Chapter XXVII: Appendix: Flodden Field (2)

#C# differs extensively from #A#, #B#, indeed resembles or repeats the English ballad only in a few places: #C# 2==#A# 4, #B# 4; #C# 6==#B# 10; #C# 7==#A# g, #B# 11; #C# 22^{3,4}==#A# 11^{3,4}, #B# 13^{3,4}. The Eliots go with the Armstrongs according to #C# 3, and it is the intention to bring the king to dine at Gilnockie. In #C# 9–17 Johnie offers twenty-four steeds, four of them laden with as much gold as they can carry, twenty-four mills, and as much wheat as their hoppers can hold, twenty-four sisters-sons, who will fight to the utterance, tribute from all the land between ‘here’ and Newcastle,—all this for his life. The king replies to each successive offer that he never has granted a traitor’s life, and will not begin with him. Johnie gives the king the lie as to his being a traitor; he could make England find him in meal and malt for a hundred years, and no Scot’s wife could say that he had ever hurt her the value of a fly. Had he known how the king would treat him, he would have kept the border in spite of all his army. England’s king would be a blithe man to hear of his capture. At this point the king is attracted by Johnie’s splendid girdle and hat, and exclaims, What wants that knave that a king should have! Johnie bids farewell to his brother, Laird of Mangerton (Thomas, here called Kirsty), and to his son Kirsty, and to Gilnock-Hall, and is murdered at Carlenrig with all his band.

It will be observed that the substance, or at least the hint, of #C# 21^{3,4}, 17^{3,4}, 26, 15, 22^{3,4}, 23, 24^{1,2}, is to be found in Lindsay’s narrative.

In the last stanza of #A# and of #B#, Johnie Armstrong’s son (afterwards known as Johnie’s Christy) sitting on his nurse’s knee, #B# (cf. #C# 30), or standing by his nurse’s knee, #A#, vows, if he lives to be a man, to have revenge for his father’s death.[239] Not infrequently, in popular ballads, a very young (even unborn) child speaks, by miracle, to save a life, vindicate innocence, or for some other kindly occasion;[240] sometimes again to threaten revenge, as here. So a child in the cradle in ‘Frændehævn,’ Grundtvig, I, 28, No 4, #B# 34 (==#C# 63), and in ‘Hævnersværdet,’ I, 351, No 25, sts 29, 30; and Kullervo in his third month, Kalevala, Rune 31, Schiefner, p. 194, vv. 109–112.[241]

Johnie’s plain speech to the king in #C# 19, ‘Ye lied, ye lied, now, king!’ is such as we have often heard before in these ballads: see I, 427, No 47, #A# 14; I, 446, No 50, #A# 8, 9; I, 452 f, No 52, #C# 10, #D# 7; II, 25 f, No 58, #G# 7, #H# 10; II, 269 ff, No 83, #D# 13, #E# 16, #F# 22; II, 282, No 86, #A# 6; III, 62, 67, No 117, sts 114, 222. It is not unexampled elsewhere. So Sthenelus to Agamemnon, II. iv, 204; Ἀτρεΐδη, μὴ ψεύδε’, ἐπιστάμενος σάφα εἰπεῖν; and Bernardo del Carpio, on much the same occasion as here,

Mentides, buen rey, mentides,
que no decides verdad,
que nunca yo fuí traidor,

Wolf & Hofmann, Primavera, I, 38 and 41; see also I, 186, II, 100, 376.

This ballad was an early favorite of Goldsmith’s: “The music of the finest singer is dissonance to what I felt when our old dairymaid sung me into tears with Johnny Armstrong’s Last Good Night, or the Cruelty of Barbara Allen.” Essays, 1765, p. 14.

#C# is translated by Talvi, Versuch, u. s. w., p. 543; by Schubart, p. 179; by Loève-Veimars, p. 270.

A

#a.# Wit Restord in severall Select Poems not formerly publisht,
London, 1658, p. 30, in Facetiæ, London, 1871, I, 132.

#b.# Wit and Drollery, London, 1682, p. 57.

1
There dwelt a man in faire Westmerland,
Ionnë Armestrong men did him call,
He had nither lands nor rents coming in,
Yet he kept eight score men in his hall.

2
He had horse and harness for them all,
Goodly steeds were all milke-white;
O the golden bands an about their necks,
And their weapons, they were all alike.

3
Newes then was brought unto the king
That there was sicke a won as hee,
That livëd lyke a bold out-law,
And robbëd all the north country.

4
The king he writt an a letter then,
A letter which was large and long;
He signëd it with his owne hand,
And he promised to doe him no wrong.

5
When this letter came Ionnë untill,
His heart it was as blythe as birds on the tree:
‘Never was I sent for before any king,
My father, my grandfather, nor none but mee.

6
‘And if wee goe the king before,
I would we went most orderly;
Every man of you shall have his scarlet cloak,
Laced with silver laces three.

7
‘Every won of you shall have his velvett coat,
Laced with sillver lace so white;
O the golden bands an about your necks,
Black hatts, white feathers, all alyke.’

8
By the morrow morninge at ten of the clock,
Towards Edenburough gon was hee,
And with him all his eight score men;
Good lord, it was a goodly sight for to see!

9
When Ionnë came befower the king,
He fell downe on his knee;
‘O pardon, my soveraine leige,’ he said,
‘O pardon my eight score men and mee!’

10
‘Thou shalt have no pardon, thou traytor strong,
For thy eight score men nor thee;
For to-morrow morning by ten of the clock,
Both thou and them shall hang on the gallow-tree.’

11
But Ionnë looke’d over his left shoulder,
Good Lord, what a grevious look looked hee!
Saying, Asking grace of a graceles face—
Why there is none for you nor me.

12
But Ionnë had a bright sword by his side,
And it was made of the mettle so free,
That had not the king stept his foot aside,
He had smitten his head from his faire boddë.

13
Saying, Fight on, my merry men all,
And see that none of you be taine;
For rather then men shall say we were hange’d,
Let them report how we were slaine.

14
Then, God wott, faire Eddenburrough rose,
And so besett poore Ionnë rounde,
That fowerscore and tenn of Ionnës best men
Lay gasping all upon the ground.

15
Then like a mad man Ionnë laide about,
And like a mad man then fought hee,
Untill a falce Scot came Ionnë behinde,
And runn him through the faire boddee.

16
Saying, Fight on, my merry men all,
And see that none of you be taine;
For I will stand by and bleed but awhile,
And then will I come and fight againe.

