In the original draught of the preliminary articles of the “Project

du Contract de Mariage,” between James V. of Scotland and Mary of

Lorraine, her name is erroneously set down Margaret, but she is

described “as the widow of the late Duke, and mother of the present

Duke de Longueville.” The fortune given by her father, the Duke de

Guise, is stated to be at her sole disposal, and, with the royal

portion accorded to her by her sovereign, the most Christian King,

amounting to 150,000 _livres de tournois_. She is willing to

concede to her future spouse, the King of Scotland, as her dower, and

to pay to him, or his procurators, on the day of the solemnization of

the marriage-ceremony, 100,000 of the said _livres de tournois_

(which are in all other documents described as crowns of the Sun),

giving security for paying the other 50,000 on the anniversary of

that day. James, on his part, engages, in the event of his dying

first, that a third of this sum shall be repaid to her if she brings

him children; but if there be no issue, then half the money is to be

repaid to her, or her heirs collateral. It is especially covenanted

on behalf of the bride, that no portion of King James’s debts, either

public or personal, are to fall on her settlement; and on the part of

the bridegroom, that she is not to alienate, or carry away, any of the

goods, furniture, or ornaments of any of the royal palaces of her said

lord, the King of Scotland. She stipulates for jewels, rings, and all

suitable decorations, being granted to her in number and value as shall

be considered meet by her commissioners.

King James agrees to jointure her with a noble appanage in his realm,

which she is to enjoy, after his death, for her sole and separate

use; that is to say, the county of Fife, with the fair palace of

Falkland garnished and fitted up with all proper furniture, decorations

and utensils, for the term of her natural life, whether she brings

him children or not. Furthermore, he dowers her in the county of

Strathearn, the palaces of Stirling and Dingwall, the county of Ross,

the lordships of Galloway, Orkney, and the Isles; and, whether she

please to reside in Scotland or return to France, she is to enjoy all

the revenues derivable from this magnificent jointure without let or

hindrance.[627]

On the 22d of April, Mary of Lorraine writes to the Chancellor of

France, thanking him for all the good services he had rendered her in

her business. She begs him to have the guard of honor, which it had

pleased the King to give her, speedily sent, because she could not be

espoused till that matter was arranged.

She signs this letter already in the royal style--“Your good friend,

Marie;”[628] and it is written at Chasteaudun.

King James’s ambassadors, for the conclusion of this his second

matrimonial treaty with France, were the Lord Maxwell, the Lord

Erskine, and Cardinal David Beton, Archbishop of St. Andrews. In

consequence of Mary of Lorraine’s kindred with James, through their

mutual descent from the ducal house of Gueldres, as well as her near

relationship to the late Queen Magdalene, a dispensation from the

Pope was necessary. The expenses of the journey for procuring this

instrument, &c., are noted in the Exchequer records of Scotland at two

hundred crowns. Sixty crowns are also disbursed, on this occasion, “in

fees to Buchoel, and other secretaries of the King of France, for the

contract of the King’s Grace’s marriage.”[629] These items are quickly

followed by that of “ane ring with ane diamond, to be the Queen’s

Grace’s spousing ring,” which costs three hundred crowns. Then there

is the entry of “forty crowns, fees to officers and minstrels the day

of the Queen’s marriage at Chasteaudun.” This, however, only means the

ratification of the matrimonial articles; for all accounts agree that

the grand ceremonial of her marriage, by King James’s proxy, the Lord

Maxwell, was solemnized with great pomp in the church of Nôtre Dame, at

Paris, in the presence of the King of France, her parents and kindred.

There is a beautiful historical painting of this ceremonial in

the collection of the Earl of Elgin, at Broomhall, in Fifeshire,

representing Mary of Lorraine in the act of giving her hand to Lord

Maxwell, the gray-haired proxy of the gay and gallant James V. of

Scotland.[630] She is represented in this picture as very handsome,

with a classic line of features and fair complexion, blue eyes

and golden hair. Her figure is tall and commanding, but feminine,

with the characteristic length of throat which is observable in her

other portraits. Her dress greatly resembles that of her youthful

predecessor, Magdalene of France, and is of the like material--white

silk brocaded with gold.

Mary of Lorraine, though perseveringly wooed by two kings, had waited

to complete her year of widowhood, before she would allow her finger

to be encircled by the spousal ring of a second husband. Her royal

lord, King James, lacked a month of paying the like complimentary mark

of respect to the memory of his first consort; but he was probably

apprehensive of being supplanted by his uncle Henry VIII., unless

he took prompt steps for securing a bride who was so passionately

coveted by that powerful monarch. There is no reason to suppose that

Mary wavered for an instant in her choice between the rival Albion

Kings. Fortunately for her, her duty to her country and her native

sovereign prescribed that she should become the wife of the youngest,

the handsomest, and the most agreeable of the twain. Had she been

crafty and ambitious, as some historians have painted her, she would

have chosen the most powerful, and rejected the matrimonial diadem

of Scotland for the more brilliant destiny of a Queen-consort of

England. But Mary avoided the glittering snare, and kept her faith to

her royal Scotch lover inviolate. More important results than her own

personal aggrandizement, or her own private happiness, were involved

in her decision. If she had married Henry, it is very possible that

descendants of hers by that monarch might now have been on the throne

of England, instead of her posterity by James--but in how inferior a

position! The consolidation of the realms of England, Ireland, and

Scotland, in the strong unity of the triune empire of Great Britain,

resulted from the failure of the line of Henry VIII., who by six wives

left only three children, all of whom died without posterity. But if

the fruitful Mary of Lorraine had filled the place subsequently given

successively to three childless Queens--Anne of Cleves, Katharine

Howard, and Katharine Parr, the Tudor succession would in all human

probability have been continued. England and Scotland would, in that

case, have remained under separate rulers, rivals and hereditary

foes, rending each other like jealous blood-hounds, with profitless

ferocity, instead of rising to national prosperity and greatness

through a community of interests, and the commercial relations with

the rest of the world, which were established by the sovereigns of the

much vituperated name of Stuart,--sovereigns in whom the elder royal

line of those philosophical legislators, Alfred and Athelstane, was in

the fullness of time replaced on the throne of England, bringing the

once hostile realm of Scotland as their most rightful and righteously

acquired inheritance; sovereigns who, eschewing the popular but fatal

amusement of Continental warfare, sedulously cultivated peace as a

science, and planted extensive colonies in all quarters of the world,

as safety-valves for carrying off the surplus population which their

pacific legislation encouraged.

Henry VIII. was so exasperated at the preference shown by Mary for his

nephew of Scotland, that, when requested to grant permission for her to

land on the coast of England, in the event of her encountering stormy

weather on her passage from France to Scotland, he most ungraciously

refused it. King James, warned by this manifestation of hostility, sent

a strong fleet and numerous escort to convey his bride, and took the

precaution of employing a vessel to survey the English coast before her

embarkation.

The parents and haughty kindred of Mary were much elated at a marriage

which exalted her to the rank of a crowned head; but to her it involved

a sacrifice which could not be otherwise than very painful to the

heart of a young mother, that of a separation from her first-born and

only surviving child, the little Duke de Longueville, who was between

two and three years old--a most attractive age. It was probably the

idea of this separation which had rendered her reluctant to entering

into a second marriage, since to the handsome and accomplished King of

Scotland she could plead no objection.

After the spousal ceremonial had been solemnized, Mary was entitled

Queen of Scotland, and was formally consigned to the care and keeping

of the Lord Maxwell, King James’s proxy. Attended by a distinguished

company of French nobles, and the guard of honor which had been

assigned her by her own sovereign, she traveled from Paris to Dieppe

with all the state of Queen of Scotland.[631] Annebaut, the Admiral of

France, had commission to attend her with a French convoy, which joined

the Scotch fleet in the New Haven at Dieppe. There Mary took leave of

the friends of her youth, and embarked with her royal retinue for her

new country. According to some authorities, besides being disquieted,

at her embarkation, by a fierce quarrel between the representative of

her august consort, Lord Maxwell, and Cardinal Beton, the favorite and

prime-minister of that Prince, the royal bride encountered a severe

storm at sea. Lindsay of Pitscottie, who records the dispute, says

nothing of the strife of winds and waves; on the contrary, we should

infer that the passage was swift and prosperous, from his statement

that, “as soon as wind served, he (Lord Maxwell) shipped the Queen,

and syne pulled up sails, and sailed to Scotland the nearest way.

But, because the Cardinal got no charge in the Queen’s home-coming,

and was not letten in the ship with her, he was discontented with the

Lord Maxwell, the Admiral, quhilk gendered hatred thereafter. Also the

Queen landit very pleasant in a part of Fife called Fifeness, near

Balcomie.”[632]

The honest naval peer, who, invested with the twofold dignity of King’s

Proxy and Admiral of the fleet, found himself in circumstances to

enforce his authority by compelling the haughty primate to submit to

his arrangements for the voyage, had doubtless seen sufficient reason

for this bold endeavor to preserve his royal mistress--at least for the

time she remained under his charge--from the pernicious influence which

the subtile ecclesiastic finally succeeded in obtaining over her mind,

as well as that of King James.

It is worthy of observation, however, that Sir David Lindsay of the

Mount, the venerable cotemporary to whom Pitscottie is supposed to

have been indebted for most of his information on the matrimonial

affairs of James V., makes no allusion to the affront the Cardinal

received on this occasion, in his tragic historical poem on that

statesman, where he makes him give the following boastful account of

his proceedings:--[633]

“Through me were made triumphant marriages,

That to King James brought profit and pleasance,

When Magdalen our Queen, first daughter of France,

With riches great was into Scotland brought;

After whose death, to France I passed again,

The second Queen homeward I did convoy,

That lovely Princess Mary of Lorraine,

Who was received with great triumph and joy--

So served I our right renowned _Roy_.”

The day on which Mary of Lorraine landed in Scotland was the solemn

festival of Trinity Sunday, June 12, 1538,[634] three days after the

anniversary of the death of her first husband, the Duke de Longueville.

Hearing that her new consort, King James, was at St. Andrews, the

distance being within ten miles, she determined to repose herself

at Balcomie Castle, the seat of James Laird of Learmont, the Master

of the royal Household, till the couriers, who were dispatched to

announce her arrival in his dominions, should return with his Majesty’s

instructions. But the fifth James of Scotland was not a prince to

keep a lady waiting while he was sending messengers with ceremonial

greetings, to allow time to his heralds and chamberlains to arrange a

programme for their reception, according to the formal solemnity of

courtly etiquette. The moment he heard the good tidings that she was so

near, he called to horse, and with all his peers, spiritual as well as

temporal--who had previously been convened “to meet at St. Andrews in

their best array,” to do their devoir to their new queen--rode forth

incontinent to give her personal welcome, and bring her on to that city.

The interval of three or four hours which must necessarily have passed

over before the gallant bridegroom, however prompt in his movements,

could arrive at Balcomie Castle, afforded the bride opportunity for

rest, refreshment, and the performance of a toilet suitable to so

interesting an occasion as her first meeting with her old acquaintance

King James, in the character of his consort, to be followed by her

public entrance, as Queen of Scotland, into the polite city of St.

Andrews, which was then regarded as a far more civilized place than

Edinburgh, being the seat of the arts and sciences, learning and

poetry. Much is it to be regretted that no existing records enable

us to gratify our fair readers with the precise details of the dress

of Mary of Lorraine, on that important day of her life. The Treasury

accounts of Scotland, however, bear witness that the King bought anent

his marriage with the lovely widow, “ane hat thrummit with gold,”

which cost the King’s Grace eight crowns. It was decorated with certain

“hostage _federis_” (ostrich feathers), costing him three crowns,

likewise with “ane image with ane rubie to the King’s Grace’s bonnet.”

