Chapter I · SUMMARY.

Margaret Tudor, the eldest daughter of Henry VII. and Elizabeth of York—Born at Westminster—Baptized at St. Margaret’s church—Childhood and education, &c.—Dances at her brother Arthur’s bridal—Is legatee to his personal property—Margaret is betrothed at Richmond palace to James IV.—Loses her mother Queen Elizabeth—Previous life of James IV.—Margaret sets out with Henry VII. for the north—Is taken to her grandmother’s castle of Colleweston—Receives publicly her father’s and her grandmother’s blessing—Her father gives her admissal—His written benediction on her therein—She bids him farewell in the hall at Colleweston—Her equipage and attendance—Her magnificent progress toward Scotland—Her grand entry of York—Remarkable meeting with the Earl of Northumberland—Her arrival at Durham, at Newcastle, at Alnwick—Kills a buck there with her crossbow—Her sojourn and entertainment at Berwick—Her preparations for entering Scotland—Issues through the north gate of Berwick—Is escorted by a feudal army of English Borderers—Her first morning’s journey in Scotland—Is received as Queen-Consort by a noble escort sent by James IV.—Enters the Pavilion of Recreation at Lammermuir—The English Border chivalry defiles before her, making their devoir of adieu—She proceeds to Fast castle—Sleeps there the first night in Scotland—Roads pioneered before her—Received by the nuns of Haddington on the second night—Arrives at Dalkeith castle—Received in state by Lady Morton—The King’s approach unexpectedly announced.

The national enmity which had, from the earliest times, subsisted occasionally between the realms of England and Scotland, reached an intolerable degree of rancor in the fifteenth century.

For two hundred years, the monarchs of England had left no attempt untried to subvert the independence of Scotland, laboring vehemently to destroy it either by force or fraud. Force had hitherto proved unavailing. If Edward I. had for a short time caused the whole island to own him as sovereign, yet the warlike north broke away as soon as her bleeding wounds were stanched, and returning seasons had repaired the destruction perpetrated by the southern invader. All these bitter aggressions Scotland took care to retaliate when the hour of England’s weakness came. A terrible thorn did the vengeance of the northern realm prove in the side of her neighbor, when struggling in the agonies of the White and Red Rose succession wars!

But neighbors, whether they be private individuals or mighty nations, can not systematically perpetrate long courses of mutual injuries without at times becoming aware that such employment is singularly unprofitable. Henry VII. had the wisdom to draw this inference: he had, from an early period of his reign, projected the policy of making the King of Scotland his friend and ally, by giving him the hand of his eldest daughter, who, according to the figurative language of his councillors, “would prove the dove which was to bring to the island-kingdoms the blessings of permanent peace.”

But the royal family of Tudor was not a nest from which doves ever sprang. It is true that Margaret Tudor became the mother of the line which, succeeding to the Britannic empire, peaceably effected by right the good that might could never accomplish. Yet Margaret’s personal conduct brought no elements of peace; and while she ruled as Queen Regent of the north, her character reflected, as in a dim and turbid mirror, a family resemblance of the caprices and passions of her powerful brother Henry VIII., the sovereign of the south.

Margaret was born Princess-Royal of England at Westminster Palace, November 29, 1489, being the eldest daughter of Elizabeth of York and Henry VII. A few hours afterward the royal babe made her first appearance in public life, her father and his mother Margaret, Countess of Richmond, having resolved that her baptism should be celebrated on St. Andrew’s day—the patron saint of Scotland, which occurs November 30.[4] As the Countess of Richmond, grandfather and godmother to the infant, left an elaborate treatise of her own writing on royal ceremonials, no doubt can exist but that the baptism was conducted according to the ancient customs of the monarchs of England.

The Queen’s chamber, where Margaret Tudor drew her first breath, was in immediate vicinity to the Painted Chamber, or St. Edward’s Chamber,[5] subsequently used as the hall where the House of Commons deliberated. Some ancient windows, lately to be seen near those belonging to the well-known Painted Chamber, pertained to the apartments of our Queens at Westminster Palace.

The little Princess was borne in royal pomp from this chamber in Westminster Palace[6] by the Lady Berkeley, assisted by the Earls of Arundel and Shrewsbury. She was brought by them into the Whitehall,[7] where the procession formed; for the christening was to take place in the church near Westminster Abbey, dedicated to St. Margaret, Queen of Scotland—who was, at the same time, patroness and name-saint of her young descendant—Henry VII. and his sagacious mother having arranged all these coincidences for the purpose of conciliating the national predilections of the Scotch.

The sacred silver font was brought from Canterbury Cathedral, as usual for the baptism of the children of the Kings of England, and set up in the porch of St. Margaret’s Church, the porch itself being richly hung with tapestry, and the ceiling with fine embroidery.[8] Here the Bishop of Ely, in full pontificals, waited the arrival of the procession, which took its way through the gate in the wall of the New Palace Yard, leading direct to St. Margaret’s Church.[9] The infant Princess was attended by her eldest aunt the Lady Anne of York, who bore the white chrisom; Lord Wells, the husband of the Princess Cecily of York, carried the salt in a grand gold salt-cellar—salt being always used at the Roman Catholic baptisms; a great silver chandelier full of lights was borne before Lord Wells; wax-tapers, unlighted, were carried on all sides by the nobility and officers of the royal household. Margaret, Countess of Richmond, gave the Princess her name; the Duchess of Norfolk, “daughter to the good Talbot,” says our authority,[10] was the other godmother; and Dr. Morton, Chancellor of England and Archbishop of Canterbury was godfather.

The new-born infant was evidently baptized by immersion, notwithstanding the cold usual to our climate at the last day of November, for the words occur—“When the babe was put into the font, all the tapers were lighted.”[11] Indeed, the illuminated MSS., both of England and France, always represented royal infants swimming in the fonts, as may be seen in the Beauchamp MSS., and that of St. Denis, representing severally the baptisms of Henry VI. and Charles VI. of France.

When the ceremonial was over, the infant Princess-Royal was borne back to Westminster Palace in solemn procession. She was carried under a canopy supported by four bold bannerets, who had won their pennons and spurs at Bosworth Field. These gentlemen were Sir Gilbert Talbot, Sir Edward Stanley, Sir James Blount, and Sir John Savage. Before the Princess-Royal were carried her christening presents, with trumpets sounding merrily. The Archbishop of Canterbury had presented his god-daughter with a beautiful gold aspersoir, set with precious stones, to be used in sprinkling sweet waters. The Viscount Wells carried a silver chest or box heaped with gold coins, the gift of the child’s grand-dame and sponsor, the Countess Margaret.

Margaret was nursed at her mother’s favorite palace of Shene (recently named Richmond by Henry VII.). Lady Guildford, wife of Sir Richard Guildford, one of the knights of the royal household, was her lady-mistress, or personal governess. Her nurse, a Welshwoman, is designated by the King, in the treasury order for receipt of her wages, as “our beloved Alice Davy,”[12] who received ten pounds per annum. The assistants in the nursery, being only rockers, were not complimented as the “king’s dearly beloved;” their names were Anne Mayland and Margaret Troughton. They received each only £3 3s. 8d. per annum. Alice Bywymble, the day-wife, another Welshwoman, had the same salary. There is a treasury order extant, given under the privy-seal at Greenwich Palace, when the Princess was about three years old, which expressly specifies that the above attendants of her nursery were to have no deductions from their wages imposed on them by those officers who disbursed the order.

In her early infancy, overtures were made for the betrothal of the English Princess-Royal with James IV. of Scotland, a prince who was grown up to man’s estate before she was born,—a discrepancy of age which did not promise her much chance of being Queen of Scotland, notwithstanding all the compliments paid to the Scottish saints by her baptism at St. Margaret’s Church, on St. Andrew’s day. James IV., being withal absorbed in passionate love for a lady of his own age, merely encouraged the overture in order to prevent the gainsaying of his inclination; for which purpose he flattered the ardent wishes of his councillors that he should ultimately form a matrimonial alliance with the infant of his powerful southern neighbor.[13]

Margaret of Richmond, who superintended the bringing up of her granddaughter and godchild, was one of the most learned women in Europe, according to the acquirements of the cloister. Better far, she could write pleasant letters, expressing clearly what she meant to say—sometimes enlivened with strokes of naïve humor, which speak of a cheerful and innocent heart; her orthography not illiterate, her writing is fair and even legible, when it is considered that she wrote the running-hand of the old English black character.

