Linlithgow, distinguished by the combined strength and beauty of its
situation, must have been early selected as a royal residence. David,
who bought the title of Saint by his liberality to the church, refers
several of his characters to his town of Linlithgow, and in that of
Holy Rood expressly bestows on the new monastery all the skins of the
rams, ewes, and lambs belonging to his Castle of Linlitcu which shall
die during the year.
The convenience afforded for the sport of falconry, which was so
great a favourite during the feudal ages, was probably one cause of
an attachment of the ancient Scottish monarchs to Linlithgow, and
its fine lake. The sport of hunting was also followed with success
in the neighbourhood, from which circumstance it probably arises
that the ancient arms of the city represent a black greyhound-bitch
tied to a tree. Tradition, however, ascribes other causes for this
remarkable emblem, but is, as usual, rather inconsistent in accounting
for it otherwise. One legend says simply, that such a hound was found
so tied on the small island on the east side of the loch. Another
tradition hints at a witch who used to assume this shape. A third more
ungallantly adopts a metaphorical meaning, and affirms that a mistress
of one of the kings was designated under this hieroglyphic. A Celt,
according to Chalmers, might plausibly derive the name of Linlithgow
from _Lin-liath-cu_, the Lake of the Greyhound. Chalmers himself, seems
to prefer the Gothic derivation of _Lin-lyth-gow_, or the Lake of the
Great Vale. _Non nostrum est._
[Illustration: PALACE OF LINLITHGOW, SCOTLAND.]
The Castle of Linlithgow is only mentioned as being a peel (a pile,
that is, an embattled tower surrounded by an outwork). In 1300 it was
rebuilt or repaired by Edward I., and used as one of the citadels by
which he hoped to maintain his usurped dominion in Scotland. It is
described by Barbour as “meihle and stark and stuffed weel.” Piers
Luband, a Gascoigne knight, was appointed the keeper, and appears to
have remained there until the autumn of 1313, when the Scots recovered
the Castle under the following interesting circumstances:--
There was, says our authority, Barbour, dwelling in the neighbourhood
of Linlithgow, a stout-hearted husbandman, named William Binnock,
who, observing that the Scots were on every hand recovering from the
English the castles and fortresses which the invaders possessed within
Scotland, could not brook that the peel in his vicinity, which was
large, strong, and well supplied with arms and garrisons, should remain
unassailed. He formed a stratagem, equally remarkable for ingenuity and
audacity. The garrison was usually supplied by Binnock with hay, and
they had lately required from him a fresh supply. He assured them of
the excellence of the forage, and undertook to send it in early in the
morning. But the hay was so arranged on the wain as to conceal eight
well-armed and determined men; the team was driven by a sturdy peasant,
who bore a sharp axe under his gaberdion. Binnock himself walked beside
the waggon, to superintend, as it seemed, the safe delivery of the
forage. The porter, on approach of Binnock, with his well-known wain,
lowered the drawbridge and raised the portcullis. Just at the very
gateway, the driver, as he had been instructed, drew his axe suddenly
and cut asunder the soam, or tackle, by which the oxen were attached
to the waggon. Binnock at the same instant struck the warder dead, and
shouted the signal word, which was “Call all, call all.” The assailants
jumped from amongst the hay, and attacked the astonished garrison.
The wain was so placed that neither could the gate be shut nor the
portcullis lowered, nor the bridge raised, and a party of Scots, who
were in ambush for the purpose, rushed in to second their forlorn hope,
and were soon masters of the place.
Bruce, faithful to his usual policy, caused the peel of Linlithgow to
be dismantled, and worthily rewarded William Binnock, who had behaved
with such gallantry on the occasion. From this bold yeoman the Binnies
of West Lothian are proud to trace their descent; and most, if not all
of them, bear in their arms something connected with the waggon, which
was the instrument of his stratagem.
When times of comparative peace returned, Linlithgow again became the
occasional residence of the sovereign. In 1411 the town was burned
by accident, and in 1414 was again subjected to the same calamity,
together with the Church and Palace of the King, as is expressly
mentioned by Bower.
The present Church, which is a fine specimen of Gothic architecture,
having a steeple surmounted by an imperial crown, was probably erected
soon after that calamity.
The Palace arose from its ashes with greater splendour than before; for
the family of Stuart, unhappy in so many respects, were all of them
fortunate in their taste for the fine arts, and particularly for that
of architecture. The Lordship of Linlithgow was settled as a dowry upon
Mary of Gueldres in 1449, and again upon Margaret of Denmark in 1468.
James the Fourth, as splendid a gallant, seems to have founded the most
magnificent part of Linlithgow Palace; together with the noble entrance
betwixt two flanking towers bearing on rich entablatures the royal arms
of Scotland, with the collar of the Order of the Thistle, Garter, and
Saint Michael.