There is also an entry “for two ells and a half of quhite claith to

lay between the folds of the coat of Venice satin, rich with silver,

of the King’s Grace.” The price of the “quhite claith,” which was only

some sort of tailor’s lining, was but 2_s._ Scots the ell; but

it serves to elucidate the fact that the gallant James wore for his

wedding-coat white Venice satin, enriched with silver embroidery.[635]

That pleasant chronicler, Lindsay of Pitscottie, gives the following

rich details of the reception of this Queen (Mary) at St. Andrews, and

some of the pageants and entertainments that were devised and performed

to do her honor. “And first, she was received at the New Abbey gate;

upon the east side thereof there was made to her a triumphant arch, by

Sir David Lindsay of the Mount, Lion Herald, which caused a great cloud

come out of the heavens above the gate, and open instantly; and there

appeared a fair lady most like an angel, having the keys of Scotland

in her hands, and delivered them to the Queen, in sign and token that

all the hearts of Scotland were open to receive her Grace; with certain

orations and exhortations made by the said David Lindsay to the Queen,

instructing her to serve her God and obey her husband, according to

God’s will and commandments. This being done, the Queen was received

into her palace, which was called the New Inns, which was well decored

against her coming. Also the bishops, abbots, priors, monks, friars,

and canons-regular, made great solemnity in the kirk, with masses,

songs, and playing of the organs.”

In the same kirk--the then magnificent Abbey Church or Cathedral

of St. Andrews--the marriage of the royal pair was publicly

solemnized and affirmed, in the presence of the nobles and people of

Scotland.[636] This event is recorded by a cotemporary chronicler in

these words,--“And there the King’s Grace and the said Marie were

_spousit_ with great glory, where the Archbishop of Glasgow, and

many of the noblemen of Scotland, were present.”

What a contrast to the mournful desolation to which the despoiled and

shattered remains of the fair cathedral are now reduced, must have

been its appearance on the memorable festival of the Holy Trinity,

1538, when that goodly pair, James V. and his second French bride, were

brought in solemn procession through the great western entrance up the

central aisle to the high altar, for the confirmation of the proxy

marriage which had been previously celebrated in the church of Nôtre

Dame![637]

It is scarcely possible for the historical pilgrim to enter the

grass-grown arena of ruins, where once the stately Abbey of St. Andrews

rose in its august beauty, without moralizing on the changes that have

varied the features of the place since the Culdee missionary, St.

Regulus, in the fourth century, first planted a Christian church on

the wild sea-cliff of the then barbarous location, which subsequently

became the focus whence learning and gospel light irradiated the

heathen darkness of Scotland. If that venerable tower which bears the

name, and forms the sole surviving monument of its founder--and, like

some indomitable chieftain of the olden time, proudly maintains his

ground in a lost battle, when the younger and fairer brethren of the

host he commanded lie scattered in the dust around him, could find a

voice or pen to declare his reminiscences, what lights would break in

upon many a dim and doubtful page of royal history! But as biographers

are not warranted in overstepping the bounds of their documentary

evidences, it is not for us to call up spirits from the vasty deep

of past time, by repeopling the fallen nave, aisles, and galleries

with gorgeous groups of the high and mighty of the land--the Saxon

and the Gael--who were that day mingled with the burghers and loving

commonalty of St. Andrews to witness the nuptials of their King; much

less may we describe the brave attire and jeweled pomp of the fair and

noble ladies, both Scotch and French, who graced the procession of

the queenly bride: but this at least we may say, that such visions of

purple and of pall, such cloth-of-gold, plumes, banners, and blazonry,

can never be seen in old St. Andrews again, save in poetic retrospect

of her departed splendor.

When the royal pair had received the nuptial benediction from Cardinal

Beton, the Queen retired with her ladies to change her dress, in

preparation for the public banquet; and the King withdrew with his

lords-in-waiting for the same purpose. According to old Lindsay of

Pitscottie, we find that “the King received the Queen in his palace

to dinner, where was great mirth all day, till time of supper. On the

morn, the Queen passed through the town: she saw the Blackfriars, the

Grayfriars, the old college and the new college, and St. Leonards; she

saw the provosts of the town and honest burgesses: and when the Queen

came to her palace, and met with the King, she confessed unto him ‘that

she never saw in France, nor no other country, so many goodly faces

in so little room, as she saw that day in Scotland; for,’ she said,

‘it was shown unto her in France that Scotland was but a barbarous

country, destitute and void of all good commodities that used to be

in other countries, but now she confessed she saw the contrary; for

she never saw so many fair personages of men, women, young babes, and

children, as she saw that day.’ At these words of the Queen the King

greatly rejoiced, and said to her, ‘Forsooth, madam, you shall see

better, please God. Ere you go through Scotland, you will see many

good-like men and women, with other commodities that will be to your

contentment.’”

Mary did not, however, if we may credit the report made by Madame

Montrieul, the governess of her predecessor, the late Queen Magdalene,

express herself quite so favorably to that lady of her new country as

she did to King James. Madame Montrieul, with eight other French dames

and maids-of-honor of Queen Magdalene’s household, had remained with

honorable entertainment at the Court of Scotland from the time of their

royal mistress’ demise, till the arrival of James’s second consort,

when they were all prudently dismissed. Passing through England on

their way home, they took the opportunity of visiting London, when,

being questioned by one of Henry VIII.’s officers “how the new Queen

liked Scotland,” Madame de Montrieul somewhat smiled as she answered

that “the Queen of Scotland loved France the best.”[638]

Henry VIII. had certainly the wish to make Mary of Lorraine regret her

refusal of him and acceptance of his nephew; for when these ladies were

in London he had them paid the utmost attention, in expectation that

they would report the superior riches and beauty of England when they

wrote to the Court of Scotland. The Lord Mayor was ordered to provide

them with ten great carps, ten great eels, ten great pikes, a portion

of salmon and sturgeon, a certain quantity of tenches and breams, and

all the good fishes that could be gotten, with ten sugar loaves, ten

wax torches, and white wine and claret in abundance at their dinners

and suppers.[639] They were to be lodged at the Lord Mayor’s; but St.

Bartholomew’s fair being so near, there was no room for them. However,

a meet lodging was provided, and a great banquet made for their

entertainment, to which was invited the French ambassador. In return

for all these attentions, the French lady was very communicative to the

gentleman sent by Henry VIII. to carry her his greetings, and informed

him all he asked concerning the death of Queen Magdalene, and the

arrival of Mary of Lorraine. There is no doubt but Madame de Montrieul

would have preferred the Court of the uncle to that of the nephew; for

she descanted eloquently on the fruitfulness and fairness of England,

the civility of the men, and the splendor of the palaces, commending

Bridewell to the French ambassador above all she had ever seen. The

ambassador had promised that she should see York Place (Whitehall

Palace), which was far fairer, and for that intent he sent to the

keeper of the same. Madame de Montrieul said “that she had a message

from the Queen of Scotland to the King of England, if she happened to

arrive at the speech of his Grace.”[640] What this message was has

never transpired.

The mother-in-law of Mary of Lorraine, Queen Margaret, had been

excessively importunate to her brother Henry VIII. for presents on

the occasion of the royal wedding, but in vain; she could obtain no

answer from England. One day, however, the bride of Scotland thought

proper to ask Margaret “whether she ever heard from her brother, the

King of England?” The question greatly irritated the royal dowager, and

set her indefatigable pen to work in a letter of remonstrance to her

brother, which is in parts illegible, owing apparently to Henry having

carried it in some letter-case or pocket-book about his person.[641]

After lamenting the length of time since she had heard from him, Queen

Margaret proceeds to say “that James V., her dearest son, is in good

health and prosperity, that there is great love between him and the

Queen his wife, and great honor done her; and she, the new Queen, is

right richly _become_ into this realm, having good friends who

have looked greatly to her honor.”

Henry VIII. was to receive this intimation as a gentle rebuke for his

churlish niggardliness to his own sister and her son on the occasion of

the wedding, but nothing else could be expected from a rejected man.

Margaret probably was kept in profound ignorance of this passage in the

history of her brother and her daughter-in-law, or else, devoid of all

tact as she was, she could not have dwelt on the married affection of

James V. and Mary of Lorraine in the way she does here.

“I trust that she shall prove a wise Princess. Your Grace shall

understand that, since her coming in this realm, I have been

much in her company, and she bears her very favorably to me,

with as good entreatment as may be, and hearty. And she asked

_at_ me, ‘when I heard any word out of your realm from your

Grace?’ I said ‘it was but short time since I heard from you.’

“Now, dearest brother, since there is here another Princess

than I (your only sister), I beseech your Grace that it may be

seen and understood that you will be kind and loving brother to

me, for that will be great reason to the King my son to do the

like.”[642]

The royal records of Scotland bear witness that the Queen-mother

received from her son the gift, on occasion of his marriage, of two

hundred crowns, under the following notation--“Item, deliverit the

penult day of June to the Queenis Grace, the King’s Grace’s dearest

mother, ii^c cronis.” The next article notes, on July 28, “Forty crowns

were deliverit to the auld Queen’s nurise, at the King’s command.”[643]

The gift of two hundred crowns had evidently not satisfied the wants

or wishes of Queen Margaret’s Grace. It is possible the deceased young

Magdalene may be designated as the “auld Queen.”

King James and his new Queen prolonged their sojourn at St. Andrews

nearly a fortnight beyond their honeymoon, for they tarried in that

festive city forty days, “with great merriness and games, jousting,

running at the lists, archery, hunting, hawking, dancing, and masking,

with all other princely disportes.”

Very curious cotemporary portraits of this royal pair are preserved

in the historical gallery of his Grace the Duke of Devonshire, at

Hardwick Hall. They are represented in the same piece, seated side by

side in the front of one of those open balconies of state in which

personages of their rank were accustomed to look down upon the jousts

and games that were performed for their amusement. The King rests his

hand on a large tasseled cushion, checked with gold; the Queen hers

on one of purple velvet. Their armorial bearings are impaled in front

of the balcony. Beneath the King is the inscription--“Jacobus quintus

Scotorum Rex, ætatis suæ 28;” under the Queen--“Maria de Lotharingæ,

in secundis nuptiis uxor, anno ætatis suæ 24.” This date certifies

that the portraits were painted while they were bride and bridegroom.

