To Arran and his Council, the terms obtained from Strozzi by the rebel garrison seemed to be far too lenient; and they accordingly sent John Hamilton of Milburne to the King of France, who was now Henry II., and to the powerful Cardinal of Lorraine, urging them to repudiate the Captain-General’s action, and, in spite of the promises by which they had finally been induced to surrender, to handle the prisoners sharply.
Owing to circumstances which the chroniclers do not explain, the journey to France appears to have been unusually protracted; for, although Strozzi is said to have sailed from St Andrews about the middle of August, it was not till November that the galleys are reported to have reached Rouen. On his arrival, the six score Scotsmen whom he brought with him, learned that they were not to be given the option of entering into the service of France, or of passing, at the King’s expense, into any other country they might choose; and that the murder of Cardinal Beaton, and the subsequent rebellious defiance of the royal authority were not to be allowed to go unpunished. John Knox and Balfour, together with the prisoners of lower degree, were kept on the galleys as slaves, and sent to work on the Loire. Their fate was commemorated in the doggerel couplet given by Calderwood as the ‘song of triumph’ of the Papists:—
‘Preests, content you now; preests, content you now,
For Norman and his companie hath filled the galeyes fow.’
In reality, however, Norman Lesley, with the Laird of Pitmillie, and the Laird of Grange for his companions, was conveyed to Cherbourg. Henry Balneaves was imprisoned in Rouen itself, where he spent his enforced leisure in writing a ‘comfortable treatise’ on Justification by Faith without Works. James Melville was relegated to the Castle of Brest, but very shortly after ‘departed from the miseries of this life.’
To William Kirkcaldy, Peter Carmichael, Robert and William Lesley, what was then one of the most formidable fortresses in the kingdom, was assigned as a place of confinement.
Built on a huge rock of granite, in the blue, savage Norman Bay, there stood the imposing structure upon which the admiration of the Middle-Ages bestowed the name of the Wonder of the West. Situated some four miles from the nearest point of the mainland, it was guarded by the sea at high water, but became more inaccessible still when, for a couple of hours each day, the ebbing tide left nothing but a wide expanse of treacherous quicksands between it and the coast. This was the abbey-fortress of Mont Saint-Michel, that ‘wonderfully strong place upon the sea-shore,’ which had proved the bulwark of Normandy during the long struggle between England and France, and in which insignificant garrisons of determined men had, time and again, successfully held out against the assaults of beleaguering thousands. Here it was that the four Scottish prisoners were destined to spend many months of captivity. But the very fastness of their isolated prison was not without advantage for them. It inspired the Governor with such confidence that he deemed it unnecessary to deprive them of the restricted liberty that the rock afforded. The only annoyance to which they were submitted, was one which affected them through their religious opinions, and which they shared in common with the Scottish prisoners in other parts of the country. Knox relates that those who were in the galleys were threatened with torments if they would not give reverence to the Mass, and that they would have been compelled to kiss a statue of the Virgin, if one of them had not seized it and cast it into the Loire. At Cherbourg, too, the governor of the castle did his utmost to induce Sir James Kirkcaldy and his companions to attend Mass with him. When they refused to do so, he threatened to compel them; but they warned him that, if he chose to adopt such a course, they would, by their irreverent behaviour, let all present know their contempt for the ceremony. William Kirkcaldy, with his three fellow-captives, was subjected to the same importunities by the captain to whose keeping he had been entrusted at Mont Saint-Michel. With equal firmness, though in a more bantering tone, he replied for himself and for them, that ‘they would not only hear Mass every day but also help to say it, providing they might stick the priests; otherwise not.’
Being allowed free intercourse with the soldiers of the garrison and with the other inmates of the fortress, Kirkcaldy and his friends succeeded in buying the services of a messenger, by whose help they were able to hold communication with the other prisoners, from whom they had been separated at Rouen. Availing himself of the means thus afforded, Kirkcaldy wrote to John Knox, to ask his advice with regard to a matter about which it seems difficult to understand that he should have entertained any doubt or felt any scruple. He wished to know whether he and those with him might, with a safe conscience, break their prison. Knox replied that they would incur no moral guilt by embracing any opportunity which God should offer them to regain their liberty, providing they used no unlawful means, and, above all, refrained from shedding blood in the attempt.
Sir James Kirkcaldy was also informed of his son’s intention; but he appears to have given the bold scheme but scant encouragement. He feared that, even if it proved successful, those who still remained in captivity would be more harshly treated; and it was out of deference to him that Knox so earnestly deprecated any recourse to violent measures.
To venture across the quicksands alone would have been courting death; and as a first step towards the execution of their daring project, the prisoners had to secure the assistance of a guide. In that, they do not appear to have encountered any serious difficulty. One of the young men engaged in an inferior position about the Castle, in all probability the same who had enabled them to communicate with their friends, undertook to show them a safe way to the mainland if they should succeed in eluding the vigilance of their keepers. For many months circumstances prevented the carrying out of a plan which the restrictions imposed by Knox, and accepted by the four captives, rendered particularly hazardous and difficult; and the second winter since their departure from Scotland still found them fretting for liberty on the isolated rock. At length, however, their knowledge of the customs of those amongst whom they were living told them that the time for action was approaching. In those days, even more than at present, and particularly in Normandy, where it is still widely celebrated, the festival of the Three Kings—le Jour des Rois—as the Epiphany is called, was kept as a popular holiday, with much merry-making and carousing. The nature of the quaint ceremonial which formed a part of the feast, led to even more than the customary indulgence on the part of the revellers. Every time that the mock monarch of the evening, elected by favour of the bean hidden in the Twelfth-Night cake, put his goblet to his lips, the cry was raised, ‘le Roi boit! le Roi boit!’ and all his faithful subjects showed their loyalty, and their appreciation of his liberality, by draining their own cups. Even with no stronger beverage than the cider of the country, such repeated potations could not be indulged in with impunity. From their experience of the preceding year, Kirkcaldy and his friends knew that, when the feast closed, the garrison and the household were in no condition to give much attention to their prisoners. They laid their plan accordingly. To abstain from joining in festivities which, though purely social, were intimately connected with a religious feast, they could put forward the same reason that had stood them in good stead before—their utter contempt for popish mummeries; and could, therefore, retain the full possession of their mental and physical energies whilst their keepers were sinking into helpless intoxication. Although the account given by Knox is regrettably bare of details, it suggests that the garrison of Mont Saint-Michel was reduced to its lowest strength; and this circumstance very materially increased the Scotsmen’s chances of success.
