver; and these were presently receivit by ane of his honourable council at his awn command. During this space, Dame Music and her scholars exercisit her art with great melody. Then in his descent [along the High Street], as he came fornent the house of Justice, there shew themselves unto him four gallant vertuous ladies; to wit, Peace, Justice, Plenty, and Policie; and either of them had ane oration to his majesty. Thereafter, as he came toward the chief collegiate kirk, there Dame Religion shew herself, desiring his presence, whilk he then obeyit by entering the kirk; where the chief preacher for that time made a notable exhortation unto him for the embracing of religion and all her cardinal vertues, and of all other moral vertues. Thereafter he came forth, and made progress to the Mercat Cross, where he beheld Bacchus with his magnifick liberality and plenty distributing of his liquor to all passengers and beholders, in sic appearance as was pleasant to see. A little beneath is a mercat place of salt, whereupon was paintit the genealogy of the kings of Scotland, and a number of trumpets sounding melodiously, and crying with loud voice, Welfare to the King! At the east port was erectit the conjunction of the planets, as they were in their degrees and places the time of his majesty’s happy nativity, and the same vively representit by the assistance of King Ptolemy. And withal the haill streets were spread with flowers, and the fore-houses of the streets, by the whilk the king passit, were all hung with magnifick tapestry, with paintit histories and with the effigies of noble men and women. And thus he passed out of the town of Edinburgh, to his palace of Halyroodhouse.’—H. K. J.

Oct. 20.

The Estates passed an act against ‘strang and idle beggars,’ and ‘sic as make themselves fules and are bards;’ likewise against ‘the idle people calling themselves Egyptians, or any other that feigns them to have knowledge of charming, prophecy, or other abused sciences, whereby they persuade the people that they can tell their weirds, deaths, and fortunes, and sic other fantastical imaginations.’ The act condemns all sorts of vagrant idle people, including ‘minstrels, sangsters, and tale-tellers, not avowed in special service by some of the lords of parliament or great burghs,’ and ‘vagabond scholars of the universities of St Andrews, Glasgow, and Aberdeen.’ The same act made some provision for the genuine poor, enjoining them all to repair to their native parishes and there live in almshouses: a very nice arrangement for them, it must be owned; only there were not any almshouses for them to live in.

Two poets hanged in August, and an act of parliament against bards and minstrels in October; truly, it seems to have been sore times for the tuneful tribe!

1579.

By this time, Arbuthnot’s edition of the Bible was completed and in circulation. The gratification of the clergy on seeing such a product of the native press, found eloquent expression in an address of the General Assembly to the king (June 1579), when they took occasion to praise the printer as ‘a man who hath taken great pains and travel worthy to be remembered;’ and told how there should henceforth be a copy in every parish kirk, to be called the Common Book of the Kirk, ‘as the most meet ornament for such a place.’ ‘Oh what difference,’ exclaimed these devout men, ‘between thir days of light, when almost in every private house the book of God’s law is read and understood in our vulgar language, and the age of darkness, when scarcely in a whole city, without the cloisters of monks and friers, could the book of God once be found, and that in a strange tongue of Latin, not good, but mixed with barbarity, used and read by few, and almost understood and exponed by none.’ All worldly wealth seemed vain and poor compared with this fountain of spiritual comfort. ‘We ought,’ they said, ‘with most thankful hearts to praise and extol the infinite goodness of God, who hath accounted us worthy to whom He should open such an heavenly treasure.’—B. U. K.

Nov. 10.

In that unmistrusting reliance on force for religious objects which marked the age, it was enacted in parliament, that each householder worth three hundred merks of yearly rent, and all substantious yeomen and burgesses esteemed as worth five hundred pounds in land and goods, should have a Bible and psalm-book in the vulgar tongue, under the penalty of ten pounds. A few months later (June 16, 1580), one John Williamson was commissioned under the privy seal to visit and search every house in the realm, ‘and to require the sicht of their Bible and psalm-buke, gif they ony have, to be marked with their awn name, for eschewing of fraudful dealing in that behalf.’[111]

The zeal of the clergy, their self-denying poverty, their resoluteness in advancing their views of church polity against court influence, have all been touched upon. Little more than six hundred in number—for hundreds of the parishes had no minister—they were indefatigable in their efforts to moralise the rude mass of the community; although it was, by their own account, such as might have appeared hopeless to other men; there being now, as they said, an ‘universal corruption in the whole realm,’ ‘great coldness and slackness’ even in the professors of religion, and a ‘daily increase of all kinds of fearful sins and enormities, as incest, adulteries, murders, ... cursed sacrilege, ungodly sedition and division, ... with all manner of disorders and ungodly living.’[112]

1579.

