King James had lately sent Vans of Barnbarroch, and his own ex-preceptor, Peter Young, as ambassadors to Denmark, to negotiate a match with the daughter of Frederick II. He now (June 14, 1587) wrote to those gentlemen, ordering them to see to certain Scotch ships which had gone to Dantzic for grain, designing to carry it to other foreign ports for a profit: he demands that they shall not be passed by the tollender at Elsinore, till the skippers enter into an obligation to bring the grain to Scotland, ‘for the relief of the puir and supply of the dearth and scarcity.’150 How would a modern corn-merchant feel if his vessels were now stopped at the Sound with such a demand as this!

Patrick Hamilton, brother of the Laird of Preston, and captain of Brodick Castle in Arran, was denounced rebel for not appearing before the king and Council, to answer a complaint of Abacuck Bisset, writer to the Signet in Edinburgh. It appears that Patrick, accompanied by two nephews, had attacked Mr Bisset in St Giles’s Kirk in Edinburgh, during the sitting of parliament, with a sword, and cut off ‘the haill fingers of his left hand.’

This Abacuck Bisset was clerk to Sir John Skene, Lord Clerk Register. He compiled a treatise entitled The Rolment of Courtis, contenand the Auldest Lawis, Actis, Statutis, Constitutionis, and Antiquities of His Majesties Native and maist Ancient Realme of Scotland, as ane Frie Kingdome, &c.

We have hitherto heard the name of Queen Mary chiefly in connection with tragic matters: verily a name of tears. For once we find her connected with a piece of pleasantry, and it was in association with the author of the Rolment of Courtis. The father of this worthy writer was caterer to the queen. One day, as she was passing to mass, he acquainted her with his having a child to be baptised, and desired her to assign the infant its name. She said she would open the Bible in the chapel, and whatever name she cast up, that should be given to the child. The name cast up was that of the prophet Habakkuk, which, in the form of Abacuck, was accordingly conferred on the future writer.

Abacuck Bisset’s Rolment of Courtis exists in manuscript in the Advocates’ Library, only a portion of it, containing A Short Form of Process for civil cases, having been printed. It was composed in the old age of the author, after the commencement of the reign of Charles I., and seems to have been designed for immediate publication, as it is prefaced with sundry of those complimentary verses with which authors used to gratify each other in days while as yet reviews were not. One set of these, by Mr Alexander Craig of Rose Craig, and which appears in his Poetical Exercises (Raban, Aberdeen, 1623), is not without some feeling:

Abacuck himself appears to have had a turn for verse, and in this form he gives his poetical friends notice of the contents of his book, that they may address him regarding it. After a great deal of very dry prose matters about decreets, suspensions, exceptions, &c., he either makes or quotes the following:

CERTAIN AULD RULES CONTEINED IN THE ANCIENT REGISTER OF SCOTLAND ANENT THE MEITHIS AND MERCHES OF LAND.

The meaning of all this is, that ancient custom in Scotland recognised three natural divisions or boundaries for land—1. Headroom, the termination of a piece of territory on the summit of the slope of the adjacent hill; 2. The line of hills between two glens; 3. The river passing through a glen. A water crossing the headroom on the summit of the mountains made no difference.152

‘The pest brake up in harvest in Leith, by opening up of some old kists, and in Edinburgh about the 4th of November. It continued in these two towns this winter till Candlemass.’—Cal.

This pest ‘strake a great terror in Edinburgh and all the coast-side,’ says James Melville. He adds: ‘By occasion thereof, we began the exercise of daily doctrine and prayers in our kirk, whilk continues to this day with great profit and comfort, baith of the teachers and hearers.’ The kirk-session of Perth appointed a fast ‘with great humiliation’ for eight days. In those days, there was scarcely any other recognised method of averting pestilence. The same simple diarist tells us: ‘This winter the king was occupied in commenting of the Apocalypse, and in setting out of sermons thereupon against the Papists and Spaniards: and yet, by a piece of great oversight, the Papists practised never more busily in this land, and made greater preparation for receiving the Spaniards nor [than] that year.’

In October 1588, the town-council of Glasgow was in great apprehension of a visit of the pest, as it was then in Paisley. They made arrangements for guarding the ports to prevent the entrance of people from the infected district.—M. of G.