When the carousing was over in the common hall, and when the revellers had retired to their several quarters, Kirkcaldy and his three friends sallied forth on their perilous expedition. Silently and stealthily making their way to the rooms where the soldiers were sunk in a heavy sleep they first gagged and bound them securely, and then locked the doors on them to prevent pursuit, even if the alarm were given. But the only means of exit from the fortress was closed by three gates, of which the keys were with the Governor; and if these could not be got, the whole enterprise was doomed to failure, in spite of the success with which the daring of the four Scotsmen had so far been favoured. To respect the conditions which Knox had imposed upon them, and impressed with such earnestness as to lead them to look upon them as absolutely essential to the accomplishment of their design, it was necessary for them to deal with the captain as they had done with the guards, not to dispatch him with the weapons that now lay at their disposal, but to overpower him by a sudden attack, and to bind him before he could offer any resistance. In this, too, their desperate determination secured them against failure. Favoured by the darkness, they reached the Logis du Roi, which formed a part of the machicolated inner gate, and contained the apartments assigned to the military guardian of the stronghold. When they left it, the Governor was as helpless as his men; and the keys were in their power. After raising the portcullis, they opened and relocked the second gate, passed into the Cour du Lion, and came to the outer barrier of the barbacan. The massive bolts and bars of the Bavole were hastily pushed back, and the fugitives were outside the walls of the grim prison, secure for a while from pursuit, but with the dangerous journey across the sands still before them. That, too, was performed without untoward accident. So far their guide proved faithful, for their safety was his; and before the rising tide had spread over the vast stretch of sand, and again isolated the Mount, they had reached the mainland, at a point sufficiently distant from Pontorson to insure their being unnoticed by the sentries. Here the guide left them, but not without turning against them the treachery and the unscrupulous greed which had made him their tool. By some means, which the chroniclers unfortunately leave unexplained, but which was doubtless supplied by their need of rest and sleep, as well as by the necessity for concealment, when they got to the shore in the early morning, he succeeded in getting possession of the little stock of money with which they had provided themselves. When the time came for them to resume their flight, they found themselves reduced to the necessity of depending on the charity of the country folk. That alone, even apart from considerations of prudence, made it advisable for the friends to part. The two Lesleys started together in one direction, and ultimately reached a place which Calderwood calls ‘Roan,’ but which can scarcely have been the inland town of Rohan, as some later writers have thought. It is more natural to suppose that, in their ignorance of the country, they made for Rouen, the port at which they had landed.
William Kirkcaldy and Carmichael proceeded westwards. As soon as the news of their escape became known, diligent search was made for them throughout the district. Disguised as poor mariners, they were, however, able to elude their pursuers; and they slowly and cautiously trudged from one seaport to another, in the hope of finding a friendly ship that would give them passage to England or to Scotland. But all along the coast persistent ill-luck followed them. Saint-Malo, Saint-Brieuc, Morlaix, Roscoff, Brest, were vainly tried in the course of their weary search, which lasted through thirteen weeks; and the fugitives came to the little town of Le Conquet, at the furthest extremity of the peninsula of Finistère, without finding a favourable opportunity to leave the country where, if their identity were revealed, any of the fortresses which they passed might become their prison. There, at length, their wanderings came to a close. In the diminutive harbour, to which, in spite of the dangerous rocks and reefs that stretch between the coast and the wind-swept island of Ushant, Scottish mariners sometimes steered their course, they found a ship and a skipper willing to take them back to their own country.
Kirkcaldy and his companion landed on the west coast of Scotland in the spring of 1549. But they were not in safety yet. It was only across the Border that they could consider themselves beyond the reach of their enemies. The short journey southwards, however, presented but slight difficulties as compared with what they had already gone through; and before long they found a refuge in Berwick. There they saw John Knox, who had been released that winter; and within a few months they were able to meet others of their friends in England; for the Scottish captives were being gradually liberated, and by the month of July 1550 a general amnesty had opened the gates of the French prisons for the last of the St Andrews rebels.
Nothing is known as to the length of Kirkcaldy’s stay in England; but there is evidence of his again being in France before the close of 1550. In that year Sir John Mason, writing from Blois to the English Council, informed it that the secret agent had arrived two days before, but being afraid for his personal safety, had resolved to return at once. He had found a substitute in Kirkcaldy who had promised to communicate to Mason all that he could learn. In future correspondence he was to be referred to as Coraxe. His services were accepted, and he received in payment for them a yearly pension, which he continued to draw during the whole of Edward VI.’s reign.