17
Newes then was brought to young Ionnë Armestrong,
As he stood by his nurses knee,
Who vowed if ere he live’d for to be a man,
O the treacherous Scots revengd hee’d be.

B

#a.# Wood, 401, fol. 93 b, London, printed for Francis Grove
(1620–55?).

#b.# Pepys, II, 133, No 117, London, printed for W. Thackeray and T.
Passenger (1660–82?).

#c.# A Collection of Old Ballads, 1723, I, 170.

1
Is there never a man in all Scotland,
From the highest state to the lowest degree,
That can shew himself now before the king?
Scotland is so full of their traitery.

2
Yes, there is a man in Westmerland,
And John Armstrong some do him call;
He has no lands nor rents coming in,
Yet he keeps eightscore men within his hall.

3
He has horse and harness for them all,
And goodly steeds that be milk-white,
With their goodly belts about their necks,
With hats and feathers all alike.

4
The king he writ a lovely letter,
With his own hand so tenderly,
And has sent it unto John Armstrong,
To come and speak with him speedily.

5
When John he looked the letter upon,
Then, Lord! he was as blithe as a bird in a tree:
‘I was never before no king in my life,
My father, my grandfather, nor none of us three.

6
‘But seeing we must [go] before the king,
Lord! we will go most valiantly;
You shall every one have a velvet coat,
Laid down with golden laces three.

7
‘And you shall every one have a scarlet cloak,
Laid down with silver laces five,
With your golden belts about your necks,
With hats [and] brave feathers all alike.’

8
But when John he went from Guiltknock Hall!
The wind it blew hard, and full sore it did rain:
‘Now fare you well, brave Guiltknock Hall!
I fear I shall never see thee again.’

9
Now John he is to Edenborough gone,
And his eightscore men so gallantly,
And every one of them on a milk-white steed,
With their bucklers and swords hanging down to the knee.

10
But when John he came the king before,
With his eightscore men so gallant to see,
The king he moved his bonnet to him;
He thought he had been a king as well as he.

11
‘O pardon, pardon, my soveraign leige,
Pardon for my eightscore men and me!
For my name it is John Armstrong,
And a subject of yours, my leige,’ said he.

12
‘Away with thee, thou false traitor!
No pardon I will grant to thee,
But, to-morrow before eight of the clock,
I will hang thy eightscore men and thee.’

13
O how John looked over his left shoulder!
And to his merry men thus said he:
I have asked grace of a graceless face,
No pardon here is for you nor me.

14
Then John pulld out a nut-brown sword,
And it was made of mettle so free;
Had not the king moved his foot as he did,
John had taken his head from his body.

15
‘Come, follow me, my merry men all,
We will scorn one foot away to fly;
It never shall be said we were hung like doggs;
No, wee’l fight it out most manfully.’

16
Then they fought on like champions bold—
For their hearts was sturdy, stout, and free—
Till they had killed all the kings good guard;
There was none left alive but onely three.

17
But then rise up all Edenborough,
They rise up by thousands three;
Then a cowardly Scot came John behind,
And run him thorow the fair body.

18
Said John, Fight on, my merry men all,
I am a little hurt, but I am not slain;
I will lay me down for to bleed a while,
Then I’le rise and fight with you again.

19
Then they fought on like mad men all,
Till many a man lay dead on the plain;
For they were resolved, before they would yield,
That every man would there be slain.

20
So there they fought couragiously,
‘Till most of them lay dead there and slain,
But little Musgrave, that was his foot-page,
With his bonny grissell got away untain.

21
But when he came up to Guiltknock Hall,
The lady spyed him presently:
‘What news, what news, thou little foot-page?
What news from thy master and his company?’

22
‘My news is bad, lady,’ he said,
‘Which I do bring, as you may see;
My master, John Armstrong, he is slain,
And all his gallant company.

23
‘Yet thou are welcome home, my bonny grisel!
Full oft thou hast fed at the corn and hay,
But now thou shalt be fed with bread and wine,
And thy sides shall be spurred no more, I say.’

24
O then bespoke his little son,
As he was set on his nurses knee:
‘If ever I live for to be a man,
My fathers blood revenged shall be.’

C

Allan Ramsay, The Ever Green, II, 190, “copied from a gentleman’s
mouth of the name of Armstrang, who is the 6th generation from this
John.”

1
Sum speiks of lords, sum speiks of lairds,
And siclyke men of hie degrie;
Of a gentleman I sing a sang,
Sumtyme calld Laird of Gilnockie.

2
The king he wrytes a luving letter,
With his ain hand sae tenderly:
And he hath sent it to Johny Armstrang,
To cum and speik with him speidily.

3
The Eliots and Armstrongs did convene,
They were a gallant company:
‘We’ill ryde and meit our lawful king,
And bring him safe to Gilnockie.

4
‘Make kinnen and capon ready, then,
And venison in great plenty;
We’ill welcome hame our royal king;
I hope he’ill dyne at Gilnockie!’

5
They ran their horse on the Langum howm,
And brake their speirs with mekle main;
The ladys lukit frae their loft-windows,
‘God bring our men weil back again!’

6
When Johny came before the king,
With all his men sae brave to see,
The king he movit his bonnet to him;
He weind he was a king as well as he.

7
‘May I find grace, my sovereign liege,
Grace for my loyal men and me?
For my name it is Johny Armstrang,
And subject of yours, my liege,’ said he.

8
‘Away, away, thou traytor, strang!
Out of my sicht thou mayst sune be!
I grantit nevir a traytors lyfe,
And now I’ll not begin with thee.’

9
‘Grant me my lyfe, my liege, my king,
And a bony gift I will give to thee;
Full four-and-twenty milk-whyt steids,
Were a’ foald in a yeir to me.

10
‘I’ll gie thee all these milk-whyt steids,
That prance and nicher at a speir,
With as mekle gude Inglis gilt
As four of their braid backs dow beir.’

11
‘Away, away, thou traytor strang!
Out o’ my sicht thou mayst sune be!
I grantit nevir a traytors lyfe,
And now I’ll not begin with thee.’

12
‘Grant me my lyfe, my liege, my king,
And a bony gift I’ll gie to thee;
Gude four-and-twenty ganging mills,
That gang throw a’ the yeir to me.

13
‘These four-and-twenty mills complete
Sall gang for thee throw all the yeir,
And as mekle of gude reid wheit
As all their happers dow to bear.’

