THE HOUSE OF THE BARTONS.
"Do men love thee? Art thou so bound
To men, that how thy name will sound,
Will vex thee lying underground."--TENNYSON.
The insurgent lords had marched from Linlithgow to Leith, but had not
as yet obtained possession of the capital or its fortress which the
provost and governor maintained against them. They had established
themselves in the seaport, and the house of the late Sir Andrew
Barton was assigned to the young Duke of Rothesay and his suite.
It was the 18th of June. The sun was as bright, the sky as blue, and
the atmosphere as pure, as they ever are in that delightful month.
The broad Forth, with its anchorage full of crayers, pincks, and
caravels; its green isles and winding bays--the surf-beaten rocks and
fertile promontories of Fife, with the fertile shores of Lothian were
glowing in sunny light.
The seaport was still, perhaps, in its infancy, though Sir Andrew
Wood, Sir Andrew Barton, Sir Alexander Mathieson, and Sir William
Merrimonth, all brave knights, who received their spurs on their own
decks, and who had fought their way at sea as merchant-skippers, had
given to the burgh a wealth and importance such as no port in the
kingdom had hitherto known; and though its wynds, alleys, and closes
were quaint, small, and irregular, with all their gable-ends towards
the street, though the shore was encumbered by boats, anchors,
kailyards, and gardens, where _now_ broad moles of stone bulwark in
the river; and though its pier was of wood, without either lighthouse
or martello tower, the stately argosies and gay caravels of these
fighting merchant-traders, and of many others, gave a gay aspect to
the harbour; though, as usual still, at this season, it was the least
busy time, for the Baltic ships had not returned.
At anchor in the stream, or moored beside that wooden pier, which was
burned by the English, 1544, lay those quaint old merchantmen, with
their basketed tops, their lofty poops, and pinck-built, or square
projecting sterns, which were retained until lately by some of the
Leith whalers, and may yet be found among our Orkney shipping.
Leith was full of armed men; the nobles and their forces thronged
every street and alley; their banners waved over the houses they
occupied, and armour, spears, swords, and axes flashed incessantly in
the sunshine, especially in the Wynd of St. Nicholas and the vicinity
of the house of the Bartons. This was a lofty, strong, and turreted
mansion, situated near the site of the present Custom-house, on the
west bank of the Leith; and in after years, Henry VIII. gave the
admiral of England special orders to cannonade and destroy it, during
Hertford's invasion.
In the hall or chamber of dais of this noble dwelling of the old
merchant, whose son and heir was then on board the _Yellow Frigate_,
the Duke of Rothesay was seated in council with the victorious
insurgent lords; and the splendour and luxury with which the
enterprising trader (a man far in advance of them in "the march of
intellect" and civilization, and far in advance of the age,) was
enabled to decorate the dwelling his industry had won, must have
formed a strong contrast to their rude stone-halls and the wooden
benches of their secluded towers on the braes of Angus, or in the
dells of Galloway; and so, no doubt, each earl, lord, and laird
thought, as they twisted their wiry mustachios under their steel
caps, and surveyed the apartment in which they held council--the
dining hall of a Leith merchant, in the year of the first revolution.
It had six tall windows, each barred with iron and latticed with
brass; the roof was arched with stone; but the walls were hung with
pale brown leather, richly stamped with thistles and silver
fleurs-de-lys. The oak furniture was enormously massive and strong;
all the chairs were quaintly and grimly carved, and had arms with
great knobs and square cushioned seats of blue Utrecht velvet. The
fire-irons were chained to the jambs of the fire-place; for our
forefathers, honest souls! being somewhat short-tempered, were wont
to have disputes when they sat round the fire at night. In the
recesses of the carved stone ambres and quaint old knobby cabinets,
were many articles of vertu and rarity, which the taste of umquhile
Sir Andrew Barton, when homeward bound, had made him select for his
good dame in happier days. There were Turkish carpets, African
skins, and Persian bows; Venetian crystals, Japanese canisters
(brought by the way of the Red Sea), Muscovite bowls, and Italian
bronzes; a plump Cupid sprawling on a dolphin's back; a St. John
asleep; the model of a ship, and several Egyptian gods and goddesses,
minus "pantaloons and bodices," on which the noble lords looked
somewhat dubiously, "as smelling of sorcery and damnable idolatry;"
but the late Sir Andrew was a pious and upright man--one who would
rather have died than withheld a plack of the cess due to kirk or
king; and in his mercantile days he never omitted to pay regularly to
the Hospitallers of St. Anthony at Leith the kain to which they were
entitled by law--a Scottish quart from every tun of wine that passed
the Beacon Rock; and of all the fighting merchant-mariners of the
time, none had paid more liberally the _primo gilt_, as it is still
named,--a duty paid from time immemorial, to aid "the poor, old, and
infirm mariners of Leith."