Kirkcaldy’s questionable loyalty to the country which afforded him hospitality did not prevent him from performing his duty with conspicuous bravery as a soldier in her army. Henry II. was at that time waging war against the Emperor of Germany, and was glad to avail himself of the services of the Scots. Two of these in particular distinguished themselves by their impetuous courage no less than by their military skill. They were Norman Lesley and William Kirkcaldy. To the former of these the campaign was destined to prove fatal; and the brief but graphic description of the skirmish in which he was mortally wounded, cannot, even at this distance of time, be read without sympathy and admiration. He had gone with the cavalry under the command of the Connétable to harass and impede the progress of the army which the Emperor was bringing to the relief of Renti, besieged by the French. The relative positions of the forces were not equal; for whilst those of Charles were advancing along a commanding height, Henry’s horsemen were in the plain below, and were consequently at the disadvantage of having to ride up hill to attack the enemy. Regardless of the odds the Scottish captain, mounted upon ‘a fair gray gelding,’ fearlessly headed a charge of thirty of his own countrymen. The incident is best given in the words of another Scot—Sir James Melville—who writes with the authority of an eye-witness. ‘He had above his coat of black velvet his coat of armour with two broad white crosses, the one before, and the other behind, with sleeves of mail, and a red bonnet upon his head, whereby he was known and seen afar off by the Constable, the Duke of Enghien, and the Prince of Condé: where, with his thirty, he charged upon sixty of their horsemen with culverines, followed but with seven of his number. He, in our sight, struck five of them from their horses with his spear before it brake: then he drew his sword, and ran in among them, not valuing their continual shooting, to the admiration of the beholders. He slew divers of them, and at length when he saw a company of spearmen coming down against him, he gave his horse the spurs, who carried him to the Constable, and there fell down dead; for he had many shots: and worthy Norman was also shot in divers parts, whereof he died fifteen days after. He was first carried to the King’s own tent, where the Duke of Enghien and Prince of Condé told his Majesty, that Hector of Troy was not more valiant than the said Norman: whom the said King would see dressed by his own chirurgeons, and made great moan for him. So did the Constable, and all the rest of the Princes.’
By none was the valiant Master of Rothes more deeply and more sincerely regretted than by his companion in many a perilous adventure—William Kirkcaldy. He had been given the command of a hundred light horsemen; and with these he had been sent out on a secret expedition, from which he did not return till the day after the fatal skirmish. Within a few hours, the battle of Renti afforded him and his Scots an opportunity of avenging their countryman. That he who was ‘like a lion in the field’ did not spare the enemy may well be assumed. Unfortunately, however, there is no record of his exploits either on that day, or, indeed, on any of the occasions when he did ‘such notable service in France.’ We only know that his conduct won the warmest praise from such men as Vendôme, Condé, and Aumale; that the famous Connétable would never allow him to stand bare-headed in his presence, and that, in the hearing of Melville, who records the flattering incident, King Henry II., pointing to him said, ‘Yonder is one of the most valiant men of our age.’
Nor was it in battle only that Kirkcaldy won distinction. He showed to equal advantage at the polished court of the Valois, and always figured amongst the foremost in the sports which the King favoured, and in which he himself took a leading part. So openly, indeed, did Henry show his admiration of the Scottish captain, that ‘he chose him commonly upon his side in all pastimes he went to.’
But, at the height of his fortunes, Kirkcaldy did not forget his own country, or abandon the policy which he conscientiously believed to be for her advantage. As a soldier, he was ready to serve the French King against his continental enemies; but, as a politician, he did not hesitate or scruple to thwart his schemes by all the means in his power when their object seemed to be the subjection of Scotland to the rule of France—the erection of the land into a province, as Melville forcibly puts it. With this object in view he had thought himself justified in acting as a secret agent, and supplying the English Government with such information as might enable it to follow the negotiations between the French party in Edinburgh and their friends in Paris. But his services had been dispensed with when Queen Mary succeeded her half-brother Edward on the throne. It was no loftier sense of honour, but rather a narrow spirit of intolerance that led to the step; and the reason assigned for the withdrawal of the secret service money, which had enabled Kirkcaldy to obtain, and to supply intelligence to England, was simply that ‘no Catholic Power should pay or maintain the murderers of a Catholic Cardinal.’
As Kirkcaldy was in the receipt of ample pay from Henry II., and as even his detractors never accused him of avarice or greed—a charge which it would be difficult to substantiate in the face of the distinct statement made by Melville, that he never sought payment of the ‘honourable pension’ granted him on his retirement from the French service—it cannot be supposed that he was actuated by mercenary motives when, in 1556, he again offered his services to Queen Mary, through Dr Wotton, promising that she should have ‘good intelligence of the affairs of Scotland and of France by his intimacy with those of both nations.’ No answer having been vouchsafed to these overtures, Kirkcaldy resolved to return to Scotland, where, as his knowledge of the negotiations carried on with the French Court enabled him to foresee, important events were about to take place. Before leaving Paris, however, he again applied to the English Ambassador, Dr Wotton, from whom he received a letter of introduction to Lord Paget, Lord Privy-Seal, and Sir William Petre, Secretary of State. It laid special stress on the bearer’s discontent with the present state of Scotland, and on his desire to see it delivered from the yoke of the French and restored to its former liberty. It referred to his English sympathies, but added a very important and very honourable qualification; for it was only ‘next to his country’ that he was represented as having ‘a good mind to England.’
On the 28th of May 1557, Lord Wentworth, writing to Queen Mary, informed her that Kirkcaldy was then at Dieppe, ‘tarying only the wind to pass to Scotland.’
About the year 1556, Sir James Kirkcaldy closed his chequered career. The latter years of his life, those subsequent to his return from captivity, had been spent in retirement and comparative obscurity. After mentioning his liberation, and the amnesty which put an end to his exile from Scotland, the chronicles and letters of the period make no further reference to him; and it is only from an entry in a writ of Chancery that the approximate date of his death can be determined.
