LIVES
OF THE
QUEENS OF SCOTLAND
AND
ENGLISH PRINCESSES
CONNECTED WITH THE REGAL SUCCESSION OF GREAT BRITAIN.
BY AGNES STRICKLAND
AUTHOR OF
THE “LIVES OF THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND.”
“The treasures of antiquity laid up
In old historic rolls I opened.”--BEAUMONT.
VOL I.
NEW YORK:
HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS,
No. 82 CLIFF ST.
1851.
CONTENTS
INTRODUCTORY PREFACE.
LIFE OF MARGARET TUDOR, QUEEN OF JAMES IV.--
PAGE
CHAP. I. 1
II. 40
III. 85
IV. 128
V. 157
VI. 197
LIFE OF MAGDALENE OF FRANCE, FIRST QUEEN OF JAMES V.--
CHAP. I. 249
II. 280
LIFE OF MARY OF LORRAINE, SECOND QUEEN OF JAMES V.--
CHAP. I. 311
II. 346
INTRODUCTORY PREFACE.
The Biographies of Royal Females who have played distinguished parts in
the history of a country--especially those who have been involved in
the storms caused by revolutions in popular opinion--afford not only
instances of lofty and heroic characteristics elicited by striking
reverses of fortune, but the most touching examples of all that is
lovely, holy, and endearing in Womanhood.
“If,” as the Duchess de Bourbon said to her unfortunate kinswoman,
Margaret of Anjou,[1] “a book were to be written on the calamities
of illustrious ladies of royal birth,” it would, doubtless, exceed
in pathos and dramatic interest all the tragedies in the world. It
would form an extensive series of volumes, in which daughters of every
family inheriting the fatal distinction of royalty, in every age and
country, might find a place: and who more mournfully pre-eminent than
MARY STUART, and several of the Princesses connected with
the regal succession of Great Britain? Of Queens of England who have
fallen by the hand of the executioner, or died broken-hearted exiles in
foreign lands, it is unnecessary to speak here, their memorials having
already been placed before the reader.[2] While engaged in preparing
that series of royal female biographies, materials no less interesting
connected with cotemporary Queens of the sister realm were elicited,
whose lives, together with those of such English Princesses as were
placed in the direct line of the regal succession, appeared desirable
adjuncts to the _Lives of the Queens of England_. They are, in
fact, links of the same family chain.
However shadowy the catalogue may at first sight appear of forgotten
northern Queens, each played her part distinctly, whether for good or
ill, and gave a color to the temper of the times in which her lot was
cast; each had her separate glories and her griefs.
In consequence of the premature, and, in too many instances, the
violent deaths of the Kings of Scotland, almost every reign commenced
with a long minority, in the course of which there was invariably a
struggle between the Queen-mother and the great nobles of the realm for
the tutelage of the infant sovereign, and the exercise of the power of
the Crown. The Queen, generally a princess of foreign birth, for such
was even a daughter of the kindred royal line of England considered,
had little chance against the turbulent magnates, by whom female
domination was held in scorn; and it was only through the influence of
bribes, intrigues, and fomenting their jealousy of each other, that
a Queen-mother ever succeeded in grasping the reins of empire, and
then at the expense of life-consuming cares. The old age of a King of
Scotland was forty, and very few Queens attained that age.
Who were the Queens of Scotland? This work will, we trust, answer that
question satisfactorily, by dispelling the obscurity in which the lapse
of centuries, and the translation of the Scottish Court from Holyrood
to Westminster and Windsor, have involved the Royal Consorts of the
Monarchs of the sister realm.
The things we look upon through the inverted telescope of Time
are of course diminished, the lights are misty, and the shades
fade into deeper darkness. Yet what we see are like daguerreotype
miniatures--reduced impressions of full-sized realities.
Daguerreotypes are not beautiful, but true, occasionally precious
memorials, where no better likenesses can be obtained.
The Lives of the Queens of Scotland, in the modern series which I have
the honor of introducing in the present volume, commence with Margaret
Tudor, the consort of James IV. of Scotland, and daughter of Henry VII.
of England and Elizabeth of York. Margaret Tudor, like her illustrious
predecessor and ancestress, Margaret Atheling, was an English Princess
in the direct line of the regal succession of that realm, and a
Queen-consort of Scotland. Her posterity by James IV. united the blood
of the elder line of the Anglo-Saxon Kings and the Norman Conqueror,
blended with that of Bruce-Stuart and Plantagenet-Tudor in one rich
stream. James VI. of Scotland, doubly her great-grandson, inherited the
realms of England and Ireland as the representative of that princess,
whose hereditary rights are now vested in her august descendant, Queen
Victoria.
The Life of Mary Stuart, which will occupy two successive volumes of
this series, was in preparation long before the publication of that of
Elizabeth Tudor, in our Lives of the Queens of England, where it was
promised as a companion biography, but a separate work.
Inexorably as the destiny of Mary Stuart was influenced by Elizabeth of
England, no one could mix the personal annals of those rival Britannic
sovereigns together without producing, as Camden has done, great
confusion, and impairing the interest attached to both by violating the
individual unity essential to biography; for they were stars shining in
distinct orbits, and never visible in the same hemisphere. Their lives
ought, however, to be read in succession, because they cast reflected
lights upon each other, and are calculated, like the cotemporary
biographies in both series, to illustrate the comparative state of
society in the sister realms.
My pledge to the public touching the Life of Mary Stuart could not
be redeemed till after the arduous undertaking in which my sister
and myself were engaged was concluded. The accomplishment of that
task occupied several years, in the course of which fresh sources of
information connected with the personal history of Mary have been
opened both in France and England. So numerous, however, are the works
on this subject of ever fresh and undying interest, that although not
one of them has been written since the publication of Prince Labanoff’s
seven volumes of her letters, and La Mothe Fenelon’s dispatches, we
determined not to infringe on the pre-occupied ground and literary
property of other authors, by bringing out a new Life of Mary Stuart
in three volumes singly, but resolved, proceeding on our own original
track, to introduce it into a new series of royal biographies on the
same plan as _The Lives of the Queens of England_. The biography
of Mary will, of course, be rendered more perspicuous and intelligible
by being preceded by those of the three Queens in the present volume,
and followed by that of her aunt, Margaret, Countess of Lennox, the
mother of the unfortunate Darnley, which is full of curious information
bearing on the much contested point of the guilt or innocence of Mary.
The selfish and short-sighted policy of Margaret Tudor, while
exercising the functions of Queen-Regent for her son James V., her
intrigues with England, the interminable embroilments caused by her
marriages and divorces, sowed, as will be shown, the perilous seeds
of which her unfortunate descendants, Mary Stuart and Darnley, were
destined to reap the bitter harvest.
The Life of James the Fifth’s first consort, Magdalene of France,
having important connection with political relations, but no
entanglement with political intrigues, comes like a refreshing
interlude of sweet and pleasant things between the turmoils and
agitations detailed in the more eventful histories of Margaret Tudor
and Mary of Lorraine. It is, in sooth, a romantic but carefully
verified love-tale of royal romance, blended with the splendid
pageantry and costume of the brilliant courts of those chivalric
monarchs, Francis I. of France, and the fifth James Stuart of Scotland.
The accomplishments and refined tastes of James V., like those of
his illustrious ancestor James I., and his own daughter Mary, were
unfortunately too much in advance of their era. Lesley, Bishop of Ross,
censures the great increase of expense, caused by the march of luxury
at this period, as injurious to morals, and inconsistent with the means
of the country.
“Here is to be remembered,” he says, “that there were many new
ingines and devices, as well of bigging (_building_) of palaces,
habiliments, as of banqueting, and of men’s behavior, first begun and
used in Scotland at this time, after the fashion they had seen in
France. Albeit it seemed to be very comely and beautiful, yet it was
more superfluous and voluptuous than the substance of the realm of
Scotland might bear forth or sustain: nevertheless, the same fashions
and custom of costly habiliments, indifferently used by all estates,
excessive banqueting, and sic like, remains yet to these days, to the
great hinder and poverty of the whole realm.”[3]
These observations, as Lesley wrote in the reign of Queen Mary, are
perhaps even more applicable to the consequences of James the Fifth’s
second marriage with the sprightly Duchess-dowager of Longueville,
Mary of Lorraine, who presided over the court of Scotland for nearly
two-and-twenty years--first as Queen-consort, and subsequently as
Queen-Regent--during which period French fashions and French influence
gained a natural, but ultimately most unpopular ascendency. The leading
events of the stormy period of Mary of Lorraine’s regency are more
familiar to the reader than her early history and wedded life, which
are the more agreeable for not being mixed up with the religious
warfare which convulsed Scotland during her widowhood. Whatever is
requisite to be related on the latter subject will be told as briefly
as possible in due order of chronology.
Many of Mary Stuart’s countrymen who are now painfully halting between
two opinions--an internal conviction that she was rather a victim
than a criminal “rugging at their hearts,” and pleading all sorts of
extenuating circumstances in her behalf (which, if she were guilty of
the crimes imputed to her, is a grave offense against morality),--would
rejoice to see her innocence established, if it could be done without
dispelling that veneration for John Knox which their church, to the
great hindrance of historic truth, makes no less an article of historic
than of spiritual faith.
As it is, however, contrary not only to our principles, but to the
plan of our royal biographies, to convert historical characters and
events into pegs whereon to hang party questions, especially those
involving theological differences, which it is the peculiar province of
ecclesiastical writers to discuss, we will endeavor to keep John Knox
as much in the background as he will allow us. After all, his testimony
regarding Mary amounts to nothing beyond harsh words, which, however
they may have biased the minds of men, have no real effect as matter
of evidence. As members of the Reformed Church, we regard him as a
great and honest instrument in the overthrow of the Church of Rome in
Scotland. Intent on the mighty work in which he was engaged, John Knox,
like Jehu the son of Nimshi, drove furiously--his zeal carried him in
many things too far; in fact it intoxicated his reason, by causing him
to see through a distorted lens every thing done by Mary Stuart, the
daughter of his ancient adversary, Mary of Lorraine.
Since the publication of those valuable national works, Tytler’s
_History of Scotland_, and the _Life of Mary Stuart_ by Henry
Glassford Bell, Esq., a vast body of her letters and other cotemporary
documents has been brought to light by the indefatigable research of
Prince Labanoff, the learned contributors to the Maitland and Bannatyne
Club Books, and other generous laborers in the cause of historic
truth, which supply matter for a more important biography of this
Princess than could possibly have been written before the discovery
of these papers. These collections, although printed, are, with very
few exceptions, inaccessible to the public; and even if the great
expense attending the purchase of such as are not confined to private
circulation did not place them out of the reach of general readers,
they would be unintelligible to readers unaccustomed to the old French
and obsolete Scotch orthography. In addition to these, I have been
favored with access to the charter-chests of many of the historical
families of Scotland, and aided by that zealous and liberal-minded
documentarian, Alexander Macdonald, Esq., of the Register House,
Edinburgh, with the communication of excerpts from the Royal Exchequer
Records of Scotland, and curious items of the Privy Purse expenses
of the Queens of Scotland; besides several inedited letters of Queen
Mary, discovered by himself, which had escaped the research of Prince
Labanoff. An especial meed of thanks is due to John Riddell, Esq.,
of the Faculty of Advocates, for various important additions to my
collections illustrative of the personal history of the Scottish
Queens, both in the present series and the medieval.
