Chapter II: Summary (1)

First interview between Margaret Tudor and James IV.--She is
alarmed by a conflagration--Her grief for the loss of her
palfrey--She is removed from Dalkeith to Newbattle--King’s
visit to her--Her ball and concert--Her delight at the
King’s vocal and musical skill--He kneels while she sings
and plays--Their courtship at Newbattle--Queen Margaret’s
state entrance into Edinburgh--Riding on a pillion behind her
husband--He conducts her to her apartments in Holyrood--Presents
her household to her--Her marriage in Holyrood Chapel--Her
dress and ceremonials--Her Epithalamium--Queen Margaret’s
largesse--Redeems her wedding-gown next day--She goes in state
to the High Church, Edinburgh--Tourneys in her honor--Sits
in full dress at her bay-window, Holyrood--Sees a play--Her
complaining letter to her father--Her farewell festival to her
English escort--Her attendants, court, and minstrels--Birth
of her first child--Dangerous illness--First causes of
jealousy--Her pilgrimage to St. Ninian’s--Death of her son,
&c.--Birth and loss of her eldest daughter--Queen is involved
in disputes with her father and husband--Death of her father,
Henry VII., and of her grandmother--Birth of her son Arthur--She
claims the legacy of her deceased brother, Arthur, Prince
of Wales--Death of her infant son--Her pilgrimage to St.
Duthois--Birth of her son (James V.), April 11, 1512--Naval war
between Henry VIII. and her husband--Her disputes about her
legacy--Interview with her brother’s envoy, Dr. West--Shows
him her beautiful boy--Sir David Lindsay has charge of her
son--Her angry letter to Henry VIII.--Grief for the war with
England--Disturbs her husband with her dreams--Her jealousy of
the Queen of France--Supernatural impositions, &c. &c.--King
James confides his treasure to her keeping--Leaves her the
regency in his will--Queen retires to Linlithgow--Death of her
husband at Flodden.

James IV. came in thus unexpectedly to relieve his young bride from the anxiety of a formal introduction to him in the midst of tedious state ceremonies, with the eyes of a multitude fixed upon them. He wished to make acquaintance with her before such ordeal commenced; and if his bride had a heart worth the winning, it was evident the King of Scotland thought it most likely to be won when they were disencumbered of the stiff stateliness ever surrounding royalty on public days.

He entered the presence of Margaret Tudor with his hawking-lure flung over his shoulder, dressed simply in a velvet jacket; his hair and beard curling naturally, were rather long,[68] his complexion glowing from the manly exercise he had just been engaged in. He was the handsomest sovereign in Europe, the black eyes and hair of his elegant father, James III., being softened in his resemblance to the blonde beauty of his Danish mother. Sir Walter Scott has drawn James IV.’s portrait _con amore_, and has not exaggerated the likeness--

“For hazel was his eagle eye,
And auburn of the darkest dye
His short curled beard and hair.
Light was his footstep in the dance,
And firm his stirrup in the lists;
And oh, he had that merry glance
Which seldom lady’s heart resists.”

The young Queen met her royal lord at the doorway of her great chamber. The King of Scotland uncovered his head and made a deep obeisance to her, while she made a lowly reverence to him. He then took her hand and kissed her, and saluted all her ladies by kissing them. It was noticed that he welcomed the chivalric Earl of Surrey with especial cordiality.

“Then the King of Scotland took the Queen on one side, and they communed together for a long space. She _held good manner_ (was unembarrassed); and the King remained bare-headed during the time they conversed, and many courtesies passed between them. Incontinent (_immediately_) the board was set and served. The King and Queen washed their hands with humble reverence, and after that set them down at table together.

“After supper they washed again, _with the reverences_,” which we opine to have been an elaborate series of bows and genuflexions performed with due solemnity. “The minstrels began to blow, then Queen Margaret danced, accompanied by my Lady Surrey. This done, King James took leave of her, for it was late; and he went to his bed at Edinburgh very well content at so pleasant a meeting, and that he had found the fair company so well together.”[69]

Such happy order of affairs did not, however, last through that night. The young Queen was roused from her first sleep with the terrific glare of flames; a conflagration was raging within the walls of Dalkeith, and no little alarm existed for some time, lest fatal injury to all its inhabitants should ensue. At length the fire was subdued, which had broken out in the stables: these were utterly consumed, and every thing in them. The Queen’s two white palfreys were burnt; and as one of them was much beloved by her, she spent the next morning in tears for its loss.

When King James heard of this misfortune he sent a consoling message to the Queen, and entreated her, as Dalkeith had proved thus unfortunate, that she would remove to Newbattle Castle, at a short distance from it, where every thing had been prepared for her entertainment for four days.[70] Thither Queen Margaret removed with her train the afternoon of August 4; but she still remained inconsolable for the loss of her favorite animals. The King sent word that he would pay her a visit at Newbattle that afternoon for the purpose of comforting her; “upon which the Earl of Surrey, the Archbishop of York, and several other English lords, rode forth intending to meet the King of Scotts.”

But James had taken a different road to Newbattle Castle, and entered it privately. He came to the Queen’s drawing-room with a few persons, “and found her playing at cards.” At his entry, “the Queen, rising, advanced to receive him very gladly, of her good-will kissing him.[71] After that the King of Scotland gave salute to all her ladies. He was dressed in a black velvet jacket, bordered with crimson velvet and edged with white fur.”

