Part 2

The Kyng was bot twelf yeris of aige Quhen new rewlaris come, in thair raige, For Commonweill makand no cair, Bot for thair proffeit singulair. Imprudentlie, lyk wytles fuilis, Thay tuke that young Prince frome the scuilis, Quhare he, under obedience, Was lernand vertew and science, And haistelie platt in his hand The governance of all Scotland; As quho wald, in ane stormye blast, Quhen marinaris bene all agast Throw dainger of the seis raige, Wald tak ane chylde of tender aige Quhilk never had bene on the sey, And to his biddyng all obey, Gevyng hym haill the governall Off schip, marchand, and marinall, For dreid of rockis and foreland, To put the ruther in his hand. Without Goddis grace is no refuge: Geve thare be dainger ye may juge. I gyf thame to the Devyll of Hell Quhilk first devysit that counsell! I wyll nocht say that it was treassoun, Bot I dar sweir it was no reassoun. I pray God, lat me never se ryng, In-to this realme, so young ane Kyng!

Discharged from his duties, though, at the instance of James, his salary continued to be paid, Lyndsay retired to his estates, and occupied his leisure by casting into verse some of his reflections upon the events and character of his time. These, in the form of a scarcely veiled satire, with a finely poetic setting, he published under the title of “The Dreme,” probably in 1528. In the autumn of the same year, it is believed, he wrote his “Complaynt to the Kingis Grace,” a performance in which, as has been seen, he recounts his early services, and asks some token of royal recognition, declaiming fearlessly the abuses which have been practised by the recent governors of the realm, and ending with congratulations and sound counsel on James’s own sudden assumption of power.

This reminder would hardly appear to have been needed by the young king. On a night in May of that year James had escaped from Falkland, and dashing through the defiles of the Ochils with only a couple of grooms in his train, had established himself in Stirling, successfully defied the Douglas power, and, though no more than sixteen years of age, had in a few hours made himself absolute master of Scotland. Among the first to benefit by his assumption of power were his old attendants. His chaplain, Sir James Inglis, he made Abbot of Culross; his tutor, Gavin Dunbar, he made Archbishop of Glasgow, and afterwards Lord High Chancellor; while upon Lyndsay he conferred the honour of knighthood and appointed him Lyon King at Arms.

This was in 1529, and the appointment marks Lyndsay’s entry into the larger public life of his time. The office of the Chief Herald was then an active one, its holder being employed on frequent state envoys to foreign courts. Thus in 1531 Lyndsay was sent to the Netherlands to renew a commercial treaty of James I. which had just lapsed. Upon that occasion he had an interview at Brussels with the Queen of Hungary, then Regent of the Netherlands, and her brother the Emperor Charles V.; and in a letter still extant[8] he describes the tournaments, of which he was spectator, at the royal court.

[8] Given in facsimile by Mr. Laing in his introduction to Lyndsay’s works, p. xxiv.

Again, in 1536, he was one of the embassy sent to France to conclude a marriage between James and Marie de Bourbon, daughter of the Duc de Vendôme. Negotiations in this case were all but completed when by the personal interference of James the treaty was broken off and espousals arranged instead with Magdalene, the daughter of the French king, Francis I.

The sad sequel of this romantic union is well known. The fate of the fragile young princess formed the subject of Lyndsay’s elegy, “The Deploratioun of the Deith of Quene Magdalene.”

Strangely enough, the Lyon Herald’s next employment was, in the following year, the superintendence of ceremonies at reception of James’s new bride, Mary, the daughter of the Duc de Guise. These, like the other events of the time, are fully described by Lindsay of Pitscottie, the contemporary historian. Among other “fersis and playis” they included one curious device. “And first sche was receivit at the New Abbay yet (gate); upon the eist syd thairof thair wes maid to hir ane triumphant arch be Sir David Lindsay of the Mount, knicht, alias Lyon Kyng at Armis, quha caussit ane greyt cloud to cum out of the hevins down abone the yeit; out the quhilk cloude come downe ane fair Lady most lyk ane angell, having the keyis of Scotland in hir hand, and delyverit thayme to the Queinis grace in signe and taikin that all the harts of Scotland wer opin for the receveing of hir Grace; withe certane Oratiouns maid be the said Sir David to the Quein’s Grace, desyring hir to feir hir God, and to serve him, and to reverence and obey hir husband, and keip her awin body clein, according to God’s will and commandment.”[9]

[9] Pitscottie’s _History_, Edin. 1728, p. 160.