I have been also indebted to David Laing, Esq., the learned librarian
of the Signet Library, for much friendly attention and information,
and the loan of valuable documentary works. Nor must I omit to mention
my obligations to Frederick Devon, Esq., of the Chapter House,
Westminster, and Henry Sharpe, Esq., brother of my lamented friend,
Sir Cuthbert Sharpe. Above all, I beg to express my grateful sense
of the courtesy of the Honorable John Stuart, in favoring me with
the use of Mary’s secret correspondence, recently discovered in the
family archives of the House of Moray. Were I to specify all the
honored names of the learned noble, and the noble learned, the good,
the generous-minded, and the true, who have kindly labored to smooth
the difficulties of this arduous undertaking, by opening every source
of information, both national and private, and strewing an otherwise
rugged path with flowers, not only would the time fail me, but volumes
would be requisite to express my appreciation of the gratifying
attentions and affectionate hospitalities I have received in Scotland.
The base misrepresentation of the Scottish character which pervaded the
coarse literature of the eighteenth century in England, and extended
its pernicious influence through all classes of society, was not merely
symptomatic of the bad taste and blunted moral perceptions of that
soul-degrading period--it was one of the successful organs of party
malice, neither more nor less than the reptile tail of the hydra of
falsehood, which reared its hundred heads against the Royal House of
Stuart, and established the most palpable calumnies by the hardihood of
assertion.
The pen is a small instrument, but it is a lever capable of overturning
thrones. It is among the pains and penalties of Royalty to experience
the fickleness of public favor, and to be occasionally borne down by an
unmerited load of obloquy, of which the pen of some incendiary writer
has been the exciting cause; but that a whole nation should have been
brought to discredit by slanderous tongues and witless pens, is a
marvel and a mystery no less strange than true.
As long as Scotland, in consequence of bad roads and tedious traveling,
remained a sort of _terra incognita_, vulgar prejudice prevailed
among the ignorant and narrow-minded portion of society in England; but
Scotland only required to be seen to be appreciated. Strong in native
talent, rich in native worth, valiant, persevering, and wise, her sons
have been ever foremost in the field of honorable enterprise, whether
in deeds of arms, science, jurisprudence, or the industrial arts of
peaceful life. In poetry, music, and song, she has certainly never
been surpassed. It was, however, reserved for the genius of Sir Walter
Scott to draw English hearts and English gold to Scotland, and to knit
those bonds of brotherly regard which no act of legislature could do.
His graphic pictures of Scotland and the Scotch acted like a spell of
enchantment on the imaginations of the English. Those who were able
to indulge the enthusiastic feelings which his writings had excited,
crossed the Border, rushed into Highland glens, scaled Highland hills,
congregated at Scotch hostelries, peeped into Scotch cottages, were
invited to partake of Scotch hospitality--and found themselves in a
land flowing with milk and honey, not merely in its festive character,
but in its kindliness to strangers, which is the glory of all lands.
Yet among the numerous visitors whom the sight-seeing instincts of
this age of locomotion have rendered familiar with the ancient seats
of Scottish regality, how few know any thing about the Queens who
once held their courts within the now deserted walls of Dunfermline,
Falkland, Linlithgow, and Stirling!--gems which, even in their
desolation, are surviving monuments of the graceful tastes of their
founders, and incline the musing antiquary, who realizes in fancy for a
moment their pristine glory, to smite his breast and exclaim “Ichabod!”
With the exception of Windsor Castle, England has certainly no vestige
of palatial architecture which may compare with the royal homes of
Scotland, of whose former tenants a few particulars may be no less
acceptable to the sons and daughters of the land, than to the southern
stranger who visits them.
The Maiden Castle, sitting enthroned on her dun rock, the Acropolis
of Edinburgh, at once a relic and a witness of the immutable Past,
is full of memories of eventful scenes connected with Queens whose
hearts would have leaped with exultation could their eyes have looked
on such a vision of national prosperity as the bright New Town, with
its gay streets, and shops full of costly merchandise; its spacious
squares, crescents, and noble public buildings rising on the outer
_ballium_ of that grim fortress whose base is now surrounded by
green flowery gardens, for the joyance of a peace-loving generation.
Mons Meg and her brethren have lost their vocation through the amended
temper of the times, and hold sinecure posts in silence--their
destructive thunders being superseded by the din of the railway trains
bringing hourly freights of wealth and wisdom to the good town of
Edinburgh and its inhabitants.
England and Scotland are now ONE, not merely by the blending
of the regal houses of Plantagenet, Bruce, Tudor, and Stuart in the
person of James VI., and his accession to the throne of Great Britain
in 1603, and the parliamentary act of consolidation in 1707, then
miscalled the Union; but truly and effectually by friendship, based
on mutual esteem, which has been cemented between the true hearts of
the north and south in the present century. Under these auspicious
circumstances, the Lives of the Queens of Scotland ought not to be less
interesting to English, than those of the Queens of England have proved
to Scotch readers.
Each of the Lives in the present series of royal biographies forms
a distinct original narrative of individual yet general interest,
illustrative of the course of civilization, the progress of the arts,
and the costume of the periods to which they belong, calculated to
lend a charm to the study of history, which, when truthfully told and
philosophically considered, is the noblest school of ethics replete
with moral teaching.
Many original royal letters will be embodied in these volumes,
with facts and anecdotes carefully verified. Local traditions, not
unworthy of attention, have been gathered in the desolate palaces
and historic sites where every peasant is an oral chronicler, full
of spirit-stirring recollections of the past. These are occasionally
connected with themes which were the fountains whence Sir Walter Scott
drew his inspiration for the chivalric poetry and romance which has
rendered Scotland classic ground. The tastes of those who were the
rising generation when the Waverley romances were the absorbing theme
of interest in the literary world, have become matured. They require to
have history rendered as agreeable without the mixture of fiction as
with it; they desire to have it so written, without sacrificing truth
to fastidiousness, that they may read it with their children, and that
the whole family party shall be eager to resume the book when they
gather round the work-table during the long winter evenings.
Authors who feel as they ought to feel, should rejoice in seeing their
productions capable of imparting pleasure to the simple as well as
the refined; for a book which pleases only one grade of society may
be fashionable, but can not be called popular. That which interests
peasants as well as peers, and is read with equal zest by children
and parents, and is often seen in the hands of the operative classes,
speaks to the heart in a language intelligible to a widely-extended
circle of humanity, has written its own review, and needs no other.
EDINBURGH, _October 23, 1850_.
MARGARET TUDOR.
THE
QUEENS OF SCOTLAND.
MARGARET TUDOR.
CHAPTER I.
SUMMARY.
Margaret Tudor, the eldest daughter of Henry VII. and Elizabeth
of York--Born at Westminster--Baptized at St. Margaret’s
church--Childhood and education, &c.--Dances at her brother
Arthur’s bridal--Is legatee to his personal property--Margaret
is betrothed at Richmond palace to James IV.--Loses her mother
Queen Elizabeth--Previous life of James IV.--Margaret sets out
with Henry VII. for the north--Is taken to her grandmother’s
castle of Colleweston--Receives publicly her father’s and her
grandmother’s blessing--Her father gives her admissal--His
written benediction on her therein--She bids him farewell in
the hall at Colleweston--Her equipage and attendance--Her
magnificent progress toward Scotland--Her grand entry of
York--Remarkable meeting with the Earl of Northumberland--Her
arrival at Durham, at Newcastle, at Alnwick--Kills a buck
there with her crossbow--Her sojourn and entertainment at
Berwick--Her preparations for entering Scotland--Issues through
the north gate of Berwick--Is escorted by a feudal army of
English Borderers--Her first morning’s journey in Scotland--Is
received as Queen-Consort by a noble escort sent by James
IV.--Enters the Pavilion of Recreation at Lammermuir--The
English Border chivalry defiles before her, making their devoir
of adieu--She proceeds to Fast castle--Sleeps there the first
night in Scotland--Roads pioneered before her--Received by the
nuns of Haddington on the second night--Arrives at Dalkeith
castle--Received in state by Lady Morton--The King’s approach
unexpectedly announced.
The national enmity which had, from the earliest times, subsisted
occasionally between the realms of England and Scotland, reached an
intolerable degree of rancor in the fifteenth century.
For two hundred years, the monarchs of England had left no attempt
untried to subvert the independence of Scotland, laboring vehemently
to destroy it either by force or fraud. Force had hitherto proved
unavailing. If Edward I. had for a short time caused the whole island
to own him as sovereign, yet the warlike north broke away as soon as
her bleeding wounds were stanched, and returning seasons had repaired
the destruction perpetrated by the southern invader. All these bitter
aggressions Scotland took care to retaliate when the hour of England’s
weakness came. A terrible thorn did the vengeance of the northern realm
prove in the side of her neighbor, when struggling in the agonies of
the White and Red Rose succession wars!
But neighbors, whether they be private individuals or mighty nations,
can not systematically perpetrate long courses of mutual injuries
without at times becoming aware that such employment is singularly
unprofitable. Henry VII. had the wisdom to draw this inference: he
had, from an early period of his reign, projected the policy of making
the King of Scotland his friend and ally, by giving him the hand of
his eldest daughter, who, according to the figurative language of
his councillors, “would prove the dove which was to bring to the
island-kingdoms the blessings of permanent peace.”
But the royal family of Tudor was not a nest from which doves ever
sprang. It is true that Margaret Tudor became the mother of the line
which, succeeding to the Britannic empire, peaceably effected by right
the good that might could never accomplish. Yet Margaret’s personal
conduct brought no elements of peace; and while she ruled as Queen
Regent of the north, her character reflected, as in a dim and turbid
mirror, a family resemblance of the caprices and passions of her
powerful brother Henry VIII., the sovereign of the south.
Margaret was born Princess-Royal of England at Westminster Palace,
November 29, 1489, being the eldest daughter of Elizabeth of York
and Henry VII. A few hours afterward the royal babe made her first
appearance in public life, her father and his mother Margaret, Countess
of Richmond, having resolved that her baptism should be celebrated on
St. Andrew’s day--the patron saint of Scotland, which occurs November
30.[4] As the Countess of Richmond, grandfather and godmother to
the infant, left an elaborate treatise of her own writing on royal
ceremonials, no doubt can exist but that the baptism was conducted
according to the ancient customs of the monarchs of England.
The Queen’s chamber, where Margaret Tudor drew her first breath, was in
immediate vicinity to the Painted Chamber, or St. Edward’s Chamber,[5]
subsequently used as the hall where the House of Commons deliberated.
Some ancient windows, lately to be seen near those belonging to the
well-known Painted Chamber, pertained to the apartments of our Queens
at Westminster Palace.
