Chapter XIII

BEATOUN IS LIBERATED AND RECOVERS HIS POWER.--BREACH OF THE
TREATY.--FRESH PERSECUTION.

(MARCH, 1543.-SUMMER OF 1544.)

At present everything was getting on well in Scotland, and the continuance of this well-being was all that was desired. The severest eye could find nothing to censure in the court of the regent; and he acted with so much moderation in the government that not a single complaint was heard of his administration. Arran was as much respected and obeyed as any king could have been. All men were promising themselves a quiet life, when a sudden gust upset everything.

There was one party which was full of wrath at the recent changes. The alliance of Scotland with England, the imprisonment of the cardinal, the regency of Arran, the freedom conferred on the Holy Scriptures,--all these things filled the friends of the papacy with excitement and horror, whether at Rome, in France, or in Scotland. The earl of Lennox had arrived from Paris for the purpose of giving his support to the French party in Scotland; and he flattered himself that he should be appointed regent, and even that he should marry the queen dowager. The pope had sent the legate Marco Grimani into Scotland, with orders to join the cardinal, the earl of Lennox, and all the other adversaries of Arran; to fulminate anathemas, and to use all other means which he could devise for effecting the fall of the regent and the elevation of the cardinal.[288] Grimani and Lennox expected to find the material all ready, so that it would be an easy task for them to set fire to it. They were not entirely mistaken. The ultramontanes of Scotland were in a rage with the regent and with the lords who were on his side.[289] Their scheme was to liberate the cardinal, who should then go with his adherents to Linlithgow, get possession of the young queen and depose the regent.

[Sidenote: THE ABBOT OF PAISLEY.]

Lennox and Grimani had not come from the continent alone. Two Scottish priests, who had lived for a long time in France and had there become imbued with Roman Catholicism of the deepest dye, landed in Scotland in the month of April. These men were likely to do, perhaps, more than all others towards the restoration of ultramontanism. They were John Hamilton, abbot of Paisley, a natural brother of the regent, and Master David Panter,[290] who was afterwards bishop of Ross. Their learning, their lowliness, and their religion were much talked of, and people thought that their coming would prove a great comfort to the Church of God.[291] ‘They will soon,’ it was said, ‘go into the pulpit and truly preach Jesus Christ.’

The abbot of Paisley was admitted to intimacy with the regent. He might converse with him at any time, and he undertook to break down bit by bit the evangelical views of Arran and to sunder his connexion with England. First of all, it was necessary to get rid of the two evangelical chaplains. The two priests therefore began, immediately after their arrival, to disparage the preaching of Williams and Rough. The abbot of Paisley had always some fault to find. ‘Their sermons,’ said he to his brother, ‘are heretical and scandalous.’ The latter, naturally weakminded, let himself be caught. Williams was ordered to put an end to his preaching, and he set out for England. Rough was sent to preach in Kyle, where for some time there had been lovers of the Bible. This was not enough. The men of sound judgment and genuine piety who were about the regent, and who had contributed to the general prosperity and peace, must also be removed out of the way. What terrors, what promises, ‘what boxes full of enchantments,’ says Knox, these two priests had brought with them from France, no one could tell. Be it as it may, some were got rid of by crafty expedients, others by false insinuations. ‘If you remain, your life is at stake,’ they said to them. At the same time the partisans of the clergy, who had till then held themselves aloof from the court, winged their way thither like ravens to the carrion.[292]

One day when there was a great gathering at Holyrood, and the regent saw around him at the same moment both the faithful attendants who had deserved well of their country and the fanatical supporters of the cardinal, one of the latter cried out in a voice loud enough for Arran and all present to hear him, ‘My lord governor and his friends will never be at ease nor quietness till that a dozen of these knaves that abuse his grace be hanged.’[293] After that, people saw the men whose labors had been so useful to Scotland,--Durham, Borthwick, Bothwell, the laird of Grange, Balnaves, Ballanden[294] and Sir David Lyndsay,--withdraw from the court, while he who had threatened them with the gallows received a pension for his insolent speech.