While Margaret and James were communing together, the lords who had been to meet him returned from their fruitless ride. “The King did reverence, with his bonnet in his hand, to the Archbishop of York and the Bishop of Durham, right pleasantly welcoming them. After some words rehearsed, the minstrels began to play a _basse_ dance, which was danced by Queen Margaret and the Countess of Surrey. The minstrels then played a round, the which was danced by the Queen, led by the Lord Gray; and they were followed by many lords, ladies, and gentlewomen. Wine and bread were then served to the King, who took the bread, and with it served his Queen. Likewise he took the cup, and served her first of all with wine.

“The King of Scotland then began to play on the clavichords before his Queen; after that he played on the lute, which pleased her very much, and she had great pleasure to hear him. Sir Edward Stanley then sat down to the clavichords and played a ballad, which he sang withal. The King commended it much, and called one of his gentlemen who could sing very well, and made him sing with Sir Edward Stanley, and their voices accorded very well. Afterward Sir Edward Stanley sang some ballads with two of his servants, and the King of Scotland gave him good thanks.

“Then King James took leave of his bride by kissing her, and also of her noble company. He went out to take horse.” The Queen and her ladies took the opportunity of seeing him mount, which was indeed a very noble feat of horsemanship, from which Shakspeare must have taken his celebrated description of the mounting of Harry, Prince of Wales. “James of Scotland did leap on his horse,” says our Somerset Herald, “without putting his foot in stirrup; and the said steed was a right fair courser; and forward the King spurred, let follow who might.”

“The Earl of Surrey, and several other lords, mounted and went after him; of which when King James was aware, he turned shortly about, and, uncovering and bowing courteously, rode toward the Earl, and they went side by side together conversing for a little time; then the Earl took leave of his Grace, and returned to the young Queen.

“At supper-time the next day, James IV. came again to the Castle. The Queen being aware of his approach, made haste to meet him with very humble courtesies; and after their usual salutations, they went apart for private discourse. The Queen, in her turn, showed her musical skill by playing on the lute and clavichord; but ever, while she played on these instruments, King James knelt beside her, with his head uncovered.”[72]

At the supper, which was served after the Queen had done playing, the King sat in the chair of state at the head of the table--the Queen on his right hand; but the stool on which she sat not being easy, the King rose from the chair of state, and very gallantly placed her in it. He likewise courteously desired the Earl and Countess of Surrey to sit at the royal table. When supper was done, the King and Queen conversed privately together, while the minstrels were performing a long piece of music James bade farewell to the Queen for the night, by affectionately saluting her, as usual. “The King had dressed himself on that occasion in a tan-colored velvet doublet, richly lined with the costly black fur called in the middle ages by the inexplicable name of _budge_, which has been supposed to be the fur of the black otter. He wore a fine shirt worked with gold--his hair and beard were somewhat long. In the presence of his bride he always uncovered his head.”[73]

That evening, when he mounted his steed, the Earl of Surrey presented him with the noble courser sent him by his father-in-law, Henry VII. “It was well appointed with damask housings of the Tudor colors, green and white, which hung to the ground with great buttons of silk; these, and the bridle of velvet, were of the same colors. King James ordered the English steed to be ridden before him to Edinburgh.”

The following day was Sunday, August 6th, and the young Queen went to the chapel of the Castle of Newbattle “in fair order, accompanied by her own English household, and the Lady of Newbattle. The Queen was dressed in a gown of cloth of gold, edged with lattices (_a chequered pattern border_) and ermine; and her gentlewomen were dressed after the fashion of Scotland. The sermon was preached by one of the Friars Observant.

“After mass, Queen Margaret was conveyed to her chamber; and beneath her table, at the lowest place, sat the Lady of Newbattle, and the Countess of Surrey with her. The other table was full of ladies; and during the dinner, trumpets and sackbuts blew.”

“The minstrels of the Queen’s chamber began to play after dinner; and then danced the Queen, the Countess of Surrey, the Lady Lisle, and the daughter of the Lady of Castle Newbattle. The dance over, they passed the Sunday afternoon in games and in conversing.” The King, as usual, came to supper: the minstrels played, and the Queen danced before him. The King was dressed in “a gown” of black velvet, furred with martin: the rest of his attire was wholly black.[74]

“The next day was appointed for the Queen’s solemn entry into Edinburgh. In the morning, being the 7th of August, the King sent the Queen her new palfreys, which were to replace those which had been burnt at Dalkeith; and they were all dressed in new harness. The Queen was then very richly adorned. She came out in order of state, and was placed in her litter. She wore a gown of cloth of gold, with a purfle of black velvet, and a rich necklace of pearls and precious stones.”[75]

A mile from the castle of Dalkeith, the King sent to the Queen, by a gentleman, a great tame hart, that she might have a course. The Earl of Surrey declined it--not because it was a shame to hunt the poor tame creature, but because King James was in sight, and he thought the King and Queen could hunt together afterward.

Half-way to Edinburgh, James IV. was seen advancing with his company. He was this time attired in grand costume. “His steed was trapped with gold, and round its neck was a deep gold fringe; the saddle and harness were of gold, but the bridle and head-gear of burnished silver. The King wore a jacket of cloth of gold, lined and bordered with violet velvet and fine black _bouge_ or _budge_ fur; his waistcoat was of violet satin, his _hoses_ of scarlet, his shirt confined with bands of pearls and rich stones; his spurs were long and gilt. He rode toward the Queen in full course, at the pace at which the hare is hunted. On seeing her, he made very humble obeisance, and, leaping down from his horse, he came and kissed her in her litter. Then mounting in his usual gallant fashion, without touching stirrup, a gentleman-usher unsheathed the sword of state, and bore it before his King in regal fashion. The Scottish sword was inclosed in a scabbard of purple velvet, whereon was written, in letters of pearl, _God my defende_. The like words are on the pommel, the cross, and the _chap_ also. The Earl of Bothwell bore this sword when the royal party reached Edinburgh town.”