The little Princess was borne in royal pomp from this chamber in
Westminster Palace[6] by the Lady Berkeley, assisted by the Earls of
Arundel and Shrewsbury. She was brought by them into the Whitehall,[7]
where the procession formed; for the christening was to take place in
the church near Westminster Abbey, dedicated to St. Margaret, Queen of
Scotland--who was, at the same time, patroness and name-saint of her
young descendant--Henry VII. and his sagacious mother having arranged
all these coincidences for the purpose of conciliating the national
predilections of the Scotch.
The sacred silver font was brought from Canterbury Cathedral, as usual
for the baptism of the children of the Kings of England, and set up in
the porch of St. Margaret’s Church, the porch itself being richly hung
with tapestry, and the ceiling with fine embroidery.[8] Here the Bishop
of Ely, in full pontificals, waited the arrival of the procession,
which took its way through the gate in the wall of the New Palace
Yard, leading direct to St. Margaret’s Church.[9] The infant Princess
was attended by her eldest aunt the Lady Anne of York, who bore the
white chrisom; Lord Wells, the husband of the Princess Cecily of York,
carried the salt in a grand gold salt-cellar--salt being always used at
the Roman Catholic baptisms; a great silver chandelier full of lights
was borne before Lord Wells; wax-tapers, unlighted, were carried on all
sides by the nobility and officers of the royal household. Margaret,
Countess of Richmond, gave the Princess her name; the Duchess of
Norfolk, “daughter to the good Talbot,” says our authority,[10] was the
other godmother; and Dr. Morton, Chancellor of England and Archbishop
of Canterbury was godfather.
The new-born infant was evidently baptized by immersion,
notwithstanding the cold usual to our climate at the last day of
November, for the words occur--“When the babe was put _into_ the
font, all the tapers were lighted.”[11] Indeed, the illuminated MSS.,
both of England and France, always represented royal infants swimming
in the fonts, as may be seen in the Beauchamp MSS., and that of St.
Denis, representing severally the baptisms of Henry VI. and Charles VI.
of France.
When the ceremonial was over, the infant Princess-Royal was borne back
to Westminster Palace in solemn procession. She was carried under a
canopy supported by four bold bannerets, who had won their pennons
and spurs at Bosworth Field. These gentlemen were Sir Gilbert Talbot,
Sir Edward Stanley, Sir James Blount, and Sir John Savage. Before the
Princess-Royal were carried her christening presents, with trumpets
sounding merrily. The Archbishop of Canterbury had presented his
god-daughter with a beautiful gold _aspersoir_, set with precious
stones, to be used in sprinkling sweet waters. The Viscount Wells
carried a silver chest or box heaped with gold coins, the gift of the
child’s grand-dame and sponsor, the Countess Margaret.
Margaret was nursed at her mother’s favorite palace of Shene (recently
named Richmond by Henry VII.). Lady Guildford, wife of Sir Richard
Guildford, one of the knights of the royal household, was her
lady-mistress, or personal governess. Her nurse, a Welshwoman, is
designated by the King, in the treasury order for receipt of her wages,
as “our beloved Alice Davy,”[12] who received ten pounds per annum. The
assistants in the nursery, being only rockers, were not complimented as
the “king’s dearly beloved;” their names were Anne Mayland and Margaret
Troughton. They received each only £3 3_s._ 8_d._ per annum.
Alice Bywymble, the _day-wife_, another Welshwoman, had the same
salary. There is a treasury order extant, given under the privy-seal at
Greenwich Palace, when the Princess was about three years old, which
expressly specifies that the above attendants of her nursery were to
have no deductions from their wages imposed on them by those officers
who disbursed the order.
In her early infancy, overtures were made for the betrothal of the
English Princess-Royal with James IV. of Scotland, a prince who was
grown up to man’s estate before she was born,--a discrepancy of age
which did not promise her much chance of being Queen of Scotland,
notwithstanding all the compliments paid to the Scottish saints by her
baptism at St. Margaret’s Church, on St. Andrew’s day. James IV., being
withal absorbed in passionate love for a lady of his own age, merely
encouraged the overture in order to prevent the gainsaying of his
inclination; for which purpose he flattered the ardent wishes of his
councillors that he should ultimately form a matrimonial alliance with
the infant of his powerful southern neighbor.[13]
Margaret of Richmond, who superintended the bringing up of her
granddaughter and godchild, was one of the most learned women in
Europe, according to the acquirements of the cloister. Better far,
she could write pleasant letters, expressing clearly what she meant
to say--sometimes enlivened with strokes of naïve humor, which speak
of a cheerful and innocent heart; her orthography not illiterate, her
writing is fair and even legible, when it is considered that she wrote
the running-hand of the old English black character.
None of these attainments were imparted to her young name-child
Margaret, who, though brought up surrounded by the awakening
_renaissance_ or era of the new birth of classical lore, was
neither a learned nor an educated princess. Some one, either father
or grand-dame, must have indulged her ruinously, and permitted the
willfulness of caprice and petulance to take root in her young heart.
She was reared with her two brothers, Arthur and Henry, the first
older, the latter younger than herself. The Princes were educated with
all the learning of the times, but Margaret imbibed none from their
intercourse and conversation.
Her portrait was painted more than once by Mabuse, the precursor
of Holbein, when he visited the court of Henry VII. in search of
patronage. Lord Lindsay, who has devoted much learning and research to
the state of the arts, considers that Mabuse painted his first group
of Henry VII.’s children in the year 1596 or 1597.[14] At that period,
Margaret was seven or eight years of age.
When Sir Thomas More, by the permission of Henry VII., took the learned
Erasmus to visit the royal children at Shene, he mentions seeing
Margaret with her brothers Henry and Edmund, saying that she was then a
girl about eleven years old. He gives no praises to her beauty; indeed,
at that period, her portrait by Mabuse, painted in the same piece with
her brothers Henry and Edmund, presents the appearance of a little prim
old woman, rather than the soft features of childhood. The costume is
very plain and homely--probably it might be the habit belonging to the
Carthusian Convent at Shene. All her bright hair is concealed, her
head being covered with a hood, similar in form to those seen at the
present day worn by female mourners following the pedestrian funerals
of the poor through the crowded streets of London. Mabuse painted many
copies of the portraits of the royal children: one is familiar to the
public, in the long gallery at Hampton Court. The three children look
grave, and even grim, which was the fault of the hard literal pencil
of Mabuse and his fading colors, rather than the hand of nature--for
the Tudor royal family had all very bright complexions; and Margaret,
although not remarkable for a classical outline of features, was famed
for lilies and roses, and a profusion of glittering hair.[15] In the
Hampton Court group, her little brother Edmund, a solemn-looking baby
of three years old, has his head covered with an infinity of pale
yellow round curls. He died when he was in his fourth year.
Margaret Tudor learned to write in her childhood, or rather to trace
certain square-looking marks, which would resemble some of the Oriental
characters if they had more regularity. Her orthography was guided
solely by the sounds she uttered; and these prove that the persons
who formed her pronunciation placed strong aspirations before all the
vowels. She played on the lute, and danced actively. Her performance
of a quick lively dance, with her brother Henry as a partner, at the
festival of her brother Arthur’s marriage with Katharine of Arragon,
was admired by the whole court.
In her royal mother’s Compotus, or diary of expenses, the purchase
of lutes and lute-strings, and fees to Giles the luter, for teaching
Margaret, occur occasionally. Thus, the ornamental part was not
neglected in the education of the young Princess-Royal, however wofully
her mind was left vacant, and her passions uncontrolled. Arthur, Prince
of Wales, lavished much love and indulgence on his sister Margaret, who
was nearest to him in age of all the royal family. Even when he married
Katharine of Arragon, and retired to keep court at Ludlow Castle, the
absence of a few months had not effaced Margaret from his affections.
In fact, he proved how much dearer the sister was than his bride, by
bequeathing to her all his personal property, jewels, plate, and even
his best robes.[16]
The death of Arthur, Prince of Wales (April 2, 1501), made the
alliance with his sister a matter of more consequence to the Council
of Scotland. Margaret was now heiress to the heir-apparent, her next
brother Henry, whose single life stood between her and the succession
to the fair kingdom of South Britain and its dependencies. Ideas of
the ultimate consolidation of the Britannic empire, by means of her
descendants, began to occur to the sagacious brain of Henry VII. The
Scottish Council was too urgent with their King to secure the young
Princess, for the good of his country, to leave him any feasible excuse
for delaying the solemn affiancing, or marrying her by proxy.
After much diplomatic negotiation between Henry VII.’s astute
minister Fox, Bishop of Durham, and the Earl of Bothwell, the latter,
accompanied by the Archbishop of Glasgow, came to London, and demanded
the hand of the Princess Margaret. The proposition was thankfully
accepted by Henry VII., and laid before his Privy Council, at which
debate occurred the celebrated saying, often quoted from Lord Bacon, in
proof of the far-sighted wisdom of that sovereign. One of the English
lords present having objected that “the Princess Margaret, being next
heir to her brother Henry, England might chance to become a province to
Scotland.”
“No,” replied King Henry, “the smaller will ever follow the larger
kingdom.”[17]
The Scottish annalists, however, do not dismiss Henry VII.’s speech
quite so tersely, but add the historical authority on which the King
founded his apothegm.
“Some of his counsellors,” says Lesley, Bishop of Ross,[18] “did
propound certain reasons for staying of that marriage, alledging
that it might happen that the heritage and succession of the realm
of England might fall to Margaret his eldest daughter, and to her
successors; and, therefore, it seemed best she should be married to
some foreign prince. To the whilk, the King Henry VII. did answer,
‘What then, if such things did happen (which chance God forbid), I
see that it would come so that our realm would receive no damage
there-through; for in that case England would not _accress_ to
Scotland, but Scotland to England, as to the most noble head of the
whole isle, as when Normandy came to the power of Englishmen, our
forbears.’ And so the wisdom of the King was commended, and the lady
Margaret granted to the King of Scotland.”
Margaret’s only surviving brother, Henry, Prince of Wales, did not
view the possible prospect of the island union with the complacency of
his sire. Or probably his worthless tutor, Skelton (remarkable for his
virulent abuse of the Scotch), had filled his young mind with furious
antipathy; for the passion the boy flew into, when required to salute
Margaret as the betrothed bride of James IV., astonished the English
Court, and even the foreign envoys. After his rage had had its course,
Henry was afflicted with several fits of ague--an illness oddly enough
attributed by Cardinal Cajetan, a cotemporary statesman and author,
to the excessive displeasure of the Prince at his sister Margaret’s
wedlock with James IV.[19]
The portion and settlement of Margaret Tudor were arranged during the
autumn of 1502. The young Queen was to be put immediately in possession
of the castles and manors which constituted the jointure-lands of the
Queen Consorts of Scotland, to the amount of £2000 per annum; to which
James IV. added a pension of 500 marks. In the event of her widowhood,
Margaret was to be permitted to reside, at her pleasure, either
within or without the bounds of Scotland. Henry VII. gave Margaret
but £10,000, which was to be paid by installments, in three years--a
dowry little more than half as much as that which Alexander III. gave
with his daughter Margaret to Haco, King of Norway, in the thirteenth
century.[20]
It was stipulated that Henry VII. should not be obliged to send his
daughter to Scotland before September 1, 1503. She was given liberty,
by her marriage articles, to keep twenty-four English servants, besides
the Scottish attendants[21] which her lord the King might think
requisite for her rank.