Mr James Gordon, a Jesuit, uncle to the Earl of Huntly, being now in Edinburgh, ‘his majesty took purpose to convene some of the ministry of Edinburgh within his own chamber in Holyroodhouse, and to send for the said Mr James; who coming before his majesty, his highness declared the cause for which he had sent for him, which was, that as he understood him to be a learned man, come into this country on purpose to persuade the people to embrace the popish religion, he would therefore shew him that his majesty was himself disposed to use some reasoning with him on religion. Whereunto Mr James objected, and said that he desired not to reason with his majesty, but would reason with any other. [James was now only twenty-one.] The king’s majesty, answering, offered and promised to lay his crown and royalty aside, and to reason with him as if he were a private man. And so his majesty began and laid down some grounds of religion, which he still observed and reasoned upon for the space of four or five hours. Some things were yielded to by Mr James, and others denied.... The said Mr James was kept in a chamber in Holyroodhouse five or six days, and then appointed to pass to Seaton, till he was ready to depart off the country.’—Moy. R.

Alison Peirson, in Byrehill, was tried for witchcraft. The verdict recites a number of strange and incoherent charges which had been proved against her, but whose entire tenor only shews that she was a sickly nervous woman, who took her own dreams and fancies for realities. According to her own account, she had learned unlawful arts from her cousin, Mr William Simpson, son of one who had been the king’s smith at Stirling, and who had acquired his skill from a big Egyptian, by whom he had been carried away in his childhood and kept for twelve years. Being in her own youth afflicted with loss of power in one of her sides, she had applied to Mr William in Lothian, and he had not only cured her, but taught her by charms to be a healer of disease herself. Since then, she had haunted the company of the queen of Elfame, but had not seen her for the last seven years. At one time she had many good friends in Elfame; but they were all dead now. Sometimes she would be in her bed quite well, but could not tell where or in what state she might be next day. Lying down sick in Grangemuir, near Anstruther, she had seen a man in green clothes, whom she asked to help her: he went away at that time, but appeared afterwards with a multitude of people, when ‘she sanit her [blessed herself] and prayit, and passed with them further nor she could tell; and saw with them piping, and merriness, and gude cheer, and was carried to Lothian, and saw wine-puncheons with tasses [cups] with them.’ ‘Ofttimes they wald come and sit beside her, and promised that she should never want gif she wald be faithful and keep promises, but, gif she wald speak and tell of them and their doings, they sould martyr her.’ For the last sixteen years, Alison had been frequenting St Andrews as a practitioner in unlawful methods of healing; and where among her patients had been no less a person than the titular Archbishop Adamson—a fact of which his enemies did not fail to take advantage in pasquinading him. For the healing of his grace, Simpson had bidden her ‘make ane saw [salve] and rub it on his cheeks, his craig, his breast, stomach, and sides, and siclike gave her directions to use the ewe-milk, or waidrave [probably woodroof], with the herbs, claret wine; and with some other things she gave him ane sodden fowl; and that she made ane quart at ance, whilk he drank at twa draughts, twa sundry diets.’ Poor Alison was convicted and burnt.—Pit.

At the very time when the Spanish Armada was at sea on its way to England, a Catholic pair of high rank, much though secretly interested in favour of that enterprise, were wedded at Holyrood. The bridegroom was the young Earl of Huntly, and the bride Henrietta Stuart, eldest daughter of the late Duke of Lennox. The affair was conducted with ‘great triumph, mirth, and pastime;’ but some of the other circumstances were of a more remarkable nature. The Presbyterian clergy, in a paroxysm of apprehension about the Armada, took up the strange position of refusing to allow the marriage to be performed by any clergyman capable of shewing his face in the country, unless the earl should first sign the Confession of Faith—that is, abjure his religion. Huntly was induced to profess an inclination to comply, but professed to stickle at some of the Protestant doctrines. The king, on the other hand, who felt as the father of the bride, and knew that Huntly was in reality his friend, favoured and facilitated the match. To the great chagrin of the Presbyterian clergy, the ceremony was at length performed by Patrick Adamson, archbishop of St Andrews—who, however, was afterwards brought to their feet as an abject penitent, declaring, among other things, ‘I married the Earl of Huntly contrair the kirk’s command, without the confession of his faith, and profession of the sincere doctrine of the Word; I repent, and craves God pardon.’153 The writer of Adamson’s life in the Biographia Britannica has characterised this as ‘one of the completest instances of ecclesiastical folly and bigotry recorded in history.’ Perhaps if this biographer had been a Scottish Protestant of 1588, he would not have thought so; but the affair may at least somewhat abate our surprise that the Earl of Huntly was found next year in arms against the Protestant interest.154