They were dressed, according to the etiquette of royalty under such

circumstances, in the same colors, and almost in the same fashion;

for the front of the King’s dress is cut square on the breast, to

show a finely-plaited shirt, which resembles the Queen’s chemisette,

and is finished with a jeweled band. Moreover, his Majesty’s sleeves

are slashed and purfled below the elbows, precisely to correspond

with those of his Queen, and he wears pearl beads, though not in such

profusion. Both are in regal mantles furred with miniver. Her golden

hair is tucked up under a little round French cap or hood, formed

of rows of white plaiting and coronal circlets of gems. Some of her

pictures have been mistaken for those of her daughter, especially

those where the shortness of the upper lip amounts even to a defect,

being, as in this portrait, too close to the nose for the harmony

of just proportion. The royal escutcheon of Scotland, surmounted

with two banners charged with the lion of that realm, is emblazoned

above in the center of the double portrait. James is, as usual, very

handsome and graceful, bearing a strong resemblance to the effigies

of his illustrious ancestor, Edward III. Lesley gives the following

lively description of the person and characteristics of James: “He

was a man of personage and stature convenient, albeit mighty and

strong therewith. Of countenance amiable and lovely, specially in his

communication [while speaking]; his eyes gray, and sharp of sight, that

whomsoever he did once see and mark, he would perfectly know in all

times thereafter. Of wit, in all things quick and prompt; of a princely

stomach and high courage in great perils.”[644]

Among the dramatic representations which had been prepared by the

courtly bard of the Reformation, Sir David Lindsay of the Mount, for

the entertainment of the royal bride, were certain satirical comedies,

castigating the abuses of that church of which the members of the house

of Guise were the most bigoted champions. Mary of Lorraine and her

illustrious consort, however, not only countenanced the pasquinades

by their presence, but appeared to enjoy them.[645] Satires thus

boldly pointed and publicly sanctioned, in a place which, for the last

fourteen years, had blazed with the penal fires of persecution, denoted

the spirit of the times; for neither royal favor nor the privileges

attached to Sir David Lindsay’s office, as the Lord Lion of Scotland,

would have protected him from ecclesiastical vengeance, if popular

opinion had not been on his side. The spiritual despotism of the

hierarchy of that period had exalted itself above the authority of the

crown, in a manner peculiarly offensive to the monarch, as interfering

with the exercise of his highest prerogative--mercy. On the memorable

occasion when David Strahan, being condemned to the flames in the year

1534, asked the King’s grace, which James V., who was present at his

condemnation, would willingly have granted, the bishop, insolently

interfering, said, “that the King’s hands were bound in that case, and

that he had no grace to give to such as by their law were condemned;”

and the barbarous sentence was executed in despite of him.[646]

Though Mary of Lorraine was not James’s first love, he was

passionately devoted to her. Her initials M. R., surmounted with the

_Fleur-de-Lys_, are introduced among the architectural ornaments

of all his royal residences, and her name “Marie,” at full length,

remains embossed in surviving characters round the pilasters of his

lovely little hunting palace at Falkland, as a testimonial of his

regard for her. This gallant inscription was perhaps made by James’s

order during their sojourn at that sylvan retreat, after they left St.

Andrews on their progress.[647] From Falkland, James conducted his

royal bride to Stirling, where her portraiture was long recognized

among the basso-relievos with which he caused the ceiling of the

banqueting-room to be decorated. After spending several days in public

festivities at Stirling, the royal pair proceeded to Linlithgow, which

had been prepared and beautified for the reception of the Queen at a

cost of four hundred crowns.[648] Mary, who appears to have been a

princess of good taste, expressed her admiration of the exquisite gem

of architecture, declaring “she never saw a more princely palace.”

There they remained two or three days, and then proceeded to Dundee,

where the Queen made her public entrance, and was magnificently treated

by the town. On the 5th of August, she and the King honored with their

presence the marriage of the Earl of Errol with the sister of the Earl

of Lennox. “At St. Johnston (Perth), every man of them,” continues

Lindsay of Pitscottie, “according to their ability, received their

Queen and mistress as it became them to do.”

Meantime it seems Mary’s privy purse ran so low that she was under the

necessity of anticipating the first quarterly payment of her income

as Queen of Scotland, by obtaining of the King’s treasurer three

hundred crowns on her note of hand, which transaction is evidenced in

the following entry in his Compotus,--“Item, delivered to the Queen’s

Grace, upon her obligation to render it again betwixt this day and

the last day of Sept., 300 crowns.” The same records develop various

amusing little matters connected with the expenditure of this Queen,

illustrative of the manners and customs of the court of Scotland, as

well as the movements of the royal pair.

All the historians of the period agree that Mary of Lorraine spent

the first year of her marriage with James V. at St. Andrews, yet the

entries in the Compotus prove that she and the King were constantly

changing their place of abode from one palace to another, and were

seldom stationed long anywhere. Their tapestry, beds, plate, and

other articles of furniture, were generally removed at the same time

for their use, King James being possessed of more houses than goods,

notwithstanding the rich plenishing his late Queen Magdalene brought

with her from France. Mary of Lorraine brought little in comparison,

and among those we notice hangings with the arms of Longueville,

pertaining to her late husband.

At the King’s great hunting at Meggotland, several horse-loads of beds

were brought from Peebles, also “the tapestry that lies under the King

and Queen’s feet from Linlithgow to Stirling.”[649]

The Treasurer sent to Falkland Palace, Nov. 16, ten ells of green burge

satin, to be ane gown to Senat the Queen’s fool. This functionary was

a female; for the next article enumerates “14 ells of linen claith to

be ‘her’ sarkis. Violet powder pokes (bags), to lay among the King’s

claiths,” cost 6 shillings Scots. An ell and a quarter of purple velvet

was provided to be “shoon” for the King’s Grace. “Ane ell of purple

velvet to be covering to the King’s book, and ane poke to put it

in.” Sewing gold, cords, fringes, knobs, and borders, are charged as

ornaments to the said book and poke to put in; and for workmanship, £3

19_s._

The Queen was likewise provided with velvet-bound books and ornamental

“pokes to put them in.” The King’s Compotus testifies of purple velvet

delivered to Helen Ross, one of the Queen’s ladies, “to cover ane

matin book for the Queen’s Grace, and to make a poke to put it in of

the same; moreover, she had red damask to line the said poke. David

Chapman was paid ten shillings for binding and laying about the said

matin book with gold. Helen Ross was given eight single hanks of gold,

to border the book, and the poke, and knobs thereto, and silk to

string the poke with, besides costly workmanship to the amount of £3

10_s._[650]”--all which, excepting the actual binding, was done by

the Queen’s lady.

The expenses of the carriage of the Queen’s wardrobe, and those of her

gentlewomen, give the intelligence that they “went furth of Falkland

to Kirkaldy, December 16, after the Queen’s marriage. A barn was hired

at Kirkaldy to deposit them therein, and two men had wage to walk the

same,”--to watch, or walk as sentries, at the barn of Kirkaldy. Boats

were hired at Kinghorn to ferry the Queen’s wardrobe over the water,

and finally the royal party settled at Stirling. The King ordered

chains of gold, gold rings, tablets, and other goldsmith’s work, to

make his Christmas presents. For this jewelry he paid Thomas Ryne,

goldsmith, £239 19_s._; besides three chains and two hearts of

gold for further New Year’s gifts, to the amount of £23. The court was

at Linlithgow a month afterward, when the King sent to Edinburgh for a

coffer of silver work, and other gear, to the Laird of _Dunnis_

marriage.

James V., at Easter, new-clothed his illegitimate son, James, the boy

Prior of St. Andrews, afterward Regent of Scotland, with a costly

gown of gray Venice satin. The following largesses were, by the royal

command, dispensed--“To _Munsure_ Laffenze, the Francheman, the

9th day of March, quhilk came first in Scotland after Yule fra the

King of Franche, in ane purse knobbed with gold, £400;” likewise to

“_Munsare_ de Moranvelay, master of the household to the Duke of

Guise, in ane other silk purse, £300. Item, for the twa purses, eight

shillings; and to the pursevant that came furth of France, called De la

Plume,” a gift of £40.[651]

The King’s juggler, James Atkinson, was presented, by royal warrant,

with “ane coat of red and yellow; price of the red, _dymmegrane_,

23_s._ per ell, and of the yellow, 20_s._”

There are items of expenses disbursed, by royal charity, to “puir

bedesmen at _Pasche_” (Easter). The succeeding March, the King

and Queen were at Stirling, as there are charges for _trussing_

(packing) and sending the “puir bedesmen’s new blue gowns to

Striveling;” and there the royal personages must have held a Maunday,

similar to the charity practiced by our Queen, as there are charges

for money, to the amount of £36 9_s._, “deliverit to the

maister-almoner of Striveling Castle, and put in _litel_ purses,

to be given to the said puir bedesmen, ilk man 27_s._”

In the merry month of May, the Queen was brought to bed, at St.

Andrews, of a prince, to the great joy of the people of Scotland. King

James triumphantly announced this auspicious event to Henry VIII. in

the following letter:--

“Right excellent, right high and mighty Prince, our dearest

Brother and Uncle--We commend us unto you in our most hearty and

effectuous manner, signifying unto the same, that since it has

liked God, of his great goodness, to have sent unto us, this

22d day of May instant, ane son and prince, fair and life-like,

to succeed us and this our realm, we think it accords us well

to make you participant with us of sic joyous good novellis,

and that we have of our blood to this our realm, which may

hereafter do pleasure to you and yours. Right excellent, right

high and mighty prince, our dearest brother and uncle, we pray

the blessed Trinity to conserve you in long life and prosperous

state. Given under our signet, at our Abbey of Sanct Androis,

the 22d day of May, the 27th year of our regime.”[652]

The hills of Scotland, by the joyful blaze of their beacons, sent far

and wide over England the tidings that an heir was born to the northern

kingdom. Many a bold Borderer on the English side was startled into

warlike preparation. But the Duke of Norfolk explained to the English

Council, “that the Queen of Scots bore a prince on the Friday last

past, and that bonfires were made on all the hills on the Scottish

border, which burnt in sign of rejoicing through Trinity Sunday.”[653]

The royal Compotus bears the charge of £40 given to George Elphinstone

“for needful expenses when sent by the King to his royal uncle, Henry

VIII. of England, with news of the birth of my lord prince.”[654]

George was evidently the bearer of the foregoing epistle.

The christening of the infant heir of Scotland was celebrated with

great triumph. He was named James. David Lindsay, Lord Lion, and Janet

Douglas his spouse, “by ane precept,” received on the occasion the

large donation of £667,[655]--Sir David certainly for proclamations

connected with his high office at the ceremonial and ensuing

tournament; but the services of Janet, his spouse, are not so easily to

be recognized. John Bog brought to St. Andrews fifteen ells of white

taffety to be _serviettes_ (towels) to hold the torches at the

baptism of my lord prince.[656] Thomas Cragie, chaplain, was paid £12

6_s._ 8_d._ for painting the armorial bearings of my lord

prince at his baptism.

How far the birth of that new and proudly welcomed claimant of her

love, the fair young Prince of Scotland, consoled Mary of Lorraine for

the continual separation from her first-born, which her marriage with

King James had imposed, it is not for her biographers to decide, since

none of her surviving letters unvail the state of her feelings on that

subject.

The rending asunder the sweetest ties of nature are among the pains

and penalties to which queens are frequently subjected, and such

bereavements are no less terrible to them than to mothers of low

degree; for although the stern restraints with which royalty is

surrounded may compel queens to do violence to the tender clinging

affections of woman’s heart, they can not extinguish the divine

instinct which pervades the feminine portion of the creation, from

the lowest link of insect life in which maternal solicitude is

discernible--the ant--up to the last and most perfect of God’s works in

the Garden of Eden, the sensitive creature whom His wisdom called into

existence as a help meet for man.

The King proclaimed a tournament in May, in which he personally

assisted, for notations occur in the royal Compotus that “the children

of his stables” (horse-boys) received a gratuity of forty shillings,

the day “the King’s grace ran at the lists.” The royal Stuart more

worthily celebrated the birth of his heir by some judicious charities:

_twa kye_, costing forty shillings, were given to _twa_ puir

women of _Cowpar_, whose husbands had been killed by accident.

The Queen paid John Tennant, her goldsmith, for making “sindrie

chaffrons” and chains of gold, to the amount of £63, to give away

among the ladies of her household at the end of May, evidently on

occasion of the birth and baptism of the prince. James V. made a tour

of inspection of his coasts, sending a precept at the end of May to

Dumbarton, that boats and ships, well-victualed, might be sent to the

isles to meet him there. He ordered his working goldsmith, Mossman, to

convert four ounces and a half of “gold of the mine into ane quhissel,”

which whistle was at that time the emblem of supreme command in naval

affairs; it was to have ane dragon enameled thereon, and weigh the

weight he ordered, “unicorn weight.”