A more momentous piece of work, and one more worthy of the poet’s genius, was Lyndsay’s next performance. In 1530, in his “Testament and Complaynt of our Soverane Lordis Papyngo,” he had already ventured with great boldness to expose the disorders of the time in church affairs. He now went further, and in the guise of a stage-play attacked with fearless and biting satire the corruptions of clergy and nobles. This play, “Ane Pleasant Satyre of the thrie Estaitis,” appears to have been first performed at Linlithgow at the feast of Epiphany on 6th January, 1539-40, when, occupying no less than nine hours in representation,[10] it was witnessed by the king, the queen, and ladies of the court, the bishops, nobles, and a great gathering of people.

[10] Charteris’s Preface to Lyndsay’s works, Edin. 1582.

As Lyon Herald, Lyndsay superintended the preparation of the _Register of Arms_ of the Scottish nobility and gentry. This work, now in the Advocates’ Library, Mr. Laing commends for its careful execution and proper emblazonment of the arms, as most creditable to the state of heraldic art in Scotland. It was completed in 1542.

On the 14th of December in the same year Lyndsay was one of those who stood by the bedside of the dying king at Falkland, when, overwhelmed by sorrow and disappointment, he “turned his back to his lordis and his face to the wall,” and presently passed away. The friendship between the king and the poet, which had begun in the prince’s cradle-days, appears to have had not a single break, one of James’ last acts being to assign to Lyndsay, “during all the days of his life, two chalders of oats, for horse-corn, out of the King’s lands of Dynmure in Fife.”

The Lyon Herald survived his master about fifteen years, and lived to see signs that the reforms which he had urged would one day be carried out.

In 1546 occurred the first crisis of the Reformation. In consequence of the cruel burning of George Wishart at St. Andrews in that year, the castle there was stormed by Norman Lesley and fifteen others, and Cardinal Beaton, the prelate most obnoxious to the reforming party, was assassinated. On the 4th of August, Lyndsay, as commissioner for the burgh of Cupar, was in his seat in Parliament when the writ of treason was issued against the assassins; and on the 17th, as Lyon Herald, he appeared with a trumpeter before the castle in the vain effort to bring the garrison to terms. But whatever might be his official duties, his sympathies were clearly on the side of the reformers. Regarding the death of Beaton he wrote, probably sometime in the following year, his satire, the “Tragedie of the Cardinall”; and in May, 1547, he was one of the inner circle of those who, in the parish church of St. Andrews, gave John Knox his unexpected but memorable call to the ministry.

In 1548 Lyndsay was sent to Denmark to negotiate a treaty of free trade in corn, and with the successful issue of this embassy he appears to have closed his career as envoy to foreign courts. Henceforth he seems to have devoted himself to poetical composition. In 1550 appeared what has been esteemed by some critics the most pleasing of all his works, “The Historie and Testament of Squyer Meldrum,” a romance somewhat in the style of the ancient heroic narratives, founded on the adventures of an actual personage of his own day. And in 1553 he finished his last and longest work, “The Monarche, Ane Dialog betuix Experience and Ane Courteour on the Miserabyll Estait of the World.”

Once more he appears in history in the dignity of his office as Lyon King. On 16th January, 1554-5, he presided at a chapter of heralds convened at Holyrood for the trial and punishment of William Crawar, a messenger, for abuse of his function. But before the 18th of April in the same year he had passed away. By a letter of that date in the Privy Seal Register it appears that his wife had predeceased him, and that, in the absence of children, his estates were inherited by his younger brother, Alexander Lyndsay.

Four years later the Reformation, of which also he may be said to have been the Lyon Herald, had begun in earnest. John Knox had returned to Scotland, the assassins of Beaton had received pardon, and the leaders of the new church which was to rise out of the ashes of the old had assumed the name of “The Congregation.”

