The prayer and the sermon had been long and furious, for Mr. Patrick
Galloway was one of the most vehement men in and out of a pulpit that
even the Scottish church ever produced. "The man of many pensions," as
he was sometimes called, had once been, or appeared to be, a stern and
ardent advocate of church freedom; but he had mightily changed his
views since he became chaplain to a king whose love of liberty was but
small; and all the tremendous energies of the most persevering and
eager of men were now turned to advocate the views of his royal
patron. He now "wrestled and pleaded," as he called it, with peculiar
fervor in his prayer for the safety of his majesty, and his
deliverance from all enemies, and he took for the text of his sermon
merely the opening words of one of the epistles, "James, a servant of
God and of the Lord Jesus Christ, to the twelve tribes which are
scattered abroad, greeting." On this theme he descanted for a full
hour, speaking to his courtly auditory as if he were the mouthpiece of
the king, and venturing to exhort all men to passive obedience, in
terms and with arguments which James himself, with all his blasphemous
uses of scripture, would not have ventured to employ.
Many, nevertheless, listened to his fervid exhortations with that
reverence and kindling enthusiasm which rude and impassioned eloquence
often produces in the minds of the warm tempered and uncultivated, and
amongst those was Sir John Ramsay. Every word that the preacher
uttered went straight to his heart, and roused up therein a sort of
gloomy longing to be of service to his sovereign, which was but too
soon to be gratified.
After the king's dinner he called for Ramsay, who had hardly finished
his own, and walked out with him, otherwise unattended. The day was
hot, but cloudy, the pace of the king and his favourite slow, and
James's manner peculiarly calm and composed. I will not attempt to
give any idea of the language in which he expressed himself, for
though, as I have elsewhere said, somewhat more than half a Scot
myself, his majesty's knowledge of the vernacular was much greater
than my own, and to say sooth, many of his expressions were not very
decent and not very reverent. I may be permitted, therefore, to
translate the dialogue into English and legible terms.
The king's first question went to ascertain what Ramsay thought of Mr.
Galloway's sermon. Ramsay expressed his cordial concurrence with every
word which had been uttered, and showed by his reply how eagerly he
had listened.
"Well, well," said the king, "it was a good sermon, and well
conceived, but it was like a wasting of much powerful exhortation, for
those who most needed it were not present to hear it."
"I should have thought all men might have profited by it, sire,"
replied Ramsay, "as a stirrer up of zeal and of loyalty."
"Ay, but they were all zealous and loyal about me," answered James;
"and none of those Ruthvens were present except that wild thing
Beatrice, who has more folly than guile in her."
"I had hoped, sire, that her brothers were coming to a better sense of
duty," answered Ramsay. "Your majesty has shown them great favour
lately."
"Policy, Jock--policy!" replied the king. "Both being out of reach
together, or only one within arm's length at a time, there was little
use of attempting to strike where the blow was sure to miss. But I'll
show you what to think of their loyalty and sense of duty. Look you
here, John Ramsay, what the man David Drummond writes me--he who was
put to death the other day by sentence of the justice court in
Perth--see you here," and after groping for nearly a minute in his
large breeches pocket, James produced a packet of papers, from which
he selected one, and gave it to his companion.
Ramsay read it with looks of astonishment and displeasure, and then
returned it to the king, saying, "I wonder, sire, you did not save the
villain's life to be a witness against the traitor, his master."
"It would have been perverting justice," said the king, "for he died
by a just sentence, although I'm thinking that the earl was not sorry
to stop his tongue with a wuddy. His information served me so far,
however, that I wrote to a good friend and servant of mine at the
English court, and got down this copy of the King of France's letter,
which this young earl brought over with him. Look ye now, and devise
what he means, for to my mind it seems that he plainly points out to
one who has been an enemy to Scotland that this earl who brings the
letter is the ready man for helping her in her plans. See here, lad,
what he says; 'I have been visited by the noble lord, the Earl of
Gowrie, who will lay these at your feet; and as he is exceedingly
desirous of serving your majesty,' &c.--Ay, more desirous of serving
her than of serving his natural king," continued James; "but maybe
he'll be taken in his own trap yet. He would not come to our hunting
here, though we invited him by a letter under our own hand; and now we
understand he has thoughts of inviting us to his place at Perth----"
"I trust your majesty will not go," cried Ramsay.
"If we do, it shall be well accompanied," replied the king; "with many
faithful and loyal people like yourself, Jock, who will see that no
harm befals us; and mind you be ready if ever you hear the king's
voice crying, to run and help him."
"That I will, sire. Doubt me not," answered Ramsay, "and woe be to the
man whom I find attempting to do you wrong."
