STORY TELLING IN EDINBURGH.
Story of Queen Mary and Rizzio.--Story of the Black Douglas.--Story
of a Glasgow Factory Boy.--The Castle by Moonlight.
The following day was to be the last the party were to spend in the
beautiful city of Edinburgh. In the evening the Class met as by
appointment, and, at the suggestion of Wyllys Wynn, Master Lewis was
asked to conduct the exercises of the section of the Club.
"I thank you," he said, "for this kind confidence, and I think we may
congratulate ourselves on the success of our journey thus far. I will
begin our conversation by asking Wyllys Wynn what is the most
interesting place he has seen in Scotland."
"The place that has most excited my interest," said Wyllys, "is the
room in the palace where Rizzio was killed. It is not the most
interesting place I have seen, of course, but it has most awakened my
curiosity.
"Will you not tell us the history of Rizzio?"
"To do so," said Master Lewis, "would require some account of the
whole of Queen Mary's life. The romance of Queen Mary's story will
have a freshness, after what you have now seen. I will do the best I
can to relate those incidents which make up the
STORY OF QUEEN MARY AND RIZZIO.
"Mary, Queen of Scots, was perhaps the most beautiful in person and
winning in manners and polite accomplishments of any modern queen. She
was the daughter of James V. of Scotland and Mary of Lorraine. Her
father heard of her birth on his death-bed. He had hoped his heir
would prove a son.
"'It came with a lass, and it will end with a lass,' said he.
"The crown of Scotland came with the daughter of Bruce, and ended with
unfortunate Mary.
"Mary became queen before she was a week old. Little she knew, in her
innocent cradle at Linlithgow, of the crown waiting her head or the
kingdom that was ruled in her name.
"Her childhood was like a fairy story. She had there Marys for
playmates, as she herself was named Mary; and each Mary was the
daughter of a noble family.
"When six years of age she was given in marriage to Francis II., the
son of the French King. The French fleet carried her away from the
rugged shores of Scotland, and the Scottish Marys went with her.
"Ten years were passed amid the gayeties and splendors of the French
court, and then, at the age of sixteen, she was married, amid great
pomp and rejoicings, to the Dauphin, whose courtly devotion and
elegant society she had long enjoyed. The associations of the young
pair before marriage had been very happy. They delighted to be with
each other even in society, when they would often separate themselves
from the gay throngs around them.
"The next year found Francis on the throne, and Mary seemed to be the
happiest queen in the world.
"But the following year the young king died, childless, and Mary was
compelled to return to Scotland.
"She sailed from Calais in the late summer of another changeful year.
She wept when the shores of France faded from her sight, and expressed
her regret in a tender poem, which you may have read.
[Illustration: {FRANCIS II. OF FRANCE.}]
"Mary was a Catholic. Scotland had adopted the Reformed Faith, and
the Scots received her with coldness and suspicion.
"Mary's life from childhood to her imprisonment was a series of
romances associated with marriage schemes. Francis had not been long
dead before many of the courts of Europe were planning marriage
alliances with the beautiful Queen. The kings of France, Sweden,
Denmark, Don Carlos of Spain, the Archduke of Austria, and many others
of lesser rank were named as suitable candidates for her hand.
"Her own choice fell upon her handsome cousin, Lord Darnley, who was a
Catholic, and among the nearest heirs to the English crown. He was a
weak, corrupt, ambitious man. But he had a winning face, and the
marriage was celebrated in Holyrood Palace, in the summer of 1565.
"One day, long before this marriage, as Mary was coming down the
stairs of the Palace, she saw the graceful form of a dark Italian
musician reclining on a piece of carved furniture in the hall. It was
her first view of David Rizzio, who had come to Scotland in the train
of the embassador from Savoy. In a celebrated picture of Mary, she is
represented as starting back in surprise and horror at the sight of
this adventurer, as though the moment were one of fate and evil
foreboding.