The health of the Queen of England, Elizabeth of York, had been infirm
since the death of her son Arthur; her situation was delicate, and the
time drew on when she was about to take her chamber in the Tower of
London, previously to her seventh accouchement. The marriage of the
Princess Margaret, therefore, was not celebrated according to ancient
custom, amid the assembled multitudes of London and Westminster; but
in the retirement of her royal mother’s apartments at Richmond Palace.
John Young, Somerset Herald, a zealous and pains-taking chronicler of
all occurrences relating to the same, assisted at the ceremonial: and
from his narrative the following information is drawn.[22]
“At the King’s right royal manor of Richmond, on St. Paul’s day,
January 24, 1502–3, were performed the fiancels of the right high and
mighty Prince, James IV., King of Scots, and Margaret, eldest daughter
of our sovereign lord Henry VII., King of England and France, and Lord
of Ireland, as ensueth--
“The King, the Queen, and all their noble children, having heard
mass, and a notable sermon preached by Richard Fitzjames, Bishop of
Chichester, the Queen, after service, received the whole illustrious
company in her great chamber. She was attended by her daughter the
Princess Margaret, and by the little Lady Mary, her youngest child;
likewise by her own sister, the Lady Katharine of Devonshire, and most
of the great ladies of the court.”
It is remarkable that John Young, Somerset Herald, notices that the
Lady Katharine Gordon, widow of Perkin Warbeck, was in the Queen’s
train; and, on account of her nearness of kin both to the Kings of
England and Scotland, took rank next to the royal family, although Lady
Braye, the wife of the prime minister, was present.
“The King was attended by his son Prince Henry, Don Peter the Pope’s
_orator_, and the ambassadors of Spain and Venice; the Archbishops
of Canterbury and York, with four other bishops; likewise the members
of the Privy Council, and a great number of the nobles of England. Then
were introduced Patrick Hepburn, the Earl of Bothwell, who acted as
proxy for the King of Scotland his sovereign; and the other procurators
for the marriage, being the Archbishop of Glasgow and the elect Bishop
of Murray.[23]
“Then the Earl of Surrey stood forth, and with very good manner,
right seriously declared the cause of that fair assembly being met
together. Dr. Routhall, King Henry VII.’s Secretary, proceeded to read
the Scottish Commission. A canon of Glasgow, Mr. David Cunningham,
followed, by reading aloud the Pope’s dispensation ‘for consanguinity,
affinity, and nonage.’”[24]
The Archbishop of Glasgow commenced the usual questions, by demanding
solemnly of King Henry VII.--
“Does your Grace know any impediment on your part to this wedlock,
other than is here dispensed withal?”
The King assured him that he did not.
“Does your Grace know of any impediments and objections, any other
than the Pope has here dispensed with?” asked the Scottish Archbishop
of Queen Elizabeth, mother of the bride.
The Queen declared she knew of none other. The bride herself, the
Lady Margaret, was then solemnly adjured relative to her knowledge
of any objections to her marriage with the King of Scots. She gave a
satisfactory answer. Henry the VII. in his turn put the same kind of
questions to the Archbishop of Glasgow, regarding the pre-engagements
of James IV., and not without reason, considering that the archives of
his own realm could bear witness that the royal wooer had already been
half married, both to Margaret’s cousin, Anne of Suffolk, and to her
aunt, Lady Cecilia Plantagenet.
Whether the report had reached the high contracting parties, that James
of Scotland was at that very time wholly married to the fair Margaret
Drummond of Stobshall, our herald says not; but proceeds to declare
that the Archbishop of Glasgow solemnly answered in his royal master’s
name that he was free and disengaged.
King Henry next demanded of the Bishop of Murray, whether “it was
indeed the very will, mind, and full intent of King James, that Earl
Bothwell should in his name _assure_ the Princess Margaret.” The
Bishop answered “that it was so.”
Then the Archbishop of Glasgow demanded and _speered_ of the
Princess Margaret, “whether she were content of her own free will, and
without compulsion, to wed his master.”
Margaret answered, “If it please my lord and father the King, and my
lady and mother the Queen, I am content.”
The King assuring her “that it was their will and pleasure;” Margaret
knelt and received the blessing of both her royal parents, most
solemnly given. The Archbishop of Glasgow proceeded to read the words
of the _fiancelles_, first to the Earl of Bothwell, and then to
the Princess:--
“I, Patrick, Earl of Bothwell, Procurator of the right high and mighty
Prince James, by the grace of God King of Scotland, my sovereign
lord, having sufficient power to contract matrimony _per verba de
presenti_, with thee Margaret, daughter to the right excellent,
&c., Prince and Princess, Henry, by the grace of God King of England,
&c., and Elizabeth, Queen of the same, &c., do here contract matrimony
with thee, Margaret, and take thee unto and for the wife and spouse of
my said sovereign lord, James, King of Scotland, All others for thee
he forsaketh, _in and during his and thine lives, natural_;[25]
and thereto I plight and give thee his faith and troth, by power and
authority committed and given to me.”
The Princess Margaret’s betrothment was completed by the following
words, which she repeated after the Archbishop of Glasgow:--
“I, Margaret, first daughter of the right excellent, right high and
mighty Prince and Princess, Henry, by the grace of God King of England,
&c., and Elizabeth, Queen of the same, wittingly and of deliberate
mind, having _twelve years_ complete in age in the month of
November _be_ past, contract matrimony with the right excellent,
&c., Prince James, King of Scotland, (for) the person of whom, Patrick,
Earl of Bothwell, is procurator; and I take the said James, King of
Scotland, unto and for my husband and spouse, and all other for him
forsake _during his and mine lives natural_; and thereto I plight
and give to him in your person, as procurator aforesaid, my faith and
troth.”
When the Princess Margaret had thus plighted her troth, the royal
trumpeters, who had by her father’s orders been stationed on the leads
at the end of the Queen’s chamber, blew up their most inspiriting
notes, and a “loud noise of minstrels answered in their best and most
joyful manner.”
Elizabeth of York rose when her daughter had completed her vow of
betrothal, and, taking her by the hand, led her to the banquet set
out in her private apartments, and placed her at table as if she had
been a queen visiting her; and they both dined at one mess covered.
The King withdrew to a separate banquet laid out in his chamber, where
he dined, placing the Scottish proxy and the Archbishop of Glasgow at
his own table. In the afternoon a very splendid jousting took place,
where Edward, Duke of Buckingham, Charles Brandon, and Lord William of
Devonshire, distinguished themselves remarkably “by the spears they
brake, and the right goodly gambades they made.”
In the morning, after the King and Queen had “soped,”[26] the young
Queen of Scots came into her royal mother’s great chamber. “Her
Grace gave thankings to all those noblemen who had taken pains
and charge to joust for her sake, which full well and notable had
accomplished the same.” According to her directions given to her
royal sire’s officer-of-arms, she thus, by the help of their voices,
proclaimed--“Rayne de Shezells[27] and Charles Brandon have right well
justed, John Carr[28] better, and the Lord William of Devonshire best
of all.”
Then, by the advice of her ladies, the young Queen of Scots gave
personal thanks to all the gentlemen and nobles who had jousted in
her honor. After the prizes had been distributed among them with her
royal hand, a goodly pageant entered the hall, curiously wrought with
_fenestralis_ (windows) having many lights burning in the same,
in manner of a lantern, out of which _sorted_ (issued in pairs)
divers sorts of _morisks_.[29] Also a very goodly disguising of
six gentlemen and six gentlewomen, who danced divers dances; then
followed a voide or banquet.
The Earl Bothwell sent to the English officers-of-arms the gown of
cloth-of-gold he wore when he was affianced to the Princess in the name
of his sovereign lord; likewise a fee of a hundred crowns.[30]
Another day of jousting took place; at night there was a notable
supper, after which Henry VII. sent his present of a cupboard, with its
plate, to the Archbishop of Glasgow. It consisted of “a cup of gold
and cover, six great standing pots of silver, four-and-twenty great
bowls of silver, with their covers, a basin and ewer of silver, and
a _chafoir_[31] of silver.” Another cupboard of plate, of great
value, was presented by the King to Patrick Hepburn, Earl of Bothwell.
The elect Bishop of Murray received a standing cup of gold covered, and
one thousand crowns of gold of the _solaile_ (of the sun), all
in a goodly bag of crimson velvet, well garnished. The Lord Lion, or
principal herald of Scotland, who was officiating at these important
fiancels, received a purse with a hundred of the soleil-crowns, and a
goodly gown of fine satin.
A few days only passed by ere all the splendor of Margaret’s betrothal
was covered with the deepest mourning. Elizabeth of York, the bride’s
affectionate mother, having given birth to a daughter, expired, Feb.
11. The utmost grief wrung the hearts of Henry VII. and his children.
But the Scotch ambassadors for the marriage of Margaret could not fail
to perceive that this calamity had greatly strengthened the chance of
the Princess-Royal succeeding to the crown of England, since her mother
might have superseded her with many sons, if that Queen’s life had been
longer spared.
The funeral and deep mourning for Elizabeth of York put a temporary
stop to all further proceedings regarding the marriage of her daughter.
Meantime it will be desirable to give some account of the sovereign to
whom she had been plighted.
James IV. was fully eighteen years older than his young bride, being
born in March 1472.[32] He was the son of James III. and Margaret of
Denmark, his queen. The hour of the young Prince’s birth caused great
consternation at the Scottish Court. James III., being given to the
study of astrology, predicted, by means of his perverse attempts at
reading the future, all sorts of injuries to himself and his kingdom,
owing to the peculiar position of certain planets when his harmless
babe made his appearance in this world. Moreover, the King had a
dream which alarmed him exceedingly: he consulted his Archbishop of
St. Andrew’s, who was addicted to the same vain sciences as himself,
and received the interpretation “that the royal lion of Scotland, in
course of time, would be torn by his whelps.”[33]
The very means James III. adopted to avoid an imaginary danger led
him into a real one. He resolved to estrange himself from his Queen
and son, and, like the king in the Arabian Tales, fortified Stirling
Castle, to inclose therein the young Prince, lest he should owe to him
his dethronement or death. Without dwelling on the stormy events of
James III.’s reign and life, it is sufficient to say that his son grew
up rapidly, and manifested great genius and abilities; but, under the
care of his patient, much-enduring mother, seemed as if he meant to put
to shame forever the science of astrology, by proving a young royal
lion far too docile to attack his sire, or cause him trouble of any
kind.
Meantime, James III. made many attempts at marrying his son. First,
he contracted him in boyhood to the Lady Cecilia, second daughter to
Edward IV., and even received some cash as earnest of the bride’s
portion. After the death of her warlike sire, James III. held no faith
with the forlorn orphan of Westminster Sanctuary; but, with shameful
facility, tendered the hand of his son to her cousin, the Lady Anne
of Suffolk, the favorite niece of the successful usurper, Richard
III. “Forthwith,” says Bishop Lesley, “that young lady was called
Duchess of Rothesay at the court of the King of England; but when his
untimely death took place, she lost that name as quickly as her cousin
Lady Cecilia.” The death of Margaret of Denmark, Queen of Scotland,
occurring when her son was about fourteen, her husband had soon after
cause to rue the mistake he had committed in regard to the education
of the Prince. The King, while following the dictates of superstitious
caprice, had renounced all the natural love that ought to have been
between him and his son, and, at the same time, the proper authority
and influence of a father.
