"Lord David Lindsay of the Byres compeir for the cruel coming against the King at Bannokburne with his father, and in giving him counsall to have devored his sone, the King's grace, here present: and to that effect gave him ane sword and ane hors to fortify him against his sone: what is your answer heirunto?"
A more curious reversal of the facts of the case could not be, and the idea that James the actual monarch could be a rebel against his own son, then simply the heir to the crown, is bewildering in its grave defiance of all reason. There is not much wonder that Lindsay, "ane rasch man, and of rud language, albeit he was stout and hardy in the field and exercised in war," burst forth upon the assembled knights and lords, upbraiding them with bringing the Prince into their murderous designs against the King. The effect of his speech on the assembly would seem to have been considerable, and it is very apparent that the party in power had no desire to make any fight, for the Chancellor anxiously excused Lindsay to the King as "ane man of the old world, that cannot answer formallie nor get speech reverentlie in your Grace's presence." This roused the brother of the culprit, a certain Mr. Patrick Lindsay, otherwise described as a Churchman, who was by no means content to see the head of his house thus described, nor yet that Lord Lindsay should come "in the King's will," thus accepting forfeiture or any other penalties that might be pronounced against him. Accordingly he interfered in the following remarkable way:—
"To that effect he stamped on his brother's foot to latt him understand that he was not content with the decree which the Chancellour proponed to him. But this stamp of Mr. Patrick's was so heavy upon his brother's foot, who had ane sair toe which was painful to him, wherefore he looked to him and said, 'Ye were over pert to stampe upon my foot; were you out of the King's presence I would overtake you upon the mouth.' Mr. Patrick, hearing the vain words of his brother, pled on his knees before the King and the Justice, and made his petition to them in this manner: 'Sir, if it will please your Grace and your honorabill counsall, I desire of your Grace, for His cause that is Judge of all, that your Grace will give me leave this day to speak for my brother, for I see there is no man of law that dare speak for him for fear of your Grace; and although he and I has not been at ane this mony yeires, yet my heart may not suffer me to see the native house whereof I am descended to perish!' So the King and the Justice gave him leave to speak for his brother. Then the said Mr. Patrick raise off his knees, and was very blythe that he had obtained that license with the King's favour. So he began very reverentlie to speak in this manner, saying to the whole lords of Parliament, and to the rest of them that were accusers of his brother at that time, with the rest of the lords that were in the summons of forfaltrie, according to their dittay, saying: 'I beseech you all, my lords, that be here present, for His sake that will give sentence and judgment on us all at the last day, that ye will remember now instantly is your time ... therefore now do all ye would be done to in the administration of justice to your neighbours and brethren, who are accused of their lives and heritages this day, whose judgment stands in your hands. Therefore beware in time, and open not the door that ye may not steik.' Be this Mr. Patrick had ended his speeches, the Chancellour bid him say something in defence of his brother, and to answer to the points of the summons made and raised upon his brother and the rest of the lords and barons. Then Mr. Patrick answered again and said: 'If it please the King's grace, and your honours that are here present, I say the King should not sit in judgment against his lords and barons, because he has made his oath of fidelity when he received the crown of Scotland that he should not come in judgment against his lords and barons in no action where he is partie himself. But here His Grace is both partie, and was at the committing of the crime himself, therefore he ought not, neither by the law of God nor of man, to sit in judgment at this time; wherefore we desire him, in the name of God, to rise and depart out of judgment, till the matter be further discussed conform to justice.'"
