THE ISLE OF REST.
This dowry now our Scottish virgin brings,
A nation famous for a race of kings,
By firmest leagues to France for ages join'd,
With splendid feats and friendly ties combined,
A happy presage of connubial joy,
Which neither time nor tempests shall destroy,
A people yet in battle unsubdued,
Though all the land has been in blood imbued.
_Buchanan._
So wrote the most classic of Scottish scholars in his _Epithalamium_,
or "Ode on the marriage of Francis of Valois and Mary, sovereigns of
France and Scotland," the ungrateful Buchanan; but we are somewhat
anticipating history and our own narrative in the heading of our
chapter.
Inchmahoma, the secure and temporary abode of the two queens and
their court, is a singularly beautiful islet, so small and so green,
in the midst of the lake of Menteith, that when viewed from the
mountains it resembles a large emerald in the centre of a shield of
silver.
Of the Augustinian priory--which was founded in the twelfth century
by Edgar, King of Scotland (the son of Cean-mhor), a prince who
reigned only nine years, but lived "reverenced and beloved by the
good, and so formidable to the bad, that in all his reign there was
no sedition or fear of a foreign enemy,"--there remains _now_ but one
beautiful gothic arch, the dormitory, and the vaults embosomed in a
grove of aged and mossgrown timber. These trees are all chestnuts,
and were planted by the canons before the Reformation. A few
decaying fruit trees, and traces of a terrace, show where the garden
of these sequestered churchmen lay; and where, in her sportive glee,
the little queen of Scots with her auburn hair streaming behind her,
played for many an hour with the ladies of her mother's train; and
heard the white-bearded fathers of St. Augustine tell old tales of
their holy isle, and show the oak chair wherein the stout King Robert
sat when, in 1310, four years before Bannockburn, he came there to
visit them; and legends of the stalwart Earls of Menteith, whose
ruined castle stands on the Isle of Tulla, and whose graves are in
Mahoma; of Arnchly, or "the bloody field of the sword," where, at the
western end of the loch, stood a little chapel, wherein a monk said
mass daily for the souls of the slain. And, in that terraced garden,
to lighten care and chase sad thoughts away, Florence spent many an
hour with this beautiful child, whose "pure and sinless brow" was
encircled by the Scottish crown of thorns, and with her four Maries,
who were the daughters of four loyal lords,--all women celebrated in
after life--by song, by tradition, and by Scotland's brave but
mournful history.
These young ladies--to wit, Mary Fleming, daughter of that Lord
Fleming who fell at Pinkey; Mary Livingstone, Mary Seaton, and Mary
Beaton (a kinswoman of the murdered cardinal), all received precisely
the same education as their beautiful mistress, and were taught every
language and accomplishment by the same instructors, and they all
loved each other with deep affection.
Their favourite amusement was _palm play_, which Florence taught them
as he had learned it at the Louvre and Vendome. It is an old French
game, which simply consisted in receiving a ball in the palm of the
hand, and propelling it back again; but it became so fashionable in
the kingdom of the Louis, that the nobles, when they lost large sums,
and found their purses empty, to continue the play would stake their
mantles, armour, poniards, jewels, or anything, in the ardour with
which they pursued it.
On a little eminence close to the verge of the loch, there still
remains a box-wood summer-house, with a fine old hawthorn in its
centre; and in this the little queen and her mother, with the four
Maries, are said to have sat in the autumn evenings, and heard
Florence read the ancient chronicles of Scotland, the _Bruce_ of
Barbour, and tell old tales of wizards and fairies, giants and
dwarfs, till the light of day faded from the romantic summit of
Ghoille-dun; till the vesper lights began to twinkle through the
Gothic windows of the old priory upon the tremulous waters of the
lake, and the ancient tower of Tulla, on the Earl's Isle (where dwelt
Earl John, who in that year, 1547, was slain by the tutor of Appin)
cast its lengthening shadow to the shore.