The Queen was terribly alarmed by prevalent reports that the King, who

had sailed from Dumbarton on one of his famous surveying voyages in

the middle of June, had been lost in one of the violent tempests which

prevailed throughout July. Just as alarm was at its height, the royal

mariner made safely the haven of a village near St. Andrews. Hearing

of the anguish of the Queen, he flung himself on horseback without

resting, and rode at fiery speed to St. Andrews, where he embraced her

and his heir. His mother mentions the alarm in one of her letters to

her brother, Henry VIII.[657]

Mossman, the goldsmith, had prepared for the royal James the gold

whistle he had commissioned him to make, which he delivered to him

“the penult day of July:” the workmanship cost £10 4_s._ This

artist, likewise, converted six ounces and a half of fine silver into

the elegant form of a clamshell, used by the King’s grace to keep his

hawk’s meat in.[658]

Falcons from Scotland were considered in those days as acceptable

presents to the proudest princes in Europe, and accordingly James sent

presents of hawks to his Queen’s father, the Duke of Guise, to the King

of France, and to the Dauphin. The hawks were carried in panniers on a

hackney. Charges occur for the carriage of the falcons through France

to Lorraine, and for canvas and rope with which their panniers, or,

as the Compotus terms it, “mangers” were made and tied on the hackney

steed.

James V.’s poem of _Christ’s Kirk on the Green_ is supposed to

have been written in the first happy year of his wedlock with Mary of

Lorraine, during the occasional retirement of the royal pair at their

favorite hunting Palace of Falkland. The genius of the royal James has

procured him among the reading public, even in England, some celebrity

as an author, but how few persons in the south can do any justice to

the naïve and racy delineation of character in his oft-named poem.

Few, indeed, have any correct idea of its subject, the majority

guessing from its title that it is a religious poem of monastic

tendency.

The poetry of James V., or at least that which has survived the

forgetfulness of time, is of an exclusively comic description, the

fruits of his keen and clever observation when he roved his land

in disguise, like Haroun-al-Rashid, for the ostensible motive of

witnessing whether “his justice” was duly administered to his people.

Many a well-known adventure, especially that commemorated in his comic

ballad of _The Gaberlunzie Man_, proves that his Scottish majesty

did not himself keep very rigidly the laws of morality. None of these

incidents seem to have occurred during his married life, therefore

their recital may be excused in the biographies of his Queens.

His poem of _Christ’s Kirk_, on the contrary, contains traits

of the customs and amusements his French marriages had introduced in

Scotland. It is a spirited delineation of the humors of a fair, or

rather of a wake, held on a green near his own favorite Palace of

Falkland.[659] The wake commenced the night of May-eve, on the vigil

of St. Philip and St. James. It is still one of the fairs of Scotland,

and the ruins of Christ’s Church, in the neighborhood, attest its

locality. James V., the monarch of the poor, used the vernacular idioms

of his people, in which he described the freakish fancies of a fray he

witnessed at the wake on the green at Christ’s Kirk.

The King commences his poem by mentioning the sports of the people at

Peebles, celebrated in a sprightly lay by his royal ancestor, James I.,

entitled _Peeblis at the Ploy_, or _Play_. James V. likewise alludes

to his own chivalric games performed at the lists on Falkland Palace

green; and in his assumed character of minstrel at the neighboring kirk

fair, of course prefers the latter to every other kind of recreation.

With the intention of making a specimen of the royal James’s style

intelligible to the general reader throughout Great Britain, here is

his commencing stanza in readable orthography,--

“Was ne’er in Scotland heard or seen

Sic dancing or deray,

Neither at Falkland on the Green

Or Peeblis at the Play,

As was of wooers as I ween,

At Christ’s Kirk on that e’en.

There came ‘our Kitty,’ washen clean,

In her new kirtle gray,

Full gay,

At Christ Kirk on the Green

That day.”

Whether “our Kitty” was some Cinderella pertaining to the royal

household of Falkland, who thought it needful to be “washen clean” for

the May-eve festival, we will not pause to question, for she is not the

heroine of her royal master’s poem, but a maiden named Gillian, whose

genuine Scottish style of beauty is thus depicted,--

“Of all these maidens, mild as mead,

Was none so _gimp_[660] as Gillie,[661]

As any rose her rude was red,

Her skin was like the lily;

Full yellow yellow was her hair,

But she in love was silly,

Though all her kin had sworn her dead,

She would have her sweet Willie.”

The jealousy occasioned by the disdain of this yellow-haired lassie

for all her wooers at the wake, excepting “her own sweet Willie,”

occasioned a general skirmish, in which the Scottish peasants took to

their bows and axes. The “town souter with his glittering hair,” and

“the miller of manly make,” whom it would be no joke to meet in a fray,

are evident portraits drawn with infinite fire and spirit: the whole is

a valuable picture of the costume and manners of a semi-barbarous, but

free and prosperous people.

The poem is supposed to have been written in the exuberance of the

King’s joy at his happy wedlock with Mary of Lorraine.[662] His

good-humored satire on the peasants at the Christ’s Green wake

choosing to imitate French dances, and their assumption of fashion,

discarding the old tunes by the demand, “Minstrel, blaw up a brawl of

France,”[663] are traits considered confirmatory of that tradition.

CHAPTER II.

SUMMARY.

Delay of the coronation of Mary of Lorraine--She resolves to

work the Crawfurd-muir gold mine--Her father sends her Lorraine

miners--Her entry into Edinburgh--Her mother sends her a second

band of miners--Her mother-in-law’s remarks--The Queen sets

out on progress to the Highlands--Anger at the King’s delay in

meeting her--His letter of explanation--The Queen goes with

him to hunt in the Highlands--Her new crown from the gold of

the mine, &c.--Her miners paid and sent home--Henry VIII’s

message to her--Her reception of Sir Ralph Sadler--The Queen’s

coronation--She takes her chamber--The King’s uneasiness at her

absence, and horrid dream--Birth of her second son--Deaths of

both her sons--Grief of the Queen and James V.--Queen Margaret

Tudor consoles them--The Queen goes in progress to Aberdeen with

King James--Long mourning for her children--Discontented at

the King’s absence--His letters to her--War with England--The

Queen’s pedestrian pilgrimage--Hopes of offspring--Takes her

chamber at Linlithgow--King’s letter to her describing his

illness--Disaster of his army at Solway--His sickness and mortal

grief--The Queen expects the birth of another heir to Scotland.

Mary of Lorraine had been Queen-consort more than a year, and had borne

to her royal lord “a fair life-like son,” yet she had not received the

distinction of the crown-matrimonial of Scotland. It is evident that

the beauteous descendant of Charlemagne did not approve of the regalia

of Scotland sufficiently to wish to exhibit it before the crowds of

her countrymen who meant to flock to her court at the period of her

consecration.

Hitherto the famous gold mine of Scotland at Crawfurd-muir, the produce

of which had excited such sensation at James V.’s nuptial feast, when

he wedded Magdalene of France, had never been worked scientifically.

From the secret intelligence gained by Wharton, Lord Warden of the

Marches, for the information of the English Court,[664] it may be

learned that native gold had formed important items in the Scotch

treasury in the times of James IV. and the Regent Albany; but it had

merely been gathered up in lumps, or washed from the soil, near the

supposed mine at Crawfurd-muir. It was reserved for the enterprise of

a queen desirous of a new and splendid crown to develop the mineral

riches of Scotland; for this purpose she requested her mother

and father to send her miners from her own country, and it may be

remembered that La Haute-Lorraine was the principal mining district in

France.[665]

The Queen’s undertaking of working the Scotch gold mine now forms a

prominent feature in the journal of that royal Compotus which aids us

in throwing some light on the manners and customs of the era.[666]

Nothing is more worthy of the attention of enlightened minds than

comparisons between the infant struggles of science, and its gigantic

progression in the present day.

The cost of the Queen’s miners, if the whole of it is charged in her

husband’s expense-book, did not amount to a hundredth part of the

treasure realized. The royal pair were, therefore, fully justified,

if they wished for splendid ornaments on a grand ceremonial day, in

adapting the natural product of their realm for that purpose, instead

of expending a large and irrecoverable capital in a foreign land for

baubles. Moreover, if the miners sent from France carried some portion

of their earnings away with them, they could not help leaving behind

them a certain portion of their knowledge for the benefit of Scotland.

The Queen made her first state-entry into Edinburgh June 10, 1539--on

the anniversary of St. Margaret’s day. “Her Grace came in, attended by

all the nobility in procession, first at the West Port, and rode down

the High-_gait_ Street to the Abbey of Holyrood-house, with great

sports played to her Grace through all parts of the town. Both the King

and Queen were honorably received, in the castle, and in the town, and

also in the palace; where they were propined richly by the provost and

community of the town, both with spices and wine, gold and silver; and

also great triumphs, farces, and plays made unto the Queen’s Grace at

the expenses of the said town.”[667]

Mary returned to St. Andrews in July, where she spent the summer. In

that month her Lorraine miners landed there, for the following entry

occurs in the compotus of James V.--

“Certain expenses disbursed in convoying the miners furth of St.

Andrews to Edinburgh, quhilk came fra the Queen’s Grace’s father

(Claud, Duke of Guise), for hired horses to them and their

expenses, 23_s._ 10_d._”

The royal mining adventure was conducted with proper caution. The

Queen obtained the assistance of an English miner, who, at the risk

of his sovereign’s vengeance, “came forth from England and passed to

Crawfurd-muir to _vesy_ (view) the mynd,” for the consideration of

£22. John Mossman, the ingenious artificer in goldsmith’s work to the

court of Scotland, was the person who had the superintendence of the

Lorraine workmen. His expenses commenced with the following notice:--

“Item, to John Mossman to make the miners’ expenses that came

_forth from Lorraine_ in passing to _vesy_ (view) the

mine.”[668]

After these preliminaries, the royal pair proceeded with a degree

of regularity and earnestness in their mining undertakings which

will excite some surprise in those who refuse to give people, in the

medieval ages, the slightest credit for knowledge or sagacity in the

great business of modern life--that of gold-hunting. The royal journal

notes that, in August, 1539, was incurred expense for “the miners that

came forth of France fra the Queen’s moder.” Thus the Queen’s father,

Claud, Duke of Guise, sent one party of miners from Lorraine in the

preceding spring; and another party was sent from France, in August,

from his duchess, the Queen’s mother, Antoinette de Bourbon. These

French miners did not work with common candles in the mine; James V.

was at the expense of providing them with a species of light of a safer

kind, called “_work-lumeys_,” which, it is noted, was on purpose

for them “to work in the mine.” He likewise paid for their expenses

“in passing and _vesying_ (viewing) the mines, and coming again to

Edinburgh, and passing again to the said mine. John Mossman’s ticket,

given thereupon, bears the sum in all, £15 11_s._”[669] It will be

owned that the manner of entering the items of “John Mossman’s ticket”

has a very business-like appearance.

An interpreter was provided for the Queen’s French miners, being “ane

Scottish boy that speaks French, quhilk passit with the French miners

to Crawfurd-muir, to serve them till they get the Scotch language--the

costs of the boy, 20_s._”[670] The produce of precious ore which

the Queen’s workmen raised from Crawfurd-muir does not appear in the

royal Compotus kept by Kirkaldy of Grange for some weeks; meantime many

matters of general interest are recorded therein. Charities of the most

judicious kind, outlay for the encouragement of the arts, together with

expenses for warlike ammunition,[671] mark the occupations of James

Stuart and his consort at that happy period of their lives.

The royal musical band is remembered both for fees and sustenance.

“To the four minstrels that play on the viols, for their yearly

pension, paid them quarterly, £200.