It was as Sir William Kirkcaldy of Grange that his son returned to his native land. The first incident in which he figures, though but of slight importance in itself, is too characteristic of his chivalrous nature and martial spirit to be omitted. It had chanced, some time previously, that in the course of one of those raids, which were of constant occurrence on the Border, John Kirkcaldy had been made prisoner, by a party of Englishmen, belonging to the garrison of Berwick, of which Lord Evers was governor at the time. According to the recognised custom of the age, the young Scotsman was kept in confinement until such time as his friends should pay the ransom demanded by his captors. But, from the account which he gave after his release, it appeared that he had been treated with undue harshness by Lord Evers during his enforced stay within the walls of the English fortress. John Kirkcaldy himself was not of sufficient rank and standing to demand satisfaction of the governor. His cousin, however, was a soldier whose reputation made it no disgrace for the bravest Englishman to break a lance with him. As his kinsman’s champion, the Laird of Grange sent a challenge to the Governor of Berwick to meet him in single combat. But he had not reckoned on the punctiliousness of the English lord. Evers pleaded no justification of his conduct, nor did he deny the Scotsmen’s right, according to the established laws of chivalry, to demand satisfaction; but he would not recognise the simple Scottish Baron as his equal, and consequently declined the encounter. To ignore the cartel altogether, would, however, have exposed the English to taunts too insulting to be borne with equanimity; and for the honour of his country and of his family, Lord Evers’s brother, Sir Ralph, gallantly made known his readiness to fight with the Laird of Grange ‘ane singular combatt upoun horsback with speares.’ To this he received the reply, that Sir William was ‘verrie weill content thairof, and to meitt him in ony place he pleised.’ It was accordingly arranged that the duel should take place at Halidon Hill, in presence of the two garrisons of Berwick and of Eyemouth, but that under pain of treason, no man should come within an arrow’s flight of the two champions. Each of them, however, was allowed to have an attendant to bear his spear. There were also to be two trumpeters, and two lords ‘to be judges to see the matter finished.’ On the appointed day, the two knights rode into the field. Sir Ralph Evers was accompanied by his brother, the Governor of Berwick, in whose cause he was about to fight, and by eleven other English knights. With Sir William Kirkcaldy, there were also twelve gentlemen, of whom one was Monsieur d’Oysel, the King of France’s lieutenant.
When the judges of the field examined the armour of the two champions, some difficulty arose by reason of Kirkcaldy’s better equipment. According to the English annalist Hollinshed, who is as scrupulous in mentioning the detail as the Scottish chronicler Pitscottie is careful to overlook it, they objected that ‘Grange was armed in a coat of plate, and a cuirass aloft upon it,’ whilst Evers ‘was clad onelie in a single coat of plate, without anie other pieces of armor for defense of his body.’ The English knight, however, declared himself satisfied; and the duel was proceeded with. The description given of it by the two writers who have thought it worthy of record, is very characteristic. It shows how national sympathies influence them, even in trifling matters; and may serve to convey some notion of the difficulty which there is in arriving at the truth with regard to more important events. Hollinshed is content with the statement that the combatants ‘ran together, and brake both their staves,’ and that ‘as it fortuned, Master Evers was hurt in the flank.’ Pitscottie has expanded this into a picturesque narrative. ‘When all things war put to ordour,’ he says, ‘and the championes horssed, and thair speares in thair handis, then the trumpetteris soundit, and the heraldis cryed, and the judges leitt thame goe, and they ran togidder verrie furiouslie on both sydis, bot the laird of Grange rane his adversar, the Inglisman, throw the shoulder blaid, and aff his hors, and was woundit deadlie, and in perrill of his lyff. Bot quhidder he died or leived I cannot tell; but the laird of Grange wan the victorie that day.’
In spite of the irregular and desultory fighting of which the meeting between Kirkcaldy and Evers was an incident, Scotland and England were not actually at war with each other. France, it is true, was using all its influence to create a diversion in its own favour by inducing the Queen-Regent to send a Scottish army across the Border; and, in anticipation of a conflict between the two nations, the restless and warlike Barons of the Marches were already making inroads into the country of the prospective enemy. But when Mary, after having assembled an army at Kelso, announced her intention of declaring war on England, a powerful party, with Chastelherault, Huntly, Cassilis, and Argyle at its head, obliged her to desist. With a view to checking the power of those noblemen, the Regent formed a plan for recalling the Earl of Lennox from his exile in England. This gave rise to negotiations, in which Kirkcaldy acted as agent, and of which a cessation of the Border warfare also appears to have been one of the objects. They were opened by the Bishop of Caithness, who, on the 10th of November 1557, wrote to Lord Wharton:—
‘My Lorde; This shall be to chardge and request your Lordshipp in homelye manner to be so favourable and good for such love and favour as I do knowe you bear unto my Lorde my brother, and to tayke the paynes to cause this lytell mass of writings to be wyth all diligence conveyed unto his Lordshipp, so being that passage cannot be had to Wyllyam Kyrkaudye, unto whome the said writings are directed, to be presented by him unto my Laydy’s grace, my sister, trusting that your Lordshipp will do so moche for myne owne request, tho’ the matter appertained not unto my Lorde or my Laydy forsayd, whose affaires I doubte not but your Lordshippe dothe regarde and weigh as your owne, which movethe me to be the more homely with you at this tyme. Referring the premisses unto your Lordshipp’s good mynde, and thus wyth my mooste hartie comendacions unto your good Lordshipp, bid you mooste hartely to farewell. Of Edenboroughe the xth daye of November 1557, by the hande of
Your Lordshipp’s good Friend in the olde manner lawfully
Robartt, Buschopp of Cathness.’
Three days later, Kirkcaldy, in conformity with the instructions he had received, wrote the following request for a secret interview with Wharton:—
‘These shall be to certify your Lordship, this last Fryday, at night, there came ane speciall friend of my Ladye Margaret Dowglass’s grace, and of my Lorde her bedfellowe’s, to me with an masse of Letters dyrected to your Lordship, and because this friend, that hath sent these letters, knoweth that I have always bene wyllinge to do pleasure and service to the forsayd Laydye and Lorde, hathe desyred me moost ernestly to see them delyvered secretely, wythe certaine secrets to your Lordship, the which I wold gladly do, yf I might be assured to come quietly unto you, wythoute the knowledge of anye but some sure friende of your owne, whome yt will pleas your Lordship, if ye think ye good I come unto you, to cause meet me at Lamertone churche, this setterday night, halfe an houre after the sunset, where I shall be with one in company. And for the lesse susspicione, I wold desyre your Lordship that I might be with you in the fornight, to the ende I might be come back agayne or daye. Besides all these premisses, I have some other matters to declare unto your Lordship. Your answer in writing with expedycion I moost hartely desyre, and so bidd your Lordship weill fayr. From Haymowth, this Setterday the xiii of November, 1557.