Amid the romantic mountain scenery which surrounded this lake and
isle, Florence, while attending to the somewhat trivial and
monotonous duties which the queen-mother assigned him as captain of
her guard--duties which he varied occasionally by hawking on the
long, narrow, promontory that runs out from the southern shore, or by
fishing for pike by baited lines tied to the leg of a goose--a
strange custom then common in Monteith--longed to be once again in
the Scottish capital, for now he never saw, nor by rumour, letter, or
report, heard from the Countess of Yarrow. His love affair seemed
literally to be an end! The angry spirit of the old feud, thought
he, may have gathered again in the heart of her kinsman; and there
were times when he bitterly upbraided himself for having so sternly
declined that kinsman's proffered friendship and alliance; "but,
alas! what could I do?" he would exclaim--"the blood of my father,
the blood of my brother, were alike upon his hands." Then he would
strive to recal some of the anger, bitterness, and antipathy that
filled his heart when he first left France on board of the galley of
Villegaignon, with no other thought but to fulfil the terrible
injunction of his mother's homeward summons--to slay the Laird of
Preston as he would have slain a snake or tiger--but the soft image
of Madeline arose before him, and he strove in vain!
If the sentiments of Claude Hamilton had really grown more hostile,
and Madeline Home had learned to share them, she might also gradually
learn to love _another_, or to wed in mere indifference, for she had
many suitors--but he thrust these ideas aside, and vainly strove to
think of other things.
So time passed slowly, heavily on, and brown October spread her
russet hues upon the foliage; the swallows disappeared, and the
woodcocks came through dark and misty skies from the shores of the
Baltic to replace them.
By the old chesnuts that cast at eve their shadows on the grey walls
of the ancient priory, and by the waves of the lake, poor Florence
sat and pondered, till the sweet voice of Madeline seemed to come to
his ear, amid the ripples that chafed on the little beach, and amid
the rustle of the dry leaves, as the autumn gusts shook them down
from the tossing branches.
Michaelmas came; but even in that remote Highland region, where,
_yet_, so many old customs linger, few traces remained of the feast
of St. Michael, as it was held of old; though Mary of Lorraine and
the prior of the isle, or Earl John of Monteith, in Tulla Hall,
partook of roasted goose, duly and solemnly, on the eleventh of the
month, as an indispensable ceremony--all unaware that it was the last
remnant of a creed that flourished long anterior to Christianity; for
on this day the Pagans of old sacrificed a goose to Proserpine, the
infernal goddess of Death.
'Twas November now; and the piercing wind that swept over the
mountains seemed as if anxious to tear the last brown leaves of
autumn from the naked trees; and then came snow to whiten the hills
and valleys--to bury deep the rocky passes; and with it came the
frost, to seal up the waters of the lake; for, unlike those of the
present age, the winters of the olden time were somewhat Arctic in
their aspect, with the strong and bitter Scottish frost, of which
Annsæus Julius Floras, the satirical Roman poet and historian, wrote,
when, armed with his pen, he entered the lists against the Emperor
Adrian:--
"Ego nolo Cæsar esse,
Ambulare per Brittanos,
_Scoticas_ pati pruinas."
And so the Highland winter came on with all its dreariness; and amid
the cloistral seclusion of the Isle of Rest, and of Mary of
Lorraine's little court, Florence thought ever of Madeline Home, and
longed again to hear her voice--to see her smile--to touch her pretty
hand. Mary of Lorraine saw that he was sad, pre-occupied, and
thoughtful; and, with the natural gaiety of a Frenchwoman, she
rallied him on the subject of his pensiveness, and bade him be of
good cheer; for though man proposed, God disposed, and all would yet
be well.
With early summer final preparations were made for the young queen's
departure to France; and after sailing from Leith, round the stormy
Pentland Firth, a gallant fleet of caravels dropped their anchors in
the waters of the Clyde.