“Item, to the twa minstrels that play upon the _Swesch

talburn_, £50.

“Item, to four minstrels that play on the trempets of war,

£100.”[672]

Whether Scots pounds or otherwise, the salaries are high, for the Scots

pound bore a respectable value in the days of James IV. and his son.

Although the Queen had borne a promising boy in the preceding May,

the dowager, Margaret Tudor, and likewise the Scottish people,

were importunate in their demands for more royal offspring. Queen

Margaret murmured, in a letter to her brother Henry VIII., how her

daughter-in-law had given out that she was likely to be again a mother,

“but she is not, whereat the subjects of Scotland much grudgeth against

her.”[673] This is the only complaint extant made by Queen Margaret of

her daughter-in-law. It was untrue, as well as unjust, for the sons of

James V. followed each other quickly.

A grand progress connected with hunting in the Highlands was projected

by the royal pair in the autumn of 1539. The Queen made a stately entry

into Dundee the 1st of September, 1539; she had spent the summer at

St. Andrews, and visited occasionally a place called Pitlethy, which

either we fail to recognize among the Scottish seats of royalty, or the

orthography of the treasurer, James Kirkaldy of Grange, has disguised

it. He states that--“September 1st, was given for freight, at the ferry

of Dundee, for the gear that passed with the Queen’s Grace, 3_s._”

Another entry proves that the Queen of Scotland made a particular

toilet on the road before she entered. “Item, given for carrying the

Queen’s wardrobe and coffers forth from Dundee to the place where her

Grace put on her claiths ere her entrance in Dundee.”[674]

Mary of Lorraine expected her royal lord at Dundee according to

promise. Three or four days passed by, but he came not; and the Queen,

inspired with a feeling of jealousy on account of his absence, wrote

him an angry letter. James answered it in French, to the following

effect:--[675]

JAMES V. TO MARY OF LORRAINE, HIS QUEEN.

“I have received the letter which it pleased you to write to

me. I found it very strange, being ill as I have been for these

three days past.

“I entreat you to deem me a man of my word and promise, of which

you will never find me fail. The rest of my reply I shall bring

you myself immediately.

“Praying our Lord to give you long and happy life. Your son is

very well, God be thanked.

“I am your serviteur and friend,

“JAMES R.”[676]

The royal James was evidently resentful for reproaches without due

deservings. The cause of his detention had been illness severe

enough to fetter even his active movements. He shows, in his reply,

the hauteur of the sovereign, and the sense of injury natural to a

lover unjustly accused. In the absence of dates of time and place,

the supposition may be hazarded that the Queen was sojourning at

Dundee,[677] and that the King wrote from St. Andrews, as he mentions

the young prince, who resided there during his short life.

There is a coincidence between the King’s complaints of illness and

an ominous entry in the Compotus of September, 1539, which commences

for that month thus--“Given ten pounds to Raphael, Frenchman, to send

to Flanders for drugs for the King’s Grace,” The health of James V.

had not been strong since 1537. In the summer of that year an accident

befell him in Stirling park, where he had been flung violently from

his horse when hunting.[678] He had bruised his side severely; but,

with his usual high spirit, made light of the injury. The above letter,

together with the entry in the Compotus, are the first indications

of serious malady, occurring from time to time, many months before

the heart-breaking disaster at Solway, which hastened the progress of

disease.

The King’s illness evidently delayed the hunting some days. The Queen

went with him to Stirling Castle, from whence they adjourned to the

Highlands, as may be seen by certain payments in the Compotus.

“Item, delivered to David Sibbald for carriage of the Queen’s

Grace and her ladies, coffers, and bedding, from Stirling Castle

to Glenarknay (Glenorchay), coming and ganging, and other

parts where her Grace traveled the said month, as his account

bears, £6 17_s._ 6_d._;” likewise, “Item, the 24th

day of September--Given to John Tennant to pay carriage-men

for ten horses, with bedding, forth of Stirling to the hunting

of Glenfynlaws, being forth (out) eight days, ilk (each) horse

2_s._; and seven horses forth from Dunblane to the same

hunting, £13 12_s._”

The preparations for the coronation of Mary of Lorraine commenced as

early as October 5th, when thirty-five ounces of “gold of the mine”

were given out from the royal stores “for making the Queen’s crown.”

The goldsmith was paid for fashioning and working the gold, and

furnishing stones to set therein, ninety pounds.[679] Soon after, a

crown was made for the King of the Crawfurd-muir gold. The notation

of the payment made to the goldsmith “for making and fashioning the

King’s crown, weighing three pounds ten ounces weight--gold of the

mine being given out to him--forty-one ounces and a quarter, the

goldsmith being paid for his working it £30.” In this royal crown

were set twenty-two stones, of which three were great garnets, and

one great _ammerot_ (emerald). “The crown,” adds the Compotus,

“was delivered to the King’s Grace at Holyrood House, the 13th day of

February following.” Thus the fact is undeniable, that the crown of

Scotland is made from gold ore which was the native product of the

country.[680]

The entries now become numerous of goldsmith’s work for fashioning

ornaments which were to be worn at the approaching coronation. The

metal of these jewels is especially noted as “gold of the mynd.” It is

a circumstance worthy of remark, that, as soon as a sufficient quantity

was procured for this purpose, the miners were sent back with payment

and liberal rewards to their own country. The entries of their payment

thus occur:--

“Delivered to George Carmichaell, son to the captain of

Crawfurd, for expenses made on the twa French miners, being

working upon the _mynde_ of Crawfurd-muir, £15 15_s._”

“Item, the 9th day of October--Given to the said miners, at

their departing to France, at the King’s command, £80.”

The royal James, meanwhile, continued to provide a great store of

costly gifts as presents for his guests and courtiers. Thomas Rynde,

his goldsmith, received of him, at one payment, £282 3_s._, “for

making chains, tablets, rings, carcanets, chevrons, and other golden

work, as his account particularly bears, deliverit to the King’s Grace

in Linlithgow.”

“Item, the 15th day of December--Given to the said goldsmith for

making, and the fashion of ‘ane _mertrick heid_ and feit’

(feet) enamaled made of gold of the mine, weighing five ounces

and a half, delivered to the Queen’s Grace.”

The King and Queen had bracelets made of the same gold. The Queen had a

rich belt wrought by the goldsmith out of nineteen and a half ounces of

this gold, which belt was clasped with a large sapphire. The expense of

raising the gold from the mine at Crawfurd-muir seems to have scarcely

exceeded one hundred pounds.

The Queen kept court with James V. at Holyrood, Christmas 1539–40. The

royal accounts continue replete with the new dresses and jewelry, and

other preparations for her consecration.

“Given to the sacristan of the King’s chapel, for carriage

of the chapel-gear from Stirling to Linlithgow, at Yule

(Christmas), and from Linlithgow for Edinburgh, for the Queen’s

coronation, £5 6_s._ 8_d._”

The King presented two of his Queen’s maids with new gowns. “Sibella

Drummond was given, at the King’s Grace’s command,” says Kirkaldy’s

Compotus, “thirteen ells of black damask to make her ane gown; and

Helen Ross had likewise a gown the King’s gift.” James presented Thomas

Melville’s wife with seven ells of fine French cloth, to make her a

gown and kirtle. This present seems to be in reward “for keeping of

certain pets, and nourishing of the same.”[681] The French children

that kept the Queen’s mules were new clad in whole coats and half-coats

of hose of French brown.

John Patterson charged thirty-four shillings for a case for the King’s

new crown; and Thomas Arthur had half an ell of rich purple velvet

given to him to make a cap for the inside of this new crown. John

Mossman, the King’s goldsmith, received thirty-one ounces of silver

to make a scepter for the Queen against her coronation; and four

rose-nobles were given out of the treasury to gild the scepter. The

fashion of the Queen’s scepter, and the making, cost as much as £7

15_s._ Other sums were expended on entertaining the Englishman who

came (Feb. 4, 1539–40) to demand a safe-conduct for “Rauffe Sadillaris.”

In fact, in the early part of the year 1539–40, Henry VIII. dispatched

Sir Ralph Sadler on an embassy to the court of Scotland, for the

twofold purpose of destroying the credit of James’s favorite minister,

Cardinal Beton, by showing certain intercepted letters from that

ecclesiastical premier to his agent at Rome, which had fallen into

the hands of the English, and of endeavoring to persuade James to

replenish his exchequer by seizing all the abbey-lands and church

property. Sir Ralph is particularly enjoined, in his instructions, to

visit and compliment the Queen, in his royal master’s name, “on the

good, honorable, and virtuous life, which, from report, his majesty

understood subsisted between her and the King his nephew;”[682]

affording thereby a testimonial to the matrimonial felicity of James V.

and his second consort.

Sadler informs Henry that he had an honorable reception, the Herald

Rothesay being sent to welcome him and arrange for his lodging and

accommodations; and two days after, Sir William Ogilvy, Captain

Borthwick, and Sir David Lindsay of the Mount, the Lord Lion, came to

conduct him into the King of Scotland’s presence. They brought him

first into the Chapel Royal, where, as early as nine in the morning,

he saw the King kneeling under his canopy of state, surrounded by

his ministers and nobles, at his devotions. Room being made for the

English ambassador to pass through the press of people of all degrees

who thronged the chapel, he was conducted into a seat immediately

behind the King. When the service was ended, King James rose from his

knees; “and so soon as he saw me,” says his excellency, “he came from

under his cloth of state, and full gently embraced me and welcomed

me. I said that your Majesty commanded me to make your Grace’s most

hearty commendations, and therewith presented unto him your Majesty’s

letters. ‘Now, I pray you,’ quoth he, ‘how doth his good Grace?’ I

answered, ‘that your Grace, thanked be God, was healthful and merry.’”

The mirthfulness imputed to Henry by his politic representative was

certainly very far from being a true description of his state of mind,

which was at that time in a most splenetic access of moody discontent,

on account of his disappointment in the personal appearance and

manners of his newly-wedded consort, Anne of Cleves--circumstances

that rendered the English Schriar perhaps more than ever disposed to

envy his nephew the happiness he enjoyed with Mary of Lorraine, whom

he had so eagerly coveted for his fourth queen. After many courtesies

had been exchanged between King James and Sadler, his majesty appointed

the morrow forenoon for giving him formal audience. “So,” continues

the ambassador, “he made me a countenance, and committed me to them

that were appointed to keep me company, and so went to his chamber,

as they said, to dine. Then quoth Captain Borthwick to me, If ye will

tarry here in the chapel any season, ye shall see the Queen come to

mass.’ ‘By my troth,’ quoth I, and I have in charge to make the King’s

Majesty my master’s hearty commendations to both the Queens here’

(meaning Margaret the Queen-mother, and Mary the Queen-consort), ‘but

I have forgotten to ask license of the King to visit and see them; and

therefore I will not tarry now, but shall take another time for the

same.’ Borthwick went to inform the King, and inquire his pleasure

therein; but presently returned, bringing word ‘that the Queen was

something _crazed_, and the King thought it better that he

should defer his presentation till the next day.’”[683] The Queen’s

indisposition was merely personal illness.