The picture which James Melville gives of the four ministers of Edinburgh, then living in one house—where the Parliament House now stands—is very interesting: ‘God glorified himself notably,’ says he, ‘with that ministry of Edinburgh in these days. The men had knawledge, uprightness, and zeal; they dwelt very commodiously together, as in a college, with a wonderful concert in variety of gifts; all strake on ae string, and soundit a harmony. John Durie was of small literature, but had seen and marked the great warks of God in the first Reformation, and been a doer baith with tongue and hand. He had been a diligent hearer of Mr Knox, and observer of all his ways. He conceivit the best grounds of matters weel, and could utter them fairly, fully, and fearfully, with a mighty spreit, voice, and action. The special gift I marked in him was haliness, and a daily and nightly careful, continual walking with God in meditation and prayer. He was a very gude fallow, and took delight, as his special comfort, to have his table and house filled with the best men. These he wald gladly hear, with them confer and talk, professing he was but a book-bearer, and wald fain learn of them; and getting the ground and light of knawledge in any guid point, then wald he rejoice in God, praise and pray thereupon, and urge it with sae clear and forcible exhortation in assemblies and pulpit, that he was esteemed a very furthersome instrument. There lodgit in his house at all these assemblies in Edinburgh for common, Mr Andrew Melville, Mr Thomas Smeaton, Mr Alexander Arbuthnot, three of the learnedest in Europe; Mr James Melville, my uncle, Mr James Balfour, David Ferguson, David Home, ministers; with some zealous, godly barons and gentlemen. In time of meals was reasoning upon guid purposes, namely matters in hand; thereafter earnest and lang prayer; thereafter a chapter read, and every man about [in turn] gave his note and observation thereof; sae that, gif all had been set down in write, I have heard the learnedest and best in judgment say, they wald not have wished a fuller and better commentary nor [than] sometimes wald fall out in that exercise. Thereafter was sung a psalm; after the whilk was conference and deliberation upon the purposes in hand; and at night before going to bed, earnest and zealous prayer according to the estate and success of matters. And oft times, yea almost daily, all the college was together in ane or other of their houses, &c.’

1579.

The picture which the same writer gives of his uncle Andrew is full of fine touches. Andrew was principal of the theological college (St Mary’s) at St Andrews; deeply learned, logical, not arrogant for himself, but possessed of all that disinterestedness and integrity which form the peculiar glory of Knox’s character; to crown all, strenuous and fearless in the advocacy of his views of religion and church-discipline. James describes him as remarkable for patience and equal temper, where others were hot. Yet—‘this I ever marked to be Mr Andrew’s manner: Being sure of a truth in reasoning, he wald be extreme hot, and suffer nae man to bear away the contrair, but with reason, words, and gesture, he wald carry it away, caring for nae person, how great soever they were, namely in matters of religion. And in all companies at table and otherways, as he understood and took up the necessity of the persons and matter in hand to require, he wald freely and bauldly hald their ears fu’ of the truth; and, take it as they wald, he wald not cease nor keep silence; yea, and not only anes or twice, but at all occasions, till he fand them better instructed, and set to go forward in the good purpose.’

His ‘heroic courage and stoutness’ in advancing his own views, and resisting persons of authority set upon establishing what he thought error, was equally remarkable. For example—‘The Regent [Morton], seeing he could not divert him by benefits and offers, calls for him ae day indirectly, and after lang discoursing upon the quietness of the country, peace of the kirk, and advancement of the king’s majesty’s estate, he breaks in upon sic as were disturbers thereof by their conceits and ower-sea dreams, imitation of Geneva discipline and laws; and after some reasoning and grounds of God’s word alledgit, whilk irritat the Regent, he breaks out in choler and boasting [threatening]: “There will never be quietness in this country till half a dozen of you be hangit or banishit the country.” “Tush, sir,” says Mr Andrew, “I have been ready to give my life where it was not half sae weel wared [spent], at the pleasure of my God. I lived out of your country ten years as weel as in it. Let God be glorified, it will not lie in your power to hang or exile his truth.”’