Of course, the royal boy could have no great regard for a father whom
he was willing to love, but who would never see him. Hence, then,
it came to pass that, when the Queen was no more, the Prince gladly
availed himself of the aid of those barons who were his father’s
enemies, to escape from the gloom of the wizard castle in which he
was immured. While the King thought his heir was safe under the care
of his castellan, Shaw of Sauchie, at Stirling Castle, young James
was indulging in the dreams of first love, wooing the fair Margaret
Drummond, by Tay’s banks, among the delicious groves of Stobbeshaw.
It was an attachment which had grown up from childhood. Margaret is
supposed to have been one of the maidens of the Queen, his mother. Her
father was considered the wisest and most prosperous noble in Scotland,
and her family had before that time given a Queen to the country.
The traditions of Scotland attribute the words of the beautiful melody
called “Tay’s Banks” to the young Prince of Scotland, when under the
influence of his passion for the Lady Margaret Drummond. Some of the
lines are intelligible to modern readers, when divested of their
uncouth orthography.
“The river through the rocks rushed out
Through roses raised on high,
The shené birds full sweet ’gan shout
Forth from that seemly shaw;[34]
Joy was within and joy without,
Where Tay ran down with streames stout
Right under Stobbeshaw.”[35]
The young Prince was awakened from his dream of happy love on Tay’s
banks, by the civil war that broke out against his father. The
discontented barons proclaimed him King, by the style of James IV.[36]
He was hurried to the head of the insurgent militia. For several weeks,
skirmishing with various success took place. James III. was wounded
and defeated in the battle of Sauchie, near Stirling. Finally he was
assassinated by an agent of the confederated barons at Sauchie Mill,
where he had taken refuge,[37] about the 9th of June, 1488.
James IV. being one of the most popular sovereigns that ever reigned in
Scotland, his countrymen have fondly endeavored to cleanse his memory
from all possible imputation of guilt regarding his father’s death,
by affirming that he was only thirteen or fourteen when this tragedy
occurred. He was, however, born March, 1472, and therefore had entered
his seventeenth year in June, 1488.[38]
There were few persons of the revolutionary party who had any certain
knowledge of the fate of James III.; and those who were aware of it
durst not reveal the fact, for the young King manifested the utmost
solicitude for his father’s safety, and spoke of him with such filial
affection, that it was deemed best to leave him in suspense. The
leaders of his faction brought him to Linlithgow Palace[39] within a
few hours of their victory, and when there a cry was suddenly raised by
the townsmen that Sir Andrew Wood, James III.’s naval commander, was
seen “travishing up and down the Forth.”
News arrived directly afterward, from Stirling, that Sir Andrew Wood
had sent his “float-boats” to the shore, and had received many of the
wounded belonging to his King’s forces on board his famous war-ships,
the Flower and the Yellow Carvel. It was affirmed, likewise, that James
III. was safe with his valiant sea-captain.
Messengers were immediately sent to demand of Sir Andrew Wood whether
the King were in either of his ships? The captain replied “he was not,
and they might search his ships if they chose.”
The confederate lords then asked if he would come on shore for a
conference. Sir Andrew Wood, who at that time had ascertained the
murder of his royal master, refused to come, unless they sent on board
his ships hostages of great consequence. When this was done he came
on shore, and met the young King and his council at Leith, the place
appointed.
James IV. was anxiously expecting to see his father, whose person was
totally unknown to him, when the handsome and majestic naval chief
entered his presence. He gazed earnestly in his face, and with the
tears overflowing his eyes, said to him, “Sir, are you my father?”
Sir Andrew Wood replied, weeping, “I am not your father, but your
father’s true servant; and shall be enemy till I die of those who were
the cause of his down-putting.”
The Lords demanded of him “if he knew where James III. was?” Wood
declared “that he knew not.” Then they _speered_ “who those were
that came out of the field of battle, and passed to the ships in the
float-boats?”
“It was I and my brother,” replied Sir Andrew Wood. “We came on shore,
and put ourselves ready to have aided our King with our lives.”
“Is he not in your ships?” asked the lords.
Wood answered, “He is not. Would to God he were there; I should defend
and hold him skaithless from all the _treasonable_ traitors that
have cruelly murdered him. For I trust to see the day when they will be
hanged and drawn for their demerits.”
The blunt speaking of the faithless seaman not a little incensed those
among his audience, whose consciences accused them regarding the death
of James III. They murmured together, they would even have cut Sir
Andrew to pieces, had not the recollection of their hostages restrained
their fury. They had heard enough from that loyal gentleman, and their
young King a little too much for their purposes. The bold seaman was
therefore hurried on board his ship, and exchanged for the hostages.
It was high time, as the poor hostages declared, for Sir Andrew Wood’s
brother was just preparing to hang them.[40]
The body of James III. being soon after discovered, he was (June 25)
buried in great state at Cambuskenneth Abbey.
The first few weeks of his reign were devoted by the young King to
solemn mourning for his father, and he attended night and morning
orisons for the soul of the deceased in the chapel-royal in Stirling
Castle. The chaplains deplored and lamented the violent death of the
unfortunate King with great pathos, till at last the mind of young
James IV. began to awaken to the fact that all the injury which had
befallen his father had been done in his name, for the rebel army had
been ostensibly commanded by him. One day he startled the Dean of the
chapel by the question, “How am I to atone for my own share of that
parricide?”
The Dean was a good man, but in great fear of the lords of the young
King’s council. He, however, spoke peace to him as well as he could;
and bade him trust in God’s mercy for pardon.[41]
At the head of the Scottish Council was Lord Drummond of Stobshall, the
father of the Lady Margaret, who was passionately beloved by James IV.
Lord Drummond had always been the opponent of James III., and had taken
a leading part in the late insurrection. It is evident that he indulged
his young monarch with the company of Margaret, and doubtless had full
intention to raise her to the throne of Scotland.
The coronation of James IV., which soon after took place at Scone, near
Perth, seems for a time to have effaced his first alarms of conscience
for the death of his father. As early as August 5, 1488, the royal
Compotus, or expense-book, proves that he was at Linlithgow Palace, and
had entered into a course of gaieties, the Lady Margaret Drummond being
with him.
In October, the same autumn, is a charge of £5 6_s._ for black
“rysillis, to be ane gown for the Lady Margaret;” gold, azure, and
silver cost £6 18_s._ to “warken it,” or embroider it, besides a
further outlay of thirteen shillings for “fringes _till_ it.”[42]
Entries of gratuities to gysars[43] and players, who played before
the King at Linlithgow about the same period, likewise occur. Most
historians agree that James IV. married the Lady Margaret Drummond
with all the ceremonies of the Roman Catholic Church, excepting the
dispensation[44] for their relationship within the prohibited degrees,
which measure could not be taken without publicity being given to their
concealed wedlock.
Royal alliances for the young King were in the interim frequently
discussed by his council. The extreme youth of the daughter of Henry
VII., with whom his people wished him to ally himself, was his excuse
for remaining, if not single, yet without an acknowledged Queen. The
part he took in the encouragement of Perkin Warbeck did not show
any intention to conciliate Henry VII., or obtain his alliance; but
it had the effect of making that politic monarch eager to convert a
troublesome neighbor into a friend and relation. James IV. and Margaret
Tudor, through the urgency of her father and the Scottish Council, were
therefore contracted, as before mentioned, in 1500. Nevertheless, the
evil day was still distant when the King of Scotland would be forced
either to own his concealed marriage with Margaret Drummond, or dismiss
her to make way for the young English Princess.
The great abilities of James IV. as a ruler, the success which attended
his plans for civilizing and enriching his people, the formidable
position assumed by his country as a naval power, all obtained for
him the admiration of cotemporary statesmen. There was likewise enough
of romance connected with him to attract the attention of the classes
delighting in the picturesque and marvelous. The beauty of his person,
the variety of his attainments, his skill and taste in music and
poetry; the wonderful facility with which the hand that struck the
lute and clavichord tastefully, could sway the adze of the shipwright
when building his mighty war-ship at Falkirk, captivated every one.
Likewise, the singular penance he enjoined himself (for having been
brought in arms against his father), by wearing an iron chain about
his waist, to awake remembrance of his sin when it hurt him, was
appreciated as a most edifying action in that era. Therefore, among all
ranks and conditions of people, the King of Scotland was considered as
a remarkable character throughout Europe.
Notwithstanding the solemnity of the fiancels by which he had engaged
the Princess Margaret Tudor as Queen, James IV. only considered
the same in the light of a political measure, emanating from the
importunity of his Privy Council. Resolved not to forsake his wedded
wife, he prepared to bring the matter to a crisis, and struggle
against all opposition in his cabinet. He sent for a dispensation from
the Pope, on account of his nearness of kin with the Lady Margaret
Drummond, meaning, when it was promulgated, openly to declare his wife
Queen of Scotland, and legitimate, by that means, the little daughter
she had brought him. Some envier of the house of Drummond, or personal
enemy of its fair daughters, effectually prevented the royal intention.
“Margaret Drummond,” says the learned historian of her line (himself
a distinguished son of that illustrious house), “was the daughter of
Lord Drummond and Elizabeth Lindsay. James the Fourth fell in love
with her while Duke of Rothesay; he was affianced to her, and meant to
make her his Queen without consulting his council. He was opposed by
those nobles who wished him to wed Margaret Tudor. His clergy likewise
protested against his marriage, as within the prohibited degrees.
Before the King could receive the dispensation, his wife was poisoned
at breakfast at Drummond Castle, with her two sisters, Lady Fleming and
Sybella Drummond. Suspicion fell on the Kennedys.”[45] But wherefore,
and who the Kennedys were, whether angry men or jealous women, our
informant saith not. Yet some chroniclers declare that there was a lady
of that name who, for a time, had disputed the heart of the crowned
chevalier with his wedded love.
It is not the least mysterious part of this inexplicable murder,
that the Queen of James IV., the royal Margaret Tudor herself, long
years after the death of her King, accuses, in one of her stormy
letters, the brother-in-law of Margaret Drummond as her destroyer.
“Lord Fleming,”[46] she says, “for evil will that he had to his wife
(Euphemia Drummond), caused poison three sisters, one of them his wife;
and this is known as truth throughout all Scotland. An’ if _he_ be
good to put about the King, my son, God knoweth!”
Whatsoever be the truth of this unsupported accusation, it is evident,
by the very tenor of it, that the Lord Fleming was alive, and in
flourishing circumstances, twenty years after the perpetration of this
domestic tragedy. But if James IV. had had the least reason to suppose
him guilty of the wholesale murder of his wife and her sisters, it is
tolerably certain that he would not have remained unscathed in peace
and prosperity all those years.