Such was the consistent career of the poet who, in the words of Dryden, “lashed vice into reformation” in Scotland. In high position, with everything to lose and nothing to gain by the part he took, he must be adjudged entire disinterestedness in his efforts. Patriotism, the virtue which more than any other has from century to century made the renown of Scotland, must be acknowledged as his chief motive. Of his “Dreme” one writer has said, “We almost doubt if there is to be found anywhere except in the old Hebrew prophets a purer or more earnest breathing of the patriotic spirit.” His attack, it is true, was directed, not against the doctrines, but merely against the abuses of the church, a fact which sufficiently accounts for his freedom from persecution. There can be no question, however, that but for the brilliant, burning satire of Lyndsay the later work of the reformers would have proved infinitely more arduous, and might have been indefinitely delayed. Professor Nichol[11] has compared the service rendered by Lyndsay in Scotland to that rendered in Holland by Erasmus. All great movements probably have had some such forerunner, from John the Baptist downwards. At anyrate it is certain that when Lyndsay laid down his pen the time was ripe for Knox to mount the pulpit.

[11] General introduction to Lyndsay’s works, Early English Text Society’s edition.

During the early troubles of the Reformation the works of Lyndsay were, it is said, printed by stealth; and Pitscottie states that an Act of Assembly ordered them to be burned. Their popularity, nevertheless, remained undiminished, and edition after edition found its way into the hands of the people. The best editions now available are that by George Chalmers, three volumes, London, 1806, that of the Early English Text Society by various editors, 1865-1871, and the edition by David Laing, LL.D., three volumes, Edinburgh, 1879. The last is taken in the present volume as the standard text.

Of Lyndsay’s compositions “The Dreme” has generally been considered the most poetical, and the “Satyre of the Thrie Estaitis” the most important. The former is an allegory in the fashion of Dante and Chaucer, in which, after a prologue which has been much admired for its descriptive charm, a historical lesson is drawn from the abuse of power by rulers of the past, and the political grievances of Scotland are set boldly forth. To the latter belongs the credit of being the earliest specimen of the Scottish drama now in existence, the ground having been previously occupied only by the old mysteries and pageants, the “fairseis and clerk-playis” mentioned by Sir Richard Maitland.[12] Technically it is neither a morality-play nor a regular drama, but what is known as an interlude: it has no regular plot, and upon its stage real men and women move about among allegorical personages. Its author, however, confined the term “interlude” to the burlesque diversions which occupied the intervals of the main action. “Lyndsay’s play,” says Chalmers, “carried away the palm of dramatic composition from the contemporary moralities of England till the epoch of the first tragedy in _Gorboduc_ and the first comedy in _Gammer Gurton’s Needle_.” The work was more, however, than a dramatic pioneer; it was the greatest blow which Lyndsay struck at the vices and follies of his age, the ignorance and profligacy of the priesthood, and the insolence and unscrupulous ambition of the courtiers; and it is perhaps not too much to say of it that by its performance again and again before multitudes of all classes of the people it prepared the way more than anything else for the great movement of the Reformation in Scotland. For the modern reader, apart from its merits as a _tour de force_ of satire, this work remains the most vivid picture we possess of the grievances by which the common people of Scotland were oppressed during the last days of feudalism.

[12] In his poem on the marriage of Queen Mary with the Dauphin.

“The Monarche,” a still longer poem, possesses nothing like the interest of the “Satyre.” In dialogue form, it follows the historic fashion of an earlier time, attempting to give a complete history of the human race from the creation to the day of judgment. Gloom and sadness reign throughout its pages, and notwithstanding one or two fine descriptive passages and the exhibition of much learning and sagacious reflection, it must be ranked among the less vital of its author’s works. An English version of “The Monarche,” nevertheless, was repeatedly printed in London from 1566 onwards, and a translation into Danish was published at Copenhagen in 1591.

“The Testament and Complaynt of the Kyngis Papyngo” is a composition frequently referred to. It opens with a prologue in praise of the makars, who, from Chaucer to the writer’s contemporary Bellenden, are named in order. In form of a fable--the death-bed of the king’s parrot, attended by the pye, a canon regular, the raven, a black monk, and the hawk, a holy friar--it satirizes mercilessly the vices of the clergy and the abuses of the church.

Lyndsay’s lesser productions are satires on minor subjects, such as court patronage and the absurdities of female fashions, showing their author in a lighter vein. But “Kitteis Confessioun” is another hard hit at the church abuses of the time, and the “Deploratioun of the Deith of Quene Magdalene” possesses interest as a picture of a royal welcome in the sixteenth century.

