The Fortunes of Nigel

“Why, I must know you, man,” he said; “I must know you. I knew your father well, man, and I have broke a lance and crossed a blade with him; and it is to my credit that I am living to brag of it. He was king’s-man and I was queen’s-man during the Douglas wars – young fellows both, that feared neither fire nor steel; and we had some old feudal quarrels besides, that had come down from father to son, with our seal-rings, two-harided broad-swords, and plate-coats, and the crests on our burgonets.”

“Too loud, my Lord of Huntinglen,” whispered a gentleman of the chamber, – “The King! – the King!”

The old earl (for such he proved) took the hint, and was silent; and James, advancing from a side-door, received in succession the compliments of strangers, while a little group of favourite courtiers, or officers of the household, stood around him, to whom he addressed himself from time to time. Some more pains had been bestowed on his toilette than upon the occasion when we first presented the monarch to our readers; but there was a natural awkwardness about his figure which prevented his clothes from sitting handsomely, and the prudence or timidity of his disposition had made him adopt the custom already noticed, of wearing a dress so thickly quilted as might withstand the stroke of a dagger, which added an ungainly stiffness to his whole appearance, contrasting oddly with the frivolous, ungraceful, and fidgeting motions with which he accompanied his conversation. And yet, though the king’s deportment was very undignified, he had a manner so kind, familiar, and good-humoured, was so little apt to veil over or conceal his own foibles, and had so much indulgence and sympathy for those of others, that his address, joined to his learning, and a certain proportion of shrewd mother-wit, failed not to make a favourable impression on those who approached his person.

When the Earl of Huntinglen had presented Nigel to his sovereign, a ceremony which the good peer took upon himself, the king received the young lord very graciously, and observed to his introducer, that he “was fain to see them twa stand side by side; for I trow, my Lord Huntinglen,” continued he, “your ancestors, ay, and e’en your lordship’s self and this lad’s father, have stood front to front at the sword’s point, and that is a worse posture.”

“Until your Majesty,” said Lord Huntinglen, “made Lord Ochtred and me cross palms, upon the memorable day when your Majesty feasted all the nobles that were at feud together, and made them join hands in your presence – ”

“I mind it weel,” said the king; “I mind it weel – it was a blessed day, being the nineteen of September, of all days in the year – and it was a blithe sport to see how some of the carles girned as they clapped loofs together. By my saul, I thought some of them, mair special the Hieland chiels, wad have broken out in our own presence; but we caused them to march hand in hand to the Cross, ourselves leading the way, and there drink a blithe cup of kindness with ilk other, to the stanching of feud, and perpetuation of amity. Auld John Anderson was Provost that year – the carle grat for joy, and the bailies and councillors danced bare-headed in our presence like five-year-auld colts, for very triumph.”

“It was indeed a happy day,” said Lord Huntinglen, “and will not be forgotten in the history of your Majesty’s reign.”

“I would not that it were, my lord,” replied the monarch – “I would not that it were pretermitted in our annals. Ay, ay – BEATI PACIFICI. My English lieges here may weel make much of me, for I would have them to know, they have gotten the only peaceable man that ever came of my family. If James with the Fiery Face had come amongst you,” he said, looking round him, “or my great grandsire, of Flodden memory!”

“We should have sent him back to the north again,” whispered one English nobleman.

“At least,” said another, in the same inaudible tone, “we should have had a MAN to our sovereign, though he were but a Scotsman.”

“And now, my young springald,” said the king to Lord Glenvarloch, “where have you been spending your calf-time?”

“At Leyden, of late, may it please your Majesty,” answered Lord Nigel.

“Aha! a scholar,” said the king; “and, by my saul, a modest and ingenuous youth, that hath not forgotten how to blush, like most of our travelled Monsieurs. We will treat him conformably.”

Then drawing himself up, coughing slightly, and looking around him with the conscious importance of superior learning, while all the courtiers who understood, or understood not, Latin, pressed eagerly forward to listen, the sapient monarch prosecuted his inquiries as follows: —

“Hem! hem! salve bis, quaterque salve, glenvarlochides noster! Nuperumne ab lugduno batavorum britanniam rediisti?”

The young nobleman replied, bowing low —

“Imo, rex augustissime – biennium fere apud lugdunenses Moratus sum.”