Euphemia, with the intended Queen, Margaret Drummond, and their young
sister, Sybella, who all partook of the dire breakfast some cruel hand
had prepared for them, were buried side by side in the center of the
cathedral church at Dunblane. The place of repose of the unfortunate
trio was marked by three long blue stones as lately as the year
1817.[47]
James IV. was left in the distraction of grief such as dispositions at
once impetuous and affectionate alone can feel. His young daughter,
Margaret, having escaped the fatal repast which had destroyed her
mother and aunts, he went in person to Drummond Castle,[48] and took
possession of the bereaved little one. His Compotus or expense-book
bears witness, too, that he loaded the child with costly presents, and
lodged her near him in his palace, probably to protect her personally
from the unknown but deadly enemy of her race.
If the dispensation from Rome had preceded the fatal breakfast which
deprived the little Lady Margaret of her mother, the child, by the laws
of her country, would have taken rank as Princess-Royal of Scotland.
She was brought up at Edinburgh Castle, under the appellation of “the
Lady Margaret, the King’s daughter,” and finally married a noble of
high rank.[49] She can scarcely be classed as an illegitimate child;
neither can her unfortunate mother, a devoted wife to a loving husband,
be ranked in the meretricious sisterhood of royal favorites.
James IV., after his heartstrings had been rent by the tragical death
of his wedded love, became reckless, and unhappily formed illicit ties
which were productive of much evil both to himself and his descendants.
But had his second spouse, Margaret of England, been nearer the age
of her hapless predecessor, or had assimilated with his temper and
pursuits when she grew into companionship with him, perhaps his memory
would have been freer from such reproach.
His first marriage must be classed with that of King William the Lion
with Margaret Hutchinson, whose daughter was declared by the Scottish
Parliament for a time heiress to the throne.[50] Likewise with that
of Joanna of Kent with Edward the Black Prince, which for many years
subsisted before a dispensation was deemed requisite by the Roman
See. Again with the love-match of his descendant, James II. of Great
Britain, when Duke of York, and Anne Hyde, who, though no lady of
royal blood like Margaret Drummond, was recognized as the wife of the
prince by the righteous laws of the Reformed Church of England; and her
daughters occupied successively the throne of Great Britain.
The death of his beloved Margaret Drummond having removed all
impediment to the completion of the state wedlock in which his council
had bound him, James IV. resigned himself to his destiny. But whether
the demise of the mother of the Princess, Margaret Tudor, had rendered
her alliance many degrees more valuable, or whether the Scottish
Council dreaded lest the impetuous monarch might surrender his heart
and hand to another of his fair countrywomen, is not defined. The fact
is, however, certain, that the royal English bride set forward on her
northern journey before the time stipulated by her father for her
arrival in Scotland, which, by her marriage articles, was September 1,
1503.
To do James justice, however sad and sore his heart might be, after he
had done all in his power to show respect to the memory of his late
wife, according to the rites of the church then established,[51] after
he had settled their child near him, he honorably bent his thoughts
toward winning the affections of the young Princess to whom his country
had bound him.
The course he took for this purpose will be best detailed by following
the quaint journalist, who was an eye-witness of all his proceedings,
being our former acquaintance, Mr. John Young, Somerset Herald, engaged
officially in the bridal progress of the Princess-Royal, Margaret
Tudor, from England to Scotland.
King Henry VII. himself escorted his favorite child on her way to
her future country. The royal progress set forth, in great state,
from Richmond Palace, June 16, 1503, and bent its course towards
Colleweston, one of the most southerly castles appertaining to the
great possessions of the bride’s grandmother, Margaret, Countess of
Richmond.[52] That venerable lady received her son and granddaughter,
June 27, right royally, entertaining them with all the diversions which
Derbyshire and Nottinghamshire could afford, for more than a fortnight.
The day of departure at length drew near. Most of the nobility of
England who could claim relationship to the royal family assembled
in the great hall of Colleweston, to bid farewell or do service to
the bride of Scotland. The Earl of Surrey, her uncle by marriage,
appeared at the head of the cavaliers who were to form her body-guard,
his office being to escort her to her royal husband. Numbers of noble
ladies were there, who were to accompany her as attendants into
Scotland: the arrangement being that they were to stay or return,
according to the pleasure of James IV.[53] The marriage settlements
of the young Queen having stipulated that she was to have the large
number of twenty-four English attendants, it is pretty evident that the
King of Scotland was thus allowed the opportunity of choosing out of a
number those who would be most agreeable to him.
Every preparation being completed for departure, the young Queen of
Scotland entered the hall of Colleweston, and received the solemn
benediction of her father and grandmother, and took her last mournful
farewell of both. To his blessing, publicly given before his assembled
nobility, Henry VII. added a fatherly exhortation to his daughter on
her future conduct.[54] He presented to her, at the same time, an
illuminated manual, or handbook of prayers, having first inscribed the
following sentence with his own hand on one of the pages, “_Remember
y^r kynde and loving fader in y^r good prayers._ HENRY R.”
Then in the Calendar, on the blank leaf opposite December, occurs
another of his parental reminiscences, couched in yet more earnest
words--“_Pray for your louving fader, that gave you thys booke, and I
gyve you at all tymes godd’s blessyng and myne._ HENRY R.”
The Queen of Scotland, when all adieus were made, set out from
Colleweston “in fair order and array.”[55] She was attired in a rich
riding-dress, and was mounted on a beautiful white pony or palfrey.
Just before her rode Sir David Owen, very splendidly dressed. The Queen
had an equestrian bishop at either hand, the place of honor being given
to the Bishop of Murray, to whose care she was especially consigned, he
being the appointed envoy of her royal lord. On her left hand rode Nix,
Bishop of Norwich, whose name has an evil notoriety in history, on
account of his cruelties in after life to the Reformers of his diocese.
Three footmen always walked close to the Queen’s palfrey, “very
honestly appointed,” with portcullises embroidered on their jackets.
Queen Margaret was followed by a gentleman mounted, leading in his hand
a palfrey “very richly dight.” This cavalier was Sir Thomas Wortley,
recently appointed her Master of the Horse. Next came a rich litter,
borne between two fair coursers very nobly trapped, which the Queen
entered before she approached any large town, or when she was tired
of her palfrey. Two other footmen, with the portcullis badge, walked
on each side of the royal litter. Then followed her ladies on fair
palfreys; many squires rode before them--indeed none but squires were
permitted to approach them, and it was a “right fair sight.”
Then came a car, finely adorned, in which were four ladies of her
bedchamber, who traveled through the whole journey. The female servants
of the ladies, mounted on palfreys, followed this car or charrette.
“Near the Queen’s person rode Johannes and his company, the minstrels
of music; and the trumpeters, with displayed banners. In her entries of
towns and the departings of the same, they played on their instruments
all the time until she had passed out.”[56]
“The gentlemen and squires in attendance of Queen Margaret, more
particularly her Master of the Horse, exerted themselves on such
occasions to keep a clear space round her, so that she might the
more readily be seen. The royal liveries were white and green, with
the arms of Scotland and England parted with red roses and crowned
portcullises”--the Tudor badge inherited from the House of Beaufort.
Such was the order of march in which the bride Queen of Scotland left
the paternal presence, and issued from her grand-dame’s demesne of
Colleweston.
Several nobles of the highest rank in her father’s household bore her
company a short part of the first stage. Lord Derby, Constable of
England,[57] with Lord Essex (her relative, a prince of the blood
royal of York), took leave of her one mile from Colleweston. They
kissed her at parting, according to the privilege of their nearness of
kin.
From Colleweston the young bride took her way direct to Grantham. Sir
Robert Dymock, High Sheriff of Lincoln, met her with thirty horsemen
of his retinue, and, holding a white wand, _salved_ (hailed) the
Queen; then, bearing the white wand on high, he rode before her as
far as the limits of the county of Lincoln lasted. Thus did all the
Sheriffs of the other counties through which she passed.
All the bells were rung in the towns and villages through which her
progress was directed, and all the country inhabitants lined the way
where rode the Queen of Scotland to see her; and they brought with them
great vessels full of drink, giving them to those that had need of it,
saying, “If better we had, better we should have brought;” and they
refused all payment.
“Four miles from Grantham, the aldermen, burgesses, and inhabitants
of that town met her in fair order, and convoyed her to it,
before she entered the college of Grantham in procession; and the
friars-mendicants received her singing lauds. Then lighted from his
horse, Nix, the Lord Bishop of Norwich, and gave the young bride Queen
the crosses to kiss. Thus was she brought in fair array to her lodging
in Grantham, which was with a gentleman called Mr. Hiol.”
The royal bride tarried the whole of the next day, being Sunday, at
Grantham, in Lincolnshire. She left that town betimes on Monday morning
in grand procession, the Grantham civil authorities, in their best
dresses, escorting her full three miles. Sir Robert Dymock, with thirty
cavaliers, rode before her grace till within a short distance from
Newark, where he surrendered his charge to Sir William Pierrepoint,
Sheriff of Nottinghamshire, who was accompanied by his friends, Sir
William Byron, Sir John Dunham, or Denham, and Sir John Marcaret.
“Out of Newark came the college,[58] richly attired, in procession,
therefore the young Queen entered the town in her grandest array. It
was a fair sight to see the people thronged in the windows and streets
of Newark, and the Queen was lodged at the Hart.”
“The next day’s journey brought Queen Margaret to Tuxford, at which
place the vicar and churchmen came in their best dresses. That time the
Bishop of Murray gave the Queen the crosses to kiss, and she lodged at
the Crown in Tuxford.”
“All the next neighbors of the place came in on horseback, with a
great train of persons on foot, to see her at her departure from the
town. Half a mile from Tuxford, Sir William Conyers, High Sheriff of
Yorkshire, came with his white wand to bear before Queen Margaret,
accompanied by Sir William Scarsgill well arrayed, his horse’s
harness full of silver campanes, (little bells). Then the Sheriff of
Nottinghamshire took leave, and she drew near to Doncaster, meeting
half-way Sir Edward Savage and Sir Ralph Ryder, who came to greet her
in fair array. Queen Margaret lodged at Scrowsby, in a manor-house of
the Archbishop of York, where she slept, June 12.[59]
“There came Sir Gervase Clifton, with many persons bearing his device,
well mounted. Without Doncaster the mayor and burgesses, on foot,
received the Queen; and she entered the town in procession, and lodged
at the convent of the Carmelites.”
“When she drew, next day, nigh to Pontefract, Sir John Milton met her
with seven horsemen, all making gambades. Sir John Saville and Sir
William Gaskin came with many mounted gentlemen; and at Pontefract the
friar Jacobins came to her in procession. Very fair was her array when
she entered that town. She passed through Pontefract Castle to the
abbey; and the abbot, in pontificals, and all the convent at the door
of the church, received her. The Queen kissed the abbot’s cross and
entered into Pontefract Church, where she made her prayers and went to
her lodging in the same place.”
The Somerset Herald leaves it in doubt whether the young Queen slept
in the castle, the scene of more than one tragedy connected with her
race.[60] However, the next morning (June 15) the bridal train issued
out of Pontefract in grand procession. They took their mid-day meal at
Tadcaster.