ST. ANTHONY'S CHAPEL
This bold request apparently commended itself to the Parliament, for we hear that the Chancellor and lords considered it reasonable, and the King was accordingly desired "to rise up and pass into the inner tolbooth, which," adds Pitscottie, "was very unpleasant to him for the time, being ane young prince sittand upon his royall seat to be raised by his subjects." Mr. Patrick so pressed his advantage after this strange incident, and the argument of the young King's presence and complicity in all that had happened was so unanswerable, added to some inaccuracy in the indictment, of which the keen priest made the most, that the summons was withdrawn, and Lindsay along with all the other barons of his party would seem to have shared in the general amnesty, as probably was the intention of all parties from the beginning. For the victors, who were victors by a chance, were not powerful enough to carry matters with a high hand, and their opponents, though overcome, were too strong to be despised. It was better for all to gather round the new King, who had no evil antecedents nor anything to prevent a new beginning of the most hopeful kind. The scene ends with characteristic liveliness. "The lord David Lindsay was so blyth at his brother's sayings that he burst forth saying to him, 'Verrilie, brother, ye have fine pyet words. I should not have trowed, by St. Amarie, that you had sic words'"—an amusing tribute of half-scornful gratitude from the soldier to the Churchman whose pyet or magpie words were so wonderfully efficacious, yet so despicable in themselves, to change the fate of a gentleman! It is grievous to find that the King was so displeased at Mr. Patrick and his boldness that he sent him off to the Ross of Bute, and kept him imprisoned in that solitary yet beautiful region for a whole year.
Notwithstanding, however, this little failure of respect to the sovereign, and the dismal uncertainty and anxiety in which his reign began, there seemed to be nothing but the happiest prospects opening before the young King. Out of the miserable struggle which brought him to the throne, he himself, most probably only awakened to the meaning of it after all was over, brought a lifelong remorse which he never threw off, and which was increased by the melancholy services of commemoration and expiation, the masses for his father's soul and solemn funeral ceremonials whether real or nominal, at all of which the youth would have to be present with a sore and swelling heart. We are told that he went and unburthened himself to the Dean of the Chapel Royal in Stirling, his father's favourite church, which James III had built and endowed, arranging the services and music with special personal care. The Dean received his confession with kindness seeing him so penitent, and gave him "good counsel and comfort," and remained his friend and spiritual adviser as he grew into manhood; but we are not told whether it was by his ordinance as a penance and constant reminder of his sin, or by a voluntary mortification of his own, that James assumed the iron belt which he wore always round him "and eikit it from time to time," that is, increased its size and weight as long as he lived. This sensibility, which formed part of his chivalrous and generous character, the noble, sweet, and lovable nature which conquered all hearts, at once subdued and silenced his many critics, and furnished them with a reproach which spite and ill-will could bring up against him when occasion occurred. But the enemies were few and the lovers many who surrounded the young Prince when the contentions of the crisis were once over, and the warring factions conciliated by general condemnations in principle which hurt nobody so long as they were not accompanied by confiscations or deprivations. Such clemency in so young a king was a marvel to all, the chroniclers say, though indeed there could be little question of clemency on James's part in a mutual hushing-up, which was evidently dictated by every circumstance of the time and the only source of mutual safety.
When, however, he had arrived at man's estate, and makes a recognisable and individual appearance upon the stage of history, the picture of him is one of the most attractive ever made, the happiest and brightest chapter in the tragic story of the Stewarts. Youth with that touch of extravagance which becomes it, that genial wildness which all are so ready to pardon, and an adventurous disposition, careless of personal safety, gave a charm the more to the magnificent young King, handsome, noble, brave, and full of universal friendliness and sympathy, who comes forth smiling in the face of fate, ready to turn back every gloomy augury and bring in another golden age. Pitscottie's description is full of warmth and vivid reality:—
"In this mean time was good peace and rest in Scotland and great love betwixt the King and all his subjects, and was well loved by them all: for he was verrie noble, and though the vice of covetousness rang over meikle in his father it rang not in himself: nor yet pykthankis nor cowards should be authorised in his companie, nor yet advanced; neither used he the council but of his lords, whereby he won the hearts of the whole nobilitie; so that he could ride out through any part of the realme, him alone, unknowing that he was King; and would lie in poor men's houses as he had been ane travellour through the country, and would require of them where he lodged, where the King was, and what ane man he was, and how he used himself towards his subjects, and what they spoke of him through the countrie. And they would answer him as they thought good, so by this doing the King heard the common bruit of himself. This Prince was wondrous hardie and diligent in execution of justice, and loved nothing so well as able men and horses; therefore at sundry times he would cause make proclamations through the land to all and sundry his lords and barons who were able for justing and tourney to come to Edinburgh to him, and there to exercise themselves for his pleasure, some to run with the spear, some to fight with the battle-axe, some with the two-handed sword, and some with the bow, and other exercises. By this means the King brought the realm to great manhood and honour: that the fame of his justing and tourney spread through all Europe, which caused many errant knights to come out of other parts to Scotland to seek justing, because they heard of the kinglie fame of the Prince of Scotland. But few or none of them passed away unmatched, and ofttimes overthrown."
