Chapter I: Summary (1)

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 3_s._ 8_d._ 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 river through the rocks rushed out
Through roses raised on high,
The shené birds full sweet ’gan shout
Forth from that seemly shaw;[34]
Joy was within and joy without,
Where Tay ran down with streames stout
Right under Stobbeshaw.”[35]

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 6_s._ for black “rysillis, to be ane gown for the Lady Margaret;” gold, azure, and silver cost £6 18_s._ 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.”