“The next day, being Friday,” pursues Sadler, “between nine and ten

of the clock, they came all to me again, and said ‘that the King had

sent them for me to come to his Grace.’ According whereto, I addressed

myself with them to the court, and there they brought me again to the

chapel, where the Queen, the King’s wife, was hearing a sermon in

French, accompanied with a number of ladies and gentlemen. The King

was not there; but, as I perceived, I was brought there on purpose to

see the Queen, and to salute her from your Grace. I was placed in the

same seat that I had the day before; and when the sermon was done,

Captain Borthwick told me ‘that the King’s pleasure was I should speak

with the Queen;’ and therewith the chief herald, Lindsay, went to the

Queen and spake to her what I knew not, and then came to me and said

‘that the King had appointed me then to salute the Queen, according

to my request the day before.’ Wherefore I repaired to her, and said

‘that your Majesty had given me in charge to make unto her your Grace’s

most hearty commendations, and to congratulate the good, virtuous,

and honorable life between her and her husband, of the continuance

whereof your Grace would be most joyful and glad, as the proximity

of blood between your Grace and your nephew, her husband, with the

perfect amity between the same, did require.’ She answered, ‘that

she was much bound to your good Grace that it pleased your Majesty

to remember her with your gracious commendations, and that she did

right humbly thank your Grace therefore; and what she could do to the

interest of the amity betwixt the King her husband and your Majesty,

she would not fail to set forth the same from time to time with all

her power.’ The ambassador politely replied, ‘that such furtherers as

she was might do much good to both parties, in preserving the friendly

relations that already subsisted.’” She prayed him, in return, “to make

her right humble commendations to his sovereign, with assurance that

the continuance of the amity should not fail by God’s grace,” and so

dismissed him.[684]

From the same source we learn that the conduct of Mary of Lorraine, as

a daughter-in-law, was so perfect as even to satisfy that notorious

grumbler, Margaret Tudor, the Queen-dowager, who told his excellency

“how well she was treated, and much made of by the new Queen.”

The following Sunday morning, as early as nine o’clock, Sir Ralph

Sadler was conducted, by the heralds and officers of the guard, from

his lodgings in the city of Edinburgh to the court at Holyrood, where,

being brought into the Chapel Royal, he found the Queen again listening

to a sermon. Whether Sadler had any taste for such morning occupations,

in the cold month of February, or not, etiquette required him to tarry

till it was over; and by that time six fine horses, which he was

commissioned by his royal master, Henry VIII., to present as a token of

his regard to King James, had arrived. Sadler was then brought into the

presence of the Scottish sovereign, who, when informed of the present,

and that the horses were in the court, replied: “‘I thank the King’s

Grace, mine uncle, with all mine heart. Come ye on with me; we will go

see them.’ And so he went into another chamber, where, out of a window,

he looked into a fair court, and thither were the horses brought, which

the King liked exceeding well, and praised wondrously. Christopher

Erringston did ride them, one after another, afore him, and handled

them very well. I did set them well forth,” continues Sadler, “both for

their kinds and ages. He (James) praised much the Barbary horse and the

Jennet; ‘and,’ quoth he, ‘I like them the better, because they be of

mine uncle’s own brood. If the Barbary horse,’ quoth he, ‘were bigger,

he were much too good; but, by my troth, he is a bonny beast, and so

be they all.’ ‘Sir,’ quoth I, ‘your Grace may be sure that the King’s

Majesty, your uncle, would not send them to you unless he thought them

a meet present for you.’ ‘By my soul,’ quoth he, ‘I thank much his

Grace; and I assure you, his gentle remembrance and kindness is more

pleasure and comfort to me than all the gifts and goods in the world;’

adding, that if the ambassador ‘would call to mind any thing King Henry

took delight in or desired, between that place and Turkey, he would do

his utmost to procure it for him, and that any thing within his realm

should be at his command.’ Then he turned to his nobles, and began to

praise the horses, and every man praised them much. Immediately after

came in the master of the household, and told the King that his dinner

was on the board. Wherewith his Grace went forth to his dining-chamber,

washed, and sat down: and so,” continues Sadler, “bade the lords take

me with them to dinner. The Cardinal (Beton) took me by the arm, and

had me to the chamber where the lords used to dine. They made me sit at

the highest place, and entertained me very gently.”[685]

Many, of course, were the deceitful compliments that passed on both

sides. Sadler’s principal errand in that court was to destroy James’s

confidence in his ecclesiastical premier; and well would it have been

for Mary of Lorraine if he had succeeded in that object, and, by

effecting the fall of the ruthless primate before she became entangled

in his meshes, and identified with his cruel measures against the

Reformers, averted the evils and enmities that were subsequently

entailed on her and hers by his crimes. Unfortunately, Sadler’s attack

on the character of Beton left him in a stronger position than it found

him. One of those dramatic scenes and dialogues which, although they

enliven history, are rarely related by historians of modern times, took

place between the English envoy and the Scottish sovereign, when the

former re-entered the privy-chamber after dinner. King James afforded

Sadler no greater privacy, for conference, than that of withdrawing

with him from the diplomatic circle into a window--one of those deep

embowed windows such as may still be seen in the state apartments

of the ruined palace of Linlithgow, which have been intended for

convenient little tribunes, where not only two persons, but a whole

party, might hold conferences apart from the rest.

Through all the ceremonious prolixity with which the English statesman

relates the particulars of the colloquy to his own sovereign, the

characteristic grace and frankness of the Scottish King’s manners,

seasoned occasionally with a sly dash of satire, is apparent. “I gave

humble thanks,” says Sadler, “to his Grace, for the entertainment it

pleased him to use to such a poor man as I. ‘Oh,’ quoth he, ‘I will not

use you as a stranger, nor none that cometh from the King mine uncle.

I know ye are a good servant to his Grace. I would all that had come

betwixt him and me would report the truth always as I know ye have

done, for I know that untrue reports of me to mine uncle have caused

him to think unkindness of me where I was without blame.’” Sadler told

him, that such as wished no good to either, would be ever devising evil

tales on either side, to stir up unkindness betwixt them; for, added he

emphatically, “I think there be some that would not have you over great

friends.” “Marry,” exclaimed James, “I beshrew their hearts, whosoever

they be; but,” and he strengthened his asseveration with an oath, “he

is not in Scotland that dare bring me an evil tale of mine uncle, nor

say any thing against his honor; for, may I ken any such within my

realm, of whatsoever degree he be, he shall have no less punishment

than if he faulted to us, for we shall ever take his (King Henry’s)

cause as our own.”[686] Then Sadler protested his sovereign’s fatherly

affection to King James, and, as a proof of it, referred to the

information he had given of the Cardinal’s correspondence with Rome.

James replied, “that he had discussed the matter with the Cardinal,

who had shown him the copies of the said letters, and he could find

nothing amiss in them.” Sadler slyly insinuated the possibility of some

deception having been practiced, by saying, “Well, sir, if your Grace

do see the original, then shall ye perceive if the double (copy) and

it agree.” “Have ye the original here upon you?” inquired King James.

“Yea, that I have,” was the response. “Take it out privily,” cried

King James, “as though it were some other paper, and let me see it.”

“The Cardinal was in the chamber,” observes Sadler, “and therefore

think I he bade me take it out secretly. I took it forth of my bosom,

and he read it softly every word, from the beginning to the end. And

in one place of the letter, the Cardinal biddeth his agent ‘solicit

that nothing might be done that might in any wise irritate the King’s

Grace and his council against the liberties of holy kirk, considering

the time is perilous.’ When the King did read those words, quoth

he, ‘They dread me;’”--meaning his hierarchy and priesthood. “Sir,”

rejoined Sadler, “they have their own abuses, and they fear lest your

Grace should find them.” “By my troth,” said King James, “if they do

not well, ye shall ken I will _redress_ them.” When he had read

the letter through, he gave it back to Sadler, telling him he had seen

the copy of it and found nothing amiss. Sadler vainly endeavored to

construe certain passages in it into treason; but not only did James

excuse, but appear to approve of every thing his minister had said

and done. Then Sadler proceeded to tender King Henry’s advice, that

he should follow his example touching the suppression of the monastic

establishments, or at least some of them--repeating the tempting

observation which he had made in a former conference, of the great gain

and profit that should accrue to the Crown, by taking the lands to

the increase of his revenue. But James and his churchmen had come to

a mutual understanding on that point, and he, being assured of their

willingness to pay well for their security, replied with his usual gay

frankness, “By my troth, I thank God I have enough to live on, and if

we _mister_ (need) any thing that they have, we may have it at

our pleasure.” Sadler here objected to the idle lives of the monks,

their vices and abuses; but the monarch laughingly interrupted him,

by swearing “that he would redress those that were naught, and make

them behave according to their profession.” “Sir,” retorted Sadler,

“it will be hard to do;” but James, intimating that he was equal to

that or any other department of his government, changed the discourse,

and soon after dismissed him, the manner of which was very courtly, as

described by Sadler, who says, “And so he gave me a gentle countenance

with his cap in his hand, and bade Walter Ogilvie and Sir John Campbell

to accompany me to my lodging.” In a former conference, Sadler had

intimated to the royal Scot, “that King Henry had heard it reported

that he had been turning his attention to the profits derivable from

sheep, and other such mean things,” which his august uncle considered

derogatory to the honor and dignity of his regal vocation; and thought

it much better that he should enrich himself with the spoils of

the Church than the fleeces of the numerous flocks he had gathered

together, and was employing officers of his own to tend on the waste

crown-lands.[687] James, nettled by this family taunt, was betrayed

into the weakness of denying the truly wise and paternal policy he

was pursuing, in setting his subjects the example of attending to a

branch of statistics which had proved a source of wealth in England

and Flanders. “In good faith,” said he, “I have no sheep, nor occupy

no such things--but such as have _tacks_ (leases) and farms of

me, peradventure, have such numbers of sheep and cattle as ye speak of

going upon my lands, which I have no regard to. But for my part, by my

troth, I never knew what I had of mine own, nor yet do. I thank God I

am able to live well enough of that which I have, and I have friends

that will not let me _mister_ (want). There is a good old man in

France,” continued he (affectionately referring to the parent of his

late well-beloved and unforgotten Magdalene, Francis I.), “my good

father the King of France--I must needs call him so, for I am sure he

is like a father to me--that will not see me want any thing that lies

in him to help me with. Nevertheless, I shall seek nothing of any man

but love and friendship; and for my part, I shall hold my word with all

princes, and for no man living shall I stain mine honor for any worldly

good, by the grace of Jesu.”[688]

At this very time, it seems there were ten thousand sheep feeding in

Ettrick Forest, under the conduct of Andrew Bell, the King’s shepherd,

going as securely as if they had been feeding within the bounds of one

of his own royal parks in Fifeshire.[689] He had so vigorously exerted

his energies for the redress of wrong and robbery, either from the

Highland Caterans or the Border thieves, that at this period of his

reign the Scotch proverb, “The rush-bush keeps the cow,” was on the

lips of every good-wife in the length and breadth of his realm.[690]

It was under the auspices of this monarch that the seed was sown and

fostered of the woolen manufactures, which in the fullness of time were

destined to become a source of profitable employment to the population,

both male and female, of Scotland. No wonder that the jealous Tudor

tyrant looked on with an unfriendly eye, and endeavored to persuade his

royal neighbor and kinsman to abandon the culture of the golden fleece,

which might one day enable Scotland to compete with England in her

manufactures.

James was firm in replying to the reiterated instances of Sadler, that

he would not touch the Church property. Moreover, he was in some haste

to rid himself of the presence of that shrewd English diplomatist,

who, in his report to Henry VIII., says--“For as I understand the King

here intendeth to dispatch me away shortly, because he would go abroad

in his realm about his pastime--whereunto they say he is marvelously

given, and specially to hawking, both to the heron and the river, and,

as they say, he is a great toiler and laborer at the same. It is told

me that he lieth here purposely till I be dispatched, because I should

not follow him no further into his realm.”

The coronation of Mary of Lorraine as Queen-consort of Scotland

took place Feb. 27, 1539–40. She was crowned by the Abbot of

Aberbrothock,[691] no other than David, Cardinal Beton.