James IV., also erected in the Church a throne for himself, and twelve
stalls for Knights Companions of the Thistle. It was sitting here, in
the time of public worship, and musing, perhaps, on his approaching
invasion of England, that he received a singular advice from a singular
personage, which we cannot express better than in the words of
Pitscottie:--
“At this time the King visited Linlithgow, where he was at the Council,
very sad and dolorous, making his prayers to God to send him a good
success in his voyage. And there came a man clad in a blue gown, belted
about him with a roll of lining, and a pair of _brottikines_ on
his feet, and all other things conform thereto. But he had nothing on
his head but side hair to his shoulders, and bald before. He seemed
to be a man of fifty years, and came fast forwards, crying among the
lords, and specially for the King, saying, that he desired to speak
with him; while at the last he came to the desk where the King was at
prayers. But when he saw the King, he gave him no due reverence nor
salutation, but leaned him down gruffly upon the desk, and said, ‘Sir
King, my mother has sent me to thee, desiring thee not to go where
thou art purposed, which if thou do, thou shalt not fare well in thy
journey, nor none that is with thee. Farther, she forbade thee, not
to mell nor use the counsel of women, which if thou do, thou wilt be
confounded and brought to shame.’ By [_the time_] this man had
spoken these words to the King, the even-song was near done, and the
King paused on these words, studying to him an answer. But in the
meantime, before the King’s eyes, and in presence of the whole lords
that were about him for the time, this man evanished away, and could no
more be seen. I heard Sir David Lindsay, Lyon-herald, and John Inglis,
the Marishall, who were at that time young men and special servants to
the King’s grace, thought to have taken this man, but they could not,
that they might have speired [_asked_] further tidings at him, but
they could not touch him.”
Buchanan confirms this strange story on the word of a spectator,
Sir David Lindsay, whose testimony he describes as unimpeachable.
Thus supported, we have only to choose betwixt a deception and
a supernatural appearance. The temper of James was one of those
described by the poet as being “of imagination all compact.” He was
amorous, devotional, and chivalrous. This renders it highly probable
that the simulated vision was contrived by some of the numerous party
who advised a continuance of peace with England, and who might be of
opinion that counsels conveyed in this mysterious manner might have
some effect on the romantic spirit of the King. It is usually supposed
that the vision was intended to represent Saint Andrew; but the use
of the words, “my mother,” seem rather to imply the Apostle John, who
indicated by that term the Virgin Mary.
The death of James IV. and rout of his army clouded for many a day the
glory of Scotland, and marred the mirth of her palaces.
James V. was much attached to Linlithgow, and added to the Palace
both the Chapel and Parliament Hall, the last of which is peculiarly
striking. So that when he brought his bride Mary of Guise there, amid
the festivities which accompanied their wedding, she might have more
reasons than mere complaisance for highly commending the edifice, and
saying that she never saw a more princely palace. It was long her
residence, and that of her royal husband, at Linlithgow. Mary was born
there in an apartment still shown; and the ill-fated father dying
within a few days of that event, left the ominous diadem which he wore
to the still more unfortunate infant.
It is remarkable that during this reign there was acted at Linlithgow,
in presence of the King, Queen, and whole court, and, so far as
appears, with great applause, a play, or theatrical presentation, by
Sir David Lindsay, called the _Satire of the Three Estates_, in
which much coarse and indelicate farce and buffoonery is intermixed
with the most pointed censure upon the affairs both of church and
state. The comic mummery was undoubtedly thrown in with the purpose
of Rabelais, to mitigate the edge of the satire, by representing the
whole as matter of idle and extravagant mirth. But when the serious
and direct tenor of the piece is considered, no one can doubt that the
Prince before whom it was acted, and by whom it seems to have been well
received, meditated reforms both in church and state, however diverted
from them by the arts of the churchmen.
In the subsequent reign of Queen Mary, Linlithgow was the scene of
several remarkable events; the most interesting of which was the
assassination of the Regent Murray by Hamilton of Bothwellhaugh. This
James VI. loved the royal residence of Linlithgow, and completed the
original plan of the Palace, closing the great square by a stately
range of apartments of great architectural beauty. He also made a
magnificent fountain in the Palace-yard, now ruinous, as are all the
buildings around. Another grotesque Gothic fountain adorns the street
of the town, which, with the number of fine springs, leads to the
popular rhyme:
_Linlithgow for wells,
Stirling for bells._
Among the attendants of James the Sixth was a distinguished personage
of a class which may be found in most places of public resort. This was
the celebrated Rob Gibb, the king’s fool or jester. Fool as he was,
Rob Gibb seems to have understood his own interest. Upon one occasion
it pleased his sapient Majesty King Jamie to instal Rob in his own
royal chair, the sport being to see how he would demean himself as
sovereign. The courtiers entered into the king’s humour, overwhelming
Rob Gibb with petitions for places, pensions, and benefices, not sorry
perhaps to have an opportunity of hinting, in the presence of the real
sovereign, secret hopes and wishes, which they might have no other
opportunity of expressing. But Rob Gibb sternly repelled the whole
supplicants together, as a set of unmercifully greedy sycophants, who
followed their worthy king only to see what they could make of him.