The liberation of the cardinal could be no longer deferred. He was imprisoned at Dalkeith on January 26, was removed thence to Seaton, next to Blackness castle on the Forth, and finally to St. Andrews, the seat of his archbishopric. There he was set at liberty at the request, especially, of the queen-mother, who had never ceased her intercession for him.[295] Once free, this arrogant man, exasperated by the affront which had been offered him, thought only of recovering his own power and of reëstablishing the cause of the papacy.

[Sidenote: INTRIGUES OF BEATOUN.]

He now had frequent communication with Mary of Guise, and shared her indignation at the favors granted to the Scottish nobles just returned from England, who had passed from exile to the most influential positions. They resolved to do their utmost to reëstablish the alliance with Francis I. and the pope. The cardinal completely won over the earl of Bothwell, and the Lords Home, Buccleugh, and others. He induced such of them as were on the frontier to make inroads on the English territory. He assembled at St. Andrews, on July 6, the earls of Lennox, Argyle, Huntley, and Bothwell, Lord Home, and the other noblemen and gentlemen who were favorable to the pope; and at this conference they determined to oppose the regent, who instead of executing their designs was only bent on promoting heretical opinions.[296]

Meanwhile Beatoun found opportunities for secret interviews with the regent’s brother, who had everything in his own hands; for this bastard was as remarkable for force of character as his legitimate brother was for the want of it. The cardinal did not confine himself to intrigues in high places, but he had it at heart to win the multitude, and he tried all imaginable schemes in order to succeed.[297] When he thought that he had at last secured his position, both above and below, he convoked the clergy at St. Andrews. The bishop, abbot, and primate unfolded before this assembly all the dangers which were then impending over Scotland. ‘In order to avert them,’ said he, ‘contribute generously from your purses, and urge all your friends to do the same. Tell them that their property and their lives are at stake. Nay, more than that,’ he exclaimed, ‘our task is to prevent the ruin which is threatening the universal church of the pope.’[298] The clergy declared that they would place all their resources at his disposal, and determined to set on foot a general subscription. ‘The cardinal,’ wrote the ambassador Sadler to Lord Parr, brother of the Queen of England, ‘the cardinal here hath not only stirred almost this whole realm against the governor, but also hath procured the earl Bothwell [and others] to stir all the mischief and trouble they can on the Borders, and to make roads and incursions into England, only of intent to break the peace and to breed contention and breach between both realms.’[299] At the same time the monks were preaching passionately against the union with England; and the population, excited by them, was in agitation and ready to revolt, threatening those who were opposed to the Church of Rome, and even insulting the English ambassador. Jesters used to assail both him and his suite with insolent speeches. But the envoy of Henry VIII., knowing that the one matter of moment for his master was to succeed, took these indignities patiently, through fear of hastening a rupture.

[Sidenote: THE HOSTAGES REFUSED.]

As Scotland was under obligation to give hostages to England as security for the execution of the treaties, the cardinal set himself strenuously against the measure, not only with those of his own faction, but also with those of the other side. He was prodigal of promises to the relations and the friends of the intended hostages, in the hope of inducing them to oppose their delivery to England. The same influences were brought to bear on the regent. On the day fixed for giving up the lords to the English ambassador, the latter went to the regent, and after making complaint of the insults to which he was exposed, demanded the hostages. The regent promised that the perpetrators of the outrages of which Sadler complained should be punished. ‘As for the hostages,’ he added, ‘the authority with which I am invested is of such a nature that, while I have rights as against the queen’s subjects, they also have their rights as against me. You are yourself a witness of the immense agitation stirred up by the cardinal.[300] All my plans are upset, and, carried away by the force of popular passion, I can no longer answer for anything.’[301] Arran was indeed wanting in the strength to stand against such a storm as was conjured up by the cardinal. Weakminded himself, he bent before the violence of those who had powerful convictions. Sadler, indignant at his refusal, called upon the Scots who had been captives in England to return to their confinement, as they had pledged themselves to do in case the treaty should be violated. Kennedy, earl of Cassilis, was the only one who kept his word. He set out for London, in spite of the pressing entreaties of his own circle.[302] Henry, touched by this act of good faith, generously sent him back to Scotland with his two brothers who had remained as hostages.