The town to which, under this young and gallant Prince, the stream of chivalry flowed, was yet more picturesque than the still and always "romantic town" of which every Scotsman is proud. The Nor' Loch reflected the steep rocks of the castle and the high crown of walls and turrets that surmounted them, with nothing but fields and greenery, here and there diversified by a village and fortified mansion between it and the sea. The walls, which followed the irregularities of the rocky ridge, as far as the beginning of the Canongate, were closed across the High Street by the picturesque port and gateway of the Nether Bow, the boundary in that direction of the town, shutting in all its busy life, its markets, its crowding citizens, its shops and churches. On the south at the foot of the hill, the burghers' suburb, where the merchants, lawyers, and even some of the nobles had their houses and gardens, lay outside the walls in the sunshine, protected only by the soft summits of the Braid and Pentland hills: what is now the Cowgate, not a savoury quarter, being then the South Side, the flowery and sheltered faubourg in which all who could afford the freedom of a country residence while still close to the town, expanded into larger life, as the wealthy tradesfolk of all ages, and persons bound to a centre of occupation and duty, always love to do. Towards the east, and gradually becoming as important and busy as the High Street itself, though outside the series of towers which guarded the city gate, lay the long line of the Court suburb, the lofty and noble Canongate descending towards the abbey and palace, where all that was splendid in Scotland congregated around the gay and gallant King. Outside the Netherbow Port, striking out in opposite directions, was the road which led to the seaport of Leith and that which took its name from the great Kirk of Field, St. Mary's Wynd, a pleasant walk along the outside of the fortifications to the great monastery on its plateau, with the Pleasance, a name suggestive of all freshness and greenery and rural pleasure, at its feet. Inside the town, between the castle gates and those of the city, were the crowded habitations of a mediæval town, the only place where business could be carried on in safety, or rich wares exhibited, or money passed from hand to hand. The Lawnmarket or Linen Market would be the chief centre of sale and merchandise, and there, no doubt, the booths before the lower stories, with all their merchandise displayed, and the salesmen seated at the head of the few deep steps which led into the cavernous depths within, would be full of fine dresses and jewellery, and the gold and silver which, some one complains, was worn away by the fine workmanship, which was then more prized than solid weight. The cloth of gold and silver, the fine satins and velvets, the embroidery, more exquisite than anything we have time or patience for now—embroidery of gold thread which we hear of, an uncomfortable sort of luxury, even upon the linen of great personages—would there be put forth and inspected by gallants in all their fine array, or by the ladies in their veils, half or wholly muffled from public inspection. Even the cheaper booths that adorned the West Bow or smaller wynds, where the country women bought their kirtles of red or green when they brought their produce to the market, would show more gay colours under their shade in a season than we with our soberer taste in years; and the town ladies, in their hoods and silk gowns, which were permitted even in more primitive times to the possessors of so much a year, must have been of themselves a fair sight in all their ornaments, less veiled and muffled from profane view than more high-born dames and demoiselles. No doubt it would be a favourite walk with all to pass the port and see what was doing among the great people down yonder at Holyrood, or watch a gay band of French knights arriving from Leith with their pennons displayed, full of some challenge lately given by the knights of Scotland, or eager to maintain on their own account the beauty of their ladies and the strength of their spears against all comers. Edinburgh can never have been so amusing, never so gay and bright, as in these fine times; though, no doubt, there was always the risk of a rush together of two parties of gallants, a mêlée after the old mode of Clear the Causeway, a hurried shutting of shops and pulling forth of halberds. For the younger population, at least, no doubt these risks were almost the best part of the play.