by John Galt
CHAPTER XXXI
While the cloud of troubles, whereof I have spoken in the foregoingchapter was thickening and darkening over the land, the event of theKing's dreadful death came to pass; the which, though in its birth mostfoul and monstrous, filling the hearts of all men with consternation andhorror, was yet a mean in the hands of Providence, as shall hereafterappear, whereby the kingdom of THE LORD was established in Scotland.
Concerning that fearful treason, my grandfather never spoke withouttaking off his bonnet, and praying inwardly with such solemnity ofcountenance that none could behold him unmoved. Of all the remarkablepassages of his long life it was indeed the most remarkable; and he hasbeen heard to say that he could not well acquit himself of the actualsin of disobedience in not obeying an admonition of the Spirit which wasvouchsafed to him on that occasion.
For some time there had been a great variance between the King andQueen. He had given himself over to loose and low companions; and thoughshe kept her state and pride, ill was said of her, if in her walk andconversation she was more sensible of her high dignity. All at once,however, when he was lying ill at Glasgow of a malady, which manyscrupled not to say was engendered by a malignant medicine, there was asingular demonstration of returning affection on her part, the moreremarkable and the more heeded of the commonality, on account of itssuddenness, and the events that ensued; for while he was at the worstshe minded not his condition, but took her delights and pastimes indivers parts of the country. No sooner, however, had his strengthovercome the disease, than she was seized with this fond sympathy, andcame flying with her endearments, seemingly to foster his recovery withcaresses and love. The which excessive affection was afterwards ascribedto a guilty hypocrisy; for in the sequel it came to light that, whileshe was practising all those winning blandishments, which few knew theart of better, and with which she regained his confidence, she was atthe same time engaged in unconjugal correspondence with the Earl ofBothwell. The King, however, was won by her kindness, and consented tobe removed from among the friends of his family at Glasgow to Edinburgh,in order that he might there enjoy the benefits of her soft cares andthe salutary attendance of the physicians of the capital. The house ofthe provost of Kirk o' Field, which stood not far from the spot wherethe buildings of the college now stand, was accordingly prepared for hisreception, on account of the advantages which it afforded for the freeand open air of a rising ground; but it was also a solitary place--a fithaunt for midnight conspirators and the dark purposes of mysteriouscrime.
There, for some time, the Queen lavished upon him all the endearinggentleness of a true and loving wife, being seldom absent by day, andsleeping near his sick-chamber at night. The land was blithened withsuch assurances of their reconciliation; and the King himself, with thefrank ardour of flattered youth, was contrite for his faults, andpromised her the fondest devotion of all his future days. In this sweetcordiality, on Sunday, the 9th of February, A.D. 1567, she parted fromhim to be present at a masquing in the palace; for the Reformation hadnot so penetrated into the habits and business of men as to hallow theSabbath in the way it has since done amongst us. But before proceedingfarther, it is proper to resume the thread of my grandfather's story.
He had passed that evening, as he was wont to tell, in pleasant gospelconversation with several acquaintances in the house of one RaphaelDoquet, a pious lawyer in the Canongate; for even many writers in thosedays were smitten with the love of godliness; and as he was returning tohis dry lodgings in an entry now called Baron Grant's Close, heencountered Winterton, who, after an end had been put to David Rizzio,became a retainer in the riotous household of the Earl of Bothwell. Thishappened a short way aboon the Netherbow, and my grandfather stopped tospeak with him; but there was a haste and confusion in his manner whichmade him rather eschew this civility. My grandfather at the time,however, did not much remark it; but scarcely had they parted ten paceswhen a sudden jealousy of some unknown guilt or danger, whereinWinterton was concerned, came into his mind like a flash of fire, and hefelt as it were an invisible power constraining him to dog his steps, inso much that he actually did turn back. But on reaching the Bow he wasobligated to stop, for the ward was changing; and observing that thesoldiers then posting were of the Queen's French guard, his thoughtsbegan to run on the rumour that was bruited of a league among the papistprinces to cut off all the Reformed with one universal sweep of thescythe of persecution, and he felt himself moved and incited to go tosome of the Lords and leaders of the Congregation to warn them of whathe feared; but, considering that he had only a vague and unaccountablesuspicion for his thought, he wavered, and finally returned home. Thus,though manifestly and marvellously instructed of the fruition of somebloody business in hand that night, he was yet overruled by the wisdomwhich is of this world to suppress and refuse obedience to thepromptings of the inspiration.