The King placed himself by the Queen’s litter, and passed all the time conversing with her and entertaining her, as he rode by her side.

“Before they entered Edinburgh, one of the King’s gentlemen brought out a fair courser, trapped in cloth of gold, with crimson velvet, interlaced with white and red; the King went to the horse, mounted him without touching the stirrup in the presence of the whole company, then tried his paces--choosing to judge himself whether it were safe for his bride to ride on a pillion behind him, which was the mode in which he intended to enter the city.”[76] Likewise he caused one of his gentlemen to mount behind him, as a lady would ride, to see whether the proud courser would submit to bear double or not.

When he had concluded all his experiments, he decided that it was not proper to trust the safety of his bride to his favorite charger; “so King James dismounted from him, and condescended to ride on the Queen’s gentle palfrey. He mounted, and the Queen was placed on a pillion behind him.”[77]

This arrangement, however, took place about a mile from the gates of the Scottish capital. There were notable pageants and diversions to take place before the royal party entered therein.

When the procession was properly settled, the King, leading the way with his bride behind him, came to a green meadow half-a-mile from Edinburgh, where a rich pavilion had been erected for the performance of an interlude in which was mixed up both drama, joust, and tourney; and all the royal cortege drew up to behold the pageant.

“Out of the meadow-pavilion came a knight on horseback and his lady-paramour, who bare his horn; then another knight rode into the meadow, and robbed him of his lady, and blew the horn. On which the pavilion-knight exclaimed, ‘Wherefore hast thou done this? I say that I will prove upon thee that thou hast done outrage to me!’ The invading knight demanded ‘if he was armed?’ ‘Yea,’ said the first. ‘Well, then,’ replied the other, ‘prove thee a man, by doing thy devoir.’ They then took their spears and jousted, but without striking each other; they then took to their swords, and made a fair tourney. And the challenger struck the sword from the hand of the defender, but gave it to him again; and they began again the tourney with still more spirit; and they did their devoir so well that, expecting that they were about to proceed in good earnest, the King rode up to part them with the Queen behind him, and both the King and Queen cried out, ‘Peace!’ and ordered them to be parted.

“When the combatants had ceased their sword strife, the King called them before him to declare the cause of contest, ‘Sire,’ said the challenger, ‘he hath taken from me my lady-paramour, whereof I was insured by her faith.’ The defender answered, ‘Sire, I shall defend me against him upon this case.’”

“King James replied, ‘Bring your friends, and a day shall be appointed for you;’ wherefore they thanked him, and everybody drew off toward the town; and the name of the challenger was Sir Patrick Hamilton, brother of the Lord Hamilton, the king’s cousin, who rode next him in his procession; and the defender was Patrick Sinclair, Esq.” Great multitudes had issued out of Edinburgh to see this performance; and so seriously has the Somerset Herald described the scene, that it is not easy to decide whether they were fighting in earnest or in sport.

“The next pastime that befell on the progress to Edinburgh was the hunting of the tame deer, which was led in the royal procession, and waited during the combat. King James ordered the creature to be loosed, and a greyhound was sent after him. A fair course ensued;” but we are right glad to relate that the poor beast succeeded in making the best of his way to his old quarters at Edinburgh, and, gaining the town, went to his place of resort in the grounds of Holyrood, where he remained in safety.

“Vast numbers of the honest folk of Edinburgh, and of the country round about, were assembled to see the Queen’s entry; and in fair order came the royal procession to the gate, the Queen still riding behind the King. When entering the city, the Grayfriars came in procession, with the cross and some relics, which were presented by their warden for the King to kiss. But he would not, until the Queen had kissed them; and his Grace would still ride with his head uncovered, out of respect to her.”

The Queen’s southern minstrel, Johannes, and his company, and her trumpets, did their devoir at her entry, but they noted to the Herald Somerset “that the Scotch minstrels and trumpets had not new banners.”

“Right across the entry of Edinburgh was a gate, with two tourelles, and a window in the midst. In the tourelles were at their windows vested angels, singing joyously for the coming of so noble a lady; and at the middle window was another angel, who flew down and presented the keys of the town to Queen Margaret.[78] Then came in procession the college of the parish of St. Giles, richly vested, and they brought the relic of the arm of their saint, which was presented to their King to kiss.” But he courteously refused to take precedence, in this ceremony, of his royal partner, sitting on the pillion behind him; and Queen Margaret had the privilege of kissing the arm of St. Giles before her lord. The King then began to sing “_Te Deum Laudamus_;” and it may be supposed the whole of the ecclesiastics kept up the strain.

“In the midst of Edinburgh was a cross, and hard by a fountain casting forth wine; and each one drank that would. Nigh to the cross a scaffold, where was represented Paris and the three goddesses, with Mercury, who gave Paris the apple of gold. But, upon the same scaffold with these pagans, were represented the ‘Salutation of Gabriel to the Virgin;’ the ‘Marriage of the Virgin to Joseph,’ and a pageant with the ‘Four Virtues;’ likewise were stationed war-tabrets, which played merrily. There were devices of a _licorne_ (unicorn), and a greyhound, being the Stuart and the Tudor beasts.” Wreaths of the flowers of each royal family--being _cardoons_ or thistles, and red roses interlaced--formed the borders to these _tableaux vivans_.