1580. Apr.

John Innes, of that Ilk, being childless, entered, in March 1577, into a mutual bond of tailyie with his nearest relation, Alexander Innes, of Cromy, conveying to him his whole estate, failing heirs-male of his body, and taking the like disposition from Cromy of his estate. There was a richer branch of the family represented by Robert Innes, of Innermarky, who pined to see the poorer preferred in this manner. So loud were his expressions of displeasure, that ‘Cromy, who was the gallantest man of his name, found himself obliged to make the proffer of meeting him single in arms, and, laying the tailyie upon the grass, see if he durst take it up—in one word, to pass from all other pretensions, and let the best fellow have it.’

1580.

This silenced Innermarky, but did not extinguish his discontent. He began to work upon the feelings of the Laird of Innes, representing how Cromy already took all upon himself, even the name of Laird, leaving him no better than a masterless dog—as contemptible, indeed, as a beggar—a condition from which there could be no relief but by putting the usurper out of the way. This he himself offered to do with his own hand, if the laird would concur with him: it was an unpleasant business, but he would undertake it, rather than see his chief made a slave. By these practices, the weak laird was brought to give his consent to the slaughter of an innocent gentleman, his nearest relation, and whom he had not long before regarded with so much good-will as to admit him to a participation of his whole fortune.

‘There wanted nothing but a conveniency for putting their purpose in execution, which did offer itself in the month of April 1580. At which time Alexander, being called upon some business to Aberdeen, was obliged to stay longer there than he intended, by reason that his only son Robert, a youth of sixteen years of age, had fallen sick at the college, and his father could not leave the place till he saw what became of him. He had transported him out of the Old Town, and had brought him to his own lodgings in the New Town. He had also sent several of his servants home from time to time, to let his lady know the reason of his stay.

‘By means of these servants, it came to be known perfectly at Kinnairdy in what circumstances Alexander was at Aberdeen, where he was lodged, and how he was attended, which invited Innermarky to take the occasion. Wherefore, getting a considerable number of assistants with him, he and Laird John ride to Aberdeen; they enter the town upon the night, and about midnight came to Alexander’s lodging.

‘The outer gate of the close they found open, but all the rest of the doors shut. They were afraid to break up the doors by violence, lest the noise might alarm the neighbourhood; but choiced rather to raise such a cry in the close as might oblige those who were within to open the doors and see what it might be.

‘The feuds at that time betwixt the families of Gordon and Forbes were not extinguished; therefore they raised a cry as if it had been upon some outfall among these people, crying, “Help a Gordon—a Gordon!” which is the gathering-word of the friends of that family. Alexander, being deeply interested in the Gordons, at the noise of the cry started from his bed, took his sword in hand, and opening a back-door that led to the court below, stepped down three or four steps, and cried to know what was the matter. Innermarky, who by his word knew him, and by his white shirt discerned him perfectly, cocks his gun, and shoots him through the body. In an instant, as many as could get about him fell upon him, and butchered him barbarously.

1580.

‘Innermarky, perceiving, in the meantime, that Laird John stood by, as either relenting or terrified, held the bloody dagger to his throat, that he had newly taken out of the murdered body, swearing dreadfully that he would serve him in the same way if he did not as he did, and so compelled him to draw his dagger, and stab it up to the hilt in the body of his nearest relation, and the bravest that bore his name. After his example, all that were there behoved to do the like, that all might be alike guilty. Yea, in prosecution of this, it has been told me, that Mr John Innes, afterwards of Coxton, being a youth then at school, was raised out of bed, and compelled by Innermarky to stab a dagger into the dead body, that the more might be under the same condemnation—a very crafty cruelty.

‘The next thing looked after was the destruction of the sick youth Robert, who had lain that night in a bed by his father, but, upon the noise of what was done, had scrambled from it, and by the help of one John of Coloreasons, or rather of some of the people of the house, had got out at an unfrequented back-door into the garden, and from that into a neighbour’s house, where he had shelter, the Lord in his providence preserving him for the executing of vengeance upon these murderers for the blood of his father.

‘Then Innermarky took the dead man’s signet-ring, and sent it to his wife, as from her husband, by a servant whom he had purchased to that purpose, ordering her to send him such a particular box, which contained the bond of tailyie and all that had followed thereupon betwixt him and Laird John, whom, the servant said, he had left with his master at Aberdeen, and that, for dispatch, he had sent his best horse with him, and had not taken leisure to write, but sent the ring.