The southern windows of the hall, showed the ancient bridge of the
burgh, the old gothic Hospital and Church of St. Nicholas, with its
burying-ground, (on which, in after years, the citadel was built,)
and the Links of North Leith, a green and level plain, which has now
entirely disappeared, and become an irreclaimable waste, flooded at
every tide. The eastern windows showed the opposite bank of the
river, with the quaint shipping, the Beacon Rock, the wooden pier,
the steeple of St. Anthony, and the picturesque outline of the old
Timber Holfe, or bourse, where the Memel and Riga wood was sold, and
where traders generally met for the transaction of business.
Sad, pale, and thoughtful, with a heart crushed between sorrow for
the disappearance of his beloved Margaret, and the new mystery which
involved the fate of his unhappy father, who had not been seen since
the day of the battle, young Rothesay sat at the table, in a raised
seat of honour: and his dark, melancholy eyes wandered alternately
over the sunny landscape without, and the crowd of steel-clad, stern,
and proud landholders who sat around the board or thronged the
apartment, conversing and laughing, all very much at their ease,--for
they were not the men to be awed by the presence or opinions of a
spirit-broken boy, even though that boy was the heir of the throne.
On one side of him stood the Earl of Errol, the Lord High Constable
of Scotland, with his white ivory baton of office; on the other sat
the gigantic Earl of Angus, Lieutenant-general of the realm, clad in
his dark armour, with the _Red Heart_ crowned and emblazoned on his
surcoat, and his gauntletted hands crossed upon that terrible weapon,
which had slain Glencairn and many a gallant man. Of all the poor
men of letters who thronged the court of James III., not one was
present here; but in the sunny recesses of the windows were Catharine
Stirling of the Keir, Countess of Angus, Beatrix Douglas, Dowager of
Errol, wearing on her spousal finger a bone ring, to which the
wedding-ring of her late lord was attached by a cord; Elizabeth
Douglas, Lady Lyle, and other dames of the rebel faction, among whom
were the sad and shrinking daughters of Lord Drummond--Sybilla and
Euphemia--who fixed their eyes, furtively, however, on the _Yellow
Frigate_ and her armed consorts, now many in number, which were all
riding at anchor, under the admiral's flag, in the roads, about two
miles distant, after scouring the surrounding shores, and sinking
every ship whose crew adhered to the insurgent lords. The latter had
offered the most splendid bribes to the Leith masters, if they would
arm ships and attack the Laird of Largo; but not one would sail
against him, were a ducal coronet the reward of conquest.
Seven days had now elapsed since the battle of Sauchie had been
fought; yet, in all that time, no tidings had been heard of James;
for the poor miller, Beaton, had not yet dared to relate the terrible
scene he had witnessed; and those who could have given the best
information, viz., Gray and Stirling, stood by the prince's council
board, exchanging those deep smiles that villains can only read.
"Every where we have offered bribes to those who may bring us sure
tidings of your royal father," said Angus, "by twang of trumpet at
every burghcross; I have proffered brave propines for drinking, and
many a rich largess, yet no news hath come in."
"Rumours are current that the king has been assassinated," said the
Lord Hailes, bluntly.
The young prince grew ghastly pale, and started with horror at the
remark.
