Blackwood's Magazine/Volume 1/Issue 2/Memorie of the Somervilles
SELECT EXTRACTS.
MEMORIE OF THE SOMERVILLES.
This book was published last year from the original MS. in the possession of the present Lord Somerville. It is the composition of his ancestor, James Somerville, who died in the year 1690,—who is styled in the title-page, James Eleventh Lord Somerville, but who in reality never found it convenient, in the low state to which the affairs of his family were then reduced, to assume any higher designation than that of the "Laird of Drum." His father was an officer of considerable eminence in the Scottish army during the civil wars, but the author himself is of a different way of thinking, being indeed a great stickler for the Divine right both of kings and of bishops. He is, notwithstanding, a very worthy sort of person, and gives good advice to his children, for whose benefit only he professes to write, in a manner that does him much honour.
The history of the Somerville family, during the first ages of its appearance in Scotland, is extremely inaccurate; dates and facts are often jumbled in a most absurd manner; and indeed nothing can be more uninteresting than both the subject and the manner of this whole part of the work. When, however, the author comes to treat of events more near his own time, or when he favours us with the result of his own reflections upon any general topic, there is commonly a considerable admixture both of shrewdness and naivete. Some of the anecdotes which he relates are, moreover, singularly picturesque, and for this reason we have thought fit to present our readers with a few of the most interesting passages.
The first which we shall extract is the history of a domestic tragedy, which occurred in the reign of King Robert II. and about the year 1371. The story is told with much feeling, and requires no commentary.
"Much about the beginning of this king's reigne, ther happened a sad accident in the faniilie of Sir John Harring, laird of Edmondstoune in Clidesdale, and of Gillmertoune in Mid Lothian. This gentleman haveing two beautifull daughters, the eldest named Margaret, and the youngest Geilles, both in expectatione to be sharers in a great part of ther father's estate, because he had no male children of his oune bodie but a brother's sone named Patrick, whom he designed to have marryed upon his eldest daughter, and given him the greatest part of his lands eftir his death; but the miscarriage of his eldest daughter, which had a tragicall end, frustrated all his hope and expectatione that way. For this young lady, as she was beautifull, inclyneing to melanchollie, appeared to be very devote in observeing strictly all rites and ceremonies of religion then in use, wherby it came to passe, frequenting much the abbacie of Newbottle, she became acquainted with a young monk of the Sistertian order, or the refyned Benedicts, belonging to that abbacie; who having insinuated himself much in her favour under ane specious pretext of holyness, did often converse with this lady in her most private reteirements, both in the abbacie and at her father's house in Gillmertoune, without the least suspitione that he intended any villanie; but this rascal, by his divellish rhetorick and allurements, soe far prevailled upon the simplicitie of this gentlewoman, that at lenth he deboshed her; and because he thought nether the abbacie nor her father's house to be safe for their intrigues of love, they agreed their meeting should be at a little ferme belonging to John Herring, called the Grange, a quarter of a myle or therby from Gillmertoune, neer by the road that leads to Newbottle. The mistress of this country-house being a young and a lascivious widow, some tyme before hade been ensnared, and played the wanton with his comerad; this house was therfore thought the most convenient for them to meet at, which they often did, to the great scandal of the monkes' professione, and dishonour of the women, especially of the young ladie, which occasioned all ther ruines in the end. For, notwithstanding of the secresie of this affair, and circumspectione for appoynting fitt hours for their deeds of darkness, yet there was some suspitione from the too much familiaritie betwext Sir John's daughter and this woman soe far below her qualitie; ther often being together, and the frequenting of her house, gave occasions of scandal to all; which coming to Sir John's ears, being a forward and furious man, he threatened his daughter with noe lesse than death, if ever it came to his knowledge that she went to the Grange, or frequented that woman's companie eftirwards. This she promised to her father to observe, but with noe intentione to keep the same; for noe sooner was the darkness of the ensueing night come, but at her accustomed hour she goes out at the back entry that leads to the Grange, where the two brothers in iniquitie had aryved some tyme before, to whom, eftir ther dalliance, she imparts her father's suspitione and terrible threatenings against her, which these gallants litle regarded, protesting that they would make her father doe penance for that very suspitione, little dreameing that they themselves was soe neer destructione, for that very night all of them was brought to their end by a cruell revenge; for Sir John, missing his daughter out of her chamber, concluded where she was, and went presently to the place with two of his domesticks, where finding the doors of the house shut, and noe answear made to his demands, nor the doors opened notwithstanding of this threatnings, in a rage he sets fyre to the thatch with a [torch] his servant caryed, which immediately (the wind being somewhat high) set the wholl onsteed in a fyre, and burned it downe to the ground.[1] Ther perished in the flame and ruines above eight or nine persons; for which cruell act, as it was highly aggravated in all the horrible circumstances by the churchmen then in being, this poor gentleman was forced to flee the country for a tyme, his estate being forefaulted by the king."
