Walks near Edinburgh

by Margaret Warrender

"On the boundary wall," says Sir Walter Scott, "may be seen the arms of Cockburn of Ormiston, Congalton of Congalton, Moubray of Barnbougle, and Otterburn of Redford, allies of the Prestons of Craigmillar. In one corner of the court, over a portal arch, are the arms of the family,—three unicorns' heads couped, with a cheesepress, and a barrel or tun,—a wretched rebus to express their name of Preston." In every direction may be seen the shield with the unicorns' heads. Over the principal doorway it is carried in the fashion called by the Italians, Scudo pendente, and esteemed more honourable than when carried square. High above it are the royal arms,—the lion rampant, with the crown above. This was to show that in time of war, or during any troubles or commotions, the castle belonged to the king. The sculptured fragment alluded to by Sir Walter Scott bears the date 1510, but long ere this the Prestons had been lords of Craigmillar. Passing over the dim and misty figures of William Fitz Henry and John de Capella, we find that Sir Simon Preston acquired the lands of Craigmillar from William de Capella in 1374; and from that date down to 1660, they remained in the Preston family.[33] The last of this ancient line was Gentleman of the Bedchamber to James VI., and was raised to the peerage as Lord Dingwall. His only daughter became Duchess of Ormonde. In 1660 Sir John Gilmour bought the property, and, as it is now in possession of his direct descendant, Craigmillar has only belonged to two families during over five hundred years.

Many are the royal memories connected with this venerable pile. In 1479, John, Earl of Mar, younger brother of James III., was placed here as a State prisoner, on the charge of having conspired with his brother Albany against the king. Mar was a gay, gallant knight, with none of the king's fondness for architecture and poetry, but delighting in hunting and warlike exercises. Whether he was guilty was never quite proved, but the accusation which was brought by his enemies, of dealing with wizards, and using magical arts to shorten the king's life, added tenfold weight to the charges against him. The end of this handsome and unfortunate prince is wrapped in obscurity. The popular belief was, that he was put to death by opening his veins in a warm bath; but Drummond of Hawthornden relates, on good authority, that, being ill of a fever, he was removed from Craigmillar to his lodgings in the Canongate, and that, having been bled by his physicians, he tore the bandages from his arm in a fit of delirium, and died from the consequent loss of blood.

The next royal visitor to Craigmillar was James V. He was brought here as a boy, while the plague was raging in Edinburgh, and he seems to have preserved pleasant memories of the sport he enjoyed in the surrounding forests, for he afterwards built the little hunting-chapel at the Bridge-end, which now has completely disappeared.

But it is round his daughter's—Queen Mary's—name that most of the memories of the past entwine themselves. Here she came—the bright young queen—on her first return from France, with the flower of Scotland's chivalry gathered round her, and never a presentiment of the sorrows to come, or the treachery that was to lurk in her path. These were Craigmillar's gayest, happiest days. Each morning saw the brilliant cavalcade setting forth for the sport, which the queen, like all her race, loved so well, while at night the vaulted halls resounded with music and with mirth.

A few years later, and how changed was the scene! Mary came here in December 1566, a few months after the birth of her child, ill in health, weary and dispirited in mind, and realizing to the utmost what a poor, craven wretch was the husband she had chosen. "The queen," writes De Croc, the French Ambassador, to the Archbishop of Glasgow,[34] "is for the present at Craigmillar, about a league distant from this city. She is in the hands of the physicians; and I do assure you, is not at all well, and I do believe the principal part of her disease to consist of a deep grief and sorrow. Nor does it seem possible to make her forget the same. Still she repeats these words—'I could wish to be dead!'" While she was thus looking sadly before her, those around her were preparing a terrible future. Moray, Lethington, Bothwell, Huntly, and Argyle proposed a divorce to her, and even, it is said, hinted darkly at some simpler way of getting rid of Darnley, without prejudice to the little prince. The queen forbade anything to be done, by which any spot might be laid on her honour; and then, unknown to her, the fatal bond which proved Darnley's death-warrant was drawn up here by Sir James Balfour, one of Bothwell's most unscrupulous adherents, and signed by the nobles.[35]