"This fascinating Italian won the confidence of Mary by his arts, and
used his influence to bring about the marriage with Darnley. He became
a friend of Darnley: they occupied the same apartments and engaged in
the same political intrigues.
"But, after the marriage, Rizzio himself drew away the affections of
the Queen from Darnley, who determined to assassinate Rizzio. Several
Scottish lords united with Darnley to do the deed.
"One day, when Mary had been supping with Rizzio, the white face of
Lord Ruthven appeared at the door of the room.
"'Let _him_ come out of the room,' he said to the Queen.
"'He shall not leave the room,' said the Queen; 'I read his danger in
your face.'
"Then Ruthven and his followers rushed upon Rizzio, dragged him from
the room, and stabbed him fifty-six times. You have seen the
blood-stains in the Palace, where the wily Italian was killed.
"It is said that his body was thrown upon the same chest, at the foot
of the stairs, where Mary had seen him first.
"Mary knew that Darnley had caused the murder.
"'I will now have my revenge,' she said, in the presence of the
conspirators.
"She said to Darnley, 'I will cause you to have as sorrowful a heart
as I have now.'
"For political reasons she, however, became seemingly reconciled to
him. Three months after the tragedy, James VI. of Scotland and I. of
England was born. You have seen his birthplace to-day.
"Twelve months passed. Earl Bothwell, a profligate noble, had won the
Queen's confidence. There is little doubt that the two formed a plot
to destroy Darnley's life.
"The Queen went to visit Darnley at Glasgow, he having fallen ill. She
pretended great affection for him, and brought him to Edinburgh, and
secured lodgings for him in a private house. She left him late one
Sunday evening, to attend a marriage feast.
"She remarked to him, in one of their last interviews,--
"'It was about this time, a year ago, I believe, that David was
murdered.'
"After she had gone, there was a great explosion, and Darnley's dead
body was found in a neighboring garden.
"Mary had had her revenge.
"Three months after the tragedy she married Bothwell, who had secured
a divorce from his young wife to prepare the way for the event.
[Illustration: FRANCIS II. AND MARY STUART LOVE-MAKING.]
"Scotland rose against Mary. She fled to England, and threw herself on
the protection of Elizabeth, abdicating the throne in favor of her
son. She was secured as a prisoner, and confined at Carlisle. She was
taken from Carlisle to Fotheringhay Castle. She was at last tried
for conspiracy against the life of Elizabeth. Sentence of death was
passed upon her. She protested her innocence. You know the rest,--the
last tragedy of all, in the Castle of Fotheringhay.
"Bothwell died an exile and a madman, some nine years after his
marriage with Mary.
"It is said that it was found, after her execution, that her real
hair, under her wig, was as white as that of a woman of seventy. I
cannot wonder.
"She had one little friend who remained true to the last. It was her
little dog. He followed her to the block, and cowered, frightened,
under her dress, at the fatal moment, and lay down beside her headless
body when the last tragedy was over. It could not be driven away from
its mistress; and when the body was removed it began to droop, as
though understanding its loss, and in two days it died."
"I have spoken at school a poem by Bulwer Lytton, founded on the
incident," said Wyllys.
"Can you now repeat it?" asked Master Lewis.
"I will try."
THE DEAD QUEEN.
The world is full of life and love; the world methinks might spare,
From millions, one to watch above the dust of monarchs there.
And not one human eye!--yet, lo! what stirs the funeral pall?
What sound--it is not human woe wails moaning through the hall.
Close by the form mankind desert one thing a vigil keeps;
More near and near to that still heart it wistful, wondering, creeps.
It gazes on those glazed eyes, it hearkens for a breath;
It does not know that kindness dies, and love departs from death.
It fawns as fondly as before upon that icy hand,
And hears from lips that speak no more the voice that can command.
To that poor fool, alone on earth, no matter what had been
The pomp, the fall, the guilt, the worth, the dead was still a Queen.
With eyes that horror could not scare, it watched the senseless clay,
Crouched on the breast of death, and there moaned its fond life away.