On a bright July morning, when the wooded hills that rise around the
blue lake, the ancient priory, and the green Isle of Rest were
clothed in their heaviest summer foliage, Florence was seated in the
boxwood bower beside the old hawthorn-tree, reading to the little
queen. With her dove-like eyes turned up to his face in wonder, she
heard how the valiant paladin, Sir Palomides, sorrowed for la Belle
Isonde--of the siege perilous, and the marvellous adventure of the
sword in a stone; but now Mary of Lorraine approached them with a
grave and mournful expression in her face; kissing her daughter, she
desired her to withdraw, and the young sovereign at once obeyed. She
now desired Florence, who had instantly arisen and closed his book,
which was Sir Thomas Malori's romance of "King Arthur," to listen, as
she had a serious matter whereon to confer with him.
"In a week," said she, "my daughter sails for France."
"France, within a week--so soon!" he exclaimed, with regret and
surprise; "and in charge of whom, madam?"
"The lords Livingstone, Erskine, and a chosen and gallant train; but
more immediately would I confide her to the care of one whose
character I have studied carefully and closely, and in whom I can
repose implicit faith."
"Your grace is right; but who is this honoured person?"
"Yourself, fair sir," replied Mary with one of her most beautiful
smiles.
"I!" he exclaimed with astonishment.
"You, Florence Fawside."
"Oh, madam, you overwhelm me!" he replied, casting down his eyes: for
his first thought was the total separation from Madeline Home, that
was consequent to this important trust, which he durst not decline.
"You express more surprise than satisfaction," said the queen, who
was an acute reader of the human face, and could read all its varying
expressions. "You dislike the high trust I would repose in you?" she
added, with a proud but peculiar smile.
"Oh, madam, do not say so--I but----"
"Or the journey by sea, or a residence in Paris, or I know not what.
_Mon Dieu!_ would that I could go with her to merry France again; but
that may never, never be. I have her turbulent kingdom to watch over
as a sacred trust; and as its regent--for regent of Scotland I
_shall_ be!--I must bide any time in Holyrood."
"Your majesty must pardon me; I dislike neither the journey nor the
splendid trust you would repose in me; but--but----"
"But what?" Florence coloured deeply, played with the plume in his
bonnet, and hesitated.
"Queens are unused to doubts; but since you seem so averse to my
offer, I must e'en repose the greater trust in the Countess of
Yarrow, who has already consented to go."
"Consented to go!--to leave me; has Madeline really consented?"
exclaimed poor Florence, in his desperation forgetting all his
prudence.
"She has," replied the smiling queen.
"Oh, madam, can she go thus and leave me behind--who love her so
tenderly--so well!"
"What would you have her to do!" said Mary of Lorraine; "it is
arranged that, in charge of the Lords Livingstone and Erskine,
together with the Earl and Countess of Yarrow, my daughter proceeds
to France in the ship of M. de Villegaignon."
"And this--this Earl of Yarrow?" muttered Florence in a breathless
voice, as he grew pale with sudden grief, fury, and confusion.
"Is----" the queen hesitated provokingly.
"Who--who?--pardon my vehemence!"
"Cannot you guess?"
"Madam, my heart is sick; I have neither wit nor skill for riddles!"
replied Florence, who trembled and became painfully agitated.
"Oh, thou man of little faith," said the queen merrily, as she patted
his cheek with her white hand; and then drawing two documents from
the velvet pouch which hung at her girdle--"Look here!" she added,
"and read."
Florence read them over hurriedly, and could scarcely believe his
eyes. The first was a contract of marriage between himself and
Madeline, Countess of Yarrow, signed by Madeline's own hand, by her
uncle, and the Regent Arran; _his own_ signature alone being wanting.