After this, Queen Mary was never at Craigmillar again, and there is little historic interest connected with the castle in later days. The chapel, which lies to the east of the main building, is now roofless and ruinous. It was built by Sir John Gilmour, who obtained special permission from James VII. for the purpose. The Gilmours added to Craigmillar, and continued living there, till well into the 18th century, its last inhabitants being two old ladies, daughters of Sir John Gilmour. Since their death, it has been forsaken, but fortunately the castle is in good hands, and the present owner preserves the ruins with the greatest care. The lifelong friendship that subsisted between the late Mr. Little Gilmour and Mr. Stirling Crawford was the origin of the latter's St. Leger winner of 1875 being named Craigmillar.

We now go westwards along a steep and narrow lane at the back of the castle, and join the high road at a spot still called "Petty France." It was here that some of Queen Mary's French attendants lived, while their mistress held her court in the castle above. A few yards farther south, we pass a venerable plane-tree, one of the largest in the country, which has always been known as "Queen Mary's Tree," from the tradition that she planted it herself.

We are now once more on the old Dalkeith road, which was formerly a much more important thoroughfare than now, as it was one of the main coach-roads to London, running south over Soultra and through Coldstream and Wooler to Newcastle. The gate of Edmonstone stands at the top of the steep hill before us, and, as our way turns to the left very soon after passing the lodge and crossing the brow of the hill, we skirt its park-wall for some way.

This place originally belonged to the Edmonstones of that Ilk, who are now represented by the Edmonstones of Duntreath. They were near neighbours and hereditary enemies of the Wauchopes of Niddrie, and many were the frays that occurred between them. We find a curious mention of Edmonstone in the witch-trials which took place before James VI. in 1590. Agnes Sampson, "the Wyse Wyfe of Keyth" (whom Archbishop Spottiswoode describes as "a most remarkable woman, not of the base and ignorant sort of witches, but matron-like, grave and settled in her answers"), confessed, amongst other things, that, having been sent for to heal the old Lady Edmonstone, she told the gentlewomen her daughters that she would disclose to them that night whether their mother would recover or not. She bade them meet her in the garden after supper, between five and six. Having gone into the garden herself, she summoned the devil to appear, calling him by the name of "Elva." Thereupon he leaped over the stone wall in the likeness of a dog, and came so near her that she was afraid, and charged him "By the law he lived under, not to come nearer, but to answer her." She then asked if the lady would live or not; and, he said "No." In his turn he asked where the gentlewomen, the lady's daughters, were; and, being informed they were to meet Agnes in the garden, said he would have one of them. "It shall not be so," said the Wyse Wyfe; and he retired howling, and hid himself in the well. There he remained till after supper. When the young gentlewomen descended to the garden, the dog appeared suddenly out of the well and terrified them. He seized the Lady Torsenze, and tried to drag her into the well, and would have drowned her, had not Agnes and the other ladies caught hold of her firmly, and with all their might drawn her away. Then with a howl the dog disappeared, and Agnes told the gentlewomen that she could not help the lady, "in respect that her prayer stopped, and that she was sorry for it."[36] For this, and for other things which she confessed, Agnes Sampson was condemned to be hanged and burnt in 1592.

In 1626, Edmonstone was sold to James Rait, whose grand-daughter and heiress married John Wauchope, second son of the Laird of Niddrie. Charles I. was in Scotland, and happened to be present at this John Wauchope's christening in 1633. He took a beautiful gold and enamel chain from his neck and put it round that of the child; and it is still carefully preserved at Edmonstone. Sir John Don Wauchope, the present possessor of the property, is a direct descendant of John Wauchope and Miss Rait. Parts of the house are known to be at least four hundred years old, but at the end of the last century it was partly burnt, and afterwards restored and added to. In throwing out a window in the library, the workmen came on a niche containing the skeleton of a man. The shoes of the figure appeared to be perfect when the niche was opened, but on exposure to the air, they crumbled into dust.