And when the bolts discordant clashed, and human steps drew nigh,
The human pity shrank abashed before that faithful eye;
It seemed to gaze with such rebuke on those who could forsake,
Then turned to watch once more the look, and strive the sleep to wake.
They raised the pall, they touched the dead: a cry, and both were
stilled,
Alike the soul that hate had sped, the life that love had killed.
Semir'amis of England,[1] hail! thy crime secures thy sway;
But when thine eyes shall scan the tale those hireling scribes convey,
When thou shalt read, with late remorse, how one poor slave was found
Beside thy butchered rival's corse, the headless and discrowned,
Shall not thy soul foretell thine own unloved, expiring hour,
When those who kneel around the throne shall fly the falling tower?--
When thy great heart shall silent break; when thy sad eyes shall strain
Through vacant space, one thing to seek, one thing that loved--in vain?
Though round thy parting pangs of pride shall priest and noble crowd,
More worth the grief that mourned beside thy victim's gory shroud!
[1] Elizabeth.
Master Lewis continued the general subject of the meeting.
"What, Frank, has been the most interesting object you have seen?"
"The Cannongate. I read its history in the guide-book, and I spent an
hour in the place. One could seem in fancy to live there hundreds of
years."
"King James rode through this street on his way to Flodden," said
Master Lewis. "Montrose was dragged here upon a hurdle. It was in a
church here that Jenny Geddes bespoke the sentiment of the people by
hurling her stool at the head of the Dean, who attempted to enforce
the Episcopal service.
"'I will read the Collect,' said the Dean.
"'Colic, said ye? The De'il colic the wame of ye!'
"Here came John Knox, after his interview with Queen Mary, cold and
grim, and unmoved by her tears. Here rode the Pretender. Here dwelt
the great Dukes of Scotland and the Earls of Moray and Mar."
[Illustration: THE DEATH-BED OF FRANCIS II.]
"I wished I were a poet, a painter, or an historian, when I was
there," said Frank. "It is said Sir Walter Scott used to ride there
slowly, and that almost every gable recalled to him some scene of
triumph or of bloodshed."
"I cannot begin to tell you stories of Cannongate," said Master Lewis.
"Such stories would fill volumes, and give a view of the whole of
Scottish history. What, Ernest, has impressed you most?"
"The view of Edinburgh at night is the most beautiful sight I have
seen. But the charm that Scott's poetry has given to Melrose Abbey,
haunts me still, notwithstanding my disappointment at the ruin. This
was the tomb of the Douglases and of the heart of Bruce."
"I will tell you a story of one of the Douglases, whose castle still
stands, not far from Melrose," said Master Lewis; "a story which I
think is one of the most pleasing of the Border Wars. I will call the
story
THE BLACK DOUGLAS.
"King Edward I. of England nearly conquered Scotland. They did not
have photographs in those days, but had expressive and descriptive
names for people of rank, which answered just as well. So Edward was
known as 'Longshanks.' It was from no lack of spirit or energy that he
did not quite complete the stubborn work; but he died a little too
soon. On his death-bed he called his pretty, spiritless son to him,
and made him promise to carry on the war; he then ordered that his
body should be boiled in a caldron, and that his bones should be
wrapped up in a bull's hide, and carried at the head of the army in
future campaigns against the Scots. After these and some other queer
requests, death relieved him of the hard politics of this world, and
so he went away. Then his son, Edward II., tucked away the belligerent
old King's bones among the bones of other old kings in Westminster
Abbey, and spent his time in dissipation among his favorites, and
allowed the resolute Scots to recover Scotland.
"Good James, Lord Douglas, was a very wise man in his day. He may not
have had long shanks, but he had a very long head, as you shall
presently see. He was one of the hardest foes with whom the two
Edwards had to contend, and his long head proved quite too powerful
for the second Edward, who, in his single campaign against the Scots,
lost at Bannockburn nearly all that his father had gained.
