The French poet, Guillaume Sallust, Sieur du Bartas, paid a visit to
Scotland. For any eminent literary man of either England or France to
travel north of the Tweed, was as yet a rarity and a marvel. The king,
however, had contracted an admiration of Du Bartas, and translated some
of his poetry; and now a royal invitation had brought him to Holyrood.
It would be curious to learn what were the sentiments of the polite
Frenchman on coming in contact with James’s circle at the palace, or
seeing the rude state of the people generally throughout the country.
[Sidenote: 1587.]
We learn that ‘he was received according to his worthiness, entertained
honourably, and liberally propined’--that is, favoured with presents.
At the end of June, the king made an excursion to St Andrews, taking
the French poet along with him, that he might see the principal seat
of learning in Scotland. We have some curious particulars of the
visit from the Dutch pencil of James Melville. St Mary’s College, the
principal theological seminary of the country, was now presided over
by the faithful Presbyterian Andrew Melville, the man of most marked
talent and energy in the Scotch church after the days of Knox. In the
Castle lived, in much reduced state, the nominal archbishop, Patrick
Adamson, a man of fine literary talents, but weak in character, and,
upon the whole, not a credit to Scottish Episcopacy. James admired and
patronised Adamson; but he had a trembling faith in the powerful wit
and inflexible courage and integrity of Melville. The king, ‘coming
first without any warning to the new college [St Mary’s], he calls for
Mr Andrew, saying he was come with that gentleman to have a lesson.
Mr Andrew answers, “that he had teached his ordinar that day in the
forenoon.” “That is all ane,” says the king; “I maun have a lesson,
and be here within an hour for that effect.” And indeed, within less
than an hour, his majesty was in the school, and the haill university
convenit with him, before whom Mr Andrew extempore entreated maist
clearly and mightily of the right government of Christ, and in effect
refuted the haill acts of parliament made against the discipline
thereof, to the great instruction and comfort of his auditory, except
the king alane, wha was very angry all that night.’
[Sidenote: 1587.]
On the morrow, ‘the bishop had baith a prepared lesson and feast made
for the king. His lesson was a tighted-up abridgment of all he had
teached the year bypast--namely, anent the corrupt grounds whilk he
had put in the king’s head contrary to the true discipline. To the
whilk lesson Mr Andrew went contrair to his custom, and with his awn
pen marked all his false grounds and reasons; and without further
[preparation] causit ring his bell at twa afternoon the same day,
whereof the king hearing, he sent to Mr Andrew, desiring him to be
moderate and have regard to his presence, otherwise he wald discharge
him. He answerit courageously, that his majesty’s ear and tender breast
was piteously and dangerously filled with errors and untruths by that
wicked man, the whilk he could not suffer to pass, and brook a life
[and yet remain alive]; otherwise, except the stopping of the breath
of God’s mouth and prejudging of his truth, he should behave himself
maist moderately and reverently to his majesty in all respects. The
king sent again to him and me, desiring it should be sae, and shawing
that he wald have his four hours [a light meal at four o’clock] in the
college, and drink with Mr Andrew. Sae, coming to that lesson with the
bishop, wha requested the king for leave to make answer instantly in
case anything were spoken against his doctrine. But there Mr Andrew,
making him [affecting] as though he had naething to do but with the
papist, brings out their warks, and reads out of them all the bishop’s
grounds and reasons. The whilk, when he had at length and maist clearly
shawn to be plain papistry, then he sets against the same with all his
mean [power], and with immutable force of reasoning, from clear grounds
of Scripture, with a mighty parrhesie and flood of eloquence, he dings
them sae down, that the bishop was dashed and strucken as dumb as the
stock he sat upon. After the lesson, the king, in his mother-tongue,
made some distingoes, and discoursit a while thereon, and gave certain
injunctions to the university for reverencing and obeying of his
bishop; wha fra that day furth began to tire of his teaching, and to
fall mair and mair in disgrace and confusion. The king, with Monsieur
du Bartas, came to the college-hall, where I causit prepare and have in
readiness a banquet of wet and dry confections, with all sorts of wine,
whereat his majesty campit very merrily a gude while, and thereafter
went to his horse. But Monsieur du Bartas tarried behind, and conferrit
with my uncle and me a whole hour, and syne followed after the king;
wha inquiring of him that night, as ane tauld me, “What was his
judgment of the twa he had heard in St Andrews?” he answerit the
king, “that they were baith learned men, but the bishop’s were cunned
[conned] and prepared matters, and Mr Andrew had a great ready store of
all kind of learning within him; and, by [besides] that, Mr Andrew’s
spreit and courage was far above the other.” The whilk judgment the
king approved.’