“The Tragedie of the Cardinall,” apart from a suggestion in the prologue, the appearance of Beaton’s ghost--

Ane woundit man, aboundantlie bledyng, With vissage paill and with ane deidlye cheir--

displays no striking poetic power. The poem recounts in detail, as by the mouth of the prelate himself, the damaging part which Beaton had played in the contemporary history of Scotland, and it ends with serious admonitions addressed respectively to prelates and to princes to avoid the abuses which were then rampant in the government of the church.

“The Historie of Squyer Meldrum” is written in a different vein from the rest of Lyndsay’s works. As has already been said, it is modelled on the gestes and heroic epics of an earlier century. The narrative is lively, with vivid descriptive passages and great smoothness of versification. “In all Froissart,” says Dr. Merry Ross, “there is nothing more delightful in picturesque details than the description of the jousts between Meldrum and the English knight Talbart on the plains of Picardy.”

It has been the habit to regard Lyndsay in the character rather of a reformer than of a poet, and it cannot be doubted that his own purpose was to edify rather than to delight. But the merit of a satirist consists, not in his display of the more delicate sort of poetic charm, but in the brilliance and keenness of his satire. No critic can aver that in these qualities Lyndsay was lacking. If evidence of power in other fields be demanded, there are, according to the estimate of Professor Nichol, passages in “The Dreme,” “Squyer Meldrum,” and “The Monarche,” “especially in the descriptions of the morning and evening voices of the birds, which, for harmony of versification and grace of imagery, may be safely laid alongside of any corresponding to them in the works of his predecessors.” But it is as a satiric poet that he must chiefly be appraised, and in this character he stands the greatest that Scotland has produced. He remained popular for more than two centuries because he sympathised with the sorrows of the people and satirized the abuse of power by the great. In this respect he was not excelled even by his great successor, Robert Burns. For the reader of the present day the interest of Lyndsay, apart from the broad light which he throws upon the life and manners of his time, lies in his shrewd common-sense, his irresistible humour, vivacity, and dramatic power, with the consciousness that behind these burns a soul of absolute honesty. But the first value of his work, as of the work of every satiric poet, consisted in its wholesome effect upon the spirit of his age. With this fact in view it would be difficult to formulate a better summing-up of Lyndsay’s titles to regard than that by Scott in the fourth canto of _Marmion_. There, by a poetic license, he is introduced in the character of Lyon Herald on the eve of Flodden, sixteen years before he obtained that office--

He was a man of middle age; In aspect manly, grave, and sage, As on king’s errand come; But in the glances of his eye A penetrating, keen, and sly Expression found its home; The flash of that satiric rage Which, bursting on the early stage, Branded the vices of the age, And broke the keys of Rome.

* * * * *

Still is thy name of high account And still thy verse has charms, Sir David Lindesay of the Mount, Lord Lion King-at-arms!

THE DREME.

EPISTIL TO THE KINGIS GRACE.

Rycht potent Prince, of hie Imperial blude, Unto thy Grace I traist it be weill knawin My servyce done unto your Celsitude, Quhilk nedis nocht at length for to be schawin; And thocht[13] my youtheid now be neir ouer-blawin, Excerst[14] in servyce of thyne Excellence, Hope hes me hecht[15] ane gudlie recompense.

Quhen thow wes young I bure thee in myne arme Full tenderlie, tyll thow begouth to gang[16]; And in thy bed oft happit[17] thee full warme, With lute in hand, syne[18], sweitlie to thee sang: Sumtyme, in dansing, feiralie[19] I flang; And sumtyme, playand farsis on the flure; And sumtyme, on myne office takkand cure:

And sumtyme, lyke ane feind, transfigurate, And sumtyme, lyke the greislie gaist of Gye[20]; In divers formis oft-tymes disfigurate, And sumtyme, dissagyist full plesandlye. So, sen[21] thy birth, I have continewalye Bene occupyit, and aye to thy plesoure, And sumtyme, Seware, Coppare, and Carvoure[22];

Thy purs-maister and secreit Thesaurare[23], Thy Yschare[24], aye sen thy natyvitie, And of thy chalmer cheiffe Cubiculare, Quhilk, to this hour, hes keipit my lawtie[25]; Lovyng[26] be to the blyssit Trynitie That sic[27] ane wracheit worme hes maid so habyll[28] Tyll sic ane Prince to be so greabyll!