Sir William Stuart of Monkton, a younger brother of the ill-famed ex-chancellor, ‘Captain James,’ and said to be ‘in qualities and behaviour naething different’ from that personage, had for some years had place at the king’s court, serving the government in various capacities. Only a few weeks before this date, he had conducted an expedition by which the Castle of Lochmaben was taken from the rebellious Maxwells. The captain and five of the garrison had been hung up on the green before the gate, notwithstanding a promise of their lives, alleged to have been given. Stuart was rewarded with large spoil; and on his return to Edinburgh, with Lord Maxwell as a prisoner, he was allowed to have the custody of that nobleman.

Doubtless the blood of the upstart was somewhat heated by so rich a triumph. Meeting the unruly Earl of Bothwell a few days after in the king’s chamber, he fell into a dispute with him—the lie was given, and the altercation closed with a ribald exclamation on his part, followed by a threat on the other. Nothing more occurred till nearly three weeks after, when Sir William Stuart, coming down the High Street with a party of his minions, met Bothwell, accompanied by a younger brother of the Master of Gray, whom Stuart had lately delated for his betrayal of the king’s interest in his ambassage for the saving of Queen Mary’s life. A collision between two such parties was unavoidable. In the general fight, Stuart killed a servant of Bothwell, but thereby lost his sword. He fled into the Blackfriars’ Wynd, pursued by the vengeful Bothwell, who, as Stuart stood defenceless against a wall, ‘strake him in at the back and out at the belly, and killed him.’—Bir. Cal. H. K. J.

We are assured by a contemporary writer, that the slaughter of Sir William Stuart was ‘to the comfort of mony of the people, wha allegit that God did the same for his betraying of Mr David Maxwell and his company in Lochmaben, but specially the Lord Maxwell, wha was his prisoner in John Gourlay’s house.’—C. K. Sc. Bothwell only deemed it necessary for a few days to keep out of the way. By and by, on the king’s return from a visit to Fife, he reappeared in court as usual, ‘uncallit, unpursuit, unpunist for this fact.’

It is curious to find the General Assembly sitting down exactly a week after this street-conflict, and proceeding quietly with its usual work of choosing a moderator, arranging about provision for the ministers, and denouncing the papists, just as it would have done at any time nearer our own gentler day.

Great excitement prevailed throughout all Scotland, in apprehension of invasion by the Spanish Armada. There was not wanting a party prepared to co-operate with the Spaniards, if they had landed in Scotland. In this exigency, the king was compelled to forget his anger at Elizabeth on account of the recent death of his mother; he made all possible preparation for resistance, and when Sir Robert Sidney, the English ambassador, told him that if the Spaniard took England, the king might expect no greater kindness at his hand, James ‘merrily answered: “That he looked for no other benefit of the Spaniard in that case, than that which Polyphemus promised to Ulysses—namely, to devour him after all his fellows were devoured.”‘—Spot.

‘Terrible was the fear,’ says James Melville, ‘piercing were the preachings, earnest, zealous, and fervent were the prayers, sounding were the sichs and sobs, and abounding was the tears at that fast and General Assembly keepit at Edinburgh, when the news were credibly tauld, sometimes of their landing at Dunbar, sometimes at St Andrews, and in Tay, and now and then at Aberdeen and Cromarty Firth. And in very deed, as we knew certainly soon after, the Lord of armies, wha rides upon the wings of the winds, the keeper of his awn Israel, was in the meantime convoying that monstrous navy about our coasts, and directing their hulks and galiots to the islands, rocks, and sands, whereupon he had destinat their wrack and destruction. For within twa or three month thereafter, early in the morning, ane of our bailies came to my bedside, saying (but not with fray): “I have to tell you news, sir. There is arrivit within our harbour [Anstruther, on the coast of Fife] this morning a ship full of Spaniards, but not to give mercy but to ask.” And sae shaws me that the commanders had landed, and he had commandit them to their ship again, till the magistrates of the town had advisit, and the Spaniards had humbly obeyit; therefore desirit me to rise and hear their petition with them. Up I got with diligence, and assembling the honest men of the town, came to the tolbooth; and after consultation taken to hear them, and what answer to make, there presents us a very reverend man of big stature, and grave and stout countenance, gray-haired, and very humble-like, wha, after meikle and very low courtesy, bowing down with his face near the ground, and touching my shoe with his hand, began his harangue in the Spanish tongue, whereof I understood the substance, and being about to answer in Latin, he having only a young man with him to be his interpreter, began and tauld ower again to us in gude English. The sum was, that King Philip, his master, had riggit out a navy and army to land in England for just causes to be avengit of many intolerable wrangs whilk he had receivit of that nation; but God for their sins had been against them, and, by storm of weather, had driven the navy by the coast of England, and him, with a certain [number] of captains, being the general of twenty hulks, upon an isle in Scotland, callit the Fair Isle, where they made shipwreck, and where sae mony as had escapit the merciless sea, had mair nor sax or seven weeks sufferit great hunger and cauld, till, conducting that bark out of Orkney, they were come hither as to their special friends and confederates to kiss the king’s majesty’s hand of Scotland (and therewith becket [bowed] even to the yird), and to find relief and comfort thereby to himself, these gentlemen captains, and the poor souldiers, whase condition was for the present maist miserable and pitiful.