None of these attainments were imparted to her young name-child Margaret, who, though brought up surrounded by the awakening renaissance or era of the new birth of classical lore, was neither a learned nor an educated princess. Some one, either father or grand-dame, must have indulged her ruinously, and permitted the willfulness of caprice and petulance to take root in her young heart. She was reared with her two brothers, Arthur and Henry, the first older, the latter younger than herself. The Princes were educated with all the learning of the times, but Margaret imbibed none from their intercourse and conversation.

Her portrait was painted more than once by Mabuse, the precursor of Holbein, when he visited the court of Henry VII. in search of patronage. Lord Lindsay, who has devoted much learning and research to the state of the arts, considers that Mabuse painted his first group of Henry VII.’s children in the year 1596 or 1597.[14] At that period, Margaret was seven or eight years of age.

When Sir Thomas More, by the permission of Henry VII., took the learned Erasmus to visit the royal children at Shene, he mentions seeing Margaret with her brothers Henry and Edmund, saying that she was then a girl about eleven years old. He gives no praises to her beauty; indeed, at that period, her portrait by Mabuse, painted in the same piece with her brothers Henry and Edmund, presents the appearance of a little prim old woman, rather than the soft features of childhood. The costume is very plain and homely—probably it might be the habit belonging to the Carthusian Convent at Shene. All her bright hair is concealed, her head being covered with a hood, similar in form to those seen at the present day worn by female mourners following the pedestrian funerals of the poor through the crowded streets of London. Mabuse painted many copies of the portraits of the royal children: one is familiar to the public, in the long gallery at Hampton Court. The three children look grave, and even grim, which was the fault of the hard literal pencil of Mabuse and his fading colors, rather than the hand of nature—for the Tudor royal family had all very bright complexions; and Margaret, although not remarkable for a classical outline of features, was famed for lilies and roses, and a profusion of glittering hair.[15] In the Hampton Court group, her little brother Edmund, a solemn-looking baby of three years old, has his head covered with an infinity of pale yellow round curls. He died when he was in his fourth year.

Margaret Tudor learned to write in her childhood, or rather to trace certain square-looking marks, which would resemble some of the Oriental characters if they had more regularity. Her orthography was guided solely by the sounds she uttered; and these prove that the persons who formed her pronunciation placed strong aspirations before all the vowels. She played on the lute, and danced actively. Her performance of a quick lively dance, with her brother Henry as a partner, at the festival of her brother Arthur’s marriage with Katharine of Arragon, was admired by the whole court.

In her royal mother’s Compotus, or diary of expenses, the purchase of lutes and lute-strings, and fees to Giles the luter, for teaching Margaret, occur occasionally. Thus, the ornamental part was not neglected in the education of the young Princess-Royal, however wofully her mind was left vacant, and her passions uncontrolled. Arthur, Prince of Wales, lavished much love and indulgence on his sister Margaret, who was nearest to him in age of all the royal family. Even when he married Katharine of Arragon, and retired to keep court at Ludlow Castle, the absence of a few months had not effaced Margaret from his affections. In fact, he proved how much dearer the sister was than his bride, by bequeathing to her all his personal property, jewels, plate, and even his best robes.[16]

The death of Arthur, Prince of Wales (April 2, 1501), made the alliance with his sister a matter of more consequence to the Council of Scotland. Margaret was now heiress to the heir-apparent, her next brother Henry, whose single life stood between her and the succession to the fair kingdom of South Britain and its dependencies. Ideas of the ultimate consolidation of the Britannic empire, by means of her descendants, began to occur to the sagacious brain of Henry VII. The Scottish Council was too urgent with their King to secure the young Princess, for the good of his country, to leave him any feasible excuse for delaying the solemn affiancing, or marrying her by proxy.

After much diplomatic negotiation between Henry VII.’s astute minister Fox, Bishop of Durham, and the Earl of Bothwell, the latter, accompanied by the Archbishop of Glasgow, came to London, and demanded the hand of the Princess Margaret. The proposition was thankfully accepted by Henry VII., and laid before his Privy Council, at which debate occurred the celebrated saying, often quoted from Lord Bacon, in proof of the far-sighted wisdom of that sovereign. One of the English lords present having objected that “the Princess Margaret, being next heir to her brother Henry, England might chance to become a province to Scotland.”

“No,” replied King Henry, “the smaller will ever follow the larger kingdom.”[17]

The Scottish annalists, however, do not dismiss Henry VII.’s speech quite so tersely, but add the historical authority on which the King founded his apothegm.

“Some of his counsellors,” says Lesley, Bishop of Ross,[18] “did propound certain reasons for staying of that marriage, alledging that it might happen that the heritage and succession of the realm of England might fall to Margaret his eldest daughter, and to her successors; and, therefore, it seemed best she should be married to some foreign prince. To the whilk, the King Henry VII. did answer, ‘What then, if such things did happen (which chance God forbid), I see that it would come so that our realm would receive no damage there-through; for in that case England would not accress to Scotland, but Scotland to England, as to the most noble head of the whole isle, as when Normandy came to the power of Englishmen, our forbears.’ And so the wisdom of the King was commended, and the lady Margaret granted to the King of Scotland.”

Margaret’s only surviving brother, Henry, Prince of Wales, did not view the possible prospect of the island union with the complacency of his sire. Or probably his worthless tutor, Skelton (remarkable for his virulent abuse of the Scotch), had filled his young mind with furious antipathy; for the passion the boy flew into, when required to salute Margaret as the betrothed bride of James IV., astonished the English Court, and even the foreign envoys. After his rage had had its course, Henry was afflicted with several fits of ague—an illness oddly enough attributed by Cardinal Cajetan, a cotemporary statesman and author, to the excessive displeasure of the Prince at his sister Margaret’s wedlock with James IV.[19]

The portion and settlement of Margaret Tudor were arranged during the autumn of 1502. The young Queen was to be put immediately in possession of the castles and manors which constituted the jointure-lands of the Queen Consorts of Scotland, to the amount of £2000 per annum; to which James IV. added a pension of 500 marks. In the event of her widowhood, Margaret was to be permitted to reside, at her pleasure, either within or without the bounds of Scotland. Henry VII. gave Margaret but £10,000, which was to be paid by installments, in three years—a dowry little more than half as much as that which Alexander III. gave with his daughter Margaret to Haco, King of Norway, in the thirteenth century.[20]

It was stipulated that Henry VII. should not be obliged to send his daughter to Scotland before September 1, 1503. She was given liberty, by her marriage articles, to keep twenty-four English servants, besides the Scottish attendants[21] which her lord the King might think requisite for her rank.

The health of the Queen of England, Elizabeth of York, had been infirm since the death of her son Arthur; her situation was delicate, and the time drew on when she was about to take her chamber in the Tower of London, previously to her seventh accouchement. The marriage of the Princess Margaret, therefore, was not celebrated according to ancient custom, amid the assembled multitudes of London and Westminster; but in the retirement of her royal mother’s apartments at Richmond Palace. John Young, Somerset Herald, a zealous and pains-taking chronicler of all occurrences relating to the same, assisted at the ceremonial: and from his narrative the following information is drawn.[22]

“At the King’s right royal manor of Richmond, on St. Paul’s day, January 24, 1502–3, were performed the fiancels of the right high and mighty Prince, James IV., King of Scots, and Margaret, eldest daughter of our sovereign lord Henry VII., King of England and France, and Lord of Ireland, as ensueth—

“The King, the Queen, and all their noble children, having heard mass, and a notable sermon preached by Richard Fitzjames, Bishop of Chichester, the Queen, after service, received the whole illustrious company in her great chamber. She was attended by her daughter the Princess Margaret, and by the little Lady Mary, her youngest child; likewise by her own sister, the Lady Katharine of Devonshire, and most of the great ladies of the court.”

It is remarkable that John Young, Somerset Herald, notices that the Lady Katharine Gordon, widow of Perkin Warbeck, was in the Queen’s train; and, on account of her nearness of kin both to the Kings of England and Scotland, took rank next to the royal family, although Lady Braye, the wife of the prime minister, was present.

“The King was attended by his son Prince Henry, Don Peter the Pope’s orator, and the ambassadors of Spain and Venice; the Archbishops of Canterbury and York, with four other bishops; likewise the members of the Privy Council, and a great number of the nobles of England. Then were introduced Patrick Hepburn, the Earl of Bothwell, who acted as proxy for the King of Scotland his sovereign; and the other procurators for the marriage, being the Archbishop of Glasgow and the elect Bishop of Murray.[23]

“Then the Earl of Surrey stood forth, and with very good manner, right seriously declared the cause of that fair assembly being met together. Dr. Routhall, King Henry VII.’s Secretary, proceeded to read the Scottish Commission. A canon of Glasgow, Mr. David Cunningham, followed, by reading aloud the Pope’s dispensation ‘for consanguinity, affinity, and nonage.’”[24]

The Archbishop of Glasgow commenced the usual questions, by demanding solemnly of King Henry VII.—

“Does your Grace know any impediment on your part to this wedlock, other than is here dispensed withal?”