By him whome your Lordship may commaunde after his pore power
Wlllm. Kirkaldye.’
Wharton at once sent a reply. He readily consented to an interview with Kirkcaldy, and undertook to observe all the precautions suggested by his correspondent with a view to insuring the secrecy upon which so much stress was laid. His courteous note concluded with the expression of his satisfaction that the Laird of Grange continued his good mind to my Lady Margaret Lennox and her husband, and with the assurance that they should be informed of it. The meeting duly took place in the evening; and the following detailed account of what was discussed at it was drawn up by Lord Wharton next day, and forwarded to the Privy Council.
‘Pleaseth it your most honourable Lordships to be advertised that the 13th of this month William Kirkcaldy sent me a letter; and to the intent to know as I could his meaning or practice, I wrote answer as your Lordships may perceive by the copies of his letter and mine answer therein enclosed. The same night he was with me in my chamber; and first delivered a letter unto me from the Bishop of Caithness, copy whereof I send also with these unto your Lordships. He delivered a packet of letters endorsed to my Lady Margaret Lennox, her Grace, which I have sent with this post towards her and my Lord her husband, with a letter therein from Kirkcaldy to his Lordship. After this I had long talk with him that night, and questioned thoroughly that cause of my Lady Margaret and my Lord of Lennox—from whom the letters were sent, with whose advice, and who would be their friends in that realm, I accounting to him their enemies, which were great and many. His sayings, so near as I could, I gathered as followeth.
‘He saith that the Prior of St Andrews, who is accounted the wisest of the late King’s base sons, and one of the Council of Scotland, the Earl of Glencairn and the Bishop of Caithness, did agree to write the letters in the packet, and that the Dowager is of counsel and consenting therewith; and that she wrote her letters to Monsieur d’Oysel, to cause Kirkcaldy make devise to send the letters to me, that they might pass in haste; and that the Dowager’s letter did meet d’Oysel beside Dunbar, towards Edinburgh, the 13th of this month. D’Oysel returned[1] Kirkcaldy, upon the sight of the Dowager’s letter, with the packet forthwith, who saith to me, it is the Queen and d’Oysel’s device, and d’Oysel very earnest therewith, with many words that he hath given to Kirkcaldy of the great displeasure that the Queen and d’Oysel beareth, especially against the Duke of Chastelherault and the Earl of Huntly, and against others whom d’Oysel nameth the feeble and false noblemen of Scotland. Amongst others, he said when their army retired and their ordnance was to be carried on the water, d’Oysel sent to the Duke that he would see the ordnance returned over the water again and that it might be put in safety. The messenger said to the Duke that d’Oysel was angry with their retire and breach of their promise, and also not regarding the surety of their ordnance. The Duke’s answer was, “Let Monsieur d’Oysel gang by his mind, an he will; for as we, the noblemen of Scotland, have determined and written to the Queen, so will we do, and let him look to his own charge.” The messenger told the Duke’s words to d’Oysel, and so was d’Oysel left. Upon which words, and their manner of dealing, d’Oysel will seek their displeasure by all the ways and means he can, and so will the Dowager, as Kirkcaldy saith.
‘In talks with him, I said it was a great matter to enterprise, to bring into that realm my Lady Margaret Lennox and my Lord her husband, and that power of noblemen and of others, with houses of strength must be provided in that realm, and to be in surety thereof before their coming, for I thought they were personages which would not be sent forth of this realm into Scotland, to live in danger of their enemies, now being great. He said, the coming of my Lady to the Dowager, with their friends there, would order that matter; and said, they might first have the Castle of Tantallon, which is in the keeping of the Lord of Craigmillar, and at the Dowager’s order. He speaketh liberally, that they would have many friends, and also have on their side the authority that now is. Their friends earnestly desire the hasty sending of Nesbit, my Lord of Lennox’s servant. This matter, as I think in my poor opinion, may be wrought for my Lady Margaret and my Lord of Lennox’s purposes, and to continue the displeasure now standing amongst the greatest of that realm.