The Sieur du Bartas was ‘dismissed in the harvest, to his majesty’s
great praise, sae lang as the French tongue is used and understood in
the world.’--_Ja. Mel._
* * * * *
The small merchant-craft of Scotland was much troubled with pirates,
chiefly of the English nation. James Melville gives a lively account
of an affair with an English piratical vessel, which took place in
connection with the Fife port where he served as pastor.
[Sidenote: 1587.]
‘At my first coming to Anstruther there fell out a heavy accident,
whilk vexit my mind mickle at first, but drew me mickle nearer my
God, and teached me what it was to have a care of a flock. Ane of our
crears,[143] returning from England, was beset by an English pirate,
pill[ag]ed, and a very guid honest man of Anstruther slain therein. The
whilk loon[144] coming pertly to the very road of Pittenweem, spulyied
a ship lying therein, and misused the men thereof. This wrang could
not be suffered by our men, lest they should be made a common prey to
sic limmers.[145] Therefore, purchasing a commission, they riggit out
a proper fly-boat, and every man encouraging another, made almaist the
haill honest and best men in all the town to go in her to the sea. This
was a great vexation and grief to my heart, to see at my first entry
the best part of my flock ventured upon a pack of pirates, whereof the
smallest member of the meanest was mair in valour[146] than a shipful
of them. And yet I durst not stay some [un]less nor I stayed all, and
all I durst not, baith for the dangerous preparative, and the friends
of the honest man wha was slain, and of them that were abusit, wha were
many, in sic sort as the matter concerned the haill. But my God knaws
what a sair heart they left behind when they parted out of my sight, or
rather what a heart they carried with them, leaving a bouk[147] behind.
I neither ate, drank, nor sleepit, but by constraint of nature, my
thought and care always being upon them, and commending them to God,
till aucht or ten days were endit, and they in sight returning, with
all guid tokens of joy, flags, streamers, and ensignie displayed, whom
with great joy we receivit, and went together to the kirk, and praised
God.
[Sidenote: 1587.]
‘The captain, for the time, a godly, wise, and stout man, recounted to
me truly their haill proceeding. That they, meeting with their admiral,
a great ship of St Andrews, weel riggit out by the burghs, being
fine of sail, went before her all the way, and made every ship they
forgathered with, of whatsomever nation, to strike and do homage to the
king of Scotland, shawing them for what cause they were riggit forth,
and inquiring of knaves and pirates. At last, they meet with a proud
stiff Englishman, wha refuses to do reverence; therefore the captain,
thinking it was a loon, commands to give them his _nose-piece_,[148]
the whilk delashit[149] lights on the tie of the Englishman’s mainsail,
and down it comes; then he yields, being but a merchant. But there
was the merciful providence of God, in staying a great piece of the
Englishman, lying out her stern in readiness to be shot, whilk, if
it had lighted amang our folks, being many in little room, without
fence, wald have cruelly demeaned them all. But God, directing that
first shot, preserved them. From them they approached to the shore at
Suffolk, and finds by Providence the loon [rogue], wha had newlins
taken a crear of our awn town, and was spulying her. Howsoon they
spy ane coming warlike, the loons leave their prize, and run their
ship on land, our fly-boat after, and almaist was on land with them;
yet, staying hard by, they delash their ordnance at the loons, and a
number going a-land, pursues and takes a half-dozen of them, and puts
them aboard in their boat. The gentlemen of the country and towns
beside, hearing the noise of shooting, gathers with haste, supposing
the Spanyard had landed, and apprehending a number of the loons in our
men’s hands, desirit to knaw the matter. The whilk when the justices of
peace understood, and saw the king of Scotland’s arms, with twa gallant
ships in warlike manner, yielded and gave reverence thereto, suffering
our folks to take with them their prisoners and pirate’s ship, whilk
they brought with them, with half-a-dozen of the loons; whereof twa
were hangit on our pier-end, the rest in St Andrews; with nae hurt
at all to any of our folks, wha ever since syne have been free from
English pirates. All praise to God for ever. Amen.’
* * * * *
[Sidenote: 1587.