The clerical reaction was steadily gathering fresh force. In pursuance of the colloquy of July 6, the nobles hostile to the regent assembled some troops; and on July 21 they arrived, at the head of ten thousand men, at Leith, the port of Edinburgh. At the same moment Arran, the earl of Angus, Lord Maxwell, and their friends were at Edinburgh, at the head of their armed force. There was equal animation on both sides. They might have been likened to two electric clouds, whose lightning was ready to burst forth with violence. However, the two opposed bodies of troops remained motionless for five or six days. ‘What will be the end of this,’ wrote Sadler to Lord Parr, ‘I cannot tell; but my opinion is that they will not fight for all their bragges.’[303] In fact, they did not fight.

[Sidenote: IRRESOLUTION OF ARRAN.]

The two queens were at Linlithgow palace, in which the young Mary was born. The regent and the cardinal each gave out that the queens were on his side, but all the sympathies of the queen-mother were with the cardinal. The latter, accompanied by the earls of Argyle, Huntley, and Bothwell, and by many bishops, went to Linlithgow. Supposing that the princesses were not safe there, he persuaded them to go with him to Stirling, which they did. These lords talked without reserve among themselves, and with the queen, of deposing the regent, on the ground of disobedience to their holy mother the Church. This greatly alarmed Arran, who at that same time was persecuted by the abbot of Paisley, his natural brother. ‘Consider,’ said the latter, ‘the danger to which you expose yourself by allowing the authority of the pope to be impaired. It is the authority on which your own rests.’ As Arran was in dread of the anger of Henry VIII., the abbot exalted to the utmost the power of the King of France, and the great advantages of an alliance with him. But above everything else he insisted on the obligation of making peace with the Church, ‘out of whose pale,’ he repeated, ‘there is no salvation.’ The poor regent, weak, inconstant, and not at all grounded in the faith of the Gospel, halted between the wish to follow the advice of his brother and the shame involved in abandoning his party and giving the precedence to the cardinal. He wavered between the pope and the Gospel, between France and England. His irresolution was torture to him; he endured bitter pangs. The abbot never wearied of repeating the question, ‘What will ye do? will you then destroy yourself and your house for ever?’[304] He hesitated no longer. Beaten on all sides by contending waves; conscious that his forces were inferior to those of his adversaries; hemmed in by the snares of the cardinal, who chose rather to gain him by terror than to subdue him by arms; abandoned by many of the nobles; no longer in favor with the people, who were offended by his weakness; lowered in the esteem of his own friends, and disgraced in the eyes of the English, the unhappy man at last took the fatal leap. Nine days after the ratification of the alliance with England, and only six days after he had published a proclamation against the cardinal, Arran secretly stole away from Holyrood palace, betook himself to Stirling on September 3, and threw himself into the arms of his cousin Beatoun.

This was not all. He was resolved also to throw himself into the arms of the pope; desirous only of doing so without too much ostentation, and fancying, says Buchanan, that he could thus lessen the infamy of this base deed. For this purpose the convent of the Franciscans was chosen.[305] The queen-mother attended. For a Guise the scene was one of exquisite enjoyment such as Mary would not willingly lose. Some of the courtiers who were devoted to Rome were also present. There, in the dim light of the chapel, that weak man, to whom people had been looking for the triumph of the Reformation in Scotland, fondly fancying that he was performing a secret action, knelt down before the altar, humbly confessed his errors, trampled under foot the oaths which he had taken to his own country and to England, renounced the evangelical profession of Jesus Christ, submitted to the pope, and received absolution of the cardinal.[306] The spectators exulted in Arran’s humiliation. The wretched man continued indeed to be regent in name, but from that hour he possessed nothing more than the phantom of authority, having for his own governor the lord cardinal. He therefore fell into contempt, and those even for whom he had sacrificed everything had no respect for him. ‘He who will save his life shall lose it.’