"The tall Scottish Castle of Roxburgh stood near the border, lifting
its grim turrets above the Teviot and the Tweed. When the Black
Douglas, as Lord James was called, had recovered castle after castle
from the English, he desired to gain this stronghold, and determined
to accomplish his wish.
"But he knew it could be taken only by surprise, and a very wily ruse
it must be. He had outwitted the English so many times that they were
sharply on the lookout for him.
"How could it be done?
"Near the castle was a gloomy old forest, called Jedburgh. Here, just
as the first days of spring began to kindle in the sunrise and
sunsets, and warm the frosty hills, Black Douglas concealed sixty
picked men.
"It was Shrove-tide, and Fasten's Eve, immediately before the great
Church festival of Lent, was to be celebrated with a great gush of
music and blaze of light and free offerings of wine in the great hall
of the castle. The garrison was to have leave for merry-making and
indulging in drunken wassail.
"The sun had gone down in the red sky, and the long, deep shadow began
to fall on Jedburgh woods, the river, the hills, and valleys.
"An officer's wife had retired from the great hall, where all was
preparation for the merry-making, to the high battlements of the
castle, in order to quiet her little child and put it to rest. The
sentinel, from time to time, paced near her. She began to sing,--
"'Hush ye,
Hush ye,
Little pet ye!
Hush ye,
Hush ye,
Do not fret ye;
The Black Douglas
Shall not get ye!'
[Illustration: MARY STUART SWEARING SHE HAD NEVER SOUGHT THE LIFE
OF ELIZABETH.]
"She saw some strange objects moving across the level ground in the
distance. They greatly puzzled her. They did not travel quite like
animals, but they seemed to have four legs.
"'What are those queer-looking things yonder?' she asked of the
sentinel as he drew near.
"'They are Farmer Asher's cattle,' said the soldier, straining his
eyes to discern the outlines of the long figures in the shadows. 'The
good man is making merry to-night, and has forgotten to bring in his
oxen; lucky 't will be if they do not fall a prey to the Black
Douglas.'
"So sure was he that the objects were cattle that he ceased to watch
them longer.
"The woman's eye, however, followed the queer-looking cattle for some
time, until they seemed to disappear under the outer works of the
castle. Then, feeling quite at ease, she thought she would sing again.
Spring was in the evening air; it may have made her feel like singing.
"Now the name of the Black Douglas had become so terrible to the
English that it proved a bugbear to the children, who, when they
misbehaved, were told that the Black Douglas would get them. The
little ditty I have quoted must have been very quieting to good
children in those alarming times.
"So the good woman sang cheerily,--
"'Hush ye,
Hush ye,
Little pet ye!
Hush ye,
Hush ye,
Do not fret ye;
The Black Douglas
Shall not get ye!'
"'DO NOT BE SO SURE OF THAT!' said a husky voice close beside her, and
a mail-gloved hand fell solidly upon her shoulder. She was dreadfully
frightened, for she knew from the appearance of the man he must be the
Black Douglas.
"The Scots came leaping over the walls. The garrison was merry-making
below, and, almost before the disarmed revellers had any warning, the
Black Douglas was in the midst of them. The old stronghold was taken,
and many of the garrison were put to the sword; but the Black Douglas
spared the woman and the child, who probably never afterward felt
quite so sure about the little ditty,--
"'Hush ye,
Hush ye,
Do not fret ye;
The Black Douglas
Shall not get ye!'
It is never well to be too sure, you know.
[Illustration: THE BLACK DOUGLAS SURPRISING AN ENEMY.]
"Douglas had caused his picked men to approach the castle by walking
on their hands and knees, with long black cloaks thrown over their
bodies, and their ladders and weapons concealed under their cloaks.
The men thus presented very nearly the appearance of a herd of cattle
in the deep shadows, and completely deceived the sentinel, who was
probably thinking more of the music and dancing below than of the
watchful enemy who had been haunting the gloomy woods of Jedburgh.
