Over the doorway is a half length figure of John the Beloved, with this inscription in Latin:
“Behold the Lamb of God.”
But it is impossible to enumerate all of the interesting carvings, heads, figures and inscriptions. The picture of the magnificent ruin with its delightful accessories, the songs of birds, the soft, genial summer air, the peaceful sky, the half pleasant, half mournful recollections which it arouses, fades from memory, and in its stead rises the semblance of another venerable pile, half abbey, half palace, lying at the foot of lofty crags—the world famous Holyrood.
The story of the founding of Holyrood or Holy Rude is told by ancient chroniclers as follows: The munificent and good King David I. was not absolutely faultless. He was minded to hunt on a holy day, the festival of the exaltation of the cross or Rude day as it was called, in spite of the admonitions of his confessor. Heated with the chase the king had ridden to the “fute of the crag,” when there rushed suddenly upon him the “farest hart that ever was sene,” and threw both him and his horse with violence to the ground. The king threw back his hands between the antlers of the stag to save himself from the blow, when suddenly “the haly croce slaid into his hands.” The stag fled in dismay at sight of the sacred emblem, and the king resolved to found a house to the “Holy Rude,” the Virgin, and all saints on the spot where “he gat the croce.”
This legend, however, is not generally credited, there being a more satisfactory reason given by other chroniclers for the founding of the abbey. Margaret, the grand niece of Edward the Confessor, and mother of King David, gave to her son a cross of pure gold, which opened and shut like a casket, and which contained, it was claimed, a portion of that cross on which Christ died. It might be reasonable to believe that the king built the abbey as a receptacle for this sacred relic, as he bestowed it upon this religious house. This emblem was called “the black rude,” and was for ages regarded as the palladium of the kings of Scotland. It was at last captured from David II. at the battle of Neville’s Cross, and for centuries after was kept in the Cathedral of Durham. But it matters not whether built to form a fitting shrine for the holy relic or to commemorate the king’s narrow escape from death by the interposition of the “Holy Rude,” the noble pile has not been spared by time’s ruthless hand, and only the chapel royal remains of that great monastery, the choir and transepts being entirely gone, and the sole remaining portion even being roofless.
But the crumbling, ivy grown walls have wonderful associations connected with them. The crown of Scotland has here been placed upon many royal brows; here James II. was married to Mary of Gueldres, and James III. to Margaret of Denmark; here James IV. was presented by the legate of his holiness, Pope Julius II., with that sword and crown which are yet preserved among the regalia of Scotland; and here, strangest scene of all its eventful history, under the great eastern window, in an evil moment, the beautiful White Rose of Scotland was married to the profligate Darnley. We are told that this abbey was the last resting place of many great ones, but when the transepts and choir were destroyed the ancient memorials were lost. It is said that David II., James II. and James V. were buried here, but of the tomb of David not a vestige remains, and there is much doubt as to the exact locality of the tombs of the others.
The most striking feature of the abbey is the western front, consisting of a great square tower, and an immense gateway with two curious windows above it. This tower is a superb specimen of the architecture of the period of transition from the Romanesque to the Early English. Above the doorway and between the windows is a tablet placed there by Charles I., who also was crowned here, which bears this inscription, strange indeed, under the circumstances:
“He Shall Build Ane House
For My Name, And I Will
Stablish The Throne