The next extract relates to the visit paid by King James III. to the Lord Somerville, at his castle of Cowthally, near Carnwath, in the month of July 1474.
"At which tyme the king, being disposed to take his pleasure at the poutting in Calder and Camwath Muires, he acquaintes the Lord Somervill with his resolutione, who, by accident, was then at court; his majestie being pleased withall to shew him he was resolved for some dayes to be his guest. Wherupon the Lord Somervill immediately despatches ane expresse to Cowthally (who knew nothing of the king's journey), with a letter to his lady, Dame Marie Baillzie, wherein, according to his ordinary custome when any persones of qualitie wer to be with him, he used to wryte in the postscript of his letters, Speates and Raxes; and in this letter he had redoubled the same words, because of the extraordinary occasione and worthyness of his guest. This letter being delyvered, and the messenger withall telling his lord was very pressing, that it might be speedily and securely put in her ladyship's hands,—whereupon she hastily breakes it up, commanding the Stewart to read the same, because she could read non herself. This gentleman being but lately entered to his service, and unacquainted with his lord's hand and custome of wrytting, when he comes to the postscript of the letter, he reads Speares and Jacks instead of Speates and Raxes: whereupon my lady, all amazed, without considering her husband's ordinary forme of wrytting, falles a-weeping, supposeing her lord had fallen at variance with some about the court, the king beginning about this tyme to discountenance his ancient nobilitie, and they again to withdraw both their affectiones and due alledgeance from him. Efter the reading of the letter, James Inghs of Eistscheill was presently sent for, and commandement given to him and the officers, that all the vassalles, with the able tennents that wer within the two barronies of Carnwath, Cambusnethen, and baillzierie of Carstairs, should be ready with their horse and armes to wait upon William Cleilland of that ilk be eight in the morning the ensuing day, and that in order to ther going for Edinburgh. This command being punctually observed by the vassalles and the substantiall tennents that wer in use, and obleidged to ryde, by ther holdings and tackes, upon such occasions, they conveened to the number of two hundred, with the laird of Cleilland, and William Chancellor of Quathquan, with the Baillzie upon ther heads.[2] By eleven a clock they were advanced in ther journey for Edinburgh to the side of that hill that is somewhat bewest the Corsetthill. His majestie haveing breakfasted by nyne in the morning, had taken horse, and was come the lenth of that little waiter a myle on this syde of the Corsetthill, bussie, even then, at his sport upon the rode, when the first of all the little company that was with him observed the advance of a troope of men, with ther lances, within a myle of him, or thereby. Whereupon, all astonished, he calles hastily for the Lord Somervill, who, being at some distance, came upon the spurre. The king being of ane hastie nature, in great fury demanded what the matter meaned, and if he had a mynde to betray him, and seize upon his person the second tyme by ane other treacherous hunting: and withall swearing his head should pay for it, if he himself escaped the hands of these traitors, who could be noe other but his vassalles and followers, brought togither off purpose for some ill designe. The Lord Somervill, without making any reply, immediately castes himself from his horse to the ground, and falles upon his knees, protesting, with many solemn oaths, that he understood not what the matter meaned, nor what the company was, nor the cause of ther being in yonder place; thairfore he humblie begged of his majestie that he would allow him to goe see what they wer, friends or foes; and, for securitie, he had with him his eldest sone and heir, William, barrone of Carnwath; iff all was not weill, and his majestie safe from all hazard, he desyred that his sone's head may be strucken off upon the place. This the king acceptes, and commands him to ryde up and discover what they wer, and the intent of ther being ther; and, according as he found occasione, to returne or give a signe for his retireing.
