At eleven o'clock we took the rail for Edinburgh, and I remember nothing
more, except that the cultivation and verdure of the country were very
agreeable, after our experience of Highland barrenness and desolation,
until we found the train passing close at the base of the rugged crag of
Edinburgh Castle. We established ourselves at Queen's Hotel, in Prince's
Street, and then went out to view the city. The monument to Sir Walter
Scott--a rather fantastic and not very impressive affair, I thought--
stands almost directly in front of a hotel. We went along Prince's
Street, and thence, by what turns I know not, to the Palace of Holyrood,
which stands on a low and sheltered site, and is a venerable edifice.
Arthur's Seat rises behind it,--a high hill, with a plain between. As we
drew near the Palace, Mr. Bowman, who has been here before, pointed out
the windows of Queen Mary's apartments, in a circular tower on the left
of the gateway. On entering the enclosed quadrangle, we bought tickets
for sixpence each, admitting us to all parts of the Palace that are shown
to visitors; and first we went into a noble hall or gallery, a long and
stately room, hung with pictures of ancient Scottish kings; and though
the pictures were none of them authentic, they, at least, answer an
excellent purpose in the way of upholstery. It was here that the young
Pretender gave the ball which makes one of the scenes in Waverley.
Thence we passed into the old historic rooms of the Palace,--Darnley's
and Queen Mary's apartments, which everybody has seen and described.
They are very dreary and shabby-looking rooms, with bare floors, and here
and there a piece of tapestry, faded into a neutral tint; and carved and
ornamented ceilings, looking shabbier than plain whitewash. We saw Queen
Mary's old bedstead, low, with four tall posts,--and her looking-glass,
which she brought with her from France, and which has often reflected the
beauty that set everybody mad,--and some needlework and other womanly
matters of hers; and we went into the little closet where she was having
such a cosey supper-party with two or three friends, when the
conspirators broke in, and stabbed Rizzio before her face. We saw, too,
the blood-stain at the threshold of the door in the next room, opening
upon the stairs. The body of Rizzio was flung down here, and the
attendant told us that it lay in that spot all night. The blood-stain
covers a large space,--much larger than I supposed,--and it gives the
impression that there must have been a great pool and sop of blood on all
the spot covered by Rizzio's body, staining the floor deeply enough never
to be washed out. It is now of a dark brown hue; and I do not see why it
may not be the genuine, veritable stain. The floor, thereabouts, appears
not to have been scrubbed much; for I touched it with my finger, and
found it slightly rough; but it is strange that the many footsteps should
not have smoothed it, in three hundred years.
One of the articles shown us in Queen Mary's apartments was the
breastplate supposed to have been worn by Lord Ruthven at the murder, a
heavy plate of iron, and doubtless a very uncomfortable waistcoat.