The King assured him that he did not.

“Does your Grace know of any impediments and objections, any other than the Pope has here dispensed with?” asked the Scottish Archbishop of Queen Elizabeth, mother of the bride.

The Queen declared she knew of none other. The bride herself, the Lady Margaret, was then solemnly adjured relative to her knowledge of any objections to her marriage with the King of Scots. She gave a satisfactory answer. Henry the VII. in his turn put the same kind of questions to the Archbishop of Glasgow, regarding the pre-engagements of James IV., and not without reason, considering that the archives of his own realm could bear witness that the royal wooer had already been half married, both to Margaret’s cousin, Anne of Suffolk, and to her aunt, Lady Cecilia Plantagenet.

Whether the report had reached the high contracting parties, that James of Scotland was at that very time wholly married to the fair Margaret Drummond of Stobshall, our herald says not; but proceeds to declare that the Archbishop of Glasgow solemnly answered in his royal master’s name that he was free and disengaged.

King Henry next demanded of the Bishop of Murray, whether “it was indeed the very will, mind, and full intent of King James, that Earl Bothwell should in his name assure the Princess Margaret.” The Bishop answered “that it was so.”

Then the Archbishop of Glasgow demanded and speered of the Princess Margaret, “whether she were content of her own free will, and without compulsion, to wed his master.”

Margaret answered, “If it please my lord and father the King, and my lady and mother the Queen, I am content.”

The King assuring her “that it was their will and pleasure;” Margaret knelt and received the blessing of both her royal parents, most solemnly given. The Archbishop of Glasgow proceeded to read the words of the fiancelles, first to the Earl of Bothwell, and then to the Princess:—

“I, Patrick, Earl of Bothwell, Procurator of the right high and mighty Prince James, by the grace of God King of Scotland, my sovereign lord, having sufficient power to contract matrimony per verba de presenti, with thee Margaret, daughter to the right excellent, &c., Prince and Princess, Henry, by the grace of God King of England, &c., and Elizabeth, Queen of the same, &c., do here contract matrimony with thee, Margaret, and take thee unto and for the wife and spouse of my said sovereign lord, James, King of Scotland, All others for thee he forsaketh, in and during his and thine lives, natural;[25] and thereto I plight and give thee his faith and troth, by power and authority committed and given to me.”

The Princess Margaret’s betrothment was completed by the following words, which she repeated after the Archbishop of Glasgow:—

“I, Margaret, first daughter of the right excellent, right high and mighty Prince and Princess, Henry, by the grace of God King of England, &c., and Elizabeth, Queen of the same, wittingly and of deliberate mind, having twelve years complete in age in the month of November be past, contract matrimony with the right excellent, &c., Prince James, King of Scotland, (for) the person of whom, Patrick, Earl of Bothwell, is procurator; and I take the said James, King of Scotland, unto and for my husband and spouse, and all other for him forsake during his and mine lives natural; and thereto I plight and give to him in your person, as procurator aforesaid, my faith and troth.”

When the Princess Margaret had thus plighted her troth, the royal trumpeters, who had by her father’s orders been stationed on the leads at the end of the Queen’s chamber, blew up their most inspiriting notes, and a “loud noise of minstrels answered in their best and most joyful manner.”

Elizabeth of York rose when her daughter had completed her vow of betrothal, and, taking her by the hand, led her to the banquet set out in her private apartments, and placed her at table as if she had been a queen visiting her; and they both dined at one mess covered. The King withdrew to a separate banquet laid out in his chamber, where he dined, placing the Scottish proxy and the Archbishop of Glasgow at his own table. In the afternoon a very splendid jousting took place, where Edward, Duke of Buckingham, Charles Brandon, and Lord William of Devonshire, distinguished themselves remarkably “by the spears they brake, and the right goodly gambades they made.”

In the morning, after the King and Queen had “soped,”[26] the young Queen of Scots came into her royal mother’s great chamber. “Her Grace gave thankings to all those noblemen who had taken pains and charge to joust for her sake, which full well and notable had accomplished the same.” According to her directions given to her royal sire’s officer-of-arms, she thus, by the help of their voices, proclaimed—“Rayne de Shezells[27] and Charles Brandon have right well justed, John Carr[28] better, and the Lord William of Devonshire best of all.”

Then, by the advice of her ladies, the young Queen of Scots gave personal thanks to all the gentlemen and nobles who had jousted in her honor. After the prizes had been distributed among them with her royal hand, a goodly pageant entered the hall, curiously wrought with fenestralis (windows) having many lights burning in the same, in manner of a lantern, out of which sorted (issued in pairs) divers sorts of morisks.[29] Also a very goodly disguising of six gentlemen and six gentlewomen, who danced divers dances; then followed a voide or banquet.

The Earl Bothwell sent to the English officers-of-arms the gown of cloth-of-gold he wore when he was affianced to the Princess in the name of his sovereign lord; likewise a fee of a hundred crowns.[30]

Another day of jousting took place; at night there was a notable supper, after which Henry VII. sent his present of a cupboard, with its plate, to the Archbishop of Glasgow. It consisted of “a cup of gold and cover, six great standing pots of silver, four-and-twenty great bowls of silver, with their covers, a basin and ewer of silver, and a chafoir[31] of silver.” Another cupboard of plate, of great value, was presented by the King to Patrick Hepburn, Earl of Bothwell. The elect Bishop of Murray received a standing cup of gold covered, and one thousand crowns of gold of the solaile (of the sun), all in a goodly bag of crimson velvet, well garnished. The Lord Lion, or principal herald of Scotland, who was officiating at these important fiancels, received a purse with a hundred of the soleil-crowns, and a goodly gown of fine satin.

A few days only passed by ere all the splendor of Margaret’s betrothal was covered with the deepest mourning. Elizabeth of York, the bride’s affectionate mother, having given birth to a daughter, expired, Feb. 11. The utmost grief wrung the hearts of Henry VII. and his children. But the Scotch ambassadors for the marriage of Margaret could not fail to perceive that this calamity had greatly strengthened the chance of the Princess-Royal succeeding to the crown of England, since her mother might have superseded her with many sons, if that Queen’s life had been longer spared.

The funeral and deep mourning for Elizabeth of York put a temporary stop to all further proceedings regarding the marriage of her daughter. Meantime it will be desirable to give some account of the sovereign to whom she had been plighted.

James IV. was fully eighteen years older than his young bride, being born in March 1472.[32] He was the son of James III. and Margaret of Denmark, his queen. The hour of the young Prince’s birth caused great consternation at the Scottish Court. James III., being given to the study of astrology, predicted, by means of his perverse attempts at reading the future, all sorts of injuries to himself and his kingdom, owing to the peculiar position of certain planets when his harmless babe made his appearance in this world. Moreover, the King had a dream which alarmed him exceedingly: he consulted his Archbishop of St. Andrew’s, who was addicted to the same vain sciences as himself, and received the interpretation “that the royal lion of Scotland, in course of time, would be torn by his whelps.”[33]

The very means James III. adopted to avoid an imaginary danger led him into a real one. He resolved to estrange himself from his Queen and son, and, like the king in the Arabian Tales, fortified Stirling Castle, to inclose therein the young Prince, lest he should owe to him his dethronement or death. Without dwelling on the stormy events of James III.’s reign and life, it is sufficient to say that his son grew up rapidly, and manifested great genius and abilities; but, under the care of his patient, much-enduring mother, seemed as if he meant to put to shame forever the science of astrology, by proving a young royal lion far too docile to attack his sire, or cause him trouble of any kind.

Meantime, James III. made many attempts at marrying his son. First, he contracted him in boyhood to the Lady Cecilia, second daughter to Edward IV., and even received some cash as earnest of the bride’s portion. After the death of her warlike sire, James III. held no faith with the forlorn orphan of Westminster Sanctuary; but, with shameful facility, tendered the hand of his son to her cousin, the Lady Anne of Suffolk, the favorite niece of the successful usurper, Richard III. “Forthwith,” says Bishop Lesley, “that young lady was called Duchess of Rothesay at the court of the King of England; but when his untimely death took place, she lost that name as quickly as her cousin Lady Cecilia.” The death of Margaret of Denmark, Queen of Scotland, occurring when her son was about fourteen, her husband had soon after cause to rue the mistake he had committed in regard to the education of the Prince. The King, while following the dictates of superstitious caprice, had renounced all the natural love that ought to have been between him and his son, and, at the same time, the proper authority and influence of a father.