“Then the noble company all passed out of the town, and approached to the church of the Holy Cross (Holyrood), out of which came the Archbishop of St. Andrews, brother to the King, with his cross borne before him, accompanied by the reverend fathers in God, the Bishop of Aberdeen (who was Lord Privy Seal of Scotland), the Bishops of Orkney, Caithness, Ross, Dunblane and Dunkeld, and many Abbots, all in their pontificals, preceded by their crosses. The Archbishop of St. Andrews gave the King a relic to kiss; but he, as before, gave precedence to his bride.[79]

“Each one of the attendants leaped off his horse, and in fair order followed the ecclesiastical procession into the church. The King and Queen alighted the last, at the entrance of the church; and after the King had aided the Queen, by taking her round the waist and lifting her from her pillion, he led her to the high-altar, making humble reverence. There was a place prepared for their Graces to kneel upon, being two cushions of cloth of gold. The Lord Chamberlain of the Queen exercised his office in her service; but the King would never kneel down first, but both knelt together.

“In the church were the Earl of Huntly, the Earl of Errol, Lord Constable of Scotland, the Earl of Argyle, Steward of the Household, the Earl of Lennox, Chamberlain (in absence of the Earl of Caithness), and the Earl of Morton, and many nobles, knights, and gentlemen, well arrayed, who all made reverence to the royal bride, and she to them.

“When all reverences were done at the church, and the procession formed in due order, the King proceeded to his palace of Holyrood. He went through the cloisters, holding the Queen always round the waist, and walking with his head uncovered, out of regard to her presence.

“Thus the King took his way through the cloisters to the great chamber of Holyrood, where were assembled many Scottish ladies of great name, _wiffs_ to divers of the above-mentioned lords, with numbers of gentlemen and gentlewomen, arrayed very nobly after their country guise. Nor did the King, on entering the great chamber, let go the Queen till she had received the ladies who were presented to her by the Bishop of Murray (who had been her guide from England), naming to her the names of all of them.”[80]

“And when the Queen had saluted all the ladies presented to her, the King kissed her for her labor, and so took her by the waist again, with lowly courtesy, his bonnet in his hand, and brought her to her second or inner chamber, and there saluted her once more, taking his leave right humbly, with reverend obeisance to her, and went to his own lodging. The King supped in his chamber, and the Queen within her own; but the King, after supper, went to see her, and they danced some _basse_ dances. This done, the King took his leave, and bade her good night joyously.

“The town of Edinburgh was all that day hung with tapestry; the houses and windows were full of lords, ladies, and gentlemen; and in the streets so great a multitude of people, that it was a fair thing to see. The people were very glad of the coming of their Queen, therefore all the bells of Edinburgh town rang for mirth.

“The next day being the 8th of August, all was prepared for that right noble marriage. The Earl of Surrey was arrayed in a long gown of cloth of gold, and wore his rich collar of the Order of the Garter; and the Lords Gray, Latimer, Dacres, and Scrope were right honorably arrayed. The King of Scotland stood in his great chamber as the said lords entered. He made reverence to everyone, his bonnet in his hand. The King caused the English lords to sit on a form before him, and desired them to cover their heads; he seated himself in a chair of crimson velvet, the panels being gilt. It was set under a cloth of state, or canopy of blue velvet figured with gold.”

After Dr. Moreshead and Dr. Rawlins, the one on the part of England, and the other on the part of Scotland, had read and answered a preposition, the Bishop of Aberdeen escorted the English lords to the Queen’s chamber, where she was ready to be led by them to the church.

The royal bride was arrayed in a rich robe of white and gold damask, bordered with crimson velvet, and lined with white sarcenet. She wore a magnificent crown, a collar of pearls and precious stones, and a rich coif; her hair was hanging down the whole length of her body. She was led on the right hand by the Archbishop of York, and on the left by the Earl of Surrey. “The Queen was nobly accompanied by her ladies, very richly arrayed--the two Ladies Nevill, the Lady Lisle, the Lady Stanley, and the Lady Guildford,[81] and her train was borne by the Countess of Surrey. It was arranged by the Earl of Surrey that two of the greatest ladies of England should be accompanied, in the Queen’s procession, by two of the greatest ladies in Scotland, all four going together in a row, where they had room so to do; and thus they did during the whole of the marriage festivities.”

“Thus the Queen was conveyed from her chamber to the church of Holyrood, and placed near the font; Mistress Denton, her governess, being always near her, and all her noble company standing on the left side of the church.

“Then the King was brought by a very fair company, consisting of his brother the Archbishop of St. Andrews, the Lord Hamilton his cousin, who bore the sword of state before him. His officers of arms (heralds) were all in their array, and all his nobles stood in order on the right side of the church. When the King passed near the Queen he made reverence to her, and she again to him, very humbly and lowly. He wore a robe of white damask figured with gold, a jacket with slashes of crimson satin, and the border of black velvet, a waistcoat of cloth of gold, and a pair of scarlet hose. His shirt was broidered with gold thread, his bonnet black velvet, looped up with a rich balass-ruby, and his sword was girt about him.

“That noble marriage was performed by the Archbishop of Glasgow and the Archbishop of York, in presence of all; and they read the bulls of their Holy Father, the Pope,[82] consenting thereto. The trumpets then blew up for joy; and the King, bare-headed, holding his Queen by the right hand, passed through the said company to the high altar. There was prepared a place with cushions of cloth of gold for them to kneel upon; but the King would never kneel first, paying the Queen the greatest reverence that possibly might be.