‘I answerit this meikle in sum: “That, howbeit neither our friendship, whilk could not be great, seeing their king and they were friends to the greatest enemy of Christ, the pope of Rome, and our king and we defied him, nor yet their cause against our neighbours and special friends of England could procure any benefit at our hands for their relief and comfort; nevertheless, they should know by experience that we were men, and sae moved by humane compassion, and Christians of better religion nor they, whilk should kythe in the fruits and effect plain contrair to theirs. For, whereas our people, resorting amang them in peaceable and lawful affairs of merchandise, were violently taken and cast in prison, their gudes and gear confiscat, and their bodies committit to the cruel flaming fire for the cause of religion, they should find naething amang us but Christian pity and warks of mercy and alms, leaving to God to work in their hearts concerning religion as it pleasit him.” This being truly reported again to him by his trunshman, with great reverence he gave thanks, and said he could not make answer for their kirk and the laws and order thereof, only for himself that there were divers Scotsmen wha knew him, and to whom he had shewn courtesy and favour at Calais, and, as he supposit, some of this same town of Anstruther. Sae [I] shew him that the bailies granted him licence with the captains to go to their lodging for their refreshment, but to nane of their men to land till the ower-lord of their town was advertised, and understand the king’s majesty’s mind anent them. Thus, with great courtesy, he departed.

‘That night, the lord being advertised, came, and on the morn, accompanied with a gude number of the gentlemen of the country round about, gave the said general and the captains presence, and after the same speeches, in effect as before, receivit them in his house, and entertained them humanely, and sufferit the souldiers to come a-land, and lie all together, to the number of thretteen score, for the maist part young beardless men, silly [weak], trauchled [worn-out], and hungred, to the whilk a day or two kail, pottage, and fish was given.... The names of the commanders were Jan Gomez de Medina, general of twenty hulks, Capitan Patricio, Capitan de Legoretto, Capitan de Luffera, Capitan Mauritio, and Signor Serrano.

‘Verily, all the while my heart melted within me for desire of thankfulness to God, when I remembered the prideful and cruel nature of thae people, and how they wald have usit us in case they had landit with their forces amang us; and als, the wonderful work of God’s mercy and justice in making us see them, the chief commanders of them, make sic courtesy to poor seamen, and their souldiers so abjectly to beg alms at our doors and in our streets.

‘In the meantime they knew not of the wrack of the rest, but supposed that the rest of the army was safely returned, till ae day I gat in St Andrews in print the wrack of the galiots in particular, with the names of the principal men, and how they were usit in Ireland and our Highlands, in Wales, and other parts of England; the whilk when I recordit to Jan Gomez, by particular and special names, O then he cried out for grief, bursted and grat. This Jan Gomez shewed great kindness to a ship of our town, whilk he fand arrestit in Calais at his hame-coming, rade to court for her, and made great roose [praise]of Scotland to his king, took the honest men to his house, and enquirit for the laird of Anstruther, for the minister, and his host; and sent hame many commendations. But we thanked God in our hearts, that we had seen them amang us in that form.’

This is on the whole a pleasing anecdote. One cannot, however, but wish that the worthy James had not commenced his speech with a taunt at the religion of the Spaniards, and that he had had the magnanimity on such an occasion to forget any injuries formerly inflicted by that nation upon his.

The shipwrecked Spaniards were not everywhere so well treated. The kirk-session of Perth, May 18, 1589, ordered the keepers of the town-gates to exclude Spaniards and other idle vagabonds and beggars, and commanded that all such persons now in the town should immediately leave it.

