George Buchanan was born in February, 1506, at a small village called
Killearn, on the borders of Stirlingshire and Dumbartonshire. He came,
as he says, “of a family more gentle and ancient than wealthy.” His
father dying, left a wife and eight children in a state of poverty.
George, one of the youngest, was befriended, and, perhaps, saved from
want and obscurity, by the kindness of his mother’s brother, James
Heriot, who had early remarked his nephew’s talents, and determined to
foster them by a good education. The ancient friendship between France
and Scotland, cemented by their mutual hate of England, was then in full
force. The Scotch respected the superiority of the French in manners,
arts, and learning; and very commonly sent the wealthier and more
promising of their youth to be educated by their more polished
neighbours. Accordingly Buchanan, at the age of fourteen, was sent by
his uncle to the University of Paris. Here he applied himself most
diligently to the prescribed course of study, which consisted
principally in a careful perusal of the best Latin authors, especially
the poets. This kind of learning was peculiarly suited to his taste and
genius; and he made such progress, as not only to become a sound
scholar, but one of the most graceful Latin writers of modern times.
After having remained in Paris for the space of two years, which he must
have employed to much better purpose than most youths of his age, the
death of his kind uncle reduced him again to poverty. Partly on this
account, partly from ill health, he returned to his own country, and
spent a year at home. Alter having recruited his strength, he entered as
a common soldier into a body of troops that was brought over from France
by John Duke of Albany, then Regent of Scotland, for the purpose of
opposing the English. Buchanan himself says that he went into the army
“to learn the art of war;” it is probable that his needy circumstances
were of more weight than this reason. During this campaign he was
subjected to great hardships from severe falls of snow; in consequence
of which he relapsed into his former illness; and was obliged to return
home a second time, where he was confined to his bed a great part of the
winter. But on his recovery, in the spring of 1524, when he was just
entering upon his 18th year, he again took to his studies, and pursued
them with great ardour. He seems to have found friends at this time rich
enough to send him to the University of St. Andrews, on which foundation
he was entered as a _pauper_, a term which corresponds to the servitor
and sizer of the English Universities. John Mair, better known (through
Buchanan[2]) by his Latinized name of Major, was then reading lectures
at St. Andrews on grammar and logic. He soon heard of the superior
accomplishments of the poor student, and immediately took him under his
protection. Buchanan, notwithstanding his avowed contempt for his old
tutor, must have imbibed from Major many of his opinions. He was of an
ardent temper, and easy, as his contemporaries tell us, to lead
whichever way his friends desired him to go; he was also of an inquiring
disposition, and never could endure absurdities of any kind. This sort
of mind must have found great delight in the doctrines which Major
taught. He affirmed the superiority of general councils over the papacy,
even to the depriving a Pope of his spiritual authority in case of
misdemeanour; he denied the lawfulness of the Pope’s temporal sway; he
held that tithes were an institution of mere human appointment, which
might be dropped or changed at the pleasure of the people; he railed
bitterly against the immoralities and abominations of the Romish
priesthood. In political matters his creed coincides exactly with
Buchanan’s published opinions,—that the authority of kings was not of
divine right, but was solely through the people, for the people; that by
a lawful convention of states, any king, in case of tyranny or
misgovernment, might be controlled, divested of his power, or capitally
executed according to circumstances. But if Major, who was a weak man
and a bad arguer, had such weight with Buchanan, John Knox, the
celebrated Scottish reformer, who was a fellow-student with him at St.
Andrews, must have had still more. They began a strict friendship at
this place, which only ended with their lives. Knox speaks very highly
of him at a late period of his own life: “That notabil man, Mr. George
Bucquhanane, remainis alyve to this day, in the yeir of God 1566 yeares,
to the glory of God, to the gret honor of this natioun, and to the
comfort of thame that delyte in letters and vertew. That singular work
of David’s Psalmes, in Latin meetere and poesie, besyd many uther, can
witness the rare graices of God gevin to that man.” These two men
speedily discovered the absurdity of the art of logic, as it was then
taught. Buchanan tells us that its _proper_ name was the art of
sophistry. Their mutual longings for better reasonings, and better
thoughts to reason upon, produced great effects in the reformation of
their native country.
Footnote 2:
See his epigram. “In Johannem solo cognomento Majorem ut ipse in
fionte libri scripsit.”
