‘John Haitly of Mellerstanes [was] slain at the Salt Tron [in
Edinburgh] by William Home, his guid-father.’--_Bir._
We have no account of what led to this dreadful kind of homicide; but,
five years after (April 28, 1608), we find that the king had exerted
himself to reconcile the friends of the parties, and they were ordered
by the Privy Council to come forward on a particular day, and _chop
hands_ on the subject.--_P. C. R._
* * * * *
[Sidenote: JAN. 30.]
[Sidenote: 1603.]
‘Francis Mowbray brak ward out of the [Edinburgh] Castle, and he fell
owir the wall, and brak his craig [neck]. Thereafter, he was trailit to
the gallows, and hangit; and thereafter he was quarterit, and his head
and four quarters put on the four ports.’
In this brief manner Birrel narrates the sad end of a sprightly and
gallant, though intemperate spirit. Francis Mowbray was a son of Sir
John Mowbray of Barnbougle, an ancient house long since gone down to
nothing. Francis himself was the friend and companion of the Earl
of Buccleuch, the hero of the attack on Carlisle Castle in 1596. He
had taken part in that exploit, but soon after got into trouble, in
consequence of a quarrel with one William Schaw, whom he struck through
with a rapier, and killed. Worse than this, he was a Catholic, and
engaged himself actively in some of those underhand political practices
which at length came to a head in the Gunpowder Treason. He spent some
time in a most suspicious place--the Infant’s Court at Brussels.
An Italian fencer named Daniel, residing in London, denounced Mowbray
to Elizabeth’s government as having undertaken to kill the king of
Scots. Mowbray denied the accusation, and offered the combat. The two
being sent down to Edinburgh, it was arranged that they should fight
hand to hand in the great close of Holyroodhouse; but before the
appointed day arrived, notice came from England that some witnesses
had come forward who could prove the treason. On the 29th of January,
Mowbray was confronted with the two witnesses, who, however, were
considered as ‘of light account,’ being men of bankrupt fortunes, who
had from that cause left their country. Mowbray still stood stoutly
to his denial, uttering this adjuration before the king: ‘If ever I
thought evil, or intended evil against my prince, God, that marketh
the secrets of all hearts, make me fall at my enemies’ feet--make me
a spectacle to all Edinburgh, and cast my soul in hell for ever!’ The
two were placed in several apartments in Edinburgh Castle, the Italian
occupying a room immediately above Mowbray.
[Sidenote: 1603.]
At eight o’clock in the evening of the 30th of January, being Sunday,
Francis Mowbray was found dying at the foot of the Castle rock. It was
stated that he had sewed his blankets together, and let himself down
over the wall; but the line being too short, he fell, and mortally
injured himself. The unfortunate man died in the course of the night.
An attempt was made by some friends to raise a report that he had been
thrown over the window; but this was believed by few, and really is not
very credible. The authorities shewed no hesitation about the matter;
but, concluding on the guilt of the deceased, had his body dragged
backwards through the streets to the bar of the Court of Justiciary,
where sentence was duly passed against him. The corpse was then dealt
with as Birrel relates. The superstitious remarked the verification of
the fearful words of the deceased--that he might fall at his enemies’
feet, and become a spectacle to all Edinburgh.--_Pit. Cal. Spot. Notes
to Russell’s edition of Spottiswoode_, 1851.
* * * * *
This year was published in Edinburgh a comedy, entitled _Philotus_,
which we must consider as a curiosity in its way, since it is the
first known effort of the Scottish muse in that department of
literature.[285] It is founded on a story which we find under the name
of _Philotus and Emilia_ in a volume by Barnaby Riche, originally
published in 1581,[286] being, in plain terms, a somewhat licentious
Italian novel. The Scotch comedy is in rhymed verse, and entirely in
the characteristic Scotch manner of that age; but not a shadow of
plausible conjecture has yet been indulged in regarding the possible
author.[287]
The main series of incidents involves the fate of a young woman,
Emilia, who is solicited to become the second wife of Philotus, an old
and rich man. A _Macrell_, or go-between, is employed to bring her to
his wishes, and addresses her in a long speech, which incidentally
illustrates the life of a fine lady of that age:
[Sidenote: 1603.]
‘Ye neither mell with lad nor loon,
But with the best in all this toun;
His wife may ay sit foremost doun,
At either buird or bink,
Gang foremost in at door or yett,
And ay the first guid-day wald get,
With all men honourit and weel-tret,
As ony heart wald think.
See what a woman’s mind may meese,[288]
And hear what honour, wealth, and ease,
Ye may get with him, an ye please
To do as I devise:
Your fire sall first be burning clear,
Your maidens then sall have your geir[289]
Put in guid order and effeir,[290]
Ilk morning or[291] you rise.
And say: ‘Lo, mistress, here your muils;[292]
Put on your wyliecoat or it cuils;
Lo, here ane of your velvet stuils,
Whereon ye sall sit doun:
Then twasome come to kame your hair,
Put on your head-geir soft and fair;
Tak there your glass--see all be clair;
And sae gaes on your goun.
Then tak, to stanch your morning drouth,
Ane cup of Malvoisie, for your mouth;
For fume cast succar in a fouth,[293]
Together with a toast.
Three garden gowps[294] tak of the air,
And bid your page in haste prepare,
For your disjune, some dainty fair,
And care not for nae cost.