‘In the beginning of October [1588], one of these great ships was drove in at the Mull of Kintyre, in which there were five hundred men or thereby; she carried threescore brass cannon in her, besides others, and great store of gold and silver. She was soon after suddenly blown up by powder, and two or three hundred men in her, which happened by some of their own people.’—Moy. R.

Another of the vessels, having found its way into the Firth of Clyde, sank in ten fathom water on a sandy bottom, near Portincross Castle in Ayrshire. Tradition affirms that some of the crew in this case reached the land. A local newspaper, in October 1855, recorded the recent death of Archibald Revie, at Lower Boydstone, Ardrossan, at an advanced age—a descendant of one of the Spanish sailors saved from the Spanish ship at Portincross in 1588, and who ‘retained many of the peculiarities of his race.’ In 1740, a number of pieces of brass and iron ordnance were recovered from this wreck by means of a diving-machine; and one of the latter still lies on the beach beside the old castle, bearing faint traces of the Spanish crown and arms near the breech.155

The Earl of Bothwell having been drawn into the designs of the popish lords—though led only by a common hatred of the Chancellor Maitland—raised a company of men, under pretence of an expedition for the pacification of the remote isle of Lewis. Under favour of a royal warrant, he demanded a subsidy of five thousand merks from the city of Edinburgh. Meeting a refusal, he said he should ‘cause the earles disgorge him a thousand crowns in spite of their hearts.’ There was some resolution in these gentle burghers. When Bothwell impudently carried off one of their number, named James Nicol, to Crichton Castle, as a means of extorting money from him, they ‘threatened to pull Bothwell out of Crichton by the ears, and make his house equal with the ground.’ On their complaint to the king, ‘Bothwell, fearing the king and the town of Edinburgh, set James Nicol at liberty, and so gained nothing but shame and discredit to himself.’—Cal.

Though Eustachius Roche is still described as tacksman-general of the mines, it is to be suspected that that adventure was seen to be unproductive, as we find him now entering upon a new contract with the king for a wholly different object. He proposed to make a superior kind of salt by a cheap process, assigning the profits to the king, excepting only a tenth for himself and his heirs, ‘unsubject to confiscation for ony offence or crime.’ He assured the king that this project would add a hundred thousand merks yearly to his revenue. The king on his part gave him the exclusive right to make salt in the proposed new way, with certain other privileges.—P. C. R.

A Bond of Association was entered into by Sir Walter Scott of Branxholm and fifty of the most important men of his kin and clan, which throws an important light on the customs of the age. A later and more notable Sir Walter Scott says of this bond—which he had seen in the possession of his cousin, William Scott, Esq. of Raeburn—that ‘it is calculated to secure against any clansman taking any “room” or possession over the head of another of the name. Any one who was accused of having done so, bound himself to stand by the award of five men, to be mutually chosen, bearing the name of Scott. Even if the chief should encroach upon the possessions of any inferior person of the name, he declares he will submit the cause, in like manner, to four persons of the name of Scott; which shews an independence on the part of the clansmen which I was not prepared for. The bond ... seems to have been calculated to prevent kinsmen from going to law with each other, and to secure a species of justice within the clan, to the advancement of the “guid and godlie purposes” of their chief.’—Pit.

‘In this time, [the Laird of] Easter Wemyss took up 1500 waged men for the king of Navarre, now allegit king of France.’—Moy.

A sad accident befell in the family of Lord Somerville, at Drum, near Edinburgh.

‘The Lord Somerville having come from Cowthally early in the morning, in regard the weather was hot, he had ridden hard to be at the Drum by ten o’clock, which having done, he laid him down to rest. The servant, with his two sons, William, Master of Somerville, and John his brother, went with the horses to ane shot of land, called the Pretty Shot, directly opposite to the front of the house, where there was some meadow-ground for grazing the horses, and willows to shadow themselves from the heat. They had not long continued in this place, when the Master of Somerville, after some little rest, awaking from his sleep, and finding his pistols that lay hard by him wet with dew, he began to rub and dry them, when unhappily one of them went off the ratch [lock], being lying on his knee and the muzzle turned sideways. The ball struck his brother John directly in the head, and killed him outright, so that his sorrowful brother never had one word from him, albeit he begged it with many tears. A lamentable case, and much to be pitied, two brave young gentlemen so nearly related, and dearly loving one another, who besides their being brethren by birth, were entirely so in affection, communicating all their affairs and designs one to the other, wherein they were never known to differ in the least....