“During the Litany, which was sung and said by the Archbishops, the King withdrew to his traverse, and the Queen to hers. At the Gospel they made their offerings, and before the holy canon the Queen was anointed, after which the King gave into her hand the scepter.

“At this part of the ceremony the choir bust into the _Te Deum laudamus_; two prelates held the cloth of state over the royal pair, during the rest of the mass;[83] and when all ceremonies were accomplished, the lords of the household brought bread and wine in rich pots and cups. After the collation, the King led back the Queen to her chamber, and retired to his own.

“At dinner the King caused the Queen to be served before him, with all the honor that might be done. At the first course she was served with a wild boar’s head, then with a fair piece of brawn, and in the third place with a _gambon_ (ham), which was followed by divers other dishes, to the number of twelve, all in fair and rich vessels.

“The King was served in gilt vessels as the Queen was. His pannetiers were the son of the Earl of Bothwell’s brother, and Lord Gray’s son; and his cupbearer his cousin, the Lord of Hamilton. The Archbishops of St. Andrews and York dined with him. The state-chamber was hanged with red and blue, and in it was a _ceil_-of-state of cloth-of-gold; but the King was not under it that same day. There was also in the same chamber a rich state-bed, and a rich dresser,[84] set out after the manner of the country. The Lord Gray of Scotland served the King with water to wash, and the Earl of Huntly held the towel. The officers-of-arms presented themselves to cry largesse, when the King commanded Marchmont the herald thus--

“‘Go ye and cry toward the Queen _first--Largesse to the high and mighty Princess Margaret, by the grace of God Queen of Scotland, and first daughter of the very high and mighty Prince, Henry VII., by the self-same grace King of England._’

“The same was cried three times in the King’s chamber, in the great chamber close by it, and in the great hall of the King and Queen. James would not have his largesse cried, nor instituted, saying--

“‘It sufficeth to cry hers.’

“The hangings of the chamber represented the history of Troy town, and the painted glass in the windows were the arms of England and Scotland biparted, to which a thistle and a rose, interleaved through a crown, were added. After dinner the minstrels played.”

The song they performed as an epithalamium in honor of Margaret Tudor’s nuptials has been preserved, words and music;[85] both are great curiosities, as testimonials of the state of literature and the arts at the era of 1503--

“O fair, fairest of every fair,
Princess most pleasant and preclare,
The loveliest that _on-live_ there been,
Welcome in Scotland to be Queen!

Young tender plant of pulchritude,
Descended of imperial blood,
Fresh fragrant flower of fairhood sheen,
Welcome in Scotland to be Queen!

Sweet lovely imp of beauty clear,
Most mighty monarch’s daughter dear,
Born of a Princess most serene,
Welcome in Scotland to be Queen!

Welcome the rose both red and white,
Welcome the flower of our delight,
Our sprite rejoicing from the spleen,
Welcome in Scotland to be Queen!”

A hall was cleared for the dance when the minstrels had concluded their stanzas. The King and Queen danced, and many ladies, lords, and gentlemen, “and some good bodies,” continues our quaint Somerset Herald, “made games of _passe-passe_, which did very well.”[86] But games of amusement which are out of fashion are the most inscrutable of all antiquarian enigmas, and this game of “passe-passe” remains to us a mystery.

At the hour of even-song, the King, accompanied by his nobles and those pertaining to the Queen, but without her, went to church, where the Abbot of Holyrood did the service. On the King’s return, before he sat down, he sent his marriage robe to the heralds and officers-of-arms of England, and put on another of black velvet, furred with martens. Somerset Herald (the chronicler of these incidents), and his companions, bore the King’s marriage-dress the next day in solemn procession, through the court, and returned thanks to his Grace for it.

“After supper the night approached, therefore every one withdrew himself to his lodging to take his rest; and the King led the Queen apart. They went away together--God, by his grace, hold them in long prosperity!”[87]

The marriage of Margaret was celebrated by the poem of “The Thistle and the Rose,” written by William, or, as some call him, George Dunbar, a native of Salton in East Lothian. Every one has heard of this poem, yet very few but antiquaries know aught concerning it. To our taste it has been excessively overpraised; the wild border-ballads preserved from the antique minstrelsy of Scotland, such as the “Chevy Chace,” or “Otterbourne,” and the plaintive tenderness of the “Maid of Lochryan,” all within a few years cotemporary or precedent, are infinitely preferable. “The Thistle and the Rose” is, however, a successful imitation of the then fashionable style of Lydgate and Occleve, imitators of Chaucer. Dunbar’s poem had been commenced at the time of the marriage-treaty with Margaret and James IV., and was finished about three months before the arrival of the bride. It is an allegory; and of course, according to the nature of such sophisticated compositions, it treats of all things rather than its ostensible subject, the marriage of James the King and Margaret the Queen.

Dunbar takes for his theme the armorial bearings of James IV. He writes many verses, indeed, respecting the Scottish lion on the shield, and the unicorns its supporters. He has many mystical sayings on the thistle and the rose, which are painted round about the blazonry. By the thistle he is supposed to mean James IV., and by the rose it is guessed that he denotes Margaret. He gives the royal Thistle an exhortation in her behalf, which in truth he exceedingly needed, recommending conjugal fidelity to the beautiful Rose, whose lineage, he observes, was far above that of the Lily (Valois). There are many other verses of far more poetical beauty than the following, but it is the only one wherein Margaret is clearly indicated--

“Nor hold no other flower in life so dainty
Like the fresh Rose, of color red and white,
For if thou dost, hurt is thine honesty,
Considering that no flower is so perfite,
So full of virtue, pleasance, or delight,
So full of blissful angel-like beauty,
Imperial with honor and dignity.”