"By God's love and the Virgin's purity, I pray you, do not say so!"
he exclaimed, imploringly.
"By both, I assure you, it is said so," returned the coarse,
unfeeling noble.
"Rumour ever lies," said Sir Patrick Gray, angrily; "for on one hand
'tis said he has fled to England--on the other, to Holland; and there
are many who maintain that he is on board the ships of that
contumacious loon, old Largo, whose boats plied at the Craigward the
live-long battle day, ferrying over the wounded and the fugitive."
"From my soul, I thank you for the hope, my good Sir Patrick," said
the prince, mournfully.
"Until the king's flight or safety--his death or abdication are
known, my lords, we can decide on nothing," said the constable.
"Save that we must keep together in arms," added Angus, "till
Parliament meets, and we are voted scathless for the raid at Sauchie."
"We have gained a battle," said old Lord Drummond, in a growling
whisper to his daughters: "we have routed our false king--slain his
minion Ramsay of Balmain, whom some styled Lord of Bothwell; we have
cut to pieces his red-doubletted guard; yet I am not one inch nearer
discovering where the foul villains of the late court have hidden or
murdered your sister Maggie, to further their English alliance."
Crushed by their own sorrows, the poor girls did not reply to this
vituperation, save by the tears which fell silently over their
cheeks. Young girls in general look to the bright side of
everything: thus the sisters were full of hope; and they loved their
lost Margaret so much, that they shrunk, instinctively, with dismay
from the rough inferences of their father; and from the idea that any
one could injure a being so gentle and so harmless.
"Listen to me, Effie Drummond," resumed the old lord, through his
long mustachios, which resembled those of a walrus: "look a little
more at the quarterings on Lord Hailes' tabard-coad and a little less
at yonder devilish ships; and thou, too, Madam Sybilla--what, the
fury! hath this skipper's son gained more influence over thee in one
year than I have done in eighteen?"
Still they wept silently, for none had spoken to them kindly save
young Rothesay, and he knew not their secret; but now the sudden
entrance of Lord Home, with his mail covered by dust, relieved them
of their father's persecution, fur all now turned to him.
"Welcome, Bailie of Coldinghame!" said Angus, who by his loftiness
and confidence seemed more like a king than a mere peer; "what
tidings--hast heard of our missing man?"
"Nought, save that he hath fled; but I have been harrying the lands
of the _malcontents_, his people."
"And how many castles hast thou burned?"
"At the head of a thousand Border spears, I have ridden through all
the Howe of Angus, where men shall long remember the slogan of _a
Home_!" replied the chief, who was a very good type of those feudal
nobles, who never bowed to religion or to law, and who never knew
remorse for crime, or fear of God or man, and were generally as
destitute of pure patriotism as ever Scottish peers have been in
later years. "I have sacked twenty farm towns on the baronies of the
so-called Duke of Montrose; I have ruined and dismantled ten castles
in the Carse of Gowrie, and laid all the towns of Fife under heavy
contribution."
"Ye have done well, by St. Bryde!" said Angus, giving a glance of
stern curiosity at Rothesay, who had listened with stolid apathy.
And now entered, quite as hastily, Robert, Lord Lyle; he was one of
James's most faithful servants, and had recently returned from an
embassy to England, concerning the slaying of Barton.
"How now, Lyle--what news?" asked Angus.
"Men say the king is dead--murdered, and that the Lord Forbess hath
risen in the north, and ridden from Aberdeen to Elgin o' Murray,
displaying a bloody shirt upon a spear, and summoning all the
Gordons, the Forbesses, and Leslies to rise in arms against you, and
for vengeance! My lords, alake! this soundeth like evil."
"Let him do so; we may meet him and the northern clans by
Sauchieburn, perhaps," said Angus; "but I would we knew the verity,
whether or not the king is on board the ships of yonder stubborn
admiral."
"Another messenger with tidings," said Lord Hailes; "my kinsman, Adam
Hepburn, of the Black Castle, has come in from the east country, and
would speak with his grace."
"Admit him," said Rothesay; "he may have news of the king my father."