In the meantyme, his majestic, with his traine, being about twentieth horse, placed themselves upon the hight of the muir, to marke the Lord SomervuTs goeing, and the carriage of the horsemen they beheld, who now made ane halt, when they first observed the king's company, not knowing what they wer; but seeing them draw togither, they apprehended they wer noe friends; thairfore they resolved to advance noe further, seeing a horseman comeing up to them with all the speed he could make, until they knew for what intent he came. The Lord Somervill was yet at some distance, when he was presently knoune by severall of the company to be ther lord and master; whereupon the laird of Cleilland, and William Chancellor of Quathquan, galloped out to meet him. He was not a litle surprized when he saw them, and demanded the occasione that had brought them togither in that posture and number. To which they answeared, It was by his lordsliip's directione and his ladye's command: that they wer comeing to Edinburgh to waitt upon him, fearing he had fallen at variance and feed with some one or other about the court He desyred to see the letter. They told him the Baillzie had it. By this tyme they wer joyned to the company, where, calling for the letter, he made the same to be read, where ther was no such directione nor orders given as they pretended. He enquired who read the letter to his lady; they answered, his new Stewart; who being present, was commanded to read it again, which he did; and comeing to the postscript, reads Spears and Jacks, instead of Speates and Raxes; and herein lay the mistake, that the Lord Somervill knew not whether to laugh or be angry at the fellow. But mynding the fear he left the king in, and what apprehensiones and jealousies his majestic might intertaine upon his long communing with them, he commanded that they should depart every man to their respective dwellings: and he himself, with the laird of Cleilland and severall other gentlemen, returned to the king, who remained still upon the same place where he had parted from him; unto whom being come he relates the wholl story, whereat the king laughed heartily, calles for a sight of the letter, and reades it himself, swearing it was noe great mistake, for he might have been guiltie of that error himself. His majestic having given back the letter, it went from hand to hand amongst these few courtiers that was there, as they proceeded on their journey, the letter itself containing noe matter of any consequence but a naked compliment the Lord Somervill had written to his lady. This is that story of the Speates and Raxes so much discoursed of then, as it is to this day amongst persons of qualitie; for of late the Duke of Lauderdale, when he was commissioner, at a full table of the greatest part of the nobilitie in Scotland, then dyneing with him, related the wholl story almost in the same termes that I have set it doune. The king being come to Cowthally, he had his entertainement great, and his welcome heartie, albeit ray lady Somervill was somewhat out of contenance, all the discourse being anent the Speares and Jackes, which the king could not forget, thinking it both a good sport and ane easy mistake, because of the neer spelling and sounding of the words; and, withall his majestic was pleased highly to commend the Lady Somervill's love and respect to her husband, in being so active and diligent to conveen soe quickly her husband's friends and followers, in case ther had been any necessitie for them, telling my lady that he hoped she would use the same care and diligence to conveen her lord's followers when he should call him and them to his service."
In the next passage we have a curious view of the interior of the same baronial residence during a visit of James V.
"The divertisement his majestic had without doores was balking; being now in the midle of Jully, the poutes wer for flight whereof they killed many: these fields, not being soe much laboured then as now, yielded great store, which was the cause the king resorted thither afterward when he mynded his sport; but the recreatione he received in the fields gave him no such content as what he had within doores with the ladyes, who, seeing the young king amorously inclyned, allowed him all the liberty that in honour he could requyre, or ther modesty permitt.
"Amongst all the ladyes that was there, he fancyed non soe much as Katherine Carmichaell, the captain of Craufuird's daughter, a young lady much about sexteinth years ol age, admired for her beautie, handsomenes of persone, and vivacity of spirit, whereby she attracted all eyes that beheld her, but soe strongly the king's, that most of his discourse was with her, and he took it ill when he was interrupted, soe that all the ladyes and noblemen that was present took notice thereof, and gave way to his majestie's courting. I know ther was some malitious tongues then, as there is not a few to this day, affirmes that it was at this tyme, and in Cowthally-house, that the king first procured this ladye's private favoures; but, by ther leave, it is a great mistake, and a most malitious calumnie; for, albeit it be true it was at this wedding he first saw this young lady, and did affect her extremely, beginning then his intrigues of love, yet had he noe opportunity allowed him to obtaine that which he aftirward receaved att the castle of Crawfuird, her father's house. The Lady Somervill being both virtuous and wise, observing the king's passione, commanded two of Cambusnethen's daughters, and as many of her oune, being then girles about eleven years of age, in whom the king took likewayes delight to discourse with, never to leave the roume, unless Mistress Katherine Carmichaell came with them, the which they particularly observed. But to put this beyond all cavill, this same lady being efterward marryed upon young Cambusnethen, acknowledged to her mother-in-law, that it was neer a year efter she saw the king att Cowthally before his majestie obtained any favour from her, but what in civillitie she might have given to any persone of honour; and doubtlesse, if it had been otherways, the Lady Cambusnethen would have divulged quickly the same to the prejudice of my Lord Somerville's familie, to which she had no great lykeing, notwithstanding of ther late submissione to the king, and the civilitie they paid to each other, because of ther neer relatione.
