Of the origin of the name Stirling there is no certain record. In old records it is spelt Stryveling, Strivilin, and so on, through various minor alterations, wherefore it has sometimes been held to mean “strife,” a most appropriate signification. It used occasionally to be referred to also as Snowdon, a fact mentioned in Scott’s poem:
For Stirling’s Tower
Of yore the name of Snowdon claims.
The Wandering King
By far the most striking part of the castle is the palace, which was begun by James IV. and finished by James V. This is in the form of a square, and is decidedly French in character, a fact attributed to the influence of his wife, Mary of Guise. Strange life-size figures project beneath arcades, and the carving is in some cases most weird and grotesque. James V. was very much associated with the castle. He was fond of assuming disguises and wandering about incognito among his people; for this purpose he sometimes took the name of the “Gudeman of Ballengeich,” Ballengeich being a road running below the castle walls. The songs “The Gaberlunzie Man” and “We’ll gang nae mair a-rovin” are said to have been founded on his exploits. He was renowned for his success with the fair sex, and altogether the rôle given to him by Scott fits him admirably.
The castle is now occupied by a garrison, and the picturesque Highland dress of the men adds much as a foreground to the grey walls of the old buildings. An awkward squad may frequently be seen drilling in the courtyard, unkindly exposed to the eyes of passing visitors. In this square is the Parliament House, built by James III., and this is where the last Parliament in Scotland held its sittings.
The Douglas Room
The Douglas Room, reached by a narrow passage, will, however, claim most attention from those to whom history is a living thing. It was here that James II. stabbed the Earl of Douglas in 1452. The Douglases had so grown in power and influence, that it had begun to be a question whether Stuarts or Douglases should reign in Scotland. The King was afraid of the power of his mighty rivals, and accordingly invited the Douglas, the eighth Earl, to come as his guest to the castle for a conference. The Douglas came without misgiving, though it is said he demanded, and received, a safe-conduct. It was about the middle of January, and no doubt huge log fires warmed the inclement air in the great draughty halls where the party dined and supped with much appearance of cordiality and goodwill, but beneath lay hate and terror and rancour, bitter as the grave.
After supper the King drew Douglas aside to an inner chamber, and tried to persuade him to break away from the allies which threatened, with his house, to form a combination disastrous to the security of the throne. The Earl refused, and high words began to fly from one to the other. The King demanded that Douglas should break from his allies, and the Earl replied again he would not. “Then this shall!” cried the King, twice stabbing his guest with his own royal hand. Sir Patrick Grey, who was near by, came up and finished the job with a pole-axe, and then the body was thrown over into the court below. It was a gross violation of every law of decency even in those lawless days, and well the King must have known the storm his action would arouse. Burton, the historian of Scotland, adduces this as evidence that the crime was not meditated, but done in a mere fit of ungovernable rage. The murdered man’s four brothers surrounded and besieged the castle, and nailing to a cross in contempt the safe-conduct the King had given, trailed it through the miry streets tied to the tail of the wretchedest horse they could find, thus publishing the ignominy of their Sovereign. They burnt and destroyed wherever they could, and the King had many years of strenuous warfare before him as a result of that night’s work.