Of course, the royal boy could have no great regard for a father whom he was willing to love, but who would never see him. Hence, then, it came to pass that, when the Queen was no more, the Prince gladly availed himself of the aid of those barons who were his father’s enemies, to escape from the gloom of the wizard castle in which he was immured. While the King thought his heir was safe under the care of his castellan, Shaw of Sauchie, at Stirling Castle, young James was indulging in the dreams of first love, wooing the fair Margaret Drummond, by Tay’s banks, among the delicious groves of Stobbeshaw.

It was an attachment which had grown up from childhood. Margaret is supposed to have been one of the maidens of the Queen, his mother. Her father was considered the wisest and most prosperous noble in Scotland, and her family had before that time given a Queen to the country.

The traditions of Scotland attribute the words of the beautiful melody called “Tay’s Banks” to the young Prince of Scotland, when under the influence of his passion for the Lady Margaret Drummond. Some of the lines are intelligible to modern readers, when divested of their uncouth orthography.

The young Prince was awakened from his dream of happy love on Tay’s banks, by the civil war that broke out against his father. The discontented barons proclaimed him King, by the style of James IV.[36] He was hurried to the head of the insurgent militia. For several weeks, skirmishing with various success took place. James III. was wounded and defeated in the battle of Sauchie, near Stirling. Finally he was assassinated by an agent of the confederated barons at Sauchie Mill, where he had taken refuge,[37] about the 9th of June, 1488.

James IV. being one of the most popular sovereigns that ever reigned in Scotland, his countrymen have fondly endeavored to cleanse his memory from all possible imputation of guilt regarding his father’s death, by affirming that he was only thirteen or fourteen when this tragedy occurred. He was, however, born March, 1472, and therefore had entered his seventeenth year in June, 1488.[38]

There were few persons of the revolutionary party who had any certain knowledge of the fate of James III.; and those who were aware of it durst not reveal the fact, for the young King manifested the utmost solicitude for his father’s safety, and spoke of him with such filial affection, that it was deemed best to leave him in suspense. The leaders of his faction brought him to Linlithgow Palace[39] within a few hours of their victory, and when there a cry was suddenly raised by the townsmen that Sir Andrew Wood, James III.’s naval commander, was seen “travishing up and down the Forth.”

News arrived directly afterward, from Stirling, that Sir Andrew Wood had sent his “float-boats” to the shore, and had received many of the wounded belonging to his King’s forces on board his famous war-ships, the Flower and the Yellow Carvel. It was affirmed, likewise, that James III. was safe with his valiant sea-captain.

Messengers were immediately sent to demand of Sir Andrew Wood whether the King were in either of his ships? The captain replied “he was not, and they might search his ships if they chose.”

The confederate lords then asked if he would come on shore for a conference. Sir Andrew Wood, who at that time had ascertained the murder of his royal master, refused to come, unless they sent on board his ships hostages of great consequence. When this was done he came on shore, and met the young King and his council at Leith, the place appointed.

James IV. was anxiously expecting to see his father, whose person was totally unknown to him, when the handsome and majestic naval chief entered his presence. He gazed earnestly in his face, and with the tears overflowing his eyes, said to him, “Sir, are you my father?”

Sir Andrew Wood replied, weeping, “I am not your father, but your father’s true servant; and shall be enemy till I die of those who were the cause of his down-putting.”

The Lords demanded of him “if he knew where James III. was?” Wood declared “that he knew not.” Then they speered “who those were that came out of the field of battle, and passed to the ships in the float-boats?”

“It was I and my brother,” replied Sir Andrew Wood. “We came on shore, and put ourselves ready to have aided our King with our lives.”

“Is he not in your ships?” asked the lords.

Wood answered, “He is not. Would to God he were there; I should defend and hold him skaithless from all the treasonable traitors that have cruelly murdered him. For I trust to see the day when they will be hanged and drawn for their demerits.”

The blunt speaking of the faithless seaman not a little incensed those among his audience, whose consciences accused them regarding the death of James III. They murmured together, they would even have cut Sir Andrew to pieces, had not the recollection of their hostages restrained their fury. They had heard enough from that loyal gentleman, and their young King a little too much for their purposes. The bold seaman was therefore hurried on board his ship, and exchanged for the hostages. It was high time, as the poor hostages declared, for Sir Andrew Wood’s brother was just preparing to hang them.[40]

The body of James III. being soon after discovered, he was (June 25) buried in great state at Cambuskenneth Abbey.

The first few weeks of his reign were devoted by the young King to solemn mourning for his father, and he attended night and morning orisons for the soul of the deceased in the chapel-royal in Stirling Castle. The chaplains deplored and lamented the violent death of the unfortunate King with great pathos, till at last the mind of young James IV. began to awaken to the fact that all the injury which had befallen his father had been done in his name, for the rebel army had been ostensibly commanded by him. One day he startled the Dean of the chapel by the question, “How am I to atone for my own share of that parricide?”

The Dean was a good man, but in great fear of the lords of the young King’s council. He, however, spoke peace to him as well as he could; and bade him trust in God’s mercy for pardon.[41]

At the head of the Scottish Council was Lord Drummond of Stobshall, the father of the Lady Margaret, who was passionately beloved by James IV. Lord Drummond had always been the opponent of James III., and had taken a leading part in the late insurrection. It is evident that he indulged his young monarch with the company of Margaret, and doubtless had full intention to raise her to the throne of Scotland.

The coronation of James IV., which soon after took place at Scone, near Perth, seems for a time to have effaced his first alarms of conscience for the death of his father. As early as August 5, 1488, the royal Compotus, or expense-book, proves that he was at Linlithgow Palace, and had entered into a course of gaieties, the Lady Margaret Drummond being with him.

In October, the same autumn, is a charge of £5 6s. for black “rysillis, to be ane gown for the Lady Margaret;” gold, azure, and silver cost £6 18s. to “warken it,” or embroider it, besides a further outlay of thirteen shillings for “fringes till it.”[42] Entries of gratuities to gysars[43] and players, who played before the King at Linlithgow about the same period, likewise occur. Most historians agree that James IV. married the Lady Margaret Drummond with all the ceremonies of the Roman Catholic Church, excepting the dispensation[44] for their relationship within the prohibited degrees, which measure could not be taken without publicity being given to their concealed wedlock.

Royal alliances for the young King were in the interim frequently discussed by his council. The extreme youth of the daughter of Henry VII., with whom his people wished him to ally himself, was his excuse for remaining, if not single, yet without an acknowledged Queen. The part he took in the encouragement of Perkin Warbeck did not show any intention to conciliate Henry VII., or obtain his alliance; but it had the effect of making that politic monarch eager to convert a troublesome neighbor into a friend and relation. James IV. and Margaret Tudor, through the urgency of her father and the Scottish Council, were therefore contracted, as before mentioned, in 1500. Nevertheless, the evil day was still distant when the King of Scotland would be forced either to own his concealed marriage with Margaret Drummond, or dismiss her to make way for the young English Princess.

The great abilities of James IV. as a ruler, the success which attended his plans for civilizing and enriching his people, the formidable position assumed by his country as a naval power, all obtained for him the admiration of cotemporary statesmen. There was likewise enough of romance connected with him to attract the attention of the classes delighting in the picturesque and marvelous. The beauty of his person, the variety of his attainments, his skill and taste in music and poetry; the wonderful facility with which the hand that struck the lute and clavichord tastefully, could sway the adze of the shipwright when building his mighty war-ship at Falkirk, captivated every one. Likewise, the singular penance he enjoined himself (for having been brought in arms against his father), by wearing an iron chain about his waist, to awake remembrance of his sin when it hurt him, was appreciated as a most edifying action in that era. Therefore, among all ranks and conditions of people, the King of Scotland was considered as a remarkable character throughout Europe.

Notwithstanding the solemnity of the fiancels by which he had engaged the Princess Margaret Tudor as Queen, James IV. only considered the same in the light of a political measure, emanating from the importunity of his Privy Council. Resolved not to forsake his wedded wife, he prepared to bring the matter to a crisis, and struggle against all opposition in his cabinet. He sent for a dispensation from the Pope, on account of his nearness of kin with the Lady Margaret Drummond, meaning, when it was promulgated, openly to declare his wife Queen of Scotland, and legitimate, by that means, the little daughter she had brought him. Some envier of the house of Drummond, or personal enemy of its fair daughters, effectually prevented the royal intention.