‘Though it troubled the woman much to receive so blind a message, yet her husband’s ring, his own servant, and his horse, prevailed so with her, together with the man’s importunity to be gone, that she delivered to him what he sought, and let him go.

1580.

‘There happened to be then about the house a youth related to the family, who was curious to go the length of Aberdeen, and see the young laird who had been sick, and to whom he was much addicted. This youth had gone to the stable, to intercede with the servant that he might carry him behind him; and in his discourse had found the man under great restraint and confusion of mind, sometimes saying he was to go no further than Kinnairdy (which indeed was the truth), and at other times that he behoved to be immediately at Aberdeen. This brought him to jalouse [suspect], though he knew not what; but further knowledge he behoved to have, and therefore he stepped out a little beyond the entry, watching the servant’s coming, and in the by-going suddenly leaped on behind him, or have a satisfying reason why he refused him. The contest became such betwixt them, that the servant drew his dirk to rid him of the youth’s trouble, which the other wrung out of his hands, and downright killed him with it, and brought back the box, with the writs and horse, to the house of Innes (or Cromy, I know not which).

‘As the lady is in a confusion for what had fallen out, there comes another of the servants from Aberdeen, who gave an account of the slaughter, so that she behoved to conclude a special hand of Providence to have been in the first passage. Her next course was to secure her husband’s writs the best she could, and fly to her friends for shelter, by whose means she was brought with all speed to the king, before whom she made her complaint.’

The son of the murdered man was taken under the care of the Earl of Huntly, who was his relation; but so little apprehension was there of a prosecution for the murder, that Innermarky, five weeks after the event, obtained from his chief a disposition of the estate in his own favour. Two or three years after, however, the young Laird of Cromy came north with a commission for the avenging of his father’s murder, and the Laird of Innes and Innermarky were both obliged to go into hiding. For a time, the latter skulked in the hills, but, wearying of that, he got a retreat constructed for himself in the house of Edinglassie, where he afterwards found shelter. Here young Cromy surprised him in September 1584. The same young man who had killed his servant was the first to enter his Patmos, for which venturesome act he was all his life after called Craig-in-peril. Innermarky’s head was cut off, and, it is said, afterwards taken by Cromy’s widow to Edinburgh, and cast at the king’s feet. The Innermarky branch being thus set aside, young Cromy succeeded in due time as Laird of Innes.—Hist. Acc. Fam. Innes.

June 25.

‘... being Saturday, betwixt three o’clock afternoon and Sunday’s night thereafter, there blew such a vehement tempest of wind, that it was thought to be the cause that a great many of the inhabitants of Edinburgh contracted a strange sickness, which was called Kindness. It fell out in the court, as well as sundry parts of the country, so that some people who were corpulent and aged deceased very suddenly. It continued with every one that took it three days at least.’—Moy. R.

July. 1580.

The king being at St Andrews, on a progress with the Regent Morton, the gentlemen of the country had a guise or fence to play before him. ‘The play was to be acted in the New Abbey.[113] While the people is gazing and longing for the play, Skipper Lindsay, a phrenitic man, stepped into the place which was kept void till the players came, and paceth up and down in sight of the people with great gravity, his hands on his side, and looking loftily. He had a manly countenance, but was all rough with hair. He had great tufts of hair upon his brows, and also a great tuft upon the neb of his nose. At the first sight, the people laughed loud; but when he began to speak he procured attention, as if it had been to a preacher. He discoursed with great force of spirit, and mighty voice, exhorting men of all ranks and degrees to hear him, and take example by him. He declared how wicked and riotous he had been, what he had done and conquest [acquired] by sea, how he had spended and abased himself on land, and what God had justly brought upon him for the same. He had wit, he had riches, he had strength and ability of body, he had fame and estimation above all others of his trade and rank; but all was vanity that made him misken his God. But God would not be miskenned by the highest. Turning himself to the boss [empty] window, where the king and Aubigné was above, and Morton standing beneath, gnapping upon his staff, he applied to him in special, as was marvellous in the ears of the hearers; so that many were astonished and some moved to tears, beholding and hearkening to the man. Among other things, he warned the earl, not obscurely, that his judgment was drawing near and his doom in dressing. And in very deed at the same time was his death contrived. The contrivers would have expected a discovery, if they had not known the man to be phrenitic and bereft of his wit. The earl was so moved and touched at the heart, that, during the time of the play, he never changed the gravity of his countenance, for all the sports of the play.’—Cal.