James proceeded —

“Biennium dicis? Bene, bene, optume factum est – non uno Die, quod dicunt, – intelligisti, domine glenvarlochiensis? Aha!”

Nigel replied by a reverent bow, and the king, turning to those behind him, said —

“Adolescens quidem ingenui vultus ingenuique pudoris.” Then resumed his learned queries. “Et quid hodie lugdunenses loquuntur – vossius vester nihilne novi scripsit? – nihil certe, quod doleo, typis recenter editit.”

“Valet quidem vossius, rex benevole.” replied Nigel, “ast senex veneratissimus annum agit, ni fallor, septuagesimum.”

“Virum, mehercle, vix tam grandaevum crediderim,” replied the monarch. “et vorstius iste? – arminii improbi successor aeque ac sectator – herosne adhuc, ut cum homero loquar, [ZOOS ESTI KAI EPI THONI DERKOV]?” text in Greek

Nigel, by good fortune, remembered that Vorstius, the divine last mentioned in his Majesty’s queries about the state of Dutch literature, had been engaged in a personal controversy with James, in which the king had taken so deep an interest, as at length to hint in his public correspondence with the United States, that they would do well to apply the secular arm to stop the progress of heresy by violent measures against the Professor’s person – a demand which their Mighty Mightinesses’ principles of universal toleration induced them to elude, though with some difficulty. Knowing all this, Lord Glenvarloch, though a courtier of only five minutes’ standing, had address enough to reply —

“Vivum quidem, haud diu est, hominem videbam – vigere autem quis dicat qui sub fulminibus eloquentiae tuae, rex magne, jamdudum pronus jacet, et prostratus?”

[Footnote: Lest any lady or gentleman should suspect there is aught of mystery concealed under the sentences printed in Italics, they will be pleased to understand that they contain only a few commonplace Latin phrases, relating to the state of letters in Holland, which neither deserve, nor would endure, a literal translation.]

This last tribute to his polemical powers completed James’s happiness, which the triumph of exhibiting his erudition had already raised to a considerable height.

He rubbed his hands, snapped his fingers, fidgeted, chuckled, exclaimed – “Euge! Belle! Optime!” and turning to the Bishops of Exeter and Oxford, who stood behind him, he said. – “Ye see, my lords, no bad specimen of our Scottish Latinity, with which language we would all our subjects of England were as well embued as this, and other youths of honourable birth, in our auld kingdom; also, we keep the genuine and Roman pronunciation, like other learned nations on the continent, sae that we hold communing with any scholar in the universe, who can but speak the Latin tongue; whereas ye, our learned subjects of England, have introduced into your universities, otherwise most learned, a fashion of pronouncing like unto the ‘nippit foot and clippit foot’ of the bride in the fairy tale, whilk manner of speech, (take it not amiss that I be round with you) can be understood by no nation on earth saving yourselves; whereby Latin, quoad anglos, ceaseth to be communis lingua, the general dragoman, or interpreter, between all the wise men of the earth.”

The Bishop of Exeter bowed, as in acquiescence to the royal censure; but he of Oxford stood upright, as mindful over what subjects his see extended, and as being equally willing to become food for fagots in defence of the Latinity of the university, as for any article of his religious creed.

The king, without awaiting an answer from either prelate, proceeded to question Lord Nigel, but in the vernacular tongue, – “Weel, my likely Alumnus of the Muses, and what make you so far from the north?”

“To pay my homage to your Majesty,” said the young nobleman, kneeling on one knee, “and to lay before you,” he added, “this my humble and dutiful Supplication.”

The presenting of a pistol would certainly have startled King James more, but could (setting apart the fright) hardly have been more unpleasing to his indolent disposition.

“And is it even so, man?” said he; “and can no single man, were it but for the rarity of the case, ever come up frae Scotland, excepting EX PROPOSITO – on set purpose, to see what he can make out of his loving sovereign? It is but three days syne that we had weel nigh lost our life, and put three kingdoms into dule-weeds, from the over haste of a clumsy-handed peasant, to thrust a packet into our hand, and now we are beset by the like impediment in our very Court. To our Secretary with that gear, my lord – to our Secretary with that gear.”