"This marriage being over, the king went for Stirling, being waited upon by the Lord Somervill there some few dayes; and now being to retourne to his oune house, he comes to kisse his majestie's hand. The king told him, with a kynde and pleasant countenance, the great intertainement and fair company he left att Cowthally made him resolve ere long for another visit, hopeing he should be wellcome. Haveing said this, and raiseing him from his knee, the Lord Somervill replyed, what he had at present was by his majesties favour, and the bounty of his royall predecessors, conferred upon him, and his foerbearers, of which he was ever myndefull, and therfore was obleidged, as a duetifull subject, to attend his majesties pleasure in all tilings, haveing been soe highly honoured by his royall presence at his daughter's marriage, that was beyond all expressione of thankes. Upon this he retired, haveing receaved the particular thankes of all these noblemen and gentlemen that attended the king during his residence att Cowthally. Being returned, he lived at home until! the latter end of September. Upon Saturnes day, at night, the king lighted att his house with Robert Bartone, who was in speciall favour with him, and efterwards made thesaurer; James Hamilton of Finhard, who lykewayes before his death was thesaurer, and lykewayes master of the king's works; Oliver Sinclair, a brother of the house of Rosseline; Sir David Lindsay of the Mount; * * * * * and John Tennant, (efterward Laird of Cairness) a domestick and wairdropper to the king, who personated (four years after this) his majestie, as he travelled incognito through France in suite of his queen. These, with other seven, wer only his majesties retinue when he came to Cowthally. This surprizeall might have startled any other albeit good housekeepers, but was all one to this lord, that keeped soe plentifull a table, and had soe provident a lady, that upon all occasiones gave evidence of an excellent house-wife. The Lord Somervill told the king, he was only sorry he had not advertisement of his majestie's comeing, that himself and his friends might have waited upon him; but he was soon made to understand the king's comeing incognito, and would admitt of noe more company save himself and other two besyde these that came with him. By this, and some other circumstances, he guessed some part of the king's earand, who, dureing supper, asked severall questions at the Lord Somervill (standing behind his chair) anent the Captaine of Crawfuird, his qualitie, condition, and what he might have in estate, and by his office. Wherein being resolved soe far as my lord knew, the king took occasione first to regrate the meannesse of his fortune, and the smallnesse of his sallary; and efter some spaces, began to praise his daughter's breeding and beautie with some transport, at lentil insinuate as much by his discourse that he would see to the bettering of the father's estate and advancement of the daughter. Eftir supper the king held a long discourse with the Lady Somervill in his oune bed-chamber, which was named efter him soe long as the house remained in its integrity What the import of ther discourse was these that wer present did but guesse, for they stood at some distance; however, it appeared that the king was very pressing to obtaine some promise of her, which, with much civilitie, she begged his majestie pardone; and at length, somewhat loud, of purpose to be heard, and to be free from the king's importunity, spoke thus, "Sir, her father's house is much fitter, where your majestie may expect kynde wellcome, being proprietar of the same, in honouring that familie with your royall presence." Upon which the king called the Lady Carmichaell that was next to them, and said, "Your neighbour here, the Lady Somervill, is the most courteous, or rather most scrupulous, persone under heaven for another concerne; but I will have my revenge in being often her guest, to eat up all the beef and pudding too of this (country).