Sep. 9. 1580.

One Arnold Bronkhorst, a Fleming, had found his way into Scotland, as one of a group of adventurers who were disposed to make a new effort for the successful working of the gold-mines of Lanarkshire. The account we have of the party is obscure and traditional.[114] One Nicolas Hilliard, goldsmith in London, and miniature-painter to Queen Elizabeth, is said to have belonged to it, and to have brought Bronkhorst as his servant or assistant. The story is, that, being disappointed of a patent for the mines from the Regent Morton, Bronkhorst was glad at last to remain about the Scottish court as portrait-painter to the king. He certainly did serve the king in that capacity, as we have an account of his paid at this date, to the amount of £64, for three specimens of his art—namely, ‘Ane portrait of his majesty fra the belt upward,’ ‘ane other portrait of Maister George Buchanan,’ and ‘ane portrait of his majesty full length,’ besides a gift of a hundred merks, ‘as ane gratitude for his repairing to this country.’ A twelvemonth later, King James constituted him his own painter for his lifetime, ‘with all fees, duties, and casualties, usit and wont.’[115]

Sep. 20.

In the midst of the strange phantasmagoria of rudeness and murderous violence on the one hand, and exalted religious zeal on the other, which now passes before us, we find that industrious men were prosecuting useful merchandise at home and abroad, but under painful risks imposed by the general neglect of the laws of health. Witness the following little episode. John Downie’s ship, the William, on her return with a cargo from Danskein [Dantzig], enters the Firth of Forth. Seven merchants of Edinburgh, and some from other towns, are in this vessel, returning from foreign parts, where they have been upon their lawful business. All are doubtless full of pleasant anticipations of the home-scenes which they expect to greet them as soon as they once more set foot on their native soil. Alas! the pest breaks out in the vessel, and sundry of these poor citizens are swept off. The captain dare not approach the shore, but must wait the orders which the authorities may send him. There is immediately a meeting of the Privy Council, at which an order goes forth that the survivors in John Downie’s ship shall land on the uninhabited island called St Colm’s Inch in the Firth of Forth, and there remain till ‘cleansed,’ on pain of death, and no one to traffic with them under the same penalty.

The chief chapter of this sad story, so characteristic of the time, is told in few words by Moysie: ‘There were forty persons in the ship, whereof the most part died.’

1580.

On the 27th of November we have a pendant to the tale of the plague-ship. Downie the skipper is dead, leaving a widow and eleven children. James Scott and David Duff, mariners, are also dead, the former leaving a widow and seven children. Several of the passengers are also dead, while the others are pining on the lonely islands of Inchkeith and Inch Garvie. The ship, with its cargo unbroken, is riding at St Colm’s Inch, and beginning to leak, so that much property is threatened with destruction. In these circumstances, the Privy Council, on petition, enacted that orders should be taken, as far as consistent with the public safety, for the preservation of the vessel.

Oct.

Lord Ruthven and Lord Oliphant were at feud, in consequence of a dispute about teinds. The former, on his return from Kincardine, where he had been attending the Earl of Mar’s marriage, passed near Lord Oliphant’s seat of Dupplin, near Perth. This was construed by Oliphant into a bravado on the part of Ruthven. His son, the Master of Oliphant, accordingly came forth with a train of armed followers, and rode hastily after Lord Ruthven. The foremost of Ruthven’s party, taking a panic, fled in disorder, notwithstanding their master’s call to them to stay. He was then obliged to fly also; but his kinsman, Alexander Stewart, of the house of Traquair, stayed to try to pacify the Oliphant party. He was shot with a harquebuss by one who did not know who he was, to the great grief of the Master.

Lord Ruthven prosecuted the Master for this outrage. The Earl of Morton, out of regard to Douglas of Lochleven, whose son-in-law Oliphant was, gave his influence on that side, and thus incurred some odium, which probably helped to bring about his destruction soon after.—Cal.

Oct. 20. 1580.

In a General Assembly held at Edinburgh, an order was issued to execute the acts of the kirk upon apostates, and let them be punished as adulterers; ‘perticularly that the Laird of Dun execute this act upon the Master of Gray, an apostate now returned to Scotland. It being reported to the king that the Master of Gray his house did shake and rock in the night as with an earthquake, and the king [then fourteen years old] interrogating David Fergusson [minister of Dunfermline], “What he thought it could mean that that house alone should shake and totter?” he answered: “Sir, why should not the devil rock his awn bairns?”’[116]

An earthquake, noted in Howes’s Chronicle as having been experienced in Kent at midnight of the 1st of May this year, was probably the cause of the rocking felt at the Master of Gray’s house. In Kent it made ‘the people to rise out of their beds and run to the churches, where they called upon God by earnest prayers to be merciful to them.’