The Queen took her chamber at Stirling Castle not long after her

consecration. In the ensuing April she bore a second fair son to James

V. Her royal lord was ill at ease in her absence. Feverish nights of

insomnolency, or dreams worse than the most complete unrest, afflicted

him during his sojourn in the Palace of Linlithgow, where he had

taken up his abode. Either there must have been some person capable

of a course of long and skillful deception at that palace and its

neighboring abbey, or else those strange coincidences, which give rise,

in vulgar parlance, to the term “haunted,” were remarkable there. Be

this as it may, it is certain that James V. was not less startled by

supernatural terrors at Linlithgow Palace than his royal sire had been

in its Abbey church, twenty-eight or nine years previously.

The old tempter of his youth, Sir James Hamilton of Finart, the man

who had previously borne a questionable character in connection with

his mother, Queen Margaret[692]--the same who had slain the Earl of

Lennox, and who was deeply implicated in the disgraceful management of

the King’s intrigue with the Lady of Lochleven--had not long before

been executed, on a charge of conspiracy against his life. Whatsoever

were the previous crimes of this man, it is generally agreed that he

was innocent of the charge for which he suffered. Probably such was,

when too late, the impression on the mind of the King, for it was the

shadowy form of Sir James Hamilton that troubled his rest.

The King thought he was still in his own apartment at Linlithgow,

sleeping beneath the state-alcove, when suddenly within the curtains,

at his pillow, stood the specter of Sir James Hamilton, brandishing a

naked sword. The heavy moans of the King alarmed the attendants who

slept near him. They hastened to his aid; he was found sitting up in

bed, with horror imprinted on his countenance. “I have just seen the

bastard of Arran,”[693] said he; “he stood even now at my bolster, and

menacing me with a drawn sword, with which he smote off first my right

arm, and then my left, telling me he would come back anon, and finish

me.”[694]

Sore dismayed by this terrific fit of nightmare, which had assumed the

guise of a spectral visitation and assault, King James thus revealed

the cause of his disturbance to his gentlemen of the bedchamber. They,

according to the superstition of the times, regarded it as ominous

of ill, and predicted that it would be quickly followed by tidings

of startling import--a prediction that, by a singular coincidence,

was fulfilled, for the morning’s light brought a messenger from St.

Andrews, to communicate to the King the painful intelligence that

his eldest son, Prince James, was so dangerously ill that serious

apprehensions of his death were entertained. The royal father hastened

to St. Andrews with all the speed his impetuous temperature could

exert, but ere he arrived the young heir of Scotland had expired.

While King James was in the first agony of this sudden bereavement, a

post came from Stirling, where the Queen lay in childbed, to let him

know that his second son, and sole surviving hope, the infant Duke

of Albany, was also smitten with mortal sickness, and not expected

to recover. James rode off to Stirling without a moment’s delay; but

again he was too late: the princely babe had already breathed its last

sigh.[695]

Heavy as were the tidings that awaited him at Stirling--for the child

died before he could reach that town--far worse were those he brought

from St. Andrews for the poor Queen in her lying-in chamber, who was

mourning over the loss of her infant. Afflicting as such an event is

always to a mother, it was not of course so severe a blow to her as the

death of the elder Prince, who was nearly eleven months old; but the

one calamity following upon the other rendered the twofold bereavement

inexpressibly painful to her. The death of the two infant Princes

“caused,” says Lindsay of Pitscottie, “great lamentation to be made in

Scotland, but especially by the Queen their mother. Yet,” continues he,

“the Queen comforted the King, saying ‘they were young enough, and God

would send them more succession.’”[696]

The entry in the Compotus for “_serviettes_ (or napkins) of white

taffety of twa threads, wherewith to hold the candles at my Lord Duke’s

baptism, April 24th” (the child was named Robert or Arthur), and, soon

after, another entry of “ane cape of lead, bought of Andrew Yare at

Stirling for 14_s._, which my Lord Duke was buried in,” close the

earthly accounts of these short-lived hopes of Scotland. The princely

infants were buried on the same day, in the royal vault at Holyrood;

“and there was more dolor in all the land for their death than ever

there had been joy for their birth.”

The Queen-mother, Margaret Tudor, remained at Stirling with her son and

his consort during the first effervescence of their grief. She wrote to

her brother Henry VIII. some account of the matter, but under charge of

secrecy:--[697]

“Pleaseth you, dearest brother, here hath been great

_displeasure_ (distress) for the death of the Prince and

his brother, both with the King my son and the Queen his wife;

wherefore I have done great diligence to put them in comfort,

and _is_ never from them, but ever in their company,

whereof they are very glad. Therefore I pray your Grace to hold

me excused that I write not at length of my matters at this

time, because I can get no leisure; but I trust ye will stand

my friend and loving brother, and that I get no hurt in nothing

that I write to your Grace, nor that ye will not write nothing

belonging to me, your sister, to the King my son, without I be

first advertised, and that it be with mine avise (my consent).

Praying your Grace, dearest brother, that it will please you to

do this for me, your sister, and I am, and shall be ever ready,

to do your Grace’s will and pleasure.

“But I am afeard that I put your Grace to great pain and travail

to read my oft writing, and mine evil hand, praying your Grace

to pardon me of the same; and that it will please you, dearest

brother, to keep secret any writings that I send, for other ways

it may do me great hurt, which I trust your Grace would not do

to me, your sister, seeing I am remaining in this realm, as God

knows, whom preserve your Grace. Written at Stirling the 12 of

May.

“Your loving Sister,

“MARGARET R.”

“To the King’s Grace, my dearest brother.”

Mary, though bereaved of the hopeful boys she had borne in such quick

succession to King James, was not childless, for her first-born son

continued to live and flourish, though far away, in his paternal

castles of Amiens or Chasteaudun. He was now old enough to ask for his

mother, and perhaps sufficiently intelligent to comprehend the reply of

his attendants, that she had left him before he could remember her to

be a Queen, and that one day he might be allowed to go and pay his duty

to her in her royal court of Holyrood. How often must her heart have

yearned after her absent one in the midst of all the pomp and pageantry

of public games, and those unsatisfactory pleasures that have merriment

but no joy!

In order to divert their minds from the painful loss they had

sustained, the King and Queen made a progress through the principal

towns in Scotland. Their first visit was to Perth, where the Queen was

received very honorably, the principal nobles of that neighborhood

hastening to testify their respect for her. From thence, accompanied

by her royal husband, she proceeded to Aberdeen, where they were

entertained with divers pageants and plays by the town, the new

university,[698] and schools. They remained there fifteen days as the

guests of the Bishop. Elaborate orations of welcome were addressed

to the royal pair by the scholars and fellows at the colleges and

schools, in Greek, Latin, and other languages; scientific exercises and

philosophic discussions also took place on the occasion, all which were

much commended both by the King and Queen, who appeared to appreciate

the intellectual pleasures prepared for them by their learned and loyal

lieges of Aberdeen.[699]

Mary of Lorraine was still in deep mourning for the loss of her

infants, in November, 1540, when four yards of black velvet were given

out of the King’s store to mend her chariot. It was for a new lining,

and cost £11 4_s._ She spent December with the King at their

favorite retirement of Falkland. Under the head of expenses disbursed

upon the Queen’s Grace occur “fifteen ells of fine black lukis (which

was Lucca or Luchese velvet), to be ane gown for her, costing £67

10_s._, sent to Falkland to her Grace.”[700]

At this period of mourning many superstitious observances are noted

in the royal Compotus. The “gold of the mine” was again resorted to

for the purpose of making a reliquary to “ane bone of St. Andrew.” The

goldsmith, Mossman, likewise made a reliquary of fifteen ounces of

silver for a bone of St. Mahago, and had withal “two rose-nobles to

gild the same. Three names of _Jacobus Quintus_ with the King’s

arms and crown above the head, and two unicorns bearing the same.”[701]

The King’s new shooting-jacket was made of black velvet this year, he

being still in mourning for his infant princes.

The dowager Queen, Margaret Tudor, was always on excellent terms with

her daughter-in-law. She had been persuaded by her not only to be a

zealous observer of the Roman Catholic rites, but had, out of respect

for her good opinion, relinquished a third divorce, had taken Harry

Stuart again, and lived decorously for the brief residue of her days.

After Margaret’s death, something like a serious misunderstanding took

place between James and his consort.

Mary of Lorraine had heard, from some tale-bearers at her court, that

her royal husband meant to absent himself from her longer than she

deemed requisite after the performance of his filial duties at the

funeral of the deceased Queen. The tone of a letter written by this

princess to recall her wanderer, can only be guessed at by his reply.

James’s epistle is stormy, yet a love-letter. Few as the lines are,

they imply love to her, indignation at certain mischief-makers,

compliance with her will, denial of long absence, appointment for

speedy return, and, above all, profession of being that _rara

avis_--a humble husband.

“JAMES V. TO MARY OF LORRAINE, HIS CONSORT.[702]

“Perth, Dec., 1541.

“I have received the letter which it has pleased you to write

to me, for the which I thank you humbly; but those who told you

I would not quit this place have falsely lied, because I have

no thought but of being with you on Sunday. And touching my

mother’s things,[703] I will not forget. Entreating you not to

be so _thundering_[704] until you know the truth, praying

you to be of good cheer until my return, which will be on

Sunday, and praying our Lord to give you good life and long,

“Your humble husband,

“JAMES R.”

It is probable that the robe and laces mentioned by the King in his

next letter had reference to his mother’s “_schois_,” or things.

“JAMES V. TO MARY OF LORRAINE, HIS CONSORT.

“Following your direction, I send you by this present bearer the

robe and laces which I had promised you to send. My very humble

commendations to your good Grace, praying you to take occasion

to treat me well, and to keep the promise you have made me, as

a woman of worth ought to do to him who always has deserved it,

and will all my life by the aid of God. Entreating our Lord to

give you good life and long,

“Your very humble husband,

“JAMES R.”

In all the letters of the royal James to Mary of Lorraine there is a

love-quarrel to be made up, or anger to be averted. It is undeniable

that he did not prosper much when absent from his Queen, which must

plead her excuse for writing cross letters when he made his escape for

too long a time from her side.

Henry VIII. continued importunate for James to give him the personal

conference at York which he had evasively promised by Sir Ralph Sadler.

It is stated by the writers of the period that James would have kept

the engagement, had he not been effectually dissuaded from it by his

subtile minister, Cardinal Beton.[705] Henry owed James ill-will for

declining the hand of his daughter, Mary Tudor, after her legitimacy

had been impugned, and still more so for carrying off the matrimonial

prize, Mary of Lorraine, for which they had both contended. Since his

unsuccessful suit to her, Henry had wedded and ridded himself of two

wives--one by divorce, the other by the axe. Mary of Lorraine had not

only proved the most irreproachable of wives, but she had borne two

fair boys in less than two years after her marriage to James. Both

these hopeful princes had, it is true, been cut off by sudden sickness

and death, yet there was every prospect that she would, in the course

of a few months, repair that loss, for her pregnancy was again publicly

announced, to the great joy of King James and his people. Henry, who

had not yet succeeded in obtaining a sixth consort to his mind, and

was frantically desirous of more sons, sorely envied his nephew’s

wedded felicity, in the possession of so fruitful a Queen. He might

not, perhaps--considering what queer pranks he was wont to play in his

love affairs--have hesitated to make her a widow again, if James V. had

accepted his pressing invitation to meet him at York, which he again

reiterated by Lord William Howard; but James was too wise to trust him.