"I know it, I know it, Jock," answered the king; "and when I've such
folk as you about me, I do not fear any evil. But good faith, man, we
must get in for the afternoon preaching. I will bide here a little,
but you can go your ways."
Ramsay at once took the hint, and retired; but James continued walking
to and fro, and, whether by any previous arrangement or not, I cannot
say, some five or six gentlemen of his household and court went out
separately one after another, held each a few minutes' conversation
with the king, and then returned to the palace. To no two of them did
the monarch say exactly the same thing, though the subject was still
the same; and he seemed well satisfied with the answers of all.
Nevertheless, when at last he was joined by Sir Hugh Herries, he said,
in a low tone, "I don't like that cold body Inchaffray. He does not
speak heartily, doctor. I have told him little, and we'll tell him no
more. Has Davie Murray come back yet?"
"No, sire," answered Herries. "He has not had time, though he rode as
if the de'il were behind him--which perhaps might well be."
The last words were uttered with a low laugh; and the king turned
sharply upon him, asking, "What do you mean, you fause loon?"
"They say the king's anger is the devil," answered Herries, with a bow
and a cynical smile. "That's what I mean, sir."
James himself laughed now, replying, "Then ye're not feared for the
de'il yoursel. But we must get the preaching over, Herries. It had a
fine effect this morning; though I wonder that goose Galloway did not
touch upon the sorcery and magic. I had indoctrinated him well with
it; and he might have made a grand point of it, especially if he had
hinted that there were some people who studied in foreign lands, and
came home atheists, full of charms and diabolical arts, but that their
end was always evil."
"Perhaps he kept it for another time, sir," answered Herries; "and
indeed I think it might be somewhat too strong just now, to point out
the ill end that some people may come to, for it might make men
believe hereafter that the whole had been prepared beforehand."
"Awa wi' sic clavers," cried James; "who cares what they say
hereafter? We'll make it good, man; and it's always well to prepare
the way for the history of such an affair. I'll tell you what, Hughie,
I have full proof that this Gowrie lad has had dealings with
necromancers and conjurers of devils, and that's a food which, when
men have been nibbling at, they don't give up easily. So Galloway
might have said it, and told the truth, too.[6] But now, Herries, man,
you must look well to the people who are to go with us. Have as many
as possible, in case of there being a fray. It does not much matter
whether they can be depended on for beginning the thing or not, so
that you be quite sure they will take part with their king when it is
begun."
James paused for a minute or two in thought, and then said, "As for
Inchaffray, we must get him away. Your cold, long-thinking folk that
always take time to consider before they give an answer, are not for
such work as this; and when I put it to him quietly whether he did not
think that kings, having the right divine to judge all their subjects,
might cause execution to be done by their own power upon those that
the arm of the law was too short to reach, he said, it was a knotty
point, which required deleeberation, for kings might sometimes make a
mistake, though he would not go the length of saying that if they were
proved right in the end, they would not be justified. I will send him
to Stirling the morn, and he'll have time to deleeberate by the way."
"A small fine upon his estate might do him good," said Herries, "if he
shows himself at all refractory."
"It's a fine plan, those fines," said James, to whom the hint was by
no means disagreeable. "It punishes these fat, wealthy lords, by
taking a part of their ill-gotten gear from them. It leaves them less
power of doing mischief, and it strengthens the king to keep them
down. Harry the Seventh of England, our good ancestor, knew the value
of fines right well, and he was a wise prince. It's funny to read in
history how he employed his two sponges, Empson and Dudley, to suck up
all the gold that was scattered about the realm; and then, when he
wanted some himself, he gave them a squeeze, and the thing was done.
It's almost a pity that this young Earl of Gowrie has not taken it
into his head, with all these dangerous designs of his, to do some
open act which would have enabled us, doucely and quietly, to levy a
good fat fine upon him; but he's kept so quiet, that he's left us no
way but that we're taking; and that would not have touched his brother
Alex, who is the worst of the two, and deserves death as well as any
one that I know. But fegs, man, there's the old doctor looking out of
the window. I'll warrant you he's waiting for us to come to the
preaching. Rin, Cousland, rin!--but mind ye don't have the lassie
Beatrice jecking at ye, about your bowit foot."
"She did so this morning," said Herries, as he followed the king; "but
I asked her to let me look into her loof, and then told her that I
could see, by the art of chiromancy, some great misfortune would
happen to her within the month."
"Ye should not have done that, ye gowk," said the king.
"Then let her leave my bowit foot alone," said Herries. "I'll warrant
my lady turned very mealy about the haffits, for it scared her,
although she could not tell what I meant."
James was going to reply; but two or three gentlemen of the court now
approached, probably to tell his majesty that the evening preaching
was about to begin; and James re-entered the palace without saying
more.