But now thow arte, be influence naturall, Hie of ingyne[29], and rycht inquisityve Of antique storeis, and deidis marciall; More plesandlie the tyme for tyll ouerdryve, I have, at length, the storeis done descryve[30] Of Hectour, Arthour, and gentyll Julyus, Of Alexander, and worthy Pompeyus;

Of Jasone, and Medea, all at lenth, Of Hercules the actis honorabyll, And of Sampsone the supernaturall strenth, And of leill luffaris[31] storeis amiabyll; And oft-tymes have I feinyeit mony fabyll, Of Troylus the sorrow and the joye, And Seigis all of Tyir, Thebes, and Troye.

The propheceis of Rymour, Beid, and Marlyng,[32] And of mony uther plesand storye, Of the Reid Etin, and the Gyir Carlyng,[33] Confortand thee, quhen that I saw thee sorye. Now, with the supporte of the King of Glorye, I sall thee schaw ane storye of the new, The quhilk affore I never to thee schew.

But humilie I beseik thyne Excellence, With ornate termis thocht I can nocht expres This sempyll mater, for laik of eloquence; Yit, nochtwithstandyng all my besynes, With hart and hand my pen I sall addres As I best can, and most compendious: Now I begyn: the mater hapnit thus.

[13] though.

[14] Exercised.

[15] promised.

[16] began to go.

[17] wrapped.

[18] afterwards.

[19] nimbly.

[20] Perhaps the Sir Guy of romance.

[21] since.

[22] Butler, Cup-bearer, and Carver.

[23] treasurer.

[24] usher.

[25] loyalty.

[26] Praise.

[27] such.

[28] able.

[29] high of spirit.

[30] describe.

[31] true lovers.

[32] Many of the prophecies of The Rhymer, Bede, and Merlin were printed in a small volume by Andro Hart at Edinburgh in 1615.

[33] The Red Etin, a giant with three heads, was the subject of a popular story mentioned in the _Complaynt of Scotland_. William Motherwell has a poem “The Etin of Sillarwood.” The Gyre Carlin, or huge old woman, was the gruesome Hecate, or mother-witch, of many peasant stories.

PROLOG.

In-to the Calendis of Januarie, Quhen fresche Phebus, be movyng circulair, Frome Capricorne wes enterit in Aquarie, With blastis that the branchis maid full bair, The snaw and sleit perturbit all the air, And flemit[34] Flora frome every bank and bus[35], Throuch supporte of the austeir Eolus.

Efter that I the lang wynteris nycht Had lyne walking[36], in-to my bed, allone, Throuch hevy thocht, that no way sleip I mycht, Rememberyng of divers thyngis gone: So up I rose, and clethit me anone. Be this, fair Tytane, with his lemis[37] lycht, Ouer all the land had spred his baner brycht.

With cloke and hude I dressit me belyve[38], With dowbyll schone, and myttanis on my handis; Howbeit the air was rycht penetratyve, Yit fure I furth, lansing ouirthorte[39] the landis Toward the see, to schorte[40] me on the sandis, Because unblomit was baith bank and braye[41]. And so, as I was passing be the waye,

I met dame Flora, in dule weid dissagysit[42], Quhilk in-to May wes dulce and delectabyll; With stalwart[43] stormis hir sweitnes wes supprisit[44]; Hir hevynlie hewis war turnit in-to sabyll, Quhilkis umquhile[45] war to luffaris amiabyll. Fled frome the froste, the tender flouris I saw Under dame Naturis mantyll lurking law.

The small fowlis in flokkis saw I flee, To Nature makand greit lamentatioun. Thay lychtit doun besyde me on ane tree, Of thair complaynt I had compassioun; And with ane pieteous exclamatioun Thay said, “Blyssit be Somer, with his flouris; And waryit[46] be thow, Wynter, with thy schouris!”

“Allace! Aurora,” the syllie[47] Larke can crye, “Quhare hes thou left thy balmy liquour sweit That us rejosit, we mounting in the skye? Thy sylver droppis ar turnit in-to sleit. O fair Phebus! quhare is thy hoilsum heit? Quhy tholis[48] thow thy hevinlie plesand face With mystie vapouris to be obscurit, allace!

“Quhar art thow May, with June thy syster schene[49], Weill bordourit with dasyis of delyte? And gentyll Julie, with thy mantyll grene, Enamilit with rosis red and quhyte? Now auld and cauld Januar, in dispyte, Reiffis[50] frome us all pastyme and plesour. Allace! quhat gentyll hart may this indure?