George Auchinleck of Balmanno had been one of the confidants of the Regent in the days of his power. It being well known that he had influence in bringing about the decision of lawsuits, the highest nobility were glad at that time to pay court to him. As an illustration of the nature of his position—Coming one day from the Regent’s house at Dalkeith to Edinburgh, and walking up the High Street, he met one Captain Nesbit, with whom he had some slight quarrel, and drawing his sword, instantly thrust him through the body, so that he was left for dead. So far from seeking concealment after this violence, Auchinleck held straight on to the Tolbooth, where the Court of Session sat, as though he had done no wrong; after which he coolly made his way back to the Regent’s court at Dalkeith. It does not appear that he was in any way punished for stabbing Nesbit.

On another occasion, as Auchinleck stood within the bar of the Tolbooth, an old man of unprosperous appearance made his way through the crowd, asking permission to speak with him. When Auchinleck turned to ask what he wanted, the old man said: ‘I am Oliver Sinclair!’ and without another word, turned and went away. It was the quondam favourite of James V., now a poor and dejected gentleman, albeit connected by near ties with some of the greatest men in the country. Men talked much of this proceeding of Sinclair: it seemed to them equivalent to his saying: ‘Be not too proud of your interest at court. I was once as you are; you may fall to be as I am.’—H. of G.

Dec. 12. 1580.

The prediction was now verified, for, Morton being now out of power and in danger of his life, Auchinleck no longer had influence at council or in court. He, moreover, stood in no small personal danger from his many enemies. As he was walking on the High Street of Edinburgh, he was beset at a passage near St Giles’s Church by William Bickerton of Casch, and four other gentlemen, who assailed him with bended pistols, by one of which he was shot through the body, after which he was left for dead. This was thought to be done in revenge for an attack by him upon Archibald, the brother of William Bickerton. The assailants were all found guilty of the slaughterous attempt, but without the aggravation of its being done within three-quarters of a mile of the king’s person, seeing that ‘the king’s majesty was furth at the hunting, the time of the committing thereof.’—Pit.

Auchinleck survived this accident, and we find him in the ensuing March in the hands of the Earl of Arran, and put to the torture, in order to extort from him a confession of certain crimes with which he was charged, but which he denied. He took a part in the affair of the Raid of Ruthven in August 1582. When the Earl of Arran on that occasion, hearing of the king’s being secluded in Ruthven House, came to try if he could gain access to him, ‘the Earl of Gowrie met him at the gate, and had straightway killed him, if George Auchinleck had not held his hand as he was about to have pulled out his dagger to have stabbed him.’—H. of G.

1580-1. Jan. 28.

A Confession of Faith was this day subscribed by the king, his household and courtiers, including Lennox, and many of the nobility and other persons, professing ‘the religion now revealed to the world by the preaching of the blessed evangel,’ and solemnly abjuring all the doctrines and practices of the Romish Church.[117]

Jan. 29.

This day, Sunday, there were gay doings in the boy-king’s court of Holyrood, namely, running at the ring, justing, and such-like pastimes, besides sailing about in boats and galleys at Leith.—Cal.

The reader must not be too much surprised at this occurring the day after the signing of a solemn confession of the Protestant faith. The truth seems to have been this: the signers signed under the pressure of a party they had some interest for the moment in gratifying or blinding, and the accepters of the document were content with the fact of the signing, without regard to the too probable hypocrisy under which it took place. It is not uncommon for professions to be only a symptom of the reality of the opposite of what is professed.

1581. Mar. 11.

The ex-Regent now lay a hopeless prisoner in Dumbarton Castle, chiefly occupied, we are told, in reading the Bible, which, though he had forced the people to buy it under a penalty, he had hitherto much neglected himself. One of his servants, named George Fleck, ‘was apprehended in Alexander Lawson’s house [in Edinburgh], together with the said Alexander, not without their own consents, as was alleged, to reveal where the Earl of Morton’s treasure lay. The bruit [rumour] went—when the boots were presented to George Fleck, that he revealed a part of the treasure to be lying in Dalkeith yard, under the ground; a part in Aberdour, under a braid stone before the gate; a part in Leith. Certain it is, he [the earl] was the wealthiest subject that had been in Scotland for many years.’—Cal.