‘After this, Kirkcaldy said, that he marvelled that the communication between Sir James Crofts and him, for a truce of certain days to have been made, was not agreed unto; and said the same matter was one of the occasions of his coming to me, to declare his doings therein; whom I answered that the same was not like to take effect by his doings for Scotland, for, they made sundry meetings and countenances for truce, and when their army was ready, did let the matter fall, which gave occasion to be thought in this realm not well done. And after, he revived again that communication, which, without others calling for, and personages for that realm to have been appointed for that purpose, he ought to think the same could not take effect. After this, he asked me, if it could not be brought to a truce yet. I said I had no commission, nor anything to say therein; what he would say, I would hear it. And then he desired mine advice. I told him what I had seen—that Scotland, in war, had sent messages to officers or to noblemen, and thereupon meetings of commissioners did follow, for abstinence, which was had, and after, peace. And I making occasion of other communications, he came to this again, and desired that a herald should be sent to my Lord of Northumberland, Lord Warden, and to me, having some prisoners taken by the garrison here, that gentlemen might be appointed, and treat for the order of prisoners of both realms, as before they did; and at that meeting, the former sayings of Sir James Crofts and him to be spoken of, for a truce for certain days, and to be remembered by the Scots. I asked whom he thought should be appointed (if meeting were had). He said, the Lord Seaton, Captain Sarlabois—to be one because he was one before—the Laird of Craigmillar, and the young Laird of Lethington; or two of them. These are the Dowager’s and great with her. I told him that I could make him no answer; but said, if it were his mind, I would make advertisements of his sayings, which he desired that I would, to my Lords of the King and Queen’s Majesty’s most Honourable Privy Council. He said that Scotland would agree to an abstinence for twenty days or for three months; but, always they mind to have a licence for an especial man to pass through this realm with the Dowager’s letters to the French King for knowledge of his further pleasure to their treaties and doings. And I asking him what news he had, and reasoning of the present state and devices for the order of their realm, he said, that, on Sunday last, the 7th of November, there arrived a ship at Leith, with letters and money from the French King. He said he read a letter written from the said King to d’Oysel, wherein was that he should have all his desires of men and money; and that a letter was written from Bettancourt, Master of the Dowager’s household (who passed from the Dowager to the French King for an aid in summer last) that he with four ensigns and twelve hundred footmen, and two hundred horsemen, were dispatched to come into Scotland by the West Seas, whom continually they look for there. Captain Crayer and the Englishmen in France are appointed to serve in Scotland as he saith. He said that it was written that the French King was in the field with a great army, and intended to besiege St Quentin. He further said that they have three hundred in garrison in Kelso, and that they have in Eyemouth and Ayton, nine hundred, besides three hundred Scots in garrison, and that they mind, having money now come (whereof was great want), to make a more furniture of five hundred Scotts horsemen, himself, the Laird of Ormistone, James Stuart, one Livingstone, and a fifth, whom he could not name, to be their Captains. I told him these were many hundreds he spoke of, if all might be well paid; and said that his news and these would give occasion to think that this realm should not treat of abstinence nor peace. He answered that Monsieur d’Oysel thought the peace would be made between the King’s Highness and the French King, and doubteth nothing thereof, except the Duke of Savoy; and therefore he would that peace should be treated upon here.
‘He saith that they will have a parliament at Saint Andrew’s day to appoint the marriage of the Queen, which, he saith, will be solemnised after Christmas, or at Easter, and not to fail. He saith the going of Monsieur d’Oysel to Edinburgh at this time, is for the order of the money come, which the Dowager and d’Oysel will keep secret so much as they can, because the Scotts will be greedy thereof.’
On this incident, which does not appear to have led to any definite results, Tytler has founded a charge of gross inconsistency against Sir William Kirkcaldy. Even the fragment of Wharton’s report quoted by him contains nothing that can be looked upon as supporting the accusation. An examination of all the documents bearing on the case wholly refutes it. It makes it clear that the main object of the conference was the recall of the Earl of Lennox—a scheme to which Kirkcaldy, who, in his own words, had ‘always been willing to do pleasure and service’ to the Earl and his wife, might honourably lend himself. With regard to the informal conversation on the subject of a truce, it was, obviously, nothing more than the revival of a subject which had already been openly discussed with Crofts; and whatever construction may be given to it, there is manifest unfairness in distorting it into the abandonment, on Kirkcaldy’s part, of the principles which he had formerly professed; on the contrary, if it can be held to prove anything, that can only be a wish for the establishment of more friendly relations with England. As to ‘inviting a French army into the country,’ there is nothing in Wharton’s report that justifies the assumption that Grange favoured such a measure. He referred to the expected arrival of troops, simply in answer to the question asked him, as to the latest news; and the fact of his communicating such details to an English agent might, with some plausibility, serve as an argument that he had but little sympathy with the Dowager’s French policy.
The year 1559 marks one of the most important events in the history of the Scottish people. In that year began ‘the uproar of religion,’ as Pitscottie quaintly yet vigorously styles it. Instigated by her brothers, Mary of Guise, the Queen-Regent of Scotland, inaugurated the unwise and unscrupulous policy by which she and they hoped to check the growing power of the Protestant party, and to secure the ascendancy of France. A little before Easter, she issued a proclamation ‘commanding every man, great and small, to observe the Roman Catholic religion, to resort daily to the Mass, that all should make confession in the ear of a priest, and receive the sacrament.’ In addition to that, she summoned several of the most influential amongst the Protestant Lords, and, after communicating to them the instructions, ‘mixed with some threatenings,’ which Bettancourt had brought from the French Court, she called upon them to abjure the principles and practice of the Reformed religion. More injudiciously still, she ordered the leaders of the Reformed clergy to attend a Court of Justice, which was to be held at Stirling, and before which they would be required to defend their teaching and their conduct. In the face of this wanton provocation the ‘Professors’ acted with calm and dignified determination. They sent Alexander, Earl of Glencairn, and Sir Hugh Campbell of Lowdan, Sheriff of Ayr, to remonstrate with the Queen-Regent, and to beseech her to use no violent measures against the Protestant ministers, ‘unless any man were able to convict them of false doctrine.’ To this she replied in violent and intolerant language: ‘In despite of you, and your ministers both,’ she said, ‘they shall be banished out of Scotland, albeit they preached as true as ever did Saint Paul.’
Though both astonished and shocked at this ‘proud and blasphemous answer,’ Glencairn and Campbell maintained their self-restraint. They contented themselves with representing to her that her former tolerance had given such strength to the Reformed religion, that she could no longer hope to repress it; and with appealing to the promises which she had herself made to her Protestant subjects. At this her anger burst forth again; and she told them that ‘it became not subjects to burden their Princes with promises, further than it pleased them to keep.’ The deputies firmly replied by pointing out the disastrous consequences that would inevitably ensue from such high-handed action, and by warning the Regent that the responsibility for them would fall upon her. This produced a salutary effect; and Mary so far relented as to promise that she would give the matter further consideration.
At this juncture, the spontaneous development of events brought about new complications, and made it evident that an amicable settlement of the quarrel between the two parties was no longer possible. The town of Perth openly embraced the Reformed religion—a measure which, in the words of the chronicler, ‘provoked the Queen-Regent to a new fury.’ She at once sent orders to Lord Ruthven, who was Provost at the time, to take the most rigorous means for the suppression of the heretical outbreak. He replied that he could oblige the citizens to bring their bodies to her Grace, and to prostrate themselves before her, till she was satiate with their blood, but that he could not undertake to make them do anything against their consciences. On receiving the ‘malapert’ answer, Mary of Guise commanded that the summons issued to the preachers should take effect, and that they should appear at Stirling on the 10th of May.