“Margaret Drummond,” says the learned historian of her line (himself a distinguished son of that illustrious house), “was the daughter of Lord Drummond and Elizabeth Lindsay. James the Fourth fell in love with her while Duke of Rothesay; he was affianced to her, and meant to make her his Queen without consulting his council. He was opposed by those nobles who wished him to wed Margaret Tudor. His clergy likewise protested against his marriage, as within the prohibited degrees. Before the King could receive the dispensation, his wife was poisoned at breakfast at Drummond Castle, with her two sisters, Lady Fleming and Sybella Drummond. Suspicion fell on the Kennedys.”[45] But wherefore, and who the Kennedys were, whether angry men or jealous women, our informant saith not. Yet some chroniclers declare that there was a lady of that name who, for a time, had disputed the heart of the crowned chevalier with his wedded love.

It is not the least mysterious part of this inexplicable murder, that the Queen of James IV., the royal Margaret Tudor herself, long years after the death of her King, accuses, in one of her stormy letters, the brother-in-law of Margaret Drummond as her destroyer. “Lord Fleming,”[46] she says, “for evil will that he had to his wife (Euphemia Drummond), caused poison three sisters, one of them his wife; and this is known as truth throughout all Scotland. An’ if he be good to put about the King, my son, God knoweth!”

Whatsoever be the truth of this unsupported accusation, it is evident, by the very tenor of it, that the Lord Fleming was alive, and in flourishing circumstances, twenty years after the perpetration of this domestic tragedy. But if James IV. had had the least reason to suppose him guilty of the wholesale murder of his wife and her sisters, it is tolerably certain that he would not have remained unscathed in peace and prosperity all those years.

Euphemia, with the intended Queen, Margaret Drummond, and their young sister, Sybella, who all partook of the dire breakfast some cruel hand had prepared for them, were buried side by side in the center of the cathedral church at Dunblane. The place of repose of the unfortunate trio was marked by three long blue stones as lately as the year 1817.[47]

James IV. was left in the distraction of grief such as dispositions at once impetuous and affectionate alone can feel. His young daughter, Margaret, having escaped the fatal repast which had destroyed her mother and aunts, he went in person to Drummond Castle,[48] and took possession of the bereaved little one. His Compotus or expense-book bears witness, too, that he loaded the child with costly presents, and lodged her near him in his palace, probably to protect her personally from the unknown but deadly enemy of her race.

If the dispensation from Rome had preceded the fatal breakfast which deprived the little Lady Margaret of her mother, the child, by the laws of her country, would have taken rank as Princess-Royal of Scotland. She was brought up at Edinburgh Castle, under the appellation of “the Lady Margaret, the King’s daughter,” and finally married a noble of high rank.[49] She can scarcely be classed as an illegitimate child; neither can her unfortunate mother, a devoted wife to a loving husband, be ranked in the meretricious sisterhood of royal favorites.

James IV., after his heartstrings had been rent by the tragical death of his wedded love, became reckless, and unhappily formed illicit ties which were productive of much evil both to himself and his descendants. But had his second spouse, Margaret of England, been nearer the age of her hapless predecessor, or had assimilated with his temper and pursuits when she grew into companionship with him, perhaps his memory would have been freer from such reproach.

His first marriage must be classed with that of King William the Lion with Margaret Hutchinson, whose daughter was declared by the Scottish Parliament for a time heiress to the throne.[50] Likewise with that of Joanna of Kent with Edward the Black Prince, which for many years subsisted before a dispensation was deemed requisite by the Roman See. Again with the love-match of his descendant, James II. of Great Britain, when Duke of York, and Anne Hyde, who, though no lady of royal blood like Margaret Drummond, was recognized as the wife of the prince by the righteous laws of the Reformed Church of England; and her daughters occupied successively the throne of Great Britain.

The death of his beloved Margaret Drummond having removed all impediment to the completion of the state wedlock in which his council had bound him, James IV. resigned himself to his destiny. But whether the demise of the mother of the Princess, Margaret Tudor, had rendered her alliance many degrees more valuable, or whether the Scottish Council dreaded lest the impetuous monarch might surrender his heart and hand to another of his fair countrywomen, is not defined. The fact is, however, certain, that the royal English bride set forward on her northern journey before the time stipulated by her father for her arrival in Scotland, which, by her marriage articles, was September 1, 1503.

To do James justice, however sad and sore his heart might be, after he had done all in his power to show respect to the memory of his late wife, according to the rites of the church then established,[51] after he had settled their child near him, he honorably bent his thoughts toward winning the affections of the young Princess to whom his country had bound him.

The course he took for this purpose will be best detailed by following the quaint journalist, who was an eye-witness of all his proceedings, being our former acquaintance, Mr. John Young, Somerset Herald, engaged officially in the bridal progress of the Princess-Royal, Margaret Tudor, from England to Scotland.

King Henry VII. himself escorted his favorite child on her way to her future country. The royal progress set forth, in great state, from Richmond Palace, June 16, 1503, and bent its course towards Colleweston, one of the most southerly castles appertaining to the great possessions of the bride’s grandmother, Margaret, Countess of Richmond.[52] That venerable lady received her son and granddaughter, June 27, right royally, entertaining them with all the diversions which Derbyshire and Nottinghamshire could afford, for more than a fortnight.

The day of departure at length drew near. Most of the nobility of England who could claim relationship to the royal family assembled in the great hall of Colleweston, to bid farewell or do service to the bride of Scotland. The Earl of Surrey, her uncle by marriage, appeared at the head of the cavaliers who were to form her body-guard, his office being to escort her to her royal husband. Numbers of noble ladies were there, who were to accompany her as attendants into Scotland: the arrangement being that they were to stay or return, according to the pleasure of James IV.[53] The marriage settlements of the young Queen having stipulated that she was to have the large number of twenty-four English attendants, it is pretty evident that the King of Scotland was thus allowed the opportunity of choosing out of a number those who would be most agreeable to him.

Every preparation being completed for departure, the young Queen of Scotland entered the hall of Colleweston, and received the solemn benediction of her father and grandmother, and took her last mournful farewell of both. To his blessing, publicly given before his assembled nobility, Henry VII. added a fatherly exhortation to his daughter on her future conduct.[54] He presented to her, at the same time, an illuminated manual, or handbook of prayers, having first inscribed the following sentence with his own hand on one of the pages, “Remember y^r kynde and loving fader in y^r good prayers. Henry R.” Then in the Calendar, on the blank leaf opposite December, occurs another of his parental reminiscences, couched in yet more earnest words—“Pray for your louving fader, that gave you thys booke, and I gyve you at all tymes godd’s blessyng and myne. Henry R.”

The Queen of Scotland, when all adieus were made, set out from Colleweston “in fair order and array.”[55] She was attired in a rich riding-dress, and was mounted on a beautiful white pony or palfrey. Just before her rode Sir David Owen, very splendidly dressed. The Queen had an equestrian bishop at either hand, the place of honor being given to the Bishop of Murray, to whose care she was especially consigned, he being the appointed envoy of her royal lord. On her left hand rode Nix, Bishop of Norwich, whose name has an evil notoriety in history, on account of his cruelties in after life to the Reformers of his diocese.

Three footmen always walked close to the Queen’s palfrey, “very honestly appointed,” with portcullises embroidered on their jackets. Queen Margaret was followed by a gentleman mounted, leading in his hand a palfrey “very richly dight.” This cavalier was Sir Thomas Wortley, recently appointed her Master of the Horse. Next came a rich litter, borne between two fair coursers very nobly trapped, which the Queen entered before she approached any large town, or when she was tired of her palfrey. Two other footmen, with the portcullis badge, walked on each side of the royal litter. Then followed her ladies on fair palfreys; many squires rode before them—indeed none but squires were permitted to approach them, and it was a “right fair sight.”

Then came a car, finely adorned, in which were four ladies of her bedchamber, who traveled through the whole journey. The female servants of the ladies, mounted on palfreys, followed this car or charrette.

“Near the Queen’s person rode Johannes and his company, the minstrels of music; and the trumpeters, with displayed banners. In her entries of towns and the departings of the same, they played on their instruments all the time until she had passed out.”[56]

“The gentlemen and squires in attendance of Queen Margaret, more particularly her Master of the Horse, exerted themselves on such occasions to keep a clear space round her, so that she might the more readily be seen. The royal liveries were white and green, with the arms of Scotland and England parted with red roses and crowned portcullises”—the Tudor badge inherited from the House of Beaufort.