14
‘Away, away, thou traytor, strang!
Out of my sicht thou mayst sune be!
I grantit nevir a traytors lyfe,
And now I’ll not begin with thee.’

15
‘Grant me my lyfe, my liege, my king,
And a great gift I’ll gie to thee;
Bauld four-and-twenty sisters sons,
Sall for the fecht, tho all sould flee.’

16
‘Away, away, thou traytor, strang!
Out of my sicht thou mayst sune be!
I grantit nevir a traytors lyfe,
And now I’ll not begin with thee.’

17
‘Grant me my lyfe, my liege, my king,
And a brave gift I’ll gie to thee;
All betwene heir and Newcastle town
Sall pay thair yeirly rent to thee.’

18
‘Away, away, thou traytor, strang!
Out of my sicht thou mayst sune be!
I grantit nevir a traytors lyfe,
And now I’ll not begin with thee.’

19
‘Ye lied, ye lied, now, king,’ he says,
‘Althocht a king and prince ye be,
For I luid naithing in all my lyfe,
I dare well say it, but honesty;

20
‘But a fat horse, and a fair woman,
Twa bony dogs to kill a deir:
But Ingland suld haif found me meil and malt,
Gif I had livd this hundred yeir!

21
‘Scho suld half found me meil and malt,
And beif and mutton in all plentie;
But neir a Scots wyfe could haif said
That eir I skaithd her a pure flie.

22
‘To seik het water beneth cauld yce,
Surely it is a great folie;
I haif asked grace at a graceless face,
But there is nane for my men and me.

23
‘But had I kend, or I came frae hame,
How thou unkynd wadst bene to me,
I wad haif kept the border-syde,
In spyte of all thy force and thee.

24
‘Wist Englands king that I was tane,
O gin a blyth man wald he be!
For anes I slew his sisters son,
And on his breist-bane brak a tree.’

25
John wore a girdle about his midle,
Imbroiderd owre with burning gold,
Bespangled with the same mettle,
Maist beautifull was to behold.

26
Ther hang nine targats at Johnys hat,
And ilk an worth three hundred pound:
‘What wants that knave that a king suld haif,
But the sword of honour and the crown!

27
‘O whair gat thou these targats, Johnie,
That blink sae brawly abune thy brie? ’
‘I gat them in the field fechting,
Wher, cruel king, thou durst not be.

28
‘Had I my horse, and my harness gude,
And ryding as I wont to be,
It sould haif bene tald this hundred yeir
The meiting of my king and me.

29
‘God be withee, Kirsty, my brither,
Lang live thou Laird of Mangertoun!
Lang mayst thou live on the border-syde
Or thou se thy brither ryde up and doun.

30
‘And God be withee, Kirsty, my son,
Whair thou sits on thy nurses knee!
But and thou live this hundred yeir,
Thy fathers better thoult never be.

31
‘Farweil, my bonny Gilnock-Hall.
Whair on Esk-syde thou standest stout!
Gif I had lived but seven yeirs mair,
I wald haif gilt thee round about.’

32
John murdred was at Carlinrigg,
And all his galant companie:
But Scotlands heart was never sae wae,
To see sae mony brave men die.

33
Because they savd their country deir
Frae Englishmen; nane were sae bauld,
Whyle Johnie livd on the border-syde,
Nane of them durst cum neir his hald.

* * * * *

#A. a.#

3^3. syke a.

17^4. O th’ the.

#b.#

3^2. sick a man.

5^2. it _wanting_.

6^1. And therefore if.

7^4. and white.

8^4. an it: for _wanting_.

9^1. Johnnee.

10^2. Ne for.

11. There Johnne.

11^3. Said he.

11^4. yee.

12^2. the _wanting_.

13^4. that we.

14^3. Johnnee’s.

15^4. thorough.

#B. a.#

Iohn Arm-strongs last good night. Declaring How John Arm-strong
and his eightscore men fought a bloody bout with a Scottish king
at Edenborough. To a pretty northern tune called, Fare you well,
guilt Knock-hall.

6^1. we must before; _perhaps rightly_.

8^{1,3}, 21^1. guilt Knock-hall.

_Signed_ T. R.

London, Printed for Francis Grove on S[n]owhill.

Entered according to order.

#b.#

_Title_: with the Scottish. To a pretty new northern tune: called,
_&c._, _omitted_.

1^2. estate.

1^4. of treachery.

2^2. Jonny: they do.

4^1. writes a loving.

4^2. And with.

4^3. hath.

5^1. this letter.

5^1. Good Lord.

5^2. he lookt.

5^3. a king.

6^1. must go.

6^2. most gallantly.

7^1. And ye.

7^4. hats and.

8^{1,3}, 21^1. guilt Knock-hall.

8^2. full fast.

8^3. fare thee well thou guilt.

9^1. Johnny.

9^4. to their.

10^1. he _wanting_.

12^3. to morrow morning by eight.

12^4. hang up.

13^1. Johnny.

14^1. out his.

15^3. It shall ne’r.

15^4. We will.

16^2. were.

16^4. but two or.

17^{1,2}. rose.

17^3. Then _wanting_.

18^2. little wounded but am.

19^2. up on.

20^3. Musgrove.

21^1. up _wanting_.

22^3. Johnny Armstrong is.

23^2. been fed with.

24^1. bespake.

24^3. for _wanting_.

24^4. father’s death.

_Signed_ T. R.

London, Printed for W. Thackeray and T. Passenger.

#c.#

Johnny Armstrongs, last Good-night, shewing how John Armstrong,
with his Eightscore Men, fought a bloody Battle with the Scotch
King at Edenborough. To a Northern Tune.

1^1. ever.

1^2. estate.

1^3. our king.

1^4. full of treachery.

2^2. Johnny: they do.

3^1. horses.

4^1. writes a loving.

4^2. And with.

4^3. hath: Johnny.

5^1. this letter.

5^2. He lokd as blith.

5^3. a king.

6^1. must go.

6^2. most gallantly.

6^3. Ye.

7^1. And every one shall.

6^4. hats and feathers.

8^1. Johnny went: Giltnock.

8^2. full fast.

8^3. fare thee well thou Giltnock.

9^1. Johnny.

9^2. With his.

9^4. hanging to their.

10^1. he _wanting_.

11^3. Johnny.

11^4. a _wanting_.

12^2. will I.

12^3. to-morrow morning by eight.

12^4. hang up.

13^1. Then Johnny.