Hepburn, a hardy and sunburned south-country laird, accoutred in a
very plain and somewhat rusty headpiece, corslet, vambraces, and
steel gloves, with an enormous sword, dagger, and wheel-lock caliver
at his girdle, now pushed his way unceremoniously forward, but bowed
low on perceiving the young prince, whom he knew at once by the
richness of his dress--being without armour, and having on a short
crimson velvet tunic, girdled tightly about the waist, long hose of
spotless white silk, a violet-coloured cloak lined with white satin,
and on his breast the sparkling collar of the Thistle.
"What news, laird? If of my father, by my soul, you shall have the
best of all the forfeited baronies."
"Would I had such tidings to give," replied the soldier-like laird,
who having _no title_ was the truer Scotsman; "but I have merely come
in on the spur, with a message from the captain of the king's Castle
of Dunbar."
"Anent what?"
"Five English ships, which, after having lain wind-bound for many
days in Phillorth Bay, have appeared off the Firth of Forth, and
avoiding our cannon at Dunbar, now hover thereabout, plundering the
coast, cutting away our fishers' nets, firing on their boats, and
taking every advantage, after their old fashion, of these our present
hapless broils."
"What can we do, my lords?" said the prince, whose patriotism was
fired by hearing this news, which made Gray and Shaw exchange glances
of anger and disappointment.
"Nothing that I know of, for Wood and all his people remain sullenly
and proudly aloof from us, acknowledging no authority but that of
James III.," said Angus.
"My father's good and faithful subject!" said Rothesay, with honest
ardour.
"I will wager my coronet against a jester's cap, that old Largo will
sail against these Englishmen, if we do but ask him," said Angus.
"I say nay," said Sir Patrick Gray.
"I gay _yea_," added Angus, frowning.
"If this English churl is yet tarrying in Scottish waters, we may be
totally ruined," whispered Shaw to Gray.
"It cannot be he; this breathless courier speaks _five_ ships; now
young Howard had but three."
"True; yet I quake at the suggestion of sending out Wood against him."
In less than half an hour several urgent messages of similar import
came from the Whitefriars of Aberlady; from the provost of North
Berwick, and the prioress of the Cistercians there, all complaining
of ravages committed along the coast of Eastern Lothian; and by the
prince's desire the Albany herald was despatched to Admiral Wood,
requesting him to come on shore, on the double purpose of discovering
whether he knew anything of the king's safety, and if he would sail
against the enemy.
Too wary to trust himself among these barbarous nobles, Sir Andrew
"refused (says Abercrombie) to comply with the request unless good
hostages were delivered to him for his security," thus, two of the
peers volunteered for this service, George Lord Seaton and John Lord
Fleming, both men of great integrity. They were sent to the fleet as
hostages, and were received with all honour on board the _Yellow
Frigate_, where they were put in ward in one of the great cabins,
under the care of Willie Wad, the gunner, who voluntarily bound
himself to drink an unlimited quantity of bilge should they escape.
In one hour after this, the great barge of the admiral, having his
banner, _azure_, charged with a tree, _or_, and pulled by sixteen
well-armed oarsmen, with Cuddie in the prow, and Robert Barton and
Sir David Falconer, both sheathed in armour and accoutred to the
teeth, swept past the Mussel-cape, and through the old harbour, with
oar-blades flashing in the sunshine. They landed at the ancient
bridge which crossed the Leith, near where a chapel of St. Ninian was
erected soon after by an abbot of Holyrood, with consent of his
chapter. It was removed about seventy years ago, and nothing remains
of it now but an arched door. At the other end of the bridge was a
miraculous well, which belonged to the Bailie of St. Anthony.
Accompanied by all his barge's crew, armed with their
boat-stretchers, and having daggers and wheel-locks at their belts,
the old admiral, with no other ornament above his armour than the
_silver whistle_, which was the badge of his rank, strode through the
Wynd of St. Nicholas, and entered the house of Barton, where ensued
one of the most interesting interviews recorded in the history of
those stirring times.