Such was the order of march in which the bride Queen of Scotland left the paternal presence, and issued from her grand-dame’s demesne of Colleweston.

Several nobles of the highest rank in her father’s household bore her company a short part of the first stage. Lord Derby, Constable of England,[57] with Lord Essex (her relative, a prince of the blood royal of York), took leave of her one mile from Colleweston. They kissed her at parting, according to the privilege of their nearness of kin.

From Colleweston the young bride took her way direct to Grantham. Sir Robert Dymock, High Sheriff of Lincoln, met her with thirty horsemen of his retinue, and, holding a white wand, salved (hailed) the Queen; then, bearing the white wand on high, he rode before her as far as the limits of the county of Lincoln lasted. Thus did all the Sheriffs of the other counties through which she passed.

All the bells were rung in the towns and villages through which her progress was directed, and all the country inhabitants lined the way where rode the Queen of Scotland to see her; and they brought with them great vessels full of drink, giving them to those that had need of it, saying, “If better we had, better we should have brought;” and they refused all payment.

“Four miles from Grantham, the aldermen, burgesses, and inhabitants of that town met her in fair order, and convoyed her to it, before she entered the college of Grantham in procession; and the friars-mendicants received her singing lauds. Then lighted from his horse, Nix, the Lord Bishop of Norwich, and gave the young bride Queen the crosses to kiss. Thus was she brought in fair array to her lodging in Grantham, which was with a gentleman called Mr. Hiol.”

The royal bride tarried the whole of the next day, being Sunday, at Grantham, in Lincolnshire. She left that town betimes on Monday morning in grand procession, the Grantham civil authorities, in their best dresses, escorting her full three miles. Sir Robert Dymock, with thirty cavaliers, rode before her grace till within a short distance from Newark, where he surrendered his charge to Sir William Pierrepoint, Sheriff of Nottinghamshire, who was accompanied by his friends, Sir William Byron, Sir John Dunham, or Denham, and Sir John Marcaret.

“Out of Newark came the college,[58] richly attired, in procession, therefore the young Queen entered the town in her grandest array. It was a fair sight to see the people thronged in the windows and streets of Newark, and the Queen was lodged at the Hart.”

“The next day’s journey brought Queen Margaret to Tuxford, at which place the vicar and churchmen came in their best dresses. That time the Bishop of Murray gave the Queen the crosses to kiss, and she lodged at the Crown in Tuxford.”

“All the next neighbors of the place came in on horseback, with a great train of persons on foot, to see her at her departure from the town. Half a mile from Tuxford, Sir William Conyers, High Sheriff of Yorkshire, came with his white wand to bear before Queen Margaret, accompanied by Sir William Scarsgill well arrayed, his horse’s harness full of silver campanes, (little bells). Then the Sheriff of Nottinghamshire took leave, and she drew near to Doncaster, meeting half-way Sir Edward Savage and Sir Ralph Ryder, who came to greet her in fair array. Queen Margaret lodged at Scrowsby, in a manor-house of the Archbishop of York, where she slept, June 12.[59]

“There came Sir Gervase Clifton, with many persons bearing his device, well mounted. Without Doncaster the mayor and burgesses, on foot, received the Queen; and she entered the town in procession, and lodged at the convent of the Carmelites.”

“When she drew, next day, nigh to Pontefract, Sir John Milton met her with seven horsemen, all making gambades. Sir John Saville and Sir William Gaskin came with many mounted gentlemen; and at Pontefract the friar Jacobins came to her in procession. Very fair was her array when she entered that town. She passed through Pontefract Castle to the abbey; and the abbot, in pontificals, and all the convent at the door of the church, received her. The Queen kissed the abbot’s cross and entered into Pontefract Church, where she made her prayers and went to her lodging in the same place.”

The Somerset Herald leaves it in doubt whether the young Queen slept in the castle, the scene of more than one tragedy connected with her race.[60] However, the next morning (June 15) the bridal train issued out of Pontefract in grand procession. They took their mid-day meal at Tadcaster.

The progress of the Queen of Scotland became more magnificent as she proceeded further into the great northern province of Yorkshire, where many of the southern nobles and their vassals were to surrender their task of escorting her—their places being taken by the gallant guardians of the English border, who were to protect the eldest daughter of their liege beyond the stormy precincts of the debatable ground to where the laws of nations were better regarded. The Lord Scrope of Bolton met her in her afternoon stage from Tadcaster. He was riding in great state, with his lady “right richly beseen.” Their son, the Lord Scrope of Upsal, appeared at the head of almost an army of the Yorkshire chivalry, composed of knights, squires, and their retainers. The sheriffs of the West Riding likewise came to welcome her grace within their boundaries, and brought her forward till the whole party drew up within a mile of the city of York.

Here the royal state of the bride Queen’s procession began; and so grand were the preparations within the walls of the northern metropolis that she found it requisite to change her dress, for which purpose she retired to her litter, where, assisted by her tire-women, she performed her toilet by the wayside. All her ladies and maidens likewise “refreshed” their habiliments; and when they considered themselves sufficiently brightened and cleansed from the dust and stains of travel, York gates were opened, and a grand procession of civic magnates and gallant Yorkshire cavaliers poured forth to meet and welcome the royal train. The citizens were headed by the Lord Mayor of York, and the chivalry by the Earl of Northumberland, whose attention to his dress and decorations was remarkable—so much so, that Master John Young, Somerset Herald, felt himself obliged to draw the following sketch of a noble fop of the fifteenth century, in which the reality of Percy of Northumberland almost rivals the bright ideal of Sir Piercy Shafton:—

“My Lord of Northumberland came to welcome her fair Grace gayly clothed in crimson velvet. At the openings of his sleeves and collar appeared large borders set with precious stone, and his boots were of black velvet worked with gold. His foot-cloth of crimson velvet, all bordered with orfaverie (beaten and wrought gold), hung to the ground. Gold embossed work appeared on his arms, which were very rich, on his saddle-bow and on his harness. The steed on which he was mounted was a right fair one; and as he approached the Queen, ever and anon he made gambades pleasant to see. In company with the Earl of Northumberland rode the venerable knight, Sir Launcelot Threkeld (honorably celebrated by Wordsworth in our days), Sir Thomas Curwen, of Workington, and Sir John Pennington.”

“In fair order,” continues our indefatigable Herald, “did Queen Margaret enter York, her minstrels singing, her trumpets and sackbuts playing, and the high woods resounding; banners and bandroles waving, coats of arms unrolled to the light of the sunsetting, rich maces in hand, and brave horsemen curveting and bounding.”

Our Herald’s description of Margaret’s entry into York would make an antiquarian reader believe that he was familiar with the beautiful couplets of the historical poet of Scotland, Barbour—[61]

York was crowded with the gentry from the East and West Ridings. My Lord of Northumberland and my Lord Mayor did their best to make Queen Margaret’s reception expensive and splendid; but as they did not produce any striking variation in their pageantry, it need not be dwelt upon. The young Queen was received in the palace of the Archbishop of York after her fatiguing day was done. In the morning that prelate led her to high mass in York Minster. Margaret was gloriously attired in cloth of gold on this occasion, her gown being belted with a precious girdle, studded with colored gems; the ends of her belt hung down to the ground; her necklace was very splendid, full of Orient stones. As she went from the palace to the Minster, the Countess of Surrey bore her train; and after them followed her ladies, all very richly attired “in goodly gowns, tied with great gold chains, or girdle-belts, with the ends hanging down to the earth.”

When mass was done, Queen Margaret gave reception in the great chamber of the Archbishop’s palace, holding a drawing-room as it would be called in modern phraseology.

“Here my lady the Countess of Northumberland was presented to her, being well accompanied with knights and gentlemen. The young Queen of Scotland kissed her for the welcoming she gave her.”[62]

Dinner was set in the Queen’s own chamber; and as her Grace passed to it, trumpets and other instruments rang in the ancient manner, their sounding lasting during the whole time she sat at meat.

The Queen departed from the city of York on the 18th day of July, in very fine order, and with company richly appointed—the Archbishops and Bishops, the Lord Mayor of York, all his aldermen, and the sheriffs, attending on her. The streets and windows so full of people that it was a marvel to see them. Without the walls, the company from York took leave of her; and at the same time the Bishop of Norwich, and the lords of Kent, of Hastings, of Strange, and of Willoughby, withdrew from her train.