On reaching his chamber, he unbuckled his belt, as his custom was, andlaid down his sword and began to undress, when again the same alarmfrom on high fell upon him, and the same warning spirit whispered to hismind's ear unspeakable intimations of dreadful things. Fear came uponhim and trembling, which made all his bones to shake, and he lifted hissword and again buckled on his belt. But again the prudence of thisworld prevailed, and, heeding not the admonition to warn the Lords ofthe Congregation, he threw himself on his bed, without, however,unbuckling his sword, and in that condition fell asleep. But though hissenses were shut, his mind continued awake, and he had fearful visionsof bloody hands and glimmering daggers gleaming over him from behind hiscurtains, till in terror he started up, gasping like one that hadstruggled with a stronger than himself.
When he had in some degree composed his thoughts, he went to the windowand opened it, to see by the stars how far the night had passed. Thewindow overlooked the North Loch and the swelling bank beyond, and thedistant frith and the hills of Fife. The skies were calm and clear, andthe air was tempered with a bright frost. The stars in their courseswere reflected in the still waters of the North Loch, as if there hadbeen an opening through the earth showing the other concave of thespangled firmament. But the dark outline of the swelling bank on thenorthern side was like the awful corpse of some mighty thing preparedfor interment.
As my grandfather stood in contemplation at the window, he heard theoccasional churme of discourse from passengers still abroad, and now andthen the braggart flourish of a trumpet resounded from the royalmasquing at the palace,--breaking upon the holiness of the night withthe harsh dissonance of a discord in some solemn harmony.--And as he wasmeditating on many things, and grieving in spirit at the dark fate ofpoor Scotland, and the woes with which the children of salvation wereenvironed, he was startled by the apparition of a great blaze in theair, which for a moment lighted up all the land with a wild and fierylight, and he beheld in the glass of the North Loch, reflected frombehind the shadow of the city, a tremendous eruption of burning beamsand rafters burst into the sky, while a horrible crash, as if thechariots of destruction were themselves breaking down, shook the townlike an earthquake.
He was for an instant astounded; but soon roused by the clangour of analarm from the castle; and while a cry rose from all the city, as if thelast trumpet itself was sounding, he rushed into the street, where theinhabitants, as they had flown from their beds, were running inconsternation like the sheeted dead startled from their graves. Drumsbeat to arms;--the bells rang;--some cried the wild cry of fire, andthere was wailing and weeping, and many stood dumb with horror, andcould give no answer to the universal question.--"God of the heavens,what is this?" Presently a voice was heard crying, "The King, the King!"and all, as if moved by one spirit, replied, "The King, the King!" Thenfor a moment there was a silence stiller than the midnight hour, anddrum, nor bell, nor voice was heard, but a rushing of the multitudetowards St Mary's Port, which leads to the Kirk o' Field.
Among others, my grandfather hastened to the spot by Todrick's Wynd; andas he was running down towards the postern gate, he came with greatviolence agains
t a man who was struggling up through the torrent of thepeople, without cap or cloak, and seemingly maddened with terrors. Urgedby some strong instinct, my grandfather grasped him by the throat; for,by the glimpse of the lights that were then placing at every window, hesaw it was Winterton. But a swirl of the crowd tore them asunder, and hehad only time to cry, "It's ane of Bothwell's men."
The people caught the Earl's name; but instead of seizing the fugitive,they repeated, "Bothwell, Bothwell, he's the traitor!" and pressed moreeagerly on to the ruins of the house, which were still burning. Thewalls were rent, and in many places thrown down; the west gable wasblown clean away, and the very ground, on the side where the King'schamber had been, was torn as with a hundred ploughshares. Certain treesthat grew hard by were cleft and riven as with a thunderbolt, and stoneswere sticking in their timber like wedges and the shot of cannon.
It was thought, that in such a sudden blast of desolation, nothing inthe house could have withstood the shock, but that all therein must havebeen shivered to atoms. When, however, the day began to dawn, it wasseen that many things had escaped unblemished by the fire; and theKing's body, with that of the servant who watched in his chamber, wasfound in a neighbouring garden, without having suffered any materialchange,--the which caused the greater marvelling; for it therebyappeared that they were the only sufferers in that dark treason, makingthe truth plain before the people, that the contrivance and firingthereof was concerted and brought to maturity by some in authority withthe Queen,--and who that was the people answered by crying as the royalcorpse was carried to the palace, "Bothwell, Lord Bothwell, he is thetraitor!"