Hostilities soon after commenced with England, in consequence of Henry

causing the seizure of a rich Scotch merchant fleet, for which James

demanded satisfaction with becoming spirit. Henry not only would not

relinquish his prey, but, without any proclamation of war, sent Sir

Robert Bowes with an army of three thousand men to make a raid into

Scotland, and burn and spoil the small towns on the frontier. James

dispatched the Earl of Huntley to repel the invaders, who defeated them

with great loss at a place called Halden Brig, in the Merse, and took

their leader and six hundred prisoners (August 24, 1542).[706] After

this defeat, Henry sent forty thousand men, under the command of the

Duke of Norfolk, who, guided and abetted by the Earl of Angus, Sir

George Douglas, and other traitor Scots, carried fire and sword into

the fair district of Tweeddale; but again James’s victorious general,

Huntley, with inferior numbers, defeated and put the invading forces

to flight. These successes naturally disposed the King of Scotland

to make reprisals, by aggressions on the English border. His nobles

were strongly opposed to this measure, and plainly told him they were

not compelled to follow his banner out of his own realm; that their

provisions were exhausted, and the season of the year too far advanced

for the English campaign. James listened with fierce impatience to

their objections, and retorted with sarcastic reflections on the change

of spirit in Scotsmen who could allow their country to be insulted,

and their villages burned, by the Duke of Norfolk and his followers,

without daring to retaliate. He found they were determined not to

fight against the foes of Scotland, but perfectly in the mood to react

the scene of the bridge of Lauder on his confidential friends and

adherents. Dissensions among the leaders of this revolt alone preserved

the members of his cabinet from being butchered in cold blood, for

disputes took place as to the selection of the victims whom to slay

and whom to spare; or, to use the regretful expressions of Knox--“But

because the Lords could not agree among themselves upon the persons

that deserved punishment, for every man favored his friend, the whole

escaped, and the purpose was opened unto the King.”[707] James was then

glad to allow the armament to disperse in peace to their own homes, and

with a swelling heart returned to Holyrood. He held his last council

there on the 2d or 3d of November; his ecclesiastical premier took that

opportunity of presenting to him a scroll, containing the names of

more than a hundred of the principal nobles and gentlemen of Scotland

who were either in the pay of England, enleagued with the Douglases in

treasonable plots against his life, or tainted with heresy--the last

accusation being, like the charge of sorcery, a convenient pretext for

the perpetration of cruelty, spoil, and murder on persons inconvenient

to the prevailing party in power. Appended to this scroll were the

particulars of the possessions of the parties included in this sweeping

denunciation. A similar paper had previously been presented to the King

by the Cardinal and prelates, on James’s return from his memorable

cruise round the Isles, after the first accouchement of his Queen, on

which occasion, some of his prelates had ventured to represent what

profit, in a pecuniary point of view, might arise to the Crown from so

many rich forfeitures. But the high-spirited monarch replied, with a

generous burst of indignant feeling, “Pack you, ye javellis;[708] get

you to your charges, and reform your own lives, and be not instruments

of discord betwixt my nobility and me, or else I avow to God I shall

reform you, not as the King of Denmark, by imprisonment; neither yet as

the King of England doth, by hanging and heading; but I shall reform

you by sharp whingaris (meaning by the slash of the sword), if ever I

hear such motion of you again.”[709]

James, at the period when he gave this stern rebuff to his Lords

spiritual, contemplated setting about the much-needed work of reforming

the abuses of the church, which had become far more intolerable in

Scotland than in England. But a sovereign who engages in a crusade

like that should enter the arena with clean hands, and singleness of

heart; and James, by thrusting his base-born sons into the priesthood,

had been guilty of as great abominations as any of those which cried

aloud to his wisdom as a legislator, and his justice as a king, for

vengeance, or at least for purification.

But for his own share in the abuses of the tottering church, James

might have established his throne in righteousness by becoming the

champion of the Reformation on conscientious grounds. This palm his

misappropriation of the fair priories of St. Andrews, Holyrood, &c.,

prevented him from seeking to win. Moreover, the ecclesiastical powers,

perceiving the royal weakness, determined to circumvent the greedy

nobles who were in wait for the spoils of the Church, by purchasing the

protection of the sovereign at any price. They opened their treasuries,

they laid oblations from their precious things at his feet, they

pensioned him and bound him in their golden fetters till they induced

him to sanction their persecutions.[710]

The affront James had received from his nobles at Fala Muir threw

him entirely into the arms of the priests, through whose means he

was enabled to raise ten thousand men without the co-operation of

his disaffected magnates. He then condescended to receive the scroll

of denunciations which he had previously rejected, with a generous

manifestation of contempt for the incendiaries by whom it was

presented.[711]

The Queen, meantime, having again good hopes of repairing the loss of

her children, thought to secure the life of her expected offspring

by undertaking a pilgrimage on foot to Musselburgh, where there was

a chapel dedicated to the virgin of Loretto,[712]--so called because

a Scotch hermit had brought with him, from the celebrated shrine of

Loretto in Italy, a copy of the Virgin’s picture. This he said he was

commanded to do by a supernatural visitation, which, of course, he gave

out to be divine. The King and several of his lords attended the Queen

in her pedestrian expedition to the northern lady of Loretto. Some say

they went barefoot: if so, this may account for the King’s subsequent

serious illness.[713] The Queen’s pilgrimage occurred just before she

took her chamber, a short time previous to the disastrous invasion of

England.

King James, though he had many loyal barons on his side, had conceived

a distrust of the aristocratic order altogether, and therefore

determined to invest his favorite gentleman-in-waiting, Oliver

Sinclair, with the command of the army which he had got together

for the purpose of retaliating the insults of the English. This

determination he kept a profound secret, and for some mysterious

reason remained at Caerlaverock Castle, instead of proceeding with the

expedition. One of those violent pulmonary attacks which occasionally

precede consumption was in all probability the cause wherefore King

James V. suddenly relinquished the command of the fine army he had

gathered to revenge the English aggressions. A letter is extant to his

Queen, apparently written after a recent parting. It has no date of

time or place, but from its incoherence, and complaints of illness,

may be suitably placed at this crisis:--

“JAMES V. TO HIS QUEEN MARY, OF LORRAINE.[714]

“I have received the letter you were pleased to write to me, for

which I thank you very humbly, assuring you that your man will

not be oblige----[_Here the sense breaks off abruptly--the

writing was resumed after his recovery._] I have been very

ill these three days past, as I never was in my life; but God be

thanked, I am well. François will tell you the news here, and

praying our Lord to grant you good life and long,

“Your humble husband,

“JAMES R.”

Evidently the King’s convalescence was not lasting, yet his youth and

high spirit gave him hopes of soon overtaking his forces, and leading

them to victory. We consider, having carefully traced James V. through

the fluctuations of a malady, so little understood in his era, that he

appointed Oliver Sinclair,[715] the oldest and most trusted gentleman

of his bedchamber, merely as _locum tenens_ in the command, in

order that he might resume it without delay when his health rendered

it possible. Meantime the Scottish troops, supposing that their King

was with them, and intended to be his own general, marched with spirit

and order till they had crossed the Esk. So formidable was their

demeanor, so unexpected their appearance on the English border, that

great alarm was excited at Carlisle. However, the English wardens,

Dacre and Musgrave, did their duty manfully: they gathered a hasty

muster of about three or four hundred men, and advanced to reconnoiter

the hostile array. Then Oliver Sinclair, being exalted on the spears

of his followers, probably on a buckler, after the old Teutonic

fashion, displayed the royal commission declaring him the King’s

lieutenant-general of the army, and every man was exhorted to obey his

orders. The nobles were piqued at the preference being given to him

whom they regarded “as a fellow of no reckoning,” and the loyal Lord

Maxwell vainly endeavored to persuade them to fight for the honor of

Scotland. Great murmuring and disorder took place, and such as were

willing to do their duty called in vain on their inexperienced leader

for his directions, crying, “My lord-lieutenant, what will ye do?”[716]

Sinclair, unacquainted with the perilous nature of the ground, led

his men into the slimy moss of the Solway: the tide was rising, as it

does once in the twenty-four hours, with resistless force; panic and

confusion ensued. He was taken prisoner without striking a blow, and

the most disgraceful defeat that had even vexed a Scottish army befell

on that disastrous day.

The King’s mind, which had been shaken irreparably by the death of his

infant sons, and the excitement of the revolt of his nobles at Fala

Muir, was now wholly subverted. Sleep forsook him, and he continually

reiterated the melancholy ejaculation, “Oh fled is Oliver! Is Oliver

ta’en?” or sunk into a sort of stupor which resembled a trance, from

which he occasionally roused himself to smite his breast and burst

into paroxysms of despair. The next morning, Nov. 25, he returned to

Edinburgh, where he remained till the 30th, incapable of business, and

concealing himself from every eye.

The Queen was then at Linlithgow, where she had taken her chamber,

being in hourly expectation of her accouchement. Instead of visiting

her in whose soothing endearments he might perhaps have found, as at

the death of his two babes, some comfort, he avoided her presence, and,

as if to prevent the possibility of her coming to him, the King stole

secretly from his metropolis, and, crossing over to Fifeshire, went

to Hallyards, the residence of his treasurer’s wife, the Lady Grange,

an ancient and godly matron, by whom he was received with respectful

sympathy. He had no one with him but Sir William Kirkaldy of Grange,

her son, and some of the gentlemen of his bedchamber. At supper, his

venerable hostess, observing his depression, began to comfort him,

entreating him to take the will of God in good part. “My portion of

this world is short,” he mournfully replied, “for I shall not be with

you fifteen days.”[717]

When his servants came to inquire of him where he would please to keep

his Christmas festival, he answered with a bitter smile, which Knox

terms “ane disdainful smirk,”--“I can not tell--chuse ye the place; but

this,” continued he, “I _can_ tell you, ere Yule Day ye will be

masterless, and the realm without a king.”

A low nervous fever was on him, attended with so much irritability that

no one durst contradict him; but ever and anon he broke forth into his

wonted lamentation,--“Fie, fled is Oliver!--is Oliver ta’en?”[718]

These mournful words were probably intended as the refrain of some

ballad lament which the poet king was involuntarily composing in his

madness. Still retiring, as if from sheer perverseness, farther and

farther from the place whither, if his mind had retained its natural

tone, his conjugal and paternal feelings would have impelled him to

hasten, he withdrew to his palace at Falkland, and took to his bed,

with the prophetic declaration “that he should rise from it no more.”

The bitter sense of humiliation--the corrosive agony of spirit that

had overwhelmed the mind, and was gnawing away the heartstrings, of

the once gay and gallant James V., was felt, though in a less poignant

degree, throughout the land. The disaster at Solway was worse than a

recurrence of the fatal day of Flodden, because attended with national

dishonor which the loss of that battle, where “groom fought like noble,

squire like knight, as fearless and well,” was not: for at Solway Moss

the Scotch, engulfed in the treacherous sands, or struggling with the

fatal rising of the tides, had no opportunity of vindicating their

country from the reproach of her thousands being overthrown, and her

nobles led captive by a handful of hastily raised English militia. The

loss, coolly considered, was not great, and might have been easily

repaired; but the spirit of the King was broken, “and fearfulness and a

horrible dread” had taken hold of the people.

Meanwhile the deserted Queen continued in the retirement of her

chamber in the Palace of Linlithgow, awaiting the pains and perils

of childbirth, agitated by almost hourly reports of the distressing

state of her unhappy consort, and precluded by her own situation

from hastening to his comfort. Mary of Lorraine was at that period

an object of affectionate sympathy to the people; for her conduct

as a wife and queen had been unexceptionable; her position was now

peculiarly painful, unsupported by the presence of mother, sister, or

husband,--a widow already in every thing but the name, yet bearing up

bravely under all her trials, for the sake of her unborn infant, the

eagerly desired heir of the ancient realm of Scotland.

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