The report of his perjury spread rapidly abroad. Few were surprised to hear it, but a great many were angry. The English ambassador wrote to him as follows: ‘Forasmuch as I do hear sundry reports of your sudden departure to Stirling, which if they were true in part ... might highly touch your honor: ... I cannot well satisfy myself without the address of these my letters unto your lordship, only to require of your goodness to signify unto me how you do remain towards the king’s majesty and the accomplishment of your oath and promise afore expressed. I beseech your lordship to let me know the truth by your own advertisement, to the intent that I may undelayedly write the same to the king’s majesty before he shall receive any sinister or wrong informations in that behalf, which might percase alter his highness’ affection and good opinion conceived towards you. Whereof for my part I would be right loath.’[307]

[Sidenote: CORONATION OF MARY STUART.]

Another ceremony followed that of the abjuration. It was the coronation of the little queen, which took place on September 9, with great pomp. The alliance between Scotland and France was renewed, and fresh promises were made to Francis I. The cardinal thus brilliantly opened his reign, and by placing the crown on the head of a little girl, he said to himself that at least he had no need to fear that the child would take it into her head to thwart his schemes.[308]

Henry VIII. was in consternation. The abjuration of the regent and the political revolution which accompanied it upset his most cherished plans. But the ratification of the treaty with him was so recent that the question might be raised whether the whole of this Stirling business was anything more than a transient mistake, the fruit of Arran’s weakness. He therefore enjoined his ambassador to use his utmost endeavors to recall the regent to his first intentions. It appeared to Henry impossible that Arran should act in a manner so foolish, so dishonorable, so cruel, so pitiless for Scotland, as not only to throw away all the advantages offered to himself, but still more to give up his country to fire and sword and to all the calamities of a terrible war. All these considerations urged by Sadler were fruitless. At length, indignant at the perjury and the insult, Henry recalled his ambassador, declared war on Scotland, ordered the seizure of the numerous Scottish ships which lay in his ports, threw into prison the seamen and the merchants, and sent a herald to announce to the Scots ‘that they had covenanted with a prince of honor that would not suffer their disloyalty unpunished and unrevenged, whose power and puissance, by God’s grace, is and shall be sufficient against them to make them know and feel their own faults and offences. Fear,’ said he, ‘the hand of God over you.’ It was war, war with all its horrors of fire and sword, that Henry in his wrath had determined to wage with Scotland. ‘You shall beat down and overthrow the castle of Edinburgh, burn and sack the capital, with Holyrood and Leith and the villages around, putting man, woman, and child to the sword without exception. To overthrow St. Andrews so as the upper stone may be the nether, and not one stick stand by another.’[309] The wrath of Henry was terrible; but nothing could alarm the presumptuous cardinal. When he heard of the imprisonment of the Scottish merchants and seamen, he smiled and said jestingly, ‘When we have conquered England we will make compensation to the merchants.’

[Sidenote: THE EARL OF LENNOX.]

When the cardinal came out of prison, his eyes had fallen on two men who stood in his way. One of these was the regent, and he had got rid of him by becoming his master. The other was the earl of Lennox, a man formidable by his rank and his pretensions, who had even supposed it possible that he might marry the queen-mother. But Mary of Guise, like all her kindred, was a fanatical devotee of Rome, and at the instance of the cardinal she prayed the King of France to recall Lennox on any specious pretext, adding that his residence in Scotland might lead to a disturbance of peace. Lennox saw that they were trifling with him. He was quite as versatile as Arran but more capable, and seeing that he had lost the favor of France, he offered his services to the King of England, who eagerly accepted them. Lennox was then looked upon as the head of Scottish Protestantism. The two foremost lords of Scotland had performed a feat of what is vulgarly called _chassé-croisée_. The leader of the Protestants had become a papist, and the man of the court of Francis I. had turned Protestant. Instead of the daughter of the Guises, he married Lady Margaret Douglas, a niece of Henry VIII. That is how men of the world manage matters. Evangelical religion had not lost much in losing Arran. Neither had it gained more by acquiring Lennox. These men were only moved by political interests, and Scottish Protestantism more than any other was to reject these shameful combinations of Christ and Baal, and was to have one king alone, Jesus Christ.