Sir James Melville tells us that, long before the trial of Morton, his gold and silver were transported by his natural son, James Douglas, and one of his servants called John Macmoran. ‘It was first carried in barrels, and afterwards hid in some secret parts; part was given to be kept by some who were looked upon as his friends, who made ill account of it again; so that the most part thereof lighted in bad hands, and himself was so destitute of money, that when he went through the street to the Tolbooth to undergo his assize, he was compelled to borrow twenty shillings to distribute to the poor, who asked alms of him for God’s sake.’

In May, he ‘was brought to Edinburgh, and kept in Robin Gourlay’s house,[118] with a band of men of weir.’ James Melville says: ‘The very day of his putting to assize, I happened to be in Edinburgh, and heard and saw the notablest example, baith of God’s judgment and mercy that, to my knowledge, ever fell out in my time. For in that Tolbooth, where oftentimes, during his government, he had wrested and thrawn judgment, partly for gain, whereto he was given, and partly for particular favour, was his judgment overthrown; and he wha, above any Scotsman, had maist gear, friendship, and cliental,[119] had nane to speak a word for him that day; but, the greatest part of the assizers being his knawn unfriends, he was condemned to be headit on a scaffold, and that head, whilk was sae witty in warldly affairs and policy, and had commanded with sic authority and dignity within that town and judgment-seat, to be set upon a prick upon the hichest stane of the gable of the Tolbooth that is towards the public street.’

1581.

Morton was condemned for being ‘airt and part’[120] concerned in the murder of Darnley. He was more clearly an actor in the cruel slaughter of Riccio. After doing his best to insnare Mary into a marriage with Bothwell, he had headed a rebellion against her on hypocritical pretences. The extortions he had practised during his regency, in order to enrich himself, shewed an equally sordid and cruel character. Throughout all the time of his government, he had outraged decency by the grossness of his private life. Yet ‘he had great comfort that he died a Christian, in the true and sincere profession of religion, whilk he cravit all the faithful to follow, and abide thereat to the death.’—Moy. ‘He keepit the same countenance, gesture, and short sententious form of language upon the scaffold, whilk he usit in his princely government. He spake, led about and urgit by the commanders at the four nooks of the scaffold; but after that ance he had very fectfully[121] and gravely uttered, at guid length, that whilk he had to speak, thereafter almaist he altered not thir words: “It is for my sins that God has justly brought me to this place; for gif I had served my God as truly as I did my king, I had not come here. But as for that I am condemned for by men, I am innocent, as God knows. Pray for me.” ... I [am] content to have recordit the wark of God, whilk I saw with my ees and heard with my ears.’—Ja. Mel.

The Maiden.

‘After all was done, he went without fear and laid his neck upon the block, crying continually: “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit,” till the axe of the Maiden—which he himself had caused make after the pattern which he had seen at Halifax in Yorkshire—falling upon his neck, put an end to his life and that note together. His body was carried to the Tolbooth, and buried secretly in the night in the Greyfriars. His head was affixed on the gate of the city.’—H. of G.

The Maiden, which still exists in the Museum of the Society of the Antiquaries of Scotland, is an instrument of the same nature as the guillotine, a loaded knife running in an upright frame, and descending upon a cross-beam, on which the neck of the culprit is laid. It is not unlikely that the ex-Regent introduced the Maiden; but another allegation, which asserts him to have been the first to suffer by it, is untrue.

At the death of Morton, the common people were much occupied in discussing a prophecy that the Bleeding Heart should fall by the Mouth of Arran. Morton, as a Douglas, bore the Bleeding Heart in his coat-armorial. Captain Stuart having been made Earl of Arran between the time of the accusation and the execution, here, said they, is the prediction realised, though what the Mouth of Arran meant it would have puzzled them to tell. It was probably to this unintelligible stanza in the prophecies of Merling that they referred:

In the mouth of Arran an selcouth[122] shall fall,

Two bloody harts shall be taken with a false train,

And derfly dung down without any dome,

Ireland, Orkney, and other lands many,

For the death of those two great dule shall make.[123]

Morton may be taken as an example of a class of public men in that rude and turbulent time, who were to all appearance earnest Christians of the reforming and evangelical stamp, and nevertheless allowed themselves a licence in every wickedness, even to treachery and murder, whenever they had a selfish object in view, or, more strangely still, when the interests of religion, in their view of the matter, called on them so to act.