The progress of the Queen of Scotland became more magnificent as she
proceeded further into the great northern province of Yorkshire,
where many of the southern nobles and their vassals were to surrender
their task of escorting her--their places being taken by the gallant
guardians of the English border, who were to protect the eldest
daughter of their liege beyond the stormy precincts of the debatable
ground to where the laws of nations were better regarded. The Lord
Scrope of Bolton met her in her afternoon stage from Tadcaster. He was
riding in great state, with his lady “right richly beseen.” Their son,
the Lord Scrope of Upsal, appeared at the head of almost an army of the
Yorkshire chivalry, composed of knights, squires, and their retainers.
The sheriffs of the West Riding likewise came to welcome her grace
within their boundaries, and brought her forward till the whole party
drew up within a mile of the city of York.
Here the royal state of the bride Queen’s procession began; and so
grand were the preparations within the walls of the northern metropolis
that she found it requisite to change her dress, for which purpose
she retired to her litter, where, assisted by her tire-women, she
performed her toilet by the wayside. All her ladies and maidens
likewise “refreshed” their habiliments; and when they considered
themselves sufficiently brightened and cleansed from the dust and
stains of travel, York gates were opened, and a grand procession of
civic magnates and gallant Yorkshire cavaliers poured forth to meet and
welcome the royal train. The citizens were headed by the Lord Mayor of
York, and the chivalry by the Earl of Northumberland, whose attention
to his dress and decorations was remarkable--so much so, that Master
John Young, Somerset Herald, felt himself obliged to draw the following
sketch of a noble fop of the fifteenth century, in which the reality of
Percy of Northumberland almost rivals the bright ideal of Sir Piercy
Shafton:--
“My Lord of Northumberland came to welcome her fair Grace gayly clothed
in crimson velvet. At the openings of his sleeves and collar appeared
large borders set with precious stone, and his boots were of black
velvet worked with gold. His foot-cloth of crimson velvet, all bordered
with _orfaverie_ (beaten and wrought gold), hung to the ground.
Gold embossed work appeared on his arms, which were very rich, on his
saddle-bow and on his harness. The steed on which he was mounted was a
right fair one; and as he approached the Queen, ever and anon he made
gambades pleasant to see. In company with the Earl of Northumberland
rode the venerable knight, Sir Launcelot Threkeld (honorably celebrated
by Wordsworth in our days), Sir Thomas Curwen, of Workington, and Sir
John Pennington.”
“In fair order,” continues our indefatigable Herald, “did Queen
Margaret enter York, her minstrels singing, her trumpets and sackbuts
playing, and the high woods resounding; banners and bandroles waving,
coats of arms unrolled to the light of the sunsetting, rich maces in
hand, and brave horsemen curveting and bounding.”
Our Herald’s description of Margaret’s entry into York would make an
antiquarian reader believe that he was familiar with the beautiful
couplets of the historical poet of Scotland, Barbour--[61]
“There were banners right fairly flowing,
And pensils to the winds glowing,
For Sol was bright and shining clear,
On armors that high burnished were,
So blazing in the sun his beam,
That all the land seemed in a gleam.”
York was crowded with the gentry from the East and West Ridings. My
Lord of Northumberland and my Lord Mayor did their best to make Queen
Margaret’s reception expensive and splendid; but as they did not
produce any striking variation in their pageantry, it need not be dwelt
upon. The young Queen was received in the palace of the Archbishop of
York after her fatiguing day was done. In the morning that prelate led
her to high mass in York Minster. Margaret was gloriously attired in
cloth of gold on this occasion, her gown being belted with a precious
girdle, studded with colored gems; the ends of her belt hung down to
the ground; her necklace was very splendid, full of Orient stones. As
she went from the palace to the Minster, the Countess of Surrey bore
her train; and after them followed her ladies, all very richly attired
“in goodly gowns, tied with great gold chains, or girdle-belts, with
the ends hanging down to the earth.”
When mass was done, Queen Margaret gave reception in the great chamber
of the Archbishop’s palace, holding a drawing-room as it would be
called in modern phraseology.
“Here my lady the Countess of Northumberland was presented to her,
being well accompanied with knights and gentlemen. The young Queen of
Scotland kissed her for the welcoming she gave her.”[62]
Dinner was set in the Queen’s own chamber; and as her Grace passed to
it, trumpets and other instruments rang in the ancient manner, their
sounding lasting during the whole time she sat at meat.
The Queen departed from the city of York on the 18th day of July, in
very fine order, and with company richly appointed--the Archbishops and
Bishops, the Lord Mayor of York, all his aldermen, and the sheriffs,
attending on her. The streets and windows so full of people that it was
a marvel to see them. Without the walls, the company from York took
leave of her; and at the same time the Bishop of Norwich, and the lords
of Kent, of Hastings, of Strange, and of Willoughby, withdrew from her
train.
The royal bride then took the road to Newburgh, at the priory of which
place she was received by the religious, handsomely vested. At the gate
of their church they presented the cross for her salutation. The same
evening she arrived at Allerton; and at her entry she was welcomed
by the Vicar and “his folk of the church, with the Carmelites in
procession; and the Bishop of Murray, as before, gave her the cross to
kiss.” The next day she departed from Allerton. She was met by the Lord
Lumley and his son, accompanied by many gentlemen and folks arrayed in
their livery, well mounted, to the number of fourscore horsemen.
“Before the Queen arrived at Hexham, she met Sir Ralph Bowes and
Sir William Aylton, with a fair company in their liveries; and in
Hexham, without the gate, she was received by the abbess and her
_religieuses_, bearing their cross. It was then the Bishop of
Durham who handed her the cross to kiss--a ceremony which seems to
have been of constant occurrence. Her bed was prepared that night
at Darnton. Two miles before she drew nigh to the town, Sir William
Bulmer, Sheriff of the lordship of Durham, met her in company with Sir
William Ewers, and many people of honor of that country, who, in brave
order, convoyed her to Darnton. At the gate of the church stood richly
vested the Vicar and his folk of the church; and she was led to the
manor of the Bishop of Durham to sleep that night.”
“The next noon being the 20th of July, the Queen, a mile from Durham,
was encountered by Sir Richard Stanley, and my Lady his wife, with
folk in their livery, on horseback, to the number of fifty; and the
bride Queen prepared herself to enter the said town, very richly
arrayed, in her usual manner. And all her escort attired themselves
very grandly. As for the Earl of Northumberland, he wore a gown of
goodly tinsel furred with ermines. He was mounted on a fair courser,
his harness was of goldsmith’s work: all over ‘that same’ was sewn
small bells, making a melodious noise when he moved; and he did not
spare gambades. His gentlemen of honor were dressed in long jackets
of orfavery, very richly wrought with his devices, as were all his
folk.” In short, our Somerset Herald indubitably considered my lord
of Northumberland at once the great man and the beau of the bridal
escort; nor is he ever weary of describing his tinsel jackets and gold
gowns, the gambades he perpetrated, or the little belles (campanes)
that chimed, sweetly tuned in unison, whenever those equestrian capers
were cut. He viewed this young lord with favor, perhaps, because he
entertained an officer-at-arms for the especial service of his noble
line, called Northumberland Herald, who gave his quaint assistance
on this grand progress. My lord of Northumberland, thus replete with
bells and tinsel, in the spring-time of his youth, was no other than
that solemn and consequential personage whose proceedings in his old
age have been so graphically described by Cavendish, who draws no very
pleasant picture of my lord of Northumberland, when he nipped in the
bud the passion of his son, Lord Percy, with the fair maid of honor,
Anne Boleyn.
Queen Margaret lodged in the castle at Durham under the immediate
protection of the Bishop; and she reposed there until the 24th of
July, when commenced her journey to Newcastle. She made her toilet
afresh a mile before she entered that town, in which her reception
was unusually brilliant; for, besides the religious processions, with
their banners and crosses upon the bridge-end-gate, were many children
vested in white surplices, who sang melodious hymns, and played on
instruments of divers sorts. The streets were hung with tapestry, and
all the “window-loops and ship tops were full of people;” and “there
were gentlemen and gentlewomen in such great numbers it was a pleasure
to see. However, no artillery or ordnance was shot off”--a remarkable
omission as our Herald thought. “But in state and fair array was the
Queen brought to her lodging at the Friars Austin; and when she had
entered, every man departed to his own dwelling.”
The festival of St. James, the patron and name-saint of Queen
Margaret’s wedded lord, was very gayly celebrated at Newcastle,
that 25th of July. “She abode all day in the town, and was at the
church-mass nobly accompanied.”
In the evening the Earl of Northumberland treated her with a goodly
banquet: all the gentry of the neighboring counties attended it.
Thither came Lord Dacre of the north with a mighty train in his livery;
“and there were dances, sports, and songs, with good cheer of ypocras,
_sucrés_ (sweetmeats), and other meats of many delicious manners,
the entertainment lasting till midnight.”
The good cheer at Newcastle detained Margaret till the 26th of
July, when she again commenced her progress. She slept at Morpeth
Castle on her way to Alnwick. “Two miles from that place the Earl of
Northumberland brought her through his park, where she killed a buck
with her bow; after which exploit her Grace was conveyed to the Castle,
and was warmly welcomed by her noble host, who made her very good
cheer.” Margaret remained the whole of the next day, the 28th of July,
at Alnwick Castle, “herself and company well cherished,” as Somerset
Herald witnesses, by the Lord of Northumberland.
The bridal train was now on the point of entering Scotland, the
renowned fortress of Berwick alone intersecting their line of march.
Queen Margaret’s entry therein was more than usually pompous. She was
received at the Castle gate by the Lady Darcy, wife to the Captain of
Berwick.
Much sweet minstrelsy, and excellent good cheer, were provided for
her Grace’s reception by the Governor or Captain of Berwick. She was
entertained with “courses of chase in the inclosure of the walls,
and recreated with the sports of great dogs and bears tugging each
other, and loud shooting of artillery,”--amusements more suitable to
the warriors who kept securely the fiercely-contested stronghold of
Berwick-upon-Tweed, than to a young lady in her fourteenth year.
Besides witnessing these refined entertainments, the royal train was
occupied, during two days’ sojourn in Berwick, in preparations, in
order to make the best possible appearance in Scotland.
At length, being rested and cleansed from the toils and stains of
travel, and all attired in new garments, the northern gate of Berwick
was flung open, and the bridal escort began to defile from under its
grim portals into the northern kingdom.
Margaret herself sat in her litter under the Scotch gate of Berwick,
while the van of the noble chivalry of the Border preceded her cortege.
She was in full dress, covered with glistening apparel and sparkling
gems; and the state litter, decked like an ambulating throne, was hung
with its richest furniture. Her white palfrey, trapped with its gayest
housings, was near her carriage, led by her master of the horse, Sir
Thomas Wortley. “The captain of Berwick, and his wiff, my Lady Darcy,”
were in attendance on the young Queen, as they were to accompany her to
Edinburgh.
Immediately before the royal litter sat, mounted on their steeds,
Johannes, the minstrel of Queen Margaret, and his companions--among
whom must have been the company of players enumerated by the Herald
among the officials that Princess imported into Scotland. Her chief
trumpeter, Harry of Glastonbury, and his mates, headed the procession;
and their notes rang high in the vigorous performance of their office,
on the important occasion of ushering their Princess into the land
whose throne she came to share. Then were ranked the officers-of-arms,
or heralds, among whom we entreat our readers to remember that Master
John Young, Somerset Herald, our faithful and pains-taking chronicler
of all these picturesque circumstances, was one.