The cardinal, victorious along the whole line, set himself immediately to the work which he had most at heart,--to crush the Reformation. The law which authorized the reading of Holy Scripture had borne its fruit, and ‘in sundry parts of Scotland,’ says the chronicler, ‘thereby were opened the eyes of the elect of God to see the truth and abhor the papistical abominations.’[310] This abhorrence might possibly drive them to deplorable excesses, an instance of which we are soon to see.

There were at Perth, on the left bank of the pleasant river Tay, some friends of the Reformation. Endowed for the most part with genuine piety, they held meetings, read the Holy Scriptures together, searched out their meaning, and gave or listened to the exposition of them.[311]

They had also at times simple social meals together. Certain priests of the town, with whom they were connected, and whose character they esteemed without sharing their opinions, were invited to these gatherings. The churchmen ate, drank, and talked with them, and thought themselves fortunate to be invited to these honest men’s houses.[312] This circumstance shows a large-heartedness among these Christian folk of Perth, which could see and appreciate whatever good qualities their adversaries possessed. They did not, however, tie themselves down to the Roman rules about meat-days and fish-days, rules from which exemption may be had for a little money: and one Friday it happened that a goose appeared on their table.

Three of these people, Robert Lamb, William Anderson, and James Raveleson, daring characters and given to raillery, were among those who were taken up with Reform on its negative side. They were disgusted at the abuses of the monastic life, and the Franciscans most of all offended them. The sight of one of these mendicant friars in the street, with his brown frock, his girdle of cord, his cowl, and his bare feet, excited in them the keenest aversion. ‘These monks,’ as has been said by a very distinguished Catholic priest, ‘feign chastity, but they know what voluptuousness is, and they often outdo men of the world in luxurious indulgence.’[313] And yet these monks pretend that all that is needed for salvation is to put on a frock of their order at the moment of death. In the judgment of Anderson and of his two friends, the founder of that order, who was nevertheless a better man than most of his successors, must have been the devil himself. They took therefore an image of Francis of Assisi, nailed rams’ horns on the head and hung a cow’s tail behind, and having thus given to it the semblance of a demon, they hung it. The Scots are not jesters by nature. They are on the contrary earnest and energetic towards those whom they oppose; and this blameworthy execution was carried out by these three men with imperturbable gravity.[314]

[Sidenote: RAVELESON AND LAMB.]

Among these reformed Christians of Perth there were some manifestations of opinion characterized by simplicity and decision, which however occasionally took a strange shape. One of the women who frequented the evangelical meetings, Hellen Stirke, was near her confinement, and in her hour of travail, when surrounded by female friends and neighbors, all of them fervent worshippers of the Virgin Mary, she called upon God and upon God alone in the name of Jesus Christ. The women said to her--‘You ought to call upon the Virgin. Is not Mary immaculate as Christ is, and even above him as first source of redemption? Is she not the queen of heaven, the head of the church?’ The Franciscan friars were continually impressing on the minds of these good women the notion that no one could obtain a blessing from God ‘except by the dispensation of his pious mother.’[315] Hellen revered Mary as a holy and blessed woman, but she held her to be of the same nature as other women, and she told her neighbors so. It was of his mercy, as Mary herself said, that God had looked upon the low estate of his servant. That her friends might better understand her meaning, she boldly added, ‘If I had lived in the days of the Virgin, God might have looked likewise to my humility and base estate, as he did to the Virgin’s, and might have made me the mother of Christ.’[316] The women about her could not believe their own ears, and her words, reported in the town by her neighbors, were counted execrable in the judgment of the clergy and of the multitude.

If St. Francis was Anderson’s nightmare, the pope was Raveleson’s. But the latter gave expression to his sentiments in a less insulting fashion. When he had built a house of four stories, he placed at the top of his staircase, by way of ornament, over the last baluster and the supporting tablet which masked it, the triple diadem of the pope, carved in wood. This was not a very criminal act: a good papist might have done the like. But Raveleson, doubtless, meant to show thereby that in his house the pope was consigned to the top story. Be that as it may, he paid dear for it.