13^4. there is: you and.

14^1. his good broad sword.

14^2. That was made of the.

14^4. his fair.

15^2. foot for to.

15^3. shall never be: hangd.

15^4. We will.

16^2. were.

16^4. were: but one, two or three.

17^{1,2}. rose.

17^3. Then _wanting_.

17^4. through.

18^2. little wounded but am.

18^3. for _wanting_.

21^1. up _wanting_.

21^1. Giltnock.

22^3. Iohnny Armstrong is.

23^2. hast been fed with corn.

24^1. bespake.

24^2. he sat on.

24^3. for _wanting_.

24^4. fathers death.

#C.#

_Printed in stanzas of eight lines._

Zours, zeir, _etc._, _are here printed_ yours, yeir, etc.; quhair,
quheit, _here_, whair, wheit.

5^1. hown.

11, 14, 16, 18, _only_ Away, away thou traytor, etc., _is
printed_.

19^4. sayit.

170

THE DEATH OF QUEEN JANE

#A.# Percy papers, 1776. #B.# ‘Queen Jeanie,’ Kinloch’s Ancient
Scottish Ballads, p. 116. #C. a.# Jamieson’s Popular Ballads, I,
182.[242] #b.# Herd’s MSS, I, 103. #D.# ‘The Death of Queen Jane,’
Bell’s Ancient Poems, Ballads and Songs of the Peasantry of England,
p. 113. #E.# ‘Queen Jeanie,’ Macmath MS., p. 68. #F.# Notes and
Queries, Second Series, XI, 131. #G.# A fragment from William
Motherwell’s papers.

This threnody is said to have been current throughout Scotland. There is another, not in the popular style, in the Crowne Garland of Golden Roses, 1612, Percy Society, vol. vi, p. 29: The Wofull Death of Queene Jane, wife to King Henry the Eight, and how King Edward was cut out of his mother’s belly. This is reprinted in Old Ballads, 1723, II, 115, and Evans’s Collection, 1777, 1784, II, 54, and is among Pepys’s Penny Merriments, vol. iii. ‘A ballett called The Lady Jane’ and another piece entitled The Lamentation of Quene Jane were licensed in 1560; Stationers’ Registers, Arber, I, 151 f.

Jane Seymour gave birth to Prince Edward October 12, 1537, and by a natural process, but, in consequence of imprudent management, died twelve days after. There was a belief that severe surgery had been required, under which the queen sank. The editor of Old Ballads, II, 116 f, cites Sir John Hayward as saying: “All reports do constantly run that he [Prince Edward] was not by natural passage delivered into the world, but that his mother’s belly was opened for his birth, and that she died of the incision the fourth day following.” And Du Chesne: “Quand ce vint au terme de l’accouchement, elle eut tant de tourment et de peine qu’il lui fallut fendre le costé, par lequel on tira son fruit, le douzième jour d’Octobre. Elle mourut douze jours après.” But Echard again: “Contrary to the opinion of many writers,” the queen “died twelve days after the birth of this prince, having been well delivered, and without any incision, as others have maliciously reported.”

* * * * *

A

Communicated to Percy by the Dean of Derry, as written from memory
by his mother, Mrs. Bernard, February, 1776.

1
Queen Jane was in labour full six weeks and more,
And the women were weary, and fain would give oer:
‘O women, O women, as women ye be,
Rip open my two sides, and save my baby!’

2
‘O royal Queen Jane, that thing may not be;
We’ll send for King Henry to come unto thee.’
King Henry came to her, and sate on her bed:
‘What ails my dear lady, her eyes look so red?’

3
‘O royal King Henry, do one thing for me:
Rip open my two sides, and save my baby!’
‘O royal Queen Jane, that thing will not do;
If I lose your fair body, I’ll lose your baby too.’

4
She wept and she waild, and she wrung her hands sore;
O the flour of England must flurish no more!
She wept and she waild till she fell in a swoond,
They opend her two sides, and the baby was found.

5
The baby was christened with joy and much mirth,
Whilst poor Queen Jane’s body lay cold under earth:
There was ringing and singing and mourning all day,
The princess Eliz[abeth] went weeping away.

6
The trumpets in mourning so sadly did sound,
And the pikes and the muskets did trail on the ground.
. . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . .

B

Kinloch’s Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 116.

1
Queen Jeanie, Queen Jeanie, traveld six weeks and more,
Till women and midwives had quite gien her oer:
‘O if ye were women as women should be,
Ye would send for a doctor, a doctor to me.’

2
The doctor was called for and set by her bedside:
‘What aileth thee, my ladie, thine eyes seem so red?’
‘O doctor, O doctor, will ye do this for me,
To rip up my two sides, and save my babie?’

3
‘Queen Jeanie, Queen Jeanie, that’s the thing I’ll neer do,
To rip up your two sides to save your babie:’
Queen Jeanie, Queen Jeanie, traveld six weeks and more,
Till midwives and doctors had quite gien her oer.

4
‘O if ye were doctors as doctors should be,
Ye would send for King Henry, King Henry to me:’
King Henry was called for, and sat by her bedside,
‘What aileth thee, Jeanie? what aileth my bride?’

5
‘King Henry, King Henry, will ye do this for me,
To rip up my two sides, and save my babie?’
‘Queen Jeanie, Queen Jeanie, that’s what I’ll never do,
To rip up your two sides to save your babie.’

6
But with sighing and sobbing she’s fallen in a swoon,
Her side it was ript up, and her babie was found;
At this bonie babie’s christning there was meikle joy and mirth,
But bonnie Queen Jeanie lies cold in the earth.

7
Six and six coaches, and six and six more,
And royal King Henry went mourning before;
O two and two gentlemen carried her away,
But royal King Henry went weeping away.

8
O black were their stockings, and black were their bands,
And black were the weapons they held in their hands;
O black were their mufflers, and black were their shoes,
And black were the cheverons they drew on their luves.

9
They mourned in the kitchen, and they mournd in the ha,
But royal King Henry mournd langest of a’:
Farewell to fair England, farewell for evermore!
For the fair flower of England will never shine more.

C

#a.# Jamieson’s Popular Ballads, I, 182; “from two fragments, one
transmitted from Arbroath and another from Edinburgh.” #b.# Herd’s
MSS, I, 103.

1
Queen Jeany has traveld for three days and more,
Till the ladies were weary, and quite gave her oer:
‘O ladies, O ladies, do this thing for me,
To send for King Henry, to come and see me.’