‘The father, hearing the shot, leapt from his [bed] (being then in the chamber of dais), to the south light, and seeing his son and servants all in a cluster, called aloud to know the matter; but receiving no answer, he suspected some mischief, and thereupon flew hastily down the stair, and went directly to the place where they were, which the gentlemen observing, they advised the Master to take him to his horse, until his father’s passion and fury should be over, which at length, upon their earnest entreaty, he did, taking his direct way for Smeaton, where his lady-mother then lived by Smeaton Ford. The father, being come upon the place, first hears the lamentation of the servants, and then sees the sad spectacle of his son all bloody and breathless, with his head laid upon a cloak, whereon he falls himself, and cries aloud: “My son, my son, dead or alive? dead or alive?” embracing him all the time, which he continued for some space, and thereby giving opportunity for his eldest son to escape. At length, finding no motion in his dear son, all in a fury he arises and cries aloud: “Where is that murderer? who has done the deed?” Staring wildly about, missing the Master, he cries out: “Oh, heavens, and is it he? Must I be bereft of two sons in one day? Yes, it must be so, and he shall have no other judge nor executioner but myself and these hands.” And with that immediately mounts his horse, commanding two of his servants to attend him, making protestation in the meantime that they should both go to the grave together. But God was more merciful, for by this time the Master was past Smeaton Ford, and before his father came that length, he was at Fallside House, out of all danger.... Coming now a little to himself, he [the father] began much to condemn this unwarrantable attempt of his, upon second thoughts. Before he came back, the sad object of his sorrow was removed to the place of Drum, and the corpse decently handled by the ladies of Edmonston, Woolmet, and Sheriff-hall, near neighbours, for in less than ane hour the report went over all the country. Yea, before the king rose from dinner he had notice of it, being then in Holyroodhouse, with the circumstance of the father’s following the other son with intention to kill him; for which the king, within three days thereafter (the Lord Somerville coming to wait upon his majesty), reproved him by saying “he was a madman; that having lost one son by so sudden an accident, should needs wilfully destroy another himself, in whom, as he was certainly informed, there was neither malice nor design, but a great misfortune, occasioned by unwary handling of the pistol, which should have rather been a matter of regret and sorrow to him that the like had happened in his family, than that he should have sought after revenge. Therefore he commanded him to send for his eldest son, and be reconciled to him, for he knew he was a sober youth, and the very thoughts of his misfortune would afflict him enough, albeit he were not discountenanced by him.”’

The unhappy principal in this tragedy was in reality an amiable young man, insomuch as to be called the Good Master of Somerville. ‘I have heard it reported that Sir James Bannatyne of Newhall, one of the senators of the College of Justice, asserted there was not a properer youth trod the streets of Edinburgh, nor one of whom there was greater expectation, than William, Master of Somerville; but when God designs the ruin of a family, all supports are removed, that the fall may be the more sudden, as happened in this young nobleman’s case, who after he had contracted in the latter end of February, and should have been married in April 1591, that very month he took a fever, which kept him long, and so weakened his body that he never recovered, but continued under a languishing sickness for more than ten months. It was supposed the thoughts of his own great misfortune in killing of his brother, the disagreement of his parents ... hastened his death. He died at Cowthally in the month of January 1592.... A devote gentleman, William Inglis of East Shiel, as the corpse passed the outer gate, struck upon his breast, and cried out to the hearing of many: “This day the head is as clean taken off the house of Cowthally, as you would strike off the head of a syboe!”156 And indeed it proved so.’

The king, now hourly expecting the arrival of his Danish bride, is found writing pressing letters to all persons of substance who bore him any good will, for contributions of means towards the proper outset of the court on the occasion. From the Laird of Barnbarroch, he entreated ‘sic quantity of fat beef and mutton on foot, wild-fowls and venison, or other stuff meet for this purpose, as possibly ye may provide and furnish of your awn or by your moyen.’157

On the 2d of September, he wrote to Boswell of Balmouto a pressing, pleading letter for the loan of a thousand merks, stating that he had been disappointed of money by any more regular course, on account of its ‘scarcity in thir quarters,’ and expressing his assurance that he, the laird, would ‘rather hurt yourself very far than see the dishonour of your prince and native country.’158

The storm which impeded the Princess Anne’s voyage from Denmark to Scotland was also felt very severely in our country, and a passage-boat between Burntisland and Leith was lost, with an interesting person on board. This was Lady Melville of Garvock, born Jane Kennedy, who had been one of the maids of Queen Mary, had attended her on the scaffold at Fotheringay, and bound the embroidered handkerchief upon her eyes. Jane had subsequently married Sir Andrew Melville, master of household to King James, who, desiring her presence at the reception of his queen, because she was ‘discreet and grave,’ caused her to take this fatal voyage. ‘She, being willing to mak diligence, wald not stay for the storm, to sail the ferry; when the vehement storm drave a ship upon the said boat, and drownit the gentlewoman, and all the persons except twa.’—Mel.