1581.

Nothing is more remarkable in the history of this period than the coincidence of wicked or equivocal actions and pious professions in the same person. Adam Bothwell, Bishop of Orkney, who performed the marriage-ceremony of Mary and Bothwell, and afterwards in the basest manner took active part against her—who was in constant trouble with the General Assembly on account of his shortcomings—writes letters full of expressions of Christian piety and resignation. He is constantly ‘saying with godly Job, gif we have receivit guid out of the hand of the Lord, why should we not alsae receive evil—giving him maist hearty thanks therefore, attesting our godly and stedfast faith in him, whilk is maist evident in time of probane.’ Sir John Bellenden, justice-clerk, who had a share in the murder of Signor David, and who, on receiving a gift of Hamilton of Bothwell-haugh’s estate of Woodhouselee from the Regent Moray, turned Hamilton’s wife out of doors, so as to cause her to run mad—this vile man, in his will, speaks of ‘my saul, wha baith sall meet my Maister with joy and comfort, to hear that comfortable voice that he has promisit to resotat [resuscitate], saying, Come unto me thou as ane of my elect.’[124]

June 11.

An entry in the Lord Treasurer’s books reveals the mood of the gay king and his courtiers, nine days after the bloody end of Morton. It is Sunday, and James is residing with the Duke of Lennox at Dalkeith Castle. He attends the parish church within the town, and, after service, returns, with two pipers playing before him.[125]

1581.

It was, however, only four days after the death of Morton, and while his blood was still fresh upon the streets, that the man who had brought him to the block passed through the gay scenes of a marriage. Captain Stuart—for Scottish history can scarcely be induced to recognise him as Earl of Arran—had formed a shameful connection with a lady of high birth and rank now figuring at the Scottish court. Born Elizabeth Stewart, as daughter of the Earl of Athole, she had first been wife of Lord Lovat—then, after his death, wife of the Earl of March, brother of the Regent Lennox. Her intrigue with Captain James, her divorce of the Earl of March on alleged reasons which history would blush to mention, her quick-following marriage to Arran while in a condition which would have given her husband a plea of divorce against herself, and this occurring so close to the time when Arran had shed the blood of his great enemy, form a series of events sufficient to mark the character of the court into which the young king had emerged from the strictness of Presbyterian rule. When the lady brought her husband a son in the subsequent January,[126] the king was invited to the baptism, and we only learn that he was prevented from attending in consequence of a temporary quarrel which had by that time taken place between Lennox and Arran.

A contemporary writer, speaking of the countess, calls her ‘the maistresse of all vice and villany,’ and says she ‘infectit the air in his Hieness’ audience.’ He accuses her of controlling the course of justice, and alleges that she ‘caused sundrie to be hanged that wanted their compositions, saying: What had they been doing all their days, that had not so much as five punds to buy them from the gallows?‘—Cal.

The Presbyterian clergy regarded the frivolity of Lennox and Mombirneau, their foreign vices and oaths, joined to the coarser native profligacy of Arran and his lady, as forming a bad school for the young king. A love of amusement and buffoonery he certainly contracted from this source; but it is remarkable that he was not drawn into any gross vice by the bad example set before him.

Nov.

At this time, upwards of twenty years after the Reformation, it was still found that ‘the dregs of idolatry’ existed in sundry parts of the realm, ‘by using of pilgrimage to some chapels, wells, crosses ..., as also by observing of the festival-days of the sancts, sometime namit their patrons; in setting furth of banefires, [and] singing of carols within and about kirks at certain seasons of the year.’ An act of parliament was now passed, condemning these practices, and imposing heavy fines on those guilty of them; failing which, the transgressors to endure a month’s imprisonment upon bread and water.

1582. June.

The archbishopric of Glasgow being vacant, Mr Robert Montgomery accepted it from the king, on an understanding with the king’s favourite, the Duke of Lennox, as to the income. The church excommunicated him. In Edinburgh, ‘he was openly onbeset [waylaid] by lasses and rascals of the town, and hued out by flinging of stones at him, out at the Kirk of Field port, and narrowly escaped with his life.’—Moy.

Sep. 4.

One consequence of the coup d’état at Ruthven was the return of John Durie from the banishment into which he had gone in May, to resume his ministry in Edinburgh. The affair makes a fine historic picture.