The leaders of the Protestant party still hesitated to abandon their conciliatory policy; and even though it was thought advisable that the most influential gentlemen in Angus and Mearns should assemble in Perth to express their sympathy with the ministers and to give them their moral support, it was prudently resolved that they should appear unarmed, and that the Regent should be informed that their intentions went no further than ‘giving confession with the preachers.’ Intimidated by this peaceful but suggestive demonstration, Mary thought it wise to meet the ‘fervency’ of the people with craft. Through the Laird of Dun, who had been sent to her, she expressed her willingness to stay the trial of the ministers, if they and their sympathisers consented to disperse at once. When, after some hesitation, her terms had been accepted, instead of keeping faith with the Protestants, she caused the preachers to be put to the horn for not having appeared in Stirling in obedience to the summons, and all men to be forbidden under pain of rebellion to assist, comfort, receive, or maintain them in any sort.
The Queen-Regent’s duplicity aroused a storm of indignation in Perth, where it became known within a few hours. Next day, John Knox, who had but lately returned to Scotland, ascended the pulpit. It does not appear that he made any direct reference to the treachery of which Mary had been guilty, or that he intended further to excite the resentment of the people. He inveighed against idolatry; set forth the commandments given by God for the destruction of everything connected with false worship; and denounced the Mass as an abomination of the grossest kind.
It is a very striking illustration of the strange confusion of the time, that this discourse was delivered in the parish church, and that immediately after it, and before those who had been stirred by the preacher’s fervid eloquence had retired, a priest came forward, and made preparation for the performance of the very function against which Knox had directed his bitter invectives. This ill-timed zeal, or imprudent defiance, called forth an indignant protest from a youth who was near the altar at the moment. ‘This is intolerable,’ he cried, ‘that when God, by his word, hath plainly damned idolatry, we should stand and see it used in despite.’ The rash priest replied with a violent blow. Rushing out of the church, the young man seized a heavy stone, returned to the altar, and flung the missile with all his might at the aggressor. The stone missed the priest, but struck a statue, and broke it to pieces. This was the signal for a scene of uproar and violence. In a few moments the church was wrecked, and the mob was on its way to the other religious buildings in the city. The tumult lasted for two whole days, during which the monasteries of the Blackfriars, of the Greyfriars, and of the Carthusians were so completely pillaged and destroyed, that ‘the walls only of those great buildings remained.’
Mary of Guise vowed to be avenged; and marched against Perth with a powerful body of troops. But the gentlemen of Fife, Angus, and Mearns, and the burgesses of Dundee were assembling to meet force with force; and though, at first, she affected to despise the rebels, the accession to their number of two thousand five hundred men, under Glencairn, induced her to consent to negotiations. On the 28th of May, a truce was agreed upon. The conditions were that ‘no inhabitants of the town should be troubled for any such crimes as might be alleged against them, for the late change of religion, abolishing of idolatry, and downcasting of the places of the same; and that her Grace would suffer the religion begun to go forward, and leave the town free from the garrisons of the French soldiers.’
On the 29th of May, the ‘Congregation’ departed from Perth; and on the same day, the Queen-Regent, the Duke of Chastelherault, the Earl of Athole, and several prelates, together with d’Oysel and his French troops, entered it. From the very first, it became evident that Mary of Guise had no intention of allowing the conditions of the truce to interfere with her policy. Indeed, she is reported to have said, that she did not consider herself bound to keep her promises to heretics. As for retaining four hundred of d’Oysel’s soldiers as a garrison, she justified that step on the ground that, though in the French service, and in the receipt of French pay, they were Scotsmen.
One of the results of this further act of perfidy was to alienate the Earl of Argyle and Lord James Stuart. As long as they thought that the Regent’s object was only the restoration of order, they remained on her side; but now, judging that she was bent on doing all in her power to suppress the Reformation, they departed for St Andrews, where the ‘Professors’ had retired after leaving Perth.
It does not appear that Sir William Kirkcaldy took any open and prominent part in the events which occurred in the early months of 1559. But there is evidence that he was at St Andrews in the beginning of June. It was there that John Knox first proposed to him that they should endeavour to obtain assistance from Queen Elizabeth. ‘If England would but see her own advantage,’ the Reformer said, ‘Yea, if she would consider the dangers wherein she is standing herself, she would not suffer us to perish in this quarrel; for France hath decreed no less the conquest of England than of Scotland.’ As the result of their ‘long reasoning,’ it was resolved that Kirkcaldy should open negotiations with the English.
If, as Calderwood states, this interview did not take place till after the assembling of the forces of the Congregation on Cupar Moor, on the 13th of June, Kirkcaldy had already, on his own responsibility, communicated with Elizabeth’s agent. On the 24th of May he had written to Sir Henry Percy, informing him that although the Queen-Regent of Scotland promised she would be content that all such as favoured God’s Word should have liberty to live after their own conscience, yet, in the conclusion of the peace she had uttered her deceitful mind, having since declared that she would be an enemy to all those who did not live after her religion. ‘Therefore, I pray you,’ said Sir William, ‘let me understand what will be your mistress’s part if we desire to be joined in friendship with her; for I assure you there was never a better time to get our friendship than at this time. Therefore make labours and lose no time when it is offered.’