The second document was a patent of nobility under the great seal of
Scotland, granting the title of Earl of Yarrow and Baron Fawside to
Florence Fawside, for the leal and true service rendered by his
father, umquhile Sir John of that ilk, at Flodden, and by the said
Florence at Pinkeycleuch; and for the good and leal services ever
rendered by his forbears to the throne and ancestors of our dearest
sovereign lady the queen. With these documents was a letter from
Claude Hamilton, at least a letter written by a notary's hand and
signed by the signet ring of the old baron, who had but small skill
in clerking, and in it there occurred the following passage:--
"We have in sooth been owre near neighbours to be gude friends, as
our auld Scots proverb hath it; but all the reparation I promised in
the Torwood--reparation to the living and to the dead--am I still
willing to make Florence Fawside; and to end this old hereditary
feud, which hath been the curse of our forefathers, and all quarrels
anent our marches, rights of fuel and pasture, fishing and forestry,
let them henceforth become _one_; and let your wedding with my
kinswoman be the bond of amity between us, and Father John be the
notary who frames it. 'Tis well! And my fair lands of Preston shall
be hers, after me, for pin-money for holding and her abulyements.
With the broad seas of Scotland and France between us, laird, we
shall be better friends than our forefathers when they could scowl
from their barred gates at ilk other owre the waste of Gladsmuir; and
so I commit you to God. "PRESTON."
"Now, sir," said Mary of Lorraine; "will you sail to France with my
daughter, or will you stay at home?"
"Ah, madam, pardon me," exclaimed Florence, sinking on one knee; "I
am without thought or speech--I have no words, no voice to thank you."
"I want not thanks; but your signature to the contract, and the
benediction of the old vicar of Tranent on the marriage."
"Madam, who has done me all this kindness--all this most undeserved
honour?"
"Say not so--but your good angel has been your dearest friend--Mary
of Lorraine--from the first, my poor boy, I loved and valued your
worth."
"I knew it--I knew it!" he exclaimed, kissing her hands with ardour;
"but your grace must show me some mode by which I may requite this."
"In France be faithful to my daughter, be tender and be true," said
the queen in an imploring voice, that seemed full of soul.
"True to death,--true as I would be to Madeline Home!"
"Come, then, for the countess has arrived; she is now with the Abbot
of Inchmahoma, and awaits you in the priory," said the queen with a
winning smile, as she presented her hand to the bewildered young man.
* * * * * *
And thus our story, like a good old-fashioned comedy, ends by one
marriage, and opens the way to another. After this, we have but
little more to add.
On a bright morning in July, 1548, when the hot sun exhaled a silver
mist from the broad blue bosom of the Clyde; when its fertile and
beautiful shores lay steeped in golden haze that mellowed each grey
rock, green wood, and purple hill, bay, beach, and headland that
stretched in distance, far, far away; and when the sunbeams played
gaily upon the long, swelling ripples that seemed to vibrate in the
heat, and churned the waves into little lines of foam as they rolled
on the pebbled shore, the thunder of brass cannon from "Balclutha's
walls of towers," the double peak of Dunbarton, boomed in the still
air, while the bells rang their farewell peal in the spire of many a
village church, as the fleet of the Sieur Nicholas de Villegaignon,
Knight of Malta, and Grand-admiral of France, got under weigh.
Above the lesser ships that spread their white sails to the eastern
breeze, his great caravel towered conspicuously.
High-pooped, with turrets of pepper-box aspect, she had three
enormous lanterns at her stern, which, like her bow, rose nearly
thirty feet above the water-line, and had a gilded iron gallery
before each row of painted windows. This poop was covered with every
variety of cunning work in wood, painting, and gilding, with niches
containing saints with swords, wheels, and scourges, the emblems of
their martyrdom; while long carved mouldings ran along the bends
between the brass muzzles of the polished culverins that rose above
each other in tiers and glittered in the sun as its rays played upon
the rippling water. Many a gay pennon and streamer floated
gracefully out like long and silken ribands on the breeze; but high
over all were the lion _gules_ of Scotland, the silver fleur-de-lis
of old France, and the family banner of the Grand-admiral de
Villegaignon, which floated from the mizzen-mast head, bearing two
anchors crossed behind his paternal shield.