2
King Henry was sent for, and sat by her bedside:
‘Why weep you, Queen Jeany? your eyes are so red.’
‘O Henry, O Henry, do this one thing for me,
Let my side straight be opend, and save my babie!’

3
‘O Jeany, O Jeany, this never will do,
It will leese thy sweet life, and thy young babie too.’
She wept and she wailed, till she fell in a swoon:
Her side it was opened, the babie was found.

4
Prince Edward was christened with joy and with mirth,
But the flower of fair England lies cold in the earth.
O black was King Henry, and black were his men,
And black was the steed that King Henry rode on.

5
And black were the ladies, and black were their fans,
And black were the gloves that they wore on their hands,
And black were the ribbands they wore on their heads,
And black were the pages, and black were the maids.

* * * * *

6
The trumpets they sounded, the cannons did roar,
But the flower of fair England shall flourish no more.
. . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . .

D

Robert Bell’s Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry of
England, p. 113; “taken down from the singing of a young gipsy girl,
to whom it had descended orally through two generations.”

1
Queen Jane was in travail for six weeks or more,
Till the women grew tired and fain would give oer:
‘O women, O women, good wives if ye be,
Go send for King Henrie, and bring him to me!’

2
King Henrie was sent for, he came with all speed,
In a gownd of green velvet from heel to the head:
‘King Henrie, King Henrie, if kind Henrie you be,
Send for a surgeon, and bring him to me!’

3
The surgeon was sent for, he came with all speed,
In a gownd of black velvet from heel to the head;
He gave her rich caudle, but the death-sleep slept she,
Then her right side was opened, and the babe was set free.

4
The babe it was christened, and put out and nursed,
While the royal Queen Jane she lay cold in the dust.
. . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . .

5
So black was the mourning, and white were the wands,
Yellow, yellow the torches they bore in their hands;
The bells they were muffled, and mournful did play,
While the royal Queen Jane she lay cold in the clay.

6
Six knights and six lords bore her corpse through the grounds,
Six dukes followed after, in black mourning gownds;
The flower of Old England was laid in cold clay,
Whilst the royal King Henrie came weeping away.

E

Macmath MS., p. 68. “From my aunt, Miss Jane Webster, 1886–1887. She
learned it at Airds of Kells, Kirkcudbrightshire, over fifty years
ago, from the singing of James Smith.”

1
‘Ye midwives and women-kind, do one thing for me;
Send for my mother, to come and see me.’

2
Her mother was sent for, who came speedilie:
‘O Jeanie, Queen Jeanie, are ye gaun to dee?’

3
‘O mother, dear mother, do one thing for me;
O send for King Henry, to come and see me.’

4
King Henry was sent for, who came speedilie:
‘O Jeanie, Queen Jeanie, are ye gaun to dee?’

5
‘King Henry, King Henry, do one thing for me;
O send for a doctor, to come and see me.’

6
The doctor was sent for, who came speedilie:
‘O Jeanie, Queen Jeanie, are ye gaun to dee?’

7
‘O doctor, oh doctor, do one thing for me;
Open my left side, and let my babe free.’

8
He opened her left side, and then all was oer,
And the best flower in England will flourish no more.

F

Notes and Queries, Second Series, XI, 131; sung by an illiterate
nursemaid “some forty years since” (1861).

1
Queen Jane lies in labour six weeks or more,
Till the women were tired, go see her no more:
‘Oh women, oh women, if women you be,
You’ll send for King Henry, to come and see me.

2
‘Oh King Henry, King Henry, if King Henry you be,
You’ll send for the doctor, to come and see me:
Oh doctor, oh doctor, if a doctor you be,
You’ll open my right side, and save my baby.’

3
They churchd her, they chimed her, they dug her her grave,
They buried her body, and christend her babe.

G

In pencil, in Motherwell’s handwriting, inside of the cover of what
appears to be a sketch of his Introduction to his Minstrelsy;
communicated by Mr Macmath.

1
Queen Jeanie was in labour full three days and more,
Till a’the good women was forced to gie her oer:
‘O guide women, gude women, gude women,’ quo she,
‘Will ye send for King Henry, to come and see me?’
Wi weeping and wailing, lamenting full sore,
That the flower of all Engl_and_ should flourish no more.

2
K_ing_ H_enry_ was sent for, wh_o_ came in g_reat_ speed,
Stand_ing_ weep_ing_ and wail_ing_ at Q_ueen_ Jeanie’s bedside;
Stand_ing_ weep_ing_ and wail_ing_, etc.

3
‘O King H_enry_, Ki_ng_ H_enry_, K_ing_ H_enry_,’ quo she,
‘Will ye send for my mothe_r_....

* * * * *

#B.#

3^1, 5^3. do _is to be pronounced_ dee.

#C. b.#

_Only six lines_: 2^{3,4}, 4^{1,2}, 5^{1,2}

2^3. This thing.

2^4. Straight open my two sides: save your.

4^1. The babie was.

4^2. But royal Queen Jeany lay low.

5^1. Then black were their mournings.

#E.#

_The first seven stanzas taken down October 15, 1886, and the last
sent on February 3, 1887._

_24th March, 1887._ “I can never remember them, sitting thinking
about them. Yesterday I was humming away, not knowing what I
was singing, until I sung this:

8
He opened her left side, Queen Jeanie’s life’s oer,
And the last rose of England will flourish no more.”

171

THOMAS CROMWELL

Percy MS., p. 55; Hales and Furnivall, I, 129.

June 10, 1540, Thomas Lord Cromwell, “when he least expected it,” was arrested at the council-table by the Duke of Norfolk for high-treason, and on the 28th of July following he was executed. Cromwell, says Lord Herbert of Cherbury, judged “his perdition more certain that the duke was uncle to the Lady Katherine Howard, whom the king began now to affect.” Later writers[243] have asserted that Katherine Howard exerted herself to procure Cromwell’s death, and we can understand nobody else but her to be doing this in the third stanza of this fragment; nevertheless there is no authority for such a representation. The king had no personal interview with the minister whom he so suddenly struck down, but he did send the Duke of Norfolk and two others to visit Cromwell in prison, for the purpose of extracting confessions pertaining to Anne of Cleves. Cromwell wrote a letter to the king, imploring the mercy which, as well as confession, he refuses in stanza five.