About a month later, on the 23rd of June, Kirkcaldy, who by this time had returned to his own house, wrote to Cecil. The natural love which he bore to his native country, he said, and the unfeigned desire which he had long cherished, that the inhabitants of the whole island might be united in perpetual amity, compelled him to declare their present state, and to require of him counsel and comfort in their danger. Twice already, he informed Cecil, had the Professors of God’s Word shown their faces for defence of their brethren, whose blood was sought for the cause of religion; and, at that moment, they were in the field for the deliverance of Perth, which the Queen had taken and, contrary to her promises, garrisoned with her troops. Of the Catholic party in Scotland itself, there was no cause, he believed, to be afraid; for the greater part of the nobility and commonalty had openly defied the Pope; but the Queen and the Papists were plotting to bring in a French army. If this should happen, it was the desire of all goodly men to know what support they might look for from England, with which they were anxious to be one in religion and friendship. The number of these was already great and seemed likely to increase daily, if no foreign nation interfered to coerce them; and Cecil was warned that, if he allowed the latter contingency to take place, he would be preparing a way for his own destruction.
Although Percy’s answer to Kirkcaldy has not been preserved, it appears to have been rather an inquiry for direct information as to the objects which the leaders of the Congregation really had in view, than a promise to afford the help so earnestly solicited. It drew from Grange a further communication, written on the 1st of July, the day after the triumphant entry of the Protestant forces into Edinburgh, and containing a distinct exposition of the policy of his party. ‘I received your letter this last day of June,’ he wrote, ‘perceiving thereby the doubt and suspicion you stand in for the coming forward of the Congregation, whom I assure you, you need not to have in suspicion; for they mean nothing but reformation of religion, which shortly throughout the realm they will bring to pass, for the Queen and Monsieur d’Oysel, with all the Frenchmen, for refuge are retired to Dunbar. The foresaid Congregation came this last of June, by three of the clock, to Edinburgh, where they will take order for the maintenance of the true religion and resisting of the King of France, if he sends any force against them. The manner of their proceeding in reformation is this: they pull down all manner of friaries, and some abbeys which willingly receive not the Reformation. As to parish churches, they cleanse them of images and all other monuments of idolatry, and command that no masses be said in them; in place thereof the Book set forth by godly King Edward is read in the said churches. They have never as yet meddled with a pennyworth of that which pertains to the Church, but presently they will take order throughout all the parts where they dwell, that all the fruits of the abbeys and other churches shall be kept and bestowed upon the faithful ministers, until such time as a further order be taken. Some suppose the Queen, seeing no other remedy, will follow their desires, which is a general reformation throughout the whole realm, conform to the pure Word of God; and the Frenchmen to be sent away. If her Grace will do so, they will obey her and serve her, and annex the whole revenues of the abbeys to the Crown; if her Grace will not be content with this, they are determined to hear of no agreement.’
In the minds of the English statesmen, there was still some doubt as to the position taken up by Kirkcaldy. They remembered that, shortly after his return to Scotland, he had acted as the Queen-Regent’s agent; and they had before them the fact that he had not yet openly declared himself to be on the side of the Congregation. Under such circumstances, Cecil thought it prudent not to write directly to the Laird of Grange, whom, as yet, he had no reason for treating otherwise than ‘as a private man, not before known otherwise to them but as one in good grace with the Dowager.’ He instructed Sir Henry Percy to obtain an interview with Sir William, to thank him privately for his letter and the sentiments to which it gave expression, and at the same time, to tell him that the English Government desired to be more fully informed as to the purposes of the Earls and other Protestants; as to the cause they meant to adopt; and as to the means at their disposal for the accomplishment of their designs. Above all, there was to be a clear understanding as to ‘what manner of amity might ensue between the two realms,’ if assistance were sent from England, ‘and how the same might be hoped to be perpetuated, and not to be so slender as heretofore, with other assurance of continuance than from time to time had pleased France.’ Lest Kirkcaldy should think that Cecil’s unwillingness to negotiate directly with him arose from any doubt as to his good faith and honesty, Percy was further commissioned to tell him that all promises communicated through the English agent would be considered just as binding as though they had been made immediately to himself. Considering, however, the very guarded nature of the answer which Sir Henry was to make to the Scottish Laird’s advances, the assurance thus given did not commit the English minister too much.
As soon as Kirkcaldy learnt from Percy the reasons put forward by Cecil in explanation of his cautious hesitation, he at once promised to supply, within a few days, the information required by the English statesman with regard both to the ‘foundation’ on which the Protestants meant to work, and the ‘amity’ they were ready to offer. He further undertook to get himself duly acknowledged ‘under the hands of some of the nobility.’
Although less than a week elapsed between Kirkcaldy’s interview with Percy and Crofts and the formal recognition of his negotiations by the Lords of the Congregation, the delay appears to have suggested fresh doubts, and possibly suspicions, to the minds of the English agents. On the 20th of July, Crofts wrote from Berwick, informing Cecil that Grange, though expected the day before, had not yet arrived, and suggesting reasons for the delay.
‘Kirkcaldy,’ he wrote, ‘has not yet discovered himself plainly to be of the Protestant party, nor does he come to the Queen-Regent, but feigns himself sick. Money is owing him for serving in the late wars, in hope whereof he drives time. The man is poor and cannot travail in these matters without charges, wherein he must be relieved by the Queen, if these proceedings go forward, and so must as many as be principal doers have relief. They all be poor, and necessity will force them to leave off when all they have is spent, and you know, in all practices, money must be one part.’
A few days later, however, on the 26th of the month, the same writer was able to announce that Kirkcaldy had now ‘declared himself plainly,’ and was with the Protestants. That pecuniary considerations, even if they had influenced him at all, as Crofts had previously stated, had not been allowed to deter him from the course of action which his conscience pointed out to him, was proved by the fact that, as Crofts himself acknowledged, in a later communication, his declaration cost him fifteen or sixteen months’ pay, which he should have received from France.
Kirkcaldy’s object and ambition had been the formation of a Protestant alliance, and he had fervently declared that all Europe should know that a league, in the name of God, had another foundation and assurance than factions made by man for worldly commodity. But the result of his negotiations fell very far short of his sanguine hopes. He was obliged to be content for the time with a vague promise of assistance.