On board of this gay caravel were Florence and his bride the
countess, with the little queen and her two noble preceptors, the
abbot of the Isle of Rest, and her three kinsmen, the Lord James
Stuart (afterwards Regent Moray), the commendator of Holyrood, and
the Lord Robert, Prior of Orkney, with a train of two hundred lords,
ladies, and gentlemen, all of the best families in Scotland. The
young bride of France was weeping bitterly, and the arm of the
Countess of Yarrow was around her.
"The young queen," says the Captain Beaugue, a gallant French
officer, who witnessed the embarkation, "was at that time one of the
most perfect creatures the God of Nature ever formed, for her equal
was nowhere to be found, nor had the world another child of her
fortune and hopes."
As the ships got under weigh, and began to drop down the lovely river
in the sunshine, and enveloped in the smoke of their cannon, which
fired salutes, a cheer, which sounded somewhat like a wail of sorrow,
as it floated over the Clyde, arose from a group that stood upon its
shore, where Mary of Lorraine was lingering, to witness the departure
of the daughter she was never to behold again; and there she watched
the lessening sails until they melted into the haze and distance.
Escaping all the efforts of Somerset, who daringly sent out a fleet
to intercept her, the young queen and her train landed in safety at
Roscoff, three miles north of St. Pol de Leon, in the vicinity of
Cape Finisterre, and on the 20th of August arrived at Morlaix; from
there she proceeded to the palace of St. Germains, where Henry of
Valois received her with every demonstration of respect and
affection; and where he bestowed on the Earl of Yarrow, and the three
great lords who accompanied her, the collar of St. Michael.
Soon after this, the Earl of Arran, on being created Duke of
Chatelherault, in Poitou, and receiving the long-promised succours
from France under General d'Essé d' Epainvilliers, solemnly abdicated
the regency of Scotland in favour of Mary of Lorraine, who, by her
perseverance, her wisdom, and skill, attained that power and dignity
which had been so long the darling object of her wishes, and the
ambition of the House of Guise.
NOTES.
I.--FAWSIDE OF THAT ILK.
In the text I have not exaggerated the antiquity of this old family,
the ruins of whose fortalice are still existing in Haddingtonshire.
In the reign of David I., during a portion of the twelfth century,
the name of William de Ffauside occurs in Parliament, and Edmundo de
Ffauside witnesses the charter by which that monarch grants certain
lands to Thor, the son of Swan of Tranent; and in the time of William
the Lion, Gilbert de Fawside witnessed a charter of the monastery of
St. Marie of Newbattle.
In 1246, Donatus Sybald witnessed a charter by De Quincy, Earl of
Winton and Winchester, to Adam of Seaton, _de Maritagio hoeredis
Alani de Faside_ (Nisbet), and seven years afterwards Allan obliged
himself "to pay yearly to the monks of Dunfermline, _quinque solidas
argenti_," out of his lands.
In 1292 Robert de Fawside signed the Ragman Roll, and four years
after we find a Roger and William of the same name swearing fealty to
Edward I. Roger obtained a grant of the lands from Robert Bruce.
In 1306 Sir Christopher Seaton (who married Bruce's sister) was
executed by Edward I. He was succeeded by his son, Sir Alexander
Seaton, who obtained from his uncle, King Robert, the lands of
Tranent, including _Fawside_ and Lougniddry, which formerly belonged
to Alan de la Zouch. He and his second son were slain in battle by
the English, near Kinghorn, in 1332, leaving a son, Sir Alexander,
eighth baron of Seaton, the gallant defender of Berwick, whose sons,
though given as hostages to Edward I., are alleged to have been
basely hanged by that ferocious prince, in their father's view,
before the walls of the town.