The royal bride then took the road to Newburgh, at the priory of which place she was received by the religious, handsomely vested. At the gate of their church they presented the cross for her salutation. The same evening she arrived at Allerton; and at her entry she was welcomed by the Vicar and “his folk of the church, with the Carmelites in procession; and the Bishop of Murray, as before, gave her the cross to kiss.” The next day she departed from Allerton. She was met by the Lord Lumley and his son, accompanied by many gentlemen and folks arrayed in their livery, well mounted, to the number of fourscore horsemen.

“Before the Queen arrived at Hexham, she met Sir Ralph Bowes and Sir William Aylton, with a fair company in their liveries; and in Hexham, without the gate, she was received by the abbess and her religieuses, bearing their cross. It was then the Bishop of Durham who handed her the cross to kiss—a ceremony which seems to have been of constant occurrence. Her bed was prepared that night at Darnton. Two miles before she drew nigh to the town, Sir William Bulmer, Sheriff of the lordship of Durham, met her in company with Sir William Ewers, and many people of honor of that country, who, in brave order, convoyed her to Darnton. At the gate of the church stood richly vested the Vicar and his folk of the church; and she was led to the manor of the Bishop of Durham to sleep that night.”

“The next noon being the 20th of July, the Queen, a mile from Durham, was encountered by Sir Richard Stanley, and my Lady his wife, with folk in their livery, on horseback, to the number of fifty; and the bride Queen prepared herself to enter the said town, very richly arrayed, in her usual manner. And all her escort attired themselves very grandly. As for the Earl of Northumberland, he wore a gown of goodly tinsel furred with ermines. He was mounted on a fair courser, his harness was of goldsmith’s work: all over ‘that same’ was sewn small bells, making a melodious noise when he moved; and he did not spare gambades. His gentlemen of honor were dressed in long jackets of orfavery, very richly wrought with his devices, as were all his folk.” In short, our Somerset Herald indubitably considered my lord of Northumberland at once the great man and the beau of the bridal escort; nor is he ever weary of describing his tinsel jackets and gold gowns, the gambades he perpetrated, or the little belles (campanes) that chimed, sweetly tuned in unison, whenever those equestrian capers were cut. He viewed this young lord with favor, perhaps, because he entertained an officer-at-arms for the especial service of his noble line, called Northumberland Herald, who gave his quaint assistance on this grand progress. My lord of Northumberland, thus replete with bells and tinsel, in the spring-time of his youth, was no other than that solemn and consequential personage whose proceedings in his old age have been so graphically described by Cavendish, who draws no very pleasant picture of my lord of Northumberland, when he nipped in the bud the passion of his son, Lord Percy, with the fair maid of honor, Anne Boleyn.

Queen Margaret lodged in the castle at Durham under the immediate protection of the Bishop; and she reposed there until the 24th of July, when commenced her journey to Newcastle. She made her toilet afresh a mile before she entered that town, in which her reception was unusually brilliant; for, besides the religious processions, with their banners and crosses upon the bridge-end-gate, were many children vested in white surplices, who sang melodious hymns, and played on instruments of divers sorts. The streets were hung with tapestry, and all the “window-loops and ship tops were full of people;” and “there were gentlemen and gentlewomen in such great numbers it was a pleasure to see. However, no artillery or ordnance was shot off”—a remarkable omission as our Herald thought. “But in state and fair array was the Queen brought to her lodging at the Friars Austin; and when she had entered, every man departed to his own dwelling.”

The festival of St. James, the patron and name-saint of Queen Margaret’s wedded lord, was very gayly celebrated at Newcastle, that 25th of July. “She abode all day in the town, and was at the church-mass nobly accompanied.”

In the evening the Earl of Northumberland treated her with a goodly banquet: all the gentry of the neighboring counties attended it. Thither came Lord Dacre of the north with a mighty train in his livery; “and there were dances, sports, and songs, with good cheer of ypocras, sucrés (sweetmeats), and other meats of many delicious manners, the entertainment lasting till midnight.”

The good cheer at Newcastle detained Margaret till the 26th of July, when she again commenced her progress. She slept at Morpeth Castle on her way to Alnwick. “Two miles from that place the Earl of Northumberland brought her through his park, where she killed a buck with her bow; after which exploit her Grace was conveyed to the Castle, and was warmly welcomed by her noble host, who made her very good cheer.” Margaret remained the whole of the next day, the 28th of July, at Alnwick Castle, “herself and company well cherished,” as Somerset Herald witnesses, by the Lord of Northumberland.

The bridal train was now on the point of entering Scotland, the renowned fortress of Berwick alone intersecting their line of march. Queen Margaret’s entry therein was more than usually pompous. She was received at the Castle gate by the Lady Darcy, wife to the Captain of Berwick.

Much sweet minstrelsy, and excellent good cheer, were provided for her Grace’s reception by the Governor or Captain of Berwick. She was entertained with “courses of chase in the inclosure of the walls, and recreated with the sports of great dogs and bears tugging each other, and loud shooting of artillery,”—amusements more suitable to the warriors who kept securely the fiercely-contested stronghold of Berwick-upon-Tweed, than to a young lady in her fourteenth year.

Besides witnessing these refined entertainments, the royal train was occupied, during two days’ sojourn in Berwick, in preparations, in order to make the best possible appearance in Scotland.

At length, being rested and cleansed from the toils and stains of travel, and all attired in new garments, the northern gate of Berwick was flung open, and the bridal escort began to defile from under its grim portals into the northern kingdom.

Margaret herself sat in her litter under the Scotch gate of Berwick, while the van of the noble chivalry of the Border preceded her cortege. She was in full dress, covered with glistening apparel and sparkling gems; and the state litter, decked like an ambulating throne, was hung with its richest furniture. Her white palfrey, trapped with its gayest housings, was near her carriage, led by her master of the horse, Sir Thomas Wortley. “The captain of Berwick, and his wiff, my Lady Darcy,” were in attendance on the young Queen, as they were to accompany her to Edinburgh.

Immediately before the royal litter sat, mounted on their steeds, Johannes, the minstrel of Queen Margaret, and his companions—among whom must have been the company of players enumerated by the Herald among the officials that Princess imported into Scotland. Her chief trumpeter, Harry of Glastonbury, and his mates, headed the procession; and their notes rang high in the vigorous performance of their office, on the important occasion of ushering their Princess into the land whose throne she came to share. Then were ranked the officers-of-arms, or heralds, among whom we entreat our readers to remember that Master John Young, Somerset Herald, our faithful and pains-taking chronicler of all these picturesque circumstances, was one.

The serjeants of mace, the immediate protectors of the non-combatant part of the procession, brought up the rear of the young Queen of Scotland’s cortege, which was well guarded with English Border troopers, to the amount of two thousand men-at-arms—a force which did not often make an egress with quite such peaceful intentions through the northern gate of Berwick; but rather with the feelings excited by the favorite trumpet mot of the Marches—

The Earls of Surrey and Northumberland, with their squires and men-at-arms, having led the way through Berwick north gate—preceding the ecclesiastical processions of the Archbishop of York and the Bishop of Durham—then the Lord Dacre, and the Lords Scrope, Gray, Latimer, and a great number of young nobles and squires, followed the prelates. Our Herald dwells, with characteristic unction, on the costume of these great personages, especially the silver and gold bells worn on their horse-trappings.

“All were well appointed in their devices, and displayed in their attiring cloth of gold and other rich raiment. Their horses frisked under them of their own accord. Some had silver bells, others golden bells sewn on their harness; and these little campanes made a sweet chiming when they took leaps and gambades at their good pleasure.” Queen Margaret and her various attendants followed this chivalric escort through Berwick north gate, and the rear division of the Border army surrounded and guarded her equipage and those of her train. “Such,” continues our heraldic chronicler, John Young, enthusiastically, “was the fair order of the bride Queen’s entry into Scotland; and it was a joy not only to see, but to hear.”

Lammermuir was the first stage that Queen Margaret made in her new country. At Lamberton Kirk the Archbishop of Glasgow, with a grand company of Scottish nobles, were waiting to receive their Queen. But our herald, John Young, can not refrain from noting his disappointment at the absence “of gold and tinsel on their doublets, which were but made of good velvet cloth, or camlet,”—far more appropriate to the masculine character, it will be allowed, in those days.

“However, my lord the Bishop of Murray strongly did his devoir at the meeting of the Scotch and English; and there were five trumpets or clarions of the King of Scotland that blew up right merrily at the coming of the said Queen: the which melody was good to see and hear.”