These Protestants of Perth were certainly originals, of which not many copies were to be found. There were some of them, however, who were free from these eccentricities while displaying no less courage. On one occasion, when a monk named Spence very loudly asserted in the church that ‘prayer made to saints is so necessary that without it there could be no hope of salvation to man,’ Robert Lamb rose and accused him before the whole assembly of teaching false doctrines. ‘In the name of God,’ said he, ‘I adjure you to speak the truth.’ The friar, stricken with fear, promised to do so; but there was so much excitement and tumult in the church that the monk could not make himself heard, and Robert, at the peril of his life, barely escaped the violence of the people. The women, above all, uttered piercing screams, and urged on the multitude to the most cruel actions.[317]

[Sidenote: THE PERTH PROTESTANTS.]

The cardinal, in January, 1544, seeing that his authority was firmly established, thought that the time was come for suppressing the Reformation and glorifying the pope. Having heard of what was going on at Perth, he set out for that place, taking with him the regent, some of the chief lords, bishops, and judges. When he reached Perth on St. Paul’s day, January 19, he ordered the seizure of Robert Lamb, William Anderson, James Hunter, James Raveleson, James Finlason, and Hellen Stirke his wife,[318] and had them imprisoned the same evening in the Spay Tower.

On the following morning the prisoners appeared before their judge. They were accused on several grounds, and particularly of having met together to hear the Holy Scriptures read. A special charge was made against Lamb of having interrupted a friar. ‘It is the duty of no man,’ he answered, ‘who understands and knows the truth to hear the same impugned without contradiction. There are sundry here present in judgment who, while they know what is true, are consenting to what is false; but they will have to bear the burden in God’s presence.’[319] The six prisoners were condemned to death, and were cruelly treated. Many of the inhabitants of Perth were deeply interested in their case, and appealed to the regent to save their lives. But when Arran spoke a word to the cardinal in their behalf, the latter replied, ‘If you refuse to take part in the execution of this sentence, I will depose you.’ Arran trembled, and held his peace.

The friends of the victims, then, remembering that certain priests in the town had frequently sat at the tables of the accused, entreated them to bear in mind their old friends who were then in misfortune, and to intercede with the cardinal in their behalf. But these poor priests were terrified at the thought that the cardinal might hear of their former relations with the condemned, and they answered that they would much rather see them dead than living. That was their way of showing their gratitude. So the chronicler, whose phrase is not always elegant, adds, ‘So cruel are these beasts, from the lowest to the highest.’

Agitation was increasing in the town. The cardinal had ready a great band of armed men, who were charged to conduct the victims to the place of execution. Robert Lamb, standing at the foot of the gallows, said to the people, ‘Fear God, and forsake the pope.’ Then he announced that calamity and ruin would not be slow to light upon the cardinal.[320] The five Christians comforted one another with the hope ‘that they should sup together in the kingdom of heaven that night.’

Hellen desired earnestly to die with her husband, but this was not permitted her. At the moment of their parting she gave him a kiss and said, ‘Husband, rejoice, for we have lived together many joyful days; but this day in which we must die ought to be most joyful unto us both, because we must have joy forever. Therefore I will not bid you good-night, for we shall suddenly meet with joy in the kingdom of heaven.’ She was then taken to a pond to be drowned. She was holding her infant in her arms and giving it suck for the last time. But this pathetic incident did not touch the pitiless hearts of her executioners. She had entreated her neighbors to take care of her children. She took the ‘sucking bairn’ from her breast and gave it to the nurse, and was then flung into the water. The cardinal was satisfied.[321]

From Perth the cardinal passed into Forfarshire, always dragging along with him the unhappy regent. Many inhabitants of that region appeared before him for having committed the hateful crime of reading the New Testament. Among them was a Dominican named John Rogers, a man of piety and learning, who, by preaching Christ in Forfarshire, had led many souls into peace. He was confined with others in the castle of St. Andrews, and a few days later his dead body was found at the foot of the walls. It was very generally believed that the cardinal had ordered him to be put to death in his dungeon, and to be thrown over the walls. A report was then circulated that the prisoner, in attempting to escape, had fallen on the rocks and been killed. A considerable number of Scots, among them Sir Henry Elder, John Elder, Walter Piper, Lawrence Pullar, and others were banished, merely on suspicion of having read the Gospel.[322]

[Sidenote: THE ENGLISH FLEET AT LEITH.]