"The Black Douglas, or 'Good James, Lord Douglas,' as he was called by
the Scots, fought, as I have already said, with King Robert Bruce at
Bannockburn. One lovely June day, in the far-gone year of 1329, King
Robert lay dying. He called Douglas to his bedside, and told him that
it had been one of the dearest wishes of his heart to go to the Holy
Land and recover Jerusalem from the Infidels; but since he could not
go, he wished him to embalm his heart after his death, and carry it to
the Holy City and deposit it in the Holy Sepulchre.
"Douglas had the heart of Bruce embalmed and inclosed in a silver
case, and wore it on a silver chain about his neck. He set out for
Jerusalem, but resolved first to visit Spain and engage in the war
waged against the Moorish King of Grenada. He fell in Andalusia, in
battle. Just before his death, he threw the silver casket into the
thickest of the fight, exclaiming, 'Heart of Bruce! I follow thee or
die!'
"His dead body was found beside the casket, and the heart of Bruce was
brought back to Scotland and deposited in the ivy-clad Abbey of
Melrose.
"Douglas was a real hero, and few things more engaging than his
exploits were ever told under the holly and mistletoe, or in the warm
Christmas light of the old Scottish Yule-logs.
"What has interested you most in Scotland?" said Master Lewis to
George Howe, continuing the subject.
"I am hardly interested in antiquities at all," said George, frankly.
"I try to be, but it is not in me. A living factory is more to my
taste than a dead museum. The most interesting things I have seen are
the great Glasgow factories. As for stories, I have been thinking of
one that has more force for me than all the legends I ever read."
"We shall be glad to hear you tell it," said Master Lewis. "My
business is teaching, and it is my duty to stimulate a love of
literature. But I have all respect for a boy with mechanical taste;
no lives promise greater usefulness. We will listen to George's
story."
"It is not a romantic story," said George. "I will call it
A GLASGOW FACTORY BOY.
"Just above the wharves of Glasgow, on the banks of the Clyde, there
once lived a factory boy, whom I will call Davie. At the age of ten he
entered a cotton factory as 'piecer.' He was employed from six o'clock
in the morning till eight at night. His parents were very poor, and he
well knew that his must be a boyhood of very hard labor. But then and
there, in that buzzing factory, he resolved that he would obtain an
education, and would become an intelligent and a useful man. With his
very first week's wages he purchased 'Ruddiman's Rudiments of Latin,'
He then entered an evening school that met between the hours of eight
and ten. He paid the expenses of his instruction out of his own hard
earnings. At the age of sixteen he could read Virgil and Horace as
readily as the pupils of the English grammar schools.
"He next began a course of self-instruction. He had been advanced in
the factory from a 'piecer' to the spinning-jenny. He brought his
books to the factory, and placing one of them on the 'jenny,' with the
lesson open before him, he divided his attention between the running
of the spindles and rudiments of knowledge. He now began to aspire to
become a preacher and a missionary, and to devote his life in some
self-sacrificing way to the good of mankind. He entered Glasgow
University. He knew that he must work his way, but he also knew the
power of resolution, and he was willing to make almost any sacrifice
to gain the end. He worked at cotton-spinning in the summer, lived
frugally, and applied his savings to his college studies in the
winter. He completed the allotted course, and at the close was able
triumphantly to say, '_I never had a farthing that I did not earn_.'
"That boy was Dr. David Livingstone."
"An excellent story," said Master Lewis. "A sermon in a story, and a
volume of philosophy in a life. Now, Tommy, what is the most
attractive thing _you_ have seen?"
"I see it now. Oh, look! look!" said Tommy, flying to the window.
The full moon was hanging over the great castle, whitening its grim
turrets.
The boys all gazed upon the scene, which appeared almost too beautiful
for reality.
"It looks like a castle in the sky," said Wyllys.
Story-telling was at an end. So the exercises ended with an exhibition
of Edinburgh Castle by moonlight.
[Illustration: {CÆSAR'S LEGIONS LANDING IN BRITAIN.}]