Ane pair of plovers piping het,
Ane partrick and ane quailie get,
Ane cup of sack, sweet and weel set,
May for ane breakfast gain.[295]
Your cater he may care for syne
Some delicate, again’ you dine;
Your cook to season all sae fine,
Then does employ his pain.
To see your servants may you gang,
And look your maidens all amang,
And, gif there ony wark be wrang,
Then bitterly them blame:
Then may ye have baith quoifs and kells,[296]
Hich candie ruffs, and barlet bells,
All for your wearing and nought els,
Made in your house at hame.
And now when all thir warks are done,
For your refreshing after noon,
Gar bring into your chamber soon,
Some dainty dish of meat;
Ane cup or twa with Muscadel,
Some other licht thing therewithal--
For raisins or for capers call,
Gif that ye please to eat.
Till supper time then may ye chuse,
Into your garden to repose,
Or merrily to tak ane gloze,[297]
Or tak ane book and read on;
Syne to your supper are ye brought,
Till fare, full far that has been sought,
And dainty dishes dearly bought,
That ladies love to feed on.
The organs then, into your hall,
With shalm and timbrel sound they sall,
The viol and the lute withal,
To gar your meat digest:
The supper done, then up ye rise,
To gang ane while, as is the guise[298]--
By ye have roamit ane alley thrice,
It is a mile almaist.
Then ye may to your chalmer gang,
Beguile the nicht, gif it be lang,
With talk, and merry mows[299] amang,
To elevate the spleen.
For your collation tak ane taste,
Some little licht thing till digest,
At nicht use Rhen’sh wine ay almaist
For it is cauld and clean.
And for your back I dare be bold,
That ye sall wear even as ye wold,
With double garnishings of gold,
And crape above your hair.
Your velvet hat, your hood of state,
Your missle[300] when ye gang the gait,
Frae sun and wind, baith air and late,
To keep that face sae fair.
Of Paris wark, wrought by the lave,[301]
Your fine half-cheinyies ye sall have;
For to decore, ane carkat[302] crave,
That comely collar-bane.
Your great gold cheinyie for your neck,
Be bowsome to the carle, and beck,
For he has gold eneuch, what-reck?
It will stand on nane.
[Sidenote: 1603.]
And for your gouns, ay the new guise
Ye with your tailors may devise,
To have them loose with plaits and plies,
Or claspit close behind:
The stuff, my heart, ye need not hain,
Pan velvet raised, figurit or plain,
Silk, satin, damask, or grograin,
The finest ye can find.
Your claiths on colours cuttit out,
And all pasmented[303] round about,
My blessing on that seemly snout,
Sae weel, I trow, sall set them!
Your shanks[304] of silk, your velvet shoon,
Your broidered wyliecoat aboon,
As ye devise, all sall be done,
Uncraipit, when ye get them.
Your tablet, by your halse[305] that hings,
Gold bracelets, and all other things,
And all your fingers full of rings,
With pearls and precious stanes,
Ye sall have ay while ye cry ho,
Rickles[306] of gold and jewels too,
What reck to tak the bogle-go,
My bonny bird, for anes.’
* * * * *
[Sidenote: FEB. 9.]
This is the date of an outbreak of private warfare which throws all
contemporary events of the same kind into the shade.
[Sidenote: 1603.]
In pursuance of a quarrel of some standing between the Clan Gregor and
Colquhoun, Laird of Luss, the former came in force to the banks of Loch
Lomond. The parties met in Glenfruin, and the Colquhouns, out-manœuvred
by the enemy, were overthrown. The Macgregors, besides killing a
number of persons, variously stated at three score and four score,
in the battle, are alleged to have murdered a number of prisoners
(amongst whom, by the way, was Tobias Smollett, bailie of Dumbarton,
very likely an ancestor of the novelist, his namesake), and also some
poor unarmed people. The whole slaughter is set down at 140 persons.
Besides all this, they carried off 600 cattle, 800 sheep and goats,
fourteen score of horse and mares, ‘with the haill plenishing, gudes
and geir, of the four-score-pound land of Luss, burning and destroying
everything else.’ It has been alleged that they killed the laird after
taking him prisoner, and murdered a number of school-boys from the
college or school of Dumbarton; but these would appear to be groundless
charges. Such as their guilt was, it proved the commencement of a long
course of oppression and misery endured by this clan. According to a
contemporary writer, a mournful procession came to Edinburgh, bearing
eleven score of bloody shirts, to excite the indignation of the king
against the Macgregors. There being no friend of the Macgregors present
to plead their cause, letters of intercommuning were immediately issued
against them.
The feeling of a state-officer of these days regarding the unruly
population of the north, comes strongly out in a letter of the
President Lord Fyvie, written to the king a few weeks after he had gone
to London. ‘Your majesty will understand by your Council’s letters the
estate and proceedings with the Macgregors. _Gif all the great Highland
clans war at the like point, I wald think it ane great ease and weel to
this commonwealth, and to your majesty’s guid subjects here._‘[307]
It was arranged soon after that a large number of the Clan Gregor
should be deported from the country, but whither does not appear. The
Privy Council requested the king to allow a ship to be sent for them,
‘seeing all these wha are to depart, in whilk number the laird himself
is ane, are ... unable of themselves aither to defray their charges,
furnish themselves of victuals, or pay their fraught.’
[Illustration: Witch seated on the Moon.--From a Sculpture in Elgin
Cathedral.]