In 1350 a Sir Thomas of Fawside witnessed a charter of Duncan Earl of
Fife to the monastery of Lindores; and in 1366 a charter of Malcolm
of Fawside was witnessed by Symon Preston of Craigmillar, sheriff of
Edinburgh. In 1371 William de Seaton granted to John of Fawside, for
true and faithful service, the whole lands of Wester-Fawside, in the
barony of Travernent,--a gift confirmed by Robert II. on the 20th of
June.
In 1425 William of Fawside and Marjorie Fleming his spouse obtained
the lands and will of Tolygart, and the lands of Wester-Fawside are
confirmed to John of that ilk (Great Seal Office) in June.
In 1472 John Fawside married Margaret, daughter of Sir John Swinton
of that ilk; and on his death, in 1503, she became prioress of the
Cistercian nunnery at Elcho.
In 1528 there is a remission under the great seal to their son George
Fawside of that ilk, for certain crimes committed by him; and in
1547, after the battle of Pinkey, as related in the story, his castle
was burned by the English, after a stout resistance, and all within
it were, as Patten relates, "brent and smoothered."
Twenty years after this, Thomas Fawside of that ilk signed the Bond
of Association, for defending the coronation and government of the
young king, James VI., against the supporters of his unfortunate
mother; and in 1570, he was one of the assyse who tried Carkettle of
Moreles for treason. In 1579, he became surety for Alexander
Dalmahoy of that ilk, who, according to the fashion of the age, had
employed his leisure time in besieging the house of Somerville
(_Pitcairn_).
In 1600, on the occasion of the escape of James VI. from the plot of
the Earl of Gourie, "this night (6th August) bonfires were sett upone
Arthure Seate, _Fawside Hill_, and all places farre and neere"
(Calderwood's Historie).
Sixteen years after, we find James Fawside of that ilk becoming
pledge and surety for Sir Patrick Chirnsyde, of East Nisbet, who was
accused before the Justiciary Court of abducting a girl of thirteen
from Haddington; and in the same year (1616), his servitor, Robert
Robertson, was "delatit for the crewel slaughter of umquhile John
Fawside, in the barne of Fawside, with a knife or dagger, on the 10th
of November," for which he was beheaded on the Castle Hill of
Edinburgh (_Pitcairn_). On a dormer window of the ruins at Fawside
are carved
I F--I E. 1618.
In 1631, Robert Fawside of that ilk is one of a commission for
augmenting the stipend of Inveresk; and about this time the family
sold their estate to Hamilton, a merchant in Edinburgh.
In 1666, James, eldest son of the _deceased_ Fawside of that ilk,
witnessed a charter of George Earl of Haddington. He would seem to
have been the last of the line. Their lands belong to Dundas of
Arniston, and now nothing remains of this old Scottish family, but
their ruined tower upon the hill, and in the church of Tranent, a
half-defaced tablet inscribed
"John Fawside of that Ilk."
II.--THE BATTLE OF PINKEY.