“Get ye hence, ye covetous selfish loons,” he exclaimed, “and bring to
me my own dear and trusty servant, Rob Gibb, that I may honour the only
one of my court who serves me for stark love and kindness.” It would
not have been unlike King Jamie to have answered, “that he was but a
fool, and knew no better.”
Rob’s presence of mind did not go unrewarded; for either on this or
some future occasion, he was in such “good foolery” as to get a grant
of a small estate in the vicinity of the burgh.
When the sceptre passed from Scotland, oblivion sat down in the
halls of Linlithgow; but her absolute desolation was reserved for
the memorable era of 1745–6 About the middle of January in that
year, General Hawley marched at the head of a strong army to raise
the siege of Stirling, then pressed by the Highland insurgents under
the adventurous Charles Edward. The English general had expressed
considerable contempt of his enemy, who, he affirmed, would not stand a
charge of cavalry. On the night of the 17th he returned to Linlithgow,
with all the marks of defeat, having burned his tents, and left his
artillery and baggage. His disordered troops were quartered in the
Palace, and began to make such great fires on the hearth as to endanger
the safety of the edifice. A lady of the Livingston family who had
apartments there, remonstrated with General Hawley, who treated her
fears with contempt. “I can run away from fire as fast as you can,
General,” answered the high-spirited dame, and with this sarcasm took
horse for Edinburgh. Very soon after her departure her apprehensions
were realized; the Palace of Linlithgow caught fire, and was burned to
the ground. The ruins alone remain to show its former splendour.
The situation of Linlithgow Palace is eminently beautiful. It stands on
a promontory of some elevation, which advances almost into the midst
of the lake. The form is that of a square court, composed of buildings
of four stories high, with towers at the angles. The fronts within the
square, and the windows, are highly ornamented, and the size of the
rooms, as well as the width and character of the staircases, are upon
a magnificent scale. One banquet-room is ninety-four feet long, thirty
feet wide, and thirty-three feet high, with a gallery for music. The
King’s wardrobe, or dressing-room, looking to the west, projects over
the walls so as to have a delicious prospect on three sides, and is one
of the most enviable boudoirs we have ever seen.
There were two main entrances to Linlithgow Palace. That from the south
ascends rather steeply from the town, and passes through a striking
Gothic archway, flanked by two round towers. The portal has been richly
adorned by sculpture, in which can be traced the arms of Scotland with
the collars of the Thistle, the Garter, and Saint Michael. This was the
work of James V., and is in a most beautiful character.
The other entrance is from the eastward. The gateway is at some height
from the foundation of the wall, and there are opposite to it the
remains of a _perron_, or ramp of mason-work, which those who
desired to enter must have ascended by steps. A drawbridge, which could
be raised at pleasure, united, when it was lowered, the ramp with the
threshold of the gateway, and when raised, left a gap between them,
which answered the purpose of a moat. On the inside of the eastern
gateway is a figure, much mutilated, said to have been that of Pope
Julius II., the same Pontiff who sent to James IV. the beautiful sword
which makes part of the Regalia.
“To what base offices we may return!” In the course of the last war,
those beautiful remains, so full of ancient remembrances, very narrowly
escaped being defaced and dishonoured, by an attempt to convert them
into barracks for French prisoners of war. The late President Blair,
as zealous a patriot as he was an excellent lawyer, had the merit of
averting this insult upon one of the most striking objects of antiquity
which Scotland yet affords. I am happy to add, that of late years the
Court of the Exchequer have, in this and similar cases, shown much zeal
to preserve our national antiquities, and stop the dilapidations which
were fast consuming them.
In coming to Linlithgow by the Edinburgh road, the first view of the
town, with its beautiful steeple, surmounted with a royal crown, and
the ruinous towers of the Palace arising out of a canopy of trees,
forms a most impressive object. All that is wanting is something of
more elevated dignity to the margin of the lake. But it is not easy to
satisfy the inconsistent wishes of amateurs.
We may in taking leave of this subject, use once more the words of old
Sir David of the Mount, in his Complaint of the Papingo:--
_Farewell Linlithgow, whose Palace of pleasaunce
Might be a pattern in Portugal or France._