Percy inserted in the Reliques, 1765, II, 58, a song against Cromwell, printed in 1540, and apparently before his death, and he observes, 1767, II, 86, that there was a succession of seven or eight more, for and against, which were then preserved, and of course are still existing, in the archives of the Antiquarian Society.

* * * * *

1
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
‘Ffor if yo_u_r boone be askeable,
Soone granted it shalbe:

2
‘If it be not touching my crowne,’ he said,
‘Nor hurting poore com_m_inaltye.’
‘Nay, it is not touching yo_u_r crowne,’ shee sayes,
‘Nor hurting poore cominaltye,

3
‘But I begg the death of Tho_mas_ Cromwell,
For a false traitor to you is hee.’
‘Then feitch me hither the Earle of Darby
And the Earle of Shrewsbury,

4
‘And bidde them bring Thomas Cromawell;
Let’s see what he can say to mee;’
For Thomas had woont to haue carryed his head vp,
But now he hanges it vppon his knee.

5
‘How now? How now?’ the k_ing_ did say,
‘Thomas, how is it w_i_th thee?’
‘Hanging and drawing, O k_ing_!’ he saide;
‘You shall neuer gett more from mee.’

* * * * *

_Half of the page is gone before the beginning._

2^3. it it is.

172

MUSSELBURGH FIELD

‘Musleboorrowe ffeild,’ Percy MS., p. 54; Hales and Furnivall, I, 123.

The Protector Somerset, to overcome or to punish the opposition of the Scots to the marriage of Mary Stuart with Edward VI, invaded Scotland at the end of the summer of 1547 with eighteen thousand men, supported by a fleet. The Scots mustered at Musselburgh, a town on the water five or six miles east of Edinburgh, under the Earls of Arran, Angus, and Huntly, each of whom, according to Buchanan, had ten thousand men, and there the issue was tried on the 10th of September. The northern army abandoned an impregnable position, and their superior, but ill-managed, and partly ill-composed, force, after successfully resisting a cavalry charge, was put to flight by the English, who had an advantage in cannon and cavalry as well as generalship. A hideous slaughter followed; Leslie admits that, in the chase and battle, there were slain above ten thousand of his countrymen. Patten, a Londoner who saw and described the fight, says that the one anxiety of the Scots was lest the English should get away, and that they were so sure of victory that, the night before the battle, they fell “to playing at dice for certain of our noblemen and captains of fame” (cf. stanza 3), as the French diced for prisoners on the eve of Agincourt. The dates are wrong in 1^{1,2}, 5^1; Huntly is rightly said to have been made prisoner, 7^1.

6, 8. When the Scots were once turned, says Patten, “it was a wonder to see how soon and in how sundry sorts they were scattered; the place they stood on like a wood of staves, strewed on the ground as rushes in a chamber, unpassable, they lay so thick, for either horse or man.” Some made their course along the sands by the Frith, towards Leith; some straight toward Edinburgh; “and the residue, and (as we noted then) the most, of them toward Dalkeith, which way, by means of the marsh, our horsemen were worst able to follow.”[244]

The battle is known also by the name of Pinkie or Pinkie Cleuch, appellations of an estate, a burn and a hill (“a hill called Pinkincleuche,” Leslie), near or within the field of operations.

Percy remarks upon 3^3: “It should seem from hence that there was somewhat of a uniform among our soldiers even then.” There are jackets white and red in No 166, 29^3. Sir William Stanley has ten thousand red coats at his order in ‘Lady Bessy,’ vv 593, 809–11, 937 f, Percy MS., III, 344, 352, 358; Sir John Savage has fifteen hundred white hoods in the same piece, v. 815.

1
On the tenth day of December,
And the fourth yeere of K_ing_ Edwards raigne,
Att Musleboorrowe, as I remember,
Two goodly hosts there mett on a plaine.

2
All that night they camped there,
Soe did the Scotts, both stout and stubborne;
But “wellaway,” it was their song,
For wee haue taken them in their owne turne.

3
Over night they carded for our English mens coates;
They fished before their netts were spunn;
A white for sixpence, a red f_or_ two groates;
Now wisdome wold haue stayed till they had been woone.

4
Wee feared not but that they wold fight,
Yett itt was turned vnto their owne paine;
Thoe against one of vs _tha_t they were eight,
Yett w_i_th their owne weapons wee did them beat.

5
On the twelfth day in the morne
The made a face as the wold fight,
But many a proud Scott there was downe borne,
And many a ranke coward was put to flight.

6
But when they heard our great gunnes cracke,
Then was their harts turned into their hose;
They cast down their weapons, and turned their backes,
They ran soe fast _tha_t the fell on their nose.

7
The Lo_rd_ Huntley, wee had him there;
W_i_th him hee brought ten thousand men,
Yett, God bee thanked, wee made them such a banquett
That none of them returned againe.

8
Wee chased them to D[alkeith]

* * * * *

* * * * *

1^1. 10^{th}.

1^2. 4[th :].

1^4. 2.

2^1. all night that.

2^4. horne _may be the reading_, _instead_ of turne.

3^3. 6[d :] p_ro_ 2.

4^3. 8[t :].

5^1. 12[th :].

7^2. 10000.

8^1. _Half a page gone._

173

MARY HAMILTON

#A. a.# ‘Marie Hamilton,’ Sharp’s Ballad Book, 1824, p. 18. #b.#
Communicated by the late John Francis Campbell. #c.# Aungervyle
Society’s publications, No V, p. 18.

#B.# ‘Mary Hamilton,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 337; printed in part in
Motherwell’s Minstrelsy, p. 313 ff.

#C.# ‘Mary Myles,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 265.

#D.# ‘Mary Hamilton,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 267; Motherwell’s
Minstrelsy, p. 316.

#E.# ‘Lady Maisry,’ Buchan’s MSS, II, 186; Buchan’s Ballads of the
North of Scotland, II, 190.

#F.# Skene MS., p. 61.

#G.# ‘Mary Hamilton,’ MS. of Scottish Songs and Ballads copied by a
granddaughter of Lord Woodhouselee, p. 51.

#H.# ‘Mary Hamilton,’ Kinloch’s Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 252.

#I. a.# ‘The Queen’s Marie,’ Scott’s Minstrelsy, 1833, III, 294. #b.#
Scott’s Minstrelsy, 1802, II, 154, three stanzas.

#J.# ‘Marie Hamilton,’ Harris MS., fol. 10 b.

#K.# ‘The Queen’s Mary,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 96.

#L.# ‘Mary Hamilton,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 280.