The royal bride was grateful for this good advice to her gay lord, and honored Dunbar ever after with her patronage.[88]

“Every lord, lady, and gentlewoman in Edinburgh came next day to the palace. The King went at ten o’clock that morning to mass in the great church, accompanied by his lords and nobles. King James was arrayed in a rich robe of cloth of gold, furred, of fine black _bouge_, his doublet of crimson satin, his hose black velvet, his bonnet ornamented with a St. George of gold, with a ruby dragon. A pair of gold beads were hanging to his girdle. During the mass the Earl of Surrey came to him, for which kindness the King took his arm till he came to his chamber.”

“His dinner was brought in silver vessels by the officers who served him the day before. After dinner a young man, an Italian, danced on a cord very well for the King’s recreation. The ladies were at the windows of the Queen’s quarters (apartments), and when the rope-dancing was done they began to dance. Of the Queen I say nothing,” adds the Somerset Herald, falling into personal narrative, “for that same day I saw her not, but I understood she was in good health and merry.”[92]

“As for supper, though it was fast-day, banquets of many meats were not forgotten. That evening the Queen sent her wedding-gown to the heralds and officers-of-arms of Scotland. The next day Marchmont Herald barred the court in _escharpe_, he and his companions thanking the Queen therefor; but on the morrow she sent him a largess of fifteen nobles, and the Scotch heralds brought again the said robe, and put it in the wardrobe of the Queen, as she had desired when she gave them the recompense.”[93]

The explanation of this little mysterious passage seems to be, that the royal bride, according to ancient custom, sent her wedding-gown as the fee of her husband’s heralds; in like manner, as it has been previously shown, that James IV. sent his robe to the English heralds. But Queen Margaret, like most ladies, had a certain degree of affection for her wedding-gown. She therefore redeemed it, or purchased it back, for fifty marks; and it was duly restored to her royal wardrobe by the Herald Marchmont. But what our minute chronicler, the Somerset Herald, means by Marchmont “barring the court in _escharpe_,” remains an heraldic mystery.

“The Queen went in state to the High Church on the 10th of August, the festival of St. Lawrence’s day, being accompanied by her noble train, and by many great ladies of Scotland, very _honestly_ appointed. Queen Margaret was very well arrayed in a rich robe of cloth-of-gold, with a rich collar (necklace). Before her seat was prepared an altar, adorned with costly images; and the curtains of her closet, within which she was put, were figured in gorgeous hues of red, blue, and green. As she thus sat in splendor, her appearance must have greatly resembled that of her royal mother, Elizabeth of York, as represented in the magnificent painted glass window at St. Margaret’s Church, Westminster.”

The King followed Queen Margaret; he was nobly attired, and all was in fair order. The Lord Huntly that day bore the sword of state. “The King was dressed in a gown of crimson figured velvet, furred of _genets_, a doublet of black satin, hose of scarlet, and bonnet of the day before, with the St. George; and,” adds our herald journalist, “his beard was _kyted_ of shears,”[94]--an alteration in his personal arrangements evidently suggested by his young bride, as the fact that his beard and hair were somewhat too long had been mentioned rather disapprovingly. _Kyted of shears_, when interpreted, may perhaps mean “clipped with scissors.”

“When King James arrived within the curtain of his royal closet at the High Church, he made humble reverence to his Queen; and she did in like manner to him. At the offering, both the King and Queen offered together. The King, when the mass was done, for the love of the Queen made forty-one knights. After the oath taken, Earl Bothwell _chaussed_ them with the gilt spurs. The King gave them the stroke, or accolade, with the sword which had been borne before him.

“When all was done, King James turned to Queen Margaret and her chief lady, and said to her Grace--‘These are your knights!’ Then taking her by the hand, he led her to the door of her chamber, and entered with her, and they were well and _honestly_[95] served with plenty of ypocras, and likewise all the Queen’s attendants.”

Jousts were held, when the royal party rose from dinner, at the _basse_ court, before the windows of the dining-hall at Holyrood. This court, it is explained, was not provided with barriers, and had only the tilt. The windows were well appointed, and hung with rich draperies. “The King appeared at one of the windows, accompanied by the Archbishops of York and St. Andrews, and the Bishop of Durham. The Queen appeared at the bay-window of her great chamber, accompanied by her ladies and others of the realm of Scotland, and with my lord, her Great Chamberlain. The said windows were arrayed for her still more richly than those of the King. Opposite the King and Queen’s window was a scaffold erected, on which stood my Lord of Surrey and the Earl of Bothwell only, as judges of the tilting and sword-play or tourney. Lord Morley, the Constable, the officers-of-arms, and many other officers and trumpeters, stood in the court. My Lord of Hamilton, the King’s cousin, dressed in red satin, Lord Roos, Sir Davy Hume, William Cockburn, Patrick Sinclair, and Henry Bruce, each one ran a course with spear and sword, the points broken or blunted. Some broke spears, others did not.”

“When the courses and the tourney were concluded, the King and Queen of Scotland went to supper; then they danced, and retired to their chamber. In the course of that day, the Archbishop of York and the Bishop of Durham took leave of their royal Graces, that they might commence their homeward journey betimes next morning.