Of this great defeat no trace remains in Scotland but the memory of
its slaughter. Upwards of two thousand nobles and landed gentlemen
fell, and the following list of a few of these, compiled from
authorities too numerous to mention, may interest our Scottish
readers, some of whom may find their ancestors therein:--William
Cunninghame, Earl of Glencairn; Malcolm Lord Fleming, Lord High
Chancellor; Allan Lord Cathcart; Alexander Lord Elphinstone; Henry
Lord Methven; Robert Lord Grahame; John Master of Buchan; Robert
Master of Erskine; John Master of Livingstone; Robert Master of
Rosse; Adam Gordon, son of the Lord Aboyne; Sir James Gordon, Knight,
of Lochinvar; Sir George Douglas, Knight, of the House of Angus; Sir
Robert Douglas, Knight, of Lochlevin; Sir George Home, Knight, of
Wedderburn; William Adamson of Craigcrook, near Edinburgh; Alexander
Napier of Merchiston, near Edinburgh; John Brisbane of Bishoptoun, in
Cunninghame; Alexander Frazer of Durris, Kincardine; Alexander
Halyburton of Pitcur, in Angus; John Buchanan of Auchmar and
Arnprior; John Norrie of Finarsie, Aberdeenshire; Gilbert MacIlvayne
of Grummet, Argyle; Thomas Corrie of Kelwood, James Montfoyd of
Montfoyd, Bernard Mure of Park, John Crawford of Giffertland, Quentin
Hunter of Hunterstoun, Ayrshire; Robert Bothwick of Gordonshall, John
Ramsay of Arbekie, John Strang of Balcaskie, William Barclay of
Rhyud, David Reid of Aikenhead, James Wemyss of Myrecairnie, Andrew
Anstruther (younger) of that ilk, Alexander Inglis of Tarvet, John
Airth of Strathour-Wester, David Wemyss of Caskieberry, Stephen
Duddingston of Kildinington, Fife; Ludovic Thornton of that ilk,
Forfarshire; Cuthbert Aschennan of Park, John Gordon of Blaiket, John
Ramsay of Sypland, Kirkcudbright; Thomas Hamilton of Priestfield,
near Edinburgh; David Anderson of Inchcannon, in the barony of Errol;
John Kincaid of Wester Lawes, in the barony of Kinnaird; John Leckie
of that ilk, Stirlingshire; John Macdoull of Garthland, Wigton;
Patrick Bissett of Lessindrum; Walter Macfarlane of Tarbet; Richard
Melville of Baldovie, parson of Marytown; David Arbuthnot (younger)
of that ilk, parson of Menmure; William Johnston of that ilk; Robert
Munro of Foulis; John Murray of Abercairnie; David Murray of
Auchtertyre; John Halket of Pitfirran; David and Robert Boswal, sons
of the laird of Balmuto; Allan Lockhart of the Lee; Duncan Macfarlane
of that ilk; Finlay Mhor, Farquharson of Invercauld, royal
standard-bearer; George Henderson of Fordelhenderson; Alexander Skene
of that ilk; James Innes of Rathmackenzie; Robert Leslie of Wardes;
John Kinnaird of that ilk; William Cunninghame of Glengarnock; John
and Arthur Forbes, sons of the Red Laird of Pitsligo; Cuthbert
Hamilton of Candor, David Hamilton of Broomhill;[*] Gabriel
Cunninghame of Craigends; John and Robert, sons of Sir Walter Lindsay
of Edzell, who fell at Flodden; John Ogilvie of Durn; John Hamilton,
merchant in the West Bow, Edinburgh; Walter Cullen, bailie of
Aberdeen, and twenty-eight burghers of that city.
[*] Two brothers, slain when attempting to rescue the Lord Semple,
who was taken prisoner.
The _seven_ sons of Sir Thomas Urquhart of Cromarty are also said to
have fallen, in this disastrous field; but their names do not appear
in the "Scottish Baronage."
It was frequently named the Field of Inveresk and of Musselburgh.
In Bunbury Church, Cheshire, is a monument to Sir George Beeston, who
was knighted by Queen Elizabeth for his bravery against the Armada in
1588. He died in 1601, at the age of 102, and would seem to have
fought against the Scots at Pinkey. "Contra Scotos apud
_Musselborrow_," is on his tomb.
In the following "Acquittaunce," rendered into English, the battle is
styled Inveresk:--
"I, Walter Scot of Branxholm, Knight, grant me to have received from
an honourable man, Sir Patrick Cheyne of Essilmont, Knight, the sum
of eight score English nobles, for which I was bound and obliged to
content and pay to Thomas Dacre of Lanercost, Knight, Englishman,
taker of the said Sir Patrick at the field of _Inveresk_, for his
ransom, of the which sum I hold me well-content and payed. In
witness whereof, I have subscribed this my letter of acquittaunce
with my hand, at Edinburgh, the 2nd March, 1548."--_Aberdeen
Collections_, vol. ii.
THE END.
COX AND WYMAN, PRINTERS, GREAT QUEEN STREET, LONDON