#M.# ‘Mary Hamilton,’ Maidment’s North Countrie Garland, p. 19.
Repeated in Buchan’s Gleanings, p. 164.

#N.# ‘The Queen’s Maries,’ Murison MS., p. 33.

#O.# ‘The Queen’s Marie,’ Finlay’s Scottish Ballads, I, xix.

#P.# Kinloch MSS, VII, 95, 97; Kinloch’s Ancient Scottish Ballads, p.
252.

#Q.# ‘Queen’s Marie,’ Letters from and to Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe,
ed. Allardyce, II, 272, two stanzas.

#R.# Burns, Letter to Mrs Dunlop, 25 January, 1790, Currie, II, 290,
1800, one stanza.

The scene is at the court of Mary Stuart, #A-N#, #Q#. The unhappy heroine is one of the queen’s Four Maries, #A a# 18, #b# 14, #c# 1, 18, 23, #B# 19, #D# 21, #F# 3, 12, #G# 16, #H# 18, #I# 19, #J# 8, 10, #K# 8, #M# 7, #N# 1; Mary Hamilton, #A a# 1, #b# 2, #c# 2, #B# 3, #D# 8, #G# 1, #H# 4, #I# 1, #J# 6; Lady Mary, #F# 5, 6; Mary Mild, Myle, #C# 5, #M# 1, #N# 1, also #A c# 6, Moil, #O#, but Lady Maisry, #E# 6. She gangs wi bairn; it is to the highest Stewart of a’, #A a# 1, #A c# 2, #B# 3, #C# 5; cf. #D# 3, #G# 1–3, #I# 1–6, #L# 9, #P# 1. She goes to the garden to pull the leaf off the tree, in a vain hope to be free of the babe, #C# 3; it is the savin-tree, #D# 4, the deceivin-tree, #N# 3, the Abbey-tree (and pulled by the king), #I# 6.[245] She rolls the bairn in her apron, handkerchief, and throws it in the sea, #A a# 3, #A b# 3, #A c# 4, #C# 4, #D# 5, 9, #I# 7, #K# 2, 4, #L# 5 (inconsistently), #O# 3; cf. #B# 7. The queen asks where the babe is that she has heard greet, #A a# 4, #b# 4, #c# 6, #B# 4, 6, #C# 6, #D# 6, 8, #E# 6, 7, #F# 6, #G# 5, #H# 5, #I# 9, #J# 3, #L# 1, #M# 1; there is no babe, it was a stitch in the side, colic, #A a# 5, #b# 5, #c# 7, #B# 5, #C# 7, #D# 7, #E# 8, #F# 7, #G# 6, #H# 6, #I# 10, #J# 4, #L# 2, #M# 2; search is made and the child found in the bed, dead, #E# 9, #F# 9, #H# 7, #J# 5, #L# 4, #M# 4 (and #A c# 8 inconsistently). The queen bids Mary make ready to go to Edinburgh (_i. e._, from Holyrood), #A a# 6, #A b# 6, #A c# 10, #C# 8, #D# 11, #E# 10, #F# 12, #H# 8, #I# 11. The purpose is concealed in #A#, #a#, #b#, #c#, and for the best effect should be concealed, or at least simulated, as in #B#, #D#, #G#, #I#, where a wedding is the pretence, Mary Hamilton’s own wedding in #D#. The queen directs Mary to put on black or brown, #A a# 6, #A b# 6, #A c# 10; she will not put on black or brown, but white, gold, red, to shine through Edinburgh town, #A a# 7, #A b# 7, #A c# 11, #B# 9, #C# 9, #D# 13, #E# 11, #H# 10, #K# 6, #N# 5, #O# 5. When she went up the Canongate, #A a# 8, #b# 8, #c# 13, #L# 6, up the Parliament stair, #A a# 9, #b# 9, #c# 14, #D# 16, up the Tolbooth stair, #C# 12, #E# 14, #H# 15, #I# 17, came to the Netherbow Port, #G# 10, #I# 18, #M# 6, she laughed loudly or lightly, #A a# 8, #b# 8, #c# 13, #D# 16, #E# 14, #G# 10, #H# 15, #I# 18, #L# 6, #M# 6; the heel, lap, came off her shoe, #A a# 9, #b# 9, #c# 14, #C# 12, the corks from her heels did flee, #I# 17; but ere she came down again she was condemned to die, #A a# 9, #b# 9, #c# 14, #C# 12, #D# 16, #E# 14, #H# 15, #I# 17; but when she reached the gallows-foot, #G# 10, #I# 18, #M# 6, ere she came to the Cowgate Head, #L# 6, when she came down the Canongate, #A a# 8, #b# 8, #c# 13, the tears blinded her eyes. She calls for a bottle of wine, that she may drink to her well-wishers and they may drink to her, #A a# 12, #b# 10, #c# 17, #B# 14; cf. #D# 19, 20, #G# 13. She adjures sailors, travellers, not to let her father and mother get wit what death she is to die, #A a# 14, #b# 12, #c# 19, #B# 15, #C# 13, #D# 20, #F# 15, #G# 13, #H# 21, #I# 23, #L# 7, #M# 8, or know but that she is coming home, #A a# 13, #b# 11, #B# 16, #C# 14, #D# 19, #E# 15, #F# 16, #G# 14, #H# 20, #I# 22, #L# 8. Little did her mother think when she cradled her (brought her from home, #F# 18) what lands she would travel and what end she would come to, #A a# 15, #c# 21, #B# 17, 18, #C# 15, #D# 17, #G# 15, #I# 25, #J# 9, #N# 9, #R#; as little her father, when he held her up, #A a# 16, #c# 22, #C# 16, brought her over the sea, #F# 17. Yestreen the queen had four Maries, to-night she’ll have but three (see above); yestreen she washed Queen Mary’s feet, etc., and the gallows is her reward to-day, #A a# 17, #b# 13, #B# 20, #C# 17, #G# 11, 12, #H# 19, #I# 20, 21, #N# 8.