Cum scateat nugis solo cognomine Major,
Nec sit in immenso patina sana libro;
Non minem titulis quod se veracibus ornet;
Nec semper mendax fingere Creta solet.
The book was “ane most fulish tractate on ane most emptie subject.”
After Buchanan had finished his studies at St. Andrew’s, and taken the
degree of Bachelor of Arts, he accompanied Major to Paris, where his
attention was more seriously turned towards the doctrines of the
reformation, which at that time were eagerly and warmly discussed; but
whether from fear of the consequences, or from other motives, he did not
then declare himself to be a Lutheran. For five years he remained
abroad, sometimes employed, sometimes in considerable want; at the end
of which time he returned to Scotland with the Earl of Cassilis, by whom
he had been engaged as a travelling companion. His noble patron
introduced him at the court of James V. the father of Mary Stuart. James
retained him as tutor to his natural son, James Stuart, afterwards Abbot
of Kelso. It has been proved that he was _not_ tutor to the King’s other
natural son, James Stuart, afterwards Earl of Murray and Regent of
Scotland, whose first title was Prior of St. Andrews.
While he was at court, having a good deal of leisure, he amused himself
with writing a pretty severe satire on the monks, to which he gives the
name of “Somnium.” He feigns in this piece that Saint Francis d’Assize
had appeared to him in a dream, and besought him to become a monk of his
order. The poet answers, “that he is nowise fit for the purpose; because
he could not find in his heart to become slavish, impudent, deceitful,
or beggarly, and that moreover very few monks had the good fortune, as
he understood, to reach even the gates of paradise.” This short satire
was too well written, and too bitter, to pass unnoticed, and the
sufferers laid their complaint before the king: but as Buchanan’s name
had not been put to it, they had no proof against him, and the matter
dropped. Soon after the Franciscans fell into disgrace at Court; and
James himself instigated the poet to renew the attack. He obeyed, but
did not half satisfy the King’s anger in the light and playful piece
which he produced. On a second command to be still more severe, he
produced his famous satire ‘Franciscanus,’ in which he brings all his
powers of wit and poetry to bear upon the unfortunate brotherhood. The
argument of the poem is as follows:—he supposes that a friend of his is
earnestly desirous to become a Cordelier, upon which he tells him that
he also had had a similar intention, but had been dissuaded from it by a
third person, whose reasons he proceeds to relate. They turn upon the
wretched morals and conduct of those who belonged to the order, as
exhibited in the abominable lessons which he puts in the mouth of an
ancient monk, the instructor of the novices. He does not give this man
the character of a rough and ignorant priest, but makes him tell his
tale cleverly, giving free vent to every refinement in evil which the
age was acquainted with, and speaking the most home truths of his
brethren without fear or scruple. The Latin is pure, and free from the
barbarisms of the time.
After such a caustic production, it is no wonder that the party assailed
made use of every means to destroy its author. The King, who was a weak
and variable man, after much importunity on their part, allowed them to
have Buchanan arrested in the year 1539, on the plea of heresy, along
with many others who held his opinions about the state of the Scottish
church. Cardinal Beatoun, above all others, used his best endeavours to
procure sentence against him; he even bribed the King to effect his
purpose. But Buchanan’s friends gave him timely warning of the prelate’s
exertions, and, as he was not very carefully guarded, he made his escape
out of the window of his prison, and fled to England. He found, however,
that England was no safe place for him, for at that time Henry VIII. was
burning, on the same day and at the same stake, both protestant and
papist, with the most unflinching impartiality. He went over, therefore,
for the third time into France; but on his arrival at Paris, finding his
old enemy the Cardinal Beatoun ambassador at the French court, and being
fearful that means might be taken to have him arrested, he closed with
the offer of a learned Portuguese, Andrea di Govea, to become a tutor at
the new college at Bourdeaux. During his residence there he composed his
famous Latin Tragedies, ‘Jephthes’ and ‘Joannes Baptistes,’ and
translated the Medea and Alcestis of Euripides into Latin metre, for the
youth of his college. The two latter show that his acquaintance with the
Greek language was by no means superficial.