“The lords, knights, and gentlemen of the English escort, defiled before the said Scotchmen, making gambades; and when the Queen followed with her procession, the Archbishop, the Bishop of Murray, and the Scottish lords advanced toward her, and there, kneeling down on the grass, made the receiving of her. There were in presence of the Queen, the Archbishop of York, the Bishop of Durham, and the Earl of Surrey.”

“The pavilion prepared for recreation was then opened for the Queen of Scotland. Near it stood other three officers—one for her pantry, the other for her buttery, and the third for her kitchen—ready to officiate to her Grace in their several vocations. The Queen herself was then brought in state to the pavilion arranged for her refreshment. When she came nigh to it she was helped to alight; and she was kissed by the said lords, and by them led therein, when no one entered excepting the said lords and the Queen’s ladies.” Within the pavilion was a Scottish dame of high rank clothed in scarlet, “with gentlewomen appointed after their guise, who had brought from King James, for the Queen, some new fruits.”

The officers of the royal bouche made right good cheer. There was plenty of bread and wine dispensed, and every one was content. The Queen’s solemn reception by her husband’s deputation was quickly followed by the ceremonial of farewell, which she had to take of the chivalry of the English Border—her escort from Berwick north gate. Margaret mounted again on her palfrey and sat thereon, surrounded by her suite; while each commander, at the head of his troopers, defiled before her on their return to the south, each making before her his “devoir of adieu.” My lord of Northumberland, the leader of the feudal army, Lord Scrope, the elder, and Lord Dacre, with other lords, took of her their congé, and departed for England with many leaps and gambades, and feats of noble horsemanship. Above a thousand of the chivalry of the Scottish Marches came instead, to guard the person of the Queen. Thus escorted, Queen Margaret quitted the church of the great sheep-feeding plain of Scotland.

Lamberton Kirk is now a melancholy ruin, surrounded by dismal trees. Tradition affirms that Margaret and James were married there, and that, as the parish priest made a dispensation of banns in their case, the King gave the like privilege to every one else. But tradition has mistaken the place of the royal meeting.

The Somerset Herald’s narrative thus proceeds:—“That afternoon’s stage[63] led to Fastcastle, where she was destined to bedward. Her train was lodged in the Abbey of Coldingham, but the Queen herself passed the first night of her arrival in her new dominions in one of the most extraordinary fortresses in the island”—for such was Fastcastle, which in part belonged to her own dower settlement.

In those days of semi-civilization, it was a breach of etiquette, as it is now among the Orientals and the North American Indians, for exalted personages to testify surprise at any thing unusual which presented itself before their eyes; therefore it can not be expected that Margaret’s herald chronicler should mention her natural astonishment at the romantic scene which now opened to her view. Yet, reared as she had been among the soft meads of Shene, and never accustomed to raise her eyes to higher ground than Richmond Hill, she must have been struck with her progress through the bold defile of Cockburnspath, anciently Colbrand the giant’s path—for it is connected with the earliest superstitions of the island. Royal letters in those days were devoted to other purposes than recording impressions of the beauties of nature; no trace of any such feeling can be found in Margaret Tudor’s innumerable epistles. Still her eyes must have rested, as ours have done, on the wild and wondrous scenery through which she was brought “to bedward” that night.

Fastcastle is no other than the veritable Wolf-Crag Tower, celebrated in Scott’s Bride of Lammermoor as the abode of the Master of Ravenswood. It is seated on a lofty promontory, which commands the lonely indented bay of which St. Abb’s Head forms the extreme point to the right, with a wild array of rifted rocks terminating in the Wolf-Crag, which soars high in mid air above the fortress—black, gloomy, and inaccessible. The way by which the southern bride and her company reached this rugged resting-place lay across the Lammermuir, several miles of wild heath and treacherous bog, which no stranger might traverse in safety without guides well acquainted with the track. Before they entered on this pass, they had to descend a hill which was so steep and precipitous that, even within the last century, it was customary for the passengers by the mail-coach between Berwick and Edinburgh to alight and cross it on foot, while the carriage was taken off the wheels and carried over by a relay of men, stationed on the spot for that purpose. Of course the roads were not better in the beginning of the sixteenth century. Fastcastle is approached by one or two descents and ascents of this kind, and is separated from the mainland by a cleft between the rocks, which has to be crossed by a natural bridge formed of a ledge of rock, without rail or guard, with the vexed billows boiling and thundering sixty feet below.

When the young Tudor Queen made her passage across this Al Arat of the Caledonian coast, she had the German Ocean before her, which beats against the rocky battlements and defenses with which the basement of the castle is surrounded. One of these masses resembles the upturned keel of a huge man-of-war stranded among other fragments, which, like the relics of a former world, lay scattered at the foot of the precipice, with the wild breakers rushing through their clefts, forming a grand jet-d’eau, and tossing the light feathery foam on high. The larger rocks are the haunt of innumerable sea-birds. Fastcastle had formerly been the stronghold of some of those ferocious feudal pirates who may be regarded as the buccaneers of the Caledonian coast. Many a bloody deed had been perpetrated within its isolated and inaccessible circuit; but the festive solemnities and ceremonials that surrounded the royal bride allowed no leisure or opportunity for whispers of the dark tales and romantic traditions connected with its history. Thoroughly tired must she have been with her long journey, and the onerous task of playing the Queen, instead of tossing her ball and joining in the loud laughter and jocund sports of the companions of that gay and happy childhood, from which she had suddenly been compelled to step into the more than womanly cares and responsibilities of a crowned head in a land of strangers.

Lord and Lady Home, the castellan and castellaine of Fastcastle, received the young Queen with the utmost homage. The lady was connected with Margaret’s after-life, when she traversed this district again.

With the morning light Margaret rejoined her escort at Coldingham. It appears that, as she proceeded further into Scotland, pioneers preceded her on her progress, leveling and smoothing roads to facilitate the advance of her little army. At least such seems the import of the quaint words of Master Young, Somerset Herald—“And through the country, in some places, were made by force ways for the Queen’s carriages.”

“Great numbers of people,” he adds, “assembled to see their Queen, and lined the wayside where we passed. They brought with them plenty of drink, and served with it every one that wished for it, if so be that person was willing to pay for the same.”[64]

On the road to Haddington the royal cortege left the strong fortress of Dunbar to the right, nevertheless it saluted as the Queen passed, and “shot off loud ordnance for the love of her.”[65]

As the evening of August 2d closed in, Queen Margaret and her ladies were received at the gate of the convent of nuns near Haddington, by the Abbess and her holy sisterhood. Of course the lords and gentles of the royal escort had to seek another abiding-place; they slept at the Gray Friars of Haddington. Great satisfaction is expressed in the Herald’s Journal at the good cheer the bridal train had had from both communities. Early on August 3d, Queen Margaret and her people were all astir; the procession being put in fair order, they passed through the town of Haddington to the admiration of all beholders.

The castle of Acquick, or Acqueth,[66] not far from Edinburgh, was to be the place of their noontide meal. It was the residence of the Earl of Morton, one of the greatest nobles of Scotland; and as they were to learn there the plans of the King of Scotland for future arrangements, it was felt that their personal appointments ought to be cared for, and rendered proof against critical inspection. The whole caravanserai, therefore, came to a halt by the wayside, half a mile from Dalkeith. The ladies held a cabinet-council round the royal litter, and finally they equipped their little Queen in a new fresh dress, which they deemed very magnificent. Every body likewise dressed, and set themselves off to the best advantage, and then took their appointed places. At last the whole cortege moved forward toward Dalkeith Palace gates, where their reception was very solemn indeed.

The Earl of Morton, attended by many gentlemen, was standing at the castle gateway. When the Queen arrived he welcomed her “as lady and mistress,” presenting her at the same time with the keys of the castle. Between the two gateways of the quadrangle stood Lady Morton, the castellaine of Dalkeith, surrounded by a number of ladies and gentlemen. The whole group knelt down as their Queen approached, who very graciously went to the Lady Morton, raised her up, and kissed her.

The Queen was conducted by Lady Morton in grand state to her suite of apartments within the castle, where every thing was in fair array, although the building was a strong place, meant for purposes of defense.[67]

Scarcely was the royal bride in possession of her chamber and withdrawing-room, when a hurrying sound in the quadrangle announced that some unexpected event had happened. The tumult ran through the castle, till it reached the ante-room of the royal suite, where the cry soon greeted the ear of Margaret—“The King, the King of Scotland has arrived!”