The king, hearing of the detention of his bride by stormy weather, resolved to go to Denmark to bring her home. He sent, ‘directing Robert Jameson, burgess of Air, to bring his ship whilk was callit the James, to the road of Leith, she being ane gallant ship, weel appointit with ordnance, her sails being coverit with red taffeta, and her claiths red scarlet.’159 On the day noted, he set sail in this vessel, with other five ships in company, and after outriding a gale for some time in the Firth of Forth, proceeded on his course with fair winds. Landing on the 28th at Flaikray, in Norway, he, after some days’ rest, commenced a difficult land-journey to Upslo—now Christiania—where the princess had taken up her residence for the winter. ‘Immediately at his coming (November 19), [he] passed quietly with buits and all, to her hieness ... he minded to give her a kiss after the Scots fashion, whilk she refusit, as not being the fashion of her country. Marry, after a few words spoken privily betwixt his majesty and her, there passed familiarity and kisses.’160 They were married four days after at Upslo, and spent the remainder of the winter in Denmark.

Hitherto, many of the articles of domestic use now largely manufactured in our country, had been introduced by merchants from abroad. Paper, glass, tanned leather, and soap were of this number. The present reign is the era of the first attempts at a native manufacture of all these articles, as will be fully seen in the following pages.

It was while James was absent on his matrimonial visit to Denmark, that a native manufacture of paper was first spoken of. Peter Groot Heres, a German, and sundry unnamed persons associated with him, proposed to set up this art in Scotland, under favour of certain encouragements which they demanded from the government. On what river they meant to plant their work, does not appear. We only find that the Lords of Council were willing to promote the object, calculating that thus would paper be made cheaper than hitherto, and also that by and by the natives would be enabled to become paper-makers themselves.

They granted to Peter and his co-partners liberty to carry on the manufacture of paper in Scotland for nine years, without competition, personally free from the duties of watching, warding, and tax-paying, and ‘under his majesty’s special protection, maintenance, defence, and sure safeguard.’ The only condition imposed was, that they should begin their work before the ensuing 1st of August, and carry it on constantly during the time for which the privilege was granted; otherwise the licence should be of none effect.—P. C. R.

It is with unexpected pleasure that we find another matter betokening the progress of literature and intelligence only four days after the licence for paper-making. Andro Hart then carried on the business of a bookseller in Edinburgh, and his name appears on so many interesting title-pages, that he is really a notable man of the time. He and John Norton, Englishman, now send a petition to the Privy Council, setting forth ‘what hurt the lieges of this realm susteint through the scarcity of buiks and volumes of all sorts,’ and to what exorbitant prices those had risen which were brought from England. They, ‘upon an earnest zeal to the propagation and incress of vertue and letters within this realm, had, two years ago, enterprisit the hame-bringing of volumes and buiks furth of Almane and Germanie, fra the whilk parts the maist part of the best volumes in England are brought, and in this trade have sae behavit themselves that this town is furnist with better buiks and volumes nor it was at ony time heretofore, and the said volumes sauld by them in this country are als guid cheap as they are to be sauld in London or ony other part of England, to the great ease and commodity of all estates of persons within this realm.’ Behold, however, John Gourlay, the customer (that is, farmer of customs), had laid hands upon the books which Hart and Norton were importing, and demanded that they should pay a duty—a demand altogether unprecedented. ‘Upon the like complaint made by Thomas Vautrollier, printer, he obteint ane decreet discharging the provost and bailies of this burgh and their customer fra all asking of ony customs for ony buiks sauld or to be sauld by him.’ The present petitioners only demanded to be so treated likewise. It is gratifying to find that the lords unhesitatingly granted the prayer of the two booksellers, so that the books they imported from Germany would thenceforth be duty-free.—P. C. R.