After holding this situation for about three years, Buchanan went with
Govea, at the instance of the King of Portugal, to a lately established
school at Coimbra. Before he ventured into Portugal, however, he took
care to let the King know that his Franciscanus was undertaken at the
command of his sovereign, and therefore ought nowise to endanger his
safety in Portugal. The King promised him his protection. But he had not
been at Coimbra long, before he was accused by the monks of heresy, and
the King, forgetting his promise, allowed them to keep Buchanan prisoner
in a convent, as they declared, for the purpose of reclaiming him. They
gave him as a penance the task of translating the Psalms of David from
the Vulgate into Latin verse. This he accomplished to admiration; and
his production is acknowledged to surpass all works of the like sort.
The metres are chiefly lyrical. He was soon after dismissed from prison,
and took ship for England, and staying there but a short time, he
returned again to France. Here the Marechal de Brissac intrusted him
with the education of his son Timoleon de Cossé. While thus employed he
studied, more particularly than he had hitherto done, the controversies
of the day with regard to religion, and became most probably a confirmed
protestant, though he did not openly renounce catholicism till some time
afterwards. He wrote, and dedicated to his pupil, a much admired piece,
entitled ‘Sphœra,’ during his tutorship. In the year 1560 he returned
again to Scotland, the reformed religion being then prevalent there, and
became publicly a member of the Protestant Kirk.
The most important, because the most public part of Buchanan’s life now
begins. Such a man could not long remain unnoticed by the great in
Scotland, and Mary Stuart herself became one of his best friends. He had
written for her two epithalamia, one on her marriage with the Dauphin,
and one on her marriage with Lord Darnley. Her respect for his abilities
was very great, and she had him appointed tutor to her son a month after
he was born, in the year 1566.
It is a matter of no small wonder, that Buchanan, who was James’s most
influential tutor, for the three others, who were joined in the
commission with him, were under his superintendence, should have
educated him as he did, or made him what he was. A book which Buchanan
published, and which is among the most famous of his works, ‘De jure
Regni apud Scotos,’ being a conversation between himself and Maitland
the Queen’s secretary, contains (though dedicated to his royal pupil)
sentiments totally at variance with all the notions of James. In it
Buchanan follows the ancient models of what was thought a perfect state
of policy. He proves that men were born to live socially,—that they
elected kings to protect the laws which bind them together,—that if new
laws are made by kings, they must be also subjected to the opinion of
the states of the nation,—that a king is the father of his people for
good, not for evil,—that this was the original intention in the choice
of Scottish kings,—that the crown is not necessarily hereditary, and
that its transmission by natural descent but for its certainty is not
defensible,—that a violation of the laws by the monarch may be punished
even to the death, according to the enormity of it,—that when St. Paul
talks of obedience to authorities he spoke to a low condition of
persons, and to a minority in the various countries in which they
were,—that it is not necessary that a king should be tried by his peers.
He concludes by saying, “that if in other countries the people chose to
exalt their kings above the laws, it seems to have been the evident
intention of Scotland to make her kings inferior to them.” In matters of
religion he rails against episcopal authority of all kinds. Now nothing
can be more opposed than all this to the opinions of James, who most
strongly upheld the divine right of kings, and episcopal authority.
Buchanan, when he was accused of making James a pedant, declared it to
be “because he was fit for nothing else.” He was a stern and unyielding
master, and no sparer of the rod, even though applied to the back of
royalty; and this may in some measure account for the want of influence
which he had over the King’s mind. James advises his son, in his
βασίλικον δῷρον not to attend to the abominable scandals of such men as
Buchanan and Knox, “who are persons of seditious spirit, and all who
hold their opinions.”