“The Queen did not attend mass the next day, but kept her chamber. After dinner she danced with her husband, and they seemed to pass their time in marvelous mirth and gladness.[96] There were jousts that day, and many spears were broken. The Queen again appeared in great state, enthroned in the great bay-window off her presence-chamber at Holyrood, which was richly adorned as the day before; and she was surrounded by Scottish ladies in the garb of their country. Her Grace entertained the King that evening in her great chamber. There was supper, and John English and his companions played.” The performance of John English and his company was of the dramatic kind.

Sir Davy Owen, Sir Richard Poulle, John Huse, and Sir Edward Stanley, and many others of the Queen’s English train and escort, that evening took their _congé_ of Queen Margaret and the King, and went their way.[97] They carried with them a private letter from the young bride of Scotland to her father, Henry VII.[98] Part of it was written at her dictation by one of her ladies. The postscript is in her own hand, if hand her extraordinary marks can be called. The epistle is strongly characteristic of Margaret’s discontented disposition. From its tenor it is evident that the tender and considerate conduct of the King of Scotland had failed to awaken the slightest movement of affection, or even gratitude, in her heart. Her detracting remarks “on this King” appear in unpleasant contrast with his attentive and winning conduct, to which the English herald, John Young, has borne impartial witness in the foregoing narrative.

“My most dear Lord and Father,--In the most humble wise that I
can think, I recommend me unto your Grace, beseeching you of
your daily blessing, and that it will please you to give hearty
thanks to all your servants, the which, by your commandment,
have given right good attendance on me at this time, and
specially to all the ladies and _jantilwomen_ which hath
accompanied me hither, and to give credence to this good lady,
the bearer hereof; for I have showed her more of my mind than I
will write at this time.

“Sir, I beseech your Grace to be good and gracious lord to
Thomas, which was footman to the Queen my _moder, whose sowle
God assoyle_” (it has been shown previously that her mother,
Elizabeth of York, died just before Margaret departed for
Scotland,) “for he hath been one of my footmen hither, with as
great diligence and labour to his great charge of his own good
and true mind. I am not able to recompense him except by the
favor of your Grace.

“Sir, as for news, I have none to send, but that my Lord of
Surrey is in great favor with _this King here_, that he can
not forbear the company of him at no time of the day. He and the
Bishop of Murray ordereth every thing as nigh as they can to the
King’s pleasure; I pray God it may be for my poor heart’s ease
in time to come. They call not my Chamberlain to them, who, I
am sure, would speak better for my part than any of them that be
of _that_ council. But if he speak any thing for my cause,
my Lord of Surrey hath such words unto him that he dare speak
no further. God send me comfort to his pleasure, and that I and
mine, that be left here with me, may be well entreated.”

So far the child-Queen has communicated her grievances through the pen of one of her attendants; but she thinks proper to finish the letter in her own hand. It does not seem that Princesses of fourteen years old, in those days, held the pens of ready writers: the orthography and characters are equally barbarous; altogether, Margaret’s first autograph is nearly illegible; and one would think that it was tribulation of heart alone that could force the effort of concluding the complaining epistle. She proceeds--

“For God’s sake, Sir, hold me excused that I write not myself to
your Grace, for I have no leisure at this time; but with a wish
I would I were with your Grace now, and many times more. And for
this that I have written to your Grace, it is very true; but I
pray God I may find it well for my welfare hereafter. No more to
your Grace at this time; but our Lord have you in his keeping.
Written with the hand of your humble _daughter_.

“MARGARET.”

The next day there was another grand presentation of the Scottish ladies to the Queen, a public dinner and playing with blunted swords and spears in the Court of Holyrood, the Queen again sitting in royal state in the bay-window of her presence-chamber during the tourney, when many spears were broken in her presence.

A day of solemn festival was held on the succeeding Sunday, August 13; it seems to have been the farewell feast to such of the English party as were yet remaining. The Queen was led to church accompanied by the Earl of Surrey--a nobleman who occupied, as our readers have just ascertained by her letter, a very low place in her good graces. “She was arrayed in a gown of purple-figured velvet, bordered with gold thread, and furred with ermines; it was made with great _rebras_.” The rebras were large trumpet-shaped sleeves. The portraits of Anne of Bretagne, Queen of Louis XII., and Anne Boleyn are in this costume: the fashion lasted almost through the reign of Henry VIII.

Queen Margaret likewise wore a rich girdle and a splendid collar or necklace of _pierrerie_, or colored gems; Lady Surrey bore her train, assisted by Sir John Hume. The King followed her, attended by his great officers. He was royally robed in cloth of gold furred with marten; his doublet was crimson satin lined with cloth of gold. To his bonnet hung “a rich bag,” and his shirt was embroidered with fine pierrerie and pearls. When he arrived at his curtained closet, he made a humble reverence to his Queen, as she did also to him.

“At the offering were assembled three noble Scottish lords, who were that day to be made earls in the Queen’s presence. When mass was now over, they were presented to the King by Marchmont Herald. They promised to hold their oaths, and then the King of Scotland girdled them with their swords _above their shoulders_. Then the King took the Queen’s hand and led her to the company; but because it rained, her Grace passed through the King’s chamber to enter her own. The Earl of Surrey dined with the King, and other lords dined with him; after dinner a morality was played by John English and his company before the King and Queen, and then dances were danced.”