In the early part of this year, ‘the wicked clan Gregor, so lang continuing in blood, slaughters, herships, manifest reifs, and stouths,’ fell under notice for a frightful outrage. The king had his forest of Glenartney, in Perthshire, under the care of one Drummond, usually called Drummond-ernoch, on account of his having spent part of his life in Ireland. His neighbours, the Macgregors, taking mortal offence at this man, for some cause probably connected with their own misdeeds, fell upon him one day, while he was collecting venison against the return of the king from Denmark with his new-wed spouse. They barbarously cut off the forester’s head, which they carried off with them, wrapped in the corner of a plaid. Soon after, passing the house of Ardvorlich, the lady of which was sister of the murdered man, they entered in peaceful fashion, and were regaled with bread and cheese. While the lady was absent, looking after better entertainment, they placed Drummond-ernoch’s ghastly head on the table, and put a piece of bread and cheese in the mouth, telling him in mockery to eat it, as many a similar morsel he had formerly eaten in that house. The lady, returning, and seeing the frightful object, in which she recognised her brother’s features, fled from the house in a state of distraction, and was recovered to her home and sanity with great difficulty.

This part of the story rests on tradition; but the subsequent procedure of the murderers comes to us on historical authority. The bloody head being brought to the chief of Macgregor in Balquhidder, he and the whole clan assembled in the parish kirk, and the head being then presented, all present laid their hands upon it in succession, avowing that the homicide had been done under their counsel and with their sanction, and swearing to defend the actual committers of the fact with all their power!161

These proceedings being reported to the Privy Council, a commission was granted (February 4, 1590) to the Earl of Huntly, and certain other nobles and gentlemen, to search for the culprits, and, if they should flee, to pursue them with fire and sword. What success attended this edict does not appear.

In spring, while the king was absent in Norway, a General Assembly was held in Edinburgh, and it being found that the country was surprisingly free of all steerage from either papists or evil-doers, the brethren praised God for the same, and agreed that there should be fasting and moderate diet observed every day till the king’s return. ‘The whilk custom, being found very meet for the exercise of the Sabbath, was keepit in Edinburgh, in the houses of the godly, continually thereafter. Sae that, sparing their gross and sumptuous dinners, they usit nocht but a dish of broth, or some little recreation, till night; and that whilk was spared was bestowed on the poor.’162 Such seems to have been the origin of a custom which many travellers remark in Scotland in the seventeenth century, of having only a lunch instead of dinner on Sunday. Our diarist makes, however, only a faint allusion in the phrase ‘till night,’ to what the same travellers remark, that there was always a hearty supper in the evenings, amply making up for the half-fast of the day, and at which human nature found vent occasionally in a little good-humour and merriment.

‘The king and queen, with sundry of the nobility and blood-royal of Denmark, accompanied with sixty gentlemen—being seven great ships—convoyed by the grace of God through ane great mist by the navy of England—arrivit in the firth of Leith at two afternoon, and came by boats to Leith, to the great comfort of this nation, being on the shore of na little number.’ The royal party was ‘receivit by the Duke of Lennox, Earls Bothwell and Mar, with great din, and ordnance from Edinburgh Castle, and on the south and east ferries, as by the ships. The king took the queen by the hand, and led her up ane trance, whilk was made for that effect, covered with tapestry and claith of gold, whereon they passed, that their feet should not touch the bare earth: where Mr James Elphinston, ane of the Lords of Session, made ane orison in French, to the praise of God for their prosperous voyage.

‘The queen being placed in her lodging in Thomas Lindsay’s, the king [there] took all the noblemen of Denmark by the hand, every ane after ane other. And thereafter the king passed to the kirk, where the Lord Hamilton and Lord Fleming met her grace and convoyit them. Mr Patrick Galloway made the sermon.... His majesty passed to the lodging, where they all remained while [till] the sixth day of the same month, [when] they passed, afternoon, at four hours or thereby, to the Abbey of Holyroodhouse, the king’s grace and noblemen on horse, and the queen’s grace in ane dame’s coach, drawn with aught great cussers of her awn, richly reparrit with claith of gold, silver, and purpour velvet; [and] the town of Edinburgh, Canongate, and Leith, in feir of weir, to the number of 1600 footmen. At the inner yett of the said abbey, the horsemen lichtit, [and] the king took the queen by the hand, and passed through the inner close to the great hall, and through the rest of the chalmers, which were richly hung with claith of gold and silver, and tapestry of silk: the said palace was newly repaired.’—Jo. Hist.