"Airly upon the Sabbath the king caused the Lord Somervill send a horseman to Craufuird castle, to advertise the captaine he would be there against night; and withall, forbade to make any great provisione, seing his train would not exceed a duzone. This advertisement was soe unexpected and short, that the captaine knew not what to think of it; however, he caused putt all things in the best order that might be, and prepared for the king's coming. But ther was non soe much surprized with the news as the young lady, the captaine's daughter, who, suspecting the king's earrand from what she had mett with from him at the marriage in Cowthally, she could have wished herself not only out of her father's house but out of the world. Soe much terrour and affrightment did seize upon her persone, that she knew not what to resolve on. Some tymes she thought it fitt to acquaint her father and mother with her feares; and then againe, without acquainting them with her thoughts, to slip doune to Lamingtounehouse, or the toune of Douglasse. But as modesty tyed up her tongue from the first, soe the shortness of tyme, and (the want of) ane handsome pretext, hindered the later, for it was not possible to have keeped the knowledge of her removeall that day from the king, which might have incensed him exceedingly against her father, the greatest part of whose fortune was mostly at that tyme at the king's disposeing, as heretable keeper of the castle of Craufuird. Thus, unresolved what to doe, or how to carry towards the king, in great trouble of spirit, poor lady, she remained in a carelesse dresse untill his majestie's arryveall.
"The king, haveing breakfasted and heard messe att the colledge church of Carnwath, made foirward on his journey to the castle of Craufuird, being accompanyed with non but the Lord Somervill, and these few he brought from Edinburgh with him. He was mett by the captaine of Craufuird with some horsemen, some few myles on this side of the castle, with whom he discoursed familiarly untill ther arryveall at the house, where his majestie was receaved at the gate by the lady and two of her daughters. What entertainement his majestie receaved from the captaine and his lady, and kyndenesse from ther beautifull daughter upon his amorouse addresse to her, is noe part of that which I have in hand; yet I am apt to believe, from several! circumstances and papers that I have seen, that this interview proceeded noe farther than to useher the way, and give opportunitie to these more particular and privat favoures his majestie receaved eftirward from this lady in the same house. Whatever wer the intysing motives that prevailled over her vertue, and brought her to the king's embracement, was best knoune to herself; and although noe act of this nature be warrantable before God, yet much may be said to take off the reproach, and justifie her to the world. It was her king, not a subject, that made love to her; a gallant young prince, for persone and parts die world then had not the better, laying asyde his dignitie and that supreme orbe wherein he moved. One of meaner degree, with half of these qualifications wherewith this royall king was indued, might have prevailed much upon the budding aft'ectiones of a tender virgin, unacquainted with the blandishment of great ones and the entertainements of a royal court, whereinto your court ladyes are soe accustomed to addresses of persones of eminency, that they can putt oft' or conferre ther private favores as ther interest or inclinatione leades them; and yet if they trip, you shall not know it, Memorie of the Somervilles. or if you doe, you must not divulge it, unlesse you be desperately resolved to forfault both your life and fortune to the fury of ther amoures. Besydes these inducements, and her father's interest, she might have before her eyes the example of Elizabeth Moore, Rowallane's daughter, who bare to King Robert the Second three sones, long before her marriage; and at lenth, notwithstanding of the king's haveing two sons in marriage by the Earle of Rosse's daughter, she dying, and herself taken to be his queen, her sones was reputed and declared righteous successores to the crowne, and that by consent of Parliament.
"These reasones, with the splendent aspect of royall majestie, backed with a soveraigne power, might prevaill much upon this innocent lady, and inclyne her to a complyance, as not weill knowing how to refuise the kynde offeres of soe obleidgeing a prince, the effects whereof, in four yeares tyme, made her mother of two boyes and ane daughter to the king."
The reader will observe in what a style of courtly submission the author talks of the insult offered by the royal visitor, both to his own ancestor the Lady Somerville, and to the Captain of Crawfurd's family. In several posterior passages we find hints of the manner in which he regarded this sort of royal condescension. The ladies so honoured seem to be not a whit more contaminated by it in his eyes, than they were in those of his kinsman, the Laird of Cambusnethan, who married successively two concubines of James V. These ladies, according to one passage, "very much illustrate the family;" and in another we are told, that their husband "was a plain country gentleman, and an excellent housekeeper, happy in both his marriages for beautiffull and verfuous ladies." Vol. 2. p. 19. A second long digression is made in another place, in vindication of the character of one of them, and the noble author concludes in these words—"Thus far have I digressed in vindication of this excellent lady, that it may appear it was neither her choyse, nor any vitious habit that prevailled over her chastity, but ane ineviteable fate that the strongest resistance could scarcely withstand"—Vol. 1. p. 388—anticipating, as the Editor has already observed, the indulgent maxim of Prior,
"That when weak women go astray
Their stars are more in fault than they."