The cardinal now returned to Edinburgh, and took the regent with him. He was perfectly satisfied with his campaign, and was meditating fresh exploits of the same kind, when, at the very moment of his saying ‘Peace and security,’ a fleet appeared at sea. Messengers came suddenly to announce to the regent and the cardinal that a multitude of vessels were entering the Firth of Forth, and were making for Leith and Edinburgh. ‘It is the English,’ said most people, ‘and it is greatly to be feared that they will land.’ The cardinal dissembled his anxiety, affected to smile and to jest, and said, with a contemptuous air, ‘It is but the island fleet; they are come to make us a show and to put us in fear. I shall lodge the men-of-war in my eye that shall land in Scotland.’[323] Then he went to his dinner-table, and talked with every one as though no danger were threatening. All Edinburgh was eager to gaze on the wonderful vessels, and great crowds assembled for that purpose on the castle hill and on the heights near the town. ‘But what then can it all mean?’ people said to one another. By a little after six o’clock in the evening more than two hundred ships had cast anchor in Leith roads. The admiral had a ship’s boat launched, which began carefully to take soundings from Granton craigs to East Leith. All sensible men understood what it meant, but if any one of them uttered what he thought, the clerics shrugged their shoulders. All men went to bed, just as if those ships had brought their broadsides to bear for the defence of the sleepers.

At daybreak on Sunday, May 4, Lord Lisle, who was in command of the fleet, ordered the disembarkation. The pinnaces and other small vessels approached as near as they could to the shore, while the larger vessels discharged their men into the long-boats, and so they got to land. By ten o’clock the operation was completed, and the spectators from Edinburgh beheld, to their great astonishment, more than ten thousand men under arms. The cardinal and the regent, dropping their false show of calmness, appeared now very much alarmed, and, forgetting their ridiculous bluster and bragging, jumped into a carriage and fled as fast as their horses could carry them. They did not halt till they had put twenty miles of country between them and the danger which frightened them. Before starting they had given orders, for the purpose of pacifying the English, that the earl of Angus, Sir George Douglas, and two other lords, advocates of the English alliance, who had been cast into prison at Blackness, should be set at liberty. This was done that night, and Sir George said, merrily, ‘I thank King Henry and my gentle masters of England.’[324]

The troops which had landed entered Leith, under the command of the earl of Hertford, between twelve and one o’clock, after having dispersed a small body of men which resisted them. As they found dinner ready in all the houses, and the tables loaded with wines and victuals, they sat down and refreshed themselves. On Monday, May 5, two thousand English horsemen came from Berwick to reinforce the infantry, and the whole army, after taking one day’s rest, forced the gates of Edinburgh on Wednesday and entered the town. People called to mind the terrible threats of Henry VIII. The town was first pillaged and then burnt. The palace of Holyrood, Leith and the environs shared the same fate. The English were not able to take the castle, and after having satiated themselves with pillage, burning, and eating, they carried off their plunder to the ships. The English army returned to their own country by way of Berwick, sacking and burning Haddington and Dunbar, castles, country seats, and all the districts through which they passed. The army had lost only forty men.[325]

Henry VIII. had entertained the vastest projects. His aims were that Scotland should renounce the French alliance; that the queen should be placed in his own household; that the title of elector of the kingdom should be given to him; that Lennox should be named regent in the place of Arran; and that the Word of God should be preached, of course in his own way. This appears from the instructions given by himself to the governors of the marches.[326] But he felt it necessary to postpone his scheme, and to content himself with the chastisement inflicted on the capital. We have to encounter facts such as these in the history of every people and of all ages. It is impossible to narrate or to read them without horror. Happily, Scotland at this epoch offers to our notice facts of a quite different kind, which are within the province of Christian civilization.