CHAPTER XXII.
I love not to leave Gowrie and Julia so long, and yet they are very happy without me. Doubtless they could do without Mr. Rhind either, as he sits there in the window of the old-fashioned inn, with its deep bay and its small lozenges of glass, and its heavy frame of lead and iron. Julia looks up at Gowrie, and smiles, and his eyes glance cheerfully. There must be some jest between them, light and happy, with none of the world's bitterness--the jest of two lovers' hearts. Would that I knew what it is; but the words are spoken in a whisper, for Mr. Rhind is there with his everlasting little volume bound in vellum, and I may as well leave them at Berwick, too, and go on before, to see what reception was preparing for them in a distant place.
I must convey the reader with me to the old royal palace of Falkland, without, however, giving any detailed account of a building, a much better description of which than any I can afford may be found in many an antiquarian record. Suffice it that it was large, roomy, and then in a high state of preservation. It was also surrounded by an extensive deer-park, called "The Wood of Falkland," which was perhaps its highest attraction in the eyes of King James VI., whose only virtue was the love of hunting.
The season, as every reader, whether skilled in woodcraft or not, must know, was not one in which St. Hubert permits the horned tenants of the forest to be chased by man, for it was as yet but the month of February. But that season of the year was a dull one for the Scottish monarch; and after being deprived of his favourite pastime, he sometimes found the exercise even of his "Kingcraft," as he termed the art of government, so tedious as to require relief, and the labours of learned dullness, in which at other times he indulged, very wearisome.
When this was the case, he would often retire for a day or two, either to Falkland or to Stirling, with a few chosen attendants or companions, to see how his "beasties" were going on, or rather to revive the memories of the sport in which he delighted, by the sight of gray woods in their winter bareness, and of the antlered objects of his pursuit stalking about familiarly through the glades at a period when they knew, by experience or tradition, they were free from the hostility of men and dogs. The king had that sort of tender admiration for the objects of his sanguinary pursuit, that strange mixture of affection and cruelty, which is not uncommon in the human tiger throughout the world. The libertine, with the creature of his pleasure, whom he chases but to destroy, affords merely a modification of the same selfishness, and no one could probably have entered into James's feelings more fully than good old Buffon himself, who begins his description of the stag with the kindly words, "Voici l'un de ces animaux innocents, doux et tranquilles, qui ne semblent être faits que pour embellir, animer la solitude des forêts, et occuper loin de nous les retraites paisibles de ces jardins de la nature;" and then he gives an account of the best and most approved means of tearing it to pieces.
However, it was in one of the alleys of the park or wood of Falkland that King James wandered on, in the latter end of February, 1600. Where he first entered the wood, the underwood was not very thick, and the sharp winter, just drawing to a close, had torn from the branches to which they clung many of the leaves which, like shipwrecked mariners, had held feebly on long after their brethren had been swept away. By his side, or rather half a step behind, was a young man, dressed, like the monarch himself, in Lincoln green, and some fifty paces further back was a well-armed attendant. The period at which the stags are dangerous had long passed, indeed; but still James was not usually ill pleased to have aid ever at hand in case of need, for he was accustomed to say himself, "there are more vicious beasts in the world than harts and hinds." His pace was quick, though, as usual, shambling and irregular, and as he went he rolled his eyes about in every direction in search of some of the beasts of the chase.
"Whist, whist, Jock," he said at length, pausing, and pointing with his finger; "there's a fine fellow--an old stag, upon my life, as fat as the butterman's wife. De'il's in the beastie! he's casting his head gear already. Do you see, man, one side is as bare as my hand? We shall have an early summer and a hot one. Whenever the old stags, or the stags of ten, cast their horns before March, you may be sure there will be an early season. The young ones are always a bit later; but that's an old hart coming his ninth year. I'll warrant he's been down every morn to neighbour Yellowly's farm at the water, by the grease upon him. Let me catch you in the month of June, my man."
The king then went on to instruct his young companion in various parts of science connected with his favourite amusement, giving him all the French and Scotch and English terms for different proceedings in woodcraft, and for the qualities and distinctions of the deer.
The young man listened with all due submission and apparent attention, though, to say truth, he was somewhat impatient of the lecture, and thought that he understood the subject, practically at least, as well as the king himself. There was another source of impatience also in his bosom, for the truth was, he eagerly sought an opportunity of speaking upon a different topic; while the profound reverence for the kingly office, in which he had been educated, prevented him from introducing it himself, till the monarch's own words gave him some fair opening. He had watched his opportunity for weeks, but something had always intervened to prevent his executing his purpose; and now when he had fully expected to find the moment he sought, during the expedition to Falkland, it seemed likely to be snatched from him by James's long-winded dissertation upon hunting. He could almost have burst forth with some impatient exclamation as the king went on discussing and describing, and mingling his disquisitions with quaint scraps of Latin most strangely applied; but the opportunity was nearer than the young man thought.
"You see, Jock," said the king, "a young stag, or a stag entering ten, or even a stag of ten, may be forced and run and brought to bay easily enough; but an old stag is a wily beast, ever on his guard, and ready at every minute to give the dogs and the hunter the change. He knows well where his enemies lie, which way they will take, what they will do, and how to circumvent them."