That scene was connected with one of the saddest events in Scottish history. Henry VIL, the leading feature of whose politics was to keep peace with Scotland, and whose endeavours to that effect had been eminently successful, died; and his son and successsr, Henry VIII., was to the full as quarrelsome as his father had been prudent and conciliatory. Between two such fiery spirits, therefore, as himself and James IV., brothers-in-law though they were, the unwonted tranquillity that had prevailed so long between the two kingdoms could scarcely be expected to last much longer; and, in 1513, James invaded England, at the head of an army one hundred thousand strong. Not only the whole military force, but all the noble houses of Scotland, had been mustered for the occasion; and among the latter was Angus, still, in spite of his former failures, the most powerful peer of the realm. But his experienced eye seems to have soon detected the blunders and anticipated the disastrous close of this expedition, which James commenced with a mere chivalrous freak. He was advancing, forsooth, three steps into English ground to vindicate the beauty and fair name of the Queen of France, as her chosen knight-errant and champion! The king's whole conduct was commensurate with this beginning. He squandered his vast resources in the capture of a few paltry castles; allowed himself to be besotted with the charms of an English lady whom he had taken prisoner, and who deliberately betrayed him to her countrymen; and loitered away his opportunities in her company, until more than half his army had deserted, while the English had assembled in full force. All this Angus witnessed, and witnessed, perhaps, with the bitter consciousness that his past dealings had deprived him of the moral influence by which he might have effectually interposed and arrested the coming ruin. At length, to crown his career of utter madness, James took up his position, and appointed his time for the approaching action, exactly according to the wishes of Surrey, the English general, who piqued the knight-errantry of the former to that effect. It was now time for the Scottish nobles to interpose; and Angus, whose experience, years, and rank entitled him to this privilege, earnestly advised the king either to make an instant attack, or commence a retreat while it was still in his power. But to these wise suggestions the king—across whose mind, perhaps, the scene of Lauder bridge at that moment flitted—replied, "Angus, if you are afraid, you may go home." The earl burst into tears at this degrading taunt, and replied, that his former life might well have spared him such a reproach from his sovereign. "As for myself," he added, "my age renders my body of no service, and my counsel is despised; but I leave my two sons and my vassals in the field. May the end be happy, and my forebodings unfounded!" With these words he rode away from the encampment, accompanied by a few attendants.
His forebodings, alas, were but too well-founded! The battle of Flodden was fought, in which the flower of Scottish manhood and nobleness was "a' wede away;" and the old disconsolate man could scarcely have reached his home, and rested beneath its roof, when the stunning intelligence reached him. But besides this great national calamity, by which Scotland was threatened with a subjugation more complete than any she had yet experienced, Angus himself, both as a father and a feudal chief, was heavily visited by the event; for his two sons, George the Master of Angus, and Sir William Douglas of Glenbervie, were both slain, along with two hundred gentlemen of the name of Douglas. In consequence of these tidings, the earl retired to St. Mains in Galloway,