“I have already offered my humble Supplication to your Majesty’s Secretary of State,” said Lord Glenvarloch – “but it seems – ”

“That he would not receive it, I warrant?” said the king, interrupting him; “bu my saul, our Secretary kens that point of king-craft, called refusing, better than we do, and will look at nothing but what he likes himsell – I think I wad make a better Secretary to him than he to me. – Weel, my lord, you are welcome to London; and, as ye seem an acute and learned youth, I advise ye to turn your neb northward as soon as ye like, and settle yoursell for a while at Saint Andrews, and we will be right glad to hear that you prosper in your studies. —Incumbite Remis Fortiter.”

While the king spoke thus, he held the petition of the young lord carelessly, like one who only delayed till the supplicant’s back was turned, to throw it away, or at least lay it aside to be no more looked at. The petitioner, who read this in his cold and indifferent looks, and in the manner in which he twisted and crumpled together the paper, arose with a bitter sense of anger and disappointment, made a profound obeisance, and was about to retire hastily. But Lord Huntinglen, who stood by him, checked his intention by an almost imperceptible touch upon the skirt of his cloak, and Nigel, taking the hint, retreated only a few steps from the royal presence, and then made a pause. In the meantime, Lord Huntinglen kneeled before James, in his turn, and said – “May it please your Majesty to remember, that upon one certain occasion you did promise to grant me a boon every year of your sacred life?”

“I mind it weel, man,” answered James, “I mind it weel, and good reason why – it was when you unclasped the fause traitor Ruthven’s fangs from about our royal throat, and drove your dirk into him like a true subject. We did then, as you remind us, (whilk was unnecessary,) being partly beside ourselves with joy at our liberation, promise we would grant you a free boon every year; whilk promise, on our coming to menseful possession of our royal faculties, we did confirm, restrictive always and conditionaliter, that your lordship’s demand should be such as we, in our royal discretion, should think reasonable.”

“Even so, gracious sovereign,” said the old earl, “and may I yet farther crave to know if I have ever exceeded the bounds of your royal benevolence?”

“By my word, man, no!’” said the king; “I cannot remember you have asked much for yourself, if it be not a dog or a hawk, or a buck out of our park at Theobald’s, or such like. But to what serves this preface?”

“To the boon to which I am now to ask of your Grace,” said Lord Huntinglen; “which is, that your Majesty would be pleased, on the instant, to look at the placet of Lord Glenvarloch, and do upon it what your own just and royal nature shall think meet and just, without reference to your Secretary or any other of your Council.”

“By my saul, my lord, this is strange,” said the king; “ye are pleading for the son of your enemy!”

“Of one who WAS my enemy till your Majesty made him my friend,” answered Lord Huntinglen.

“Weel spoken, my lord!” said the king; “and with, a true Christian spirit. And, respecting the Supplication of this young man, I partly guess where the matter lies; and in plain troth I had promised to George Heriot to be good to the lad – But then, here the shoe pinches. Steenie and Babie Charles cannot abide him – neither can your own son, my lord; and so, methinks, he had better go down to Scotland before he comes toill luck by them.”

“My son, an it please your Majesty, so far as he is concerned, shall not direct my doings,” said the earl, “nor any wild-headed young man of them all.”

“Why, neither shall they mine,” replied the monarch; “by my father’s saul, none of them all shall play Rex with me – I will do what I will, and what I ought, like a free king.”

“Your Majesty will then grant me my boon?” said the Lord Huntinglen.

“Ay, marry will I – marry will I,” said the king; “but follow me this way, man, where we may be more private.”

He led Lord Huntinglen with rather a hurried step through the courtiers, all of whom gazed earnestly on this unwonted scene, as is the fashion of all Courts on similar occasions. The king passed into a little cabinet, and bade, in the first moment, Lord Huntinglen lock or bar the door; but countermanded his direction in the next, saying, – “No, no, no – bread o’ life, man, I am a free king – will do what I will and what I should – I am justus et tenax propositi, man – nevertheless, keep by the door, Lord Huntinglen, in case Steenie should come in with his mad humour.”

“O my poor master!” groaned the Earl of Huntinglen. “When you were in your own cold country, you had warmer blood in your veins.”

The king hastily looked over the petition or memorial, every now and then glancing his eye towards the door, and then sinking it hastily on the paper, ashamed that Lord Huntinglen, whom he respected, should suspect him of timidity.