It might have been well, however, for the unfortunate Charles if he had
been rather more swayed by the opinions of the tutor, and less by the
lessons of the pupil. In the early part of Buchanan’s tutorship he
attached himself strongly to the interests of the Regent, Murray; and as
the patron fell off from the interests of Mary, so did the historian,
till at last he became the bitterest of her enemies. He alone has
ventured to assert in print his belief of her criminal connexion with
David Rizzio, in his ‘Detectio Mariæ Reginæ,’ published in 1571; and he
was her great accuser at the court of Elizabeth, when appointed one of
the commissioners to inquire into Mary’s conduct, she being a prisoner
in England. Buchanan too lies under the serious charge of having forged
the controverted letters, supposed to have passed between Mary and her
third husband Bothwell, while she was yet the wife of Earl Darnley, from
which documents it was made to appear that she was art and part in the
murder of her Royal Consort. Whether he really forged these letters or
not, is a question perhaps too deeply buried in the dust of antiquity to
admit of proof. He offered to swear to their genuineness, however, which
was an ill return, if that were all his fault, to the kindness he had
received from her. His friendship for Murray continued firm all his
life; this man was one of the few persons he seems to have been really
attached to. Through the Earl’s interest, Buchanan was made keeper of
the Scottish seals, and a Lord of Session. Nothing is told us of his
abilities as a practical politician, but it may be supposed that he was
fitted for the office he held, for Murray was very careful in the choice
of his public servants.
Buchanan’s last work, on which he spent the remaining fourteen years of
his life, is yet to be spoken of,—his History of Scotland. In this,
which like the rest of his productions was written in Latin, he has been
said to unite the elegance of Livy with the brevity of Sallust. With
this praise, however, and with that which is due to his lively and
interesting way of relating a story, our commendations of this work must
begin and end. As a history, it is valueless. The early part is a tissue
of fable, without dates or authorities, as indeed he had none to give;
the latter is the work of an acrimonious and able partisan, not of a
calm inquirer and observer of the times in which he lived. The work is
divided into four books. The first three contain a long dissertation on
the derivation of the name of Britain,—a geographical description of
Scotland, with some poetical accounts of its ancient manners and
customs,—a treatise on the ancient inhabitants of Britain, chiefly taken
from the traditionary accounts of the bards, and the fables of the monks
engrafted on them, on the vestiges of ancient religions, and on the
resemblances of the various languages of different parts of the island.
The real history of Scotland does not begin till the fourth book; it
consists of an account of a regular succession of one hundred and eight
kings, from Fergus I. to James VI., a space extending from the beginning
of the sixth century to the end of the sixteenth. The apocryphal nature
of the greater part of these monarchs is now so fully admitted, that it
is unnecessary to dilate upon them. Edward I., as is well known,
destroyed all the genuine records of Scottish history which he could
find. Buchanan, instead of rejecting the absurd traditionary tales of
bards and monks, has merely laboured to dress up a creditable history
for the honour of Scotland, and to “clothe with all the beauties and
graces of fiction, those legends which formerly had only its wildness
and extravagance.”
This work, and his De jure Regni apud Scotos, he published at the same
time, very shortly before his death; and, while he was on his death-bed,
the Scottish Parliament condemned them both as false and seditious
books. We may lay part of this condemnation to James’s account. It is
not probable that he would allow so much abuse of his mother as they
contained, directly and indirectly, to pass without some public stigma.
There remain to be noticed only two small pieces of this author in the
Scottish language, one a grievous complaint to the Scottish peers,
arising from the assassination of the Earl of Murray; the other, a
severe satire against Secretary Maitland, for the readiness with which
he changed from party to party: this has the title of ‘Chameleon.’
Buchanan died at the good old age of seventy-four, in his dotage as his
enemies said, but in full vigour of mind as his last great work, his
History, has proved. Much has been said in his dispraise by enemies of
every class, his chief detractors being the partisans of Mary Stuart and
the Romish priesthood. The first of these accuse him of ingratitude to
Major, Mary, Morton, Maitland, and to others of his benefactors; of
forging the letters above-mentioned, and of perjury in offering to swear
to them. The latter accuse him of licentiousness, of drunkenness, and
falsehood; and one of them has descended so far as to quarrel with his
personal ugliness. Of these charges many are, to say the least,
unproved; many appear to be altogether untrue. But his fame rests rather
on his persevering industry, his excellent scholarship, and his fine
genius, than upon his moral qualities. Buchanan wrote his own life in
Latin two years before his death. To this work, to Mackenzie’s ‘Lives
and Characters of the most eminent writers of the Scots Nation,’ to the
Biographia Britannica, and the numerous authorities on insulated points
there quoted, we may refer those who wish to pursue this subject.
Buchanan’s works were collected and edited by the grammarian Ruddiman,
and printed by Freebairn, at Edinburgh, in the year 1715, in two
volumes, folio.
[Illustration]
[Illustration:
_Engraved by J. Thomson._