“At the accustomed hour. King James went to even-song;” but the Queen, who seems to have declined such constant church-going, was not there; “therefore the making of some knights who were to have been made for love of her, was put off until next day.”[99]

Without being entirely guided by the English memorialist of this remarkable royal marriage, we may add that the northern historians, with Bishop Lesley at their head, declare “that all was conducted honorably, after the Scottish fashion. Scotchmen were, at this time, not behind, but far above the Englishmen, both in apparel, rich jewels, and massy chains--many ladies having their habiliments set with goldsmith’s work, garnished with pearl and precious stones, being withal mounted on gallant and well-trapped horses, which were comely to see.”

Lesley says, moreover, “When all things were done and finished, the Earl of Surrey, with all the English lords, returned to their country, giving great praise, not only to the valor and manhood of the Scottishmen, but also to their good manners, and the hearty entertainment which they received of them; and divers English ladies and young gentlewomen remained with the Queen, who were after married to noblemen of the realm in Scotland, whose posterity lives yet in honor to our days.”[100]

The return of the English party with Lord Surrey, left the royal new married pair at leisure to commence their plans for matrimonial felicity. But small hopes of that needful ingredient in the cup of life were there for them. Margaret’s letter to her father shows her as an ill-educated girl of fourteen, not the most reasonable period of human life in any station, and particularly trying in hers. The series of flatteries and adorations she had experienced in her bridal tour, had only puffed up the vanity and presumption to which the female character, at that age, is peculiarly liable. The sedulous attentions, and little fond indulgences, with which her accomplished lord had humanely endeavored to soothe and console her for her removal from her country and parent, were all utterly thrown away on a thankless and murmuring spirit. Margaret was as little grateful to the Earl of Surrey, for his successful escort to the throne matrimonial of Scotland. All the return she makes is an incendiary endeavor to sow strife between him and the King her father;[101] strife which, in due time, might have brought forth murderous fruits.

It was not very probable that a sullen, spoiled child, in her thirteenth summer, could prove an attractive companion to a monarch of James IV.’s character, who, in 1503, had entered his thirty-first year. Had Margaret Tudor reached one half the age of her spouse, she might have had more success in disputing his heart with the matured beauties of her court; as the case was, it could only be expected that she would grow up to womanhood, with the passions of anger and jealousy in a perpetual state of exercise.

In one taste alone did this dissimilar pair agree, which was in their love for music. The Tudor race had retained their Celtic predilection for that science, and all practically excelled in it. The royal Stuarts possessed much instrumental skill, together with the inspiration of true poetry. Thus, whatsoever discrepancies there might have been between James Stuart and Margaret Tudor in age, temper, and talents, they were united in their musical predilections.

The King’s bounty was overflowing to Margaret’s musicians, for their performances at the marriage, as his privy-purse expenses bear witness. On his wedding-day, he presented to her eight English minstrels the large sum of forty French crowns; to the trumpets of England, £28; to Queen Margaret’s four minstrels who remained with her, £7; but her five _loud_ minstrels had £28. The King had £3 10_s._ given out to him, to play at cards, on the evening of August 21. It seems that he did not decrease the contents of his card-purse, but with right princely spirit he gave all his winnings to Queen Margaret’s English harpers. A few days afterward, the King presented to Bountas, a cornet-player, who played in Queen Margaret’s chamber, twenty-eight shillings. The following month, her “loud minstrels,” and her cornet-player, got double fees; and Bountas was presented, by the King, with “new quhisellis” or whistles.[102]

These last benefactions were on account of the festivities at his Queen’s coronation; for soon after he convened his Parliament of the three estates of his kingdom, Margaret was solemnly crowned in the Parliament Hall.

James IV. then commenced a progress through the southern provinces of his kingdom, to show his subjects his English bride. Bishop Lesley, the Scottish historian, takes care to note how nobly they were entertained at abbeys, and what rich purses of gold were always devoted by the Church of Scotland to their royal visitors--one to the Queen as well as to the King.

Margaret was still a child, therefore notations of pleasure and amusements constitute the sole records of her married life for a year or two. The anniversary of her marriage in 1504, was spent at the fortress of Dunottar, of which the head of the noble family of Keith was then castellan. Here, in August, James IV. kept court with princely cheer, and gave, in the course of the month, many donations to Margaret’s musical band. “Two English songstresses, who sang in the pavilion to the Queen at Dunottar Castle, had a donation of 27_s._: the King likewise ordered a benefaction of 18_s._ to the _chield_ that played on the monochord.”[103] Queen Margaret’s luter had fees amounting to 56_s._, likewise Pate Harper, who played the _clarcha_; the English boy Cuddy, and Souter the luter, got a share in a largess of £3 10_s._, given by the royal Stuart. The Queen’s luter was given a donation to get his lute out of pawn; four Italian minstrels had fees to clear them of the town; and Hog the tale-teller, or _diseur_, was given a benefaction of 13_s._[104]

Dunottar Castle, in the county of Kincardine, the scene of the royal festivities where all these musicians found employment in August, 1504, was a mighty fortress, situated on a perpendicular rock, with a table-land of several acres in extent on the summit. The site projects into the sea, and is almost insular. It is, at present, one of the most majestic ruins in Scotland.[105]

As Dunottar was in that day impregnable, James IV. had probably removed his Queen thither for security, during the disturbances among the clans and the Lords of the Isles, which almost raised a civil war that summer in Scotland.[106]

The young Queen brought Scotland an heir, February 10, 1505–6; but she hung between life and death for many days afterward. Her sad condition could not, however, restrain her husband’s excessive joy for the birth of a living heir-apparent to Scotland; he presented the lady who brought him the glad tidings with a cup of silver, heaped with a hundred gold pieces. The child was born at Holyrood, and baptized with suitable triumph.[107]