The serjeants of mace, the immediate protectors of the non-combatant
part of the procession, brought up the rear of the young Queen
of Scotland’s cortege, which was well guarded with English Border
troopers, to the amount of two thousand men-at-arms--a force which did
not often make an egress with quite such peaceful intentions through
the northern gate of Berwick; but rather with the feelings excited by
the favorite trumpet _mot_ of the Marches--
“And loud the warden’s war-note rang,
Oh! ‘Wha dare meddle with me?’”
The Earls of Surrey and Northumberland, with their squires and
men-at-arms, having led the way through Berwick north gate--preceding
the ecclesiastical processions of the Archbishop of York and the Bishop
of Durham--then the Lord Dacre, and the Lords Scrope, Gray, Latimer,
and a great number of young nobles and squires, followed the prelates.
Our Herald dwells, with characteristic unction, on the costume of these
great personages, especially the silver and gold bells worn on their
horse-trappings.
“All were well appointed in their devices, and displayed in their
attiring cloth of gold and other rich raiment. Their horses frisked
under them of their own accord. Some had silver bells, others golden
bells sewn on their harness; and these little _campanes_ made
a sweet chiming when they took leaps and gambades at their good
pleasure.” Queen Margaret and her various attendants followed this
chivalric escort through Berwick north gate, and the rear division
of the Border army surrounded and guarded her equipage and those of
her train. “Such,” continues our heraldic chronicler, John Young,
enthusiastically, “was the fair order of the bride Queen’s entry into
Scotland; and it was a joy not only to see, but to hear.”
Lammermuir was the first stage that Queen Margaret made in her new
country. At Lamberton Kirk the Archbishop of Glasgow, with a grand
company of Scottish nobles, were waiting to receive their Queen. But
our herald, John Young, can not refrain from noting his disappointment
at the absence “of gold and tinsel on their doublets, which were but
made of good velvet cloth, or camlet,”--far more appropriate to the
masculine character, it will be allowed, in those days.
“However, my lord the Bishop of Murray strongly did his devoir at the
meeting of the Scotch and English; and there were five trumpets or
clarions of the King of Scotland that blew up right merrily at the
coming of the said Queen: the which melody was good to see and hear.”
“The lords, knights, and gentlemen of the English escort, defiled
before the said Scotchmen, making gambades; and when the Queen followed
with her procession, the Archbishop, the Bishop of Murray, and the
Scottish lords advanced toward her, and there, kneeling down on the
grass, made the receiving of her. There were in presence of the Queen,
the Archbishop of York, the Bishop of Durham, and the Earl of Surrey.”
“The pavilion prepared for recreation was then opened for the Queen
of Scotland. Near it stood other three officers--one for her pantry,
the other for her buttery, and the third for her kitchen--ready to
officiate to her Grace in their several vocations. The Queen herself
was then brought in state to the pavilion arranged for her refreshment.
When she came nigh to it she was helped to alight; and she was kissed
by the said lords, and by them led therein, when no one entered
excepting the said lords and the Queen’s ladies.” Within the pavilion
was a Scottish dame of high rank clothed in scarlet, “with gentlewomen
appointed after their guise, who had brought from King James, for the
Queen, some new fruits.”
The officers of the royal _bouche_ made right good cheer. There
was plenty of bread and wine dispensed, and every one was content.
The Queen’s solemn reception by her husband’s deputation was quickly
followed by the ceremonial of farewell, which she had to take of the
chivalry of the English Border--her escort from Berwick north gate.
Margaret mounted again on her palfrey and sat thereon, surrounded by
her suite; while each commander, at the head of his troopers, defiled
before her on their return to the south, each making before her his
“devoir of adieu.” My lord of Northumberland, the leader of the feudal
army, Lord Scrope, the elder, and Lord Dacre, with other lords, took
of her their _congé_, and departed for England with many leaps
and gambades, and feats of noble horsemanship. Above a thousand of the
chivalry of the Scottish Marches came instead, to guard the person of
the Queen. Thus escorted, Queen Margaret quitted the church of the
great sheep-feeding plain of Scotland.
Lamberton Kirk is now a melancholy ruin, surrounded by dismal trees.
Tradition affirms that Margaret and James were married there, and
that, as the parish priest made a dispensation of banns in their case,
the King gave the like privilege to every one else. But tradition has
mistaken the place of the royal meeting.
The Somerset Herald’s narrative thus proceeds:--“That afternoon’s
stage[63] led to Fastcastle, where she was destined to bedward. Her
train was lodged in the Abbey of Coldingham, but the Queen herself
passed the first night of her arrival in her new dominions in one
of the most extraordinary fortresses in the island”--for such was
Fastcastle, which in part belonged to her own dower settlement.
In those days of semi-civilization, it was a breach of etiquette, as it
is now among the Orientals and the North American Indians, for exalted
personages to testify surprise at any thing unusual which presented
itself before their eyes; therefore it can not be expected that
Margaret’s herald chronicler should mention her natural astonishment
at the romantic scene which now opened to her view. Yet, reared as
she had been among the soft meads of Shene, and never accustomed to
raise her eyes to higher ground than Richmond Hill, she must have been
struck with her progress through the bold defile of Cockburnspath,
anciently Colbrand the giant’s path--for it is connected with the
earliest superstitions of the island. Royal letters in those days were
devoted to other purposes than recording impressions of the beauties of
nature; no trace of any such feeling can be found in Margaret Tudor’s
innumerable epistles. Still her eyes must have rested, as ours have
done, on the wild and wondrous scenery through which she was brought
“to bedward” that night.
Fastcastle is no other than the veritable Wolf-Crag Tower, celebrated
in Scott’s _Bride of Lammermoor_ as the abode of the Master of
Ravenswood. It is seated on a lofty promontory, which commands the
lonely indented bay of which St. Abb’s Head forms the extreme point
to the right, with a wild array of rifted rocks terminating in the
Wolf-Crag, which soars high in mid air above the fortress--black,
gloomy, and inaccessible. The way by which the southern bride and her
company reached this rugged resting-place lay across the Lammermuir,
several miles of wild heath and treacherous bog, which no stranger
might traverse in safety without guides well acquainted with the
track. Before they entered on this pass, they had to descend a hill
which was so steep and precipitous that, even within the last century,
it was customary for the passengers by the mail-coach between Berwick
and Edinburgh to alight and cross it on foot, while the carriage was
taken off the wheels and carried over by a relay of men, stationed on
the spot for that purpose. Of course the roads were not better in the
beginning of the sixteenth century. Fastcastle is approached by one
or two descents and ascents of this kind, and is separated from the
mainland by a cleft between the rocks, which has to be crossed by a
natural bridge formed of a ledge of rock, without rail or guard, with
the vexed billows boiling and thundering sixty feet below.
When the young Tudor Queen made her passage across this Al Arat of the
Caledonian coast, she had the German Ocean before her, which beats
against the rocky battlements and defenses with which the basement of
the castle is surrounded. One of these masses resembles the upturned
keel of a huge man-of-war stranded among other fragments, which,
like the relics of a former world, lay scattered at the foot of the
precipice, with the wild breakers rushing through their clefts, forming
a grand _jet-d’eau_, and tossing the light feathery foam on high.
The larger rocks are the haunt of innumerable sea-birds. Fastcastle
had formerly been the stronghold of some of those ferocious feudal
pirates who may be regarded as the buccaneers of the Caledonian
coast. Many a bloody deed had been perpetrated within its isolated
and inaccessible circuit; but the festive solemnities and ceremonials
that surrounded the royal bride allowed no leisure or opportunity for
whispers of the dark tales and romantic traditions connected with its
history. Thoroughly tired must she have been with her long journey,
and the onerous task of playing the Queen, instead of tossing her ball
and joining in the loud laughter and jocund sports of the companions
of that gay and happy childhood, from which she had suddenly been
compelled to step into the more than womanly cares and responsibilities
of a crowned head in a land of strangers.
Lord and Lady Home, the castellan and castellaine of Fastcastle,
received the young Queen with the utmost homage. The lady was connected
with Margaret’s after-life, when she traversed this district again.
With the morning light Margaret rejoined her escort at Coldingham. It
appears that, as she proceeded further into Scotland, pioneers preceded
her on her progress, leveling and smoothing roads to facilitate the
advance of her little army. At least such seems the import of the
quaint words of Master Young, Somerset Herald--“And through the
country, in some places, were made by force ways for the Queen’s
carriages.”
“Great numbers of people,” he adds, “assembled to see their Queen, and
lined the wayside where we passed. They brought with them plenty of
drink, and served with it every one that wished for it, if so be that
person was willing to pay for the same.”[64]
On the road to Haddington the royal cortege left the strong fortress of
Dunbar to the right, nevertheless it saluted as the Queen passed, and
“shot off loud ordnance for the love of her.”[65]
As the evening of August 2d closed in, Queen Margaret and her ladies
were received at the gate of the convent of nuns near Haddington, by
the Abbess and her holy sisterhood. Of course the lords and gentles
of the royal escort had to seek another abiding-place; they slept at
the Gray Friars of Haddington. Great satisfaction is expressed in the
Herald’s Journal at the good cheer the bridal train had had from both
communities. Early on August 3d, Queen Margaret and her people were all
astir; the procession being put in fair order, they passed through the
town of Haddington to the admiration of all beholders.
The castle of Acquick, or Acqueth,[66] not far from Edinburgh, was to
be the place of their noontide meal. It was the residence of the Earl
of Morton, one of the greatest nobles of Scotland; and as they were to
learn there the plans of the King of Scotland for future arrangements,
it was felt that their personal appointments ought to be cared for, and
rendered proof against critical inspection. The whole caravanserai,
therefore, came to a halt by the wayside, half a mile from Dalkeith.
The ladies held a cabinet-council round the royal litter, and
finally they equipped their little Queen in a new fresh dress, which
they deemed very magnificent. Every body likewise dressed, and set
themselves off to the best advantage, and then took their appointed
places. At last the whole cortege moved forward toward Dalkeith Palace
gates, where their reception was very solemn indeed.
The Earl of Morton, attended by many gentlemen, was standing at the
castle gateway. When the Queen arrived he welcomed her “as lady and
mistress,” presenting her at the same time with the keys of the
castle. Between the two gateways of the quadrangle stood Lady Morton,
the castellaine of Dalkeith, surrounded by a number of ladies and
gentlemen. The whole group knelt down as their Queen approached, who
very graciously went to the Lady Morton, raised her up, and kissed her.
The Queen was conducted by Lady Morton in grand state to her suite of
apartments within the castle, where every thing was in fair array,
although the building was a strong place, meant for purposes of
defense.[67]
Scarcely was the royal bride in possession of her chamber and
withdrawing-room, when a hurrying sound in the quadrangle announced
that some unexpected event had happened. The tumult ran through the
castle, till it reached the ante-room of the royal suite, where the cry
soon greeted the ear of Margaret--“The King, the King of Scotland has
arrived!”