It is impossible to weave all the versions into an intelligible and harmonious story. In #E# 10, #F# 12, #H# 8 the intention to bring Mary to trial is avowed, and in #A c# 9, #B# 8^{5,6}, #F# 10, #K# 5, #M# 5 she is threatened with death. In #D# 12, #H# 9, #J# 7, #N# 4, the queen is made to favor, and not inhibit, gay colors. Mary may laugh when she goes up the Parliament stair, but not when she goes up the Tolbooth stair. She goes up the Canongate to the Parliament House to be tried, but she would not go down the Canongate again, the Tolbooth being in the High Street, an extension of the Canongate, and the Parliament House in the rear. The tears and alaces and ohones as Mary goes by, #A a# 10, #c# 15, #B# 10, #C# 10, #D# 14, #E# 12, #F# 13, #H# 11, #I# 16, are a sufficiently effective incident as long as Mary is represented to be unsuspicious of her doom, as she is in #D# 15, #G# 9, #I# 15, 16; but in #A a# 11, #c# 16, #B# 11, #C# 11, #H# 12, 22, she forbids condolement, because she deserves to die for killing her babe, which reduces this passage to commonplace. Much better, if properly introduced, would be the desperate ejaculation, Seek never grace at a graceless face! which we find in #E# 13, #F# 14, #H# 13, #N# 7.

At the end of #B# the king tells Mary Hamilton to come down from the scaffold, but she scorns life after having been put to public shame. So in #D#, with queen for king.

In #A a# 4, #b# 4, 13, #G# 5 the queen is “the auld queen,” and yet Mary Stuart.

#E#, from 16, #F#, from 19, are borrowed from No 95, ‘The Maid freed from the Gallows:’ see II, 346. #G# 8 (and #I# 13, taken from #G#) is derived from ‘Lord Thomas and Fair Annet,’ #D a# 11, #e# 10, #g# 11: see II, 187, 196, 197. The rejection of black and brown, #A# 7, #C# 9, #D# 13, etc., or of green, #K# 6, is found in the same ballad, #C# 10, #E# 16, #F# 12, 15, etc., #B# 20. #B# 21 is perhaps from ‘The Laird of Waristoun:’ see further on, #A# 9, #B# 10, #C# 4. #I# 12, 14 look like a souvenir of ‘Fair Janet,’ No 64.

There are not a few spurious passages. Among these are the extravagance of the queen’s bursting in the door, #F# 8; the platitude, of menial stamp, that the child, if saved, might have been an honor to the mother, #D# 10, #L# 3, #O# 4; the sentimentality of #H# 3, 16.

Allan Cunningham has put the essential incidents of the story into a rational order, that of #A#, for example, with less than usual of his glistering and saccharine phraseology: Songs of Scotland, I, 348. Aytoun’s language is not quite definite with regard to the copy which he gives at II, 45, ed. 1859: it is, however, made up from versions previously printed.

When Mary Stuart was sent to France in 1548, she being then between five and six, she had for companions “sundry gentlewomen and noblemen’s sons and daughters, almost of her own age, of the which there were four in special of whom every one of them bore the same name of Mary, being of four sundry honorable houses, to wit, Fleming, Livingston, Seton, and Beaton of Creich; who remained all four with the queen in France during her residence there, and returned again in Scotland with her Majesty in the year of our Lord 1561:” Lesley, History of Scotland, 1830, p. 209. We still hear of the Four Maries in 1564, Calendar of State Papers (Foreign), VII, 213, 230; cited by Burton, IV, 107. The ballad substitutes Mary Hamilton and Mary Carmichael for Mary Livingston and Mary Fleming; but #F# 3, 12 has Livingston. #N#, of late recitation, has Heaton for Seton and Michel for Carmichael.

#D# 4, etc. In ‘Tam Lin,’ No 39, Janet pulls the rose to kill or scathe away her babe; #A# 19, 20, #F# 8, #I# 24, 25 (probably repeated from #A#). In #G# 18, 19, the herb of 15 and the rose of 17 becomes the pile of the gravil green, or of the gravil gray; in #H# 5, 6 Janet pulls an unspecified flower or herb (I, 341 ff).

We have had in ‘The Twa Brothers,’ No 49, a passage like that in which Mary begs sailors and travellers not to let her parents know that she is not coming home; and other ballads, Norse, Breton, Romaic, and Slavic, which present a similar trait, are noted at I, 436 f, II, 14. To these may be added Passow, p. 400, No 523; Jeannaraki, p. 116, No 118; Sakellarios, p. 98, No 31; Puymaigre, 1865, p. 62, Bujeaud, II, 210 (Liebrecht); also Guillon, p. 107, Nigra, No 27, #A, B#, pp. 164, 166, and many copies of ‘Le Déserteur,’ and some of ‘Le Plongeur,’ ‘La ronde du Battoir.’

Scott thought that the ballad took its rise from an incident related by Knox as occurring in “the beginning of the regiment of Mary, Queen of Scots.” “In the very time of the General Assembly,” says Knox, “there comes to public knowledge a heinous murder committed in the court, yea, not far from the queen’s own lap; for a French woman that served in the queen’s chamber had played the whore with the queen’s own apothecary. The woman conceived and bare a child, whom, with common consent, the father and the mother murdered. Yet were the cries of a new-born bairn heard; search was made, the child and mother was both deprehended, and so were both the man and the woman damned to be hanged upon the public street of Edinburgh.”[246] “It will readily strike the reader,” says Scott, “that the tale has suffered great alterations, as handed down by tradition; the French waiting-woman being changed into Mary Hamilton, and the queen’s apothecary[247] into Henry Darnley. Yet this is less surprising when we recollect that one of the heaviest of the queen’s complaints against her ill-fated husband was his infidelity, and that even with her personal attendants.” This General Assembly, however, met December 25, 1563, and since Darnley did not come to Scotland until 1565, a tale of 1563, or of 1563–4, leaves him unscathed.

Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, in his preface to #A#, Ballad Book, 1824, p. 18, observes: “It is singular that during the reign of the Czar Peter, one of his empress’s attendants, a Miss Hamilton, was executed for the murder of a natural child.... I cannot help thinking that the two stories have been confused in the ballad, for if Marie Hamilton was executed in Scotland, it is not likely that her relations resided beyond seas; and we have no proof that Hamilton was really the name of the woman who made a slip with the queen’s apothecary.” Sharpe afterwards communicated details of the story[248] to Scott, who found in them “a very odd coincidence in name, crime and catastrophe;” Minstrelsy, 1833, III, 296, note. But Sharpe became convinced “that the Russian tragedy must be the original” (note in Laing’s edition of the Ballad Book, 1880, p. 129); and this opinion is the only tenable one, however surprising it may be or seem that, as late as the eighteenth century, the popular genius, helped by nothing but a name, should have been able so to fashion and color an episode in the history of a distant country as to make it fit very plausibly into the times of Mary Stuart.